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THE 


WORKS 


WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D.D. 


9 I 


FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY, AND PRINCIPAL OF THE UNIVERSITY, 
OF EDINBURGH, HISTORIOGRAPHER TO HIS MAJESTY FOR 
SCOTLAND, AND MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
OF HISTORY AT MADRID. 


TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 


AN ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS, 

BY DUGALD STEWART, F.R.S. EDIN. 

I 


WITH A PORTRAIT, AFTER SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 


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ACCOUNT 


OK 


THE LIFE AND W R I T 1 N G S 


OF 


WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D.D. F.R.S.E. 


LATE PRINCIPAL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH, AND HISTORIOGRAPHER TO HIS 

MAJESTY FOR SCOTLAND. 


BY DUGALD STEWART, F.R.S. EDIN. 


[READ BEFORE THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH.] 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The principal authorities for the biographical details in the following pages were communicated to me by Dr. 
Robertson’s eldest son, Mr. William Robertson, Advocate. To him I am indebted, not only for the original letters 
with which he has enabled me to gratify the curiosity of my readers, but for every other aid which he could be 
prompted to contribute, either by regard for his father’s memory, or by friendship for myself. 

My information with respect to the earlier part of Dr. Robertson’s life was derived almost entirely from one of his 
oldest and most valued friends, the Rev. Dr. Carlyle, of Inveresk. 

It is proper for me to add, that this Memoir was read at different meetings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh ; and 
was destined for a place in their Transactions. The length to which it has extended, suggested the idea of a separate 
publication, and the addition of an Appendix. 

During the long interval which has elapsed since it was composed, a few sentences have been occasionally inserted, 
in which a reference is made to later criticisms on Dr. Robertson’s writings. I mention this circumstance, in order to 
account for some slight anachronisms. 


DUGALD STEWART. 


College of Edinburgh, 
16 th May, 1801 . 



ACCOUNT 


OF 


THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 

OP 


WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D. D. 


\ 

SECTION I. 

FROM DR. ROBERTSON’S BIRTH TILL THE PUBLICATION OF HIS HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


William Robertson, D. D. late Principal of the Uni¬ 
versity of Edinburgh, and Historiographer to his Majesty 
for Scotland, was the son of the Reverend William Robert¬ 
son, minister of the Old Grayfriars’ Church, and of Eleanor 
Pitcairn, daughter of David Pitcairn, Esq. of Dreghorn. 
By his father he was descended from the Robertsons of 
Gladney in the county of Fife ; a branch of the respectable 
family of the same name, which has, for many generations, 
possessed the estate of Struan in Perthshire. 

He was born in 1721, at Borthwick, (in the county of 
Mid-Lothian,) where his father was then minister; and 
received his first rudiments of his education at the school 
of Dalkeith, which, from the high reputation of Mr. Leslie 
as a teacher, was at that time resorted to from all parts of 
Scotland. In 1733, he again joined his fathers family on 
their removal to Edinburgh ; and, towards the end of the 
same year, he entered on his course of academical study. 

From this period till the year 1759, when, by the publi¬ 
cation of his Scottish History, he fixed a new aera in the 
literary annals of his country, the habits and occurrences 
of his life were such as to supply few materials for biogra¬ 
phy ; and the imagination is left to fill up a long interval 
spent in the silent pursuit of letters, and enlivened by the 
secret anticipation of future eminence. His genius was 
not of that forward and irregular growth, which forces 
itself prematurely on public notice ; and it was only a few 
intimate and discerning friends, who, in the native vigour 
of his powers, and in the patient culture by which he 
laboured to improve them, perceived the earnests of a fame 
that was to last for ever. 

The large proportion of Dr. Robertson’s life which he 
thus devoted to obscurity will appear the more remarkable, 
when contrasted with his early and enthusiastic love of 
study. Some of his oldest common-place books, still in 
his son’s possession, (dated in the years 1735, 1736, and 


1737,) bear marks of a persevering assiduity, unexampled 
perhaps at so tender an age ; and the motto prefixed to all 
of them, ( Vita sine literis mors est,) attests how soon those 
views and sentiments were formed, which, to his latest 
hour, continued to guide and to dignify his ambition. Ii 
times such as the present, when literary distinction leads 
to other rewards, the labours of the studious are often 
prompted by motives very different from the hope of fame 
or the inspiration of genius; but when Dr. Robertson’s 
career commenced, these were the only incitements whici 
existed to animate his exertions. The trade of authorship 
was unknown in Scotland ; and the rank which that coun¬ 
try had early acquired among the learned nations of Europe, 
had, for many years, been sustained entirely by a small 
number of eminent men, who distinguished themselves by 
an honourable and disinterested zeal in the ungainful walks 
of abstract science. 

Some presages, however, of better times were beginning to 
appear. The productions of Thomson, of Armstrong, and of 
Mallet, were already known and admired in the metropolis 
of England, and an impulse had been given to the minds 
of the rising generation, bv the exertions of a few able and 
enlightened men, who filled important stations in the 
Scottish Universities. Dr. Hutcheson of Glasgow, by his 
excellent writings, and still more by his eloquent lectures, 
had diffused, among a numerous race of pupils, a libe¬ 
rality of sentiment, and a refinement of taste, unknown 
before in this part of the island ; and the influence of his 
example had extended, in no inconsiderable degree, to 
that seminary where Dr. Robertson received his education. 
The Professorship of Moral Philosophy at Edinburgh was 
then held by sir John Pringle, afterwards President of the 
Royal Society of London ; who, if he did not rival Dr. 
Hutcheson’s abilities, was not surpassed by him in the 
variety of his scientific attainments, or in a warm zeal for 





II 


ACCOUNT or THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


tin* encouragement of useful knowledge. IIis efforts were 
ably seconded by the learning and industry of Dr. Steven¬ 
son, Professor of Logic; to whose valuable prelections 
(particularly to his Illustrations of Aristotle’s Poetics and 
of Longinus on the Sublime) Dr. Robertson has been often 
heard to say, that he considered himself as more deeply 
indebted, than to any other circumstance in his academical 
studies. The bent of his genius did not incline him to 
mathematical or physical pursuits, notwithstanding the 
strong recommendations they derived from the popular 
talents of Mr. Maclaurin; but he could not fail to receive 
advantage from the eloquence with which that illustrious 
man knew how to adorn the most abstracted subjects, as 
■well as from that correctness and purity in his compositions, 
which still entitle him to a high rank among our best writers, 
and which no Scottish author of the same period had been 
able to attain. 

A number of other learned and respectable men, of 
whose names the greater part now exist in tradition only, 
were then resident in Edinburgh. A club, or society® of 
these, carried on for some years a private correspondence 
with Dr. Berkeley, the celebrated bishop of Cloyne, on the 
subject of his metaphysical publications; and are said to 
have been numbered by him among the few who com¬ 
pletely comprehended the scope of his reasonings against 
the existence of matter. The influence of this society, in 
diffusing that spirit of philosophical research which has 
since become so fashionable in Scotland, has often been 
mentioned to me by those who had the best opportunities 
of observing the rise and progress of Scottish literature. 

.1 have entered into these details, partly as they suggest 
some circumstances which conspired with Dr. Robertson’s 
natural inclination in fixing his studious habits ; and partly 
as they help to account for the sudden transition which 
Scotland made, about this period, from the temporary ob¬ 
scurity into which it had sunk, to that station which it has 
since maintained in the republic of letters. A great stock 
both of genius and of learning existed in the country; but 
the difficulty of overcoming the peculiarities of a provin¬ 
cial idiom, seemed to shut up every avenue to fame bv 
means of the press, excepting in those departments of 
science, where the nature of the subject is such as to dis¬ 
pense with the graces of composition. 

Dr. Robertson’s ambition was not to be checked by 
these obstacles ; and he appears from a very early period 
of life to have employed with much perseverance the most 
effectual means for surmounting them. Among other ex¬ 
pedients, he w r as accustomed to exercise himself in the 
practice of translation ; and he had even gone so far in the 
cultivation of this very difficult art, as to have thought 
seriously of preparing for the press a version of Marcus 
Antoninus, when he was anticipated, by an anonymous 
publication at Glasgow, in the execution of his design. 1 n 
making choice of this author, he w'as probably not a little 
influenced by that partiality with which (among the writ¬ 
ings of heathen moralists) he always regarded the remains 
of the Stoical Philosophy. 

Nor was his ambition limited to the attainment of the 
honours that reward the industry of the recluse student. 
Anxious to distinguish himself by the utility of his labours 
in that profession to which he had resolved to devote his 
talents, and looking forward, it is probable, to the active 
share lie was afterwards to take in the ecclesiastical policy 

* Called tlie Hankeuinn Clul>. from the name of the person in whose 
tavern its meetings were held, t he learned and ingenious Dr. Wallace, 


I of Scotland, he aspired to add to the art of classical com¬ 
position, the powers of a persuasive and commanding 
speaker. With this view, he united w’ith some of his con- 
i temporaries, during the last years of his attendance at col¬ 
lege, in the formation of a society, where their object was 
to cultivate the study of elocution, and to prepare them¬ 
selves, by the habits of extemporary discussion and debate, 
for conducting the business of popular assemblies. For¬ 
tunately for Dr. Robertson, he had here associates to con¬ 
tend with worthy of himself: among others, Dr. William 
M‘Gie, an ingenious young physician, afterwards well 
known in London ; Mr. William Cleghorn, afterwards 
Professor of Moral Philosophy in Edinburgh ; Dr. John 
Blair, late Prebendary of Westminster; Dr. Wilkie, author 
of the Epigoniad ; and Mr. John Home, author of the 
tragedy of Douglas. 

Ilis studies at the University being at length finished, 
Dr. Robertson was licensed to preach by the presbytery ot 
Dalkeith in 1741, and in 1743 he was presented to the 
living of Gladsmuir in East Lothian by the earl of Hope- 
ton. The income was but inconsiderable (the whole emo¬ 
luments not exceeding one hundred pounds a year): but 
the preferment, such as it was, came to him at a time sin¬ 
gularly fortunate; for not long afterwards his father and 
mother died within a few hours of each other, leaving a 
family of six daughters and a younger son, in such circum¬ 
stances as required every aid which his slender funds 
enabled him to bestow. 

Dr. Robertson’s conduct in this trying situation, while it 
bore the most honourable testimony to the generosity of 
his dispositions, and to the warmth of his affections, was 
strongly marked with that manly decision in his plans, and 
that persevering steadiness in their execution, which were 
characteristical features of his mind. Undeterred by the 
magnitude of a charge, which must have appeared fatal to 
the prospects that had hitherto animated his studies; and 
resolved to sacrifice to a sacred duty all personal consider¬ 
ations, he invited his father’s family to Gladsmuir, and 
continued to educate his sisters under his own roof, till 
they were settled respectably in the world. Nor did he 
think himself at liberty till then to complete an union 
which had been long the object of his wishes, and which 
may be justly numbered among the most fortunate inci¬ 
dents of his life, lie remained single till 1751, when he 
married his cousin Miss Mary Nisbet, daughter of the 
Reverend Mr. Nisbet, one of the ministers of Edinburgh. 

While he was thus engaged in the discharge of those 
fiious offices which had devolved upon him by the sudden 
death of his parents, the rebellion of 1745 broke out in 
Scotland, and afforded him an opportunity of evincing the 
sincerity of that zeal for the civil and religious liberties o'i 
his country, which he had imbibed with the first principles 
of his education; and which afterwards, at the distance or 
more than forty years, when he was called on to employ 
his eloquence in the national commemoration of the Revo¬ 
lution, seemed to rekindle the fires of his youth. His 
situation as a country clergyman confined indeed his pa¬ 
triotic exertions within a narrow sphere; but even here his 
conduct was guided by a mind superior to the scene in 
which he acted. On one occasion (when the capital ot 
Scotland was in danger of falling into the hands of the 
rebels) the state of public affairs appeared so critical, that 
he thought himself justified in laying aside, for a time, the 

author ot' the Dissertation on the Numbers of Mankind, was one of the 
leading: members. 



OF Dll. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


m 


pacific habits of his profession, and in quitting his parochial 
residence at Gladsmuir, to join the volunteers of Edinburgh: 
and when at last it was determined that the city should be 
surrendered, he was one of the small band who repaired to 
Haddington and offered their services to the commander 
of his majesty’s forces. 

The duties of his sacred profession were in the mean 
time discharged with a punctuality which secured to him 
the veneration and attachment of his parishioners; while 
the eloquence and taste that distinguished him as a preacher, 
drew the attention of the neighbouring clergy, and prepared 
the way for that influence in the church which he after¬ 
wards attained. A sermon, which he preached in the year 
1755 before the Society for propagating Christian Know¬ 
ledge, and which was the earliest of all his publications, 
affords a sufficient proof of the eminence he might have 
attained in that species of composition, if his genius had 
not inclined him more strongly to other studies. This 
sermon, the only one he ever published, has long been 
ranked, in both parts of the island, among the best models 
of pulpit eloquence in our language. It has undergone 
five editions, and is well known in some parts of the con¬ 
tinent in the German translation of Mr. Ebeling. 

A few years before this period he made his first appear¬ 
ance in the debates of the General Assembly of the church 
of Scotland. The questions which were then agitated in 
that place have long ceased to be interesting; but they were 
highly important at the time, as they involved, not only the 
authority of the supreme court of ecclesiastical judicature, 
but the general tranquillity and good order of the country. 
The principles which Dr. Robertson held on these subjects, 
and which have, for many years past, guided the policy of the 
church, will again fall under our review before the conclu¬ 
sion of this narrative. At present it is sufficient to men¬ 
tion, that in the assembly of 1751, when he first submitted 
them to public discussion, they were so contrary to the 
prevailing ideas, that, although he enforced them with ex¬ 
traordinary powers of argument and eloquence, and was 
most ably supported by the late sir Gilbert Elliot and Mr. 
Andrew Pringle, (afterwards lord Alemoor,) he was left 
in a very small minority; the house dividing, two hundred 
against eleven. The year following, by a steady persever¬ 
ance in the same views, he had the satisfaction of bringing 
over a majority to his sentiments, and gave a beginning to 
that system of ecclesiastical government which it was one 
of the great objects of his life to carry into effect, by the 
jnost vigorous and decisive, though the most temperate and 
conciliatory, measures. A paper which he drew up in the 
course of these proceedings, and which will be noticed in 
its proper place, explains the ground-work of the plan 
which he and his friends afterwards pursued. 

The establishment of the Select Society* in Edinburgh, 
in the year 1754, opened another field for the display and 
for the cultivation of his talents. This institution, intended 
partly for philosophical inquiry, and partly for the improve¬ 
ment of the members in public speaking, was projected by 
Mr. Allan Ramsay the painter, and a. few of his friends; 
but soon attracted so much of the public notice, that in the 
following year the number of members exceeded a hundred, 
including all the individuals in Edinburgh and the neigh¬ 
bourhood who were most distinguished by genius or by 
literary attainments. In the list of those who united with 
Mr. Ramsay in the formation of this society, we find the 
names of Dr. Robertson, Mr. David Hume, Mr. Adam 


Smith, Mr. Wedderburn, (now lord Chancellor,) lord 
Kames, Mr. John Home, Dr. Carlyle, Mr. Andrew Stuart, 
sir Gilbert Elliot, and lord Alemoor. The society sub¬ 
sisted in vigour for six or seven years, and produced de¬ 
bates, such as have not often been heard in modern assem¬ 
blies ;—debates, where the dignity of the speakers was not 
lowered by the intrigues of policy, or the intemperance of 
faction; and where the most splendid talents that have ever 
adorned this country were roused to their best exertions, 
by the liberal and ennobling discussions of literature and 
philosophy. To this institution, while it lasted, Dr. Ro¬ 
bertson contributed his most zealous support; seldom 
omitting an opportunity of taking a share in its business ; 
and deriving from it an addition to his own fame, which 
may be easily conceived by those who are acquainted with 
his subsequent writings, or who have witnessed those 
powers of argument and illustration which, in the eccle¬ 
siastical courts, he afterwards employed so successfully, 
on subjects not so susceptible of the embellishments of 
eloquence. 

In these courts, indeed, during the very period when the 
Select Society was contributing so much to the fame and 
to the improvement of Scotland, there occurred one sub¬ 
ject of debate, unconnected with the ordinary details of 
church-government, which afforded at once full scope to 
Dr. Robertson’s powers as a speaker, and to a display of 
that mild and conciliatory temper, which was afterwards 
for a long course of years so honourably employed in heal¬ 
ing the divisions of a church tom with faction, and in 
smoothing the transition from the severity of puritanical 
manners, to habits less at variance with the genius of the 
times. For this important and arduous task he was fitted 
in an eminent degree by the happy union he exhibited in 
his own character, of that exemplary decency which became 
his order, with all the qualities that form the charm and the 
ornament of social life.—The occurrence to which I allude 
more particularly at present, was the flame kindled among 
the Scottish clergy in the year 1757, by the publication of 
the tragedy of Douglas, the author of which, Mr. John 
Home, was then minister of Athelstonford. The extraor¬ 
dinary merits of this performance, which is now become to 
Scotchmen a subject of national pride, were not sufficient 
to atone for so bold a departure from the austerity expected 
in a presbyterian divine; and the offence was not a little 
exasperated by the conduct of some of Mr. Home’s brethren, 
who, partly from curiosity, and partly from a friendly wish 
to share in the censure bestowed on the author, were led 
to witness the first representation of the piece on the Edin¬ 
burgh stage. In the whole course of the ecclesiastical pro¬ 
ceedings connected with these incidents, Dr. Robertson 
distinguished himself by the ablest and most animated 
exertions in defence of his friends; and contributed 
greatly, by his persuasive eloquence, to the mildness of 
that sentence in which the prosecution at last terminated. 
His arguments on this occasion had, it may be presumed, 
the greater weight, that he had never himself entered with¬ 
in the walls of a playhouse; a remarkable proof, among 
numberless others which the history of his life affords, of 
that scrupulous circumspection in his private conduct, 
which, while it added so much to his usefulness as a cler¬ 
gyman, was essential to his influence as the leader of a 
party; and which so often enabled him to recommend 
successfully to others the same candid and indulgent spirit 
that was congenial to his own mind. 


* Appendix, note A. 



ACCOUNT OF TIIE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


The flattering notice these exertions drew to him from 
the public, and the rising influence he had already secured 
among his own order, would have presented to a temper 
less active and persevering than his, many seductions to 
interrupt his studies. A considerable portion of his time 
appears in fact to have been devoted, during this period of 
his life, to the society of his friends; but as far as his 
situation enabled him to command it, it was to a society 
which amply compensated for its encroachment on his 
studious leisure, by what it added to the culture and en¬ 
largement of his mind. The improvement which, in these 
respects, he derived from the conversation of Patrick lord 
Elibank, he often recollected in his more advanced years 
with peculiar pleasure; and it affords no inconsiderable 
proof of the penetration of that lively and accomplished no¬ 
bleman, that long before the voice of the public could have 
given any direction to his attachments, he had selected as 
the companion of his social hours the historian of queen 
Mary, and the author of the tragedy of Douglas. 

No seductions however could divert Dr. Robertson from 
the earliest object of his ambition ; and in the midst of all 
his avocations his studies had been advancing with a gra¬ 
dual progress. In the spring of the year which followed 
the debates about Mr. Home’s tragedy, he went to London 
to concert measures for the publication of his History of 
Scotland;—a work of which the plan is said to have been 
formed soon after his settlement at Gladsmuir. It was 
published on the first of February 1759, and was received 
by the world with such unbounded applause, that before 
the end of that month he was desired by his bookseller to 
prepare for a second edition. 

From this moment the complexion of his fortune was 
changed. After a long struggle, in an obscure though a 
happy and hospitable retreat, with a narrow income and 
an increasing family, his prospects brightened at once. He 
saw independence and affluence within his reach; and 
flattered himself with the idea of giving a still bolder flight 
to his genius, when no longer depressed by those tender 
anxieties which so often fall to the lot of men, whose pursuits 
and habits, while they heighten the endearments of domestic 
life, withdraw them from the paths of interest and am¬ 
bition. 

In venturing on a step, the success of which was to be 
so decisive, not only with respect to his fame, but to his 
future comfort, it is not surprising that he should have felt, 
in a more than common degree, “ that anxiety and diffi¬ 
dence so natural to an author in delivering to the world 
his first performance.”—“ The time,” he observes in his 
preface, “ which I have employed in attempting to render 
it worthy of the public approbation, it is perhaps prudent 
to conceal, till it shall be known whether that approbation 
is ever to be bestowed.” 

Among the many congratulatory letters addressed to 
him on this occasion, a few have been accidentally pre¬ 
served ; and, although the contents of some of them may 
not now appear very important, they still derive a certain 
degree of interest from the names and characters of the 
writers, and from the sympathetic share which a good- 
natured reader cannot fail to take in Dr. Robertson’s feel¬ 
ings, when he perceived the first dawning of his future 
fame. 

In the extracts, however, which I mean at present to 
produce from these letters, my principal object is to show, 
how very strong an impression was made on the public 
mind by this work at the time of its first appearance. It 


was then regarded as an attempt towards a species of com¬ 
position that had been cultivated with very little success 
in this island; and accordingly it entitles the author, not 
merely to the praise which would now be due to an histo¬ 
rian of equal eminence, but to a high rank among those 
original and leading minds that form and guide the taste 
of a nation. In this view, a just estimate of its peculiar 
merits is more likely to be collected from the testimony of 
such as could compare it only with the productions of for¬ 
mer writers, than from the opinions of critics familiarized 
in early life to all that has since been done to imitate or to 
rival its beauties. 

A letter from Mr. Horace Walpole, to whom some speci¬ 
mens of the work had been communicated during the 
author’s visit to London, is the earliest testimony of this 
kind which I have found among his papers. It is dated 
January 18, 1759. 

“ 1 expect with impatience your book, which you are so 
kind as to say you have ordered for me, and for which I 
already give you many thanks: the specimen I saw con¬ 
vinces me that I do not thank you rashly. Good historians 
are the most scarce of all writers; and no wonder; a good 
style is not very common; thorough information is still 
more rare ;—and if these meet, what a chance that impar¬ 
tiality should be added to them ! Your style, Sir, I may 
venture to say, I saw was uncommonly good; I have rea¬ 
son to think your information so: and in the few times I 
had the pleasure of conversing with you, your good sense 
and candour made me conclude, that even on a subject 
which we are foolish enough to make parti/, you preserve 
your judgment unbiassed. I fear I shall not preserve 
mine so; the too kind acknowledgments that I frequently 
receive from gentlemen of your country, of the just praise 
that I paid to merit, will make me at least for the future 
not very unprejudiced. If the opinion of so trifling a 
writer as I am was of any consequence, it would then be 
worth Scotland’s while to let the world know, that when 
my book was written, I had no reason to be partial to it: 
but, Sir, your country will trust to the merit of its natives, 
not to foreign testimonials, for its reputation.” 

This letter was followed immediately by another from 
Dr. Robertson’s bookseller, Mr. Millar. It is dated 27th 
January 1759, a few days before the publication of the 
book, and conveys very flattering expressions of approba¬ 
tion from Dr. Warburton and Mr. Garrick, to both of 
whom copies had been privately sent at the author’s re¬ 
quest :—expressions which, though they cannot now add 
much to a reputation so solidly established, were gratifying 
at the time, and do honour to the candour and discern¬ 
ment of the writers. 

“ I have received,” says Dr. Warburton, in a note ad¬ 
dressed to Mr. Millar, “ and read with great pleasure, the 
new History of Scotland, and will not wait for the judg¬ 
ment of the public, to pronounce it a very excellent work. 
From the author’s apparent love of civil and religious 
liberty, I suppose, that were it not for fear of offence, 
(which every wise man in his situation would fear to give,) 
he would have spoken with much more freedom of the 
hierarchical principles of the infant church of Scotland.” 

Mr. Garrick,besides writing to Millar, addressed himself 
directly to the author. “ Upon my word, I was never 
more entertained in all my life; and though I read it 
aloud to a friend and Mrs. Garrick, I finished the three 
first books at two sittings. I could not help writing to 
Millar, and congratulating him upon this great acquisition 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


v 


to his literary treasures.—I will assure you that there is no 
love lost (as the saying is) between you and Mrs. Garrick. 
She is resolved to see Scotland as soon as my affairs will 
permit: nor do I find her inclination in the least abated, 
though I read your Second Book (in which her religion is 
so exquisitely handled) with all the malevolent exertion I 
was master of—but it would not do ; she thinks you right 
even in that, and still resolves to see Scotland. In short, 
if she can give up the pope and his trumpery so readily to 
you, what must her poor husband think ? I shall keep in 
England, I assure you; for you have convinced me how 
difficult it is to contend with the Scots in their own 
country.” 

These agreeable anticipations of the public voice were 
in a few weeks fully confirmed by a letter from Mr. 
Strahan, late printer to his majesty, and a partner of Mr. 
Millar’s in the property of the book. It is the oldest letter 
of Mr. Strahan’s that I have observed among Dr. Robert¬ 
son’s papers. Many were afterwards written in the course 
of a correspondence which continued twenty years, and 
which Dr. Robertson always mentioned with much plea¬ 
sure, and with the strongest testimonies to the worth, the 
liberality, and the discernment of his friend.—The con¬ 
cluding sentences express strongly the opinion which this 
very competent judge had previously formed of the pro¬ 
bable reception of a History of Scotland. 

-“ I most sincerely wish you joy of your success, 

and have not the least doubt but it will have all the good 
effects upon your future fortune which you could possibly 
hope for or expect_Much depended on the first perform¬ 

ance : that trial is now happily over, and henceforth you 
will sail with a favourable gale. In truth, to acquire such 
a flood of approbation writing on a subject in itself so un¬ 
popular in this country, is neither a common or a con¬ 
temptible conquest.”* 

By the kindness of Mr. Strahan’s sonf I am enabled to 
quote the following passage from Dr. Robertson’s answer 
to the foregoing letter : 

“ When we took leave, on finishing the printing of my 
book, I had no expectation that it was so soon to come 
through your hands a second time. The rapidity of its 
success has not surprised any man more than the author of 
it. I do not affect to think worse of it than is natural for 
him who made it; and I never was much afraid of the 
subject, which is interesting to the English as well as 
Scots ; but a much more moderate success was all I looked 
for. However, since it has so far outgone my hopes, I 
enjoy it. I have flattered nobody in order to obtain it, 
and I have not spared to speak truth of all factions and 
sects.” 

It would be tedious and useless to transcribe the com¬ 
plimentary passages which occur in various other letters 
from the author’s friends. Lord Royston, the late sir 
Gilbert Elliot, Dr. Birch, Dr. Douglas, (now bishop of 
Salisbury,) and Dr. John Blair, (late prebendary of West¬ 
minster,) were among the first to perceive and to predict 
the extent of that reputation he was about to establish. A 
few passages from the letters addressed to him by Mr. 
Walpole and Mr. David Hume, as they enter more into 
detail concerning his merits as a writer, may I think be 
introduced into this memoir without impropriety. 

« Having finished,” says Mr. Walpole, “ the first volume, 
and made a little progress in the second, I cannot stay till 
I have finished the latter to tell you how exceedingly I 

• Appendix, Note B. 


admire the work. Your modesty will make you perhaps 
suppose these are words of compliment and of course; 
but as I can give you very good reasons for my approba¬ 
tion, you may believe that I no more flatter your perform¬ 
ance, than I have read it superficially, hastily, or carelessly. 

“ The style is most pure, proper, and equal; is very 
natural and easy, except now and then, where, as I may 
justly call it, you are forced to translate from bad writers. 
You will agree with me, Sir, that an historian who writes 
from other authorities cannot possibly always have as flow¬ 
ing a style as an author whose narrative is dictated from his 
own knowledge. Your perspicuity is most beautiful, your 
relation always interesting, never languid ; and you have 
very extraordinarily united two merits very difficult to be 
reconciled ; I mean, that though you have formed your 
history into pieces of information, each of which would 
make a separate memoir, yet the whole is hurried on into 
one uninterrupted story. I assure you I value myself on 
the first distinction, especially as Mr. Charles Townshend 
made the same remark. You have preserved the gravity 
of history without any formality, and you have at the 
same time avoided what I am now running into, antithesis 
and conceit. In short, Sir, I don’t know where or what 
history is written with more excellences:—and when I 
say this, you may be sure, I do not forget your impar¬ 
tiality.—But, Sir, I will not wound your bashfulness with 
more encomiums; yet the public will force you to hear 
them. I never knew justice so rapidly paid to a work of 
so deep and serious a kind ; for deep it is, and it must be 
great sense that could penetrate so far into human nature, 
considering how little you have been conversant with the 
world.” 

The long and uninterrupted friendship which subsisted 
between Dr. Robertson and Mr. Hume is well known : 
and it is certainly a circumstance highly honourable to 
both, when we consider the wide diversity of their senti¬ 
ments on the most important subjects, and the tendency 
which the coincidence of their historical labours would 
naturally have had to excite rivalship and jealousy in less 
liberal minds. The passages I am now to quote from Mr. 
Hume’s letters place in a most amiable light the characters 
both of the writer and of his correspondent. 

“ You have very good cause to be satisfied with the 
success of your History, as far as it can be judged of from 
a few weeks’ publication. I have not heard of one who 
does not praise it warmly; and were I to enumerate all 
those whose suffrages I have either heard in its favour, or 
been told of, I should fill my letter with a list of names. 
Mallet told me that he was sure there was no Englishman 
capable of composing such a work. The town will have 
it that you was educated at Oxford, thinking it impossible 
for a mere untravelled Scotchman to produce such lan¬ 
guage. In short, you may depend on the success of your 
work, and that your name is known very much to your 
advantage. 

“ I am diverting myself with the notion how much you 
will profit by the applause of my enemies in Scotland. 
Had you and I been such fools as to have given way to 
jealousy, to have entertained animosity and malignity 
against each other, and to have rent all our acquaintance 
into parties, what a noble amusement we should have ex¬ 
hibited to the blockheads, which now they are likely to be 
disappointed of. All the people whose friendship or judg¬ 
ment either of us value, are friends to both, and will be 

t Andrew Strahan, Esq. M. P. 




VI 


ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


pleased with the success of both, as we will be with that 
of each other. I declare to you I have not of a long time 
had a more sensible pleasure than the good reception of 
your History has given me within this fortnight.” 

I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of transcribing a 
few paragraphs from another letter of Mr. Hume’s, dated 
the 20th of the same month. “ I am afraid that my let¬ 
ters will be tedious and disagreeable to you bv their uni¬ 
formity. Nothing but continued and unvaried accounts 
of the same thing must in the end prove disgusting. Yet 
since you will hear me speak on this subject, I cannot 
help it, and must fatigue your ears as much as ours are in 
this place by endless, and repeated, and noisy praises of 
the History of Scotland. Dr. Douglas told me yesterday 
that he had seen the bishop of Norwich, who had just 
bought the book from the high commendations he heard 
of it from Mr. Legge. Mallet told me that Lord Mans¬ 
field is at a loss whether he shall most esteem the matter 
or the style. Elliot told me, that being in company with 
George Grenville, that gentleman was speaking loud in 
the same key. Our friend pretended ignorance ; said he 
knew the author, and if he thought the book good for any 
thing, would send for it and read it. Send for it by all 
means, (said Mr. Grenville,) you have not read a better 
book of a long time. But, said Elliot, I suppose, although 
the matter may be tolerable, as the author was never on 
this side the Tweed till he wrote it, it must be very bar¬ 
barous in the expression. By no means, cried Mr. Gren¬ 
ville ; had the author lived all his life in London, and in 
the best company, he could not have expressed himself 
with greater elegance and purity. Lord Lyttelton seems to 
think that since the time of St. Paul there scarce has been 
a better writer than Dr. Robertson. Mr. Walpole triumphs 
in the success of his favourites the Scotch, &c. &c. &c.” 

* * $ * 

“ The great success of your book, besides its real merit, 
is forwarded by its prudence, and by the deference paid to 
established opinions. It gains also by its being your first 
performance, and by its surprising the public, who are not 
upon their guard against it. By reason of these two cir¬ 
cumstances justice is more readily done to its merit, which 
however is really so great, that I believe there is scarce 
another instance of a first performance being so near per¬ 
fection.”* 

Of this work, so flattering to the author by its first suc¬ 
cess, no fewer than fourteen editions were published 
before his death, and he had the satisfaction to see its 
popularity increase to the last, notwithstanding the re¬ 
peated assaults it had to encounter from various writers, 
distinguished by their controversial acuteness, and second¬ 
ed by all the prepossessions which are likely to influence 
the opinions of the majority of readers. The character of 
Mary has been delineated anew, and the tale of her mis¬ 
fortunes has again been told, with no common powers of 
expression and pathos, by an historian more indulgent to 
her errors, and more undistinguishing in his praise: but, 
after all, it is in the History of Dr. Robertson that every 
one still reads the transactions of her reign; and such is 
his skilful contrast of light and shade, aided by the irre¬ 
sistible charm of his narration, that the story of the beautiful 
and unfortunate queen, as related by him, excites on the 
whole a deeper interest in her fortunes, and a more lively 
sympathy with her fate, than have been produced by all the 
attempts to canonize her memory, whether inspired by the 


sympathetic zeal of the Romish church, or the enthusiasm 
of Scottish chivalry. 

In perusing the letters addressed to Dr. Robertson on 
the publication of this book, it is somewhat remarkable 
that I have not found one in which he is charged with the 
slightest unfairness towards the queen; and that, on the 
contrary, almost all his correspondents accuse him of an 
undue prepossession in her favour. “ I am afraid,” says Mr. 
Hume, “ that you, as well as myself, have drawn Mary’s 
character with too great softenings. She was undoubtedly 
a violent woman at all times. You will see in Muntlen 
proofs of the utmost rancour against her innocent, good- 
natured, dutiful son. She certainly disinherited him. 
What think you of a conspiracy for kidnapping him, and 
delivering him a prisoner to the king of Spain, never to 

recover his liberty till he should turn catholic?-Tell 

Goodall, that if he can but give me up queen Mary, I 
hope to satisfy him in every thing else ; and he will have 
the pleasure of seeing John Knox and the reformers made 
very ridiculous.” 

“ It is plain,” says Mr. Walpole, “ that you w r ish to 
excuse Mary; and yet it is so plain that you never violate 
truth in her favour, that I own I think still worse of her 
than I did, since I read vour History.” 

Dr. Birch expresses himself much to the same purpose. 
“If the second volume of the State Papers of lord Bur¬ 
leigh, published since Christmas here, had appeared before 
your History had been finished, it would have furnished 
you with reasons for entertaining a less favourable opinion 
of Mary queen of Scots in one or two points, than you 
seem at present possessed of.” 

Dr. John Blair too, in a letter dated from London, ob¬ 
serves to Dr. Robertson, that “ the only general objection 
to his work was founded on his tenderness for queen 
Mary.”—“ Lord Chesterfield,” says he, “ though he ap¬ 
proves much of your History, told me, that he finds this 
to be a bias which no Scotchman can get the better of.” 

I would not be understood, by quoting these passages, 
to give any opinion upon the subject to which they refer. 
It is a subject which I have never examined with atten¬ 
tion, and which, I must confess, never excited my curio¬ 
sity. Whatever judgment we form concerning the points 
in dispute, it leads to no general conclusion concerning 
human affairs, nor throws any new light on human charac¬ 
ter. Like any other historical question, in which the evi¬ 
dence has been industriously darkened by the arts of con¬ 
tending parties, the proofs of Mary’s innocence or guilt 
may furnish an amusing and harmless employment to the 
leisure of the antiquary; but, at this distance of time, it is 
difficult to conceive how prejudice or passion should enter 
into the discussion, or should magnify it into an object of 
important and serious research. With respect to Dr. Ro¬ 
bertson’s narrative, in particular, it is sufficiently manifest, 
that whatever inaccuracies may be detected in it by the 
labours of succeeding inquirers, they can never furnish to 
the partisans of Mary any ground for impeaching his can¬ 
dour and good faith as a writer. All Ins prepossessions 
(if he had any on this subject) must have been in favour 
of the queen ; for it was chiefly from the powerful interest 
excited by her story, that he could hope for popularity 
with the multitude ; and it was only by the romantic pic¬ 
tures which her name presents to the fancy, that he could 
accommodate to the refinement of modern taste the annals 
of a period, where perfidy, cruelty, and bigotry appear in 


* Appendix, Note C. 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON 


vu 


all their horrors; unembellished by those attractions which, 
in other states of society, they have so often assumed, and 
which, how much soever they may afflict the moralist, yet 
facilitate and adorn the labours of the historian. 

Among the various circumstances that distinguish Dr. 
Robertson’s genius and taste in the execution of this work, 
the address with which he interweaves the personal history 
of the queen with the general events he records, is not the 
least remarkable. Indeed, without the aid of so interest¬ 
ing a character, the affairs of Scotland, during the period 
he treats of, could not have derived, even from his hand, a 
sufficient importance and dignity to engage the curiosity of 
the present age. 

Another difficulty arising also from his subject, he ap¬ 
pears to me to have surmounted with exquisite skill. In 
relating the transactions of a foreign country, however re¬ 
mote the period, and however antiquated the manners, it is 
easy for an historian to avoid in his narrative whatever 
might lessen the dignity of the actors, or lower the tone of 
his composition. The employment of expressions debased 
by common and trivial use is superseded by the necessity 
he is under to translate from one language into another; 
and the most insignificant of his details derive a charm 
from the novelty of the scenery. The writer too, who, in 
this island, employs his genius on the ancient history of 
England, addresses himself to readers already enamoured 
of the subject, and who listen with fond prepossessions to 
the recital of facts consecrated in their imaginations by the 
tale of the nursery. Even a description of the old English 
manners, expressed in the obsolete dialect of former cen¬ 
turies, pleases by its simplicity and truth ; and while it 
presents to us those retrospects of the past on which the 
mind loves to dwell, has no tendency to awaken any mean 
or ludicrous images. But the influence of Scottish asso¬ 
ciations, so far as it is favourable to antiquity, is confined 
to Scotchmen alone, and furnishes no resources to the 
writer who aspires to a place among the English classics. 
Nay, such is the effect of that provincial situation to which 
Scotland is now reduced, that the transactions of former 
ages are apt to convey to ourselves exaggerated conceptions 
of barbarism, from the uncouth and degraded dialect in 
which they are recorded. To adapt the history of such a 
country to the present standard of British taste, it was ne¬ 
cessary for the author, not only to excite an interest for 
names, which, to the majority of his readers, were formerly 
indifferent or unknown, but, what was still more difficult, 
to unite in his portraits the truth of nature with the soften¬ 
ings of art, and to reject whatever was unmeaning or offen¬ 
sive in the drapery, without effacing the characteristic garb 
of the times. In this task of “ conquering” (as Livy ex¬ 
presses it) “ the rudeness of antiquity by the art of writing,” 
they alone are able to judge how far Dr. Robertson has 
succeeded, who have compared his work with the materials 
out of which it was formed. 

Nor are these sacrifices to modern taste inconsistent 
w'ith the fidelity of a history which records the transactions 
of former ages. On the contrary, they aid the judgment 
of the reader in forming a philosophical estimate of the 
condition and character of our ancestors, by counteracting 
that strong bias of the mind which confounds human 
nature and human life with the adventitious and ever- 
changing attire which they borrow from fashion. When 
we read the compositions of Buchanan in his native tongue; 
—abounding in idioms which*are now appropriated to the 
most illiterate classes of the people, and accompanied with 


an orthography which suggests the coarsest forms of Scottish 
pronunciation ;—how difficult do we find it to persuade 
ourselves, that we are conversing with a writer, whose 
Latin productions vie with the best models of antiquity! 
No fact can illustrate more strongly the necessity of cor¬ 
recting our common impressions concerning the ancient 
state of Scotland, by translating, not only the antiquated 
style of our forefathers into a more modern phraseology, 
but by translating (if I may use the expression) their anti¬ 
quated fashions into the corresponding fashions of our own 
times. 

The peculiar circumstances of Scotland since the union 
of the crowns, are extremely apt to warp our ideas with 
respect to its previous history. The happy but slow effects 
produced by the union of the kingdoms do not extend 
beyond the memory of some of our contemporaries; and 
the traditions we have received concerning the condition of 
our immediate predecessors are apt to impress us with a 
belief that, at a still earlier period, the gloom was propor- 
tionably more deep and universal. It requires an effort of 
reflection to conceive the effects which must have resulted 
from the residence of a court; and it is not, perhaps, easy 
for us to avoid under-rating the importance of that court 
while it existed. During the long and intimate intercourse 
with England, which preceded the disputed succession 
between Bruce and Baliol, it was certainly not without its 
share of that u barbaric pomp” which was then affected by 
the English sovereigns; nor under our later kings, con¬ 
nected as it was with the court of France, could it be alto¬ 
gether untinctured with those envied manners and habits, 
of which that country has been always regarded as the 
parent soil, and which do not seem to be the native growth 
of either part of our island. These circumstances, accord¬ 
ingly, (aided, perhaps, in no inconsiderable degree, by the 
field of ambition presented by an opulent hierarchy,) appear 
to have operated powerfully on the national spirit and 
genius. The studies which were then valued in other parts 
of Europe, were cultivated by many of our countrymen 
with distinguished success. Nor was their own vernacular 
tongue neglected by those, whose rank or situation destined 
them for public affairs. At the sera, more particularly, 
when Dr. Robertson’s History closes, it was so rapidly 
assuming a more regular form, that, excepting by a differ¬ 
ent system of orthography, and a few inconsiderable pecu¬ 
liarities of dialect., the epistolary style of some of our 
Scottish statesmen is hardly distinguishable from that of 
queen Elizabeth’s ministers. 

This sera was followed by a long and melancholy period, 
equally fatal to morals and to refinement; and which had 
scarcely arrived at its complete termination when Dr. 
Robertson appeared as an author; aspiring at once to 
adorn the monuments of former times, when Scotland was 
yet a kingdom, and to animate his countrymen by his ex¬ 
ample, in reviving its literary honours. 

Before quitting this first work of Dr. Robertson, I must 
not omit to mention (what forms the strongest testimony 
of its excellence) the severe trial it had to undergo in the 
public judgment, by appearing nearly at the same time 
with that volume of Mr. Hume’s History, which involves 
an account of Scottish affairs during the reigns of queen 
Mary and king James.—It is not my intention to attempt 
a parallel of these two eminent writers : nor, indeed, 
would the sincerity of their mutual attachment, and the 
lively recollection of it which still remains with many of 
their common friends, justify me in stating their respective 



ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


viii 

merits in the way of opposition. Their peculiar excellen¬ 
ces, besides, were of a kind so different, that they might 
be justly said (in the language which a Roman critic em¬ 
ploys in speaking of Livy and Sallust) to be pares magis 
quam similes. They divide between them the honour of 
having supplied an important blank in English literature, 
by enabling their countrymen to dispute the palm of his¬ 
torical writing with the other nations of Europe. Many 
have since followed their example, in attempting to bestow 
interest and ornament on different portions of British story; 
but the public voice sufficiently acquits me of any par¬ 
tiality when I say, that hitherto they have only been fol¬ 
lowed at a distance. In this respect, I may with confi¬ 
dence apply to them the panegyric which Quinctilian pro¬ 
nounces on the two great historians of ancient Greece ;— 
and, perhaps, if I were inclined to characterize the beau¬ 
ties most prominent in each, I might, without much im¬ 
propriety, avail myself of the contrast with which that 
panegyric concludes. 

“ Ilistoriam multi scripsere, sed nemo dubitat, duos 
longe cseteris prseferendos, quorum diversa virtus laudem 
pene est parem consecuta. Densus et brevis et semper 
instans sibi Thucydides. Dulcis et candidus et fusus 
Herodotus. Ille concitatis, hie remissis affectibus melior. 
Ille vi, hie voluptate.” 


SECTION II. 

Progress of Dr. Robertson s Piterary Plans and Undertak¬ 
ings.—History of the Reign of the Emperor Charles V. 

During the time that the History of Scotland was in the 
press, Dr. Robertson removed with his family from Glads- 
muir to Edinburgh, in consequence of a presentation which 
he had received to one of the churches of that city. His 
preferments now multiplied rapidly. In 1759 he was 
appointed chaplain of Stirling Castle; in 1761 one of his 
Majesty’s chaplains in ordinary for Scotland; and in 1762 
he was chosen Principal of this University. Two years 
afterwards, the office of King’s Historiographer for Scot¬ 
land (with a salary of two hundred pounds a year) was 
revived in his favour. 

The revenue arising from these different appointments, 
though far exceeding what had ever been enjoyed before 
by any presbyterian clergyman in Scotland, did not satisfy 
the zeal of some of Dr. Robertson’s admirers, who, morti¬ 
fied at the narrow field which this part of the island 
afforded to his ambition, wished to open to it the career of 
the English church. References to such a project occur 
in letters addressed to him about this time by sir Gilbert 
Elliot, Mr. Hume, and Dr. John Blair. What answer he 
returned to them I have not been able to learn; but, as 
the subject is mentioned once only by each of these gen¬ 
tlemen, it is probable that his disapprobation was expressed 
in those decided terms which became the consistency and 
dignity of his character. 

Dr. Robertson’s own ambition was, in the mean time, 
directed to a different object. Soon after the publication 
of his Scottish History, we find him consulting his friends 
about the choice of another historical subject;—anxious to 
add new laurels to those he had already acquired. Dr. 
John Blair urged him strongly on this occasion to write a 


complete Flistory of England; and mentioned to him, as 
an inducement, a conversation between lord Chesterfield 
and colonel Irwin, in which the former said, that he would 
not scruple, if Dr. Robertson would undertake such a 
work, to move, in the House of Peers, that he should have 
public encouragement to enable him to carry it into exe¬ 
cution. But this proposal he was prevented from listening 
to, by his unwillingness to interfere with Mr. Hume ; 
although it coincided with a favourite plan which he him¬ 
self had formed at a very early period of his life. The two 
subjects which appear to have chiefly divided his choice 
were, the History of Greece, and that of the Emperor 
Charles the Fifth. Between these he hesitated long, 
balancing their comparative advantages and disadvantages, 
and availing himself of all the lights that his correspon¬ 
dents could impart to him. Mr. Walpole and Mr. Hume 
took a more peculiar interest in his deliberations, and dis¬ 
cussed the subject with him at length in various letters. 
I shall extract a few passages from these. The opinions 
of such writers upon such a question cannot fail to be 
generally interesting; and some of the hints they suggest 
may perhaps be useful to those who, conscious of their 
own powers, are disposed to regret that the field of histo¬ 
rical composition is exhausted. 

The following passages are copied from a letter of Mr. 
Walpole, dated 4th March 1759. 

“ If I can threw in any additional temptation to your 
disposition for writing, it is worth my while, even at the 
hazard of my judgment and my knowledge, both of which 
however are small enough to make me tender of them. 
Before I read your History, I should probably have been 
glad to dictate to you, and (I will venture to say it—it 
satirizes nobody but myself) should have thought I did 
honour to an obscure Scotch clergyman, by directing his 
studies with my superior lights and abilities. How you 
have saved me, Sir, from making a ridiculous figure, by 
making so great an one yourself! But could I suspect, 
that a man I believe much younger, and whose dialect I 
scarce understood, and who came to me with all the diffi¬ 
dence and modesty of a very middling author, and who I 
was told had passed his life in a small living near Edin¬ 
burgh ; could I suspect that he had not only written what 
all the world now allows the best modern history, but that 
he had written it in the purest English, and with as much 
seeming knowledge of men and courts as if he had passed 
all his life in important embassies ? In short, Sir, I have 
not power to make you, what you ought to be, a minister 
of state—but I will do all I can, I will stimulate you to 
continue writing, and I shall do it without presumption. 

“ I should like either of the subjects you mention, and 
I can figure one or two others that would shine in your 
hands. In one light the History of Greece seems preferable. 
You know all the materials for it that can possibly be had. 
It is concluded ; it is clear of all objections; for perhaps 
nobody but I should run wildly into passionate fondness 
for liberty, if I was writing about Greece. It even might, 
I think, be made agreeably new, and that by comparing 
the extreme difference of their manners and ours, particu¬ 
larly in the article of finances, a system almost new in the 
world. 

* * . * * * 

“ W ith regard to the History of Charles V., it is a mag¬ 
nificent subject, and worthy of you. It is more : it is fit 
for you; for you have shown that you can write on ticklish 
subjects with the utmost discretion, and on subjects of re- 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


IX 


ligious party with temper and impartiality. Besides, by 
what little I have skimmed of history myself, I have seen 
how many mistakes, how many prejudices, may easily be 
detected : and though much has been written on that age, 
probably truth still remains to be written of it. Yet I 
have an objection to this subject. Though Charles V. 
was in a manner the emperor of Europe, yet he was a 
German or a Spaniard. Consider, Sir, by what you must 
have found in writing the History of Scotland, how difficult 
it would be for the most penetrating genius of another 
country to give an adequate idea of Scottish story. So 
much of all transactions must take their rise from, and 
depend on, national laws, customs, and ideas, that I am 
persuaded a native would always discover great mistakes 
in a foreign writer. Greece, indeed, is a foreign country; 
but no Greek is alive to disprove one. 

“ There are two other subjects which I have sometimes 
had a mind to treat myself; though my naming one of 
them will tell you why I did not. It was the History of 
Learning. Perhaps, indeed, it is a work which could not 
be executed unless intended by a young man from his first 
looking on a book with reflection. The other is, the His¬ 
tory of what I may in one light call the most remarkable 
period of the world, by containing a succession of five good 
princes : I need not say, they were Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, 
and the two Antonines. Not to mention, that no part 
almost of the Roman history has been well written from 
the death of Domitian, this period would be the fairest 
pattern for use, if history can ever effect what she so much 
pretends to, doing good. I should be tempted to call it 
the History of Humanity; for though Trajan and Adrian 
had private vices that disgraced them as men, as princes 
they approached to perfection. Marcus Aurelius arrived 
still nearer, perhaps with a little ostentation ; yet vanity is 
an amiable machine, if it operates to benevolence. Anto¬ 
ninus Pius seems to have been as good as human nature 
royalized can be. Adrian’s persecution of the Christians 
would be objected, but then it is much controverted. I 
am no admirer of elective monarchies; and yet it is re¬ 
markable, that when Aurelius’s diadem descended to his 
natural heir, not to the heir of his virtues, the line of bene¬ 
ficence was extinguished ; for I am sorry to say, that here¬ 
ditary and bad are almost synonymous.—But I am sensible, 
Sir, that I am a bad adviser for you; the chastity, the 
purity, the good sense and regularity of your manner, that 
unity you mention, and of which you are the greatest 
master, should not be led astray by the licentious frank¬ 
ness, and, I hope, honest indignation of my way of think¬ 
ing. I may be a fitter companion than a guide; and 
it is with most sincere zeal that I offer myself to contri¬ 
bute any assistance in my power towards polishing your 
future work, whatever it shall be. You want little help; 
I can give little; and indeed I, who am taxed with incor¬ 
rectnesses, should not assume airs of a corrector. My 
Catalogue I intended should have been exact enough in 
style : it has not been thought so by some: I tell you, 
that you may not trust me too much. Mr. Gray, a very 
perfect judge, has sometimes censured me for parliament¬ 
ary phrases, familiar to me, as your Scotch law is to you. 
I might plead for my inaccuracies, that the greatest part of 
my book was written with people talking in the room; 
but that is no excuse to myself, who intended it for correct. 
However, it is easier to remark inaccuracies in the work 
of another than in one’s own ; and, since you command 
me, 1 will go again over your second volume, with an eye 


to the slips, a light in which I certainly did not intend my 
second examination of it.” 

In transcribing some of these paragraphs, as well as in 
the other extracts I have borrowed from Mr. Walpole’s 
letters, I must acknowledge, that I have been less influ¬ 
enced by my own private judgment, than by my deference 
for the partiality which the public has long entertained for 
this popular and fashionable writer. Of the literary talents 
of an author on whom so much flattery has been lavished, 
it does not become me to speak disrespectfully; nor would 
I be understood to detract from his merits in his own pe¬ 
culiar and very limited walk of historical disquisition : but 
I should be wanting to myself, if I were not to avow, that 
in the foregoing quotation, my object was rather to gratify 
the curiosity of others, than to record a testimony which 1 
consider as of any importance to Dr. Robertson’s fame. 
The value of praise, besides, whatever be the abilities of 
him who bestows it, depends on the opinion we entertain 
of his candour and sincerity; qualities which it will be 
difficult to allow to Mr. Walpole, after comparing the 
various passages quoted in this memoir, with the senti¬ 
ments he expresses on the same subject in his posthumous 
publication. 

For the length of the following extract from a letter of 
Mr. Hume’s, no such apology is necessary. The matter 
is valuable in itself;—and the objections stated to the age 
of Charles V. as a subject for history, form the highest 
possible panegyric on the abilities of the writer, by whom 
the difficulties which appeared so formidable to Mr. Hume, 
were so successfully surmounted. 

“ I have frequently thought, and talked with our com¬ 
mon friends, upon the subject of your letter. There always 
occurred to us several difficulties with regard to every sub¬ 
ject we could propose. The Ancient Greek History has 
several recommendations, particularly the good authors 
from which it must be drawn : but this same circumstance 
becomes an objection, when more narrowly considered : 
for what can you do in most places with these authors 
but transcribe and translate them ? No letters or state- 
papers from which you could correct their errors, or au¬ 
thenticate their narration, or supply their defects. Besides, 
Rollin is so well wrote with respect to style, that with 
superficial people it passes for sufficient. There is one 
Dr. Leland, who has lately wrote the life of Philip of 
Macedon, which is one of the best periods. The book, 
they tell me, is perfectly well wrote; yet it has had such 
small sale, and has so little excited the attention of the 
public, that the author has reason to think his labour thrown 
away. I have not read the book, but by the size, 1 should 
judge it to be too particular. It is a pretty large quarto. 
I think a book of that size sufficient for the whole history 
of Greece till the death of Philip : and I doubt not but 
such a work would be successful, notwithstanding all these 
discouraging circumstances. The subject is noble, and 
Rollin is by no means equal to it. 

“ I own, I like still less your project of the Age of 
Charles the Fifth. That subject is disjointed; and your 
hero, who is the sole connexion, is not very interesting. 
A competent knowledge at least is required of the state 
and constitution of the empire; of the several kingdoms 
of Spain, of Italy, of the Low Countries ; which it would 
be the work of half a life to acquire ; and, though some 
parts of the story may be entertaining, there would be 
many dry and barren ; and the whole seems not to have 
any great charms. 



X 


ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


“ But 1 would not willingly start objections to these 
schemes, unless 1 had something to propose, which would 
be plausible; and I shall mention to you an idea which 
has sometimes pleased me, and which I had once enter¬ 
tained thoughts of attempting. 1 ou may observe tlrat 
among modern readers, Plutarch is in every translation the 
chief favourite of the ancients. Numberless translations, 
and numberless editions, have been made of him in all 
lansmaaes; and no translation has been so ill done as not 
to be successful. Though those who read the originals 
never put him in comparison either with Thucydides or 
Xenophon, he always attaches more the reader in the 
translation ; a proof that the idea and execution of his 
work is, in the main, happy. Now, I would have you 
think of writing modern lives, somewhat after that manner : 
not to enter into a detail of the actions, but to mark the 
manners of the great personages, by domestic stories, by 
remarkable sayings, and by a general sketch of their lives 
and adventures. You see that in Plutarch the life of 
Caesar may be read in half an hour. Were you to write 
the life of Henry the Fourth of France after that model, 
you might pillage all the pretty stories in Sully, and speak 
more of his mistresses than of his battles. In short, you 
might gather the flower of all Modern History in this man¬ 
ner : the remarkable popes, the kings of Sweden, the great 
discoverers and conquerors of the New World; even the 
eminent men of letters might furnish you with matter, and 
the quick despatch of every different work would encourage 
you to begin a new one. If one volume were successful, 
you might compose another at your leisure, and the field 
is inexhaustible. There are persons whom you might meet 
with in the corners of history, so to speak, who would be 
a subject of entertainment quite unexpected; and as long 
as you live, you might give and receive amusement by 
such a work. Even your son, if he had a talent for his¬ 
tory, would succeed to the subject, and his son to him. 
1 shall insist no further on this idea; because, if it strikes 
your fancy, you will easily perceive all its advantages, and, 
by further thought, all its difficulties.’' 


After much deliberation, Dr. Robertson resolved to 
undertake the History of Charles V.—a determination not 
less fortunate for the public than for his own fame; as it 
engaged him, unexpectedly perhaps, in a train of researches 
not confined to the period, or to the quarter of the globe, 
that he had originally in view; but which, opening, as he 
advanced, new and more magnificent prospects, attracted 
his curiosity to two of the greatest and most interesting 
subjects of speculation in the history of human affairs ;— 
the enterprises of modern ambition in the western world, 
and the traces of ancient wisdom and arts existing in the 
east. 

The progress of the work, however, was interrupted for 
some time, about a year after its commencement, by cer¬ 
tain circumstances which induced him to listen more 
favourably than formerly to the entreaties of those friends 
who urged him to attempt a History of England. The 
motives that weighed with him on this occasion are fully 
explained in a correspondence still extant, in which there 
are various particulars tending to illustrate his character 
and his literary views. 

From a letter of the late lord Cathcart to Dr. Robert¬ 
son, (dated 20th of July, 1761,) the revival of this project 


would appear to have originated in a manner not a little 
flattering to the vanity of an author. 

. . . . « Lord Bute told me the king’s thoughts, as well 
as his own, with respect to your History of Scotland, and 
a wish his majesty had expressed to see a History of Eng¬ 
land by your pen. His lordship assured me, every source 
of information which government can command would be 
opened to you; and that great, laborious, and extensive as 
the work must be, he would take care your encouragement 
should be proportioned to it. He seemed to be aware of 
some objections you once had, founded on the apprehen¬ 
sion of clashing or interfering with Mr. David Hume who 
is your friend; but as your performance and his will be 
upon plans so different from each other, and as his will, in 
point of time, have so much the start of yours, these ob¬ 
jections did not seem to him such as, upon reflection, 
were libely to continue to have much weight with 
you. 

.“I must add, that though I did not think it 

right to inquire particularly into Lord Bute’s intentions 
before I knew a little of your mind, it appeared to me 
plain, that they were higher than any views which can open 
to you in Scotland, and which, I believe, he would think 
inconsistent with the attention the other subject would 
necessarily require.”. 

A paper which has been accidentally preserved among 
the letters addressed to Dr. Robertson by his friends, en¬ 
ables me to state his sentiments with respect to the fore¬ 
going proposal, in his own words. It is in Dr. Robertson’s 
hand-writing, and is marked on the back as “ An imper¬ 
fect Sketch of his Answer to Lord Cathcart’s letter of July 
20th.” The following extracts contain all those parts of it 
which are connected with the project of the English 
History. 

.“ After the first publication of the History of 

Scotland, and the favourable reception it met with, I had 
both very tempting offers from booksellers, and very confi¬ 
dent assurances of public encouragement, if I would un¬ 
dertake the Flistory of England. But as Mr. Hume, with 
whom, notwithstanding the contrariety of our sentiments 
both in religion and politics, I live in great friendship, was 
at that time in the middle of the subject, no consideration 
of interest or reputation would induce me to break in upon 
a field of which he had taken prior possession ; and I de¬ 
termined that my interference with him should never be 
any obstruction to the sale or success of his work. Nor 
do I yet repent my having resisted so many solicitations to 
alter this resolution. But the case I now think is entirely 

j 

changed. His History will have been published several 
years before any work of mine on the same subject can 
appear; its first run will not be marred by any justling 
with me, and it will have taken that station in the literary 
system which belongs to it. This objection, therefore, 
which I thought, and still think, so weighty at that time, 
makes no impression on me at present, and I can now 
justify my undertaking the English History to myself, to 
the world, and to him. Besides, our manner of viewing 
the same subject is so different or peculiar, that (as was the 
case in our last books) both may maintain their own rank, 
have their own partisans, and possess their own merit, 
without hurting each other. 

“ I am sensible how extensive and laborious the under¬ 
taking is, and that I could not propose to execute it in 
the manner I could wish, and the public will expect, unless 
I shall be enabled to consecrate my whole time and in- 







XI 


OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


dustry to it. Though I am not weary of my profession, 
nor wish ever to throw oft' my ecclesiastical character, yet 
I have often wished to be free of the labour of daily 
preaching, and to have it in my power to apply myself 
wholly to my studies. This the encouragement your lord- 
ship mentions will put in my power. But as my chief 
residence must still be in Scotland, where I would choose, 
both for my own sake and that of my family, to live and 
to compose; as a visit of three or four months now and 
then to England will be fully sufficient for consulting such 
manuscripts as have never been published; I should not 
wish to drop all connexion with the church of which I am 
a member, but still to hold some station in it, without 
being reduced entirely to the profession of an author. 

“ Another circumstance must be mentioned to your 
lordship. As I have begun the History of Charles V. and 
have above one-third of it finished, I would not. choose to 
lose what I have done. It will take at least two years to 
bring that work to perfection; and after that I shall begin 
the other, which was my first choice, long before Mr. 
Ilume undertook it, though I was then too diffident of 
myself, and too idle to make any progress in the execution 
of it, further than forming some general ideas as to the 
manner in which it should be prosecuted. 

“ As to the establishment to be made in my favour, it 
would ill become me to say any thing. Whether the pre¬ 
sent time be a proper one for settling the matter finally I 
know not. I beg leave only to say, that however much I 
may wish to have a point fixed so much for my honour, 
and which will give such stability to all my future schemes, 
I am not impatient to enter into possession, before I can 
set to work with that particular task for which my appoint¬ 
ments are to be given.” 

In a letter addressed to Mr. Baron Mure, (dated Nov. 
25, 1761,) Dr. Robertson has explained himself still more 
fully on some points touched on in the foregoing corre¬ 
spondence. 

“ I need say no more of my reasons for not undertaking 
the History of England immediately after the publication 
of my last book, or the circumstances which induce me to 
think that I may now engage in it with propriety. These 
I have already explained, and I hope they are approved of. 
The only thing about which I have any difficulty is, the 
proposal of my residing in London with my family during 
the time I shall be employed in my intended work. If 
such a prospect had opened to me a dozen years ago, I 
should have reckoned it a very fortunate accident, and 
would have embraced it without hesitation. But, at my 
time of life, accustomed to the manners of my own coun¬ 
try, and living with ease and credit and in good company 
here, I am unwilling to think of entering upon new habits, 
of forming new connexions and friendships, and of ming¬ 
ling with a society which, by what I have seen of it, I do 
not relish so much as that to which I am more familiar. 
This is the light in which, if I were still a single man, I 
must have viewed the matter. But in my present situation, 
with a wife and four children, my difficulties increase ; and 
I must consider not only what would be agreeable to my¬ 
self, but what may be of advantage to them. You know 
how greatly the expense of house-keeping at London 
exceeds that at Edinburgh, and how much the charge 
of educating children increases. You know with what 
ease women of a middling fortune mingle with good 
company in Edinburgh; how impossible that is in Lon¬ 
don ; and even how great the expense is of their having 


any proper society at all. As I happen to have three 
daughters, these circumstances must occur to me, and have 
their own weight. Besides this, if it shall please God to 
spare my life a few years, I shall be able to leave my 
family, if it continue in Scotland, in a situation more inde¬ 
pendent than I could ever expect from any success or 
encouragement, if they shall settle in England. 

.“ Were I to carve out my own fortune, I 

should wish to continue one of his majesty’s chaplains for 
Scotland, but to resign my charge as a minister of Edin¬ 
burgh, which engrosses more of my time than one who is 
a stranger to the many minute duties of that office can well 
imagine. I would wish to apply my whole time to lite¬ 
rary pursuits, which is at present parcelled out among 
innumerable occupations. In order to enable me to make 
this resignation, some appointment must be assigned me 
for life. What that should be, it neither becomes me nor 
do I pretend to say. One thing, however, 1 wish with 
same earnestness, that the thing might be executed soon, 
both as it will give me great vigour in my studies to have 
my future fortune ascertained in such an honourable man¬ 
ner, and because, by allowing me to apply myself wholly 
to my present work, it will enable me to finish it in less 
time, and to begin so much sooner to my new task.” 

In what manner this plan, after being so far advanced, 
came to be finally abandoned, I have not been able to 
discover. The letters from which the foregoing extracts 
are taken, seem to have been preserved by mere accident; 
and after the date of the last, I find a blank till 1763 in 
Dr. Robertson’s correspondence with lord Cathcart. Some 
letters which passed between them about that time are now 
in my possession. They relate chiefly to a scheme which 
was then in agitation, and which was soon after accom¬ 
plished, of reviving in Dr. Robertson’s favour the office of 
Historiographer for Scotland ; but from various incidental 
passages in them, it appears clearly that he still looked 
forwards to a History of England as the next subject he 
was to undertake after that of Charles V. It is not im¬ 
possible, that the resignation of lord Bute in 1764 may 
have contributed somewhat to alter his views, by imposing 
on him the necessity of a new negociation through a differ¬ 
ent channel. The History of Charles V., besides, employed 
him much longer than he foresaw; partly in consequence 
of his avocations as Principal of the University, and partly 
of those arising from his connexion with the church, in 
which, at that period, faction ran high. In the execution 
too of this work, he found that the transactions relating to 
America, which he had originally intended as the subject 
of an episode, were of such magnitude as to require a 
separate narrative : and when at last he had brought to a 
termination the long and various labours in which he was 
thus involved, his health was too much impaired, and his 
life too far advanced, to allow him to think of an under¬ 
taking so vast in itself, and which Mr. Hume had already 
executed with so splendid and so merited a reputation. 

The delays which retarded the publication of the History 
of Charles V., together with the author’s established popu¬ 
larity as a writer, had raised the curiosity of the public to 
a high pitch before that work appeared ; and perhaps there 
never was a book, unconnected with the circumstances of 
the times, that was expected with more general impatience. 
It is unnecessary for me to say, that these expectations 
were not disappointed ; nor would it be worth while to 
swell this memoir with a repetition of the eulogiums lavished 
on the author in the literary journals of the day. The sen- 

b 




ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


timent of his own personal friends, as expressed in the 
openness and confidence of a private epistolary corres¬ 
pondence, cannot fail to be more interesting; and I shall 
accordingly, on this, as on other occasions, avail myself of 
whatever passages in his papers appear to me to be useful, 
either for illustrating his literary progress, or his habits and 
connexions in private life. 

The paragraphs which immediately follow are part of a 
letter from Mr. Hume, without any date ; but written, as 
it appears from the contents, while the History of Charles 
V. was still in the press. The levity of the style forms 
such a striking contrast to the character which this grave 
and philosophical historian sustains in his publications, 
that I have sometimes hesitated about the propriety of 
subjecting to the criticisms of the world so careless an 
effusion of gaiety and affection. I trust, however, that to 
some it will not. be wholly uninteresting to enjoy a glimpse 
of the writer and his correspondent in the habits of private 
intercourse; and that to them the playful and good-natured 
irony of Mr. Hume will suggest not unpleasing pictures of 
the hours which they borrowed from business and study. 
Dr. Robertson used frequently to say, that in Mr. Hume’s 
gaiety there was something which approached to infantine; 
and that he had found the same thing so often exemplified 
in the circle of his other friends, that he was almost dis¬ 
posed to consider it as characteristical of genius. It 
has certainly lent an amiable grace to some of the most 
favourite names in ancient story. 

- Atqui 

Priinores populi arripuit, populumque tributim— 

Quin ubi se a vulgo et scena in secreta rem&rant 
Virtus Scipiadae et mitis sapientia Ladi; 

Nugari cum illo et discincti ludere, donee 
Decoqueretur olus, soliti.- 

“ I got yesterday from Strahan about thirty sheets of 
vour history to be sent over to Suard, and last night and 
this morning have run them over with great avidity. I 
could not deny myself the satisfaction (which I hope also 
will not displease you) of expressing presently my extreme 
approbation of them. To say only they are very well 
written, is by far too faint an expression, and much inferior 
to the sentiments I feel: they are composed with noble¬ 
ness, with dignity, with elegance, and with judgment, to 
which there are few equals. They even excel, and, I 
think, in a sensible degree, your History of Scotland. I 
propose to myself great pleasure in being the only man 
in England, during some months, who will be in the 
situation of doing you justice, after which you may cer¬ 
tainly expect that my voice will be drowned in that of the 
public. 

“ You know that you and I have always been on the 
footing of finding in each other’s productions something 
to blame , and something to commend; and therefore you 
may perhaps expect also some seasoning of the former 
kind; but really neither my leisure nor inclination allowed 
me to make such remarks, and I sincerely believe you 
have afforded me very small materials for them. How¬ 
ever, such particulars as occur to my memory I shall 
mention. Maltreat is a Scotticism which occurs once. 
What the devil have you to do with that old-fashioned 
dangling word wherewith l I should as soon take back 
whereupon , whereunto, and wherewithal. I think the only 

* Considering the critical attention which Mr. Hume appears to have 
given to the minutia of style, it is somewhat surprising that lie should 
himself fail so frequently both in purity and grammatical correctness. In 
these respects, his historical compositions will not bear a comparison with 
those of Dr. Uobertr-on ; although they abound, in every page, with what 


tolerable, decent gentleman of the family is wherein ; and 
I should not choose to be often seen in his company. 
But I know your affection for wherewith proceeds from 
your partiality to dean Swift, whom I can often laugh 
with, whose style I can even approve, but surely can 
never admire. It has no harmony, no eloquence, no 
ornament; and not much correctness, whatever the Eng¬ 
lish may imagine. Were not their literature still in a 
somewhat barbarous state, that author’s place would not 
be so high among their classics. But what a fancy is this 
you have taken of saying always an hand , an heart , an 
head ? Have you an ear ? Do you not know that this 
(n) is added before vowels to prevent the cacophony, and 
ought never to take place before (h) when that letter is 
sounded ? It is never pronounced in these words : why 
should it be wrote ? Thus, I should say, a history , and an 
historian ; and so would you too, if you had any sense. 
But you tell me, that Swift does otherwise. To be sure 
there is no reply to that; and we must swallow your hath 

too upon the same authority. I will see you d-d 

sooner.—But I wdl endeavour to keep my temper. 

“ I do not like this sentence in page 149. This step 
wees taken in consequence of the treaty Wolsey had concluded 
with the emperor at Brussels, and which had hitherto been 
kept secret. Si sic omnia dixisses, I should never have 
been plagued with hearing your praises so often sounded 
and that fools preferred your style to mine. Certainly it 
had been better to have said, which Wolsey, §c. That re¬ 
lative ought very seldom to be omitted, and is here parti¬ 
cularly requisite to preserve a symmetry between the two 
members of the sentence. You omit the relative too 
often, which is a colloquial barbarism, as Mr. Johnson 
calls it. 

“ Your periods are sometimes, though not often, too 
long. Suard will be embarrassed with them, as the modish 
French style runs into the other extreme.” . . . . . .* 

* * * * « 

Another letter of Mr. Hume’s, (dated 28th March 1769,) 
relates to the same subject. “ I find then that you are not 
contented without a particular detail of your own praises, 
and that the very short but pithy letter I wrote you gives 
you no satisfaction. But what can I say more ? The suc¬ 
cess has answered my expectations : and I, who converse 
with the great, the fair, and the learned, have scarcely 
heard an opposite voice, or even whisper, to the general 
sentiment. Only I have heard that the sanhedrim at Mrs. 
Macauley’s condemns you as little less a friend to govern¬ 
ment and monarchy than myself.”. 

Mr. Walpole’s congratulations on this occasion were no 
less warm than Mr. Hume’s; but as they are expressed in 
more general terms, they do not supply materials equally 
interesting for a quotation. The only letter, besides, from 
Mr. Walpole relative to Charles V. that has come into my 
hands, was written before he had proceeded further in the 
perusal than the first volume. What the impressions were 
which that part of the work had left upon his mind, may 
be judged of from the following paragraph : 

“ Give me leave, Sir, without flattery, to observe to 
yourself, what is very natural to say to others. You are 
almost the single, certainly the greatest, instance, that sound 
parts and judgment can attain every perfection of a writer, 

Mr. Gibbon calls “ careless, inimitable beauties.” In his familiar letters 
the. inaccuracies are more numerous than might have been expected from 
one accustomed so much to write with a view to publication ; nor are these 
negligences always compensated by that happy lightness and ease which he 
seems to have been studious to attain. 









OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


Illl 


though it be buried in the privacy of retired life and deep 
study. You have neither the prejudices of a recluse, nor 
want any of the taste of a man of the world. Nor is this 
polished ease confined to your works, which parts and 
imitation might possibly seize. In the few hours I passed 
with you last summer, I was struck with your familiar ac¬ 
quaintance with men, and with every topic of conversation. 
Of your Scottish History I have often said, that it seemed 
to me to have been written by an able ambassador, who 
had seen much of affairs. I do not expect to find less of 
that penetration in your Charles. Why should I not say 
thus much to you? Why should the language of flattery 
forbid truth to speak its mind, merely because flattery has 
stolen truth’s expressions? W hy should you be deprived 
of the satisfaction of hearing the impression your merit has 
made? You have sense enough to be conscious that you 
deserve what I have said ; and though modesty will forbid 
you to subscribe to it, justice to me and to my character, 
which was never that of a flatterer, will oblige you silently 
to feel, that I can have no motive but that of paying hom¬ 
age to superior abilities.” 

Lord Lyttleton was another correspondent with whom 
Dr. Robertson had occasional communications. The first 
of his letters was an acknowledgment to him for a present 
of Charles V.; and is valuable on account of its coinci¬ 
dence with a letter of Mr. Hume’s formerly quoted, in 
which he recommended to Dr. Robertson to write lives in 
the manner of Plutarch. 

“ I don’t wonder that your sense of the public expect¬ 
ation gives you some apprehensions ; but I know that the 
historian of Mary queen of Scots cannot fail to do justice 
to any great subject; and no greater can be found in the 
records of mankind than this you have now chosen. Go 
on, dear sir, to enrich the English language with more 
tracts of modern history. We have nothing good in that 
way, except what relates to the island of Great Britain. 
You have talents and youth enough to undertake the 
agreeable and useful task of giving us all the lives of the 
most illustrious princes who have flourished since the age 
of Charles V. in every part of the world, and comparing 
them together, as Plutarch has done the most celebrated 
heroes of Greece and Rome. This will diffuse your glory 
as a writer further than any other work. All nations will 
have an equal interest in it; and feel a gratitude to the 
stranger who takes pains to immortalize the virtues of those 
to whom he is only related by the general sympathy of sen¬ 
timent and esteem. Plutarch was a Greek, which made 
him less impartial between his countrymen and the Ro¬ 
mans in weighing their comparative merit, than you would 
be in contrasting a Frenchman with a German, or an 
Italian with a Spaniard, or a Dutchman with a Swede. 
Select, therefore, those great men out of different countries, 
whose characters and actions may be best compared to¬ 
gether, and present them to our view, without that disguise 
which the partiality of their countrymen or the malice of 
their enemies may have thrown upon them. If I can ani¬ 
mate you to this, posterity will owe me a very great obli¬ 
gation.” 

I shall close these extracts with a short letter from Vol¬ 
taire, dated 26th February 1770, from the Chateau de 

Ferneij. 

“ II y a quatre jours que j’ai refu le beau present dont 
vous m’avez honore. Je le lis malgrfe les fluxions horribles 
(jui me font craindre de perdre entiferement les yeux. I! 

• Appendix, Note 0. 


me fait oublier tous mes maux. C’est a vous et a M. 
Hume qu’il appartient d’ecrire l’Histoire. Vous fetes elo¬ 
quent, savant, et impartial. Je me joins a 1’Europe pour 
vous estimer.” 


While Dr. Robertson’s fame was thus rapidly extending 
wherever the language in which he wrote was understood 
and cultivated, he had the singular good fortune to find in 
M. Suard, a writer fully capable of transfusing into a lan¬ 
guage still more universal, all the spirit and elegance of the 
original. It appears from a letter preserved among Dr. 
Robertson’s papers, that M. Suard was selected for this 
undertaking, by the well known baron d’Holbach. He 
has since made ample additions to his fame by his own 
productions ; but, if I am not mistaken, it was his transla¬ 
tion of Charles V. which first established his reputation, 
and procured him a seat in the French Academy.* 

The high rank which this second publication of Dr. 
Robertson’s has long maintained in the list of our English 
classics, is sufficient to justify the warm encomiums I have 
already transcribed from the letters of his friends. To the 
general expressions of praise, however, which they have 
bestowed on it, I shall take the liberty of adding a few 
remarks on some of those specific excellences by which it 
appears to me to be more peculiarly distinguished. 

Among those excellences, a most important one arises 
from the address displayed by the author in surmounting 
a difficulty, which has embarrassed, more or less, all the 
historians who have attempted to record the transactions 
of the two last centuries. In consequence of those rela¬ 
tions which connect together the different countries of 
modern Europe as parts of one great system, a general 
knowledge of the contemporary situation of other nations 
becomes indispensable to those who would fully compre¬ 
hend the political transactions of any one state at a parti¬ 
cular period. In writing the history of a great nation, 
accordingly, it is necessary to connect with the narrative 
occasional episodes with respect to such foreign affairs as 
had an influence on the policy of the government, or on 
the fortunes of the people. To accomplish this with suc¬ 
cess, by bestowing on these digressions perspicuity and 
interest, without entering into that minuteness of detail 
which might mislead the attention of the reader from the 
principal subject, is unquestionably one of the most diffi¬ 
cult tasks of an historian ; and in executing this task, Dr. 
Robertson’s judgment and skill will not suffer by a com¬ 
parison with those displayed by the most illustrious of his 
rivals. 

In the work, however, now under our consideration, he 
has aimed at something more ; for while he has recorded, 
with admirable distinctness, the transactions of a particu¬ 
lar reign, (preserving his episodes in so just a subordina¬ 
tion to his main design, that they seldom produce any 
inconvenient distraction of attention or of interest,) he has 
contrived, by happy transitions, to interweave so many of 
the remarkable events which happened about the same 
time in other parts of Europe, as to render his History of 
Charles V. the most instructive introduction that has yet 
appeared to the general history of that age. The advan¬ 
tage of making the transactions of a particular nation, and 
still more the reign of a particular sovereign, a ground¬ 
work for such comprehensive views of human affairs, is 
sufficiently obvious. Bv carrying on a connected series 





XIV 


ACCOUNT OF THE I 

of important events, and indicating their relations to the 
contemporary history of mankind, a meridian is traced (if 
I may use the expression) through the vast and crowded 
map of time; and a line of reference is exhibited to the 
mind, for marking the bearings of those subordinate occur¬ 
rences, in the multiplicity of which its powers would have 
been lost. 

In undertaking a work on a plan so philosophical in the 
design, but so difficult in the execution, no period, perhaps, 
in the history of the world, could have been more happily 
chosen than that which commences with the sixteenth 
century; in the course of which, (as he himself observes,) 

“ the several powers of Europe were formed into one great 
political system, in which each took a station, wherein it 
has since remained with less alteration than could have 
been expected, after the shocks occasioned by so many in¬ 
ternal revolutions and so many foreign wars.” 

Mr. Hume, in a letter which I had occasion already to 
quote, objects to him that “ his hero is not very interesting,” 
and it must undoubtedly be acknowledged, that the cha- 
racteristical qualities of his mind were less those of an 
amiable man than of a great prince. His character, how¬ 
ever, on the whole, was singularly adapted to Dr. Robert¬ 
son’s purpose ; not only as the ascendant it secured to him 
in the political world marks him out indisputably as the 
principal figure in that illustrious group which then ap¬ 
peared on the theatre of Europe, but as it every where 
displays that deep and sagacious policy, which, by sys¬ 
tematizing his counsels, and linking together the great 
events of his reign, inspires a constant interest, if not for 
the personal fortunes of the man, at least for the magnifi¬ 
cent projects of the politician.—Nor is the character of 
Charles, however unamiable, without a certain species of 
attraction. The reader who is previously acquainted with 
the last scenes of his enterprising and brilliant life, while 
he follows him through the splendid career of his ambition, 
can scarcely avoid to indulge occasionally those moral 
sympathies which the contrast awakens ; and to borrow 
from the solitude of the cloister some prophetic touches, 
to soften the sternness of the warrior and the statesman. 

With a view to facilitate the study of this important 
portion of modern history, Dr. Robertson has employed a 
preliminary volume in tracing the progress of society in 
Europe, from the subversion of the Roman Empire to the 
sera at which his narrative commences. In this instance, 
as well as in the first book of his Scottish History, he has 
sanctioned by his example a remark of Father Paul, that 
an historical composition should be as complete as possi¬ 
ble in itself; exhibiting a series of events intelligible to 
every reader, without any reference to other sources of in¬ 
formation. On the minuteness and accuracy of Dr. 
Robertson’s researches concerning the state of Europe 
during the middle ages, I do not presume to offer an 
opinion. They certainly exhibit marks of very extensive 
and various reading, digested with the soundest judgment; 
and of which the results appear to be arranged in the most 
distinct and luminous order. At the time when he wrote, 
such an arrangementof materials was the grand desideratum, 
and by far the most arduous task ; nor will the merit of 
having first brought into form a mass of information so 
little accessible till then to ordinary readers, be ever affected 
by the controversies that may arise concerning the justness 
of particular conclusions. If, in some of these, he has 
been censured as hasty by later writers, it must be remem- 

* Dr. Gilbert Stuart. 


IFE AND WRITINGS 

bered how much their labours were facilitated by what he 
did to open a field for their minuter diligence; and that, 
by the scrupulous exactness with which he refers to his 
authorities, he has himself furnished the means of correct¬ 
ing his errors. One thing is certain, (and it affords no 
inconsiderable testimony both to the felicity of his choice 
in the various historical subjects he undertook, and to the 
extent of his researches in the investigation of facts,) that 
the most acute and able of all his adversaries * was guided 
by Dr. Robertson’s example in almost all his literary un¬ 
dertakings ; and that his curiosity has seldom led him into 
any path, where the genius and industry of his predecessor 
had not previously cleared the way. 

In no part of Dr. Robertson’s works has he displayed 
more remarkably than in this introductory volume, his 
patience in research; his penetration and good sense in 
selecting his information ; or that comprehension of mind, 
which, without being misled by system, can combine, 
with distinctness and taste, the dry and scattered details 
of ancient monuments. In truth, this Dissertation, under 
the unassuming title of an Introduction to the History of 
Charles V., may be regarded as an introduction to the 
History of Modern Europe. It is invaluable, in this 
respect, to the historical student; and it suggests, in 
every page, matter of speculation to the politician and the 
philosopher. 

It will not, I hope, be imputed to me as a blamable 
instance of national vanity, if I conclude this section with 
remarking the rapid progress that has been made in our 
own country during the last fifty years, in tracing the ori¬ 
gin and progress of the present establishments in Europe. 
Montesquieu undoubtedly led the way; but much has 
been done since the publication of his works, by authors 
whose names are enrolled among the members of this 
society. u On this interesting subject,” says Mr. Gibbon, 
“ a strong ray of philosophic light has broke from Scotland 
in our own times; and it is with private as well as public 
regard, that I repeat the names of Hume, Robertson, and 
Adam Smith.” f It was, indeed, a subject worthy of their 
genius; for, in the whole history of human affairs, no 
spectacle occurs so wonderful in itself, or so momentous 
in its effects, as the growth of that system which took its 
rise from the conquests of the barbarians. In consequence 
of these, the western parts of Europe were overspread with 
a thick night of superstition and ignorance, which lasted 
nearly a thousand years; yet this event, which had at first 
so unpromising an aspect, laid the foundation of a state of 
society far more favourable to the general and permanent 
happiness of the human race than any which the world 
had hitherto seen ;—a state of society which required many 
ages to bring it to that condition which it has now attained, 
and which will probably require ages more to bestow on 
it all the perfection of which it seems to be gradually sus¬ 
ceptible. By dividing Europe into a number of large 
monarchies, agreeing with each other in their fundamental 
institutions, but differing in the nature both of their moral 
and physical advantages; and possessing, at the same 
time, such measures of relative force as to render them 
objects of mutual respect; it multiplied the chances of 
human improvement;—secured a mutual communication 
of lights among vast political communities, all of them 
fitted to contribute their respective shares to the common 
stock of knowledge and refinement;—and sheltered science 
and civilization, till they had time to strike their roots so 

t Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap. Ixi. 



OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


:xv 


deep, and to scatter their seeds so wide, that their final 
progress over the whole globe can now be checked only 
by some calamity fatal to the species. 


SECTION III. 

Continuation of the same subject.—History of America. 

After an interval of eight years from the publication of 
Charles the Fifth, Dr. Robertson produced the History of 
America;—a work which, by the variety of research and 
of speculation that it exhibits, enables us to form a suffi¬ 
cient idea of the manner in which he had employed the 
intervening period. 

In undertaking this task, the author’s original intention 
was only to complete his account of the great events con¬ 
nected with the reign of Charles V.; but perceiving, as he 
advanced, that a History of America, confined solely to 
the operations and concerns of the Spaniards, would not 
be likely to excite a very general interest, he resolved to 
include in his plan the transactions of all the European 
nations in the New World. The origin and progress of 
the British empire there, he destined for the subject of one 
entire volume ; but afterwards abandoned, or rather sus¬ 
pended, the execution of this part of his design, for reasons 
mentioned in his preface. 

In the view which I have hitherto given of Dr. Robert¬ 
son’s literary pursuits, I have endeavoured not only to 
glean all the scanty information which his papers supply, 
concerning the progress of his studies, but to collect what¬ 
ever memorials they afford of his intercourse with those, to 
whom he appears to have been more peculiarly attached 
by sentiments of esteem or of friendship. In following 
this plan, while I have attempted (in conformity to the 
precept of an eloquent critic)* to add to the interest of my 
narrative “ by surrounding the subject of it with his con¬ 
temporaries,” I have aimed also to select such passages 
from the letters of his correspondents, as were at once cal¬ 
culated to illustrate the characters of the writers, and to 
reflect some light on that of the person to whom they are 
addressed. It appeared to me to be possible to convey in 
this manner a livelier and juster idea of the more delicate 
features of their minds, than by any description however 
circumstantial; and at the same time, to avoid, by a pro¬ 
per discrimination in the selection of materials, those fri¬ 
volous or degrading details, which, in the present times, 
are so frequently presented to the public by the indiscre¬ 
tion of editors. The epistolary fragments, accordingly, in¬ 
terwoven with my own composition, have all a reference to 
the peculiar object of this Memoir; and I cannot help in¬ 
dulging a hope, that they will amply compensate, by the 
value they possess as authentic relics of the individuals 
whose friendships they record, for the trespasses they have 
occasioned against that unity of style which the rules of 
criticism enjoin. 

In the further prosecution of this subject, 1 shall adhere 
to the same general plan ; without, however, affecting that 
minuteness of illustration which I was anxious to bestow 
on the first steps of Dr. Robertson’s literary progress. The 

* Abbe Maury. 

+ Appendix, Note E. 

1 I he letter from which the foregoing passage is extracted has been 
already published by lord Sheffield in the posthumous works of Mr. Gib- 


circle of his acquaintance, besides, was now so extended, 
and the congratulations which his works drew to him so 
multiplied, that my choice must necessarily be limited to 
the letters of those whose names render their judgments of 
men and books objects of public curiosity. The Society 
will regret with me, that among these correspondents the 
name of Mr. Hume is not to be found. He died in the 
year 1776; the year immediately preceding that in which 
the History of America was published.f 

Mr. Gibbon made his appearance as an historian a 
few months before Mr. Hume’s death, and began a corre¬ 
spondence with Dr. Robertson the year following. A 
letter, dated from Paris, 14th July 1777, in acknowledg¬ 
ment of a present of Dr. Robertson’s book, appears plainly 
from the contents to have been one of the first that passed 
between them. 

“ When I ventured to assume the character of historian, 
the first, the most natural, but at the same time the most 
ambitious, wish which I entertained, was to deserve the 
approbation of Dr. Robertson and Mr. Hume, two names 
which friendship united, and which posterity will never 
separate. I shall not therefore attempt to dissemble, 
though I cannot easily express, the honest pleasure which 
I received from your obliging letter, as well as from the 
intelligence of your most valuable present. The satisfac¬ 
tion which I should otherwise have enjoyed in common 
with the public, will now be heightened by a sentiment of 
a more personal and flattering nature; and I shall often 
whisper to myself that I have in some degree obtained the 
esteem of the writer whom 1 admire. 

“ A short excursion which I have made to this place 
during the summer months, has occasioned some delay in 
my receiving your letter, and will prevent me from pos¬ 
sessing, till my return, the copy of your history, which you 
so politely desired Mr. Strahan to send me. But I have 
already gratified the eagerness of my curiosity and im¬ 
patience ; and though 1 was obliged to return the book 
much sooner than I could have wished, I have seen 
enough to convince me that the present publication will 
support, and, if possible, extend, the fame of the author; 
that the materials are collected with care, and arranged 
with skill; that the progress of discovery is displayed with 
learning and perspicuity; that the dangers, the achieve¬ 
ments, and the views of the Spanish adventurers, are re¬ 
lated with a temperate spirit; and that the most original, 
perhaps the most curious, portion of human manners, is at 
length rescued from the hands of sophists and declaimers. 
Lord Stormont, and the few in this capital who have had 
an opportunity of perusing the History of America, unani¬ 
mously concur in the same sentiments ; your work is 
already become a favourite subject of conversation, and 
M. Suard is repeatedly pressed, in my hearing, to fix the 
time when his translation will appear.” J 

In most of the other letters received by Dr. Robertson 
on this occasion, I have not remarked any thing very in¬ 
teresting. Mr. Walpole is liberal, as formerly, in his 
praise, but does not enter so much into particular criti¬ 
cisms ; and as for his other correspondents, (among whom 
were various names of the first distinction in the kingdom,) 
the greater part of them were probably restrained, by 
motives of delicacy, from offering any thing more than 
general expressions of admiration, to* a writer whose fame 

bon. As the copy found among Dr. Robertson’s papers corresponds 
verbatim with that which Mr. Gibbon appears to have retained in his own 
possession, it affords a proof of the care which he bestowed on his cpisto- 
fary compositions. 






ACCOUNT OF TI1E LIFE AND WRITINGS 


xn 

was now so fully established. A letter from William lord 
Mansfield, though it bears no marks of the superior mind 
of that eminent man, is valuable at least as a testimony of 
his respect for Dr. Robertson: nor will it, perhaps, when 
contrasted with the splendour of his professional exer¬ 
tions, be altogether unacceptable to those who have a 
pleasure in studying the varieties and the limits of human 
genius. 

“ I delayed returning you my warmest acknowledgments 
for your most valuable present, till I could say that I had 
enjoyed it. Since my return from the circuit I have read 
it with infinite pleasure. It is inferior to none of your 
works, which is saying a great deal. No man will now 
doubt but that you have done judiciously in making this 
an entire separate work, and detaching it from the general 
history. Your account of the science of navigation and 
naval discovery is admirable, and equal to any historical 
map of the kind. If I knew a pen equal to it, I would 
advise the continuation down to the next arrival of captain 
Cook. Nothing could be more entertaining or more 
instructive. It is curious that all great discoveries are 
made, as it were by accident, when men are in search of 
something else. I learn from you that Columbus did not, 
as a philosopher, demonstrate to himself that there must be 
such a portion of the earth as America is, but that mean¬ 
ing to go to the East Indies, he stumbled on the West. 
It is a more interesting speculation to consider how little 
political wisdom had to do, and how much has arisen from 
chance, in the peopling, government, laws, and constitution 
of the New World. You show it strongly in the revolutions 
and settlement of Spanish America. I hope the time will 
come for fulfilling the engagement you allude to in the 
beginning of the preface. You will then show how little 
political wisdom had to do in forming the original settle¬ 
ments of English America. Government left private ad¬ 
venturers to do as they pleased, and certainly did not see 
in any degree the consequence of the object.” 

One letter containing the judgment of an author who is 
supposed to have employed his own abilities in a very 
masterly sketch on the same subject, I shall publish entire. 
It is long for a quotation ; but I will not mutilate what 
comes from the pen of Mr. Burke. 

“ I am perfectly sensible of the very flattering distinction 
I have received in your thinking me worthy of so noble a 
present as that of your History of America. I have, how¬ 
ever, suffered my gratitude to lie under some suspicion, by 
delaying my acknowledgment of so great a favour. But 
my delay was only to render my obligation to you more 
complete, and my thanks, if possible, more merited. The 
close of the session brought a great deal of very trouble¬ 
some though not important business on me at once. I 
could not go through vour work at one breath at that time, 
though I have done it since. I am now enabled to thank 
you, not only for the honour you have done me, but for 
the great satisfaction, and the infinite variety and compass 
of instruction, I have received from your incomparable 
work. Every thing has been done which was so naturally 
to be expected from the author of the History of Scotland, 
and of the age of Charles the Fifth. I believe few books 
have done more than this, towards clearing up dark points, 
correcting errors, and removing prejudices. You have too 
the rare secret of rekindling an interest on subjects that 
had so often been treated, and in which everything which 
could feed a vital flame appeared to have been consumed. 

I am sure I read many parts of your history with that fresh 


concern and anxiety which attend those who are not pre¬ 
viously apprized of the event. You have, besides, thrown 
quite a new light on the present stale of the Spanish pro¬ 
vinces, and furnished both materials and hints for a rational 
theory of what may be expected from them in future. 

“ The part which I read with the greatest pleasure is, 
the discussion on the manners and character of the in¬ 
habitants of that new world. I have always thought with 
you, that we possess at this time very great advantages 
towards the knowledge of human nature. We need no 
longer go to history to trace it in all stages and periods. 
History, from its comparative youth, is but a poor in¬ 
structor. When the Egyptians called the Greeks children 
in antiquities, we may well call them children; and so we 
may call all those nations which were able to trace the 
progress of society only within their own limits. But now 
the great map of mankind is unrolled at once, and there 
is no state or gradation of barbarism, and no mode of re¬ 
finement, which we have not at the same moment under 
our view ; the very different civility of Europe and of 
China; the barbarism of Persia and of Abyssinia; the 
erratic manners of Tartary and of Arabia ; the savage 
state of North America and of New Zealand. Indeed 
you have made a noble use of the advantages you have 
had. You have employed philosophy to judge on man¬ 
ners, and from manners you have drawn new resources for 
philosophy. I only think that in one or two points you 
have hardly done justice to the savage character. 

“ There remains before you a great field. Periculosa 
plenum opus alece tractas, et mcedis per ignes, Suppos'd os 
cineri doloso. When even those ashes will be spread over 
the present fire, God knows. I am heartily sorry that we 
are now supplying you with that kind of dignity and con¬ 
cern, which is purchased to History at the expense of 
mankind. I had rather by far that Dr. Robertson’s pen 
were only employed in delineating the humble scenes of 
political economy, than the great events of a civil war. 
However, if our statesmen had read the book of human 
nature instead of the Journals of the House of Commons, 
and history instead of Acts of Parliament, we should not 
by the latter have furnished out so ample a page for the 
former. For my part, I have not been, nor am I, very for¬ 
ward in my speculations on this subject. All that I have 
ventured to make have hitherto proved fallacious. I con¬ 
fess, I thought the colonies left to themselves could not 
have made any thing like the present resistance to the 
whole power of this country and its allies. I did not 
think it could have been done without the declared inter¬ 
ference of the House of Bourbon. But I looked on it as 
very probable that France and Spain would before this 
time have taken a decided part. In both these conjectures 
I have judged amiss.—You will smile when I send you a 
trifling temporary production, made for the occasion of a 
day, and to perish with it, in return for your immortal 
work. But our exchange resembles the politics of the 
times. You send out solid wealth, the accumulation of 
ages, and in return you get a few flying leaves of poor 
American paper. However, you have the mercantile com¬ 
fort of finding the balance of trade infinitely in your favour; 
and I console myself with the snug consideration of unin¬ 
formed natural acuteness, that I have my warehouse full 
of goods at another’s expense. 

“ Adieu, Sir, continue to instruct the world ; and whilst 
we carry on a poor unequal conflict with the passions and 
prejudices of our day, perhaps with no better weapons 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xvn 


than other passions and prejudices of our own, convey 
wisdom at our expense to future generations/’ 

After these testimonies to the excellence of the Ameri¬ 
can History, joined to twenty years’ possession of the 
public favour, it, may perhaps be thought presumption in 
me to interpose my own judgment with respect to its pe¬ 
culiar merits. 1 cannot help, however, remarking (what 
appears still more characteristical of this than of any of 
Dr. Robertson’s other works) the comprehensive survey 
which he has taken of his vast and various subject, and the 
skilful arrangement by which he has bestowed connexion 
and symmetry on a mass of materials so shapeless and 
disjointed. The penetration and sagacity displayed in his 
delineation of savage manners, and the unbiassed good 
sense with which he has contrasted that state of society 
with civilized life, (a speculation in the prosecution of 
which so many of his predecessors had lost themselves in 
vague declamation or in paradoxical refinement,) have been 
much and deservedly admired. His industry also and 
accuracy in collecting information with respect to the 
Spanish system of colonial policy, have received warm 
praise from his friends and from the public. But what 
perhaps does no less honour to the powers of his mind 
than any of these particulars is, the ability and address 
with which he has treated some topics that did not fall 
within the ordinary sphere of his studies ; more especially 
those which border on the province of the natural historian. 
In the consideration of these, although we may perhaps, 
in one or two instances, have room to regret that he had 
not been still more completely prepared for the undertak¬ 
ing by previous habits of scientific disquisition, we uni¬ 
formly find him interesting and instructive in the informa¬ 
tion he conveys ; and happy, beyond most English writers, 
in the descriptive powers of his style. The species of 
description too in which he excels is peculiarly adapted to 
his subject; distinguished, not by those picturesque 
touches which vie with the effects of the pencil in present¬ 
ing local scenery to the mind, but by an expression, to which 
language alone is equal, of the grand features of an unsub¬ 
dued world. In these passages he discovers talents, as a 
writer, different from any thing that appears in his other 
publications; a compass and richness of diction the more 
surprising, that the objects described were so little fami¬ 
liarized to his thoughts, and, in more than one instance, 
rivalling the majestic eloquence which destined Buffon to 
be the historian of nature. 

After all, however, the principal charm of this, as well 
as of his other histories, arises from the graphical effect of 
his narrative, wherever his subject affords him materials 
for an interesting picture. What force and beauty of 
painting in his circumstantial details of the voyage of Co¬ 
lumbus ; of the first aspect of the new continent; and of 
the interviews of the natives with the Spanish adventurers! 
With what animation and fire does he follow the steps of 
Cortes through the varying fortunes of his vast and hazard¬ 
ous career; yielding, it must be owned, somewhat too 
much to the influence of the passions which his hero felt; 
but bestowing, at the same time, the warm tribute of ad¬ 
miration and sympathy on the virtues and fate of those 
whom he subdued ! The arts, the institutions, and the 
manners of Europe and of America; but above all, the 
splendid characters of Cortes and of Guatimozin, enable 
him, in this part of his work, to add to its other attractions 
that of the finest contrasts which occur in history. 

On these and similar occasions, if I may be allowed to 


judge from what I experience in myself, he seizes, more 
completely than any other modern historian, the attention 
of his reader, and transports him into the midst of the 
transactions which he records. His own imagination was 
warm and vigorous ; and, although in the conduct of life 
it gave no tincture of enthusiasm to his temper, yet, in the 
solitude of the closet, it attached him peculiarly to those 
passages of history which approach to the romantic. Hence 
many of the characteristical beauties of his writings; and 
hence too, perhaps, some of their imperfections. A cold 
and phlegmatic historian, who surveys human affairs like 
the inhabitant of a different planet, if his narrative should 
sometimes languish for want of interest, will at least avoid 
those prepossessions into which the writer must occasionally 
be betrayed, who, mingling with a sympathetic ardour 
among the illustrious personages whose story he contem¬ 
plates, is liable, while he kindles with their generous emo¬ 
tions, to be infected by the contagion of their prejudices 
and passions. 

These effects, resulting naturally from a warm imagina¬ 
tion, were heightened in Dr. Robertson by the vigour of 
an active and aspiring mind. It was not from the indif¬ 
ference produced by indolence or abstraction that he with¬ 
drew from the business of life to philosophy and letters. 
He was formed for action no less than speculation ; and 
had fortune opened to him a field equal to his talents, he 
would have preferred, without hesitation, (if I do not 
greatly mistake his character,) the pursuits of the former to 
those of the latter. His studies were all directed to the 
great scenes of political exertion; and it was only because 
he wanted an opportunity to sustain a part in them him¬ 
self, that he submitted to be an historian of the actions of 
others. In all his writings the influence of the circum¬ 
stances which I have now suggested may, I think, be 
traced ; but in none of them is it so strongly marked 
as in the History of America. There he whites with the 
interest of one who had been himself an actor on the 
scene; giving an ideal range to his ambition among the 
astonishing events which he describes. 

Perhaps, indeed, it must be owned, on the other hand, 
that if the excellences of this performance are on a scale 
commensurate to the magnitude of the subject, it is in 
some respects more open to censure than any of his other 
productions. A partiality for the charms of eloquence and 
the originality of system displayed in the writings of Buffon 
and De Paw,—a partiality natural to the enthusiasm of a 
congenial mind,—has unquestionably produced a facility in 
the admission of many of their assertions which are now 
classed with the prejudices of former times. After allow¬ 
ing, however, to this charge all the weight it possesses, it 
ought to be remembered, in justice to Dr. Robertson, what 
important additions have been made, since the time he 
wrote, to our knowledge both of America and of its 
aboriginal inhabitants; and that it is not from our present 
stock of information, but from what was then current in 
Europe, that an estimate can fairly be formed of the extent 
and accuracy of his researches. When he hazarded him¬ 
self, like Columbus, in traversing an unknown ocean, and 
in sur\'eying a new world, much, it might be expected, 
would be left to reward the industry of future adventurers. 
—The disposition he has shown to palliate or to veil the 
enormities of the Spaniards in their American conquests, 
is a blemish of a deeper and more serious nature, to the 
impression of which I must content myself with opposing 
those warm and enlightened sentiments of humanity which 




ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


ia general animate his writings. A late candid and well 
informed author, accordingly, after asserting that the con¬ 
quest of the New World was effected (on a low estimate) by 
the murdering of ten millions of the species, and that the 
accounts of this carnage are authenticated beyond the pos¬ 
sibility of dispute, suggests an apology for Dr. Robertson 
by remarking, “ That this is one of those melancholy pas¬ 
sages in the history of human nature, where a benevolent 
mind, shrinking from the contemplation of facts, wishes to 
resist conviction, and to relieve itself by incredulity.”* 

The Spanish nation were not insensible of what they 
owed to Dr. Robertson for “ the temperate spirit” (as Mr. 
Gibbon expresses it) with which he had related this por¬ 
tion of their story. “ On the 8th of August, 1777, he 
was unanimously elected a member of the Royal Academy 
of History at Madrid ; in testimony of their approbation 
of the industry and care with which he has applied to the 
study of Spanish History, and as a recompence for his 
merit in having contributed so much to illustrate and 
spread the knowledge of it in foreign countries.” The 
academy, at the same time, appointed one of its members 
to translate the History of America into Spanish ; and it is 
believed that considerable progress had been made in the 
translation, when the Spanish government, judging it in¬ 
expedient that a work should be made public, in which 
the nature of the trade with America, and the system of 
colonial administration were so fully explained, interposed 
its authority to stop the undertaking. 

As the volumes which have been now under our review 
did not complete Dr. Robertson’s original design, he an¬ 
nounced in the preface his intention to resume the subject 
at a future period ; suspending, in the mean time, the exe¬ 
cution of that part of his plan which related to the British 
settlements, “on account of the ferment which then agitated 
our North American colonies.” A fragment of this in¬ 
tended work, which has been published since his death, 
while it illustrates the persevering ardour of his mind, 
must excite a lively regret in all who read it, that a history 
so peculiarly calculated by its subject to co-extend his fame 
with the future progress of our language in the regions 
beyond the Atlantic, had not been added to the other 
monuments of his genius. 


The caution which Dr. Robertson observed in his ex¬ 
pressions concerning the American war, suggests some 
doubts about his sentiments on that subject. In his letters 
to Mr. Strahan he writes with greater freedom, and some¬ 
times states, without reserve, his opinions of men and 
measures. 

One or two of these passages (which I transcribe with¬ 
out any comment) appear to me to be objects of curiosity, 
as they illustrate Dr. Robertson’s political views ; and I 
flatter myself they will now be read without offence, when 
the factions to which they allude are almost effaced from 
our recollection by the more interesting events of a later 
period. I need scarcely premise, that in quoting Dr. 
Robertson’s opinions 1 would by no means be understood 
to subscribe them as my own. 

In a letter, dated October 6, 1775, he writes thus : 
“ I agree with you in sentiment about the affairs of Ame¬ 
rica. Incapacity, or want of information, has led the peo¬ 


ple employed there to deceive ministry. 1 rusting to them, 
they have been trifling for two years, when they should 
have been serious, until they have rendered a very simple 
piece of business extremely perplexed. They have per¬ 
mitted colonies disjointed by nature and situation to con¬ 
solidate into a regular systematical confederacy ; and when 
a few regiments stationed in each capital would have 
rendered it impossible for them to take arms, they have 
suffered them quietly to levy and train forces, as if they 
had not known and seen against whom they were pre¬ 
pared. But now we are fairly committed, and I do think 
it fortunate that the violence of the Americans has brought 
matters to a crisis too soon for themselves. From the be¬ 
ginning of the contest I have always asserted that inde¬ 
pendence was their object. The distinction between 
taxation and regulation is mere folly. There is not an 
argument against our right of taxing that does not con¬ 
clude with tenfold force against our power of regulating 
their trade. They may profess or disclaim what they 
please, and hold the language that best suits their pur¬ 
pose ; but if they have any meaning, it must be that they 
should be free states, connected with us by blood, by 
habit, and by religion, but at liberty to buy and sell and 
trade where and with whom they please. This they will 
one day attain, but not just now, if there be any degree of 
political wisdom or vigour remaining. At the same time 
one cannot but regret that prosperous growing states 
should be checked in their career. As a lover of mankind 
I bewail it; but as a subject of Great Britain, I must wish 
that their dependence on it should continue. If the wis¬ 
dom of government can terminate the contest with honour 
instantly, that would be the most desirable issue. This, 
however, I take to be now impossible ; and I will venture 
to foretell, that if our leaders do not at once exert the 
power of the British empire in its full force, the struggle 
will be long, dubious, and disgraceful. We are past the 
hour of lenitives and half exertions. If the contest be pro¬ 
tracted, the smallest interruption of the tranquillity that 
now reigns in Europe, or even the appearance of it, may 
be fatal. 

“ It is lucky that my American History was not finished 
before this event. How many plausible theories that I 
should have been entitled to form, are contradicted by 
what has now happened !” 

To this extract I shall only add a few sentences from a 
letter written to the same correspondent about the affairs 
of America, nine years before, at the time of the repeal of 
the stamp act. 

“ I am glad to hear the determination of the house of 
Commons concerning the stamp act. I rejoice, from my 
love of the human species, that a million of men in America 
have some chance of running the same great career which 
other free people have held before them. I do not appre¬ 
hend revolution or independence sooner than these must 
and should come. A very little skill and attention in the 
art of governing may preserve the supremacy of Britain as 
long as it ought to be preserved. You can do me no 
favour more obliging, than that of writing me often an ac¬ 
count of all occurrences in the debates on this affair. ] 
am much interested in the subject; very little in the men 
who act on either side. I am not weak enough greatly to 
admire their virtues, nor so factious as to adopt their 
passions.” 


* Bryan Edwards.—History of the West Indies. 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xix 


SECTION IV. 

Continuation of the same subject.—Historical Disquisition 
concerning India.—General Remarks on Dr. Robertson's 
merits as an Historian. 

In consequence of the interruption of Dr. Robertson’s 
plans produced by the American revolution, he was led to 
think of some other subject which might, in the mean 
time, give employment to his studious leisure. A letter, 
dated July 1778, to his friend the Rev. Mr. Waddilove, 
(now dean of Rippon,) contains some important informa¬ 
tion with respect to his designs at this period. 

“ The state of our affairs in North America is not such 
as to invite me to go on with my History of the New 
V orld. I must wait for times of greater tranquillity, when 
I can write and the public can read with more impartiality 
and better information than at present. Every person with 
whom I conversed in Loudon confirmed me in my reso¬ 
lution of making a pause for a little, until it shall be known 
in what manner the ferment will subside. But as it is 
neither my inclination nor interest to be altogether idle, 
many of my friends have suggested to me a new subject, 
the History of Great Britain from the Revolution to the 
Accession of the House of Hanover. It will be some 
satisfaction to me to enter on a domestic subject, after 
being engaged so long on foreign ones, where one half of 
mv time and labour were employed in teaching myself to 
understand manners, and laws, and forms, which I was to 
explain to others. You know better than any body how 
much pains I bestowed in studying the constitution, the 
manners, and the commerce of Spanish America. The 
Review contained in the first volume of Charles V. was 
founded on researches still more laborious. I shall not be 
involved in the same painful inquiries, if I undertake the 
present work. I possess already as much knowledge of 
the British government and laws as usually is possessed by 
other persons who have been well educated and have lived 
in good company. A minute investigation of facts will 
be the chief object of my attention. With respect to these, 
I shall be much aided by the original papers published by 
sir John Dairymple and Macpherson, and lately by lord 
Ilardwicke. The Memoirs of Noailles, concerning the 
French negociations in Spain, contain very curious infor¬ 
mation. I have got a very valuable collection of papers 
from the duke of Montague, which belonged to the duke 
of Shrewsbury, and I am promised the large collection of 
the duke of Marlborough, which were formerly in the 
hands of Mr. Mallet. From these and other materials I 
hope to write a History which may be both entertaining 
and instructive. I know that I shall get upon dangerous 
ground, and must relate events concerning which our poli¬ 
tical factions entertain very different sentiments. But I 
am little alarmed with this. I flatter myself that I have 
temper enough to judge with impartiality; and if, after 
examining with candour, I do give offence, there is no 
man whose situation is more independent.” 

Whatever the motives were which induced him to re¬ 
linquish this project, it is certain that it did not long 
occupy his thoughts. From a letter of Mr. Gibbon, it 
would appear to have been abandoned before the end of 
the year 1779. The passage is interesting, not only as it 
serves to ascertain the fact, but as it suggests a valuable 
hint with respect to a different historical subject. 

• Appendix, Note F. 


“ I remember a kind of engagement you had contracted 
to repeat your visit to London every second year, and I 
look forwards with pleasure to next spring when your bond 
will naturally become due. I should almost hope that you 
would bring with you some fruits of your leisure, had I 
not been informed that you had totally relinquished your 
design of continuing Mr. Hume’s History of England. 
Notwithstanding the just and deep sense which I must 
entertain (if the intelligence be true) of our public loss, I 
have scarcely courage enough to blame you. The want of 
materials and the danger of offence are two formidable 
obstacles for an historian who wishes to instruct, and who 
is determined not to betray his readers.—But if you leave 
the narrow limits of our island, there still remain, without 
returning to the troubled scene of America, many subjects 
not unworthy of your genius. Will you give me leave, as 
a vague and indigested hint, to suggest the History of the 
Protestants in France; the events are important in them¬ 
selves, and intimately connected with the great revolu¬ 
tions of Europe : some of the boldest or most amiable 
characters of modern times, the admiral Coligny, Henry 
IV., Sic. would be your peculiar heroes; the materials are 
copious, and authentic, and accessible; and the objects 
appear to stand at that just distance which excites curiosity 
without inspiring passion. Excuse the freedom, and 
weigh the merits (if any) of this proposal.”* 

As I have had very little access to see any of Dr. 
Robertson’s answers to the letters of his correspondents, 
I am ignorant what reply he made to this suggestion of 
Mr. Gibbon, as well as of the circumstances that induced 
him to lay aside his plans with respect to the History of 
England. It is impossible, however, not to feel much 
regret that he did not carry them into execution. In spite 
of the obstacles which Mr. Gibbon mentions, there can be 
little doubt that the work would have been an important 
accession to English literature ; and, in all probability, 
from the interesting nature of the subject, the most popu¬ 
lar of his performances. The intrigues of the different 
factions during the reign of queen Anne would have 
afforded an ample field for the exercise of his cool and 
discriminating judgment; the campaigns of Marlborough 
deserved such an historian; while the literature and philo¬ 
sophy of that memorable period would have given full 
employment to those critical powers which he so eminently 
possessed, and of which he has unfortunately left no mo¬ 
nument behind him. The slight sketches of this kind, 
interspersed with the narrative of Mr. Hume’s history, 
have always been favourite passages with readers of taste : 
and, if I may be permitted to judge from Dr. Robertson’s 
conversation, he would not, in this species of composition, 
have been surpassed by any of his contemporaries. 


I have not heard of any other work that he projected 
after this period. He seems indeed soon to have aban¬ 
doned all thoughts of writing any more for the public, and 
to have indulged the idea of prosecuting his studies in future 
for his private amusement. His circumstances were indepen¬ 
dent ; he was approaching to the age of sixty, with a constitu¬ 
tion considerably impaired by a sedentary life; and a long 
application to the compositions he had prepared for the 
press, had interfered with much of the gratification he might 
have enjoyed, if he had been at liberty to follow the im- 




XX 


ACCOUNT OF TIIE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


pulse of his own taste and curiosity. Such a sacrifice 
must be more or less made by all who devote themselves 
to letters, whether with a view to emolument or to fame ; 
nor would it perhaps be easy to make it, were it not for 
the prospect (seldom, alas ! realized) of earning, by their 
exertions, that learned and honourable leisure which he 
was so fortunate as to attain. He retired from the busi¬ 
ness of the ecclesiastical courts about the same time ; and, 
for seven or eight years, divided the hours which he could 
spare from his professional duties, between the luxury of 
reading and the conversation of his friends. 

The activity of his mind, in the mean time, continued 
unimpaired; and the habits of study he had so long been 
accustomed to, gave a certain scope and connexion even 
to his historical recreations. To one of these, which, from 
its accidental connexion with some of his former works, 
engaged his attention more closely than his ordinary pur¬ 
suits, the public is indebted for a valuable performance, of 
which the materials seem almost insensibly to have swelled 
to a volume, long after his most intimate friends imagined 
that he had renounced all thoughts of the press. The 
Disquisition concerning Ancient India, which closed his 
historical labours, took its rise (as he himself informs us) 

“ from the perusal of major Rennell’s Memoirs for illus¬ 
trating his Map of Indostan. This suggested to him the 
idea of examining, more fully than he had done in the in¬ 
troductory book to his History of America, into the know¬ 
ledge which the ancients had of that country, and of 
considering what is certain, what is obscure, and what is 
fabulous, in the accounts of it which they have handed 
down to us.”'—“ In undertaking this inquiry,” (he adds,) 
“ he had originally no other object than his own amuse¬ 
ment and instruction ; but in carrying it on, and consulting 
with care the authors of antiquity, some facts hitherto un¬ 
observed, and many which had not been examined with 
proper attention, occurred ; new views opened ; his ideas 
gradually extended, and became more interesting; till at 
length he imagined that the result of his researches might 
prove amusing and instructive to others.” 

Such is the account given by himself of the origin and 
progress of a disquisition begun in the sixty-eighth year of 
his age, and in twelve months brought to a conclusion; 
exhibiting, nevertheless, in every part, a diligence in re¬ 
search, a soundness of judgment, and a perspicuity of 
method, not inferior to those which distinguish his other 
performances. From the nature of the subject it was im¬ 
possible to render it equally amusing to ordinary readers, 
or to bestow on his language the same splendour and 
variety ; but the style possesses all the characteristical 
beauties of his former compositions, as far as they could 
with propriety be introduced into a discourse, of which 
the general design excluded every superfluous and ambi¬ 
tious ornament. The observations in the Appendix , upon 
the character, the manners, and the institutions of the peo¬ 
ple of India, present a valuable outline of all the most 
important information concerning them, which was then 
accessible to the philosophers of Europe; and, if they 
have already lost part of their interest, in consequence of 
the astonishing discoveries which have been since brought 
to light in Asia, by a fortunate and unexampled com¬ 
bination of genius, learning, and official rank, in a few 
individuals whose names do honour to this country; they, 
at least, evince that ardent and enlightened curiosity which 
animated the author’s inquiries in his most advanced years ; 


and afford a proof, that his mind kept pace, to the last, 
with the progress of historical knowledge. 

In these observations, too, we may occasionally trace the 
influence of still higher motives ; to which he nas himself 
alluded, with an affecting solemnity, in the last sentences 
which he addressed to the public. “ If I had aimed, 
says he, “ at nothing else than to describe the civil polity, 
the arts, the sciences, and religious institutions, of one of 
the most ancient and most numerous races of men, that 
alone would have led me into inquiries and discussions 
both curious and instructive. I own, however, that I have 
all along kept in view an object more interesting, as well 
as of greater importance ; and entertain hopes, that if the 
account which I have given of the early and high civiliza¬ 
tion of India, and of the wonderful progress of its inhabi¬ 
tants in elegant arts and useful science, shall be received 
as just and well established, it may have some influence 
upon the behaviour of Europeans towards that people. It 
was by an impartial and candid inquiry into their manners, 
that the emperor Akbar was led to consider the Hindoos 
as no less entitled to protection and favour than his other 
subjects; and to govern them with such equity and mild¬ 
ness, as to merit from a grateful people the honourable 
appellation of ‘ the Guardian of Mankind.’ If I might 
presume to hope, that the description I have given of the 
manners and institutions of the people of India could 
contribute in the smallest degree, and with the most 
remote influence, to render their character more respect¬ 
able, and their condition more happy, I should close my 
literary labours with the satisfaction of thinking that I have 
not lived or written in vain.”* 


In concluding this general review of Dr. Robertson’s 
publications, our attention is naturally led, in the first 
place, to the extent and variety of his historical researches. 
In this respect, he has certainly not been surpassed by any 
writer of the present times ; nor would it perhaps be easy 
to name another who has united to so luminous an 
arrangement of his materials, and such masterly skill in 
adorning them, an equal degree of industry and exactness 
in tracing them to their original sources. After a minute 
examination of the most disputed passages of his first per¬ 
formance, a late authorf has ventured to pronounce him, 
“ the most faithful of historians and I have no doubt 
that this honourable appellation will be sanctioned by those 
who shall examine his other works with the same acute¬ 
ness, accuracy, and candour. 

In the art of narration too, which, next to correctness in 
the statement of facts, is the most essential qualification of 
an historian, Dr. Robertson’s skill is pre-eminent: per¬ 
haps I might venture to say, that in this art his chief and 
characteristical excellence as an historian consists. I do 
not, at present, allude merely to the richness of colouring 
with which he occasionally arrests the attention ; but to 
the distinctness, perspicuity, and fulness, with which lie 
uniformly communicates historical information; carefully 
avoiding every reference to whatever previous knowledge 
of the subject his reader may accidentally possess. In 
this distinctness and perspicuity, so conspicuous in the 
great models of antiquity, some modern writers of unques¬ 
tionable talents have failed to a degree which renders all 
their other merits of little value;—a failure more particu- 

t Mr. Laing. 


* Appendix, Note G. 





OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


larly observable, since it became fashionable, after the 
example of Voltaire, to connect with the view of political 
transactions, an examination of their effects on the manners 
and condition of mankind, and to blend the lights of phi¬ 
losophy with the appropriate beauties of historical compo¬ 
sition. In consequence of this innovation, while the pro¬ 
vince of the historian has been enlarged and dignified, the 
difficulty of his task has increased in the same proportion; 
reduced, as he must frequently be, to the alternative, either 
of interrupting unseasonably the chain of events, or, by 
interweaving disquisition and narrative together, of sacri¬ 
ficing clearness to brevity. By few writers of the present 
age has this combination of philosophy with history been 
more frequently attempted than by Dr. Robertson; and 
by none have the inconveniences which it threatens been 
more successfully avoided. In the former respect his 
merit is great; but in the latter, he may be safely proposed 
as a pattern for imitation. 

Nor does the beauty of his narrative consist only in the 
luminous distinctness and picturesque selection of his 
details. In a passage formerly quoted from one of Mr. 
Walpole’s letters, it is mentioned, among the other recom¬ 
mendations of the History of Scotland, that, “ although 
composed of pieces of information, each of which would 
make a separate memoir, yet the whole is hurried on into 
one uninterrupted story.” The remark is just, and it 
points at an excellence of the highest order, conspicuous 
in all Dr. Robertson’s publications; the continuity which 
unites together the different parts of his subject, in conse¬ 
quence of the address and felicity displayed in his transi¬ 
tions. It is this last circumstance which bestows on his 
works that unceasing interest which constitutes one of the 
principal charms in tales of fiction ; an interest easy to 
support in relating a series of imaginary adventures, but 
which, in historical composition, evinces, more than any 
thing else, the hand of a master. 

The attainment of these different perfections was un¬ 
doubtedly much facilitated by the plan which he adopted, 
of throwing into the form of Notes and Illustrations, what¬ 
ever critical or scientific discussions appeared to him to 
interfere with the peculiar province of history. In one of 
the last conversations I had with him, he mentioned this 
as an improvement of considerable importance in histori¬ 
cal writing; and his final judgment on the subject will be 
allowed to have great weight in favour of that mode of 
arrangement which he adopted. On this point, I know, 
there is a wide diversity of opinion : nor do I think my¬ 
self entitled to pronounce with confidence upon either 
side, where the best judges have hesitated in their deci¬ 
sion. Our late excellent colleague Mr. Smith carried to 
such a length his partiality to the ancient forms of classical 
composition, that he considered every species of note as a 
blemish or imperfection; indicating, either an idle accu¬ 
mulation of superfluous particulars, or a want of skill and 
comprehension in the general design. Dr. Douglas too, 
the present bishop of Salisbury, in a letter addressed to 
Dr. Robertson on occasion of his American History, ap¬ 
pears dissatisfied with the local separation of the notes 
from the text; without, however, disputing the general 
principle on which the arrangement of his materials pro¬ 
ceeds. u I think,” says he, “ that your notes and illus¬ 
trations very frequently contain matter of the greatest im¬ 
portance to the strengthening the arguments and conclu¬ 


sions you adopt in the body of the book ; and they are so 
widely separated by the mode of your publication, that the 
reader cannot see, at one view, the great merit of your 
work. Mr. Gibbon adopted this method, in imitation of 
your Charles V.; but I believe he has found the wishes 
of the public in favour of another arrangement; for I un¬ 
derstand, in a new edition of his History which we are 
soon to have, the notes and illustrations are to be put at 
the bottom of the pages to which they refer.—I know you 
will excuse this liberty; and very probably, as you have 
considered the matter more accurately than sucli readers 
as I am, you can give very substantial reasons for pre¬ 
ferring the plan of throwing the notes and illustrations to 
the end of the volume.” 

On a question of this sort, the suggestions of so learned 
and judicious a critic are undoubtedly entitled to peculiar 
deference: but I must be permitted to express my doubts 
whether he has added to their weight, by appealing to the 
arrangement of Mr. Gibbon ; which, in this instance, has 
always appeared to me to be inconvenient in the extreme. 
In no species of writing is it agreeable to have the atten¬ 
tion so frequently withdrawn from the text; but in histo¬ 
rical writing it is impossible to devise a more effectual ex¬ 
pedient for counteracting the effects of the author’s art. 
The curious research and the epigrammatic wit so often 
displayed in Mr. Gibbon’s notes, and which sometimes 
render them more amusing than even the eloquent narra¬ 
tive which they are meant to illustrate, serve only to add 
to the embarrassment occasioned by this unfortunate dis¬ 
tribution of his materials. He seems, indeed, from a let¬ 
ter published in his posthumous works, to have been fully 
satisfied, after a trial of both plans, that the preference was 
due to that which, after Dr. Robertson’s example, he had 
originally pursued. “ I cannot be displeased,” he ob¬ 
serves, “ with the two numerous and correct impressions 
which have been published for the use of the continent at 
Basil in Switzerland. Of their fourteen octavo volumes, 
the two last include the whole body of the notes. The 
public importunity had forced me to remove them from 
the end of the volume to the bottom of the page; but I 
have often repented of my compliance.”* 

It is remarkable that no alternative should have occurred 
to Mr. Gibbon between placing all his notes at the bottom 
of the page, or collecting them all in the form of an Ap¬ 
pendix. In the first edition of his first volume, he followed 
Dr. Robertson implicitly in adopting the latter method ; 
which, although by far the more unexceptionable of the 
two, might be obviously improved by some limitations. 
Mr. Hume, in a letter to Mr. Strahan, objects to it 
strongly. “ One is plagued with Gibbon’s notes, accord¬ 
ing to the present method of printing the book. When a 
note is announced, you turn to the end of the volume, and 
there you often find nothing but a reference to an autho¬ 
rity. All these authorities ought only to be printed at the 
margin or the bottom of the page.”f 

What Mr. Hume here remarks concerning references to 
authorities, may be extended to those short explanatory 
sentences, which, being intended to facilitate the reader’s 
progress, should unquestionably be brought under his eye, 
at the same time with the passage they are intended to elu 
cidate. Dr. Robertson, as well as Mr. Gibbon, seems to 
have overlooked this distinction between explanatory hints, 
and notes intended for the gratification of the curious; and 


Vol. i. p. 178 


t Gibbon's Post. Works, vol. i. p. 500. 




ACCOUNT OF TIIE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


hence have arisen (at least in part) those inconveniences in 
the technical arrangement of his volumes, of which Dr. 
Douglas was led to complain. 

A still more important blemish, however, it must be 
confessed, than what this respectable correspondent has 
specified, is sometimes the real source of the imperfection 
he has remarked ; I mean, that a considerable portion of 
the matter which is parcelled out among the notes, ought 
to have been incorporated with the text. Where a writer 
finds it necessary to enter into speculation and discussion, 
the whole of his argument should undoubtedly be stated 
at once, and not broken down into fragments, which the 
reader is to collect from different parts of the book. In 
those dissertations, therefore, which form so considerable 
a part both of the History of Charles V. and of America, 
it would perhaps have been better, if the author had ad¬ 
hered closely to the plan which he has so judiciously 
adopted in his historical narrative. The arguments which 
recommend it in the latter species of composition, it is 
sufficiently evident, do not apply to it when introduced 
into the former. 

After all, whoever attempts to instruct the world by any 
literary undertaking, whether historical or speculative, will 
find it necessary, for the complete satisfaction of accurate 
inquirers, to engage in occasional discussions which could 
not be introduced into the body of the work, without 
digressions inconsistent with a simple and distinct arrange¬ 
ment ; nor compressed into notes at the bottom of the page, 
without stopping the reader’s progress and misleading his 
attention. No writer has been more completely aware of 
this than Mr. Hume, who, in all his publications, both 
historical and philosophical, has distinguished carefully 
those incidental suggestions which are necessary to pre¬ 
vent any hesitation about the text, from the critical disqui¬ 
sitions useful for satisfying men of curious research, or for 
obviating the doubts of more refined speculation. Dr. 
Robertson’s subjects, in all his histories excepting that of 
Scotland, engaged him in inquiries more open to contro¬ 
versy, and in arguments resting upon information less ac¬ 
cessible to ordinary readers, than those of Mr. Hume. 
His proofs and illustrations, accordingly, bear a far greater 
proportion to the size of his volumes ; but I am inclined 
to think that, if examined with proper attention, the ar¬ 
rangement of them will be found (with a few exceptions) 
to reflect no less honour on his taste and discernment. 

The stress which Dr. Robertson himself laid on this 
peculiarity in his mode of composition, added to the inde¬ 
cision of Mr. Gibbon with respect to its propriety, will, I 
hope, apologize sufficiently for the minuteness with which 
some of the foregoing particulars are stated.—The general 
question concerning the expediency of imitating the an¬ 
cients, in limiting an author’s intercourse with his readers 
to what is conveyed in the text, does not seem to me to 
admit of discussion. Considered as sources of authentic 
and of accurate information, the value of the classics is 
infinitely diminished by this very circumstance ; and few, 
I believe, have studied Mr. Smith’s works, (particularly 
his Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of 
Nations,) without regretting, on some occasions, the omis¬ 
sion of his authorities; and, on others, the digressions into 
which he has been led, by conforming so scrupulously to 
the example of antiquity. 


* '* If Addison’s lanjruase had been less idiomatical, it would have lost 
somethin}; of its genuine Anglicism .’—Lives of the Poets. 


Of Dr. Robertson’s merits as an historian, as far as they 
are connected with the genius of the language in which he 
wrote, it does not become a native of this part of the island 
to express a decided opinion. And, accordingly, in the 
few remarks which 1 am to hazard on that subject, al¬ 
though I shall state my own judgment with freedom, I 
would be understood to write with all possible diffidence. 

The general strain of his composition is flowing, equal, 
and majestic ; harmonious beyond that of most English 
writers, yet seldom deviating, in quest of harmony, into 
inversion, redundancy, or affectation. If, in some pas¬ 
sages, it may be thought that the effect might have been 
heightened by somewhat more of variety in the structure 
and cadence of his periods, it must be recollected that this 
criticism involves an encomium on the beauty of his style; 
for it is only where the ear is habitually gratified, that the 
rhythm of composition becomes an object of the reader’s 
attention. 

In comparing his turn of expression with that of the 
classical writers of England, a difference may, I think, be 
perceived, originating in the provincial situation of the 
country where he received his education and spent his life : 
and, if I am not much mistaken, the same observation 
may be extended, in a greater or less degree, to most of 
our contemporaries who have laboured under similar dis¬ 
advantages. I do not allude, at present, to what are com¬ 
monly called Scotticisms; for from these Dr. Robertson’s 
works have been allowed, by the most competent judges, 
to be remarkably free; but to an occasional substitution of 
general or of circuitous modes of expression instead of the 
simple and specific English phrase. An author who lives 
at a distance from the acknowledged standard of elegance, 
writes in a dialect different from that in which he is ac¬ 
customed to speak ; and is naturally led to evade, as much 
as possible, the hazardous use of idiomatical phrases, by 
the employment of such as accord with the general analogy 
of the language. Hence, in all the lighter and more fami¬ 
liar kinds of writing, the risk of sacrificing ease and viva¬ 
city, and what Dr. Johnson calls genuine Anglicism ,* in 
order to secure correctness and purity; and hence the 
difficulties with which those of our countrymen have had 
to struggle, who have aimed at the freedom of the episto¬ 
lary style, or who have attempted to catch the shadowy 
and fleeting forms of comic dialogue. The peculiarity in 
the manner of Livy, censured by Asinius Poltio, was pro¬ 
bably of a similar description ; arising less from an ad¬ 
mixture of Paduan idioms than from the absence of such 
as marked the dialect of Rome. “ In Tito Livio,” says 
Quinctilian, “ mira facundise viro, putat inesse Pollio 
Asinius quandam Patavinitatem. Quare, si fieri potest, 
et verba omnia, et vox, hujus alumnum urbis oleant; ut 
oratio Romana plane videatur, non civitate donata/’f 

If, however, in these and a few other respects, important 
advantages are possessed by those whose standard of pro¬ 
priety is always before them in their ordinary habits of 
conversation and of business, it must perhaps be granted, 
on the other hand, that an ear thus familiarized from 
infancy to phrases which it has been accustomed to retain, 
without any selection, or any reference to general princi¬ 
ples, can scarcely fail to have some effect in blunting an 
author’s discrimination between the established modes of 
classical expression and the accidental jargon of the day. 
Illustrations of this remark might be easily collected from 

t Quinctil. 1. viii. c. 1. 





OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XX121 


writers of the highest and most deserved reputation; more 
particularly from some who have cultivated, with the 
greatest success, the appropriate graces of the English 
tongue.—Even the works of Dr. Middleton, which have 
been often recommended to Scotchmen as the safest mo¬ 
dels for their imitation, abound with instances of collo¬ 
quial language, sanctioned probably by the authority of 
the fashionable speakers of his time, but which, I should 
suppose, would now be considered as vulgarisms, by such 
of his countrymen as have formed their taste on the com¬ 
positions either of an earlier or of a later period. 

In guarding against these temporary modes of speech, 
the provincial residence of a Scotchman may sometimes 
have its use, by teaching him to distrust his ear as an ar¬ 
biter of elegance, and to appeal on every questionable 
point to the practice of those whose established reputation 
gives the stamp of propriety to the phraseology they have 
employed. If his composition be deficient in ease, it 
may be expected not to fall under the ordinary standard 
in point of purity: nay, it is not impossible, that in his 
solicitude to avoid idiomatical phrases, he may be occa¬ 
sionally led to animate and to ennoble his diction ; or, by 
uncommon and fortunate combinations of words, to give 
to familiar ideas the charm of novelty. 

The species of composition to which Dr. Robertson 
directed his studies, was peculiarly adapted to his local 
situation, by affording him an opportunity of displaying 
all the talents he possessed, without imposing on him a 
trial of his powers in those kinds of writing where a Scotch¬ 
man is most likely to fail. In delineating the characters 
of princes, statesmen, and warriors, or in recording events 
that have happened on the great theatre of public affairs, a 
certain elevation of language is naturally inspired by the 
magnitude of the subject. The engaging and pathetic 
details of domestic life vanish before the eye which con¬ 
templates the fortunes of nations, and the revolutions of 
empire; and there is even a gravity of manner, exclusive 
of every thing familiar or flippant, which accords with our 
idea of him who sits in judgment on the generations that 
are past. It may, perhaps, be questioned by some, 
whether Dr. Robertson has not carried to an extreme his 
idea of what he has himself called the dignity of history; 
but whatever opinion we form on this point, it cannot be 
disputed that his plan of separating the materials of histo¬ 
rical composition from those which fall under the pro¬ 
vinces of the antiquary, and of the writer of memoirs, was 
on the whole happily conceived ; and that one great charm 
of his works arises from the taste and judgment with 
which he has carried it into execution.—Nor has he suf¬ 
fered this scrupulous regard to the unity of historical style 
to exclude that variety which was necessary for keeping 
alive the reader’s attention. Whenever his subject admits 
of being enriched or adorned by political or philosophical 
disquisition, by picturesque description, or by the interest¬ 
ing details of a romantic episode, he scruples not to try 
his strength with those who have excelled the most in these 
different departments of literature; uniformly, however, 
avoiding to mingle in the humble scenes of ordinary life, 
or to meet his rivals on any ground where he did not feel 
himself completely their equal. 

* Appendix, Note II. t Ibid. Note I. 

t For the materials both of this outline and of the subsequent view of 
Dr. Robertson's system of ecclesiastical policy, I am indebted to a paper 
drawn up (at the request of Dr. Robeitson's son) by the Rev. George 
Hill, D. D. principal of St. Mary’s college in the university of St. An¬ 
drews ; a gentleman intimately connected with Dr. Robertson by friend¬ 
ship, and highly respected by him for the talents and eloquence which he 
has for many years displayed in the ecclesiastical courts. In general I 


To this systematical selection of the more regular and 
analogical forms of construction, is to be ascribed, in a 
considerable degree, his popularity among foreigners, who 
unite in esteeming him, not only as one of tne most elo¬ 
quent, but as one of the most intelligible, of our writers. 
And, it may be presumed, the same circumstance will se¬ 
cure in his favour the suffrages of posterity, when the pass¬ 
ing idioms generated by the capricious modes of our own 
times, shall be antiquated or forgotten.* 

I have only to add, that some of the foregoing observa¬ 
tions apply more strongly to Dr. Robertson’s earlier than 
to his later publications. In the History of Charles V., 
and still more in that of America, he ventures on expres¬ 
sions which he would not have hazarded before the estab¬ 
lishment of his literary name ; and accordingly, it may be 
doubted whether, in consequence of this circumstance, he 
did not lose in purity of diction what he gained in ease 
and freedom. Perhaps, on the whole, it will be found 
that of all his performances Charles V. is that which 
unites the various requisites of good writing in the 
greatest degree. The style is more natural and flowing 
than that of the History of Scotland ; while, at the same 
time, idiomatical phrases are introduced with so sparing 
and timid a hand, that it is easy to perceive the author’s 
attention to correctness was not sensibly diminished. In 
the History of America, although it contains many pas¬ 
sages equal, if not superior, to any thing else in his writ¬ 
ings, the composition does not seem to me to be so uni¬ 
formly polished as that of his former works ; nor does it 
always possess, in the same degree, the recommendations 
of conciseness and simplicity. + 


SECTION V. 

Review of the wore active Occupations of Dr. Robertsons 
Life.—Conclusion of the Nurrative.—Sketch of his Cha¬ 
racter. 

In reviewing the History of Dr. Robertson’s life, our 
attention has hitherto been confined to those pursuits 
which formed the habitual occupation of his mind ; and 
which have left behind them unperishable monuments. His 
life, however, was not devoted wholly to the cultivation of 
letters. His talents fitted him in an eminent degree for 
the business of the world; and the station in which Pro¬ 
vidence placed him opened to him a field, which, however 
unequal to his ambition or to his genius, afforded him the 
means of evincing what he might have accomplished, if his 
sphere of exertion had been more extensive and brilliant. 

Among the active scenes in which he had an opportu¬ 
nity to engage, the most conspicuous was presented to him 
by the Supreme Ecclesiastical Court in Scotland. Of the 
constitution of this court, accordingly, which differs in 
some remarkable particulars from the clerical convocations 
in other Christian countries, a general outline is necessary 
in order to convey a just idea of the abilities, which secured 
to him, for a long course of years, an unrivalled influence 
in guiding its deliberations.]; 

have transcribed Dr. Hill’s words, taking the liberty occasionally to make 
such slight alterations on the language as were necessary tor preserving 
some degree of uniformity in the style of my narrative ; and a few re¬ 
trenchments, which the plan of this Memoir rendered unavoidable. That 
the public, however, may not lose any part of so valuable a communica¬ 
tion, 1 have inserted in the Appendix the paragraphs which are heie 
omitted. < 

As Dr. Hill’s paper wassubmitttsd to the examination, and received the 




XXIV 


ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


“ The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland is 
composed of representatives from the presbyteries; from 
the royal boroughs; from the four universities; and from 
the Scotch church of Campvere in Holland. The presby¬ 
teries send two hundred and ninety members, of whom 
two hundred and one are ministers, and eighty-nine lay- 
elders ; the royal boroughs send sixty-seven members, all 
of whom are laymen ; the universities send five members, 
who may be either laymen, or ministers holding an office 
in the university; and the church of Campvere sends two 
members, one minister and one lay-elder. The whole 
number is three hundred and sixty-four, of whom two 
hundred and two are ministers, and one hundred and 
sixty-two laymen; including in the latter class the mem¬ 
bers from the universities. The annual sittings of the 
Assembly continue only for ten days; but a committee of 
the whole House (called the Commission) has four stated 
meetings in the year, for the despatch of whatever business 
the General Assembly has been unable to overtake.* 

“In subordination to this supreme court, there is a series 
of inferior judicatories rising, one above another, in autho¬ 
rity.—The lowest of these is the Kirk Sessions, or Parochial 
Consistories; composed of the ministers, together with the 
lay-elders of their respective parishes. The ministers of a 
number of contiguous parishes, together with certain repre¬ 
sentatives from the Kirk Sessions, form a Presbytery; and 
a plurality of presbyteries (differing in number according 
to accidental circumstances) form a provincial Synod. 

“While the constitution of the Scottish church admits of 
no superiority of one minister above another, it requires 
from all its individual members, and from all its inferior 
judicatories, strict obedience to those who are placed in 
authority over them. Every court is bound to lay the 
record of all its proceedings from time to time before the 
tribunal which is its immediate superior; any part of its 
proceedings may be brought, by appeal or complaint, 
under the review of a higher jurisdiction ; and every 
minister, when he receives orders, comes under a solemn 
engagement ‘ to assert, maintain, and defend the doc¬ 
trines, discipline, and government of the church ; and 
never to attempt any thing, directly or indirectly, which 
may tend to its subversion and prejudice.’ 

“ In consequence of this subordination of judicatories, 
the General Assembly determines, as the court of last resort, 
all the causes brought under its review, and has the power 
of enforcing, without control, obedience to its decrees. 
It possesses also extensive legislative powers, as it may, 
with the concurrence of a majority of presbyteries, enact 
laws for the government of the whole church. 

“ By the act of 1592, which gave a legal establishment to 
the form of church government now delineated, the patron 
of a vacant parish was entitled to present to the presbytery 
a person properly qualified ; and the presbytery were re¬ 
quired, after subjecting the presentee to certain trials and 
examinations, of which they were constituted the judges, 
‘ to ordain and settle him as minister of the parish, pro¬ 
vided no relevant objection should be stated to his life, 
doctrine, and qualifications/ This right of presentation, 
however, although conferred by the fundamental charter of 
presbyterian government in Scotland, was early complained 
of as a grievance; and accordingly, it was abolished by an 
act passed under the Usurpation. At the Restoration it 

unqualified approbation, of three of Dr. Robertson’s most confidential 
friends Ca) it may be regarded as an authentic statement of his general 
principles of church government. For the sake of connexion, 1 have 
(a) l)rs. Blair, Carlyle, and Grieve. 


•was again recovered, but it was retained only for a few 
years ; the Revolution having introduced a new system, 
which vested the right of election in the heritors, elders, 
and heads of families in the parish. The 10th of queen 
Anne at last restored the rights of patrons ; but the exercise 
of these rights was found to be so extremely unpopular, 
that ministers were generally settled, till after the year 
1730, in the manner prescribed by the act of king YV illiam. 

“ During this long period, an aversion to the law of pa¬ 
tronage took deep root in the minds of the people ; and the 
circumstances of the times were such as to render it inex¬ 
pedient for the church courts to contend with a prejudice 
so inveterate and universal. 

“ When the presbyterian establishment fell a sacrifice to 
the policy introduced at the Restoration, the ministers who 
refused to conform to prelacy were ejected from their 
churches, and underwent a severe persecution. The firm¬ 
ness which they displayed on this occasion exhibits a 
strength of character which has never been surpassed; but 
their situation, while deprived of the countenance of law, and 
left entirely to the guidance of private conscience, was ne¬ 
cessarily such, as to inspire independent principles incon¬ 
sistent with regular subordination and discipline; and, 
accordingly, at the Revolution, when the presbyterian 
government was re-established, and many of the ejected 
ministers restored to their pulpits, they brought along with 
them into the church a spirit scarcely compatible with the 
connexion in which it stood with the paramount authority 
of the state. Their successors, trained in the same senti¬ 
ments, saw the right of patronage revived in times which 
they regarded with a jealous eye; and, without allowing 
themselves to weigh the expediency of that mode of settle¬ 
ment, they considered it as an appendage of episcopacy 
which it was the duty of every good presbyterian to 
oppose.—While the people, therefore, resisted with vio¬ 
lence the first attempt which was made about the year 
1730 to exercise this right, the church courts, although 
they could not entirely disregard the law, contrived, in 
many instances, to render it ineffectual; and sanctioned 
by their authority the prevailing prejudices against it. 
They admitted it as an uncontrovertible principle in pres¬ 
byterian church-government, that a presentee, although 
perfectly well qualified, and unexceptionable in life and 
doctrine, was nevertheless inadmissible to his clerical 
office, till the concurrence of the people who w : ere to be 
under his ministry had been regularly ascertained. The 
form of expressing this concurrence was by the subscription 
of a paper termed a Cedi; which was considered as a step 
so indispensable towards constituting the pastoral relation, 
that the church courts, when dissatisfied with it as an ex¬ 
pression of the general wishes of the parish, sometimes set 
aside the presentee altogether; and when they did authorize 
a settlement, proceeded in a manner which sufficiently im¬ 
plied a greater respect for the call than for the presentation. 

“The circumstances understood to be necessary for con¬ 
stituting an adequate call, were unsusceptible of a precise 
definition. The unanimous consent of landholders, elders, 
and heads of families, was seldom to be looked for; nor 
was even an absolute majority considered as indispensable, 
if the concurrence afforded a reasonable prospect of an 
harmonious and useful settlement. This principle of de¬ 
cision was so vague in itself, and so arbitrary in its appli- 

adopted info this section such parts of it as seemed to me to be necessary 
tor completing the history of his life; abstaining, however, scrupulously 
from hazarding any ideas of my own on the subject to which it relates' 

* Appendix, Note I. 



OF Dll. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XXX' 


cation, that much was left in the church courts to the 
private judgment of individuals, and much to their preju¬ 
dices and passions; while the people, finding that a noisy 
and strenuous opposition seldom failed of success, were 
encouraged to prosecute their object by tumult and vio¬ 
lence. Many of the clergy, considering it as a matter of 
conscience not to take any share in the settlement of an 
obnoxious presentee, refused on such occasions to carry 
into execution the orders of their superiors ; and such was 
tiie temper of the times, that the leading men of the 
Assembly, although they wished to support the law of the 
land, found themselves obliged to have recourse to expe¬ 
dients ; imposing slight censures on the disobedient, and 
appointing special committees (whom it was found some¬ 
times necessary to protect bv a military force) to discharge 
the duties which the others had declined. 

u Measures of this kind, pursued with little variation for 
about twenty years, had so relaxed the discipline of the 
church, that individuals openly claimed it as a right to dis¬ 
obey its sentences, whenever their disobedience was justi¬ 
fied, according to the best of their judgment, by a principle 
of conscience. 

“ Such was the state of the ecclesiastical establishment in 
Scotland when Dr. Robertson and his friends began to 
take an active share in its business. Dissatisfied with the 
system adopted by his predecessors, and convinced that 
the more free any constitution is, the greater is the danger 
of violating its fundamental laws, his vigorous and en¬ 
lightened mind suggested to him the necessity of opposing 
more decisive measures to these growing disorders, and of 
maintaining the authority of the church by enforcing the 
submission of all its members. The two capital articles by 
which he conceived the presbytery to be distinguished from 
every other ecclesiastical establishment, were the parity of 
its ministers, and the subordination of its judicatories.— 
* Wherever there is a subordination of courts,’ as he has 
himself observed in an authentic document of his eccle¬ 
siastical principles. ‘ there is one court that must be su¬ 
preme ; for subordination were in vain, if it did not termi¬ 
nate in some last resort. Such a supreme judicature is 
the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland ; and 
therefore, if its decisions could be disputed and disobeyed 
by inferior courts with impunity, the presbyterian consti¬ 
tution would be entirely overturned. On this supposition 
there is no occasion for the Church of Scotland to meet in 
its General Assemblies any more; its government is at an 
end ; and it is exposed to the contempt and scorn of the 
world, as a church without union, order, or discipline; 
destitute of strength to support its own constitution, and 
falling into ruins by the abuse of liberty.’ 

“ A question which came under the consideration of the 
Assembly in the year 1751, when he spoke for the first 
time in that supreme court, afforded him an opportunity 
of unfolding his general principles of ecclesiastical govern¬ 
ment. The conduct of a clergyman, who had disobeyed a 
sentence of a former Assembly, gave rise to a warm dis¬ 
cussion ; in the course of which, Dr. Robertson, supported 
by a few of his friends, contended for the expediency of a 
severe and exemplary sentence. But this doctrine was 
then so little understood or relished, that he was left in an 
inconsiderable minority. 

“ The Commission of that Assembly, at their meeting, in 
November 1751, oidered the presbytery of Dunfermline, 
which had already been guilty of disobedience, to admit 

* Appendix. Note K. 


Mr. Richardson as minister of Inverkeithing; intimating 
to them, at the same time, that in case of their continued 
contumacy, the commission was to proceed, at their next 
meeting in March, to a very high censure. The presbytery 
again disobeyed ; and yet the commission, with a prepos¬ 
terous lenity, suffered their conduct to pass with impunity. 
The inconsistency and inexpediency of this sentence were 
urged strenuously by Dr. Robertson and his friends, who in 
their dissent, or protest against it, have left a valuable record 
of the general principles on which they acted. The paper is 
still extant, and though evidently a hasty composition, bears, 
in various passages, the marks of Dr. Robertson’s hand.* 

“ Dr. Robertson argued this cause in the General As¬ 
sembly 1752 ; and, such was the impression made by the 
argument contained in the protest, and more fully illus¬ 
trated in his speech, that the supreme court reversed the 
judgment of the commission, and deposed one of the 
ministers of the presbytery of Dunfermline, for disobeying 
the orders of his superiors. 

“ This decision was the complete triumph of the principles 
for which Dr. Robertson and his friends had struggled. 
It put an end to those temporary expedients and devices 
which had hitherto been adopted in the settlement of 
parishes : it put an end to those extraordinary committees 
which assemblies had been in use to appoint for relieving 
disobedient presbyteries from their duty ; and it adminis¬ 
tered to the inferior judicatories, as well as to individuals, 
an useful lesson of that subordination which the peace of 
society requires. 

“ The success of these attempts had probably some effect 
in determining Dr. Robertson to continue his attention to the 
affairs of the church ; more especially, after his office in the 
university put it in his power to be returned annually as a 
representative to the General Assembly. By an uninter¬ 
rupted attendance in that court for nearly twenty years, he 
acquired an intimate acquaintance with the whole train of 
its business; while the influence which he thus secured 
was increased and confirmed by his conciliating manners, 
by the charms of his conversation, and by the celebrity of 
his name. He had the happiness also of being warmly 
supported by most of the friends who joined him in the 
Assembly 1751 ; and who, without any jealousy of the 
ascendant which he possessed, arranged themselves with 
cordiality under his standard. The period from his ap' 
pointment as Principal of the University till his retreat 
from public life, came, accordingly, to be distinguished by 
the name of Dr. Robertson’s administration : a name which 
implied, not any appointment from government, nor any 
power in the distribution of favours ; but merely the weight 
he derived from the confidence of a great majority of his 
brethren, who approved of the general principles on which 
he acted. 

“ The circumstances which chiefly distinguished his sys¬ 
tem of policy wer e, first, a steady and uniform support of 
the law of patronage ; and, secondly, an impartial exercise 
of the judicial power of the church, f 

“ In the former of these respects, his exertions are sup¬ 
posed, by his friends, not only to have produced in the 
ecclesiastical establishment a tranquillity unknown in for¬ 
mer times; but to have contributed, in no small degree, 
to the peace and good order of the country. The public 
language of the church seems to bear testimony to the 
prevalence of these ideas. For a long series of years an¬ 
nual instructions had been given to the commission, 1 to 

t Appendix, Note L, 



X\V1 


ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


make due application to the king and parliament, for 
redress of the grievance of patronage, in case a favourable 
opportunity for doing so should occur.’ But these in¬ 
structions were omitted in 1784 , soon after Dr. Robertson 
retired from the business of the Assembly ; and they have 
never since been renewed. 

“ A systematical regularity, to which the church of Scot¬ 
land had been little accustomed, in the exercise of its 
judicial power, was another effect of the ascendant which 
Dr. Robertson possessed in the conduct of its business. 

“ A court so popular in its constitution as the General 
Assembly, is but ill calculated for the patient and dispas¬ 
sionate investigation necessary for the administration of 
justice. As its annual sittings, too, continue only for a few 
days, its mode of procedure (irregular and loose as it is in 
many respects) is very imperfectly understood by the great 
majority of clerical members, who enjoy a seat in it only 
once in four or five years : hence, an inattention to forms, 
and a disposition to undervalue their importance, when 
they appear to stand in the way of immediate expediency. 
To correct, as far as possible, this unfortunate bias, in¬ 
herent in the constitution of all popular tribunals, Dr. 
Robertson felt it to be his duty to employ all his abilities; 
convinced, that a wise and impartial administration of 
justice can only be effectually secured by a strict adherence 
to established rules. A complete acquaintance with these, 
which he soon acquired from his regular attendance on the 
deliberations of the Assembly, gave him a decided supe¬ 
riority over those who were only occasionally members; 
and he was enabled gradually to enforce their strict ob¬ 
servance by the confidence which was generally reposed in 
his principles and his talents. 

“ Such were the objects which Dr. Robertson had chiefly 
in view as an ecclesiastical leader, and which he prose¬ 
cuted, during thirty years, with so great steadiness and 
success, that not only the system introduced by him con¬ 
tinues still in vigour, but the decisions which he dictated 
form a sort of Common Law of the church.”*—With respect 
to the various incidental discussions in which lie was, on 
different occasions, called on to take an active concern, it 
is impossible for me to enter into detail. One of these, 
however, which occurred towards the close of his public 
life, is of too memorable a nature to be passed over in 
silence.— 

The disturbances occasioned in Scotland in 1779 , by 
the proposed extension to that part of the kingdom of the 
repeal of the penal laws against Roman catholics, are well 
known to all who have the slightest acquaintance with the 
history of that period ; and are still fresh in the recollection 
of the greater part of this society. Some of us too are able 
to bear testimony, from what fell under our own imme¬ 
diate observation, to the firmness and tranquillity which Dr. 
Robertson displayed at a very critical juncture; when, after 
repeated acts of successful and unpunished outrage, com¬ 
mitted in different parts of this city, a furious populace threat¬ 
ened an attack on his house, and were only restrained by a 
military force, from sacrificing his life to their vengeance. 

The leading principles which on that occasion directed 
his conduct in the church courts, will be best understood 
from a statement of facts, which formed part of one of his 
speeches in the subsequent Assembly, f 

* Thus far I have availed myself of Dr. Hill’s communication. A more 
full illustration ol some of the particulars here stated, will be found in the 
Appendix. 

t The following: extract is transcribed, with some trifling verbal correc¬ 
tions, from an account ot the proceedings of the General Assembly, pub¬ 
lished in the Scots Magazine for 1779. As the account in general (fam 


« The first intimation I had of any intention to grant 
relief to papists from the rigour of penal statutes, was in 
the newspapers. Though I had observed with pleasure 
the rapid progress of liberal sentiments in this enlightened 
age ; though l knew that science and philosophy had dif¬ 
fused the spirit of toleration through almost every part of 
Europe; yet I was so well acquainted with the deep- 
rooted aversion of Britons to the doctrines and spirit of 
popery, that I suspected this motion for giving relief to 
papists to be premature. I was afraid, on the one hand, 
that the liberal sentiments of those by whom it was made 
might induce them to grant too much. I dreaded, on the 
other, that past offences might be imputed to the catholics 
of the present age, and exclude them from that degree of 
indulgence, which I considered as no less beneficial to the 
nation, than suitable to the spirit of the gospel. But when 
I observed the uncommon unanimity with which the bill 
was carried through both Houses; when I saw ministry 
and opposition vying with each other in activity to forward 
it; when I beheld that respectable body who assume to 
themselves the distinguishing appellation of Old Whigs 
taking the lead avowedly in supporting it; when I ob¬ 
served a bench of bishops, of whom I may justly say, that 
in learning, in decency of manners, and in zeal for the 
protestant religion, they are not inferior to an y of their pre¬ 
decessors, co-operating heartily with the other promoters 
of that bill, my curiosity to know precisely the nature and 
extent of the indulgence granted became very great. Upon 
perusing the bill itself, all my apprehensions vanished ; 
the relief given to papists appeared neither too great nor 
too little. By the statute of last session, no political power 
is conferred on papists. They are not entitled to hold any 
public office. They can neither elect, nor be elected, 
members of any corporation ; far less can they choose, or 
be chosen, members of the house of Commons. In con¬ 
sequence of this statute, an English papist has not ac¬ 
quired the privileges of a citizen; he is restored only to 
the rights of a man. By a law passed in a season of jea¬ 
lousy, alarm, and faction, papists were rendered incapable 
of inheriting property by succession or conveyance, of 
transmitting it to others, or of acquiring it by purchase; 
and the ecclesiastics of that religion who should take upon 
them the education of youth, were to be punished with 
perpetual imprisonment. It is from these penalties and 
disabilities alone that they are now relieved. They may 
now inherit, they may devise, they may purchase. For¬ 
merly they were in a state of proscription and incapacity: 
now they are rendered what the law calls persona; capable 
of legal functions in the possession and disposal of their 
own property. Nor are these concessions gratuitous. 
Before a papist can enjoy the benefit of them, he must 
swear allegiance to our gracious sovereign ; he must abjure 
the Pretender; he must reject, as an impious position, that 
it is lawful to murder or destroy any person under the pre¬ 
tence of their being heretics ; he must declare it to be an un¬ 
christian principle, that faith is not to be kept with heretics; 
he must disclaim the power of the pope to dispense with 
the obligation of an oath; he must swear, that it is no 
article of his faith that a pope or council can either depose 
princes, or exercise any civil or temporal jurisdiction with¬ 
in this realm: in short, he must give every security that 

assured - ) is executed with correctness and impartiality, the svbstance of 
Dr. Robertson's speech may be presumed to be faithfully stated ; but, in 
other respects, ample allowances must he made for the inaccuracies to’ be 
expected from an anonymous reporter, writing (as is probable) from me¬ 
mory, or from imperfect notes. 



OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XXV u 


the most scrupulous anxiety could devise, to demean him¬ 
self as a loyal and peaceable subject. These slender rights, 
the lowest a man can claim or enjoy in a social state, are 
the amount of all the mighty and dreaded acquisitions 
made by papists in virtue of this law. I rejoiced in the 
temperate wisdom of the legislature, and foresaw, that a 
wealthy body of subjects in England, and a very nume¬ 
rous one in Ireland, would, instead of continuing adverse 
to a government which treated them with rigour, become 
attached to their king and country by the most' powerful 
of all ties, gratitude for favours received, and desire of se¬ 
curing the continuance of favour by dutiful conduct. With 
such views of the salutary effects of the repeal, it was im¬ 
possible not to wish that the benefit of it might be ex¬ 
tended to the Roman catholics in Scotland. * * * 

* * * # 

“ As soon, however, as I perceived the extent and vio¬ 
lence of the flame which the discussion of this subject had 
kindled in Scotland, my ideas concerning the expedience 
at this juncture of the measure in question, began to alter. 
For, although I did think, and I do still believe, that if 
the protestants in this country had acquiesced in the repeal 
as quietly as our brethren in England and Ireland, a fatal 
blow would have been given to popery in the British do¬ 
minions ; I knew, that in legislation, the sentiments and 
dispositions of the people for whom laws are made should 
be attended to with care. I remembered that one of the 
wisest men of antiquity declared, that he had framed for 
his fellow-citizens not the best laws, but the best laws 
which they could bear. 1 recollected with reverence, that 
the Divine Legislator himself, accommodating his dispen¬ 
sations to the frailty of his subjects, had given the Israel¬ 
ites, for a season, statutes which were not good. Even the 
prejudices of the people are, in my opinion, respectable ; 
and an indulgent legislature ought not unnecessarily to run 
counter to them. It appeared manifestly to be sound 
policy, in the present temper of the people, to soothe 
rather than to irritate them ; and however ill-founded 
their apprehensions might be, some concession was now 
requisite in order to remove them. In every argument 
against the repeal of the penal laws, what seemed 
chiefly to alarm my brethren who were adverse to it, was 
the liberty which, as they supposed, was given by the act 
of last session to popish ecclesiastics to open schools, and 
take upon them the public instruction of youth. In or¬ 
der to quiet their fears with respect to this, I applied to his 
majesty’s advocate and solicitor-general, and by their per¬ 
mission, I proposed to a respectable minister and elder of 
this church, who deservedly possess much credit with the 
opposers of this repeal, that such provisos should be in¬ 
serted in the bill which was to be moved in parliament, 
for restraining the popish clergy in this point, as would 
obviate every danger apprehended. These gentlemen fairly 
told me, that, if such a proposition had been made more 
early, they did not doubt that it might have produced good 
effects; but, now matters were gone so far, that they were 
persuaded nothing less would satisfy the people than a re¬ 
solution to drop the bill altogether. Persuaded of the truth 
of what they represented, seeing the alarm spread rapidly in 
every quarter, and knowing well how imperfectly transac¬ 
tions in this country are understood in the other part of the 
island, I considered it as my duty to lay before his majesty's 
servants in London a fair state of the Sentiments of the 


people in Scotland. My station in the church, 1 thought, 
entitled me to take this liberty in a matter purely eccle¬ 
siastical. I flattered myself, that my avowed approbation 
and support of a measure which had been unhappily so 
much misunderstood, might give some weight to my repre¬ 
sentations. I informed them, that the design of extending 
the repeal of the penal statutes of king William to Scot¬ 
land, had excited a very general alarm : that the spirit of 
opposition to this measure spread among the king’s most 
loyal and attached subjects in this country : that nothing 
would calm and appease them, but the relinquishing all 
thoughts of such a bill: that the procuring of the intended 
relaxation for a handful of catholics, was not an advantage 
to be put in competition with the imprudence of irritating 
so great a body of well-affected subjects : that if the mea¬ 
sure were persisted in, fatal effects would follow; and no 
man, how great soever his sagacity might be, could venture 
to foretell what would be the extent of the danger, and 
what the violent operations of an incensed populace : that, 
groundless as the fears of the people might be, it was 
prudent to quiet them : and that the same wisdom and 
moderation which had induced government, some years 
ago, to repeal the act for naturalizing the Jews, in conse¬ 
quence of an alarm, as ill-grounded in the southern parts 
of the island, ought now to make a similar concession, 
from indulgence to the prejudice of the people on this side 
of the Tweed. 

“ Such has been the tenor of my conduct. While I 
thought a repeal of the penal statutes would produce good 
effects, I supported it openly: when I foresaw bad conse¬ 
quences from persisting in a measure which I had warmly 
approved, I preferred the public good to my own private 
sentiments; I honestly remonstrated against it; and I have 
the satisfaction to think, that I am the only private person 
(as far as I know) in Scotland, who applied to those in 
power, in order to prevent this much dreaded repeal, which 
has been represented as the subversion of every sacred 
right for which our ancestors contended and suffered.” 

* # * # 

The last Assembly in which Dr. Robertson sat was that 
of 1780. While his faculties were yet vigorous, his con¬ 
stitution unbroken, and his influence undiminished, he 
chose to withdraw from the active scenes in which he had 
so long borne a part, and to consecrate the remainder of his 
life to the quiet pursuits of study, and to the pastoral duties 
of his profession. His retreat was deeply regretted and 
sincerely felt by his friends; nor was it less lamented by 
many individuals of the opposite party in the church, who, 
while they resisted his principles of ecclesiastical policy, 
loved his candour, and respected his integrity.* 

Among these, there is one, whose liberal and affectionate 
zeal in embalming the memory of a political antagonist, 
recalls to our recollection, amidst the unrelenting rancour 
which disgraces the factions of modern times, the memor¬ 
able tribute which Metellus paid to the virtues of Scipio on 
the day of his funeral: Ite , jilii, celebrate exequias ; nun- 
quam civis majoris funus videbitis.f —I need scarcely, after 
what I have hinted, mention to the Society the name of 
Dr. Erskine; of whose sermon on the death of his col¬ 
league, it is difficult to say, whether it reflects greater 
honour on the character of the writer, or of him whom it 
commemorates. The author will, I hope, pardon me for 
transcribing one passage, which is intimately connected 


* Appendix, Jtfote M. 


t Plin. Hist. Net. vii.,44. 


e 



XXV111 


ACCOUNT OF TIIE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


with this part of my subject, and which combines, with a 
testimony of inestimable value to Dr. Robertson’s fame, 
some important information which I could not supply from 
any source of equal authority. 

“ His speeches in church courts were admired by those 
whom they did not convince, and acquired and preserved 
him an influence over a majority in them, which none 
before him enjoyed : though his measures were sometimes 
new, and warmly and with great strength of argument 
opposed, both from the press, and in the General Assem¬ 
bly. To this influence many causes contributed:—his 
firm adherence to the general principles of church policy, 
which he early adopted; his sagacity in forming plans; 
his steadiness in executing them; his quick discernment 
of whatever might hinder or promote his designs; his 
boldness in encountering difficulties ; his presence of mind 
in improving every occasional advantage ; the address with 
which, when he saw it necessary, he could make an honour¬ 
able retreat; and his skill in stating a vote, and seizing the 
favourable moment for ending a debate, and urging a de¬ 
cision. He guided and governed others, without seem¬ 
ing to assume any superiority over them : and fixed and 
strengthened his power, by often, in matters of form and 
expediency, preferring the opinions of those with whom he 
acted, to his own. In former times, hardly any rose up to 
speak in the General Assembly, till called upon by the 
Moderator , unless men advanced in years, of high rank, 
or of established characters. His example and influence 
encouraged young men of abilities to take their share of 
public business; and thus deprived Moderators of an 
engine for preventing causes being fairly and impartially 
discussed. The power of others, who formerly had in 
some measure guided ecclesiastical affairs, was derived 
from ministers of state, and expired with their fall. His 
remained unhurt amidst frequent changes of administration. 
Great men in office were always ready to countenance 
him, to cooperate with him, and to avail themselves of his 
aid. But he judged for himself, and scorned to be their 
slave, or to submit to receive their instructions. Hence 
his influence, not confined to men of mercenary views, 
extended to many of a free and independent spirit, who 
supported, because they approved, his measures; which 
others, from the same independent spirit, thought it their 
duty steadily to oppose. 

“ Deliberate in forming his judgment, but, when formed, 
not easily moved to renounce it, he sometimes viewed the 
altered plans of others with too suspicious an eye. Hence, 
there were able and worthy men, of whom he expressed 
himself less favourably, and whose latter appealanoes in 
church judicatories he censured as inconsistent with prin¬ 
ciples which they had formerly professed : while they main¬ 
tained, that the system of managing church affairs was 
changed, not their opinions or conduct. Still, however, 
keen and determined opposition to his schemes of eccle¬ 
siastical policy neither extinguished his esteem, nor for¬ 
feited his friendly offices, when he saw opposition carried 
on without rancour, and when he believed that it originated 
from conscience and principle, not from personal animosity, 
or envy, or ambition.”* 

I shall not presume to add any thing in illustration of 
these remarks. The greater part of them relate to transac¬ 
tions of which I had no immediate knowledge, and of 
which I am not a competent judge; and, at any rate, no 

* Discourses, ike. by John Erskine, D. D. p. 271. 
t Andrew Crosbie, Esq. Vice-dean of the Faculty of Advocates. Robert 


testimony of mine could increase the value of praise from 
so able and so impartial a hand. Of one quality, how¬ 
ever, ascribed to Dr. Robertson by his colleague,—his 
ability in debate,—I may be allowed to express my own 
opinion; as I was often led by curiosity, in my early 
years, to witness the proceedings of the court where it was 
principally displayed ; and which, since the union of the 
kingdoms, is all that exists in Scotland, to preserve the 
semblance of popular deliberation. This part of his fame 
will soon rest on tradition only ; but by many who are still 
able to judge from their own recollection, I shall not be 
accused of exaggeration, when I say, that in some of the 
most essential qualifications of a speaker, he was entitled 
to rank with the first names which have, in our times, 
adorned the British senate.—Nor was the opposition witli 
which he had to contend unworthy of his exertions ; 
formidable as it long was in zeal and numbers, and aided 
by a combination of talents which will not easily be 
equalled ; the copious and fervid declamation of Crosbie ; 
the classical, argumentative, and commanding eloquence 
of Dick; and the powerful, though coarse, invective of 
Freebairn , whose name would, in a different age, have 
been transmitted to posterity with those of the rustic and 
intrepid apostles who freed their country from the 
hierarchy of Rome.f 

The characteristic of Dr. Robertson’s eloquence was 
persuasion ;—mild, rational, and conciliating, yet manly 
and dignified. In early life, when forced as a partisan to 
expose himself to the contentious heat of popular discus¬ 
sion, he is said to have been distinguished by promptitude 
and animation in repelling the attacks which he occasional¬ 
ly encountered ; but long before the period during which 
I knew him, he had become the acknowledged head of his 
party, and generally spoke last in the debate; resuming 
the arguments on both sides, with such perspicuity of ar¬ 
rangement and expression, such respect to his antagonists, 
and such an air of candour and earnestness in every thing 
he said, that he often united the suffrages of the house 
in favour of the conclusions he wished to establish. 

His pronunciation and accents were strongly marked 
with the peculiarities of his country; nor was this defect 
compensated by the graces of his delivery. His manner, 
however, though deficient in ease, was interesting and im¬ 
pressive ; and had something in its general effect, neither 
unsuitable to his professional station, nor to the particular 
style of his eloquence. His diction was rich and splendid, 
and abounded with the same beauties that characterize his 
writings. 

In these details, with respect to his ecclesiastical poli¬ 
tics, I may perhaps be thought by some to have been more 
circumstantial than was necessary; but as he himself 
always dwelt on that subject with peculiar satisfaction, I 
could not pass it over more slightly than I have done. 
Nor is it so foreign, as it may at first appear, to his charac¬ 
ter as an historian; for, narrow and obscure as his field of 
action was, it afforded him a closer view, than most authors 
have enjoyed, of the intrigues of contending factions; and 
an opportunity of studying, though on a scale compara¬ 
tively small, the passions that decide the fate of nations. 
In tracing, accordingly, the springs of human conduct, his 
sagacity is strongly impressed with that knowledge of the 
world, which experience alone can communicate; and, 
even in those characteristical portraits, on which he has 

Dick, D. D. one of the ministers of Edinburgh. The Rev. Mr. Freebairn 
minister of Dunbarton. Allot them died many years before Dr. Robertson! 





OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XXIX 


lavished all the decorations of his style, he is seldom if 
ever misled, either by the affectation of eloquence, or of 
metaphysical refinement, from a faithful adherence to truth 
and nature. 

I would willingly enlarge on his merits in a different 
department of his professional employments, of which I 
am more competent to judge from personal knowledge, 
were I not afraid that my own academical habits might 
lead me to attach an interest to what would appear of 
little moment to others. I shall therefore only remark, in 
general, his assiduous attention, amidst his various occu¬ 
pations, both speculative and active, to the minutest duties 
of his office as head of the university; duties, which no¬ 
thing but his habits of arrangement and the severest eco¬ 
nomy of his time, could have enabled him to discharge 
with so little appearance of hurry or inconvenience. The 
valuable accession of books which the public library re¬ 
ceived while under his administration, was chiefly owing 
to his prudent and exact application of the very slender 
funds appropriated to that establishment; the various 
societies, both literary and medical, which, in this place, 
have long contributed so essentially to the improvement 
of the rising generation, were, most of them, either planned 
or reformed under his direction and patronage; and if, as 
a seat of learning, Edinburgh has of late, more than for¬ 
merly, attracted the notice of the world, much must be 
ascribed to the influence of his example, and to the lustre 
of his name. The good sense, temper, and address, with 
which he presided for thirty years in our university meet¬ 
ings, were attended with effects no less essential to our 
prosperity; and are attested by a fact which is perhaps 
without a parallel in the annals of any other literary com¬ 
munity ; that during the whole of that period, there did 
not occur a single question which was not terminated by 
an unanimous decision. 

In consequence of the various connexions with society, 
which arose from these professional duties, and from the 
interest which he was led to take, both by his official 
situation, and the activity of his public spirit, in the lite¬ 
rary or the patriotic undertakings of others,* a considerable 
portion of Dr. Robertson’s leisure was devoted to conver¬ 
sation and company. No man enjoyed these with more 
relish; and few have possessed the same talents to add to 
their attractions. 

A rich stock of miscellaneous information, acquired from 
books and from an extensive intercourse with the world, 
together with a perfect acquaintance at all times with the 
topics of the day, and the soundest sagacity and good 
sense applied to the occurrences of common life, rendered 
him the most agreeable and instructive of companions. 
He seldom aimed at w r it; but, with his intimate friends, 
he often indulged a sportive and fanciful species of hu¬ 
mour. He delighted in good-natured, characteristical 
anecdotes of his acquaintance, and added powerfully to 
their effect by his own enjoyment in relating them. He 
was, in a remarkable degree, susceptible of the ludicrous: 
but, on no occasion, did he forget the dignity of his cha¬ 
racter, or the decorum of his profession ; nor did he even 
lose sight of that classical taste which adorned his compo¬ 
sitions. His turn of expression was correct and pure; 
sometimes, perhaps, inclining more than is expected, in the 
carelessness of a social hour, to formal and artificial periods; 
but it was stamped with his own manner no less than his 

* Appendix, Note N. 


premeditated style: it was always the language of a superior 
and a cultivated mind, and it embellished every subject, on 
which he spoke. In the company of strangers, he increased 
his exertions to amuse and to inform; and the splendid 
variety of his conversation was commonly the chief circum¬ 
stance on which they dwelt in enumerating his talents ;— 
and yet I must acknowledge, for my own part, that much 
as I always admired his powers when they were thus 
called forth, I enjoyed his society less, than when I saw 
him in the circle of his intimates, or in the bosom of his 
family. 

It only now remains for me to mention his exemplary 
diligence in the discharge of his pastoral duties; a diligence 
which, instead of relaxing as he advanced in life, became 
more conspicuous, when his growing infirmities withdrew 
him from business, and lessened the number of his active 
engagements. As long as his health allowed him, he 
preached regularly every Sunday ; and he continued to do 
so occasionally, till within a few months of his death. 

The particular style of his pulpit eloquence may be 
judged of from the specimen which has been long in the 
hands of the public; and it is not improbable, that the 
world might have been favoured with others of equal ex¬ 
cellence, if he had not lost, before his removal from Glads- 
muir, a volume of sermons which he had composed with 
care. The facility with which he could arrange his ideas, 
added to the correctness and fluency of his extemporary 
language, encouraged him to lay aside the practice of writ¬ 
ing, excepting on extraordinary occasions ; and to content 
himself, in general, with such short notes as might recall to 
his memory the principal topics on which he meant to 
enlarge. To the value, however, and utility of these un¬ 
premeditated sermons we have the honourable testimony of 
his learned and excellent colleague, who heard him preach 
every week for more than twenty years. “ His discourses 
from this place,” says Dr. Erskine, “ were so plain, that 
the most illiterate might easily understand them, and yet 
so correct and elegant, that they could not incur their cen¬ 
sure, whose taste was more refined. For several years 
before his death, he seldom wrote his sermons fully, or 
exactly committed his older sermons to memory; though, 
had I not learned this from himself, I should not have 
suspected it; such was the variety and fitness of his illus¬ 
trations, the accuracy of his method, and the propriety of 
his style.” 

His health began apparently to decline in the end of the 
year 1791. Till then, it had been more uniformly good 
than might have been expected, from his studious habits; 
but, about this period, he suddenly discovered strong 
symptoms of jaundice, which gradually undermined his 
constitution, and terminated at length in a lingering and 
fatal illness. He had the prospect of death long before 
him; a prospect deeply afflicting to his family and his 
friends; but of which, without any visible abatement in 
his spirits, he happily availed himself, to adorn the doc¬ 
trines which he had long taught, by an example of forti¬ 
tude and of Christian resignation. In the concluding stage 
of his disorder, he removed from Edinburgh to Grange 
House in the neighbourhood, where he had the advantage 
of a freer air, and a more quiet situation, and (what he 
valued more than most men) the pleasure of rural objects, 
and of a beautiful landscape. While he was able to walk 
abroad, he commonly passed a part of the day in a small 

c 2 



XXX 


ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 


garden, enjoying the simple gratifications it afforded with 
all his wonted relish. Some who now hear me will long 
remember,—among the trivial yet interesting incidents 
which marked these last weeks of his memorable life,— 
his daily visits to the fruit-trees, (which were then in blos¬ 
som,) and the smile with which he, more than once, con¬ 
trasted the interest be took in their progress, with the 
event which was to happen before their maturity. At his 
particular desire, I saw him (for the last time) on the 4th 
of June 1793, when his weakness confined him to his 
couch, and his articulation was already beginning to fail: 
and it is in obedience to a request with which he then 
honoured me, that I have ventured, without consulting my 
own powers, to offer this tribute to his memory. He died 
on the 11th of the same month, in the seventy-first year of 
his age. 

I have already hinted at his domestic happiness. No¬ 
thing was wanting to render it perfect while he lived ; and, 
at his death, he had the satisfaction to leave, in prosper¬ 
ous circumstances, a numerous family united to each 
other and to their excellent mother by the tenderest affec¬ 
tion. His eldest son, an eminent lawyer at the Scotch 
bar, has been only prevented by the engagements of an 
active profession, from sustaining his father’s literary 
name; while his two younger sons, both of whom very 
early embraced a military life, have carried his vigour and 
enterprise into a different career of ambition* His eldest 
daughter is married to Mr. Brydone, the well-known 
author of one of our most elegant and popular books of 
Travels. Another is the widow of the late John Russell, 
Esq. Clerk to the Signet, and one of the members of this 
society. 

The general view which has been already given of Dr. 
Robertson’s occupations and habits, supersedes the neces¬ 
sity of attempting a formal delineation of his character. 
To the particulars, however, which have been incidentally 
mentioned in the course of this biographical sketch, it 
may not be unimportant to add, that the same sagacity 
and good sense which so eminently distinguished him as 
a writer, guided his conduct in life, and rendered his 
counsels of inestimable value to his friends. He was not 
forward in offering advice ; but when consulted, as he was 
very frequently, by his younger acquaintance, he entered 
into their concerns with the most lively interest, and 
seemed to have a pleasure and a pride in imparting to 
them all the lights of his experience and wisdom. Good 
sense was indeed the most prominent feature in his intel¬ 
lectual character; and it is unquestionably, of all the 
qualities of the understanding, that which essentially con¬ 
stitutes superiority of mind : for, although we are some¬ 
times apt to appropriate the appellation of genius to 
certain peculiarities in the intellectual habits, it is he only 
who distinguishes himself from the rest of mankind, by 
thinking better than they on the same subjects, who fairly 
brings his powers into comparison with others. This was 
in a remarkable degree the case with Dr. Robertson. He 
was not eminent for metaphysical acuteness; nor did he 
easily enter into speculations involving mathematical or 
mechanical ideas; but, in those endowments which lay 
the foundation of successful conduct, and which fit a man 
to acquire an influence over others, he had no superior. 
Among those who have, like him, devoted the greater part 


of life to study, perhaps it would be difficult to find his 
equal. 

His practical acquaintance with human nature was great, 
and he possessed the soundest and most accurate notions 
of the characters of those with whom he was accustomed 
to associate. In that quick penetration, indeed, which 
reads the soul, and estimates the talents of others by a 
sort of intuition, he was surpassed by many; and I have 
often known him misled by first impressions : but where 
he had an opportunity of continuing his observations for a 
length of time, he seldom failed in forming conclusions 
equally just, refined, and profound. In a general know¬ 
ledge of the world, and of the ways of men, his supe¬ 
riority was striking and indisputable; still more so, in 
my opinion, than in the judgments he formed of indi¬ 
viduals. Nor is this surprising, when we consider the 
joint influence of his habits as an historian, and as a 
political leader. 

Too much cannot be said of his moral qualities. Ex¬ 
emplary and amiable in the offices of private life, he ex¬ 
hibited, in his public conduct, a rare union of political 
firmness with candour and moderation.—“ He enjoyed,” 
says Dr. Erskine, “ the bounties of Providence without 
running into riot; was temperate without austerity ; con¬ 
descending and affable without meanness ; and in expense 
neither fordid nor prodigal. He could feel an injury, and 
yet bridle his passion ; was grave, not sullen; steady, not 
obstinate; friendly, not officious; prudent and cautious, 
not timid.”—The praise is liberal; and it is expressed with 
the cordial warmth of friendship; but it comes from one 
who had the best opportunity of knowing the truth, as he 
had enjoyed Dr. Robertson’s intimacy from his childhood, 
and was afterwards, for more than twenty years, his col¬ 
league in the same church; while his zealous attachment 
to a different system of ecclesiastical government, though 
it never impaired his affection for the companion of his 
youth, exempts him from any suspicion of undue par¬ 
tiality. 

In point of stature Dr. Robertson was rather above the 
middle size; and his form, though it did not convey the 
idea of much activity, announced vigour of body and a 
healthful constitution. His features were regular and 
manly; and his eye spoke at once good sense and good 
humour. He appeared to greatest advantage in his complete 
clerical dress; and was more remarkable for gravity and 
dignity in discharging the functions of his public stations, 
than for ease or grace in private society. His portrait by 
Reynolds, painted about twenty years ago, is an admirable 
likeness ; and fortunately, (for the colours are already 
much faded,) all its spirit is preserved in an excellent 
mezzotinto. At the request of his colleagues in the Uni¬ 
versity^ who were anxious to have some memorial of him 
placed in the public library, he sat again, a few months 
before his death, to Mr. Raeburn ; at a time when his 
altered and sickly aspect rendered the task of the artist 
peculiarly difficult. The picture, however, is not only 
worthy, in every respect, of Mr. Raeburn’s high and de¬ 
served reputation, but to those who were accustomed to 
see Dr. Robertson at this interesting period, derives an 
additional value from an air of languor and feebleness, 
which strongly marked his appearance during his long 
decline. 


* Appendix, Note O. 


t Appendix. Note P. 



OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XXXI 


1 should feel myself happy, if, in concluding this Me¬ 
moir, I could indulge the hope, that it may be the means 
of completing and finishing that picture which his writings 
exhibit of his mind. In attempting to delineate its cha¬ 
racteristic features, I have certainly possessed one advan¬ 
tage ;—that I had long an opportunity of knowing and 
studying the original; and that my portrait, such as it is, 
is correctly copied from my own impressions. I am sen¬ 


sible, at the same time, that much more might have been 
accomplished by a writer whose pursuits were more con¬ 
genial than mine to Dr. Robertson’s : nor would any thing 
have induced me to depart, so far as I have now done, 
from the ordinary course of my own studies, but my re¬ 
spect for the last wish of a much lamented friend, ex¬ 
pressed at a moment when nothing remained for me but 
silent acquiescence. 



APPENDIX. 


Note A. (Page iii.) 

The information contained in the following note (for 
which I am indebted to the friendship of Dr. Carlyle) 
cannot fail to be acceptable to those to whom the literary 
history of Scotland is an object of curiosity. 

“ The Select Society owed its rise to the ingenious Allan 
Ramsay, (son of the poet of that name,) and was intended 
for Philosophical Inquiry, and the improvement of the 
members in the Art of Speaking. They met for the first 
time in the Advocates’ Library, in May 1754, and con¬ 
sisted only of fifteen, who had been nominated and called 
together by Mr. Ramsay and two or three of his friends. 
At that meeting they formed themselves into a society, 
into which the members were ever after elected by ballot, 
and who met regularly every Friday evening, during the 
sittings of the Court of Session, both in summer and winter. 

“ This Society continued to flourish for several years, 
and became so fashionable, that, in 1759, their number 
amounted to more than 130; which included all the literati 
of Edinburgh and its neighbourhood, and many of the 
nobility and gentry, who, though a few of them only took 
any share in the debates, thought themselves so well enter¬ 
tained and instructed, that they gave punctual attendance. 
In this Society, which remained in vigour for six or seven 
years, Dr. Robertson made a conspicuous figure. By his 
means it was, and by the appearances made by a few of 
his brethren, that a new lustre was thrown on their order. 
From the Revolution, (when the church had been chiefly 
filled with incumbents that were ill educated,) down to 
this period, the clergy of the established church had always 
been considered in a subordinate light, and as far inferior 
to the members of the other learned professions, in know¬ 
ledge and liberal views. But now, when compared to¬ 
gether, on this theatre for the exhibition of talents, they 
were found to be entitled to at least an equal share of 
praise; and having been long depressed, they were, in 
compensation, as usual, raised full as high as they de¬ 
served. When the Select Society commenced, it was not 
foreseen that the History of Scotland during the reign of 
Mary, the Tragedy of Douglas, and the Epigoniad, were 
to issue so soon from three gentlemen of the ecclesiastical 
order. 

“ When the Society was on the decline, by the avoca¬ 
tions of many of its most distinguished members, and the 
natural abatement of that ardour which is excited by 
novelty and emulation, it was thought proper to elect 
fixed presidents to preside in their turns, whose duty it 
was to open the question to be debated upon, that a fair 
field might be laid before the speakers. It was observed 


of Dr. Robertson, who was one of those presidents, that 
whereas most of the others in their previous discourses 
exhausted the subject so much that there w r as no room for 
debate, he gave only such brief but artful sketches, as 
served to suggest ideas, without leading to a decision. 

“ Among the most distinguished speakers in the Select 
Society, were sir Gilbert Elliott, Mr. Wedderburn, Mr. 
Andrew Pringle, lord Kaims, Mr. Walter Stewart, lord 
Elibank, and Dr. Robertson. The honourable Charles 
Townshend spoke once. David Hume and Adam Smith 
never opened their lips. 

“ The Society was also much obliged to Dr. Alexander 
Monro, senior, sir Alexander Dick, and Mr. Patrick 
Murray, advocate, who, by their constant attendance and 
readiness on every subject, supported the debate during 
the first year of the establishment, when otherwise it would 
have gone heavily on. The same part was afterwards 
more ably performed by lord Monboddo, lord Elibank, 
and the reverend William Wilkie, all of whom had the 
peculiar talent of supporting their paradoxical tenets by 
an inexhaustible fund of humour and argument.’' 


A printed List of the Members having been accidentally 
preserved by Dr. Carlyle, I need make no apology for 
giving it a place in this Appendix, as a memorial of the 
state of literary society in Edinburgh, forty years ago. 

List of the Members of the Select Society, 17 th October , 

1759. 

Rev. John Jardine, Minister in Edinburgh. 

Francis Home, M. D. 

Adam Smith, Professor of Ethics at Glasgow. 
Alexander Wedderburn (now Lord Chancellor). 

Allan Ramsay (afterwards Painter to his Majesty). 
James Burnet, Advocate (afterwards Lord Monboddo). 
John Campbell, Advocate (now Lord Stonefield). 

Rev. Alexander Carlyle, Minister at Inveresk. 

William Johnston, Advocate (now Sir William Pul- 
teney). 

James Stevenson Rogers, Advocate. 

David Hume. 

John Swinton, Advocate (afterwards Lord Swinton). 
Patrick Murray, Advocate. 

Patrick Hume of Billy, Advocate. 

Alexander Stevenson, M. D. 

Walter Stewart, Advocate. 

John Home (Author of Douglas). 

Robert Alexander, Merchant. 







APPENDIX TO 

James Russell (afterwards Professor of Natural Philo¬ 
sophy). 

George Cockburn, Advocate. 

David Clerk, M. D. 

George Brown (Lord Colston). 

Rev. William Robertson, Minister in Edinburgh. 

John Fletcher (now General Fletcher Campbell). 
Alexander Agnew, Advocate. 

John Hope, M. D. 

Sir David Dairympie, Advocate (afterwards Lord 
Ilailes). 

Gilbert Elliot, one of the Lords Commissioners of the 
Admiralty. 

Sir Harry Erskine, Bart. 

Rev. Hugh Blair, one of the Ministers of Edinburgh. 
Andrew Stewart (now M. P. for Weymouth). 

Charles Fysch Palmer. 

George Morrison, Advocate. 

Andrew Pringle (Lord Avlmoor). 

Alexander Monro, sen. M. D. 

David Ross, Advocate (now Lord Ankerville). 

Right Hon. Patrick Lord Elibank. 

Earl of Glasgow. 

Sir Alexander Dick, Bart. 

Robert Arbuthnot (now Secretary to the Board of Trus¬ 
tees for Manufacturers, &c.). 

Adam Fairholme, Merchant in Edinburgh. 

Major James Edmondstone. 

Charles Hamilton Gordon, Advocate. 

James Fergusson of Pitfour, jun. Advocate. 

David Kennedy, Advocate (afterwards Earl of Cassils). 
John Dalrymple, Advocate (now Baron of Exchequer). 
Major Robert Murray (afterwards Sir Robert Murray). 
Rev. Robert Wallace, Minister in Edinburgh. 

John Gordon, Advocate. 

Alexander Maxwell, Merchant in Edinburgh. 

John Coutts, Merchant in Edinburgh. 

William Todd, Merchant in Edinburgh. 

Thomas Millar (afterwards President of the Court of 
Session). 

Robert Chalmers. 

Mr. Baron Grant. 

Captain James Stewart. 

Sir John Stewart, Advocate. 

James Guthrie, Merchant. 

Charles Congalton, Surgeon in Edinburgh. 

Rev. William Wilkie, Minister at Ratho. 

John Monro, Advocate. 

Captain Robert Douglas. 

Alexander Tait, Writer in Edinburgh. 

George Chalmers, Merchant in Edinburgh. 

Colonel Oughton (afterwards Sir Adolphus Oughton). 
John Adam, Architect. 

Robert White, M. D. 

Henry Home (Lord Kaims). 

James Montgomery, Advocate (now Chief Baron of 
Exchequer). 

David Dalrymple, Advocate (afterwards Lord West- 
hall). 

Rev. George Kay, Minister in Edinburgh. 

George Muir, Clerk of Justiciary. 

George Clerk (afterwards Sir George Clerk). 
Lieutenant-Colonel Archibald Montgomery (afterwards 
Earl of Eglinton). 

Right Honourable Lord Deskfoord. 


THE LIFE, &c. xxxiii 

Robert Berry, Advocate. 

Adam Austin, M.D. 

Lieutenant Colonel Morgan. 

George Drummond (Lord Provost of Edinburgh). 

The Earl of Lauderdale. 

Alexander Boswell (Lord Auchinleck). 

Alexander Udney, Commissioner of Excise. 

Rev. George Wishart, Minister in Edinburgh. 

Right Honourable Lord Belhaven. 

Francis Garden, Advocate (afterwards Lord Garden- 
stone). 

David Rae, Advocate (now Lord Justice Clerk). 
Mansfield Cardonnel, Commissioner of Excise. 

Right Honourable Lord Aberdour. 

John Murray of Philiphaugh, Advocate. 

William Tytler, Writer to the Signet (Author of the 
Vindication of Q. Mary). 

Colin Drummond, M. D. 

Robert Dundas (afterwards President of the Court or 
Session). 

Stamp Brooksbanks. 

William Nairne, Advocate (now Lord Dunsinan). 
James Adam, Architect. 

Captain Charles Erskine. 

Hugh Dalrymple, Advocate (Author of Rodondo). 
James Hay, Surgeon. 

Mr. Baron Erskine (afterwards Lord Alva). 

John Clerk (Author of Naval Tactics). 

John M‘Gowan, jun. Writer in Edinburgh. 

Earl of Galloway. 

John Graham of Dougaldston. 

James Carmichael, Writer to the Signet. 

Adam Fergusson, (afterwards Professor of Moral Philo¬ 
sophy). 

George Drummond of Blair. 

William Cullen, M. D. 

Ilay Campbell, Advocate (now President of the Court 
of Session.) 

Alexander Murray, Advocate (afterwards Lord Hender- 
land). 

Rev. Robert Dick. 

Right Honourable Lord Gray. 

Earl of Errol 

James Dewar, Advocate. 

Captain David Wedderburn. 

Major James Dalrymple. 

Archibald Hamilton, M. D. 

Andrew Cheap. 

Andrew Crosbie, Advocate. 

Earl of Aboyne. 

Adam Fergusson, Advocate (now Sir Adam Fergusson). 
Earl of Selkirk. 

John Turton. 

Cosmo Gordon (afterwards one of the Barons of 
Exchequer). 

Risdit Honourable Lord Gairlies. 

Earl of Sutherland. 

Captain Dougald Campbell. 

Honourable George Ramsay, Advocate. 

Earl of Roseberry. 

Earl of Cassils. 

William Graham, Advocate. 

John Pringle, of Crichton. 

Right Honourable Charles Townshend. 

George Wallace. 




XXXIV 


APPENDIX TO THE LIFE 


Note B. (Page v.) 

From William Stratum , Esq. to Dr. Robertson. 

Rev Sir London, Feb. 28, 1759. 

When I received your farewell letter on the conclusion 
of your History, I was determined not to answer it till I 
could tell you, with certainty, and from my own personal 
knowledge, what reception it met with in this place. And 
what I am going to tell you, I dare say you have had 
from many of your friends long ago. No matter for that. 
Every man, and especially one in my way, has an oppor¬ 
tunity to hear the public sentiments through many different 
channels. I have now waited till I could be fully in¬ 
formed ; and as I have been particularly solicitous to pro¬ 
cure authentic intelligence, you will not be displeased at 
my confirming what you have heard before, as we love to 
see a piece of good news in the Gazette, (excuse the vanity 
of the comparison,) even though we have read it a month 
before in all the other papers.—I don’t remember to have 
heard any book so universally approved by the best judges, 
for what are sold yet, have been only to such. The people 
in the country know nothing of it, unless from the adver¬ 
tisements ; and A History of Scotland is no very enticing 
title.—But many of the first distinction in town have per¬ 
used it with great satisfaction. They wonder how a Scotch 
parson, and who had never been out of Scotland, could be 
able to write in so correct, so clear, so manly, and so nerv¬ 
ous a style. The Speaker of the house of Commons, in par¬ 
ticular, prefers the style to that of Bolingbroke, and every 
body that I have either seen or heard of, think it one of the 
very best performances that has been exhibited for many 
years. As these are not superficial judges, you may be assured 
that the fame you have acquired will be permanent, and not 
only permanent, but extending daily. Next week you will see 
some extracts from it in the Chronicle, which will serve to 
give the people at a distance from town some idea of its 
excellence; but without that, or any thing else, the report 
of those who have read it in London will soon spread its 
reputation; for the capital always gives the lead this way 
as well as in most other cases. The impression, therefore, 
certainly will be gone before another can be got ready. 
Mr. Millar has wrote to you already about revising it for 
another edition, and I think the sooner you send up some 
of the sheets the better, that no time may be lost. Does 
not this answer your most sanguine expectations? For, 
indeed, a more favourable reception could not be hoped 
for. I most sincerely wish you joy of your success, and 
have not the least doubt but it will have all the good 
effects upon your future fortune which you could possibly 
hope for, or expect. Much depended upon the first per¬ 
formance ; that trial is now happily over, and henceforth 
you will sail with a favourable gale. In truth, to acquire 
such a flood of reputation from writing on a subject in 
itself so unpopular in this country, is neither a common 
nor a contemptible conquest.—I will not trouble you more 
on a subject of which you must needs have heard a great 
deal from hence lately. I rejoice in your good fortune, 
and am, with much esteem and sincerity, 

Dear Sir, 

Your most obedient servant, 

WILL. STRAHAN. 

* It is much to be regretted that the work here alluded toby lord Hailes 
was never carried into complete execution. The fragments, however, of such 
* writer relative to a subject on which lie had so long bestowed attention, 


The following Letter from Mr. Strahan’s son, forms an 
interesting counterpart to the foregoing article. 

From Andrew Strahan , Esq. to Dr. Robertson. 

Dear Sir London, 19th November, 1792. 

Being at the sea-side in Sussex when I received your 
favour of the 26th ult. 1 have had no opportunity till 
now of acknowledging it, and at the same time informing 
myself of the state of the edition, so as to answer your 
question. 

Mr. Cadell (who is now with me, and who desires to 
be affectionately remembered) is of opinion with me, that 
we should take the ensuing season of ships sailing to India 
to reduce the quartos.—But we will print an edition in 
octavo, next summer, whatever may then be the state of 
the former, and we will thank you for a correct copy at 
your leisure. 

The fourteenth edition of your “ Scotland ” will be pub¬ 
lished in the course of the winter, during which it is our 
intention to advertise all your works strongly in all the 
papers.—And we have the satisfaction of informing you, 
that if we may judge by the sale of your writings, your 
literary reputation is daily increasing. 

I am, with much esteem, &c. 

Note C. (Page vi.) 

Tiie praise contained in the following letter (though less 
profusely bestowed than by some other of Dr. Robert¬ 
son’s correspondents) will not appear of small value to 
those who are acquainted with the character of the writer, 
and with his accurate researches into the antiquities of 
Scotland. 

From Sir David Dairymplc to Dr. Robertson. 

Dear Sir, Edinburgh, 20th Feb. 1776. 

I am very happy in your favourable acceptance of the 
Annals of Scotland. Even your opinion is not enough to 
make me think of going beyond the Restoration of James 
I. Your Sketch of the History from that time to the death 
of James V. is of itself sufficient to deter me. It is very 
possible that in your delineation of the history of the five 
Jameses,there maybe errors and omissions, but you have 
drawn all the characters with such historical truth, that if 
I were to work on the same ground, I might spoil and 
overcharge the canvas ; at the same time, the reader would 
not see himself in a strange country—every object would 
be familiar to him. There is another reason, and that is a 
political one, for my stopping short. Many readers might 
take it for granted that I would write disfavourably of the 
Stewarts, from prejudice of education or family. Other 
readers might suspect my impartiality, and thus, there 
would be little prospect of my being favourably heard. 
If I have health to finish my plan, I propose to go back 
into the laws of Scotland. That is a work of which I 
must not lose sight, after I have laboured so long upon it. * 
I send you a book which I have re-published, and beg 
your acceptance of it. I am, 

Dear Sir, 

Your most obedient 

and obliged humble servant, 

DAV. DALRYMPLE. 

could not fail to be of great value ; and it is to be hoped that thev will 
one day be communicated to the public. 






OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XXXV 


The following Letters, which have been kindly communi¬ 
cated to me by a friend of lord Hailes, ascertain some 
important dates with respect to the progress of Dr. 
Robertson’s studies. 

Dr. Robertsdn to Lord Hailes. 

Sir, Gladsmuir, 22d Oct. 1753. 

I intend to employ some of the idle time of this winter 
in making a more diligent inquiry than ever I have done 
into that period of Scots history from the death of king 
James V. to the death of queen Mary. I have the more 
common histories of that time, such as Buchanan, Spottis- 
wood, and Knox, but there are several collections of papers 
by Anderson, Jebb, Forbes, and others, which I know not 
how to come at. I am persuaded you have most of these 
books in your library, and I flatter myself you will be so 
good as to allow me the use of them. You know better 
what books to send me, and what will be necessary to give 
any light to this part of history, than I do what to ask, and 
therefore I leave the particular books to your own choice, 
which you’ll please order to be given to my servant. 
Whatever you send me, shall be used with much care, and 

returned with great punctuality_I beg you may forgive 

this trouble. I am, with great respect, &c. 

Dr. Robertson to Lord Hailes. 

Sir, Gladsmuir, 26th July, 1757. 

I have now got forward to the year 1660, and as it will 
be impossible for me to steer through Gowrie’s conspiracy 
without your guidance, I must take advantage of the friendly 
offer you was pleased to make me, and apply to you for 
such books and papers as you think to be necessary for my 
purpose.—I would wish to give an accurate and rational 
account of the matter, but not very minute. I have in my 
possession Calderwood’s MSS. and all the common printed 
histories ; but I have neither lord Cromarty’s account, 
nor any other piece particularly relative to the conspiracy. 
I beg you may supply me with as many as you can, and 
direct me to any thing you think may be useful. The 
papers you are pleased to communicate to me, shall be 
shown to no human creature, and no further use shall be 
made of them than you permit. My servant will take 
great care of whatever books or papers you give him. I 
need not say how sensible I am of the good will with 
which you are pleased to instruct me in this curious point 
of history, nor how much I expect to profit by it. I ever 
am, &c. 

Dr. Robertson to Lord Hailes. 

Sir, Edinburgh, 8th Nov. 1758. 

I have taken the liberty to send you inclosed a Preface 
to my book, which I have just now written. I find it 
very difficult for a man to speak of himself with any 
decency through three or four pages. Unluckily I have 
been obliged to write it in the utmost hurry, as Strahan is 
clamouring for it. I think it was necessary to say all in 
it that I have said, and yet it looks too like a puff. I send 
it to you, not only that you may do me the favour to cor¬ 
rect any inaccuracies in the composition, but because there 
is a paragraph in it which I would not presume to publish 
without your permission, though I have taken care to word 
it so modestly that a man might have said it of himself. 


As I must send off the Preface by to-morrow’s post, I must 
beg the favour that you will return it with your remarks 
to-morrow morning. I would wish, if possible, that I had 
time to show it to Blair. I am, with great respect, &c. 


The Letters which follow (although written many years 
afterwards) may, without impropriety, be introduced 
here, as they all relate, more or less, to the History of 
Scotland. 

Dr. Robertson to Lord Hailes. 

My Lord, College, Feb. 10, 1776. 

I hope your lordship will forgive me for having deferred 
so long to return you my best thanks for the very accept¬ 
able present which you were pleased to send me. Pre¬ 
vious to doing this, I wished to have the satisfaction of 
perusing the Annals again, and the opinion I had formed 
of their merit is in no degree diminished by an attentive 
review of them in their present dress. 

You have given authenticity and order to a period of 
our history, which has hitherto been destitute of both, and 
a Scotchman has now the pleasure of being able to pro¬ 
nounce what is true, and what is fabulous, in the early part 
of our national story. As I have no doubt with respect to 
the reception which this part of the Annals, though per¬ 
haps the least interesting, will meet with, I flatter myself 
that your lordship will go on with the work. Allow me, 
on the public account, to hope that you have not fixed the 
Accession of James I. as an impassable boundary beyond 
which you are not to advance. It is at that period the 
most interesting age of our history commences. From 
thence the regular series of our laws begins. During the 
reign of the Jameses, many things still require the investi¬ 
gation of such an accurate and patient inquirer as your 
lordship. I hope that what I have done in my review of 
that period, will be no restraint on your lordship in enter¬ 
ing upon that field. My view of it was a general one, that 
did not require the minute accuracy of a chronological 
research, and if you discover either omissions or mistakes 
in it, (and I dare say you will discover both,) I have no 
objection to your supplying the one, and correcting the 
other. Your strictures on me will not be made with a 
hostile hand, and I had much rather that these were made, 
than be deprived of the advantage that I shall reap from 
your completing your work. As far as I can judge by the 
opinion of those with whom I converse, the public wish is, 
that you should continue your Annals at least to the death 
of James V. I most heartily join my voice to this general 
desire, and wish you health to go on with what will be so 
much for the honour of your country. I am, with great 
truth and respect, my lord, 

Your lordship’s most obedient 

and most humble servant. 

Dr. Robertson to Lord Hailes. 

My Lord, College, March 13th, 1785. 

When I took the liberty of applying to your lordship 
last week, I unluckily did not advert to the hurry of busi¬ 
ness during the last week of the Session. In compliance 
with your request, I shall, without preamble or apology, 
mention what induced me to trouble your lordship. 





XX XVI 


APPENDIX TO TIIE LIFE 


I am now in the twenty-eighth year of my authorship, 
and the proprietors of the History of Scotland purpose to 
end the second fourteen years of their copyright splendidly, 
by publishing two new editions of that book, one in 
quarto, and another in octavo. This has induced me to 
make a general review of the whole work, and to avail 
myself both of the remarks of my friends, and the stric¬ 
tures of those who differ from me in opinion. I mean not 
to take the field as a controversial writer, or to state my¬ 
self in opposition to any antagonist. Wherever I am satis¬ 
fied that I have fallen into errors, I shall quietly, and 
without reluctance, correct it. Wherever I think my sen¬ 
timents right and well established, they shall stand.—In 
some few places, I shall illustrate what I have written, by 
materials and facts which I have discovered since the first 
publication of my book. These additions will not, I hope, 
be very bulky, but they will contribute, as I imagine, to 
throw light on several events which have been mistaken, 
or misrepresented. I shall take care, on account of the 
purchasers of former editions, that all the additions and 
alterations of any importance, shall be published separately, 
both in quarto and octavo. 

As I know how thoroughly your lordship is acquainted 
with every transaction in Q. Mary’s reign, and with how 
much accuracy you are accustomed to examine historical 
facts, it was my intention to have requested of you, that 
if any error or omission in my book had occurred to you 
in the perusal of it, you would be so obliging as to com¬ 
municate your sentiments to me. I shall certainly receive 
such communications with much attention and gratitude. 
—You have set me right with respect to the act 19th 
April, 1567, but I think that I can satisfy your lordship 
that it was esteemed in that age, and was really a conces¬ 
sion of greater importance to the reformed than you seem 
to apprehend. I beg leave to desire that, if you have any 
remarks to communicate, they may be sent soon, as the 
booksellers are impatient. I trust your lordship will par¬ 
don the liberty I have taken. I have the honour to be, 
my lord, 

Your most obedient and most humble servant. 


Dr. Robertson to Lord Hailes. 


T\/r,. T College of Edinburgh, 

My Lord, March 20, 1786. 

I consider it as an unfortunate accident for me, that your 
lordship happened to be so much pre-occupied at the time 
when I took the liberty of applying to you. I return you 
thanks for the communication of your notes on the acts of 
parliament. Besides the entertainment and instruction I 
received from the perusal of them, I found some things of 
use to me, and I have availed myself of the permission you 
was pleased to give me. 

I mentioned to your lordship that I differed little from 
you about the effect of the act, April 19, 1567. I inclose 
a copy both of the text, corrected as I intended to publish 
it in the new edition, and of a note which I shall add to 
explain my idea of the import of the act. I request of 
your lordship to peruse it, and if in any part it meets not 
with your approbation, be so good as to let me know. 
Please to return it as soon as you can, that I may com¬ 
municate it, and any other additions and alterations, to 
Mr. Davidson, who has promised to revise them. 

In 1776 your lordship published the Secret Correspond¬ 
ence of Sir II. Cecil with James VI. I have not a copy 
of it, and have been unsuccessful in my application for one 


to some of my friends. If you have a copy, and will be 
so good as to allow me the use of it, I shall return it with 
the greatest care, as I do herewith the notes I received 
from your lordship. I have attended to the notes in Ban- 
natyne’s poems. I have the Hamilton MSS. in three 
volumes folio. They are curious. 

I have the honour to be, See. 


I shall subjoin some extracts from Mr. Hume’s letters to 
Dr. Robertson, written about this period, and a few 
other passages from different correspondents. They 
seem to me worthy of preservation, although the ex¬ 
traneous matter they contain render it impossible for 
me to incorporate them with my narrative. 

Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 


, c- London, Lisle Street, 

My dear Sir, isth Nov. 1758 . 

According to your permission I have always got your 
corrected sheets from Strahan ; and am glad to find, that 
we shall agree in almost all the material parts of our his¬ 
tory. Your resolution to assert the authenticity of Mary’s 
letter to Bothwell, with the consequence which must ne¬ 
cessarily follow, removes the chief point, in which, I appre¬ 
hend, we shall differ. There remain, however, two other 
points where I have not the good fortune to agree with 
you, viz. The violation of the treaty of Perth by Mary of 
Guise, and the innocency of Mary with regard to Babing- 
ton’s conspiracy: but as I had written notes upon these 
passages, the public must judge between us. Only allow 
me to say, that even if you be in the right with regard to 
the last, (of which, notwithstanding my deference to your 
authority, I cannot perceive the least appearance,) you are 
certainly too short and abrupt in handling it. I believe 
you go contrary to received opinion ; and the point was of 
consequence enough to merit a note or a dissertation. 

There is still another point in which w'e differ, and 
which reduced me to great perplexity. You told me, that 
all historians had been mistaken with regard to James’s 
behaviour on his mother’s trial and execution ; that he was 
not really the pious son he pretended to be; that the ap¬ 
pearances which deceived the world were put on at the 
solicitation of the French ambassador, Courcelles; and 
that I should find all this proved by a manuscript of Dr. 
Campbell’s. I accordingly spoke of the matter to Dr. 
Campbell, who confirmed what you said, with many ad¬ 
ditions and amplifications. I desired to have the manu¬ 
script, which he sent me. But great was my surprise, 
when I found the contrary in every page, many praises 
bestowed on the king’s piety both by Courcelles and the 
French court; his real grief and resentment painted in the 
strongest colours; resolutions even taken by him to form 
an alliance with Philip of Spain, in order to get revenge; 
repeated advices given him by Courcelles and the French 
ministers, rather to conceal his resentment till a proper 
opportunity offered of taking vengeance. What most dis¬ 
pleased me in this affair was, that as I thought myself 
obliged to follow the ordinary tenor of the printed historian, 
while you appealed to manuscript, it would be necessary 
for me to appeal to the same manuscripts, to give extracts 
of them, and to oppose your conclusions. Though I know 
that I could execute this matter in a friendly and obliging 
manner for you, yet I own that I was very uneasy at find- 





OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xxxvn 


ing myself under a necessity of observing any thing which 
might appear a mistake in your narration. But there came 
to me a man this morning, who, as I fancied, gave me the 
key of the difficulty, but without freeing me from my per¬ 
plexity. This was a man commonly employed by Millar 
and Strahan to decypher manuscripts. He brought me a 
letter of yours to Strahan, where you desired him to apply 
to me in order to point out the passages proper to be in¬ 
serted in your Appendix, and proper to prove the assertion 
of your text. You add there, these letters are in the French 
language. I immediately concluded that you had not 
read the manuscripts, but had taken it on Mr. Campbell’s 
word : for the letters are in English, translated by I know 
not whom from the French. I could do nothing on this 
occasion but desire Strahan to stop the press in printing 
the Appendix, and stay till I wrote to you. If I could 
persuade you to change the narration of the text, that sheet 
could be easily cancelled, and an appendix formed proper 
to confirm an opposite account. If you still persist in your 
opinion, somebody else whom you trusted might be em¬ 
ployed to find the proper passages; for I cannot find them. 

There is only one passage which looks like your opinion, 
and which I shall transcribe to you. It is a relation of 
what passed between James and Courcelles upon the first 
rumour of the discovery of Babington’s conspiracy, before 
James apprehended his mother to be in any danger. “ The 
king said he loved his mother as much as nature and duty 
bound him ; but he could not love her : 

For he knew well she bore him no more good will than 
she did to the queen of England : That he had seen with 
his own eyes, before Foulnaye’s departure out of Scotland, 
a letter to him, whereby she sent him word, that if he 
would not conform himself to her will, and follow her 
counsels and advice, that he should content himself with 
the lordship of Darnley, which was all that appertained 
unto him by his father: Farther, that he had seen other 
letters under her own hand, confirming her evil towards 
him : Besides, that she had oftentimes gone about to make 
a regency in Scotland, and to put him besides the crown ; 
that it behoved him to think of his own affairs, and that 
lie thought the queen of England would attempt nothing 
against her person without making him acquainted : That 
his mother was henceforward to carry herself both towards 
him and the queen of England after another sort, without 
bending any more upon such practices and intelligences 
as she had in former times: That he hoped to set such 
persons about her as” (Here the manuscript is not further 
legible.) But though such were James’s sentiments before 
he apprehended his mother to be in danger, he adopted a 
directly opposite conduct afterwards, as I told you. I can 
only express my wishes that you may see reason to con¬ 
form your narrative in vol. ii. p. 139, 140. to this account, 
or omit that Appendix altogether, or find some other per¬ 
son who can better execute your intentions than it is pos¬ 
sible for me to do. 

Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 

My dear Sir, "5th January, 1759. 

What I wrote you with regard to Mary’s concurrence in 
the conspiracy against queen Elizabeth, was from the 
printed histories of papers; and nothing ever appeared to 
me more evident. Your chief objection, I see, is derived 
from one circumstance, that neither the secretaries nor 
conspirators were confronted with Mary; but you must 


consider that the law did not then require this confront¬ 
ation, and it was in no case the practice. The crown could 
not well grant it in one case without granting it in all, 
because the refusing of it would then have been a strong 
presumption of innocence in the prisoner. Yet as Mary’s 
was an extraordinary case, Elizabeth was willing to have 
granted it. I find in Forbes’s MS. papers, sent me by 
lord Royston, a letter of hers to Burleigh and Walsing- 
ham, wherein she tells them, that, if they thought proper, 
they might carry down the two secretaries to Fotheringay, 
in order to confront them with her. But they reply, that 
they think it needless. 

But I am now sorry to tell you, that by Murden’s State 
Papers, which are printed, the matter is put beyond all 
question. I got these papers during the holidays by Dr. 
Birch’s means; and as soon as I had read them, I ran to 
Millar, and desired him very earnestly to stop the publica¬ 
tion of your history till I should write to you, and give you 
an opportunity of correcting a mistake of so great moment; 
but he absolutely refused compliance. He said that your 
book was now finished, that the copies would be shipped 
for Scotland in two days, that the whole narration of Mary’s 
trial must be wrote over again ; that this would require 
time, and it was uncertain whether the new narrative could 
be brought within the same compass with the old ; that 
this change, he said, would require the cancelling a great 
many sheets; that there were scattered passages through 
the volumes founded on your theory, and these must also 
be all cancelled, and that this change required the new 
printing of a great part of the edition. For these reasons, 
which do not want force, he refused, after deliberation, to 
stop his publication, and I was obliged to acquiesce. 
Your best apology at present is, that you could not possi¬ 
bly see the grounds of Mary’s guilt, and every equitable 
person will excuse you. 

I am sorry, on many accounts, that you did not see this 
collection of Murden’s. Among other curiosities, there are 
several instructions to H. Killigrew, dated 10th September, 
1572. He was then sent into Scotland. It there appears, 
that the regents, Murray and Lennox, had desired Mary 
to be put into their hands, in order to try her and put her 
to death. Elizabeth there offers to regent Mar to deliver 
her up, provided good security were given, “ that she 
should receive that she hath deserved there by order of 
justice, whereby no further peril should ensue by her 
escaping, or by setting her up again.” It is probable 
Mar refused compliance, for no other steps were taken 
towards it. 

I am nearly printed out, and shall be sure to send you 
a copy by the stage-coach, or some other conveyance. I 
beg of you to make remarks as you go along. It would 
have been much better had we communicated before print¬ 
ing, which was always my desire, and was most suitable to 
the friendship which always did, and I hope always will, 
subsist between us. I speak this chiefly on my own ac¬ 
count. For though I had the perusal of your sheets 
before I printed, I was not able to derive sufficient bene¬ 
fits from them, or indeed to make any alteration by their 
assistance. There still remain, I fear, many errors, of 
which you could have convinced me, if we had canvassed 
the matter in conversation. Perhaps I might also have 
been sometimes no less fortunate with you. Particularly 
I could almost undertake to convince you, that the earl of 
Murray’s conduct with the duke of Norfolk was no way 
dishonourable. 


i 




XXXVlll 


APPENDIX TO THE LIFE 


I have seen a copy of your History with Charles Stan¬ 
hope. Lord Willoughby, who had been there reading 
some passages of it, said, that you was certainly mistaken 
with regard to the act passed in the last parliament of 
Mary, settling the Reformation. He said that the act of 
parliament the first of James was no proof of it: for though 
that statute contains a statute where the queen’s name was 
employed, yet that is always the case with the bills 
brought into parliament, even though they receive not the 
royal assent, nor perhaps pass the houses. I wish this be 
not the case, considering the testimony of Buchanan, Cal- 
derwood, and Spotswood. Besides, if the bill had before 
received the royal assent, what necessity of repeating it, or 
passing it again ? Mary’s title was more undisputable than 
James’s. 

Dr. Blair tells me, that prince Edward is reading you, 
and is charmed. I hear the same of the princess and 
prince of Wales. But what will really give you pleasure, 
I lent my copy to Elliot during the holidays, who thinks 
it one of the finest performances he ever read : and though 
he expected much, he finds more. He remarked, how¬ 
ever, (which is also my opinion,) that in the beginning, 
before your pen was sufficiently accustomed to the historic 
style, you employed too many digressions and reflections. 
This was also somewhat my own case, which I have cor¬ 
rected in my new edition. 

Millar was proposing to publish me about the middle 
of March, but I shall communicate to him your desire, 
even though I think it entirely groundless, as you will like¬ 
wise think after you have read my volume. He has very 
needlessly delayed your publication till the first of Febru¬ 
ary, at the desire of the Edinburgh booksellers, who could 
no way be affected by a publication in London. I was 
exceedingly sorry not to be able to comply with your de¬ 
sire, when you expressed your wish, that I should not 
write this period. I could not write downward. For 
when you find occasion, by new discoveries, to correct 
your opinion with regard to facts which passed in queen 
Elizabeth’s days; who that has not the best opportunities 
of informing himself, could venture to relate any recent 
transactions ? I must therefore have abandoned altogether 
this scheme of the English history, in which I had pro¬ 
ceeded so far, if I had not acted as I did. You will see 
what light and force this history of the Tudors bestows on 
that of the Stewarts. Had I been prudent, I should have 
begun with it. I care not to boast, but I will venture to 
say, that I have now effectually stopped the mouths of all 
those villanous Whigs who railed at me. 

You are so kind as to ask me about my coming down. 
I can yet answer nothing. I have the strangest reluctance 
to change places. I lived several years happy with my 
brother at Nine-wells, and had not his marriage changed a 
little the state of the family, I believe I should have lived 
and died there. I used every expedient to evade this 
journey to London, yet it is now uncertain whether I shall 
ever leave it. I have had some invitations, and some in¬ 
tentions of taking a trip to Paris; but I believe it will be 
safer for me not to go thither, for I might probably settle 
there for life. No one was ever endowed with so great a 
portion of the vis inertia. But as I live here very private¬ 
ly, and avoid as much as possible (and it is easily possi¬ 
ble) all connexions with the great, I believe I should be 
better at Edinburgh. * * * * 


Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 

London, 8th Feb. 1759. 

* * As to the Age of Leo the Tenth, it was Warton 

himself who intended to write it; but he has not wrote it, 
and probably never will. If I understand your hint, I 
should conjecture, that you had some thoughts of taking 
up the subject. But how can you acquire knowledge of 
the great works of sculpture, architecture, and painting, by 
which that age was chiefly distinguished ? Are you versed 
in all the anecdotes of the Italian literature ? These 
questions I heard proposed in a company of literati when 
I inquired concerning this design of Warton. They ap¬ 
plied their remarks to that gentleman, who yet, they say, 
has travelled. I wish they do not all of them fall more 
fully on you. However, you must not be idle. May I 
venture to suggest to you the Ancient History, particular¬ 
ly that of Greece ? I think Rollin’s success might en¬ 
courage you, nor need you be in the least intimidated by 
his merit. That author has no other merit but a certain 
facility and sweetness of narration, but has loaded his 
work with fifty puerilities. 

Our friend Wedderburn is advancing with great strides 
in his profession. * * * * 

I desire my compliments to lord Elibank. 1 hope his 
lordship has forgot his vow of answering us, and of wash¬ 
ing queen Mary white. Iam afraid that is impossible; 
but his lordship is well qualified to gild her. 

I am, &c. 

Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 

# * * * * 

I forgot to tell you, that two days ago I was in the 
house of Commons, where an English gentleman came 
to me, and told me, that he had lately sent to a grocer’s 
shop for a pound of raisins, which he received wrapt up 
in a paper that he showed me. How would you have 
turned pale at the sight! It was a leaf of your History, 
and the very character of queen Elizabeth, which you 
had laboured so finely, little thinking it would so soon 
come to so disgraceful an end—I happened a little after 
to see Millar, and told him the story ; consulting him, to 
be sure, on the fate of his new boasted historian, of whom 
he was so fond. But the story proves more serious than 
I apprehended. For he told Strahan, who thence suspects 
villany among his prentices and journeymen; and has 
sent me very earnestly to know the gentleman’s name, that 
he may find out the grocer, and trace the matter to the 
bottom. In vain did I remonstrate that this was sooner 
or later the fate of all authors, serins, ocyus, sors exitura. 
He will not be satisfied ; and begs me to keep my jokes 
for another occasion. But that I am resolved not to do ; 
and therefore, being repulsed by his passion and serious¬ 
ness, I direct them against you. 

Next week, I am published; and then, I expect a con¬ 
stant comparison will be made between Dr. Robertson 
and Mr. Hume. I shall tell you in a few weeks which of 
these heroes is likely to prevail. Meanwhile, I can in¬ 
form both of them for their comforts, that their combat is 
not likely to make half so much noise as that between 
Broughton and the one-eyed coachman. Vanitas vanita- 
tum, atque omnia vanitas. I shall still except, however, 
the friendship and good opinion of worthy men. 

I am, &c. 



OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


XXXIX 


Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 

My dear Sir, London, 12th March, 1759. 

I believe I mentioned to you a French gentleman, 
Monsieur Helvetius, whose book, De l’Esprit, was making 
a great noise in Europe. He is a very fine genius, and 
has the character of a very worthy man. My name is 
mentioned several times in his work with marks of esteem ; 
and he has made me an offer, if I would translate his work 
into English, to translate anew all my philosophical writ¬ 
ings into French. He says, that none of them are well 
done, except that on the Natural History of Religion, by 
Monsieur Matigny, a Counsellor of State. He added, 
that the Abbe Prevot, celebrated for the Mtmoires d'un 
Homme d' Honneur, and other entertaining books, was just 
now translating my history. This account of Helvetius 
engaged me to send him over the new editions of all my 
writings ; and I have added your history, which, I told 
him, was here published with great applause ; adding, that 
the subject was interesting and the execution masterly; 
and that it was probable some man of letters at Paris may 
think that a translation of it would be agreeable to the 
public. I thought that this was the best method of exe¬ 
cuting your intentions. I could not expect that any 
I' renchman here would be equal to the work. There is one 
Carracioli, who came to me and spoke of translating my 
new volume of history; but as he also mentioned his in¬ 
tentions of translating Smollet, I gave him no encourage¬ 
ment to proceed. The same reason would make me averse 
to see you in his hands. 

But though I have given this character of your work to 
Monsieur Helvetius, I warn you, that this is the last time, 
that, either to Frenchman or Englishman, I shall ever 
speak the least good of it. A plague take you ! Here I 
sat near the historical summit of Parnassus, immediately 
under Dr. Smollet; and you have the impudence to squeeze 
yourself by me, and place yourself directly under his feet. 
Do you imagine that this can be agreeable to me? And 
must not I be guilty of great simplicity to contribute by 
my endeavours to your thrusting me out of my place in 
Paris as well as at London ? But I give you warning that 
you will find the matter somewhat difficult, at least in the 
former city. A friend of mine, who is there, writes home 
to his father the strangest accounts on that head; which 
my modesty will not permit me to repeat, but which it 
allowed me very deliciously to swallow. 

I have got a good reason or pretence for excusing me to 
Monsieur Helvetius with regard to the translating his work. 
A translation of it was previously advertised here. I 
remain, &c. 

Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 

My dear Sir, London, 29th May, 1759 . 

I had a letter from Helvetius lately, wrote before your book 
arrived at Paris. He tells me, that the Abbe Prevot, who 
had just finished the translation of my history, paroit tres- 
dispost a traduire VHistoire d'Ecosse que vient de fibre 
Monsieur Robertson. If he be engaged by my persuasion, 
I shall have the satisfaction of doing you a real credit and 
pleasure : for he is one of the best pens in Paris. 

I looked with great impatience in your new edition for 
the note you seemed to intend with regard to the breach of 

t Essay on Taste. 


the capitulation of Perth ; and was much disappointed at 
missing it. I own that I am very curious on that head. 
I cannot so much as imagine a colour upon which their 
accusations could possibly be founded. The articles were 
only two; indemnity to the inhabitants, and the exclusion 
of French soldiers—now that Scotch national troops were 
not Frenchmen and foreigners seems pretty apparent: and 
both Knox and the manifesto of the Congregation acquit 
the queen regent of any breach of the first article, as I 
had observed in my note to page 422. This makes me 
suspect that some facts have escaped me; and I beg you 
to indulge my curiosity by informing me of them. 
***** 

Our friend Smith* is very successful here, and Gerardf 
is very well received. The Epigoniad I cannot so much 
promise for, though I have done all in my power to for¬ 
ward it, particularly by writing a letter to the Critical 
Review, which you may peruse. I find, however, some 
good judges profess a great esteem for it, but habent et sua 
fata libelii: however, if you want a little flattery to the 
author, (which I own is very refreshing to an author,) you 
may tell him that lord Chesterfield said to me he was a 
great Poet. I imagine that Wilkie will be very much 
elevated by praise from an English earl, and a knight of 
the garter, and an ambassador, and a secretary of state, and 
a man of so great reputation. For I observe that the 
greatest rustics are commonly most affected with such 
circumstances. 

Ferguson’s book I has a great deal of genius and fine 
writing, and will appear in time. * * 

***** 

j From Dr. Birch to Dr. Robertson. 

Dear Sir, London, Feb. 8th, 1759. 

I have just read over the second volume of your ex¬ 
cellent History; and the satisfaction which I have received 
from the perusal of it, and the gratitude which 1 owe you 
for the honour done me in it, as well as for so valuable a 
present, will not permit me to lose one post in returning 
you my sincerest acknowledgments. My lord Royston 
likewise desires me to transmit to you his thanks and com¬ 
pliments in the strongest terms. 

Though your work has been scarce a fortnight in the 
hands of the public, I can already inform you, upon the 
authority of the best judges, that the spirit and elegance 
of the composition, and the candour, moderation, and 
humanity, which run through it, will secure you the gene¬ 
ral approbation both of the present age and posterity, and 
raise the character of our country in a species of writing, 
in which of all others it has been most defective. 

If the second volume of the State Papers of lord 
Burghley, published since Christmas here, had appeared 
before your History had been finished, it would have fur¬ 
nished you with reasons for entertaining a less favourable 
opinion of Mary queen of Scots in one or two points, than 
you seem at present possessed of. The principal is with 
regard to her last intrigues and correspondences which 
were the immediate cause of her death. And I could 
wish you had likewise seen a manuscript account of her 
trial in lord Royston’s possession. This account is much 
fuller than Camden’s, whose history is justly to be suspect¬ 
ed in every thing relating to her ; or than any other, that 
has yet seen the light. It contains so ample a state of 

t Essay on the History of Civil Society. 


• Theory of Moral Sentiments. 



APPENDIX TO THE LIFE 


xl 

the evidence produced of her guilt, as I think, leaves no 
doubt of it; notwithstanding that the witnesses were not 
confronted with her; a manner of proceeding, which, 
though certainly due to every person accused, was not 
usual either before her time or long after. 

You conclude in the note, vol. i. p. 307, in favour of 
her innocence with any criminal intrigue with Rizzio, from 
the silence of Randolph on that head. But I apprehend, 
that in opposition to this allegation you may be urged with 
the joint letter of that gentleman and the earl of Bedford 
of 27th March 1566, in your Appendix, No. xv. p. 22. 

I desire you to make my compliments acceptable to sir 
David Dalrymple and Mr. Davidson, and believe me to 
be ike 

THOMAS BIRCH. 

From Sir Gilbert Elliot to Dr. Robertson. 

Dear Sir, Admiralty, January 20th, 1759. 

Millar has just sent me the History of Scotland. I can¬ 
not imagine why he should delay the publication so long 
as the first of February, for I well know that the printing 
has been completed a great while. You could have sent 
me no present, which on its own account I should have 
esteemed so much; but you have greatly enhanced its 
value, by allowing me to accept it as a memorial and tes¬ 
timony of a friendship which I have long cultivated with 
equal satisfaction and sincerity. I am no stranger to your 
book, though your copy is but just put into my hands : 
David Hume so far indulged my impatience, as to allow 
me to carry to the country during the holidays, the loose 
sheets which he happened to have by him. In that con¬ 
dition I read it quite through with the greatest satisfaction, 
and in much less time than I ever employed on any por¬ 
tion of history of the same length. I had certainly neither 
leisure nor inclination to exercise the function of a critic; 
carried along with the stream of the narration, I only felt, 
when I came to the conclusion, that you had greatly ex¬ 
ceeded the expectations I had formed, though I do assure 
you these were not a little sanguine. If, upon a more 
deliberate perusal, I discover any blemish, I shall point it 
out without any scruple: at present, it seems to me that 
you have rendered the period you treat of as interesting as 
any part of our British story; the views you open of policy, 
manners, and religion, are ingenious, solid, and deep. 
Your work will certainly be ranked in the highest histori¬ 
cal class; and for my own part, I think it, besides, a com¬ 
position of uncommon genius and eloquence.—I was 
afraid you might have been interrupted by the Reforma¬ 
tion, but I find it much otherwise ; you treat it with great 
propriety, and, in my opinion, with sufficient freedom. 
No revolution, whether civil or religious, can be accom¬ 
plished without that degree of ardour and passion, which, 
in a later age, will be matter of ridicule to men who do 
not feel the occasion, and enter into the spirit of the times. 
But I must not get into dissertations;—1 hope you will 
ever believe me, with great regard, Dear Sir, 

Your most obedient and faithful Servant, 

GILB. ELLIOT. 

Note D. (Page xiii.) 

From Baron d'Holback to Dr. Robertson. 

Sir, Paris, the 30th of May, 1761. 

I received but a few days ago the favour of your letter, 
sent to me by Mr. Andrew Stuart; I am very proud of 


being instrumental in contributing to the translation of the 
valuable work you are going to publish. Ihe excellent 
work you have published already is a sure sign of the re¬ 
ception your History of Charles V. will meet with in the 
continent; such an interesting subject deserves undoubt¬ 
edly the attention of all Europe. You are very much in 
the right of being afraid of the hackney translators of Hol¬ 
land and Paris ; accordingly I thought it my duty to find 
out an able hand capable of answering your desire. M. 
Suard, a gentleman well known for his style in trench, 
and his knowledge in the English language, has, at my 
request, undertaken the translation of your valuable book; 
I know nobody in this country capable of performing bet¬ 
ter such a grand design. Consequently the best way will 
be for your bookseller, as soon as he publishes one sheet, 
to send it immediately a Monsieur M. Suard , Directeur 
de la Gazette de France , rue St. Rock a Paris. By means 
of this the sheets of your book will be translated as soon 
as they come from the press, provided the bookseller of 
London is very strict in not showing the same favour to 
any other man upon the continent. 

I have the honour to be, 

W ith great consideration, 

Sir, 

Your most obedient and humble Servant, 

D’HOLBACH. 

Note E. (Page xv.) 

The following letters have no immediate connexion with 
the history of Dr. Robertson’s Life, but I trust that no 
apology is neces r ary for their insertion here. 

From Mr. Hume to Dr. Robertson. 

Dear Robertson, Paris > lst December, 1763 . 

Among other agreeable circumstances, which attend me 
at Paris, I must mention that of having a lady for a trans¬ 
lator, a woman of merit, the widow of an advocate. She 
was before very poor, and known but to few; but this 
work has got her reputation, and procured her a pension 
from the court, which sets her at her ease. She tells me, 
that she has got a habit of industry; and would continue, 
if I could point out to her any other English book she 
could undertake without running the risque of being an¬ 
ticipated by any other translator. Your History of Scot¬ 
land is translated, and is in the press : but I recommended 
to her your History of Charles V., and promised to write 
to you, in order to know when it would be printed, and 
to desire you to send over the sheets from London as they 
came from the press ; I should put them into her hands, 
and she would by that means have the start of every other 
translator. My two volumes last published are at present 
in the press. She has a very easy natural style : some¬ 
times she mistakes the sense; but I now correct her 
manuscript; and should be happy to render you the same 
service, if my leisure permit me, as I hope it will. Do 
you ask me about my course of life ? I can only say, that 
I eat nothing but ambrosia, drink nothing but nectar, 
breathe nothing but incense, and tread on nothing but 
floweis. Every man I meet, and still more every lady, 
would think they were wanting in the most indispensable 
duty, if they did not make to me a long and elaborate 
harangue in my praise. What happened last week, when 
I had the honour of being presented to the D-n’s chil- 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xli 


dren at Versailles, is one of the most curious scenes I ever 
yet passed through. The Due de B. the eldest, a boy of 
ten years old, stepped forth, and told me how many friends 
and admirers I had in this country, and that he reckoned 
himself in the number, from the pleasure he bad received 
from the reading of many passages in my works. When 
he had finished, his brother, the count de P. who is two 
years younger, began his discourse, and informed me, that 
I had been long and impatiently expected in France; and 
that he himself expected soon to have great satisfaction 
from the reading of my fine history. But what is more 
curious ; when I was carried thence to the count d’A. who 
is but four years of age, I heard him mumble something, 
which, though he had forgot in the way, I conjectured, 
from some scattered words, to have been also a panegyric 
dictated to him. Nothing could more surprise my friends, 
the Parisian philosophers, than this incident. 

* * * * * * 
* * It is conjectured that this honour was 

payed me by express order from the D., who, indeed, is 
not, on any occasion, sparing in my praise. 

All this attention and panegyric was at first oppressive 
to me ; but now it sits more easy. I have recovered, in 
some measure, the use of the language, and am falling into 
friendships, which are very agreeable ; much more so than 
silly, distant admiration. They now begin to banter me, 
and tell droll stories of me, which they have either ob¬ 
served themselves, or have heard from others; so that you 
see I am beginning to be at home. It is probable, that 
this place will be long my home. 1 feel little inclination 
to the factious barbarians of London ; and have ever desired 
to remain in the place where I am planted. How much 
more so, when it is the best place in the world ? I could 
here live in great abundance on the half of mv income; for 
there is no place where money is so little requisite to a 
man who is distinguished either by his birth or by personal 
qualities. I could run out, you see, in a panegyric on the 
people; but you would suspect, that this was a mutual 
convention between us. However, I cannot forbear ob¬ 
serving, on what a different footing learning and the learned 
are here, from what they are among the factious barbarians 
above mentioned. 

I have here met with a prodigious historical curiosity, 
the Memoirs of King James II. in fourteen volumes, all 
wrote with his own hand, and kept in the Scots College. 
I have looked into it, and have made great discoveries. It 
will be all communicated to me; and I have had an offer of 
access to the secretary of state’s office, if I want to know 
the despatches of any French minister that resided in 
London. But these matters are much out of my head. 
I beg of you to visit lord Marischal, who will be pleased 
with your company. I have little paper remaining, and 
less time; and therefore conclude abruptly, by assuring 
you that I am, 

Dear Doctor, 

Yours sincerely, 

DAVID HUME. 

From Mr. Hume to Hr. Robertson. 

My dear Sir, London, 19th March, 1767. 

You do extremely right in applying to me wherever it is 
the least likely I can serve you or any of your friends. I 
consulted immediately with General Conway, who told 
me, as I suspected, that the chaplains to forts and garri¬ 


sons were appointed by the War Office, and did not 
belong to his department. Unhappily I have but a slight 
acquaintance with lord Barrington, and cannot venture 
to ask him any favour; but I shall call on Pryce Camp¬ 
bell, though not of my acquaintance, and shall inquire of 
him the canals through which this affair may be conducted : 
perhaps it may lie in my power to facilitate it by some 
means or other. 

I shall endeavour to find out the unhappy philosopher 
you mention, though it will be difficult for me to do him 
any service. He is an ingenious man, but unfortunate in 
his conduct, particularly in the early part of his life. The 
world is so cruel as never to overlook those flaws ; and 
nothing but hypocrisy can fully cover them from observa¬ 
tion. There is not so effectual a scourer of reputations in 
the world. I wish that I had never parted with that Lixi¬ 
vium, in case I should at any future time have occasion 
for it. 

* * * * * 

* * A few days before my arrival in London, 

Mr. Davenport had carried to Mr. Conway a letter of 
Rousseau’s, in which that philosopher says, that he had 
never meant to refuse the king’s bounty, that he would be 
proud of accepting it, but that he would owe it entirely to 
his majesty’s generosity and that of his ministers, and 
would refuse it if it came through any other canal what¬ 
soever, even that of Mr. Davenport. Mr. Davenport then 
addressed himself to Mr. Conway, and asked whether it 
was not possible to recover what this man’s madness had 
thrown away ? The secretary replied, that I should be in 
London in a few days, and that he would take no steps in 
the affair but at my desire and with my approbation. 
When the matter was proposed to me, I exhorted the 
General to do this act of charity to a man of genius, how¬ 
ever wild and extravagant. The king, when applied to, 
said, that since the pension had once been promised, it 
should be granted notwithstanding all that had passed in 
the interval. And thus the affair is happily finished, unless 
some new extravagance come across the philosopher, and 
engage him to reject what he has anew applied for. If he 
knew my situation with General Conway he probably 
would: for he must then conjecture that the affair could 
not be done without my consent. 

Ferguson’s book goes on here with great success. A few 
days ago I saw Mrs. Montague, who has just finished it 
with great pleasure: I mean, she was sorry to finish it, but 
had read it with great pleasure. I asked her, Whether she 
was satisfied with the style ? Whether it did not savour 
somewhat of the country? O yes, said she, a great deal : 
it seems almost impossible that any one could write such 
a style except a Scotsman. 

I find you prognosticate a very short date to my admi¬ 
nistration : I really believe that few (but not evil) will be 
my days. My absence will not probably allow my claret 
time to ripen, much less to sour. However that may be, 
I hope to drink out the remainder of it with you in mirth 
and jollity. I am sincerely yours, usque ad aras. 

DAVID HUME. 


In comparing the amiable qualities displayed in Mr. 
Hume’s familiar letters, and (according to the universal 
testimony of his friends) exhibited in the whole tenor of 
his private conduct, with those passages in his metaphysical 




APPENDIX TO THE LIFE 


xlii 

writings which strike at tha root of the moral and religious 
principles of our nature, I have sometimes pleased myself 
with recollecting the ingenious argument against the theo¬ 
ries of Epicurus, which Cicero deduces from the history 
of that philosopher’s life. “ Ac mihi quidem, quod et 
ipse vir bonus fuit, et multi Epicurei fuerunt et hodie sunt 
et in amicitia fideles, et in omni vita constantes et graves, 
nec voluptate sed officio consilia moderantes, hoc videtur 
major vis honestatis et minor voluptatis. Ita enim vivunt 
quidam, ut eorum vita refellatur oratio. Atque ut ceteri 
existimantur dicere melius quam facere, sic hi mihi viden- 
tur facere melius quam dicere.” 

Note F. (Page xix.) 

I have allotted this Note for some letters from Mr. Gib¬ 
bon to Dr. Robertson, which appeared to me likely to 
interest the public curiosity. 

Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Robertson. 

Bentinck Street, Nov. the 3rd, 1779. 

* * * * * 

When I express my strong hope that you will visit 
London next spring, I must acknowledge that it is of the 
most interesting kind. Besides the pleasure which I shall 
enjoy in your society and conversation, I cherish the ex¬ 
pectation of deriving much benefit from your candid and 
friendly criticism. The remainder of my first period of 
the Decline and Fall, &c., which will end with the ruin of 
the Western Empire, is already very far advanced ; but 
the subject has already grown so much under my hands, 
that it will form a second and third volume in quarto, 
which will probably go to the press in the course of the 
ensuing summer.—Perhaps you have seen in the papers, 
that I was appointed some time ago one of the lords of 
trade ; but I believe you are enough acquainted with the 
country to judge, that the business of my new office has 
not much interrupted the progress of my studies. The 
attendance in parliament is indeed more laborious; I 
apprehend a rough session, and I fear that a black cloud 
is gathering in Ireland. 

Be so good as to present my sincere compliments to 
Mr. Smith, Mr. Ferguson, and if he should still be with 
you, to Dr. Gillies, for whose acquaintance I esteem my¬ 
self much indebted to you. I have often considered, with 
some sort of envy, the valuable society which you possess 
in so narrow a compass. 

I am, dear Sir, 

With the highest regard, 

Most faithfully yours, 

E. GIBBON. 

Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Robertson. 

Dear Sir, London, September 1, 1783. 

Your candid and friendly interpretation will ascribe to 
business, to study, to pleasure, to constitutional indolence, 
or to any other venial cause, the guilt of neglecting so 
valuable a correspondent as yourself. I should have 
thanked you for the opportunities which you have afford¬ 
ed me of forming an acquaintance with several men of 


merit who deserve your friendship, and whose character 
and conversation suggest a very pleasing idea of the 
society which you enjoy at Edinburgh.—I must at the 
same time lament, that the hurry of a London life has not 
allowed me to obtain so much as I could have wished of 
their company, and must have given them an unfavourable 
opinion of my hospitality, unless they have weighed with 
indulgence the various obstacles of time and place. Mr. 
Stewart I had not even the pleasure of seeing; he passed 
through this city in his way to Paris, while I was confined 
with a painful fit of the gout, and in the short interval of his 
stay, the hours of meeting which were mutually proposed, 
could not be made to agree with our respective engage¬ 
ments. Mr. Dalzel, who is undoubtedly a modest and 
learned man, I have had the pleasure of seeing ; but his ar¬ 
rival has unluckily fallen on a time of year, and a particular 
year, in which I have been very little in town. I should 
rejoice if I could repay these losses by a visit to Edin¬ 
burgh, a more tranquil scene, to which yourself, and our 
friend Mr. Adam Smith, would powerfully attract me. 
But this project, which in a leisure hour has often amused 
my fancy, must now be resigned, or must be postponed at 
least to a very distant period. In a very few days, (before 
I could receive the favour of an answer,) I shall begin my 
journey to Lausanne in Switzerland, where I shall fix 
my residence, in a delightful situation, with a dear and 
excellent friend of that country; still mindful of my 
British friends, but renouncing, without reluctance, the 
tumult of parliament, the hopes and fears, the prejudices 
and passions, of political life, to which my nature has al¬ 
ways been averse. Our noble friend lord Loughborough 
has endeavoured to divert me from this resolution; he 
rises every day in dignity and reputation, and if the means 
of patronage had not been so strangely reduced by our 
modern reformers, I am persuaded his constant and libe¬ 
ral kindness would more than satisfy the moderate desires 
of a philosopher. What I cannot hope for from the favour 
of ministers, I must patiently expect from the course of 
nature; and this exile, which I do not view in a very 
gloomy light, will be terminated in due time, by the deaths 
of aged ladies, whose inheritance will place me in an easy 
and even affluent situation. But these particulars are only 
designed for the ear of friendship. 

I have already despatched to Lausanne two immense 
cases of books, the tools of my historical manufacture; 
others I shall find on the spot, and that country is not 
destitute of public and private libraries, which will be 
freely opened for the use of a man of letters. The tranquil 
leisure which I shall enjoy, will be partly employed in the 
prosecution of my history; but although my diligence will 
be quickened by the prospect of returning to England, to 
publish the last volumes (three, I am afraid) of this labo¬ 
rious work, yet I shall proceed with cautious steps to 
compose and to correct, and the dryness of my undertaking 
will be relieved by mixture of more elegant and classical 
studies, more especially of the Greek authors. Such good 
company will, I am sure, be pleasant to the historian, and 
I am inclined to believe that it will be beneficial to the 
work itself. I have been lately much flattered with the 
praise of Dr. Blair, and a censure of the Abbe de Mably; 
both of them are precisely the men from whom I could 
wish to obtain praise and censure, and both these gratifica¬ 
tions I have the pleasure of sharing with yourself. The 
Abbe appears to hate, and affects to despise, every writer 
of his own times, who has been well received by the pub- 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xliii 


lie ; and Dr. Blair, who is a master in one species of com¬ 
position, has displayed, on every subject, the warmest 
feeling, and the most accurate judgment.—I will frankly 
own that my pride is elated, as often as I find myself 
ranked in the triumvirate of British historians of the present 
age, and though I feel myself the Lepidus, I contemplate 
with pleasure the superiority of my colleagues. Will you 
be so good as to assure Dr. A. Smith of my regard and 
attachment. I consider myself as writing to both, and 
will not fix him for a separate answer. My direction is, 
A Monsieur Monsieur Gibbon , a Lausanne en Suisse. I 
shall often plume myself on the friendship of Dr. Robert¬ 
son ; but must I tell foreigners, that while the meaner 
heroes fight, Achilles has retired from the war ? 

I am, 

My dear Sir, 

Most affectionately yours, 

*E. GIBBON. 


From Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Robertson. 

Tie-ar Qir Lord Sheffield’s, Downing Street, 

l_/ear Oir, March 26, 1788. 

An eiTor in your direction (to Wimpole Street, where I 
never had a house) delayed some time the delivery of 
your very obliging letter, but that delay is not sufficient to 
excuse me for not taking an earlier notice of it. Perhaps 
the number of minute but indispensable cares that seem to 
multiply before the hour of publication, may prove a bet¬ 
ter apology, especially with a friend who has himself 
passed through the same labours to the same consumma¬ 
tion. The important day is now fixed to the eighth of 
May, and it was chosen by Cadell, as it coincides with 
the end of the fifty-first year of the author’s age. That 
honest and liberal bookseller has invited me to celebrate 
the double festival, by a dinner at his house.—Some of 
our common friends will be present, but we shall all 
lament your absence, and that of Dr. Adam Smith (whose 
health and welfare will always be most interesting to me) ; 
and it gives me real concern that the time of your visits to 
the metropolis has not agreed with my transient residence 
in my native country, I am grateful for the opportunity 
with which you furnish me of again perusing your works 
in their most improved state; and I have desired Cadell 
to despatch, for the use of my two Edinburgh friends, two 
copies of the last three volumes of my history. Whatever 
may be the inconstancy of taste or fashion, a rational lover 
of fame may be satisfied if he deserves and obtains your 
approbation. The praise which has ever been the most 
flattering to my ear is, to find my name associated with 
the names of Robertson and Hume; and provided I can 
maintain my place in the triumvirate, I am indifferent at 
what distance I am ranked below my companions and 
masters. 

With regard to my present work, I am inclined to 
believe, that it surpasses in variety and entertainment at 
least the second and third volumes. A long and eventful 
period is compressed into a smaller space, and the new 
barbarians who now assault and subvert the Roman 
empire, enjoy the advantage of speaking their own lan¬ 
guage, and relating their own exploits. 

After the publication of these last volumes, which extend 
to the siege of Constantinople, and comprise the ruins of 
ancient Rome, I shall retire (in about two months) to 


Lausanne, and my friends will be pleased to hear that I 
enjoy, in that retreat, as much repose, and even happiness, 
as is consistent, perhaps, with the human condition. At 
proper intervals, I hope to repeat my visits to England, 
but no change of circumstance or situation will probably 
tempt me to desert my Swiss residence, which unites 
almost every advantage that riches can give, or fancy 
desire. With regard to my future literary plans, I can 
add nothing to what you will soon read in my Preface. 
But an hour’s conversation with you, would allow me to 
explain some visionary designs which sometimes float in 
my mind ; and, if I should ever form any serious resolu¬ 
tion of labours, I would previously, though by the imper¬ 
fect mode of a letter, consult you on the propriety and 
merit of any new undertakings. 

I am, with great regard, 

Dear Sir, 

Most faithfully yours, 

E. GIBBON. 


Note G. (Page xx.) 

As Dr. Robertson received particular satisfaction from 
the approbation of the gentleman whose geographical re¬ 
searches suggested the first idea of this Disquisition, I 
flatter myself that no apology is necessary for the liberty I 
take in quoting a short extract from one of his letters. 

From Major Rennell to Dr. Robertson. 

London, 2d July, 1791. 

* * * After reading your book twice, 

I may with truth say, that I was never more instructed or 
amused than by the perusal of it; for although a great part 
of its subject had long been revolving in my mind, yet I 
had not been able to concentrate the matter in the man¬ 
ner you have done, or to make the different parts bear on 
each other. 

The subject of the Appendix was what interested the 
public greatly; and was only to be acquired (if at all) by 
the study or perusal of a great number of different tracts ; 
a task not to be accomplished by ordinary readers. 

It gives me unfeigned pleasure to have been the instru¬ 
ment of suggesting such a task to you ; and I shall reflect 
with pleasure, during my life, that I shall travel down to 
posterity with you ; you, in your place, in the great road 
of History; whilst I keep the side-path of Geography. 
Since I understood the subject, I have ever thought, that 
the best historian is the best geographer ; and if historians 
would direct a proper person, skilled in the principles of 
geography, to embody (as I may say) their ideas for them, 
the historian would find himself better served, than by 
relying on those who may properly be styled map-makers. 
For after all, whence does the geographer derive his mate¬ 
rials but from the labours of the historian ? * * 


Note H. (Page xxiii.) 

Since these remarks on Dr. Robertson’s style were 
written, I have met with some critical reflections on the 
same subject by Mr. Burke, too honourable for Dr. 
Robertson to be suppressed in this publication, although, 

d 



xli v 


APPENDIX TO THE LIFE 


m ?ome particulars, they do not coincide with the opinion 
T have presumed to state.* 

“There is a style 77 (says Mr.Burke, in a letter addressed 
to Mr. Murphy on his translation of Tacitus) “ which 
daily gains ground amongst us, which I should be sorry 
to see further advanced by a writer of your just reputation. 
The tendency of the mode to which I allude is, to establish 
two very different idioms amongst us, and to introduce a 
marked distinction between the English that is written 
and the English that is spoken. This practice, if grown 
a little more general, would confirm this distemper, such 
I must think it, in our language, and perhaps render it 
incurable. 

“ From this feigned manner, or falsetto, as I think the 
musicians call something of the same sort in singing, no 
one modern historian, Robertson only excepted, is per¬ 
fectly free. It is assumed, I know, to give dignity and 
variety to the style. But whatever success the attempt 
may sometimes have, it is always obtained at the expense 
of purity, and of the graces that are natural and appro¬ 
priate to our language. It is true that when the exigence 
calls for auxiliaries of all sorts, and common language be¬ 
comes unequal to the demands of extraordinary thoughts, 
something ought to be conceded to the necessities which 
make * ambition virtue. 7 But the allowances to necessi¬ 
ties ought not to grow into a practice. Those portents 
and prodigies ought not to grow too common. If you 
have, here and there, (much more rarely, however, than 
others of great and not unmerited fame,) fallen into an 
error, which is not that of the dull or careless, you have an 
author who is himself guilty, in his own tongue, of the 
same fault, in a very high degree. No author thinks more 
deeply, or paints more strongly; but he seldom or ever 
expresses himself naturally. It is plain, that comparing 
him with Plautus and Terence, or the beautiful fragments 
of Publius Syrus, he did not write the language of good 
conversation. Cicero is much nearer to it. Tacitus, and 
the writers of his time, have fallen into that vice, by aiming 
at a poetical style. It is true, that eloquence in both 
modes of rhetoric is fundamentally the same; but the man¬ 
ner of handling it is totally different, even where words and 
phrases may be transferred from the one of these depart¬ 
ments of writing to the other. 77 

For this encomium on Dr. Robertson’s style, when con¬ 
sidered in contrast with that of Mr. Gibbon, (to whom it is 
probable that Mr. Burke’s strictures more particularly 
refer,) there is unquestionably a very solid foundation; but 
in estimating the merits of the former as an English writer, 
I must acknowledge that I should never have thought of 
singling out among his characteristical excellences, an 
approach to the language of good conversation. It is in¬ 
deed surprising, when we attend to the elevation of that 
tone which he uniformly sustains, how very seldom his 
turn of expression can be censured as unnatural or affected. 
The graces of his composition, however, although great and 
various, are by no means those which are appropriate to our 
language; and, in fact, he knew too well the extent and 
the limits of his own powers to attempt them. Accord¬ 
ingly, he has aimed at perfections of a still higher order, 
the effect of which is scarcely diminished, when we con¬ 
template them through the medium of a foreign trans¬ 
lation. 

Lord Chesterfield’s judgment with respect to Dr. Ro- 

* It is proper for me to mention, that I have no authority for the au¬ 
thenticity of the following passage but that of a London newspaper, in 


bertson, while it is equally flattering with that of Mr. 
Burke, appears to me more precise and just. “ There is 
a History lately come out, of the reign of Mary queen of 
Scots and her son king James, written by one Robertson, 
a Scotchman, which for clearness , purity , and dignity , 1 
will not scruple to compare with the best historians extant, 
not excepting Davila, Guicciardini, and perhaps Livy. 

May I be permitted to remark, that in the opposite ex¬ 
treme to that fault which Mr. Burke has here so justly 
censured, there is another originating in too close an ad¬ 
herence to what he recommends as the model of good 
writing, the ease and familiarity of colloquial discourse. 
In the productions of his more advanced years, he has oc¬ 
casionally fallen into it himself, and has sanctioned it by 
his example, in the numerous herd of his imitators, who 
are incapable of atoning for it, by copying the exquisite 
and inimitable beauties which abound in his compositions. 
For my own part, I can much more easily reconcile myself, 
in a grave and dignified argument, to the dulcia vitia of 
Tacitus and of Gibbon, than to that affectation of cant 
words and allusions which so often debases Mr. Burke’s 
eloquence, and which was long ago stigmatized by Swift 
as “ the most ruinous of all the corruptions of a lan¬ 
guage.” 

Note I. (Page xxiv.) 

“ The mixture of ecclesiastical and lay-members in the 
church courts is attended with the happiest effects. It 
corrects that esprit de corps which is apt to prevail in all 
assemblies of professional men. It affords the principal 
nobility and gentry of Scotland an opportunity of obtain¬ 
ing a seat in the General Assembly when any interesting 
object calls for their attendance; and although in the fac¬ 
tious and troublesome times which our ancestors saw, the 
General Assembly, by means of this mixture, became a 
scene of political debate, this accidental evil is counter¬ 
balanced by permanent good : for the presence of those 
lay-members of high rank, whose names are usually found 
upon the roll of the Assembly, has a powerful influence in 
maintaining that connexion between church and state 
which is necessary for the peace, security, and welfare of 
both.”f 

Note K. (Page xxv.) 

The paper referred to in the text is entitled, “ Reasons 
of Dissent from the Judgment and Resolution of the Com¬ 
mission, March 11, 1752, resolving to inflict no Censure 
on the Presbytery of Dumfermline for their Disobedience 
in relation to the Settlement of Inverkeithing.” It is sub¬ 
scribed by Dr. Robertson, Dr. Blair, Mr. John Home, and 
a few of their friends. I shall subjoin the two first articles. 

1. “ Because we conceive this sentence of the Commis¬ 
sion to be inconsistent with the nature and first principles 
of society. When men are considered as individuals, we 
acknowledge that they have no guide but their own under¬ 
standing, and no judge but their own conscience. But we 
hold it for an undeniable principle, that as members of 
society they are bound in many instances to follow the 
judgment of the society. By joining together in society, 

which it appeared some years ago. I do not find, however, that it has 
been ever called in question. f MS. of Dr. Hill. 



OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xlv 


we enjoy many advantages, which we could neither pur¬ 
chase nor secure in a disunited state. In consideration of 
these, we consent that regulations for public order shall 
be established; not by the private fancy of every indivi¬ 
dual, but by the judgment of the majority, or of those with 
whom the society has consented to intrust the legislative 
power. Their judgment must necessarily be absolute 
and final, and their decisions received as the voice and 
instruction of the whole. In a numerous society it 
seldom happens that all the members think uniformly 
concerning the wisdom and expedience of any public 
regulation, but no sooner is that regulation enacted, than 
private judgment is so far superseded that even they who 
disapprove it are notwithstanding bound to obey it, and 
to put it in execution if required; unless in a case of 
such gross iniquity and manifest violation of the original 
design of the society as justifies resistance to the supreme 
power, and makes it better to have the society dissolved 
than to submit to established iniquity. Such extraordinary 
cases we can easily conceive there may be, as will give 
any man a just title to seek the dissolution of the society 
to which he belongs, or at least will fully justify his with¬ 
drawing from it. But as long as he continues in it, pro¬ 
fesses regard for it, and reaps the emoluments of it, if he 
refuses to obey its laws, he manifestly acts both a disorderly 
and dishonest part: he lays claim to the privileges of the 
society while he contemns the authority of it; and by all 
principles of equity and reason is justly subjected to its 
censures. They who maintain that such disobedience de¬ 
serves no censure, maintain, in effect, that there should be 
no such thing as government and order. They deny those 
first principles by which men are united in society; and 
endeavour to establish such maxims as will justify not 
only licentiousness in ecclesiastical, but rebellion and dis¬ 
order in civil, government. And therefore, as the Reverend 
Commission have by their sentence declared, that disobe¬ 
dience to the supreme judicature of the church neither in¬ 
fers guilt, nor deserves censure; as they have surrendered 
a right essential to the nature and subsistence of every 
society; as they have (so far as lay in them) betrayed the 
privileges, and deserted the orders, of the constitution; we 
could not have acted a dutiful part to the church, nor a 
safe one to ourselves, unless we had dissented from this 
sentence; and craved liberty to represent to this venerable 
Assembly that this deed appears to us to be manifestly 
beyond the powers of a Commission. 

2. “ Because this sentence of the Commission, as it is 
subversive of society in general, so, in our judgments, it is 
absolutely inconsistent with the nature and preservation of 
ecclesiastical society in particular.—The characters which 
w’e bear, of ministers and elders of this church, render it 
unnecessary for us to declare, that we join with all pro- 
testants in acknowledging the Lord Jesus Christ to be the 
only king and head of his church. We admit that the 
church is not merely a voluntary society, but a society 
founded by the laws of Christ. But to his laws we con¬ 
ceive it to be most agreeable, that order should be pre¬ 
served in the external administration of the affairs of the 
church. And we contend, in the words of our Confession 
of Faith , ‘ That there are some circumstances concerning 
the worship of God, and the government of the church, 
common to human actions and societies, which are to be 
ordered by the light of nature and Christian prudence ac¬ 
cording to the general rules of the word, which are always 
to be observed.’ It is very evident that unless the church 


were supported by continual miracles, and a perpetual and 
extraordinary interposition of Heaven, it can only subsist 
by those fundamental maxims by which all society subsists. 
A kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. There can 
be no union, and by consequence there can be no society, 
where there is no subordination; and therefore, since 
miracles are now ceased, we do conceive that no church 
or ecclesiastical society can exist without obedience re¬ 
quired from its members, and enforced by proper sanctions. 
Accordingly, there never was any regularly constituted 
church in the Christian world, where there was not at the 
same time some exercise of discipline and authority. It 
has indeed been asserted, ‘ That the censures of the church 
are never to be .inflicted, but upon open transgressors of the 
laws of Christ himself; and that no man is to be con¬ 
strued an open transgressor of the laws of Christ for not 
obeying the commands of any assembly of fallible men, 
when he declares it was a conscientious regard to the will 
of Christ that led him to this disobedience.’—This is called 
asserting liberty of conscience, and supporting the rights 
of private judgment ; and upon such reasonings the 
Reverend Commission proceeded in coming to that deci¬ 
sion of which we now complain. But we think ourselves 
called on to say, and we say it with concern, that such 
principles as these appear to us calculated to establish the 
most extravagant maxims of independency, and to over¬ 
throw from the very foundation that happy ecclesiastical 
constitution which we glory in being members of, and 
which we are resolved to support. For upon these princi¬ 
ples, no church whatever, consisting, as every church on 
earth must consist, of fallible men, has a right to inflict any 
censure on any disobedient person. Let such person only 
think fit boldly to use the name of conscience, and sheltered 
under its authority, he acquires at once a right of doing 
whatsoever is good in his own eyes. If anarchy and con¬ 
fusion follow, as no doubt they will, there is, it seems, no 
remedy. We are sorry to say, that brethren who profess 
to hold such principles, ought to have acted more con¬ 
sistently with them, and not to have joined themselves to 
any church till once they had found out an assembly of 
infallible men, to whose authority they would have acknow¬ 
ledged submission to be due. We allow to the right of 
private judgment all the extent and obligation that reason 
or religion require ; but we can never admit, that any man’s 
private judgment gives him a right to disturb, with im¬ 
punity, all public order. We hold, that as every man has 
a right to judge for himself in religious matters, so every 
church, or society of Christians, has a right to judge for 
itself, what method of external administration is most 
agreeable to the laws of Christ; and no man ought to 
become a member of that church, who is not resolved to 
conform himself to its administration. We think it very 
consistent with conscience for inferiors to disapprove, in 
their own mind, of a judgment given by a superior court, 
and yet to put that judgment in execution as the deed of 
their superiors for conscience-sake ; seeing we humbly 
conceive it is, or ought to be, a matter of conscience with 
every member of the church, to support the authority of 
that church to which he belongs. Church-censures are 
declared by our Confession of Faith to be ‘ necessary, not 
only for gaining and reclaiming the offending brethren, but 
also for deterring of others from the like offences, and for 
purging out the leaven which might leaven the whole lump.’ 
What these censures are, and what the crimes against 
which they are directed, is easily to be learned from the 

d 2 



APPENDIX TO TIIE LIFE 


xlvi 

constitution of every church, and whoever believes its cen¬ 
sure to be too severe, or its known orders and laws to be 
in any respect iniquitous, so that he cannot in conscience 
comply with them, ought to beware of involving himself in 
sin by entering into it; or if he hath rashly joined himself, 
he is bound, as an honest man and a good Christian, to 
withdraw, and to keep his conscience clear and undefiled. 
But on the other hand, if a judicature, which is appointed 
to be the guardian and defender of the laws and orders of 
the society, shall absolve them who break their laws from 
all censure, and by such a deed encourage and invite to 
future disobedience, we conceive it will be found, that 
they have exceeded their powers and betrayed their trust 

in the most essential instance.” 

* * * * * 


Note L. (Page xxv.) 

“ Dr. Robertson’s system with respect to the law of 
patronage proceeded on the following principles : That as 
patronage is the law of the land, the courts of a national 
church established and protected by law, and all the indi¬ 
vidual ministers of that church, are bound, in as far as it 
depends upon exertions arising from the duties of their 
place, to give it effect: that every opposition to the legal 
rights of patrons tends to diminish that reverence which all 
the subjects of a free government ought to entertain for 
the law; and that it is dangerous to accustom the people 
to think that they can elude the law or defeat its operation, 
because success in one instance leads to greater licentious¬ 
ness. Upon these principles Dr. Robertson thought that 
the church courts betrayed their duty to the constitution, 
when the spirit of their decisions, or negligence in enforc¬ 
ing obedience to their orders, created unnecessary obstacles 
to the exercise of the right of patronage, and fostered in 
the minds of the people the false idea that they have a 
right to choose their own ministers, or even a negative 
upon the nomination of the patron. He was well aware 
that the subjects of Great Britain are entitled to apply in a 
constitutional manner for the repeal of every law, which 
they consider as a grievance. But while he supported pa¬ 
tronage as the existing law, he regarded it also as the most 
expedient method of settling vacant parishes. It did not 
appear to him that the people are competent judges of 
those qualities which a minister should possess in order to 
be a useful teacher either of the doctrines of pure religion, 
or of the precepts of sound morality. He suspected that 
if the probationers of the church were taught to consider 
their success in obtaining a settlement as depending upon 
a popular election, many of them would be tempted to 
adopt a manner of preaching more calculated to please the 
people than to promote their edification. He thought that 
there is little danger to be apprehended from the abuse of 
the law of patronage, because the presentee must be chosen 
from amongst those whom the church itself had approved 
of, and had licensed as qualified for the office of the 
ministry; because a presentee cannot be admitted to the 
benefice, if any relevant charge as to his life or doctrine be 
proved against him: and because, after ordination and 
admission, he is liable to be deposed for improper conduct. 
When every possible precaution is thus taken to prevent 
unqualified persons from being introduced into the church, 
or those who afterwards prove unworthy from remaining 
in it, the occasional evils and abuses from which no human 


institution is exempted, could not, in the opinion of Dr. 
Robertson, be fairly urged as reasons against the law of 
patronage.” 

***** 

u Such was the system which, in conjunction with the 
friend of his youth, Dr. Robertson ably supported for 
thirty years after his first appearance in the General 
Assembly. In speaking upon a particular question, he 
sometimes gave the outlines of this system for the satisfac¬ 
tion of the House in general, and the instruction of the 
younger members. The decisions which for a long course 
of years he dictated, form a common law of the church in 
which the system is unfolded. His conversation imprinted 
upon the minds of those who were admitted to it during 
the course of the Assembly, the principles which pervaded 
his decisions: and thus were diffused throughout the 
church the rational and consistent ideas of presbyterian 
government upon which he and his friends uniformly 
acted. 

“ These ideas continue to direct the General Assemblies 
of the church of Scotland. For although it is not likely 
that any member of that House will ever possess the un¬ 
rivalled undisputed influence with his brethren to which 
peculiar advantages of character and situation conducted 
Dr. Robertson, his principles are so thoroughly under¬ 
stood and so cordially approved by the great majority of 
the church of Scotland, that by means of that attention to 
the business and forms of the House which is paid by some 
of his early friends who yet survive, and by a succession 
of younger men trained in his school, the ecclesiastical 
affairs of Scotland proceed on the same orderly systemati¬ 
cal plan which was first introduced by the ability, the 
prudence, the firmness, the candour, and moderation which 
he displayed upon every occasion.” 

Note M. (Page xxvii.) 

A few particulars, “ in addition to Dr. Erskine’s 
funeral sermon on the death of Dr. Robertson,” have been 
kindly communicated to me by my friend the Rev. sir 
Henry Moncrieff Wellwood, Bart. The testimony which 
they contain to Dr. Robertson’s merits as an ecclesiastical 
leader will have no small weight with those who are ac¬ 
quainted with the worth and the talents of the writer. 

“ In mentioning the character of Dr. Robertson as a 
leader of the prevailing party in the church, there is a cir¬ 
cumstance which ought not to be omitted, by which he 
distinguished himself from all his predecessors who had 
held the same situation. Before his time, those of the 
clergy who pretended to guide the deliberations of the 
General Assembly, derived the chief part of their influence 
from their connexion with the men who had the manage¬ 
ment of Scots affairs. They allowed themselves to receive 
instructions from them, and even from those who acted 
under them. They looked up to them as their patrons, 
and ranged themselves with their dependents. Their 
influence, of consequence, subsisted no longer than the 
powers from which it was derived. A change in the 
management of Scots affairs either left the prevailing party 
in the church without their leaders, or obliged their leaders 
to submit to the meanness of receiving instructions from 
other patrons.—Dr. Robertson, from the beginning, dis¬ 
engaged himself completely from a dependence which was 
never respectable, and to which he felt himself superior. 




OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xlvii 


lie had the countenance of men in power; but he received 
it as a man who judged for himself, and whose influence 
was his own. The political changes of his time did not 
affect his situation. The different men who had the 
management of Scots affairs uniformly cooperated with 
him—but though they assisted him, they looked up to 
his personal influence in the church, which no man in the 
country believed to be derived from them. 

“ Those who differed most in opinion with Dr. Robert¬ 
son, but who are sincerely attached to the interests and to 
the integrity of the church, must allow this conduct to have 
been both respectable and meritorious. It will always 
reflect honour on his memory, and has left an important 
lesson to his successors. 

“ It is not useless to mention his fairness in the debates 
of the Assembly. Whether his opponents were convinced 
by his arguments or not, they were commonly sensible of 
the candour with which he stated them, and of the personal 
respect with which they were treated by him. And though 
the concessions which he was always ready to make to 
them when they did not affect the substance of his own 
argument, might be imputed to political sagacity as well 
as to candour, there was uniformly an appearance of can¬ 
dour in his manner, by which he preserved their good 
opinion, and which greatly contributed to extend his in¬ 
fluence among his own friends. Like all popular meet¬ 
ings, the General Assembly sometimes contains individuals, 
who have more acuteness than delicacy, and who allow 
themselves to eke out their arguments by rude and per¬ 
sonal invectives. Dr. Robertson had a superior address in 
replying to men of this cast, without adopting their as¬ 
perity, and often made them feel the absurdity of the 
personal attack, by the attention which he seemed to 
bestow on their argument. 

“It should be mentioned also, that Dr. Robertson's 
early example, and his influence in more advanced life, 
chiefly contributed to render the debates in the Assembly 
interesting and respectable, by bringing forward all the 
men of abilities to their natural share of the public busi¬ 
ness. Before his time, this had been almost entirely in 
the hands of the older members of the church, who were 
the only persons that were thought entitled to deliver 
their opinions, and whose influence was often derived 
more from their age than from their judgment or their 
talents. 

“ I do not know whether the reasons, which led Dr. 
Robertson to retire from the Assembly after 1780, have 
ever been thoroughly understood.—They were not sug¬ 
gested by his age, for he was then only fifty-nine ; nor by 
any diminution of his influence, for, in the apprehension 
of the public, it was at that time as great as it had ever 
been. It is very probable that he anticipated a time when 
a new leader might come forward ; and thought it better 
to retire while his influence was undiminished, than to run 
the risque, in the end of his life, of a struggle with younger 
men, who might be as successful as he had been.—But I 
recollect distinctly what he once said to myself on the 
subject, which I am persuaded he repeated to many others. 
He had been often reproached by the more violent men of 
his party for not adopting stronger measures, than he 
thought either right or wise. He had yielded to them 
many points against his own judgment; but they were 
not satisfied : he was plagued with letters of reproach and 
remonstrance on a variety of subjects, and he complained 
of the petulance and acrimony with which they were writ¬ 


ten. But there was one subject which for some years 
before he retired had become particularly uneasy to him, 
and on which he said he had been more urged and fretted 
than on all the other subjects of contention in the church ; 
the scheme into which many of his friends entered zeal¬ 
ously for abolishing subscription to the Confession of 
Faith and Formula. This he expressly declared his reso¬ 
lution to resist in every form.—But he was so much teased 
with remonstrances on the subject, that he mentioned them 
as having at least confirmed his resolution to retire. He 
claimed to himself the merit of having prevented this con¬ 
troversy from being agitated in the Assemblies ; but warned 
me as a young man that it would become the chief con¬ 
troversy of my time, and stated to me the reasons which 
had determined his opinion on the subject. The conver¬ 
sation was probably about 1782 or 1783.—1 have a dis¬ 
tinct recollection of it; though I have no idea that his 
prediction will be verified, as the controversy seems to be 
more asleep now than it was a few years ago." 

Note N. (Page xxix.) 

The zeal with which Dr. Robertson promoted the execu¬ 
tion of the statistical accounts of Scotland has been publicly 
acknowledged by sir John Sinclair; and, on the other hand, 
I have frequently heard Dr. Robertson express, in the strong¬ 
est terms, his sense of the obligations which the country lay 
under to the projector and conductor of that great national 
work; and the pride with which he reflected on the monu¬ 
ment which was thus raised to the information and liber¬ 
ality of the Scottish clergy. 

From the following letters it would appear, that he had 
contributed some aid to the exertions of those who so 
honourably distinguished themselves a few years ago in 
the parliamentary discussions about the African trade. 
His own sentiments on that subject were eloquently stated 
thirty years before, in the only sermon which he ever pub¬ 
lished. 

From Mr. Wilber force to Dr. Robertson. 

London, 25th January, 1788. 

I shall not begin by apologizing to you for now presum¬ 
ing to intrude myself on you without introduction, but 
with condemning myself for not having done it sooner. 
The subject which is the occasion of my troubling you 
with this letter, that of the Slave Trade, is one on which I 
am persuaded our sentiments coincide; and in calling forth 
your good offices in such a cause, I trust you will think 
that whilst I incur I also bestow an obligation.—What I 
have to request is, that you will have the goodness to com¬ 
municate to me such facts and observations as may be 
useful to me in the important task I have undertaken, of 
bringing forward into parliamentary discussion the situa¬ 
tion of that much injured part of the species, the poor 
negroes: in common with the rest of my countrymen I 
have to complain, that I am under the necessity of betak¬ 
ing myself directly to you for the information I solicit: an 
application to my bookseller ought to have supplied it: 
but if there be some ground of charge against you for 
having failed in your engagements to the public in this 
particular, it is the rather incumbent on you to attend to 
the claim of an individual; consider it as a sort of 



xlviii 


APPENDIX TO THE LIFE 


expiation for your offence, and rejoice if so weighty a 
crime comes off with so light a punishment.—Though the 
main object I have in view, is the prevention of all farther 
exports of slaves from Africa, yet their state in the West 
Indies, and the most practicable mode of meliorating it, 
the effects that might follow from this change of system in 
all its extended and complicated connexions and relations, 
both in Africa and the Western World, and this not only 
in our own case but in those of other European nations, 
who might be induced to follow our example; all these 
come into question, and constitute a burthen too heavy 
for one of powers like mine to bear, without my calling 
for help where it may be so abundantly afforded : let me 
add also, that I should be extremely thankful for any in¬ 
telligence respecting the institutions of the Jesuits in Para¬ 
guay, which, it has long struck me, might prove a most 
useful subject of investigation to any one who would form 
a plan for the civilization of Africa.—Allow me to add, 
that I shall wait to hear from you with anxiety, because 
the business must be brought into tire House soon after the 
meeting.—I will not waste your valuable time by excuses 
for this letter, if they are necessary, but once more I will 
venture to assure myself that you will not think them so. 

I have the honour to be, &c. 

W. WILBERFORCE. 


Mr. Wilberforce to Dr. Robertson. 

Sir, Hampstead, 20th February, 1788. 

I have been honoured with your packets by the post, as 
well as with your Sermon, and return you my sincerest 
thanks for your very obliging attention to my request; I 
am fully sensible to the value of the favourable sentiments 
you express concerning me, and as one concession always 
produces a new demand, perhaps you will not be sur¬ 
prised at my now taking the liberty of intimating a hope 
that I may consider what has passed as constituting a sort 
of acquaintance between us, which it will give me parti¬ 
cular pleasure to indulge an expectation of cultivating, 
when any opportunity shall allow. 

I remain, 

with great respect and esteem, kc. 

W. WILBERFORCE. 


Note O. (Page xxx.) 

Dr. Robertson’s second son is now lieutenant-colonel 
of the 92nd regiment. His name is repeatedly mention¬ 
ed with distinction in the History of Lord Cornwallis’s 
Military Operations in India; particularly in the general 
orders after the siege of Nundydroog, where he command¬ 
ed in the European flank company that led the assault. 
The following paragraph from Colonel Dirom’s Narrative 
contains a testimony to his conduct on this occasion, 
which would have been grateful to the feelings of his 
father had he survived to peruse it. 

u The carnage which must have ensued in clearing the 
fort of the enemy, was prevented partly by a number of 
the garrison escaping by ropes and ladders over a low part 
of the wall; but chiefly by the exertions of captain 
Robertson, who, seeing the place was carried, turned all 
his attention to preserving order, and preventing the un¬ 
necessary effusion of blood. To his humanity the bukshey 


and killedar owed their lives ; and of the garrison there 
were only about forty men killed and wounded.” 

Dr. Robertson’s youngest son is lieutenant-colonel of a 
regiment serving in Ceylon, and deputy adjutant-general 
of his majesty’s forces in that island. An account of 
Ceylon, which he has communicated in manuscript to 
some of his friends, is said to do great honour to hi« 
abilities. 


Note P. (Page xxx.) 

This request was conveyed to Dr. Robertson by Mr. 
Dalzel, and was received by him with much sensibility, as 
a mark of the esteem and approbation of a society over 
which he had presided for thirty years. 

I neglected to mention in a former note the Latin Dis¬ 
courses which Dr. Robertson pronounced annually before 
the University, in compliance with the established prac¬ 
tice among his predecessors in office. The first of these 
was read on the 3rd of February, 1763. Its object was 
to recommend the study of classical learning; and it 
contained, among a variety of other splendid passages, a 
beautiful panegyric on the Stoical Philosophy. His 
second discourse (9th of February, 1764) consisted 
chiefly of moral and literary observations, adapted to the 
particular circumstances of youth. My friend Mr. Dalzel, 
who has lately perused these Latin manuscripts with care, 
observes of this Oration, “ that the style is uncommonly 
elegant and impressive, and possesses all the distinguish¬ 
ing characteristics of Dr. Robertson’s English composi¬ 
tions.” 

A third discourse was pronounced on February 14th, 
1765 ; and a fourth on February 20th, 1766. The sub¬ 
ject of both is the same; the question concerning the 
comparative advantages of public and private education. 
The execution is such as might be expected from the 
abilities of the author, exerted on a topic on which he 
was so eminently fitted to decide, not only by his profes¬ 
sional situation and habits, but by an extensive and dis¬ 
criminating knowledge of the world. 

These annual discourses (which never failed to pro¬ 
duce a strong and happy impression on the mind of his 
young hearers) he was compelled, after this period, to 
discontinue by his avocations as an author, and by other 
engagements which he conceived to be of still greater im¬ 
portance.—It is indeed astonishing that he was able to 
devote so much time as he did to his academical duties; 
particularly when we consider that all his w-orks were at 
first committed to writing in his own hand, and that he 
seldom, if ever, attempted to dictate to an amanuensis.— 
It may be gratifying to those to whom the literary habits 
of authors are an object of curiosity to add, that his 
practice in composition was, (according to his own state¬ 
ment in a letter to Mr. Strahan,) “ to finish as near per¬ 
fection as he was able, so that his subsequent alterations 
were inconsiderable.” 


It might be considered by some as a blamable omission, 
if 1 were to overlook, in this Memoir, the marks of regard 
which Dr. Robertson received from different literaly aca- 



OF DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


xlix 


demies on the continent. I have already taken notice of 
the honour conferred on him by the Royal Academy of 
History at Madrid ; but 1 forgot to mention, in the proper 
place, that in 1781, he was elected one of the Foreign 
Members of the Academy of Sciences at Padua; and in 
1783, one of the Foreign Members of the Imperial Aca¬ 
demy of Sciences at St. Petersburgh. 

From the last of these cities, he was honoured with 
another very flattering distinction; the intelligence of 
which was conveyed to him by his friend Dr. Roger- 
son, in a letter from which the following passage is tran¬ 
scribed. 

“ Your History of America was received and perused 
by her Imperial Majesty with singular marks of approba¬ 
tion. All your historical productions have been ever 
favourite parts of her reading. Not long ago, doing me 
the honour to converse with me upon historical composi¬ 
tion, she mentioned you with particular distinction, and 
with much admiration of that sagacity and discernment 
displayed by you in painting the human mind and charac¬ 
ter, as diversified by the various causes that operated upon 
it, in those seras and states of society which your subject 
led you to treat. She assigned you the place of first mo¬ 
del in that species of composition. As to the History of 


Charles V. she was pleased to add, ‘ cest le compagnon 
constant de tons mes voyages; je ne me lasse jamais a le lire 
et particulierement le premier volume 

“ She then presented a very handsome gold enamelled 
snuff-box, richly set with diamonds, ordering me to trans¬ 
mit it to you, and to desire your acceptance of it as a 
mark of her esteem, observing, at the same time, most 
graciously, that a person whose labours had afforded her 
so much satisfaction, merited some attention from her.” 


The active part which Dr. Robertson took in the foun¬ 
dation of the Society before which the foregoing Memoir 
was read, is so well known to all the members, that it did 
not appear necessary to recall it to their recollection. For 
the information of others, however, it may be proper to 
mention, that the first idea of this establishment, and of 
the plan adopted in its formation, was suggested by him; 
and that, without his zealous cooperation, there is little 
probability that the design would ever have been earned 
into execution. 















































































- 










































- . 

















































THE 


SITUATION OF THE WORLD 


AT THE 


TIME OF CHRIST’S APPEARANCE, 


AND ITS CONNEXION WITH THE SUCCESS OF HIS RELIGION, CONSIDERED; 


A SERMON, 

PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY IN SCOTLAND FOR PROPAGATING CHRISTIAN 

KNOWLEDGE, JANUARY 6, 1775. 


Colossians i. 26 . 

Even the mystery which hath been hid from ages, and from 
generations, but now is made manifest to his saints. 

There is no employment more delightful to a devout 
mind, than the contemplation of the divine wisdom in the 
government of this world. The civil history of mankind 
opens a wide field for this pious exercise. Careful ob¬ 
servers may often, by the light of reason, form probable 
conjectures with regard to the plan of God’s providence, 
and can discover a skilful hand directing the revolutions 
of human affairs, and compassing the best ends by the 
most effectual and surprising means : but sacred history, 
by drawing aside that veil which covers the counsels of 
the Almighty, lays open his designs to the view of his 
creatures; and we can there trace the steps which he 
taketh towards them, with more certainty, and greater 
pleasure. The facts which inspired writers relate, are no 
less instructive than the doctrines which they teach. The 
latter inform us, that God is powerful, and wise, and good; 
the former discover those perfections brought forth into 
action, and confirm speculative opinions by real and strik¬ 
ing examples. 

The publication and establishment of Christianity in 
the world, is a remarkable event of this kind, and con¬ 
tributes greatly to illustrate and magnify the divine power 
and wisdom. From beginnings the most inconsiderable, 
and by instruments the most unlikely, the Almighty, with 
incredible facility, raised that glorious fabric of his church, 
which hitherto hath withstood all the rage of his enemies; 
and the gates of hell, we believe, shall not prevail against 
it. * According to our Saviour’s beautiful image, the least 

* Matt. xvi. 18. t Mark iv, 31. 


of all seeds grew up, and waxed a great tree, and spread out 
its branches, and filled the earth.f The hand of God shel¬ 
tered this feeble plant from the storm, and by his care it 
was reared, and cultivated, and brought to maturity. The 
wisdom and power of men united to oppose the doctrine 
of God; but it confounded the one, and overcame the 
other. Neither the bigotry of the Jews, nor the superstition 
of the heathen, could resist its progress, and in vain did 
Herod and Pontius Pilate, with the Gentiles, and people 
of Israel, gather themselves together against the Lord and 
his anointed. \ 

Many circumstances concurred in procuring for Chris¬ 
tianity such a favourable reception and firm establishment 
in the world. Whoever reflects upon the situation of man¬ 
kind in that period, will find abundant reason to admire 
the divine wisdom, which disposed these circumstances 
with so much art, and improved them with such skill and 
success. The text naturally leads me to consider the con¬ 
duct and administration of Providence in this particular 
light: The word of God, saith the apostle, the mystery hid 
from ages, and from generations, is now made manifest to 
his saints. Why was the gospel of Christ so long concealed 
from the world? Why was it published at that time? 
What do we find in that particular juncture to render the 
discovery of the Christian religion more necessary, or the 
propagation of it more successful ? 

In the following discourse, I shall endeavour to account 
for this part of the divine economy, by selecting some re¬ 
markable circumstances in the situation of mankind, 
which prove that God manifested the mystery of the gospel 
at a time when the world stood most in need of such a 
revelation, and was best prepared for receiving it. 

The appearance of Christ in so late an age, was an ob- 

t Acts iv. 27- 






lii 


TIIE WORLD AT THE 


Jection raised, by his ancient adversaries, against the truth 
of his mission ; and modern infidels have not failed to 
revive and urge it, with their usual confidence and triumph. 
But if we can establish the truth of our general proposition, 
this cavil falls to the ground, and the divine conduct is 
fully vindicated. 

I. About the time of Christ’s appearance, there prevailed 
a general opinion, that the Almighty would send forth 
some eminent messenger to communicate a more perfect 
discovery of his will to mankind. The Supreme Being 
conducteth all his operations by general laws. It seems 
to be one among these, that no perfection of any kind can 
be attained of a sudden. The motion by which his works 
advance towards their finished and complete state, is 
gradual and progressive. This holds with regard to all the 
productions in the natural, and all the changes in the moral, 
world. The same principle appears to have regulated the 
dispensations of religion. The light of revelation was not 
poured in upon mankind all at once, and with its full 
splendour. The obscurity of the dawn went before the 
brightness of the noon-day. The will of God was at first 
made known by revelations, useful indeed, but dark and 
mysterious. To these succeeded others more clear and 
perfect. In proportion as the situation of the world made 
it necessary, the Almighty was pleased further to open and 
unfold his scheme. And men came by degrees to under¬ 
stand this progressive plan of Providence, and to conceive 
how systems temporary and incomplete might serve to 
introduce that concluding and perfect revelation which 
would declare the whole counsel of God to man.* 

The dignity of the person employed to publish this re¬ 
velation, the virtues of his character, the glory of his king¬ 
dom, and the signs of his coming, were described by the 
ancient prophets with the utmost perspicuity. Guided by 
this sure word of prophecy , the Jews of that age concluded 
the period predetermined by God to be then completed; 
and that the fulness of time being come, the promised 
Messiah would suddenly appear. Devout persons among 
them waited day and night for the consolation of Israel; f 
and the whole nation, groaning under the Roman yoke, 
and stimulated by the desire of liberty or of vengeance, 
expected their Deliverer with the most anxious impatience. 

Nor were these expectations peculiar to the Jews. By 
their dispersions among so many nations, by their conver¬ 
sations with the learned men among the heathens, and by 
the translation of their inspired writings into a language 
almost universal, the principles of their religion were 
spread all over the East; and it became the common be¬ 
lief, that a prince would arise at that time in Judea, who 
would change the face of the world, and extend his empire 
from one end of the earth to the other. 

In this due time did the wisdom of God send forth his 
Son ; not to assume any strange character, or to claim any 
new and unknown dignity, but to fulfil all that had been 
spoken by the mouth of his holy prophets since the world 
began. I While the eyes of men were employed in search 
of the promised Messiah; while they watched every sign 
that could indicate his coming, and observed every circum¬ 
stance which could lead them to discover him; while the 
earnest expectation of all creatures waited for the revelation 
of God; at that happy and favourable juncture was the 
mystery hid from ages manifested to the world. No won¬ 
der the Jews should receive our Saviour, on his first ap¬ 
pearance, not only without prejudice, but even with ea°-er- 
* Acts xx. 27- t Luke ii. 25, 38. 


ness and applause ; no wonder the Gentiles should gather 
together unto him , who had so long been the desire of all 
nations .§ Had Christ been manifested at a more early 
period, the world would not have been prepared to meet 
him with the same fondness and zeal. Had his appear¬ 
ance been put off for any considerable time, men’s ex¬ 
pectations would have begun to languish, and the warmth 
of desire, from a delay of gratification, might have cooled 
and died away. 

II. But it is not only from circumstances peculiar to 
the Jews, and neighbouring nations, that we conclude the 
Christian religion to have been published at the most proper 
time: we propose to bring a further confirmation of this 
truth, from a survey of the condition and circumstances of 
mankind in general. Let us venture, then, into this large 
field, and take a view of the political, of the moral, of the 
religious, and of the domestic state of the world. 

We begin by considering the political state of the world 
about the time of our Saviour’s appearance. The world, 
in the most early ages, was divided into small independent 
states, differing from each other in language, manners, 
laws, and religion. The shock of so many opposite interests, 
the interfering of so many contrary views, occasioned the 
most violent convulsions and disorders. Perpetual discord 
subsisted between those rival states, and hostility and 
bloodshed never ceased during that turbulent and restless 
period. Commerce had not hitherto united mankind, 
and opened the communication of one nation with another. 
The world may now be considered as one vast society, 
closely cemented by mutual wants, each part contributing 
its share towards the subsistence, the pleasure, and im¬ 
provement of the whole. But in those more simple ages, 
the intercourse between nations was extremely inconsider¬ 
able. Voyages into remote countries, in quest either of 
wealth or of knowledge, were very rare. Men moved in a 
narrow circle, little acquainted with any thing beyond the 
limits of their own small territory, and utter strangers to 
the condition and character of distant nations. 

At last the Roman ambition undertook the arduous en¬ 
terprise of conquering the world, and conducted it with 
such refined policy, irresistible courage, and inimitable 
perseverance, as, in the end, crowned the attempt with 
success: They trode down the kingdoms, according to 
Daniel’s prophetic description ; by their exceeding strength 
they devoured the whole earth. || However, by enslaving 
the world, they civilized it; and while they oppressed 
mankind, they united them together. The same laws 
were every where established, and the same languages un¬ 
derstood. Men approached nearer to one another in sen¬ 
timents and manners; and the intercourse between the 
most distant corners of the earth was rendered secure and 
agreeable. Satiated with victory, the first emperors aban¬ 
doned all thoughts of new conquests. Peace, an unknown 
blessing, was enjoyed throughout all that vast empire; or, 
if a slight war was waged on an outlying and barbarous 
frontier, far from disturbing the tranquillity, it scarce drew 
the attention, of mankind. 

Such was the political state of the world when Christianity 
made its first appearance ; and, from this representation of 
it, many circumstances occur to justify the divine wisdom 
in choosing that particular conjuncture for publishing it. 
During the period which I first described, the propagation 
of any new religion must have been extremely slow and 
uncertain. How could it have forced its way through in- 

§ Gen. xlix. 18. Hag. ii. 7 . || Dan. vii. 7, 23. 


I Acts iii. 21. 





APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 


Ini 


numerable difficulties, arising from the unsettled state of 
the world, from the fierceness and animosity of hostile and 
divided nations? The power of God, no doubt, could have 
surmounted all these obstacles; but it is observable, that 
this power is never exerted but on the most necessary oc¬ 
casions. The Almighty seldom effects by supernatural 
means any thing which could have been accomplished by 
such as are natural. And were we to judge by maxims 
merely human, the propagation of Christianity, in those 
circumstances, would have proved not only a dangerous, 
but an impossible, enterprise. 

But, favoured by the union and tranquillity of the Ro¬ 
man empire, the disciples of Christ executed their com¬ 
mission to great advantage. The success and rapidity with 
which they diffused the knowledge of his name over the 
world, are astonishing. This epistle to the Colossians was 
written about thirty years after our Saviour’s ascension ; 
and even then the apostle could assert, that the gospel had 
been preached to every creature which is under heaven ,* i. e. 
through the whole extent of the Roman empire. Nations 
were then accessible which had formerly been unknown. 
Under this situation into which the providence of God had 
brought the world, the joy ful sound , in a few years, reached 
those remote corners of the earth, into which it could not 
otherwise have penetrated for many ages. 

This view of our subject presents to us an idea of the 
Christian religion equal to the greatest and most magnificent 
conception of the human mind. The noblest people that 
ever entered upon the stage of the world, appear to have 
been only instruments in the divine hand for the execution 
of wise purposes, concealed from themselves. The Roman 
ambition and bravery paved the way, and prepared the 
world for the reception of the Christian doctrine : they 
fought and conquered, that it might triumph with the 
greater ease : Howbeit they meaned not so, neither did their 
heart think so; but it was in their heart to destroy and cut 
off nations not a few. \ By means of their victories, the 
overruling wisdom of God established an empire, which 
really possesses that perpetuity and eternal duration which 
they vainly arrogated to their own : He erected a throne 
which shall continue for ever,\ and of the increase of that 
government there shall be no end. § 

III. Let us consider the state of the world with regard 
to morals. We cannot expect to find pure and undefiled 
virtue among those people who were destitute of the in¬ 
structions, the promises, and assistance of divine revela¬ 
tion. Unenlightened reason often errs; undirected virtue 
frequently deviates from the right path. But, even in 
those less favoured ages, righteousness had not altogether 
perished from the earth ; and the nations which had not the 
law, did by nature the things contained in the law. || Those 
virtuous but feeble efforts of the human mind, were en¬ 
couraged and seconded by several happy circumstances in 
the situation of the world, owing in appearance to the 
sagacity of men, but ordained in reality by the wisdom 
of God. One of these was of a singular nature, and 
well deserves our particular attention. 

We have already mentioned the early division of the 
world into small independent states. These states, un¬ 
broken by the refinements of luxury, and animated with 
the noblest of human passions, struggled for liberty, and 
obtained it. Lawgivers intimately acquainted with human 
nature, deep politicians, and lovers of mankind, arose in 
different places, and founded those equal and happy go- 

* Col. i. 23. t Isa. x. 7- t Ileb. i. 8. 


vernments, which have been the admiration and envy of 
all succeeding ages. Temperance, frugality, decency, 
public spirit, love to their fellow-citizens, magnanimity ; 
these are the virtues which flourished under such wise 
institutions. At the same time, in those small common¬ 
wealths, the conduct of every citizen was subjected to the 
eye of the magistrate ; and the nature of the government 
obliged him to inspect their manners with severity. The 
smallest crimes could not escape observation; even dan¬ 
gerous virtues were exposed to censure. On this founda¬ 
tion of public liberty did ancient virtue rest; an effect of 
government little known in modern times, wherein the 
views of legislators are confined to inferior objects. But 
from this source were derived all those splendid actions 
among the heathens, which, on the one hand, have been 
so invidiously mentioned by infidels as a reproach to our 
holy religion, and, on the other, so justly celebrated by 
Christians, in order to rouse the zeal and emulation of a 
degenerate age. 

Virtue, however, did not long enjoy this temporary and 
precarious support. Those wise institutions were the works 
of men, and mortal like their authors. Some of them 
perished by the malignity of internal diseases; and, if a 
vigorous constitution and more skilful management pro¬ 
longed the period of others, they yielded at last to the 
violence of external injuries. It was impossible either 
to divertor resist the torrent of Roman power; it gather¬ 
ed strength from opposition, and bore down all nations 
before it. But by subduing the world, the Romans lost 
their own liberty. Many causes, which it is not our pre¬ 
sent business to explain, concurred in producing this 
effect: many vices, engendered or nourished by pros¬ 
perity, delivered them over to the vilest race of tyrants 
that ever afflicted or disgraced human nature. 

The alliance between morals and government was now 
broken; and an influence hitherto so friendly to virtue, 
became altogether malignant, and was exerted with most 
fatal success, to poison and debase the human mind. To¬ 
gether with despotic power, entered all those odious vices 
which are usually found in its train; and, in a short time, 
they grew to an incredible pitch. The colours are not too 
strong which the apostle employs in drawing the character 
of that age; contemporary historians justify him, v\hen 
he describes it to be alienated from the life of God, walk¬ 
ing in vanity through blindness of mind; to be past feeling, 
and given up to lasciviousness, and to work all uncleanness 
with greediness. 

In this time of universal corruption did the wisdom of 
God manifest the Christian revelation to the world ; not to 
re-establish virtue upon the same insecure foundation of 
civil government, but to erect it upon the eternal and im¬ 
movable basis of a religion which teacheth righteousness 
by the authority of God. What the wisdom of men could 
do for the encouragement of virtue in a corrupt world, had 
been tried during several ages; and all human devices 
were found, by experience, to be of very small avail: so 
that no juncture could be more proper for publishing a 
religion, which, independent on human laws and institu¬ 
tions, explains the principles of morals with admirable 
perspicuity, and enforces the practice of them by most 
persuasive arguments. Had not Christianity appeared to 
check and to mitigate the pernicious effects of despotic 
unlimited empire, it is hard to say how far they might have 
gone towards extinguishing the name and exercise of vir- 

§ Isa. ix. 7- II Rom. ii. 14. II Ephes. iv. 17—19. 




liv 


THE WORLD AT T1IE 


tue among men. This we know, that in a most dissolute 
age, and under the worst government, the primitive Chris¬ 
tians attained, in every virtue, to an eminence of which 
there is no example in the history of mankind. The spirit 
of their religion, superior to the corrupt genius of the age, 
continued pure and vigorous ; and men saw with admira¬ 
tion, that when every other foundation of virtue was over¬ 
thrown, the foundation of God stood sure , immovable 
amidst the floods which came , the rains that descended , and 
the winds that blew and beat upon it.* 

IV. Let us consider the world with regard to its reli¬ 
gious state. The national character of the Jews seems to 
have been deeply tinctured with superstition. Their early 
education in Egypt, the example of neighbouring nations, 
the influence of the climate, but above all, the perverse¬ 
ness of their own disposition, rendered this impression 
indelible. Obstinate against all the endeavours employed 
by their Divine Lawgiver to repress or extirpate it, this 
superstitious spirit broke out on every occasion. Delighted 
with the ceremonial prescriptions of the law, the Jews 
utterly neglected the moral: and, fond of such rites as 
please the imagination, they undervalued those duties 
which improve the heart. This unhappy bias was greatly 
increased by the doctrine of the Pharisees, which reduced 
the prejudices of their countrymen into a regular system of 
superstition. By their vain traditions they added to the 
load of ceremonies : by their wretched interpretations of 
the law, they abridged the number of moral precepts. 
They openly preferred the former before the latter; and 
substituted observances frivolous and insignificant, in the 
place of the weighty matters of the law, judgment, mercy, 
and faith, f 

While the Pharisees undermined religion on one hand, 
their rivals, the Sadducees, carried on, from another 
quarter, a more bold and impious attack against it. By 
denying the immortality of the soul, they wounded reli¬ 
gion in a vital part; and overturned the doctrine of future 
rewards and punishments, which hath been, and must ever 
be, the chief foundation of virtuous obedience. The prac¬ 
tice of these two contending sects was perfectly suitable to 
their principles : the followers of the one were scandalous 
libertines; the disciples of the other, notorious hypocrites : 
and between them the knowledge and power of true reli¬ 
gion were entirely destroyed. It was high time, then, for 
the wisdom of God to vindicate his injured law, and to 
revive languishing and decayed religion among his ancient 
people. To recall the Jews from their former wanderings, 
the Almighty had with success employed the ministry of 
his holy prophets : but the malignant distempers of that 
age would not have yielded to any common remedy : a 
conceited and perverse generation would have listened to 
no inferior messenger; and, therefore, the great Prophet 
was sent forth in this due time, to explain, to extend, and 
to perfect the law, and to fill Zion with judgment and 
righteousness. J 

But the deplorable situation of the heathen world with 
regard to religion, called still more loudly for an imme¬ 
diate interposition of the divine hand. I shall not mention 
the characters of the heathen deities, infamous for the most 
enormous crimes; nor describe their religious worship, 
consisting frequently in the vilest and most shameful rites. 
Certain it is, the more any man honoured such gods, the 
worse himself was; and the oftener he served them, the 
more wicked he would become. 

* Matt, v iji. 25. t Matt, xxiii. 21. 1 Isa. xxxiii. 5. $ Acts xvji. 22 . 


The spirit and genius of the heathen religion are what I 
shall endeavour to represent. These, according to the 
apostle’s observation, were in all things too much supersti¬ 
tious.§ Stately temples, expensive sacrifices, pompous 
ceremonies, magnificent festivals, with all the other cir¬ 
cumstances of show and splendour, were the objects 
which false religion presented to its votaries : but just 
notions of God, obedience to his moral laws, purity of 
heart, and sanctity of life, were not once mentioned as in¬ 
gredients in religious service. Superstition never prevailed 
among any people but at the expense of morals. The 
heathen superstition, far from giving any aid to virtue, 
seems not to have had the least connexion with it. No 
repentance of past crimes, no future amendment of con¬ 
duct, are ever prescribed by it, as proper means of appeas¬ 
ing their offended deities. “ Sacrifice a chosen victim ; 
bow down before an hallowed image; be initiated in the 
sacred mysteries; and the wrath of the gods shall be 
averted, and the thunder shall drop from their hands.” 
Suitable to these sentiments is the behaviour of Balak, 
king of Moab, described by the prophet Micah. That 
prince had provoked the God of Israel; and in order to 
regain his favour, thought of the same means which super¬ 
stition employs to mitigate the rage of its false gods, 
Wherewith, says he, shall I come before the Lord, and bow 
myself before the high God ? Shall I come before him with 
burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the Lord 
be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of 
rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my transgres¬ 
sion, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? ||—To do 
justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with. God, were 
acceptable services which made no part in the system of 
heathen religion. 

Happily the wisdom and simplicity of ancient govern¬ 
ment checked the progress of this infectious principle, and 
corrected, in some degree, its poisonous and destructive 
qualities. But no sooner had the tyranny of the Roman 
emperors removed this restraint, by subverting liberty, 
than superstition made its advances on the world by sud¬ 
den and mighty steps, and exercised an uncontrolled 
dominion in every corner of the earth. Tyranny and 
superstition, like those other destroyers of mankind, 
famine and pestilence, are nearly allied. Superstition 
breaks the spirit, and prepares it for servitude: tyranny, 
for this reason, encourages superstition, and employs it as 
a useful auxiliary to illegal power. Accordingly, Rome 
adopted the gods of almost every nation whom she had 
conquered ; and opened her temples to the grossest super¬ 
stitions of the most barbarous people. Her foolish heart 
being darkened, she changed the glory of the incorruptible 
God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to 
birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things.^ 

At this time, therefore, did a good God, in pity to his 
deluded creatures, publish the Christian revelation. By 
it the God of truth was made known, and the idols of the 
nations were moved at his presence.*'* Rational and sub¬ 
lime in its doctrines, humane and beneficent in its pre¬ 
cepts, pure and simple in its worship, Christianity was 
better calculated than any other religion to repress the in¬ 
roads of superstition, and to establish an acceptable and 
manly devotion, consisting in spirit and in truth, f f No 
period can be mentioned when instruction in these im¬ 
portant articles would have been more seasonable or 
necessary. The absurd fictions and abominable practices 

|| Micah vi. 6—fl. % Rom. i. 21, 23. ** Isa. xix. 1. ft John iv. 24. 



APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 


of superstition, had gone near to extinguish the natural 
sentiments of the human mind concerning the Supreme 
Being, and to banish his name and worship from the 
earth. No wonder men under these circumstances should 
listen with joy to the Christian revelation, which delivered 
them from that hateful yoke, and taught them to serve 
God without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him .* 

V. Let us consider the world with regard to its domestic 
situation ; a view, perhaps, less extensive and magnificent 
than those which have hitherto engaged our attention, but 
not less important. The private and domestic situation 
of mankind is the chief circumstance which forms their 
character, and becomes the great source of their happiness 
or misery. Any poison in this fountain communicates it¬ 
self to the manners of men ; any bitterness there, infects 
all the pleasures of life. Many circumstances of the most 
fatal influence on domestic virtue and happiness, occur to 
attentive observers of the period under review. 

Domestic society is founded in the union between hus¬ 
band and wife. Among all civilized nations this union 
hath been esteemed sacred and honourable; and from it 
are derived those exquisite joys or sorrows, which can im- 
bitter all the pleasures, or alleviate all the pains, in human 
life. In the ancient world, there prevailed two practices 
equally pernicious to the peace and happiness of the mar¬ 
ried state. From the most early times, polygamy seems 
to have been universal among the eastern nations; and 
men married as many wives as their fancy wished for, or 
their fortune could maintain. Now, this practice not only 
appears to be contrary to the intention of the Almighty, 
who at first created but one person of each sex, and hath 
since preserved an admirable proportion between the num¬ 
ber of males and females whom he sends into the world ; 
but by it likewise were banished from domestic life all 
those enjoyments which sweeten and endear it. Friend¬ 
ship, social intercourse, confidence, and the mutual care 
of children, were utterly unknown. On the one hand, ri¬ 
gour, voluptuousness, jealousy; on the other, subjection 
without love, fidelity, or virtue. One half of the human 
species became the property of the other ; and the husband, 
instead of being the friend and protector of a wife, was no 
better than the master and tyrant over a slave. The envy 
and discord which were introduced into the families of 
Jacob and Elkanah by a plurality of wives, are but imper¬ 
fect pictures of the enormities occasioned by the same 
practice under masters less virtuous, and in ages more dis¬ 
solute and luxurious. Wherever the Christian religion is 
established, an end hath been put to an institution so in¬ 
consistent with the felicity of domestic life. Marriage, 
suitable to the ordinance of God, is rendered a friendly 
and indissoluble alliance between two persons ; and tran¬ 
quillity, confidence, and joy, bless a union begun and ce¬ 
mented by mutual love. 

In the Western parts of the world, the maxims with re¬ 
gard to marriage were more conformable to nature. One 
man was confined to one woman*: but, at the same time, 
their laws allowed a practice which introduced the most 
fatal disorders into domestic life. The Almighty, because 
of the hardness of their hearts , permitted the Jews, on cer¬ 
tain occasions, to give a writing of divorcement to their 
wives. f According to their usual custom, the Jews 
stretched this indulgence to the most extravagant lengths ; 
and, defining the cases in which they pretended divorces 
to be lawful with a minute and over-curious accuracy, 


lv 

they altogether perverted the institution of God. Their 
doctors permitted divorces for causes so trivial and ridicu¬ 
lous, as cannot be mentioned in a grave discourse. The 
utmost dissolution of manners was the effect of such licen¬ 
tious opinions: and our Saviour found the abuses to be 
grown so enormous, as to render the strictest and most 
precise limitations of the Mosaic precept absolutely ne¬ 
cessary. 

Nor was this matter on any better footing among the 
heathen nations. Divorces, on very slight pretences, were 
permitted both by Greek and Roman legislators. And 
though the pure manners of those republics restrained, for 
some time, the operation of such a pernicious institution; 
though the virtue of private persons seldom abused the 
indulgence which the laws allowed them: yet no sooner 
had the progress of luxury, and the establishment of 
despotic power, vitiated the taste of men, than the law 
with regard to divorces was found to be among the worst 
corruptions which prevailed in that abandoned age. The 
facility of separations rendered married persons careless of 
obtaining or practising those virtues which render domes¬ 
tic life tranquil and delightful. The education of children 
was utterly neglected by parents, who often met together 
with a scheme of separation in both their thoughts. 
Marriage, instead of restraining, added to the violence of 
irregular desire; and, under a legal name, became the 
vilest and most shameless prostitution. From all these 
causes, the married state fell into disreputation and con¬ 
tempt ; and it became necessary to force men, by penal 
laws, into a society where they expected no secure or 
lasting happiness. Among the Romans, domestic cor¬ 
ruption grew, of a sudden, to an incredible height; and, 
perhaps, in the history of mankind, we can find no parallel 
to the undisguised impurity and licentiousness of that 
age.J It was i n a good time, therefore, that our Saviour 
abolished a practice which had been one of the most fertile 
sources of these disorders. The bonds of the marriage- 
union were by him rendered almost indissoluble ; and the 
cords of love were drawn as close as possible. Political 
projectors may please themselves with imaginary advan¬ 
tages resulting from the liberty of divorces ; but reason, 
as well as the experience of mankind, justify the wisdom 
of the divine decree concerning them. If the manners of 
men be not extremely pure and simple, the least indulg¬ 
ence in this article hath always proved fatal to the peace 
and virtue of domestic life; and whatever remains of these 
we now find in a dissolute age, must be entirely ascribed 
to that regulation in the gospel, § which superficial reason- 
ers represent as a grievance, though it be in truth the 
greatest blessing to mankind. 

If the lives of those who are at the head of domestic 
society needed reformation, the sufferings of those who 
were subject to them merited relief. 

So many are the wants of human society, that far the 
greater part of mankind is condemned to constant toil and 
labour in order to supply them. In the ancient world, the 
condition of this numerous and useful race of men differed 
widely from that wherein they are now placed. They 
were not free men, but slaves, who occupied the inferior, 
though necessary, station in human life. Their labour 
was not a voluntary duty to the society, which entitled 
them to a reward ; it was a hard task, imposed without 
their consent, and exacted with the utmost rigour. The 
number of persons reduced to this unhappy condition was 

I Rom. i 26, Arc. 


Luke i. 7-t. 


f Mark x. 4, 5. 


$ Matt. v. 32. 



Ivi 


THE WORLD AT THE 


immense. In those parts of the world whose history and 
situation are best known, above two-thirds oi the whole 
inhabitants are computed to have been in a state ot 
slavery. The persons, the goods, the children of these 
slaves, were the property of their masters, disposed of at 
pleasure, and transferred, like any other possession, from 
one hand to another. No inequality of condition, no su¬ 
periority in power, no pretext of consent, can justify this 
ignominious depression of human nature, or can confer 
upon one man the right of dominion over the person of 
another. But not only doth reason condemn this institu¬ 
tion as unjust; experience proved it to be pernicious both 
to masters and slaves. The elevation of the former in¬ 
spired them with pride, insolence, impatience, cruelty, and 
voluptuousness : the dependent and hopeless state of the 
latter dejected the human mind, and extinguished every 
generous and noble principle in the heart. Were I to 
mention the laws and regulations of the most civilized 
states among the ancients concerning these unfortunate 
sufferers; were I to relate the treatment which they met 
with from persons the most renowned for their virtue; 
maxims so inhuman, and actions so barbarous, would ex¬ 
cite the strongest pity and indignation, in an age which 
never beheld the tyranny of the oppressor nor heard the 
groans of the captive. 

It is true, while men enjoyed those wise institutions of 
government which we formerly described, the state of ser¬ 
vitude did not become altogether intolerable; many expe¬ 
dients were used for mitigating the rigour of command, 
and lightening the yoke of obedience : but upon establish¬ 
ing despotic government in the Roman empire, domestic 
tyranny rose, in a short time, to an astonishing height. In 
that rank soil, every vice which power nourishes in the 
great, or oppression engenders in the mean, thrived and 
grew up apace. 

Here, then, is an object worthy the attention of that 
merciful God, who delivereth the soul of the afflicted from 
violence, who heareth the cry of the needy, and him who hath 
no helper.* The groans of such an innumerable multitude 
of his reasonable creatures, bereaved of the noblest privi¬ 
lege of their nature, liberty, and independence, would not, 
we may believe, be uttered in vain. He could not always 
keep silence , and he still, when he beheld their wretched 
situation, so destructive of happiness, and so fatal to virtue. 
At last the divine wisdom interposed; and when the evil 
had become intolerable, and seemed to be past cure, the 
promulgation of Christianity brought an effectual and 
timely remedy. 

It is not the authority of any single detached precept in 
the gospel, but the spirit and genius of the Christian reli¬ 
gion, more powerful than any particular command, which 
hath abolished the practice of slavery through the world. 
The temper which Christianity inspired was mild and 
gentle; and the doctrines it taught added such dignity and 
lustre to human nature, as rescued it from the dishonour¬ 
able servitude into which it was sunk. All men, of every 
condition, are declared to be the offspring of the same God, 
and the heirs of the same heavenly inheritance. One 
Saviour redeemed them from iniquity by his death, and 
one spirit worketh powerfully in their hearts. Wherever 
such opinions prevail, no human creature can be regarded 

* Psal. lxxii. 12. 

+ Isa. Ixi. 1. xiv. 3. 

The permission of slavery in our American colonies, is a specious, not 
a real, objection against the reasoning under this head. The genius'and 
tendency of any religion are known by the operations of its vigorous, not 
of its declining, age ; and if avarice hath revived, in a degenerate world, 


as altogether insignificant and vile: even the meanest ac¬ 
quire dignity; exterior distinctions disappear; and men 
approach nearer to that original equality in which they 
were at first placed, and are still viewed by their impartial 
Creator. 

What a wonderful and blessed change hath Christianity 
produced in the face of the world! Together with the 
knowledge of it, liberty, humanity, and domestic happi¬ 
ness, diffused themselves over every corner of the earth. 
It is deemed a virtue to admire and praise those illustrious 
personages who delivered mankind from the rage of tyrants, 
and vindicated the violated laws and constitution of their 
country: and is no admiration due to the generous spirit 
of that religion which restored liberty, not to one nation or 
society alone, but rescued from the worst servitude far the 
greater number of the human race, and acquired for them 
that happy freedom which they still enjoy? When we 
behold Christianity making its progress through the world, 
and working every where such an important alteration in 
the condition of mankind, we may well apply to a temporal 
deliverance what the prophet spoke concerning a spiritual 
salvation : Behold, the acceptable year of the Lord is come ! 
Liberty is proclaimed to the captive, and the opening of the 
prison to them that are bound. They shall rest from their 
sorrow, and from their fear, and from the hard bondage 
wherein they were made to serve.\ 

The abolition of domestic slavery was the occasion of 
another change in the manners of men, which is no less 
remarkable. Captives taken in war were, in all probability, 
the first persons subjected to perpetual servitude : and, 
when the necessities or luxury of mankind increased the 
demand for slaves, every new war recruited their number, 
by reducing the vanquished to that wretched condition. 
Hence proceeded the fierce and desperate spirit with which 
wars were carried on among ancient nations. While 
chains and slavery were the certain lot of the conquered, 
battles were fought, and towns defended, with a rage and 
obstinacy, which nothing but horror at such a fate could 
have inspired : but, by putting an end to the cruel institu¬ 
tion of slavery, Christianity extended its mild influences to 
the practice of war ; and that barbarous art, softened by its 
humane spirit, ceased to be so destructive. Secure, in 
every event, of personal liberty, the resistance of the van¬ 
quished became less obstinate, and the triumph of the 
victor less cruel. Thus humanity was introduced into the 
exercise of war, with which it appears to be almost in¬ 
compatible ; and it is to the merciful maxims of Chris¬ 
tianity, much more than to any other cause, that we must 
ascribe the little ferocity and bloodshed which accompany 
modern victories. Even where the passions of men are 
fiercest, and most highly inflamed, the powerful genius of 
our religion interposes, restrains the fury of war, and sets 
bounds to its destroying rage. The benevolent spirit of 
the gospel delivereth the captive from his fetters, looseth 
those who were appointed to death ;+ and saith to the sword 
that is ready to devour, Return into thy scabbard, and be 
still. § 

It hath become a fashionable topic among political 
reasoners, to celebrate the mildness and humanity of 
modern manners, and to prefer the character of present 
times, in that respect, before the ancient. To what cause 

an institution which Christianity ha<l utterly abolished, this, like many 
other vices which prevail among Christians, must he charged upon the 
corruption of the human heart, not upon that religion which testifies 
against it. 

t Psal. cii. 20. § Jer. xlvii. 6. 




APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 


Ivn 


shall we ascribe this important revolution in the sentiments 
and dispositions of mankind ? Not to the influence of 
better instituted governments; for in legislative wisdom 
the ancients far excelled us : not to the effects of a better 
directed education ; that duty, shamefully neglected by us, 
was among them an object of chief attention: not to our 
superior refinements in elegant and polite arts ; there we 
must be content to equal without pretending to surpass 
the ancients. The Christian religion, hid from ages , but 
noio manifested to the world , is the only cause capable of 
producing so great an effect: That wisdom which is from 
above, is pure, and peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, 
full of mercy.* Genuine Christianity is distinguished 
above all other religions by the mildness of its spirit; the 
enemy of every practice which hardens the heart; the 
encourager of every virtue which renders the character 
humane. Wherever it hath been established in purity, and 
practised with zeal, kindness, long-suffering, meekness, 
charity, f are the graces which accompany it. Even the 
vices and inventions of men, which have mingled them¬ 
selves with the truths of God, have not been able entirely 
to destroy their effects. Under all disadvantages the 
genius of the gospel exerts itself, civilizing the fiercest and 
most barbarous nations, and inspiring a gentleness of dis¬ 
position unknown to any other religion. Together with 
the best spiritual blessings, the most valuable temporal 
mercies have been communicated to the world by Chris¬ 
tianity. It not only sanctifies our souls, but refines our 
manners ; and while it gives the promise of the next life, 
it improves and adorns the present. That happy change 
which the wisdom of man could not effect, God in his 
good time accomplished, by manifesting to the world the 
mystery hid from ages and generations. 

These observations which w r e have made, suggest many 
useful reflections with regard to the future and universal 
propagation of Christian knowledge. At the time when 
the disciples of Christ set out, in obedience to their Lord’s 
command, to teach all nations, no undertaking could ap¬ 
pear in the judgment of man more wild and improbable : 
but besides the blessing of God, which accompanied them 
wherever they went, we have discovered several circum¬ 
stances in the situation of the world which contributed 
powerfully towards the success and facility of their enter¬ 
prise. Aided by these, the word of God increased, and 
the number of disciples multiplied greatly. J The weakness 
of God became stronger than men ; and, in a short time, he 
enabled the foolish things of the world to confound the wise ; 
the weak things of the world, to confound the things which 
are strong; and things that are not, to bring to nought 
things that arefi That the same effectual blessing of God 
still continueth to second every sincere and vigorous at¬ 
tempt, to spread the knowledge of his name, we have good 
reason to believe. What powerful unknown causes may 
cooperate with this blessing of the Almighty, we are not 
yet permitted to discover: it cannot, however, be more 
improbable, that the influences of Christianity shall reach 
further, than it once was that they should reach so far. 
And after we have seen the light of the gospel penetrate 
into so many dark places of the earth, why doth it seem 
incredible, that its splendour should, at last, fill the world, 
and scatter the remainder of darkness which covereth the 
nations? 

It is obvious to observe one circumstance, which cannot 

’ James iii. 17- t Col. iii. 12. t Acts vi. 7- 

§ 1 Cor. i. 25, 27, 28. ll Isa. Ixvi. 19. IF Ibid. lx. 2. 


fail of introducing the gospel into distant nations with 
great advantage. That part of the world wherein Chris¬ 
tianity is established, infinitely surpasses the rest in all the 
sciences and improvements which raise one nation above 
another in reputation or power. Of this superiority the 
Europeans have availed themselves to the utmost, in every 
project for extending their empire or commerce ; and have 
brought a great part of the globe into a dependence, either 
upon their arts or arms. Now these same attainments in 
science or policy, might be employed to good purpose on 
the side of religion : and though hitherto subservient to 
the designs of interest or ambition, may we not flatter 
ourselves that, at last, they shall become noble instruments 
in the hand of God for preparing the word to receive the 
gospel ? 

This glorious prospect may be distant, but it is not 
imaginary. Even in a degenerate age, zealous and active 
spirits have arisen, and societies have been formed upon 
the generous plan of propagating the knowledge of Christ 
to nations far off, which, never heard his fame, nor have 
seen his glory. || What they have already done, encourages 
the most sanguine hopes of further success : and if it shall 
please God to increase the number and strengthen the hands 
of such well-disposed persons; if he shall see fit to hasten 
his time when one shall become a thousand, and a small one 
strong; then might we expect, that the knowledge of the 
Lord would fill the earth as the waters cover the sea; ** 
that the desert would blossom as the rose, ft an d the wilder¬ 
ness become a fruitful field then might the spirit of 
Christianity, which languishes so visibly in those places 
where it hath long been planted, revive with new vigour 
in unknown lands, and shine with its first splendour 
among the people who now sit in darkness, and in the region 
and shadow of death ; §§ then might the solitary place re¬ 
joice ,|||| the barren break forth into singing, and the 
tongue of the dumb praise the Lord.*** 

But the conversion of distant nations is not the chief 
care of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge : 
an object nearer at hand demands their more immediate 
attention. The Highlands and Islands of Scotland pre¬ 
sent to us a scene, which we would little expect in a 
nation where true religion and polished manners have long 
flourished. There society still appears in its rudest and 
most imperfect form. Strangers to industry, averse from 
labour, inured to rapine, the fierce inhabitants scorn all the 
arts of peace, and stand ready for every bold and despe¬ 
rate action. Attached to their own customs, from igno¬ 
rance and habit, they have hitherto continued a separate 
people ; and though the religion established among them 
be the same which we enjoy, its progress hath been im¬ 
perfect ; and the fixed pastors were never able to surmount 
the disadvantages of their situation, or the obstinacy of 
their people. In this neglected field, the enemies of our 
religion and liberty have sown the seeds of the worst 
superstition, and the most pernicious principles of govern¬ 
ment. 

This field the Society have occupied, and have endea¬ 
voured, by their pious care, to render many of their deluded 
countrymen good Christians and useful subjects. Happily 
for them, they do not labour alone in this noble work. 
The reformation of the Highlands was never totally neg¬ 
lected by the legislature; but, roused by a late danger, it 
hath since merited their more particular attention. Suit- 

** Isa. xi. 9. ft Ibid. xxxv. 1. H Ibid, xxxii. 15. $$ Matt. iv. 16. 

1111 Isa. xxxv, 1. UH Ibid. liv. 1. *** Ibid. xxxv. 6. 



lviii 


THE WORLD AT THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 


able to this view, laws have been enacted with a most 
humane spirit, in order to retrieve that part of the kingdom 
from ignorance and barbarism, and to introduce the same 
regular government and independence which are the bless¬ 
ings of other British subjects. From these salutary laws 
the Society expect great assistance in the prosecution of 
their design. 

In the mean time, they adore the divine goodness, which 
hath opened the hearts of many charitable persons among 
ourselves and neighbours, whose liberality hath put it in 
their power to carry on their plan with vigour and success; 
enabling them not only to begin a good work, but in 
many places to bring it to great perfection. What a re¬ 
proach will it be, to an age wherein no hand is backward 
to supply the most extravagant demands of luxury and 
pleasure, if this generous undertaking shall languish and 
decay for want of support! The pleasures after which a 
giddy generation run, are unworthy to be compared with 


that sacred joy which fills the heart of a Christian who 
hath been instrumental in rescuing an immortal soul from 
vice, in adorning it with virtue, in seasoning it with grace, 
in manifesting the mystery of the gospel to those from whom 
it was hid, and in feeding the hungry with the bread of 
life. If we ourselves have tasted of the heavenly gift , if we 
have passed from death to life, and have not only heard the 
sound but felt the power of the gospel, the greater will be 
our zeal in communicating the same glad tidings to others, 
that they also may be persuaded to flee for refuge to the 
consolations which are in Christ. If honour to our blessed 
Redeemer be the leading principle in our hearts, we will 
never rest satisfied till his glory Jill the earth, and every 
knee bow to his sacred name. By endeavouring thus to 
bless others, we shall draw down the divine blessing upon 
ourselves : They that be wise, shall shine as the brightness 
of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness , 
as the stars for ever and ever. * 


• Dan, xii. 3. 



THE 


WORKS 


OF 


DR. WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 

OF THE 

HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


I deliver this book to the world with all the diffi¬ 
dence and anxiety natural to an author on publish¬ 
ing his first performance. The time I have employ¬ 
ed, and the pains I have taken, in order to render it 
worthy of the public approbation, it is, perhaps, 
prudent to conceal, until it be known whether that 
approbation shall ever be bestowed upon it. 

But as I have departed, in many instances, from 
former historians, as I have placed facts in a differ¬ 
ent light, and have drawn characters with new 
colours, I ought to account for this conduct to my 
readers; and to produce the evidence, on which, at 
the distance of two centuries, I presume to contra¬ 
dict the testimony of less remote, or even of contem¬ 
porary, historians. 

The transactions in Mary’s reign gave rise to two 
parties, which were animated against each other 
with the fiercest political hatred, imbittered by re¬ 
ligious zeal. Each of these produced historians of 
considerable merit, who adopted all their sentiments, 
and defended all their actions. Truth was not the 
sole object of these authors. Blinded by prejudices, 
and heated by the part which they themselves had 
acted in the scenes they describe, they wrote an 
apology for a faction, rather than the history of their 
country. Succeeding historians have followed these 
guides almost implicitly, and have repeated their 
errors and misrepresentations. But as the same 
passions which inflamed parties in that age have de¬ 
scended to their posterity ; as almost every event in 
Mary’s reign has become the object of doubt or of 
dispute ; the eager spirit of controversy soon dis¬ 
covered, that without some evidence more authentic 
and more impartial than that of such historians, 
none of the points in question could be decided with 
certainty. Records have therefore been searched, 
original papers have been produced, and public ar¬ 
chives, as well as the repositories of private men, 
have been ransacked by the zeal and curiosity of 
writers of different parties. The attention of Cecil 

B 


to collect whatever related to that period, in which 
he acted so conspicuous a part, hath provided such 
an immense store of original papers for illustrating 
this part of the English and Scottish history, as are 
almost sufficient to satisfy the utmost avidity of an 
antiquary. Sir Robert Cotton (whose library is now 
the property of the public) made great and valua¬ 
ble additions to Cecil’s collection; and from this 
magazine, Digges, the compilers of the Caballa, 
Anderson, Keith, Haynes, Forbes, have drawn 
most of the papers which they have printed. No 
History of Scotland, that merits any degree of atten¬ 
tion, has appeared since these collections were pub¬ 
lished. By consulting them, I have been enabled, 
in many instances, to correct the inaccuracies of 
former historians, to avoid their mistakes, and to 
detect their misrepresentations. 

But many important papers have escaped the 
notice of those industrious collectors ; and, after all 
they have produced to light, much still remained in 
darkness, unobserved or unpublished. It was my 
duty to search for these ; and I found this unplea¬ 
sant task attended with considerable utility. 

The Library of the Faculty of Advocates at Edin¬ 
burgh, contains not only a large collection of origi¬ 
nal papers relating to the affairs of Scotland, but 
copies of others no less curious, which have been 
preserved by Sir Robert Cotton, or are extant in the 
public offices in England. Of all these the Cura¬ 
tors of that library were pleased to allow me the 
perusal. 

Though the British Museum be not yet open to 
the public, Hr. Birch, whose obliging disposition is 
well known, procured me access to that noble col¬ 
lection, which is worthy the magnificence of a great 
and polished nation. 

That vast and curious collection of papers relat¬ 
ing to the reign of Elizabeth, which was made by 
Dr. Forbes, and of which he published only two 
volumes, having been purchased since his death by 






2 


PREFACE. 


the lord viscount Royston, his lordship was so good 
as to allow me the use of fourteen volumes in quarto, 
containing that part of them which is connected 
with my subject. 

Sir Alexander Dick communicated to me a very 
valuable collection of original papers, in two large 
volumes. They relate chiefly to the reign of James. 
Many of them are marked with archbishop Spotis- 
wood’s hand ; and it appears from several passages 
in his history, that he had perused them with great 
attention. 

Mr. Calderwood, an eminent presbyterian cler¬ 
gyman of the last century, compiled a history of 
Scotland from the beginning of the reign of James 
V. to the death of James VI. in six large volumes ; 
wherein he has inserted many papers of conse¬ 
quence, which are no where else to be found. This 
history has not been published, but a copy of it, 
which still remains in manuscript, in the possession 
of the Church of Scotland, was put into my hands 
by my worthy friend the reverend Dr. George Wish- 
art, principal clerk of the church. 

Sir David Dalrymple not only communicated 
to me the papers which he has collected relating 
to Gowrie’s conspiracy ; but, by explaining to me 
his sentiments with regard to that problematical 
passage in the Scottish history, has enabled me to 
place that transaction in a light which dispels much 
of the darkness and confusion in which it has been 
hitherto involved. 

Mr. Goodall, though he knew my sentiments with 
regard to the conduct and character of queen Mary 


to be extremely different from his own, communi¬ 
cated to me a volume of manuscripts in his posses¬ 
sion, which contains a great number of valuable 
papers copied from the originals in the Cottonian 
library and paper office, by the late reverend Mr. 
Crawford, Regius Professor of Church History in 
the University of Edinburgh. I likewise received 
from him the original register of letters kept by the 
regent Lennox during his administration. 

I have consulted all these papers, as far as I 
thought they could be of any use towards illustrat¬ 
ing that period of which I wrote the history. With 
what success I have employed them to confirm what 
was already known, to ascertain what was dubious, 
or to determine what was controverted, the public 
must judge. 

I might easily have drawn, from the different re¬ 
positories to w hich I had access, as many papers as 
would have rendered my Appendix equal in size to 
the most bulky collection of my predecessors. But 
I have satisfied myself with publishing a few of the 
most curious among them, to which I found it ne¬ 
cessary to appeal as vouchers for my own veracity. 
None of these, as far as I can recollect, ever appear¬ 
ed in any former collection. 

I have added a Critical Dissertation concerning 
the murder of king Henry , and the genuineness of 
the Queen's letters to Bothwell. The facts and ob¬ 
servations which relate to Mary’s letters, I owe to 
my friend Mr. John Davidson, one of the Clerks of 
the Signet, w ho hath examined this point with his 
usual acuteness and industry. 


PREFACE TO THE ELEVENTH EDITION 


OF 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


It is now twenty-eight years since I published the 
History of Scotland. During that time I have been 
favoured by my friends with several remarks upon 
it; and various strictures have been made by per¬ 
sons, who entertained sentiments different from 
mine, with respect to the transactions in the reign 
of queen Mary. From whatever quarter infor¬ 
mation came, in whatever mode it has been com¬ 
municated, I have considered it calmly and with 
attention. Wherever I perceived that I had erred, 
either in relating events, or in delineating charac¬ 
ters, I have, without hesitation, corrected those 
errors. Wherever I am satisfied that my original 


ideas were just and well founded, I adhere to them : 
and, resting upon their conformity to evidence al¬ 
ready produced, I enter into no discussion or con¬ 
troversy in order to support them. Wherever the 
opportunity of consulting original papers, either in 
print or in manuscript, to which I had not formerly 
access, has enabled me to throw new light upon any 
part of the history, I have made alterations and 
additions, which, I flatter myself, will be found to 
be of some importance. 

College of Edinburgh, 

March 5th, 1787. 





THE 


HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK I. 

CONTAINING A REVIEW OF THE SCOTTISH HISTORY PREVIOUS TO THE DEATH OF JAMES V. 


The first ages of the Scottish History 

The origin of na- . , , r , , ,. T ,. 

tions fabulous and are dark and fabulous. Nations, as 

well as men, arrive at maturity by 
degrees, and the events which happened during 
their infancy or early youth, cannot be recollected, 
and deserve not to be remembered. The gross 
ignorance which anciently covered all the north of 
Europe, the continual migrations of its inhabitants, 
and the frequent and destructive revolutions which 
these occasioned, render it impossible to give any 
authentic account of the origin of the different 
kingdoms now established there. Every thing be¬ 
yond that short period to which well-attested annals 
reach, is obscure ; an immense space is left for in¬ 
vention to occupy; each nation, with a vanity 
inseparable from human nature, hath filled that 
void with events calculated to display its own 
antiquity and lustre. History, which ought to 
record truth and to teach wisdom, often sets out 
with retailing fictions and absurdities. 


A. D. 81. 


Origin of the The Scots carr y their pretensions to 
Scots. antiquity as high as any of their 
neighbours. Relying upon uncertain legends, and 
the traditions of their bards, still more uncertain, 
they reckon up a series of kings several ages before 
the birth of Christ; and give a particular detail of 
the occurrences which happened in their reigns. But 
with regard to the Scots, as well as the other north¬ 
ern nations, we receive the earliest accounts on 
which we can depend, not from their own, but from 
the Roman, authors. When the Ro¬ 
mans, under Agricola, first carried 
their arms into the northern parts of Britain, they 
found it possessed by the Caledonians, a fierce and 
warlike people; and having repulsed rather than 
conquered them, they erected a strong wall between 
the firths of Forth and Clyde, and there fixed the 
boundaries of their empire. Adrian, 
on account of the difficulty of defend¬ 
ing such a distant frontier, contracted the limits of 
the Roman province in Britain, by building a second 

wall, which ran between Newcastle and Carlisle. 

b 2 


A. D. 121. 


The ambition of succeeding emperors endeavoured 
to recover what Adrian had abandoned; and the 
country between the two walls was alternately 
under the dominion of the Romans and that of the 
Caledonians. About the beginning of the fifth 
century, the inroads of the Goths and other barba¬ 
rians obliged the Romans, in order to defend the 
centre of their empire, to recall those legions which 
guarded the frontier provinces ; and at that time 
they quitted all their conquests in Britain. 

Their long residence in the island 

. A. D. 421 

had polished, in some degree, the rude 
inhabitants, and the Britons were indebted to their 
intercourse with the Romans, for the art of writ¬ 
ing, and the use of numbers, without which it is 
impossible long to preserve the memory of past 
events. 

North Britain was, by their retreat, left under the 
dominion of the Scots and Piets. The former, who 
are not mentioned by any Roman author before the 
end of the fourth century, were probably a colony 
of the Celtae or Gauls: their affinity to whom 
appears from their language, their manners, and 
religious rites; circumstances more decisive with 
regard to the origin of nations, than either fabulous 
traditions, or the tales of ill-informed and credulous 
annalists. The Scots, if we may believe the com¬ 
mon accounts, settled at first in Ireland; and, ex¬ 
tending themselves by degrees, landed at last on 
the coast opposite to that island, and fixed their 
habitations there. Fierce and bloody wars were, 
during several ages, carried on between them and 
the Piets. At length Kenneth II., 
the sixty-ninth king of the Scots, (ac¬ 
cording to their own fabulous authors,) obtained a 
complete victory over the Piets, and united under 
one monarchy all the country from the wall of 
Adrian to the northern ocean. The kingdom, hence¬ 
forward, became known by its present name, which 
is derived from a people who at first settled there 
as strangers, and remained long obscure and incon¬ 
siderable. 





4 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK I. 


From this period the history of Scot¬ 
land peculiarly land would merit some attention, were 
it accompanied with any certainty. 
But as our remote antiquities are involved in the 
same darkness with those of other nations, a 
calamity peculiar to ourselves has thrown almost an 
equal obscurity over our more recent transactions. 
This was occasioned by the malicious policy of 
Edward I. of England. Towards the end of the 
thirteenth century, this monarch called in question 
the independence of Scotland ; pretending that the 
kingdom was held as a fief of the crown of England, 
and subjected to all the conditions of a feudal 
tenure. In order to establish his claim, lie seized 
the public archives, he ransacked churches and 
monasteries, and getting possession, by force or 
fraud, of many historical monuments, which tended 
to prove the antiquity or freedom of the kingdom, 
he carried some of them into England, and com¬ 
manded the rest to be burned. a An universal 

oblivion of past transactions might have been the 
effect of this fatal event, but some imperfect 
Chronicles had escaped the rage of Edward; 
foreign writers had recorded some important facts 
relating to Scotland ; and the traditions concerning 
recent occurrences were fresh and worthy of credit. 
These broken fragments John de Fordun, who lived 
in the fourteenth century, collected with a pious 
industry, and from them gleaned materials which 
he formed into a regular history. His work was 
received by his countrymen with applause : and, as 
no recourse could be had to more ancient records, 
it supplied the place of the authentic annals of the 
kingdom. It was copied in many monasteries, and 
the thread of the narrative was continued by differ¬ 
ent monks, through the subsequent reigns. In the 
beginning of the sixteenth century, John Major and 
Hector Boethius published their Histories of Scot¬ 
land, the former a succinct and dry writer, the latter 
a copious and florid one, and both equally credulous. 
Not many years after, Buchanan undertook the 
same work ; and if his accuracy and impartiality 
had been, in any degree, equal to the elegance of 
his taste, and to the purity and vigour of his style, 
his History might be placed on a level with the 
most admired compositions of the ancients. But, 
instead of rejecting the improbable tales of chroni¬ 
cle-writers, he was at the utmost pains to adorn 
them ; and hath clothed, with all the beauties and 
graces of fiction, those legends, which formerly had 
only its wildness and extravagance. 

The history of Scotland may pro- 

eras in the Scottish perly be divided into four periods, 
history. Th e first reaches from the origin of the 

monarchy, to the reign of Kenneth II. The second 
from Kenneth's conquest of the Piets, to the death 
of Alexander III. The third extends to the death 
of James V. The last, from thence to the accession 
of James YI. to the crown of England. 

The first period is the region of pure fable and 

a I nnes, Essay 552. 


conjecture, and ought to be totally neglected, or 
abandoned to the industry and credulity of anti¬ 
quaries. Truth begins to dawn in the second period, 
with a light, feeble at first, but gradually increasing, 
and the events which then happened may be slightly 
touched, but merit no particular or laborious in¬ 
quiry. In the third period, the History of Scotland, 
chiefly by means of records preserved in England, 
becomes more authentic: not only are events related, 
but their causes and effects explained; the characters 
of the actors are displayed ; the manners of the age 
described; the revolutions in the constitution pointed 
out: and here every Scotsman should begin not to 
read only, but to study, the history of his country. 
During the fourth period, the affairs of Scotland 
were so mingled with those of other nations, its 
situation in the political state of Europe was so 
important, its influence on the operations of the 
neighbouring kingdoms was so visible, that its his¬ 
tory becomes an object of attention to foreigners ; 
and without some knowledge of the various and 
extraordinary revolutions which happened there, 
they cannot form a just notion with respect either 
to the most illustrious events, or to the characters of 
the most distinguished personages, in the sixteenth 
century. 

The following History is confined to A reviewor the 
the last of these periods : to give a third era - 
view of the political state of the kingdom during 
that which immediately preceded it, is the design of 
this preliminary book. The imperfect knowledge 
which strangers have of the affairs of Scotland, and 
the prejudices Scotsmen themselves have imbibed 
with regard to the various revolutions in the govern¬ 
ment of their country, render such an introduction 
equally necessary to both. 

The period from the death of Alexander III. to 
the death of James Y. contains upwards of two 
centuries and a half, from the year one thousand 
two hundred and eighty-six, to the year one thou¬ 
sand five hundred and forty-two. 

It opens with the famous controversy Rj se 0 f the contro- 
concerning the independence of Scot- th^independence 
land. Before the union of the two ot Scotlaud * 
kingdoms, this was a question of much importance. 
If the one crown had been considered not as impe¬ 
rial and independent, but as feudatory to the other, 
a treaty of union could not have been concluded on 
equal terms, and every advantage which the depen¬ 
dent kingdom procured, must have been deemed the 
concession of a sovereign to his vassal. Accord¬ 
ingly, about the beginning of the present century, 
and while a treaty of union between the two king¬ 
doms was negociating,this controversy was agitated 
with all the heat which national animosities natu¬ 
rally inspire. What was then the subject of serious 
concern, the union of the two kingdoms had ren¬ 
dered a matter of mere curiosity. But though the 
objects which at that time warmed and interested 
both nations, exist no longer, a question which ap- 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


peared so momentous to our ancestors cannot be 
altogether indifferent or uninstructive to us. 

Some of the northern counties of England were 
early in the hands of the Scottish kings, who, as 
far back as the feudal customs can be traced, held 
these possessions of the kings of England, and did 
homage to them on that account. This homage, 
due only for the territories which they held in 
England, was in nowise derogatory from their royal 
dignity. Nothing is more suitable to feudal ideas, 
than that the same person should be both a lord and 
a vassal, independent in one capacity, and depen¬ 
dent in another. 15 The crown of England was, 
without doubt, imperial and independent, though 
the princes who wore it were, for many ages, the 
vassals of the kings of France; and, in consequence 
of their possessions in that kingdom, bound to per¬ 
form all the services which a feudal sovereign has 
a title to exact. The same was the condition of the 
monarchs of Scotland; free and independent as 
kings of their own country, but, as possessing Eng¬ 
lish territories, vassals to the king of England. 
The English monarchs, satisfied with their legal and 
ixncontroverted rights, were, during a long period, 
neither capable, nor had any thoughts, of usurping 
more. England, when conquered by the Saxons, 
being divided by them into many small kingdoms, 
was in no condition to extend its dominion over 
Scotland, united at that time under one monarch. 
And though these petty principalities were gradually 
formed into one kingdom, the reigning princes, ex¬ 
posed to continual invasions of the Danes, and often 
subjected to the yoke of those formidable pirates, 
seldom turned their arms towards Scotland, and were 
little able to establish new rights in that country. 
The first kings of the Norman race, busied with 
introducing their own laws and manners into the 
kingdom which they had conquered, or with main¬ 
taining themselves on the throne, which some of 
them possessed by a very dubious title, were as little 
solicitous to acquire new authority, or to form new 
pretensions in Scotland. An unexpected calamity 
that befell one of the Scottish kings first encouraged 
the English to think of bringing his kingdom under 
dependence. William, surnamed the Lion, being 
taken prisoner at Alnwick, Henry II. as the price 
of his liberty, not only extorted from him an exor¬ 
bitant ransom, and a promise to surrender the places 
of greatest strength in his dominions, but compelled 
him to do homage for his whole kingdom. Richard 
I. a generous prince, solemnly renounced this claim 
of homage ; and absolved William from the hard 
conditions which Henry had imposed. Upon the 
death of Alexander III., near a century after, Ed¬ 
ward I., availing himself of the situation of affairs 
in Scotland, acquired an influence in that kingdom, 
which no English monarch before him ever possess¬ 
ed, and imitating the interested policy of Henry, 

b A very singular proof of this occurs in the French history. Arpin 
sold the vicomte of the city of Bourges to Philip I. who did homage to the 
count of Sancerre for a part of these lands, which held of that nobleman, 
A. 1). 1100. I believe that no example, of a king's doing homage to one 
of his own subjects, is to be met with in the histories either of England or 
Scotland. Philip le Bel abolished this practice in France, A. X). 1302. 


rather than the magnanimity of Richard, revived 
the claim of sovereignty to which the former had 
pretended. 

Margaret of Norway, grand-daugh- 

& ° Pretensions of 

ter ot Alexander, and heir to his crown, Bruce and Baiiol 
, . examined. 

did not long survive him. The right 
of succession belonged to the descendants of David, 
earl of Huntingdon, third son of king David I. 
Among these, Robert Bruce, and John Baiiol, two 
illustrious competitors for the crown, appeared. 
Bruce was the son of Isabel, earl David’s second 
daughter; Baiiol, the grandson of Margaret, the 
eldest daughter. According to the rules of succes¬ 
sion which are now established, the right of Baiiol 
was preferable, and, notwithstanding Bruce’s plea 
of being nearer in blood to earl David, Baliol’s 
claim, as the representative of his mother and grand¬ 
mother, would be deemed incontestable. But in 
that age the order of succession was not ascertained 
with the same precision. The question appeared to 
be no less intricate than it was important. Though 
the prejudices of the people, and perhaps the loss 
of the kingdom, favoured Bruce, each of the rivals 
was supported by a powerful faction. Arms alone, 
it was feared, must terminate a dispute too weighty 
for the laws to decide. But, in order to avoid the 
miseries of a civil war, Edward was chosen umpire, 
and both parties agreed to acquiesce in his decree. 
This had well nigh proved fatal to the independence 
of Scotland ; and the nation, by its eagerness to 
guard against a civil war, was not only exposed to 
that calamity, but almost subjected to a foreign 
yoke. Edward was artful, brave, enterprising, and 
commanded a powerful and martial people, at peace 
with the whole world. The anarchy which prevailed 
in Scotland, and the ambition of competitors ready 
to sacrifice their country in order to obtain even a 
dependent crown, invited him first to seize and then 
to subject the kingdom. The authority of an umpire, 
which had been unwarily bestowed upon him, and 
from which the Scots dreaded no dangerous conse¬ 
quences, enabled him to execute his schemes with 
the greater facility. Under pretence of examining 
the question with the utmost solemnity, he sum¬ 
moned all the Scottish barons to Norham, and 
having gained some and intimidated others, he pre¬ 
vailed on all who were present, not excepting Bruce 
and Baiiol, the competitors, to acknowledge Scot¬ 
land to be a fief of the English crown, and to swear 
fealty to him as their sovereign or liege lord. This 
step led to another still more important. As it was 
vain to pronounce a sentence which he had not 
power to execute, Edward demanded possession of 
the kingdom, that he might be able to deliver it to 
him whose right should be found preferable; and 
such was the pusillanimity of the nobles, and the 
impatient ambition of the competitors, that both 
assented to this strange demand, and Gilbert de 

Henault Abrege Chronol. Somewhat similar to this, is a charter of the abbot 
of Melrose, A. D. 1535, constituting James V. the bailiff or steward of 
that abbey, vesting in him all the powers which pertained to that office, 
and requiring him to be answerable to the abbot for his exercise of the 
same. Archiv. publ. Edin. 



6 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK 1. 


Umfraville, earl of Angus, was the only man who 
refused to surrender the castles in his custody to the 
enemy of his country. Edward finding Baliol the 
most obsequious and the least formidable of the two 
competitors, soon after gave judgment in his favour. 
Baliol once more professed himself the vassal of 
England, and submitted to every condition which 
the sovereign whom he had now acknowledged was 
pleased to prescribe. 

Edward, having thus placed a creature of his 
own upon the throne of Scotland, and compelled the 
nobles to renounce the ancient liberties and inde¬ 
pendence of their country, had reason to conclude 
that his dominion was now fully established. But 
he began too soon to assume the master ; his new 
vassals, fierce and independent, bore with impa¬ 
tience a yoke to which they were not accustomed. 
Provoked by his haughtiness, even the passive spirit 
of Baliol began to mutiny. But Edward, who had 
no longer use for such a pageant king, forced him 
to resign the crown, and openly attempted to seize 
it as fallen to himself by the rebellion of his vassal. 
At that critical period arose sir William Wallace, 
a hero, to whom the fond admiration of his country¬ 
men hath ascribed many fabulous acts of prowess, 
though his real valour, as well as integrity and wis¬ 
dom, are such as need not the heightenings of 
fiction. He, almost single, ventured to take arms in 
defence of the kingdom, and his boldness revived 
the spirit of his countrymen. At last Robert Bruce, 
the grandson of him who stood in competition with 
Baliol, appeared to assert his own rights, and to 
vindicate the honour of his country. The nobles, 
ashamed of their former baseness, and enraged at 
the many indignities offered to the nation, crowded 
to his standard. In order to crush him at once, the 
English monarch entered Scotland, at the head of a 
mighty army. Many battles w ere fought, and the 
Scots, though often vanquished, were not subdued. 
The ardent zeal with which the nobles contended 
for the independence of the kingdom, the prudent 
valour of Bruce, and above all, a national enthusi¬ 
asm inspired by such a cause, baffled the repeated 
efforts of Edward, and counterbalanced all the 
advantages which he derived from the number and 
wealth of his subjects. Though the war continued 
with little intermission upwards of seventy years, 
Bruce and his posterity kept possession of the throne 
of Scotland, and reigned with an authority not 
inferior to that of its former monarchs. 

But while the sword, the ultimate judge of all 
disputes between contending nations, was employed 
to terminate this controversy, neither Edward nor 
the Scots seemed to distrust the justice of their 
cause; and both appealed to history and records, 
and from these produced, in their own favour, such 
evidence as they pretended to be unanswerable. 
The letters and memorials addressed by each party 
to the pope, who was then reverenced as the com¬ 
mon father, and often appealed to as the common 


judge, of all Christian princes, are still extant. The 
fabulous tales of the early British history ; the 
partial testimony of ignorant chroniclers; suppositi¬ 
tious treaties and charters ; are the proofs on which 
Edward founded his title to the sovereignty of Scot¬ 
land ; and the homage done by the Scottish mon¬ 
archs for their lands in England is preposterously 
supposed to imply the subjection of their whole 
kingdom. 0 Ill-founded, however, as their right was, 
the English did not fail to revive it, in all the sub¬ 
sequent quarrels between the two kingdoms ; while 
the Scots disclaimed it with the utmost indignation. 
To this we must impute the fierce and implacable 
hatred to each other, which long inflamed both. 
Their national antipathies w ere excited, not only 
by the usual circumstances of frequent hostilities, 
and reciprocal injuries ; but the English considered 
the Scots as vassals who had presumed to rebel, 
and the Scots, in their turn, regarded the English 
as usurpers who aimed at enslaving their country. 

At the time when Robert Bruce be- 
gan his reign in Scotland, the same state of the king- 
form of government was established in began his reign, 
all the kingdoms of Europe. This surprising simi¬ 
larity in their constitution and laws demonstrates 
that the nations which overturned the Roman em¬ 
pire, and erected these kingdoms, though divided 
into different tribes, and distinguished by different 
names, were either derived originally from the same 
source, or had been placed in similar situations. 
When we take a view of the feudal system of laws 
and policy, that stupendous and singular fabric 
erected by them, the first object that strikes us is 
the king. And when we are told that he is the sole 
proprietor of all the lands within his dominions, 
that all his subjects derive their possessions from 
him, and in return consecrate their lives to his ser¬ 
vice ; w hen we hear that all marks of distinction, 
and titles of dignity, flow from him as the only foun¬ 
tain of honour; when we behold the most potent 
peers, on their bended knees, and with folded hands, 
swearing fealty at his feet, and acknow ledging him 
to be their sovereign and their liege lord ; we are apt 
to pronounce him a powerful, nay, an absolute, mon¬ 
arch. No conclusion, however, w ould be more rash, 
or worse founded. The genius of the feudal go¬ 
vernment was purely aristocratical. With all the 
ensigns of royalty, and with many appearances of 
despotic power, a feudal king was the most limited 
of all princes. 

Before they sallied out of their own 
habitations to conquer the w orld, many 
of the northern nations seemed not to 
have been subject to the government 
of kings ; d and even where monarchical govern¬ 
ment was established, the prince possessed but 
little authority. A general, rather than a king, his 
military command was extensive, his civil juris¬ 
diction almost nothing. e The army which he led 
was not composed of soldiers, who could be com- 


Orisin of the 
feudal govern¬ 
ment, and its 
aristocratical 
genius. 


c Anderson’s Historical Essay concerning the Independency, &c. 


d Caes. lib. vi. c. 23. 


e Tacit, de Mor. Germ. c. 7, 11. 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


7 


pelled to serve, but of such as voluntarily followed 
his standard/ These conquered not for their leader, 
but for themselves; and being free in their own 
country, renounced not their liberty when they ac¬ 
quired new settlements. They did not exterminate 
the ancient inhabitants of the countries which they 
subdued, but seizing the greater part of their lands, 
they took their persons under protection. The diffi¬ 
culty of maintaining a new conquest, as well as the 
danger of being attacked by new invaders, render¬ 
ing it necessary to be always in a posture of defence, 
the form of government which they established was 
altogether military, and nearly resembled that to 
which they had been accustomed in their native 
country. Their general still continuing to be the 
head of the colony, part of the conquered lands 
were allotted to him ; the remainder, under the name 
of benejicia or fiefs, was divided among his principal 
officers. As the common safety required that these 
officers should, upon all occasions, be ready to ap¬ 
pear in arms, for the common defence, and should 
continue obedient to their general, they bound 
themselves to take the field, when called, and to 
serve him with a number of men, in proportion to 
the extent of their territory. These great officers 
again parcelled out their lands among their followers, 
and annexed the same condition to the grant. A 
feudal kingdom was properly the encampment of a 
great army ; military ideas predominated, military 
subordination was established, and the possession 
of land was the pay which the soldiers received for 
their personal service. In consequence of these 
notions, the possession of land was granted during 
pleasure only, and the kings were elective. In other 
words, an officer disagreeable to his general was 
deprived of his pay, and the person who was most 
capable of conducting an army was chosen to com¬ 
mand it. Such were the first rudiments or infancy 
of feudal government. 

But long before the beginning of the fourteenth 
century, the feudal system had undergone many 
changes, of which the following were the most con¬ 
siderable. Kings, formerly elective, were then 
hereditary ; and fiefs, granted at first during plea¬ 
sure, descended from father to son, and were 
become perpetual. These changes, not less advan¬ 
tageous to the nobles than to the prince, made no 
alteration in the aristocratical spirit of the feudal 
General causes constitution. The king, who at a (lis- 
power oPtheVea- tance seemed to be invested with ma- 
dai monarchs. jesty and power, appears, on a nearer 

view, to possess almost none of those advantages 
which bestow on monarchs their grandeur and au¬ 
thority. His revenues were scanty ; he had not a 
standing army; and the jurisdiction he possessed 
was circumscribed within very narrow limits. 

. At a time when pomp and splendour 

Their revenues r r i 

were small. were i^tle known, even in the palaces 

of kings; when the officers of the crown received 
scarcely any salary besides the fees and perquisites 

[ Craig.' de V Fe C ud 3 iib. i. Dieg. 14. Du Cange Gloss, voc. Dominicum. 


of their office ; when embassies to foreign courts 
were rare ; when armies were composed of soldiers 
who served without pay : it was not necessary that 
a king should possess a great revenue ; nor did the 
condition of Europe, in those ages, allow its princes 
to be opulent. Commerce made little progress in 
the kingdoms where the feudal government was 
established. Institutions, which had no other ob¬ 
ject but to inspire a martial spirit, to train men to 
be soldiers, and to make arms the only honourable 
profession, naturally discouraged the commercial 
arts. The revenues, arising from the taxes, imposed 
on the different branches of commerce, were by con¬ 
sequence inconsiderable ; and the prince’s treasury 
received little supply from a source, which, among 
a trading people, Hows with such abundance as is 
almost inexhaustible. A fixed tax was not levied 
even on land ; such a burden would have appeared 
intolerable to men who received their estates as the 
reward of their valour, and who considered their 
service in the field as a full retribution for what they 
possessed. The king’s demesnes, or the portion of 
land which he still retained in his own hands un¬ 
alienated, furnished subsistence to his court, and 
defrayed the ordinary expense of government.® The 
only stated taxes which the feudal law obliged vas¬ 
sals to pay to the king, or to those of whom they 
held their lands, were three ; one when his eldest 
son was made a knight; another when his eldest 
daughter was married ; and a third in order to ran¬ 
som him if he should happen to be taken prisoner. 
Besides these, the king received the feudal casual¬ 
ties of the ward, marriage, &c. of his own vassals. 
And, on some extraordinary occasions, his subjects 
granted him an aid, which they distinguished by 
the name of a benevolence, in order to declare that 
he received it not in consequence of any right, but as 
a gift, flowing from their good-will. h All these 
added together, produced a revenue so scanty and 
precarious, as naturally incited a feudal monarch to 
aim at diminishing the exorbitant power and wealth 
of the nobility, but, instead of enabling him to carry 
on his schemes with full effect, kept him in con¬ 
tinual indigence, anxiety, and dependence. 

Nor could the king supply the defect They had no 
of his revenues by the terror of his standing armies. 

arms. Mercenary troops and standing armies were 
unknown, as long as the feudal government subsist¬ 
ed in vigour. Europe was peopled with soldiers. 
The vassals of the king, and the sub-vassals of the 
barons, were all obliged to carry arms. While the 
poverty of princes prevented them from fortifying 
their frontier towns, while a campaign continued 
but a few weeks, and while a fierce and impetuous 
courage was impatient to bring every quarrel to the 
decision of a battle, an army, without pay, and 
with little discipline, was sufficient for all the pur¬ 
poses both of the security and of the glory of the 
nation. Such an army, however, far from being an 
engine at the king’s disposal, was often no less for- 

h Du Cange, voc. Auxilium. 



BOOK I. 


8 THE HISTORY 

midable to him, than to his enemies. The more 
warlike any people were, the more independent they 
became ; and the same persons being both soldiers 
and subjects, civil privileges and immunities were 
the consequence of their victories, and the reward 
of their martial exploits. Conquerors, whom mer¬ 
cenary armies, under our present forms of govern¬ 
ment, often render the tyrants of their own people, 
as well as the scourges of mankind, were commonly, 
under the feudal constitution, the most indulgent 
of all princes to their subjects, because they stood 
most in need of their assistance. A prince, whom 
even war and victories did not render the master of 
his own army, possessed hardly any shadow of mi¬ 
litary power during times of peace. His disbanded 
soldiers mingled with his other subjects ; not a 
single man received pay from him ; many ages 
elapsed even before a guard was appointed to defend 
his person ; and destitute of that great instrument of 
dominion, a standing army, the authority of the king 
continued always feeble, and was often contemptible. 

Their jurisdiction Nor were these the 0nl y cil CUm- 

was limited. stances which contributed towards de¬ 
pressing the regal power. By the feudal system, as 
has been already observed, the king’s judicial au¬ 
thority was extremely circumscribed. At first, 
princes seem to have been the supreme judges of 
their people, and, in person, heard and determined 
all controversies among them. The multiplicity of 
causes soon made it necessary to appoint judges, 
who, in the king’s name, decided matters that be¬ 
longed to the royal jurisdiction. But the barbarians 
who overran Europe, having destroyed most of the 
great cities, and the countries which they seized 
being cantoned out among powerful chiefs, who 
were blindly followed by numerous dependants, 
whom, in return, they were bound to protect from 
every injury ; the administration of justice was 
greatly interrupted, and the execution of any legal 
sentence became almost impracticable. Theft, ra¬ 
pine, murder, and disorder of all kinds prevailed in 
every kingdom of Europe, to a degree almost incre¬ 
dible, and scarcely compatible with the subsistence 
of civil society. Every offender sheltered himself 
under the protection of some powerful chieftain, 
who screened him from the pursuits of justice. To 
apprehend and to punish a criminal, often required 
the union and effort of half a kingdom. 1 In order 
to remedy these evils, many persons of distinction 
were intrusted with the administration of justice 
within their own territories. But what we may 
presume was, at first, only a temporary grant, or a 
personal privilege, the encroaching spirit of the no¬ 
bles gradually converted into a right, and rendered 
hereditary. The lands of some were, in process of 

i A remarkable instance of this occurs in the following history, so late as 
the year one thousand fivejiundred and sixty-one. Mary, having appointed 
a court of justice to be held on the borders, the inhabitants of no less than 
eleven counties were summoned to guard the person who was to act as 
judge, and to enable him to enforce his decisions. The words of a procla¬ 
mation, which afford such convincing proof of the feebleness of the feudal 
government, deserve our notice—“ And because it is necessary for the ex¬ 
ecution of Her Highness’ commandments and service, that her justice be 
well accompanied, and her authority sufficiently fortified, by the concur¬ 
rence of a good power of her faithful subjects—Therefore commands and 
charges all and sundry Earls, Lords, Barons, Freeholders, Landed-men, 


OF SCOTLAND. 

time, erected into baronies , those of others into re¬ 
galities. The jurisdiction of the former was exten¬ 
sive ; that of the latter, as the name implies, royal 
and almost unbounded. All causes, whether civil 
or criminal, were tried by judges, whom the lord of 
the regality appointed ; and if the king’s courts 
called any person within his territory before them, 
the lord of regality might put a stop to their pro¬ 
ceedings, and by the privilege of regiedying , remove 
the cause to his own court, and even punish his vas¬ 
sal, if he submitted to a foreign jurisdiction. k Thus 
almost every question, in which any person who re¬ 
sided on the lands of the nobles was interested, 
being determined by judges appointed by the nobles 
themselves, their vassals were hardly sensible of 
being, in any degree, subject to the crown. A 
feudal kingdom was split into many small principa¬ 
lities, almost independent, and held together by a 
feeble and commonly an imperceptible bond of 
union. The king was not only stripped of the au¬ 
thority annexed to the person of a supreme judge, 
but his revenue suffered no small diminution by the 
loss of those pecuniary emoluments, which were, in 
that age, due to the person who administered justice. 

In the same proportion that the king sunk in 
power, the nobles rose towards independence. Not 
satisfied with having obtained an hereditary right to 
their fiefs, which they formerly held during pleasure, 
their ambition aimed at something bolder, and by 
introducing entails , endeavoured, as far as human 
ingenuity and invention can reach that end, to ren¬ 
der their possessions unalienable and everlasting. 
As they had full power to add to the inheritance 
transmitted to them from their ancestors, but none 
to diminish it, time alone, by means of marriages, 
legacies, and other accidents, brought continual ac¬ 
cessions of wealth, and of dignity ; a great family, 
like a river, became considerable from the length 
of its course, and as it rolled on, new honours and 
new property flowed successively into it. What¬ 
ever influence is derived from titles of honour, the 
feudal barons likewise possessed in an ample 
manner. These marks of distinction are, in their 
own nature, either official or personal, and being 
annexed to a particular charge, or bestowed by the 
admiration of mankind upon illustrious characters, 
ought to be appropriated to these. But the son, 
however unworthy, could not bear to be stripped of 
that appellation by which his father had been dis¬ 
tinguished. His presumption claimed what his 
virtue did not merit; titles of honour became he¬ 
reditary, and added new lustre to nobles already in 
possession of too much power. Something more 
audacious and more extravagant still remained. The 
supreme direction of all affairs, both civil and mili- 

and other Gentlemen, dwellin'? within the said counties, that they, and 
every one of them, with their kin, friends, servants, and household-men, 
well bodin in feir of war in the most substantious manner, [i. e. completely 
armed and provided,] and with twenty days’ victuals, to meet and to pass 
forward with him to the borough of Jedburgh, and there to remain during 
the said space of twenty days, and to receive such direction and commands 
as shall be given by him to them in our Sovereign Lady’s name, for quiet¬ 
ness of the country ; and to put the same in execution under the pain of 
losing their life, lands, and goods.” Keith’s Hist, of Scotland, 198. 
k Craig, lib. iii. Dieg. 7 . 




BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


0 


tary, being committed to the great officers of the 
crown, the fame and safety of princes, as well as of 
their people, depended upon the fidelity and abili¬ 
ties of these officers. But such was the preposter¬ 
ous ambition of the nobles, and so successful even 
in their wildest attempts to aggrandize themselves, 
that in all the kingdoms where the feudal institu¬ 
tions prevailed, most of the chief offices of state 
were annexed to great families, and held like fiefs, 
by hereditary right. A person whose undutiful be¬ 
haviour rendered him odious to his prince, or whose 
incapacity exposed him to the contempt of the 
people, often held a place of power and trust of the 
greatest importance to both. In Scotland, the 
offices of Lord Justice General, great Chamberlain, 
high Steward, high Constable, Earl Marshal, and 
high Admiral, were all hereditary; and in many coun¬ 
ties, the office of Sheriff was held in the same manner. 

Nobles, whose property was so extensive, and 
whose power was so great, could not fail of being 
turbulent and formidable. Nor did they want 
instruments for executing their boldest designs. 
That portion of their lands, which they parcelled 
out among their followers, supplied them with a 
numerous band of faithful and determined vassals ; 
while that which they retained in their own hands, 
enabled them to live with a princely splendour. 
The great hall of an ambitious baron was often 
more crowded than the court of his sovereign. The 
strong castles, in which they resided, afforded a se¬ 
cure retreat to the discontented and seditious. A 
great part of their revenue was spent upon multi¬ 
tudes of indigent but bold retainers. And if at any 
time they left their retreat to appear in the court of 
their sovereign, they were accompanied, even in 
times of peace, with a vast train of armed followers. 
The usual retinue of William the sixth earl of 
Douglas consisted of two thousand horse. Those 
of the other nobles were magnificent and formidable 
in proportion. Impatient of subordination, and for¬ 
getting their proper rank, such potent and haughty 
barons were the rivals, rather than the subjects, of 
their prince. They often despised his orders, in¬ 
sulted his person, and wrested from him his crown. 
The history of Europe, during several ages, contains 
little else but the accounts of the wars and revolu¬ 
tions occasioned by their exorbitant ambition. 

Their power But, the authority of the barons 
hmfuhan^n^ny f ar exceeded its proper bounds in the 
other kingdom, other nations of Europe, we may affirm 

that the balance which ought to be preserved be¬ 
tween a king and his nobles was almost entirely 
lost in Scotland. The Scottish nobles enjoyed, in 
common with those of other nations, all the means 
for extending their authority which arise from the 
aristocratical genius of the feudal government. 
Besides these, they possessed advantages peculiar 
to themselves: the accidental sources of their 
power were considerable; and singular circum- 

The particular stances concurred with the spirit of 

causes of this. t j ie const itution to aggrandize them. 


To enumerate the most remarkable of these, will 
serve both to explain the political state of the 
kingdom, and to illustrate many important occur¬ 
rences, in the period now under our review. 

I. The nature of their country was The Mture of , he 
one cause of the power and independ- country, 
ence of the Scottish nobility. Level and open 
countries are formed for servitude. The authority 
of the supreme magistrate reaches with ease to the 
most distant corners ; and when nature has erected 
no barrier, and affords no retreat, the guilty or ob¬ 
noxious are soon detected and punished. Moun¬ 
tains, and fens, and rivers, set bounds to despotic 
power, and amidst these is the natural seat of free¬ 
dom and independence. In such places did the 
Scottish nobles usually fix their residence. By re¬ 
tiring to his own castle, a mutinous baron could defy 
the power of his sovereign, it being almost im¬ 
practicable to lead an army through a barren coun¬ 
try, to places of difficult access to a single man. 
The same causes which checked the progress of the 
Roman arms, and rendered all the efforts of Edward 
I. abortive, often protected the Scottish nobles from 
the vengeance of their prince ; and they owed their 
personal independence to those very mountains and 
marshes which saved their country from being con¬ 
quered. 

II. The want of great cities in Scot- T hesmall number 
land contributed not a little to increase ot great clties> 
the power of the nobility, and to weaken that of the 
prince. Wherever numbers of men assemble to¬ 
gether, order must be established, and a regular 
form of government instituted ; the authority of the 
magistrate must be recognized, and his decisions 
meet with prompt and full obedience. Laws and 
subordination take rise in cities; and where there 
are few cities, as in Poland, or none, as in Tartary, 
there are few or no traces of a well-arranged police. 
But under the feudal governments, commerce, the 
chief means of assembling mankind, was neglected; 
the nobles, in order to strengthen their influence 
over their vassals, resided among them, and seldom 
appeared at court, where they found a superior, or 
dwelt in cities, where they met with equals. In 
Scotland, the fertile counties in the south lying open 
to the English, no town situated there could rise to 
be great or populous amidst continual inroads and 
alarms ; the residence of our monarchs was not 
fixed to any particular place; many parts of the 
country were barren and uncultivated ; and in con¬ 
sequence of these peculiar circumstances, added to 
the general causes flowing from the nature of the 
feudal institutions, the towns in Scotland were 
extremely few, and very inconsiderable. The 
vassals of every baron occupied a distinct portion 
of the kingdom, and formed a separate and almost 
independent society. Instead of giving aid towards 
reducing to obedience their seditious chieftain, or 
any whom he took under his protection, they were 
all in arms for his defence, and obstructed the 
operations of justice to the utmost. The prince was 



10 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK I. 


obliged to connive at criminals whom he could not 
reach; the nobles, conscious of this advantage, were 
not afraid to offend ; and the difficulty of punishing 
almost assured them of impunity. 

The institution 111 The di '' ision of the country into 
of dans. clans had no small effect in rendering 

the nobles considerable. The nations which overran 
Europe were originally divided into many small 
tribes ; and when they came to parcel out the lands 
which they had conquered, it w as natural for every 
chieftain to bestow a portion, in the first place, upon 
those of his own tribe or family. These all held 
their lands of him; and as the safety of each 
individual depended on the general union, these 
small societies clung together, and were distin¬ 
guished by some common appellation, either patro- 
nymical or local, long before the introduction of 
surnames, or ensigns armorial. But when these 
became common, the descendants and relations of 
every chieftain assumed the same name and arms 
with him ; other vassals were proud to imitate their 
example, and by degrees they were communicated 
to all those who held of the same superior. Thus 
clanships were formed ; and in a generation or two, 
that consanguinity, which was, at first, in a great 
measure, imaginary, was believed to be real. An 
artificial union was converted into a natural one; 
men willingly followed a leader, whom they re¬ 
garded both as the superior of their lands, and the 
chief of their blood, and served him not only with 
the fidelity of vassals, but with the affection of 
friends. In the other feudal kingdoms, we may 
observe such unions as we have described imper¬ 
fectly formed; but in Scotland, whether they were 
the production of chance, or the effect of policy, or 
introduced by the Irish colony above mentioned, 
and strengthened by carefully preserving their 
genealogies both genuine and fabulous, clanships 
were universal. Such a confederacy might be 
overcome, it could not be broken ; and no change 
of manners, or of government, has been able, in 
some parts of the kingdom, to dissolve associations 
which are founded upon prejudices so natural to 
the human mind. How formidable were nobles at 
the head of followers, who, counting that cause just 
and honourable which their chief approved, rushed 
into the field at his command, ever ready to sacrifice 
their lives in defence of his person or of his fame; 
against such men a king contended with great dis¬ 
advantage ; and that cold service which money 
purchases, or authority extorts, was not an equal 
match for their ardour and zeal. 

IY. The smallness of their number 
may be mentioned among the causes 
of the grandeur of the Scottish nobles. Our annals 
reach not back to the first division of property in 
the kingdom ; but so far as we can trace the matter, 
the original possessions of the nobles seem to have 
been extensive. The ancient Thanes were the 
equals and the rivals of their prince. Many of the 

1 Act 30, Pari. 1424. Act 43, Pari. 1555. 


The small number 
of the nobles. 


earls and barons, who succeeded them, were masters 
of territories no less ample. France and England, 
countries wide and fertile, afforded settlements to a 
numerous and powerful nobility. Scotland, a king¬ 
dom neither extensive nor rich, could not contain 
many such overgrown proprietors. But the power 
of an aristocracy always diminishes, in proportion 
to the increase of its numbers ; feeble if divided 
among a multitude, irresistible if centred in a few. 
When nobles are numerous, their operations nearly 
resemble those of the people; they are roused only 
by what they feel, not by what they apprehend ; 
and submit to many arbitrary and oppressive acts, 
before they take arms against their sovereign. A 
small body, on the contrary, is more sensible, and 
more impatient; quick in discerning, and prompt 
in repelling danger, all its motions are as sudden as 
those of the other are slow. Hence proceeded the 
extreme jealousy with w hich the Scottish nobles ob¬ 
served their monarchs, and the fierceness with which 
they opposed their encroachments. Even the virtue 
of a prince did not render them less vigilant, or less 
eager to defend their rights; and Robert Bruce, 
notwithstanding the splendour of his victories, and 
the glory of his name, was upon the point of ex¬ 
periencing the vigour of their resistance, no less 
than his unpopular descendant James III. Besides 
this, the near alliance of the great families, by fre¬ 
quent intermarriages, was the natural consequence 
of their small number; and, as consanguinity was, 
in those ages, a powerful bond of union, all the 
kindred of a nobleman interested themselves in his 
quarrel, as a common cause; and every contest the 
king had, though with a single baron, soon drew 
upon him the arms of a whole confederacy. 

V. Those natural connexions, both T heir leagues and 
with their equals and with their combinations. 

inferiors, the Scottish nobles strengthened by a 
device, which, if not peculiar to themselves, was at 
least more frequent among them than in any other 
nation. Even in times of profound peace, they formed 
associations, which, when made with their equals, 
were called leagues of mutual defence; and when 
with their inferiors, bonds of manrent. By the 
former, the contracting parties bound themselves 
mutually to assist each other, in all causes, and 
against all persons. By the latter, protection was 
stipulated on the one hand, and fidelity and personal 
service promised on the other. 1 Self-preservation, 
it is probable, forced men at first into these con¬ 
federacies ; and, while disorder and rapine were 
universal, while government was unsettled, and the 
authority of laws little known or regarded, near 
neighbours found it necessary to unite in this man¬ 
ner for their security ; and the weak were obliged 
to court the patronage of the strong. By degrees, 
these associations became so many alliances offensive 
and defensive against the throne; and, as their 
obligation was held to be more sacred than any tie 
whatever, they gave much umbrage to our kings, 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


11 


and contributed not a little to the power and inde¬ 
pendence of the nobility. In the reign of James II. 
William the eighth earl of Douglas entered into 
a league of this kind with the earls of Crawford, 
Ross, Murray, Ormond,the lords Hamilton, Balveny, 
and other powerful barons ; and so formidable was 
this combination to the king, that he had recourse 
to a measure no less violent than unjust, in order to 
dissolve it. 


The frequent wars VI - The frequent wars between Eng- 
with England. j an( j an q Scotland proved another 

cause of augmenting the power of the nobility. 
Nature has placed no barrier between the two king¬ 
doms ; a river, almost every where fordable, divides 
them towards the east: on the west they are sepa¬ 
rated by an imaginary line. The slender revenues 
of our kings prevented them from fortifying or 
placing garrisons in the towns on the frontier ; nor 
would the jealousy of their subjects have permitted 
such a method of defence. The barons, whose 
estates lay near the borders, considered themselves 
as bound, both in honour and in interest, to repel 
the enemy. The wardenships of the different marches, 
offices of great power and dignity, were generally 
bestowed on them. This gained them the leading 
of the warlike counties in the south; and their vas¬ 
sals, living in a state of perpetual hostility, or en¬ 
joying at best an insecure peace, became more inured 
to war than even the rest of their countrymen, and 
more willing to accompany their chieftain in his 
most hardy and dangerous enterprises. It was the 
valour, no less than the number, of their followers, 
that rendered the Douglases great. The nobles in 
the northern and midland counties were often dutiful 
and obsequious to the crown, but our monarchs al¬ 
ways found it impracticable to subdue the mutinous 
and ungovernable spirit of the borderers. In all 
our domestic quarrels, those who could draw to their 
side the inhabitants of the southern counties, were 
almost sure of victory: and, conscious of this ad¬ 
vantage, the lords who possessed authority there, 
w ere apt to forget the duty which they owed their 
sovereign, and to aspire beyond the rank of sub¬ 
jects. 


VII. The calamities w hich befell our 


norities' which kings contributed more than any other 


The frequent mi- 
'ies wh' 
iened in_ 

cause to diminish the royal authority. 
Never was any race of monarchs so unfortunate as 
the Scottish. Of six successive princes, from Robert 
III. to James VI., not one died a natural death; and 
the minorities, during that time, were longer, and 
more frequent, than ever happened in any other 
kingdom. From Robert Bruce to James VI. we 
reckon ten princes; and seven of these were called 
to the throne while they were minors, and almost 
infants. Even the most regular and best-established 
governments feel sensibly the pernicious effects of 
a minority, and either become languid and inactive, 
or are thrown into violent and unnatural convul¬ 
sions. But under the imperfect and ill-adjusted 


system of government in Scotland, these effects were 


still more fatal; the fierce and mutinous spirit of 
the nobles, unrestrained by the authority of a king, 
scorned all subjection to the delegated jurisdiction 
of a regent, or to the feeble commands of a minor. 
The royal authority was circumscribed within nar¬ 
rower limits than ever; the prerogatives of the crown, 
naturally inconsiderable, were reduced almost to 
nothing; and the aristocratical power gradually 
rose upon the ruins of the monarchical. Lest the 
personal power of a regent should enable him to 
act with too much vigour, the authority annexed to 
that office was sometimes rendered inconsiderable by 
being divided; or, if a single regent was chosen, the 
greater nobles, and the heads of the more illustrious 
families, were seldom raised to that dignity. It was 
often conferred upon men w ho possessed little influ¬ 
ence, and excited no jealousy. They, conscious of 
their own weakness, were obliged to overlook some 
irregularities, and to permit others ; and, in order 
to support their authority, which was destitute of 
real strength, they endeavoured to gain the most 
powerful and active barons, by granting them pos¬ 
sessions and immunities, which raised them to still 
greater power. When the king himself came to 
assume the reins of government, he found his re¬ 
venues wasted or alienated, the crown lands seized 
or given away, and the nobles so accustomed to in¬ 
dependence, that, after the struggles of a whole 
reign, he was seldom able to reduce them to the 
same state in which they had been at the beginning 
of his minority, or to wrest from them what they 
had usurped during that time. If we Review of the 
take a view of what happened to each to^nobfes^Sr- 
of our kings, who was so unfortunate in g eachmi nonty. 


as to be placed in this situation, the truth and im¬ 
portance of this observation will fully appear. 

The minority of David II. the son of 

_ , __ David II. 

Robert Bruce, was disturbed by the 

pretensions of Edward Baliol, who, relying on the 
aid of England, and on the support of some disaf¬ 
fected barons among the Scots, invaded the kingdom. 
The success which at first attended his arms, obliged 
the young king to retire to France ; and Baliol took 
possession of the throne. A small body of the no¬ 
bles, however, continuing faithful to their exiled 
prince, drove Baliol out of Scotland ; and after an 
absence of nine years, David returned from France, 
and took the government of the kingdom into his 
own hands. But nobles, who were thus wasting 
their blood and treasure in defence of the crown, 
had a right to the undisturbed possession of their 
ancient privileges ; and even some title to arrogate 
new ones. It seems to have been a 

13*29. 

maxim in that age, that every leader 
might claim as his own the territory which his sword 
had won from the enemy. Great acquisitions were 
gained by the nobility in that way; and to these the 
gratitude and liberality of David added, by dis¬ 
tributing among such as adhered to him, the vast 
possessions which fell to the ground by the forfeiture 
of his enemies. The family of Douglas, which be- 



12 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


ROOK I. 


1405. James I. 


gan to rise above the other nobles in the reign of 
his father, augmented both its power and its property 
during his minority. 

James I. was seized by the English 
during the continuance of a truce, and 
ungenerously detained a prisoner almost nineteen 
years. During that period, the kingdom was go¬ 
verned, first by his uncle Robert, duke of Albany, 
and then by Murdo, the son of Robert. Both these 
noblemen aspired to the crown ; and their unna¬ 
tural ambition, if we may believe most of our histo¬ 
rians, not only cut short the days of prince David, 
the king’s eldest brother, but prolonged the capti¬ 
vity of James. They flattered themselves that they 
might step with less opposition into a throne, when 
almost vacant; and, dreading the king’s return as 
the extinction of their authority and the end of their 
hopes, they carried on the negociations for obtain¬ 
ing his liberty with extreme remissness. At the 
same time, they neglected nothing that could either 
soothe or bribe the nobles to approve of their scheme. 
They slackened the reins of government; they al¬ 
lowed the prerogative to be encroached upon; they 
suffered the most irregular acts of power, and even 
wanton instances of oppression, to pass with impu¬ 
nity ; they dealt out the patrimony of the crown 
among those whose enmity they dreaded or whose 
favour they had gained ; and reduced the royal 
authority to a state of imbecility, from which suc¬ 
ceeding monarchs laboured in vain to raise it. 

During the minority of James II. the 
administration of affairs, as well as the 
custody of the king’s person, were committed to sir 
William Crichton and sir Alexander Livingston. 
Jealousy and discord were the effects of their con¬ 
junct authority, and each of them, in order to 
strengthen himself, bestowed new power and privi¬ 
leges upon the great men whose aid he courted; 
while the young earl of Douglas, encouraged by 
their divisions, erected a sort of independent prin¬ 
cipality within the kingdom; and, forbidding his 
vassals to acknowledge any authority but his own, 
he created knights, appointed a privy council, 
named officers civil and military, assumed every 
ensign of royalty but the title of king, and appear¬ 
ed in public with a magnificence more than royal. 

1460. James in. Eight persons were chosen to govern 
the kingdom during the minority of 
James III. Lord Boyd, however, by seizing the 
person of the young king, and by the ascendant 
which he acquired over him, soon engrossed the 
whole authority. He formed the ambitious project 
of raising his family to the same pitch of power 
and grandeur with those of the prime nobility ; and 
he effected it. While intent on this, he relaxed the 
vigour of government, and the barons became ac¬ 
customed, once more, to anarchy and independence. 
The power which Boyd had been at so much pains 
to acquire was of no long continuance, and the fall 
of his family, according to the fate of favourites, was 
sudden and destructive; but upon its ruins the 


1437. James II. 


family of Hamilton rose, which soon attained the 
highest rank in the kingdom. 

As the minority of James V. was James v. 
longer, it was likewise more turbulent, than those 
of the preceding kings. And the contending 
nobles, encouraged or protected either by the king 
of France, or of England, formed themselves into 
more regular factions, and disregarded more than 
ever the restraints of order and authority. The 
French had the advantage of seeing one, devoted 
to their interest, raised to be regent. This was the 
duke of Albany, a native of France, and a grand¬ 
son of James II. But Alexander lord Home, the 
most eminent of all Scottish peers who survived the 
fatal battle of Flowden, thwarted all his measures 
during the first years of his administration ; and 
the intrigues of the queen-dowager, sister of Henry 
VIII. rendered the latter part of it no less feeble. 
Though supported by French auxiliaries, the nobles 
despised his authority, and, regardless either of his 
threats or his entreaties, peremptorily refused, two 
several times, to enter England, to the borders of 
which kingdom he had led them. Provoked by 
these repeated instances of contempt, the regent 
abandoned his troublesome station, and, retiring to 
France, preferred the tranquillity of a private life 
to an office destitute of real authority. Upon his 
retreat, Douglas earl of Angus became master of 
the king’s person, and governed the kingdom in his 
name. Many efforts Mere made to deprive him of 
his usurped authority. But the numerous vassals 
and friends of his family adhered to him, because 
he divided Math them the power and emoluments of 
his office ; the people reverenced and loved the 
name of Douglas ; he exercised, without the title 
of regent, a fuller and more absolute authority 
than any who had enjoyed that dignity; and 
the ancient but dangerous pre-eminence of the 
Douglasses seemed to be restored. 

To these, and to many other causes, omitted or 
unobserved by us, did the Scottish nobility omc that 
exorbitant and uncommon power, of which instances 
occur so frequently in our history. Nothing, how¬ 
ever, demonstrates so fully the extent of their power, 
as the length of its duration. Many years after the 
declension of the feudal system in the other king¬ 
doms of Europe, and when the arms or policy of 
princes had, every where, shaken or laid it in ruins, 
the foundations of that ancient fabric remained, in 
a great measure, firm and untouched in Scotland. 

The powers which the feudal insti- The power of the 
tutions vested in the nobles, soon be- Ernes'mSerabfe 
came intolerable to all the princes of t0 princes - 
Europe, mJio longed to possess something more than 
a nominal and precarious authority. Their impa¬ 
tience to obtain this, precipitated Henry III. of 
England, Edward II., and some other weak princes, 
into rash and premature attempts against the pri¬ 
vileges of the barons, in which they were disap¬ 
pointed or perished. Princes of greater abilities 
m ere content to mitigate evils which they could not 




BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


13 


cure ; they sought occupation for the turbulent 
spirit of their nobles, in frequent wars ; and allowed 
their fiery courage to evaporate in foreign expedi¬ 
tions, which, if they brought no other advantage, 
secured at least domestic tranquillity. But time 
The attempts to and accidents ripened the feudal go- 
sucx'eis e fuFin 0bles vernments for destruction. Towards 
£ngiand. ndm the end of the fifteenth century, and 
beginning of the sixteenth, all the 
princes of Europe attacked, as if by concert, the 
power of their nobles. Men of genius then under¬ 
took, with success, what their unskilful predeces¬ 
sors had attempted in vain. Lewis XI. of France, 
the most profound and the most adventurous genius 
of that age, began, and in a single reign almost 
completed, the scheme of their destruction. The 
sure but concealed policy of Henry VII. of Eng¬ 
land produced the same effect. The means, indeed, 
employed by these monarchs were very different. 
The blow which Lewis struck was sudden and fatal. 
The artifices of Henry resembled those slow poisons, 
which waste the constitution, but become not mortal 
till some distant period. Nor did they produce 
consequences less opposite. Lewis boldly added 
to the crown whatever he wrested from the nobles. 
Henry undermined his barons, by encouraging them 
to sell their lands, which enriched the commons, 
and gave them a weight in the legislature unknown 
to their predecessors. But while these great revo- 
But the nobles lutions were carrying on in two king¬ 
doms with which Scotland was inti¬ 
mately connected, little alteration hap¬ 
pened there ; our kings could neither extend their 
own prerogative, nor enable the commons to en¬ 
croach upon the aristocracy ; the nobles not only 
retained most of their ancient privileges and pos¬ 
sessions, but continued to make new acquisitions. 


continue to gather 
strength in Scot 
land. 


Our kings en¬ 
deavoured to ex¬ 
tend the royal 
authority. 


This was not owing to the inattention 


of our princes, or to their want of am¬ 
bition. They were abundantly sensible 
of the exorbitant power of the nobility, and ex¬ 
tremely solicitous to humble that order. They did 
not, however, possess means sufficient for accom¬ 
plishing this end. The resources of our monarchs 
were few, and the progress which they made was of 

General means course inconsiderable. But as the 
towards tins end. num ] jer 0 f their followers, and the ex¬ 
tent of their jurisdiction, were the two chief circum¬ 
stances which rendered the nobles formidable; in 
order to counterbalance the one, and to restrain the 
other, all our kings had recourse to nearly the same 
expedients. 

djs I. Among nobles of a fierce courage, 
coixi among the and of unpolished manners, surround¬ 
ed with vassals bold and licentious, 
whom they were bound by interest and honour to 


protect, the causes of discord were many and un¬ 
avoidable. As the contending parties could seldom 
agree in acknowledging the authority of any com¬ 
mon superior or judge, and their impatient spirit 
would seldom wait the slow decisions of justice, 
their quarrels were usually terminated by the sword. 
The offended baron assembled his vassals, and 
wasted the lands, or shed the blood, of his enemies. 
To forgive an injury, was mean ; to forbear revenge, 
infamous or cowardly. 1 " Hence quarrels were trans¬ 
mitted from father to son, and under the name of 
deadly feuds, subsisted for many generations with 
unmitigated rancour. It was the interest of the 
crown to foment rather than to extinguish these 
quarrels ; and by scattering or cherishing the seeds 
of discord among the nobles, that union, which 
would have rendered the aristocracy invincible, and 
which must at once have annihilated the preroga¬ 
tive, was effectually prevented. To the same cause, 
our kings were indebted for the success with which 
they sometimes attacked the most powerful chief¬ 
tains. They employed private revenge to aid the 
impotence of public laws, and, arming against the 
person who had incurred their displeasure those 
rival families which wished his fall, they rewarded 
their service by sharing among them the spoils of 
the vanquished. But this expedient, though it 
served to humble individuals, did not weaken the 
body of the nobility. Those who were now r the in¬ 
struments of their prince’s vengeance became, in a 
short time, the objects of his fear. Having ac¬ 
quired power and wealth by serving the crown, 
they, in their turn, set up for independence: and 
though there might be a fluctuation of power and 
of property, though old families fell, and new 
ones rose upon their ruins, the rights of the aris¬ 
tocracy remained entire, and its vigour unbroken. 

II. As the administration of justice ^ . . 

~ Extend the juris- 

is one of the most powerful ties be- diction of the 

r t king s courts. 

tween a king and his subjects, all our 
monarchs were at the utmost pains to circum¬ 
scribe the jurisdiction of the barons, and to extend 
that of the crown. The external forms of subordina¬ 
tion, natural to the feudal system, favoured this at¬ 
tempt. An appeal lay from the judges and courts 
of the barons, to those of the king. The right, how¬ 
ever, of judging in the first instance belonged to the 
nobles, and they easily found means to defeat the 
effects of appeals, as well as of many other feudal 
regulations. The royal jurisdiction was almost con¬ 
fined within the narrow limits of the king’s de¬ 
mesnes, beyond which his judges claimed indeed 
much authority, but possessed next to none. Our 
kings were sensible of these limitations, and bore 
them with impatience. But it was impossible to 
overturn, in a moment, what was so deeply rooted ; 


m The spirit of revenge was encouraged, not only by the manners, but, 
what is more remarkable, by the laws, of those ages. It any person thought 
the prosecution of an injury offered to his family too troublesome, or too 
dangerous, the Salique laws permitted him publicly to desist from demand¬ 
ing vengeance; but the same laws, in order to punish his cowardice, and 
want of affection to his family, deprived him of the right of succession. 
Henault’s Abrege Chronol. p. HI. Among the Anglo-Saxons, we find a 
singular institution distinguished by the name of sodahtium , a voluntary 


association, the object whereof was the personal security of those who 
joined in it, and which the feebleness of government at that time rendered 
necessary. Among other regulations, which are contained in one of these 
still extant, the following deserves notice ; “ if any associate shall either 
eat or drink with a person who has killed any member of the scdalitivm, 
unless in the presence of the king, the bishop, or the count, and unless he 
can prove that he did not know the person, let him pay a great fine.” 
liickes, Dissert. Epistolar. apud Thesaur. Ling. Septentr. vol. i. p. 21. 



14 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


ROOK 1. 


or to strip the nobles, at once, of privileges which 
they had held so long, and which were wrought al¬ 
most into the frame of the feudal constitution. To 
accomplish this, however, was an object of uniform 
and anxious attention to all our princes. James I. 
led the way here, as well as in other instances, to¬ 
wards a more regular and perfect police. He made 
choice, among the estates of parliament, of a cer¬ 
tain number of persons, whom he distinguished by 
the names of Lords of Session , and appointed them 
to hold courts for determining civil causes three 
times in the year, and forty days at a time, in what¬ 
ever place he pleased to name. Their jurisdiction 
extended to all matters which formerly came under 
the cognizance of the king’s council, and being a 
committee of parliament, their decisions were final. 
James II. obtained a law, annexing all regalities, 
which should be forfeited to the crown, and declar¬ 
ing the right of jurisdiction to be unalienable for 
the future. James III. imposed severe penalties 
upon those judges appointed by the barons, whose 
decisions should be found on a review to be un¬ 
just ; and, by many other regulations, endeavoured 
to extend the authority of his own court." James 
IV. on pretence of remedying the inconveniences 
arising from the short terms of the Court of Session, 
appointed other judges called Lords of Daily Coun¬ 
cil. The Session was an ambulatory court, and met 
seldom ; the Daily Council was fixed, and sat con¬ 
stantly at Edinburgh : and though not composed of 
members of parliament, the same powers which the 
Lords of Session enjoyed were vested in it. At last 
James V. erected a new court that still subsists, and 
which he named the College of Justice, the judges 
or senators of which were called Lords of Council 
and Session. This court not only exercised the same 
jurisdiction which formerly belonged to the Session 
and Daily Council, but new rights were added. 
Privileges of great importance were granted to its 
members, its forms were prescribed, its terms fixed, 
and regularity, power, and splendour conferred 
upon it.° The persons constituted judges in all 
these different courts had, in many respects, the 
advantage of those who presided in the courts of 
the barons : they were more eminent for their skill 
in law, their rules of proceeding were more uniform, 
and their decisions more consistent. Such judica¬ 
tories became the objects of confidence, and of ve¬ 
neration. Men willingly submitted their property to 
their determination, and their encroachments on the 
jurisdictions of the nobles were popular, and for 


that reason successful. By devices of a similar 
nature, the jurisdiction of the nobles in criminal 
causes was restrained, and the authority of the Court 
of Justiciary extended. The crown, in this par¬ 
ticular, gaining insensibly upon the nobles, reco¬ 
vered more ample authority; and the king, whose 
jurisdiction once resembled that of a baron, rather 
than that of a sovereign,? came more and more to be 
considered as the head of the community, and the 
supreme dispenser of justice to his people. These 
acquisitions of our kings, however, though compa¬ 
ratively great, were in reality inconsiderable ; and, 
notwithstanding all their efforts, many of the sepa¬ 
rate jurisdictions possessed by the nobles remained 
in great vigour; and their final abolition was re¬ 
served to a distant and more happy period. 

But besides these methods of de- Each of our king3 
fending their prerogative and hum- £l^ h 3ing 
bling the aristocracy, which may be the nobles - 
considered as common to all our princes, we shall 
find, by taking a view of their reigns, that almost 
every one of our kings, from Robert Bruce to 
James V., had formed some particular system for 
depressing the authority of the nobles, which was 
the object both of their jealousy and terror. This 
conduct of our monarchs, if we rest satisfied with 
the accounts of their historians, must be considered 
as flowing entirely from their resentment against 
particular noblemen; and all their attempts to 
humble them must be viewed as the sallies of private 
passion, not as the consequences of any general 
plan of policy. But, though some of their actions 
may be imputed to those passions, though the dif¬ 
ferent genius of the men, the temper of the times, 
and the state of the nation, necessarily occasioned 
great variety in their schemes ; yet, This proved by a 
without being chargeable with exces- ^ e eir 

sive refinement, we may affirm that rei s ns - 
their end was uniformly the same ; and that the 
project of reducing the power of the aristocracy, 
sometimes avowed, and pursued with vigour; some¬ 
times concealed, or seemingly suspended ; was 
never altogether abandoned. 

No prince was ever more indebted ^ ^ 

r m Robert Bruce 

to his nobles than Robert Bruce. Their 
valour conquered the kingdom, and placed him on 
the throne. His gratitude and generosity bestowed 
on them the lands of the vanquished. Property has 
seldom undergone greater or more sudden revolu¬ 
tions, than those to which it was subject at that 
time in Scotland. Edward I. having forfeited the 


n Act 26, p. 1469. Act 94, p. 1493. Act 99, p. 1487. 

o Keith, App. 74, &c. 

p The most perfect idea of the feudal system of government may be at¬ 
tained by attending to the state of Germany, and to the History of France. 
In the former, the feudal institutions still subsist with great Vigour ; and 
though altogether abolished in the latter, the public records have been so 
carefully preserved, that the French lawyers and antiquaries have been 
enabled, with more certainty and precision than those of any other coun¬ 
try in Europe, to trace its rise, its progress, and revolutions. In Germany, 
every principality may be considered as a fief, and all its great princes as 
vassals, holding of the emperor. They possess all the feudal privileges ; 
their fiefs are perpetual ; their jurisdictions within their own territories se¬ 
parate and extensive ; and the great offices of the empire are all hereditary, 
and annexed to particular families. At the same time the emperor retains 
many of the prerogatives of the feudal monarchs. Like them, his claims 
and pretensions are innumerable, and his power small; his jurisdiction 
within his own demesnes or hereditary countries is complete ; beyond the 
bounds of these it is almost nothing ; and so permanent are feudal princi¬ 


ples, that although the feudal system be overturned in almost every parti¬ 
cular state in Germany, and although the greater part of its princes have 
become absolute, the original feudal constitution of the empire still remains, 
and ideas peculiar to that form of government direct all its operations, and 
determine the rights of all its princes. Our observations with regard to the 
limited jurisdiction of kings under the feudal governments, are greatly 
illustrated by what happened in France. The feebleness and dotage of the 
descendants of Charlemagne encouraged the peers to usurp an independent 
jurisdiction. Nothing remained in the hands of the crown ; all was seized 
by them. When Hugh Capet ascended the throne, A. D. 987, he kept pos¬ 
session of his private patrimony the Comte of Paris ; and all the jurisdic¬ 
tion which the kings his successors exercised for some time, was within its 
territories. There were only four towns in France, where he could estab¬ 
lish Grands Baillis, or roval judges; all the other lands, towns, and bail- 
liases, belonged to the nobles. The methods to which the French monarchs 
had recourse for extending their jurisdiction, were exactly similar to those 
employed by our princes. Henault’s Abrege, p. 617, &c. De 1’Esprit des 
Loix, liv. xxx. ch. 20, &c. 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


15 


estates of most of the ancient Scottish barons, grant¬ 
ed them to his English subjects. These were ex¬ 
pelled by the Scots, and their lands seized by new 
masters. Amidst such rapid changes, confusion 
was unavoidable ; and many possessed their lands 
by titles extremely defective. During one of those 
truces between the two nations, occasioned rather 
by their being weary of war than desirous of peace, 
Robert formed a scheme for checking the growing 
power and wealth of the nobles. He summoned 
them to appear and to show by what rights they 
held their lands. They assembled accordingly, and 
the question being put, they started up at once, and 
drew their swords, “ By these ,” said they, “ we ac¬ 
quired our lands, and with these we will defend 
them.” The king, intimidated by their boldness, 
prudently dropped the project. But so deeply did 
they resent this attack upon their order, that, not¬ 
withstanding Robert’s popular and splendid vir¬ 
tues, it occasioned a dangerous conspiracy against 
his life. 

_ ., , David his son, at first an exile in 

France, afterward a prisoner in Eng¬ 
land, and involved in continual war with Edward 
III., had not leisure to attend to the internal police 
of his kingdom, or to think of retrenching the pri¬ 
vileges of the nobility. 

t, L . tt Our historians have been more care- 

Robert II. 

ful to relate the military than the civil 
transactions of the reign of Robert II. Skirmishes 
and inroads of little consequence they describe 
minutely ; but with regard to every thing that hap¬ 
pened during several years of tranquillity, they are 
altogether silent. 

„ . TTT The feeble administration of Robert 

Robert III. 

III. must likewise be passed over 
slightly. A prince of a mean genius, and of a frail 
and sickly constitution, was not a fit person to enter 
the lists with active and martial barons, or to at¬ 
tempt wresting from them any of their rights. 

The civil transactions in Scotland 

J3.IT1CS I. 1 . . 1 • , -| 1 • • 

are better known since the beginning 
of the reign of James I., and a complete series of 
our laws supplies the defects of our historians. The 
English made some amends for their injustice in 
detaining that prince a prisoner, by their generous 
care of his education. During his long residence 
in England, he had an opportunity of observing the 
feudal system in a more advanced state, and refined 
from many of the imperfections which still adhered 
to it in his own kingdom. He saw there, nobles 
great, but not independent; a king, powerful, though 
far from absolute : he saw a regular administration 
of government; wise laws enacted ; and a nation 
flourishing and happy, because all ranks of men 
were accustomed to obey them. Full of these ideas, 
he returned into his native country, which present¬ 
ed to him a very different scene. The royal autho- 

q A cotemporary monkish writer describes these calamities very feeling¬ 
ly, in his rude Latin. In diebus illis, non erat lex in Scotia, sea quilibet 
wtentiorum juniorem oppresset; ettotum regnum fuit unum latrocinium ; 
jomicidia, depraedationes, incendia, et caetera maleficia remanserunt im- 


rity, never great, was now contemptible, by having 
been so long delegated to regents. The ancient 
patrimony and revenues of the crown were almost 
totally alienated. During his long absence the 
name of king was little known, and less regarded. 
Tlie licence of many years had rendered the nobles 
independent. Universal anarchy prevailed. The 
weak were exposed to the rapine and oppression of 
the strong. In every corner some barbarous chief¬ 
tain ruled at pleasure, and neither feared the king, 
nor pitied the people. 1 ' 

James was too wise a prince to employ open force 
to correct such inveterate evils. Neither the men 
nor the times would have borne it. He applied the 
gentler and less offensive remedy of laws and sta¬ 
tutes. In a parliament held immediately after his 
return, he gained the confidence of his people, by 
many wise laws, tending visibly to re-establish or¬ 
der, tranquillity, and justice, in the kingdom. But, 
at the same time that he endeavoured to secure these 
blessings to his subjects, he discovered his intention 
to recover those possessions of which the crown had 
been unjustly bereaved ; and for that purpose ob¬ 
tained an act, by which he was empowered to sum¬ 
mon such as had obtained crown lands during the 
three last reigns, to produce the rights by which 
they held them/ As this statute threatened the 
property of the nobles, another which passed in a 
subsequent parliament aimed a dreadful blow at 
their power. By it the leagues and combinations 
which we have already described, and which ren¬ 
dered the nobles so formidable to the crown, were 
declared unlawful. 9 Encouraged by this success in 
the beginning of his enterprise, James’s next step 
was still bolder and more decisive. During the sit¬ 
ting of parliament, he seized, at once, his cousin 
Murdo duke of Albany, and his sons; the earls of 
Douglas, Lennox, Angus, March, and above twenty 
other peers and barons of prime rank. To all of 
them, however, he was immediately reconciled, ex¬ 
cept to Albany and his sons, and Lennox. These 
were tried by their peers, and condemned ; for what 
crime is now unknown. Their execution struck the 
whole order with terror, and their forfeiture added 
considerable possessions to the crown. He seized, 
likewise, the earldoms of Buchan and Strathern, 
upon different pretexts ; and that of Mar fell to him 
by inheritance. The patience and inactivity of the 
nobles, while the king was proceeding so rapidly 
towards aggrandizing the crown, are amazing. The 
only obstruction he met with was from a slight in¬ 
surrection headed by the duke of Albany’s youngest 
son, and that was easily suppressed. The splendour 
and presence of a king, to which the great men had 
been long unaccustomed, inspired reverence : James 
was a prince of great abilities, and conducted his 
operations with much prudence. He was in friend¬ 
ship with England, and closely allied with the 

punita; et justitia relegata extra terminos regm exulavit. Chartular. 
JMorav. apud Jnnes Essay, vol. i. p. 272. 
r Act 9, p. 1424. 
s Act 30, p. 1421. 



16 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK I. 


French king: lie was adored by the people, who 
enjoyed unusual security and happiness under his 
administration : and all his acquisitions, however 
fatal to the body of the nobles, had been gained by 
attacks upon individuals ; were obtained by deci¬ 
sions of law ; and, being founded on circumstances 
peculiar to the persons who suffered, might excite 
murmurs and apprehensions, but afforded no colour¬ 
able pretext for a general rebellion. It was not so 
with the next attempt which the king made. En¬ 
couraged by the facility with which he had hitherto 
advanced, he ventured upon a measure that irritated 
the whole body of the nobility, and which the events 
show either to have been entered into with too much 
precipitancy, or to have been carried on with too 
much violence. The father of George Dunbar, 
earl of March, had taken arms against Robert III., 
the king’s father ; but that crime had been pardoned, 
and his lands restored by Robert duke of Albany. 
James, on pretext that the regent had exceeded his 
power, and that it was the prerogative of the king 
alone to pardon treason, or to alienate lands an¬ 
nexed to the crown, obtained a sentence, declaring 
the pardon to be void, and depriving Dunbar of the 
earldom. Many of the great men held lands by no 
other right than what they derived from grants of 
the tw o dukes of Albany. Such a decision, though 
they had reason to expect it in consequence of the 
statute which the king had obtained, occasioned a 
general alarm. Though Dunbar was, at present, 
the only sufferer, the precedent might be extended, 
and their titles to possessions which they considered 
as the rewards of their valour, might be subjected 
to the review of courts of law, whose forms of pro¬ 
ceeding, and jurisdiction, were in a martial age 
little known, and extremely odious. Terror and 
discontent spread fast upon this discovery of the 
king’s intentions ; the common danger called on the 
whole order to unite, and to make one bold stand, 
before they were stripped successively of their ac¬ 
quisitions, and reduced to a state of poverty and 
insignificance. The prevalence of these sentiments 
among the nobles encouraged a few desperate men, 
the friends or followers of those who had been the 
chief sufferers under the king’s administration, to 
form a conspiracy against his life. The first uncer¬ 
tain intelligence of this was brought him, while he 
lay in his camp before Roxburgh castle. He durst 
not confide in nobles to whom he had given so many 
causes of disgust, but instantly dismissed them and 
their vassals, and, retiring to a monastery near 
Perth, was soon after murdered there in the most 
cruel manner. All our historians mention with 
astonishment this circumstance, of the king’s dis¬ 
banding his army at a time when it was so necessary 
for his preservation. A king, say they, surrounded 
with his barons, is secure from secret treason, and 
may defy open rebellion. But those very barons 
were the persons whom he chiefly dreaded ; and it 
is evident from this review of his administration, 
that he had greater reason to apprehend danger, 


than to expect defence, from their hands. It was 
the misfortune of James, that his maxims and man¬ 
ners were too refined for the age in which he lived. 
Happy ! had he reigned in a kingdom more civi¬ 
lized ; his love of peace, of justice, and of elegance, 
would have rendered his schemes successful; and, 
instead of perishing because he had attempted too 
much, a grateful people w ould have applauded and 
seconded his efforts to reform and improve them. 

Crichton, the most able man of those Jameg n 
who had the direction of affairs during 
the minority of James II. had been the minister of 
James I. and well acquainted with his resolution of 
humbling the nobility. He did not relinquish the 
design, and he endeavoured to inspire his pupil 
with the same sentiments. But what James had 
attempted to effect slowly, and by legal means, his 
son and Crichton pursued with the impetuosity na¬ 
tural to Scotsmen, and with the fierceness peculiar 
to that age. William the sixth earl of Douglas 
was the first victim to their barbarous policy. That 
young nobleman, (as we have already observed,) 
contemning the authority of an infant prince, 
almost openly renounced his allegiance, and aspired 
to independence. Crichton, too high-spirited to 
bear such an insult, but too weak to curb or bring 
to justice so powerful an offender, decoyed him by 
many promises to an interview in the castle of 
Edinburgh, and, notwithstanding these, murdered 
both him and his brother. Crichton, however, 
gained little by this act of treachery, which rendered 
him universally odious. William the eighth earl 
of Douglas was no less powerful, and no less 
formidable to the crown. By forming the league 
which we already mentioned with the earl of Craw¬ 
ford and other barons, he had united against his 
sovereign almost one-half of his kingdom. But 
his credulity led him into the same snare w hich had 
been fatal to the former earl. Relying on the 
king’s promises, who had now attained to the years 
of manhood, and having obtained a safe-conduct 
under the great seal, he ventured to meet him in 
Stirling castle. James urged him to dissolve that 
dangerous confederacy into which he had entered ; 
the earl obstinately refused: “ If you will not,” 
said the enraged monarch, di awing his dagger, 
“ this shalland stabbed him to the heart. An 
action so unw orthy of a king filled the nation with 
astonishment and with horror. The earl’s vassals 
ran to arms with the utmost fury, and dragging the 
safe-conduct, w hich the king had granted and vio¬ 
lated, at a horse’s tail, they marched towards Stir¬ 
ling, burnt the town, and threatened to besiege the 
castle. An accommodation, however, ensued ; on 
what terms is not known. But the king’s jealousy, 
and the new earl’s powder and resentment, prevented 
it from being of long continuance. Both took the 
field at the head of their armies, and met near Aber- 
corn. That of the earl, composed chiefly of border¬ 
ers, w as far superior to the king’s, both in number 
and in valour; and a single battle must, in all 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


17 


probability, have decided whether the house of 
Stuart or of Douglas was henceforth to possess the 
throne of Scotland. But, while his troops im¬ 
patiently expected the signal to engage, the earl 
ordered them to retire to their camp ; and sir James 
Hamilton of Cadyow, the person in whom he placed 
the greatest confidence, convinced of his want of 
genius to improve an opportunity, or of his want of 
courage to seize a crown, deserted him that very 
night. This example was followed by many ; and 
the earl, despised or forsaken by all, was soon 
driven out of the kingdom, and obliged to depend 
for his subsistence on the friendship of the king of 
England. The ruin of this great family, which had 
so long rivalled and overawed the crown, and the 
terror with which such an example of unsuccessful 
ambition filled the nobles, secured the king, for 
some time, from opposition ; and the royal authority 
remained uncontrolled and almost absolute. James 
did not suffer this favourable interval to pass unim¬ 
proved ; he procured the consent of parliament to 
laws more advantageous to the prerogative, and 
more subversive of the privileges of the aristocracy, 
than were ever obtained by any former or subsequent 
monarch of Scotland. 

By one of these, not only all the vast possessions 
of the earl of Douglas were annexed to the crown, 
but all prior and future alienations of crown-lands 
were declared to be void, and the king was em¬ 
powered to seize them at pleasure, without any 
process or form of law, and oblige the possessors to 
refund whatever they had received from them. 1 A 
dreadful instrument of oppression in the hands of 
a prince! 

Another law prohibited the wardenship of the 
marches to be granted hereditarily ; restrained, in 
several instances, the jurisdiction of that office; 
and extended the authority of the king’s courts." 

By a third, it was enacted that no regality, or ex¬ 
clusive right of administering justice within a man’s 
own lands, should be granted in time to come, with¬ 
out the consent of parliament ; x a condition which 
implied almost an express prohibition. Those nobles 
who already possessed that great privilege, would 
naturally be solicitous to prevent it from becoming 
common, by being bestowed on many. Those who 
had not themselves attained it, would envy others 
the acquisition of such a flattering distinction, and 
both would concur in rejecting the claims of new 
pretenders. 

By a fourth act, all new grants of hereditary 
offices were prohibited, and those obtained since the 
death of the last king were revoked.? 

Each of these statutes undermined some of the 
great pillars on which the power of the aristocracy 
rested. During the remainder of his reign, this 
prince pursued the plan which he had begun, with 
the utmost vigour; and had not a sudden death, 
occasioned by the splinter of a cannon which burst 
near him at the siege of Roxburgh, prevented his 

t Act 41, P. 1455. u Ibid. Act 42. 

C 


progress, he wanted neither genius nor courage to 
perfect it: and Scotland might, in all probability, 
have been the first kingdom in Europe which would 
have seen the subversion of the feudal system. 

James III. discovered no less eager- 

i . . „ , , James III. 

ness than his father or grandfather to 
humble the nobility; but far inferior to either of 
them in abilities and address, he adopted a plan ex¬ 
tremely impolitic, and his reign was disastrous, as 
well as his end tragical. Under the feudal govern¬ 
ments, the nobles were not only the king’s ministers, 
and possessed of all the great offices of power or of 
trust; they were likewise his companions and 
favourites, and hardly any but them approached his 
person, or wer'i entitled to his regard. But James, 
who both feared and hated his nobles, kept them at 
an unusual distance, and bestowed every mark of 
confidence and affection upon a few mean persons, 
of professions so dishonourable, as ought to have 
rendered them unworthy of his presence. Shut up 
with these in his castle of Stirling, he seldom 
appeared in public, and amused himself in archi¬ 
tecture, music, and other arts, which were then little 
esteemed. The nobles beheld the power and favour 
of these minions with indignation. Even the san¬ 
guinary measures of his father provoked them less 
than his neglect. Individuals alone suffered by the 
former; by the latter, every man thought himself 
injured, because all were contemned. Their dis¬ 
content was much heightened by the king’s recalling 
all rights to crown-lands, hereditary offices, regalities, 
and every other concession which was detrimental to 
his prerogative, and which had been extorted during 
his minority. Combinations among themselves, 
secret intrigues with England, and all the usual 
preparatives for civil war, were the effects of their 
resentment. Alexander duke of Albany, and John 
earl of Mar, the king’s brothers, two young men of 
turbulent and ambitious spirits, and incensed 
against James, who treated them with the same 
coldness as he did the other great men, entered 
deeply into all their cabals. The king detected 
their designs before they were ripe for execution, 
and seizing his two brothers, committed the duke 
of Albany to Edinburgh castle. The earl of Mar, 
having remonstrated with too much boldness against 
the king’s conduct, was murdered, if we may believe 
our historians, by his command. Albany, appre¬ 
hensive of the same fate, made his escape out of 
the castle, and fled into France. Concern for the 
king’s honour, or indignation at his measures, were 
perhaps the motives which first induced him to join 
the malcontents. But James’s attachment to favour¬ 
ites rendering him every day more odious to the 
nobles, the prospect of the advantages which might 
be derived from their general disaffection, added to 
the resentment which he felt on account of his bro¬ 
ther’s death, and his own injuries, soon inspired 
Albany with more ambitious and criminal thoughts. 
He concluded a treaty with Edward IY. of England, 

x Ibid. Act 43. y Act 44. 



IS 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK I. 


in which he assumed the name of Alexander king 
of Scots; and in return for the assistance which 
was promised him towards dethroning his brother, 
he bound himself, as soon as he was put in posses¬ 
sion of the kingdom, to swear fealty and do homage 
to the English monarch, to renounce the ancient 
alliance with France, to contract a new one with 
England, and to surrender some of the strongest 
castles and most valuable counties in Scotland. 2 
That aid, which the duke so basely purchased at 
the price of his own honour, and the independence 
of his country, was punctually granted him, and 
the duke of Gloucester with a powerful army con¬ 
ducted him towards Scotland. The danger of a 
foreign invasion obliged James to implore the 
assistance of those nobles whom he had so long 
treated with contempt. Some of them were in close 
confederacy with the duke of Albany, and approved 
of all his pretensions. Others were impatient for 
any event which would restore their order to its 
ancient pre-eminence. They seemed, however, to 
enter with zeal into the measures of their sove¬ 
reign for the defence of the kingdom against its 
invaders,* 1 and took the field, at the head of a 
powerful army of their followers, but with a stronger 
disposition to redress their own grievances than to 
annoy the enemy ; and with a fixed resolution of 
punishing those minions, whose insolence they 
could no longer tolerate. This resolution they exe¬ 
cuted in the camp near Lauder, with a military 
despatch and rigour. Having previously concerted 
their plan, the earls of Angus, Huntly, Lennox, 
followed by almost all the barons of chief note in 
the army, forcibly entered the apartment of their 
sovereign, seized all his favourites except one 
Ramsay, whom they could not tear from the king, 
in whose arms he took shelter, and, without any 
form of trial, hanged them instantly over a bridge. 
Among the most remarkable of those who had en¬ 
grossed the king’s affection, were Cochrane a mason, 
Hommil a tailor, Leonard a smith, Rogers a musician, 
and Torsifan a fencing-master. So despicable a 
retinue discovers the capriciousness of James’s cha¬ 
racter, and accounts for the indignation of the nobles, 
when they beheld the favour, due to them, bestowed 
on such unworthy objects. 

James had no reason to confide in an army so 
little under his command, and dismissing it, shut 
himself up in the castle of Edinburgh. After vari¬ 
ous intrigues, Albany’s lands and honours were at 
length restored to him, and he seemed even to have 
regained his brother’s favour, by some important 
services. But their friendship was not of long du¬ 
ration. James abandoned himself, once more, to the 
guidance of favourites : and the fate of those who 
had suffered at Lauder did not deter others from 
courting that dangerous pre-eminence. Albany, on 
pretext that an attempt had been made to take 
away his life by poison, fled from court, and, retir¬ 
ing to his castle at Dunbar, drew thither a greater 

z Abercr. Mart. Atch. vol. ii. p. 443. 


number of barons than attended on the king him¬ 
self. At the same time he renewed his former con¬ 
federacy with Edward ; the earl of Angus openly 
negociated that infamous treaty ; other barons were 
ready to concur with it; and if the sudden death of 
Edward had not prevented Albany’s receiving any 
aid from England, the crown of Scotland would 
probably have been the reward of this unworthy 
combination w ith the enemies of his country. But, 
instead of any hopes of reigning in Scotland, he 
found, upon the death of Edward, that he could not 
reside there in safety ; and, flying first to England 
and then to France, he seems from that time to have 
taken no part in the affairs of his native country. 
Imboldened by his retreat, the king and his minis¬ 
ters multiplied the insults which they offered to the 
nobility. A standing guard, a thing unknown 
under the feudal governments, and inconsistent 
with the familiarity and confidence with which 
monarchs then lived amidst their nobles, was raised 
for the king’s defence, and the command of it 
given to Ramsay, lately created earl of Bothwell, 
the same person who had so narrowly escaped when 
his companions were put to death at Lauder. As 
if this precaution had not been sufficient, a pro¬ 
clamation was issued, forbidding any person to 
appear in arms within the precincts of the court ; b 
which, at a time w hen no man of rank left his own 
house without a numerous retinue of armed follow¬ 
ers, was, in effect, debarring the nobles from all 
access to the king. James, at the same time, be¬ 
came fonder of retirement than ever, and, sunk in 
indolence or superstition, or attentive only to 
amusements, devolved his whole authority upon 
his favourites. So many injuries provoked the most 
considerable nobles to take arms, and having per¬ 
suaded or obliged the duke of Rothesay, the king’s 
eldest son, a youth of fifteen, to set himself at their 
head, they openly declared their intention of de¬ 
priving James of a crown, of which he had dis¬ 
covered himself to be so unworthy. Roused by this 
danger, the king quitted his retirement, took the 
field, and encountered them near Bannockburn ; 
but the valour of the borderers, of w hom the army 
of the malcontents was chielly composed, soon put 
his troops to flight, and he himself was slain in the 
pursuit. Suspicion, indolence, immoderate attach¬ 
ment to favourites, and all the vices of a feeble 
mind, are visible in his whole conduct; but the 
character of a cruel and unrelenting tyrant seems to 
be unjustly affixed to him by our historians. His 
neglect of the nobles irritated, but did not w eaken 
them ; and their discontent, the immoderate ambi¬ 
tion of his two brothers, and their unnatural con¬ 
federacies with England, were sufficient to have 
disturbed a more vigorous administration, and to 
have rendered a prince of superior talents un¬ 
happy. 

The indignation which many persons of rank ex¬ 
pressed against the conduct of the conspirators, 

a Flack Acts, fol. 65. b Ferrerius, 398. 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


19 


together with the terror of the sentence of excom¬ 
munication which the pope pronounced against 
them, obliged them to use their victory with great 
moderation and humanity. Being conscious how 
detestable the crime of imbruing their hands in the 
blood of their sovereign appeared, they endeavoured 
to regain the good opinion of their countrymen, and 
to atone for the treatment of the father, by their 
loyalty and duty towards the son. They placed him 
instantly on the throne, and the whole kingdom 
soon united in acknowledging his authority. 

James iv James IV. was naturally generous 

and brave ; he felt, in a high degree, 
all the passions which animate a young and noble 
mind. He loved magnificence, he delighted in war, 
and was eager to obtain fame. During his reign, 
the ancient and hereditary enmity between the king 
and nobles seems almost entirely to have ceased. 
He envied not their splendour, because it contri¬ 
buted to the ornament of his court; nor did he 
dread their power, which he considered as the secu¬ 
rity of his kingdom, not as an object of terror to 
himself. This confidence on his part met with the 
proper return of duty and affection on theirs; and, 
in his war with England, he experienced how much 
a king, beloved by his nobles, is able to perform. 
Though the ardour of his courage, and the spirit of 
chivalry, rather than the prospect of any national 
advantage, induced him to declare war against 
England, such was the zeal of his subjects for the 
king’s glory, that he was followed by as gallant an 
army as ever any of his ancestors had led upon 
English ground. But though James himself formed 
no scheme dangerous or detrimental to the aristo¬ 
cracy, his reign was distinguished by an event 
extremely fatal to it; and one accidental blow 
humbled it more than all the premeditated attacks 
of preceding kings. In the rash and unfortunate 
battle of Flowden, a brave nobility chose rather to 
die than to desert their sovereign. Twelve earls, 
thirteen lords, five eldest sons of noblemen, and an 
incredible number of barons, fell with the king. c 
The whole body of the nobles long and sensibly felt 
this disaster; and if a prince of full age had then 
ascended the throne, their consternation and feeble¬ 
ness would have afforded him advantages which no 
former monarch ever possessed. 

„ But James V. who succeeded his 

James V. 

father, was an infant of a year old ; 
and though the office of regent was conferred upon 
his cousin the duke of Albany, a man of genius and 
enterprise, a native of France, and accustomed to a 
government where the power of the king was al¬ 
ready great; though he made many bold attempts 
to extend the royal authority ; though he put to 
death lord Home, and banished the earl of Angus, 
the tw o noblemen of greatest influence in the king¬ 
dom, the aristocracy lost no ground under his ad¬ 
ministration. A stranger to the manners, the laws, 
and the language of the people w hom he was called 

c Aber. ii. 5-10. 

c 2 


to rule, he acted, on some occasions, rather like a 
viceroy of the French king, than the governor of 
Scotland ; but the nobles asserted their own privi¬ 
leges, and contended for the interest of their coun¬ 
try, with a boldness which convinced him of their 
independence, and of the impotence of his own 
authority. After several unsuccessful struggles, 
he voluntarily retired to France ; and the king 
being then in his thirteenth year, the nobles agreed 
that he should assume the government, and that 
eight persons should be appointed to attend him by 
turns, and to advise and assist him in the adminis¬ 
tration of public affairs. The earl of Angus, who 
was one of that number, did not long remain satis¬ 
fied with such divided power. He gained some of 
his colleagues removed others, and intimidated the 
rest. When the term of his attendance expired, he 
still retained authority, to which all w ere obliged to 
submit, because none of them w^ere in a condition to 
dispute it. The affection of the young king was 
the only thing wanting, to fix and perpetuate his 
power. But an active and high-spirited prince 
submitted, with great impatience, to the restraint 
in which he was kept. It ill suited his years, or 
disposition, to be confined as a prisoner within his 
own palace ; to be treated with no respect, and to 
be deprived of all power. He could not, on some 
occasions, conceal his resentment and indignation. 
Angus foresaw that he had much to dread from 
these ; and as he could not gain the king’s heart, 
he resolved to make sure of his person. James was 
continually surrounded by the earl’s spies and con¬ 
fidents ; many eyes watched all his motions, and 
observed every step he took. But the king’s eager¬ 
ness to obtain liberty, eluded all their vigilance. 
He escaped from Falkland, and fled to the castle of 
Stirling, the residence of the queen his mother, and 
the only place of strength in the kingdom which 
was not in the hand of the Douglases. The nobles, 
of whom some w ere influenced by their hatred to 
Angus, and others by their respect for the king, 
crowded to Stirling, and his court w as soon filled 
with persons of the greatest distinction. The earl, 
though astonished at this unexpected revolution, 
resolved at first to make one bold push for recover¬ 
ing his authority, by marching to Stirling at the 
head of his followers ; but he w anted either courage 
or strength to execute this resolution. In a parlia¬ 
ment held soon after, he and his adherents were 
attainted, and, after escaping from many dangers, 
and enduring much misery, he was at length obliged 
to fly into England for refuge. 

James had now not only the name, but, though 
extremely young, the full authority, of a king. He 
was inferior to no prince of that age in gracefulness 
of person, or in vigour of mind. His understand¬ 
ing was good, and his heart warm; the former 
capable of great improvement, and the latter sus¬ 
ceptible of the best impressions. But, according to 
the usual fate of princes who are called to the 



HOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


throne in tlicir infancy, his education had been 
neglected. His private preceptors were more ready 
to flatter than to instruct him. It was the interest 
of those who governed the kingdom, to prevent him 
from knowing too much. The carl of Angus, in 
order to divert him from business, gave him an early 
taste for such pleasures as afterwards occupied and 
engrossed him more than became a king. Accord¬ 
ingly, we discover in James all the features of a 
great but uncultivated spirit. On the one hand, 
violent passions, implacable resentment, an immo¬ 
derate desire of power, and the utmost rage at dis¬ 
appointment. On the other, love to his people, 
zeal for the punishment of private oppressors, con¬ 
fidence in his favourites, and the most engaging 
openness and affability of behaviour. 

What he himself had suffered from the ex¬ 
orbitant power of the nobles, led him early to 
imitate his predecessors, in their attempts to hum¬ 
ble them. The plan he formed for that purpose 
was more profound, more systematic, and pur¬ 
sued with greater constancy and steadiness, than 
that of any of his ancestors : and the influence 
of the events in his reign upon those of the subse¬ 
quent period, renders it necessary to explain his con¬ 
duct at greater length, and to enter into a more 
minute detail of his actions. He had penetration 
enough to discover those defects in the schemes 
adopted by former kings, which occasioned their 
miscarriage. The examples of James I. had taught 
him, that wise laws operate slowly on a rude people, 
and that the fierce spirit of the feudal nobles was 
not to be subdued by these alone. The effects of 
the violent measures of James II. convinced him, 
that the oppression of one great family is apt either 
to excite the suspicion and resentment of the other 
nobles, or to enrich with its spoils some new family, 
which would soon adopt the same sentiments, and 
become equally formidable to the crown. He saw, 
from the fatal end of James III. that neglect was 
still more intolerable to the nobles than oppression, 
and that the ministry of new men and favourites 
was both dishonourable and dangerous to a prince. 
At the same time, he felt that the authority of the 
crown was not sufficient to counterbalance the 
power of the aristocracy, and that without some new 
accession of strength, he could expect no better 
success in the struggle than his ancestors. In this 
extremity, he applied himself to the clergy, hoping 
that they would both relish the plan, and concur, 
with all their influence, in enabling him to put it 
in execution. Under the feudal government, the 
church, being reckoned a third estate, had its re¬ 
presentatives in parliament; the number of these 
was considerable, and they possessed great influ¬ 
ence in that assembly. The superstition of former 
kings, and the zeal of many ages of ignorance, had 
bestowed on ecclesiastics a great proportion of the 
national wealth ; and the authority which they ac¬ 
quired by the reverence of the people, was superior 

d F.pist. Reg. Scot. i. 197> &c. Act 125, p. 1540. 


even to that which they derived from their riches. 
This powerful body, however, depended entirely on 
the crown. The popes, notwithstanding their atten¬ 
tion to extend their usurpations, had neglected 
Scotland as a distant and poor kingdom, and per¬ 
mitted its kings to exercise powers which they dis¬ 
puted with more considerable princes. The Scot¬ 
tish monarchs had the sole right of nomination to 
vacant bishoprics and abbeys ; d and James naturally 
concluded, that men who expected preferment from 
his favour, would be willing to merit it, by promot¬ 
ing his designs. Happily for him, the nobles had 
not yet recovered the blow which fell on their order 
at Flowden ; and if we may judge either from their 
conduct, or from the character given of them by 
sir Ralph Sadler, the English envoy in Scotland, 
they were men of little genius, of no experience in 
business, and incapable of acting either with una¬ 
nimity or with vigour. Many of the clergy, on the 
other hand, were distinguished by their great abili¬ 
ties, and no less by their ambition. Various causes 
of disgust subsisted between them and the martial 
nobles, who were apt to view the pacific character 
of ecclesiastics with some degree of contempt, and 
who envied their power and wealth. By acting in 
concert with the king, they not only would gratify 
him, but avenge themselves, and hoped to aggran¬ 
dize their own order, by depressing those who were 
their sole rivals. Secure of so powerful a concur¬ 
rence, James ventured to proceed with greater bold¬ 
ness. In the first heat of resentment, he had driven 
the earl of Angus out of the kingdom ; and, sensi¬ 
ble that a person so far superior to the other nobles 
in abilities, might create many obstacles which 
would retard or render ineffectual all his schemes, 
he solemnly swore, that he would never permit him 
to return into Scotland ; and, notwithstanding the 
repeated solicitations of the king of England, he 
adhered to his vow with unrelenting obstinacy. He 
then proceeded to repair the fortifications of Edin ¬ 
burgh, Stirling, and other castles, and to fill his ma¬ 
gazines with arms and ammunition. Having taken 
these precautions by way of defence, he began to 
treat the nobility with the utmost coldness and re¬ 
serve. Those offices, which they were apt, from long 
possession, to consider as appropriated to their 
order, were now bestowed on ecclesiastics, who 
alone possessed the king’s ear, and, together with a 
few gentlemen of inferior rank, to whom he had 
communicated his schemes, were intrusted with the 
management of all public affairs. These ministers 
were chosen with judgment; and cardinal Beatoun, 
who soon became the most eminent among them, 
was a man of superior genius. These served the 
king with fidelity; they carried on his measures 
with vigour, with reputation, and with success. 
James no longer concealed his distrust of the nobles, 
and suffered no opportunity of mortifying them to 
escape. Slight offences were aggravated into real 
crimes, and punished with severity. Every accu- 



BOOK I. THE HISTORY 

sation against persons of rank was heard with plea¬ 
sure, every appearance of guilt was examined with 
rigour, and every trial proved fatal to those who 
were accused ; the banishing Hepburn earl of Both- 
well for reasons extremely frivolous, beheading the 
eldest son of lord Forbes without sufficient evidence 
of his guilt, and the condemning lady Glamis, a 
sister of the earl of Angus, to be burnt for the crime 
of witchcraft, of which even that credulous age be¬ 
lieved her innocent, are monuments both of the 
king’s hatred of the nobility, of the severity of his 
government, and of the stretches he made towards 
absolute power. By these acts of authority, he tried 
the spirit of the nobles, and how much they were 
willing to bear. Their patience increased his 
contempt for them, and added to the ardour and 
boldness with which he pursued his plan. Mean¬ 
while they observed the tendency of his schemes 
with concern, and with resentment; but the king’s 
sagacity, the vigilance of his ministers, and the 
want of a proper leader, made it dangerous to con¬ 
cert any measures for their defence, and impossible 
to act with becoming vigour. James and his coun¬ 
sellors, by a false step which they took, presented 
to them, at length, an advantage which they did not 
fail to improve. 

Motives, which are well known, had prompted 
Henry VIII. to disclaim the pope’s authority, and 
to seize the revenues of the regular clergy. His 
system of reformation satisfied none of his subjects. 
Some were enraged because he had proceeded so 
far, others murmured because he proceeded no far¬ 
ther. By his imperious temper, and alternate per¬ 
secutions of the zealots for popery, and the converts 
to the protestant opinions, he was equally formida¬ 
ble to both. Henry was afraid that this general dis¬ 
satisfaction of his people might encourage his ene¬ 
mies on the continent to invade his kingdom. He 
knew that both the pope and the emperor courted 
the friendship of the king of Scots, and endeavour¬ 
ed to engage him in an alliance against England. 
He resolved, therefore, to disappoint the effects of 
their negociations, by entering into a closer union 
with his nephew. In order to accomplish this, he 
transmitted to James an elaborate memorial, pre¬ 
senting the numerous encroachments of the see of 
Rome upon the rights of sovereigns ; e and that he 
might induce him more certainly to adopt the same 
measures for abolishing papal usurpation, which had 
proved so efficacious in England, he sent ambassa¬ 
dors into Scotland, to propose a personal interview 
with him at York. It was plainly James’s interest 
to accept this invitation ; the assistance of so power¬ 
ful an ally, the high honours which were promised 
him, and the liberal subsidies he might have ob¬ 
tained, would have added no little dignity to his 
domestic government, and must have greatly facili¬ 
tated the execution of his favourite plan. On the 
other hand, a war with England, which he had rea¬ 
son to apprehend if he rejected Henry’s offers of 

e Stripe, Eccles. Mem. 1. App 155. 


OF SCOTLAND, 21 

friendship, was inconsistent with all his views. 
This would bring him to depend on his barons; an 
army could not be raised without their assistance : 
to call nobles incensed against their prince into 
the field, was to unite his enemies, to make them 
sensible of their own strength, and to afford them 
an opportunity of revenging their wrongs. James, 
who was not ignorant that all these consequences 
might follow a breach with England, listened at 
first to Henry’s proposal, and consented to the in¬ 
terview at A r ork. But the clergy dreaded a union 
which must have been established on the ruins of 
the church. Henry had taken great pains to infuse 
into his nephew his own sentiments concerning re¬ 
ligion, and had frequently solicited him, by ambas¬ 
sadors, to renounce the usurped dominion of the 
pope, which was no less dishonourable to princes 
than grievous to their subjects. The clergy had 
hitherto, with great address, diverted the king from 
regarding these solicitations. But in an amicable 
conference, Henry expected, and they feared, that 
James would yield to his entreaties, or be convinced 
by his arguments. They knew that the revenues of 
the church were an alluring object to a prince who 
wanted money, and who loved it; that the pride 
and ambition of ecclesiastics raised the indignation 
of the nobles ; that their indecent lives gave offence 
to the people ; that the protestant opinions were 
spreading fast throughout the nation ; and that a 
universal defection from the established church 
would be the consequence of giving the smallest 
degree of encouragement to these principles. For 
these reasons, they employed all their credit with 
the king, and had recourse to every artifice and in¬ 
sinuation, in order to divert him from a journey, 
which must have been so fatal to their interest. 
They endeavoured to inspire him with fear, by mag¬ 
nifying the danger to which he would expose his 
person by venturing so far into England, without 
any security but the word of a prince, who, having 
violated every thing venerable and sacred in reli¬ 
gion, was no longer to be trusted ; and by way of 
compensation for the sums which he might have 
received from Henry, they offered an annual dona¬ 
tive of fifty thousand crowns; they promised to 
contribute liberally towards carrying on a war with 
England, and flattered him with the prospect of 
immense riches, arising from the forfeiture of per¬ 
sons who were to be tried and condemned as here¬ 
tics. Influenced by these considerations, James 
broke his agreement with Henry, who, in expecta¬ 
tion of meeting him, had already come to York ; 
and that haughty and impatient monarch resented 
the affront, by declaring war against Scotland. His 
army was soon ready to invade the kingdom. James 
was obliged to have recourse to the nobles, for the 
defence of his dominions. At his command, they 
assembled their followers, but with the same dispo¬ 
sitions which had animated their ancestors in the 
reign of James III. and with a full resolution of 



22 


BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY 

imitating their example, by punishing those to 
whom they imputed the grievances of which they 
had reason to complain ; and if the king’s minis¬ 
ters had not been men of abilities, superior to those 
of James III., and of considerable interest even with 
their enemies, who could not agree among them¬ 
selves what victims to sacrifice, the camp of Fala 
would have been as remarkable as that of Lauder, 
for the daring encroachments of the nobility on the 
prerogative of the prince. But though his minis¬ 
ters were saved by this accident, the nobles had 
soon another opportunity of discovering to the king 
their dissatisfaction with his government, and their 
contempt of his authority. Scarcity of provisions, 
and the rigour of the season, having obliged the 
English army, which had invaded Scotland, to re¬ 
tire, James imagined that he could attack them, 
with great advantage, in their retreat; but the prin¬ 
cipal barons, with an obstinacy and disdain which 
greatly aggravated their disobedience, refused to 
advance a step beyond the limits of their own 
country. Provoked by this insult to himself, and 
suspicious of a new conspiracy against his ministers, 
the king instantly disbanded an army which paid 
so little regard to his orders, and returned abruptly 
into the heart of the kingdom. 

An ambitious and high-spirited prince could not 
brook such a mortifying affront. His hopes of suc¬ 
cess had been rash, and his despair upon a disap¬ 
pointment was excessive. He felt himself engaged 
in an unnecessary war with England, which, instead 
of yielding him the laurels and triumphs that he 
expected, had begun with such circumstances, as 
encouraged the insolence of his subjects, and ex¬ 
posed him to the scorn of his enemies. He saw 
how vain and ineffectual all his projects to humble 
the nobles had been, and that, though in times of 
peace a prince may endeavour to depress them, 
they will rise, during war, to their former import¬ 
ance and dignity. Impatience, resentment, indig¬ 
nation, filled his bosom by turns. The violence of 
these passions altered his temper, and, perhaps, 
impaired his reason. He became pensive, sullen, 
and retired. He seemed, through the day, to be 
swallowed up in profound meditation, and, through 
the night, he was disturbed by those visionary ter¬ 
rors which make impression upon a weak under¬ 
standing only, or a disordered fancy. In order to 
revive the king’s spirits, an inroad on the w estern 
borders was concerted by his ministers, who pre¬ 
vailed upon the barons in the neighbouring pro¬ 
vinces to raise as many troops as were thought 
necessary, and to enter the enemy’s country. But 
nothing could remove the king’s aversion to his no¬ 
bility, or diminish his jealousy of their power. He 
w ould not even intrust them with the command of 
the forces which they had assembled ; that was re¬ 
served for Oliver Sinclair his favourite, who no 
sooner appeared to take possession of the dignity 

f According to an account of this event in the Hamilton MSS. about 
thirty were killed, above a thousand were taken prisoners; and among 


OF SCOTLAND. 

conferred upon him, than rage and indignation oc¬ 
casioned a universal mutiny in the army. Five 
hundred English, who happened to be draw n up in 
sight, attacked the Scots in this disorder. Hatred 
to the king, and contempt of their general, pro¬ 
duced an effect to which there is no parallel in his¬ 
tory. They overcame the fear of death, and the 
love of liberty : and ten thousand men fled before 
a number so far inferior, without striking a single 
blow. No man vras desirous of a victory which 
would have been acceptable to the king, and to his 
favourite ; few endeavoured to save themselves by 
flight; the English had the choice of what prison¬ 
ers they pleased to take ; and almost every person 
of distinction, who w as engaged in the expedition, 
remained in their hands. f This astonishing event 
was a new proof to the king of the general disaffec¬ 
tion of the nobility, and a new discovery of his own 
weakness and want off authority. Incapable of 
bearing these repeated insults, he found himself 
unable to revenge them. The deepest melancholy 
and despair succeeded to the furious transports of 
rage, which the first account of the rout of his army 
occasioned. All the violent passions, which are the 
enemies of life, preyed upon his mind, and wasted 
and consumed a youthful and vigorous constitution. 
Some authors of that age impute his untimely death 
to poison ; but the diseases of the mind, when they 
rise to a height, are often mortal; and the known 
effects of disappointment, anger, and resentment, 
upon a sanguine and impetuous temper, sufficiently 
account for his unhappy fate. “ His death (says 
Drummond) proveth his mind to have been raised 
to an high strain, and above mediocrity ; he could 
die, but could not digest a disaster.” Had James 
survived this misfortune, one of two things must 
have happened : either the violence of his temper 
would have engaged him openly to attack the no¬ 
bles, who would have found in Henry a walling and 
powerful protector, and have derived the same as¬ 
sistance from him, which the malcontents, in the 
succeeding reign, did from his daughter Elizabeth; 
in that case a dangerous civil w ar must have been 
the certain consequence. Or, perhaps, necessity 
might have obliged him to accept of Henry’s offers, 
and be reconciled to his nobility. In that event the 
church would have fallen a sacrifice to their union; 
a reformation, upon Henry’s plan, would have been 
established by law : a great part of the temporali¬ 
ties of the church would have been seized ; and the 
friendship of the king and barons would have been 
cemented by dividing its spoils. 

Such were the efforts of our kings towards reduc¬ 
ing the exorbitant power of the nobles. If they 
were not attended with success, we must not, for 
that reason, conclude that they were not conducted 
with prudence. Every circumstance seems to have 
combined against the crown. Accidental events 
concurred with political causes, in rendering the 

them, a hundred and fifty persons of condition. Vol. ii. 286. The smal. 
number of tlie English prevented their taking more prisoners. 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


23 


best-concerted measures abortive. The assassina¬ 
tion of one king, the sudden death of another, and 
the fatal despair of a third, contributed no less than 
its own natural strength, to preserve the aristocracy 
from ruin. 

The extraordinary Amidst these struggles, the influence 

Scottish e kin"s e in our kings possessed in their par- 

pariiament. Laments, is a circumstance seemingly 

inexplicable, and which merits particular attention. 
As these assemblies were composed chielly of the 
nobles, they, we are apt to imagine, must have dic¬ 
tated all their decisions ; but, instead of this, every 
king found them obsequious to his will, and ob¬ 
tained such laws, as he deemed necessary for ex¬ 
tending his authority. All things were conducted 
there with despatch and unanimity ; and, in none 
of our historians, do we find an instance of any 
opposition formed against the court in parliament, or 
mention of any difficulty in carrying through the 
measures which were agreeable to the king. In 
order to account for this singular fact, it is necessary 
to inquire into the origin and constitution of par¬ 
liament. 

The genius of the feudal govern- 

The reasons of it. J „ . .. . 

ment, uniform m all its operations, 
produced the same effects in small as in great soci¬ 
eties ; and the territory of a baron was, in minia¬ 
ture, the model of a kingdom. He possessed the 
right of jurisdiction, but those who depended on 
him being free men, and not slaves, could be tried 
by their peers only ; and, therefore, his vassals were 
bound to attend his courts, and to assist both in pass¬ 
ing and executing his sentences. When assembled 
on these occasions, they established, by mutual con¬ 
sent, such regulations as tended to the welfare of 
their small society ; and often granted voluntarily 
such supplies to their superior, as his necessities 
required. Change now a single name ; in place of 
baron, substitute king, and we behold a parliament 
in its first rudiments, and observe the first exertions 
of those powers, which its members now possess as 
judges, as legislators, and as dispensers of the pub¬ 
lic revenues. Suitable to this idea, are the appel¬ 
lations of the king’s courts and of the king's great 
council, by which parliaments were anciently dis¬ 
tinguished ; and suitable to this, likewise, were the 
constituent members of which it was composed. In 
all the feudal kingdoms, such as held of the king 
in chief were bound, by the condition of their tenure, 
to attend and to assist in his courts. Nor was this 
esteemed a privilege, but a service. 11 It was exacted 
likewise of bishops, abbots, and the greater ecclesi¬ 
astics, who, holding vast possessions of the crown, 
were deemed subject to the same burden. Parlia¬ 
ments did not continue long in this state. Cities 
gradually acquired wealth, a considerable share of 
the public taxes were levied on them, the inhabit¬ 
ants grew into estimation, and, being enfranchised 
by the sovereign, a place in parliament was the con- 

K Du Can?e, Voc. Curia. _ 

h Du Cange, Voc. Placituin, col. 519. Magna Charta, art. 11. Act Jac. 
1. 1425. cap. 52. 


sequence of their liberty, and of their importance. 
But as it would have been absurd to confer such a 
privilege, or to impose such a burden, on a whole 
community, every borough was permitted to choose 
one or two of its citizens to appear in the name of 
the corporation ; and the idea of representation was 
first introduced in this manner. An innovation, 
still more important, naturally followed. The vas¬ 
sals of the crown were originally few in number, 
and extremely powerful ; but as it is impossible to 
render property fixed and permanent, many of their 
possessions came, gradually, and by various me¬ 
thods of alienation, to be split and parcelled out 
into different hands. Hence arose the distinction 
between the greater and the lesser barons. The 
former were those who retained their original fiefs 
undivided, the latter were the new and less potent 
vassals of the crown. Both were bound, however, 
to perform all feudal services, and, of consequence, 
to give attendance in parliament. To the lesser 
barons, who formed no inconsiderable body, this was 
an intolerable grievance. Barons sometimes denied 
their tenure, boroughs renounced their right of elect¬ 
ing, charters were obtained containing an exemption 
from attendance ; and the anxiety with which our 
ancestors endeavoured to get free from the obligation 
of sitting in parliament, is surpassed by that only 
with which their posterity solicit to be admitted there. 
In order to accommodate both parties at once, to 
secure to the king a sufficient number of members 
in his great council, and to save his vassals from 
an unnecessary burden, an easy expedient was 
found out. The obligation to personal attendance 
was continued upon the greater barons, from which 
the lesser barons were exempted, on condition of 
their electing, in each county, a certain number of 
representatives, to appear in their name. Thus a 
parliament became complete in all its members, 
and was composed of lords spiritual and temporal, 
of knights of the shires, and of burgesses. As many 
causes contributed to bring government earlier to 
perfection in England than in Scotland ; as the 
rigour of the feudal institutions abated sooner, and 
its defects were supplied with greater facility in 
the one kingdom than in the other, England led the 
way in all these changes, and burgesses and knights 
of the shire appeared in the parliaments of that na¬ 
tion, before they were heard of in ours. Burgesses 
were first admitted into the Scottish 
parliaments by Robert Bruce; 5 and A - D - 1326 - 
in the preamble to the laws of Robert III., they are 
ranked among the constituent members of that as¬ 
sembly. The lesser barons were in¬ 
debted to James I. for a statute ex¬ 
empting them from personal attendance, and per¬ 
mitting them to elect representatives : the exemp¬ 
tion was eagerly laid hold on; but the privilege 
was so little valued, that except one or two instances, 
it lay neglected during one hundred and sixty years; 

i Abercromby, i. 635. 



24 


BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


and James VI. first obliged them to send represen¬ 
tatives regularly to parliament.* 

A Scottish parliament, then, consisted anciently 
of great barons, of ecclesiastics, and a few repre¬ 
sentatives of boroughs. Nor were these divided, as 
in England, into two houses, but composed one as¬ 
sembly, in which the Lord Chancellor presided. 1 
In rude ages, when the science of government was 
extremely imperfect among a martial people, unac¬ 
quainted with the arts of peace, strangers to the 
talents which make a figure in debate, and despising 
them, parliaments were not held in the same estima¬ 
tion as at present; nor did haughty barons love 
those courts, in which they appeared with such evi¬ 
dent marks of inferiority. Parliaments were often 
hastily assembled, and it was, probably, in the 
king’s power, by the manner in which he issued his 
writs for that purpose, to exclude such as were 
averse from his measures. At a time when deeds 
of violence were common, and the restraints of law 
and decency were little regarded, no man could 
venture with safety to oppose the king in his own 
court. The great barons, or lords of parliament, 
were extremely few ; even so late as the beginning 
of the reign of James VI. m they amounted only to 
fifty-three. The ecclesiastics equalled them in num¬ 
ber, and being devoted implicitly to the crown, for 
reasons which have been already explained, render¬ 
ed all hopes of victory in any struggle desperate. 
Nor were the nobles themselves so anxious as might 
be imagined, to prevent acts of parliament favour¬ 
able to the royal prerogative ; conscious of their 
own strength, and of the king’s inability to carry 
these acts into execution without their concurrence, 
they trusted that they might either elude or venture 
to contemn them ; and the statute revoking the 
king’s property, and annexing alienated jurisdic¬ 
tions to the crown, repeated in every reign, and 
violated and despised as often, is a standing proof 
of the impotence of laws, when opposed to power. 
So many concurring causes are sufficient, perhaps, 
to account for the ascendant which our kings ac¬ 
quired in parliament. But, without having recourse 
to any of these, a single circumstance, peculiar to 
the constitution of the Scottish parliament, the 
mentioning of which we have hitherto avoided, will 
abundantly explain this fact, seemingly so repug¬ 
nant to all our reasonings concerning the weakness 
of the king, and the power of the nobles. 

As far back as our records enable us to trace the 

k Essays on Brit. Antiquit. Ess. II. Dalrymp. Hist, of Feud. Prop, 
ch. 8. 

] In England, the peers and commons seem early to have met in sepa¬ 
rate Houses ; and James I., who was fond of imitating the English in all 
their customs, had probably an intention of introducing some consider¬ 
able distinction between the greater and lesser barons in Scotland ; at least 
tie determined that their consultations should not be carried on under the 
direction of the same president; for by his law, A, D. 1327, it is provided, 
“ that out of the commissioners of all the shires shall be chosen a wise and 
expert man, called the common speaker of the parliament, who shall pro¬ 
pose all and sundry needs and causes pertaining to the commons in the 
parliament or general council.” Ko such speaker, it would seem, was ever 
chosen ; and by a subsequent law the Chancellor was declared perpetual 
president of parliament. 

m And. Coll. vol. i.pref. 40. 

n It appears from authentic records, that a parliament was appointed to 
be held March 12, 1566, and that the lords of articles were chosen and met 
on the 7th, five days before the assembling of parliament. If they could be 
regularly elected so long before the meeting of parliament, it is natural to 
conclude, that the prince alone possessed the right of electing them. There 
are two different accounts of the manner of their election at that time, one 


constitution of our parliaments, we find a committee 
distinguished by the name of Lords of A rticles. It 
was their business to prepare and to digest aJl mat¬ 
ters which were to be laid before the parliament. 
There was rarely any business introduced into par¬ 
liament, but what had passed through the channel 
of this committee ; every motion for a new law was 
first made there, and approved of or rejected by the 
members of it; what they approved was formed 
into a bill, and presented to parliament; and it 
seems probable, that what they rejected could not 
be introduced into the house. This committee owed 
the extraordinary powers vested in it, to the mili¬ 
tary genius of the ancient nobles ; too impatient to 
submit to the drudgery of civil business, too impe¬ 
tuous to observe the forms, or to enter into the de¬ 
tails, necessary in conducting it, they were glad to 
lay that burden upon a small number, while they 
themselves had no other labour than simply to give, 
or to refuse, their assent to the bills which were pre¬ 
sented to them. The lords of articles, then, not 
only directed all the proceedings of parliament, but 
possessed a negative before debate. That committee 
was chosen and constituted in such a manner, as 
put this valuable privilege entirely in the king’s 
hands. It is extremely probable, that our kings once 
had the sole right of nominating the lords of arti¬ 
cles. n They came afterwards to be elected by the 
parliament, and consisted of an equal number out 
of each estate, and most commonly of eight tempo¬ 
ral and eight spiritual lords, of eight representatives 
of boroughs, and of the eight great officers of the 
crown. Of this body, the eight ecclesiastics, toge¬ 
ther with the officers of the crown, were entirely at 
the king’s devotion, and it was scarce possible that 
the choice could fall on such temporal lords and 
burgesses as would unite in opposition to his mea¬ 
sures. Capable either of influencing their election, 
or of gaining them when elected, the king commonly 
found the lords of articles no less obsequious to his 
will, than his own privy council; and, by means of 
his authority with them, he could put a negative 
upon his parliament before debate, as well as after 
it; and what may seem altogether incredible, the 
most limited prince in Europe actually possessed, 
in one instance, a prerogative which the most ab¬ 
solute could never attain. 0 

To this account of the internal con- state of Europe 
stitution of Scotland, it will not be im- sixteenth 8 
proper to add a view of the political tentury * 

by Mary lierself, in a letter to the archbishop of Glasgow ; “ We, accom¬ 
panied with our nobility for the time, past to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, 
for holding of our parliament on the 7th daj/ of this instant, and elected the 
lords articulars.” If we explain these words, according to the strict gram¬ 
mar, we must conclude that the queen herself elected them. It is, how¬ 
ever, more probable that Mary meant to say, that the nobles then present 
with her, viz. her privy councillors, and others, elected the lords of artic les. 
Keith’s Hist, of Scotland, p. 331. The other account is lord Ruthven’s, 
who expressly affirms that the queen herself elected them. Keith’s Ap¬ 
pend. 126. Whether we embrace the one or other of these opinions, is 
of no consequence. If the privy councillors and nobles attending the court 
had a right to elect the lords of articles, it was equally advantageous for the 
crown, as if the prince had had the sole nomination of them. 

o Having deduced the history of the Committee of Lords of Articles as 
low as the subject of this preliminary book required, it may be agreeable, 
perhaps, to some of my readers, to know the subsequent variations in this 
singular institution, and the political use which our kings made of these. 
When parliaments became more numerous and more considerable by the 
admission of the representatives of the lesser barons, the preserving their 
influence over the lords of articles became, likewise, an object of greater 
importance to our kings. James VI. on pretence that the lords of articles 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


25 


state of Europe at that period, where the following 
history commence. A thorough knowledge of that 
general system, of which every kingdom in Europe 
forms a part, is not less requisite towards under¬ 
standing the history of a nation, than an acquaint¬ 
ance with its peculiar government and laws. The 
latter may enable us to comprehend domestic occur¬ 
rences and revolutions ; but without the former, 
foreign transactions must be altogether mysterious 
and unintelligible. By attending to this, many 
dark passages in our history may be placed in a 
clear light; and where the bulk of historians have 
seen only the effect, we may be able to discover the 
cause. 

The subversion of the feudal government in 
France, and its declension in the neighbouring 
kingdoms, occasioned a remarkable alteration in 
the political state of Europe. Kingdoms, which 
were inconsiderable when broken, and parcelled 
out among nobles, acquired firmness and strength 
by being united into a regular monarchy. Kings 
became conscious of their own power and import¬ 
ance. They meditated schemes of conquest, and 
engaged in wars at a distance. Numerous armies 
were raised, and great taxes imposed for their sub¬ 
sistence. Considerable bodies of infantry were 
kept in constant pay ; that service grew to be ho¬ 
nourable ; and cavalry, in which the strength of 
European armies had hitherto consisted, though 
proper enough for the short and voluntary excur¬ 
sions of barons who served at their own expense, 
were found to be unfit either for making or defend¬ 
ing any important conquest. 

It was in Italy that the powerful monarchs of 
France and Spain and Germany first appeared to 
make a trial of their new strength. The division of 
that country into many small states, the luxury of 
the people, and their effeminate aversion to arms, 
invited their more martial neighbours to an easy 
prey. The Italians, who had been accustomed to 
mock-battles only, and to decide their interior quar¬ 
rels by innocent and bloodless victories, were asto¬ 
nished, when the French invaded their country, at 
the sight of real war; and, as they could not resist 
the torrent, they suffered it to take its course, and 
to spend its rage. Intrigue and policy supplied the 
want of strength. Necessity and self-preservation 
led that ingenious people to the great secret of mo¬ 
dern politics, by teaching them how to balance the 
power of one prince, by throwing that of another 
into the opposite scale. By this happy device, 

could not find leisure to consider the great multitude of affairs laid before 
them, obtained an act, appointing four persons to be named out of each 
estate, who should meet twenty days before the commencement of parlia¬ 
ment,* to receive all supplications, 8c c. and rejecting what they thought 
frivolous, should engross in a book what they thought worthy the atten¬ 
tion of the lords of articles. No provision is made in the act for the choice 
of this select body, and the kin«; would, of course, have claimed that pri¬ 
vilege. In 1633, when Charles!, was beginning to introduce those inno¬ 
vations which gave so much offence to the nation, he dreaded the opposition 
of his parliament, and in order to prevent that, an artifice was made use of 
to secure the lords of articles for the crown. The temporal peers were ap¬ 
pointed to choose eight bishops, and the bishops eight peers ; these sixteen 
met together, and elected eight knights of the shire, and eight burgesses, 
and to these the crown officers were added as usual. If we can only sup- 
jose eight persons of so numerous a body, as the peers of Scotland were 
>ecome by that time, attached to the court, these, it is obvious, would 
be the men whom the bishops would choose, and of consecnience the whole 
lords of articles were the tools and creatures of the king. This practice, so 

* Act 222, p. 1594. 


the liberty of Italy w as long preserved. The scales 
were poised by very skilful hands ; the smallest 
variations were attended to, and no prince was 
allowed to retain any superiority that could be 
dangerous. 

A system of conduct, pursued with so much suc¬ 
cess in Italy, was not long confined to that country 
of political refinement. The maxim of preserving 
a balance of power is founded so much upon ob¬ 
vious reasoning, and the situation of Europe ren¬ 
dered it so necessary, that it soon became a matter 
of chief attention to all wise politicians. Every 
step any prince took was observed by all his neigh¬ 
bours. Ambassadors, a kind of honourable spies, 
authorized by the mutual jealousy of kings, resided 
almost constantly at every different court, and had 
it in charge to watch all its motions. Dangers w ere 
foreseen at a greater distance, and prevented w ith 
more ease. Confederacies were formed to humble 
any power w hich rose above its due proportion. Re¬ 
venge or self-defence w ere no longer the only causes 
of hostility, it became common to take arms out of 
policy ; and war, both in its commencement and in 
its operations, was more an exercise of the judgment 
than of the passions of men. Almost every w ar in 
Europe became general, and the most inconsider¬ 
able states acquired importance, because they could 
add weight to either scale. 

Francis I., who mounted the throne of France in 
the year one thousand five hundred and fifteen, and 
Charles V., who obtained the imperial crown in the 
year one thousand five hundred and nineteen, di¬ 
vided between them the strength and affections of 
all Europe. Their perpetual enmity was not owing 
solely either to personal jealousy, or to the caprice 
of private passion, but was founded so much in na¬ 
ture and true policy, that it subsisted betw een their 
posterity for several ages. Charles succeeded to 
all the dominions of the house of Austria. No 
family had ever gained so much by wise and fortu¬ 
nate marriages. By acquisitions of this kind, the 
Austrian princes rose, in a short time, from obscure 
counts of Hapsbourg, to be archdukes of Austria 
and kings of Bohemia, and were in possession of 
the imperial dignity by a sort of hereditary right. 
Besides these territories in Germany, Charles was 
heir to the crow n of Spain, and to all the dominions 
which belonged to the house of Burgundy. The 
Burgundian provinces engrossed, at that time, the 
riches and commerce of one-half of Europe , and he 
drew from them, on many occasions, those immense 

inconsistent with liberty, was abolished during the civil war ; and the sta¬ 
tute of James VI. was repealed. After the restoration, parliaments be¬ 
came more servile than ever. What was only a temporary device, in the 
reign of Charles I., was then converted into a standing law. “ For my 
part,” says the author from whom I have borrowed many of these parti¬ 
culars, “ 1 should have thought it less criminal in our restoration parlia¬ 
ment, to have openly bestowed upon the king a negative before debate, 
than in such an underhand artificial manner, to betray their constituents 
and the nation.” Essays on Brit. Antiq. 55. It is probable, however, 
from a letter of Randolph's to Cecil, loth Aug. 1560, printed in the Ap¬ 
pendix, that this parliament had some appearance of ancient precedent to 
justify their unworthy conduct. Various questions concerning the consti¬ 
tuent members of the Scottish parliament ; concerning the aera at which 
the representatives of boroughs were introduced into that assembly ; and 
concerning the origin and power of the committee of lords of articles, occur, 
and have been agitated with great warmth. Since the first publication of this 
work, all these disputed points have been considered with calmness and 
accuracy in Mr. W lght’s Inquiry into the Rise and Progress of Parliament, 
&c. 4to. edit. p. 17, &c. 



BOOK I. 


26 THE HISTORY 

sums, which no people without trade and liberty 
are able to contribute. Spain furnished him a gal¬ 
lant and hardy infantry, to whose discipline he was 
indebted for all his conquests. At the same time, 
by the discovery of the new world, a vein of wealth 
was opened to him, which all the extravagance of 
ambition could not exhaust. These advantages 
rendered Charles the first prince in Europe ; but he 
wished to be more, and openly aspired to universal 
monarchy. His genius was of that kind which 
ripens slowly, and lies long concealed ; but it grew 
up, without observation, to an unexpected height 
and vigour. He possessed, in an eminent degree, 
the characteristic virtues of all the different races of 
princes to whom he was allied. In forming his 
schemes, he discovered all the subtilty and pene¬ 
tration of Ferdinand his grandfather; he pursued 
them w ith that obstinate and inflexible perseverance 
which has ever been peculiar to the Austrian blood ; 
and, in executing them, he could employ the 
magnanimity and boldness of his Burgundian an¬ 
cestors. His abilities were equal to his power, and 
neither of them w ould have been inferior to his de¬ 
signs, had not Providence, in pity to mankind, and 
in order to preserve them from the worst of all evils, 
universal monarchy, raised up Francis I. to defend 
the liberty of Europe. His dominions were less 
extensive, but more united, than the emperor’s. 
His subjects were numerous, active, and warlike, 
lovers of glory, and lovers of their king. To Charles, 
power w as the only object of desire, and he pursued 
it with an unwearied and joyless industry. Francis 
could mingle pleasure and elegance with his ambi¬ 
tion ; and, though he neglected some advantages, 
which amore phlegmatic or more frugal prince would 
have improved, an active and intrepid courage sup¬ 
plied all his defects, and checked or defeated many 
of the emperor’s designs. 

The rest of Europe observed all the motions of 
these mighty rivals with a jealous attention. On 
the one side, the Italians saw the danger which 
threatened Christendom, and, in order to avert it, 
had recourse to the expedient which they had often 
employed with success. They endeavoured to di¬ 
vide the power of the two contending monarchs into 
equal scales, and, by the union of several small 
states, to counterpoise him whose power became too 
great. But what they concerted with much wisdom, 
they were able to execute with little vigour; and 
intrigue and refinement w^ere feeble fences against 
the encroachments of military power. 

On the other side, Henry VIII. of England held 
the balance with less delicacy, but with a stronger 
hand. He was the third prince of the age in dig¬ 
nity and in power ; and the advantageous situation 
of his dominions, his domestic tranquillity, his im¬ 
mense wealth, and absolute authority, rendered him 
the natural guardian of the liberty of Europe. Each 
of the rivals courted him with emulation ; he knew 
it to be his interest to keep the balance even, and to 
restrain both, by not joining entirely w ith either of 


OF SCOTLAND. 

them. But he was seldom able to ( reduce his ideas 
to practice ; he was governed by caprice more than 
by principle ; and the passions of the man were an 
overmatch for the maxims of the king. Vanity and 
resentment were the great springs of all his under¬ 
takings, and his neighbours easily found the way, 
by touching these, to force him upon many rash 
and inconsistent enterprises. His reign w as a per¬ 
petual series of blunders in politics ; and while he 
esteemed himself the wisest prince in Europe, he 
was a constant dupe to those who found it neces¬ 
sary, and could submit, to flatter him. 

In this situation of Europe, Scotland, which had 
hitherto wasted her strength in the quarrels between 
France and England, emerged from her obscurity, 
took her station in the system, and began to have 
some influence upon the fate of distant nations. 
Her assistance was frequently of consequence to the 
contending parties, and the balance was often so 
nicely adjusted, that it was in her power to make 
it lean to either side. The part assigned her, at 
this juncture, was to divert Henry from carrying 
his arms into the continent. That prince having 
routed the French at Guinegat and invested 
Terouenne, Francis attempted to divide his forces, 
by engaging James IV. in that unhappy expedition 
which ended with his life. For the same reason 
Francis encouraged and assisted the duke of Albany 
to ruin the families of Angus and Home, which 
w ere in the interest of England, and would willingly 
have persuaded the Scots to revenge the death of 
their king, and to enter into a new war with that 
kingdom. Henry and Francis having united not 
long after against the emperor, it was the interest 
of both kings, that the Scots should continue inac¬ 
tive ; and a long tranquillity was the effect of their 
union. Charles endeavoured to break this, and to 
embarrass Henry by another inroad of the Scots. 
For this end he made great advances to James V. 
flattering the vanity of the young monarch, by elect¬ 
ing him a knight of the Golden Fleece, and by offer¬ 
ing him a match in the imperial family; while, in 
return for these empty honours, he demanded of him 
to renounce his alliance w ith France, and to declare 
war against England. But James, who had much 
to lose, and who could gain little by closing with 
the emperor’s proposals, rejected them with decency, 
and, keeping firm to his ancient allies, left Henry at 
full liberty to act upon the continent w ith his w hole 
strength. 

Henry himself began his reign by imitating the 
example of his ancestors with regard to Scotland. 
Fie held its pow er in such extreme contempt, that 
he was at no pains to gain its friendship ; but, on 
the contrary, he irritated the whole nation, by re¬ 
viving the antiquated pretensions of the crown of 
England to the sovereignty over Scotland. But his 
ow n experience, and the examples of his enemies, 
gave him a higher idea of its importance. It was 
imposible to defend an open and extensive frontier 
against the incursions of an active and martial 



150OK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


27 


people. During any war on the continent, this 
obliged him to divide the strength of his kingdom. 
It was necessary to maintain a kind of army of ob¬ 
servation in the north of England ; and, after all 
precautions, the Scottish borderers, who were supe¬ 
rior to all mankind in the practice of irregular war, 
often made successful inroads, and spread terror 
and desolation over many counties. He fell, at last, 
upon the true secret of policy, with respect to Scot¬ 
land, which his predecessors had too little penetra¬ 
tion to discover, or too much pride to employ. The 
situation of the country, and the bravery of the 
people, made the conquest of Scotland impossible ; 
but the national poverty, and the violence of fac¬ 
tion, rendered it an easy matter to divide and to 
govern it. He abandoned, therefore, the former de¬ 
sign, and resolved to employ his utmost address in 
executing the latter. It had not yet become honour¬ 
able for one prince to receive pay from another, 
under the more decent name of a subsidy. But, in 
all ages, the same arguments have been good in 
courts, and of weight with ministers, factious 
leaders, and favourites. What were the arguments 
by which Henry brought over so many to his interest 
during the minority of James V. we know by the 
original warrant still extant, p for remitting con¬ 
siderable sums into Scotland. By a proper distribu¬ 
tion of these, many persons of note were gained to 
his party, and a faction, which held secret corres¬ 
pondence with England, and received all its direc¬ 
tions from thence, appears henceforward in our 
domestic contests. In the sequel of the history, we 
shall find Henry labouring to extend his influence 
in Scotland. His successors adopted the same plan, 
and improved upon it. The affairs of the two king¬ 
doms became interwoven, and their interests were 
often the same. Elizabeth divided her attention 
almost equally between them, and the authority 
which she inherited in the one, was not greater than 
that which she acquired in the other. 


HOOK II. 

p>irth of Mary, Mary, queen of Scots, the daughter 
state' of theming- °f I ames V. and Mary of Guise, was 
donj - bom a few days before the death of 

her father. The situation in which he left the 
kingdom alarmed all ranks of men with the pros¬ 
pect of a turbulent and disastrous reign. A war 
against England had been undertaken without ne¬ 
cessity, and carried on without success. Many 
persons of the first rank had fallen into the hands 
of the English, in the unfortunate rout near the 
firth of Solway, arid were still prisoners at London. 
Among the rest of the nobles there was little union 
either in their views or in their affections ; and the 


religious disputes, occasioned by the opinions of 
the reformers, growing every day more violent, 
added to the rage of those factions which are natu¬ 
ral to a form of government nearly aristocratical. 

The government of a queen was unknown in 
Scotland, and did not imprint much reverence in 
the minds of a martial people. The government of 
an infant queen was still more destitute of real au¬ 
thority; and the prospect of a long and feeble mi¬ 
nority invited to faction by the hope of impunity. 
James had not even provided the common re¬ 
medy against the disorders of a minority, by com¬ 
mitting to proper persons the care of his daughter’s 
education, and the administration of affairs in her 
name. Though he saw the clouds gathering, and 
foretold that they would quickly burst into a storm, 
he w as so little able to disperse them, or to defend 
his daughter and kingdom against the imminent ca¬ 
lamities, that in mere despair, he abandoned them 
both to the mercy of fortune, and left open to every 
pretender the office of regent, which he could not 
fix to his own satisfaction. 

Cardinal Beatoun, who had for 

. Pretensions ot 

many years been considered as prune cardinal Beatoun 
minister, was the first that claimed 
that high dignity ; and in support of his preten¬ 
sions, he produced a testament, 1 which he himself 
had forged in the name of the late king ; and with¬ 
out any other right, instantly assumed the title of 
regent. He hoped, by the assistance of the clergy, 
the countenance of France, the connivance of 
the queen dowager, and the support of the whole 
popish faction, to hold by force what he had seized 
on by fraud. But Beatoun had enjoyed power too 
long to be a favourite of the nation. Those among 


the nobles who wished for a reformation in religion 
dreaded his severity, and others considered the ele¬ 
vation of a churchman to the highest office in the 
kingdom as a depression of themselves. At their 
instigation, James Hamilton, earl of Arran, and 
next heir to the queen, roused himself from his in¬ 
activity, and was prevailed on to aspire to that sta¬ 
tion to which proximity of blood gave him a natural 
title. The nobles, who were assembled Earl ^ Arrtin 
for that purpose, unanimously con- chosen regent, 
ferred on him the office of regent, and the public 
voice applauded their choice. 11 

No two men ever differed more character of 
widely in disposition and character Beatoun; 
than the earl of Arran and cardinal Beatoun. The 
cardinal was by nature of immoderate ambition ; by 
long experience he had acquired address and refine¬ 
ment ; and insolence grew upon him from continual 
success. His high station in the church placed him 
in the way of great civil employments ; his abilities 
were eq ual to the greatest of these; nor did he reckon 
any of them to be above his merit. As his own emi¬ 
nence was founded upon the power of the church of 
Rome, lie was a zealous defender of that superstition, 


p Bum. Hist. Ref. vol. i. p. 7. 
a Sadler’s Lett. 161. Haynes, State Papers, 436. 


b F.pist. Reg. Scot. voi. ii. p, 303. 




28 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


ROOK II. 


of Arran. 


and for the same reason an avowed enemy to the 
doctrine of the reformers. Political motives alone 
determined him to support the one, or to oppose the 
other. His early application to public business 
kept him unacquainted with the learning and con¬ 
troversies of the age ; he gave judgment, however, 
upon all points in dispute, with a precipitancy, vio¬ 
lence, and rigour, which contemporary historians 
mention with indignation. 

The character of the earl of Arran 
was, in almost every thing, the reverse 
of Beatoun’s. He was neither infected with am¬ 
bition, nor inclined to cruelty : the love of ease ex¬ 
tinguished the former, the gentleness of his temper 
preserved him from the latter. Timidity and irre¬ 
solution were his predominant failings, the one oc¬ 
casioned by his natural constitution, and the other 
arising from a consciousness that his abilities were 
not equal to his station. With these dispositions 
he might have enjoyed and adorned private life; 
but his public conduct was without courage, or 
dignity, or consistence ; the perpetual slave of his 
own fears, and, by consequence, the perpetual tool 
of those who found their advantage in practising 
upon them. But, as no other person could be set 
in opposition to the cardinal, with any probability 
of success, the nation declared in his favour with 
such general consent, that the artifices of his rival 
could not withstand its united strength. 

Schemes of The earl of Arran had scarce taken 
w\Xregard 1 'to possession of his new dignity, when a 
Scotland. negociation was opened with England, 

which gave birth to events of the most fatal conse¬ 
quence to himself and to the kingdom. After the 
death of James, Henry VIII. was no longer afraid 
of any interruption from Scotland to his designs 
against France ; and immediately conceived hopes 
of rendering this security perpetual, by the marriage 
of Edward his only son with the young queen of 
Scots. He communicated his intentions to the 
prisoners taken at Solway, and prevailed on them 
to favour it, by the promise of liberty, as the re¬ 
ward of their success. In the mean time he per¬ 
mitted them to return into Scotland, that, by their 
presence in the parliament which the regent had 
called, they might be the better able to persuade 
their countrymen to fall in with his proposals. A 
cause intrusted to such able and zealous advocates, 
could not well miss of coming to a happy issue. 
All those who feared the cardinal, or who desired a 
change in religion, were fond of an alliance, which 
afforded protection to the doctrine which they had 
embraced, as well as to their own persons, against 
the rage of that pow erful and haughty prelate. 

ill conducted by But Henry’s rough and impatient 
himseit. temper was incapable of improving 

this favourable conjuncture. Address and delicacy 
in managing the fears, and follies, and interests of 
men, were arts with which he was utterly unac¬ 
quainted. The designs he had formed upon Scot¬ 
land were obvious from the marriage which he had 


proposed, and he had not dexterity enough to dis¬ 
guise or to conceal them. Instead of yielding to the 
fear or jealousy of the Scots, what time and acci¬ 
dent would soon have enabled him to recover, he at 
once alarmed and irritated the whole nation, by de¬ 
manding that the queen’s person should be imme¬ 
diately committed to his custody, and that the 
government of the kingdom should be put into his 
hands during her minority. 

Henry could not have prescribed odious to the 
more ignominious conditions to a con- part S ’accepted by 
quered people, and it is no wonder tliem ’ 
they were rejected, with indignation, by men who 
scorned to purchase an alliance with England at the 
price of their own liberty. The parliament of Scot¬ 
land, however, influenced by the nobles who return¬ 
ed from England, desirous of peace with that 
kingdom, and delivered, by the regent’s confining 
the cardinal as a prisoner, from an op- March 12 , 
position to which he might have given 
rise, consented to a treaty of marriage and of union, 
but upon terms somewhat more equal. After some 
dark and unsuccessful intrigues, by which his am¬ 
bassador endeavoured to carry off the young queen 
and cardinal Beatoun into England, Henry was 
obliged to give up his own proposals, and to accept 
of theirs. On his side he consented that the queen 
should continue to reside in Scotland, and himself 
remain excluded from any share in the government 
of the kingdom. On the other hand, the Scots 
agreed to send their sovereign into England as soon 
as she attained the full age of ten years, and instantly 
to deliver six persons of the first rank to be kept as 
hostages by Henry till the queen’s arrival at his court. 

The treaty was still so manifestly of Favoured by ^ 
advantage to England, that the regent regent, 
lost much of the public confidence by consenting 
to it. The cardinal, who had now recovered liberty, 
watched for such an opportunity of regaining credit, 
and he did not fail to cultivate and improve this to 
the utmost. He complained loudly Opposed by the 
that the regent had betrayed the king- cardinal, 
dom to its most inveterate enemies, and sacrificed 
its honour to his own ambition. He foretold the 
extinction of the true catholic religion, under the 
tyranny of an excommunicated heretic ; but, above 
all, he lamented to see an ancient kingdom consent¬ 
ing to its own servitude, descending into the igno¬ 
minious station of a dependent province; and, in 
one hour, the weakness or treachery of a single man 
surrendering every thing for which the Scottish 
nation had struggled and fought during so many 
ages. These remonstrances of the cardinal were 
not without effect. They were addressed to preju¬ 
dices and passions which are deeply rooted in the 
human heart. The same hatred to the ancient ene¬ 
mies of their country, the same jealousy of national 
honour, and pride of independence, which, at the 
beginning of the present century, went near to pre¬ 
vent the Scots from consenting to a union with 
England, upon terms of great advantage, did, at 



BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND 


29 


that time, induce the whole nation to declare against 
the alliance which had been concluded. In the one 
period, a hundred and fifty years of peace between 
the two nations, the habit of being subjected to the 
same king, and governed by the same maxims, had 
considerably abated old animosities, and prepared 
both people for incorporating. In the other, inju¬ 
ries were still fresh, the wounds on both sides were 
open, and, in the warmth of resentment, it was 
natural to seek revenge, and to be averse from re¬ 
concilement. At the union in one thousand seven 
hundred and seven, the wisdom of parliament de¬ 
spised the groundless murmurs occasioned by anti¬ 
quated prejudices ; but in one thousand five hun¬ 
dred and forty-three, the complaints of the nation 
\vere better founded, and urged with a zeal and 
unanimity, which it is neither just nor safe to dis¬ 
regard. A rash measure of the English monarch 
added greatly to the violence of this national ani¬ 
mosity. The Scots, relying on the treaty of mar¬ 
riage and union, fitted out several ships for France, 
with which their trade had been interrupted for 
some time. These were driven by stress of weather 
to take refuge in different ports of England ; and 
Henry, under pretext that they were carrying pro¬ 
visions to a kingdom with which he was at war, 
ordered them to be seized and condemned as lawful 
prizes. 0 The Scots, astonished at this proceeding 
of a prince, whose interest it was manifestly, at 
that juncture, to court and to soothe them, felt it not 
only as an injury but as an insult, and expressed 
all the resentment natural to a high-spirited people/ 1 
Their rage rose to such a height, that the English 
ambassador could hardly be protected from it. One 
spirit seemed now to animate all orders of men. 
The clergy offered to contribute a great sum 
towards preserving the church from the dominion 
of a prince, whose system of reformation was so 
fatal to their power. The nobles, after having mor¬ 
tified the cardinal so lately in such a cruel manner, 
were now ready to applaud and to second him, as the 
defender of the honour and liberty of his country. 
He excite almost Argyll, Huntly, Bothwcll, and other 
against < the D Eng- P ower ful barons, declared openly 
lish - against the alliance with England. 

By their assistance, the cardinal seized on the per¬ 
sons of the young queen and her mother, and added 
to his party the splendour and authority of the royal 
name. 6 He received, at the same time, a more real 
accession to his strength, by the arrival of Matthew 
Stewart, earl of Lennox, whose return from France 
he had earnestly solicited. This young nobleman 
was the hereditary enemy of the house of Hamilton. 

c Keith, 32, 34. Epist. Reg. Scot. ii. App. 311. Hamilton MSS. vol. i. 

"d lii the MS. Collection of papers belonging to the duke of Hamilton, 
sir Ralph Sadler describes the spirit of the Scots as extremely outrage¬ 
ous. In his letter from Edinburgh, September 1, 1543, he says: “ the 
stay of the ships has brought the people of this town, both men and 
women, and especially the merchants, into such a rage and tury, that the 
whole town is commoved against me, and swear great paths, it their 
ships are not restored, that they would have their amends of me and mine, 
and that they would set my house here on fire over my head, so that one 
of us should not escape alive; and also it hath much incensed and pro 
voked the people against the governor, saying, that he hath coloured a peace 
with your Majesty only to undo them. This is the unreasonableness of the 
people which live here in such a beastly liberty, that they neither regard 
Cod nor governor; nor yet justice, or any good policy, doth take place 


He had many claims upon the regent, and pretended 
a right to exclude him, not only from succeeding 
to the crown, but to deprive him of the possession 
of his private fortune. The cardinal flattered his 
vanity with the prospect of marrying the queen 
dowager, and affected to treat him with so much 
respect, that the regent became jealous of him as a 
rival in power. 

This suspicion was artfully heightened by the 
abbot of Paisley, who returned into Scotland some 
time before the earl of Lennox, and acted in concert 
with the cardinal. He was a natural brother of the 
regent, with whom he had great credit; a warm 
partisan of France, and a zealous defender of the 
established religion. He took hold of the regent 
by the proper handle, and endeavoured to bring 
about a change in his sentiments, by working upon 
his fears. The desertion of the nobility, the dis¬ 
affection of the clergy, and the rage of the people ; 
the resentment of France, the power of the cardinal, 
and the pretensions of Lennox, were all represented 
with aggravation, and with their most threatening 
aspect. 

Meanwhile, the day appointed for the ratification 
of the treaty with England, and the delivery of the 
hostages, approached, and the regent was still un¬ 
determined in his own mind. He acted to the last 
with that irresolution and inconsistence which is 
peculiar to weak men when they are so unfortunate 
as to have the chief part in the conduct of difficult 
affairs. On the 25th of August, he ratified a treaty 
with Henry, f and proclaimed the cardinal, who still 
continued to oppose it, an enemy to his country. 
On the third of September he se- 0bliges the regent 
cretly withdrew from Edinburgh, met friendsh 0 ip nC with he 
with the cardinal at Callendar, re- En s land > 
nounced the friendship of England, and declared 
for the interests of France . s 

Henry, in order to gain the regent, had not spared 
the most magnificent promises. He had offered to 
give the princess Elizabeth in marriage to his eldest 
son, and to constitute him king of that part of 
Scotland which lies beyond the river Forth. But, 
upon finding his interest in the kingdom to be less 
considerable than he had imagined, the English 
monarch began to treat him with little respect. The 
young queen was now in the custody of his enemies, 
who grew every day more numerous and more po¬ 
pular. They formed a separate court at Stirling, 
and threatened to elect another regent. The French 
king was read} 7 to afford them his protection, and 
the nation, out of hatred to the English, would have 
united in their defence. In this situation, the regent 

among them; assuring your Highness that, unless the ships be delivered, 
there will be none abiding here tor me without danger.” Vol. i. 451. In 
his letter of September 5, he writes, that the rage of the people still con¬ 
tinued so violent, “ that neither 1 nor any of my folks dare go out of my 
doors ; and the: provost of the town, who hath much ado to stay them from 
assaulting me in my house, and kcepeth watch therefore nightly, hath sent 
to me sundry times, and prayed me to keep myself and my folks within, 
for it is scant in his power to repress or resist the furyof the people. 1 hey 
say plainly, I shall never pass out of the town alive, except they have 
their ships restored. I his is the rage and beastliness of this nation, which 
God keep all honest men from.” lb. 471. 

e Keith’s Hist, of Scotl. 30. 

f Rymer, Feed. xv. p. 4. 

g Sadler, 339, 356. Hamilton MSS. i. 470, &c. 



30 


BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


could not retain his authority, without a sudden 
change of his measures; and though he endeavoured 
by ratifying the treaty, to preserve the appearances 
of good faith witli England, he was obliged to throw 
himself into the arms of the party which adhered to 
France. 

. . , Soon after this sudden revolution 

and to persecute 

the reformers. j n jjjg political principles, the regent 
changed his sentiments concerning religion. The 
spirit of controversy was then new and warm; books 
of that kind were eagerly read by men of every 
rank ; the love of novelty, or the conviction of truth, 
had led the regent to express great esteem for the 
writings of the reformers, and having been power¬ 
fully supported by those who had embraced their 
opinions, he, in order to gratify them, entertained, 
in his own family, two of the most noted preachers 
of the protestant doctrine, and in his first parliament 
consented to an act, by which the laity were per¬ 
mitted to read the Scriptures in a language which 
they understood. h Truth needed only a fair hearing 
to be an overmatch for error. Absurdities, which 
had long imposed on the ignorance and credulity of 
mankind, were detected and exposed to public ridi¬ 
cule ; and, under the countenance of the regent, the 
reformation made great advances. The cardinal 
observed its progress with concern, and was at the 
utmost pains to obstruct it. He represented to the 
regent his great imprudence in giving encourage¬ 
ment to opinions so favourable to Lennox's preten¬ 
sions ; that his own legitimacy depended upon the 
validity of a sentence of divorce, founded on the 
pope’s authority; and that by suffering it to be called 
in question, he weakened his own title to the suc¬ 
cession, and furnished his rival with the only argu¬ 
ment by which it could be rendered doubtful.' These 
insinuations made a deep impression on the regent's 
timorous spirit, who, at the prospect of such imagi¬ 
nary danger, was as much startled as the cardinal 
could have wished ; and his zeal for the protestant 
religion was not long proof against his fear. He 
publicly abjured the doctrine of the reformers in 
the Franciscan church at Stirling, and declared not 
only for the political, but the religious, opinions of 
his new confidents. 

The protestant doctrine did not suffer much by 
his apostasy. It had already taken so deep root in 
the kingdom, that no discouragement or severity 
could extirpate it. The regent indeed consented to 
every thing that the zeal of the cardinal thought 
necessary for the preservation of the established re¬ 
ligion. The reformers were persecuted with all the 
cruelty which superstition inspires into a barbarous 
people. Many were condemned to that dreadful 
death, which the church has appointed for the pu¬ 
nishment of its enemies ; but they suffered with a 
spirit so nearly resembling the patience and fortitude 

h Keith, p. 36, 37. 

i The pretensions of the earl of Lennox to the succession were thus 
founded; Mary, the daughter of James II. was married to James, lord 
Hamilton, whom James III. created earl of Arran on that account. Eliza¬ 
beth, a daughter of that marriage, was tht wife of Matthew, earl of Len¬ 
nox, and the present earl was her grandson. The regent was likewise the 


of the primitive martyrs, that more were converted 
than terrified by such spectacles. 

The cardinal, however, was now in y 5 ea ( 0un engrosses 
possession of every thing his ambition of\ffa?re. direCtl ° n 
could desire; and exercised all the 
authority of a regent, without the envy of the name. 
He had nothing to fear from the earl of Arran, who 
having by his inconsistency forfeited the public es¬ 
teem, was contemned by one half the nation, and 
little trusted by the other. The pretensions of the 
earl of Lennox were the only thing which remained 
to embarrass him. He had very successfully made 
use of that nobleman to work upon the regent's 
jealousy and fear, but as he no longer stood in need 
of such an instrument, he was willing to get rid of 
him with decency. Lennox soon began to suspect 
his intention ; promises, flattery, and respect, were 
the only returns he had hitherto received for sub¬ 
stantial services ; but at last the cardinal's artifices 
could no longer be concealed, and Lennox, instead 
of attaining pow er and dignity himself, saw that he 
had been employed only to procure these for ano¬ 
ther. Resentment and disappointed ambition urged 
him to seek revenge on that cunning prelate, who, 
by sacrificing his interest, had so ungenerously pur¬ 
chased the earl of Arran’s friendship. He w ithdrew, 
for that reason, from court, and declared for the 
party at enmity with the cardinal, which, with open 
arms, received a convert who added so much lustre 
to their cause. 

The two factions which divided the kingdom w ere 
still the same, without any alterations in their view s 
or principles ; but, by one of those strange revolu¬ 
tions, w hich were frequent in that age, they had, in 
the course of a few w^eeks, changed their leaders. 
The regent w r as at the head of the partisans of 
France and the defenders of popery, and Lennox 
in the same station with the advocates for the Eng¬ 
lish alliance, and a reformation in religion. The 
one laboured to pull down his own work, w hich 
the other upheld with the same hand that had 
hitherto endeavoured to destroy it. 

Lennox's impatience for revenge got the start of 
the cardinal’s activity. He surprised both him and 
the regent by a sudden march to Edinburgh with a 
numerous army ; and might easily have crushed 
them, before they could prepare for their defence. 
But he w as w eak enough to listen to proposals for 
an accommodation ; and the cardinal amused him 
so artfully, and spun out the treaty to such a length, 
that the greater part of the earl’s troops, who served, 
as is usual w herever the feudal institutions prevail¬ 
ed, at their own expense, deserted him; and in 
concluding a peace, instead of giving the law, he 
was obliged to receive it. A second attempt to re¬ 
trieve his affairs ended yet more unfortunately. 
One body of his troops was cut to pieces, and the 

grandson of the princess Mary. But his father having married Janet 
iieatoun the regent's mother, after he had obtained a divorce from Elizabeth 
Home his former wife, Lennox pretended that the sentence of divorce was 
unjust, and that the reeent being born while Elizabeth Home was still 
alive, ought to be considered as illegitimate. Drawf. Peer. 192. 







BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


31 


rest dispersed ; and with the poor remains of a 
ruined party, he must either have submitted to the 
conqueror, or have fled out of the kingdom, if the 
approach of an English army had not brought him 
a short relief. 

Henry invades Henry was not of a temper to bear 
tamely the indignity with which he 
had been treated, both by the regent and parliament 
of Scotland, who, at the time when they renounced 
their alliance with him, had entered into a new and 
stricter confederacy with France. The rigour of 
the season retarded for some time the execution of 
his vengeance. But, in the spring, a considerable 
body of infantry, which was destined for France, 
received orders to sail for Scotland, and a proper 
number of cavalry was appointed to join it by land. 
The regent and cardinal little expected such a visit. 
They had trusted that the French war would find 
employment for all Henry’s forces, and, from an 
unaccountable security, were wholly unprovided 
for the defence of the kingdom. The earl of Hert¬ 
ford, a leader fatal to the Scots in that age, com¬ 
manded his army, and landed it, without opposition, 
a few miles from Leith. He was quick¬ 
ly master of that place ; and marching 
directly to Edinburgh, entered it with the same ease. 
After plundering the adjacent country, the richest 
and most open in Scotland, he set on fire both these 
towns, and upon the approach of some troops gather¬ 
ed together by the regent, put his booty on board the 
fieet, and with his land-forces retired safely to the 
English borders ; delivering the kingdom in a few 
days from the terror of an invasion, concerted with 
little policy, carried on at great expense, and attend¬ 
ed with no advantage. If Henry aimed at the con¬ 
quest of Scotland, he gained nothing by this expe¬ 
dition ; if the marriage he had proposed was still 
in his view, he lost a great deal. Such a rough 
courtship, as the earl of Huntly humorously called 


it, disgusted the whole nation; their aversion for 
the match grew into abhorrence ; and, exasperated 
by so many indignities, the Scots were never at any 
period more attached to France, or more alienated 
from England. k 

The earl of Lennox alone, in spite of the regent 
and French king, continued a correspondence w ith 
England, which ruined his own interest, without 
promoting Henry’s. 1 Many of his own vassals, pre¬ 
ferring their duty to their country before their affec¬ 
tion to him, refused to concur in any design to 
favour the public enemy. After a few feeble and 
unsuccessful attempts to disturb the regent’s ad¬ 
ministration, he was obliged to ily for safety to the 
court of England, where Henry rewarded services 
which he had the inclination, but not the power, to 
perform, by giving him in marriage his niece the 
Lady Margaret Douglas. This unhappy exile, 
however, was destined to be the father of a race of 
kings. He saw his son Lord Darnley mount the 
throne of Scotland, to the perpetual exclusion of 
that rival who now triumphed in his ruin. From 
that time his posterity have held the sceptre in two 
kingdoms, by one of which he w as cast out as a 
criminal, and by the other received as a fugitive. 

Meanwhile hostilities were con- A e con _ 
tinued by both nations, but with little eluded, 
vigour on either side. The historians of that age 
relate minutely the circumstances of several skir¬ 
mishes and inroads which, as they did not produce 
any considerable effect, at this distance of time de¬ 
serve no remembrance. 111 At last an end was put to 
this languid and inactive w ar, by a peace, in which 
England, France, and Scotland were comprehended. 
Henry laboured to exclude the Scots from the 
benefit of this treaty, and to reserve them for that 
vengeance which his attention to the affairs of the 
continent had hitherto delayed. But although a 
peace with England was of the last consequence to 


k The violence of national hatred between the English and Scots in the 
sixteenth century was such as can hardly be conceived by their posterity. 
A proof of the tierce resentment of the Scots is contained in the note on 
page 29 The instructions of the privy council of England to the earl of 
Hertford, who commanded the fleet and army which invaded Scotland, 
A. D. 1544, are dictated by a national animosity no less excessive. 1 
found them in the collection of papers belonging to the duke of Hamilton, 
and they merit publication, as they exhibit a striking picture of the spirit 
of that period. 

The Lords of the Council to the Earl of Hertford, Lieutenant in Scotland, 

April 10, 1544. 

The instruction begins with observing, that the king had originally in¬ 
tended to fortify Leith and keep possession of it, but, after mature de¬ 
liberation, he had finally determined not to make any settlement in Scot¬ 
land at present, and therefore he is not directed to make any fortification 
at Leith, or any other place: 

“ Hut only for that journey to put all to fire and sword, burn Edinburgh 
town, so used and defaced, that when you have gotten what you can of it, 
it may remain for ever a perpetual memory of the vengeance of God 
lightened upon it, for their falsehood and disloyalty. Do what you can out 
of hand, and without long tarrying to beat down or overthrow the castle ; 
sack houses and as many towns and villages about Edinburgh, as 

ye may conveniently. Sack Leith, and subvert it, and all the rest, putting 
man, woman, and child to fire and sword, without exception, when any 
resistance shall be made against you ; and this done, passover to the Fife- 
land, and extend like extremities and destruction to all towns and villages 
whereunto you may reach conveniently ; not forgetting, amongst all the 
rest, so to spoil and'turn upside down the cardinal’s town of St. Andrew’s 
as the upper sort may be the nether, and not one stoke stand upon another, 
sparing no creature alive within the same, specially such as either in 
friendship or blood be allied unto the cardinal; and if ye see any likelyhood 
to win the castle, give some stout essay to the same, and if it be your for¬ 
tune to get it, raze and destroy it piece-meal; and after this sort, spending 
one month there, spoiling and destroying as aforesaid, with the wise fore¬ 
sight, that his Majesty doubteth not ye will use, that your enemies take no 
advantage of you, and that you enterprise nothing but what you shall see 
may be easily achieved, his Majesty thinketh verily, and so all we, ye 
shall find this journey succeedeth this way most to his Majesty s honour, 
See . 

These barbarous orders seem to have been executed with a rigorous and 


unfeeling exactness, as appears from a series of letters from lord Hertford, 
in the same collection, giving a full account of all his operations in Scotland. 

I hey contain several curious particulars, not mentioned by the writers or 
that age, and with which both the historians of the city of Edinburgh were 
unacquainted : but they are of too great length to be inserted here. 

1 Rymer, xv. p. 22. 

m Though this war was distinguished by no important or decisive 
action, it was, however, extremely ruinous to individuals. There still re¬ 
main two original papers, which give us some idea of the miseries to which 
some of the most fertile counties in the kingdom wereexposed, by the sud¬ 
den and destructive incursions of the borderers. The first seems to be the 
report made to Henry by the English wardens of the marches for the year 
1544, and contains their exploits from the 2d of July to the 17th of X ovem- 
ber. The account it gives of the different inroads, or forrays, as they are 
called, is very minute ; and in conclusion, the sum total of mischief they 
did is thus computed : 

Towns, towers, stedes, barnekyns, parish-churches, bastel-houses, 
cast down or burnt ...... 192 

Scots slain -------- 403 

Prisoners taken - ..... 816 

XIolt, i. e. horned cattle, taken ..... lo,.3(56 

Sheep ........ 12,492 

X ags and geldings ------- 1, 296 

G oats - ....... OQQ 

Polls of corn - - - - - - 850 

Insight gear, i. e. household furniture, not reckoned. 

Haynes’s State Papers, 43. 

The other contains an account of an inroad by the earl of Hertford, be¬ 
tween the 8th anil 23d of September, 1545 ; the narrative is more general, 
but it appears that he had burnt, razed, and destroyed, in the counties of 
Berwick and Roxburgh only. 

Monasteries and Friardiouses ..... 7 

Castles, towers, and piles - lfi 

Market-towns ------- - 5 

Villages -------- - 213 

Milns 13 

Hospitals - 3 


All these were cast down or burnt. Haynes, 52. As the Scots were no 
less skilful in the practice of irregular war, we may conclude tha< the 
damage which they did in England was not inconsiderable; and that their 
raids were no less wasteful than the forrays of the English. 



32 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK II 


Francis I. whom the emperor was preparing to 
attack with all his forces, he was too generous to 
abandon allies who had served him with fidelity, 
and he chose rather to purchase Henry’s friendship 
with disadvantage to himself, than to leave them 
exposed to danger. By yielding somethings to the 
interest, and more to the vanity, of that haughty 
prince ; by submission, flattery, and address, he at 
length prevailed to have the Scots included in the 
peace agreed upon. 

The murder of An eVent whidl ha PP ened a sh ° rt 
Beatoun. time before the conclusion of this 

peace, rendered it more acceptable to the whole 
nation. Cardinal Beatoun had not used his power 
with moderation, equal to the prudence by which 
he attained it. Notwithstanding his great abilities, 
he had too many of the passions and prejudices of 
an angry leader of a faction, to govern a divided 
people with temper. His resentment against one 
party of the nobility, his insolence towards the rest, 
his severity to the reformers, and, above all, the 
barbarous and illegal execution of the famous 
George Wisliart, a man of honourable birth and of 
primitive sanctity, wore out the patience of a fierce 
age ; and nothing but a bold hand was wanting to 
gratify the public wish by his destruction. Private 
revenge, inflamed and sanctified by a false zeal for 
religion, quickly supplied this want. Norman 
Lesly, the eldest son of the earl of Rothes, had been 
treated by the cardinal with injustice and contempt. 
It was not the temper of the man, or the spirit of 
the times, quietly to digest an affront. As the pro¬ 
fession of his adversary screened him from the 
effects of what is called an honourable resentment, 
he resolved to take that satisfaction which he could 
not demand. This resolution deserves as much 
censure, as the singular courage and conduct with 
which he put it in execution excite wonder. The 
cardinal at that time resided in the castle of St. 
Andrew’s, which he had fortified at great expense, 
and, in the opinion of the age, had rendered it 
impregnable. His retinue was numerous, the town 
at his devotion, and the neighbouring country full 
of his dependants. In this situation, sixteen per¬ 
sons undertook to surprise his castle, and to assas¬ 
sinate himself; and their success was equal to the 
boldness of the attempt. Early in the 
morning they seized on the gate of the 
castle, which was set open to the workmen who 
were employed in finishing the fortifications ; and 
having placed sentries at the door of the cardinal’s 
apartment, they awakened his numerous domestics 
one by one, and turning them out of the castle, they 
without noise or tumult, or violence to any other 
person, delivered their country, though by a most 
unjustifiable action, from an ambitious man, whose 
pride was insupportable to the nobles, as his cruelty 
and cunning were great checks to the reformation. 

n Epist. "Res-. Scot. 2. 379. o Keith, 60. 

p In the first edition of this work, I expressed my suspicion of a corres¬ 
pondence between the murderers of cardinal Beatoun and Henry VIII., 
prior to their committing that crime. In the papers of duke Hamilton is 


May 20, 1546. 


His death was fatal to the catholic The reeent at . 
religion, and to the French interest in slile'th^murder^ 
Scotland. The same zeal for both ers - 
continued among a great party in the nation, but 
when deprived of the genius and authority of so 
skilful a leader, operated with less effect. Nothing 
can equal the consternation which a blow so unex¬ 
pected occasioned among such as were attached to 
him ; while the regent secretly enjoyed an event, 
which removed out of his way a rival who had not 
only eclipsed his greatness, but almost extinguished 
his power. Decency, however, the honour of the 
church, the importunity of the queen dowager and 
her adherents, his engagements with France, and, 
above all these, the desire of recovering his eldest 
son, whom the cardinal had detained for some time 
at St. Andrew’s, in pledge of his fidelity, and who, 
together with the castle, had fallen into the hands of 
the conspirators, induced him to take arms, in order 
to revenge the death of a man whom he hated. 

He threatened vengeance, but w as unable to ex¬ 
ecute it. One part of military science, the art 
of attacking fortified places, was then imperfectly 
understood in Scotland. The weapons, the disci¬ 
pline, and impetuosity of the Scots, rendered their 
armies as unfit for sieges, as they w ere active in the 
field. A hundred and fifty men, which was the 
greatest number the conspirators ever assembled, 
resisted all the efforts of the regent for five months," 
in a place which a single battalion, with a few bat¬ 
tering cannon, would now reduce in a few hours. 
This tedious siege was concluded by a truce. The 
regent undertook to procure for the conspirators an 
absolution from the pope, and a pardon in parlia¬ 
ment ; and upon obtaining these they engaged to 
surrender the castle, and to set his son at liberty. 

It is probable, that neither of them w ere sincere 
in this treaty. On both sides they sought only to 
amuse and to gain time. The regent had applied 
to France for assistance, and expected soon to have 
the conspirators at mercy. On the other hand, if 
Lesly and his associates were not at first incited 
by Henry to murder the cardinal, they were in the 
sequel powerfully supported by him. Notwith¬ 
standing the silence of contemporary historians, 
there are violent presumptions of the former ; of 
the latter there is undoubted certainty.® During 
the siege, the conspirators had received from Eng¬ 
land supplies both of money and provisions ; and 
as Henry was preparing to renew his proposals 
concerning the marriage and the union he had 
projected, and to second his negociations with a 
numerous army, they hoped, by concurring with him, 
to be in a situation in which they would no longer 
need a pardon, but might claim a reward .p 

The death of Henry blasted all these 

J Jan. 28, 1547. 

hopes. It happened in the beginning 

of next year, after a reign of greater splendour than 

contained the clearest evidence of this, which I publish not only to establish 
that fact, but as an additional confirmation of the remarks which 1 made 
upon the frequency of assassination in that age, and the slight opinion 
which men entertained concerning it. 




BOOK II. 


33 


THE HISTORY 

true glory ; bustling, rather than active ; oppressive 
in domestic government, and in foreign politics wild 
and irregular. But the vices of this prince were 
more beneficial to mankind than the virtues of 
others. His rapaciousness, his profusion, and even 
his tyranny, by depressing the ancient nobility, and 
by adding new property and power to the commons, 
laid or strengthened the foundations of the English 
liberty. His other passions contributed no less to¬ 
wards the downfall of popery, and the establishment 
of religious freedom in the nation. His resentment 
led him to abolish the power, and his covetousness 
to seize the wealth, of the church; and, by withdraw¬ 
ing these supports, made it easy, in the following 
reign, to overturn the whole fabric of superstition. 

Francis I. did not long survive a prince, who 
had been alternately his rival and his friend ; but 
his successor Henry II. was not neglectful of the 

Troops arrive French interest in Scotland. He sent 
from trance. a considerable body of men, under the 

command of Leon Strozzi, to tli$ regent’s assistance. 
By their long experience in the Italian and German 
wars, the French had become as dexterous in the 
conduct of sieges, as the Scots were ignorant; and 
as the boldness and despair of the conspirators could 
not defend them against the superior art of these 
new assailants, they, after a short resistance, sur¬ 
rendered to Strozzi, who engaged, in the name of 
the king his master, for the security of their lives; 
and, as his prisoners, transported them into France. 

Force the castle The castle itself, the monument of 

of St. Andrew’s , . 

to surrender. Beatoun s power and vanity, was 

demolished in obedience to the oanon law, which, 

with admirable policy, denounces its anathemas 

even against the houses in which the sacred blood 

of a cardinal happens to be shed, and ordains them 

to be laid in ruins.q 

The archbishopric of St. Andrews was bestowed 
by the regent upon his natural brother John Hamil¬ 
ton, abbot of Paisley. 

New breach with The dela J ° f a few Weeks WOuld 

England. have saved the conspirators. Those 
ministers of Hen*ry VIII. who had the chief direc¬ 
tion of affairs during the minority of his son Edward 
YI. conducted themselves with regard to Scotland 
by the maxims of their late master, and resolved to 
frighten the Scots into a treaty, which they had not 
abilities or address to bring about by any other 
method. 

The Earl of Hertford to the king's Majesty, Newcastle, 

April 17, 1544. 

Pleaseth your Highness to understand, that this day arrived with me, the 
earl of Hertford, a Scottishman called Wishart, and brought me a letter 
from the lord of Brinstone, O', e. Chrichton laird of Brunstan.l which I 
send your Highness herewith, and according to his request, have taken order 
for the repair of the said Wishert to your Majesty by post, both for the 
delivery of such letters as he hath to your majesty from the said Brinstone, 
and also for the declaration of his credence, which as 1 perceive by him 
consisted) in two points, one that the lord of Grange, late treasurer of 
Scotland, the master of Rothes, the earl of Rothes' eldest son, and John 
Charteris, would attempt either to apprehend or slay the cardinal, at some 
time when he shall pass through the Fifeland, as he doth sundry times in 
his way to St. Andrew’s, and in case they can so apprehend him will de¬ 
liver lum unto your Majesty, which attemplate, he saith.they would en¬ 
terprise, if they knew your Majesty’s pleasure therein, and what support- 
ation and mainteinance your Majesty would minister unto them, after the 
execution of the same, in case they should be pursued by any ot their ene¬ 
mies; the other is, that in case your Majesty would grant unto them a 
convenient entertainment to keep 1000 or 15(X> men in wages for a month or 
two, they journeying with the power ot the earl Marshal, the said Mr ot 
Rothes, die Laird of Calder, and the other the lord friends, will take 

D 


OF SCOTLAND. 

But before we proceed to relate the events which 
their invasion of Scotland occasioned, we shall stop 
to take notice of a circumstance unobserved by con¬ 
temporary historians, but extremely remarkable for 
the discovery it makes of the sentiments and spirit 
which then prevailed among the Scots. The con¬ 
spirators against cardinal Beatoun found the re¬ 
gent’s eldest son in the castle of St. Andrew’s ; and 
as they needed the protection of the English, it was 
to be feared that they might endeavour to purchase 
it, by delivering to them this important prize. The 
presumptive heir to the crown in the hands of the 
avowed enemies of the kingdom, was a dreadful 
prospect. In order to avoid it, the parliament fell 
upon a very extraordinary expedient. By an act 
made on purpose, they excluded “the regent’s 
eldest son from all right of succession, public or 
private, so long as he should be detained a prisoner, 
and substituted in his place his other brothers, ac¬ 
cording to their seniority, and in failure of them, 
those who were next heirs to the regent.” r Succes¬ 
sion by hereditary right is an idea so obvious and 
so popular, that a nation seldom ventures to make 
a breach in it, but in cases of extreme necessity. 
Such a necessity did the parliament discover in the 
present situation. Hatred to England, founded on 
the memory of past hostilities, and heightened by 
the smart of recent injuries, was the national pas¬ 
sion. This dictated that uncommon statute, by 
which the order of lineal succession was so remark¬ 
ably broken. The modern theories, which represent 
this right as divine and unalienable, and that ought 
not to be violated upon any consideration whatso¬ 
ever, seem to have been then altogether unknown. 

In the beginning of September, the Scotland invaded 
earl of Hertford, now duke of Somer- by the Engllsh - 
set, and protector of England, entered Scotland at 
the head of eighteen thousand men ; and, at the 
same time, a fleet of sixty ships appeared on the 
coast to second his land forces. The Scots had for 
some time observed this storm gathering, and were 
prepared for it. Their army was almost double to 
that of the enemy, and posted to the greatest ad¬ 
vantage on a rising ground above Musselburgh, not 
far from the banks of the river Esk. Both these 
circumstances alarmed the duke of Somerset, who 
saw his danger, and would willingly have extricated 
himself out of it, by a new overture of peace, on 
conditions extremely reasonable. But this modera- 

upon them, at such time as your Majesty’s army shall be in Scotland, to de¬ 
stroy the abbev and town of Arbroath, being the cardinal’s, and all the 
other bishops’'houses and countries on that side of the water thereabout, 
and to apprehend all those which they say be the principal impugnators of 
amity between England and Scotland ; for which they should have a good 
opportunity, as they say, when the power of the said bishops and abbots 
shall resort towards 'Edinburgh to resist your Majesty’s army. And for the 
execution of these things, the said Wishart saith, that the earl marshal 
aforenamed and others will capitulate with your Majesty in writing under 
their hands and seals, afore they shall desire any supply or aid of money 
at your Majesty’s hands. This is the effect of nis credence, with sundry 
other advertisements of the great division that is at this present within the 
realm of Scotland, which we doubt not lie will declare unto your Majesty 
at good length. Hamilton MSS. vol. iii. p. 38. 

N. jB. '1 his is the letter of which Dr. Mackenzie, vol. iii. p. 18, and 
bishop Keith, Hist. p. 44, published a fragment. It does not authorize us 
to conclude that Mr. George Wishart, known by the name of the martyr, 
was the person who resorted to the earl of Hertford. It was more probably 
John Wishart, of Pitarrow, the chief of that name, a man of abilities, zeal¬ 
ously attached to the reformed doctrine, and deeply engaged in all the 
intrigues and operations of that busy period. Keith, 96, 117, 119, 315. 
q Burn. Hist. Ref. 1. 338. 
r Epist. Rgg. Scot. 2. 359. 





34 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK II. 


lion being imputed to fear, his proposals were re¬ 
jected with the scorn which the confidence of suc¬ 
cess inspires; and, if the conduct of the regent, 
who commanded the Scottish army, had been, in 
any degree, equal to his confidence, the destruction 
of the English must have been inevitable. They 
were in a situation precisely similar to that of their 
countrymen, under Oliver Cromwell, in the follow¬ 
ing century. The Scots had chosen their ground 
so well, that it was impossible to force them to give 
battle; a few days had exhausted the forage and 
provision of a narrow country ; the fleet could only 
furnish a scanty and precarious subsistence; a re¬ 
treat, therefore, was necessary ; but disgrace, and 
perhaps ruin, were the consequences of retreating. 

On both these occasions, the national heat and 
impetuosity of the Scots saved the English, and 
precipitated their own country into the utmost 
danger. The undisciplined courage of the private 
men became impatient at the sight of an enemy. 

Battle Of Pinkey. The S eneral was afraid of nothing, but 
that the English might escape from 

September io, him b y fli S ht 5 ar ‘d, leaving his strong 
1547 - camp, he attacked the duke of Somer¬ 
set near Pinkey, with no better success than his 
rashness deserved. The protector had drawn up 
his troops on a gentle eminence, and had now the 
advantage of ground on his side. The Scottish 
army consisted almost entirely of infantry, whose 
chief weapon was a long spear, and for that reason 
their files were very deep, and their ranks close. 
They advanced towards the enemy in three great 
bodies, and, as they passed the river, were con¬ 
siderably exposed to the fire of the English fleet, 
which lay in the bay of Musselburgh, and had 
drawn near the shore. The English cavalry, flushed 
with an advantage which they had gained in a skir¬ 
mish some days before, began the attack with more 
impetuosity than good conduct. A body so firm and 
compact as the Scots easily resisted the impression 
of cavalry, broke them, and drove them off the field. 
The English infantry, however, advanced ; and the 
Scots were at once exposed to a flight of arrows, to 
a fire in flank from four hundred foreign fusileers, 
who served the enemy, and to their cannon, which 
were planted behind the infantry on the highest 
part of the eminence. The depth and closeness of 
their order making it impossible for the Scots to 
stand long in this situation, the earl of Angus, who 
commanded the vanguard, endeavoured to change 
his ground, and to retire towards the main body. 
But his friends, unhappily, mistook his motion for 

s Tf??- folfowing passage, in a curious and rare journal of the protector’s 
expedition into Scotland, written by W. Patten, who was joined in com¬ 
mission With l.Pfi as liiHop-murtiul .• + r 



order, their armour, and their manner as well of goin<r to offend, as of 
standing to defend, I have thought necessary here to utter. Ilackbutters 
have they few or none, and appoint their fight most commonly always a-foot. 
I hev come to the held well furnished all with jack and skull, dagger and 
buckler, and swords all broad and thin, of exceeding good temper, and 
universally so made to slice, that as I never saw none' so good so I think 
it hard to devise the better. Hereto every man his pike, and a «reat ker- 
cher wrapped twice or thrice about his neck, not for cold, but ftTr cuttin" 
Jn their array towards joining with the enemy, they cling and thrust so 
near in the fore rank, shoulder and shoulder together, with their pikes in 
both their hands straight afore them, and their followers in that order so 


a flight, and fell into confusion. At that very in¬ 
stant, the broken cavalry, having rallied, returned 
to the charge ; the foot pursued the advantage they 
had gained ; the prospect of victory redoubled the 
ardour of both : and, in a moment, the rout of the 
Scottish army became universal and irretrievable. 
The encounter in the field was not long or bloody; 
but, in the pursuit, the English discovered all the 
rage and fierceness which national antipathy, 
kindled by long emulation, and inflamed by re¬ 
ciprocal injuries, is apt to inspire. The pursuit 
was continued for five hours, and to a great dis¬ 
tance. All the three roads by which the Scots fled, 
were strewed with spears, and swords, and targets, 
and covered with the bodies of the slain. Above 
ten thousand men fell on this day, one of the most 
fatal Scotland had ever seen. A few were taken 
prisoners, and among these some persons of distinc¬ 
tion. The protector had it now in his power to be¬ 
come master of a kingdom, out of which, not many 
hours before, he was almost obliged to retire with 
infamy.* 

But this victory, however great, was 

e- , ... » . . Their victory of 

ot no real utility, tor want of skill or little benefit to the 

n . . . .. ^ English. 

ot leisure to improve it. Every new 
injury rendered the Scots more averse from a union 
with England ; and the protector neglected the only 
measure which would have made it necessary for 
them to have given their consent to it. He amused 
himself in wasting the open country, and in taking 
or building several petty castles ; whereas, by forti¬ 
fying a few places which were accessible by sea, lie 
would have laid the kingdom open to the English, 
and, in a short time, the Scots must either have ac¬ 
cepted of his terms, or have submitted to his power. 
By such an improvement of it, the victory at Dun¬ 
bar gave Cromwell the command of Scotland. The 
battle of Pinkey had no other effect but to precipi¬ 
tate the Scots into new engagements with France. 
The situation of the English court may, indeed, be 
pleaded in excuse for the duke of Somerset's con¬ 
duct. That cabal of his enemies, which occasioned 
his tragical end, was already formed ; and while he 
triumphed in Scotland, they secretly undermined 
his power and credit at home. Self-preservation, 
therefore, obliged him to prefer his safety before 
his fame, and to return without reaping the fruits 
of his victory. At this time, however, the cloud 
blew over ; the conspiracy by which he fell was not 
yet ripe for execution; and his presence suspended 
its effects for some time. The supreme power still 
remaining in his hands, he employed it to recover 

hard at their backs laying their pikes over tlieir foregoers’ shoulders, that 
it they do assail undiscovered, no force can well withstand them. Stand¬ 
ing at defence, they thrust shoulders likewise so nigh together, the fore- 
ranks well nigh to kneeling, stoop low before, their fellows behind holding 
their pikes with both hands, and therewith in their left their bucklers, the 
one end ot their pike against their right foot, and the other against’ the 
enemy breast-high ; their followers crossing their pike-points with them 
forward ; and thus each with other so nigh as space and place will surfer 
through the whole ward, so thick, that as easily shall a bare finder pierce 
through the skin of an angry hedge hog, as any encounter the front of their 
pikes. Other curious particulars are found in this journal, from which 
Sir John Hayward has borrowed his account of this expedition. Life of 
Edward VI. 279, kc.. 

The length of the Scotch pike or spear was appointed by Act 44. p 1471 
to be six ells ; i.e. eighteen feet six inches. 



BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


35 


April 1548. 


the opportunity which he had lost. 

A body of troops, by his command, 
seized and fortified Haddington, a place which, 
on account of its distance from the sea, and from 
any English garrison, could not he defended with¬ 
out great expense and danger. 

Forces the Scots Meanwhile the French gained more 

into a closer tmion by the defeat of their allies, than the 
with France, . 

English by their victory. After the 
death of cardinal Beatoun, Mary of Guise, the 
queen dowager, took a considerable share in the 
direction of affairs. She was warmly attached by 
blood, and by inclination, to the French interest; 
and, in order to promote it, improved with great 
dexterity every event which occurred. The spirit 
and strength of the Scots were broken at Pinkey ; 
and in an assembly of nobles which met at Stirling 
to consult upon the situation of the kingdom, all 
eyes were turned tow ards France, no prospect of 
safety appearing but in assistance from that quarter. 
But Henry II. being then at peace with England, 
the queen represented that they could not expect 
him to take part in their quarrel, but upon views of 
personal advantage; and that without extraordinary 
concessions in his favour, no assistance, in propor¬ 
tion to their present exigencies, could be obtained. 
The prejudices of the nation powerfully seconded 
these representations of the queen. What often 
happens to individuals, took place among the nobles 
in this convention; they were swayed entirely by 
their passions ; and in order to gratify them, they 
deserted their former principles, and disregarded 
their true interest. In the violence of resentment, 
they forgot that zeal for the independence of Scot¬ 
land, which had prompted them to reject the pro- 

and to off.r their P»sals of Henry VIII.; and by offer- 
ing, voluntarily, their young queen in 
marriage to the dauphin, eldest son of 
Henry II. ; and, which w as still more, by proposing 
to send her immediately into France to be educated 
at his court, they granted, from a thirst of ven¬ 
geance, what formerly they would not yield upon 
any consideration of their own safety. To gain at 
once such a kingdom as Scotland, w r as a matter of 
no small consequence to France. Henry, without 
hesitation, accepted the offers of the Scottish am¬ 
bassadors, and prepared for the vigorous defence of 
his new acquisition. Six thousand veteran soldiers, 
under the command of Monsieur Desse, assisted by 
some of the best officers who were formed in the 
long wars of Francis I., arrived at Leith. They 
served two campaigns in Scotland, with a spirit 
equal to their former fame. But their exploits 
were not considerable. The Scots, soon becoming 
jealous of their designs, neglected to support them 
with proper vigour. The caution of the English, in 
acting wholly upon the defensive, prevented the 
French from attempting any enterprise of conse¬ 
quence ; and obliged them to exhaust their strength 
in tedious sieges, undertaken under many disad- 
Their efforts, however, were not without 
d 2 


queen in mar¬ 
riage to the dau- 
phin. 


vantages. 


some benefit to the Scots, by compelling the Eng¬ 
lish to evacuate Haddington, and to surrender 
several small forts which they possessed in different 
parts of the kingdom. 

But the effects of these operations of his troops 
were still of greater importance to the French king. 
The diversion which they occasioned enabled him 
to wrest Boulogne out of the hands of the English ; 
and the influence of his army in Scotland obtained 
the concurrence of parliament with the overtures 
which had been made to him, by the assembly of 
nobles at Stirling, concerning the queen’s marriage 
with the dauphin, and her education in the court 
of France. In vain did a few patriots ^ , c 

remonstrate against such extravagant $ude P d rpose ton ' 
concessions, by which Scotland was 
reduced to be a province of France ; and Henry, 
from an ally, raised to be master of the kingdom: 
by which the friendship of France became more 
fatal than the enmity of England ; and every thing 
was fondly given up to the one, that had been 
bravely defended against the other. A point of so 
much consequence was hastily decided in a par¬ 
liament assembled in the camp before 
Haddington : the intrigues of the June 5 ’ 1548 ’ 
queen dowager, the zeal of the clergy, and resent¬ 
ment against England, had prepared a great party 
in the nation for such a step ; the French general 
and ambassador, by their liberality and promises, 
gained over many more. The regent himself was 
weak enough to stoop to the offer of a pension from 
France, together with the title of duke of Chatel- 
herault in that kingdom. A considerable majority 
declared for the treaty, and the interest of a faction 
w as preferred before the honour of the nation. 

Having hurried the Scots into this 

° . Mary sent to be 

rash and fatal resolution, the source educated in 

. . trance. 

of many calamities to themselves and 
to their sovereign, the French allowed them no time 
for reflection or repentance. The fleet which had 
brought over their forces was still in Scotland, and 
without delay convoyed the queen into France. 
Mary was then six years old, and by her education 
in that court, one of the politest but most corrupted 
in Europe, she acquired every accomplishment that 
could add to her charms as a woman, and contracted 
many of those prejudices which occasioned her mis¬ 
fortunes as a queen. 

From the time that Mary w as put into their hands, 
it was the interest of the French to suffer war in 
Scotland to languish. The recovery of the Boulon- 
nois was the object which the French king had 
most at heart ; but a slight diversion in Britain was 
sufficient to divide the attention and strength of the 
English, whose domestic factions deprived both 
their arms and councils of their accustomed vigour. 
The government of England had undergone a great 
revolution. The duke of Somerset’s power had been 
acquired with too much violence, and w as exercised 
with too little moderation, to be of long continuance. 
Many good qualities, added to great love of Isis 



36 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK II. 


country, could not atone for his ambition in usurp¬ 
ing; the sole direction of affairs. Some of the most 
eminent courtiers combined against him; and the 
earl of Warwick their leader, no less ambitious, but 
more artful, than Somerset, conducted his measures 
with so much dexterity as to raise himself upon the 
ruins of his rival. Without the invidious name of 
protector, he succeeded to all the power and influ¬ 
ence of which Somerset was deprived, and he 
quickly found peace to be necessary for the esta¬ 
blishment of his new authority, and the execution 
of the vast designs he had conceived. 

Peace concluded. Henry was no stranger to Warwick's 

situation, and improved his knowledge 
of it to good purpose, in conducting the negociations 
for a general peace. He prescribed what terms he 
pleased to the English minister, who scrupled at 
nothing, however advantageous to that monarch 

m h °4 15 ant ^ a ^* es * England consented to 
restore Boulogne and its dependencies 
to France, and gave up all pretensions to a treaty 
of marriage with the queen of Scots, or to the con¬ 
quest of her country. A few small forts, of which 
the English troops had hitherto kept possession, 
were razed; and peace between the two kingdoms 
was established on its ancient foundation. 

Both the British nations lost power, as well as 
reputation, by this unhappy quarrel. It was on 
both sides a war of emulation and resentment, rather 
than of interest; and was carried on under the in¬ 
fluence of national animosities, which were blind 
to all advantages. The French, who entered into it 
with greater coolness, conducted it with more skill; 
and by dexterously availing themselves of every 
circumstance which occurred, recovered possession 
of an important territory which they had lost, and 
added to their monarchy a new kingdom. The 
ambition of the English minister betrayed to them 
the former ; the inconsiderate rage of the Scots 
against their ancient enemies bestowed on them the 
latter; their own address and good policy merited 
both. 

_ . Immediately after the conclusion of 

The Scots become J 

jealous of the the peace, the French forces left Scot¬ 
land, as much to their own satisfaction 
as to that of the nation. The Scots soon found, that 
the calling to their assistance a people more power¬ 
ful than themselves, was a dangerous expedient. 
They beheld, with the utmost impatience, those who 
had conic over to protect the kingdom, taking upon 
them to command in it; and on many occasions they 
repented the rash invitation which they had given. 
The peculiar genius of the French nation height¬ 
ened this disgust, and prepared the Scots to throw 
off the yoke, before they had well begun to feel it. 
The French were, in that age, what they are in the 
present, one of the most polished nations in Europe. 
But it is to be observed, in all their expeditions into 
foreign countries, whether towards the south or 
north, that their manners have been remarkably 
incompatible with the manners of every other people. 


Barbarians are tenacious of their own customs, be¬ 
cause they want knowledge and taste to discover 
the reasonableness and propriety of customs which 
differ from them. Nations, which hold the first 
rank in politeness, are frequently no less tenacious 
out of pride. The Greeks were so in the ancient 
world ; and the French are the same in the modern. 
Full of themselves ; flattered by the imitation of 
their neighbours ; and accustomed to consider their 
own modes as the standards of elegance; thej r scorn 
to disguise, or to lay aside, the distinguishing man¬ 
ners of their own nation, or to make any allowance 
for what may differ from them among others. For 
this reason, the behaviour of their armies has, on 
every occasion, been insupportable to strangers, and 
has always exposed them to hatred, and often to 
destruction. In that age, they overran Italy four 
several times by their valour, and lost it as often 
by their insolence. The Scots, naturally an irasci¬ 
ble and high-spirited people, and who, of all 
nations, can least bear the most distant insinuation 
of contempt, w^ere not of a temper to admit all the 
pretensions of such assuming guests. The symp¬ 
toms of alienation were soon visible ; they seconded 
the military operations of the French troops with 
the utmost coldness ; their disgust grew insensibly 
to a degree of indignation that could hardly be re¬ 
strained ; and on occasion of a very slight accident, 
broke out with fatal violence. A private French 
soldier engaging in an idle quarrel w ith a citizen 
of Edinburgh, both nations took arms with equal 
rage, in defence of their countrymen. The provost 
of Edinburgh, his son, and several citizens of dis¬ 
tinction, were killed in the fray ; and the French 
were obliged to avoid the fury of the inhabitants, 
by retiring out of the city. Notwithstanding the 
ancient alliance of France and Scotland, and the 
long intercourse of good offices between the two 
nations, an aversion for the French took its rise at 
this time among the Scots, the effects whereof were 
deeply felt, and operated powerfully through the 
subsequent period. 

From the death of cardinal Beatoun, Pro s of the 
nothing has been said of the state of reforma tio«- 
religion. While the war with England continued, 
the clergy had no leisure to molest the protestants, 
and they were not yet considerable enough to ex¬ 
pect anything more than connivance and impunity. 
The new doctrines were still in their infancy ; but 
during this short interval of tranquillity, they ac¬ 
quired strength, and advanced by large and firm 
steps towards a full establishment in the kingdom. 
The first preachers against popery in Scotland, of 
whom several had appeared during the reign of 
James V., were more eminent for zeal and piety, 
than for learning. Their acquaintance with the 
principles of the reformation was partial, and at 
second hand ; some of them had been educated in 
England ; all of them had bonowed their notions 
from the books published there ; and in the first 
dawn of the new light, they did not venture far 



BOOK II. 


37 


THE HISTORY 

before their leaders. But in a short time the doc¬ 
trines and writings of the foreign reformers became 
generally known ; the inquisitive genius of the age 
pressed forward in quest of truth ; the discovery of 
one error opened the way to others ; the downfall 
of one impostor drew many after it; the whole 
fabric, which ignorance and superstition had erected 
in times of darkness, began to totter ; and nothing 
was wanting to complete its ruin, but a daring and 
active leader to direct the attack. Such was the 
famous John Knox, who, with better qualifications 
of learning, and more extensive views, than any of 
his predecessors in Scotland, possessed a natural 
intrepidity of mind, which set him above fear. He 
began his public ministry at St. Andrew’s in the 
year one thousand five hundred and forty seven, 
with that success which always accompanies ahold 
and popular eloquence. Instead of amusing him¬ 
self with lopping the branches, he struck directly 
at the root of popery, and attacked both the doctrine 
and discipline of the established church, with a 
vehemence peculiar to himself, but admirably suited 
to the temper and wishes of the age. 

An adversary so formidable as Knox would not 
have easily escaped the rage of the clergy, who 
observed the tendency and progress of his opinions 
with the utmost concern. But, at first, he retired 
for safety into the castle of St. Andrew’s, and, while 
the conspirators kept possession of it, preached 
publicly under their protection. The great revolu¬ 
tion in England, which followed upon the death of 
Henry VIII., contributed no less than the zeal of 
Knox towards demolishing the popish church in 
Scotland. Henry had loosened the chains, and 
lightened the yoke, of popery. The ministers of 
his son Edward VI. cast them off altogether, and 
established the protestant religion upon almost the 
same footing whereon it now stands in that king¬ 
dom. The influence of this example reached Scot¬ 
land, and the happy effects of ecclesiastical liberty 
in one nation, inspired the other with an equal 
desire of recovering it. The reformers had, hitherto, 
been obliged to conduct themselves with the utmost 
caution, and seldom ventured to preach, but in 
private houses, and at a distance from court; they 
gained credit, as happens on the first publication of 
every new religion, chiefly among persons in the 
lower and middle rank of life. But several noble¬ 
men, of the greatest distinction, having, about this 
time, openly espoused their principles, they were no 
longer under the necessity of acting with the same 
reserve; and with more security and encourage¬ 
ment, they had likewise greater success. The means 
of acquiring and spreading knowledge became more 
common, and the spirit of innovation, peculiar to 
that period, grew every day bolder and more uni¬ 
versal. 

Happily for the reformation, this spirit was still 
under some restraint. It had not yet attained 
firmness and vigour sufficient to overturn a system 
founded on the deepest policy, and supported by 


OF SCOTLAND. 

the most formidable power. Under the present cir¬ 
cumstances, any attempt towards action must have 
been fatal to the protestant doctrines ; and it is no 
small proof of the authority, as well as penetration 
of the heads of the party, that they were able to 
restrain the zeal of a fiery and impetuous people, 
until that critical and mature juncture, when every 
step they took was decisive and successful. 

Meanwhile their cause received reinforcement 
from two different quarters whence they never could 
have expected it. The ambition of the house of 
Guise, and the bigotry of Mary of England, 
hastened the subversion of the papal throne in 
Scotland ; and, by a singular disposition of Provi¬ 
dence, the persons who opposed the reformation in 
every other part of Europe with the fiercest zeal, 
were made instruments for advancing it in that 
kingdom. 

Mary of Guise possessed the same The queen 
bold and aspiring spirit which distin- toThFoffki’ot^ 
guished her family. But in her it was regent - 
softened by the female character, and accompanied 
with great temper and address. Her brothers, in 
order to attain the high objects at which they aimed, 
ventured upon such daring measures as suited their 
great courage. Her designs upon the supreme 
power w ere concealed with the utmost care, and 
advanced by address and refinements more natural 
to her sex. By a dexterous application of those 
talents, she had acquired a considerable influence 
on the councils of a nation hitherto unacquainted 
with the government of women; and, without the 
smallest right to any share in the administration of 
affairs, had engrossed the chief direction of them 
into her own hands. But she did not long rest 
satisfied with the enjoyment of this precarious 
power, which the fickleness of the regent, or the 
ambition of those who governed him, might so 
easily disturb ; and she began to set on foot new 
intrigues, with a design of undermining him, and 
of opening to herself a way to succeed him in that 
high dignity. Her brothers entered warmly into 
this scheme, and supported it with all their credit 
at the court of France. The French king willingly 
concurred in a measure, by which he hoped to bring 
Scotland entirely under management, and, in any 
future broil with England, to turn its whole force 
against that kingdom. 

In order to arrive at the desired elevation, the 
queen dowager had only one of two ways to choose; 
either violently to wrest the power out of the hands 
of the regent, or to obtain it by his consent. Under 
a minority, and among a warlike and factious 
people, the former was a very uncertain and dan¬ 
gerous experiment. The latter appeared to be no 
less impracticable. To persuade a man voluntarily 
to abdicate the supreme power; to descend to a. 
level with those above whom he was raised ; and to 
be content with the second place where he hath held 
a first, may well pass for a wild and chimerical 
project. This, however, the queen attempted ; and 



BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


38 

the prudence of the attempt was sufficiently justified 
by its success. 

‘ The regent’s inconstancy and irresolution, toge ¬ 
ther with the calamities which had befallen the 
kingdom under his administration, laised the pie- 
jutlices both of the nobles and of the people against 
him, to a great height; and the queen secretly 
fomented these with much industry. All who 
wished for a change met with a gracious reception 
in her court, and their spirit of disaffection was 
nourished by such hopes and promises, as in every 

Court, the re- a S e im P ose 011 the credulit y ° f tlie 
formers. factious. The favourers of the refor¬ 
mation being the most numerous and spreading body 
of the regent’s enemies, she applied to them with a 
particular attention ; and the gentleness of her dis¬ 
position, and seeming indifference to the religious 
points in dispute, made all her promises of protec¬ 
tion and indulgence pass upon them for sincere. 
Finding so great a part of the nation willing to fall 
in with her measures, the queen set out 
for France, under pretence of visit¬ 
ing her daughter, and took along with her those 
noblemen who possessed the greatest power and 
credit among their countrymen. Softened by the 
pleasures of an elegant court, flattered by the 
civilities of the French king, and the caresses of 
the house of Guise, and influenced by the season¬ 
able distribution of a few favours, and the liberal 
promise of many more, they were brought to approve 
of all the queen’s pretensions. 

While she advanced by these slow 7 but sure steps, 
the regent either did not foresee the danger which 
threatened him, or neglected to provide against it. 
The first discovery of the train which was laid, 
came from two of his ow n confidents, Carnegie of 
Kinnaird, and Panter bishop of Ross, whom the 
queen had gained over to her interest, and then 
employed as the most proper instruments for obtain¬ 
ing his consent. The overture was made to him in 
the name of the French king, enforced by proper 
threatenings, in order to work upon his natural 
timidity, and sw eetened by every promise that could 
reconcile him to a proposal so disagreeable. On 
the one hand, the confirmation of his French title, 
together with a considerable pension, the parlia¬ 
mentary acknowledgment of his right of succession 
to the crown, and a public ratification of his conduct 
during his regency, were offered him. On the other 
hand, the displeasure of the French king, the pow er 
and popularity of the queen dowager, the disaffec¬ 
tion of the nobles, with the danger of an after¬ 
reckoning, were represented in the strongest colours. 

It was not possible to agree to a proposal so ex¬ 
traordinary and unexpected, without some previous 
struggle ; and, had the archbishop of St. Andrew’s 
been present to fortify the irresolute and passive 
spirit of the regent, he, in all probability, would 
have rejected it with disdain. Happily for the 

t Cardan himself was more desirous of being considered as an astrologer 
than a philosopher; in his book De Genituris, we find a calculation of the 
archbishop’s nativity, from which he pretends both to have predicted his 


queen, the sagacity and ambition of that prelate 
could, at this time, be no obstruction to her views. 
He was lying at the point of death, and in his ab¬ 
sence the influence of the queen’s agents on a flex¬ 
ible temper counterbalanced several of the strongest 
passions of the human mind, and obtained his 
consent to a voluntary surrender of the supreme 
power. 

After gaining a point of such diffi- ^ 1531 
culty with so much ease, the queen 
returned into Scotland, in full expectation of taking 
immediate possession of her new dignity. But by 
this time the archbishop of St. Andrews had re¬ 
covered of that distemper, which the ignorance of 
the Scottish physicians had pronounced to be incu¬ 
rable. This he ow r ed to the assistance of the famous 
Cardan, one of those irregular adventurers in phi¬ 
losophy, of whom Italy produced so many about 
this period. A bold genius led him to some useful 
discoveries, which merit the esteem of a more dis¬ 
cerning age ; a wdld imagination engaged him in 
those chimerical sciences, which drew 7 the admiration 
of his contemporaries. As a pretender to astrology 
and magic, he w as revered and consulted by all 
Europe; as a proficient in natural philosophy he 
was but little known. The archbishop, it is proba¬ 
ble, considered him as a powerful magician, when 
he applied to him for relief; but it was his know¬ 
ledge as a philosopher which enabled him to cure 
his disease. 

Together with his health, the archbishop recovered 
the entire government of the regent, and quickly 
persuaded him to recall that dishonourable promise, 
which he had been seduced by the artifices of the 
queen to grant. However great her surprise and 
indignation were, at this fresh instance of his in¬ 
constancy, she w as obliged to dissemble, that she 
might have leisure to renew her intrigues with all 
parties; with the protestants, whom she favoured 
and courted more than ever; with the nobles, to 
whom she rendered herself agreeable by various 
arts ; and with the regent himself, in order to gain 
whom, she employed every argument. But, what¬ 
ever impressions her emissaries might have made on 
the regent, it w as no easy matter to overreach or to 
intimidate the archbishop. Under his management, 
the negociations were spun out to a great length, 
and his brother maintained his station with that ad¬ 
dress and firmness, which its importance so w 7 ell 
merited. The universal defection of the nobility, 
the growing pow 7 er of the protestants, who all ad¬ 
hered to the queen dowager, the reiterated solicita¬ 
tions of the French king, and, above all, the inter¬ 
position of the young queen, who was now entering 
the twelfth year of her age, and claimed a right of 
nominating whom she pleased to be regent," oblig¬ 
ed him at last to resign that high office, 

i • i i i j i i j tt Prevails on the 

winch he had held many years. He regent to resign 

.... . his office. 

obtained, however, the same advanta- 

disease, and to have effected his cure. ITe received from the archbishop a 
reward of 1800 crowns ; a great sum in that age. De Vita sua, p. 32. 

u Lesley, de Ueb. Gest. Scot. ap. Jeb. 1. 187. 



BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


39 


geous terms for himself, which had been formerly 
stipulated. 

She obtains the If was i* 1 the parliament which met 
regency. on the tenth of April one thousand five 
hundred and fifty-four, that the earl of Arran exe¬ 
cuted this extraordinary resignation ; and at the 
same time Mary of Guise w as raised to that dignity 
which had been so long the object of her wishes. 
Thus, with their own approbation, a woman and a 
stranger was advanced to the supreme authority over 
a fierce and turbulent people, who seldom submitted, 
without reluctance, to the legal and ancient govern¬ 
ment of their native monarclis. 

-Reformationcon- While the queen dowager of Scot- 
great 3 progress!* 6 land contributed so much towards the 

.inly o, 1553. progress of the reformation by the 

protection which she afforded it, from motives of 
ambition, the English queen, by her indiscreet zeal, 
filled the kingdom with persons active in promoting 
the same cause. Mary ascended the throne of Eng¬ 
land on the death of her brother Edward, and soon 
after married Philip II. of Spain. To the per¬ 
secuting spirit of the Romish superstition, and the 
fierceness of that age, she added the private resent¬ 
ment of her own and of her mother’s sufferings, with 
which she loaded the reformed religion ; and the 
peevishness and severity of her natural temper car¬ 
ried the acrimony of all these passions to the utmost 
extreme. The cruelty of her persecution equalled 
the deeds of those tyrants who have been the great¬ 
est reproach to human nature. The bigotry of her 
clergy could scarce keep pace with the impetuosity 
of her zeal. Even the unrelenting Philip was 
obliged, on some occasions, to mitigate the rigour of 
her proceedings. Many among the most eminent 
reformers suffered for the doctrines which they had 
taught; others fled from the storm. To the greater 
part of these, Switzerland and Germany opened a 
secure asylum ; and not a few, out of choice or ne¬ 
cessity, fled into Scotland. What they had seen 
and felt in England, did not abate the warmth and 
zeal of their indignation against popery. Their at¬ 
tacks were bolder and more successful than ever; 
and their doctrines made a rapid progress among 
all ranks of men. 

These doctrines, calculated to rectify the opinions, 
and to reform the manners, of mankind, had hitherto 
produced no other effects ; but they soon began to 
operate with greater violence, and proved the occa¬ 
sion, not only of subverting the established religion, 
but of shaking the throne and endangering the 
a view of the po- kingdom. The causes which facili- 
contribute 3 ! 3 to- lch tated the introduction of these new 
wards that. opinions into Scotland, and which dis¬ 
seminated them so fast through the nation, merit, 
on that account, a particular and careful inquiry. 
The reformation is one of the greatest events in the 
history of mankind, and, in whatever point of light 
we view it, is instructive and interesting. 

The revival of learning in the fifteenth and six¬ 
teenth centuries roused the world from that lethargy 


in which it had been sunk for many ages. The 
human mind felt its own strength, broke the fetters 
of authority by which it had been so long restrained, 
and, venturing to move in a larger sphere, pushed 
its inquiries into every subject, with great boldness 
and surprising success. 

No sooner did mankind recover the capacity of 
exercising their reason, than religion was one of the 
first objects which drew their attention. Long before 
Luther published his famous Theses, which shook 
the papal throne, science and philosophy had laid 
open to many of the Italians the imposture and 
absurdity of the established superstition. That 
subtle and refined people, satisfied with enjoying 
those discoveries in secret, were little disposed to 
assume the dangerous character of reformers, and 
concluded the knowledge of truth to be the pre¬ 
rogative of the wise, while vulgar minds must be 
overawed and governed by popular errors. Rut, 
animated with a more noble and disinterested zeal, 
the German theologian boldly erected the standard 
of truth, and upheld it with an unconquerable in¬ 
trepidity, which merits the admiration and gratitude 
of all succeeding ages. 

The occasion of Luther’s being first disgusted with 
the tenets of the Romish church, and how, from a 
small rupture, the quarrel widened into an irrepa¬ 
rable breach, is known to every one who has been 
the least conversant in history. From the heart of 
Germany his opinions spread, with astonishing ra¬ 
pidity, all over Europe ; and, wherever they came, 
endangered or overturned the ancient but ill-found¬ 
ed system. The vigilance and address of the court 
of Rome, co-operating with the power and bigotry 
of the Austrian family, suppressed these notions on 
their first appearance, in the southern kingdoms of 
Europe. But the fierce spirit of the north, irritated 
by multiplied impositions, could neither be mollified 
by the same arts, nor subdued by the same force ; 
and, encouraged by some princes from piety, and 
by others out of avarice, it easily bore down the 
feeble opposition of an illiterate and immoral clergy 

The superstition of popery seems to have grown 
to the most extravagant height in those countries 
which are situated towards the different extremities 
of Europe. The vigour of imagination, and sensi¬ 
bility of frame, peculiar to the inhabitants of south¬ 
ern climates, rendered them susceptible of the deepest 
impressions of superstitious terror and credulity. 
Ignorance and barbarity were no less favourable to 
the progress of the same spirit among the northern 
nations. They knew little, and were disposed to 
believe every thing. The most glaring absurdities 
did not shock their gross understandings, and the 
most improbable fictions were received with implicit 
assent and admiration. 

Accordingly, that form of popery which prevailed 
in Scotland was of the most bigoted and illiberal 
kind. Those doctrines which are most apt to shock 
the human understanding, and those legends which 
furthest exceed belief, were proposed to the people 



40 


BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


without any attempt to palliate or disguise them; 
nor did they ever call in question the reasonable¬ 
ness of the one, or the truth of the other. 

The power and wealth of the church kept pace 
with the progress of superstition ; ior it is the nature 
of that spirit to observe no bounds in its respect and 
liberality towards those whose character it esteems 
sacred. The Scottish kings early demonstrated how 
much they were under its influence, by their vast 
additions to the immunities and riches of the clergy. 
The profuse piety of David I., who acquired on that 
account the name of saint,transferred almost the whole 
crown lands, which were at that time of great extent, 
into the hands of ecclesiastics. The example of 
that virtuous prince was imitated by his successors. 
The spirit spread among all orders of men, who 
daily loaded the priesthood with new possessions. 
The riches of the church all over Europe were ex¬ 
orbitant ; but Scotland was one of those countries 
wherein they had furthest exceeded the just propor¬ 
tion. The Scottish clergy paid one half of every 
tax imposed on land ; and as there is no reason to 
think that in that age they would be loaded with 
any unequal share of the burden, we may conclude 
that, by the time of the reformation, little less than 
one half of the national property had fallen into 
the hands of a society, which is always acquiring, 
and can never lose. 

The nature, too, of a considerable part of their 
property extended the influence of the clergy. Many 
estates throughout the kingdom held of the church ; 
church lands were let in lease at an easy rent, and 
were possessed by the younger sons and descend¬ 
ants of the best families/ The connexion between 
superior and vassal, between landlord and tenant, 
created dependences, and gave rise to a union of 
great advantage to the church; and in estimating 
the influence of the popish ecclesiastics over the 
nation, these, as well as the real amount of their 
revenues, must be attended to, and taken into the 
account. 

This extraordinary share in the national property 
was accompanied with proportionable weight in the 
supreme council of the kingdom. At a time when 
the number of the temporal peers was extremely 
small, and when the lesser barons and representa¬ 
tives of boroughs seldom attended parliaments, the 
ecclesiastics formed a considerable body there. It 
appears from the ancient rolls of parliament, and 
from the manner of choosing the lords of articles, 
that the proceedings of that high court must have 
been, in a great measure, under their direction/ 

The reverence due to their sacred character, which 
w as often carried incredibly far, contributed not a 
little towards the growth of their power. The dig¬ 
nity, the titles, and precedence of the popish clergy, 
are remarkable, both as causes and effects of that 


dominion which they had acquired over the rest of 
mankind. They were regarded by the credulous 
laity as beings of a superior species ; they w ere 
neither subject to the same laws, nor tried by the 
same judges/ Every guard that religion could 
supply, was placed round their power, their posses¬ 
sions, and their persons; and endeavours were used, 
not without success, to represent them all as equally 
sacred. 

The reputation for learning, which, however in¬ 
considerable, was wholly engrossed by the clergy, 
added to the reverence which they derived from 
religion. The principles of sound philosophy, and 
of a just taste, were altogether unknown ; in place 
of these were substituted studies barbarous and 
uninstructive; but as the ecclesiastics alone were 
conversant in them, this procured them esteem ; and 
a very slender portion of knowledge drew the ad¬ 
miration of rude ages, which knew little. War w r as 
the sole profession of the nobles, and hunting their 
chief amusement; they divided their time between 
these : unacquainted with the arts, and unimproved 
by science, they disdained any employment foreign 
from military affairs, or which required rather pe¬ 
netration and address, than bodily vigour. Wher¬ 
ever the former were necessary, the clergy were 
intrusted ; because they alone were properly quali¬ 
fied for the trust. Almost all the high offices in 
civil government devolved, on this account, into 
their hands. The lord chancellor was the first sub¬ 
ject in the kingdom, both in dignity and in power. 
From the earliest ages of the monarchy, to the 
death of cardinal Beatoun, fifty-four persons had 
held that high office ; and of these forty-three had 
been ecclesiastics/ The lords of session w ere su¬ 
preme judges in all matters of civil right; and, by 
its original constitution, the president and one-half 
of the senators in this court were churchmen. 

To all this we may add, that the clergy being 
separated from the rest of mankind by the law of 
celibacy, and undistracted by those cares, and un¬ 
encumbered with those burdens, which occupy and 
oppress other men, the interest of their order be¬ 
came their only object, and they w ere at full leisure 
to pursue it. 

The nature of their functions gave them access 
to all persons, and at all seasons. They could em¬ 
ploy all the motives of fear and of hope, of terror 
and of consolation, which operate most powerfully 
on the human mind. They haunted the weak and 
the credulous; they besieged the beds of the sick 
and of the dying ; they suffered few to go out of the 
world without leaving marks of their liberality to 
the church, and taught them to compound with the 
Almighty for their sins, by bestowing riches upon 
those who called themselves his servants. 

When their own industry, or the superstition of 


x Keith, 521. Note b. 

y Spots. Hist, of the Church of Scotland, 449. 

z How far this claim of the clergy to exemption from lay jurisdiction 
extended, appears from a remarkable transaction in the parliament held 
in 1546. W hen that court was proceeding to the forfeiture of the murder- 
srs ot cardinal Beatoun, and were about to include a priest, who was one 


of the assassins, in the general sentence of condemnation, odious as the 
crime was to ecclesiastics, a delegate appeared in the name of the clerical 
courts, and repledged or claimed exemption of him from the judgment of 
parliament, as a spiritual man. This claim was sustained ; and his name 
is not inserted in the act of forfeiture. Epist. Reg. Scot. ii. 350 361 
a Crawf. Offic. of State. 




BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


41 


mankind, failed of producing this effect, the eccle¬ 
siastics had influence enough to call in the aid of 
law. When a person died intestate , the disposal of 
his effects was vested in the bishop of the diocese, 
after paying his funeral charges and debts, and dis¬ 
tributing among his kindred the sums to which they 
were respectively entitled ; it being presumed that 
no Christian would have chosen to leave the world 
without destining some part of his substance to 
pious uses. b As men are apt to trust to the continu¬ 
ance of life with a fond confidence, and childishly 
shun every thing that forces them to think of their 
mortality, many die without settling their affairs by 
will; and the right of administration in that event, 
acquired by the clergy, must have proved a consider¬ 
able source both of wealth and of power to the church. 

At the same time, no matrimonial or testamentary 
cause could be tried but in the spiritual courts, and 
by laws which the clergy themselves had framed. The 
penalty, too, by which the decisions of these courts 
were enforced, added to their authority. A sentence 
of excommunication was no less formidable than a 
sentence of outlawry. It was pronounced on many 
occasions, and against various crimes : and, besides 
excluding those upon whom it fell from Christian 
privileges, it deprived them of all their rights as 
men, or as citizens ; and the aid of the secular 
pow er concurred with the superstition of mankind, 
in rendering the thunders of the church no less de¬ 
structive than terrible. 

To these general causes may be attributed the 
immense growth both of the wealth and power of 
the popish church ; and, without entering into any 
more minute detail, this may serve to discover the 
foundations on which a structure so stupendous was 
erected. 

But though the laity had contributed, by their 
ow n superstition and profuseness, to raise the clergy 
from poverty and obscurity to riches and eminence, 
they began, by degrees, to feel and to murmur at 
their encroachments. No wonder haughty and mar¬ 
tial barons should view the powder and possessions 
of the church with envy; and regard the lazy and 
inactive character of churchmen with the utmost 
contempt; w hile, at the same time, the indecent 
and licentious lives of the clergy gave great and 
just offence to the people, and considerably abated 
the veneration which they were accustomed to yield 
to that order of men. 

Immense wealth, extreme indolence, gross igno¬ 
rance, and, above all, the severe injunction of celi¬ 
bacy, had concurred to introduce this corruption of 
morals among many of the clergy, who, presuming 
too much upon the submission of the people, were 
at no pains either to conceal or to disguise their 
own vices. According to the accounts of the re- 

b Essays on Brit. Antio. 174. Annals of Scotland, by Sir David Dal- 
rymple.vol. i. Append. No. ii. 

c W iiLzet. ap. Keith, Append. 202, 205. Lesley de Tleb. Gest. Scot. 232. 

d The marriage articles, subscribed with his own hand, in which he calls 
her my daughter , are still extant. Keith, p. 42. . 

e A remarkable proof of the dissolute manners of the clergy is round in 
the public records. A greater number of letters of legitimation was granted 
during the first thirty years after the reformation, than during the whole 


formers, confirmed by several popish writers, the 
most open and scandalous dissoluteness of manners 
prevailed among the Scottish clergy. 0 Cardinal 
Beatoun, with the same public pomp which is due 
to a legitimate child, celebrated the marriage of his 
natural daughter with the earl of Crawford's son ; d 
arid, if we may believe Knox, he publicly continued 
to the end of his days a criminal correspondence 
with her mother, who was a woman of rank. The 
other prelates seem not to have been more regular 
and exemplary than their primate. 6 

Men of such characters ought, in reason, to have 
been alarmed at the first clamours raised against 
their own morals, and the doctrines of the church, 
by the protestant preachers; but the popish eccle¬ 
siastics, either out of pride or ignorance, neglected 
the proper methods for silencing them. Instead of 
reforming their lives, or disguising their vices, they 
affected to despise the censures of the people. 
While the reformers, by their mortifications and 
austerities, endeavoured to resemble the first pro¬ 
pagators of Christianity, the popish clergy were 
compared to all those persons who are most infa¬ 
mous in history for the enormity and scandal of 
their crimes. 

On the other hand, instead of mitigating the 
rigour, or colouring over the absurdity, of the esta¬ 
blished doctrines ; instead of attempting to found 
them upon Scripture, or to reconcile them to reason; 
they left them without any other support or recom¬ 
mendation, than the authority of the church, and 
the decrees of councils. The fables concerning 
purgatory, the virtues of pilgrimage, and the merits 
of the saints, were the topics on which they insisted 
in their discourses to the people ; and the duty of 
preaching being left wholly to monks of the lowest 
and most illiterate orders, their compositions were 
still more wretched and contemptible, than the sub¬ 
jects on which they insisted. While the reformers 
were attended by crowded and admiring audiences, 
the popish preachers were either universally de- 
serted, or listened to with scorn. 

The only device which they employed in order to 
recover their declining reputation, or to confirm the 
wavering faith of the people, was equally imprudent 
and unsuccessful. As many doctrines of their 
church had derived their credit at first from the au¬ 
thority of false miracles, they now endeavoured to 
call in these to their aid. f But such lying wonders, 
as were beheld with unsuspicious admiration, or 
heard with implicit faith, in times of darkness and 
of ignorance, met with a very different reception in 
a more enlightened period. The vigilance of the 
reformers detected these impostures, and exposed 
not only them, but the cause which needed the aid 
of such artifices, to ridicule. 

period that has elapsed since that time. These were obtained by the sons of 
the popish clergy. The ecclesiastics, who were allowed to retain their bene¬ 
fices, alienated them to their children; who when they acquired wealth, 
were desirous that the stain of illegitimacy might no longer remain upon 
their families. In Keith's Catalogue of the Scottish Bishop*, we find several 
instances of such alienations of church lands, by the popish incumbents to 
their natural children. 

f Spotswood, 69. 



42 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


As the popish ecclesiastics became more and 


more the objects of hatred and of contempt, the dis¬ 
courses of the reformers were listened to as so many 
calls to liberty; and, besides the pious indignation 
which they excited against those corrupt doctrines 
which had perverted the nature of true Christianity, 
besides the zeal which they inspired for the know¬ 
ledge of truth and the purity of religion, they gave 
rise also, among the Scottish nobles, to other views 
and passions. They hoped to shake olf the yoke of 
ecclesiastical dominion, which they had long felt 
to be oppressive, and which they now discovered to 
be unchristian. They expected to recover posses¬ 
sion of the church revenues, which they were now 
taught to consider as alienations made by their an¬ 
cestors, with a profusion no less undiscerning than 
unbounded. They flattered themselves, that a check 
would be given to the pride and luxury of the clergy, 
who would be obliged, henceforward, to confine 
themselves within the sphere peculiar to their sacred 
character. An aversion from the established church, 
which flowed from so many concurring causes, which 
was raised by considerations of religion, heightened 
by motives of policy, and instigated by prospects of 
private advantage, spread fast through the nation, 
and excited a spirit, that burst out, at last, with ir¬ 
resistible violence. 

Religious considerations alone were sufficient to 
have roused this spirit. The points in controversy 
with the church of Rome were of so much import¬ 
ance to the happiness of mankind, and so essential 
to Christianity, that they merited all the zeal with 
w hich the reformers contended in order to establish 
them. Rut the reformation having been represented 
as the effect of some wild and enthusiastic frenzy 
in the human mind, this attempt to account for the 
eagerness and zeal with which our ancestors em¬ 
braced and propagated the protestant doctrines, by 
taking a view of the political motives alone which 
influenced them, and by showing how naturally 
these prompted them to act with so much ardour, 
will not, perhaps, be deemed an unnecessary digres¬ 
sion. We now return to the course of the history. 

... The queen’s elevation to the office 


Eins'he’r'S* of re S ent seems to have transported 

some 4 unpopular lier ’ at first > be y ond the known pru- 
measures. dence and moderation of her character. 

She began her administration, by conferring upon 
foreigners several offices of trust and of dignity ; a 
step which, both from the inability of strangers to 
discharge these offices with propriety, and from the 
envy which their preferment excites among the na¬ 


tives, is never attended with good consequences. 
Vilmort was made comptroller, and intrusted with 
the management of the public revenues ; Bonot was 
appointed governor of Orkney ; and Rubay honour¬ 
ed with the custody of the great seal, and the title 
of vice-chancellor.® It was with the highest in¬ 
dignation that the Scots beheld offices of the 


[1554. BOOK II. 

greatest eminence and authority dealt out among 
strangers. 11 By these promotions they conceived 
the queen to have offered an insult both to their 
understandings and to their courage : to the former, 
bj r supposing them unfit for those stations which 
their ancestors had lilled with so much dignity ; 
to the latter, by imagining that they were tame 
enough not to complain of an affront, which, in 
no former age, would have been tolerated with im¬ 
punity. 

While their minds were in this disposition, an 
incident happened which inflamed their aversion 
from French councils to the highest degree. Ever 
since the famous contest between the houses of Va¬ 
lois and Plantagenet, the French had been accus¬ 
tomed to embarrass the English, and to divide their 
strength by the sudden and formidable incursions 
of their allies, the Scots. But, as these inroads 
were seldom attended with any real advantage to 
Scotland, and exposed it to the dangerous resent¬ 
ment of a powerful neighbour, the Scots began to 
grow less tractable than formerly, and scrupled any 
longer to serve an ambitious ally at the price of 
their own quiet and security. The change, too, 
which was daily introducing in the art of war, ren¬ 
dered the assistance of the Scottish forces of less 
importance to the French monarch. For these rea¬ 
sons, Henry having resolved upon a war with 
Philip II. and foreseeing that the queen of England 
would take part in her husband’s quarrel, was ex¬ 
tremely solicitous to secure in Scotland the assist¬ 
ance of some troops, which would be more at his 
command than an undisciplined army, led by chief¬ 
tains who were almost independent. In prosecu¬ 
tion of this design, but under pretence of relieving 
the nobles from the expense and danger of defending 
the borders, the queen regent proposed 
in parliament, to register the value of 
lands throughout the kingdom, to impose on them 
a small tax, and to apply that revenue towards 
maintaining a body of regular troops in constant 
pay. A fixed tax upon land, which the growing 
expense of government hath introduced into almost 
every part of Europe, was unknown at that time, 
and seemed altogether inconsistent with the genius 
of feudal policy. Nothing could be more shocking 
to a generous and brave nobility, than the intrust¬ 
ing to mercenary hands the defence of those terri¬ 
tories which had been acquired or preserved by 
the blood of their ancestors. They received this 
proposal with the utmost dissatisfaction. About 
three hundred of the lesser barons repaired in a 
body to the queen regent, and represented their 
sense of the intended innovation, with that manly 
and determined boldness which is natural to a free 
people in a martial age. Alarmed at a remonstrance 
delivered in so firm a tone, and supported by such 
formidable numbers, the queen prudently abandon¬ 
ed a scheme, which she found to be universally odi- 


g Lesley de Reb. Gest. Scot. 189. 

Fi The resentment of the nation against the French rose to such a height. 


that an act of parliament was passed on purpose to restrain or moderate it 
Pari. 6, Q. Mary, c. CO. 



43 


BOOK II. 1555.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


ous. As the queen herself was known perfectly to 
understand the circumstances and temper of the 
nation, this measure was imputed wholly to the 
suggestions of her foreign counsellors; and the 
Scots were ready to proceed to the most violent ex¬ 
tremities against them. 

Attempts to en- r ^ ,e French, instead of extinguish- 
K^var'with 111 ing, added fuel to the flame. They had 
now commenced hostilities against 
Spain, and Philip had prevailed on the queen of 
England to reinforce his army with a considerable 
body of her troops. In order to deprive him of this 
aid, Henry had recourse, as he projected, to the 
Scots ; and attempted to excite them to invade 
England. But as Scotland had nothing to dread 
from a princess of Mary’s character, who, far from 
any ambitious scheme of disturbing her neighbours, 
was wholly occupied in endeavouring to reclaim 
her heretical subjects ; the nobles, who were assem¬ 
bled by the queen regent at Newbattle, listened to 
the solicitations of the French monarch with ex¬ 
treme coldness, and prudently declined engaging 
the kingdom in an enterprise so dangerous and 
unnecessary. What she could not obtain by persua¬ 
sion, the queen regent brought about by a strata¬ 
gem. Notwithstanding the peace which subsisted 
between the two kingdoms, she commanded her 
French soldiers to rebuild a small fort near Berwick, 
which was appointed, by the last treaty, to be razed. 
The garrison of Berwick sallied out, interrupted 
the work, and ravaged the adjacent country. This 
insult roused the fiery spirit of the Scots, and their 
promptness to revenge the least appearance of na¬ 
tional injury, dissipated, in a moment, the wise and 
pacific resolutions which they had so lately formed. 
War was determined, and orders instantly given for 
raising a numerous army. But before their forces 
could assemble, the ardour of their indignation had 
time to cool, and the English having discovered no 
intention to push the war with vigour, the nobles re¬ 
sumed their pacific system, and resolved to stand 
altogether upon the defensive. They 
marched to the banks of the Tweed, 
they prevented the incursions of the enemy; and 
having done what they thought sufficient for the 
safety and honour of their country, the queen could 
not induce them, either by her entreaties or her 
artifices, to advance another step. 

While the Scots persisted in their inactivity, 
D’Oysel, the commander of the French troops, 
who possessed entirely the confidence of the queen 
regent, endeavoured, with her connivance, to en¬ 
gage the two nations in hostilities. Contrary to the 
orders of the Scottish general, he marched over the 
Tweed with his own soldiers, and invested Werk 
castle, a garrison of the English. The Scots, instead 
of seconding his attempt, were enraged at his pre¬ 
sumption. The queen’s partiality towards France 
had long been suspected; but it was now visible 
that she wantonly sacrificed the peace and safety of 

i Strype’s Memor. iii. Append.2?4. Lesley, 196. 


1556. 


Scotland to the interests of that ambitious and 
assuming ally. Under the feudal governments, it 
was in camps that subjects were accustomed to ad¬ 
dress the boldest remonstrances to their sovereigns. 
While arms were in their hands, they felt their own 
strength ; and at that time all their representations 
of grievances carried the authority of commands. 
On this occasion, the resentment of the nobles broke 
out with such violence, that the queen, perceiving 
all attempts to engage them in action to be vain, 
abruptly dismissed her army, and retired with the 
utmost shame and disgust; having discovered the 
impotence of her authority, without affecting any 
thing which could be of advantage to France. 1 

It is observable, that this first instance of con¬ 
tempt for the regent’s authority can, in no degree, be 
imputed to the influence of the new opinions in 
religion. As the queen’s pretensions to the re¬ 
gency had been principally supported by those 
who favoured the reformation, and as she still 
needed them for a counterpoise to the archbishop 
of St. Andrew’s, and the partisans of the house of 
Hamilton, she continued to treat them with great 
respect, and admitted them to no inconsiderable 
share in her favour and confidence. Kirkaldy of 
Grange and the other surviving conspirators against 
cardinal Beatoun, were, about this time, recalled 
by her from banishment; and, through her conniv¬ 
ance, the protestant preachers enjoyed an interval 
of tranquillity, which was of great advantage to 
their cause. Soothed by these instances of the 
queen’s moderation and humanity, the protestants 
left to others the office of remonstrating ; and the 
leaders of the opposite factions set them the first 
example of disputing the will of their sovereign. 

As the queen regent felt how limited 

. . The queen’s mar- 

and precarious her authority was riage with the 

while it depended on the poise of these 
contrary factions, she endeavoured to establish it on 
a broader and more secure foundation, by hastening 
the conclusion of her daughter’s marriage with the 
dauphin. Amiable as the queen of Scots then was, 
in the bloom of youth, and considerable as the ter¬ 
ritories were, which she would have added to the 
French monarchy, reasons were not wanting to 
dissuade Henry from completing his first plan of 
marrying her to his son. The constable Montmo¬ 
rency had employed all his interest to defeat an 
alliance which reflected so much lustre on the 
princes of Lorrain. He had represented the im¬ 
possibility of maintaining order and tranquillity 
among a turbulent people, during the absence of 
their sovereign; and for that reason had advised 
Henry to bestow the young queen upon one of the 
princes of the blood, who, by residing in Scotland, 
might preserve that kingdom a useful ally to 
France, which, by a nearer union to the crown, 
would become a mutinous and ungovernable pro¬ 
vince. 14 But at this time the constable was a pri¬ 
soner in the hands of the Spaniards; the princes 

k Melv. Mem. 15. 



•14 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1557. BOOK II. 


of Lorrain were at the height of their power; and 
their influence, seconded by the charms of the 
young queen, triumphed over the prudent but en¬ 
vious remonstrances of their rival. 

Per 14 The French king accordingly ap- 
i5 5 7. plied to the parliament of Scotland, 
which appointed eight of its members 1 to represent 
the whole body of the nation, at the marriage of the 
queen. Among the persons on whom the public 
choice conferred this honourable character, were 
some of the most avowed and zealous advocates for 
the reformation ; by which may be estimated the 
degree of respect and popularity which that party 
had now attained in the kingdom. The instructions 
of the parliament to those commissioners still re¬ 
main," 1 and do honour to the wisdom and integrity 
of that assembly. At the same time that they mani¬ 
fested, with respect to the articles of marriage, a 
laudable concern for the dignity and interest of their 
sovereign, they employed every precaution which 
prudence could dictate, forpreservingthe liberty and 
independence of the nation, and for securing the 
succession of the crown in the house of Hamilton. 

With regard to each of these, the 

Artifices of the _ , ? . ’ . 

French in the hcots obtained whatever satisfaction 
marriage treaty. , . . . 

their fear or jealousy could demand. 
The young queen, the dauphin, and the king of 
France, ratified every article with the most solemn 
oaths, and confirmed them by deeds in form 
under their hands and seals. But on the part of 
France, all this was one continued scene of studied 
and elaborate deceit. Previous to these public 
transactions with the Scottish deputies, Mary had 
been persuaded to subscribe privately three deeds, 
equally unjust and invalid; by which, failing the 
heirs of her own body, she conferred the kingdom 
of Scotland, with whatever inheritance or succession 
might accrue to it, in free gift upon the crown of 
France, declaring all promises to the contrary, 
which the necessity of her affairs, and the solicita¬ 
tions of her subjects, had extorted, or might extort, 
from her, to be void and of no obligation." As it 
gives us a proper idea of the character of the French 
court under Henry II., we may observe that the 
king himself, the keeper of the great seals, the 
duke of Guise, and the cardinal of Lorrain, were 
the persons engaged in conducting this perfidious 
and dishonourable project. The queen of Scots 
w as the only innocent actor in that scene of iniquity. 
Her youth, her inexperience, her education in a 
foreign country, and her deference to the will of her 
uncles, must go far towards vindicating her, in the 
judgment of every impartial person, from any im¬ 
putation of blame on that account. 

1 Viz. The archbishop of Glasgow, the bishop of Ross, the bishop of Ork- 
ney, the eai Is of Kothesand Cassils, lord Fleming, lord Seton, the Prior of 
bt. Andrew s, and John Krskine of Dun. 

m Keith, Append. 13. 

n C orpus Diplomat, tom. v. 21. Keith, 73. 

o About this time the French seem to have had some desirni of reviving 
the earl of Lennox’s pretensions to the succession, in order to Intimidate and 
alarm the duke of Chatelherault. Haynes, 215, 219. Forbes’s Collect, 
vol. i. 189. 

p Reg. Mag. lib. ii.58. 

q As far as I can judge, the husband of the queen, by the grant of the 
crown matrimonial , acquired aright to assume the title of king, to have his 
name stamped upon the current coin, and to sign all public instruments to- 


Tliis grant, by which Mary bestowed the inherit¬ 
ance of her kingdom upon strangers, was concealed 
with the utmost care from her subjects. They seem, 
however, not to have been unacquainted with the 
intention of the French to overturn the settlement 
of the succession in favour of the duke of Chatel¬ 
herault. The zeal with which the archbishop of St. 
Andrew's opposed all the measures of the queen 
regent, evidently proceeded from the fears and sus¬ 
picions of that prudent prelate on this head.® 

The marriage, however, was cele- 

1.1 VI. 4. A 41 April 14.1558. 

brated with great pomp ; and the 
French, who had hitherto affected to draw a veil 
over their designs upon Scotland, began now to 
unfold their intentions without any disguise. In 
the treaty of marriage, the deputies had agreed that 
the dauphin should assume the name of king of 
Scotland. This they considered only as an honorary 
title ; but the French laboured to annex to it some 
solid privileges and power. They insisted that the 
dauphin’s title should be publicly recognised ; that 
the crown matrimonial should be conferred upon 
him ; and that all the rights pertaining to the hus¬ 
band of a queen should be vested in his person. 
By the laws of Scotland, a person who married an 
heiress, kept possession of her estate during his own 
life, if he happened to survive her and the children 
born of the marriage. p This was called the courtesy 
of Scotland. The French aimed at applying this 
rule, which takes place in private inheritances, to 
the succession of the kingdom ; and that seems to 
be implied in their demand of the crown matri¬ 
monial , a phrase peculiar to the Scottish historians, 
and which they have neglected to explain . 11 As the 
French had reason to expect difficulties in carrying 
through this measure, they began with sounding 
the deputies, who were then at Paris. The English, 
in the marriage-articles between their queen and 
Philip of Spain, had set an example to the age, of 
that prudent jealousy and reserve with which a 
foreigner should be admitted so near the throne. 
Full of the same ideas, the Scottish deputies 
had, in their oath of allegiance to the dauphin, ex¬ 
pressed themselves with remarkable caution. 1- Their 
answer was in the same spirit, respectful, but firm; 
and discovered a fixed resolution of consenting to 
nothing that tended to introduce any alteration in 
the order of succession to the crown. 

Four of the deputies 5 happening to die before 
they returned into Scotland, this accident was 
universally imputed to the effects of poison, which 
was supposed to have been given them by the emis¬ 
saries ot the house of Guise. The historians of all 
nations discover an amazing credulity with respect 

ffether with the queen. In consequence of this, the subjects took an oath of 
hdehty to him. Keith, Append. 20. His authority became, in some mea- 
sure, co-ordmate with that ot the queen ; and without his concurrence ma¬ 
nifested by signing his name, no public deed seems to have been considered 
as valid. By the oath ot fidelity of the Scotch commissioners to the dau¬ 
phin, it is evident that, in their opinion, the riehts belonging to the crown 
matrimonial subsisted only during the continuance of the marriage Keith 
Append. 20. But the conspirators against Rizzio bound themselves to nro- 
cure a grant of the crown matrimonial to Uarnley, during all the da vs of his 

life. Keith, Append. 120. Good. i. 227. >u 0 au meaaysot his 

r Keith, Append. 20. 

Fl S emin<v ish0P ° f ° rkney ’ the ead ° f Rothes > the earl of Cassils. and lord 




BOOK II. 1558.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


45 


to rumours of this kind, which are so well calcu¬ 
lated to please the malignity of some men, and to 
gratify the love of the marvellous which is natural 
to all, that in every age they have been swallowed 
without examination, and believed contrary to 
reason. No wonder the Scots should easily give 
credit to a suspicion, which received such strong 
colours of probability, both from their own resent¬ 
ment, and from the known character of the princes 
of Lorrain, so little scrupulous about the justice of 
the ends which they pursued, or of the means which 
they employed. For the honour of human nature, 
however, it must be observed, that as we can dis¬ 
cover no motive which could induce any man to 
perpetrate such a crime, so there appears no evi¬ 
dence to prove that it was committed. But the 
Scots of that age, influenced by national animosi¬ 
ties and prejudices, Mere incapable of examining 
the circumstances of the case with calmness, or of 
j udging concerning them with candour. All parties 
agreed in believing the French to have been guilty 
of this detestable action; and it is obvious how 
much this tended to increase the aversion for them, 
which M as growing among all ranks of men. 

The recent pre- Notwithstanding the cold reception 
Lament to^rant it, which their proposal concerning the 
?«ov. 29. crown matrimonial met with from the 

Scottish deputies, the French ventured to move it 
in parliament. The partisans of the house of 
Hamilton, suspicious of their designs upon the suc¬ 
cession, opposed it with great zeal. But a party, 
which the feeble and unsteady conduct of their 
leader had brought under much disreputation, was 
little able to withstand the influence of France, and 
the address of the queen regent, seconded, on this 
occasion, by all the numerous adherents of the re¬ 
formation. Besides, that artful princess dressed 
out the French demands in a less offensive garb, 
and threw in so many limitations as seemed to 
render them of small consequence. These either 
deceived the Scots, or removed their scruples; and 
in compliance to the queen, they passed an act, 
conferring the crown matrimonial on the dauphin ; 
and with the fondest credulity, trusted to the frail 
security of words and statutes, against the danger¬ 
ous encroachments of power. 1 

Continues to court The concurrence of the protestants 
the protestants. the queen regent, in promoting a 

measure so acceptable to France, while the popish 
clergy, under the influence of the archbishop of St. 
Andrew’s, opposed it with so much violence, 11 is one 
of those singular circumstances in the conduct of 
parties, for which this period is so remarkable. It 
may be ascribed, in some degree, to the dexterous 
management of the queen, but chiefly to the mode¬ 
ration of those who favoured the reformation. The 
protestants were by this time almost equal to the 

t The act of parliament is worded with the utmost care, with a view to 
guard against any breach of the order of succession. But the duke, not re¬ 
lying on this alone, entered a solemn protestation to secure his own right. 
Keith, 76. It is plain that he suspected the French ot having some intention 
to set aside his right of succession ; and, indeed, if they had no design of that 
kind, the eagerness with which they urged their demand was childish. 


catholics, both in power and in number ; and, con¬ 
scious of their own strength, they submitted with 
impatience to that tyrannical authority with which 
the ancient laws armed the ecclesiastics against 
them. They longed to be exempted from this op¬ 
pressive jurisdiction, and publicly to enjoy the 
liberty of professing those opinions, and of exer¬ 
cising that worship, which so great a part of the 
nation deemed to be founded in truth, and to be 
acceptable to the Deity. This indulgence, to which 
the whole weight of priestly authority was opposed, 
there were only two ways of obtaining. Either vio¬ 
lence must extort it from the reluctant hand of their 
sovereign, or by prudent compliances they might 
expect it from her favour or her gratitude. The 
former is an expedient for the redress of grievances, 
to which no nation has recourse suddenly; and sub¬ 
jects seldom venture upon resistance, which is their 
last remedy, but in cases of extreme necessity. On 
this occasion the reformers wisely held the opposite 
course, and by their zeal in forwarding the queen’s 
designs, they hoped to merit her protection. This 
disposition the queen encouraged to the utmost, and 
amused them so artfully with many promises, and 
some concessions, that, by their assistance, she sur¬ 
mounted in parliament the force of a national and 
laudable jealousy, which would otherwise have 
swayed with the greater number. 

Another circumstance contributed somewhat to 
acquire the regent such considerable influence in 
this parliament. In Scotland, all the bishoprics, 
and those abbeys which conferred a title to a seat in 
parliament, were in the gift of the crown. x From 
the time of her accession to the regency, the queen 
had kept in her own hands almost all those which 
became vacant, except such as were, to the great 
disgust of the nation, bestowed upon foreigners. 
Among these, her brother the cardinal of Lorrain 
had obtained the abbeys of Kelso and Melrose, two 
of the most wealthy foundations in the kingdom.*' 
By this conduct, she thinned the ecclesiastical 
bench, 2 Mhich was entirely under the influence of 
the archbishop of St. Andrew’s, and which by its 
numbers and authority, usually had great weight in 
the house, so as to render any opposition it could 
give at that time of little consequence. 

The earl of Argyll, and James Stewart, prior of 
St. Andrew’s, one the most powerful, and the other 
the most popular, leader of the protestants, were ap¬ 
pointed to carry the crown and other ensigns of 
royalty to the dauphin. But from this they were 
diverted by the part they were called to act in a 
more interesting scene, M'hich noM r begins to open. 

Before M r e turn towards this, it is „ . 

Elizabeth sue- 

necessary to observe, that on the seven- "^j 1 ! 0 1 ^ 1 ' 1 ' ( 'i crown 

teentli of November, one thousand five 

hundred and fifty-eight, Mary of England finished 

u Melv. 47. 

x See Book I. 

y Lesley, 202. 

z It appears from the rolls of this parliament, which Lesley calls a very 
full one, that only seven bishops and sixteen abbots were present. 



4G 


TIIE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


her short and inglorious reign. Her sister Eliza¬ 
beth took possession of the throne without oppo¬ 
sition ; and the protestant religion was, once more, 
established by law in England. The accession of 
a queen, who, under very difficult circumstances, 
had given strong indications of those eminent qua¬ 
lities, which, in the sequel, rendered her reign so 
illustrious, attracted the eyes of all Europe. Among 
the Scots, both parties observed her first motions 
with the utmost solicitude, as they easily foresaw 
that she would not remain long an indifferent spec¬ 
tator of their transactions. 

Under many discouragements and much oppres¬ 
sion, the reformation advanced towards a full esta¬ 
blishment in Scotland. All the low country, the 
most populous, and at that time the most warlike, 
part of the kingdom, was deeply tinctured with the 
protestant opinions; and if the same impressions 
were not made in the more distant counties, it was 
owing to no want of the same dispositions among 
the people, but to the scarcity of preachers, whose 
most indefatigable zeal could not satisfy the avidity 
of those who desired their instructions. Among a 
people bred to arms, and as prompt as the Scots to 
act with violence ; and in an age when religious 
passions had taken such strong possession of the 
human mind, and moved and agitated it with 
so much violence, the peaceable and regular de¬ 
meanour of so numerous a party is astonishing. 
From the death of Mr. Patrick Hamilton, the first 
who suffered in Scotland for the protestant religion, 
thirty years had elapsed, and, during so long a pe¬ 
riod, no violation of public order or tranquillity had 
proceeded from that sect ; a and though roused and 
irritated by the most cruel excesses of ecclesiastical 
tyranny, they did, in no instance, transgress those 
bounds of duty which the law prescribes to sub¬ 
jects. Besides the prudence of their own leaders, 
and the protection which the queen regent, from 
political motives, afforded them, the moderation of 
the archbishop of St. Andrew’s encouraged this 
pacific disposition. That prelate, whose private life 
contemporary writers tax with great irregularities, b 
governed the church, for some years, with a temper 
and prudence of which there are few examples in 
that age. But some time before the meeting of the 
last parliament, the archbishop departed from those 
humane maxims by which he had hitherto regulated 


his conduct; and, whether in spite to the queen, who 
had entered into so close a union with the protestants, 
or incompliance with the importunities of his clergy, 
he let loose all the rage of persecution against the re¬ 
formed ; sentenced to the flames an aged priest who 
had been convicted of embracing the protestant 
opinions; and summoned several others suspected 
of the same crime, to appear before a synod of the 
clergy, which was soon to convene at Edinburgh. 

Nothing could equal the horror of the protestants 
at this unexpected and barbarous execution, but 


a The murder of cardinal Beatoun was occasioned by private revenue • 
and being contrived and executed by sixteen persons only, cannot with Jus¬ 
tice be imputed to the whole protestant party. J 


[1558. BOOK II. 

the zeal with which they espoused the defence of a 
cause that now seemed devoted to destruction. They 
had immediate recourse to the queen regent; and 
as her success in the parliament, which was then 
about to meet, depended on their concurrence, she 
not only sheltered them from the impending storm, 
but permitted them the exercise of their religion 
with more freedom than they had hitherto enjoyed. 
Unsatisfied with this precarious tenure by which 
they held their religious liberty, the protestants 
laboured to render their possession of it more se¬ 
cure and independent. With this view they deter¬ 
mined to petition the parliament for some legal 
protection against the exorbitant and oppressive 
jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts, which, by 
their arbitrary method of proceeding, founded in the 
canon law, were led to sentences the most shocking 
to humanity, by maxims the most repugnant to 
justice. But the queen, who dreaded the effect of 
a debate on this delicate subject, which could not 
fail of exciting high and dangerous passions, pre¬ 
vailed on the leaders of the party, by new and more 
solemn promises of her protection, to desist from 
any a pplication to parliament, where their numbers 
and influence would, in all probability, have pro¬ 
cured them, if not entire redress, at least some miti¬ 
gation, of their grievances. 

They applied to another assembly, to a convoca¬ 
tion of the popish clergy, but with the same ill 
success which hath always attended every proposal 
for reformation, addressed to that order of men. To 
abandon usurped power, to renounce lucrative error, 
are sacrifices, which the virtue of individuals has, 
on some occasions, offered to truth ; but from any 
society of men no such effort can be expected. The 
corruptions of a society, recommended by common 
utility, and justified by universal practice, are 
viewed by its members without shame or horror ; 
and reformation never proceeds from themselves, 
but is always forced upon them by some foreign 
hand. Suitable to this unfeeling and inflexible 
spirit was the behaviour of the convocation in the 
present conjuncture. All the demands of the pro¬ 
testants were rejected with contempt; and the po¬ 
pish clergy, far from endeavouring, by any prudent 
concessions, to sooth and reconcile such a numerous 
body, asserted the doctrines of their church, con¬ 
cerning some of the most exceptionable articles, 
with an ill-timed rigour, which gave new offence. 0 

During the sitting of the convoca- 

1 r >59 

tion, the protestants first began to sus¬ 
pect some change in the regent’s disposition towards 
them. Though joined with them for many years by 
interest, and united, as they conceived, by the 
strongest ties of affection and of gratitude, she dis¬ 
covered, on this occasion, evident symptoms, not 
only of coldness, but of a growing disgust and aver¬ 
sion. In order to account for this, our historians 
do little more than produce the trite observations 

b Knox, Buchanan, Keith, COS. 
c Keith, 81. 



BOOK II. 1559.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


47 


concerning the influence of prosperity to alter the 
character and to corrupt the heart. The queen, say 
they, having reached the utmost point to which her 
ambition aspired, no longer preserved her accus¬ 
tomed moderation, but, with an insolence usual to 
the fortunate, looked down upon those by whose 
assistance she had been enabled to rise so high. 
But it is neither in the depravity of the human 
heart, nor in the ingratitude of the queen’s dispo¬ 
sition, that we must search for the motives of her 
present conduct. These were derived from another, 
and a more remote, source, which, in order to clear 
the subsequent transactions, we shall endeavour to 
open with some care. 

. . . The ambition of the princes of Lor- 

of the princes of rain had been no less successful than 
J .or ram. 

daring ; but all their schemes were dis¬ 
tinguished by being vast and unbounded. Though 
strangers at the court of France, their eminent qua¬ 
lities had raised them, in a short time, to a height 
of power superior to that of all other subjects, and 
had placed them on a level even with the princes of 
the blood themselves. The church, the army, the 
revenue, were under their direction. Nothing but 
the royal dignity remained unattained, and they 
were elevated to a near alliance with it, by the mar¬ 
riage of the queen of Scots to the dauphin. In order 
to gratify their own vanity, and to render their niece 
more worthy the heir of France, they set on foot her 
claim to the crown of England, which was founded 
on pretences not unplausible. 

The tragical amours and marriages of Henry 
VIII. are known to all the world. Moved by the 
caprices of his love, or of his resentment, that im¬ 
patient and arbitrary monarch had divorced or be¬ 
headed four of the six queens whom he married. 
In order to gratify him, both his daughters had 
been declared illegitimate by act of parliament; 
and yet, with that fantastic inconsistence which 
distinguishes his character, he, in his last will, 
whereby he was empowered to settle the order of 
succession, called both of them to the throne upon 
the death of their brother Edward ; and, at the same 
time, passing by the posterity of his eldest sister, 
Margaret queen of Scotland, he appointed the line 
of succession to continue in the descendants of his 
younger sister, the duchess of Suffolk. 

In consequence of this destination, the validity 
whereof was admitted by the English, but never 
recognised by foreigners, Mary had reigned in Eng¬ 
land without the least complaint of neighbouring 
princes. But the same causes which facilitated her 
accession to the throne, were obstacles to the ele¬ 
vation of her sister Elizabeth, and rendered her 
possession of it precarious and insecure. Rome 
trembled for the catholic faith, under a protestant 
queen of such eminent abilities. The same super¬ 
stitious fears alarmed the court of Spain. France 
beheld with concern a throne, to which the queen 


of Scots could form so many pretensions, occupied 
by a rival, whose birth, in the opinion of all good 
catholics, excluded her from any legal right of suc¬ 
cession. The impotent hatred of the Roman pontiff, 
or the slow councils of Philip II., would have pro¬ 
duced no sudden or formidable effect. The ardent 
and impetuous ambition of the princes of Lorrain, 
who at that time governed the court of France, was 
more decisive, and more to be dreaded. Instigated 
by them, Henry, soon after the death They persuade 
of Mary, persuaded his daughter-in- fh^tftkoTqueen 
law, and her husband, to assume the of En § land - 
title of king and queen of England. They affected 
to publish this to all Europe. They used that style 
and appellation in public papers, some of which 
still remain. d The arms of England were engraved 
on their coin and plate, and borne by them on all 
occasions. No preparations, however, were made 
to support this impolitic and premature claim. 
Elizabeth was already seated on her throne; she 
possessed all the intrepidity of spirit, and all the 
arts of policy, which were necessary for maintaining 
that station. England was growing into reputation 
for naval power. The marine of France had been 
utterly neglected ; and Scotland remained the only 
avenue by which the territories of Elizabeth could 

be approached. It was on that side, Resolve to invade 
therefore, that the princes of Lorrain England. 

determined to make their attack ; e and, by using 
the name and pretensions of the Scottish queen, 
they hoped to rouse the English catholics, formida¬ 
ble at that time by their zeal and numbers, and ex¬ 
asperated to the utmost against Elizabeth,on account 
of the change which she had made in the national 
religion. 

It was in vain to expect the assist- lnorder tothi3 
ance of the Scottish protestants to therefoi'nmtbnin 
dethrone a queen, whom all Europe Scotland - 
began to consider the most powerful guardian and 
defender of the reformed faith. To break the power 
and reputation of that party in Scotland became, 
for this reason, a necessary step towards the invasion 
of England. With this the princes of Lorrain re¬ 
solved to open their scheme. And as persecution 
was the only method for suppressing religious 
opinions known in that age, or dictated by the 
despotic and sanguinary spirit of the Romish 
superstition, this, in its utmost violence, they deter¬ 
mined to employ. The earl of Argyll, the prior of 
St. Andrew’s, and other leaders of the party, were 
marked out by them for immediate destruction ;f 
and they hoped, by punishing them, to intimidate 
their followers. Instructions for this purpose were 
sent from France to the queen regent. That humane 
and sagacious princess condemned a measure which 
was equally violent and impolitic. By long resi¬ 
dence in Scotland, she had become acquainted 
with the eager and impatient temper of the nation ; 
she well knew the power, the number, and popu- 


d Anders. Diplom. Scot. Nos. 68 and 164. 
e Forbes's Collect, i. 253, 260, 279. 404. 


f Ibid. i. 152. 


) 



48 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1559. ROOK II. 


larity of the protestant leaders; and had been a 
witness to the intrepid and unconquerable resolu¬ 
tion which religious fervour could inspire. What 
then could be gained by rousing this dangerous 
spirit, which hitherto all the arts of policy had 
scarcely been able to restrain? If it once broke 
loose, the authority of a regent would be little 
capable to subdue, or even to moderate, its rage. 
If, in order to quell it, foreign forces were called in, 
this would give the alarm to the whole nation, 
irritated already at the excessive power which the 
French possessed in the kingdom, and suspicious 
of all their designs. Amidst the shock which this 
might occasion, far from hoping to exterminate the 
protestant doctrine, it would be well if the whole 
fabric of the established church were not shaken, 
and perhaps overturned from the foundation. 
These prudent remonstrances made no impression 
on her brothers; precipitant, but inflexible in all 
their resolutions, they insisted on the full and rigor¬ 
ous execution of their plan. Mary, passionately 
devoted to the interest of France, and ready, on all 
occasions, to sacrifice her own opinions to the incli¬ 
nations of her brothers, prepared to execute their 
commands with implicit submission ;= and, contrary 
to her own judgment, and to all the rules of sound 
policy, she became the instrument of exciting civil 
commotions in Scotland, the fatal termination of 
which she foresaw and dreaded. 

The regent alters From the time of the queen’s com- 
regarS 1 toffepro- petition for the regency with the duke 
testants. 0 f Chatelherault, the popish clergy, 

under the direction of the archbishop of St. Andrew’s, 
had set themselves in opposition to all her measures. 
Her first step towards the execution of her new 
scheme, was to regain their favour. Nor was this 
reconcilement a matter of difficulty. The popish 
ecclesiastics, separated from the rest of mankind by 
the law of celibacy, one of the boldest and most 
successful efforts of human policy; and combined 
among themselves in the closest and most sacred 
union, have been accustomed, in every age, to sacri¬ 
fice all private and particular passions to the dignity 
and interest of their order. Delighted on this 
occasion with the prospect of triumphing over a 
faction, the encroachments of which they had long 
dreaded, and animated with the hopes of re-estab¬ 
lishing their declining grandeur on a firmer basis, 
they, at once, cancelled the memory of past injuries, 
and engaged to second the queen in all her attempts 
to check the progress of the reformation. The 
queen being secure of their assistance, openly 
approved ol the decrees of the convocation, by 
which the principles of the reformers were con¬ 
demned ; and, at the same time, she issued a pro¬ 
clamation, enjoining all persons to observe the 
approaching festival of Easter according to the 
Romish ritual. 

As it was no longer possible to mistake the 
queen’s intentions, the protestants, who saw the 

Melv, 48. Mein, de Castelnau, ap. Jebb, vol. ii. 410. 


danger approach, in order to avert it, employed the 
earl of Glencairn, and sir Hugh Campbell of Lon¬ 
don, to expostulate with her concerning this change 
towards severity, which their former services had so 
little merited, and which her reiterated promises 
gave them no reason to expect. She, without dis¬ 
guise or apology, avowed to them her resolution of 
extirpating the reformed religion out of the king¬ 
dom. And, upon their urging her former engage¬ 
ments with an uncourtly but honest boldness, she 
so far forgot her usual moderation, as to utter a 
sentiment, which, however apt those of royal con¬ 
dition may be to entertain it, prudence should teach 
them to conceal as much as possible. “ The promises 
of princes,” says she, “ ought not to be too care¬ 
fully remembered, nor the performance of them 
exacted, unless it suits their own conveniency.” 

The indignation which betrayed the Summons their 

. preachers to ap- 

queen into this rash expression, was pear before her. 
nothing in comparison of that with which she was 
animated, upon hearing that the public exercise of 
the reformed religion had been introduced into the 
town of Perth. At once she threw off the mask, 
and issued a mandate, summoning all the protestant 
preachers in the kingdom to a court of justice, 
which was to be held at Stirling on the tenth of 
May. The protestants, who, from their union, 
began, about this time, to be distinguished by the 
name of the Congregation, were alarmed, but not 
intimidated, by this danger; and instantly resolved 
not to abandon the men to whom they were in¬ 
debted for the most valuable of all blessings, the 
knowledge of truth. At that time there prevailed 
in Scotland, with respect to criminal trials, a custom, 
introduced at first by the institutions of vassalage 
and clanship, and tolerated afterwards under a 
feeble government; persons accused of any crime 
were accompanied to the place of trial by a retinue 
of their friends and adherents, assembled for that 
purpose from every quarter of the kingdom. Au¬ 
thorized by this ancient practice, the reformed con¬ 
vened in great numbers to attend their pastors to 
Stirling. The queen dreaded their approach with 
a train so numerous, though unarmed; and, in 
order to prevent them from advancing, she empower¬ 
ed John Erskine of Dun, a person of eminent 
authority with the party, to promise in her name, 
that she would put a stop to the intended trial, on 
condition the preachers and their retinue advanced 
no nearer to Stirling. Erskine, being convinced 
himself of the queen’s sincerity, served her with 
the utmost zeal; and the protestants, averse from 
proceeding to any act of violence, listened with 
pleasure to so pacific a proposition. The preachers, 
with a few leaders of the party, remained at Perth: 
the multitude which had gathered from different 
parts of the kingdom dispersed, and retired to their 
own habitations. 

Rut, notwithstanding this Solemn Breaks a promise 
promise, the queen, on the tenth of ?eiS! ch * eyhad 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


49 


ROOK II. 1559.] 

May, proceeded to call to trial the persons who had 
been summoned, and, upon their non-appearance, 
the rigour of justice took place, and they were 
pronounced outlaws. By this ignoble artifice, so 
incompatible with regal dignity, and so inconsistent 
with that integrity which should prevail in all 
transactions between sovereigns and their subjects, 
the queen forfeited the esteem and confidence of 
the whole nation. The protestants, shocked no less 
at the indecency with which she violated the public 
faith, than at the danger which threatened them¬ 
selves, prepared boldly for their own defence. 
Erskine, enraged at having been made the instru¬ 
ment for deceiving his party, instantly abandoned 
Stirling, and repairing to Perth, added to the zeal 
of his associates, by his representations of the 
queen’s inflexible resolution to suppress religion. 11 

This occasions an The popular rhetoric of Knoxpower- 
msurrection at . . 

Perth. tully seconded his representations ; he 

having been carried a prisoner into France, toge¬ 
ther with the other persons taken in the castle of 
St. Andrew’s, soon made his escape out of that 
country ; and residing sometimes in England, some¬ 
times in Scotland, had at last been driven out of 
both kingdoms, by the rage of the popish clergy, 
and was obliged to retire to Geneva. Thence he 
was called by the leaders of the protestants in 
Scotland ; and, in compliance with their solicita¬ 
tions, he set out for his native country, where he 
arrived a few days before the trial appointed at 
Stirling. He hurried instantly to Perth, to share 
with his brethren in the common danger, or to assist 
them in the common cause. While their minds 
were in that ferment, which the queen’s perfidious¬ 
ness and their own danger occasioned, he mounted 
the pulpit, and, by a vehement harangue against 
idolatry, inflamed the multitude with the utmost 
rage. The indiscretion of a priest, who, imme¬ 
diately after Knox’s sermon, was preparing to cele¬ 
brate mass, and began to decorate the altar for that 
purpose, precipitated them into immediate action. 
With tumultuary but irresistible violence, they fell 
upon the churches in that city, overturned the altars, 
defaced the pictures, broke in pieces the images ; 
and proceeding next to the monasteries, they, in a 
few hours, laid those sumptuous fabrics almost level 
with the ground. This riotous insurrection was not 
the effect of any concert, or previous deliberation ; 
censured by the reformed preachers, and publicly 
condemned by persons of most power and credit 
with the party, it must be regarded merely as an 
accidental eruption of popular raged 

But to the queen dowager these 

The recent • 

marches against proceedings appeared in a very differ¬ 
ent light. Besides their manifest con¬ 
tempt for her authority, the protestants had violated 
every thing in religion which she deemed venerable 
or holy ; and on both these accounts she determined 
to inflict the severest vengeance on the whole party. 
She had already drawn the troops in French pay to 

h Keith, p. 84. i Knox, Hist. 127, 12& 


Stirling; with these, and what Scottish forces she 
could levy of a sudden, she marched directly to 
Perth, in hopes of surprising the protestant leaders 
before they could assemble their followers, whom, 
out of confidence in her disingenuous promises, 
they had been rashly induced to dismiss. Intelli¬ 
gence of these preparations and menaces was soon 
conveyed to Perth. The protestants would gladly 
have soothed the queen, by addresses both to her¬ 
self and to the persons of greatest credit in her court; 
but, finding her inexorable, they, with great vigour, 
took measures for their own defence. Their adher¬ 
ents, animated with zeal for religion, and eager to 
expose themselves in so good a cause, flocked in 
such numbers to Perth, that they not only secured 
the town from danger, but within a few days were 
in a condition to take the field, and to face the 
queen, who advanced with an army seven thousand 
strong. 


Neither party, however, was impatient to engage. 
The queen dreaded the event of a battle with men 
whom the fervour of religion raised above the sense 
of fear or danger. The protestants beheld with re¬ 
gret the earl of Argyll, the prior of St. Andrew’s, 
and some other eminent persons of their party, still 
adhering to the queen ; and, destitute of their aid 
and counsel, declined hazarding an action, the ill 
success of which might have proved the ruin of their 
cause. The prospect of an accommodation was for 
these reasons highly acceptable to both sides: Ar¬ 
gyll and the prior, who were the queen’s commis¬ 
sioners for conducting the negociation, seem to have 
been sincerely desirous of reconciling the contend¬ 
ing factions ; and the earl of Glencairn arriving 
unexpectedly with a powerful reinforcement to the 
Congregation, augmented the queen’s A treaty con _ 
eagerness for peace. A treaty was 
accordingly concluded, in which it was stipulated 
that both armies should be disbanded, and the gates 
of Perth set open to the queen ; that indemnity 
should be granted to the inhabitants of that city; 
and to all others concerned in the late insurrection; 
that no French garrison should be left in Perth, 
and no French soldier should approach within three 
miles of that place ; and that a parliament should 
immediately be held, in order to compose whatever 
difference might still remain. k 

The leaders of the Congregation, dis¬ 
trustful of the queen’s sincerity, and 
sensible that concessions, flowing not from inclina¬ 
tion, but extorted by the necessity of her affairs, 
could not long remain in force, entered into a new 
association, by which they bound themselves, on 
the first infringement of the present treaty, or on 
the least appearance of danger to their religion, to 
re-assemble their followers, and to take arms in de¬ 
fence of what they deemed the cause of God and of 
their country. 1 

The queen, by her conduct, demon- Broken by the 
strated these precautions to be the re- 


May 29. 


regent. 


k Keith, 89. 


1 Knox, 238. 


E 



50 THE HISTORY 

suit of no groundless or unnecessary fear. No 
sooner were the protestant forces dismissed, than 
she broke every article in the treaty. She intro¬ 
duced French troops into Perth, fined some ot the 
inhabitants, banished others, removed the magis¬ 
trates out of office, and, on her return to Stilling, 
she left behind her a garrison of six hundred men, 
with orders to allow the exercise of no other religion 
than the Roman catholic. The situation of Perth, 
a place at that time of some strength, and a town 
among the most proper of any in the kingdom for 
the station of a garrison, seems to have allured the 
queen to this unjustifiable and ill-judged breach of 
public faith ; which she endeavoured to colour, by 
alleging that the body of men left at Perth was en¬ 
tirely composed of native Scots, though kept in pay 
by the king of France. 

The queen’s scheme began gradually to unfold ; 
it was now apparent, that not only the religion, but 
the liberties, of the kingdom were threatened ; and 
that the French troops were to be employed as in¬ 
struments for subduing the Scots, and wreathing 
the yoke about their necks. Martial as the genius 
of the Scots then was, the poverty of their country 
made it impossible to keep their armies long as¬ 
sembled ; and even a very small body of regular 
troops might have proved formidable to the nation, 
though consisting wholly of soldiers. But what 
number of French forces Avere then in Scotland, at 
what times, and under what pretext they returned, 
after having left the kingdom in one thousand five 
hundred and fifty, we cannot with any certainty de¬ 
termine. Contemporary historians often select with 
little judgment the circumstances which they trans¬ 
mit to posterity ; and with respect to matters of the 
greatest curiosity and importance, leave succeeding 
ages altogether in the dark. We may conjecture, 
however, from some passages in Buchanan, that the 
French, and Scots in French pay, amounted at least 
to three thousand men, under the command of Mon¬ 
sieur D’Oysel, a creature of the house of Guise; 
and they were soon augmented to a much more for¬ 
midable number. 

The queen, encouraged by having so considerable 
a body of well-disciplined troops at her command, 
and instigated by the violent councils of D’Oysel, 
had ventured, as we have observed, to violate the 
treaty of Perth, and, by that rash action, once more 
threw the nation into the most dangerous convul¬ 
se nrotestants sions. The earl of Argyll and the 
again take a™, prior of g,. Andrew - S l„ stantly de . 

serted a court where faith and honour seemed to 
them to be no longer regarded ; and joined the 
leaders of the Congregation, who had retreated 
to the eastern part of Fife. The barons from 
the neighbouring counties repaired to them, the 
preachers roused the people to arms, and wherever 
they came, the same violent operations which acci- 

m Knox, 141. 

n The excessive admiration of ancient policy was the occasion of Knox’s 
famous book concerning the Government of Women, wherein conformable 
to the maxims of the ancient legislators, which modern experience has 
proved to be ill founded, he pronounces the elevation of women to the 


OF SCOTLAND. [1559. BOOK II. 

dent had occasioned at Perth, weie now encouraged 
out of policy. The enraged multitude was let loose, 
and churches and monasteries, the monuments ol 
ecclesiastic pride and luxury, were sacrificed to 
their zeal. 

In order to check their career, the queen, without 
losing a moment, put her troops in motion ; but the 
zeal of the congregation got the start once more of 
her vigilance and activity. In that warlike age, 
when all men were accustomed to arms, and on the 
least prospect of danger were ready to run to them, 
the leaders of the protestants found no difficulty to 
raise an army. Though they set out from St. An¬ 
drew’s with a slender train of a hundred horse, 
crowds flocked to their standards from every corner 
of the country through which they marched ; and 
before they reached Falkland, a village only ten 
miles distant, they were able to meet the queen with 
superior force." 1 

The queen, surprised at the approach of so for¬ 
midable a body, which was drawn up by its leaders 
in such a manner as added greatly in appearance 
to its numbers, had again recourse to negociation. 
She found, however, that the preservation of the 
protestant religion, their zeal for which at first 
roused the leaders of the Congregation to take arms, 
was not the only object they had now in view. They 
were animated with the warmest love of civil liber¬ 
ty, which they conceived to be in imminent danger 
from the attempts of the French forces: and these 
two passions mingling, added reciprocally to each 
other’s strength. Together with more They aim at re¬ 
enlarged notions in religion, the refor- weif'as^reKgious 
mation filled the human mind with more gnevances - 
liberal and generous sentiments concerning civil go¬ 
vernment. The genius of popery is extremely favour¬ 
able to the power of princes. The implicit submission 
to all her decrees, which is exacted by the Romish 
church, prepares and breaks the mind for political 
servitude ; and the doctrines of the reformers, by 
overturning the established system of superstition, 
weakened the firmest foundations of civil tyranny. 
That bold spirit of inquiry, which led men to reject 
theological errors, accompanied them in other sci¬ 
ences, and discovered every where the same manly 
zeal for truth. A new study, introduced at the 
same time, added greater force to the spirit of liber¬ 
ty. Men became more acquainted with the Greek 
and Roman authors, who described exquisite models 
of free government, far superior to the inaccurate 
and oppressive system established by the feudal law ; 
and produced such illustrious examples of public 
virtue, as wonderfully suited both the circumstances 
and spirit of that age. Many among the most emi¬ 
nent reformers were themselves considerable masters 
in ancient learning ; and all of them eagerly adopt¬ 
ed the maxims and spirit of the ancients, with re¬ 
gard to government. 11 The most ardent love of liberty 

supreme authority, to be utterly destructive of good government. ITis 
principles, authorities, and examples, were all drawn from ancient writers 
The same observation may be made witli regard to Buchanan’s Dialogue* 
De Jure Regm. apud Scotos. It is founded, not on the maxims of feudal’ 
but ot ancient republican, government. 



BOOK II. 1659.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


51 


June 13. 


accompanied the protestant religion throughout all 
its progress ; and wherever it was embraced, it 
roused an independent spirit, which rendered men 
attentive to their privileges as subjects, and jealous 
of the encroachments of their sovereigns. Knox, 
and the other preachers of the reformation, infused 
generous sentiments concerning government into 
the minds of their hearers ; and the Scottish barons, 
naturally free and bold, were prompted to assert 
their rights with more freedom and boldness than 
ever. Instead of obeying the queen regent, who 
had enjoined them to lay down their arms, they 
demanded not only the redress of their religious 
grievances, but, as a preliminary toward settling 
the nation, and securing its liberties, required the 
immediate expulsion of the French troops out of 
Scotland. It was not in the queen’s power to make 
so important a concession without the concurrence of 
the French monarch; and as some time was requisite 
in order to obtain that, she hoped, during this inter¬ 
val, to receive such reinforcements from France, as 
would insure the accomplishment of 
that design which she had twice attempt¬ 
ed with an equal strength. Meanwhile, she agreed 
to a concession of arms for eight days, and before the 
expiration of these, engaged to transport the French 
troops to the south side of the Forth ; and to send 
commissioners to St. Andrew’s, who should labour 
to bring all differences to an accommodation. As 
she hoped, by means of the French troops, to over¬ 
awe the protestants in the southern counties, the for¬ 
mer article in the treaty was punctually executed ; 
the latter, having been inserted merely to amuse 
the Congregation, was no longer remembered. 

a second treaty By *h ese reiterated and w anton in- 
vioiated. stances of perfidy, the queen lost all 

credit with her adversaries ; and no safety appear¬ 
ing in any other cause, they again took arms with 
more inflamed resentment, and with bolder and 
more extensive views. The removing of the French 
forces had laid open to them all the country situated 
between Forth and Tay. The inhabitants of Perth 
alone remaining subjected to the insolence and ex¬ 
actions of the garrison which the queen had left 
there, implored the assistance of the Congregation 
for their relief. Thither they marched, and having 
without effect required the queen to evacuate the 
tow n in terms of the former treaty, they prepared to 
besiege it in form. The queen employed the earl 
of Huntley and lord Erskine to divert them from 
this enterprise. But her wonted artifices were now 
of no avail; repeated so often, they could deceive 
no longer; and, without listening to her offers, the 
protestants continued the siege, and soon obliged 
the garrison to capitulate. 

After the loss of Perth, the queen endeavoured 
to seize Stirling, a place of some strength, and, from 
its command of the only bridge over the Forth, of 
great importance. But the leaders of the congre¬ 
gation, having intelligence of her design, prevented 

the execution of it, by a hasty march thither with 

E 2 


part of their forces. The inhabitants, 
heartily attached to the cause, set open success of [he pro¬ 
to them the gates of their town. Thence tl ,trfllts 
they advanced, with the same rapidity, towards 
Edinburgh, which the queen, on their approach, 
abandoned with precipitation and retired to Dunbar. 

The protestant army, wherever it came, kindled 
or spread the ardour of reformation, and the utmost 
excesses of violence were committed upon churches 
and monasteries. The former were spoiled of every 
decoration, which w as then esteemed sacred ; the 
latter were laid in ruins. We are apt, at this dis¬ 
tance of time, to condemn the furious zeal of the re¬ 
formers, and to regret the overthrow of so many 
stately fabrics, the monuments of our ancestors’ 
magnificence, and among the noblest ornaments of 
the kingdom. But amidst the violence of a refor¬ 
mation, carried on in opposition to legal authority, 
some irregularities were unavoidable ; and perhaps 
no one could have been permitted more proper to 
allure and interest the multitude, or more fatal to 
the grandeur of the established church. How ab¬ 
surd soever, and ill-founded, the speculative errors 
of popery may be, some inquiry and attention are 
requisite towards discovering them. The abuses 
and corruptions which had crept into the public 
worship of that church, lay more open to observation, 
and by striking the senses, excited more universal 
disgust. Under the long reign of heathenism, su¬ 
perstition seemed to have exhausted its talent of in¬ 
vention, so that when a superstitious spirit seized 
Christians, they w 7 ere obliged to imitate the heathen, 
in the pomp and magnificence of their ceremonies, 
and to borrow from them the ornaments and deco¬ 
rations of their temples. To the pure and simple 
worship of the primitive Christians, there suc¬ 
ceeded a species of splendid idolatry, nearly re¬ 
sembling those pagan originals whence it had been 
copied. The contrariety of such observances to the 
spirit of Christianity, was almost the first thing, in 
the Romish system, which awakened the indignation 
of the reformers, who, applying to these the denun¬ 
ciations in the Old Testament against idolatry, 
imagined that they could not endeavour at suppress¬ 
ing them with too much zeal. No task could be 
more acceptable to the multitude, than to overturn 
those seats of superstition ; they ran with emulation 
to perform it, and happy was the man whose hand 
was most adventurous and successful in executing 
a work deemed so pious. Nor did their leaders la¬ 
bour to restrain this impetuous spirit of reformation. 
Irregular and violent as its sallies were, they tended 
directly to that end which they had in view ; for, by 
demolishing the monasteries throughout the king¬ 
dom, and setting at liberty their wretched inhabi¬ 
tants, they hoped to render it impossible ever to 
rebuild the one, or to re-assemble the other. 

But amidst these irregular proceedings, a circum¬ 
stance which does honour to the conduct and hu¬ 
manity of the leaders of the Congregation deserves 
notice. They so far restrained the rage of their 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1559. BOOK II 


followers, and were able so to temper their heat and 
zeal, that few of the Roman catholies were exposed 
to any personal insult, and not a single man sullti td 

death. 0 

At the same time we discover, by the facility with 
which these great revolutions were effected, how 
violently the current of national favour ran toward 
the reformation. No more than three hundred men 
marched out of Perth, under the eail of Aigyll and 
prior of St. Andrews, p with this inconsiderable force 
they advanced. But wherever they came the people 
joined them in a body ; their army was seldom less 
numerous than five thousand men ; the gates of 
every town were thrown open to receive them ; and, 
without striking a single blow, they 
Jane 29 . took possession of the capital of the 

kingdom. 

This rapid and astonishing success seems to have 
encouraged the reformers to extend their views, 
and to rise in their demands. Not satisfied with 
their first claim of toleration for their religion, they 
now openly aimed at establishing the protestant 
doctrine on the ruins of popery. For this reason 
they determined to fix their residence at Edinburgh; 
and, by their appointment, Knox, and some other 
preachers, taking possession of the pulpits, which 
had been abandoned by the affrighted clergy, de¬ 
claimed against the errors of popery with such 
fervent zeal as could not fail of gaining many 
proselytes. 

In the mean time, the queen, who had prudently 
given way to a torrent which she could not resist, 
observed with pleasure that it now began to subside. 
The leaders of the Congregation had been above two 
months in arms, and by the expenses of a campaign 
protracted so long beyond the usual time of service 
in that age, had exhausted all the money which a 
country where riches did not abound had been able 
to supply. The multitude, dazzled w ith their suc¬ 
cess, and concluding the work to be already done, 
retired to their own habitations. A few only of the 
more zealous or wealthy barons remained with their 
preachers at Edinburgh. As intelligence is pro¬ 
cured in civil wars with little difficulty, whatever 
was transacted at Edinburgh was soon known at 
Dunbar. The queen, regulating her own conduct 
by the situation of her adversaries, artfully amused 
them with the prospect of an immediate accommo¬ 
dation ; while, at the same time, she by studied de¬ 
lays spun out the negociations for that purpose to 
such a length, that, in the end, the party dwindled 
to an inconsiderable number ; and, as if peace had 
been already re-established, beeame careless of mi¬ 
litary discipline. The queen, who watched for such 
an opportunity, advanced unexpectedly, by a sud¬ 
den march in the night, with all her forces, and ap¬ 
pearing before Edinburgh, fdled that city with the 
utmost consternation. The protestants, weakened 
by the imprudent dispersion of their followers, 
durst not encounter the French troops in the open 

o Lesley, ap. Jebb, vol. i. 231. p Keith,94. 


field ; and were even unable to defend an ill-forti¬ 
fied town against their assaults. Unwilling, how¬ 
ever, to abandon the citizens to the queen’s mercy, 
they endeavoured, by facing the enemy’s army, to 
gain time for collecting their own associates. But 
the queen, in spite of all their resistance, would 
have easily forced her way into the town, if the 
seasonable conclusion of a truce had not procured 
her admission without the effusion of blood. 

Their dangerous situation easily in- Athird treaty 
duced the leaders of the congregation 
to listen to any overtures of peace ; and as the queen 
was looking daily for the arrival of a strong rein¬ 
forcement from France, arid expected great advan¬ 
tages from a cessation of arms, she also agreed to 
it upon no unequal conditions. Together with a 
suspension of hostilities, from the tw enty-fourth of 
July to the tenth of January, it was stipulated in 
this treaty, that, on the one hand, the protestants 
should open the gates of Edinburgh next morning 
to the queen regent; remain in dutiful subjection 
to her government; abstain from all future violation 
of religious houses ; and give no interruption to the 
established clergy, either in the discharge of their 
functions, or in the enjoyment of their benefices. 
On the other hand, the queen agreed to give no 
molestation to the preachers or professors of the 
protestant religion ; to allow the citizens of Edin¬ 
burgh, during the cessation of hostilities, to enjoy 
the exercise of religious worship according to the 
form most agreeable to the conscience of each indi¬ 
vidual ; and to permit the free and public profes¬ 
sion of the protestant faith, in every part of the 
kingdoms The queen, by these liberal concessions 
in behalf of their religion, hoped to soothe the pro¬ 
testants, and expected, from indulging their favour¬ 
ite passion, to render them more compliant with 
respect to other articles, particularly the expulsion 
of the French troops out of Scotland. The anxiety 
which the queen expressed for retaining this body 
of men, rendered them more and more the objects 
of national jealousy and aversion. The immediate 
expulsion of them was therefore demanded anew, 
and with greater warmth ; but the queen, taking ad¬ 
vantage of the distress of the adverse party, eluded 
the request, and would consent to nothing more, 
than that a French garrison should not be intro¬ 
duced into Edinburgh. 

The desperate state of their affairs imposed on the 
Congregation the necessity of agreeing to this arti¬ 
cle, which, however, was very far from giving them 
satisfaction. Whatever apprehensions the Scots 
had conceived, from retaining the French forces in 
the kingdom, were abundantly justified during the 
late commotions. A small body of those troops, 
maintained in constant pay, and rendered formida¬ 
ble by regular discipline, had checked the progress 
of a martial people, though animated with zeal 
both for religion and liberty. The smallest addition 
to their number, and a considerable one was daily 

q Keith, 98. Maitland, Hist, of Edin. 15, 17 . 



BOOK II. 1559.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


expected, might prove fatal to the public liberty, 
and Scotland might be exposed to the danger of 
being reduced from an independent kingdom, to the 
mean condition of a province, annexed to the do¬ 
minions of its powerful ally. 

In order to provide against this imminent ca¬ 
lamity, the duke of Chatelherault, and earl of 
Huntly, immediately after concluding the truce, 
desired an interview with the chiefs of the Congre¬ 
gation. These two noblemen, the most potent at 
that time in Scotland, were the leaders of the party 
which adhered to the established church. They 
had followed the queen, during the late commotions, 
and having access to observe more narrowly the 
dangerous tendency of her councils, their abhor¬ 
rence of the yoke which was preparing for their 
country surmounted all other considerations, and 
determined them rather to endanger the religion 
which they professed, than to give their aid towards 
the execution of her pernicious designs. They pro¬ 
ceeded further, and promised to Argyll, Glencairn, 
and the prior of St. Andrew’s, who were appointed 
to meet them, that if the queen should, with her 
usual insincerity, violate any article in the treaty 
of truce, or refuse to gratify the wishes of the whole 
nation, by dismissing her French troops, they would 
then instantly join with their countrymen in com¬ 
pelling her to a measure, which the public safety, 
and the preservation of their liberties, rendered 
necessary. r 

About this time died Henry II. of France ; just 
when he had adopted a system with regard to the 
affairs of Scotland, which would, in all probability, 
have restored union and tranquillity 
to that kingdom.* 5 Towards the close 
of his reign, the princes of Lorrain began visibly to 
decline in favour, and the constable Montmorency, 
by the assistance of the duchess of Valentinois, 
recovered that ascendant over the spirit of his 
master, which his great experience, and his faithful, 
though often unfortunate, services seemed justly to 
merit. That prudent minister imputed the insur¬ 
rections in Scotland wholly to the duke of Guise 
and the cardinal of Lorrain, whose violent and pre¬ 
cipitant councils could not fail of transporting, 
beyond all bounds of moderation, men whose minds 
were possessed with that jealousy which is insepa¬ 
rable from the love of civil liberty, or inflamed with 
that ardour which accompanies religious zeal. 
Montmorency, in order to convince Henry that he 
did not load his rivals with any groundless accusa¬ 
tion, prevailed to have Melvil, 1 a Scottish gentle¬ 
man of his retinue, despatched into his native coun¬ 
try, with instructions to observe the motions both 
of the regent and of her adversaries ; and the king 
agreed to regulate his future proceedings in that 
kingdom by Melvil’s report. 

Did history indulge herself in these speculations, 
it would be amusing to inquire what a different 
direction might have been given by this resolution 

r Knox, 154. s Melv. 49. 


to the national spirit; and to what a different issue 
Melvil’s report, which would have set the conduct 
of the malcontents in the most favourable light, 
might have conducted the public disorders. Per¬ 
haps, by gentle treatment, and artful policy, the 
progress of the reformation might have been 
cheeked, and Scotland brought to depend upon 
France. Perhaps, by gaining possession of this 
avenue, the French might have made their way 
into England, and, under colour of supporting 
Mary’s title to the crown, they might not only have 
defeated all Elizabeth’s measures in favour of the 
reformation, but have re-established the Roman 
catholic religion, and destroyed the liberties of that 
kingdom. But, into this boundless field of fancy 
and conjecture, the historian must make no excur¬ 
sions ; to relate real occurrences, and to explain 
their real causes and effects, is his peculiar and only 
province. 

The tragical and untimely death of 

Accession of 

the French monarch put an end to all Francis n. to the 

crown of F rance 

moderate and pacific measures with 
regard to Scotland. The duke of Guise, and the 
cardinal his brother, upon the accession of Francis 
II., a prince void of genius, and without experience, 
assumed the chief direction of French affairs. 
Allied so nearly to the throne, by the marriage of 
their niece the queen of Scots with the young king, 
they now wanted but little of regal dignity, and 
nothing of regal power. This power did not long 
remain inactive in their hands. The same vast 
schemes of ambition, which they had planned out 
under the former reign, were again resumed ; and 
they were enabled, by possessing such ample au¬ 
thority, to pursue them with more vigour and 
greater probability of success. They beheld, with 
infinite regret, the progress of the protestant reli¬ 
gion in Scotland ; and, sensible what an insur¬ 
mountable obstacle it would prove to their designs, 
they bent all their strength to check its growth, 
before it rose to any greater height. For this pur¬ 
pose they carried on their preparations with all 
possible expedition, and encouraged the queen their 
sister to expect, in a short time, the arrival of an 
army so powerful as the zeal of their adversaries, 
however desperate, would not venture to oppose. 

Nor were the lords of the Congregation either 
ignorant of those violent counsels which prevailed 
in the court of France since the death of Henry, or 
careless of providing against the danger which 
threatened them from that quarter. The success of 
their cause, as well as their personal safety, de¬ 
pending entirely on the unanimity and vigour of 
their own resolutions, they endeavoured to guard 
against division, and to cement together more 
closely, by entering into a stricter bond of confede¬ 
racy and mutual defence. Two persons concurred 
in this new association, who brought a great acces ¬ 
sion both of reputation and of power to the party. 
These were the duke of Chatelherault, and his 

t The author of the Memoirs. 




54 THE HISTORY 

eldest son the earl of Arran. This young noble¬ 
man, having resided some years in France, where 
he commanded the Scottish guards, had imbibed 
the protestant opinions concerning religion. Hur¬ 
ried along by the heat of youth and the zeal of a 
proselyte, he had uttered sentiments with respect 
to the points in controversy, which did not suit the 
temper of a bigoted court, intent at that juncture 
on the extinction of the protestant religion ; in order 
to accomplish which, the greatest excesses of vio¬ 
lence were committed. The church was suffered to 
wreak its utmost fury upon all who were suspected 
of heresy. Courts were erected in different parts of 
France, to take cognizance of this crime, and by 
their sentences several persons of distinction were 
condemned to the flames. 

But, in order to inspire more universal terror, the 
princes of Lorrain resolved to select, for a sacrifice, 
some persons whose fall might convince all ranks 
of men, that neither splendour of birth, nor emi¬ 
nence in station, could exempt from punishment 
those who should be guilty of this unpardonable 
transgression. The earl of Arran was the person 
destined to be the unhappy victim. u As he was 
allied to one throne, and the presumptive heir to 
another; as he possessed the first rank in his own 
country, and enjoyed an honourable station in 
France ; his condemnation could not fail of making 
the desired impression on the whole kingdom. But 
the cardinal of Lorrain having let fall some expres¬ 
sions, which raised Arran’s suspicions of the design, 
he escaped the intended blow by a timely flight. 
Indignation, zeal, resentment, all prompted him to 
seek revenge upon these persecutors of himself and 
of the religion which he professed ; and as he 
passed through England, on his return to his native 
country, Elizabeth, by hopes and promises, inflamed 
those passions, and sent him back into Scotland, 
animated with the same implacable aversion to 
France, which possessed a great part of his coun¬ 
trymen. He quickly communicated 
johis the^protes- these sentiments to his father the duke 
of Chatelherault, who was already 
extremely disgusted with the measures carrying on 
in Scotland; and as it was the fate of that noble¬ 
man to be governed in every instance by those 
about him, he now' suffered himself to be drawn 
from the queen regent; and, having joined the 
Congregation, was considered, from that time, as 
the head of the party. 

But with respect to him, this distinction was 
merely nominal. James Stewart, prior of St. An¬ 
drew’s, was the person who moved and actuated the 
whole body of the protestants, among whom he 
possessed that unbounded confidence, which his 
strenuous adherence to their interest and his great 
abilities so justly merited. He was the natural son 
of James V. by a daughter of lord Erskine; and 
as that amorous monarch had left several others a 
burden upon the crown, they were all destined for 

u Thuan. lib. xxiv. p. 462. Edit. Francof. 


OF SCOTLAND. [1559. BOOK II. 

the church, where they could be placed in stations 
of dignity and aflluence. In consequence of this 
jesolution, the priory of St. Andrews had been 
conferred upon James: but, during so busy a 
period, he soon became disgusted w ith the indolence 
and retirement of a monastic life ; and his enter¬ 
prising genius called him forth to act a principal 
part on a more public and conspicuous theatre. 
The scene in which he appeared required talents of 
different kinds: military virtue, and political dis¬ 
cernment, were equally necessary in order to render 
him illustrious. These he possessed in an eminent 
degree. To the most unquestionable personal 
bravery, he added great skill in the art of war, and 
in every enterprise his arms were crowned with 
success. His sagacity and penetration in civil af¬ 
fairs enabled him, amidst the reeling and turbulence 
of factions, to hold a prosperous course ; while his 
boldness in defence of the reformation, together 
with the decency, and even severity, of his manners, 
secured him the reputation of being sincerely 
attached to religion, without which it w as impossi¬ 
ble in that age to gain an ascendant over man¬ 
kind. 

It was not without reason that the queen dreaded 
the enmity of a man so capable to obstruct her de¬ 
signs. As she could not, with all her address, make 
the least impression on his fidelity to his associates, 
she endeavoured to lessen his influence, and to scat¬ 
ter among them the seeds of jealousy and distrust, 
by insinuating that the ambition of the prior aspired 
beyond the condition of a subject, and aimed at 
nothing less than the crow n itself. 

An accusation so improbable gained but little 
credit. Whatever thoughts of this kind the pre¬ 
sumption of unexpected success, and his elevation 
to the highest dignity in the kingdom, may be 
alleged to have inspired at any subsequent period, 
it is certain that at this juncture he could form no 
such vast design. To dethrone a queen, who was 
lineal heir to an ancient race of monarchs ; who had 
been guilty of no action by which she could forfeit 
the esteem and affection of her subjects ; who could 
employ in defence of her rights, the forces of a 
kingdom much more powerful than her ow n ; and 
to substitute in her place a person whom the ille¬ 
gitimacy of his birth, by the practice of all civilized 
nations, rendered incapable of any inheritance 
either public or private ; w as a project so chimerical 
as the most extravagant ambition would hardly 
entertain, and could never conceive to be practica¬ 
ble. The promise, too, which the prior made to 
Melvil, of residing constantly in France, on con¬ 
dition the public grievances were redressed ; x the 
confidence reposed in him by the duke of Chatel¬ 
herault and his son, the presumptive heirs to the 
crown ; and the concurrence of almost all the Scot¬ 
tish nobles, in promoting the measures by which he 
gave offence to the French court; go far towards 
his vindication from those illegal and criminal 

x Melvil, 54. 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


55 


ROOK II. 1559.] 


designs, with the imputation of which the queen 
endeavoured at that time to load him. 

The arrival of a thousand French 

Troops arrive from ,. . 

Trance, and fortify soldiers compensated, in some degree, 

Leith. . , , , • , , . 

tor the loss which the queen sustained 
by the defection of the duke of Chatelherault. These 
were immediately commanded to fortify Leith, in 
which place, on account of its commodious harbour, 
and its situation in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, 
and in a plentiful country, the queen resolved to 
fix the head-quarters of her foreign forces. This 
unpopular measure, by the manner of executing it, 
was rendered still more unpopular. In order to 
bring the town entirely under their command, the 
French turned out a great part of the ancient 
inhabitants, and, taking possession of the houses, 
which they had obliged them to abandon, presented 
to the view of the Scots two objects equally irri¬ 
tating and offensive ; on the one hand, a number of 
their countrymen expelled their habitations by vio¬ 
lence, and wandering without any certain abode ; 
on the other, a colony of foreigners settling with 
their wives and children in the heart of Scotland, 
growing into strength by daily reinforcements, and 
openly preparing a yoke, to which, without some 
timely exertion of national spirit, the whole king¬ 
dom must of necessity submit. 

It was with deep concern that the 
S.me t Simt lords of the Congregation beheld this 
thls * bold and decisive step taken by the 

queen regent: nor did they hesitate a moment, 
whether they should employ their whole strength, 
in one generous effort, to rescue their religion and 
liberty from impending destruction. But, in order 
to justify their own conduct, and to throw the blame 
entirely on their adversaries, they resolved to pre¬ 
serve the appearances of decency and respect towards 
their superiors, and to have no recourse to arms 
without the most urgent and apparent necessity. 

They joined, with this view, in an 
address to the regent, representing, in 
the strongest terms, their dissatisfaction with the 
measures she was pursuing, and beseeching her to 
quiet the fears and jealousies of the nation by de¬ 
sisting from fortifying Leith. The queen, conscious 
of her present advantageous situation, and elated 
with the hopes of fresh succours, was in no dispo¬ 
sition for listening to demands utterly inconsistent 
with her views, and urged with that bold impor¬ 
tunity which is so little acceptable to princes/ 

The suggestions of her French coun- 
gards e their d re- e sellors contributed, without doubt, to 
monstrances. alienate her still further from any 

scheme of accommodation. As the queen was 
ready on all occasions to discover an extraordinary 
deference for the opinions of her countrymen, her 
brothers, who knew her secret disapprobation of the 
violent measures they were driving on, took care to 
place near her such persons as betrayed her, by 


Sept. 29. 


their insinuations, into many actions, which her 
own unbiassed judgment would have highly con¬ 
demned. As their success in the present juncture, 
when all things were hastening towards a crisis, 
depended entirely on the queen’s firmness, the 
princes of Lorrain did not trust wholly to the influ¬ 
ence of their ordinary agents ; but, in order to add 
the greater weight to their councils, they called in 
aid the ministers of religion ; and, by the authority 
of their sacred character, they hoped eff ectually to 
recommend to their sister that system of severity 
which they had espoused. 2 With this view, but 
under pretence of confounding the protestants by 
the skill of such able masters in controversy, they 
appointed several French divines to reside in Scot¬ 
land. At the head of these, and with the character 
of legate from the pope, was Pelleve, bishop of 
Amiens, and afterwards archbishop and cardinal 
of Sens, a furious bigot, a servilely devoted to the 
house of Guise, and a proper instrument for recom¬ 
mending or executing the most outrageous mea¬ 
sures. 

Amidst the noise and danger of civil arms, these 
doctors had little opportunity to display their ad¬ 
dress in the use of their theological weapons. But 
they gave no small offence to the nation by one of 
their actions. They persuaded the queen to seize 
the church of St. Giles in Edinburgh, which had 
remained, ever since the late truce, in the hands of 
the protestants ; and having, by a new and solemn 
consecration, purified the fabric from the pollution 
with which they supposed the profane ministrations 
of the protestants to have defiled it, they, in direct 
contradiction to one article in the late treaty, re¬ 
established there the rights of the Romish church. 
This, added to the indifference, and even con¬ 
tempt, with which the queen received their remon¬ 
strances, convinced the lords of the Congregation, 
that it was not only vain to expect any redress of 
their grievances at her hands, but absolutely neces¬ 
sary to take arms in their own defence. 

The eager and impetuous spirit of They takearmsin 
the nation, as well as every considera- their own defence, 
tion of good policy, prompted them to take this bold 
step w ithout delay. It was but a small part of the 
French auxiliaries wdiich had as yet arrived. The 
fortifications of Leith, though advancing fast, were 
still far from being complete. Under these circum¬ 
stances of disadvantage, they conceived it possible 
to surprise the queen’s party, and, by one sudden 
and decisive blow, to prevent all future bloodshed 
and contention. Full of these expec- 

October 6. 

tations, they advanced rapidly to¬ 
wards Edinburgh with a numerous army. But it 
was no easy matter to deceive an adversary as 
vigilant and attentive as the queen regent. Witli 
her usual sagacity, she both foresaw the danger, and 
took the only proper course to avoid it. Instead of 
keeping the field against enemies superior in num- 


y Haynes, 211. , _ .. 

z Lesley, 215. Castelnau, ap. Jebb, vol. a. 416, 473. 


a Davila, Brantome 



66 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1659. BOOK II. 


ber, and formidable on a day of battle by the ardour 
of their courage, she retired into Leith, and de¬ 
termined patiently to wait the arrival ol new rein¬ 
forcements. Slight and unfinished as the fortifica¬ 
tions of that tow n then were, she did not dread the 
efforts of an army, provided neither with heavy 
cannon nor with military stores, and little ac¬ 
quainted with the method of attacking any place 
fortified with more art than those ancient towers 
erected all over the kingdom in defence of private 
property against the incursions of banditti. 

Nor did the queen meanwhile neglect to have re¬ 
course to those arts which she had often employed 
to w eaken or divide her adversaries. By private 
solicitations and promises she shook the fidelity or 
abated the ardour of some. By open reproach and 
accusation she blasted the reputation and dimi¬ 
nished the authority of others. Her emissaries were 
every where at work, and, notwithstanding the zeal 
for religion and liberty which then animated the 
nation, they seem to have laboured not without suc¬ 
cess. We find Knox, about this period, abounding 
in complaints of the lukewarm and languid spirit 
which had begun to spread among his party. b But 
if their zeal slackened a little, and suffered a mo¬ 
mentary intermission, it soon blazed up with fresh 
vigour, and rose to a greater height than ever. 

Renew their re- The q ueen herself gave occasion to 
monstrances; this, by the reply which she made to a 

new remonstrance from the lords of the Congrega¬ 
tion. Upon their arrival at Edinburgh, they once 
more represented to her the dangers arising from the 
increase of the French troops, the fortifying of 
Leith, and her other measures, which they conceived 
to be destructive to the peace and liberty of the 
kingdom ; and in this address they spoke in a firmer 
tone, and avowed, more openly than ever, their re¬ 
solution of proceeding to the utmost extremities, in 
order to put a stop to such dangerous encroach¬ 
ments. To a remonstrance of this nature, and urged 
with so much boldness, the queen replied in terms 

but without sue- no less vigorous and explicit. She 
cess. pretended that she was not account¬ 
able to the confederate lords for any part of her 
conduct; and upon no representation of theirs 
would she either abandon measures which she 
deemed necessary, or dismiss forces which she found 
useful, or demolish a fortification which might prove 
of advantage. At the same time she required them, 
on pain of treason, to disband the forces which they 
had assembled. 

This haughty and imperious style sounded harsh¬ 
ly to Scottish nobles, impatient, from their national 
character, of the slightest appearance of injury; 
accustomed, even from their own monarchs, to the 
most respectful treatment; and possessing, under 
an aristocratical form of government, such a share 
of power, as equalled at all times, and often con¬ 
trolled, that of the sovereign. They were sensible, 
at once, of the indignity offered to themselves, and 

b Knox, 180. 


alarmed with this plain declaration of the queen's 
intentions ; and as there now remained but one step 
to take, they wanted neither public spirit nor reso¬ 
lution to take it. 

But, that they might not seem to de- v el g£J e L con _ 
part from the established forms of the ^hichthcyou-hf 
constitution, for which, even amidst t0 take * 
their most violent operations, men always retain the 
greatest reverence, they assembled all the peers, 
barons, and representatives of boroughs, who ad¬ 
hered to their party. These formed a convention, 
which exceeded in number, and equalled in dignity, 
the usual meetings of parliament. The leaders of 
the congregation laid before them the declaration 
which the queen had given in answer to their remon¬ 
strance ; represented the unavoidable ruin which 
the measures she therein avowed and justified would 
bring upon the kingdom ; and, requiring their direc¬ 
tion with regard to the obedience due to an admi¬ 
nistration so unjust and oppressive, they submitted 
to their decision a question, one of the most delicate 
and interesting that can possibly fall under the con¬ 
sideration of subjects. 

This assembly proceeded to decide with no less 
despatch than unanimity. Strangers to those forms 
which protract business; unacquainted with the 
arts which make a figure in debate ; and much more 
fitted for action than discourse; a warlike people 
always hasten to a conclusion, and bring their deli¬ 
berations to the shortest issue. It w^as the work 
but of one day, to examine and to resolve this nice 
problem, concerning the behaviour of subjects to¬ 
wards a ruler w ho abuses his power. But, however 
abrupt their proceedings may appear, they were not 
destitute of solemnity. As the determination of the 
point in doubt was conceived to be no less the office 
of divines than of laymen, the former were called 
to assist with their opinion. Knox and Willox ap¬ 
peared for the whole order, and pronounced, with¬ 
out hesitation, both from the precepts and examples 
in Scripture, that it was lawful for subjects not only 
to resist tyrannical princes, but to deprive them of 
that authority, which, in their hands, becomes an 
instrument for destroying those whom the Almighty 
ordained them to protect. The decision of persons 
revered so highly for their sacred character, but 
more for their zeal and their piety, had great weight 
with the whole assembly. Not satisfied with the 
common indiscriminate manner of signifying con¬ 
sent, every person present was called in his turn to 
declare his sentiments, and rising up in order, all 
gave their suffrages, without one dissenting voice, 
for depriving the queen of the office of 
regent, which she exercised so much SeYnoFthSffi^e 
to the detriment of the kingdom. 0 ot re8ent ‘ 

This extraordinary sentence was r™ 

. J J ne motives of 

owing no less to the love of liberty, their conduct, 
than to zeal for religion. In the act of deprivation, 
religious grievances are slightly mentioned ; and 
the dangerous encroachments of the queen upon the 

c Knox, 184. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


57 


BOOK II. 1559.] 

civil constitution are produced, by the lords of the 
congregation, in order to prove their conduct to have 
been not only just but necessary. The introducing 
foreign troops into a kingdom at peace with all the 
world ; the seizing and fortifying towns in different 
parts of the country ; the promoting strangers to 
offices of great power and dignity ; the debasing 
the current coin ; d the subverting the ancient law s ; 
the imposing of new and burdensome taxes; and 
the attempting to subdue the kingdom, and to op¬ 
press its liberties, by open and repeated acts of vio¬ 
lence, are enumerated at great length, and placed 
in the strongest light. On all these accounts, the 
Congregation maintained, that the nobles, as coun¬ 
sellors by birth-right to their monarchs, and the 
guardians and defenders of the constitution, had a 
right to interpose ; and therefore, by virtue of this 
right, in the name of the king and queen, and with 
many expressions of duty and submission towards 
them, they deprived the queen regent of her office, 
and ordained that, for the future, no obedience 
should be given to her commands. e 

Violent as this action may appear, there wanted 
not principles in the constitution, nor precedents in 
the history, of Scotland to justify and to authorize 
it. Under the aristocratical form of government 
established among the Scots, the power of the sove¬ 
reign was extremely limited. The more consider¬ 
able nobles were themselves petty princes, possess¬ 
ing extensive jurisdictions, almost independent of 
the crown, and followed by numerous vassals, who 
in every contest espoused their chieftain’s quarrel, 
in opposition to the king. Hence the many in¬ 
stances of the impotence of regal authority, which 
are to be found in the Scottish history. In every 
age, the nobles not only claimed, but exercised, the 
right of controlling the king. Jealous of their pri¬ 
vileges, and ever ready to take the field in defence 
of them, every error in administration w as observed, 
every encroachment upon the rights of the aristo¬ 
cracy excited indignation, and no prince ever ven¬ 
tured to transgress the boundaries which the law 
had prescribed to prerogative, without meeting re¬ 
sistance, which shook or overturned his throne. 
Encouraged by the spirit of the constitution, and 
countenanced by the example of their ancestors, 
the lords of the Congregation thought it incumbent 
on them, at this juncture, to inquire into the mal-ad- 
ministration of the queen regent, and to preserve 
their country from being enslaved or conquered, by 
depriving her of the power to execute such a per¬ 
nicious scheme. 

The act of deprivation, and a letter from the lords 
of the Congregation to the queen regent, arc still 
extant/ They discover not only that masculine 
and undaunted spirit, natural to men capable of so 

rl The standard of money in Scotland was continually varying In the 
16th of .James V., A. I). 1529, a pound weight ot gold, when coined, pro¬ 
duced lot? pounds of current money. But under the queen regent s ad- 
ministration. A. L). 1556, a pound weight ot gold, although the quantity 
of alloy was considerably increased, produced £144, current money. In 
1529, a pound weight of silver, when coined, produced £9: 2s.; but in 
1556, it produced £'13, current money. Ruddiman. Prcefat ad Anders. 
Diplomat. Scotia;, p. 80, 81, from which it appears, that this complaint, 


bold a resolution ; but are remarkable for a preci¬ 
sion and vigour of expression, which we are sur¬ 
prised to meet with in an age so unpolished. The 
same observation may be made with respect to the 
other public papers of that period. The ignorance 
or bad taste of an age may render the compositions 
of authors by profession obscure, or affected, or ab¬ 
surd ; but the language of business is nearly the 
same at all times ; and wherever men think clearly, 
and are thoroughly interested, they express them¬ 
selves with perspicuity and force. 


BOOK III. 

The lords of the Congregation soon The congregation 
found that their zeal had engaged them m difficulties. 

in an undertaking, which it was beyond their utmost 
ability to accomplish. The French garrison, de¬ 
spising their numerous but irregular forces, refused 
to surrender Leith, and to depart out of the king¬ 
dom ; nor w ere these sufficiently skilful in the art 
of war to reduce the place by force, or possessed of 
the artillery, or magazines, requisite for that pur¬ 
pose ; and their followers, though of undaunted 
courage, yet, being accustomed to decide every 
quarrel by a battle, w r ere strangers to the fatigues 
of a long campaign, and soon became impatient of 
the severe and constant duty wdiich a siege requires. 
The queen’s emissaries, who found it easy to mingle 
with their countrymen, were at the utmost pains to 
heighten their disgust, which discovered itself at 
first in murmurs and complaints, but, on occasion 
of the want of money for paying the army, broke 
out into open mutiny. The most eminent leaders 
w ere hardly secure from the unbridled insolence of 
the soldiers ; while some of inferior rank, inter¬ 
posing too rashly in order to quell them, fell vic¬ 
tims to their rage. Discord, consternation, and 
perplexity, reigned in the camp of the reformers. 
The duke, their general, sunk, with his usual timi¬ 
dity, under the terror of approaching danger, and 
discovered manifest symptoms of repentance for his 
rashness in espousing such a desperate cause. 

In this situation of their affairs, the , , 

Apply to Eliza- 

Congregation had recourse to Eliza- Jeth tor assist- 
betli, from whose protection they could 
derive their only reasonable hope of success. Some 
of their more sagacious leaders, having foreseen 
that the party might probably be involved in great 
difficulties, had early endeavoured to secure a re¬ 
source in any such exigency, by entering into a 
secret correspondence with the court of England. 11 
Elizabeth, aware of the dangerous designs which 

which the malcontents often repeated, was not altogether destitute of foun¬ 
dation. 

e M. Castelnau, after condemning the dangerous councils of the princes 
of Lorrain, with regard to the affairs of Scotland, acknowledges, with his 
usual candour, that the Scots declared war against the queen regent, ra¬ 
ther from a desire of vindicating their civil liberties, than from any motive 
of religion. Mem. 446. f Knox, 184. 

a Burn. Hist. Ref. 3. Append. 278. Keith, Append. 21. 


/ 





58 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1559. ROOK III. 


the princes of Lorrain had formed against her crown, 
was early sensible of how much importance it would 
be, not only to check the progress of the French 
in Scotland, but to extend her own influence in 
that kingdom ; b and perceiving how effectually the 
present insurrections would contribute to retard or 
defeat the schemes formed against England, she 
listened with pleasure to these applications of the 
malcontents, and gave them private assurances of 
powerful support to their cause. Randolph/ an agent 
extremely proper for conducting any dark intrigue, 
was despatched into Scotland, and residing secretly 
among the lords of the Congregation, observed and 
quickened their motions. Money seemed to be the 
only thing they wanted at that time; and it was 
owing to a seasonable remittance from England, d 
that the Scottish nobles had been enabled to take 
the field, and to advance towards Leith. But as 
Elizabeth was distrustful of the Scots, and studious 
to preserve appearances with France, her subsidies 
were bestowed at first with extreme frugality. The 
subsistence of an army, and the expenses of a siege, 
soon exhausted the penurious supply, to which the 
lords of the Congregation could make little addition 
from their own funds ; and the ruin and dispersion 
of the party must have instantly followed. 
ou . In order to prevent this, Cockburn 

She sends them # 1 

a small sum of of Ormiston was sent, with the utmost 
money, 

expedition, to the governors of the town 
and castle of Berwick. As Berwick was at that 
time the town of greatest importance on the Scot¬ 
tish frontier, sir Ralph Sadler and sir James Crofts, 
persons of considerable figure, were employed to 
command there, and were intrusted with a discre¬ 
tionary power of supplying the Scottish malcon¬ 
tents, according to the exigency of their affairs. 
From them Cockburn received four thousand crowns, 

which is inter- but little to tlie advantage of his asso- 
cepted. ciates> The earl of Bothwellj by the 

queen’s instigation, lay in wait for him on his re¬ 
turn, dispersed his followers, wounded him, and 
carried off'the money. 

This unexpected disappointment proved fatal to 
the party. In mere despair some of the more zeal¬ 
ous attempted to assault Leith ; but the French 
beat them back with disgrace, seized their cannon, 
and, pursuing them to the gates of Edinburgh, 
were on the point of entering along with them. 
All the terror and confusion which the prospect of 
pillage or of massacre can excite in a place taken 
by storm, filled the city on this occasion. The 
inhabitants fled from the enemy by the opposite 
gate ; the forces of the Congregation were irresolute 
and dismayed; and the queen’s partisans in the 
town openly insulted both. At last, a few of the 
nobles ventured to lace the enemy, who, after plun¬ 
dering some houses in the suburbs, retired with 
their booty, and delivered the city from this dread¬ 
ful alarm. 


I) See Append. No. I. 
d Knox, 214. Keith, Append. 41. 


c Keith, Append. 59 


A second skirmish, which happened a few days 
after, was no less unfortunate. The French sent 
out a detachment to intercept a convoy of provisions 
which was designed for Edinburgh. The lords of the 
Congregation, having intelligence of this, march¬ 
ed in all haste with a considerable body of their 
troops, and falling upon the enemy between Rest- 
alrig and Leith, with more gallantry than good 
conduct, were almost surrounded by a second party 
of French, who advanced in order to support their 
own men. In this situation a retreat was the only 
thing which could save the Scots ; but a retreat 
over marshy ground, and in the face of an enemy 
superior in number, could not long be conducted 
with order. A body of the enemy hung Thp eti e 
upon their rear, horse and foot fell into Leith in confu- 
the utmost confusion, and it was en¬ 
tirely owing to the over-caution of the French, that 
any of the party escaped being cut in pieces. 

On this second blow, the hopes and spirits of the 
Congregation sunk altogether. They did not think 
themselves secure even within the walls of Edin¬ 
burgh, but instantly determined to retire to some 
place at a great distance from the enemy. In vain 
did the prior of St. Andrew’s and a few others op¬ 
pose this cowardly and ignominious flight. The 
dread of the present danger prevailed over both the 
sense of honour and zeal for the cause. At mid¬ 
night they set out from Edinburgh in 
great confusion, and marched without 
halting till they arrived at Stirling.* 5 

During this last insurrection, the great body of 
the Scottish nobility joined the congregation. The 
lords Seton and Borthwick were the only persons 
of rank who took arms for the queen, and assisted 
her in defending Leith/ Both well openly favoured 
her cause, but resided at his own house. The earl 
of Huntly, conformable to the crafty policy which 
distinguished his character, amused the leaders of 
the Congregation, whom he had engaged to assist, 
with many fair promises, but never joined them 
with a single man.e The earl of Morton, a member 
of the Congregation, fluctuated in a state of irreso¬ 
lution, and did not act heartily for the common 
cause. Lord Erskine, governor of Edinburgh castle, 
though a protestant, maintained a neutrality, which 
he deemed becoming the dignity of his office ; and 
having been intrusted by parliament with the com¬ 
mand of the principal fortress in the kingdom, he 
resolved that neither faction should get it into their 
hands. 

A few days before the retreat of the 
Congregation, the queen suffered an from the queen 
irreparable loss by the defection of do " a8er- 
her principal secretary, William Maitland of Leth- 
ington. His zeal for the reformed religion, toge¬ 
ther with his warm remonstrances against the violent 
measures which the queen was carrying on, exposed 
him so much to her resentment, and to that of her 


e Keith, Append. 21—45. 
g Keith, Append. 33. Knox, 222. 


f Keith, Append. 31. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


69 


BOOK III. 1559.] 


French counsellors, that he, suspecting his life to 
he in clanger, withdrew secretly from Leith, and (led 
to the lords of the Congregation ; h and they with 
open arms received a convert, whose abilities added 
both strength and reputation to their cause. Mait¬ 
land had early applied to public business admirable 
natural talents, improved by an acquaintance with 
the liberal arts; and, at a time of life when his coun¬ 
trymen of the same quality were following the plea¬ 
sures of the cliace, or serving as adventurers in the 
armies of France, he was admitted into all the secrets 
of the cabinet, and put upon a level with persons of the 
most consummate experience in the management of 
affairs. He possessed, in an eminent degree, that 
intrepid spirit which delights in pursuing bold de¬ 
signs, and was no less master of that political dex¬ 
terity which is necessary for carrying them on with 
success. But these qualities were deeply tinctured 
with the neighbouring vices. His address some¬ 
times degenerated into cunning; his acuteness 
bordered upon excess; his invention, over-fertile, 
suggested to him, on some occasions, chimerical 
systems of policy, too refined for the genius of his 
age or country ; and his enterprising spirit engaged 
him in projects vast and splendid, but beyond his 
utmost power to execute. All the contemporary 
writers, to whatever faction they belong, mention 
him with an admiration which nothing could have 
excited but the greatest superiority of penetration 
and abilities. 

The precipitate retreat of the Congregation in¬ 
creased to such a degree the terror and confusion 
which had seized the party at Edinburgh, that be¬ 
fore the army reached Stirling, it dwindled to an 
inconsiderable number. The spirit of Knox, how¬ 
ever, still remained undaunted and erect, and 
having mounted the pulpit, he addressed to his 
desponding hearers an exhortation, which wonder¬ 
fully animated and revived them. The heads of 
this discourse are inserted in his History, 1 and af¬ 
ford a striking example of the boldness and freedom 
of reproof assumed by the first reformers, as well 
as a specimen of his own skill in choosing the 
topics most fitted to influence and rouse his audi¬ 


ence. 


The lords Of Ihe A meeting of the leaders being 
Congregation ap- ca n e d, to consider what course they 

ply again to Lu- ’ J 

zabeth. should hold, now that their own re¬ 

sources were all exhausted, and their destruction 
appeared to be unavoidable without foreign aid, 
they turned their eyes once more to England, and 
resolved to implore the assistance of Elizabeth, to¬ 
wards finishing an enterprise, in which they had so 
fatally experienced their own weakness, and the 
strength of their adversaries. Maitland, as the 
most able negociator of the party, was employed 
in this embassy. In his absence, and during the 
inactive season of the year, it was agreed to dismiss 
their followers, worn out by the fatigues of a cam¬ 


paign which had so far exceeded the usual time of 


service. But, in order to preserve the counties most 
devoted to their interest, the prior of St. Andrew’s, 
with part of the leaders, retired into Fife. The 
duke of Chatelherault, with the rest, fixed his resi¬ 
dence at Hamilton. There was little need of Mait¬ 
land’s address or eloquence to induce Elizabeth to 
take his country under her protection. She ob¬ 
served the prevalence of the French counsels, and 
the progress of their arms in Scotland, with great 
concern; and as she well foresaw the dangerous 
tendency of their schemes in that kingdom, she had 
already come to a resolution with regard to the part 
she herself would act, if their power there should 
grow still more formidable. 


In order to give the queen and her 

- . . Motives which 

privy council a full and distinct View determined her to 
_ . assist them. 

of any important matter which might 
come before them, it seems to have been the prac¬ 
tice of Elizabeth’s ministers to prepare memorials, 
in which they clearly stated the point under deli¬ 
beration, laid down the grounds of the conduct 
which they held to be most reasonable, and pro¬ 
posed a method for carrying their plan into execu¬ 
tion. Two papers of this kind, written by sir 
William Cecil with his own hand, and submitted by 
the queen to the consideration of her privy council, 
still remain ; k they are entitled, “ A short discussion 
of the weighty matter of Scotland,” and do honour 
to the industry and penetration of that great minis¬ 
ter. The motives which determined the queen to 
espouse so warmly the defence of the Congregation, 
are represented with perspicuity and force ; and the 
consequences of suffering the French to establish 
themselves in Scotland, are predicted with great 
accuracy and discernment. 

He lays it down as a principle, agreeably to the 
laws both of God and of nature, that every society 
hath a right to defend itself, not only from present 
dangers, but from such as may probably ensue ; to 
which he adds, that nature and reason teach every 
prince to defend himself by the same means which 
his adversaries employ to distress him. Upon 
these grounds he establishes the right of England 
to interpose in the affairs of Scotland, and to pre¬ 
vent the conquest of that kingdom, at which the 
French openly aimed. The French, he observes, 
are the ancient and implacable enemies of England. 
Hostilities had subsisted between the two nations 
for many centuries. No treaty of peace into which 
they entered had ever been cordial or sincere. No 
good effect was therefore to be expected from the 
peace lately agreed upon, which, being extorted by 
present necessity, would be negligently observed, 
and broken on the slightest pretences. In a very 
short time, France would recover its former opu¬ 
lence ; and though now drained of men and money 
by a tedious and unsuccessful war, it would quickly 
be in a condition for acting, and the restless and 
martial genius of the people would render action 
necessary. The princes of Lorrain, who at that 

k Burn. vol. iii. Append. £83. Forbes, i. 3B7, c. Keith, Append. 21. 


h Knox, 192. 


i Knox, 193. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


W 


[1559. BOOK III. 


time had the entire direction of French affairs, 
were animated with the most virulent hatred against 
the English nation. They openly called in ques¬ 
tion the legitimacy of the queen’s birth, and, by 
advancing the title and pretensions of their niece 
the queen of Scotland, studied to deprive Elizabeth 
of her crown. With this view, they had laboured 
to exclude the English from the treaty of Chateau 
on Cambresis, and endeavoured to conclude a sepa¬ 
rate peace with Spain. They had persuaded Henry 
II. to permit his daughter-in-law to assume the title 
and arms of Queen of England , and even since the 
conclusion of the peace, they had solicited at Rome, 
and obtained, a bull declaring Elizabeth’s birth to 
be illegitimate. Though the wisdom and modera¬ 
tion of the constable Montmorency had for some 
time checked their career, yet these restraints being 
now removed by the death of Henry II. and the dis¬ 
grace of his minister, the utmost excesses of vio¬ 
lence were to be dreaded from their furious ambi¬ 
tion, armed with sovereign power. Scotland is the 
quarter where they can attack England with most 
advantage. A war on the borders of that country 
exposes France to no danger, but one unsuccessful 
action there may hazard the crown, and overturn 
the government, of England. In political conduct, 
it is childish to wait till the designs of an enemy 
be ripe for execution. The Scottish nobles, after 
their utmost efforts, have been obliged to quit the 
field ; and far from expelling the invaders of their 
liberties, they behold the French power daily in¬ 
creasing, and must at last cease from struggling any 
longer in a contest so unequal. The invading of 
England will immediately follow the reduction of 
the Scottish malcontents, by the abandoning of 
whom to the mercy of the French, Elizabeth will 
open a way for her enemies into the heart of her 
own kingdom, and expose it to the calamities of 
war, and the danger of conquest. Nothing there¬ 
fore remained but to meet the enemy while yet at a 
distance from England, and, by supporting the Con¬ 
gregation with a powerful army, to render Scotland 
the theatre of the war, to crush the designs of the 
princes of Lorrain in their infancy, and, by such an 
early and unexpected effort, to expel the French 
out of Britain, before their power had time to take 
root and grow up to any formidable height. But 
as the matter was of as much importance as any 
which could fall under the consideration of an Eng¬ 
lish monarch, wisdom and mature counsel were 
necessary in the first place, and afterwards vigour 
and expedition in conduct; the danger was urgent, 
and, by losing a single moment, might become un¬ 
avoidable. 1 

These arguments produced their full effect upon 
Elizabeth, who was jealous, in an extreme degree, 
of every pretender to her crown, and no less anxious 
to preserve the tranquillity and happiness of her 
subjects. From these motives she had acted, in 


I The arguments which the Scots employed, in order to obtain Elizabeth’' 
assistance, are urged with great force, in a paper of Maitland's See Ad 
pend.Wo.il. 


granting the congregation an early supply of money; 
and from the same principles she determined, in 
their present exigency, to afford them more effectual 
aid. One of Maitland’s attendants was instantly 
despatched into Scotland with the strongest as¬ 
surances of her protection, and the lords of the 
Congregation were desired to send commissioners 
into England, to conclude a treaty, and to settle the 
operations of the campaign with the duke of Nor¬ 
folk. m 

Meanwhile the queen regent, from „„ 

1 . I ne queen (Iowa- 

whom no motion of the Congregation ger meanwhile 

° ° sends her French 

could long be concealed, dreaded the troops against 
success of this negociation with the 
court of England, and foresaw how little she would 
be able to resist the united efforts of the two king¬ 
doms. For tiiis reason she determined, if possible, 
to get the start of Elizabeth ; and by venturing, 
notwithstanding the inclemency of the winter sea¬ 
son, to attack the malcontents in their present dis¬ 
persed and helpless situation, she hoped to put an 
end to the war before the arrival of their English 
allies. 

A considerable body of her French forces, who 
were augmented about this time by the arrival of 
the count de Martigues, with a thousand veteran 
foot, and some cavalry, were commanded to march 
to Stirling. Having there crossed the Forth, they 
proceeded along the coast of Fife, destroying and 
plundering, with excessive outrage, the houses and 
lands of those whom they deemed their enemies. 
Fife was the most populous and powerful county in 
the kingdom, and most devoted to the Congregation, 
who had hitherto drawn from thence their most 
considerable supplies, both of men and provisions ; 
and therefore, besides punishing the disaffection of 
the inhabitants, by pillaging the country, the French 
proposed to seize and fortify St. Andrew’s, and to 
leave in it a garrison sufficient to bridle the mutin¬ 
ous spirit of the province, and to keep possession 
of a port situated on the main ocean." 

But on this occasion, the prior of St. Andrew’s, 
lord Ruthven, Kirkaldy of Grange, and a few of the 
most active leaders of the Congregation, performed, 
by their bravery and good conduct, a service of the 
utmost importance to their party. Having assembled 
six hundred horse, they infested the French with 
continual incursions, beat up their quarters, inter¬ 
cepted their convoys of provisions, cut off their 
straggling parties, and so harassed them w ith per¬ 
petual alarms, that they prevented them for more 
than three weeks from advancing. 0 

At last the prior, with his feeble 

, ' . 1560. 

party, was constrained to retire, and 

the French set out from Kirkaldy, and began to 

move along the coast towards St. Andrew’s. They 

had advanced but a few miles, when, 

from an eminence, they descried a Jan * 23 ‘ 

powerful fleet steering its course up the frith of 

m Keith, 114. Kymer, xv. p. 569. 
n Haynes, 221, &c. 
o Knox, 202. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


01 


BOOK III. 1560.J 

Forth. As they knew that the marquis D’Elbeuf 
was at that time preparing to sail for Scotland with 
a numerous army, they hastily concluded that these 
ships belonged to them, and gave way to the most 
immoderate transports of joy, on the prospect of 
this long-expected succour. Their great guns were 
already lired to welcome their friends, and to spread 
the tidings and terror of their arrival among their 
enemies, when a small boat from the opposite coast 
landed, and blasted their premature and short-lived 
triumph, by informing them that it was the tleet of 
England which was in sight, intended for the aid of 
the Congregation, and was soon to be followed by a 
formidable land army/ 

, , Throughout her whole reign, Eliza- 

Ihe English fleet ° n 

arrives to their beth was cautious, but decisive ; and 

assistance. 

by her promptitude in executing her 
resolutions, joined to the deliberation with which 
she formed them, her administration became re¬ 
markable, no less for its vigour, than for its wisdom. 
No sooner did she determine to afford her protection 
to the lords of the Congregation, than they experi¬ 
enced the activity, as well as the extent, of her 
power. The season of the year would not permit 
her land army to take the field ; but lest the French 
should, in the mean time, receive new reinforce¬ 
ments, she instantly ordered a strong squadron to 
cruise in the frith of Forth. She seems by her in¬ 
structions to Winter, her admiral, to have been de¬ 
sirous of preserving the appearances of friendship 
towards the French.'! But these were only appear¬ 
ances ; if any French fleet should attempt to land, 
he was commanded to prevent it by every act of 
hostility and violence. It was the sight of this 
squadron which occasioned at first so much joy 
among the French, but which soon inspired them 
with such terror, as saved Fife from the effects of 
their vengeance. Apprehensive of being cut off 
from their companions on the opposite shore, they 
retreated towards Stirling with the utmost precipi¬ 
tation, and in a dreadful season, and through roads 
almost impassable, arrived at Leith, harassed and 
exhausted with fatigue/ 

The English fleet cast anchor in the road of Leith, 
and continuing in that station till the conclusion of 
peace, both prevented the garrison of Leith from 
receiving succours of any kind, and considerably 
facilitated the operations of their own forces by 
land. 

Soon after the arrival of the English 

They conclude a . . „ . 

treaty with Eng- squadron, the commissioners of the 
land, Feb. 27- . . , „ . , , 

congregation repaired to Berwick, and 

concluded with the duke of Norfolk a treaty, the 
bond of that union with Elizabeth, which was of so 
great advantage to the cause. To give a check to 
the dangerous and rapid progress of the French 
arms in Scotland, was the professed design of the 
contracting parties. In order to this, the Scots en¬ 
gaged never to suffer any closer union of their 

q Keith, Appendix, 45. Haynes, 231. 
s Knox, 2lf. lfaynes, 253, &c. 


country with France; and to defend themselves to 
the uttermost against all attempts of conquest. 
Elizabeth, on her part, promised to employ in Scot¬ 
land a powerful army for their assistance, which 
the Scots undertook to join with all their forces; 
no place in Scotland was to remain in the hands of 
the English : whatever should be taken from the 


enemy was either to be razed, or kept by the Scots, 
at their choice ; if any invasion should be made 
upon England, the Scots were obliged to assist 
Elizabeth with part of their forces ; and, to ascer¬ 
tain their faithful observance of the treaty, they 
bound themselves to deliver hostages to Elizabeth, 
before the march of her army into Scotland ; in 
conclusion, the Scots made many protestations of 
obedience and loyalty towards their own queen, in 
every thing not inconsistent with their religion, and 
the liberties of their country/ 

The English army, consisting of six _ .., 

0 J 7 a .The English army 

thousand foot and two thousand horse, lays siege to Leith, 

April 2. 

under the command of lord Gray of 
Wilton, entered Scotland early in the spring. The 
members of the congregation assembled from all 
parts of the kingdom to meet their new allies ; and 
having joined them, with great multitudes of theii 
followers, they advanced together towards Leith. 
The French were little able to keep the field 
against an enemy so much superior in number. A 
strong body of troops, destined for their relief, had 
been scattered by a violent storm, and had either 
perished on the coast of France, or with difficulty 
had recovered the ports of that kingdom/ But 
they hoped to be able to defend Leith, till the 
princes of Lorrain should make good the magnificent 
promises of assistance, with which they daily en¬ 
couraged them ; or till scarcity of provisions should 
constrain the English to retire into their own coun¬ 
try. In order to hasten this latter event, they did 
not neglect the usual, though barbarous, precaution 
for distressing an invading enemy, by burning and 
laying waste all the adjacent country." The zeal, 
however, of the nation frustrated their intentions: 
eager to contribute tow ards removing their oppres¬ 
sors, the people produced their hidden stores to 
support their friends ; the neighbouring counties 
supplied every thing necessary; and, far from want¬ 
ing subsistence, the English found in their camp all 
sorts of provisions at a cheaper rate than had for 
some time been known in that part of the kingdom. x 

On the approach of the English army the queen 
regent retired into the castle of Edinburgh. Her 
health was now in a declining state, and her mind 
broken and depressed by the misfortunes of her ad¬ 
ministration. To avoid the danger and fatigue of a 
siege, she committed herself to the protection of 
lord Erskine. This nobleman still preserved his 
neutrality, and by his integrity and love of his 
country, merited equally the esteem of both parties. 
He received the queen herself with the utmost ho- 


p Knox, 203. 
r Knox, 203. 


t Mem. de Castel. 450. 


u Knox, 225. 


x Id. ibid. 



62 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1560. BOOK III. 


April 6. 


April 15. 


nour and respect, but took care to admit no such 
retinue as might endanger his command ot the castle.* 
A few days after they arrived in 
Scotland, the English invested Leith. 
The garrison shut up within the town was almost 
half as numerous as the army which sat down be¬ 
fore it, and by an obstinate defence protracted the 
siege to a great length. The circumstances of this 
siege, related by contemporary historians, men with¬ 
out knowledge or experience in the art of war, are 
often obscure and imperfect, and at this distance of 
time are not considerable enough to be entertaining. 

At first the French endeavoured to 
keep possession of the Hawk Hill, a 
rising ground not far distant from the town, but 
were beat from it with great slaughter, chieily by 
the furious attack of the Scottish cavalry. Within 
a few days the French had their full revenge ; hav¬ 
ing sallied out with a strong body, they entered the 
English trenches, broke their troops, nailed part of 
their cannon, and killed at least double the number 
they had lost in the former skirmish. Nor were the 
English more fortunate in an attempt which they 
made to take the place by assault; 
they were met with equal courage, 
and repulsed with considerable loss. From the de¬ 
tail of these circumstances by the writers of that 
age, it is easy to observe the different characters of 
the French and English troops. The former, trained 
to war, during the active reigns of Francis I. and 
Henry II., defended themselves not only with the 
bravery but with the skill of veterans. The latter, 
who had been more accustomed to peace, still pre¬ 
served the intrepid and desperate valour peculiar 
to the nation, but discovered few marks of military 
genius or of experience in the practice of war. 
Every misfortune or disappointment during the siege 
must be imputed to manifest errors in conduct. The 
success of the besieged in their sally was owing en¬ 
tirely to the security and negligence of the English ; 
many of their officers were absent; their soldiers 
had left their stations ; and their trenches were 
almost without a guard. 2 The ladders which had 
been provided for the assault, wanted a great deal 
of the necessary length ; and the troops employed 
in that service were ill supported. The trenches 
were opened at first in an improper place ; and as 
it was found expedient to change the ground, both 
time and labour were lost. The inability of their 
own generals, no less than the strength of the 
French garrison, rendered the progress of the 
English wonderfully slow. The long continuance, 
however, of the siege, and the loss of part of their 
magazines by an accidental fire, reduced the French 
to extreme distress for want of provisions, which 
the prospect of relief made them bear with admira¬ 
ble fortitude. 

y Forbes’s Collect, vol. i. 503. Keith, 122. 
z Haynes, 294, 298, 305, &c. 
a Burn. vol. iii. 287. Knox, 221. Haynes, 261, 263 

of the French power did 9 n many occasions surmount the 
zeal which the catholic nobles had for their religion. Beside* the presumi>- 
tive evidence tor this, arising from the memorial mentioned bv Burnet 
Hist, ot the Reformation, vol. iii. 281, and published by him, App p <*jq’ 


While the hopes and courage of the French pro¬ 
tracted the siege so far beyond expectation, the 
leaders of the Congregation were not idle. By new 
associations and confederacies, they laboured to 
unite their party more perfectly. By publicly rati¬ 
fying the treaty concluded at Berwick, they endea¬ 
voured to render the alliance with England firm and 
indissoluble. Among the subscribers of these papers 
we find the earl of Huntley, and some others, who 
had not hitherto concurred with the congregation in 
any of their measures. a Several of these lords, par¬ 
ticularly the earl of Huntley,still adhered to the popish 
church ; but, on this occasion, neither their religious 
sentiments, nor their former cautious maxims, were 
regarded ; the torrent of national resentment and 
indignation against the French hurried them on. b 

The queen regent, the instrument, Deati? and cl)arac . 
rather than the cause, of involving dowager? queen 
Scotland in those calamities under June 10 - 
which it groaned at that time, died during the heat 
of the siege. No princess ever possessed qualities 
more capable of rendering her administration illus¬ 
trious, or the kingdom happy. Of much discern¬ 
ment, and no less address ; of great intrepidity and 
equal prudence; gentle and humane, without weak¬ 
ness ; zealous for her religion, without bigotry ; a 
lover of justice, without rigour. One circumstance, 
however, and that too the excess of a virtue, rather 
than any vice, poisoned all these great qualities, 
and rendered her government unfortunate, and her 
name odious. Devoted to the interest of France, 
her native country, and attached to the princes of 
Lorrain, her brothers, with most passionate fondness, 
she departed, in order to gratify them, from every 
maxim which her own wisdom or humanity would 
have approved. She outlived, in a great measure, 
that reputation and popularity which had smoothed 
her way to the highest station in the kingdom ; and 
many examples of falsehood, and some of severity, 
in the latter part of her administration, alienated 
from her the affections of a people who had once 
placed in her an unbounded confidence. But, even 
by her enemies, these unjustifiable actions were 
imputed to the facility, not to the malignity, of her 
nature; and while they taxed her brothers and 
French counsellors with rashness and cruelty, they 
still allowed her the praise of prudence and of le¬ 
nity. 0 A few days before her death, she desired an 
interview with the prior of St. Andrew’s, the earl of 
Argyll, and other chiefs of the Congregation. To 
them she lamented the fatal issue of those violent 
counsels which she had been obliged to follow; and, 
with the candour natural to a generous mind, con¬ 
fessed the errors of her own administration, and 
begged forgiveness of those to whom they had been 
hurtful; but at the same time she warned them, 
amidst their struggles for liberty and the shock of 


the instructions of Elizabeth to ^Randolph her agent, put it heyond all 
doubt, that many zealous papists thought the alliance with Fn-dand to be 

nPBPW-jrtr fVir* nrneniMMn.r « A i .J_. . / 


- -V. u.o S't 

State Papers, 261, 263. See Append, No. III. 
c Buchanan, 324. 




BOOK III. 1560.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


63 


arms, not to lose sight of the loyalty and subjection 
which were due to their sovereign. d The remainder 
of her time she employed in religious meditations 
and exercises. She even invited the attendance of 
Willox , one of the most eminent among the reformed 
preachers, listened to his instructions with reverence 
and attention,® and prepared for the approach of 
death with a decent fortitude. 

, . Nothing could now save the French 

Motives of the . 

French to conclude troops shut up in Leith, but the imme- 
a peace. . 

diate conclusion of a peace, or the 
arrival of a powerful army from the continent. The 
princes of Lorrain amused their party in Scotland 
with continual expectations of the latter, and had 
thereby kept alive their hopes and their courage ; 
hut, at last, the situation of France, rather than the 
terror of the English arms, or the remonstrances of 
the Scottish malcontents, constrained them, though 
with reluctance, to turn their thoughts towards pacific 
councils. The protestants in France were at that 
time a party formidable by their number, and more 
by the valour and enterprising genius of their leaders. 
Francis II. had treated them with extreme rigour, 
and discovered, by every step he took, a settled reso¬ 
lution to extirpate their religion, and to ruin those 
who professed it. At the prospect of this danger 
to themselves and to their cause, the protestants 
were alarmed, but not terrified. Animated with zeal, 
and inflamed with resentment, they not only prepar¬ 
ed for their own defence, but resolved, by some bold 
action, to anticipate the schemes of their enemies ; 
and as the princes of Lorrain were deemed the 
authors of all the king’s violent measures, they 
marked them out to he the first victims of their in¬ 
dignation. Hence, and not from dis¬ 
loyalty to the king, proceeded the 
famous conspiracy of Amboise ; and though the 
vigilance and good fortune of the princes of Lorrain 
discovered and disappointed that design, it was 
easy to observe new storms gathering in every pro¬ 
vince of the kingdom, and ready to burst out with 
all the fury and outrage of civil war. In this situa¬ 
tion, the ambition of the house of Lorrain was called 
off from the thoughts of foreign conquests, to defend 
the honour and dignity of the French crown ; and, 
instead of sending new reinforcements into Scotland, 
it became necessary to withdraw the veteran troops 
already employed in that kingdom. f 

The negotiations In order to conduct an affair of so 
tor that purpose, importance and delicacy, the 

princes of Lorrain made choice of Monluc, bishop 
of Valence, and of the Sieur de Randan. As both 
these, especially the former, were reckoned inferior 
to no persons of that age in address and political 
refinement, Elizabeth opposed to them ambassadors 
of equal abilities ? Cecil, her prime minister, a man 
perhaps of the greatest capacity who had ever held 
that ollice; and Wotton, dean of Canterbury, grown 
old in the art of negociating under three successive 


March 15. 


d Lesley, de Rebus Gest. Scot. 222. 
e Knox, 228. 


f Lesley, 224. 


monarchs. The interests of the French and English 
courts were soon adjusted by men of so great dex¬ 
terity in business ; and as France easily consented 
to withdraw those forces which had been the chief 
occasion of the war, the other points in dispute be¬ 
tween that kingdom and England were not matters 
of tedious or of difficult discussion. 

The grievances of the Congregation, and their 
demands upon their own sovereigns for redress, em¬ 
ployed longer time, and required to be treated with 
a more delicate hand. After so many open attempts, 
carried on by command of the king and queen, in 
order to overturn the ancient constitution, and to 
suppress the religion which they had embraced, the 
Scottish nobles could not think themselves secure, 
without fixing some new barrier against the future 
encroachments of regal power. But the legal steps 
towards accomplishing this were not so obvious. 

The French ambassadors considered the entering 
into any treaty with subjects, and with rebels, as a 
condescension unsuitable to the dignity of a sove¬ 
reign ; and their scruples on this head might have 
put an end to the treaty, if the impatience of both 
parties for peace had not suggested an expedient, 
which seemed to provide for the security of the 
subject, without derogating from the honour of the 
prince. The Scottish nobles agreed, Articles 0 f t h e 
on this occasion, to pass from the point treaty, 
of right and privilege, and to accept the redress of 
their grievances as a matter of favour. Whatever 
additional security their anxiety for personal safety, 
or their zeal for public liberty, prompted them to 
demand, was granted in the name of Francis and 
Mary, as acts of their royal favour and indulgence. 
And, lest concessions of this kind should seem pre¬ 
carious, and liable to be retracted by the same power 
which had made them, the French ambassador agreed 
to insert them in the treaty with Elizabeth, and 
thereby to hind the king and queen inviolably to 
observe them . s 

In relating this transaction, contemporary his¬ 
torians have confounded the concessions of Francis 
and Mary to their Scottish subjects, with the treaty 
between France and England ; the latter, besides 
the ratification of former treaties between the two 
kingdoms, and stipulations with regard to the time 
and manner of removing both armies out of Scot¬ 
land, contained an article to which, as the source 
of many important events, we shall often have 
occasion to refer. The right of Elizabeth to her 
crown is thereby acknowledged in the strongest 
terms; and Francis and Mary solemnly engaged 
neither to assume the title, nor to bear the arms, of 
king and queen of England in any time to come. h 

Honourable as this article was for 
Elizabeth herself, the conditions she 
obtained for her allies the Scots were no less ad¬ 
vantageous to them. Monluc and Randan con¬ 
sented, in the name of Francis and Mary, that the 


July 6. 


I 


, Keith, 134, &c. 

1 Keith, 134. Rymer, xv. p. 581, 591, &c. Haynes, 325—364. 



64 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


French forces in Scotland should instantly be sent 
back into their own country, and no foreign troops 
be hereafter introduced into the kingdom without 
the knowledge and consent of parliament; that 
the fortifications of Leith and Dunbar should im¬ 
mediately be rased, and no new fort be erected 
without the permission of parliament; that a 
parliament should be held on the first day of August, 
and that assembly be deemed as valid in all respects 
as if it had been called by the express command¬ 
ment of the king and queen ; that, conformable to 
the ancient laws and customs of the country, the 
king and queen should not declare war or conclude 
peace without the concurrence of parliament; that 
during the queen’s absence, the administration of 
government should be vested in a council of twelve 
persons, to be chosen out of twenty-four named by 
parliament, seven of which council to be elected by 
the queen, and five by the parliament; that here¬ 
after the king and queen should not advance 
foreigners to places of trust or dignity in the king¬ 
dom, nor confer the offices of treasurer or comp¬ 
troller of the revenues upon any ecclesiastic; that 
an act of oblivion, abolishing the guilt and memory 
of all offences committed since the sixth of March 
one thousand five hundred and fifty-eight, should 
be passed in the ensuing parliament, and be ratified 
by the king and queen; that the king and queen 
should not, under the colour of punishing any viola¬ 
tion of their authority during that period, seek to 
deprive any of their subjects of the offices, benefices, 
or estates, which they now held ; that the redress due 
to churchmen, for the injuries which they had sus¬ 
tained during the late insurrections, should be left 
entirely to the cognizance of parliament. With 
regard to religious controversies, the ambassadors 
declared that they would not presume to decide, but 
permitted the parliament, at their first meeting, to 
examine the points in difference, and to represent 
their sense of them to the king and queen. 1 

The effects of it To such a raemorabl e period did the 
lords of the Congregation, by their 
courage and perseverance, conduct an enterprise 
which at first promised a very different issue. From 
beginnings extremely feeble, and even contempti¬ 
ble, the party grew by degrees to great power; and, 
being favoured by many fortunate incidents, baffled 
all the efforts of their own queen, aided by the 
forces of a more considerable kingdom. The sove¬ 
reign authority was by this treaty transferred wholly 
into the hands of the Congregation; that limited 
prerogative which the crown had hitherto possessed, 
was almost entirely annihilated ; and the aristo- 
cratical power, which always predominated in the 
Scottish government, became supreme and incon- 
trollable. By this treaty, too, the influence of 
France, which had long been of much weight in 
the allaiis of Scotland, was greatly diminished ; 
and not only were the present encroachments of 
.hat ambitious ally restrained, but, by confederating 

j Keith, 137, &c. k Keith, 147. 


[1560. BOOK III. 

with England, protection was provided against any 
future attempt from the same quarter. At the same 
time, the controversies in religion being left to the 
consideration of parliament, the protestants might 
reckon upon obtaining whatever decision was most 
favourable to the opinions which they professed. 

A few days after the conclusion of the treaty, both 
the French and English armies quitted Scotland. 

The eyes of every man in that king- 

A parliamentheld. 

dom were turned towards the ap¬ 
proaching parliament. A meeting, summoned in a 
manner so extraordinary, at such a critical juncture, 
and to deliberate upon matters of so much conse¬ 
quence, was expected with the utmost anxiety. 

A Scottish parliament suitable to the aristocratical 
genius of the government, was properly an assembly 
of the nobles. It was composed of bishops, abbots, 
barons, and a few commissioners of boroughs, who 
met altogether in one house. The lesser barons, 
though possessed of a right to be present, either in 
person or by their representatives, seldom exer¬ 
cised it. The expense of attending, according to 
the fashion of the times, with a numerous train of 
vassals and dependants ; the inattention of a mar¬ 
tial age to the forms and detail of civil government; 
but, above all, the exorbitant authority of the greater 
nobles, who had drawn the whole power into their 
own hands, made this privilege of so little value, as 
to be almost neglected. It appears from the ancient 
rolls, that, during times of tranquillity, few com¬ 
missioners of boroughs, and almost none of the 
lesser barons, appeared in parliament. The ordinary 
administration of government was abandoned, with¬ 
out scruple or jealousy, to the king and to the greater 
barons. But in extraordinary conjunctures, when 
the struggle for liberty was violent, and the spirit 
of opposition to the crown rose to a height, the 
burgesses and lesser barons were roused from their 
inactivity, and stood forth to vindicate the rights 
of their country. The turbulent reign of James III. 
affords examples in proof of this observation. k The 
public indignation against the rash designs of that 
weak and ill-advised prince, brought into parlia¬ 
ment, besides the greater nobles and prelates, a con¬ 
siderable number of the lesser barons. 

The same causes occasioned the unusual confluence 
of all orders of men to the parliament, which met 
on the first of August. The universal passion for 
liberty, civil and religious, which had seized the 
nation, suffered few persons to remain unconcerned 
spectators ot an assembly, wdiose acts w'ere likely to 
prove decisive with respect to both. From all corners 
of the kingdom men flocked in, eager and determined 
to aid with their voices in the senate, the same cause 
which they had defended with their swords in the 
field. Besides a full convention of peers, temporal 
and spiritual, there appeared the representatives of 
almost all the boroughs, and above a hundred 
barons, who, though of the lesser order, were gentle* 
men of the first rank and fortune in the nation. 1 

1 Keith, 146, 



BOOK III. 15G0.J THE HISTORY 

The parliament was ready to enter on business 
with the utmost zeal, when a difficulty was started 
concerning the lawfulness of the meeting. No com¬ 
missioner appeared in the name of the king and 
queen, and no signilication of their consent and ap¬ 
probation was yet received. These were deemed 
by many essential to the very being of a parliament. 
But in opposition to this sentiment, the express words 
of the treaty of Edinburgh were urged, by which 
this assembly was declared to be as valid, in all 
respects, as if it had been called and appointed by 
the express command of the king and queen. As 
the adherents of the congregation greatly outnum¬ 
bered their adversaries, the latter opinion prevailed. 
Their boldest leaders, and those of most approved 
zeal, were chosen to be lords of the articles, who 
formed a committee of ancient use, and of great im¬ 
portance in the Scottish parliament. 01 The delibe¬ 
rations of the lords of the articles were carried on 
with the most unanimous and active zeal. The act 
of oblivion, the nomination of twenty-four persons, 
out of whom the council, intrusted with supreme 
authority, was to be elected; and every other thing 
prescribed by the late treaty, or which seemed ne¬ 
cessary to render it effectual, passed without dis- 

, pute or delay. The article of religion 

Its proceeding's 

with regard to employed longer time, and was at¬ 
tended with greater difficulty. It was 
brought into parliament by a petition from those 
who adopted the principles of the reformation. 
Many doctrines of the popish church were a con¬ 
tradiction to reason, and a disgrace to religion ; its 
discipline had become corrupt and oppressive ; and 
its revenues were both exorbitant and ill-applied. 
Against all these the protestants remonstrated with 
the utmost asperity of style, which indignation at 
their absurdity, or experience of their pernicious 
tendency, could inspire; and, encouraged by the 
number as well as zeal of their friends, to improve 
such a favourable juncture, they aimed the blow at 
the whole fabric of popery ; and besought the par¬ 
liament to interpose its authority for rectifying these 
multiplied abuses. 11 

Several prelates, zealously attached to the an¬ 
cient superstition, were present in this parliament. 
But, during these vigorous proceedings of the pro¬ 
testants, they stood confounded and at gaze; and 
persevered in a silence which was fatal to their 
cause. They deemed it impossible to resist or 
divert that torrent of religious zeal, which was still 
in its full strength ; they dreaded that their opposi¬ 
tion would irritate their adversaries, and excite them 
to new acts of violence; they hoped that the king 
and queen would soon be at leisure to put a stop 
to the career of their insolent subjects, and that, 
after the rage and havoc of the present storm, 
the former tranquillity and order would be restored 
to the church and kingdom. They were willing, 

m From an original letter of Hamilton, archbishop of St. Andrew’s, it 
appears that the lords of articles were chosen in the manner afterwards 
appointed by an act of parliament, 1633. Keith, p. 487- Spottiswood 
seems to consider this to have been the common practice. Hist. 149. 

F 


OF SCOTLAND. 66 

perhaps, to sacrifice the doctrine, and even the 
power of the church, in order to insure the safety of 
their own persons, and to preserve the possession of 
those revenues which were still in their hands. 
From whatever motives they acted, their silence, 
which was imputed to the consciousness of a bad 
cause, afforded matter of great triumph to the pro¬ 
testants, and encouraged them to proceed with more 
boldness and alacrity. 0 

The parliament did not think it enough to con¬ 
demn those doctrines mentioned in the petition of 
the protestants ; they moreover gave the sanction of 
their approbation to a confession of faith presented 
to them by the reformed teachers ; v and composed, 
as might be expected from such a performance at 
that juncture, on purpose to expose the absurd 
tenets and practices of the Romish church. By 
another act, the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical 
courts was abolished, and the causes which formerly 
came under their cognizance were transferred to the 
decision of civil judges.* 1 By a third statute, the 
exercise of religious worship, according to the rites 
of the Romish church, was prohibited. The man¬ 
ner in which the parliament enforced the observa¬ 
tion of this law discovers the zeal of that assembly ; 
the first transgression subjected the offender to the 
forfeiture of his goods, and to a corporal punish¬ 
ment, at the discretion of the judge; banishment 
was the penalty of the second violation of the law ; 
and a third act of disobedience was declared to be 
capital/ Such strangers were men at that time to 
the spirit of toleration, and to the laws of huma¬ 
nity ; and with such indecent haste did the very 
persons who had just escaped the rigour of ecclesi¬ 
astical tyranny, proceed to imitate those examples 
of severity of which they themselves had so justly 
complained. 

The vigorous zeal of the parliament ., 

° 1 with regard to 

overturned in a few days the ancient the revlnuesof 
system of religion, which had been 
established so many ages. In reforming the doc¬ 
trine and discipline of the church, the nobles kept 
pace with the ardour and expectations even of Knox 
himself. But their proceedings with respect to 
these were not more rapid and impetuous, than 
they were slow and dilatory when they entered on 
the consideration of ecclesiastical revenues. Among 
the lay members, some were already enriched with 
the spoils of the church, and others devoured in ex¬ 
pectation the wealthy benefices which still remained 
untouched. The alteration in religion had afforded 
many of the dignified ecclesiastics themselves an 
opportunity of gratifying their avarice or ambition. 
The demolition of the monasteries having set the 
monks at liberty from their confinement, they in¬ 
stantly dispersed all over the kingdom, and com 
monly betook themselves to some secular employ¬ 
ment. The abbot, if he had been so fortunate as to 

n Knox, 237. o Knox, 253. 

p Knox, 253. q Keith, 152. 

r Knox, 254. 



66 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1500. ROOK III. 


embrace the principles of the reformation from con¬ 
viction, or so cunning as to espouse them out ot 
policy, seized the whole revenues ot the fraternity , 
and, except what lie allowed lor the subsistence of 
a few superannuated monks, s applied them entirely 
to his own use. The proposal made by the lefoimed 
teachers, for applying these revenues towaids the 
maintenance ot ministers, the education ot youth, 
and the support of the poor, was equally dreaded 
by all these orders of men. They opposed it with 
the utmost warmth, and by their numbers and au¬ 
thority easily prevailed on the parliament to give 
no ear to such a disagreeable demand. 1 Zealous 
as the first reformers were, and animated with a 
spirit superior to the low considerations of interest, 
they beheld these early symptoms of selfishness and 
avarice among their adherents with amazement and 
sorrow; and we find Knox expressing the utmost 
sensibility of that contempt with which they were 
treated by many from whom he expected a more 
generous concern for the success ot religion and 
the honour of its ministers. 11 

A difficulty hath been started with 
th'is parliament regard to the acts of this parliament 

called in question. . mi- 

concerning religion. Ibis difficulty, 
which at such a distance of time is of no importance, 
was founded on the words of the treaty of Edin¬ 
burgh. By that, the parliament were permitted to 
take into consideration the state of religion, and to 
signify their sentiments of it to the king and queen. 
But, instead of presenting their desires to their 
sovereigns in the humble form of a supplication or 
address, the parliament converted them into so many 
acts ; which, although they never received the royal 
assent, obtained, all over the kingdom, the weight 
and authority of laws. In compliance with their 
injunctions, the established system of religion was 
every where overthrown, and that recommended by 
the reformers introduced in its place. The parti¬ 
ality and zeal of the people overlooked or supplied 
any defect in the form of these acts of parliament, 
and rendered the observance of them more universal 
than ever had been yielded to the statutes of the 
most regular or constitutional assembly. By those 
proceedings, it must, however, be confessed, that 
the parliament, or rather the nation, violated the 
last article in the treaty of Edinburgh, and even ex¬ 
ceeded the powers which belong to subjects. But 
when once men have been accustomed to break 
through the common boundaries of subjection, and 
their minds are inflamed with the passions which 
civil war inspires, it is mere pedantry or ignorance 
to measure their conduct by those rules, which can 
be applied only where government is in a state of 
order and tranquillity. A nation, when obliged to 
employ such extraordinary efforts in defence of its 
liberties, avails itself of every thing which can pro¬ 
mote this great end; and the necessity of the case, 


as well as the importance of the object, justify any 
departure from the common and established rules of 
the constitution. 

In consequence of the treaty of Edin- 

n r Ambassadors sent 

burgh, as well as by the ordinary forms by the parliament 
of business, it became necessary to lay 
the proceedings of parliament before the king and 
queen. For this purpose, sir James Sandilands of 
Calder, lord St. John, was appointed to repair to 
the court of France. After holding a course so 
irregular, the leaders of the Congregation had no 
reason to flatter themselves that Francis and Mary 
would ever approve their conduct, or confirm it by 
their royal assent. The reception of their ambas¬ 
sador was no other than they might have expected. 
He was treated by the king and queen with the ut¬ 
most coldness, and dismissed without obtaining the 
ratification of the parliament’s proceedings. From 
the princes of Lorrain, and their partisans, he 
endured all the scorn and insult which it was na¬ 
tural for them to pour upon the party he repre- 
sented. x 

Though the earls of Morton, Glen- and t0 Elizabeth> 
cairn, and Maitland of Letliington, 
the ambassadors of the parliament, to Elizabeth 
their protectress, met with a very different recep¬ 
tion ; they were not more successful in one part of 
the negociation intrusted to their care. The Scots, 
sensible of the security which they derived from 
their union with England, were desirous of render¬ 
ing it indissoluble. With this view they empower¬ 
ed these eminent leaders of their party to testify to 
Elizabeth their gratitude for that seasonable and 
effectual aid which she had afforded them, and at 
the same time to beseech her to render the friend¬ 
ship between the nations perpetual, by condescend¬ 
ing to marry the earl of Arran, who, though a 
subject, was nearly allied to the royal family of 
Scotland, and, after Mary, the undoubted heir to 
the crown. 

To the former part of this commission Elizabeth 
listened with the utmost satisfaction, and encour¬ 
aged the Scots, in any future exigency, to hope for 
the continuance of her good offices ; with regard to 
the latter, she discovered those sentiments to which 
she adhered throughout her whole reign. Averse 
from marriage, as some maintain through choice, 
but more probably out of policy, that ambitious 
princess would never admit any partner to the 
throne; but delighted with the entire and uncon¬ 
trolled exercise of power, she sacrificed to the en¬ 
joyment of that, the hopes of transmitting her crown 
t@ her own posterity. The marriage with the earl of 
Arran could not be attended with any such extra¬ 
ordinary advantage, as to shake this resolution ; she 
declined it therefore, but with many expressions of 
good-will towards the Scottish nation, and of respect 
for Arran himself.* 


s Keith, 496. Append. 190, 191. 
t See Append. Ko. IV. 
n lvuox, 239, 256. 


x Knox, 255. Buch.327- State papers published by lord Hardwicke vcl 
l. p. 125, <vc. 

y Burn. 3. Append. 308. Keith, 154, &c. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


67 


ROOK III. 1560.] 

rh e death of Towards the conclusion of this year, 

frames li. distinguished by so many remarkable 
events, there happened one of great importanee. 
On the fourth of December died Francis II. a prince 
of a feeble constitution, and of a mean understand¬ 
ing. As he did not leave any issue by the queen, 
no incident could have been more fortunate to those 
who, during the late commotions in Scotland, had 
taken part with the Congregation. Mary, by the 
charms of her beauty, had acquired an entire 
ascendant over her husband; and as she transferred 
all her influence to her uncles the princes of Lor- 
rain, Francis followed them implicitly in whatever 
track they were pleased to lead him. The power 
of France, under such direction, alarmed the Scot¬ 
tish malcontents with apprehensions of danger, no 
less formidable than well-founded. The intestine 
disorders which raged in France, and the season¬ 
able interposition of England in behalf of the Con¬ 
gregation, had hitherto prevented the princes of 
Lorrain from carrying their designs upon Scotland 
into execution. But, under their vigorous and de¬ 
cisive administration, it was impossible that the 
commotions in France could be of long continuance, 
and many things might fall in to divert Elizabeth’s 
attention, for the future, from the affairs of Scot¬ 
land. In either of these events, the Scots would 
stand exposed to all the vengeance which the re¬ 
sentment of the French court could inflict. The 
blow, however long suspended, was unavoidable, 
and must fall at last with redoubled weight. From 
this prospect and expectation of danger, the Scots 
were delivered by the death of Francis: the ancient 
confederacy of the two kingdoms had already been 
broken, and by this event the chief bond of union 
which remained was dissolved. Catherine of Medi¬ 
ci's, who, during the minority of Charles IX. her 
second son, engrossed the entire direction of the 
French councils, was far from any thoughts of vin¬ 
dicating the Scottish queen’s authority. Catherine 
and Mary had been rivals in power during the reign 
of Francis II. and had contended for the govern¬ 
ment of that weak and inexperienced prince ; but 
as the charms of the wife easily triumphed over the 
authority of the mother, Catherine could never for¬ 
give such a disappointment in her favourite passion, 
and beheld now, with secret pleasure, the difficult 
and perplexing scene on which her daughter-in-law 
was about to enter. Mary, overwhelmed with all 
the sorrow which so sad a reverse of fortune could 
occasion, slighted by the queen-mother, 2 and for¬ 
saken by the tribe of courtiers, who appear only in 
the sunshine of prosperity, retired to 
theoourt of from Rheims, and there in solitude indulged 
l rance * her grief, or hid her indignation. Even 

the princes of Lorrain were obliged to contract their 
views ; to turn them from foreign to domestic ob¬ 
jects; and, instead of forming vast projects with 
regard to Britain, they found it necessary to think 

z Ilenault, 340. CasWln. 454. 

F 2 


of acquiring and establishing an interest with the 
new administration. 

It is impossible to describe the emotions of joy 
which, on all these accounts, the death of the French 
monarch excited among the Scots. They regarded 
it as the only event which could give firmness and 
stability to that system of religion and government 
which was now introduced ; and it is no wonder 
contemporary historians should ascribe it to the 
immediate care of Providence, which, by unforeseen 
expedients, can secure the peace and happiness of 
kingdoms, in those situations where human pru¬ 
dence and invention would utterly despair.* 

About this time the protestant church Establishment of 
of Scotland began to assume a regular Chmirgovem- 
form. Its principles had obtained the ment 
sanction of public authority, and some fixed external 
policy became necessary for the government and 
preservation of the infant society. The model in¬ 
troduced by the reformers differed extremely from 
that which had been long established. The motives 
which induced them to depart so far from the 
ancient system deserve to be explained. 

The licentious lives of the clergy, as has been 
already observed, seem to have been among the first 
things that excited any suspicion concerning the 
truth of the doctrines which they taught, and roused 
that spirit of inquiry which proved fatal to the 
popish system. As this disgust at the vices of 
ecclesiastics was soon transferred to their persons, 
and shifting from them, by no violent transition, 
settled at last upon the offices which they enjoyed, 
—the effects of the reformation w ould naturally have 
extended not only to the doctrine, but to the form 
of government, in the popish church ; and the same 
spirit which abolished the former, would have over¬ 
turned the latter. But in the arrangements which 
took place in the different kingdoms and states of 
Europe in consequence of the reformation, we may 
observe something similar to what happened upon 
the first establishment of Christianity in the Roman 
empire. In both periods, the form of ecclesiastical 
policy was modelled, in some measure, upon that 
of the civil government. When the Christian church 
was patronized and established by the state, the 
jurisdiction of the various orders of the ecclesiastics, 
distinguished by the names of patriarchs, arch¬ 
bishops, and bishops, was made to correspond with 
the various divisions of the empire; and the eccle¬ 
siastic of chief eminence in each of these possessed 
authority, more or less extensive, in proportion to 
that of the civil magistrate who presided over the 
same district. When the reformation took place, 
the episcopal form of government, with its various 
ranks and degrees of subordination, appearing to 
be most consistent with the genius of monarchy, it 
was continued, with a few limitations, in several 
provinces of Germany, in England, and in the 
northern kingdoms. But in Switzerland and some 


a Knox, 259. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1560. BOOK III. 


parts of the Low Countries, where the popular form 
of government allowed more full scope to the inno¬ 
vating genius of the reformation, all pre-eminence 
of order in the church was destroyed, and an equality 
established more suitable to the spirit of republican 
policy. As the model of episcopal government was 
copied from that of the Christian church as esta¬ 
blished in the Roman empire, the situation of the 
primitive church, prior to its establishment by civil 
authority, seems to have suggested the idea, and 
furnished the model, of the latter system, which has 
since been denominated Presbyterian. The first 
Christians, oppressed by continual persecutions, and 
obliged to hold their religious assemblies by stealth 
and in corners, were contented with a form of go¬ 
vernment extremely simple. The influence of reli¬ 
gion concurred with the sense of danger, in extin¬ 
guishing among them the spirit of ambition, and in 
preserving a parity of rank, the effect of their suf¬ 
ferings, and the cause of many of their virtues. 
Calvin, whose decisions were received among many 
protestants of that age with incredible submission, 
was the patron and restorer of this scheme of eccle¬ 
siastical polity. The church of Geneva, formed 
under his eye, and by his direction, was deemed the 
most perfect model of this government; and Knox, 
who, during his residence in that city, had studied 
and admired it, warmly recommended it to the imi¬ 
tation of his countrymen. 

Among the Scottish nobility, some hated the per¬ 
sons, and others coveted the wealth, of the dignified 
clergy. By abolishing that order of men, the former 
indulged their resentment, and the latter hoped to 
gratify their avarice. The people, inllamed with 
the most violent aversion to popery, and approving 
of every scheme that departed furthest from the 
practice of the Romish church, were delighted with 
a system so admirably suited to their predominant 
passion: while the friends of civil liberty beheld 
with pleasure the protestant clergy pulling down 
with their own hands that fabric of ecclesiastical 
power which their predecessors had reared with so 
much art and industry; and flattered themselves 
that, by lending their aid to strip churchmen of their 
dignity and wealth, they might entirely deliver the 
nation from their exorbitant and oppressive juris¬ 
diction. The new mode of government easily made 
its way among men thus prepared, by their various 
interests and passions, for its reception. 

But, on the first introduction of his system, Knox 
did not deem it expedient to depart altogether from 
the ancient form. b Instead of bishops, he proposed 
to establish ten or twelve superintendents in differ¬ 
ent parts of the kingdom. These, as the name im¬ 
plies, were empowered to inspect the life and doc¬ 
trine of the other clergy. They presided in the 
inferior judicatories of the church, and performed 
several other parts of the episcopal function. Their 
jurisdiction, however, extended to sacred things 


only ; they claimed no seat in parliament, and pre¬ 
tended no right to the dignity or revenues of the 
former bishops. 

The number of inferior clergy, to whom the care 
of parochial duty could be committed, was still 
extremely small; they had embraced the principles 
of the reformation at different times, and lrom vari¬ 
ous motives ; during the public commotions, they 
were scattered, merely by chance, over the diflerent 
provinces of the kingdom, and in a few places only 
were formed into regular classes or ^ oq 
societies. The first general assembly 
of the church, which was held this year, bears all 
the marks of an infant and unformed society. The 
members were but few in number, and ot no con¬ 
siderable rank ; no uniform or consistent rule seems 
to have been observed in electing them. From a 
great part of the kingdom no representatives ap¬ 
peared. In the name of some entire counties, but 
one person was present; while, in other places, a 
single town or church sent several members. A 
convention, so feeble and irregular, could not pos¬ 
sess extensive authority; and, conscious of their 
own weakness, the members put an end to their 
debates without venturing upon any decision of 
much importance. 0 

In order to give greater strength and consistence 
to the presbyterian plan, Knox, with the assistance 
of his brethren, composed the first book of discipline, 
which contains the model or platform of the intended 
policy. d They presented it to a convention of 
estates, which was held in the begin- 1561 
ning of this year. Whatever regula- Jan - 15 - 
tions were proposed with regard to ecclesiastical 
discipline and jurisdiction, would have easily ob¬ 
tained the sanction of that assembly ; but a design 
to recover the patrimony of the church, which is 
there insinuated, met with a very different reception. 

In vain did the clergy display the advantages 
which would accrue to the public, by a proper 
application of ecclesiastical revenues. In vain did 
they propose, by an impartial distribution of this 
fund, to promote true religion, to encourage learn¬ 
ing, and to support the poor. In vain did they 
even intermingle threatenings of the divine displea¬ 
sure against the unjust detainers of what was 
appropriated to a sacred use. The nobles held fast 
the prey which they had seized ; and, bestowing 
upon the proposal the name of a devout imagination , 
they affected to consider it as a project altogether 
visionary, and treated it with the utmost scorn. e 

This convention appointed the prior 
of St. Andrew's to repair to the queen, ^retarn^itoScot 1 - 
and to invite her to return into her land ‘ 
native country, and to assume the reins of govern¬ 
ment, which had been too long committed to other 
hands. Though some of her subjects dreaded her 
return, and others foresaw dangerous consequences 
with which it might be attended f the bulk of them 


b Spotswood, 158. 


c Keith, 498. 


d Spots. 152. 


e Knox, 256' 


f See Append. No. V. 



BOOK III. 1561.1 THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 69 


desired it with so much ardour, that the invitation 
was given with the greatest appearance of una¬ 
nimity. But the zeal of the Roman catholics got 
the start of the prior in paying court to Mary ; and 
Lesley, afterwards bishop of Ross, who was commis¬ 
sioned by them, arrived before him at the place of 
her residence.^ Lesley endeavoured to infuse into 
the queen’s mind suspicions of her protestant sub¬ 
jects, and to persuade her to throw herself entirely 
into the arms of those who adhered to her own re¬ 
ligion. For this purpose, he insisted that she should 
land at Aberdeen ; and, as the protestant doctrines 
had made no considerable progress in that part of 
the kingdom, he gave her assurance of being joined 
in a few days by twenty thousand men ; and flattered 
her that, with such an army, encouraged by her 
presence and authority, she might easily overturn 
the reformed church, before it was firmly settled on 
its foundations. 

But, at this juncture, the princes of Lorrain were 
not disposed to listen to this extravagant and dan¬ 
gerous proposal. Intent on defending themselves 
against Catherine of Medicis, whose insidious po¬ 
licy was employed in undermining their exorbitant 
power, they had no leisure to attend to the affairs 
of Scotland, and wished their niece to take posses¬ 
sion of her kingdom with as little disturbance as 
possible. The French officers too, who had served 
in Scotland, dissuaded Mary from all violent mea¬ 
sures ; and by representing the power and number 
of the protestants to be irresistible, determined her 
to court them by every art; and rather to employ 
the leading men of that party as ministers, than to 
provoke them by a fruitless opposition to become 
her enemies. h Hence proceeded the confidence and 
affection with which the prior of St. Andrew’s was 
received by the queen. His representation of the 
state of the kingdom gained great credit; and 
Lesley beheld with regret the new channel in which 
court favour was likely to run. 

Another convention of estates was held in May. 
The arrival of an ambassador from France seems to 
have been the occasion of this meeting. He was 
instructed to solicit the Scots to renew their ancient 
alliance with France, to break their new confederacy 
with England, and to restore the popish ecclesiastics 
to the possession of their revenues and the exercise 
of their functions. It is no easy matter to form any 
conjecture concerning the intentions of the French 
court in making these extraordinary and ill-timed 
propositions. They were rejected with that scorn 
which might well have been expected from the 
temper of the nation. 1 

In this convention, the protestant clergy did not 
obtain a more favourable audience than formerly, 
and their prospect of recovering the patrimony of 
the church still remained as distant and uncertain 
as ever. But with regard to another point, they 
found the zeal of the nobles in no degree abated. 


The book of discipline seemed to require that the 
monuments of popery, which still remained in the 
kingdom, should be demolished; k and, though 
neither the same pretence of policy, nor the same 
ungovernable rage of the people, remained to justify 
or excuse this barbarous havoc, the convention, 
considering every religious fabric as a relic of 
idolatry, passed sentence upon them by an act in 
form ; and persons the most remarkable for the ac¬ 
tivity of their zeal were appointed to put it in exe¬ 
cution. Abbeys, cathedrals, churches, libraries, 
records, and even the sepulchres of the dead, pe¬ 
rished in one common ruin. The storm of popular 
insurrection, though impetuous and irresistible, had 
extended only to a few counties, and soon spent its 
rage ; but now a deliberate and universal rapine 
completed the devastation of every thing venerable 
and magnificent which had escaped its violence. 1 

In the mean time, Mary was in no Mary beg , ins to 
haste to return into Scotland. Accus- i )re P are for Jt - 
tomed to the elegance, splendour, and gaiety of a 
polite court, she still fondly lingered in France, the 
scene of all these enjoyments, and contemplated 
with horror the barbarism of her own country, and 
the turbulence of her subjects, which presented her 
with a very different face of things. The impatience, 
however, of her people, the persuasions of her 
uncles, but, above all, the studied and mortifying 
neglect with which she was treated by the queen- 
mother, forced her to think of beginning this dis¬ 
agreeable voyage." 1 But while she was preparing 
for it, there were sown between her and Elizabeth 
the seeds of that personal jealousy and discord which 
imhittered the life and shortened the days of the 
Scottish queen. 

The ratification of the late treaty of q . 

Edinburgh was the immediate occa- cord'between her 
sion of this fatal animosity; the true and EllZdbeth ' 
cause of it lay much deeper. Almost every article 
in that treaty had been executed by both parties 
with a scrupulous exactness. The fortifications of 
Leith were demolished, and the armies of France 
and England withdrawn within the appointed time. 
The grievances of the Scottish malcontents were re¬ 
dressed, and they had obtained whatever they could 
demand for their future security. With regard to 
all these, Mary could have little reason to decline, 
or Elizabeth to urge, the ratification of the treaty. 

The sixth article remained the only source of 
contest and difficulty. No minister ever entered 
more deeply into the schemes of his sovereign, or 
pursued them with more dexterity and success, than 
Cecil. In the conduct of the negociation at Edin¬ 
burgh, the sound understanding of this able politi¬ 
cian had proved greatly an overmatch for Monluc’s 
refinements in intrigue, and had artfully induced 
the French ambassadors, not only to acknowledge 
that the crowns of England and Ireland did of right 
belong to Elizabeth alone, but also to promise, that 


g Lesley, 227. 

1 Knox, 26y, 273. 


h Melv. 61. 
k Spots wood, 153. 


1 Spotswood, 174. 


m Brantome, Jebb, vol. ii. 482. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [15G1. BOOK III. 


in till times to come Mary should abstain trom using 
the title, or bearing the arms, ot those kingdoms. 

The ratification of this article would have been of 
the most fatal consequence to Mary. The crown of 
England was an object worthy of her ambition. Her 
pretensions to it gave her great dignity and im¬ 
portance in the eyes of all Europe. By many, her 
title was esteemed preferable to that of Elizabeth. 
Among the English themselves, the Roman catho¬ 
lics, who formed at that time a numerous and ac¬ 
tive party, openly espoused this opinion ; and even 
the protestants, who supported Elizabeth’s throne, 
could not deny the queen of Scots to be her imme¬ 
diate heir. A proper opportunity to avail herself 
of all these advantages could not, in the course of 
things, be far distant, and many incidents might 
fall in, to bring this opportunity nearer than was 
expected. In these circumstances, Mary, by rati¬ 
fying the article in dispute, would have lost the 
rank she had hitherto held among neighbouring 
princes; the zeal of her adherents must have gra¬ 
dually cooled ; and she might have renounced, 
from that moment, all hopes of ever wearing the 
English crown." 

None of these beneficial consequences escaped 
the penetrating eye of Elizabeth, who, for this rea¬ 
son, had recourse to every thing by which she could 
hope either to soothe or frighten the Scottish queen 
into a compliance with her demands ; and if that 
princess had been so unadvised as to ratify the rash 
concessions of her ambassadors, Elizabeth, by that 
deed, would have acquired an advantage, which 
under her management, must have turned to great 
account. By such a renunciation, the question with 
regard to the right of succession would have been 
left altogether open and undecided ; and by means 
of that, Elizabeth might either have kept her rival 
in perpetual anxiety and dependence, or, by the 
authority of her parliament, she might have broken 
in upon the order of lineal succession, and trans¬ 
ferred the crown to some other descendant of the 
royal blood. The former conduct she observed to¬ 
wards James YI. whom, during his whole reign, 
she held in perpetual fear and subjection. The 
latter and more rigorous method of proceeding 
would, in all probability, have been employed 
against Mary, whom, for many reasons, she both 
envied and hated. 

Nor was this step beyond her power, unprecedent¬ 
ed in the history, or inconsistent with the constitu¬ 
tion, of England. Though succession by hereditary 
right be an idea so natural and so popular, that it 
has been established in almost every civilized na¬ 
tion, yet England affords many memorable instances 
of deviations from that rule. The crown of that 


n Haynes, 373, &'c. 

o This expedient for terminating the difference between Elizabeth ai 
Mary was so obvious, that it could not. fail of presenting itself to the vh 
of the English ministers ‘‘There hath been aSnabersfcretly thought 
(says Cecil in a letter to Ihrokmorton, July 14, 1561.) which I dare co 
municate to you, although 1 mean never to be an author thereof- and th 
is, it an accord might be made betwixt our mistress and the Scott sh quee 
that this should by parliament in Scotland, frc. surrender unto the quern 
majesty all matters of claim, and unto the heirs of her body • and in re 
sideration thereof the Scottish queen’s interest should be acknowledged 
default of heirs of the body of the queen’s majesty. Well, God send o 


kingdom having once been seized by the hand of a 
conqueror, this invited the bold and enterprising in 
every age to imitate such an illustrious example of 
fortunate ambition. From the time of William the 
Norman, the regular course of descent had seldom 
continued through three successive reigns. Those 
princes, whose intrigues or valour opened to them a 
way to the throne, called in the authority of the 
great council of the nation to confirm their dubious 
titles. Hence parliamenta’y and hereditary right 
became in England of equal consideration. That 
great assembly claimed and actually possessed a 
power of altering the order of regal succession ; and 
even so late as Henry VIII. an act of parliament had 
authorized that capricious monarch to settle the 
order of succession at his pleasure. The English, 
jealous of their religious liberty, and averse from 
the dominion of strangers, would have eagerly 
adopted the passions of their sovereign, and might 
have been easily induced to exclude the Scottish 
line from the right of succeeding to the crown. 
These seem to have been the views of both queens, 
and these were the difficulties which retarded the 
ratification of the treaty of Edinburgh. 

But, if the sources of their discord were to be 
traced no higher than this treaty, an inconsiderable 
alteration in the words of it might have brought the 
present question to an amicable issue. The indefi¬ 
nite and ambiguous expression which Cecil had 
inserted into the treaty, might have been changed 
into one more limited but more precise ; and Mary, 
instead of promising to abstain from bearing the title 
of queen of England, in all times to come, might have 
engaged not to assume that title during the life of 
Elizabeth, or the lives of her lawful posterity. 0 

Such an amendment, however, did not suit the 
views of either queen. Though Mary had been 
obliged to suspend for some time the prosecution of 
her title to the English crown, she had not, however, 
relinquished it. She determined to revive her 
claim on the first prospect of success, and was un¬ 
willing to bind herself, by a positive engagement, 
not to take advantage of any such fortunate occur¬ 
rence. Nor would the alteration have been more 
acceptable to Elizabeth, who, by agreeing to it, 
would have tacitly recognized the right of her rival 
to ascend the throne after her decease. But neither 
the Scottish nor English queen durst avow these 
secret sentiments of their hearts. An open dis¬ 
covery of an inclination to disturb the tranquillity 
of England, or to wrest the sceptre out of Eliza¬ 
beth’s hands, might have proved fatal to Mary’s 
pretensions. Any suspicion of a design to alter 
the order of succession, and to set aside the claim 


oi tne Scottish queen, would have exposed Eliza- 

mistres 3 a husband, and by time a son, that we may hope our posterity 
shall have a masculine succession. 'J his matter is too big for weak folks 
and too deep tor simple. The queen’s majesty knoweth of it.” llardw’ 
^‘ e , P jP- »• 1 74-. But with regard to every point relating to the succession! 
Elizabeth was so jealous and so apt to take offence, that her most confiden¬ 
tial ministers durst not urge her to advance one step further than she herself 
chose to go Cecil, mentioning some scheme about the succession, if the 
queen should not marry or leave issue, adds, with his usual caution • 
song” S lbfd h 17 V nan> ’ PaFtS; but ’ formy Part, I have no skill but in plain 



BOOK III. 15GI.J 'HIE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


I>eth to much and deserved censure, and have raised 
up against her many and dangerous enemies. 
These, however carefully concealed or artfully dis¬ 
guised, were, in all probability, the real motives 
which determined the one queen to solicit, and 
the other to refuse, the ratification of the treaty in its 
original form ; while neither had recourse to that 
explication of it, which, to a heart unwarped by 
political interest, and sincerely desirous of union 
and concord, would have appeared so obvious and 
natural. 

But, though considerations of interest first occa¬ 
sioned this rupture between the British queens, 
rivalship of another kind contributed to widen the 
breach, and female jealousy increased the violence 
of their political hatred. Elizabeth, with all those 
extraordinary qualities by which she equalled or 
surpassed such of her sex as have merited the 
greatest renown, discovered an admiration of her 
own person, to a degree which women of ordinary 
understandings either do not entertain, or prudently 
endeavour to conceal. Her attention to dress, her 
solicitude to display her charms, her love of flat¬ 
tery, were all excessive. Nor were these weaknesses 
confined to that period of life when they are more 
pardonable. Even in very advanced years, the 
w isest woman of that, or perhaps of any other, age, 
wore the garb, and affected the manners, of a girl.n 
Though Elizabeth was as much inferior to Mary in 
beauty and gracefulness of person, as she excelled 
her in political abilities and in the arts of govern¬ 
ment, she was weak enough to compare herself 
with the Scottish queen ;<i and as it w as impossible 
she could be altogether ignorant how much Mary 
gained by the comparison, she envied and hated 
her as a rival by w hom she w as eclipsed. In judg¬ 
ing of the conduct of princes, we are apt to ascribe 
too much to political motives, and too little to the 
passions which they feel in common with the rest 
of mankind. In order to account for Elizabeth’s 
present as well as subsequent conduct towards 
Mary, w e must not alw ays consider her as a queen, 
we must sometimes regard her merely as a w'oman. 

Elizabeth, though no stranger to Mary’s difficul¬ 
ties with respect to the treaty, continued to urge 
her, by repeated applications, to ratify it. r Mary, 
under various pretences, still contrived to gain 
time, and to elude the request. But while the one 
queen solicited with persevering importunity, and 
the other evaded with artful delay, they both studied 
an extreme politeness of behaviour, and loaded each 
other w ith professions of sisterly love, with recipro¬ 
cal declarations of unchangeable esteem and amity. 

It w as not long before Mary was convinced, that 
among princes these expressions of friendship are 
commonly far distant from the heart. In sailing 
from France to Scotland, the course lies along the 
English coast. In order to be safe from the insults of 


p Johnston, Hist. Ber. Britan. 346,347. 
of Royal and noble Authors, article Essex. 
q Melvil, <J8. 

s Keith, 171. Camden. See Appendix, 
t Cabbala, p. 374. Keith, 170 , &c. 


Carte, vol. iii. 699. Catalogue 

r Keith, 157,160, &c. 

■No. VI. 


the English fleet, or, in case of tempestuous weather, 
to secure a retreat in the harbours of that kingdom, 
Mary sent M. D’Oysel to demand of Elizabeth a 
safe-conduct during her voyage. This 
request, which decency alone obliged Mary a'sate-com 
one prince to grant to another, Eliza- dutt ‘ 
belli rejected, in such a manner as gave rise to no 
slight suspicion of a design, either to obstruct the 
passage, or to intercept the person, of the Scottish 
queen. 8 

Mary, in a long conference with Throkmorton, 
the English ambassador in France, explained her 
sentiments concerning this ungenerous behaviour 
of his mistress, in a strain of dignified expostulation, 
which conveys an idea of her abilities, address, and 
spirit, as advantageous as any transaction in her 
reign. Mary was at that time only in her eighteenth 
year; and as Throkmorton’s account of what passed 
in his interview with her, is addressed directly to 
Elizabeth, 1 that dexterous courtier, we may be well 
assured, did not embellish the discourse of the 
Scottish queen with any colouring too favourable. 

Whatever resentment Mary might Mary be?ins heF 
feel, it did not retard her departure v oyage. 
from France. She was accompanied to Calais, the 
place where she embarked, in a manner suitable to 
her dignity, as the queen of two powerful king¬ 
doms. Six princes of Lorrain, her uncles, with 
many of the most eminent among the French nobles, 
were in her retinue. Catherine, wdio secretly re¬ 
joiced at her departure, graced it with every cir¬ 
cumstance of magnificence and respect. After 
bidding adieu to her mourning attendants, with a 
sad heart, and eyes bathed in tears, Mary left that 
kingdom, the short but only scene of her life in 
which fortune smiled upon her. While the French 
coast continued in sight, she intently gazed upon 
it, and musing, in a thoughtful posture, on that 
height of fortune whence she had fallen, and pre¬ 
saging, perhaps, the disasters and calamities which 
imbittered the remainder of her days, she sighed 
often, and cried out, “ Farewell, France ! Farew ell, 
beloved country, which I shall nevermore behold !’’ 
Even when the darkness of the night had hid the 
land from her view, she would neither retire to the 
cabin, nor taste food, but commanding a couch to 
be placed on the deck, she there waited the return 
of day with the utmost impatience. Fortune soothed 
her on this occasion ; the galley made little w ay 
during the night. In the morning, the coast of 
France was still within sight, and she continued to 
feed her melancholy with the prospect; and, as long 
as her eyes could distinguish it, to utter the same 
tender expressions of regret. u At last a brisk gale 
arose, by the favour of which for some days, and 
afterwards under the cover of a thick fog, Mary 
escaped the English fleet, which, as she appre¬ 
hended, lay in wait in order to intercept her; x and 

u Brantome, 483. He himself was in the same galley with the queen, 
x Goodal, vol. i. 175. Camden insinuates, rather than affirms, that it 
was the object of the English fleet to intercept Mary. This, however, 
seems to be doubtful. Elizabeth positively asserts that, at the request of 
the king of Spain, she had litted out a few ships of slender force, in order 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1561. BOOK III. 


on the nineteenth of August, after an absence of 
near thirteen years, landed safely at Leith in her 
native kingdom. 

Arrives in Scot- Mary was received by her subjects 
land - with shouts and acclamations of joy, 
and with every demonstration of welcome and re¬ 
gard. But as her arrival was unexpected, and no 
suitable preparation had been made for it, they 
could not, with all their efforts, hide from her the 
poverty of the country, and were obliged to conduct 
her to the palace of Holyrood-house with little pomp. 
The queen, accustomed from her infancy to splen¬ 
dour and magnificence, and fond of them, as was 
natural at her age, could not help observing the 
change in her situation, and seemed to be deeply 
affected with it. y 

state Of the king- Never did an Y P rince ascend the 
dom at this time, throne at a juncture which called for 

more wisdom in council, or more courage and 
steadiness in action. The rage of religious contro¬ 
versy was still unabated. The memory of past op¬ 
pression exasperated the protestants ; the smart of 
ancient injuries rendered the papists desperate; both 
were zealous, fierce, and irreconcilable. The absence 
of their sovereign had accustomed the nobles to in¬ 
dependence ; and, during the late commotions, they 
had acquired such an increase of wealth by the 
spoils of the church, as threw great weight into the 
scale of the aristocracy, which stood not in need of 
any accession of power. The kingdom had long 
been under the government of regents, who exer¬ 
cised a delegated jurisdiction, attended with little 
authority, and which inspired no reverence. A state 
of pure anarchy had prevailed for the two last years, 
without a regent, without a supreme council, with¬ 
out the power, or even the form, of a regular govern¬ 
ment. 2 A licentious spirit, unacquainted with 
subordination, and disdaining the restraints of law 
and justice, had spread among all ranks of men. 

The influence of France, the ancient ally of the 
kingdom, was withdrawn or despised. The English, 
of enemies become confederates, had grown into 
confidence with the nation, and had gained an as¬ 
cendant over all its councils. The Scottish monarchs 
did not derive more splendour or power from the 
friendship of the former,* than they had reason to 
dread injury and diminution from the interposition 
of the latter. Every consideration, whether of in¬ 
terest or of self-preservation, obliged Elizabeth to 
depress the royal authority in Scotland, and to create 
the prince perpetual difficulties, by fomenting the 
spirit of dissatisfaction among the people. 

In this posture were the affairs of Scotland, when 
the administration fell into the hands of a young 
queen, not nineteen years of age, unacquainted with 
the manners and laws of her country, a stranger to 
her subjects, without experience, without allies, and 
almost without a friend. 

to clear the narrow seas of pirates, which infested them • an 
tor the truth of this to Mary’s own ministers. App No V 
letter to Throkmorton, Aug. 26,1561, informs him, that.“’the 
which were upon the seas to cleanse them of pirates, saw he 
and saluted her galleys, and staying her ships, examined th 


d she appeals 
[. Cecil, in a 
queen’s ships, 
r [i. e. Mary,] 
em of pirates, 


On the other hand, in Mary’s situation we find 
some circumstances, which, though they did not 
balance these disadvantages, contributed however 
to alleviate them ; and, with skilful management, 
might have produced great effects. Her subjects, un¬ 
accustomed so long to the residence of their prince, 
were not only dazzled by the novelty and splen¬ 
dour of the royal presence, but inspired with awe 
and reverence. Besides the places of power and 
profit bestowed by the favour of a prince, his pro¬ 
tection, his familiarity, and even his smiles, confer 
honour and win the hearts of men. From all corners 
of the kingdom, the nobles crowded to testify their 
duty and affection to their sovereign, and studied 
by every art to wipe out the memory of past mis¬ 
conduct, and to lay in a stock of future merit. The 
amusements and gaiety of her court, which was 
filled with the most accomplished of the French no¬ 
bility, who had attended her, began to soften and 
to polish the rude manners of the nation. Mary 
herself possessed many of those qualifications which 
raise affection and procure esteem. The beauty and 
gracefulness of her person drew universal admira¬ 
tion, the elegance and politeness of her manners 
commanded general respect. To all the charms of 
her own sex, she added many of the accomplish¬ 
ments of the other. The progress she had made in 
all the arts and sciences, which were then deemed 
necessary or ornamental, was far beyond what is 
commonly attained by princes ; and all her other 
qualities were rendered more agreeable by a cour¬ 
teous aff ability, which, without lessening the dignity 
of a prince, steals on the hearts of subjects with a 
bewitching insinuation. 

From these circumstances, notwithstanding the 
threatening aspect of affairs at Mary’s return into 
Scotland; notwithstanding the clouds which gather¬ 
ed on every hand, a political observer would have 
predicted a very different issue of her reign ; and, 
whatever sudden gusts of faction he might have ex¬ 
pected, he would never have dreaded the destructive 
violence of that storm which followed. 

While all parties were contending who should 
discover the most dutiful attachment to the queen, 
the zealous and impatient spirit of the age broke 
out in a remarkable instance. On the Sunday after 
her arrival, the queen commanded mass to be cele¬ 
brated in the chapel of her palace. The first rumour 
of this occasioned a secret murmuring among the 
protestants who attended the court; complaints and 
threatenings soon followed ; the servants belonging 
to the chapel were insulted and abused ; and, if the 
prior of St. Andrew’s had not seasonably interposed, 
the rioters might have proceeded to the utmost ex¬ 
cesses. a 


It is impossible, at this distance of time, and under 
circumstances so very different, to conceive the 
violence of that zeal against popery, which then 


ana aisnussed them gently. One Scottish ship they detained as vehement 
ly suspected of piracy.” Hard. State Papers, i. 176. Castelnau, who ac 
companied Mary in this voyage, confirms the circumstance of her "alleys 
belli" in sight ot the English fleet. Mem. ap. Jebb. xi. 455. 0 3 

y Brant. 484. z Keith, Appendix, 92. a Knox 284.’ Haynes, 372. 



BOOK III. 15GI. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


73 


possessed the nation. Every instance of condescen¬ 
sion to the papists was deemed an act of apostasy, 
and the toleration of a single mass pronounced to 
be more formidable to the nation than the invasion 
of ten thousand armed men. b Under the influence 
of these opinions, many protestants would have 
ventured to go dangerous lengths ; and, without at¬ 
tempting to convince their sovereign by argument, 
or to reclaim her by indulgence, would have abruptly 
denied her the liberty of worshipping God in that 
manner which alone she thought acceptable to him. 
But the prior of St. Andrew’s, and other leaders of 
the party, not only restrained this impetuous spirit, 
but, in spite of the murmurs of the people and the 
exclamations of the preachers, obtained for the queen 
and her domestics the undisturbed exercise of the 
catholic religion. Near a hundred years after this 
period, when the violence of religious animosities 
had begun to subside, when time and the progress 
of learning had enlarged the views of the human 
mind, an English House of Commons refused to in¬ 
dulge the wife of their sovereign in the private use 
of the mass. The protestant leaders deserve, on this 
occasion, the praise both of wisdom and of modera¬ 
tion for conduct so different. But, at the sarrle time, 
whoever reflects upon the encroaching and sangui¬ 
nary spirit of popery in that age, will be far from 
treating the fears and caution of the more zealous 
reformers as altogether imaginary, and destitute of 
any real foundation. 

The leaders of the protestants, however, by this 
prudent compliance with the prejudices of their 
sovereign, obtained from her a proclamation highly 
favourable to their religion, which was 
issued six days after her arrival in 
Scotland. The reformed doctrine, though established 
over all the kingdom by the parliament, which met 
in consequence of the treaty of pacification, had 
never received the countenance or sanction of royal 
authority. In order to quiet the minds of those who 
had embraced that doctrine, and to remove any dread 
of molestation which they might entertain, Mary 
declared, “ that until she should take final orders 
concerning religion, with advice of parliament, 
any attempt to alter or subvert the religion which 
she found universally practised in the realm, should 
be deemed a capital crime.” 6 Next year a second 
proclamation to the same effect was published. 4 

she employs only The fliee". conformably to the plan 
protestants m the w hich had been concerted in France, 

committed the administration of affairs 
entirely to protestants. Her council w as filled w ith 
the most eminent persons of that party ; not a single 
papist was admitted into any degree of confidence. 6 
The prior of St. Andrew’s and Maitland of Lething- 
ton seemed to hold the first place in the queen’s 
affection, and possessed all the power as well as 
reputation of favourite ministers. Her choice 
could not have fallen upon persons more acceptable 


A 1.1 t r . 25. 


b Knox, 287. 
d Ibid. 510. 


c Keith, 504. 
e Knox, 285. 


to her people ; and, by their prudent advice, Mary 
conducted herself with so much moderation, and 
deference to the sentiments of the nation, as could 
not fail of gaining the affection of her subjects/ the 
firmest foundation of a prince’s power, and the only 
genuine source of his happiness and glory. 

A cordial reconcilement with Eliz- 

A ttem pts to gam 

abeth was another object of great im- ^j£ abeth ’ s td ~ 
portance to Mary; and though she 
seems to have had it much at heart, in the begin¬ 
ning of her administration, to accomplish such a 
desirable conjunction, yet many events occurred to 
widen, rather than to close, the breach. The formal 
offices of friendship, however, are seldom neglected 
among princes ; and Elizabeth, who had attempted 
so openly to obstruct the queen’s voyage into Scot¬ 
land, did not fail, a few days after her arrival, to 
command Randolph to congratulate her safe return. 
Mary, that she might be on equal terms with her, 
sent Maitland to the English court, with many cere¬ 
monious expressions of regard for Elizabeth.s Both 
the ambassadors were received with the utmost 
civility ; and on each side the professions of kind¬ 
ness, as they were made with little sincerity, were 
listened to with proportional credit. 

Both were intrusted, however, with something 
more than mere matter of ceremony. Randolph 
urged Mary, with fresh importunity, to ratify the 
treaty of Edinburgh. Maitland endeavoured to 
amuse Elizabeth, by apologizing for the dilatory 
conduct of his mistress with regard to that point. 
The multiplicity of public affairs since her arrival 
in Scotland, the importance of the question in dis¬ 
pute, and the absence of many noblemen, with 
whom she was obliged in decency to consult, were 
the pretences offered in excuse for her conduct; 
the real causes of it were those which have already 
been mentioned. But, in order to extricate herself 
out of these difficulties, into which the treaty of 
Edinburgh had led her, Mary was brought to yield a 
point, which formerly she seemed determined never 
to give up. She instructed Maitland to signify her 
willingness to disclaim any right to the crown of 
England, during the life of Elizabeth, and the lives 
of her posterity; if, in failure of these, she were 
declared next heir by an act of parliament/ 

Reasonable as this proposal might appear to Mary, 
who thereby precluded herself from disturbing 
Elizabeth’s possession of the throne, nothing could 
be more inconsistent with Elizabeth’s interest, or 
more contradictory to a passion which predominated 
in the character of that princess. Notwithstanding 
all the great qualities which threw such lustre on 
her reign, we may observe, that she was tinctured 
with a jealousy of her right to the crown, which 
often betrayed her into mean and ungenerous actions. 
The peculiarity of her situation heightened, no 
doubt, and increased, but did not. infuse, this pas¬ 
sion. It descended to her from Henrv VII. her 


f T pclpv 0*1*) 

h Camden, 387- Buch. 329. 


g Keith, 181, &c. 



74 

grandfather, whom, in several features of his tha 
racter, she nearly resembled. Like him, she suflered 
the title by which she held the crown to remain 
ambiguous and controverted, lathei than submit it 
to parliamentary discussion, or derive any addition 
to her right from such authority. Like him, she 
observed every pretender to the succession, not only 
with that attention which prudence prescribes, but 
with that aversion which suspicion inspires. The 
present uncertainty with regard to the right of suc¬ 
cession operated for Elizabeth’s advantage, both on 
her subjects and on her rivals. Among the former, 
every lover of his country regarded her life as the 
great security ot the national tranquillity ; and 
chose rather to acknowledge a title which was 
dubious, than to search for one that was unknown. 
The latter, while nothing was decided, were held in 
dependence, and obliged to court her. The manner 
in which she received this ill-timed proposal of the 
Scottish queen, was no other than might have been 
expected. She rejected it in a peremptory tone, 
with many expressions of a resolution never to permit 
a point of so much delicacy to be touched. 

About this time the queen made her 

Sept ' lm public entry into Edinburgh with great 
pomp. Nothing was neglected that could express 
the duty and affection of the citizens towards their 
sovereign. But, amidst these demonstrations of 
regard, the genius and sentiments of the nation 
discovered themselves in a circumstance, which, 
though inconsiderable, ought not to be overlooked. 
As it was the mode of the times to exhibit many 
pageants at every public solemnity, most of these, 
on this occasion, were contrived to be representa¬ 
tions of the vengeance which the Almighty had 
inflicted upon idolaters. 1 Even while they studied 
to amuse and to flatter the queen, her subjects 
could not refrain from testifying their abhorrence 
of that religion which she professed. 

Restrains the ii- To restore the regular administration 
cence of the bor- . , , « ,. . , , 

derers. of justice, and to reform the internal 

policy of the country, became the next object of 
the queen’s care. The laws enacted for preservation 
of public order, and the security of private property, 
were nearly the same in Scotland as in every other 
civilized country. But the nature of the Scottish 
constitution, the feebleness of regal authority, the 
exorbitant power of the nobles, the violence of 
faction, and the fierce manners of the people, ren¬ 
dered the execution of these laws feeble, irregular, 
and partial. In the counties which border on Eng¬ 
land, this defect was most apparent, and the conse¬ 
quences of it most sensibly felt. The inhabitants, 
strangers to industry, averse from labour, and unac¬ 
quainted with the arts of peace, subsisted chiefly 
by spoil and pillage; and, being confederated in 
septs or clans, committed these excesses not only 
with impunity, but even with honour. During the 
unsettled state of the kingdom from the death of 
James V., this dangerous licence had grown to an 

i Keith, 189. k Ibid. 198. 1 Ibid. 203. 


[1501. BOOK Hi 

unusual height; and the inroads and rapine of those 
reebooters were become no less intolerable to thoir 
own countrymen than to the English. To restrain 
and punish these outrages, was an action equally 
popular in both kingdoms. The prior of St. 
Andrew’s was the person chosen tor this important 
service, and extraordinary powers, together with 
the title of the queen’s lieutenant, were vested in 
him for that purpose. 

Nothing can be more surprising to men accus¬ 
tomed to regular government, than the preparations 
made on this occasion. They were such as might 
be expected in the rudest and most imperfect state 
of society. The freeholders of eleven several 
counties, with all their followers completely armed, 
were summoned to assist the lieutenant in the dis¬ 
charge of his office. Every thing resembled a mili¬ 
tary expedition, rather than the progress of a court 
of justice. 11 The prior executed his commission 
with such vigour and prudence, as acquired him a 
great increase of reputation and popularity among 
his countrymen. Numbers of the banditti suflered 
the punishment due to their crimes; and, by the 
impartial and rigorous administration of justice, 
order and tranquillity were restored to that part of 
the kingdom. 

During the absence of the prior of The papisfs at . 
St. Andrew’s, the leaders of the popish geWnto” favour 0 
faction seem to have taken some steps wlth her - 
towards insinuating themselves into the queen’s 
favour and confidence. 1 But the archbishop of St. 
Andrew’s, the most remarkable person in the party 
for abilities and political address, was received 
with little favour at court; and, whatever secret 
partiality the queen might have towards those who 
professed the same religion with herself, she dis¬ 
covered no inclination at that time to take the ad¬ 
ministration of affairs out of the hands to which 
she had already committed it. 

The cold reception of the archbishop of St. 
Andrew’s was owing to his connection with the 
house of Hamilton ; from which the queen was 
much alienated. The duke of Guise and the cardinal 
could never forgive the zeal with which the duke 
of Chatelherault and his son the earl of Arran had 
espoused the cause of the Congregation. Princes 
seldom view their successors without jealousy and 
distrust. The prior of St. Andrew’s, perhaps, dread¬ 
ed the duke as a rival in power. All these causes 
concurred in infusing into the queen’s mind an aver¬ 
sion for that family. The duke, indulging his love 
of retirement, lived at a distance from court, without 
taking pains to insinuate himself into favour ; and, 
though the earl of Arran openly aspired to marry 
the queen, he, by a most unpardonable act of im¬ 
prudence, was the only nobleman of distinction who 
opposed Mary’s enjoying the exercise of her religion ; 
and, by rashly entering a public protestation against 
it, entirely forfeited her favour. 11 ' At the same time, 
the sordid parsimony of his father obliged him either 

m Keith, 201, 204. Knox, 286. 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK III. 1561.J 


75 


to hide himself in some retirement, or to appear in 
a manner unbecoming his dignity as first prince of 
the blood, or his high pretensions as suitor to the 
queen. 11 His love, inflamed by disappointment, and 
his impatience, exasperated by neglect, preyed 
gradually on his reason ; and after many extrava¬ 
gances, broke out at last in ungovernable frenzy. 

Towards the end of the year, a con- 
Dec. co. vention of estates was held, chiefly on 
account of ecclesiastical affairs. The assembly of 
the church, which sat at the same time, presented a 
petition, containing man 3 r demands with respect to 
the suppressing of popery, the encouraging the pro- 
testant religion, and the providing for the mainte¬ 
nance of the clergy. 0 The last was a matter of great 
importance, and the steps taken towards it deserve 
to be traced. 


A new regulation 
concerning the re¬ 
venues of the 
church. 


Though the number of protestant 
preachers was now considerably in¬ 
creased, many more were still wanted, 
in every corner of the kingdom. No legal provision 
having been made for them, they had hitherto drawn 
a scanty and precarious subsistence from the be¬ 
nevolence of their people. To suffer the ministers 
of an established church to continue in this state of 
indigence and dependence, was an indecency equally 
repugnant to the principles of religion, and to the 
maxims of sound policy; and would have justified 
all the imputations of avarice with which the refor¬ 
mation was then loaded by its enemies. The re¬ 
venues of the popish church were the only fund 
which could be employed for their relief; but, 
during the three last years, the state of these was 
greatly altered. A great majority of abbots, priors, 
and other heads of religious houses, had, either from 
a sense of duty, or from views of interest, renounced 
the errors of popery; and, notwithstanding this 
change in their sentiments, they retained their 
ancient revenues. Almost the whole order of bishops, 
and several of the other dignitaries, still adhered to 
the Romish superstition ; and, though debarred from 
every spiritual function, continued to enjoy the tem¬ 
poralities of their benefices. Some laymen, espe¬ 
cially those who had been active in promoting the 
reformation, had, under various pretensions, and 
amidst the licence of civil wars, got into their hands 
possessions which belonged to the church. Thus, 
before any part of the ancient ecclesiastical revenues 
could be applied towards the maintenance of the 
protestant ministers, many different interests were 
to be adjusted ; many claims to be examined ; and 
the prejudices and passions of the two contending 
parties required the application of a delicate hand. 
After much contention, the following plan was ap¬ 
proved by a majority of voices, and acquiesced in 
even by the popish clergy themselves. An exact 
account of the value of ecclesiastical benefices 
throughout the kingdom was appointed to be taken. 
The present incumbents, to whatever party they ad¬ 
hered, were allowed to keep possession: two-thirds 


of their whole revenue were reserved for their own 
use, the remainder was annexed to the crown ; and 
out of that the queen undertook to assign a sufficient 
maintenance for the protestant clergy, r 

As most of the bishops and several of the other 
dignitaries were still firmly attached to the popish 
religion, the extirpation of the whole order, rather 
than an act of such extraordinary indulgence, might 
have been expected from the zeal of the preachers, 
and from the spirit which had hitherto animated the 
nation. But, on this occasion, other principles ob¬ 
structed the operations of such as were purely reli¬ 
gious. Zeal for liberty, and the love of wealth, 
two passions extremely opposite, concurred in de¬ 
termining the protestant leaders to fall in with this 
plan, which deviated so manifestly from the max¬ 
ims by which they had hitherto regulated their 
conduct. 

If the reformers had been allowed to act without 
control, and to level all distinctions in the church, 
the great revenues annexed to ecclesiastical digni¬ 
ties could not, with any colour of justice, have been 
retained by those in whose hands they now were ; 
but must either have been distributed amongst the 
protestant clergy, who performed all religious of¬ 
fices, or must have fallen to the queen, from the 
bounty of whose ancestors the greater part of them 
was originally derived. The former scheme, how¬ 
ever suitable to the religious spirit of many among 
the people, was attended with manifold danger. 
The popish ecclesiastics had acquired a share in 
the national property, which far exceeded the pro¬ 
portion that was consistent with the happiness of 
the kingdom ; and the nobles were determined to 
guard against this evil, by preventing the return of 
those possessions into the hands of the church. Nor 
was the latter, which exposed the constitution to 
more imminent hazard, to be avoided with less care. 
Even that circumscribed prerogative, which the 
Scottish kings possessed, w'as the object of jealousy 
to the nobles. If they had allowed the crown to 
seize the spoils of the church, such an increase of 
power must have followed that accession of pro¬ 
perty, as would have raised the royal authority 
above control, and have rendered the most limited 
prince in Europe the most absolute and independ¬ 
ent. The reign of Henry VIII. presented a recent 
and alarming example of this nature. The wealth 
which flowed in upon that prince, from the suppres¬ 
sion of the monasteries, not only changed the max¬ 
ims of his government, but the temper of his mind ; 
and he who had formerly submitted to his parlia¬ 
ments, and courted his people, dictated from that 
time to the former with intolerable insolence, and 
tyrannized over the latter with unprecedented se¬ 
verity. And if his policy had not been extremely 
short-sighted, if he had not squandered what he 
acquired, with a profusion equal to his rapacious¬ 
ness, and which defeated his ambition, he might 
have established despotism in England, on a basis 


n Keith, 190. 


o Ibid. CIO. 


p Keith, 175. Knox, 134. 





76 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1561. BOOK III. 


so broad and strong as all the efforts of the subjects 
would never have been able to shake. In Scotland, 
where the riches of the clergy bore as great a pro¬ 
portion to the wealth of the kingdom, the acquisi¬ 
tion of church lands would have been of no less 
importance to the crown, and no less fatal to the 
aristocracy. The nobles, for this reason, guarded 
against such an increase of the royal power, and 
thereby secured their own independence. 

Avarice mingled itself with their concern for the 
interest of their order. The re-uniting the posses¬ 
sions of the church to the crown, or the bestowing 
them on the protestant clergy, would have been a 
fatal blow, both to those nobles who had, by fraud 
or violence, seized part of these revenues, and to 
those abbots and priors who had totally renounced 
their ecclesiastical character. But as the plan 
which was proposed gave some sanction to their 
usurpation, they promoted it with their utmost in¬ 
fluence. The popish ecclesiastics, though the lop¬ 
ping off a third of their revenues was by no means 
agreeable to them, consented, under their present 
circumstances, to sacrifice a part of their posses¬ 
sions, in order to purchase the secure enjoyment of 
the remainder ; and, after deeming the whole irre¬ 
coverably lost, they considered whatever they could 
retrieve as so much gain. Many of the ancient dig¬ 
nitaries were men of noble birth ; and as they no 
longer entertained hopes of restoring the popish re¬ 
ligion, they wished their own relations, rather than 
the crown, or the protestant clergy, to be enriched 
with the spoils of the church. They connived, for 
this reason, at the encroachments of the nobles ; they 
even aided their avarice and violence; they dealt 
out the patrimony of the church among their own 
relations, and by granting feus and perpetual leases 
of lands and tithes, gave, to the utmost of their 
power, some colour of legal possession to what was 
formerly mere usurpation. Many vestiges of such 
alienation still remain.* 1 The nobles, with the con¬ 
currence of the incumbents, daily extended their 
encroachments, and gradually stripped the ecclesi¬ 
astics of their richest and most valuable possessions. 
Even that third part, which was given up in order 
to silence the clamours of the protestant clergy, and 
to be some equivalent to the crown for its claims, 
amounted to no considerable sum. The thirds due 
by the more powerful nobles, especially by such as 
had embraced the reformation, were almost univer¬ 
sally remitted. Others, by producing fraudulent 
rentals, by estimating the corn, and other payments 
in kind, at an undervalue, and by the connivance 
of collectors, greatly diminished the charge against 
themselves ; r and the nobles had much reason to 
be satisfied with a device which, at so small ex¬ 
pense, secured to them such valuable possessions. 

Nor were the protestant clergy con- 

Ihe protestant , , . aj 

clergy no gainers siderable gainers by this new regula¬ 
tion ; they found it to be a more easy 

q Keith, 507. Spotsw. 175. 

r Keith, Append. 188. Spotsw. 183. 


. 1562. 
Dissensions 
among the nobles. 


matter to kindle zeal, than to extinguish avarice. 
Those very men, whom formerly they had swayed 
with absolute authority, were now deaf to all their 
remonstrances. The prior of St. Andrew's, the earl 
of Argyll, the earl of Morton, and Maitland, all the 
most zealous leaders of the Congregation, were ap¬ 
pointed to assign, or, as it was called, to modify, 
their stipends. A hundred merks Scottish was the 
allowance which their liberality afforded to the ge¬ 
nerality of ministers. To a few three hundred 
merks were granted/ About twenty-four thousand 
pounds Scottish appears to have been the whole 
sum allotted for the maintenance of a national 
church established by law, and esteemed through¬ 
out the kingdom the true church of God. 1 Even 
this sum was paid with little exactness, and the 
ministers were kept in the same poverty and de¬ 
pendence as formerly. 

The gentleness of the queen’s admi¬ 
nistration, and the elegance of her 
court, had mitigated, in some degree, 
the ferocity of the nobles, and accustomed them to 
greater mildness and humanity ; while at the same 
time, her presence and authority were a check to 
their factious and tumultuary spirit. But, as a 
state of order and tranquillity was not natural to the 
feudal aristocracy, it could not be of long continu¬ 
ance ; and this year became remarkable for the 
most violent eruptions of intestine discord and 
animosity. 

Among the great and independent nobility of 
Scotland, a monarch could possess little authority, 
and exercise no extensive or rigorous jurisdiction. 
The interfering of interest, the unsettled state of 
property, the frequency of public commotions, and 
the fierceness of their own manners, sowed among 
the great families the seeds of many quarrels and 
contentions. These, as we have already observed, 
were frequently decided, not by law, but by vio¬ 
lence. The offended baron, without having recourse 
to the monarch, or acknowledging his superior au¬ 
thority, assembled his own followers, and invaded 
the lands of his rival in a hostile manner. Toge¬ 
ther with his estate and honours, every nobleman 
transmitted some hereditary feud to his posterity, 
who w ere bound in honour to adopt and to prosecute 
it with unabated rancour. 

Such a dissension had subsisted between the 
house of Hamilton and the earl of Bothwell, and 
was heightened by mutual injuries during the'late 
commotions." The earls of Arran and Bothwell 
happening to attend the court at the same time, 
their followers quarrelled in the streets of Edin¬ 
burgh, and excited dangerous tumults 
in that city. At last, the mediation 
of their friends, particularly of Knox, brought 
about a reconcilement, but an unfortunate one to 
both these noblemen. x 

A few days after, Arran came to Knox, and with 


February. 




s Knox, 301. 
u Keith, 215. 


t Keith, Append. 188. 
x Knox, 305. 



BOOK III. 1562.] THE HISTORY 

the utmost terror and confusion, confessed first to 
him, and then to the prior of St. Andrew’s, that, in 
order to obtain the sole direction of affairs, Both well, 
and his kinsmen the Hamiltons, had conspired to 
murder the prior, Maitland, and the other favourites 
of the queen. The duke of Chatelherault regarded 
the prior as a rival, who had supplanted him in the 
queen’s favour, and who filled that place at the 
helm, which he imagined to be due to himself, as 
first prince of the blood. Bothwell, on account of 
the personal injuries which he had received from 
the prior during the hostile operations of the two 
contending parties, was no less exasperated against 
him. But whether he and the Hamiltons had 
agreed to cement their new alliance with the blood 
of their common enemy, or whether the conspiracy 
existed only in the frantic and disordered imagina¬ 
tion of the earl of Arran, it is impossible, amidst 
the contradiction of historians and the defective¬ 
ness of records, positively to determine. Among 
men inflamed with resentment and impatient for 
revenge, rash expressions might be uttered, and 
violent and criminal expedients proposed ; and on 
that foundation, Arran’s distempered fancy might 
rear the whole superstructure of a conspiracy. All 
the persons accused denied their guilt with the 
utmost confidence. But the known characters of 
the men, and the violent spirit of the age, added 
greatly to the probability of the accusation, and 
abundantly justify the conduct of the queen’s mi¬ 
nisters, who confined Bothwell, Arran, and a few 
of the ringleaders, in separate prisons, and obliged 
the duke to surrender the strong castle of Dumbar¬ 
ton, which he had held ever since the time of his 
resigning the office of regent/ 

The earl of Hunt- Tbe desi S ns of the earl of Hunt- 
thequeen’smi^ a » a i nst tbe prior of St. Andrew’s 
niaters. were deeper laid, and produced more 

memorable and more tragical events. George Gor¬ 
don, earl of Huntley, having been one of the nobles 
who conspired against James III., and who raised 
his son James IV. to the throne, enjoyed a great 
share in the confidence of that generous prince/ 
By his bounty, great accessions of wealth and 
power were added to a family already opulent and 
powerful. On the death of that monarch, Alexan¬ 
der the next earl, being appointed lord-lieutenant 
of all the counties beyond Forth, left the other 
nobles to contend for offices at court; and retiring 
to the north, where his estate and influence lay, re¬ 
sided there in a kind of princely independence. 
The chieftains in that part of the kingdom dreaded 
the growing dominion of such a dangerous neigh¬ 
bour, but were unable to prevent his encroach¬ 
ments. Some of his rivals he secretly undermined, 
others he subdued by open force. His estate far 
exceeded that of any other subject, and his superi¬ 
orities and jurisdictions extended over many of the 
northern counties. With power and possessions 
so extensive, under two long and feeble minorities, 


OF SCOTLAND. 77 

and amidst the shock of civil commotions, the carls 
of Huntley might have indulged the most elevated 
hopes. But happily for the crown, an active and 
enterprising spirit was not the characteristic of that 
family ; and, whatever object their ambition might 
have in view, they chose rather to acquire it by 
political address, than to seize it openly and by 
force of arms. 

The conduct of George the present earl, during 
the late commotions, had been perfectly suitable to 
the character of the family in that age, dubious, 
variable, and crafty. While the success of the 
lords of the Congregation was uncertain, he assisted 
the queen regent in her attempts to crush them. 
When their affairs put on a better aspect, he pre¬ 
tended to join them, but never heartily favoured 
their cause. He was courted and feared by each of 
the contending parties ; both connived at his en¬ 
croachments in the north ; and, by artifice and force, 
which he well knew how to employ alternately, and 
in their proper places, he added every day to the 
exorbitant power and wealth which he possessed. 

He observed the growing reputation and autho¬ 
rity of the prior of St. Andrew’s with the greatest 
jealousy and concern, and considered him as a rival 
who had engrossed that share in the queen’s confi¬ 
dence, to which his own zeal for the popish religion 
seemed to give him a preferable title. Personal 
injuries soon increased the misunderstanding occa¬ 
sioned by rivalship in power. The queen having 
determined to reward the services of the prior of 
St. Andrew’s, by creating him an earl, she made 
choice of Mar, as the place whence he should take 
his title ; and, that he might be better able to sup¬ 
port his new honour, bestowed upon him at the 
same time the lands of that name. These were part 
of the royal demesnes, 1 but the earls of Huntley had 
been permitted, for several years, to keep possession 

of them. b On this occasion the earl 

• • I'd? 1 

not only complained, with some reason, 

of the loss which he sustained, but had real cause 
to be alarmed at the intrusion of a formidable neigh¬ 
bour into the heart of his territories, who might be 
able to rival his power, and excite his oppressed 
vassals to shake off his yoke. 

An incident, which happened soon June 
after, increased and confirmed Hunt¬ 
ley’s suspicions. Sir John Gordon, his third son, and 
lord Ogilvie, had a dispute about the property of 
an estate. This dispute became a deadly quarrel. 
They happened unfortunately to meet in the streets 
of Edinburgh, and being both attended with armed 
followers, a scuffle ensued, in which lord Ogilvie 
was dangerously wounded by sir John. The magis¬ 
trates seized both the offenders, and the queen com¬ 
manded them to be strictly confined. Under any 
regular government, such a breach of public peace 
and order would expose the person offending to 
certain punishment. At this time some severity was 
necessary, in order to vindicate the queen’s autho- 


y Knox, 307, 308. 


z Crawf. Officers of state, 56. 


a Crawf. Peer. 297. 


b Buch. 334. 



78 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


rity from an insult, the most heinous which had 
been offered to it since her return into Scotland. 
But, in an age accustomed to licence and anarchy, 
even this moderate exercise ot her power, in order¬ 
ing them to be kept in custody, was deemed an 
act of intolerable rigour; and the friends of each 
party began to convene their vassals and depend¬ 
ents, in order to overawe, or to frustrate, the deci¬ 
sions of justice. 0 Meanwhile Gordon made his 
escape out of prison, and Hying into Aberdeenshire, 
complained loudly of the indignity with which he 
had been treated; and as all the queen’s actions 
were at this juncture imparted to the earl of Mar, 
this added not a little to the resentment which 
Huntley had conceived against that nobleman. 

At the very time when these passions 

August. . . 

fermented, with the utmost violence, 
in the minds of the earl of Huntley and his family ; 
the queen happened to set out on a progress into 
the northern parts of the kingdom. She was attend¬ 
ed by the earls of Mar and Morton, Maitland, and 
other leaders of that party. The presence of the 
queen, in a country where no name greater than the 
earl of Huntley’s had been heard of, and no power 
superior to his had been exercised, for many years, 
was an event of itself abundantly mortifying to that 
haughty nobleman. But while the queen was en¬ 
tirely under the direction of Mar, all her actions 
were more apt to be misrepresented, and construed 
into injuries; and a thousand circumstances could 
notbutoccur to awaken Huntley’s jealousy, to offend 
his pride, and to inflame his resentment. Amidst 
the agitation of so many violent passions, some 
eruption was unavoidable. 

On Mary’s arrival in the north, Huntley employed 
his wife, a woman capable of executing the com¬ 
mission with abundance of dexterity, to soothe the 
queen, and to intercede for pardon to their son. But 
the queen peremptorily required that he should 
again deliver himself into the hands of justice, and 
rely on her clemency. Gordon was persuaded to 
do so ; and being enjoined by the queen to enter 
himself prisoner into the castle of Stirling, he pro¬ 
mised likewise to obey that command. Lord Ers- 
kine, Mar’s uncle, was at that time governor of this 
fort. The queen’s severity, and the place in which 
she appointed Gordon to be confined, were inter¬ 
preted to be new marks of Mar’s rancour, and aug¬ 
mented the hatred of the Gordons against him. 

Meantime, sir John Gordon set out towards Stir¬ 
ling ; but, instead of performing his promise to the 
queen, made his escape from his guards, and re¬ 
turned to take the command of his followers, who 
were rising in arms all over the north. These were 
destined to second and improve the blow, by which 
his father proposed, secretly and at once, to cut off 
Mar, Morton, and Maitland, his principal adversa¬ 
ries. The time and place for perpetrating this horrid 
deed were frequently appointed ; but the executing 


[15G2. BOOK III. 

of it was wonderfully prevented, by some of those 
unforeseen accidents, which so often occur to dis¬ 
concert the schemes, and to intimidate the hearts, 
of assassins.' 1 Huntley’s own house, at Strath- 
bogie, was the last and most convenient scene ap¬ 
pointed for committing the intended violence. But 
on her journey thither, the queen heard of young 
Gordon’s flight and rebellion, and refusing, in the 
first transports of her indignation, to enter under 
the father’s roof, by that fortunate expression of 
her resentment saved her ministers from unavoidable 
destruction.® 

The ill success of these efforts of Take arms a?ainst 
private revenge precipitated Huntley the queen, 
into open rebellion. As the queen was entirely 
under the direction of his rivals, it was impossible 
to compass their ruin, without violating the allegi¬ 
ance which he owed his sovereign. On her arrival at 
Inverness, the commanding officer in the castle, by 
Huntley’s orders, shut the gates against her. Mary 
M as obliged to lodge in the town, which was open 
and defenceless; but this too w as quickly surrounded 
by a multitude of the earl’s followers. f The utmost 
consternation seized the queen, who was attended 
by a very slender train. She every moment expect¬ 
ed the approach of the rebels, and some ships were 
already ordered into the river to secure her escape. 
The loyalty of the Munroes, Frasers, Mackintoshes, 
and some neighbouring clans, who took arms in her 
defence, saved her from this danger. By their as¬ 
sistance, she even forced the castle to surrender, and 
inflicted on the governor the punishment which his 
insolence deserved. 

This open act of disobedience w as the occasion 
of a measure more galling to Huntley than any the 
queen had hitherto taken. Lord Erskine having 
pretended a right to the earldom of Mar, Stewart 
resigned it in his favour; and at the same time 
Mary conferred upon him the title of earl of Murray, 
with the estate annexed to that dignity, which had 
been in the possession of the earl of Huntley since 
the year 1548.S From this encroachment upon his 
domains he concluded that his family was devoted 
to destruction ; and, dreading to be stripped gradu¬ 
ally of those possessions which, in reward of their 
services, the gratitude of the crown had bestowed 
on himself, or his ancestors, he no longer disguised 
his intentions, but, in defiance of the queen’s pro¬ 
clamation, openly took arms. Instead of yielding 
those places of strength, which Mary required him 
to surrender, his followers dispersed or cut in pieces 
the parties which she despatched to take posses¬ 
sion of them; 11 and he himself advancing with a 
considerable body of men towards Aberdeen, to 
which place the queen was now returned, filled her 
small court with consternation. Murray had only 
a handful of men in whom he could confide. 1 In 
order to form the appearance of an army, he was 
obliged to call in the assistance of the neighbouring 

f Crawf. Officers of State, 87, 88. 

!i Knox, 319. 


c Keith, 223. 
e Knox, 318. 


d Keith, 230. 


g Crawf. Peer. 359. 
i Keith, 230. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


79 


ROOK III. 1562.] 

barons ; but, as most of these either favoured Hunt- 
ley’s designs, or stood in awe of his power, from them 
no cordial or effectual service could be expected, 
ot o 8 With these troops, however, Mur¬ 
ray, who could gain nothing by delay, 
marched briskly towards the enemy. He found 
them at Corichie, posted to great advantage. He 
commanded his northern associates instantly to 
begin the attack ; but, on the lirst motion of the 
enemy, they treacherously turned their backs ; and 
Huntley’s followers, throwing aside their spears, and 
breaking their ranks, drew their swords, and rushed 

lie is defeated bv forward to the pursuit. It was then 
the earl ot Murray, that Murray gave proof, both of steady 

courage and of prudent conduct. He stood im¬ 
movable on a rising ground, with the small but 
trusty body of his adherents, who, presenting their 
spears to the enemy, received them with a deter¬ 
mined resolution, which they little expected. The 
Highland broadsword is not a weapon lit to en¬ 
counter the Scottish spear. In every civil commo¬ 
tion, the superiority of the latter has been evident, 
and has always decided the contest. On this occa¬ 
sion the irregular attack of Huntley’s troops was 
easily repulsed by Murray’s iirm battalion. Before 
they recovered from the confusion occasioned by 
this unforeseen resistance, Murray’s northern troops, 
who had fled so shamefully in the beginning of the 
action, willing to regain their credit with the victo¬ 
rious party, fell upon them, and completed the rout. 
Huntley himself, who was extremely corpulent, 
was trodden to death in the pursuit. His sons, sir 
John and Adam, were taken, and Murray returned 
in triumph to Aberdeen with his prisoners. 

The trial of men taken in actual rebellion against 
their sovereign was extremely short. Three days 
after the battle, sir John Gordon was beheaded at 
Aberdeen. His brother Adam was pardoned on ac¬ 
count of his youth. Lord Gordon, who had been 
privy to his father’s designs, was seized in the south, 
and upon trial found guilty of treason ; but, through 
the queen’s clemency, the punishment was remitted. 
The first parliament proceeded against this great 
family with the utmost rigour of law, and reduced 
their power and fortune to the lowest ebb. k 

As the fall of the earl of Huntley is the most 
important event of this year, it would have been 

k This conspiracy of the earl of Huntley is one of the most intricate and 
mysterious passages in the Scottish history. As it was a transaction puiely 
domestic, and in which the English were little interested, few original 
papers concerning it have been found in Cecil’s collection, the great store¬ 
house of evidence and information with regard to the affairs of this period. 

Buchanan supposes Mary to have formed a design about this time of 
destroying Murray, and of employing the power of the earl of Iluntley for 
this purpose. But his account of this whole transaction appears to be so 
void of truth, and even of probability, as to deserve no set ions examina¬ 
tion. At that time Mary wanted power, and seems to have had no incli¬ 
nation to commit any act of violence upon her brother. 

Two other hypotheses have been advanced, in order to explain this 
matter ; but they appear to be equally removed from truth. 

1 It cannot well be conceived, that the queen’s journey to the north was 
a scheme concerted by Murray, in order to ruin the earl ot Huntley. 1. 
1 luntley had resided at court almost ever since the queen s return. Keith, 
198. Append. 175, <Scc. This was the proper place m which to have 
seized him. To attack him in Aberdeenshire, the seat ot his power, and in 
the midst of his vassals, was a project equally absurd and hazardous. 2. 
The queen was not accompanied with a body ot troops, capable ot attempt¬ 
ing any thing against Huntley by violence : her train was not more nume- 
rous tlian was usual in times of greatest tranquillity. Keith, *.30. 
3. There remain two original letters with regard to this conspiracy ; one 
from Randolph the English resident, and another from Maitland, both di- 
ected to Cecil. 1 hey talk of Huntley’s measures as notoriously treason- 


improper to interrupt the narrative by taking notice 
of lesser transactions, which may now be related 
with equal propriety. 

In the beginning of summer, Mary, An intcrvi e W be . 
who was desirous of entering into a and'Marypro- th 
more intimate correspondence and fa- posed - 
miliarity with Elizabeth, employed Maitland to de¬ 
sire a personal interview with her, somewhere in 
the north of England. As this proposal could not 
be rejected with decency, the time, the place, and 
the circumstances of the meeting were instantly 
agreed upon. But Elizabeth was prudent enough 
not to admit into her kingdom a rival who outshone 
herself so far in beauty and gracefulness of person ; 
and who excelled so eminently in all the arts of in¬ 
sinuation and address. Under pretence of being 
confined to London, by the attention which she was 
obliged to give to the civil wars in France, she put 
off' the interview for that season, 1 and prevented her 
subjects from seeing the Scottish queen, the charms 
of whose appearance and behaviour she envied, and 
had some reason to dread. 

During this year, the assembly of Tline2 
the church met twice. In both these Dec * 25 - 
meetings were exhibited many complaints of the 
poverty and dependence of the church; and many 
murmurs against the negligence or avarice of those 
who had been appointed to collect and to distribute 
the small fund, appropriated for the maintenance of 
preachers. 171 A petition, craving redress of their 
grievances, was presented to the queen ; hut with¬ 
out any effect. There was no reason to expect that 
Mary would discover any forwardness to grant the 
request of such supplicants. As her ministers, 
though all most zealous protestants, were them¬ 
selves growing rich on the inheritance of the church, 
they were equally regardless of the indigence and 
demands of their brethren. 

Mary had now continued above two 1563 
years in a state of widowhood. Her ^g|?d^ 10 t h| with 
gentle administration had secured the queen s marriage, 
hearts of her subjects, who were impatient for her 
marriage, and wished the crown to descend in the 
right line from their ancient monarchs. She her¬ 
self was the most amiable woman of the age, and 
the fame of her accomplishments, together with the 
favourable circumstance of her having one kingdom 

able. 'Randolph mentions bis repeated attempts to assassinate Murray, 
iVc. "No hint is given of any previous resolution, formed by Maiy’s minis¬ 
ters, to ruin Huntley and his family. Had any such design ever existed, it 
was Randolph’s duty to have discovered it; nor would Maitland have 
laboured to conceal it from the English secretary. Keith, 229,232. 

II. To suppose that the earl of Huntly had laid any plan for seizing the 
queen and her ministers, seems to be no less improbable. 1. On the queen’s 
arrival in the north, he laboured, in good earnest, to gain her favour, and to 
obtain a pardon for his son. Knox, 318. 2. He met the queen, first, at Aber¬ 
deen, and then at Rothemay, whither he would not have ventured to come, 
had he harboured any such treasonable resolution. Knox, 318. 3. His 
conduct was irresolute and wavering, like that of a man disconcerted by 
an unforeseen danger, not like one executing a concerted plan. 4. The 
most considerable persons of his clan submitted to the queen, and found 
surety to obey her commands. Keith, 226. Had the earl been previously 
determined to rise in arms against the queen, or to seize her ministers, it 
is probable he would have imparted it to his principal followers, nor 
would they have deserted him in this manner. 

For these reasons I have, on the one hand, vindicated the earl of Mur¬ 
ray from any deliberate intention of ruining the family of Gordon; and 
on the other hand, 1 have imputed the violent conduct of the earl of 
Huntley to a sudden start of resentment, without charging him with any 
premeditated purpose of rebellion. 

1 Keith, 216. m Knox, 311, 323. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[ 15G3. BOOK III. 


80 

already in her possession, and the prospect of I of her former husband; and she could not bear the 
mounting the throne of another, prompted many thoughts of appearing in France, ... a rank inferior 
different princes to solicit an alliance so illustrious, to that which she had formerly held in that king- 
Scotland by its situation, threw so much weight dom. She listened, therefore, with partiality, to 
and power into whatever scale it fell, that all Eu- Spanish propositions, and the prospect of such vast 
rope waited with solicitude for Mary’s determina- power and dominions flattered the ambition of a 


She is solicited 
by different 
princes. 


young and aspiring princess. 

Three several circumstances, however, concurred 
to divert Mary from any thoughts of a foreign alli¬ 
ance. 

The first of these was the murder of her uncle the 
duke of Guise. The violence and ambition of that 
nobleman had involved his country in a civil war ; 
which was conducted with furious animosity and 
various success. At last the duke laid siege to Or¬ 
leans, the bulwark of the protestant cause ; and he 
had reduced that city to the last extremity, when 
if Mary should again make choice of a husband I he was assassinated by the frantic zeal of Poltrot. 
among the French princes, the same designs might This blow proved fatal to the queen of Scots. The 
be revived and prosecuted with better success. young duke w as a minor ; and the cardinal of Lor- 

By the archduke In ° r( l er to prevent this, the em- rain, though subtle and intriguing, wanted that un- 
Charies. peror entered into a negociation with daunted and enterprising courage, which rendered 
the cardinal of Lorrain, who had proposed to marry the ambition of his brother so formidable. Cathe- 
the Scottish queen to the archduke Charles, Fer- rine, instead of encouraging the ambition, or fur- 


tion j and no event in that age excited stronger 
political fears and jealousies ; none interested more 
deeply the passions of several princes, or gave rise 
to more contradictory intrigues, than the marriage 
of the Scottish queen. 

The princes of the house of Austria 
remembered what vast projects the 
French had founded on their former 
alliance w ith the queen of Scots ; and though the 
unexpected death, first of Henry and then of 
Francis, had hindered these from taking effect, yet 


dinand’s third son. The matter was communicated 
to Mary ; and Melvil, who at that time attended the 
elector Palatine, was commanded to inquire into 
the character and situation of the archduke. n 


thering the pretensions, of her daughter-in-law', took 
pleasure in mortifying the one, and in disappointing 
the other. In this situation, and without such a 
protector, it became necessary for M ary to contract 


Philip II., though no less apprehen- her views, and to proceed with caution ; and, what- 


By Don Carlos 

of spam. s j ve 0 f Gary’s falling once more into 
the hands of France, envied his uncle Ferdinand 
the acquisition of so important a prize ; and, as his 
own insatiable ambition grasped at all the king¬ 
doms of Europe, he employed his ambassador at the 
French court to solicit the princes of Lorrain in be¬ 
half of his son Don Carlos, at that time the lieir of 
all the extensive dominions which belonged to the 
Spanish monarchy. 0 

By the duke of Catherine of Medicis, on the other 
hand, dreaded the marriage of the 


Anjou. 


ever prospect of advantage might allure her, she 
could venture upon no dangerous or doubtful mea¬ 
sure. 

The second circumstance which , r . . . 

I he views or 

weighed with Mary, was the opinion Elizabeth, 
of the queen of England. The marriage of the 
Scottish queen interested Elizabeth more deeply 
than any other prince ; and she observed all her 
deliberations concerning it with the most anxious 
attention. She herself seems early to have formed 
a resolution of living unmarried, and she discovered 


Scottish queen with any of the Austrian princes, no small inclination to impose the same law on the 
which would have added so much to the power and queen of Scots. She had already experienced what 
pretensions of that ambitious race. Her jealousy of use might be made of Mary’s power and pretensions 
the princes of Lorrain rendered her no less averse to invade her dominions, and to disturb her posses- 
from an alliance which, by securing to them the sion of the crown. The death of Francis II. had 
protection of the emperor or king of Spain, would happily delivered her from this danger, which she 
give new r boldness to their enterprising spirit, and determined to guard against for the future with the 
enable them to set the power of the crown, which utmost care. As the restless ambition of the Aus- 
they already rivalled, at open defiance: and as she trian princes, the avowed and bigoted patrons of 
was afraid that these splendid proposals of the Aus- the catholic superstition, made her, in a particular 
trian family would dazzle the young queen, she in- manner, dread their neighbourhood, she instructed 
stantly despatched Castelnau into Scotland, to offer Randolph to remonstrate, in the strongest terms, 
her in marriage the duke of Anjou, the brother of against any alliance with them ; and to acquaint 
her former husband, who soon after mounted the I Mary, that as she herself would consider such a 
throne of France. 0 I match to be a breach of the personal friendship in 

Mary’s delibera; Mary attentively weighed the pre- which they were so happily united, so the English 
tions concerning it, tensions of so many rivals. The arch- nation would regard it as the dissolution of that 
duke had little to recommend him, but his high I confederacy which now subsisted between the two 
birth. The example of Henry VIII. was a w arn- I kingdoms ; that in order to preserve their own re- 
i n & against contracting a marriage with the brother I ligion and liberties, they would in all probability. 


n Melv. 63, 65. Keith, 239. See Append. No. VII. 


o Casteln. 461. Addit. a Labour. 501, 503. 


P Castelnau, 461. 


BOOK III. 1563.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


81 


take some step prejudicial to her right of succes¬ 
sion, which, as she well knew, they neither wanted 
power nor pretences to invalidate and set aside. 
This threatening was accompanied with a promise, 
but expressed in very ambiguous terms, that if 
Mary's choice of a husband should prove agreeable 
to the English nation, Elizabeth would appoint 
proper persons to examine her title to the succession, 
and, if well-founded, command it to be publicly 
recognised. She observed, however, a mysterious 
silence concerning the person on whom she wished 
the choice of the Scottish queen to fall. The re¬ 
vealing of the secret was reserved for some future 
negociation. Meanwhile she threw out some ob¬ 
scure hints, that a native of Britain, or one not of 
princely rank, would be her safest and most inof¬ 
fensive choice.An advice, offered with such an 
air of superiority and command, mortified, no doubt, 
the pride of the Scottish queen. But under her 
present circumstances, she was obliged to bear this 
indignity. Destitute of all foreign assistance, and 
intent upon the English succession, the great object 
of her wishes and ambition, it became necessary to 
court a rival, whom, without manifest imprudence, 
she could not venture to offend. 

The sentiments of The inclination of her own subjects 
her own subjects. was another, and not the least con¬ 
siderable, circumstance, which called for Mary’s at¬ 
tention at this conjuncture. They had been taught, 
by the fatal experiment of her former marriage, to 
dread a union with any great prince, whose power 
might be employed to oppress their religion and 
liberties. They trembled at the thoughts of a match 
with a foreigner; and if the crown should be 
strengthened by new dominions or alliances, they 
foresaw that the royal prerogative would soon be 
stretched beyond its ancient and legal limits. Their 
eagerness to prevent this could hardly fail of throw¬ 
ing them once more into the arms of England. 
Elizabeth would be ready to afford them her aid 
towards obstructing a measure so disagreeable to 
herself. It was easy for them to seize the person 
of the sovereign. By the assistance of the English 
fleet, they could render it difficult for any foreign 
prince to land in Scotland. The Roman catholics, 
now an inconsiderable party in the kingdom, and 
dispirited by the loss of the earl of Huntley, could 
give no obstruction to their designs. To what vio¬ 
lent extremes the national abhorrence of a foreign 
yoke might have been carried, is manifest from 
what she had already seen and experienced. 

For these reasons Mary laid aside, at that time, 
all thoughts of foreign alliance, and seemed willing 
to sacrifice her own ambition, in order to remove 
the jealousies of Elizabeth, and to quiet the fears 
of her own subjects. 

The parliament met this year, for the 

A parliament r . 

held, May 26 . fi rs t time since the queen s return into 

Scotland. Mary’s administration had hitherto been 
extremely popular. Her ministers possessed the 


q Keith, 242, 245. 


r Knox, 330. 


confidence of the nation ; and by consequence, the 
proceedings of that assembly were conducted with 
perfect unanimity. • The grant of the earldom of 
Murray to the prior of St. Andrew’s was confirmed: 
the earl of Huntley, and several of his vassals and 
dependants, were attainted : the attainder against 
Kirkaldy of Grange, and some of his accomplices 
in the murder of cardinal Beatoun, was reversed : r 
the act of oblivion, mentioned in the treaty of Edin¬ 
burgh, received the royal sanction. But Mary, who 
had determined never to ratify that treaty, took care 
that this sanction should not be deemed any acknow¬ 
ledgment of its validity; she granted her consent 
merely in condescension to the lords in parliament, 
who on their knees besought her to allay the jea¬ 
lousies and apprehensions of her subjects, by such 
a gracious law. s 

No attempt was made in this parli- „ T ,. 

1 Nothing deter- 

ament to procure the queens assent mined with re- 

1 ' 1 gard to religion, 

to the laws establishing the protestant 
religion. Her ministers, though zealous protestants 
themselves, were aware that this could not be urged 
without manifest danger and imprudence. She had 
consented through their influence to tolerate and 
protect the reformed doctrine. They had even pre¬ 
vailed on her to imprison and prosecute the arch¬ 
bishop of St. Andrew’s, and prior of Withorn, for 
celebrating mass contrary to her proclamation. 1 
Mary, however, was still passionately devoted to 
the Romish church ; and though, from political mo¬ 
tives, she had granted a temporary protection of 
opinions which she disapproved, there were no 
grounds to hope that she would agree to establish 
them for perpetuity. The moderation of those who 
professed it, was the best method for reconciling 
the queen to the protestant religion. Time might 
abate her bigotry. Her prejudices might wear off 
gradually, and at last she might yield to the wishes 
of her people, what their importunity or their vio¬ 
lence could never have extorted. Many laws of 
importance were to be proposed in parliament; and 
to defeat all these, by such a fruitless and ill-timed 
application to the queen, would have been equally 
injurious to individuals, and detrimental to the 
public. 

The zeal of the piotestant cleigy which offends the 
was deaf to all these considerations of clergy ’ 
prudence or policy. Eager and impatient, it brook¬ 
ed no delay : severe and inflexible, it would con¬ 
descend to no compliances. The leading men of 
that order insisted, that this opportunity of estab¬ 
lishing religion by law was not to be neglected. 
They pronounced the moderation of the courtiers, 
apostasy ; and their endeavours to gain the queen, 
they reckoned criminal and servile. Knox so¬ 
lemnly renounced the friendship of the earl of 
Murray, as a man devoted to Mary, and so blindly 
zealous for her service, as to become regardless of 
those objects which he had hitherto esteemed most 
sacred. This rupture, which is a strong proof of 

s Pari. 9 Q. Mary, c. 67. Spotsw. 188. t Keith, 239. 



82 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1563. ROOK III. 


Murray’s sincere attachment to the queen at that 
period, continued above a year and a half." 

The preachers being disappointed by the men in 
whom they placed the greatest confidence, gave 
vent to their indignation in their pulpits. These 
echoed more loudly than ever with declamations 
against idolatry; with dismal presages concerning 
the queen’s marriage with a foreigner; and with 
bitter reproaches against those who, from interested 
motives, had deserted that cause which they once 
reckoned it their honour to support. The people, 
and occasions a inflamed by such vehement decla- 
people amongthe motions, which were dictated by a 

August. zea j more sincere than prudent, pro¬ 
ceeded to rash and unjustifiable acts of violence. 
During the queen’s absence, on a progress into the 
west, mass continued to be celebrated in her chapel 
at Holyrood-house. The multitude of those who 
openly resorted thither, gave great offence to the 
citizens of Edinburgh, who, being free from the re¬ 
straint which the royal presence imposed, assem¬ 
bled in a riotous maimer, interrupted the service, 
and filled such as were present with the utmost con¬ 
sternation. Two of the ringleaders in this tumult 
were seized, and a day appointed for their trial.* 
Knox tried on Knox, who deemed the zeal of these 
acquftted unt ’ but persons laudable, and their conduct 
October 8 . meritorious, considered them as suffer¬ 
ers in a good cause ; and in order to screen them 
from danger, he issued circular letters, requiring all 
w ho professed the true religion, or were concerned 
for the preservation of it, to assemble at Edinburgh, 
on the day of trial, that by their presence they might 
comfort and assist their distressed brethren/ One 
of these letters fell into the queen’s hands. To as¬ 
semble the subjects without the authority of the 
sovereign, was construed to be treason, and a reso¬ 
lution was taken to prosecute Knox for that crime, 

before the privy council. Happily for 

Dec. 15. 

him, his judges were not only zealous 
protestants, but the very men who, during the late 
commotions, had openly resisted and set at defiance 
the queen’s authority. It was under precedents, 
drawn from their own conduct, that Knox endea¬ 
voured to shelter himself. Nor would it have been 
an easy matter for these counsellors to have found 
out a distinction, by which they could censure him 
without condemning themselves. After a long 
hearing, to the astonishment of Lethington and the 
other courtiers, 2 he was unanimously acquitted. 
Sinclair, Bishop of Ross, and president of the court 
of session, a zealous papist, heartily concurred with 
the other counsellors in this decision : a a remark¬ 
able fact, w hich show s the unsettled state of govern¬ 
ment in that age ; the low condition to w hich 
regal authority was then sunk ; and the impunity 
with which subjects might invade those rights of the 
crown which are now held sacred. 


u Knox, 331 
y Ibid. 3.36. 
a Knox, 343. 


x Ibid. 3.35. 

Calderw. MS. Hist. i. 83!?. 
b Keith, 248. 


The marriage of the Scottish queen 
continued still to be the object of at- ^f°" a, ,o >n the th 
tention and intrigue. Though Eliza- queen’s marriage. 

beth, even while she wished to direct Mary, treated 
her with a disgustful reserve ; though she kept her, 
without necessity, in a state of suspense; and 
hinted often at the person whom she destined to be 
her husband, without directly mentioning his name ; 
yet Mary framed all her actions to express such a 
prudent respect for the English queen, that foreign 
princes began to imagine she had given herself up 
implicitly to her direction/ The prospect of this 
union alarmed Catherine of Medicis. Though Ca¬ 
therine had taken pleasure all along in doing ill 
offices to the queen of Scots ; though, soon after the 
duke of Guise’s death, she had put upon her a most 
mortifying indignity, by stopping the payment of 
her dowry, by depriving her subject the duke of Cha- 
telherault of his pension, and by bestowing the 
command of the Scottish guards on a Frenchman ; e 
she resolved, however, to prevent this dangerous 
conjunction of the British queen. For this purpose 
she now employed all her art to appease Mary, d to 
whom she had given so many causes of offence. 
The arrears of her dow ry were instantly paid ; 
more punctual remittances were promised for the 
future ; and offers made, not only to restore but to 
extend the privileges of the Scottish nation in 
France. It w as easy for Mary to penetrate into the 
motives of this sudden change ; she well knew the 
character of her mother-in law, and laid little stress 
upon professions of friendship which came from a 
princess of such a false and unfeeling heart. 

The negociation with England, relative to the 
marriage, suffered no interruption from this appli¬ 
cation of the French queen. As Mary, in compli¬ 
ance with the wishes of her subjects, and pressed 
by the strongest motives of interest, determined 
speedily to marry, Elizabeth w as obliged to break 
that unaccountable silence which she had hitherto 
affected. The secret was disclosed, and her favour¬ 
ite lord Robert Dudley, afterwards 
earl of Leicester, w as declared to be Elizabeth fecom- 

mends Leicester 

the happy man whom she had chosen to her for a hus- 
to be the husband of a queen courted 
by so many princes.® 

Elizabeth’s wisdom and penetration were re¬ 
markable in the choice of her ministers ; in distin¬ 
guishing her favourites, those great qualities were 
less conspicuous. She was influenced in two cases 
so opposite, by merit of very different kinds. Their 
capacity for business, their knowledge, their pru¬ 
dence, were the talents to which alone she attended 
in choosing her ministers; whereas beauty and grace¬ 
fulness of person, polished manners, and courtly 
address, were the accomplishments on which she 
bestowed her favour. She acted in the one case with 
the wisdom of a queen, in the other she discovered 


c Keith, 244. 
e Keith, 251. 


d Sec Append. Xo. VIII. 



BOOK III. 1564.] THE HISTORY 

the weakness of a woman. To this Leicester owed 
his grandeur. Though remarkable neither for emi¬ 
nence in virtue nor superiority of abilities, the 
queen’s partiality distinguished him on every occa¬ 
sion. She raised him to the highest honours, she 
bestowed on him the most important employments, 
and manifested an affection so disproportionate to 
his merit, that, in the opinion of that age, it could 
be accounted for only by the power of planetary in¬ 
fluence/ 

Mary offended at The high spirit of the Scottish queen 
could not well bear the first overture 
of a match with a subject. Her own rank, the 
splendour of her former marriage, and the solicita¬ 
tions at this time of so many powerful princes, 
crowded into her thoughts, and made her sensibly 
feel how humbling and disrespectful Elizabeth’s 
proposal was. She dissembled, however, with the 
English resident; and though she declared, in 
strong terms, what a degradation she would deem 
this alliance, which brought along with it no advan¬ 
tage that could justify such neglect of her own dig¬ 
nity, she mentioned the earl of Leicester, notwith¬ 
standing, in terms full of respect.® 

Elizabeth, we may presume, did not 

Elizabeth’s views . , , , , , 

in recommending wish that the proposal should be re¬ 
ceived in any other manner. After the 
extraordinary marks she had given of her own 
attachment to Leicester, and while he was still in 
the very height of favour, it is not probable she 
could think seriously of bestowing him upon ano¬ 
ther. It was not her aim to persuade, but only to 
amuse, Mary. h Almost three years were elapsed 
since her return into Scotland ; and though solicit¬ 
ed by her subjects, and courted by the greatest 
princes in Europe, she had hitherto been prevented 
from marrying, chiefly by the artifices of Elizabeth. 
If at this time the English queen could have en¬ 
gaged Mary to listen to her proposal in favour of 
Leicester, her power over this creature of her own 
would have enabled her to protract the negociation 
at pleasure ; and, by keeping her rival unmarried, 
she would have rendered the prospect of her suc¬ 
cession less acceptable to the English. 

Leicester’s own situation was extremely delicate 
and embarrassing. To gain possession of the most 
amiable woman of the age, to carry away this prize 
from so many contending princes, to mount the 
throne of an ancient kingdom, might have flattered 
the ambition of a subject much more considerable 
than him. He saw all these advantages, no doubt; 
and in secret, they made their full impression on 
him. But, without offending Elizabeth, he durst 
not venture on the most distant discovery of his 
sentiments, or take any step towards facilitating 
his acquisition of objects so worthy of desire. 

On the other hand, Elizabeth’s partiality towards 
him, which she was at no pains to conceal, 1 might 
inspire him with hopes of attaining the supreme rank 
in a kingdom more illustrious than Scotland. Eliza- 

f Camden, 549. g Keith, 252. h Melv. 104, 105. 


OF SCOTLAND. 83 

beth had often declared that nothing but her resolu¬ 
tion to lead a single life, and his being born her own 
subject, would have hindered her from choosing the 
earl of Leicester for a husband. Such considera¬ 
tions of prudence are, however, often surmounted 
by love ; and Leicester might flatter himself, that 
the violence of her affection would at length triumph 
both over the maxims of policy and the scruples of 
pride. These hopes induced him, now and then, 
to conclude the proposal of his marriage with the 
Scottish queen to be a project for his destruction ; 
and he imputed it to the malice of Cecil, who under 
the specious pretence of doing him honour, intended 
to ruin him in the good opinion both of Elizabetli 
and Mary. k 

A treaty of marriage proposed by one queen, who 
dreaded its success; listened to by another, who 
was secretly determined against it; and scarcely 
desired by the man himself, whose interest and re¬ 
putation it was calculated, in appearance, to pro¬ 
mote ; could not, under so many unfavourable 
circumstances, be brought to a fortunate issue. 
Both Elizabeth and Mary continued, however, to 
act with equal dissimulation. The former, notwith¬ 
standing her fears of losing Leicester, solicited 
warmly in his behalf. The latter, though she began 
about this time to cast her eyes upon another sub¬ 
ject of England, did not at once venture finally to 
reject Elizabeth’s favourite. 

The person towards whom Mary be- Mary entertains 
gan to turn her thoughts, was Henry m^ln/iord 
Stewart, lord Darnley, eldest son of Darnley - 
the earl of Lennox. That nobleman, having been 
driven out of Scotland, under the regency of the 
duke of Chatelherault, had lived in banishment for 
twenty years. His wife, lady Margaret Douglas, was 
Mary’s most dangerous rival in her claim upon the 
English succession. She was the daughter of Mar¬ 
garet, the eldest sister of Henry VIII., by the earl of 
Angus, whom that queen married after the death of 
her husband James IV. In that age, the right and 
order of succession was not settled with the same 
accuracy as at present. Time, and the decision of 
almost every case that can possibly happen, have at 
last introduced certainty into a matter, which na¬ 
turally is subject to all the variety arising from the 
caprice of lawyers, guided by obscure, and often 
imaginary, analogies. The countess of Lennox, 
though born of a second marriage, was one degree 
nearer the royal blood of England than Mary. She 
was the daughter, Mary only the grand-daughter, of 
Margaret. This was not the only advantage over 
Mary which the countess of Lennox enjoyed. She 
was born in England, and, by a maxim of law in 
that country, with regard to private inheritances, 

“ whoever is not born in England, or at least of pa¬ 
rents who, at the time of his birth, were in the obe¬ 
dience of the king of England, cannot enjoy any 
inheritance in the kingdom.” 1 This maxim, Hales, 
an English lawyer, produced in a treatise which he 

i Melv. 93, 94. k Ibid. 101. 1 Carte Hist, of Eng. vol. iii. 422. 




84 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


published at this time, and endeavoured to apply it 
to the right of succession to the crown. In a private 
cause these pretexts might have given rise to a long 
and doubtful litigation; where a crown was at stake, 
such nice disputes and subtilties were to be avoided 
with the utmost care. If Darnley should happen to 
contract an alliance with any of the powerful families 
in England, or should publicly profess the protest- 
ant religion, these plausible and popular topics 
might be so urged, as to prove fatal to the preten¬ 
sions of a foreigner and of a papist. 

Mary was aware of all this ; and in order to pre¬ 
vent any danger from that quarter, had early en¬ 
deavoured to cultivate a friendly correspondence 
with the family of Lennox. In the year one thou¬ 
sand five hundred and sixty-two, m both the earl and 
the lady Margaret were taken into custody by Eli¬ 
zabeth’s orders, on account of their holding a secret 
correspondence with the Scottish queen. 

From the time that Mary became 

Elizabeth secret- . , , 

ly pleased with sensible of the difficulties which would 

attend her marrying a foreign prince, 
she entered into a still closer connexion with the 
earl of Lennox," and invited him to return into 
Scotland. This she endeavoured to conceal from 
Elizabeth ; but a transaction of so much importance 
did not escape the notice of that discerning princess. 
She observed, but did not interrupt it. Nothing 
could fall in more perfectly with her views concern¬ 
ing Scottish affairs. She was pleased to see the 
pride of the Scottish queen stoop at last to the 
thoughts of taking a subject to her bed. Darnley 
was in no situation to excite her jealousy or her 
fears. His father’s estate lay in England, and by 
means of this pledge she hoped to keep the nego- 
ciation entirely in her own hands, to play the same 
game of artifice and delay, which she had planned 
out, if her recommendation of Leicester had been 
more favourably received. 

As, before the union of the two crowns, no sub¬ 
ject of one kingdom could pass into the other with¬ 
out the permission of both sovereigns ; no sooner 
did Lennox, under pretence of prosecuting his wife’s 
claim upon the earldom of Angus, apply to Eliza¬ 
beth for her licence to go into Scotland, than he 
obtained it. Together with it, she gave him letters, 
warmly recommending his person and cause to 
Mary’s friendship and protection. 0 But at the same 
time, as it was her manner to involve all her trans¬ 
actions with regard to Scotland in some degree of 
perplexity and contradiction, she warned Mary, that 
this indulgence of Lennox might prove fatal to her¬ 
self, as his return could not fail of reviving the 
ancient animosity between him and the house of 
Hamilton. 

This admonition gave umbrage to Mary, and drew 
from her an angry reply, which occasioned for some 
time a total interruption of all correspondence be¬ 
tween the two queens. p Mary was not a little alarmed 

m Camd. 389. n Ibid. 396. o Keith. 255 ^68 

i> Keith, 253. Melv. 83. q Melv. 104. 


[1564. BOOK III. 

at this ; she both dreaded the effects of Elizabeth’s 
resentment, and felt sensibly the disadvantage of be¬ 
ing excluded from a free intercourse with England, 
where her ambassadors had all along carried on, 
with some success, secret negociations, which in¬ 
creased the number of her partisans, and paved her 
way towards the throne. In order to remove the 
causes of the present difficulty, Melvil was sent ex¬ 
press to the court of England. He found it no diffi¬ 
cult matter to bring about a reconcilement; and 
soon re-established the appearance, but not the 
confidence, of friendship, which was all that had 
subsisted for some time between the two queens. 

During this negociation, Elizabeth’s professions 
of love to Mary, and Melvil’s replies in the name of 
his mistress, were made in the language of the 
warmest and most cordial friendship. But what 
Melvil truly observes with respect to Elizabeth, may 
be extended, without injustice,. to both queens. 
“ There was neither plain dealing, nor upright 
meaning, but great dissimulation, envy, and fear.”*! 

Lennox, however, in consequence Lennox arrives in 
of the licence which he had obtained, 
set out for Scotland, and was received by the queen, 
not only with the respect due to a nobleman so nearly 
allied to the royal family, but treated with a dis¬ 
tinguished familiarity, which could not fail of in¬ 
spiring him with more elevated hopes. The rumour 
of his son’s marriage to the queen began to spread 
over the kingdom; and the eyes of all Scotland 
were turned upon him as the father of their future 
master. The duke of Chatelherault was the first to 
take the alarm. He considered Lennox as the 
ancient and hereditary enemy of the house of Ha¬ 
milton ; and, in his grandeur, saw the ruin of him¬ 
self and his friends. But the queen interposed her 
authority to prevent any violent rupture, and em¬ 
ployed all her influence to bring about an accom¬ 
modation of the differences/ 

The powerful family of Douglas no less dreaded 
Lennox’s return, from an apprehension that he 
would wrest the earldom of Angus out of their hands. 
But the queen, who well knew how dangerous it 
would be to irritate Morton, and other great men of 
that name, prevailed on Lennox to purchase their 
friendship, by allowing his lady’s claim upon the 
earldom of Angus to drop. 9 

After these preliminary steps, Mary 
ventured to call a meeting of parlia¬ 
ment. The act of forfeiture passed against Lennox 
in the year one thousand five hundred and forty- 
five was repealed, and he was publicly restored to 
the honours and estate of his ancestors/ 

The ecclesiastical transactions of June 25 . Dec. 25 . 
this year were not considerable. In picious of the S 
the assemblies of the church, the Same popery, 
complaints of the increase of idolatry, the same re¬ 
presentations concerning the poverty of the clergy, 
were renewed. The reply which the queen made 

r Keith, 259. s Ibid. 268. Note b. 

t See Append. No. IX. 


December. 





BOOK III. 1564.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


85 


to these, and her promises of redress, were more 
satisfying to the protestants than any they had 
hitherto obtained. 11 But, notwithstanding her de¬ 
clarations in their favour, they could not help har¬ 
bouring many suspicions concerning Mary’s designs 
against their religion. She had never once con¬ 
sented to hear any preacher of the reformed doc¬ 
trine. She had abated nothing of her bigoted 
attachment to the Romish faith. The genius of that 
superstition, averse at all times from toleration, 
was in that age fierce and unrelenting. Mary had 
given her friends on the continent repeated assur¬ 
ances of her resolution to re-establish the catholic 
church.* She had industriously avoided every 
opportunity of ratifying the acts of parliament one 
thousand five hundred and sixty, in favour of the 
reformation. Even the protection which, ever since 
her return, she had afforded the protestant religion, 
was merely temporary, and declared, by her own 
proclamation, to be of force only “ till she should 
take some final order in the matter of religion.”y 
The vigilant zeal of the preachers was inattentive 
to none of these circumstances. The coldness of 
their principal leaders, who were at this time en¬ 
tirely devoted to the court, added to their jealousies 
and fears. These they uttered to the people, in 
language which they deemed suitable to the ne¬ 
cessity of the times, and which the queen reckoned 
disrespectful and insolent. In a meeting of the 
general assembly, Maitland publicly accused Knox 
of teaching' seditious doctrine, concerning the right 
of subjects to resist those sovereigns who trespass 
against the duty which they owe to the people. 
Knox was not backward to justify what he had 
taught; and upon this general doctrine of resist¬ 
ance, so just in its own nature, but so delicate in its 
application to particular cases, there ensued a de¬ 
bate, which admirably displays the talents and cha¬ 
racter of both the disputants ; the acuteness of the 
former, embellished with learning, but prone to 
subtilty ; the vigorous understanding of the latter, 
delighting in bold sentiments, and superior to all 
fear. 2 

1565. Two years had already been con- 

Pissiinulation , . ,, ... . ,. 

both of Elizabeth sumed in fruitless negociations con- 

regard to her cerning the marriage ot the Scottish 
marr Feb.’ 5 . queen. Mary had full leisure and 

opportunity to discern the fallacy and deceit of all 
Elizabeth’s proceedings with respect to it. But, 
in order to set the real intentions of the English 
queen in a clear light, and to bring her to some 
explicit declaration of her sentiments, Mary at last 
intimated to Randolph, that, on condition her right 
of succession to the crown of England were publicly 
acknowledged, she was ready to yield to the solici¬ 
tations of his mistress in behalf of Leicester. 2 No¬ 
thing could be further than this from the mind and 
intention of Elizabeth. The right of succession 
was a mystery, which, during her whole reign, her 


u Keith, 533,539. 
v Keith, 504,510. 


x Carte, vol. iii. 415. 
z Knox, 349. 


jealousy preserved untouched and unexplained. 
She had promised, however, when she first began 
to interest herself in the marriage of the Scottish 
queen, all that was now demanded. How to retreat 
with decency, how to elude her former oiler, was, 
on that account, not a little perplexing. 

The facility with which lord Darnley obtained 
permission to visit the court of Scotland, was owing, 
in all probability, to that embarrassment. From the 
time of Melvil’s embassy, the countess of Lennox 
had warmly solicited this liberty for her son. Eli¬ 
zabeth was no stranger to the ambitious hopes with 
which that young nobleman flattered himself. She 
had received repeated advices from her ministers of 
the sentiments which Mary began to entertain in 
his favour. 6 It was entirely in her power to pre¬ 
vent his stirring out of London. In the present 
conjuncture, however, nothing could be of more 
advantage to her than Darnley’s journey into Scot¬ 
land. She had already brought one actor upon the 
stage, who, under her management, had, for a long 
time, amused the Scottish queen. She hoped, no 
less absolutely, to direct the motions of Darnley, 
who was likewise her subject; and again to involve 
Mary in all the tedious intricacies of negociation. 
These motives determined Elizabeth and her minis¬ 
ters to yield to the solicitations of the countess of 
Lennox. 

But this deep laid scheme was in a p arnley arrives 
moment disconcerted. Such unex- Scotland. 

pected events, as the fancy of poets ascribes to love, 
are sometimes really produced by that passion. An 
affair which had been the object of so many politi¬ 
cal intrigues, and had moved and interested so 
many princes, was at last decided by the sudden 
liking of two young persons. Lord Darnley was at 
this time in the first bloom and vigour of youth. In 
beauty and gracefulness of person he surpassed all 
his contemporaries ; he excelled eminently in such 
arts as add ease and elegance to external form, and 
which enabled it not only to dazzle, but to please. 
Mary was of an age and of a temper Gains the queen’s 
to feel the full power of these accom- heart - 
plishments. The impression which lord Darnley 
made upon her was visible from the time of their 
first interview. The whole business of the court 
was to amuse and entertain this illus¬ 
trious guest ; c and in all those scenes 
of gaiety, Darnley, whose qualifications were alto¬ 
gether superficial and showy, appeared to great ad¬ 
vantage. His conquest of the queen’s heart became 
complete ; and inclination now prompted her to 
conclude her marriage, the first thoughts of which 
had been suggested by considerations merely poli¬ 
tical. 

Elizabeth contributed, and perhaps not without 
design, to increase the violence of this passion. 
Soon after Darnley’s arrival in Scotland, she, in 
return to that message whereby Mary had signified 


Feb. 13. 


a Keith, 269. 
c Knox, 369. 


b Ibid. 259, 261, 266. 



86 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1565. ROOK III. 


her willingness to accept of Leicester, gave an an¬ 
swer in such terms as plainly unravelled her ori¬ 
ginal intention in that intrigued She promised, if 
the Scottish queen’s marriage with Leicester should 
take place, to advance him to great honours ; but, 
with regard to Mary’s title to the English succes¬ 
sion, she would neither suffer any legal inquiry to 
be made concerning it, nor permit it to be publicly 
recognised, until she herself should declare her re¬ 
solution never to marry. Notwithstanding Eliza¬ 
beth’s former promises, Mary had reason to expect 
every thing contained in this reply ; her high spirit, 
however, could not bear with patience such a cruel 
discovery of the contempt, the artifice, and mockery, 
with which, under the veil of friendship, she had 
been so long abused. She burst into tears of indig¬ 
nation, and expressed with the utmost bitterness 
her sense of that disingenuous craft which had been 
employed to deceive ber. e 

The natural effect of this indignation was to add 
to the impetuosity Avith which she pursued her own 
scheme. Blinded by resentment as well as by love, 
she observed no defects in the man whom she had 
chosen; and began to take the necessary steps to¬ 
wards accomplishing her design, with all the impa¬ 
tience natural to those passions. 

As Darnley Avas so nearly related to the queen, 
the canon law made it necessary to obtain the pope’s 
dispensation before the celebration of the marriage. 
For this purpose she early set on foot a negociation 
with the court of Rome/ 

, She Avas busy at the same time in 

The French court # J 

match ' 6 ° f the P rocui 'i n t? the consent of the French 

king and his mother. Having com¬ 
municated her design, and the motives which de¬ 
termined her choice, to Castelnau the French am¬ 
bassador, she employed him, as the most proper 
person, to bring his court to fall in with her views. 
Among other arguments to this purpose, Castelnau 
mentioned Mary’s attachment to Darnley, which he 
represented to be so violent and deep-rooted, that 
it was no longer in her OAvn power to break off the 
match.s Nor were the French ministers backward 
in encouraging Mary’s passion. Her pride would 
never stoop to an alliance with a subject of France. 
By this choice they were delivered from the appre¬ 
hension of a match with any of the Austrian princes, 
as well as the danger of too close a union with 
Elizabeth; and as Darnley professed the Roman 
catholic religion, this suited the bigoted schemes 
Avhich that court adopted. 

Darnley disgusts While Mary was endeavouring to 
several ot the no- reconcile foreign courts to a measure 

which she had so much at heart, Darn¬ 
ley and his father, by their behaviour, were raising 
up enemies at home to obstruct it. Lennox had, 
during the former part of his life, discovered no 
great compass of abilities or political wisdom ; and 
appears to have been a man of a weak understand¬ 


d Keith, 270. App. 158. 
f Camd. 396. 


e Ibid. Append. 159. 
g Casteln. 464. 


ing and violent passions. Darnley was not superior 
to his father in understanding, and all his passions 
Avere still more impetuous. 1 ’ To these he added that 
insolence, which the advantage of external form, 
when accompanied with no quality more valuable, is 
apt to inspire. Intoxicated Avith the queen’s favour, 
he began already to assume the haughtiness of a 
king, and to put on that imperious air, which ma¬ 
jesty itself can scarcely render tolerable. 

It Avas by the advice, or at least with particularly 
the consent, of Murray and his party, Murray, 
that Lennox had been invited into Scotland ; 5 and 
yet, no sooner did he acquire a firm footing in that 
kingdom, than he began to enter into secret cabals 
Avith those noblemen, Avho Avere known to be avow¬ 
ed enemies to Murray, and with regard to religion, 
to be either neutrals, or favourers of popery. k 
Darnley, still more imprudent, alloAved some rash ex¬ 
pressions concerning those favours which the queen’s 
bounty had conferred upon Murray to escape him. 1 

But, above all these, the familiarity which Darn¬ 
ley cultivated w ith David Rizzio, contributed to in¬ 
crease the suspicion and disgust of the nobles. 

The low birth and indigent condi- The rise of Riz . 
tion of this man placed him in a sta- z,o s favour * 
tion in which he ought naturally to have remained 
unknown to posterity. But what fortune called 
him to act and to suffer in Scotland, obliges history 
to descend from its dignity, and to record his ad¬ 
ventures. He w as the son of a musician in Turin, 
and having accompanied the Piedmontese ambas¬ 
sador into Scotland, gained admission into the 
queen’s family by his skill in music. As his de¬ 
pendent condition had taught him suppleness of 
spirit and insinuating manners, he quickly crept 
into the queen’s favour, and her French secretary 
happening to return at that time into his ow n coun¬ 
try, Avas preferred by her into that office. He now 
began to make a figure in court, and to appear as a 
man of consequence. The whole train of suitors 
and expectants, Avho have an extreme sagacity in 
discovering the paths Avliich lead most directly to 
success, applied to him. His recommendations 
Avere observed to have great influence over the 
queen, and he grew to be considered not only as a 
favourite, but as a minister. Nor was Rizzio care¬ 
ful to abate that envy which always attends such 
an extraordinary and rapid change of fortune. He 
studied, on the contrary, to display the whole ex¬ 
tent of his favour: he affected to talk often and 
familiarly with the queen in public : he equalled 
the greatest and most opulent subjects, in richness 
of dress, and in the number of his attendants : he 
discovered, in all his behaviour, that assuming in¬ 
solence, with Avliich unmerited prosperity inspires 
an ignoble mind. It was with the utmost indigna¬ 
tion that the nobles beheld the power, it was with 
the utmost difficulty that they tolerated the arro¬ 
gance, of this unworthy minion. Even in the 


h Keith, 272,273. 
k Keith, 272. 


lIbid.i4 Kn0 ’‘’ 367 - Kei,h ’ OT ' 



BOOK III. 1565.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


87 


queen’s presence they could not forbear treating 
him with marks of contempt. Nor was it his exor¬ 
bitant power alone which exasperated the Scots. 
They considered him, and not without reason, as a 
dangerous enemy to the protestant religion, and 
suspected that he held, for this purpose, a secret 
correspondence with the court of Rome." 1 

Damiey’s con- It was Darnley’s misfortune to fall 
nexion with him. un( i er the management of this man, 

who, by flattery and assiduity, easily gained on his 
vanity and inexperience. All Rizzio’s influence with 
the queen was employed in his behalf, and contri¬ 
buted, without doubt, towards establishing him 
more firmly in her afi‘ections. n But whatever bene¬ 
fit Darnley might reap from his patronage, it did 
not counterbalance the contempt, and even infamy, 
to which he was exposed, on account of his famili¬ 
arity with such an upstart. 

Though Darnley daily made progress in the 
queen’s affection, she conducted herself, however, 
with such prudent reserve, as to impose on Ran¬ 
dolph, the English resident, a man otherwise shrewd 
and penetrating. It appears from his letters at this 
period, that he entertained not the least suspicion 
of the intrigue which was carrying on; and gave 
his court repeated assurances, that the Scottish 
queen had no design of marrying Darnley. 0 In the 
midst of this security, Mary despatched Maitland 
to signify her intention to Elizabeth, and to solicit 
her consent to the marriage with Darnley. This 
embassy was the first thing which opened the eyes 
of Randolph. 


April 18. 


Elizabeth affected the greatest sur- 


iqueen 

marriage with 
Darnley. 


Elizabeth declares prise at this sudden resolution of the 
against the queen’s 

Scottish queen, but without reason. 
The train was laid by herself, and she 
had no cause to wonder when it took effect. She 
expressed at the same time her disapprobation of 
the match in the strongest terms ; and pretended to 
foresee many dangers and inconveniences arising 
from it, to both kingdoms. But this too was mere 
affectation. Mary had often and plainly declared 
her resolution to marry. It was impossible she 
could make any choice more inoffensive. The 
danger of introducing a foreign interest into Britain, 
which Elizabeth had so justly dreaded, w as entirely 
avoided. Darnley, though allied to both crowns, 
and possessed of lands in both kingdoms, could be 
formidable to neither. It is evident from all these 
circumstances, that Elizabeth’s apprehensions of 
danger could not possibly be serious ; and that in 
all her violent declarations against Darnley, there 
was much more of grimace than of reality. p 

There were not wanting, however, political mo¬ 
tives of much w eight, to induce that artful princess 
to put on the appearance of great displeasure. 
Mary, intimidated bv this, might perhaps delay her 

m Buchan. 310. Melv. 107. n Melv. 111. 

o Keith, 273. and Append. 159. . c 

p Even the historians of that age acknowledge, that the marriage of the 
Scottish queen with a subject was far from being disagreeable to Eliza¬ 
beth Knox, 369, 373. Buchan. 339. Castelnau, who at that time was 


May 1. 


marriage ; which Elizabeth desired to obstruct with 
a weakness that little suited the dignity of her mind 
and the elevation of her character. Besides, the 
tranquillity of her own kingdom w as the great ob¬ 
ject of Elizabeth’s policy ; and by declaring her 
dissatisfaction with Mary’s conduct, she hoped to 
alarm that party in Scotland, which was attached 
to the English interest, and to encourage such of 
the nobles as secretly disapproved the match, openly 
to oppose it. The seeds of discord would by this 
means be scattered through that kingdom. Intes¬ 
tine commotions might arise. Amidst these Mary 
could form none of those dangerous schemes to 
which the union of her people might have prompted 
her. Elizabeth would become the umpire between 
the Scottish queen and her contending subjects ; 
and England might look on with security, while a 
storm which she had raised, wasted the only king¬ 
dom which could possibly disturb its peace. 

In prosecution of this scheme, she 
laid before her privy council the mes¬ 
sage from the Scottish queen, and consulted them 
with regard to the answ er she should return. Their 
determination, it is easy to conceive, was perfectly 
conformable to her secret views. They drew up a 
remonstrance against the intended match, full of 
the imaginary dangers with which that event 
threatened the kingdoms Nor did sends Throgmqr- 
she think it enough, to signify her ton t0 ob8truct lt - 
disapprobation of the measure, either by Maitland, 
Mary’s ambassador, or by Randolph, her own resi¬ 
dent in Scotland ; in order to add more dignity to 
the farce which she chose to act, she appointed sir 
Nicholas Throgmorton her ambassador extraor¬ 
dinary. She commanded him to declare, in the 
strongest terms, her dissatisfaction with the step 
w hich Mary proposed to take ; and at the same time 
to produce the determination of the privy council 
as an evidence that the sentiments of the na¬ 
tion were not different from her own. Not long 
after, she confined the countess of Lennox as a pri¬ 
soner, first in her house, and then sent her to the 
tower. r 

Intelligence of all this reached Scotland before 
the arrival of the English ambassador. In the first 
transports of her indignation, Mary resolved no 
longer to keep any measures with Elizabeth ; and 
sent orders to Maitland, who accompanied Throg¬ 
morton, to return instantly to the English court, and 
in her name to declare to Elizabeth, that, after 
having been amused so long to so little purpose; 
after having been fooled and imposed on so 
grossly by her artifices ; she was now resolved to 
gratify her own inclination, and to ask no other 
consent but that of her own subjects, in the choice 
of a husband. Maitland, with his usual sagacity, 
foresaw all the effects of such a rash and angry 


well acquainted with the intrigues of both the British courts, asserts, upon 
grounds of axeat probability, that the match was wholly Elizabeth’s own 
work ; Casteln. 462. and that she rejoiced at the accomplishment of it, ap¬ 
pears from the letters of her own ambassadors. Keith, 280, 288. 
q lveith,274. See Append. Elo. X. r Keith, Append. 161. 





88 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


message, and ventured rather to incur the displea¬ 
sure of his mistress, by disobeying her commands, 
than to be made the instrument of tearing asunder 
so violently the few remaining ties which still linked 
together the two queens. s 

Mary herself soon became sensible of her error. 
She received the English ambassador with respect; 
justified her own conduct with decency; and though 
unalterable in her resolution, she alfected a wonder¬ 
ful solicitude to reconcile Elizabeth to the measure ; 
and even pretended, out of complaisance towards 
her, to put oil’ the consummation of the marriage for 
some months. 1 It is probable, however, that the 
want of the pope’s dispensation, and the prospect of 
gaining the consent of her own subjects, were the 
real motives of this delay. 

Murray’s aver- This consent Mary laboured with the 
sion to Damley. utmost industry to obtain. The earl 

of Murray was the person in the kingdom, whose 
concurrence was of the greatest importance ; but 
she had reason to fear that it would not be procured 
without extreme difficulty. From the time of 
Lennox’s return into Scotland, Murray perceived 
that the queen’s affections began gradually to be 
estranged from him. Darnley, Athol, Rizzio, all the 
court favourites, combined against him. His am¬ 
bitious spirit could not brook this diminution of his 
power, which his former services had so little 
merited. He retired into the country, and gave 
way to rivals with whom he was unable to contend. 11 
The return of the earl of Bothwell, his avowed 
enemy, who had been accused of a design upon his 
life, and who had resided for some time in foreign 
countries, obliged him to attend to his own safety. 
No entreaty of the queen could persuade him to a 
reconcilement with that nobleman. He insisted on 
having him brought to a public trial, and prevailed 
by his importunity to have a day fixed for it. 
Bothwell durst not appear in opposition to a man, 
who came to the place of trial attended by five 
thousand of his followers on horseback. He was 
once more constrained to leave the kingdom ; but, 
by the queen’s command, the sentence of outlawry, 
which is incurred by non-appearance, was not pro¬ 
nounced against him.* 

Ma g Mary, sensible, at the same time, of 
how much importance it was to gain a 
subject so powerful and so popular as the earl of 
Murray, invited him back to court, and received 
him with many demonstrations of respect and con¬ 
fidence. At last she desired him to set an example 
to her other subjects by subscribing a paper, con¬ 
taining a formal approbation of her marriage with 
Darnley. Murray had many reasons to hesitate, 
and even to withhold his assent. Darnley had not 
only undermined his credit with the queen, but dis¬ 
covered, on every occasion, a rooted aversion to his 
person. By consenting to his elevation to the 
throne, he would give him such an accession of 


[1565. BOOK III. 

dignity and power, as no man willingly bestows on 
an enemy. The unhappy consequences which 
might follow upon a breach with England, were 
likewise of considerable weight with Murray. He 
had always openly preferred a confederacy with 
England, before the ancient alliance with France. 
By his means, chiefly, this change in the system of 
national politics had been brought about A league 
with England had been established ; and he could 
not think of sacrificing, to a rash and youthful 
passion, an alliance of so much utility to the king¬ 
dom ; and which he and the other nobles were 
bound, by every obligation, to maintain.? Nor was 
the interest of religion forgotten on this occasion. 
Mary, though surrounded by protestant counsellors, 
had found means to hold a dangerous correspond¬ 
ence with foreign catholics. She had even courted 
the pope’s protection, who had sent her a subsidy 
of eight thousand crowns. 2 Though Murray had 
hitherto endeavoured to bridle the zeal of the re¬ 
formed clergy, and to set the queen’s conduct in the 
most favourable light, yet her obstinate adherence 
to her own religion could not fail of alarming him, 
and by her resolution to marry a papist, the hope 
of reclaiming her, by an union with a protestant, 
was for ever cut off. a Each of these considerations 
had its influence on Murray, and all of them deter¬ 
mined him to decline complying at that time with 
the queen’s request. 

The convention of nobles, which May 14 . 

A convention of 

was assembled a few days after, dis- the nobles ap- 

. . . proves of the mar- 

covered a greater disposition to gratify riage. 

the queen. Many of them, without hesitation, ex¬ 
pressed their approbation of the intended match ; 
but as others were startled at the same dangers 
which had alarmed Murray, or were influenced by 
his example to refuse their consent, another conven¬ 
tion was appointed at Perth, in order to deliberate 
more fully concerning this matter.* 1 

Meanwhile Mary gave a public evidence of her 
own inclination, by conferring upon Darnley titles 
of honour peculiar to the royal family. The oppo¬ 
sition she had hitherto met with, and the many con¬ 
trivances employed to thwart and disappoint her 
inclination, produced their usual effect on her heart, 
they confirmed her passion, and increased its vio¬ 
lence. The simplicity of that age imputed an affec¬ 
tion so excessive to the influence of witchcraft.' 
It was owing, however, to no other charm than the 
irresistible power of youth and beauty over a young 
and tender heart. Darnley grew giddy with his 
prosperity. Flattered by the love of a queen, and 
the applause of many among her subjects, his 
natural haughtiness and insolence became insup¬ 
portable, and he could no longer bear advice, far 
less, contradiction. Lord Ruthven, happening to be 
the first person who informed him that Mary, in 
order to soothe Elizabeth, had delayed for some time 
creating him duke of Albany, he, in a phrenzy of 

. „ * Keith, 295. Melv. 114. 

b Keith, 283. Knox. 373. c Keith, 283. 


s Keith, Append. 160. 
u Ibid. 272, 274. Append. 159. 


t Keith, 278. 
x Keith, Append. 160. 


y Keith, Append. 169. 
• a Keith, Append. 160. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


89 


BOOK III. 1565.] 


rage, drew his dagger, and attempted to stab him. d 
It required all Mary's attention to prevent his falling 
under that contempt to which such behaviour de¬ 
servedly exposed him. 

Mary s address In no scene of her life was ever 

in gaming her , . . , , , 

subjects. Mary s own address more remarkably- 

displayed. Love sharpened her invention, and 
made her study every method of gaining her sub¬ 
jects. Many of the nobles she won by her address, 
and more by her promises. On some she bestowed 
lands, to others she gave new titles of honour. e 
She even condescended to court the protestant 
clergy ; and having invited three of their superin- 
tendants to Stirling, she declared, in strong terms, 
her resolution to protect their religion, expressed 
her willingness to be present at a conference upon 
the points in doctrine which were disputed between 
the protestants and papists, and went so far as to 
show some desire to hear such of their preachers as 
were most remarkable for their moderation.* By 
these arts the queen gained wonderfully upon the 
people, who, unless their jealousy be raised by re¬ 
peated injuries, are always ready to view the actions 
of their sovereign with an indulgent eye. 

On the other hand, Murray and his associates 
were plainly the dupes of Elizabeth’s policy. She 
talked in so high a strain of her displeasure at the 
intended match; she treated lady Lennox with so 
much rigour; she wrote to the Scottish queen in 
such high terms; she recalled the earl of Lennox 
and his son in such a peremptory manner, and with 
such severe denunciations of her vengeance if they 
should presume to disobey ; g that all these expres¬ 
sions of aversion fully persuaded them of her 
sincerity. This belief fortified their scruples with 
respect to the match, and encouraged them to oppose 
it. They began with forming among themselves 
bonds of confederacy and mutual defence; they 
entered into a secret correspondence with the Eng¬ 
lish resident, in order to secure Elizabeth's assist¬ 
ance when it should become needful ; h they endea¬ 


d Keith, Append. 160. e Keith, 283. f Knox, 373. 

g Keith, 285, 286. h ibid. 289, 292, 298. 

i The reality of these two opposite conspiracies has given occasion to 
many disputes and much contradiction. Some deny that any design was 
formed against the life of Murray ; others call in question the truth of the 
conspiracy against Darnley. There seems, however, to be plausible reasons 
for believing that there is some foundation for what has been asserted with 
regard to both ; though the zeal and credulity of party-writers have added 
to each many exaggerated circumstances. The following arguments render 
it probable that some violence was intended against Murray : 

I. 1. 'I his is positively asserted by Buchanan, 341. 2. The English resi¬ 

dent writes to Cecil, that Murray was assuredly informed that a design 
was formed of murdering him at Perth, and mentions various circumstan¬ 
ces concerning the manner in which the crime was to be committed. If 
the whole had been a fiction of his own, or of Murray, it is impossible 
that he could have written in this strain to such a discerning minister. 
Keith, 287 . 3. Murray himself constantly and publicly persisted in af¬ 
firming that such a design was formed against his life. Keith, App. 108. 
He was required by the queen to transmit in writing an account of the 
conspiracy which he pretended had been formed against his life. This he 
did accordingly ; but “ when it was brought to her majesty by her servants 
sent for that purpose, it appears fie her highness and her council, that his 
purgation in that behalf was not so sufficient as the matter required.” 
Keith, App. 109. He was therefore summoned to appear within three 
days before the queen in llolyrood-house ; and, in order to encourage him 
to do so, a safe conduct was offered to him. Ibid. 'I hough he had once con¬ 
sented to appear, he afterwards declined to do so. But whoever considers 
Murray’s situation, and the character of those who directed Mary’s coun¬ 
cils at that time, will hardly deem it a decisive proof of his guilt, that he 
did not choose to risk his person on such security. 4. 1 he furious passions 
of Darnley, the fierceness of his resentment, which scrupled at no violence, 
and the manners of the age, render the imputations of such a crime less 
improbable. . , 

II. That Murray and his associates had resolved to seize Darnley in his re¬ 
turn from Perth, appears with still greater certainty ; 1. From the express 
testimony of Melvil, 112.; although Buchanan, p. 341. and Knox, p. 377. 
affect, without reason, to represent this as an idle rumour. 2. 1 he question 
was put to Randolph, whether the governor of Berwick would receive 


voured to fill the nation with such apprehensions of 
danger, as might counterbalance the influence of 
those arts which the queen had employed. 

Besides these intrigues, there were schemes of Dam- 
secretly carried on, by both parties, l£ i £t 1 JSh rray 
dark designs of a more criminal nature, otller ’ 
and more suited to the spirit of the age. Darnley, 
impatient of that opposition, which he imputed 
wholly to Murray, and resolving at any rate to get 
rid of such a powerful enemy, formed a plot to 
assassinate him, during the meeting of the conven¬ 
tion at Perth. Murray, on his part, despairing of 
preventing the marriage by any other means, had, 
together with the duke of Chatelherault and the 
earl of Argyll, concerted measures for seizing Darn¬ 
ley, and carrying him a prisoner into England. 

If either of these conspiracies had taken effect, 
this convention might have been attended with con¬ 
sequences extremely tragical; but both were ren¬ 
dered abortive, by the vigilance or good fortune ot 
those against whom they were formed. Murray being 
warned of his danger by some retainers to the court, 
who still favoured his interest, avoided the blow by 
not going to Perth. Mary receiving intelligence of 
Murray’s enterprise, retired with the utmost expe¬ 
dition, along with Darnley, to the other side of the 
Forth. Conscious, on both sides, of guilt, and in¬ 
flamed with resentment, it was impossible they could 
either forget the violence which themselves had 
meditated, or forgive the injuries intended against 
them. From that moment all hope of reconcilement 
was at an end, and their mutual enmity burst out 
with every symptom of implacable hatred. 1 

On Mary's return to Edinburgh, she Mary surnmon5 
summoned her vassals by proclamation, arm 3 ^agLmst take 
and solicited them, by her letters, to Murray * 
repair thither in arms, for the protection of her 
person against her foreign and domestic enemies. k 
She was obeyed with all the promptness and alacrity 
with which subjects run to defend a mild and popular 
administration. This popularity,however, she owed 


Lennox and his son, if they were delivered at that place? His answer 
was, “ that they would not refuse their own, i. e. their own subjects, in 
whatsoever sort they came unto us, i. e. whether they returned to England 
voluntarily, as they had been required, or were brought thither by force.” 
This plainly shows, that some such design was in hand, and Randolph did 
not discourage it by the answer which he gave. Keith, 290. 3. The pre¬ 
cipitation with which the queen retired, and the reason she gave for this 
sudden flight, are mentioned by Randolph. Keith, 291. 4. A great part 
of the Scottish nobles, and among these the earls of Argyll and Rothes, 
who were themselves privy to the design, assert the reality of the con¬ 
spiracy. Good. vol. ii. 358. 

All these circumstances rendered the truth of both conspiracies probable. 
But we may observe how far this proof, though drawn from public records, 
falls short, on both sides, of legal and formal evidence. Buchanan and 
Randolph, in their accounts of the conspiracy against Murray, differ 
widely m almost every circumstance. The accounts of the attempt upon 
Darnley aie not more consistent. Melvil alleges, that the design of the 
conspirators was to carry Darnley a prisoner into England ; the proposal 
made to Randolph agrees with this. Randolph says, that they intended to 
carry the queen to 8t. Andrew’s and Darnley to Castle Campbell. The 
lords, in their declaration, affirm the design of the conspirators to have been 
to murder Darnley and his father, to confine the queen in Lochleven during 
life, and to usurp the government. To believe implicitly whatever they 
find in an ancient paper, is a folly to which, in every age, antiquaries are 
extremely prone. Ancient papers, however, often contain no more than 
the slanders of a party, and the lie of the day. The declaration of the 
nobles referred to, is of this kind ; it is plainly rancorous, and written in 
the very heat of taction. Many things asserted in it, are evidently false 
or exaggerated. Let Murray and his confederates be as ambitious as we 
can suppose, they must have had some pretences, and plausible ones too. 
before they could venture to imprison their sovereign for life, and to seize 
the reins of government; but, at that time, the queen's conduct had afforded 
no colourable excuse .for proceeding to such extremities. It is likewise 
remarkable, that in all the proclamations against Murray, of which so 
many are published in Keith, Appendix, 108, &c. neither the violent attempt 
upon Darnley, nor that which he is alleged to have formed against tne 
queen herself, are ever once mentioned. 

k Keith, 298. 



90 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


in a great measure to Murray, who had direeted her 
administration with great prudence. But the crime 
of opposing her marriage obliterated the memory ot 
his former services ; and Mary, impatient of contra¬ 
diction, and apt to consider those who disputed her 
will as enemies to her person, determined to let him 
feel the whole weight of her vengeance. For this 
purpose she summoned him to appear before her 
upon a short warning, to answer to such things as 
should be laid to his charge. 1 At this \ery time, 
Murray, and the lords who adhered to him, were 
assembled at Stirling, to deliberate what course they 
should hold in such a difficult conjuncture. But 
the current of popular favour ran so strongly against 
them, and notwithstanding some fears and jealousies, 
there prevailed in the nation such a general dis¬ 
position to gratify the queen in a matter which so 
nearly concerned her, that, without coming to any 
other conclusion, than to implore the queen of Eng¬ 
land’s protection, they put an end to their ineffectual 
consultations, and returned every man to his own 
house. 

Together with this discovery of the weakness of 
her enemies, the confluence of her subjects from all 
corners of the kingdom afforded Mary an agreeable 
proof of her own strength. While the queen was 
in this prosperous situation, she determined to bring 
to a period an affair w hich had so long engrossed 

_ . . . , her heart and occupied her attention. 

Celebrates her 

Dam ley 6 with the twenty-ninth of Juty, she mar¬ 
ried lord Darnley. The ceremony was 
performed in the queen’s chapel, according to the 
rites of the Romish church; the pope’s bull dispens¬ 
ing with their marriage having been previously ob¬ 
tained. 01 She issued at the same time proclamations, 
conferring the title of king of the Scots upon her 
husband, and commanding that henceforth all writs 
at law should run in the joint names of king and 
queen. 11 Nothing can be a stronger proof of the 
violence of Mary’s love, or the weakness of her 
councils, than this last step. Whether she had any 
right to choose a husband w ithout consent of parlia¬ 
ment, was, in that age, a matter of some dispute ;° 
that she had no right to confer upon him, by her 
private authority, the title and dignity of king, or 
by a simple proclamation to raise her husband to be 
the master of her people, seems to be beyond all 
doubt. Francis II. indeed, bore the same title. It 
was not, however, the gift of the queen, but of the 
nation ; and the consent of parliament w^as obtained 
before be ventured to assume it. Darnley’s condition 
as a subject, rendered it still more necessary to have 
the concurrence of the supreme council in his favour, 
buck a violent and unprecedented stretch of pre¬ 
rogative, as the substituting a proclamation in place 
of an act of parliament, might have justly alarmed 
the nation. But at that time the queen possessed so 


1 Keith, Append, 108. 
n Anderson, i. 33. See Append. No. XI. 
o Buchan. 341. 


m Keith, 307. 


v, uuviioii, .jtj,. _ p Keith, 300 310 

q After their fruitless consultation at Stirling, the lords retired to the 
own houses. Keith, 304. Murray was still at St. Andrew’s on lulv 2 
Keith, 306. By the places of rendezvous appointed for the inhabitants' 


[15(i5. BOOK III. 

entirely the confidence of her subjects, that, not¬ 
withstanding all the clamours of the malcontents, 
no symptoms of general discontent appeared on that 
account. 

Even amidst that scene of joy which always ac¬ 
companies successful love, Mary did not suffer the 
course of her vengeance against the malcontent 
nobles to be interrupted. Three days after the 
marriage, Murray was again summoned to court 
under the severest penalties, and, upon his non- 
appearance, the rigour of justice took place, and he 
was declared an outlaw.? At the same time the 
queen set at liberty lord Gordon, who, ever since his 
father’s insurrection in the year one thousand five 
hundred and sixty-tw^o, had been detained a prisoner; 
she recalled the earl of Sutherland, who, on account 
of his concern in that conspiracy, had fled into 
Flanders; and she permitted Botlnvell to return 
again into Scotland. The first and last of these 
were among the most powerful subjects in the king¬ 
dom, and all of them animated with implacable 
hatred to Murray, whom they deemed the enemy of 
their families, and the author of their own suffer¬ 
ings. This common hatred became the foundation 
of the strictest union with the queen, and gained 
them an ascendant over all her councils. Murray 
himself considered this confederacy with his avow¬ 
ed enemies, as a more certain indication than any 
measure she had yet taken, of her inexorable resent¬ 
ment. 

The malcontents had not yet openly 
. , , Marches asrainst 

taken up arms.q But the queen hav- Murray and his 

ing ordered her subjects to march dS:,ocldtes • 

against them, they were driven to the last extremity. 

They found themselves unable to make head against 

the numerous forces which Mary had assembled, 

and fled into Argyllshire, in expectation of aid from 

Elizabeth, to whom they had secretly despatched a 

messenger, in order to implore her immediate 

assistance/ 

Meanwhile, Elizabeth endeavoured 
to embarrass Mary, by a new declar- poses in their 
ation of disgust at her conduct. .She a '° ur * 
blamed both her choice of lord Darnley, and the 
precipitation with which she had concluded the 
marriage. She required Lennox and Darnley, 
whom she still called her subjects, to return into 
England ; and at the same time she warmly inter¬ 
ceded in behalf of Murray, whose behaviour she 
represented to be not only innocent but laudable. 
This message, so mortifying to the pride of the queen, 
and so full of contempt for her husband, was ren¬ 
dered still more insupportable by the petulant and 
saucy demeanour of Tamworth, the person who de¬ 
livered it. s Mary vindicated her own conduct with 
warmth, but with great strength of reason ; and re¬ 
jected the intercession in behalf of Murray, not 


the different counties, August 4, it appears that the queen’s intention was 
to march into Fife, the county in which Murray, Rothes, Kirkaldy, and 
other chiefs ot the malcontents, resided. Keith, 310. I heir fii«ht into the 

altered ei Keith 2 ’310 eVented th ‘ S ex P edition > alld llle former rendezvous was 
r Keith, 312. Knox, 380. s Camd. 398. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


91 


BOOK III. 1565.] 

without signs of resentment at Elizabeth’s pretend¬ 
ing to intermeddle in the internal government of 
her kingdom. 1 

She did not, on that account, intermit in the least 
the ardour with which she pursued Murray and his 
adherents. 11 They now appeared openly in arms; 
and having received a small supply in money from 
Elizabeth, x were endeavouring to raise their follow¬ 
ers in the western counties. But Mary’s vigilance 
hindered them from assembling in any considerable 
body. All her military operations at that time were 
concerted with wisdom, executed with vigour, and 
attended with success. In order to encourage her 
troops, she herself marched along with them, rode 
with loaded pistols/ and endured all the fatigues 
of war w ith admirable fortitude. Her alacrity in¬ 
spired her forces with an invincible resolution, 
which, together with their superiority in number, 
deterred the malcontents from facing them in the 
field ; but, having artfully passed the queen’s army, 
they marched with great rapidity to Edinburgh, and 
endeavoured to rouse the inhabitants of that city to 
arms. The queen did not suffer them 
to remain long unmolested ; and, on 
her approach, they were forced to abandon that 
place, and retire in confusion towards the w estern 
borders. 2 

As it was uncertain, for some time, 

They are obliged 

to retire into Eng- what route they had taken, Mary 
employed that interval in providing 
for the security of the counties in the heart of the 
kingdom. She seized the places of strength which 
belonged to the rebels; and obliged the consider¬ 
able barons in those shires which she most suspect¬ 
ed, to join in associations for her defence. 11 Having 
thus left all the country behind her in tranquillity, 
she, with an army eighteen thousand strong, marched 
towards Dumfries, where the rebels then were. 
During their retreat, they had sent letters to the 
queen, from almost every place where they halted, 
full of submission, and containing various overtures 
towards an accommodation. But Mary, who deter¬ 
mined not to let slip such a favourable opportunity 
of crushing the mutinous spirit of her subjects, re¬ 
jected them with disdain. As she advanced, the 
malcontents retired ; and having re- 

Oct 20 

ceived no effectual aid from Elizabeth/ 
they despaired of any other means of safety, fled 
into England, and put themselves under the protec¬ 
tion of the earl of Bedford, warden of the marches. 
They meet with Nothing which Bedford’s personal 

treatment from friendship for Murray could supply, 
Elizabeth. was wan ting to render their retreat 

agreeable. But Elizabeth herself treated them w ith 
extreme neglect. She had fully gained her end, 
and, by their means, had excited such discord and 
jealousies among the Scots, as would, in all pro- 

t Keith, Append. 99. . . , ^ ~ 

u The most considerable persons who joined Murray were, the duke of 
Chateilierault, the earls ot Argyll, Glencairn, Rothes, lord Loyd and 
Ochiltree ; the lairds of Grange, Cunninghamhead, Balcomie, Garmylie, 
Lawers, Bar, Dreghorn, Pitarrow, Comptroller, and the Tutor of Pitcur. 
Knox, 3tt2. 


bability, long distract and weaken Mary’s councils. 
Her business now was to save appearances, and to 
justify herself to the ministers of France and Spain, 
w ho accused her of fomenting the troubles in Scot¬ 
land by her intrigues. The expedient she contrived 
for her vindication strongly displays her own cha¬ 
racter, and the wretched condition of exiles, who 
are obliged to depend on a foreign prince. Murray, 
and Hamilton, abbot of Kilwinning, being appointed 
by the other fugitives to wait on Elizabeth, instead 
of meeting with that welcome reception which was 
due to men, who out of confidence in her promises, 
and in order to forward her designs, had hazarded 
their lives and fortunes, could not even obtain the 
favour of an audience, until they had meanly con¬ 
sented to acknowledge, in the presence of the French 
and Spanish ambassadors, that Elizabeth had given 
them no encouragement to take arms. No sooner 
did they make this declaration, than she astonished 
them with this reply : “ You have declared the 
truth ; I am far from setting an example of rebellion 
to my own subjects, by countenancing those who 
rebel against their lawful prince. The treason of 
which you have been guilty is detestable ; and as 
traitors I banish you from my presence.” 0 Not¬ 
withstanding this scene of farce and of falsehood, 
so dishonourable to all the persons who acted a 
part in it, Elizabeth permitted the malcontents 
peaceably to reside in her dominions, supplied them 
secretly with money, and renewed her intercession 
with the Scottish queen in their favour/ 

The advantage she had gained over them did not 
satisfy Mary; she resolved to follow the blow, and 
to prevent a party, which she dreaded, from ever 
recovering any footing in the nation. With this 
view, she called a meeting of parliament; and, in 
order that a sentence of forfeiture might be legally 
pronounced against the banished lords, she sum¬ 
moned them, by public proclamation, to appear be¬ 
fore it. e 

The duke of Chateilierault, on his 

Dec. j # 

humble application, obtained a sepa¬ 
rate pardon ; but not without difficulty, as the king 
violently opposed it. He was obliged, however, 
to leave the kingdom, and to reside for some time 
in France/ 

The numerous forces which Mary brought into 
the field, the vigour with which she acted, and the 
length of time she kept them in arms, resemble the 
efforts of a prince with revenues much more con¬ 
siderable than those which she possessed. But 
armies were then levied and maintained by princes 
at small charge. The vassal followed his superior, 
and the superior attended the monarch, at his own 
expense. Six hundred horsemen, however, and 
three companies of foot, besides her guards, received 
regular pay from the queen. This extraordinary 

x Knox, 380. y Keith, Append. 164. 

z Keith, 315. a Ibid. 113. 

b See Append. No. XII. XIII. c Melv. 112. 

d Knox. 389. e Keith, 320. 

f Knox, 389. 



92 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND 


[1566. BOOK IV 


charge, together with the disbursements occasioned 
by her marriage, exhausted a treasury which was 
far from being rich. In this exigency, many de¬ 
vices were fallen upon for raising money. Fines 
were levied on the towns of St. Andrew’s, Perth, 
and Dundee, which were suspected of favouring the 
malcontents. An unusual tax was imposed on the 
boroughs throughout the kingdom; and a great 
sum was demanded of the citizens of Edinburgh, 
by way of loan. This unprecedented exaction 
alarmed the citizens. They had recourse to delays, 
and started difficulties, in order to evade it. These 
Mary construed to be acts of avowed disobedience, 
and instantly committed several of them to prison. 
But this severity did not subdue the undaunted 
spirit of liberty which prevailed among the inhabit¬ 
ants. The queen was obliged to mortgage to the 
city the superiority of the town of Leith, by which 
she obtained a considerable sum of money.* The 
thirds of ecclesiastical benefices proved another 
source whence the queen derived some supply. 
About this time we find the protestant clergy com¬ 
plaining more bitterly than ever of their poverty. 
The army, it is probable, exhausted a great part of 
that fund which was appropriated for their mainte¬ 
nance. 11 

The assemblies of the church were 

Church affairs. . - . . . 

not unconcerned spectators of the 
commotions of this turbulent year. In the meeting 
held the twenty-fourth of June, previous to the 
queen’s marriage, several of the malcontent nobles 
were present, and seem to have had great influence 
on its decisions. The high strain in which the 
assembly addressed the queen, can be imputed only 
to those fears and jealousies with regard to religion, 
which they endeavoured to infuse into the nation. 
The assembly complained, with some bitterness, of 
the stop which had been put to the progress of the 
reformation by the queen’s arrival in Scotland ; 
they required not only the total suppression of the 
popish worship throughout the kingdom, but even 
in the queen’s own chapel; and, besides the legal 
establishment of the protestant religion, they de¬ 
manded that Mary herself should publicly embrace 
it. The queen, after some deliberation, replied, that 
neither her conscience nor her interest would per¬ 
mit her to take such a step. The former would for 
ever reproach her for a change which proceeded 
from no inw ard conviction ; the latter would suffer 
by the offence which her apostasy must give to the 
king of France, and her other allies on the con¬ 
tinent. 1 

It is remarkable, that the prosperous situation of 
the queen’s affairs during this year, began to work 
some change in favour of her religion. The earls 
of Lennox, Athol, and Cassils, openly attended 
mass; she herself aflorded the catholics a more 
avowed protection than formerly ; and, by her per¬ 
mission, some of the ancient monks ventured to 
preach publicly to the people.* 1 

g Knox 383, 336. h Maitl. Hist, of Edinburgh, 27 . 


BOOK IV. 

As the day appointed for the meeting 1566 . 
of parliament approached, Mary and tion/ concerning 
her ministers were employed in deli- tlie exlleti ,Ioble:5 ' 
berating concerning the course which it was most 
proper to hold with regard to the exiled nobles. 
Many motives prompted her to set no bounds to 
the rigour of justice. The malcontents had laboured 
to defeat a scheme, which her interest conspired 
with her passions in rendering dear to her; they 
were the leaders of a party, whose friendship she 
had been obliged to court, while she held their 
principles in abhorrence; and they were firmly 
attached to a rival, whom she had good reason both 
to fear and to hate. 

But, on the other hand, several weighty consi¬ 
derations might be urged. The noblemen, whose 
fate was in suspense, were among the most power¬ 
ful subjects in the kingdom; their wealth great, 
their connexions extensive, and their adherents nu¬ 
merous. They were now at mercy, the objects 
of compassion, and suing for pardon w ith the most 
humble submission. 

In those circumstances, an act of clemency would 
exalt the queen’s character, and appear no less 
splendid among foreigners, than acceptable to her 
own subjects. Mary herself, though highly in¬ 
censed, was not inexorable ; but the king’s rage 
was implacable and unrelenting. They were soli¬ 
cited in behalf of the fugitives from various quar¬ 
ters. Morton, Ruthven, Maitland, and all w ho had 
been members of the Congregation, w ere not forget¬ 
ful of that ancient union with Murray and his fel¬ 
low-sufferers ; nor neglectful of their safety, which 
they deemed of great importance to the kingdom. 
Melvil, who at that time possessed the queen’s con¬ 
fidence, seconded their solicitations. And Murray 
having stooped so low r as to court Rizzio, that fa¬ 
vourite, who was desirous of securing his protection 
against the king, whose displeasure he had lately 
incurred, seconded the intercessions of his other 
friends with the whole of his influence. 3 The inter¬ 
position of sir Nicholas Throgmorton, who had 
lately been Elizabeth’s ambassador in Scotland, in 
behalf of the exiles, was of more weight than all 
these, and attended with more success. Throgmor¬ 
ton, out of enmity to Cecil, had embarked deeply in 
all the intrigues which were carried on at the Eng¬ 
lish court, in order to undermine the power and 
credit of that minister. He espoused, for this 
reason, the cause of the Scottish queen, towards 
whose title and pretensions the other was known to 
bear little favour ; and ventured, in the present 
critical juncture, to write a letter to Mary, contain¬ 
ing the most salutary advices with regard to her 
conduct. He recommended the pardoning of the 
earl of Murray and his associates, as a measure no 

i Knox, 374, 376. k Ibid, 380, 390. a Melv. 125. 



BOOK IV. 1566.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


93 


less prudent than popular. “ An action of this 
nature,” says he, “ the pure effect of your majesty’s 
generosity, will spread the fame of your lenity and 
moderation, and engage the English to look towards 
your accession to the throne, not only without pre- 
judice, hut with desire. By the same means, a 
perfect harmony will be restored among your own 
subjects, who, if any rupture should happen with 
England, will serve you with that grateful zeal 
which your clemency cannot fail of inspiring.” b 

She resolves .to These P rudent remonstrances of 
clemency 1 with Throgmorton, to which his reputation 
for wisdom, and known attachment to 
the queen, added great authority, made a deep im¬ 
pression on her spirit. Her courtiers cultivated 
this happy disposition, and prevailed on her, not¬ 
withstanding the king’s inflexible temper, to sacri¬ 
fice her own private resentment to the intercession 
of her subjects and the wishes of her friends. c With 
this view, the parliament, which had been called 
to meet on the fourth of February, was prorogued to 
the seventh of April ; d and in the mean time she 
was busy in considering the manner and form in 
which she should extend her favour to the lords 
who were under disgrace. 

is diverted from Though Mary discovered on this oc- 
theVolidtutkin b ^' cas i° n a mind naturally prone to hu- 
zeidforPoperyl er inanity and capable of forgiving, she 
1 eb. 3. wanted firmness, however, to resist the 

influence which was fatally employed to disappoint 
the eff ects of this amiable disposition. About this 
time, and at no great distance from each other, two 
envoys arrived from the French king. The former 
was intrusted with matters of mere ceremony alone; 
he congratulated the queen on her marriage, and 
invested the king with the ensigns of the order of 
St. Michael. The instructions of the latter related 
to matters of more importance, and produced greater 
effects.* 5 

An interview between Charles IX. and his sister 
the queen of Spain had been often proposed ; and 
after many obstacles arising from the opposition of 
political interest, was at last appointed at Bayonne. 
Catherine of Medicis accompanied her son ; the 
duke of Alva attended his mistress. Amidst 
the scenes of public pomp and pleasure, which 
seemed to be the sole occupation of both courts, a 
scheme was formed, and measures concerted, for 
exterminating the Hugonots in France, the protest- 
arits in the Low Countries, and for suppressing the 
Reformation throughout all Europe/ The active 
policy of pope Pius IV. and the zeal of the cardinal 
of Lorrain, confirmed and encouraged dispositions 
so suitable to the genius of the Romish religion, 
and so beneficial to their own order. 

It was an account of this holy league which the 
second French envoy brought to Mary, conjuring 
her at the same time, in the name of the king of 
France and the cardinal of Lorrain, not to restore 

b Melv. 119. c Ibid. 125. d Good. vol. i. 224. 

e Keith, 325. Append. 167. f Tinian. lib. 37. 

g Melv. 126. h See Append. No. XIV. i Keith, 326. 


the leaders of the protestants in her kingdom to 
power and favour, at the very time when the catholic 
princes were combined to destroy that sect in all the 
countries of Europe.^ 

Popery is a species of false religion, remarkable 
for the strong possession it takes of the heart. 
Contrived by men of deep insight in the human 
character, and improved by the experience and 
observation of many successive ages, it arrived at 
last to a degree of perfection which no former sys¬ 
tem of superstition had ever attained. There is no 
power in the understanding, and no passion in the 
heart, to which it does not present objects adapted 
to rouse and to interest them. Neither the love of 
pleasure which at that time prevailed in the court 
of France, nor the pursuits of ambition which occu¬ 
pied the court of Spain, had secured them from the 
dominion of bigotry. Laymen and courtiers were 
agitated with that furious and unmerciful zeal 
which is commonly considered as peculiar to eccle¬ 
siastics; and kings and ministers thought them¬ 
selves bound in conscience to extirpate the protest- 
ant doctrine. Mary herself was deeply tinctured 
with all the prejudices of popery; a passionate 
attachment to that superstition is visible in every 
part of her character, and runs through all the scenes 
of her life: she was devoted too with the utmost 
submission to the princes of Lorrain, her uncles; and 
had been accustomed from her infancy to listen to 
all their advices with a filial respect. The prospect 
of restoring the public exercise of her own religion, 
the pleasure of complying with her uncles, and the 
hopes of gratifying the French monarch, whom the 
present situation of her affairs in England made it 
necessary to court, counterbalanced all the prudent 
considerations which had formerly weighed with 
her. She instantly joined the confederacy which 
had been formed for the destruction of the protest¬ 
ants, and altered the whole plan of her conduct 
with regard to Murray and his adherents. 11 

To this fatal resolution may be imputed all the 
subsequent calamities of Mary’s life. Ever since 
her return into Scotland, fortune may be said to 
have been propitious to her rather than adverse ; 
and if her prosperity did not rise to any great 
height, it had, however, suffered no considerable 
interruption. A thick and settled cloud of adver¬ 
sity, with few gleams of hope, and none of real en¬ 
joyment, covers the remainder of her days. 

The effects of the new system which A par i ianient 
Mary had adopted were soon visible, the exiied a no- iat 
The time of the prorogation of parlia- blfes; 
ment was shortened; and by a new proclamation 
the twelfth of March was fixed for its meeting. 1 
Mary resolved, without any further delay, to pro¬ 
ceed to the attainder of the rebel lords, and at the 
same time determined to take some steps towards 
the re-establishment of the Romish religion in Scot¬ 
land/ The lords of the articles were chosen, as 

k Tt is not on the authority of Knox alone, that we charge the queen with 
the design of re-establishing the Roman catholic religion, or at least of ex¬ 
empting the professors of it from the rigour of those’penal laws to which 



94 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [ 1560 . BOOK IV. 


usual, to prepare the business which was to come 
before the parliament. They were all persons in 
whom the queen could confide, and bent to promote 
her designs. The ruin of Murray and his party 
seemed now inevitable, and the danger ot the re¬ 
formed church imminent, when an event unexpect¬ 
edly happened which saved both. If we regard 
either the barbarity of that age, when such acts of 
violence were common, or the mean condition of 
the unhappy person who suffered, the event is little 
and prevented remarkable ; but if we reflect upon 
rac^a-ainst 1 ^ ie circumstances with which it was 
Kizzio. attended, or upon the consequences 

which followed it, it appears extremely memorable ; 
and the rise and progress of it deserve to be traced 
with great care. 

Darnley loses the Darnley’s external accomplishments 
queen’s affection, exc it e( j that sudden and violent 

passion which raised him to the throne. But the 
qualities of his mind corresponded ill with the 
beauty of his person. Of a weak understanding, 
and without experience, conceited, at the same 
time, of his own abilities, and ascribing his extra¬ 
ordinary success entirely to his distinguished merit; 
all the queen's favour made no impression on such 
a temper. All her gentleness could not bridle his 
imperious and ungovernable spirit. All her atten¬ 
tion to place about him persons capable of directing 
his conduct, could not preserve him from rash and 
imprudent actions. 1 Fond of all the amusements, 
and even prone to all the vices, of youth, he became 
by degrees careless of her person, and a stranger to 
her company. To a woman, and a queen, such be¬ 
haviour was intolerable. The lower she had stooped 
in order to raise him, his behaviour appeared the 
more ungenerous, and criminal; and in proportion 
to the strength of her first affection, was the violence 
with which her disappointed passion now operated. 
A few months after the marriage their domestic 
quarrels began to be observed. The extravagance 
of Darnley’s ambition gave rise to these. Instead 
of being satisfied with a share in the administration 


of government, or with the title of king, which 
Mary, by an unprecedented stretch of power, had 
conferred on him, he demanded the crown matrimo¬ 
nial with most insolent importunity. 111 Though Mary 
alleged that this gift was beyond her power, and 
that the authority of parliament must be interposed 
to bestow it, he wanted either understanding to 
comprehend, or temper to admit, so just a defence ; 
and often renewed and urged his request. 

Susans tig™ to Rizzio, whom the king had at first 

taken int0 great confide ° ce , did not 
humour him in these follies. By this he incurred 

Henry's displeasure ; and as it was impossible for 


Mary to behave towards her husband with the same 
affection which distinguished the first and happy 
days of their union, he imputed this coldness, not 
to his own behaviour, which had so well merited it, 
but to the insinuations of Rizzio. Mary's own con¬ 
duct confirmed and strengthened these suspicions. 
She treated this stranger with a familiarity, and ad¬ 
mitted him to a share in her confidence, to which 
neither his first condition, nor the office she had 
lately bestowed on him, gave him any title. He was 
perpetually in her presence, intermeddled in every 
business, and, together with a few favourites, was 
the companion of all her private amusements. The 
haughty spirit of Darnley could not bear the in¬ 
trusion of such an upstart; and impatient of any 
delay, and unrestrained by any scruple, he instantly 
resolved to get rid of him by violence. 

At the same time another design, ... 

Rizzio hated by 

which took its rise from very different the friends of the 

exiled nobles. 

motives, was carrying on against the 
life of Rizzio. Morton, Ruthvcn, Lindsay, and 
Maitland, were the contrivers of it. In all former 
commotions they had been strictly united with 
Murray, though in the late insurrection they had 
deserted him for various reasons. Morton was 
nearly allied to the family of Angus; and, during 
the minority of the present earl, acted as chief of 
the name of Douglas. Ruthven was married to the 
king's aunt. Lindsay's wife was of the same blood. 
All these had warmly concurred with the queen in 
promoting a marriage which did so much honour to 
the house of Douglas, and naturally expected, that, 
under a king of their own blood, the chief management 
of affairs would be committed to them. Maitland, 
with his usual sagacity, foresaw that Murray's oppo¬ 
sition to the match would prove dangerous and in¬ 
effectual ; but whoever ruled at court, he hoped, by 
his dexterity and talents, to render himself neces¬ 
sary and of importance. They were all equally 
disappointed in their expectations. The king's 
headstrong temper rendered him incapable of ad¬ 
vice. The queen could not help distrusting men 
who had been so long and so intimately connected 
with Murray, and gave herself up entirely to such 
counsellors as complied with all her inclinations. 
The return of that nobleman and his followers 
was therefore the only event which could restore 
Morton, Maitland, and their associates, to their 
former ascendant over the queen’s councils. For 
this reason, nothing could be more mortifying 
to them than the resolution which Mary had 
taken to treat the exiles with rigour. This they 
imputed to Rizzio, who, after he had engaged 
to aid Murray with all his interest, was now 
the most active instrument in promoting the mea- 


they were subjected. lie indeed asserts that the altars, which would have 
been erected in the church of St. Giles, were already provided, 394. 
1 . Mary herself, in a letter to the archbishop of Glasgow, her ambassador in 
France, acknowledges, “ that in that parliament she intended to have done 
some good, with respect to restoring the old religion.” Keith, 331. 2. The 
spiritual lords, i. e. the popish ecclesiastics, had, by her authority, resumed 
their ancient place in that assembly. Ibid. 3. She had joined the confe¬ 
deracy at Bayonne. Keith, Append. 167. 4. She allowed mass to be cele¬ 
brated in different parts of the kingdom, ibid.; and declared that she 
would have mass free for all men that would hear it. Good. vol. i. 274. 


5. Blackwood, who was furnished by the archbishop of Glasgow with mate¬ 
rials for writing his Martyre de Marie , affirms, that the queen intended to 
have procured, in this parliament, if not the re-establishment of the catho¬ 
lic religion, at least something for the ease of catholics. Jebb, vol. ii. 
204. 

1 Good. vol. i. 222. 

m Keith, 329. Id. Ap. 165, 166. Knox, 404. The eagerness of the king 
to obtain the Crown Matrimonial is not surprising, when the extent of the 
powers which that title conveyed, as explained in the text and note, p. 44. 
is taken into consideration. 



BOOK IV. 1566.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


96 


sures which were concerted for the ruin of that 
nobleman. This officious zeal completed the dis¬ 
gust which they had conceived against him, and 
inspired them with thoughts of vengeance, in nowise 
suitable to justice, to humanity, or to their own 
dignity. 

, r . L . While they were ruminating upon 

they combine , . or- 

in order to mur- their scheme, the king communicated 

der him. , 

his resolution to be avenged of Rizzio 
to lord Ruthven, and implored his assistance, and 
that of his friends, towards the execution of this 
design. Nothing could be more acceptable to them 
than this overture. They saw at once all the ad¬ 
vantages they would reap, by the concurrence of 
such an associate. Their own private revenge upon 
Rizzio would pass, they hoped, for an act of obedi¬ 
ence to the king ; and they did not despair of ob¬ 
taining the restoration of their banished, friends, 
and security for the protestant religion, as the price 
of their compliance with his will. 

But as Henry was no less fickle than rash, they 
hesitated for some time, and determined to advance 
no further, without taking every possible precaution 
for their own safety. They did not, in the mean 
time, suffer the king’s resentment to abate. Morton, 
who was inferior to no man of that intriguing age 
in all the arts of insinuation and address, took the 
young prince under his management. He wrought 
upon his ruling passion, ambition to obtain the 
matrimonial crown. He represented Rizzio’s credit 
with the queen to be the chief and only obstacle to 
his success in that demand. This minion alone, 
he said, possessed her confidence, and out of com¬ 
plaisance to him, her subjects, her nobility, and 
even her husband, were excluded from any partici¬ 
pation of her secret councils. Under the appear¬ 
ance of a confidence merely political, he insinuated, 
and the king perhaps believed, that a familiarity of 
a quite different and very criminal nature might be 
concealed." Such various and complicated passions 
raged in the king’s bosom with the utmost fury. He 
became more impatient than ever of any delay, and 
even threatened to strike the intended blow with his 
own hand. At last, preliminaries were settled on 
both sides, and articles for their mutual security 
agreed upon. The king engaged to prevent the 
attainder of the banished lords, to consent to their 
return into Scotland, to obtain for them an ample 
remission of all their crimes, and to support, to the 
utmost of his power, the religion which was now es¬ 
tablished in the kingdom. On their parts, they 
undertook to procure the crown matrimonial for 
Henry, to secure his right of succession, if the queen 
should die before him without issue, and to defend 

n Of all our historians, Buchanan alone avowedly accuses Mary of a cri¬ 
minal love for Rizzio, 340, 344. Knox slightly insinuates that such a sus¬ 
picion was entertained, 391. Melvil, in a conversation with the queen, 
intimates that he was afraid her familiarity with Rizzio might he liable to 
misconstruction, llo. The king himself seems, both by Melvil’s account, 
and by his expostulation with tne queen, which Ruthven mentions, to have 
given credit to these suspicions. Melv. 127- Keith, Append. 123, 124. 
That the king’s suspicions were strong, is likewise evident from the paper 
published, Append. No. XV. But in opposition to these suspicions, and 
they are nothing more, we may observe that Raulet, the queen’s French 
secretary, was dismissed from her service, and Rizzio advanced to that 
office, in December, 1564. Keith, 268. It was in consequence of this pre¬ 
ferment, that he acquired his great credit with the queen. Melv, 107. 


that right to the uttermost, against whatever person 
should presume to dispute it; and if either Rizzio, 
or any other person, should happen to be killed in 
prosecuting the design, the king promised to ac¬ 
knowledge himself to be the author of the enterprise, 
and to protect those who were embarked in it.° 

Nothing now remained but to con- _ . . „ 

° # Perpetrate that 

cert the plan of operation, to choose crime in the 

1 1 t queen s palace. 

the actors, and to assign them their 
parts in perpetrating this detestable crime. Every 
circumstance here paints and characterizes the 
manners and men of that age, and fills us with hor¬ 
ror at both. The place chosen for committing such 
a deed was the queen’s bed-chamber. Though 
Mary was now in the sixth month of her pregnancy, 
and though Rizzio might have been seized else¬ 
where without any difficulty, the king pitched upon 
this place, that he might enjoy the malicious plea¬ 
sure of reproaching Rizzio with his crimes before 
the queen’s face. The earl of Morton, the lord high 
chancellor of the kingdom, undertook to direct an 
enterprise, carried on in defiance of all the laws of 
which he was bound to be the guardian. The lord 
Ruthven, who had been confined to his bed for 
three months by a very dangerous distemper, and 
who was still so feeble that he could hardly walk, 
or bear the weight of his own armour, was intrusted 
with the executive part; and while he himself 
needed to be supported by two men, he came 
abroad to commit a murder in the presence of his 
sovereign. 

On the ninth of March, Morton entered the court 
of the palace with a hundred and sixty men ; and 
without noise, or meeting with any resistance, 
seized all the gates. While the queen was at sup¬ 
per with the countess of Argyll, Rizzio, and a few 
other persons, the king suddenly entered the apart 
ment by a private passage. At his back was Ruth¬ 
ven, clad in complete armour, and with that ghastly 
and horrid look which long sickness had given him. 
Three or four of his most trusty accomplices fol¬ 
lowed him. Such an unusual appearance alarmed 
those who were present. Rizzio instantly appre¬ 
hended that he was the victim at whom the blow 
was aimed ; and in the utmost consternation re¬ 
tired behind the queen, of whom he laid hold, hoping 
that the reverence due to her person might prove 
some protection to him. The conspirators had pro¬ 
ceeded too far to be restrained by any consideration 
of that kind. Numbers of armed men rushed into 
the chamber. Ruthven drew his dagger, and with 
a furious mien and voice commanded Rizzio to 
leave a place of which he was unworthy, and which 
he had occupied too long. Mary employed tears, 

Darnley arrived in Scotland about two months after. Keith. 269. The 
queen Immediately conceived for him a passion, which had all the symp¬ 
toms of genuine and violent love.—Rizzio aided this passion, and promoted 
the marriage with all his interest. Melv. 111. During some months after 
the marriage, the queen’s fondness for Darnley continued. She soon 
proved with child. From this enumeration of circumstances, it appears 
almost impossible that the queen, unless we suppose her to have been a 
woman utterly abandoned, could carry on any criminal intrigue with 
Rizzio. But the silence of Randolph, the English resident, a man abund¬ 
antly ready to mention and to aggravate Mary’s faults, and who does not 
once insinuate that her confidence in Rizzio concealed any thing criminal, 
is in itself a sufficient vindication of her innocence, 
o Good. vol. i. 266. 



96 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1566. BOOK IY. 


and entreaties, and threatenings to save her favour¬ 
ite. But notwithstanding all these, he was torn 
from her by violence, and before he could be drag¬ 
ged through the next apartment, the rage of his 
enemies put an end to his life, piercing his body 
with fifty-six wounds. p 

Athol, Huntley, Bothwell, and other confidants of 
the queen, who had apartments in the palace, were 
alarmed at the uproar, and filled with the utmost 
terror on their own account; but either no violence 
was intended against them, or the conspirators 
durst not shed the noblest blood in the kingdom in 
the same illegal manner with which they had ven¬ 
tured to take the life of a stranger. Some of them 
were dismissed, and others made their escape. 

They confine the The conspirators, in the mean time, 
queen herself; kept possession of the palace, and 

guarded the queen with the utmost care. A pro¬ 
clamation was published by the king, prohibiting 
the parliament to meet on the day appointed ; and 
measures were taken by him for preventing any tu¬ 
mult in the city. q Murray, Rothes, and their fol¬ 
lowers, being informed of every step taken against 
Rizzio, arrived at Edinburgh next evening. Murray 
was graciously received both by the king and queen ; 
by the former on account of the articles which had 
been agreed upon between them ; by the latter, be¬ 
cause she hoped to prevail on him, by gentle treat¬ 
ment, not to take part with the murderers of Rizzio. 
Their power she still felt and dreaded ; and the in¬ 
sult which they had offered to her authority, and 
even to her person, so far exceeded any crime she 
could impute to Murray, that, in hopes of wreaking 
her vengeance on them, she became extremely will¬ 
ing to be reconciled to him. The obligations, 
however, which Murray lay under to men who had 
hazarded their lives on his account, engaged him to 
labour for their safety. The queen, who scarce had 
the liberty of choice left, was persuaded to admit 
Morton and Ruthven into her presence, and to 
grant them the promise of pardon in whatever terms 
they should deem necessary for their own security. 
... . The king, meanwhile, stood, aston- 

king, and makes ished at the boldness and success of 

her escape, 

his own enterprise, and uncertain what 
course to hold. The queen observed his irresolu¬ 
tion, and availed herself of it. She employed all her 
art to disengage him from his new associates. His 
consciousness of the insult which he had offered to 
so illustrious a benefactress, inspired him with un¬ 
common facility and complaisance. In spite of all 
the warnings he received to distrust the queen's ar¬ 
tifices, she prevailed on him to dismiss 
the guards which the conspirators had 
placed on her person ; and that same night he made 
his escape along with her, attended by three persons 
only, and retired to Dunbar. The scheme of their 
flight had been communicated to Huntley and Both¬ 
well, and they were quickly joined by them and seve¬ 
ral other of the nobles. Bothwell’s estate lay in that 

p See Appendix, No. XV. q Keith, Appendix, 126. 


March 11. 


corner of the kingdom, and his followers crowded 
to their chief in such numbers, as soon enabled the 
queen to set the power of the conspirators at defi¬ 
ance. 

This sudden flight filled them with Is reconciled to 
inexpressible consternation. They the exiled nobles - 
had obtained a promise of pardon; and it now ap¬ 
peared from the queen's conduct, that nothing more 
was intended by this promise than to amuse them, 
and to gain time. They ventured, however, to de¬ 
mand the accomplishment of it; but their messen¬ 
ger was detained a prisoner, and the queen advanc¬ 
ing towards Edinburgh, at the head of eight thou¬ 
sand men, talked in the highest strain of resentment 
and revenge. She had the address, at the same 
time, to separate Murray and his associates from 
the conspirators against Rizzio. Sensible that the 
union of these parties would form a confederacy 
which might prove formidable to the crown, she 
expressed great willingness to receive the former 
into favour ; towards the latter she declared herself 
inexorable. Murray and his followers were no less 
willing to accept a pardon on her terms. The con¬ 
spirators against Rizzio, deprived of March 10 . 
every resource, and incapable of re- 
sistance, fled precipitately to New- 
castle, having thus changed situations with Murray 
and his party, who left that place a few days be¬ 
fore. 

No man so remarkable for wisdom, and even for 
cunning, as the earl of Morton, ever engaged in a 
more unfortunate enterprise. Deserted basely by 
the king, who now denied his knowledge of the 
conspiracy by public proclamations, and abandoned 
ungenerously by Murray and his party, r he was 
obliged to fly from his native country, to resign the 
highest office, and to part with one of the most 
opulent fortunes in the kingdom. 

On her return to Edinburgh, Mary began to pro¬ 
ceed against those concerned in the murder of Rizzio 
with the utmost rigour of law. But, in praise of 
her clemency, it must be observed, that only two 
persons, and these of no considerable rank, suffered 
for this crime. s 

In this conspiracy there is one circumstance 
which, though somewhat detached, deserves not to 
be forgotten.—In the confederacy between the king 
and the conspirators, the real intention of which 
was assassination, the preserving of the reformed 
church is, nevertheless, one of the most considerable 
articles ; and the same men, who were preparing 
to violate one of the first duties of morality, affected 
the highest regard for religion. History relates 
these extravagances of the human mind, without 
pretending to justify, or even to account for them ; 
and regulating her own opinions by the eternal and 
immutable laws of justice and of virtue, points out 
such inconsistencies, as features of the age which 
she describes, and records them for the instruction 
of ages to come. 

r Melv. 130. s Keith, Appendix, 130,334 



BOOK IV. 1566.] THE HISTORY 

An account of the . As this is the second ^stance of de¬ 
frequency ot as- liberate assassination which has oc- 
sassinations m 

tiiat age. curred, and as we shall hereafter meet 

with many other instances of the same crime, the 
causes which gave rise to a practice so shocking to 
humanity deserve our particular attention. Resent¬ 
ment is, for obvious and wise reasons, one of the 
strongest passions in the human mind. The natu¬ 
ral demand of this passion is, that the person who 
feels the injury should himself inflict the vengeance 
due on that account. The permitting this, how¬ 
ever, would have been destructive to society ; and 
punishment would have known no bounds, either in 
severity or in duration. For this reason, in the very 
infancy of the social state, the sword was taken out 
of private hands, and committed to the magistrate. 
But at first, while laws aimed at restraining, they 
really strengthened, the principle of revenge. The 
earliest and most simple punishment for crimes was 
retaliation ; the offender forfeited limb for limb, 
and life for life. The payment of a compensation 
to the person injured, succeeded to the rigour of the 
former institution. In both these, the gratification 
of private revenge was the object of law; and he 
who suffered the wrong was the only person who 
had a right to pursue, to exact, or to remit the 
punishment. While laws allowed such full scope 
to the revenge of one party, the interests of the 
other were not neglected. If the evidence of his 
guilt did not amount to a full proof, or if he reck¬ 
oned himself to be unjustly accused, the person to 
whom a crime was imputed had a right to challenge 
his adversary to single combat, and, on obtaining 
the victory, vindicated his own honour. In almost 
every considerable cause, whether civil or criminal, 
arms were appealed to, in defence, either of the 
innocence, or the property, of the parties. Justice 
had seldom occasion to use her balance ; the sword 
alone decided every contest. The passion of revenge 
was nourished by all these means, and grew, by 
daily indulgence, to be incredibly strong. Man¬ 
kind became habituated to blood, not only in times 
of war, but of peace ; and from this as well as other 
causes, contracted an amazing ferocity of temper 
and of manners. This ferocity, however, made it 
necessary to discourage the trial by combat; to 
abolish the payment of compensations in criminal 
cases; and to think of some milder method of ter¬ 
minating disputes concerning civil rights. The 
punishments for crimes became more severe, and 
the regulations concerning property more fixed; 
but the princes, whose province it was to inflict the 
one, and to enforce the other, possessed little power. 
Great offenders despised their authority ; smaller 
ones sheltered themselves under the jurisdiction of 
those from whose protection they expected impu¬ 
nity. The administration of justice was extremely 
feeble and dilatory. An attempt to punish the 
crimes of a chieftain, or even of his vassals, often 
excited rebellions and civil wars. To nobles, 


OF SCOTLAND. 97 

haughty and independent, among whom the causes 
of discord were many and unavoidable, who were 
quick in discerning an injury, and impatient to 
revenge it; who deemed it infamous to submit to 
an enemy, and cowardly to forgive him ; who con¬ 
sidered the right of punishing those who had in¬ 
jured them, as a privilege of their order, and a mark 
of independence; such slow proceedings were ex¬ 
tremely unsatisfactory. The blood of their adversary 
was, in their opinion, the only thing which could 
wash away an affront; where that was not shed, 
their revenge was disappointed, their courage be¬ 
came suspected, and a stain was left on their honour. 
That vengeance, which the impotent hand of the 
magistrate could not inflict, their own could easily 
execute. Under governments so feeble, men assum¬ 
ed, as in a state of nature, the right of judging and 
redressing their own wrongs; and thus assassination, 
a crime of all others the most destructive to society, 
came not only to be allowed, but to be reckoned 
honourable. 

The history of Europe, during the fourteenth and 
fifteenth centuries, abounds with detestable instances 
of this crime. It prevailed chiefly among the French 
and Scots, between whom there was a close inter¬ 
course at that time, and a surprising resemblance 
in their national characters. In one thousand four 
hundred and seven, the only brother of the king of 
France was murdered publicly in the streets of 
Paris; and, so far was this horrible action from 
meeting with proper punishment, that an eminent 
lawyer was allowed to plead in defence of it before 
the peers of France, and avowedly to maintain the 
lawfulness of assassination. In one thousand four 
hundred and seventeen, it required all the eloquence 
and authority of the famous Gerson, to prevail on 
the council of Constance to condemn this propo¬ 
sition, “ That there are some cases in which assas¬ 
sination is a virtue more meritorious in a knight 
than in a squire, and more meritorious in a king 
than in a knight.” 1 The number of eminent per¬ 
sons who were murdered in France and Scotland, 
on account either of private, or political, or religious, 
quarrels, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, 
is almost incredible. Even after those causes, 
which first gave rise to this barbarous practice, were 
removed ; after the jurisdiction of magistrates, and 
the authority of laws, were better established, and 
become more universal; after the progress of learn¬ 
ing and philosophy had polished the manners, and 
humanized the minds, of men, this crime continued 
in some degree. It was towards the close of the 
seventeenth century before it disappeared in France. 
The additional vigour, which the royal authority 
acquired by the accession of James VI. to the throne 
of England, seems to have put a stop to it in 
Scotland. 

The influence, however, of any national custom, 
both on the understanding and on the heart, and 
how far it may go towards perverting or extinguish- 


t L’Enfant, Hist. Cone, de Const 

H 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1566. BOOK IV. 


ing moral principles of the greatest importance, is 
remarkable. The authors of those ages have per¬ 
fectly imbibed the sentiments of their contempo¬ 
raries, with regard to assassination ; and they who 
had leisure to reflect and to judge, appear to be no 
more shocked at this crime, than the persons who 
committed it during the heat and. impetuosity of 
passion. Buchanan describes the murder of cardinal 
Beatoun and of Rizzio, without expressing those 
feelings which are natural to a man, or that indig¬ 
nation which became an historian. 11 Knox, whose 
mind was fiercer and more unpolished, relates the 
death of Beatoun and of the duke of Guise, not 
only without censure, but with the utmost exulta¬ 
tion/ On the other hand, the bishop of Ross men¬ 
tions the assassination of the earl of Murray with 
some degree of applause/ Blackwood dwells upon 
it with the most indecent triumph, and ascribes it 
directly to the hand of God/ Lord Ruthven, the 
principal actor in the conspiracy against Rizzio, 
wrote an account of it some short time before his 
own death, and in all his long narrative there is not 
one expression of regret, or one symptom of com¬ 
punction, for a crime no less dishonourable than 
barbarous/ Morton, equally guilty of the same 
crime, entertained the same sentiments concerning 
it; and in his last moments, neither he himself, nor 
the ministers who attended him, seem to have con¬ 
sidered it as an action which called for repentance ; 
even then he talks of David’s slaughter as coolly as 
if it had been an innocent or commendable deed. 5 
The vices of another age astonish and shock us; 
the vices of our own become familiar, and excite 
little horror/ I return from this digression to the 
course of the history. 

The queen’s The charm which had at first attached 

increases Darn ley q lieen to Darnley, and held them 
for some time in a happy union, was now entirely 
dissolved ; and love no longer covering his follies 
and vices with its friendly veil, they appeared to 
Mary in their full dimension and deformity/ Though 
Henry published a proclamation, disclaiming any 
knowledge of the conspiracy against Rizzio, the 
queen was fully convinced, that he was not only 
accessary to the contrivance, but to the commission 
of that odious crime/ That very power which, 
with liberal and unsuspicious fondness, she had 
conferred upon him, he had employed to insult her 
authority, to limit her prerogative, and to endanger 
her person. Such an outrage it was impossible any 
woman could bear or forgive. Cold civilities, secret 
distrust, frequent quarrels, succeeded to their former 
transports of affection and confidence. The queen’s 

u Buchan. 295, 345. _ x Knox, 334. y Anders. 3. 84. 

z . ebb 2 263. a Keith, Append. 119. b Crawf. Mem. Append. 

c In the first accounts of Rizzio’s murder sent to England, there seems 
to have been mingled (as is usual in relating extraordinary events) some 
circumstances, which afterwards appeared to he false: among others, that 
a friar named Black had been slain at the same time with Rizzio. Pack- 
hurst, bishop of ^Norwich, in communicating this intelligence to his corres¬ 
pondent Bullineer, an eminent reformed divine of Zurich expresses no 
condemnation of the murder of Rizzio, and exults over the supposed death 
of the friar, in terms which, in our times, will appear as shocking as they 
are puerile : “ Fraterculus quidam, nomine Black, papistarum antesi"- 
nanus, eodem tempore in aula oc.ciditur : Sic niger hie nebulo, nigra quo- 
que morte peremptus, invitus nigrum subito descendit in Orcum.” Burn 
Hist, of Reform, iii. App. 360. 


favours were no longer conveyed through his hands. 
The crowd of expectants ceased to court his 
patronage, which they found to avail so little. 
Among the nobles, some dreaded his furious temper, 
others complained of his perfidiousness ; and all of 
them despised the weakness of his understanding 
and the inconstancy of his heart. The people 
themselves observed some parts of his conduct 
which little suited the dignity of a king. Addicted 
to drunkenness, beyond what the manners of that 
age could bear, and indulging irregular passions, 
which even the licentiousness of youth could not ex¬ 
cuse, he, by his indecent behaviour, provoked the 
queen to the utmost; and the passions which it 
occasioned often forced tears from her eyes, both in 
public and private/ Her aversion for him increased 
every day, and could be no longer concealed. He 
was often absent from court, appeared there with 
little splendour, and was trusted with no power. 
Avoided equally by those who endeavoured to please 
the queen, who favoured Morton and his associates, 
or who adhered to the house of Hamilton, he was 
left almost alone in a neglected and unpitied soli¬ 
tude/ 

About this time a new favourite grew The ri3e of Both _ 
into great credit with the queen, and wells favour, 
soon gained an ascendant over her heart, which en¬ 
couraged his enterprising genius to form designs 
that proved fatal to himself, and the occasion of all 
Mary’s subsequent misfortunes. This was James 
Hepburn, earl of Bothwell, the head of an ancient 
family, and by his extensive possessions and nume¬ 
rous vassals, one of the most powerful noblemen in 
the kingdom. Even in that turbulent age, when so 
many vast projects were laid open to an aspiring 
mind, and invited it to action, no man’s ambition 
was more daring than Bothwell’s, or had recourse 
to bolder or more singular expedients for obtaining 
power. 5 When almost every person of distinction 
in the kingdom, whether papist or protestant, had 
joined the Congregation in opposing the dangerous 
encroachments of the French upon the liberties of 
the nation, he, though an avowed protestant, adhered 
to the queen regent, and acted with vigour on her 
side. The success w hich attended the arms of the 
Congregation having obliged him to retire into 
France, he was taken into the queen’s service, and 
continued with her till the time of her return into 
Scotland/ From that period, every step of his 
conduct towards Mary w'as remarkably dutiful; and, 
amidst all the shiftings of faction, we scarcely ever 
find him holding any course which could be offen¬ 
sive to her. When Murray’s proceedings with re¬ 
el See Appendix, No. XVI. e Keith, 350. 

t Keith, 329. . . . . g Melv. 131, &c. 

h I he enterprising spirit of Bothwell was so conspicuous as to procure 
him several marks of distinction during his residence in France. Hard¬ 
wick’s State Papers, i. 143. Throgmorton, the English ambassador at Paris, 
and one ot the most sagacious ministers employed by Elizabeth, points 
him out as a person who was to be dreaded and' observed. “ 1 he’earl of 
Bothwell,” says he in a letter, Nov. 28, 1560, “ is departed to return into 
Scotland, and hath made boast that he will do great things and live in 
Scotland in despite of all men. lie is a glorious, rash, anil hazardous 
ycung man ; and therefore it were meet that his adversaries should both 
have an eye to him, and also keep him short.” Ibid. p. 149 

l Anders, i. 90. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK IV. 1566.] 

gard to her marriage gave umbrage to the queen, 
she recalled Bothwell from that banishment into 
which she had been obliged with reluctance to drive 
him, and considered his zeal and abilities as the 
most powerful supports of her authority. When 
the conspirators against Rizzio seized her person, he 
became the chief instrument of recovering her 
liberty, and served her, on that occasion, with so 
much fidelity and success, as made the deepest im¬ 
pression on her mind, and greatly increased the 
confidence which she had hitherto placed in him. k 
Her gratitude loaded him with marks of her bounty; 
she raised him to offices of profit and trust, and 
transacted no matter of importance without his ad¬ 
vice. 1 By complaisance and assiduity he confirmed 
and fortified these dispositions of the queen in his 
favour, and insensibly paved the way towards that 
vast project, which his immoderate ambition had 
perhaps already conceived, and which, in spite of 
many difficulties, and at the expense of many 
crimes, he at last accomplished. 

The hour of the queen’s delivery now approached. 
As her palace was defended only by a slender guard, 
it seemed imprudent to expose her person, at this 
time, to the insults she might suffer in a kingdom 
torn by factions and prone to mutiny. For this 
reason the privy council advised the queen to fix 
her residence in the castle of Edinburgh, the strong¬ 
est fortress in the kingdom, and the most proper 
place for the security of her person. m In order to 
render this security more perfect, Mary laboured to 
extinguish the domestic feuds which divided some 
of the principal nobles. Murray and Argyll were 
exasperated against Huntley and Bothwell, by re¬ 
ciprocal and repeated injuries. The queen, by her 
authority and entreaties, effected a reconcilement 
among them, and drew from them a promise to bury 
their discords in everlasting oblivion. This recon¬ 
cilement Mary had so much at heart, that she made 
it the condition on which she again received Murray 
into favour. n 

On the nineteenth of June, Mary 

Birth of James VI. ... . „ , . T 

was delivered of her only son James, 
a prince whose birth was happy for the whole island, 
and unfortunate to her alone. His accession to the 
throne of England united the two divided kingdoms 
in one mighty monarchy, and established the power 
of Great Britain on a firm foundation ; while she, 
torn early from her son by the cruelty of her fate, 
was never allow ed to indulge those tender passions, 
nor to taste those joys which fill the heart of a 
mother. 

Melvil was instantly despatched to London with 
an account of this event. It struck Elizabeth, at 
first, in a sensible manner; and the advantage and 
superiority which her rival had acquired by the 
birth of a son, forced tears from her eyes. But 
before Melvil was admitted to an audience, she had 
so far recovered the command of herself, as to 


V zanders. i. 92, 93. 
m Keith, 335. 


1 Melv. 133. Knox, 396. 
n Ibid. 336. Append. 139. o Melv. 138. 


H 2 


f* 

V. 


i)i) 


receive him not only with decency but with exces¬ 
sive cheerfulness ; and willingly accepted the invita¬ 
tion which Mary gave her, to stand godmother to 
her son.° 

As Mary loved splendour and magnificence, she 
resolved to celebrate the baptism of the young prince 
with great pomp ; and for that purpose sent invita¬ 
tions of the same kind to the French king, and to 
the duke of Savoy, the uncle of her former husband. 

The queen, on her recovery, disco- 

1 7 # , The queen con- 

vered no change in her sentiments tinues to treat 

° # Parnley with in- 

with respect to the king.? The death of difference and 

1 ° neglect. 

Rizzio, and the countenance he had 
given to an action so insolent and unjustifiable, 
were still fresh in her memory. She was frequently 
pensive and dejected/ 1 Though Henry sometimes 
attended at court, and accompanied her in her 
progresses through different parts of the kingdom, 
he met with little reverence from the nobles, while 
Mary treated him with the greatest reserve, and did 
not suffer him to possess any authority/ The breach 
between them became every day more apparent.* 
Attempts were made towards a reconcilement, par¬ 
ticularly by Castelnau, the French ambassador; 
but, after such a violent rupture, it was found no 
easy matter to bind the nuptial knot anew ; and, 
though he prevailed on the king and queen to pass 
two nights together, 1 we may with great probabi¬ 
lity pronounce this appearance of union, to which 
Castelnau trusted, not to have been sincere ; we 
know with certainty that it was not lasting. 

Bothwell, all this while, was the „ 

Her attachment 

queen’s prime confidant. Without his to Bothwell in- 

r # creases. 

participation no business was con¬ 
cluded, and no favour bestowed. Together with 
this ascendant over her councils, Bothwell, if we 
may believe the contemporary historians, acquired 
no less sway over her heart. But at what precise 
time this ambitious lord first allowed the senti¬ 
ments of a lover to occupy the place of that duty 
and respect which a subject owes his sovereign ; or 
when Mary, instead of gratitude for his faithful 
services, felt a passion of another nature rising in 
her bosom, it is no easy matter to determine. Such 
delicate transitions of passion can be discerned only 
by those who are admitted near the persons of the 
parties, and who can view the secret workings of 
the heart with calm and acute observation. Neither 
Knox nor Buchanan enjoyed these advantages 
Their humble station allowed them only a distant 
access to the queen and her favourite. And the 
ardour of their zeal, as well as the violence of their 
prejudices, rendered theiropinions rash, precipitate, 
and inaccurate. It is by the effects of this recipro¬ 
cal passion, rather than by their accounts of it, 
that subsequent historians can judge of its reality. 

Adventurous as Both well’s project to gain the 
queen may appear, it was formed and carried on 
under very favourable circumstances. Mary was 


p See Append. No. XVII. 
s Keith, Append. 169. 


q Melv. 148. r Keith, 350. Melv. 132. 
t Keith, 169. 


r 



100 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


young, gay, and affable. She possessed great sen¬ 
sibility of temper, and was capable of the utmost 
tenderness of affection. She had placed her love 
on a very unworthy object, who requited it with 
ingratitude, and treated her with neglect, w ith inso¬ 
lence, and with brutality. All these she felt and 
resented. In this situation, the attention and com¬ 
plaisance of a man who had vindicated her autho¬ 
rity and protected her person, who entered into all 
her views, who soothed all her passions, who 
watched and improved every opportunity of insinu¬ 
ating his design, and recommending his passion, u 
could hardly fail of making an impression on a 
heart of such a frame as Mary’s. 

The kins resolves The hau S ht y s P irit of Darnle y> 
to leave Scotland. nurse d U p j n flattery, and accustomed 

to command, could not bear the contempt under 
which he had now fallen, and the state of insigni¬ 
ficance to which he saw himself reduced. But, in 
a country where he w r as universally hated or de¬ 
spised, he could never hope to form a party, which 
would second any attempt lie might make to recover 
power. He addressed himself, therefore, to the 
pope, and to the kings of France and Spain, with 
many professions of his ow r n zeal for the catholic 
religion, and with bitter complaints against the 
queen, for neglecting to promote that interest : x 
and, soon after, he took a resolution, equally wild 
and desperate, of embarking on board a ship which 
he provided, and of flying into foreign parts. It is 
almost impossible to form any satisfactory conjec¬ 
ture concerning the motives which influence a ca¬ 
pricious and irregular mind. He hoped, perhaps, 
to recommend himself to the catholic princes on the 
continent by his zeal for religion, and that they 
would employ their interest towards reinstating him 
in the possession of that power which he had lost. 
Perhaps he expected nothing more than the comfort 
of hiding the disgrace under which he was now 
fallen, among strangers, who had never been wit¬ 
nesses of his former prosperity. 

His capricious be- He communicated the design to the 
haviour. French ambassador Le Croc, and to 

his father the earl of Lennox. They both endea¬ 
voured to dissuade him from it, but without success. 
Lennox, who seems, as well as his son, to have lost 
the queen’s confidence, and who, about this time, 
was seldom at court, instantly communicated the 
matter to her by a letter. Henry, who had refused 
to accompany the queen from Stirling to Edinburgh, 
was likewise absent from court. He arrived there, 
however, on the same day she received the account 
of his intended flight. But he w as more than usually 
wayward and peevish ; and, scrupling to enter the 
palace unless certain lords who attended the queen 
were dismissed, Mary was obliged to meet him 
without the gates. At last he suffered her to con- 

u Anders, i. 93, 94. x Knox, 399. 

y Keith, 345, 347. z Ibid. 353. Good. vol. i. 302. 

a 1 he distance between Jedburgh and Hermitage is eighteen Scottish 
miles, through a country almost impassable. The season of the year was far 
advanced. Bothwell seems to have been wounded in a scuffle, occasioned 
by the despair of a single man, rather than any open insurrection of the bor¬ 
derers. It does not appear that the queen was attended by any considerable 


[15GG. BOOK IV. 

duct him into her own apartment. She endeavoured 
to draw from him the reasons of the strange resolu¬ 
tion which he had taken, and to divert him from it. 
In spite, however, of all her arguments and entrea¬ 
ties, he remained silent and inflexible. Next day 
the privy council, by her direction, expostulated 
with him on the same head. He persisted, notwith¬ 
standing, in his sullenness and obstinacy; and 
neither deigned to explain the motives of his con¬ 
duct, nor signified any intention of altering it. As 
he left the apartment, he turned towards the queen, 
and told her that she should not see his face again 
for a long time. A few r days after, he wrote to 
Mary, and mentioned two things as grounds of his 
disgust. She herself, he said, no longer admitted 
him into any confidence, and had deprived him of 
all power; and the nobles, after her example, 
treated him with open neglect, so that he appeared 
in every place without the dignity and splendour of 
a king. 

Nothing could be more mortifying Mary endeavours 
. . to prevent bis in¬ 

to Mary, than this intended flight of tended flight. 

the king’s, which w ould have spread the infamy of 
their domestic quarrel all over Europe. Compas¬ 
sion for a monarch who would then appear to be 
forced into exile by her neglect and ill usage, might 
have disposed mankind to entertain sentiments con¬ 
cerning the causes of their discord, little to her 
advantage. In order, therefore, to prepossess the 
minds of her allies, and to screen her reputation 
from any censure with which Darnley might endea¬ 
vour to load it, the privy council transmitted a nar¬ 
rative of this whole transaction both to the king 
and to the queen-mother of France. It w as draw n 
with great art, and sets Mary’s conduct in the most 
favourable point of view. y 

About this time the licence of the borderers called 
for redress ; and Mary resolving to hold a court of 
justice at Jedburgh, the inhabitants of several ad¬ 
jacent counties were summoned to attend their 
sovereign in arms, according to custom. 2 Bothwell 
was at that time lieutenant or warden of all the 
marches, an office among the most important in the 
kingdom ; and, though usually divided into three 
distinct governments, bestowed by the queen’s favour 
upon him alone. In order to display his own valour 
and activity in the discharge of this trust, he at¬ 
tempted to seize a gang of banditti, who, lurking 
among the marshes of Liddesdale, infested the rest 
of the country. But while he was 
laying bold upon one of those despe¬ 
radoes, he was wounded by him in several places, 
so that his followers were obliged to carry him to 
Hermitage castle. Mary instantly flew thither, with 
an impatience which has been considered as mark¬ 
ing the anxiety of a lover, but little suited the dig¬ 
nity of a queen. 3 Finding that Bothwell was threat- 

train. Had any military operation been necessary, as is supposed, Good, 
vol. i. 304, it would have been extremely improper to risk the queen's 
person in an expedition against thieves. As soon as the queen found Hoth- 
well to be in no danger, she instantly returned, and after this we hear no 
more of the insurrection, nor have we any proof that the rioters took refuge 
in England. As there is no further evidence with respect to the motivesof 
this extraordinary journey, the reader must judge what degree of credit 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


101 


BOOK IV. 1566.] 

ened with no dangerous symptom, she returned the 
same day to Jedburgh. The fatigue of such a jour¬ 
ney, added to the anguish of mind she had suffered 
on Bothwell’s account, threw her next morning into 
a violent fever. 5 Her life was despaired of, but her 
youth, and the vigour of her constitution, resisted 
the malignity of her disease. During the continu¬ 
ance of the queen’s illness, the king, who resided 
at Stirling, never came near Jedbursrh ; c 

Not. 5. . . , „ * ’ 

and when he afterwards thought fit to 
make his appearance there, he met with such a cold 
reception, as did not encourage him to make any 
long stay. d Mary soon recovered strength enough 
to return along the eastern borders to Dunbar. 

While she resided in this place, her attention 
was turned towards England. Elizabeth, notwith¬ 
standing her promise, and even proclamations to 
the contrary, not only allowed, but encouraged, 
Morton and his associates to remain in England.* 5 
Mary, on the other hand, offered her protection to 
several English fugitives. Each queen watched 
the motions of the other with a jealous attention, 
and secretly countenanced the practices which were 
carrying on to disturb the administration of her 
rival. 

The English par- For this purpose Mary’s ambassador, 

^Tary’s 1 pretensions Robert Melvil, and her other emissa- 
to the succession. r j es? were extremely active and suc¬ 
cessful. We may ascribe, in a good degree, to their 
intrigues, that spirit which appeared in the parlia¬ 
ment of England, and which raised a storm that 
threatened Elizabeth’s domestic tranquillity, more 
than any other event of her reign, and required all 
her art and dexterity to allay it. 

Elizabeth had now reigned eight years without 
discovering the least intention to marry. A violent 
distemper with which she had lately been seized, 
having endangered her life, and alarmed the nation 
with the prospect of all those calamities which are 
occasioned by a disputed and dubious succession, 
a motion was made, and eagerly listened to in both 
Houses, for addressing the queen to provide against 
any such danger in times to come, either by signi¬ 
fying her ow n resolution to marry, or by consenting 
to an act, establishing the order of succession to the 
crown. f Her love to her subjects, her duty to the 
public, her concern for posterity, it was asserted, 
not only called upon, but obliged, her to take one 
of these steps. The insuperable aversion which she 
had all along discovered for marriage, made it im¬ 
probable that she would choose the former; and if 
she complied with the latter request, no title to the 
crown could, with any colour of justice, be set in 
opposition to that of the Scottish queen. Elizabeth 
was sagacious enough to see the remotest conse¬ 
quences of this motion, and observed them with 
the greatest anxiety. Mary, by refusing so often 
to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, had plainly inti¬ 
mated a design of embracing the first promising 

is due to Knox and Buchanan, who ascribe it to the queen’s love of Both- 
well. 

b Keith, 351, 352. c Ibid. Append. 133. 


opportunity for prosecuting her right to the English 
crown ; and, by her secret negociations, she had 
gained many to favour her title. 8 All the Roman 
catholics ardently wished for her succession. Her 
gentleness and humanity had removed many of 
those apprehensions which the protestants enter¬ 
tained on account of her religion. The court fac¬ 
tion, which envied the power of Cecil, and endea¬ 
voured to wrest the administration out of his hands, 
advanced the pretensions of the Scottish queen in 
opposition to him. The union of the two kingdoms 
was a desirable object to all wise men in both 
nations ; and the birth of the young prince was a 
security for the continuance of this blessing, and 
gave hopes of its perpetuity. 

Under these circumstances, and 

i ., ., .. . , Elizabeth’s per- 

wiiile the nation was in such a temper, piexity on that 
a parliamentary declaration of Mary’s dCC0U1 ' 
title would have been highly detrimental to Eliza¬ 
beth. The present unsettled state of the succession 
left much in her power. Her resentment alone 
might have gone far towards excluding any of the 
competitors from the crown ; and the dread of this 
had hitherto restrained and overawed the ambition 
of the Scottish queen. But if this check should be 
removed by the legal acknowledgment of her title, 
Mary would be more at liberty to pursue her dan¬ 
gerous designs, and to act without fear or reserve. 
Her partisans were already meditating schemes for 
insurrections in different parts of the kingdom; 11 
and an act of parliament, recognising the rights of 
that princess, whose pretensions they favoured, 
would have been nothing less than a signal to arms; 
and, notwithstanding Elizabeth’s just title to the 
affections of her subjects, might have shaken and 
endangered her throne. 

While this matter remained in sus- 

. i tt . f •. Mary endeavours 

pense in both Houses, an account ol it to improve this 

was transmitted to Mary by Melvil her Gpportunity * 
ambassador. As she did not want advocates for 
her right, even among those who were near Eliza¬ 
beth’s person, she endeavoured to cultivate the dis¬ 
position which appeared towards settling the right 
of succession in her favour, by a letter to the privy 
counsellors of England. She expressed in it a 
grateful sense of Elizabeth’s friendship, which she 
ascribes chiefly to their good offices with their 
sovereign in her behalf. She declared her resolu¬ 
tion to live in perpetual amity with England, with¬ 
out urging or pursuing her claim upon the crown 
any further than should be agreeable to the queen. 
But, at the same time, as her right of succession 
was undoubted, she hoped it would be examined 
with candour, and j udged of with impartiality. The 
nobles who attended her wrote to the English privy 
council in the same strain. 1 Mary artfully gave 
these letters the air of being nothing more than a 
declaration of her own and of her subjects’ grati¬ 
tude towards Elizabeth. But, as she could not be 

d Knox, 400. e Cald. vol. ii. p. 15. 

f D’Ewes’s Journ. of Pari. 105. g Melv. 136. 

h Ibid. 147. i Keith, 354. Append. 136. 



102 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


ignorant of the jealousy and tear with which Eliza¬ 
beth observed the proceedings ot parliament, a 
step so uncommon as this, of one prince s entering 
into public correspondence with the privy counsel¬ 
lors of another, could not be otherwise construed 
than as taken w'itli an intention to encouiage the 
spirit which had already been raised among the 
English. In this light it seems to have appeared to 
Elizabeth herself. k But the disposition of her 
people rendering it necessary to treat Mary’s person 
with great decency, and her title with much regard, 
she mentioned it to her only in the softest lan¬ 
guage. 

Nothing, however, could be a more 
amfgahls he? ths cruel mortification to a princess of 
parliament. Elizabeth’s character, than the temper 

which both Houses of parliament discovered on this 
occasion. She bent all her policy to defeat or elude 
the motion. After allowing the first heat of their 
zeal to evaporate, she called into her presence a 
certain number of each House. She soothed and 
caressed them ; she threatened and promised ; she 
remitted subsidies which were due, and refused 
those which were off ered ; and, in the end, prevailed 
to have this formidable motion put off for that ses¬ 
sion. Happily for her, the conduct of the Scottish 
queen, and the misfortunes which befell her, pre¬ 
vented the revival of such a motion in any future 
parliament. 1 

Meantime, in order to preserve the reputation of 
impartiality, and that she might not drive Mary into 
any desperate measure, she committed to the Tower 
one Thornton, who had published something dero¬ 
gatory to the right of the Scottish line ; m and signi¬ 
fied her displeasure against a member of the House 
of Commons, who seemed, by some words in a 
speech, to glance at Mary. n 

Amidst all her other cares, Mary 

An extraordinary ,. .. . , . 

step of Mary’s in was ever solicitous to promote the m- 

favour of popery. teregt 0 f re iigj 0 n which she pro¬ 

fessed. The re-establishment of the Romish doc¬ 
trine seems to have been her favourite passion ; and 
though the design w as concealed with care and con¬ 
ducted with caution, she pursued it with a perse¬ 
vering zeal. At this time she ventured to lay aside 
somewhat of her usual reserve ; and the aid which 
she expected from the popish princes, who had 
engaged in the league of Bayonne, encouraged her 
to take a step, which, if we consider the temper of 
the nation, appears to be extremely bold. Having 
formerly held a secret correspondence w ith the court 
of Rome, she now resolved to allow a nuncio from 
the pope publicly to enter her dominions. Cardinal 
Laurea, at that time bishop of Mondovi, was the 
person on whom Pius Y. conferred this office, and 
along with him he sent the queen a present of twenty 
thousand crowns. 0 It is not the character of the 
papal court to open its treasury upon distant or ima¬ 
ginary hopes. The business of the nuncio into 

k Keith, 357. 

1 D’Ewes’s Journ. 101—130. Camd. 399. Melv. no. Haynes 416. 

m Camd. 401. 


[15G6. BOOK IV. 

Scotland could be no other than to attempt a re¬ 
conciliation of that kingdom to the Romish see. 
Thus Mary herself understood it; and, in her 
answer to a letter which she received from the pope, 
after expressing her grateful sense of his paternal 
care and liberality, she promises that she would 
bend her wdiole strength towards the re-establish¬ 
ment and propagation of the catholic faith ; that 
she would receive the nuncio with every possible 
demonstration of respect, and concur with the ut¬ 
most vigour, in all his designs, towards promoting 
the honour of God, and restoring peace to the king¬ 
dom ; that she would celebrate the baptism of the 
prince according to the ceremonies which the Ro¬ 
mish ritual prescribes, hoping that her subjects 
w r ould be taught, by this example, again to reverence 
the sacraments of the church, which they had so 
long treated w ith contempt; and that she would be 
careful to instil early into her son the principles of 
a sincere love and attachment to the catholic faith .p 
B ut though the nuncio was already arrived at Paris, 
and had sent over one of his attendants w ith part 
of the money, the queen did not think the juncture 
proper for his reception. Elizabeth was preparing 
to send a magnificent embassy into Scotland, against 
the time of the prince’s baptism, and, as it would 
have been improper to offend her, she wisely con¬ 
trived, under various pretences, to detain Laurea at 
Parish The convulsions into which the kingdom 
was thrown soon after, made it impossible for him 
to pursue his journey any further. 

At the very time that Mary was secretly carrying 
on these negociations for subverting the reformed 
church, she did not scruple publicly to employ her 
authority towards obtaining for its ministers a more 
certain and comfortable subsistence/ During this 
year, she issued several proclamations and acts of 
council for that purpose, and readily approved of 
every scheme which was proposed for the more 
effectual payment of their stipends. This part of 
her conduct does little honour to Mary’s integrity : 
and, though justified by the example of princes, 
who often reckon falsehood and deceit among the 
necessary arts of government, and even authorized 
by the pernicious casuistry of the Roman church, 
which transfers breach of faith to heretics from the 
list of crimes to that of duties ; such dissimulation, 
how ever, must be numbered among those blemishes 
which never stain a truly great and generous 
character. 

As neither the French nor Piedmon- December 
tese ambassadors were yet arrived, the fhe r k^ r |xces-° r 
baptism of the prince w as put off from slve - 
time to time. Meanwhile, Mary fixed her residence 
at Craigmillar. s Such a retirement, perhaps, suited 
the present temper of her mind, and induced her to 
prefer it before her own palace of Holyrood-house. 
Her aversion for the king grew every day more con¬ 
firmed, and was become altogether incurable. A 

n Haynes, 449. o Vita Card. Laur. ap. Burn, vol. iii. p. 325. 

p Conaei Vita Marias, ap. .Jebb, vol. ii. p. 51. q Keith, Append. 135. 

r Keith, 561, 562. Knox, 401. s Keith, 355. 



BOOK IV. 15GG.] THE HISTORY 

deep melancholy succeeded to that gaiety of spirit 
which was natural to her. The rashness and levity 
of her own choice, and the king’s ingratitude and 
obstinacy, filled her with shame and with despair. 
A variety of passions preyed at once on a mind, all 
whose sensations were exquisite, and all its emo¬ 
tions strong ; and often extorted from her the last 
wish of the unfortunate, that life itself might come 
to an end. 1 

But as the earl of Bedford, and the count de 
Brienne, the English and French ambassadors, 
whom she had long expected, arrived about this 
time, Mary was obliged to suppress what passed in 
her bosom, and to set out for Stirling in order to cele¬ 
brate the baptism of her son. Bedford was attend¬ 
ed by a numerous and splendid train, and brought 
presents from Elizabeth, suitable to her own dignity, 
and the respect with which she affected, at that 
time, to treat the queen of Scots. Great preparations 
had been made by Mary, and the magnificence dis¬ 
played by her on this occasion exceeded whatever 
had been formerly known in Scotland. The cere¬ 
mony itself was performed accord- 

Dec 17 . J . 1 

ing to the rites of the Romish church. 
But neither Bedford nor any of the Scottish nobles 
who professed the protestant religion, entered w ith¬ 
in the gates of the chapel. u The spirit of that age, 
firm and uncomplying, would not, upon any induce¬ 
ment, condescend to witness an action which it 
deemed idolatrous. 

The kind's capri- Henry’s behaviour at this juncture 
at°th S ebaptism of perfectly discovers the excess of his 
the prince. caprice, as well as of his folly. He 

chose to reside at Stirling, but confined himself to 
his own apartment; and, as the queen distrusted 
every nobleman who ventured to converse with him, 
he was left in absolute solitude. Nothing could be 
more singular, or was less expected, than his choos¬ 
ing to appear in a manner that both published the 
contempt under which he had fallen, and by ex¬ 
posing the queen’s domestic unhappiness to the ob¬ 
servation of so many foreigners, looked like a step 
taken on purpose to mortify and to offend her. Mary 
felt this insult sensibly ; and, notwithstanding all 
her efforts to assume the gaiety which suited the 
occasion, and which was necessary for the polite 
reception of her guests, she was sometimes obliged 
to retire, in order to be at liberty to indulge her 
sorrow, and give vent to her tears. x The king still 
persisted in his design of retiring into foreign parts, 
and daily threatened to put it into execution.* 

t Keith, pref. vii. u Ibid. 360. x Ibid. pref. vii. 

y Camden affirms, 401. that Bedford was commanded by Elizabeth not 
to give Darnley the title of king. As this was an indignity not to be 
borne either by Mary or her husband, it hath been asserted to be the cause 
of the king’s absence from the ceremony of his son’s baptism. Keith, 360. 
Good. 319. Hut, 1. No such thing is to be found among Bedford’s in¬ 
structions, the original of which still remains. Keith, 355. 2. Bedford’s 
advice to the queen by Melvil is utterly inconsistent with Camden’s asser¬ 
tion. Melv. 153. Melvil’s account is confirmed by Elizabeth’s instructions 
to sir ilenry Norris, where she affirms that she commanded Bedford to 
employ his best offices towards reconciling Mary to her husband, which she 
had attempted to no purpose. Digges’s Cornpl. Ambas. p. 13. A paper 
published, Appendix, No. XVIII. proves the same thing. 3. Le Croc the 
French resident mentions the king’s absence, but without giving that rea- 
son for it, which lias been founded on Camden’s words, though, if that 
had been the real one, it is hardly possible to conceive that he should have 
neglected to mention it. Le Croc’s first letter is dated December 2, some 


OF SCOTLAND. 103 

The ceremony of witnessing the Elizabeth en(iea . 

prince’s baptism was not the sole busi- mt^ate^erdiffer- 
ness of Bedford’s embassy. His in- ences with Mary. 

structions contained an overture which ought to 
have gone far towards extinguishing those jealousies 
which had so long subsisted between the two queens. 
The treaty of Edinburgh, which had been so often 
mentioned, was the principal occasion of these. 
The spirit, however, which had risen to such a 
height in the late parliament, the power of the 
party which favoured the Scottish queen’s title, the 
number and activity of her agents in different parts 
of the kingdom, alarmed Elizabeth, and induced 
her to forego any advantage which the ambiguous 
and artful expressions in that treaty might afford 
her. Nothing was now demanded of Mary, but to 
renounce any title to the crown of England during 
Elizabeth’s life and the lives of her posterity; who, 
on the other hand, engaged to take no step which 
might prove injurious to Mary’s claim upon the suc¬ 
cession. 2 

Mary could not, with deceney, reject a proposition 
so equitable ; she insisted, however, that Elizabeth 
should order the right upon which she claimed, to 
be legally examined and publicly recognised, and 
particularly that the testament of Henry VIII., 
whereby he had excluded the descendants of his 
eldest sister the queen of Scotland, from the place 
due to them in the order of succession, might be 
produced, and considered by the English nobility. 
Mary’s ministers had credulously embraced an opi¬ 
nion, that this testament, which they so justly con¬ 
ceived to be injurious to their mistress, was a mere 
forgery ; and, on different occasions, had urged 
Elizabeth to produce it. Mary would have suffered 
considerably by gaining this point. The original 
testament is still extant, and not the least doubt can 
be entertained of its genuineness and authenticity. 
But it was not Elizabeth’s intention to w eaken or 
to set aside the title of the house of Stuart. She 
aimed at nothing more, than to keep the question 
concerning the succession perplexed and undecided; 
and, by industriously eluding this request, she did, 
in one respect, real service to Mary’s cause. a 

A few days after the baptism of the prince, 
Morton and all the other conspirators against Rizzio 
obtained their pardon, and leave to return into 
Scotland. Mary, who had hitherto continued inex¬ 
orable to every treaty in their behalf, yielded at 
last to the solicitations of Bothwell. b He could 
hope for no success in those bold designs on which 

time prior to the arrival of the earl of Bedford in Scotland ; and when his 
instructions, either public or secret, could hardly be known. Le Croc 
plainly supposes that the discord between the king and queen was the 
cause of his absence from the baptism, and his account of this matter is 
that which I have followed. Keith, Pref. vii. 4. He informs his court, 
that on account of the difference betwixt the king and the queen, he haa 
refused to hold any further correspondence with the former, though he ap- 
ears, in many instances, to have been his great confidant. Ibid. 5. As the 
ing was not present at the baptism, he seems to have been excluded from 
any share in the ordinary administration of business. Two acts of privy 
council, one on the 20th, and the other on the 21st, of December, are found 
in Keith, 562. They both run in the queen’s name alone, d he king seems 
not to have been present. This could not be owing to Elizabeth’s instruc¬ 
tions to Bedford, 
z Keith, 356. 

a Rynier, xv. p. 110. Keith, 358. Note c. Murden,363. 
b Good. vol. i. 140. Melv. 154. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


104 

liis ambition resolved to venture, without drawing 
aid from every quarter. By procuring a favour 
for Morton and his associates, of which they had 
good reason to despair, he expected to secure a 
band of faithful and determined adherents. 

The king still remained at Stirling in solitude 
and under contempt. His impatience in this situa¬ 
tion, together with the alarm given him by the ru¬ 
mour of a design to seize his person, and confine 
him to prison, 0 was the occasion of his leaving that 
place in an abrupt manner, and retiring to his 
father at Glasgow. 

Two assemblies of the church were 

J une 25. . , . 

Dec. 25 . held during this year. New com- 

Church affairs. ° J 

plaints were made, and upon good 
grounds, of the poverty and contempt under which 
the protestant clergy were suffered to languish. 
Penurious as the allotment for their subsistence was, 
they had not received the least part of what was 
due for the preceding year. d Nothing less than a 
zeal, ready to endure and to suff er every thing for a 
good cause, could have persuaded men to adhere to 
a church so indigent and so neglected. The ex¬ 
traordinary expenses occasioned by the prince’s 
baptism had exhausted the queen’s treasury, and 
the sums appropriated for the subsistence of the 
clergy were diverted into other channels. The 
queen was therefore obliged to prevent the just re¬ 
monstrances of the assembly, by falling on some 
new method for the relief of the church. Some 
symptoms of liberality, some stretch towards muni¬ 
ficence, might have been expected in an assignment 
which was made with an intention of soothing and 
silencing the clergy. But both the queen and the 
nobles held fast the riches of the church which they 
had seized. A sum which, at the highest computa¬ 
tion, can hardly be reckoned equal to nine thousand 
pounds sterling, e was deemed sufficient for the main¬ 
tenance of a whole national church, by men who 
had lately seen single monasteries possessed of 
revenues far superior in value. 

The ecclesiastics in that age bore the grievances 
which affected themselves alone with astonishing 
patience ; but, wherever the reformed religion was 
threatened, they were extremely apt to be alarmed, 
and to proclaim, in the loudest manner, their ap¬ 
prehensions of danger. A just occasion of this 
kind was given them a short time before the meeting 
of the assembly. The usurped and oppressive 
jurisdiction of the spiritual courts had been abo¬ 
lished by the parliament in the year one thousand 
five hundred and sixty, and commissaries were ap¬ 
pointed to hear and determine the causes which 
formerly came under their cognizance/ Among the 

c Keith, Pref. viii. d Ibid. 562. 

e Keith, 562. f Ibid. 152. g Ibid 251 

h Knox, 403. i Id. ibid. k Keith', 567. 

1 Melv. 154. Knox, 401. 

m Buchanan and Knox are positive that the king had been poisoned 
They mention the black and putrid pustules which broke out all over his 
body. Buchanan adds, that Abernethy, the king’s physician, plainly de¬ 
clared that poison was the cause ot these symptoms, and that the queen 
refused to allow her own physician to attend him. Buch. 349 Knox 401 
2. Blackwood, Causin, &c. Jebb, voi. ii. 59. 214. assert, that the small¬ 
pox was the disease with which the king was seized. He is called a pock- 
is/) mqn in the queen’s letter. Good, vol. ii. 15 . The reason given by 


[1566. BOOK IY. 

few acts of that parliament to which Mary had 
paid any regard, this was one. She had con¬ 
firmed the authority of the commissaries, and had 
given them instructions for directing their proceed¬ 
ings/ which are still of great authority in that court. 
From the time of their first appointment, these 
judges had continued in the uninterrupted exercise 
of their function, when of a sudden the queen issued 
a proclamation, restoring the archbishop of St. An¬ 
drews to his ancient jurisdiction, and depriving 
the commissaries of all authority. 11 

A motive, which cannot be justified, rendered the 
queen not unwilling to venture upon this rash 
action. She had been contriving for some time 
how to re-establish the popish religion ; and the 
restoring the ancient ecclesiastics to their former 
jurisdiction seemed to be a considerable step to¬ 
wards that end. The motive which prompted Both- 
well, to whose influence over the queen this action 
must be chiefly imputed,i was still more criminal. 
His enterprising ambition had already formed that 
bold design, which he soon after put in execution ; 
and the use which we shall hereafter find him mak¬ 
ing of that authority which the popish ecclesiastics 
regained, discovers the reasons of his present con¬ 
duct, in contributing to revive their power. The 
protestant clergy were not unconcerned spectators 
of an event which threatened their religion with 
unavoidable destruction ; but, as they despaired of 
obtaining the proper remedy from the queen her¬ 
self, they addressed a remonstrance to the whole 
body of the protestant nobility, full of that ardent 
zeal for religion, which the danger to which it was 
exposed at that time, seemed to require/ What 
effects this vehement exhortation might have pro¬ 
duced, we have no opportunity of judging, the 
attention of the nation being quickly turned towards 
events of another and more tragical nature. 

Immediately upon the king’s leaving ^ 
Stirling, and before he could reach The king fails 
Glasgow, he was seized with a dan- 1 atGlaS80w - 
gerous distemper. The symptoms which attended 
it were violent and unusual, and in that age it was 
commonly imputed to the effects of poison. 1 It is 
impossible, amidst the contradictions of historians, 
to decide with certainty concerning its nature or its 
cause." 1 His life was in the utmost danger ; but, 
after lingering for some weeks, the vigour of his 
constitution surmounted the malignity of his dis¬ 
ease. 

Mary’s neglect of the king on this Neglected by 
occasion was equal to that with which Mary - 
he had treated her during her illness at Jedburgh. 
She no longer felt that warmth of conjugal affection 

French Paris for lodging the king at the Kirk of Field, viz. lest the 
young prince should catch the infection if he staid in the palace, seems to 
favour this opinion. Anders, vol. ii. 193. Carte mentions it as a proof of 
Mary’s tenderness to her husband, that though she never had the small¬ 
pox herself, she ventured to attend him, vol. iii. 446. This, if it had been 
true, would have afforded a good pretence for not visiting him sooner ; but 
Mary had the small-pox in her infancy. Sadler’s Letters, p. 330 . An ad¬ 
ditional proof of this is produced from a poem of Adrian Turnebus, by the 
publisher of ancient Scottish poems, p. 308. 3. Bishop Lesley affirms, that 
the king’s disease was the French pox. Keith, 364, Note b. In that age, 
this disease was esteemed so contagious, that persons infected with it were 
removed without the walls of cities. 




BOOK IV. 1567.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


105 


which prompts to sympathy, and delights in all those 
tender offices which soothe and alleviate sickness 
and pain. At this juncture, she did not even put 
on the appearance of this passion. Notwithstand¬ 
ing the king’s danger, she amused herself with ex¬ 
cursions to different parts of the country, and suf¬ 
fered near a month to elapse before she visited him 
at Glasgow. By that time the violence of the dis¬ 
temper was over, and the king, though weak and 
languishing, was out of all danger. 


Jan. 20. 


The breach be- The breach between Mary and her 
parabie hem irre * husband was not occasioned by any 
of those slight disgusts which inter¬ 
rupt the domestic union, without dissolving it alto¬ 
gether. Almost all the passions which operate with 
greatest violence on a female mind, and drive it to 
the most dangerous extremes, concurred in raising 
and fomenting this unhappy quarrel. Ingratitude 
for the favours she had bestowed, contempt of her 
person, violations of the marriage-vow, encroach¬ 
ments on her power, conspiracies against her fa¬ 
vourites, jealousy, insolence, and obstinacy, were 
the injuries of which Mary had great reason to com¬ 
plain. She felt them with the utmost sensibility ; 
and, added to the anguish of disappointed love, 
they produced those symptoms of despair which we 
have already described. Her resentment against 
the king seems not to have abated from the time of 
his leaving Stirling. In a letter written with her 
own hand to her ambassador in France, on the day 
before she set out for Glasgow, no tokens of sudden 
reconcilement appear. On the con¬ 
trary, she mentions, with some bitter¬ 
ness, the king’s ingratitude, the jealousy with which 
he observed her actions, and the inclination he dis¬ 
covered to disturb her government; and at the same 
time talks of all his attempts with the utmost scorn." 

Visits the king at After this discovery of Mary’s sen- 
Glasgow. timents, at the time of her departure 

from Edinburgh to Glasgow, a visit to the king, 
which had been neglected when his situation ren¬ 
dered it most necessary, appears singular, and it 
could hardly be expected that any thing but marks 
of jealousy and distrust should appear in such an 
interview. This, however, was far from being the 
case; she not only visited Henry, but by all her 
words and actions, endeavoured to express an un¬ 
common affection for him : and, though this made 
impression on the credulous spirit of her husband, 
no less flexible on some occasions, than obstinate 
on others ; yet to those who are acquainted with 
the human heart, and who know how seldom and 
how slowly such wounds in domestic happiness are 
healed, this sudden transition will appear with a 
very suspicious air, and will be considered by them 
as the effect of artifice. 

Her dissimula But ^ not on sus pi c i° n alone, that 
non. Mary is charged with dissimulation in 

this part of her conduct. Two of her famous letters 
to Bothwell were written during her stay at Glas¬ 


gow, and fully lay open this scene of iniquity. He 
had so far succeeded in his ambitious and criminal 
design, as to gain an absolute ascendant over the 
queen ; and, in a situation such as Mary’s, merit 
not so conspicuous, services of far inferior import¬ 
ance, and address much less insinuating than Both- 
well’s, may be supposed to steal imperceptibly on a 
female heart, and entirely to overcome it. Unhap¬ 
pily, among those in the higher ranks of life, scru¬ 
ples with regard to conjugal fidelity are, often, 
neither many nor strong: nor did the manners of 
that court, in which Mary had been educated, con¬ 
tribute to increase or to fortify them. The amorous 
turn of Francis I. and Henry II., the licentiousness 
of the military character in that age, and the liberty 
of appearing in all companies, which began to be 
allowed to women who had not yet acquired that 
delicacy of sentiment, and those polished manners, 
which alone can render this liberty innocent, had 
introduced, among the French, an astonishing re¬ 
laxation in domestic morals. Such examples, which 
were familiar to Mary from her infancy, could hardly 
fail of diminishing that horror of vice which is 
natural to a virtuous mind. The king’s behaviour 
would render the first approach of forbidden senti¬ 
ments less shocking ; resentment, and disappointed 
love, would be apt to represent whatever soothed 
her revenge, as justifiable on that account; and so 
many concurring causes might, almost impercep¬ 
tibly, kindle a new passion in her heart. 

But, whatever opinion we may form rn , 

7 r J The motives of it. 

with regard to the rise and progress of 
this passion, the letters themselves breathe all the 
ardour and tenderness of love. The affection which 
Mary there expresses for Bothwell, fully accounts 
for every subsequent part of her conduct; which, 
without admitting this circumstance, appears alto¬ 
gether mysterious, inconsistent, and inexplicable. 
That reconcilement with her husband, of which, if 
we allow it to be genuine, it is impossible to give 
any plausible account, is discovered, by the queen’s 
own confession, to have been mere artifice and de¬ 
ceit. As her aversion for her husband, and the 
suspicious attention with which she observed his 
conduct, became universally known, her ears were 
officiously filled, as is usual in such cases, with 
groundless or aggravated accounts of his actions. 
By some she was told, that the king intended to 
seize the person of the prince his son, and in his 
name to usurp the government; by others she was 
assured that he resolved instantly to leave the king¬ 
dom ; that a vessel was hired for this purpose, and 
lay in the river Clyde ready to receive him. 0 The last 
was whatMary chiefly dreaded. Henry’s retiring into 
a foreign country must have been highly dishonour¬ 
able to the queen, and would have entirely discon¬ 
certed Bothwell’s measures. While he resided at 
Glasgow, at a distance from her, and in that part of 
the kingdom where the interest of his family was 
greatest, he might with more facility accomplish his 


n Keith, Pref. viii. 


o Keith, Pref. viii. 



10G 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1567. BOOK IY. 




designs. In order, therefore, to prevent his execut¬ 
ing any sucli wild scheme, it was necessary to bring 
him to some place where he would be more imme¬ 
diately under her own eye. For this 
to come to Ed in- purpose, she first employed all her 
art to regain his confidence, and then 
proposed to remove him to the neighbourhood of 
Edinburgh, under pretence that there he would have 
easier access to the adviee of physicians, and that 
she herself could attend him without being absent 
from her son.P The king was weak enough to suffer 
himself to be persuaded ; and being still feeble, and 
incapable of bearing fatigue, was carried in a litter 


to Edinburgh. 


The place prepared for his reception was a house 
belonging to the provost of a collegiate church, 
called Kirk of Field. It stood almost upon the same 
spot where the house belonging to the principal of 
the university now stands. Such a situation, on a 
rising ground, and at that time in an open field, had 
all the advantages of healthful air to recommend it; 
but, on the other hand, the solitude of the place 
rendered it extremely proper for the commission of 
that crime, with a view to which it seems manifestly 
to have been chosen. 


Mary continued to attend the king 


He is murdered 

there. w jth tj ie mos t assiduous care. She 


seldom was absent from him through the day; she 
slept two nights in the chamber under his apart¬ 
ment. She heaped on him so many marks of tender¬ 
ness and confidence as in a great measure quieted 
those suspicions which had so long disturbed him. 
But while he was fondly indulging in dreams of the 
return of his former happiness, he stood on the very 
brink of destruction. On Sunday the ninth of Fe¬ 
bruary, about eleven at night, the queen left the 
Kirk of Field, in order to be present at a mask 
in the palace. At two next morning, the house in 
which the king lay was blown up with gunpowder. 
The noise and shock which this sudden explosion 
occasioned, alarmed the whole city. The inhabitants 
ran to the place whence it came. The dead body 
of the king, with that of a servant who slept in the 
same room, were found lying in an adjacent garden 
without the city wall, untouched by fire, and with 
no bruise or mark of violence. 

Such was the unhappy fate of Henry 
Stewart, lord Darnley, in the twenty- 
first year of his age. The indulgence of fortune, 
and his own external accomplishments, without any 
other merit, had raised him to a height of dignity 
of which he was altogether unworthy. By his folly 
and ingratitude, he lost the heart of a woman who 
doated on him to distraction. His insolence and 
inconstancy alienated from him such of the nobles 
as had contributed most zealously towards his ele¬ 
vation. His levity and caprice exposed him to the 
scorn of the people, who once revered him as the 
descendant of their ancient kings and heroes. Had 


Ilis character. 


p Good. vol. ii. 8. q Melv. 155. Anders, vol. ii. 156. 

r See Dissertation concerning the murder of Henry Darnley, and the 
genuineness of Mary’s letters to Bothwell, Appendix 


he died a natural death, his end would have been 
unlamented, and his memory have been forgotten ; 
but the cruel circumstances of his murder, and the 
shameful remissness in neglecting to avenge it, have 
made his name to be remembered with regret, and 
have rendered him the object of pity, to which he 
had otherwise no title. 

Every one’s imagination was at work ^ ^ 


to guess who had contrived and exe- queen suspected 
° of the murder. 

The sus- 


cuted this execrable deed, 
picion fell, with almost general consent, on Both¬ 
well ; q and some reflections were thrown out, as if 
the queen herself were no stranger to the crime. Of 
Bothwell’s guilt there remains the fullest evidence 
that the nature of the action will admit. The 
queen’s known sentiments with regard to her hus¬ 
band, gave a great appearance of probability to the 
imputation with which she was loaded. 1- 

Two days after the murder, a proclamation was 
issued by the queen, offering a considerable reward 
to any person who should discover those who had 
been guilty of such a horrid and detestable crime ; 8 
and though Bothwell was now one of the greatest 
subjects in the kingdom, formidable on account of 
his own power, and protected by the queen’s favour, 
it was impossible to suppress the sentiments and 
indignation of the people. Papers were affixed to 
the most public places of the city, accusing him of 
the murder, and naming his accomplices ; pictures 
appeared to the same purpose, and voices were 
heard in the middle of the night, charging him with 
that barbarous action. But the authors of these 
rumours did not confine their accusations to Both¬ 
well alone; they insinuated that the queen herself 
was accessary to the crime. 1 This bold accusation, 
which so directly attacked Mary’s reputation, drew 
the attention of her council; and, by engaging them 
in an inquiry after the authors of these libels, diverted 


them from searching for the murderers of the king. u 


It could scarce be expected that Mary herself would 
be extremely solicitous to discover those who had 
rid her of a husband, whom she had so violently 
hated. It was Botliwell’s interest, who had the 
supreme direction of this, as well as of all other 
affairs, to stifle and suppress whatever evidence 
should be offered, and to cover, if possible, the 
whole transaction under the veil of darkness and 
of silence. Some inquiry, however, was made, and 
some persons called before the council ; but the ex¬ 
amination was conducted with the most indecent 
remissness, and in such a manner as to let in no 
light upon that scene of guilt.* 

It was not her own subjects alone who suspected 
Mary of having been accessary to this unnatural 
crime ; nor did an opinion, so dishonourable to her 
character, owe its rise and progress to the jealousy 
and malice of her factious nobles. The report of 
the manner and circumstances of the king’s murder 
spread quickly over all Europe, and, even in that 


s Anders, vol. i. 36. 
u Id. vol. i. 38. 


t Id. vol. ii. 156. 
x Id. vol. iv. part ii. 167, 168- 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


107 


BOOK IV. 1507.] 


Feb. 21. 


age, which was accustomed to deeds of violence, it 
excited universal horror. As her unhappy breach 
with her husband had long been matter of public 
discourse, the first conjectures which were formed 
with regard to his death, were extremely to her dis¬ 
advantage. Her friends, at a loss what apology to 
oiler for her conduct, called on her to prosecute the 
murderers with the utmost diligence, and expected 
that the rigour of her proceedings would prove the 
best and fullest vindication of her innocence.^ 

Lennox at the same time incited 

Lennox rccusgs 

Both well of the Mary to vengeance with incessant im~ 

king s murder. . . 

portunity. This nobleman had shared 
in his son’s disgrace, and being treated by Mary 
with neglect, usually resided at a distance from 
court. Roused, however, by an event no less 
shocking to the heart of a father, than fatal to all 
his schemes of ambition, he ventured 
to write to the queen, and to offer his 
advice with respect to the most effectual method for 
discovering and convicting those who had so cruelly 
deprived him of a son, and her of a husband. He 
urged her to prosecute those who were guilty with 
vigour, and to bring them to a speedy trial; he de¬ 
clared his own suspicion of Bothwell, and of those 
who were named as his accomplices ; he required 
that, out of regard to decency, and in order to en¬ 
courage evidence to appear against them, the per^ 
sons accused of such an atrocious crime should be 
committed to custody, or at least excluded from her 
court and presence. 2 

Mary was then at Seatoun, whither she had re¬ 
tired after the burial of the king, whose body was 
deposited among the monarchs of Scotland, in a 
private but decent manner. 1 The former part of the 
earl’s demand could not on any pretence be eluded ; 
and it was resolved to bring Bothwell immediately 

Mary continues to tria *’ But ’ instead of confining him 

to favour him. an y p r j son? Mary admitted him into 

all her councils, and allowed a person, universally 
reputed the murderer of her husband, to enjoy all 
the security, the dignity, and the power of a fa¬ 
vourite. 6 The offices which Bothwell already pos¬ 
sessed, gave him the command of all the south of 
Scotland. The castle of Edinburgh, however, was 
a place of so much consequence, that he wished 
earnestly to have it in his own power. The queen, 
in order to prevail on the earl of Mar to surrender it, 
consented to put the person of the young prince in 
his hands, and immediately bestowed 
the government of that important for¬ 
tress upon Bothwell. 0 So many steps in her con¬ 
duct inconsistent w ith all the rules of prudence and 
of decency, must be imputed to an excess either of 
folly or of love. Mary’s known character fully vin- 

y Keith, Pref. ix. z Keith, 369, &c. 

a Anders, vol. i. 23. b Ibid. vol. l. 40, &c. 

c Ibid. vol. i. Pref. 64. Keith, 379. 

d '1 he act of privy council, appointing the day of Bothwell s trial, bears 
date March the 2Bt,h, which happened on a Thursday. Anders, vol. i 5i). 
'I he queen’s warrant to the messengers , empowering them to summon Len¬ 
nox to be present, is dated on the 29th. Anders, vol. ii. 97- He was sum¬ 
moned by public proclamation at the cross of Edinburgh on the same day. 
Ibid. 100. lie was summoned at his dwelling-houses in (ilasgow and 
Dumbarton the 30th of March, the 1st and 2d days of April. Ibid. 101. 
lie was summoned at Perth, April 1st. Ibid. 102. 'though Lennox re- 


March 19. 


dicates her from the former ; of the latter, many and 
striking proofs soon appeared. 

No direct evidence had yet appeared Ilastens on his 
against Bothwell; but as time might tna1, 
bring to light the circumstances of a crime in which 
so many accomplices were concerned, it was of great 
importance to hurry over the trial, while nothing 
more than general suspicions, and uncertain sur¬ 
mises, could be produced by his accusers. For this 
reason, in a meeting of privy council held on the 
twenty-eighth of March, the twelfth of April was 
appointed for the day of trial. Though the law 
allowed, and the manner in which criminal causes 
were carried on in that age required, a much longer 
interval, it appears from several circumstances that 
this short space was considerably contracted, and 
that Lennox had only eleven days’ warning to pre¬ 
pare for accusing a person so far superior to himself 
both in power and in favour.* 1 No man could be 
less in a condition to contend with an antagonist, 
who was thus supported. Though Lennox’s pater¬ 
nal estate had been restored to him when he w as re¬ 
called into Scotland, it seems to have been consider¬ 
ably impaired during his banishment. His vassals, 
while he resided in England, had been accustomed 
to some degree of independence, and he had not re¬ 
covered that ascendant over them, which a feudal 
chief usually possessed. He had no reason to ex¬ 
pect the concurrence of any of those factions into 
which the nobles were divided. During the short 
period of his son’s prosperity, he had taken such 
steps as gave rise to an open breach with Murray 
and all his adherents. The partisans of the house 
of Hamilton were his hereditary and mortal enemies. 
Huntley was linked in the closest confederacy with 
Bothwell; and thus, to the disgrace of the nation, 
Lennox stood alone in a cause where both honour 
and humanity called so loudly on his countrymen 
to second him. 

Tt is remarkable too, that Bothwell himself was 
present, and sat as a member in that meeting of 
privy council, which gave directions with regard to 
the time and manner of his own trial ; and he still 
enjoyed not only full liberty, but was received into 
the queen’s presence with the same distinguished 
familiarity as formerly. 6 

Nothing could be a more cruel dis- Lennox craves a 
appointment to the wishes and resent- delay ‘ 
merit of a father, than such a premature trial ; every 
step towards which seemed to be taken by directions 
from the person who was himself accused of the 
crime, and calculated on purpose to conceal rather 
than to detect his guilt. Lennox foresaw what 
would be the issue of this mock inquiry, and with 
how little safety to himself, or success to his cause, 

sided at that time forty miles from Edinburgh, the citation might have been 
given him sooner. Such an unnecessary delay affords some cause for sus¬ 
picion. It is true, Mary, in her letter, March 24th, invited Lennox to come 
to Edinburgh the ensuing week ; this gave him warning some days sooner, 
that she intended to bring on the trial without delay. But the precise time 
could not be legally or certainly known to Lennox sooner than ten oi 
twelve days before the day on which he was required to appear. By the 
law and practice of Scotland, at that time, parties were summoned, in cases 
of treason, forty days previous to the trial, 
e Anders, vol. i. 50, 52. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [15G7. BOOK IV. 


lie could venture to appear on the day prefixed. In 
It is former letters, though under expressions the 
most respectful, some symptoms of his distrusting 
the queen may be discovered. He spoke out now 
in plain language. He complained of the injury 
done him, by hurrying on the trial with such illegal 
precipitation. He represented once more the inde¬ 
cency of allowing Bothwell not only to enjoy per¬ 
sonal liberty, but to retain his former influence over 
her councils. He again required her, as she re¬ 
garded her own honour, to give some evidence of 
her sincerity in prosecuting the murder, by confining 
the person who was on good grounds suspected to 
be the author of it; and, till that were done, he sig¬ 
nified his own resolution not to be present at a 
trial, the manner and circumstances of which were 
so irregular and unsatisfactory/ 

He seems, however, to have expect- 
purpose to Eliza- ed little success trom this application 
to Mary ; and therefore at the same 
time besought Elizabeth to interpose in order to ob¬ 
tain such a delay as he demanded.? Nothing can 
be a stronger proof how violently he suspected the 
one queen, than his submitting to implore the aid 
of the other, who had treated his son with the ut¬ 
most contempt, and himself and family with the 
greatest rigour. Elizabeth, who was never unwilling 
to interpose in the affairs of Scotland, wrote instantly 
to Mary, advised her to delay the trial for some 
time, and urged in such strong terms the same argu¬ 
ments which Lennox had used, as might have con¬ 
vinced her to what an unfavourable construction her 
conduct would be liable, if she persisted in her pre¬ 
sent method of proceeding/ 

The trial pro- Neither her entreaties, however, nor 
those of Lennox, could prevail to have 
the trial put oft'. On the day appointed Bothwell 
appeared, but with such a formidable retinue, that 
it would have been dangerous to condemn, and 
impossible to punish, him. Besides a numerous 
body of his friends and vassals, assembled according 
to custom, from different parts of the kingdom, he 
was attended by a band of hired soldiers, who 
marched with flying colours along the streets of 
Edinburgh. 5 A court of justice was held with the 
accustomed formalities. An indictment was pre¬ 
sented against Bothwell, and Lennox was called 
upon to make good his accusation. In his name 
appeared Robert Cunningham, one of his depend¬ 
ants. He excused his master’s absence, on account 
of the shortness of the time, which prevented his as¬ 
sembling his friends and vassals, without whose 
assistance he could not with safety venture to set 
himself in opposition to such a powerful antagonist. 
For this reason, he desired the court to stop proceed¬ 
ing, and protested, that any sentence which should 
be passed at that time ought to be deemed illegal 
and void. Bothwell, on the other hand, insisted 
that the court should instantly proceed to trial. 

f Anders, voi. i. 52. g Good. vol. ii. 352. 

h Anders. Pref. 6(>. See Appendix, No. XIX. 

i Anders, vol. i. 135. 


One of Lennox’s own letters, in which he craved of 
the queen to prosecute the murderers without delay, 
was produced. Cunningham’s objections were 
overruled; and the jury, consisting of peers and 
barons of the first rank, found Bothwell not guilty 
of the crime. 

No person appeared as an accuser, Bothwell is ac- 
not a single witness was examined, quitted - 
nor any evidence produced against him. The jury, 
under these circumstances, could do nothing else 
but acquit him. Their verdict, however, was far 
from gratifying the wishes, or silencing the murmurs, 
of the people. Every circumstance in the trial gave 
grounds for suspicion, and excited indignation; 
and the judgment pronounced, instead of being a 
proof of Bothwell’s innocence, was esteemed an ar¬ 
gument of his guilt. Pasquinades and libels were 
affixed to different places, expressing the sentiments 
of the public with the utmost virulence of lan¬ 
guage. 

The jury themselves seem to have been aware of 
the censure to which their proceedings would be 
exposed ; and, at the same time that they returned 
their verdict acquitting Bothwell, the earl of Caith¬ 
ness protested, in their name, that no crime should 
be imputed to them on that account, because no 
accuser had appeared, and no proof was brought 
of the indictment. He took notice likewise, that 
the ninth instead of the tenth of February was men¬ 
tioned in the indictment, as the day on which the 
murder had been committed : a circumstance which 
discovers the extreme inaccuracy of those who pre¬ 
pared the indictment; and at a time when men 
were disposed, and not without reason, to be suspi¬ 
cious of every thing, this small matter contributed 
to confirm and to increase their suspicions/ 

Even Bothwell himself did not rely on the judg¬ 
ment which he had obtained in his favour as a full 
vindication of his innocence. Immediately after 
his acquittal, he, in compliance with a custom which 
was not then obsolete, published a writing, in which 
he offered to fight in single combat any gentleman 
of good fame, who should presume to accuse him 
of being accessary to the murder of the king. 

Mary, however, continued to treat him as if he 
had been cleared by the most unexceptionable and 
satisfactory evidence. The ascendant he had gain¬ 
ed over her heart, as well as over her councils, was 
more visible than ever; and Lennox, who could 
not expect that his own person could be safe in a 
country where the murderer of his son had been 
absolved, without regard to justice, and loaded 
with honours, in contempt of decency, fled with 
precipitation towards England. 1 

Two days after the trial, a parlia- A parlianient 
ment was held, at the opening of which helcl > A * )ril 14 - 
the queen distinguished Bothwell, by appointing 
him to carry the sceptre before her."' Most of the 
acts passed in this assembly were calculated on 

k Bothw. Trial, Anders, vol. ii. 97, &c. 

1 Keith, 378. Note d. 

m Id. ibid. 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


109 


ROOK IV. 1567.] 

purpose to strengthen his party, and to promote 
his designs. He obtained the ratification of all the 
possessions and honours which the partiality of the 
queen had conferred upon him ; and the act to that 
effect contained the strongest declarations of his 
faithful services to the crown in all times past. The 
surrender of the castle of Edinburgh by Mar was 
confirmed. The law of attainder against Huntley 
was repealed, and he and his adherents were re¬ 
stored to the estates and honours of their ancestors. 
Several of those who had been on the jury which 
acquitted Bothwell, obtained ratifications of the 
grants made in their favour; and as pasquinades 
daily multiplied, a law passed, whereby those into 
whose hands any paper of that kind fell, were com¬ 
manded instantly to destroy it; and if, through 
their neglect, it should be allowed to spread, they 
were subjected to a capital punishment, in the 
same manner as if they had been the original au¬ 
thors. 11 

„ . , But the absolute dominion which 

Remarkable law 

in favour of the Both well had acquired over Mary’s 

reformation. # 1 J 

mind appeared in the clearest manner, 
by an act in favour of the protestant religion, to which 
at this time she gave her assent. Mary’s attachment 
to the Romish faith was uniform and superstitious ; 
she had never laid aside the design, nor lost the 
hopes, of restoring it. She had of late come under 
new engagements to that purpose, and in conse¬ 
quence of these had ventured upon some steps more 
public and vigorous than any she had formerly 
taken. But though none of these circumstances 
were unknown to Bothwell, there were powerful 
motives which prompted him at this juncture to 
conciliate the good-will of the protestants, by ex¬ 
erting himself in order to procure for them some 
additional security in the exercise of their religion. 
That which they enjoyed at present was very pre¬ 
carious, being founded entirely on the royal pro¬ 
clamation issued soon after the arrival of the queen 
in Scotland, which in express terms was declared 


n Keith, 380. . . . . 

o I am indebted to the accuracy ot sir David Dalrymple, for pointing 
out (Remarks on the History of Scotland, ch. 9.) a considerable error into 
which 1 had fallen with respect to this act, by supposing it to be so favour¬ 
able to the doctrine of the reformation, that the parliament which met 
Dec. 15, could substitute nothing stronger or more explicit in its place, 
and thought it sufficient to ratify it word for word. This error I have now 
corrected ; but, after considering the act with particular attention, though 
I am satisfied that it neither established the reformed religion as the reli¬ 
gion of the state, nor abolished popery, yet it granted such new and legal 
security to the protestants, as was deemed, in that age, an acquisition of 
great value. I he framers of the law seem manifestly to have viewed it in 
that light; after reciting, “ that the queen, since her arrival, had attempted 
nothing contrary to the state of religion which she found publicly and uni¬ 
versally standing, on which account she was most worthy to be served, 
honoured, and obeyed,” &c.—the act goes on, “ that as she intends to con¬ 
tinue the same goodness and government in all times coming, the profes¬ 
sors of the religion aforesaid may and shall have occasion to praise God 
for her happy and gracious government, &c. : and to effect that, the pro¬ 
fessors of the religion aforesaid, may assure themselves to be in full surety 
thereof and of their lands, lives, &c. and may with the better will jeopard 
and hazard their lives and goods in her highness’s service, against all 
enemies to her, and to the commonweal of this realm, &c. therefore our 
sovereign, with the advice of the whole estates in parliament, <Vc.then 
follow the statutory clauses mentioned in the text. '1 he intention of pass¬ 
im; the act is apparent, and it is drawn with great art. I his art is pecu¬ 
liarly manifest in the concluding clause. In her first proclamation the 
queen had declared, that it should continue in force only until she should 
take final order concerning religion with the advice of parliament. In 
this act the intention of taking further order concerning religion is men¬ 
tioned, probably with a view to please the queen ; but it is worded with 
such studied dexterity, that the protection granted by this law is no longer 
to be regarded as temporary, or depending upon the queen taking such 
final order. Pari. 1 K. .la. VI. c. 31. In the same light of an important 
acquisition of security to the reformed religion, this act is represented by 
the privy council in a proclamation issued May 23, 1567• Keith, 571. 
Mary’s principal adherents, in a paper subscribed by them, Sept. 12,15o8, 
declare, that she, “ by the advice of the three estates, had satisfied the de- 


to be only a temporary regulation. From that pe¬ 
riod, neither the solicitations of the general assem¬ 
blies of the church, nor the entreaties of her people, 
could extort from Mary any concession in favour of 
the protestant religion, on which the professors 
might rest with greater confidence. This, however, 
by the more powerful infiuence of Bothwell, they 
now obtained. An act was passed in this parlia¬ 
ment, repealing all the laws, canon, civil, and mu¬ 
nicipal, adverse to the reformed religion, and ex¬ 
empting such as had embraced it from the penalties 
to which they might have been subjected by these 
laws, either on account of their past conduct or 
present profession ; declaring at the same time that 
their persons, estates, honours, and benefices, were 
taken under public protection against every court, 
civil or ecclesiastical, that might attempt to molest 
them on account of their religious sentiments. Thus 
the protestants, instead of holding their sacred 
rights by no better tenure than a declaration of royal 
indulgence, which might be revoked at pleasure, 
obtained legal and parliamentary protection in the 
exercise of their religion. By prevailing on the 
queen to assent to this law, Bothwell seems to have 
flattered himself that he would acquire such merit 
both with the clergy and with the people, as might 
induce them to favour his ambitious schemes, and 
to connive at what he had done, or might do, in 
order to accomplish them. The protestants accord¬ 
ingly, though this act was far from amounting to a 
legal establishment of the reformed faith, seem to 
have considered it as an additional security of such 
importance, that it was published among the laws 
enacted in a parliament held towards the close of 
this year, under very different leaders. 0 

Every step taken by Bothwell had 
hitherto been attended with all the on the nobles to re- 

..... , . . , commend him as 

success which his most sanguine wishes a husband to the 
could expect. He had entirely gained queen ‘ 
the queen’s heart; the murder of the king had ex¬ 
cited no public commotion ; he had been acquitted 

sire of the whole nobility in an act concerning' all the points of religion 
passed in the parliament held April 1567.” Goodall, ii. 357. The same is 
asserted to be the intention and effect of this act in another public paper in 
the year 1570. Haynes, 621. This act is perfectly conformable to that 
system of policy by which Bothwell seems to have regulated his conduct 
both before and after this time, with a view of gaining the protestants, par¬ 
ticularly the clergy, by acts of indulgence and favour. On the 3d of Oc¬ 
tober, 1566, when Bothwell’s credit was very considerable, the queen, in a 
meeting of privy council, where he was present, took measures for securing 
to the protestant clergy more regular payment of their stipends ; and on the 
20th of December of that year, granted an assignation of a considerable sum 
to be applied for the support of the ministry. Keith, 360, 361, 362. In a 
meeting of privy council, January 10, 1567, when all public transactions 
were entirely conducted by Bothwell, an act was passed in order to pro¬ 
vide for the sustentation of ministers in boroughs, and Bothwell is named 
as one of the commissioners for carrying it into execution, with power to 
impose a tax on such boroughs as had no ministers, for raising a stipend. 
Keith, 570. In another meeting of privy council, May 23,1567, the queen, 
after mentioning the declaration which she had made in the year 1561, of 
her resolution to maintain that religion which she found established in the 
kingdom, and after taking notice of what additional security it had acquired 
by the late act of April 19th, with a view of giving still further satisfaction 
to the protestants, she declared that all licences which had been obtained 
from her by any persons, permitting them to exercise the rites of popish 
worship, were now revoked and annulled. Keith, 570—572. It deserves 
to be remarked, that, favourable as all these acts were to the reformation, 
some bishops, whose ardent zeal for the old doctrines history records, were 
present in those meetings of privy council in which they were passed. 
From considering all these particulars, one need not wonder that a law 
“ anent cassing, (as the title bears.) annulling, and abrogating of all laws, 
acts, and constitutions, canone, civile, and municipal, with other constitu¬ 
tions, contrare to the religion now professit within the realme,” confirmed 
by the royal assent of the queen, should be published among the statutes 
securing th** protestant religion. We find accordingly, in a very rare 
edition of the acts of parliament, imprintit at Edinburgh by Robert 
Lekpreyik, printar to the king’s majestie, 6 day of April 1568, the act 
of April 19, inserted among the acts of the regent’s parliament in De¬ 
cember. 



110 THE HISTORY 

by his peers of any share in that crime ; and their 
decision had been in some sort ratified in parliament. 
But in a kingdom where the regal authority was so 
extremely limited, and the power of the nobles so 
formidable, he durst not venture on the last action, 
towards which all his ambitious projects tended, 
without their approbation. In order to secure this, 
he, immediately after the dissolution of parliament, 
invited all the nobles who were present 
to an entertainment. Having filled the 
house with his friends and dependants, and sur¬ 
rounded it with armed men,? he opened to the com¬ 
pany his intention of marrying the queen, whose 
consent, he told them, he had already obtained; and 
demanded their approbation of this match, which, 
he said, was no less acceptable to their sovereign, 
than honourable to himself.' 1 Huntley and Seatoun, 
who were privy to all Botliwell’s schemes, promoted 
them with the utmost zeal; and the popish eccle¬ 
siastics, who were absolutely devoted to the queen, 
and ready to sooth all her passions, instantly declared 
their satisfaction with what he had proposed. The 
rest, who dreaded the exorbitant power which Both- 
well had acquired, and observed the queen’s growing 
affection towards him in all her actions, were willing 
to make a merit of yielding to a measure which 
they could neither oppose nor defeat. Some few 
were confounded and enraged. But in the end 
Bcthwell, partly by promises and flattery, partly by 
terror and force, prevailed on all who were present 
to subscribe a paper which leaves a deeper stain 
than any occurrence in that age on the honour and 
character of the nation. 

This paper contained the strongest declarations of 
Bothwell’s innocence, and the most ample acknow¬ 
ledgment of his good services to the kingdom. If 
any future accusation should be brought against 
him on account of the king’s murder, the subscrib¬ 
ers promised to stand by him as one man, and to 
hazard their lives and fortunes in his defence. 
They recommended him to the queen as the most 
proper person she could choose for a husband ; and 
if she should condescend to bestow' on him that 
mark of her regard, they undertook to promote the 
marriage, and to join him with all their forces in op¬ 
posing any person who endeavoured to obstruct it. r 
Among the subscribers of this paper we find some 
who were the queen’s chief confidants, others who 
were strangers to her councils, and obnoxious to 

p Good. vol. ii. 141. q Anders, vol. i. 94. 

r Anders, vol. i. 177 . s Keith, 382. 

t Of all the different systems with regard to this transaction, that of Cam¬ 
den seems to be the least accurate, and the worst founded. He supposes 
that Both we 11 was hated by Murray, Morton, &c. who had been his asso¬ 
ciates in the murder of the king, and that they now wanted to ruin him. 
He affirms, at the same time, that the subscriptions to this paper were ob¬ 
tained by them out of fear that Bothwell might sink in his hopes, and betray 
the whole bloody sec ret, 404. But besides the absurdity of supposing that 
any man's enemies would contribute towards raisimr him to sucli high dig¬ 
nity , on the uncertain hopes of being able afterwards to deprive him of it; 
besides the impossibility of accomplishing such a marriage, if it had been 
either unknown to the queen, or disagreeable to her ; we may observe that 
this supposition is destroyed by the direct testimony of the queen herself, 
who ascribes the consent ot the nobles to Bothwell’s artifices, who purchased, 
it by giving them to understand that we were content therewith. Anders, vol 
i. 94, 99. It would have been no small advantage to Mary, if she could 
have represented the consent ot the nobles to have been their own voluntary 
deed. It is still more surprising to find Lesley ascribing this paper to Mur¬ 
ray and his faction. . Anders, vol. i. 26. The bishop himself was one of the 
persons who subscribed it, Keith, 383. 4 he king s commissioners, at the 
conference held at York 1568, pretended that none of the nobles, except the 
earl of Huntley, would subscribe this paper till a warrant from the queen 


OF SCOTLAND. [1567. BOOK IV. 

her displeasure; some who faithfully adhered to 
her through all the vicissitudes of her fortune, and 
others who became the principal authors of her 
sufferings; some passionately attached to the 
Romish superstition, and others zealous advocates 
for the protestant faith. 8 No common interest can 
be supposed to have united men of such opposite 
principles and parties, in recommending to their 
sovereign a step so injurious to her honour, and so 
fatal to her peace. This strange coalition was the 
effect of much artifice, and must he considered as 
the boldest and most masterly stroke of Bothwell’s 
address. It is observable, that amidst all the alter¬ 
cations and mutual reproaches of the two parties 
which arose in the kingdom, this unworthy transac¬ 
tion is seldom mentioned. Conscious on both 
sides, that in this particular their conduct could 
ill bear examination, and would redound little to 
their fame, they always touch upon it unwillingly, 
and .with a tender hand, seeming desirous that it 
should remain in darkness, or be buried in oblivion. 
But as so many persons who, both at that time and 
ever after, possessed the queen’s favour, subscribed 
this paper, the suspicion becomes strong, that Both- 
well’s ambitious hopes were neither unknown to 
Mary, nor disapproved by her. 1 

These suspicions are confirmed by the most direct 
proof. Melvil at that time enjoyed a considerable 
share in her favour. He, as well as his brother, 
kept a secret correspondence in England with those 
who favoured her pretensions to that crown. The 
rumour of her intended marriage with Bothwell 
having spread early in that kingdom, excited uni¬ 
versal indignation ; and Melvil received a letter 
from thence, which represented, in the strongest 
terms, what would be the fatal effects of such an 
imprudent step. He put this letter into the queen’s 
hands, and enforced it with the utmost warmth. She 
not only disregarded these remonstrances, but com¬ 
municated the matter to Bothwell ; and Melvil, in 
order to save his life, was obliged to fly from court, 
whither he durst not return till the earl’s rage began 
to abate. 11 At the same time Elizabeth warned 
Mary of the danger and infamy to which she would 
expose herself by such an indecent choice ; but an 
advice from her met with still less regard.* 

Three days after the rising of par- 

-i Bothwell carries 

liament, Mary went from Edinburgh the queen by 
c . . , . ., . force to Dunbar, 

to Stirling, in order to visit the prince 

was produced, by which they were allowed to do so; this warrant they 
had in their custody, and exhibited. Anders, vol. iv. part 2, 5. This 
differs from Buchanan’s account, who supposes that all the nobles present 
subscribed the paper on the 19th, and that next day they obtained the ap¬ 
probation of what they had done, by way of security to themselves, 355. 

u Melv. 156. According to Melvil, lord Herries likewise remonstrated 
against the marriage, and conjured the queen, on his knees, to lay aside 
all thoughts of such a dishonourable alliance, 156. But it has been ob¬ 
served that Herries is one of the nobles who subscribed the bond, April 
19. Keith, 383. 2. That he is one of the witnesses to the marriage articles 
between the queen and Bothwell, May 14. Good. vol. ii. 61. 3. that he 
sat in council with Bothwell, May 17 . Keith, 386. But this remonstrance 
of lord Herries against the marriage happened before those made by Mel¬ 
vil himself, 157. Melvil's remonstrance must have happened some time 
before the meeting of parliament: for, after offending Bothwell, he retired 
from court; he allowed his rage time to subside, and"had again joined the 
queen when she was seized, April 24, 158. The time wTiich must have 
elapsed by this account of the matter was perhaps sufficient to have gained 
Herries from being an opposer to become a promoter of the marriage. 
Perhaps Melvil may have committed some mistake with regard to this 
fact, so far as relates to lord Herries. He could not well be mistaken with 
regard to what himself did. 
x Anders, vol. i. 106. 



-April 24. 


BOOK IV. 1567.] THE HISTORY 

her son. Botliwell had now brought his schemes to 
lull maturity, and every precaution being taken 
which could render it safe to enter on the last and 
decisive step, the natural impetuosity of his spirit 
did not suffer him to deliberate any longer. Under 
pretence of an expedition against the freebooters 
on the borders, he assembled his followers ; and 
marching out of Edinburgh with a thousand horse, 
turned suddenly towards Linlithgow, 
met the queen on her return near that 
place, dispersed her slender train without resistance, 
seized on her person, and conducted her, together 
with a lew ol her courtiers, as a prisoner to his castle 
ot Dunbar. She expressed neither surprise, nor ter¬ 
ror, nor indignation, at such an outrage committed 
on her person, and such an insult offered to her 
authority, but seemed to yield without struggle or 
regret/ Melvil was at that time one of her attend¬ 
ants ; and the officer by whom he was seized in¬ 
formed him, that nothing was done without the 
queen’s own consent. 2 If we may rely on the letters 
published in Mary’s name, the scheme had been 
communicated to her, and every step towards it 
was taken with her participation and advice. 1 

Both the queen and Botliwell thought it of advan¬ 
tage to employ this appearance of violence. It 
afforded her a decent excuse for her conduct; and 
while she could plead that it was owing to force 
rather than choice, she hoped that her reputation, 
among foreigners at least, would escape without 
censure, or be exposed to less reproach. Botliwell 
could not help distrusting all the methods which 
had hitherto been used for vindicating him from 
any concern in the murder of the king. Something 
was still wanting for his security, and for quieting 
his guilty fears. This was a pardon under the great 
seal. By the laws of Scotland the most heinous 
crime must be mentioned by name in a pardon, and 
then all lesser offences are deemed to be included 
under the general clause, and all other crimes what¬ 
soever . 6 To seize the person of the prince is high 

treason; and Botliwell hoped that a pardon obtained 

* 

for this would extend to every thing of which he 
had been accused. 0 

13 divorced from Bothwell having now got the queen’s 
ins own wite. person into his hands, it would have 

been unbecoming either a politician or a man of 
gallantry to have delayed consummating his schemes. 
The first step towards this was to have his marriage 
with lady Jane Gordon, the earl of Huntley’s sister, 
dissolved. In order to accomplish that, in a man¬ 
ner consistent with the ideas of the queen on one 
hand, and with the sentiments of his countrymen 
on the other, two different processes became neces¬ 
sary ; one founded on the maxims of the canon law, 

y Keith, 383. z Melv. 158. a Good, vol. ii. 37- 

b Pari. 6. Jac. TV. c. 62. c Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 61. 

din her own time, it was urged as an aggravation of the queen's guilt, 
that she gave her consent to marry the husband of another woman ; and 
the charge has been often repeated since. .But, according to Mary’s own 
ideas, consonant to the principles of her religion, the marriage of Bothwell 
with lady Jane Gordon was unlawful and void, and she considered them 
as living together not in the hallowed bonds of matrimony, but in a state 
of criminal intercourse. Bothwell’s addresses, which struck her protestant 
subjects not only as indecent but flagitious, could not appear in the same 


OF SCOTLAND. 


1 i 1 


the other accommodated to the tenets of the re¬ 
formed church. Bothwell accordingly commenced 
a suit, in his own name, in the spiritual court of the 
archbishop of St. Andrew’s, the juris¬ 
diction of which the queen had re- Apnl 27 ‘ 

stored, by a special commission granted for this 
purpose, and pleaded that lady Jane and himself, 
being cousins within the prohibited degrees, and 
having married without a papal dispensation, their 
union was null from the beginning.* 1 At the same 
time he prevailed with lady Jane to apply to the 
protestant court of commissaries for a divorce, on 
account of his having been guilty of adultery. The 
influence of Bothwell was of equal weight in both 
courts. In the course of four days, with the same 
indecent and suspicious precipitancy, the one de¬ 
clared the marriage to be illegal and null, the other 
pronounced a sentence of divorce. e 

While this infamous transaction was carrying on, 
the queen resided at Dunbar, detained as a pri¬ 
soner, but treated with the greatest respect. Soon 
after, Bothwell, with a numerous train 
of his dependants, conducted her to 
Edinburgh; but, instead of lodging her in the 
palace of Holyrood-house, he conveyed her to the 
castle, of which he was governor. The discontent 
of the nation rendered this precaution necessary. 
In a house unfortified, and of easy access, the 
queen might have been rescued without difficulty 
out of his hands. In a place of strength she was 
secured from all the attempts of his enemies. 

One small difficulty still remained to be sur¬ 
mounted. As the queen was kept in a sort of cap¬ 
tivity by Bothwell, a marriage concluded in that 
condition might be imputed to force, and be held 
invalid. In order to obviate this, Mary appeared in 
the court of session, and, in presence of the chan¬ 
cellor and other judges, and several of the nobility, 
declared that she was now at full liberty; and 
though Bothwell’s violence in seizing her person 
had at first excited her indignation, yet his respect¬ 
ful behaviour since that time had not only appeased 
her resentment, but determined her to raise him to 
higher honours/ 

What these were, soon became T „ m „ rrW . tn iht , 
public. The title of duke of Orkney * ueen - 
was conferred upon Bothwell ; and on the fifteenth 
of May his marriage with the queen, which had so 
long been the object of his wishes, and the motive 
of his crimes, was solemnized. The ceremony was 
performed in public, according to the rites of the 
protestant church, by Adam Bothwell, bishop of 
Orkney, one of the few prelates who had embraced 
the reformation, and on the same day was celebrated 
in private, according to the forms prescribed by the 

light to her ; and this may be pleaded in extenuation of the crime imputed 
to her of having listened to them. But it will not exempt her from the 
charge of great imprudence in this unfortunate step. Mary was well ac¬ 
quainted with the ideas of her subjects, and knew what they would think 
of her giving ear for a moment to the courtship of a man lately married 
under her own eye, in the church of her palace. A ppend. "No. 20. Every 
consideration should have restrained her from forming this union, which 
to her people must have appeared odious and shocking. .Remarks on the 
History ot Scotland, p. lyy, &c. 

e Anders, i. 132. Append. Mo. XX. f And. i.87. 



112 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


popish religion. 8 The boldness with which Craig, 
the minister who was commanded to publish the 
banns, testified against the design, the small num¬ 
ber of the nobles who were present at the marriage, 
and the sullen and disrespectful silence of the peo¬ 
ple when the queen appeared in public, were mani¬ 
fest symptoms of the violent and general dissatis¬ 
faction of her own subjects. The refusal of Du 
Croc, the French ambassador, to be present at the 
nuptial ceremony or entertainment, discovers the 
sentiments of her allies with regard to this part of 
her conduct; and, although every other action in 
Mary's life could be justified by the rules of pru¬ 
dence, or reconciled to the principles of virtue, this 
fatal marriage would remain an incontestable proof 
of her rashness, if not of her guilt. 

Mary’s first care was to offer some apology for 
her conduct to the courts of France and England. 
The instructions to her ambassadors still remain, 
and are drawn by a masterly hand. But, under all 
the artificial and false colouring she employs, it is 
easy to discover, not only that many of the steps she 
had taken were unjustifiable, but that she herself 
was conscious that they could not be justified. 11 

The title of king was the only thing which was 
not bestowed upon Bothwell. Notwithstanding her 
attachment to him, Mary remembered the inconve¬ 
niences which had arisen from the rash advancement 
of her former husband to that honour. She agreed, 
however, that he should sign, in token of consent, all 
the public writs issued in her name. 1 But, though the 
queen withheld from him the title of king, he pos¬ 
sessed, nevertheless, regal power in its full extent. 
The queen’s person was in his hands; she was sur¬ 
rounded more closely than ever by his creatures; 
none of her subjects could obtain audience without 
his permission ; and, unless in his own presence, 
none but his confidants were permitted to converse 
with her. k The Scottish monarchs were accustomed 
to live among their subjects as fathers or as equals, 
without distrust and with little state ; armed guards 
standing at the doors of the royal apartment, diffi¬ 
culty of access, distance and retirement, were things 
unknown and unpopular. 

Endeavours to be- These precautions were necessary 
prhlceTpe e rsoL the for secur ing to Bothwell the power 
which he had acquired. But, without 
being master of the person of the young prince, he 
esteemed all that he had gained to be precarious and 
uncertain. The queen had committed her son to the 
care of the earl of Mar. The fidelity and loyalty of 
that nobleman were too well known to expect that 
he would be willing to put the prince into the 
hands of the man who was so violent^ suspected 
of having murdered his father. Bothwell, however, 
laboured to get the prince into his power, with an 
anxiety which gave rise to the blackest suspicions. 
All his address as well as authority were employed 
to persuade or to force Mar into a compliance with 


h And. 89. 
i Melv. 160. 


i Good. ii. 60. 
Bucli. 361. 


[1567. BOOK IV. 

his demands. 1 And it is no slight proof, both of the 
firmness and dexterity of that nobleman, that he 
preserved a life of so much importance to the 
nation, from being in the power of a man, whom 
fear or ambition might have prompted to violent 
attempts against it. 

The eyes of the neighbouring nations General indiffna- 
were fixed, at that time, upon the great q^een^cond^ct 
events which had happened in Scot- exclted - 
land during three months ; a king murdered with 
the utmost cruelty, in the prime of his days, and in 
his capital city ; the person suspected of that odious 
crime suffered not only to appear publicly in every 
place, but admitted into the presence of the queen, 
distinguished by her favour, and intrusted with the 
chief direction of her affairs ; subjected to a trial 
which was carried on with most shameless partiality, 
and acquitted by a sentence which served only to 
confirm the suspicions of his guilt; divorced from 
his wife, on pretences frivolous or indecent, and, 
after all this, instead of meeting with the ignominy 
due to his actions, or the punishment merited by his 
crimes, permitted openly, and without opposition, 
to marry a queen, the wife of the prince whom he had 
assassinated, and the guardian of those laws which 
he had been guilty of violating. Such a quick suc¬ 
cession of incidents, so singular and so detestable, 
in the space of three months, is not to be found in 
any other history. They left, in the opinion of 
foreigners, a mark of infamy on the character of the 
nation. The Scots were held in abhorrence all over 
Europe; they durst hardly appear any where in 
public; and, after suffering so many atrocious deeds 
to pass with impunity, they were universally re¬ 
proached as men void of courage or of humanity, 
as equally regardless of the reputation of their 
queen and the honour of their country. 111 

These reproaches roused the nobles, The nobles com- 
who had been hitherto amused by and Bothwdl. her 
Bothwell’s artifices, or intimidated by his power. 
The manner in which he exercised the authority 
which he acquired, his repeated attempts to become 
master of the prince’s person, together with some rash 
threatenings against him, which he let fall," added 
to the violence and promptitude of their resolutions. 
A considerable body of them assembled at Stirling, 
and entered into an association for the defence of 
the prince’s person. Argyll, Athol, Mar, Morton, 
Glencairn, Home, Lindsay, Boyd, Murray of Tulli- 
bardin, Kirkaldy of Grange, and Maitland the 
secretary, were the heads of this confederacv. 0 

J 

Stewart, earl of Athol, was remarkable for an uni¬ 
form and bigoted attachment to popery; but his 
indignation on account of the murder of the king, 
to whom he was nearly allied, and his zeal for the 
safety of the prince, overcame, on this occasion, all 
considerations of religion, and united him with the 
most zealous protestants. Several of the other nobles 
acted, without question, from a laudable concern 


a: And. i. 136. ii. 276. 
k And. i. 136. 


m Anders, vol. i. 128, 134. Melv. 163. See Appendix. No XXI 
n Melv. 161. o Keith, 394. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


113 


BOOK IV. 1567.J 

for the safety of the prince and the honour of their 
country. But the spirit which some of them dis¬ 
covered during the subsequent revolutions, leaves 
little room to doubt, that ambition or resentment 
were the real motives of their conduct; and that, 
on many occasions, while they were pursuing ends 
just and necessary, they were actuated by principles 
and passions altogether unjustifiable. 

The first accounts of this league filled the queen 
and Bothwell with great consternation. They were 
no strangers to the sentiments of the nation with 
respect to their conduct; and though their marriage 
had not met with public opposition, they knew that 
it had not been carried on without the secret dis¬ 
gust and murmurings of all ranks of men. They 
foresaw the violence with which this indignation 
would burst out, after having been so long sup¬ 
pressed ; and, in order to prepare for 
the storm, Mary issued a proclamation 
requiring her subjects to take arms, and to attend 
her husband by a day appointed. At the same time 
she published a sort of manifesto, in which she 
laboured to vindicate her government from those 
imputations with which it had been loaded, and 
employed the strongest terms to express her concern 
for the safety and welfare of the prince her son. 
Neither of these produced any considerable effect. 
Her proclamation was ill obeyed, and her manifesto 
met with little credit.? 

J The confederate lords carried on 

The queen and 

retire their preparations with no less activity, 
and with much more success. Among 
a warlike people, men of so much power and popu¬ 
larity found it an easy matter to raise an army. 
They were ready to march before the queen and 
Bothwell were in a condition to resist them. The 
castle of Edinburgh was the place whither the 
queen ought naturally to have retired, and there her 
person might have been perfectly safe. But the 
confederates had fallen on means to shake or cor¬ 
rupt the fidelity of sir James Balfour, the deputy 
governor, and Bothwell durst not commit to him 
T „ such an important trust. He conducted 

June 6. r 

the queen to the castle of Borthwick, 
and on the appearance of lord Home, with a body 
of his followers, before that place, he fled with pre¬ 
cipitation to Dunbar, and was followed by the 
queen disguised in men's clothes. The confederates 
advanced towards Edinburgh, where Huntley en¬ 
deavoured, in vain, to animate the inhabitants to 
defend the town against them. They entered with¬ 
out opposition, and were instantly joined by many 
of the citizens, whose zeal became the firmest sup¬ 
port of their caused 

In order to set their own conduct in the most fa¬ 
vourable light, and to rouse the public indignation 
against Bothwell, the nobles published a declara¬ 
tion of the motives which had induced them to take 
arms. All Bothwell’s past crimes were enumerated, 
all his w icked intentions displayed and aggravated, 

p Keith, 387 , 395, 396. q Ibid. 398. r Anders, vol. i. 128. 


and every true Scotsman was called upon to join 
them in avenging the one and preventing the other/ 

Meanwhile Bothwell assembled his forces at Dun¬ 
bar ; and as he had many dependants in that corner, 
he soon gathered such strength, that he ventured to 
advance towards the confederates. Their troops 
were not numerous ; the suddenness and secrecy of 
their enterprise gave their friends at a distance no 
time to join them ; and, as it does not appear that 
they were supported either w ith money or fed with 
hopes by the queen of England, they could not 
have kept long in a body. But on the other hand, 
Bothwell durst not risk a delay/ His army followed 
him with reluctance in this quarrel, and served him 
with no cordial affection; so that his only hope of 
success was in surprising the enemy, or in striking 
the blow before his own troops had leisure to recol¬ 
lect themselves, or to imbibe the same unfavourable 
opinion of his actions, which had spread over the 
rest of the nation. These motives determined the 
queen to march forward, with an inconsiderate and 
fatal speed. 

On the first intelligence of her ap- „„ 

° 1 1 he nobles march 

proach, the confederates advanced to against them, 

July 15. 

meet her. They found her forces drawn 
up almost on the same ground which the English 
had occupied before the battle of Pinkie. The 
numbers on both sides were nearly equal; but there 
was no equality in point of discipline. The queen's 
army consisted chiefly of a multitude, hastily assem¬ 
bled, without courage or experience in war. The 
troops of the confederates were composed of gentle¬ 
men of rank and reputation, followed by their most 
trusty dependants, who were no less brave than 
zealous/ 

Le Croc, the French ambassador, An accommoda . 
who was in the field, laboured, by ne- tl0n attempted, 
gociating both with the queen and the nobles, to 
put an end to the quarrel without the effusion of 
blood. He represented to the confederates the 
queen's inclinations towards peace, and her willing¬ 
ness to pardon the offences which they had com¬ 
mitted. Morton replied with warmth, that they had 
taken arms not against the queen, but against the 
murderer of her husband ; and if he were given up 
to justice, or banished from her presence, she should 
find them ready to yield the obedience which is due 
from subjects to their sovereign. Glencairn added, 
that they did not come to ask pardon for any offence, 
but to punish those who had offended. Such haughty 
answers convinced the ambassador that his media¬ 
tion would be ineffectual, and that their passions 
were too high to allow them to listen to any pacific 
propositions, or to think of retreating after having 
proceeded so far. u 

The queen's army was posted to advantage, on a 
rising ground. The confederates advanced to the 
attack resolutely, but slowly, and with the caution 
which was natural on that unhappy field. Her 
troops were alarmed at their approach, and disco- 

s Keith, 401. t Cald. vol. ii. 48, 49. u Keith, 401. 



114 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1567. ROOK V 


vered no inclination to fight. Mary endeavoured 
to animate them: she wept, she threatened, she 
reproached them with cowardice, but all in vain. 
A few of Bothwell’s immediate attendants were 


eager for the encounter ; the rest stood wavering 
and irresolute, and some began to steal out of the 
field. Bothwell attempted to inspirit them, by 
offering to decide the quarrel, and to vindicate his 
own innocence, in single combat with any of his 
adversaries. Kirkaldy of Grange, and Murray of 
Tullibardin, and lord Lindsay, contended for the 
honour of entering the lists against him. But this 
challenge proved to be a mere bravado. Either the 
consciousness of guilt deprived Bothwell of his 
wonted courage, or the queen, by her authority, for¬ 
bad the combat.* 

After the symptoms of fear discovered by her 
followers, Mary would have been inexcusable 
had she hazarded a battle. To have retreated in 
the face of an enemy who had already surrounded 
the hill on which she stood with part of their cavalry, 
was utterly impracticable. In this situation, she 
was under the cruel necessity of putting herself 
into the hands of those subjects who had taken 
arms against her. She demanded an interview 
with Kirkaldy, a brave and generous mau, who 
commanded an advanced body of the enemy. He, 
with the consent and in the name of the leaders of 
the party, promised that, on condition she would 
dismiss Bothwell from her presence, and govern the 
kingdom by the advice of her nobles, they would 
honour and obey her as their sovereign.* 

Bothwell obliged During this parley, Bothwell took 
tc >fly. his last farewell of the queen, and 
rode off the field with a few follow ers. This dismal 
reverse happened exactly one month after that 
marriage which had cost him so many crimes to ac¬ 
complish, and which leaves so foul a stain on Mary’s 
memory. 


Mary surrenders As s0011 as Bothwell retired, Mary 
to the nobles, surrendered to Kirkaldy, w r ho conduct¬ 
ed her toward the confederate army, the leaders of 
w hich received her with much respect; and Morton, 
in their name, made ample professions of their fu¬ 
ture loyalty and obedience.*' But she was treated 
by the common soldiers with the utmost insolence 
and indignity. As she marched along, they poured 
upon her all the opprobrious names which are be¬ 
stowed only on the lowest and most infamous crimi¬ 
nals. Wherever she turned her eyes, they held up 
before her a standard, on which was painted the 
dead body of the late king, stretched on the ground, 
and the young prince kneeling before it, and utter¬ 
ing these words, “ Judge and revenge my cause, O 
Lord!” Mary turned with horror from such a 
shocking sight. She began already to feel the 
wretched condition to which a captive prince is re¬ 
duced. She uttered the most bitter complaints, 
she melted into tears, and could hardly be kept 


w Cald. vol. ii. 50. x Good. vol. ii. 164. Melv. 165. 

y Good. vol. ii. 165. 


from sinking to the ground. The confederates con¬ 
ducted her towards Edinburgh ; and, in spite of 
many delays, and after looking, with the fondness 
and credulity natural to the unfortunate, for some 
extraordinary relief, she arrived there. The streets 
were covered with multitudes, whom zeal or curi¬ 
osity had drawn together, to behold such an un¬ 
usual scene. The queen, worn out with fatigue, 
covered with dust, and bedew r ed with tears, was ex¬ 
posed as a spectacle to her own subjects, and led to 
the provost’s house. Notwithstanding all her argu¬ 
ments and entreaties, the same standard was carried 
before her, and the same insults and reproaches re¬ 
peated. 2 A woman, young, beautiful, and in dis¬ 
tress, is naturally the object of compassion. The 
comparison of their present misery w ith their former 
splendour, usually softens us in favour of illustrious 
sufferers. But the people beheld the deplorable 
situation of their sovereign with insensibility ; and 
so strong was their persuasion of her guilt, and so 
great the violence of their indignation, that the 
sufferings of their queen did not, in any degree, 
mitigate their resentment, or procure her that sym¬ 
pathy which is seldom denied to unfortunate princes. 


BOOK V. 

The confederate lords had proceed- 1567 
ed to such extremities against their t 1 he ,, no r bies >n con° f 
sovereign, that it now became almost cernin ? th equeen, 
impossible for them either to stop short, or to pursue 
a course less violent. Many of the nobles had re¬ 
fused to concur with them in their enterprise ; others 
openly condemned it. A small circumstance might 
abate that indignation with which the multitude 
were at present animated against the queen, and 
deprive them of that popular applause which was 
the chief foundation of their power. These con¬ 
siderations inclined some of them to treat the queen 
with great lenity. 

But, on the other hand, Mary’s affection for Both¬ 
well continued as violent as ever ; she obstinately 
refused to hearken to any proposal for dissolving 
their marriage, and determined not to abandon a 
man, for whose love she had already sacrificed so 
much. 3 If they should allow her to recover the 
supreme power, the first exertion of it would be to 
recall Bothw ell; and they had reason, both from his 
resentment, from her conduct, and from their own, 
to expect the severest effects of her vengeance. 
These considerations surmounted every other mo¬ 
tive ; and reckoning themselves absolved by Mary’s 
incurable attachment to Bothwell, from the enaao-e- 
ments which they had come under when she yield¬ 
ed herself a prisoner, they, without regarding the 
duty which they owed her as their queen, and with- 

z Melv. 166. Bueh. 364. 

a Keith, 419, 446, 449. Melv. 167. See Append. No. XXII. 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


115 


BOOK V. 1567.] 

out consulting the rest of the nobles, carried her 
next evening, under a strong guard, to the castle of 
Lochlevin, and signed a warrant to William Dou- 

They imprison glas, the owner of it, to detain her as 
her m Lochievm. a p r j soner< This castle is situated in 

a small island in the middle of a lake. Douglas, to 
whom it belonged, was a near relation of Morton’s, 
and had married the earl of Murray’s mother. In 
this place, under strict custody, with a few atten¬ 
dants, and subjected to the insults of a haughty 
woman, who boasted daily of being the lawful wife 
of James V., Mary suffered all the rigour and mise¬ 
ries of captivity. b 

Immediately after the queen’s imprisonment the 
confederates were at the utmost pains to strengthen 
their party ; they entered into new bonds of associ¬ 
ation ; they assumed the title of Lords of the Secret 
Council , and without any other right, arrogated to 
themselves the whole regal authority. One of their 
first acts of power, was to search the city of Edin¬ 
burgh for such as had been concerned in the mur¬ 
der of the king. This show of zeal gained repu¬ 
tation to themselves, and threw an oblique reflection 
on the queen for her remissness. Several suspected 
persons were seized. Captain Blackadder and three 
others were condemned and executed. But no dis¬ 
covery of importance was made. If we believe 
some historians, they were convicted by sufficient 
evidence. If we give credit to others, their sentence 
was unjust, and they denied, with their last breath, 
any knowledge of the crime for which they suffered. 0 

An unexpected accident, however, put into the 
hands of Mary’s enemies what they deemed the 
fullest evidence of her guilt. Bothwell having left 
in the castle of Edinburgh a casket, containing 
several sonnets and letters written with the queen’s 
own hand, he now sent one of his confidants to 
bring to him this precious deposit. But as his 
messenger returned, he was intercepted, and the 
casket seized by Morton. d The contents of it were 
always produced by the party as the most ample 
justification of their own conduct; and to these 
they continually appealed as the most unanswerable 
proof of their not having loaded their sovereign with 
the imputation of imaginary crimes.® 

Some of the nobles But the confederates, notwithstand- 
tavour the queen. j n <r th e i r extraordinary success, were 

still far from being perfectly at ease. That so 
small a part of the nobles should pretend to dispose 
of the person of their sovereign, or to assume the 
authority which belonged to her, without the con¬ 
currence of the rest, was deemed by many of that 
body to be unprecedented and presumptuous. Se¬ 
veral of these were now assembled at Hamilton, in 
order to deliberate what course they should hold in 
this difficult conjuncture. The confederates made 
some attempts towards a coalition with them, but 
without effect. They employed the mediation of 
the assembly of the church, to draw them to a per- 

b Keith, 403. Note b. c Cald. vol. ii. 53. Crawf. Mem. 35. 

d Anders, vol. ii. 92. Good. vol. ii. 90. 

I 2 


sonal interview at Edinburgh, but with no better 
success. That party, however, though its numbers 
were formidable, and the power of its leaders great, 
soon lost reputation by the want of unanimity and 
vigour; all its consultations evaporated in mur¬ 
murs and complaints, and no scheme was concerted 
for obstructing the progress of the confederates/ 

There appeared some prospect of Elizabeth inter . 
danger from another quarter. This posesinherbehalf - 
great revolution in Scotland had been carried on 
without any aid from Elizabeth, and even without 
her knowledge.? Though she was far from being 
displeased at seeing the affairs of that kingdom em¬ 
broiled, or a rival, whom she hated, reduced to dis¬ 
tress ; she neither wished that it should be in the 
power of the one faction entirely to suppress the 
other, nor could she view the steps taken by the 
confederates without great offence. Notwithstand¬ 
ing the popular maxims by which she governed her 
own subjects, her notions of royal prerogative were 
very exalted. The confederates had, in her opinion, 
encroached on the authority of their sovereign, 
which they had no right to control, and had offered 
violence to her person, which it was their duty to 
esteem sacred. They had set a dangerous example 
to other subjects, and Mary’s cause became the com¬ 
mon cause of princes. 1 ’ If ever Elizabeth was 
influenced with regard to the affairs of Scotland by 
the feelings of her heart, rather than by considera¬ 
tions of interest, it was on this occasion. Mary, in 
her present condition, degraded from her throne, 
and covered with the infamy attending an accusa¬ 
tion of such atrocious crimes, could be no longer 
the object of Elizabeth’s jealousy, either as a woman 
or as a queen. Sympathy with a sovereign in dis¬ 
tress seems, for a moment, to have touched a heart 
not very susceptible of tender sentiments ; and, 
while these were yet warm, she despatched Throk- 
morton into Scotland, with power to 

• ii.ii i June 30 - 

negociate both with the queen and 
with the confederates. In his instructions there 
appears a remarkable solicitude for Mary’s liberty, 
and even for her reputation; and the terms upon 
which she proposed to re-establish concord between 
the queen and her subjects, appear to be so reason¬ 
able and well-digested, as might have insured the 
safety and happiness of both. Zealous as Throk- 
morton was to accomplish this, all his endeavours 
and address proved ineffectual. He found not only 
the confederate nobles, but the nation in general, so 
far alienated from the queen, and so much offended 
with the indecent precipitancy of her marriage with 
the reputed murderer of her former husband, as to 
be incapable of listening to any proposition in her 
favour. 

During the state of anarchy occasioned by the 
imprisonment of the queen, and the dissolution cf 
the established government, which afforded such 
ample scope for political speculation, four different 

e See Dissertation at the end of the History. 

f Keith, 407. 8 Ibid. 415. h Ibid. 412, 414. 




116 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


schemes had been proposed for the settlement ot the 
nation. One, that Mary should be replaced upon 
the throne, but under various and strict limitations. 
The second, that she should resign the crown to her 
son, and, retiring out of the kingdom, should reside, 
during the remainder of her days, either in England 
or in France. The third, that Mary should be 
brought to public trial for her crimes, and, after 
conviction, of which no doubt was entertained, 
should be kept in perpetual imprisonment. The 
fourth, that after trial and condemnation, capital 
punishment should be inflicted upon her. Throk- 
morton, though disposed, as well by his own incli¬ 
nation as in conformity to the spirit of his instruc¬ 
tions, to view matters in the light most favourable 
to Mary, informed his court, that the milder schemes 
recommended by Maitland alone, would undoubt¬ 
edly be reprobated, and one of the more rigorous 
carried into execution. 

In justification of this rigour, the confederates 
maintained that Mary’s affection for Bothwell was 
still unabated, and openly avowed by her ; that she 
rejected with disdain every proposal for dissolving 
their marriage ; and declared, that she would forego 
every comfort, and endure any extremity, rather 
than give her consent to that measure. While these 
were her sentiments, they contended, that concern 
for the public welfare, as well as attention to their 
own safety, rendered it necessary to put it out of the 
queen’s power to restore a daring man, exasperated 
by recent injuries, to his former station, which must 
needs prove fatal to both. Notwithstanding their 
solicitude to conciliate the good-will of Elizabeth, 
they foresaw clearly what would be the effect, at 
this juncture, of Throkmorton’s interposition in be¬ 
half of the queen, and that she, elated with the 
prospect of protection, would refuse to listen to the 
overtures which they were about to make to her. 
For this reason they peremptorily denied Throk¬ 
morton’s access to their prisoner; and what propo¬ 
sitions he made to them in her behalf they either 
refused or eluded. 1 

„ , , , Meanwhile they deliberated with 

Schemes of the 

confederate no- the utmost anxiety concerning the 

bl es . . ° 

settlement of the nation, and the fu¬ 
ture disposal of the queen’s person. Elizabeth ob¬ 
serving that Throkmorton made no progress in his 
negociations with them, and that they would listen 
to none of his demands in Mary’s favour, turned 
towards that party of the nobles who were assem¬ 
bled at Hamilton, incited them to take arms in 
order to restore their queen to liberty, and promised 
to assist them in such an attempt to the utmost of 
her power. k But they discovered no greater union 
and vigour than formerly, and, behaving like men 
who had given up all concern either for their queen 
or their country, tamely allowed an inconsiderable 
part of their body, whether we consider it with re- 

i Keith, 417, 427. k See Append. No. XXIII. 

1 Keith, 420-122, 582. 

m The intention of putting the queen to death seems to have been carried 


[1567. BOOK V. 

spect to numbers or to power, to settle the govern¬ 
ment of the kingdom, and to dispose of the queen’s 
person at pleasure. Many consultations were held, 
and various opinions arose, with regard to each of 
these. Some seemed desirous of adhering to the 
plan on which the confederacy was at first formed; 
and after punishing the murderers of the king, and 
dissolving the marriage with Bothwell ; after pro¬ 
viding for the safety of the young prince, and the 
security of the protestant religion ; they proposed 
to re-establish the queen in the possession of her 
legal authority. The success with which their arms 
had been accompanied, inspired others with bolder 
and more desperate thoughts, and nothing less would 
satisfy them than the trial, the condemnation, and 
punishment of the queen herself, as the principal 
conspirator against the life of her husband and the 
safety of her son : 1 the former was Maitland’s sys¬ 
tem, and breathed too much of a pacific and moder¬ 
ate spirit, to be agreeable to the temper or wishes of 
the party. The latter was recommended by the 
clergy, and warmly adopted by many laics ; but the 
nobles durst not, or would not, venture on such an 
unprecedented and audacious deed." 1 

Both parties agreed at last upon a They ob] . we the 
scheme, neither so moderate as the one, queen to resign 

the government. 

nor so daring as the other. Mary was 
to be persuaded or forced to resign the crown ; the 
young prince was to be proclaimed king, and the 
earl of Murray was to be appointed to govern the 
kingdom, during his minority, with the name and 
authority of regent. With regard to the queen’s 
own person, nothing was determined. It seems to 
have been the intention of the confederates to keep 
her in perpetual imprisonment ; but, in order to 
intimidate herself, and to overawe her partisans, 
they still reserved to themselves the power of pro¬ 
ceeding to more violent extremes. 

It was obvious to foresee difficulties in the exe¬ 
cution of this plan. Mary was young, ambitious, 
high-spirited, and accustomed to command. To 
induce her to acknowledge her own incapacity for 
governing, to renounce the dignity and power which 
she was born to enjoy, to become dependent on her 
own subjects, to consent to her own bondage, and to 
invest those persons whom she considered as the 
authors of all her calamities with that honour and 
authority of which she herself was stripped, were 
points hard to be gained. These, however, the con¬ 
federates attempted, and they did not want means to 
insure success. Mary had endured for several weeks 
all the hardships and terror of a prison ; no pros¬ 
pect of liberty appeared ; none of her subjects had 
either taken arms, or so much as solicited her re¬ 
lief;" no person, in whom she could confide, was 
admitted into her presence ; even the ambassadors 
of the French king, and queen of England, were 
refused access to her. In this solitary state, with- 


on by some of her subjects : at this time we often find Elizabeth boastin'* 
that Mary owed her life to her interposition. Digges’s Com pi. Amb 14* 
&c. See Append. No. XVIII. , n Keith, 425. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


117 


BOOK V. 15G7.J 

out a counsellor, or a friend, under the pressure of 
distress and the apprehension of danger, it was 
natural for «a woman to hearken almost to any over¬ 
tures. The confederates took advantage of her 
condition and of her fears. They employed lord 
Lindsay, the fiercest zealot in the party, to commu¬ 
nicate their scheme to the queen, and to obtain her 
subscription to those papers which were necessary 
for rendering it effectual. He executed his com¬ 
mission with harshness and brutality. Certain 
death was before Mary’s eyes if she refused to com¬ 
ply with his demands. At the same time she was 
informed by sir Robert Melvil, in the name of 
Athol, Maitland, and Kirkaldy, the persons among 
the confederates who were most attentive to her in¬ 
terest, that a resignation extorted by fear, and 
granted during her imprisonment, was void in law, 
and might be revoked as soon as she recovered 
liberty. Throkmorton, by a note which he found 
means of conveying to her, suggested the same 
thing.® Deference to their opinion, as well as con¬ 
cern for her own safety, obliged her to yield to 
every thing which was required, and to sign all the 
papers which Lindsay presented to her. By one of 
these she resigned the crown, renounced all share 
in the government of the kingdom, and consented 
to the coronation of the young king. By another, 
j j ^ she appointed the earl of Murray re¬ 
gent, and conferred upon him all the 
powers and privileges of that high office. By a 
third, she substituted some other nobleman in Mur¬ 
ray’s place, if he should refuse the honour which was 
designed for him. Mary, when she subscribed these 
deeds, w as bathed in tears; and while she gave 
away, as it were with her own hands, the sceptre 
which she had swayed so long, she felt a pang of 
grief and indignation, one of the severest, perhaps, 
which can touch the human heart.? 

The confederates endeavoured to 

James VI. crown¬ 
ed and Murray o-ive this resignation all the weight 
chosen regent. n u " 

and validity in their power, by pro¬ 
ceeding without delay to crown the young prince. 
The ceremony was performed at Stirling, on the 
twenty-ninth of July, with much solemnity, in pre¬ 
sence of all the nobles of the party, a considerable 
number of lesser barons, and a great assembly of 
the people. From that time, all public writs were 
issued, and the government carried on, in the name 
of James VI. q 

No revolution so great was ever effected with 
more ease, or by means so unequal to the end. In 
a warlike age, and in less time than two months, a 
part of the nobles, who neither possessed the chief 
power nor the greatest wealth in the nation, and 
who never brought three thousand men into the 
field, seized, imprisoned, and dethroned their queen, 
and without shedding a single drop of blood, set 
her son, an infant of a year old, on the throne. 

Reasonings of During this ra P id P r0 S reSS ° f tlie 

both parties, confederates, the eyes of all the na- 

o Keith, 425. Note b. Melv. 169. 


tions were turned on them with astonishment; and 
various and contradictory opinions were formed 
concerning the extraordinary steps which they had 
taken. 

Even under the aristocratical form of government 
which prevails in Scotland, said the favourers of 
the queen, and notwithstanding the exorbitant pri¬ 
vileges of the nobles, the prince possesses consider¬ 
able power, and his person is treated with great 
veneration. No encroachments should be made on 
the former, and no injury offered to the latter, but 
in cases where the liberty and happiness of the na¬ 
tion cannot be secured by any other means. Such 
cases seldom exist, and it belongs not to any 
part, hut to the whole, or at least to a majority of 
the society, to judge of their existence. By what 
action could it be pretended that Mary had invaded 
the rights or property of her subjects, or what scheme 
had she formed against the liberty and constitution 
of the kingdom? Were fears, and suspicions, and 
surmises, enough to justify the imprisoning and the 
deposing a queen, to whom the crown descended 
from so long a race of monarchs? The principal 
author of whatever was reckoned culpable in her 
conduct, was now driven from her presence. The 
murderers of the king might have been brought to 
condign punishment, the safety of the prince have 
been secured, and the protestant religion have been 
established, without wresting the sceptre out of her 
hands, or condemning her to perpetual imprison¬ 
ment. Whatever right a free parliament might have 
had to proceed to such a rigorous conclusion, or 
whatever name its determinations might have me¬ 
rited, a sentence of this nature, passed by a small 
party of the nobility, without acknowledging or 
consulting the rest of the nation, must be deemed a 
rebellion against the government, and a conspiracy 
against the person of their sovereign. 

The partisans of the confederates reasoned very 
differently. It is evident, said they, that Mary 
either previously gave consent to the king’s murder, 
or did afterwards approve of that horrid action. 
Her attachment to Bothwell, the power and honours 
which she has conferred upon him, the manner in 
which she suffered his trial to be carried on, and 
the indecent speed with which she married a man 
stained with so many crimes, raise strong suspicions 
of the former, and put the latter beyond all doubt. 
To have suff ered the supreme power to continue in 
the hands of an ambitious man, capable of the most 
atrocious and desperate actions, would have been 
disgraceful to the nation, dishonourable to the queen, 
and dangerous to the prince. Recourse was there¬ 
fore had to arms. The queen had been compelled 
to abandon a husband so unworthy of herself. But 
her affection toward him still continuing unabated ; 
her indignation against the authors of this separation 
being visible, and often expressed in the strongest 
terms ; they, by restoring her to her ancient autho¬ 
rity, would have armed her with power to destroy 
p Keith, 430. Crawf. Mem. 38, q Keith, 437. 



118 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1667. ROOK V. 


themselves, have enabled her to recall Bothwell, and 
have afforded her an opportunity of pursuing schemes 
fatal to the nation with greater eagerness, and with 
more success. Nothing therefore remained, but by 
one bold action to deliver themselves and their 
country from all future fears. The expedient they 
had chosen was no less respectful to the royal blood, 
than necessary for the public safety. While one 
prince was set aside as incapable of governing, the 
crown was placed on his head who was the un¬ 
doubted representative of their ancient kings. 

Whatever opinion posterity may form on com¬ 
paring the arguments of the two contending parties, 
whatever sentiments we may entertain concerning 
the justice or necessity of that course which the 
confederates held, it cannot be denied that their 
conduct, so far as regarded themselves, was ex¬ 
tremely prudent. Other expedients, less rigorous 
towards Mary, might have been found for settling 
the nation ; but, after the injuries which they had 
already offered the queen, there was none so effectual 
for securing their own safety, or perpetuating their 


own power. 

To a great part of the nation, the conduct of the 
confederates appeared not only wise, but just. The 
king’s accession to the throne was every where pro¬ 
claimed, and his authority submitted to without 
opposition. Though several of the nobles were still 
assembled at Hamilton, and seemed to be entering 
into some combination against his government, an 
association for supporting it was formed, and signed 
by so many persons of power and influence through¬ 
out the nation, as entirely discouraged the attempt/ 

Murray assumes The return of the earl of Murray, 
the government. a ] 3 0u t this time, added strength to the 

party, and gave it a regular and finished form. 
Soon after the murder of the king, this nobleman 
had retired into France, upon what pretence histo¬ 
rians do not mention. During his residence there, 
he had held a close correspondence with the chiefs 
of the confederacy, and, at their desire, he now re¬ 
turned. He seemed, at first, unwilling to accept 
the office of regent. This hesitation cannot be 
ascribed to the scruples either of diffidence or of 
duty. Murray wanted neither the abilities nor the 
ambition which might incite him to aspire to this 
high dignity. He had received the first accounts 
of his promotion with the utmost satisfaction ; but, 
by appearing to continue for some days in suspense, 
lie gained time to view w ith attention the ground on 
which he was to act, to balance the strength and 
resources of the two contending factions, and to 
examine whether the foundation on which his fu¬ 
ture fame and success must rest, were sound and 
firm. 

Before he declared his final resolution, he waited 
on Mary at Lochlevin. This visit, to a sister, and 
a queen, in a prison, from which he had neither any 
intention to relieve her, nor to mitigate the rigour 
of her confinement, may be mentioned among the 

r Anders, vol. ii. 231. s Keith, 96. 


circumstances which discover the great want of de¬ 
licacy and refinement in that age. Murray, who 
was naturally rough and uncourtly in his manner, 3 
expostulated so warmly with the queen concerning 
her past conduct, and charged her faults so home 
upon her, that Mary, who had flattered herself with 
more gentle and brotherly treatment from him, melt¬ 
ed into tears, and abandoned herself entirely to de¬ 
spair/ This interview, from which Murray could reap 
no political advantage, and wherein he discovered a 
spirit so severe and unrelenting, may be reckoned 
among the most bitter circumstances in Mary’s life, 
and is certainly one of the most unjustifiable steps 
in his conduct. 

Soon after his return from Loch- 

Aug. 22. 

levin, Murray accepted the office of 

regent, and began to act in that character without 

opposition. 

Amidst so many great and unex- FateofBothwe]|- 
pectcd events, the fate of Bothwell, the 
chief cause of them all, hath been almost forgotten. 
After his flight from the confederates, he lurked for 
some time among his vassals in the neighbourhood 
of Dunbar. But finding it impossible for him to 
make head, in that country, against his enemies, or 
even to secure himself from their pursuit, he fled for 
shelter to his kinsman the bishop of Murray ; and 
w hen he, overawed by the confederates, was obliged 
to abandon him, he retired to the Orkney Isles. 
Hunted from place to place, deserted by his friends 
and accompanied by a few retainers, as desperate 
as himself, he suffered at once the miseries of in¬ 
famy and of want. His indigence forced him upon 
a course which added to his infamy. He armed a 
few small ships which had accompanied him from 
Dunbar, and attacking every vessel which fell in 
his way, endeavoured to procure subsistence for 
himself and his followers by piracy. Kirkaldy and 
Murray of Tullibardin were sent out against him by 
the confederates; and surprising him while he rode 
at anchor, scattered his small fleet, took a part of it, 
and obliged him to fly w ith a single ship towards 
Norway. On that coast he fell in with a vessel 
richly laden, and immediately attacked it; the 
Norwegians sailed with armed boats to its assist¬ 
ance, and, after a desperate fight, Bothwell and all 
his crew were taken prisoners. His name and qua¬ 
lity were both unknown, and he was treated at first 
with all the indignity and rigour which the odious 
crime of piracy merited. His real character was 
soon discovered, and though it saved him from 
the infamous death to which his associates were 
condemned, it could neither procure him liberty nor 
mitigate the hardships of his imprisonment. He 
languished ten years in this unhappy condition ; 
melancholy and despair deprived him of reason, and 
at last he ended his days unpitied by his country¬ 
men, and unassisted by strangers/ Few men ever 
accomplished their ambitious projects by worse 
means, or reaped from them less satisfaction. The 

t Ibid. 445, 446. u Melv. 168. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


119 


BOOK V. 1567.] 

early part of his life was restless and enterprising, 
full of danger and of vicissitudes. His enjoyment 
of the grandeur, to which he attained by so many 
crimes, was extremely short; imbittered by much 
anxiety, and disquieted by many fears. In his lat¬ 
ter years, he suffered the most intolerable calamities 
to which the wretched are subject, and from which 
persons who have moved in so high a sphere are 
commonly exempted. 

c . , The good effects of Murray’s acces- 

tion' s administra - sion to the regency were quickly felt. 

The party forming for the queen was 
weak, irresolute^ and disunited ; and, no sooner was 
the government of the kingdom in the hands of a 
man so remarkable both for his abilities and popu¬ 
larity, than the nobles, of whom it was composed, 
lost all hopes of gaining ground, and began to treat 
separately with the regent. So many of them were 
brought to acknowledge the king’s authority, that 
scarce any appearance of opposition to the estab¬ 
lished government was left in the kingdom. Had 
they adhered to the queen with any firmness, it is 
probable, from Elizabeth’s disposition at that time, 
that she would have afforded them such assistance 
as might have enabled them to face their enemies in 
the field. But there appeared so little vigour or 
harmony in their councils, that she was discouraged 
from espousing their cause ; and the regent, taking 
advantage of their situation, obliged them to submit 
to his government, without granting any terms, 
either to themselves or to the queen. x 

The regent was no less successful in his attempt 
to get into his hands the places of strength in the 
kingdom. Balfour, the deputy-governor, surren¬ 
dered the castle of Edinburgh ; and as the reward 
of his treachery, in deserting Bothwell his patron, 
obtained terms of great advantage to himself. The 
governor of Dunbar, who discovered greater fidelity, 
was soon forced to capitulate : some other small 
forts surrendered without resistance. 

a parliament, This face of tranquillity in the na- 
Dec. 15 . encouraged the regent to call a 

meeting of parliament. Nothing was wanting to 
confirm the king’s authority, and the proceedings of 
the confederates, except the approbation of this 
supreme court; and, after the success which had 
attended all their measures, there could be little 
doubt of obtaining it. The numbers that resorted 
to an assembly which was called to deliberate on 
matters of so much importance, were great. The 
meeting was opened with the utmost solemnity, and 
all its acts passed with much unanimity. Many, 
however, of the lords who had discovered the warm¬ 
est attachment to the queen, were present. But 
they had made their peace with the regent. Argyll, 
Huntley, and Herries, acknowledged openly in par¬ 
liament, that their behaviour towards the king had 
been undutiful and criminal/ Their compliance, 
in this manner, with the measures of the regent’s 

x Keith, 447. 450,463. . T VVT , T 

y Anders, vol. iv. 153. See Appendix, No. XXIV. 


party, was either the condition on which they were 
admitted into favour, or intended as a proof of the 
sincerity of their reconcilement. 

The parliament granted every „ . 

1 ° J Confirms the pro- 

tiling the confederates could demand, ceedings of the 

n confederates. 

either for the safety of their own per¬ 
sons, or the security of that form cf government 
which they had established in the kingdom. 
Mary’s resignation of the crown was accepted, and 
declared to be valid. The king’s authority and 
Murray’s election were recognised and confirmed. 
The imprisoning the queen, and all the other pro¬ 
ceedings of the confederates, were pronounced 
lawful. The letters which Mary had written to 
Bothwell were produced, and she was declared to 
be accessory to the murder of the king/ At the 
same time, all the acts of parliament of the year one 
thousand five hundred and sixty, in favour of the 
protestant religion, were publicly ratified; new 
statutes to the same purpose were enacted ; and 
nothing that could contribute to root out the re¬ 
mains of popery, or to encourage the growth of the 
reformation, was neglected. 

It is observable, however, that the same parsimo¬ 
nious spirit prevailed in this parliament, as in that 
of the year one thousand five hundred and sixty. 
The protestant clergy, notwithstanding many dis¬ 
couragements, and their extreme poverty, had, for 
seven years, performed all religious offices in the 
kingdom. The expedients fallen upon for their 
subsistence had hitherto proved ineffectual, or were 
intended to he so. But, notwithstanding their 
known indigence, and the warm remonstrances of 
the assembly of the church, which met this year, 
the parliament did nothing more for their relief than 
prescribe some new regulations concerning the pay¬ 
ment of the thirds of benefices, which did not pro¬ 
duce any considerable change in the situation of 
the clergy. 

A few days after the dissolution of 1568 
parliament, four of Bothwell’s depend- January 3 ‘ 
ants were convicted of being guilty of the king's 
murder, and suffered death as traitors. Their con¬ 
fessions brought to light many circumstances rela¬ 
tive to the manner of committing that barbarous 
crime; but they were persons of low rank, and 
seem not to have been admitted into the secrets of 
the conspiracy/ 

Notwithstanding the universal submission to the 
regent’s authority, there still abounded in the king¬ 
dom many secret murmurs and cabals. The par¬ 
tisans of the house of Hamilton reckoned Murray’s 
promotion an injury to the duke of Chatelherault, 
who, as first prince of the blood, had, in their opi¬ 
nion, an undoubted right to be regent. The length 
and rigour of Mary’s sufferings began to move 
many to commiserate her case. All who leaned to 
the ancient opinions in religion dreaded the effects 
of Murray’s zeal. And he, though his abilities 

7. Good. vol. ii. 66. Anders, vol. ii. 206. 

a Anders, vol. ii. 165. 



120 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


were great, did not possess the talents requisite for 
soothing the rage or removing the jealousies of the 
different factions. By insinuation, or address, he 
might have gained or softened many who had op¬ 
posed him ; but he was a stranger to these gentle 
arts. His virtues were severe ; and his deportment 
towards his equals, especially after his elevation to 
the regency, distant and haughty. This behaviour 
offended some of the nobles, and alarmed others. 
The queen’s faction which had been so easily dis¬ 
persed, began again to gather and to unite, and was 
secretly favoured by some who had hitherto zea¬ 
lously concurred with the confederates. b 

Mary escapes Such was the favourable disposition 

from Lochievin. 0 f ^j ie na tj on towards the queen, when 

she recovered her liberty, in a manner no less sur¬ 
prising to her friends than unexpected by her ene¬ 
mies. Several attempts had been made to procure 
her an opportunity of escaping, which some un¬ 
foreseen accident, or the vigilance of her keepers, 
had hitherto disappointed. At last, Mary employed 
all her art to gain George Douglas, her keeper’s 
brother, a youth of eighteen. As her manners were 
naturally affable and insinuating, she treated him 
with the most flattering distinction: she even allow¬ 
ed him to entertain the most ambitious hopes, by 
letting fall some expressions, as if she would choose 
him for her husband. 0 At his age, and in such cir¬ 
cumstances, it was impossible to resist such a temp¬ 
tation. He yielded, and drew others into the plot. 
On Sunday the second of May, while his brother 
sat at supper, and the rest of the family were re¬ 
tired to their devotions, one of his accomplices 
found means to steal the keys out of his brother’s 
chamber, and opening the gates to the queen and 
one of her maids, locked them behind her, and then 
threw the keys into the lake. Mary ran with pre¬ 
cipitation to the boat which was prepared for her, 
and on reaching the shore, was received with the 
utmost joy, by Douglas, lord Seatoun, and sir James 
Hamilton, who, with a few attendants, waited for 
her. She instantly mounted on horseback, and 
rode full speed towards Niddrie, lord Seatoun’s seat 
in West-Lothian. She arrived there that night, 
without being pursued or interrupted. After halt¬ 
ing three hours, she set out for Hamilton; and 
travelling at the same pace, she reached it next 
morning. 

Arrives atTIamil- 0n the flrSt " eWS ° f Mar y’ S eSCa P e > 
nuinJrois'lm'y* ,ler fr‘ en ds, whom, in their present 
disposition, a much smaller accident 
would have roused, ran to arms. In a few days, 
her court was filled with a great and splendid train 
of nobles, accompanied by such numbers of follow¬ 
ers, as formed an army above six thousand strong. 
In their presence she declared that the resignation 
of the crown, and the other deeds which she had 
signed during her imprisonment, were extorted from 
her by fear. Sir Robert Melvil confirmed her de¬ 
claration ; and on that, as well as on other accounts, 

b Melv. 179. c Keith, 469, 481. Note. 


[1568. BOOK 

a council of the nobles and chief men of her party 
pronounced all these transactions void 

v . May 8. 

and illegal. At the same time, an 
association was formed for the defence of her per¬ 
son and authority, and subscribed by nine earls, 
nine bishops, eighteen lords, and many gentlemen 
of distinction. 11 Among them we find several who 
had been present in the last parliament, and who 
had signed the counter-association in defence of the 
king’s government; but such sudden changes were 
then so common, as to be no matter of reproach. 

At the time when the queen made 

, Consternation of 

her escape, the regent was at Glasgow, the regent’s adhe- 

• rents 

holding a court of justice. An event 
so contrary to their expectations, and so fatal to 
their schemes, gave a great shock to his adherents. 
Many of them appeared wavering and irresolute ; 
others began to carry on private negociations with 
the queen ; and some openly revolted to her side. 
In so difficult a juncture, where his own fame, and 
the being of the party, depended on his choice, the 
regent’s most faithful associates were divided in 
opinion. Some advised him to retire, without loss 
of time, to Stirling. The queen’s army was already 
strong, and only eight miles distant; the adjacent 
country was full of the friends and dependants of 
the house of Hamilton, and other lords of the queen’s 
faction ; Glasgow was a large and unfortified town ; 
his own train consisted of no greater number than 
was usual in times of peace ; all these reasons 
pleaded for a retreat. But, on the other hand, ar¬ 
guments were urged of no inconsiderable weight. 
The citizens of Glasgow Mere M’ell affected to the 
cause ; the vassals of Glencairn, Lennox, and Sem¬ 
ple, lay near at hand, and were both numerous and 
full of zeal; succours might arrive from other parts 
of the kingdom in a few days ; in war, success de¬ 
pends upon reputation, as much as upon numbers ; 
reputation is gained or lost by the first step one 
takes ; on all these considerations, a retreat would 
be attended with all the ignominy of a flight, and 
would at once dispirit his friends, and inspire his 
enemies with boldness. In such dan- _ , 

*iis prudent con- 

gerous exigencies as this, the superi- duct - 
ority of Murray’s genius appeared, and enabled 
him both to choose with wisdom and to act with 
vigour. He declared against retreating, and fixed 
his head-quarters at Glasgow. And while he amus¬ 
ed the queen for some days, by pretending to 
hearken to some overtures which she made for ac¬ 
commodating their differences, he was employed, 
with the utmost industry, in drawing together his 
adherents from different parts of the kingdom. He 
was soon in a condition to take the field; and, though 
far inferior to the enemy in number, he confided so 
much in the valour of his troops and the experience 
of his officers, that he broke oft' the negociation, and 
determined to hazard a battle. e 

At the same time, the queen’s gene¬ 
rals had commanded her army to move. May 13 ' 

d Keith, 475. e Buchan. 369. 



BOOK V. 1568.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 121 


4 

Their intention was to conduct her to Dumbarton 
castle, a place of great strength, which the regent 
had not been able to wrest out of the hands of lord 
Fleming the governor ; but if the enemy should en¬ 
deavour to interrupt their march, they resolved not 
to decline an engagement. In Mary’s situation, no 
resolution could be more imprudent. A part only 
of her forces was assembled. Huntley, Ogilvie, 
and the northern clans, were soon expected ; her 
sufferings had removed or diminished the preju¬ 
dices of many among her subjects ; the address 
with which she surmounted the dangers that ob¬ 
structed her escape, dazzled and interested the 
people ; the sudden confluence of so many nobles 
added lustre to her cause ; she might assuredly de¬ 
pend on the friendship and countenance of France; 
she had reason to expect the protection of England ; 
her enemies could not possibly look for support 
from that quarter. She had much to hope from 
pursuing slow and cautious measures ; they had 
every thing to fear. 

But Mary, whose hopes were naturally sanguine, 
and her passions impetuous, was so elevated by her 
sudden transition from the depth of distress, to such 
an unusual appearance of prosperity, that she never 
doubted of success. Her army, which was almost 
double to the enemy in number, consisted chiefly of 
the Hamiltons and their dependants. Of these the 
archbishop of St. Andrew’s had the chief direction, 
and hoped, by a victory, not only to crush Murray, 
the ancient enemy of his house, but to get the per¬ 
son of the queen into his hands, and to oblige her 
either to marry one of the duke’s sons, or at least 
to commit the chief direction of her affairs to him¬ 
self. His ambition proved fatal to the queen, to 
himself, and to his family/ 

Battle of Lang- Mary’s imprudence in resolving to 
side. fight, was not greater than the ill con¬ 
duct of her generals in the battle. Between the 
two armies, and on the road towards Dumbarton, 
there was an eminence called Langside Hill. This 
the regent had the precaution to seize, and posted 
his troops in a small village, and among some gar¬ 
dens and enclosures adjacent. In this advantage¬ 
ous situation he waited the approach of the enemy, 
whose superiority in cavalry could be of no benefit 
to them on such broken ground. The Hamiltons, 
who composed the vanguard, ran so eagerly to the 
attack, that they put themselves out of breath, and 
left the main battle far behind. The encounter of 
the spearmen was fierce and desperate ; but as the 
forces of the Hamiltons were exposed, on the one 
flank to a continued fire from a body of musquet- 
eers, attacked on the other by the regent’s most 
choice troops, and not supported by the rest of the 

The queen’s army quin's army, they were soon obliged 

defeated. to gj ve g r0 und, and the rout immedi¬ 
ately became universal. Few victories in a civil 
war, and among a fierce people, have been pursued 
with less violence, or attended with less bloodshed. 


Three hundred fell in the field ; in the flight almost 
none were killed. The regent and his principal 
officers rode about, beseeching the soldiers to spare 
their countrymen. The number of prisoners was 
great, and among them many persons of distinction. 
The regent marched back to Glasgow, and returned 
public thanks to God for this great, and, on his side, 
almost bloodless, victory. 8 

During the engagement, Mary stood 
on a hill at no great distance, and be- Her lght ’ 
held all that passed in the field, with such emo¬ 
tions of mind as are not easily described. When 
she saw the army, which was her last hope, thrown 
into irretrievable confusion, her spirit, which all 
her past misfortunes had not been able entirely to 
subdue, sunk altogether. In the utmost consterna¬ 
tion, she began her flight, and, so lively were her 
impressions of fear, that she never closed her eyes 
till she reached the abbey of Dundrenan in Gallo¬ 
way, full sixty Scottish miles from the place of 
battle. h 

These revolutions in Mary’s fortune had been no 
less rapid than singular. In the short space of 
eleven days she had been a prisoner at the mercy 
of her most inveterate enemies; she had seen a 
powerful army under her command, and a nume¬ 
rous train of nobles at her devotion; and now 
she was obliged to fly, in the utmost danger of her 
life, and to lurk, with a few attendants, in a corner 
of her kingdom. Not thinking herself safe even in 
that retreat, her fears impelled her to an action, the 
most unadvised, as well as the most unfortunate, 
in her whole life. This was her retiring into Eng¬ 
land ; a step, which, on many accounts, ought to 
have appeared to her rash and dangerous. 

Before Mary’s arrival in Scotland, R esplveson refir _ 
mutual distrust and jealousies had ing into England, 
arisen between her and Elizabeth. All their subse¬ 
quent transactions had contributed to exasperate 
and inflame these passions. She had endeavoured 
by secret negociations and intrigues, to disturb the 
tranquillity of Elizabeth’s government, and to ad¬ 
vance her own pretensions to the English crown. 
Elizabeth, who possessed great power, and acted 
with less reserve, had openly supported Mary’s re¬ 
bellious subjects, and fomented all the dissensions 
and troubles in which her reign had been involved. 
The maxims of policy still authorized that queen to 
pursue the same course; as, by keeping Scotland 
in confusion, she effectually secured the peace of 
her own kingdom. The regent, after his victory, 
had marched to Edinburgh, and, not knowing what 
course the queen had taken, it was several days 
before he thought of pursuing her/ She might have 
been concealed in that retired corner, among sub¬ 
jects devoted to her interest, until her party, which 
was dispersed rather than broken by the late defeat, 
should gather such strength that she could again 
appear with safety at their head. There was not 
any danger which she ought not to have run, rather 


f Andere. vol.iv. 32. Melv. 181. 


g Keith, 477. 


h Ibid. 481. 


i Crawf. Mem. 59 . 




122 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


than throw herself into the hands of an enemy, 
from whom she had already suffered so many in¬ 
juries, and who was prompted, both by inclination 
and by interest, to renew them. 

But, on the other hand, during Mary’s confine¬ 
ment, Elizabeth had declared against the proceed¬ 
ings of her subjects, and solicited for her liberty, 
with a warmth which had all the appearance of 
sincerity. She had invited her to take refuge in 
England, and had promised to meet her in person, 
and to give her such a reception as was due to a queen, 
a kinswoman, and an allyk Whatever apprehen¬ 
sion Elizabeth might entertain of Mary’s designs 
while she had power in her hands, she was, at 
present, the object, not of fear, but of pity; and to 
take advantage of her situation, would be both un¬ 
generous and inhuman. The horrors of a prison 
were fresh in Mary’s memory ; and if she should 
fall a second time into the hands of her subjects, 
there was no injury to which the presumption of 
success might not imbolden them to proceed. To 
attempt escaping into France, was dangerous, and, 
in her situation, almost impossible ; nor could she 
bear the thoughts of appearing as an exile and a 
fugitive in that kingdom where she had once en¬ 
joyed all the splendour of a queen. England 
remained her only asylum; and, in spite of the 
entreaties of lord Herries, Fleming, and her other 
attendants, who conjured her, even on their knees, 
not to confide in Elizabeth’s promises of generosity, 
her infatuation was invincible, and she resolved to 
fly thither. Herries, by her command, wrote to 
Lowther, the deputy-governor of Carlisle, to know 
Her ^reception at what reception liewould give her; and, 
May 16 .’ before his answer could return, her 
fear and impatience were so great, that she got into 
a fisher-boat, and, with about twenty attendants, 
landed at Wirkington in Cumberland, and thence 
she was conducted with many marks of respect to 
Carlisle. 1 

Elizabeth delibe- As soon as Maij arrived in England, 
the e manner e of in8 s * ie wrote a long letter to the queen, 
treating her. representing, in the strongest terms, 

the injuries which she had suffered from her own 
subjects, and imploring that pity and assistance 
which her present situation demanded." 1 An event 
so extraordinary, and the conduct which might be 
proper in consequence of it, drew the attention and 
employed the thoughts of Elizabeth and her council. 
If their deliberations had been influenced by con¬ 
siderations of justice or generosity alone, they would 
not have found them long or intricate. A queen, 
vanquished by her own subjects, and threatened by 
them with the loss of her liberty, or of her life, had 
fled from their violence, and thrown herself into the 
arms of her nearest neighbour and ally, from whom 
she had received repeated assurances of friendship 
and protection. These circumstances entitled her 
to respect and to compassion, and required that she 


[15G8. BOOK Y. 

should either be restored to her own kingdom, or at 
least be left at full liberty to seek aid from any other 
quarter. But with Elizabeth and her counsellors, 
the question was not, what was most just of gene¬ 
rous, but what was most beneficial to herself, and 
to the English nation. Three different resolutions 
might have been taken, with regard to the queen of 
Scots. To reinstate her in her throne, was one ; to 
allow her to retire into France, was another; to 
detain her in England, was a third. Each of these 
drew consequences after it, of the utmost import¬ 
ance, which were examined, as appears from papers 
still extant," with that minute accuracy which 
Elizabeth’s ministers employed in all their consul¬ 
tations upon affairs of moment. 

To restore Mary to the full exercise of the royal 
authority in Scotland, they observed, would render 
her more powerful than ever. The nobles who 
were most firmly attached to the English interest 
would quickly feel the utmost weight of her resent¬ 
ment. As the gratitude of princes is seldom strong 
or lasting, regard to her own interest might soon 
efface the memory of her obligations to Elizabeth, 
and prompt her to renew the alliance of the Scottish 
nation with France, and revive her own pretensions 
to the English crown. Nor was it possible to fetter 
and circumscribe the Scottish queen, by any con¬ 
ditions that would prevent these dangers. Her 
party in Scotland was numerous and powerful. 
Her return, even without any support from England, 
would inspire her friends with new zeal and courage; 
a single victory might give them the superiority, 
which they had lost by a single defeat, and render 
Mary a more formidable rival than ever to Elizabeth. 

The dangers arising from suffering Mary to return 
into France, were no less obvious. The French 
king could not refuse his assistance towards restor¬ 
ing his sister and ally to her throne. Elizabeth 
would, once more, see a foreign army in the island, 
overawing the Scots, and ready to enter her king¬ 
dom ; and, if the commotions in France, on account 
of religion, were settled, the princes of Lorrain 
might resume their ambitious projects, and the 
united forces of France and Scotland might invade 
England where it is weakest and most defenceless. 

Nothing therefore remained but to Resol „ stodctain 
detain her in England ; and to permit her in £n ? land - 
her either to live at liberty there, or to confine her 
in a prison. The former was a dangerous experi¬ 
ment. Her court would become a place of resort to 
all the Roman catholics, to the disaffected, and to 
the lovers of innovation. Though Elizabeth affected 
to represent Mary’s pretensions to the English 
crown as ill-founded, she was not ignorant that they 
did not appear in that light to the nation, and that 
many thought them preferable even to her own 
title. If the activity of her emissaries had gained 
her so many abettors, her own personal influence 
was much more to be dreaded; her beauty, her 


k Camd. 489. Anders, vol. iv. 99, 120. Mnrdin, 369. 
1 Keith, 483. Anders, vol. iv. 2. 


m Anders, vol. iv. 29. 


n Id. 34, 99, 102. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


123 


BOOK V. 1568.] 

address, her sufferings, by the admiration and pity 
which they would excite, could not fail of making 
many converts to her party.® 

It was indeed to be apprehended, that the treating 
Mary as a prisoner would excite universal indig¬ 
nation against Elizabeth, and that by this unex¬ 
ampled severity towards a queen, who implored, 
and to whom she had promised, her protection, she 
would forfeit the praise of justice and humanity, 
which was hitherto due to her administration. But 
the English monarchs were often so solicitous to 
secure their kingdom against the Scots, as to be 
little scrupulous about the means which they em¬ 
ployed for that purpose. Henry IY. had seized the 
heir of the crown of Scotland, w ho was forced by 
the violence of a storm to take refuge in one of the 
ports of his kingdom ; and, in contempt of the rights 
of hospitality, without regarding his tender age, or 
the tears and entreaties of his father, detained him 
a prisoner for many years. This action, though 
detested by posterity, Elizabeth resolved now to 
imitate. Her virtue was not more proof than that 
of Henry had been, against the temptations of inter¬ 
est ; and the possession of a present advantage was 
preferred to the prospect of future fame. The satis¬ 
faction which she felt in mortifying a rival, whose 
beauty and accomplishments she envied, had, per¬ 
haps, no less influence than political considerations, 
in bringing her to this resolution. But, at the same 
time, in order to screen herself from the censure 
which this conduct merited, and to make her treat¬ 
ment of the Scottish queen look like the effect of 
necessity rather than of choice, she determined to 
assume the appearance of concern for her interest, 
and of deep sympathy with her sufferings. 

With this view, she instantly de¬ 
spatched lord Scrope, warden of the 
west marches, and sir Francis Knollys, her vice¬ 
chamberlain, to the queen of Scots, with letters full 
of expressions of kindness and condolence. But, at 
the same time, they had private instructions to 
watch all her motions, and to take care that she 
Mary demands should not escape into her own king- 
Eilzabeth’s pre- dom.P On their arrival, Mary de- 
sence. manded a personal interview with the 

queen, that she might lay before her the injuries 
which she had suffered, and receive from her those 
friendly offices which.she had been encouraged to 
expect. They answered, that it was with reluctance 
admission into the presence of their sovereign was 
at present denied her; that while she lay under the 
imputation of a crime so horrid as the murder of 
her husband, their mistress, to whom he was so 
nearly allied, could not, without bringing a stain 
upon her own reputation, admit her into her pre¬ 
sence ; but, as soon as she had cleared herself from 
that aspersion, they promised her a reception suit¬ 
able to her dignity, and aid proportioned to hei 
distress. q 


Nothing could be more artful than 01 

° . She offers to vin- 

tlns pretence ; and it was the occasion dicatehercon- 

duct. 

of leading the queen of Scots into the 
snare in which Elizabeth and her ministers wished 
to entangle her. Mary expressed the utmost sur¬ 
prise at this unexpected manner of evading her re¬ 
quest ; but, as she could not believe so many pro¬ 
fessions of friendship to be void of sincerity, she 
frankly offered to submit her cause to the cognizance 
of Elizabeth, and undertook to produce such proofs 
of her own innocence, and of the falsehood of the 
accusations brought against her, as should fully 
remove the scruples, and satisfy the delicacy, of the 
English queen. This was the very 
point to which Elizabeth laboured to Slv^tage^f this 
bring the matter. In consequence of offer ‘ 
this appeal of the Scottish queen, she now considered 
herself as the umpire between her and her subjects, 
and foresaw that she would have it entirely in her 
own power to protract the inquiry to any length, 
and to perplex and involve it in endless difficulties. 
In the mean time, she was furnished with a plau¬ 
sible reason for keeping her at a distance from court, 
and for refusing to contribute towards replacing her 
on the throne. As Mary's conduct had been ex¬ 
tremely incautious, and the presumptions of her 
guilt were many and strong, it was not impossible 
her subjects might make good their charge against 
her ; and if this should be the result of the inquiry, 
she would, thenceforth, cease to be the object of 
regard or of compassion, and the treating her with 
coldness and neglect would merit little censure. In 
a matter so dark and mysterious, there was no pro¬ 
bability that Mary could bring proofs of her inno¬ 
cence, so incontested, as to render the conduct of 
the English queen altogether culpable ; and, per¬ 
haps, impatience under restraint, suspicion of Eliza¬ 
beth’s partiality, or the discovery of her artifices, 
might engage Mary in such cabals, as would justify 
the using her with greater rigour. 

Elizabeth early perceived many advantages which 
would arise from an inquiry into the conduct of the 
Scottish queen, carried on under her direction. 
There was some danger, however, that Mary might 
discover her secret intentions too soon, and by re¬ 
ceding from the offer which she had made, endeavour 
to disappoint them. But, even in that event, she 
determined not to drop the inquiry, and had thought 
of several different expedients for carrying it on. 
The countess of Lennox, convinced that Mary was 
accessory to the murder of her son, and thirsting 
for that vengeance which it was natural for a 
mother to demand, had implored Elizabeth’s justice, 
and solicited her, with many tears, in her own name, 
and in her husband’s, to bring the Scottish queen to 
a trial for that crime. r The parents of the unhappy 
prince had a just right to prefer this accusation ; 
nor could she, who was their nearest kinswoman, be 
condemned for listening to so equitable a demand. 


o Anders, vol. iv. 56, 60. 


p Ibid. 36, 70, 92. 


q Ibid. vol. jv, 8. 55 . 


r Camd. 412. Haynes, 469 




124 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1508. BOOK V. 


Besides, as the Scottish nobles openly accused 
Mary of the same crime, and pretended to be able 
to confirm their charge by sufficient proof, it would 
be no difficult matter to prevail on them to petition 
the queen of England to take cognizance of their 
proceedings against their sovereign ; and it was the 
opinion of the English council, that it would be 
reasonable to comply with the request. s At the 
same time, the obsolete claim of the superiority of 
England over Scotland began to be talked of; and, 
on that account, it was pretended that the decision 
of the contest between Mary and her subjects be¬ 
longed of right to Elizabeth. 1 But, though Eliza¬ 
beth revolved all these expedients in her mind, and 
kept them in reserve to be made use of as occasion 
might require, she wished that the inquiry into 
Mary’s conduct should appear to be undertaken 
purely in compliance with her own demand, and in 
order to vindicate her innocence; and as long as 
that appearance could be preserved, none of the 
other expedients were to be employed. 

When Mary consented to submit her cause to 
Elizabeth, she was far from suspecting that any bad 
consequences could follow, or that any dangerous 
pretensions could be founded on her offer. She 
expected that Elizabeth herself would receive and 
examine her defences ; u she meant to consider her 
as an equal, for whose satisfaction she was willing 
to explain any part of her conduct that was liable 
to censure, not to acknowledge her as a superior, 
before whom she was bound to plead her cause. 
But Elizabeth put a very different sense on Mary’s 
offer. She considered herself as chosen to be judge 
in the controversy between the Scottish queen and 
her subjects, and began to act in that capacity. 
She proposed to appoint commissioners to hear the 
pleadings of both parties, and wrote to the regent of 
Scotland to empower proper persons to appear be¬ 
fore them in his name, and to produce what he 
could allege in vindication of his proceedings 
against his sovereign. 

Mary greatly of- Mary had, hitherto, relied with un- 
b e e°h’s d conductf a " accountable credulity on Elizabeth’s 
professions of regard, and expected 
that so many kind speeches would, at last, be ac¬ 
companied with some suitable actions. But this 
proposal entirely undeceived her. She plainly per¬ 
ceived the artifice of Elizabeth’s conduct, and saw 
what a diminution it would be to her own honour 
to appear on a level with her rebellious subjects, 
and to stand together with them at the bar of a 
superior and a judge. She retracted the offer which 
she had made, and which had been perverted to a 
purpose so contrary to her intention. She demand¬ 
ed, with more earnestness than ever, to be admitted 
into Elizabeth’s presence ; and wrote 
to her in a strain very different from 
what, she had formerly used, and which fully dis¬ 
covers the grief and indignation that preyed on her 
heart. “ In my present situation,” says she, “ I 

8 Anders, vol. vi. part. i. 37. t Ibid. u Anders, vol. iv. 10. 


neither will nor can reply to the accusations of my 
subjects. I am ready, of my own accord, and out 
of friendship to you, to satify your scruples, and to 
vindicate my own conduct. My subjects are not my 
equals ; nor will I, by submitting my cause to a 
judicial trial, acknowledge them to be so. I fled 
into your arms, as into those of my nearest relation 
and most perfect friend. I did you honour, as I 
imagined, in choosing you, preferably to any other 
prince, to be the restorer of an injured queen. Was 
it ever known that a prince was blamed for hearing, 
in person, the complaints of those who appealed to 
his justice, against the false accusations of their 
enemies ? You admitted into your presence my 
bastard brother, who had been guilty of rebellion ; 
and you deny me that honour ! God forbid that I 
should be the occasion of bringing any April 24 
stain upon your reputation ! I expect¬ 
ed that your manner of treating me would have 
added lustre to it. Suffer me either to implore the 
aid of other princes, whose delicacy on this head 
will be less, and their resentment of my wrongs 
greater ; or let me receive from your hands that 
assistance which it becomes you, more than any 
other prince, to grant; and, by that benefit, bind 
me to yourself in the indissoluble ties of gratitude.” x 

This letter somewhat disconcerted Jtine 20 
Elizabeth’s plan, but did not divert cautions* 1 agamst 
her from the prosecution of it. She her - 
laid the matter before the privy council, and it was 
there determined, notwithstanding the entreaties 
and remonstrances of the Scottish queen, to go on 
with the inquiry into her conduct, and, until that 
were finished, it was agreed that Elizabeth could 
not, consistently with her own honour, or with the 
safety of her government, either give her the assist¬ 
ance which she demanded, or permit her to retire 
out of the kingdom. Lest she should have an op¬ 
portunity of escaping, while she resided so near 
Scotland, it was thought advisable to remove her to 
some place at a greater distance from the borders.* 

While the English court was occu- „ 

. Proceedings of the 

pied in these deliberations, the regent regent against the 
- . ,, . , queen’s adherents, 

did not neglect to improve the victory 

at Langside. That event was of the utmost import¬ 
ance to him. It not only drove the queen herself 
out of the kingdom, but left her adherents dispersed, 
and without a leader, at his mercy. He seemed 
resolved, at first, to proceed against them with the 
utmost rigour. Six persons of some distinction, 
who had been taken prisoners in the battle, were 
tried and condemned to death, as rebels against the 
king’s government. They were led to the place of 
execution, but, by the powerful intercession of 
Knox, they obtained a pardon. Hamilton of Both- 
welhaugh was one of the number, who lived to give 
both the regent and Knox reason to repent of this 
commendable act of lenity. 2 

Soon after, the regent marched with an army, 
consisting of four thousand horse and one thousand 

x Anders, vol. iv. part. i. 94. y Id. Ibid. 102. z Cald. vol. ii. 99. 



HOOK V. 1568.J 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


125 


July 13. 


foot, towards the west borders. The nobles in this 
part of the kingdom were all the queen’s adherents; 
but, as they had not force sufficient to obstruct his 
progress, he must either have obliged them to sub¬ 
mit to the king, or would have laid waste their lands 
with fire and sword. But Elizabeth, whose interest 
it was to keep Scotland in confusion, by preserving 
the balance between the two parties, and who was 
endeavouring to sooth the Scottish queen by gentle 
treatment, interposed at her desire. After keeping 
the field two weeks, the regent, in compliance to 
the English ambassador, dismissed his forces ; and 
an expedition, which might have proved fatal to his 
opponents, ended with a few acts of severity. 8 

Mary carried to The resolution of the English privy 
Bolton. council with regard to Mary’s person 
was soon carried into execution ; and, without re¬ 
garding her remonstrances or complaints, she was 
conducted to Bolton, a castle of lord Scrope’s, on 
the borders of Yorkshire. 11 In this place, her cor¬ 
respondence with her friends in Scot¬ 
land became more difficult, and any 
prospect of making her escape was entirely cut off'. 
She now felt herself to be completely in Elizabeth’s 
power, and, though treated as yet with the respect 
due to a queen, her real condition was that of a 
prisoner. Mary knew what it was to be deprived 
of liberty, and dreaded it as the worst of all evils. 
While the remembrance of her late imprisonment 
was still lively, and the terror of a new one filled 
her mind, Elizabeth thought it a proper juncture to 
renew her former proposition, that she 
would suffer the regent and his adhe¬ 
rents to be called into England, and consent to their 
being heard in defence of their own conduct. She 
declared it to be far from her intention to claim any 
right of judging between Mary and her subjects, or 
of degrading her so far as to require that she should 
answer to their accusations. On the contrary, Mur¬ 
ray and his associates were summoned to appear, 
in order to justify their conduct in treating their 
sovereign so harshly, and to vindicate themselves 
from those crimes with which she had charged them. 
On her part, Elizabeth promised, whatever should 
be the issue of this inquiry, to employ all her power 
and influence towards replacing Mary on her throne, 
under a few limitations, by no means unreasonable. 

Mary, deceived by this seeming atten- 
qmry S be* made tion to her dignity as a queen; soothed, 

into her conduct. , , , • a .. 

on one hand, by a promise more flatter¬ 
ing than any which she had hitherto received from 
Elizabeth, and urged, on the other, by the feelings 
which were natural on being conducted into a more 
interior part of England, and kept there in more 
rigorous confinement, complied at length with what 
Elizabeth required, and promised to send commis¬ 
sioners to the conferences appointed to be held at 
York. c 

a Cald. vol. ii. 99. b Anders, vol. iv. 14. See Appendix, No. XXV. 

c Anders, iv. part. i. p. 11, 12, &c. 106, &c. Haynes, 468, &c. State 
Trials, Edit. Hargrave, l. 90. 


July 28. 


In order to persuade Elizabeth that TT . 

4 Iler dissimulation 

she desired nothing so much as to ren- 'Y** 11 regard tore- 

der the union between them as close 
as possible, she showed a disposition to relax some¬ 
what in one point, with regard to which, during all 
her past and subsequent misfortunes, she was uni¬ 
formly inflexible. She expressed great veneration 
for the liturgy of the church of England ; she was 
often present at religious worship, according to the 
rites of the reformed church ; made choice of a 
protestant clergyman to be her chaplain; heard him 
preach against the errors of popery with attention 
and seeming pleasure; and discovered all the symp¬ 
toms of an approaching conversion. d Such was 
Mary’s known and bigoted attachment to the popish 
religion, that it is impossible to believe her sincere 
in this part of her conduct; nor can any thing mark 
more strongly the wretchedness of her condition, 
and the excess of her fears, than that they betrayed 
her into dissimulation, in a matter concerning which 
her sentiments were, at all other times, scrupulously 
delicate. 

At this time the regent called a par¬ 
liament, in order to proceed to the for- A parliament in 
feiture of those who refused to acknow¬ 
ledge the king’s authority. The queen’s adherents 
were alarmed, and Argyll and Huntley, whom Mary 
had appointed her lieutenants, the one in the south, 
and the other in the north, of Scotland, began to 
assemble forces to obstruct this meeting. Compas¬ 
sion for the queen, and envy at those who governed 
in the king’s name, had added so much strength to 
the party, that the regent would have found it diffi¬ 
cult to withstand its efforts. But as Mary had sub¬ 
mitted her cause to Elizabeth, she could not refuse, 
at her desire, to command her friends to lay down 
their arms, and to wait patiently until matters were 
brought to a decision in England. By procuring 
this cessation of arms, Elizabeth afforded as season¬ 
able relief to the regent’s faction, as she had formerly 
given to the queen’s. e 

The regent, however, would not consent, even 
at Elizabeth’s request, to put off the meeting of par¬ 
liament. f But we may ascribe to her influence, as 
well as to the eloquence of Maitland, who laboured 
to prevent the one-half of his countrymen from ex¬ 
terminating the other, any appearances of modera¬ 
tion which this parliament discovered in its proceed¬ 
ings. The most violent opponents of the king’s 
government were forfeited ; the rest were allowed 
still to hope for favour. 8 

No sooner did the queen of Scots 

, . , , Elizabeth requires 

submit her cause to her rival, than the resent to de- 

, . . , „ , , . fend his conduct. 

Elizabeth required the regent to send 
to York deputies properly instructed for vindicating 
his conduct, in presence of her commissioners. It 
was not without hesitation and anxiety that the 
regent consented to this measure. His authority 

% 

d Anders, vol. iv. part i. US. Haynes, 509. See Appendjx, No. XXVI. 
e Anders, vol. iv. 125. f See Appendix, XXVII. 

g Buch. 371. 



126 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1568. BOOK V. 


was already established in Scotland, and confirmed 
by parliament. To suffer its validity now to be 
called in question, and subjected to a foreign juris- 
diction, was extremely mortifying. To accuse bis 
sovereign before strangers, the ancient enemies of 
the Scottish name, was an odious task. To fail in 
this accusation was dangerous; to succeed in it was 
disgraceful. But the strength of the adverse faction 
daily increased. He dreaded the interposition of 
the French king in its behalf. In his situation, 
and in a matter which Elizabeth had so much at 
heart, her commands were neither to be disputed 
nor disobeyed. h 

The necessity of repairing in person 
and 1 he th appoint 1 to York added to the ignominy of the 

commissioners. , , . . , . .. , . . , 

step which he was obliged to take. 
All his associates declined the office ; they were un¬ 
willing to expose themselves to the odium and 
danger with which it was easy to foresee that the 
discharge of it would be attended, unless he him¬ 
self consented to share these in common 
Sept 18 ‘ w ith them. The earl of Morton, Botli- 
well bishop of Orkney, Pitcairn commendator of 
Dunfermline, and lord Lindsay, were joined with 
him in commission. Macgill of Rankeilor, and 
Balnaves of Hallhill, two eminent civilians, George 
Buchanan, Murray’s faithful adherent, a man whose 
genius did honour to the age, Maitland, and several 
others, were appointed to attend them as assistants. 
Maitland owed this distinction to the regent’s fear, 
rather than to his affection. He had warmly remon¬ 
strated against this measure. He wished his country 
to continue in friendship with England, but not to 
become dependent on that nation. He was desirous 
of re-establishing the queen in some degree of power, 
not inconsistent with that which the king pos¬ 
sessed ; and the regent could not, with safety, leave 
behind him a man, whose views were so contrary to 
his own, and who, by his superior abilities, had 
acquired an influence in the nation, equal to that 
which others derived from the antiquity and power 
of their families.* 

Mary empowered Lesley bishop of Ross, lord 
Livingston, lord Boyd, lord Herries, Gavin Hamil¬ 
ton, commendator of Kilwinning, sir John Gordon 
of Lochinvar, and sir James Cockburn of Stirling, 
to appear in her name. k 

Elizabeth nominated Thomas Howard duke of 
Norfolk, Thomas Radcliff earl of Sussex, and sir 
Ralph Sadler, her commissioners to hear both parties. 
The conference at The fourth of October was the day 
Y ° rk . fixed for opening the conference. The 
great abilities of the deputies on both sides, the 
dignity of the judges before whom they were to 
appear, the high rank of the persons whose cause 
was to be heard, and the importance of the points 
in dispute, rendered the whole transaction no less 
illustrious than it was singular. The situation in 
which Elizabeth appeared on this occasion, strikes 

h Buch. .372. See Append. No. XXVTII. 

i Buch. 371. Anders, vol. iv. 35. Melv. 186, 188. 

k Anders, vol. iv. 33. 


us with an air of magnificence. Her rival, an in¬ 
dependent queen, and the heir of an ancient race of 
monarchs, was a prisoner in her hands, and appear¬ 
ed, by her ambassadors, before her tribunal. The 
regent of Scotland, who represented the majesty, 
and possessed the authority, of a king, stood in per¬ 
son at her bar. And the fate of a kingdom, whose 
power her ancestors had often dreaded, but could 
never subdue, was now at her disposal. 

The views, however, with which the views of the dif- 
several parties consented to this con- teient partles- 
ference, and the issue to which they expected to 
bring it, were extremely different. 

Mary’s chief object was the recovering of her 
former authority. This induced her to consent to a 
measure against which she had long struggled. 
Elizabeth’s promises gave her ground for entertain¬ 
ing hopes of being restored to her kingdom ; in 
order to which she would have willingly made many 
concessions to the king’s party ; and the influence of 
the English queen, as well as her own impatience 
under her present situation, might have led her to 
many more. 1 The regent aimed at nothing but se¬ 
curing Elizabeth’s protection to his party, and seems 
not to have had the most distant thoughts of coming 
to any composition with Mary. Elizabeth’s views 
were more various, and her schemes more intricate. 
She seemed to be full of concern for Mary’s honour, 
and solicitous that she should wipe off the asper¬ 
sions which blemished her character. This she pre¬ 
tended to be the intention of the conference ; amus¬ 
ing Mary, and eluding the solicitations of the French 
and Spanish ambassadors in her behalf, by repeated 
promises of assisting her, as soon as she could ven¬ 
ture to do so, without bringing disgrace upon her¬ 
self. But under this veil of friendship and genero¬ 
sity, Elizabeth concealed sentiments of a different 
nature. She expeeted that the regent would accuse 
Mary of being accessory to the murder of her hus¬ 
band. She encouraged him, as far as decency would 
permit, to take this desperate step.™ And as this 
accusation might terminate in two different ways, 
she had concerted measures for her future conduct 
suitable to each of these. If the charge against 
Mary should appear to be well-founded, she resolved 
to pronounce her unworthy of wearing a crown, and 
to declare that she would never burthen her own 
conscience with the guilt of an action so detestable 
as the restoring her to her kingdom. 11 If it should 
happen, that what her accusers alleged did not 
amount to a proof of guilt, but only of maladminis¬ 
tration, she determined to set on foot a treaty for 
restoring her, but on such conditions as would ren¬ 
der her hereafter dependent, not only upon England, 
but upon her own subjects. 0 As every step in the 
progress of the conference, as well as the final re¬ 
sult of it, was in Elizabeth’s own power, she would 
still be at liberty to choose which of these courses 
she should hold ; or if there appeared to be any 

1 Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 33. Good. vol. ii. .337. 

ra Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 11, 45. Haynes, 487- 

n Anders, vol. iv. part. ii. 11. o Id. ibid. 




BOOK V. 1568.] ' THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


127 


danger or inconveniency in pursuing either of them, 
she might protract the whole cause by endless de¬ 
lays, and involve it in inextricable perplexity. 
Complaint of the The conference, however, was open- 
sioners against ed with much solemnity. But the very 
first step discovered it to be Elizabeth’s 
intention to inflame, rather than to extinguish, the 
dissensions and animosities among the Scots. No 
endeavours were used to reconcile the contending 
parties, or to mollify the fierceness of their hatred, 
by bringing the queen to offer pardon for what was 
past, or her subjects to promise more dutiful obe- 
dience for the future. On the contrarv, 

October 8. , . . . , 

Mary s commissioners were permitted 
to prefer a complaint against the regent and his 
party, containing an enumeration of their treason¬ 
able actions, of their seizing her person by force of 
arms, committing her to prison, compelling her to 
resign the crown, and making use of her son’s name 
to colour their usurpation of the whole royal autho¬ 
rity ; and of all these enormities they required such 
speedy and effectual redress, as the injuries of one 
queen demanded from the justice of another.'’ 

It was then expected that the regent would have 
disclosed all the circumstances of that unnatural 
crime to which he pretended the queen had been 
accessory, and would have produced evidence in 
support of his charge. But, far from accusing Mary, 
the regent did not even answer the complaints 
brought against himself. He discovered a reluct¬ 
ance at undertaking that office, and started many 
doubts and scruples, with regard to which he de¬ 
manded to be resolved by Elizabeth herself/ His 
reserve and hesitation were no less surprising to the 
greater part of the English commissioners than to 
his own associates. They knew that he could not 
vindicate his own conduct without charging the 
murder upon the queen, and he had not hitherto 
shown any extraordinary delicacy on that head. 
An intrigue, however, had been secretly carried 
on, since his arrival at York, which explains this 
mystery. 


_ . r , T The duke of Norfolk was, at that 

Intrigues of Nor- 

folk with the re- time, the most powerful and most po¬ 
pular man in England. His wife was 
lately dead ; and he began already to form a project, 
which he afterwards more openly avowed, of mount¬ 
ing the throne of Scotland, by a marriage with the 
queen of Scots. He saw the infamy which would 
be the consequence of a public accusation against 
Mary, and how prejudicial it might be to her pre¬ 
tensions to the English succession. In order to save 
her from this cruel mortification, he applied to Mait¬ 
land, and expressed his astonishment at seeing a 
man of so much reputation for wisdom, concurring 
with the regent in a measure so dishonourable to 
themselves, to their queen, and to their country; 
submitting the public transactions of the nation to 
the judgment of foreigners ; and publishing the 

p Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 52. q Haynes, 478. 

r Melv. 187- Haynes, 573. 

s Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 77* Good. vol. u. 157. See App. Iso. XXIX. 


ignominy and exposing the faults of their sovereign, 
which they were bound, in good policy, as well as 
in duty, to conceal and to cover. It was easy for 
Maitland, whose sentiments were the same with the 
duke’s, to vindicate his own conduct. He assured 
him that he had employed all his credit to dissuade 
his countrymen from this measure ; and Mould still 
contribute, to the utmost of his power, to divert them 
from it. This encouraged Norfolk to communicate 
the matter to the regent. He repeated and enforced 
the same arguments which he had used with Mait¬ 
land. He warned him of the danger to which he 
must expose himself by such a violent action as 
the public accusation of his sovereign. Mary would 
never forgive a man Mho had endeavoured to fix 
such a brand of infamy on her character. If she 
ever recovered any degree of power, his destruction 
would be inevitable, and he would justly merit it 
at her hands. Nor would Elizabeth screen him 
from this, by a public approbation of his conduct. 
For, Mdiatever evidence of Mary’s guilt he might 
produce, she was resolved to give no definitive 
sentence in the cause. Let him only demand that 
the matter should be brought to a decision im¬ 
mediately after hearing the proof, and he would be 
fully convinced how false and insidious her inten¬ 
tions Mere, and, by consequence, how improper it 
would be for him to appear as the accuser of his own 
sovereign/ The candour which Norfolk seemed to 
discover in these remonstrances, as well as the truth 
M'hich they contained, made a deep impression on 
the regent. He daily received the strongest assur¬ 
ances of Mary’s willingness to be reconciled to him, 
if he abstained from accusing her of such an odious 
crime, together with the denunciations of her irre¬ 
concilable hatred, if he acted a contrary part/ All 
these considerations concurred in determining him 
to alter his purpose, and to make trial of the ex¬ 
pedient which the duke had suggested. 

He demanded, therefore, to be in- _ , . A 
7 7 October 9. 

formed, before he proceeded further, 
whether the English commissioners M ere empowered 
to declare the queen guilty, by a judicial act; whe¬ 
ther they would promise to pass sentence, M'ithout 
delay ; whether the queen should be kept under 
such restraint, as to prevent her from disturbing the 
government now established in Scotland ; and whe¬ 
ther Elizabeth, if she approved of the proceedings 
of the king’s party, would engage to protect it for 
the future? 1 The paper containing these demands 
Mas signed by himself alone, without communicat¬ 
ing it to any of his attendants, except Maitland and 
Melvil." But, lest so many precautions should ex¬ 
cite any suspicion of their proceedings, from some 
consciousness of defect in the evidence which he 
had to produce against his sovereign, Murray em¬ 
powered Lethington, Macgill, and Buchanan, to 
wait upon the duke of Norfolk, the earl of Sussex, 
and sir Ralph Sadler, and to lay before them, not 

t Anders, vol. iv, part ii. 55. State Trials, i. 91, &c. 

u Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 56. Melv. 190. 



128 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


in their public characters as commissioners, but as 
private persons, Mary’s letters to Bothwell, her 
sonnets, and all the other papers upon which was 
founded the charge of her being accessory to the 
murder of the king, and to declare that this con¬ 
fidential communication was made to them, with a 
view to learn whether the queen of England would 
consider this evidence as sufficient to establish the 
truth of the accusation. Nothing could be more 
natural than the regent’s solicitude to know on 
what footing he stood. To have ventured on a step 
so uncommon and dangerous, as the accusing his 
sovereign, without previously ascertaining that he 
might take it with safety, would have been unpar¬ 
donable imprudence. But Elizabeth, who did not 
expect that he would have moved any such diffi¬ 
culty, had not empowered her commissioners to 
give him that satisfaction which he demanded. It 
became necessary to transmit the articles to herself, 
and by the light in which Norfolk placed them, it 
is easy to see that he wished that they should make 
no slight impression on Elizabeth and her ministers. 
“ Think not the Scots,” said he, “ over-scrupulous 
or precise. Let us view their conduct as we would 
wish our own to be viewed in a like situation. The 
game they play is deep ; their estates, their lives, 
their honour, are at stake. It is now in their own 
power to be reconciled to their queen, or to offend 
her irrecoverably; and, in a matter of so much 
importance, the utmost degree of caution is not 
excessive.”* 

While the English commissioners waited for 
fuller instructions with regard to the regent’s de¬ 
mands, he gave in an answer to the complaint 
which had been offered in the name of the Scottish 
queen. It was expressed in terms perfectly con¬ 
formable to the system which he had at that time 
adopted. It contained no insinuation of the queen’s 
being accessory to the murder of her husband ; the 
bitterness of style peculiar to the age was considerably 
abated ; and though he pleaded, that the infamy of 
the marriage with Bothwell made it necessary to 
take arms in order to dissolve it; though Mary’s 
attachment to a man so odious justified the keeping 
her for some time under restraint; yet nothing more 
was said on these subjects than was barely requi¬ 
site in his own defence. The queen’s commis¬ 
sioners did not fail to reply.? But 
while the article with respect to the 
murder remained untouched, these were only skir¬ 
mishes at a distance, of no consequence towards 
ending the contest, and were little regarded by 
Elizabeth, or her commissioners. 

The conference conference had hitherto been 

Eter dtoWest * conducted in a manner which disap¬ 
pointed Elizabeth’s views, and pro¬ 
duced none of those discoveries which she had ex¬ 
pected. The distance between York and London, 
and the necessity of consulting her upon every 

x Anders, vol. iv. 77. y ibid. vol. iv Dart ii 64 nn 

z Good. vol. ii. 160. Anders, vol. iii. 24. P ° 4 * 80 ‘ 

a Haynes, 484. Anders, vol. iv. 94. 


Oct. 17. 


[1568. BOOK V 


difficulty which occurred, consumed much time. 
Norfolk’s negociation with the Scottish regent, how¬ 
ever secretly carried on, was not, in all probability, 
unknown to a princess so remarkable for her saga¬ 
city in penetrating the designs of her enemies, and 
seeing through their deepest schemes.* Instead, 
therefore, of returning any answer to the regent’s 
demands, she resolved to remove the conference to 
Westminster, and to appoint new commissioners, in 
whom she could more absolutely confide. Both the 
queen of Scots and the regent were brought, with¬ 
out difficulty, to approve of this resolution. 9 

We often find Mary boasting of the superiority in 
argument obtained by her commissioners during the 
conference at York, and how, by the strength of 
their reasons, they confounded her adversaries, and 
silenced all their cavils. b The dispute stood, at that 
time, on a footing which rendered her victory not 
only apparent, but easy. Her participation of the 
guilt of the king’s murder was the circumstance 
upon which her subjects must have rested, as a 
justification of their violent proceedings against 
her; and, while they industriously avoided men¬ 
tioning that, her cause gained as much as that of 
her adversaries lost by suppressing this capital 
argument. 

Elizabeth resolved that Mary should not enjoy 
the same advantage in the conference to be held at 
Westminster. She deliberated with the utmost 
anxiety, how she might overcome the regent’s 
scruples, and persuade him to accuse the queen. 
She considered of the most proper method for bring¬ 
ing Mary’s commissioners to answer such an accu¬ 
sation ; and as she foresaw that the promises with 
which it was necessary to allure the regent, and 
which it was impossible to conceal from the Scottish 
queen, would naturally exasperate her to a great 
degree, she determined to guard her more narrowly 
than ever; and, though lord Scrope had given her 
no reason to distrust his vigilance or fidelity, yet, 
because he was the duke of Norfolk’s brother-in- 
law, she thought it proper to remove the queen as 
soon as possible to Tuthbury in Staffordshire, and 
commit her to the keeping of the earl of Shrewsbury, 
to whom that castle belonged. 0 

Mary began to suspect the design of Mary , s .. 
this second conference; and, notwith- 

’ ’ beth s intentions, 

standing the satisfaction she expressed ° ct - 21 - 
at seeing her cause taken more immediately under 
the queen’s own eye, d she framed her instructions to 
her commissioners in such a manner, as to avoid 
being brought under the necessity of answering the 
accusation of her subjects, if they should be so des¬ 
perate as to exhibit one against her. e These sus¬ 
picions were soon confirmed by a circumstance 
extremely mortifying. The regent having arrived 
at London, in order to be present at the conference, 
was immediately admitted into Elizabeth’s presence, 
and received by her, not only with respect, but with 


b Good. vol. i. 186, 284, 350. 
d Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 95. 


c Hayne3, 487. 
e Good. vol. ii. 349. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


129 


ROOK V. 1568.] 


affection. This Mary justly considered as an open 
declaration of that queen’s partiality towards her 
Nov. sc. adversaries. In the lirst emotions of 
audience of Eliza- ^ ier resentment, she wrote to her com- 
beth - missioners, and commanded them to 

complain, in the presence of the English nobles, and 
before the ambassadors of foreign princes, of the 
usage she had hitherto met with, and the additional 
injuries which she had reason to apprehend. Her 
rebellious subjects were allowed access to the queen, 
she was excluded from her presence; they enjoyed 
full liberty, she languished under a long imprison¬ 
ment ; they were encouraged to accuse her, in de¬ 
fending herself she laboured under every disadvan¬ 
tage. For these reasons she once more renewed her 
demand, of being admitted into the queen’s pre¬ 
sence ; and if that were denied, she instructed them 
to declare, that she recalled the consent which she 
had given to the conference at Westminster, and 
protested, that whatever was done there, should be 
held to be null and invalid/ 

This perhaps, was the most prudent resolution 
Mary could have taken. The pretences on which 
she declined the conference were plausible, and the 
juncture for offering them well chosen. But either 
the queen’s letter did not reach her commissioners 
in due time, or they suffered themselves to be de¬ 
ceived by Elizabeth’s professions of regard for their 
mistress, and consented to the opening of the con¬ 


ference.® 


To the commissioners who had ap¬ 
peared in her name at York, Elizabeth 
now added sir Nicholas Bacon, keeper of the great 
seal, the earls of Arundel and Leicester, lord Clinton, 
and sir William Cecil." The difficulties which 
obstructed the proceedings at York were quickly re¬ 
moved. A satisfying answer was given to the regent’s 
demands ; nor was he so much disposed to hesitate, 
and raise objections, as formerly. His negociation 
with Norfolk had been discovered to Morton by 
some of Mary’s attendants, and he had communi¬ 
cated it to Cecil/ His personal safety, as well as 
the continuance of his power, depended on Eliza¬ 
beth, By favouring Mary, she might at any time 
ruin him, and by a question which she artfully 
started, concerning the person who had a right, by 
the law of Scotland, to govern the kingdom during 
a minority, she let him see, that even without re¬ 
storing the queen, it was an easy matter for her to 
deprive him of the supreme direction of affairs/ 
These considerations, which were powerfully se¬ 
conded by most of his attendants, at length deter¬ 
mined the regent to produce his accusation against 
the queen. 


He endeavoured to lessen the oblo- 
cilses t he^jueen of quy with which he was sensible this 
lo'hlr^iSan^s action would be attended, by protest¬ 
ing that it was with the utmost reluc¬ 
tance he undertook this disagreeable task ; that his 


f Good. vol. ii. 184. g Anders, v 0 l. iii. 25. h Id. vol. iv. part ii. 99. 
i Melv. 191. k Haynes, 484. 1 Anders, vol. iv. part n. llo. 

K 


party had long suffered their conduct to be miscon¬ 
strued, and had borne the worst imputations in 
silence, rather than expose the crimes of their sove¬ 
reign to the eyes of strangers ; but that now the in¬ 
solence and importunity of the adverse faction forced 
them to publish, what they had hitherto, though 
with loss to themselves, endeavoured to conceal. 
These pretexts are decent; and the considerations 
which he mentions had, during some time, a real 
influence upon the conduct of the party ; but, since 
the meeting of parliament held in December, they 
had discovered so little delicacy and reserve with 
respect to the queen’s actions, as renders it impos¬ 
sible to give credit to those studied professions. The 
regent and his associates were drawn, it is plain, 
partly by the necessity of their affairs, and partly 
by Elizabeth’s artifices, into a situation w here no 
liberty of choice was left to them; and they were 
obliged either to acknowledge themselves to be 
guilty of rebellion, or to charge Mary with having 
been accessory to the commission of murder. 

The accusation itself was conceived in the strong¬ 
est terms. Mary was charged, not only w ith having 
consented to the murder, but with being accessory 
to the contrivance and execution of it. Both well, 
it was pretended, had been screened from the pur¬ 
suits of justice by her favour; and she had formed 
designs no less dangerous to the life of the young . 
prince, than subversive of the liberties and consti¬ 
tution of the kingdom. If any of these crimes 
should be denied, an offer was made to produce the 
most ample and undoubted evidence in confirma¬ 
tion of the charge, m 

At the next meeting of the commis- 

Npv. 29. 

sioners, the earl of Lennox appeared 
before them; and after bewailing the tragical and 
unnatural murder of his son, he implored Eliza¬ 
beth’s justice against the queen of Scots, whom 
he accused, upon oath, of being the author of that 
crime, and produced papers, which, as he pretended, 
would make good what he alleged. The entrance 
of a new actor on the stage, so opportunely, and at 
a juncture so critical, can scarce be imputed to 
chance. This contrivance was manifestly Eliza¬ 
beth’s, in order to increase, by this additional accu¬ 
sation, the infamy of the Scottish queen." 

Mary’s commissioners expressed the Hpr rommi „. ion _ 
utmost surprise and indignation at the |n<JeJ- use t0 
regent’s presumption in loading the Dec - 4 - 
queen with calumnies, which, as they affirmed, she 
had so little merited. But, instead of attempting 
to vindicate her honour, by a reply to the charge, 
they had recourse to an article in their instructions, 
which they had formerly neglected to mention in 
its proper place. They demanded an audience of 
Elizabeth ; and having renew ed their mistress’s 
request of a personal interview, they protested, if 
that w ere denied her, against all the future proceed¬ 
ings of the commissioners. 0 A protestation of this 

m Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 119. n Id. Ibid. 122 

o Anders, vol. iv. part ii. 133. 158, &c. 




130 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


nature, offered just at the critical time when such a 
bold accusation had been preferred against Mary, and 
when the proofs in support of it were ready to be ex¬ 
amined, gave reason to suspect that she dreaded the 
event of that examination. This suspicion received 
the strongest confirmation from another circum¬ 
stance ; Ross and Herries, before they were intro¬ 
duced to Elizabeth, in order to make this protesta¬ 
tion, privately acquainted Leicester and Cecil, that 
as their mistress had, from the beginning, discover¬ 
ed an inclination towards bringing the differences 
between herself and her subjects to an amicable 
accommodation, so she was still desirous, notwith¬ 
standing the regent’s audacious accusation, that 
they should be terminated in thatmanner. p 

Such moderation seems hardly to be compatible 
with the strong resentment which calumniated inno¬ 
cence naturally feels ; or with that eagerness to 
vindicate itself which it always discovers. In 
Mary’s situation, an offer so ill-timed must be 
considered as a confession of the w eakness of her 
cause. The known character of her commissioners 
exempts them from the imputation of folly, or the 
suspicion of treachery. Some secret conviction, 
that the conduct of their mistress could not bear so 
strict a scrutiny as must be made into it, if they 
should reply to the accusation preferred by Murray 
. against her, seems to be the most probable motive 
of this imprudent proposal, by which they endea¬ 
voured to avoid it. 

D It appeared in this light to Eliza¬ 

beth, and afforded her a pretence for 
rejecting it. She represented to Mary’s commis¬ 
sioners, that in the present juncture, nothing could 
be so dishonourable to their mistress as an accommo¬ 
dation ; and that the matter would seem to be 
huddled up in this manner, merely to suppress dis¬ 
coveries, and to hide her shame ; nor was it possible 
that Mary could be admitted, with any decency, 
into her presence, while she lay under the infamy 
of such a public accusation. 

Upon this repulse Mary’s commissioners with¬ 
drew ; and as they had declined answering, there 
seemed now to be no further reason for the regent’s 
producing the proofs in support of his charge. But 
without getting these into her hands, Elizabeth’s 
schemes were incomplete; and her artifice for this 
purpose was as mean, but as successful, as any she 
had hitherto employed. She commanded her com¬ 
missioners to testify her indignation and displeasure 
at the regent’s presumption in forgetting so far the 
duty of a subject, as to accuse his sovereign of such 
atrocious crimes. He, in order to regain the good 
opinion of such a powerful protectress, offered to 
show that his accusations were not malicious or 
ill-grounded. Then were produced and submitted 
to the inspection of the English commissioners, the 
acts of the Scottish parliament in confirmation of 
the regent’s authority, and of the queen’s resigna- 

p Andersen, vol. iv. 134. Cabbala, 157. 

q Anderson, vol. iv. part ii. 170, &c. 


[1568. BOOK Y. 

tion; the confessions of the persons executed for 
the king’s murder; and the fatal casket which con¬ 
tained the letters, sonnets, and contracts, that have 
been so often mentioned. 

As soon as Elizabeth got these into Elizabeth treats 
her possession, she laid them before er rigour!'’ great " 
her privy council, to which she joined Dec - 14 ‘ 
on this occasion several noblemen of the greatest 
eminence in her kingdom ; in order that they might 
have an opportunity of considering the mode in 
which an inquiry of such public importance had 
been hitherto conducted, as well as the amount of 
the evidence now brought against a person who 
claimed a preferable right of succession to the Eng¬ 
lish crown. In this respectable assembly all the 
proceedings in the conferences at York and West¬ 
minster were reviewed, and the evidence produced 
by the regent of Scotland against his sovereign w as 
examined with attention. In particular, the letters 
and other papers said to be written by the queen of 
Scots, were carefully compared “ for the manner of 
writing and orthography,” with a variety of letters 
which Elizabeth had received at different times 
from the Scottish queen ; and as the result of a 
most accurate collation, the members of the privy 
council, and noblemen conjoined with them, de¬ 
clared that no difference between these could be 
discovered. q Elizabeth having established a fact 
so unfavourable to her rival, began to lay aside the 
expressions of friendship and respect which she 
had hitherto used in all her letters to the Scottish 
queen. She now wrote to her in such terms, as if 
the presumptions of her guilt had amounted almost 
to certainty ; she blamed her for refusing to vindi¬ 
cate herself from an accusation which could not be 
left unanswered, without a manifest injury to her 
character; and plainly intimated, that unless that 
were done, no change would be made in her present 
situation/ She hoped that such a discovery of her 
sentiments would intimidate Mary, who was hardly 
recovered from the shock of the regent’s attack on 
her reputation, and force her to confirm her resig¬ 
nation of the crown, to ratify Murray’s authority as 
regent, and to consent that both herself and her son 
should reside in England, under English protection. 
This scheme Elizabeth had much at heart; she pro¬ 
posed it both to Mary and to her commissioners, and 
neglected no argument, nor artifice, that could 
possibly recommend it. Mary saw how fatal this 
would prove to her reputation, to her pretensions, 
and even to her personal safety. She rejected it 
without hesitation. “ Death,” said she, “ is less 
dreadful than such an ignominious step. Rather 
than give away, with my own hands, the crown 
which descended to me from my ancestors, I will 
part with life; but the last words I utter, shall be 
those of a queen of Scotland.”* 

At the same time she seems to have been sensible 
how open her reputation lay to censure, while she 

r Anders, vol. iv. part. ii. 179, 183. Good. vol. ii. 260. 

s Ilaynes, 497. See App, No. XXX. Good. vol. ii. 274, 301. 



HOOK V. 1568.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


131 


Dec. 24. 


suffered such a public accusation to remain unan¬ 
swered ; and though the conference was now dis¬ 
solved, she empowered her commissioners to present 
a reply to the allegations of her enemies, in which 
she denied in the strongest terms the 
crimes imputed to her; and recrimi¬ 
nated upon the regent and his party, by accusing 
them of having devised and executed the murder of 
the king. 4 The regent and his associates asserted 
their innocence with great warmth. Mary continued 
to insist on a personal interview, a condition which 
she knew would never be granted." Elizabeth 
urged her to vindicate her own honour. But it is 
evident from the delays, the evasions, and subter¬ 
fuges, to which both queens had recourse by turns, 
that Mary avoided, and Elizabeth did not desire, to 
make any further progress in the inquiry. 

1569 The regent was now impatient to 

the b 'reVent m wTth S - return into Scotland, where his adver- 
fng e or*coiMiemn- sar ies were endeavouring, in his ab- 
mg his conduct ; se nce, to raise some commotions. Be¬ 
fore he set out, he was called into the privy council, 
to receive a final declaration of Elizabeth’s senti¬ 
ments. Cecil acquainted him, in her name, that, 
on one hand, nothing had been objected to his 
conduct, which she could reckon detrimental to his 
honour, or inconsistent with his duty; nor had he, 
on the other hand, produced any thing against his 
sovereign, on which she could found an unfavour¬ 
able opinion of her actions; and, for this reason, 
she resolved to leave all the affairs of Scotland 
precisely in the same situation in which she had 
found them at the beginning of the conference. 
The queen’s commissioners were dismissed much in 
the same manner.* 

After the attention of both nations had been fixed 
so earnestly on this conference upwards of four 
months, such a conclusion of the whole appears at 
first sight trifling and ridiculous. Nothing, how¬ 
ever, could be more favourable to Elizabeth’s future 
schemes. Notwithstanding her seeming imparti- 

but secretly sup- she hacl no thoughts of COntinu- 

ports his party. j n g neuter; nor was she at any loss 

on whom to bestow her protection. Before the 
regent left London, she supplied him with a con¬ 
siderable sum of money, and engaged to support the 
king’s authority to the utmost of her power. y Mary, 
by her own conduct, fortified this resolution. En¬ 
raged at the repeated instances of Elizabeth’s arti¬ 
fice and deceit, which she had discovered during 
the progress of the conference, and despairing of 
ever obtaining any succour from her, she endea¬ 
voured to rouse her own adherents in Scotland to 
arms, by imputing such designs to Elizabeth and 
Murray, as could not fail to inspire every Scotch¬ 
man with indignation. Murray, she pretended, had 
agreed to convey the prince her son into England ; 
to surrender to Elizabeth the places of greatest 
strength in the kingdom ; and to acknowledge the 


t Good. ii. 285. 
x Good. ii. 315, 333 


u Ibid. 283. Cabbala, 157- 


K 2 


Feb 25. 


dependence of the Scottish upon the English nation. 
In return for this, Murray was to be declared the 
lawful heir of the crown of Scotland ; and, at the 
same time, the question with regard to the English 
succession was to be decided in favour of the earl 
of Hartford, who had promised to marry one of 
Cecil’s daughters. An account of these wild and 
chimerical projects was spread industriously among 
the Scots. Elizabeth perceiving it was calculated 
of purpose to bring her government into disreputa¬ 
tion, laboured to destroy its effects, by a counter¬ 
proclamation, and became more disgusted than ever 
with the Scottish queen. 2 

The regent, on his return, found the 
kingdom in the utmost tranquillity, adherent S'inst 
But the rage of the queen’s adherents, lum * 
which had been suspended in expectation that the 
conference in England would terminate to her ad¬ 
vantage, was now ready to break out with all the 
violence of civil war. They were encouraged too 
by the appearance of a leader, whose high quality 
and pretensions entitled him to great authority in 
the nation. This was the duke of Chatelherault, 
who had resided for some years in France, and was 
now sent over by that court with a small supply of 
money, in hopes that the presence of the first noble¬ 
man in the kingdom would strengthen the queen's 
party. Elizabeth had detained him in England for 
some months, under various pretences, but was 
obliged at last to suffer him to proceed 
on his journey. Before his departure 
Mary invested him with the high dignity of her 
lieutenant-general in Scotland, together with the 
fantastic title of her adopted father. 

The regent did not give him time to . 
form his party into any regular body. p^t y breaks her 
He assembled an army with his usual 
expedition, and marched to Glasgow. The follow¬ 
ers of Argyll and Huntley, who composed the chief 
part of the queen’s faction, being seated in corners 
of the kingdom very distant from each other, and 
many of the duke’s dependants having been killed 
or taken in the battle of Lang,side, the spirit and 
strength of his adherents were totally broken, and 
an accommodation with the regent was the only 
thing which could prevent the ruin of his estate and 
vassals. This was effected without difficulty, and 
on no unreasonable terms. The duke promised to 
acknowledge the authority both of the king and of 
the regent; and to claim no jurisdiction in conse¬ 
quence of the commission which he had received 
from the queen. The regent bound himself to repeal 
the act which had passed for attainting several of 
the queen’s adherents; to restore all who would 
submit to the king’s government to the possession 
of their estates and honours ; and to hold a conven¬ 
tion, wherein all the differences between the two 
parties should be settled by mutual consent. The 
duke gave hostages for his faithful performance of 

y Good. ii. 313. Carte, iii. 478. 

z Haynes, 500, 503. See Append. No. XXXI. 



132 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1569. BOOK V. 


the treaty ; and, in token of their sincerity, he and 
lord Herries accompanied the regent to Stirling, 
and visited the young king. The regent set at 
liberty the prisoners taken at Langside. 3 

Argyll and Huntley refused to be included in 
this treaty. A secret negociation was carrying on 
in England in favour of the captive queen, with so 
much success, that her affairs began to wear a bet¬ 
ter aspect, and her return into her own kingdom 
seemed to be an event not very distant. The French 
king had lately obtained such advantages over the 
Hugonots, that the extinction of that party appeared 
to be inevitable, and France, by recovering domestic 
tranquillity, would be no longer prevented from 
protecting her friends in Britain. These circum¬ 
stances not only influenced Argyll and Huntley, 
but made so deep an impression on the duke, that 
he appeared to be wavering and irresolute, and 
plainly discovered that he wished to evade the 
accomplishment of the treaty. The regent saw the 
danger of allowing the duke to shake himself loose, 
in this manner, from his engagements; and instantly 
formed a resolution equally bold and politic. He 
commanded his guards to seize Chatelherault in 
his own house in Edinburgh, whither he had come 
in order to attend the convention agreed upon ; and, 
regardless either of his dignity as the first nobleman 
in the kingdom and next heir to the crown, or of 
the promises of personal security, on which he had 
relied, committed him and lord Herries prisoners 
to the castle of Edinburgh. b A blow so fatal and 
unexpected dispirited the party. Argyll submitted 
to the king’s government, and made his peace with 
the regent on very easy terms ; and Huntley, being 
left alone, was at last obliged to lay down his arms. 
April 16. July 2i. Soon after. Lord Boyd returned into 
vpu P r r o? 0 M a lry ta " Scotland, and brought letters to the 
rejected. regent, both from the English and 

Scottish queens. A convention was held at Perth, 
in order to consider them. Elizabeth’s letter con¬ 
tained three different proposals with regard to Mary; 
that she should either be restored to the full posses¬ 
sion of her former authority ; or be admitted to reign 
jointly with the king her son ; or at least be allowed 
to reside in Scotland in some decent retirement, 
without any share in the administration of govern¬ 
ment. These overtures were extorted by the im¬ 
portunity of Fenelon the French ambassador, and 
have some appearance of being favourable to the 
captive queen. They were, however, perfectly 
suitable to Elizabeth’s general system with regard 
to Scottish affairs. Among propositions so unequal 
and disproportionate, she easily saw where the 
choice would fall. The two former were rejected ; 
and long delays must necessarily have intervened, 
and many difficulties have arisen, before every cir¬ 
cumstance relative to the last could be finally ad¬ 
justed. 0 

a Cabbala, 161. Crawf. Mem. 106. 

b Crawl'. Mem. 111. Melv. 202. c Spotswood, 230. 

d Spotsw. 231. In a privy council, held July 30,1569, this demand was 
considered ; and, of fifty-one members present, only seven voted to comply 


Mary, in her letter, demanded that her marriage 
with Both well should be reviewed by the proper 
judges, and if found invalid, should be dissolved 
by a legal sentence of divorce. This fatal marriage 
was the principal source of all the calamities she 
had endured for two years ; a divorce was the only 
thing which could repair the injuries her reputation 
had suffered by that step. It was her interest to 
have proposed it early; and it is not Norfolk’s scheme 

11 J # for marrying the 

easy to account for her long silence queen of Scots, 
with respect to this point. Her particular motive 
for proposing it at this time began to be so well 
known, that the demand was rejected by the con¬ 
vention of estates.* 1 They imputed it not so much 
to any abhorrence of Bothwell, as to her eagerness 
to conclude a marriage with the duke of Norfolk. 

This marriage was the object of that secret nego¬ 
ciation in England, which I have already mentioned. 
The fertile and projecting genius of Maitland first 
conceived this scheme. During the conference at 
York, he communicated it to the duke himself, and 
to the bishop of Ross. The former readily closed 
with a scheme so flattering to his ambition. The 
latter considered it as a probable device for restor¬ 
ing his mistress to liberty, and replacing her on her 
throne. Nor was Mary, with whom Norfolk held a 
correspondence by means of his sister lady Scrope, 
averse from a measure, which would have restored 
her to her kingdom with so much splendour. e The 
sudden removal of the conference from York to 
Westminster suspended, but did not break off, this 
intrigue. Maitland and Ross were still the duke’s 
prompters, and his agents; and many letters and 
love-tokens were exchanged between him and the 
queen of Scots. 

But as he could not hope, that under conceals it from 
an administration so vigilant as Eliza- Elizabeth. 

beth’s, such an intrigue could be kept long con¬ 
cealed, he attempted to deceive her by the appear¬ 
ance of openness and candour, an artifice which 
seldom fails of success. He mentioned to her the 
rumour that was spread of his marriage with the 
Scottish queen ; he complained of it as a groundless 
calumny; and disclaimed all thoughts of that kind, 
with many expressions full of contempt both for 
Mary’s character and dominions. Jealous as Eliza¬ 
beth was of every thing relative to the queen of 
Scots, she seems to have credited these professions/ 
But, instead of discontinuing the negociation, he 
renewed it with greater vigour, and admitted into 
it new associates. Among these was the regent of 
Scotland. He had given great offence to Norfolk, 
by his public accusation of the queen, in breach of 
the concert into which he had entered at York. He 
was then ready to return into Scotland. The 
influence of the duke in the north of England was 
great. The earls of Northumberland and West¬ 
moreland, the most powerful noblemen in that part 

with the queen’s request. Ttecords Priv. Counc. MS. in the Lyon Office, 
p. 148. 

e Camd. 419. Haynes, 573. State Trials, i. 73. 

f Ilaynes, 57-1. State Trials, i. 79, 80. 



BOOK V. 1569.] THE HISTORY 

of the kingdom, threatened to revenge upon the 
regent the injuries which he had done his sovereign. 
Murray, in order to secure a safe return into Scot¬ 
land, addressed himself to Norfolk, and, after some 
apology for his past conduct, he insinuated that the 
duke’s scheme of marrying the queen his sister was 
no less acceptable to him than beneficial to both 
kingdoms; and that he would concur with the utmost 
ardour in promoting so desirable an events Norfolk 
heard him with the credulity natural to those who 
are passionately bent upon any design. He wrote 
to the two earls to desist from any hostile attempt 
against Murray, and to that he owed his passage 
through the northern counties w ithout disturbance. 
Gains! thieconsent Encouraged by his success in gain- 

nobles. ing the regent, he next attempted to 

draw the English nobles to approve his design. 
The nation began to despair of Elizabeth’s marrying. 
Her jealousy kept the question with regard to the 
right of succession undecided. The memory of the 
civil wars which had desolated England for more 
than a century, on account of the disputed titles of 
the houses of York and Lancaster, was still recent. 
Almost all the ancient nobility had perished, and 
the nation itself had been brought to the brink of 
destruction in that unhappy contest. The Scottish 
queen, though her right of succession was generally 
held to be undoubted, might meet w ith formidable 
competitors. She might marry a foreign and a 
popish prince, and bring both liberty and religion 
into danger. But, by marrying her to an English¬ 
man, a zealous protestant, the most powerful and 
most universally beloved of all the nobility, an 
effectual remedy seemed to be provided against all 
these evils. The greater part of the peers, either 
directly or tacitly, approved of it, as a salutary 
project. The earls of Arundel, Pembroke, Leicester, 
and lord Lumley, subscribed a letter to the Scottish 
queen, w ritten w ith Leicester’s hand, in w hich they 
warmly recommended the match, but insisted, by 
way of preliminary, on Mary’s promise, that she 
should attempt nothing in consequence of her pre¬ 
tensions to the English crown, prejudicial to Eliza¬ 
beth, or to her posterity; that she should consent to 
a league, offensive and defensive, between the two 
kingdoms; that she should confirm the present 
establishment of religion in Scotland ; and receive 
into favour such of her subjects as had appeared 
in arms against her. Upon her agreeing to the 
marriage, and ratifying these articles, they engaged 
that the English nobles would not only concur in 
restoring her immediately to her own throne, but in 
securing to her that of England in reversion. Mary 
readily consented to all these proposals, except the 
second, with regard to which she demanded some 
time for consulting her ancient ally the French 
king. h 

The whole of this negociation was industriously 
concealed from Elizabeth. Her jealousy of the 

s Anders, iii. 34. h Anders, vol. iii. 51. Camd. 420. 

i Anders, vol. iii. 63. k Camd. 420. 


OF SCOTLAND. 133 

Scottish queen was well known, nor could it be 
expected that she would willingly come into a mea¬ 
sure which tended so visibly to save the reputation, 
and to increase the power, of her rival. But, in a 
matter of so much consequence to the nation, the 
taking a few steps without her knowledge could 
hardly be reckoned criminal; and while every person 
concerned, even Mary and Norfolk themselves, de¬ 
clared, that nothing should be concluded without 
obtaining her consent, the duty and allegiance of 
subjects seemed to be fully preserved. The greater 
part of the nobles regarded the matter in this light. 
Those who conducted the intrigue, had further and 
more dangerous views. They saw the advantages 
which Mary would obtain by this treaty, to be pre¬ 
sent and certain ; and the execution of the promises 
which she came under, to be distant and uncertain. 
They had early communicated their scheme to the 
kings of France and Spain, and obtained their ap¬ 
probation. 1 A treaty concerning which they con¬ 
sulted foreign princes, while they concealed it from 
their own sovereign, could not be deemed innocent. 
They hoped, however, that the union of such a 
number of the chief persons in the kingdom would 
render it necessary for Elizabeth to comply ; they 
flattered themselves that a combination so strong 
w ould be altogether irresistible ; and such was their 
confidence of success, that when a plan was concert¬ 
ed in the north of England for rescuing Mary out 
of the hands of her keepers, Norfolk, who was 
afraid that if she recovered her liberty, her senti¬ 
ments in his favour might change, used all his in¬ 
terest to dissuade the conspirators from attempting 
it. k 

In this situation did the affair remain, when lord 
Boyd arrived from England; and, besides the letters 
which he produced publicly, brought others in 
ciphers from Norfolk and Throkmorton, to the regent 
and to Maitland. These were full of the most san¬ 
guine hopes. All the nobles of England concurred, 
said they, in favouring the design. Every prelimi¬ 
nary was adjusted; nor was it possible that a 
scheme so deep laid, conducted with so much art, 
and supported both by power and by numbers, could 
miscarry, or be defeated in the execution. Nothing 
now w as wanting but the concluding ceremony. It 
depended on the regent to hasten that, by procuring 
a sentence of divorce, which would remove the only 
obstacle that stood in the way. This was expected 
of him, in consequence of his promise to Norfolk ; 
and if he regarded either his interest or his fame, 
or even his safety, he would not fail to fulfil these 
engagements. 1 

But the regent was now in very different circum¬ 
stances from those which had formerly induced him 
to affect an approbation of Norfolk’s schemes. He 
saw that the downfall of his own power must be the 
first consequence of the duke’s success; and if the 
queen, who considered him as the chief author of 

1 Haynes, 520. Spotsw. 230. See Appendix, No. XXXII. 



134 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


all her misfortunes, should recover her ancient au¬ 
thority, he could never expect favour, nor scarce 
hope for impunity. No wonder he declined a step 
so fatal to himself, and which would have established 
the grandeur of another on the ruins of his own. 
This refusal occasioned a delay. But, as every other 
circumstance was settled, the bishop of Ross, in the 
name of his mistress, and the duke, in person, de¬ 
clared, in presence of the French ambassador, their 
mutual consent to the marriage, and a contract to 
this purpose was signed, and intrusted to the keeping 
of the ambassador.'" 

The intrigue was now in so many 

August 13. . 

Elizabeth discov- hands, that it could not long remain a 

ers the duke’s de- 

sign, and defeats secret. It began to be whispered at 
court; and Elizabeth calling the duke 
into her presence, expressed the utmost indignation 
at his conduct, and charged him to lay aside all 
thoughts of prosecuting such a dangerous design. 
Soon after, Leicester, who perhaps had countenanc¬ 
ed the project with no other intention, revealed all 
the circumstances of it to the queen. Pembroke, 
Arundel, Lumley, and Throkmorton, were confined 
and examined. Mary was watched more narrowly 
than ever ; and Hastings, earl of Huntingdon, who 
pretended to dispute with the Scottish queen her 
right to the succession, being joined in commission 
with Shrewsbury, rendered her imprisonment more 
intolerable by the excess of his vigilance and 
rigour." The Scottish regent, threatened with 
Elizabeth’s displeasure, meanly betrayed the duke; 
put his letters into her hands, and furnished all the 
intelligence in his power. 0 The duke himself re¬ 
tired first to Howard-house, and then, in contempt 
of the summons to appear before the privy council, 
lied to his seat in Norfolk. Intimidated by the im¬ 
prisonment of his associates; coldly received by his 
friends in that county ; unprepared for a rebellion; 
and unwilling perhaps to rebel; he hesitated for 
some days, and at last obeyed a second call, and 
repaired to Windsor. He was first 

Oct. 3. . . . 

kept as a prisoner in a private house, 
and then sent to the Tower. After being confined 
there upwards of nine months, he was released upon 
his humble submission to Elizabeth, giving her a 
promise, on his allegiance, to hold no further corres¬ 
pondence with the queen of Scots. p During the 
progress of Norfolk’s negociations, the queen’s par¬ 
tisans in Scotland, who made no doubt of their 
issuing in her restoration to the throne, with an 
increase of authority, were wonderfully elevated. 
Maitland im- Maitland was the soul of that party, 
re*ent ed by the an< ^ the person whose activity and 
ability the regent chiefly dreaded. He 
had laid the plan of that intrigue which had kindled 
such combustion in England. He continued to 
foment the spirit of disaffection in Scotland, and 
had seduced from the regent lord Home, Kirkaldy, 
and several of his former associates. While he en¬ 


P5G9. BOOK V. 

joyed liberty, the regent could not reckon his own 
power secure. For this reason, having by an artifice 
allured Maitland to Stirling, he employed captain 
Crawford, one of his creatures, to accuse him of 
being accessory to the murder of the king; and 
under that pretence he was arrested and carried as 
a prisoner to Edinburgh. He would soon have been 
brought to trial, but was saved by the friendship of 
Kirkaldy, governor of the castle, who, by pretending 
a warrant for that purpose from the regent, got him 
out of the hands of the person to whose care he w as 
committed, and conducted him into the castle, which 
from that time was entirely under Maitland’s com¬ 
mand. The loss of a place of so much importance, 
and the defection of a man so eminent for military 
skill as Kirkaldy, brought the regent into some dis¬ 
reputation, for which, how r ever, the success of his 
ally Elizabeth, about this time, abundantly compen¬ 
sated. 

The intrigue carried on for restoring A rebelljon 
the Scottish queen to liberty having b ^ ai j^ r y’s Z tdhe h 
been discovered and disappointed, an rents, 
attempt was made to the same purpose, by force of 
arms; but the issue of it was not more fortunate. 
The earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, 
though little distinguished by their personal abili¬ 
ties, were two of the most ancient and powerful of 
the English peers. Their estates in the northern 
counties were great, and they possessed that influ¬ 
ence over the inhabitants, which w as hereditary in 
the popular and martial families of Percy and of 
Nevil. They were both attached to the popish re¬ 
ligion, and discontented with the court, where new 
men and a new system prevailed. Ever since Mary’s 
arrival in England, they had warmly espoused her 
interest; and zeal for popery, opposition to the 
court, and commiseration of her sufferings, had 
engaged them in different plots for her relief. Not¬ 
withstanding the vigilance of her keeper, they held 
a close correspondence with her, and communicated 
to her all their designs/ They were privy to Nor¬ 
folk’s schemes ; but the caution with which he pro¬ 
ceeded did not suit their ardour and impetuosity. 
The liberty of the Scottish queen w as not their sole 
object. They aimed at bringing about a change in 
the religion, and a revolution in the government, of 
the kingdom. For this reason they solicited the aid 
of the king of Spain, the avowed and zealous patron 
of popery in that age. Nothing could be more 
delightful to the restless spirit of Philip, or more 
necessary towards facilitating his schemes in the 
Netherlands, than the involving England in the con¬ 
fusion and miseries of a civil war. The duke of Alva, 
by his direction, encouraged the two earls, and pro¬ 
mised, as soon as they either took the field with 
their forces, or surprised any place of strength, or 
rescued the queen of Scots, that he would supply 
them both with money and a strong body of troops 
La Mothe, the governor of Dunkirk, in the disguise 


m Carte, vol. iii. 486. 
o See Append. No. XXXIII. 


n Haynes, 525,526, 530, 532. 
p Haynes, 525,597 


q Spotsw. 232. 


r Haynes, 595. Murdin, 44, 62, &c. 



BOOK y. 1569.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


135 


of a sailor, sounded the ports where it would be most 
proper to land. And Chiapini Vitelli, one of Alva’s 
ablest oflicers, was despatched into England, on 
pretence of settling some commercial differences 
between the two nations ; but in reality that the re¬ 
bels might be sure of a leader of experience as soon 
as they ventured to take arms.* 


Defeated. 


The conduct of this negociation oc¬ 


casioned many meetings and messages 
between the two earls. Elizabeth was informed of 
these ; and though she suspected nothing of their 
real design, she concluded that they were among 
the number of Norfolk’s confidants. They were 
summoned, for this reason, to repair to court. Con¬ 
scious of guilt, and afraid of discovery, they delay¬ 
ed giving obedience. A second and 
more peremptory order was issued. 
This they could not decline, without shaking off 
their allegiance ; and, as no time was left for deli¬ 
beration, they instantly erected their standard 
against their sovereign. The re-establishing the 
catholic religion ; the settling the order of succes¬ 
sion to the crown ; the defence of the ancient nobi¬ 
lity; were the motives which they alleged to justify 
their rebellion. 1 Many of the lower people flocked 
to them with such arms as they could procure ; and, 
had the capacity of their leaders been in any degree 
equal to the enterprise, it must have soon grown to 
be extremely formidable. Elizabeth acted with 
prudence and vigour, and was served by her sub¬ 
jects with fidelity and ardour. On the first rumour 
of an insurrection, Mary was removed to Coventry, 
a place of strength, which could not be taken with¬ 
out a regular siege ; a detachment of the rebels, 
which was sent to rescue her, returned without suc¬ 
cess. Troops were assembled in different parts of 
the kingdom : as they advanced, the malcontents 
retired. In their retreat, their numbers dwindled 
away, and their spirits sunk. Despair and uncer¬ 
tainty whither to direct their flight, kept together 
for some time a small body of them among the moun¬ 
tains of Northumberland ; but they were at length 
obliged to disperse, and the chiefs took refuge 
among the Scottish borderers. The 
Dec ' 21 * two earls, together with the countess 
of Northumberland, wandering for some days in 
the wastes of Liddesdale, were plundered by the 
banditti, exposed to the rigour of the season, and 
left destitute of the necessaries of life. Westmore¬ 
land was concealed by Scott of Buccleugh and Ker 
of Ferniherst, and afterwards conveyed into the 
Netherlands. Northumberland was seized by the 
regent, who had marched with some troops tow ards 
the borders, to prevent any impression the rebels 
might make on those mutinous provinces. 0 

Amidst so many surprising events, 
Church affairs. ^ affairs of t ], e church, for two years, 

have almost escaped our notice. Its general assem¬ 
blies were held regularly ; but no business of much 


s Carte, vol. iii. 489, 490. Camd. 421. 


t Strvpe, vol. i. 547. 


u Cabbala, 171. Camd. 422. 


importance employed their attention. As the num¬ 
ber of the protestant clergy daily increased, the de¬ 
ficiency of the funds set apart for their subsistence 
became greater, and was more sensibly felt. Many 
efforts were made towards recovering the ancient 
patrimony of the church, or at least as much of it as 
was possessed by the popish incumbents, a race of 
men who were now not only useless, but burden¬ 
some to the nation. But though the manner in 
which the regent received the addresses and com¬ 
plaints of the general assemblies, was very different 
from that to which they had been accustomed, no 
effectual remedy was provided ; and while they 
suffered intolerable oppression, and groaned under 
extreme poverty, fair words, and liberal promises, 
were all they were able to obtain.* 

Elizabeth now began to be weary of ]5?0 
keeping such a prisoner as the queen ^ gh^up^iary 
of Scots. During the former year, the t0 * he regent - 
tranquillity of her government had been disturbed, 
first by a secret combination of some of her nobles, 
then by the rebellion of others ; and she often de¬ 
clared, not without reason, that Mary was the hid¬ 
den cause of both. Many of her own subjects 
favoured or pitied the captive queen; the Roman 
catholic princes on the continent were warmly in¬ 
terested in her cause. The detaining her any 
longer in England, she foresaw, would be made the 
pretext or occasion of perpetual cabals and insur¬ 
rections among the former ; and might expose her 
to the hostile attempts of the latter. She resolved, 
therefore, to give up Mary into the hands of the 
regent, after stipulating with him, not only that her 
days should not be cut short, either by a judicial sen¬ 
tence or by secret violence, but that she should be 
treated in a manner suited to her rank; and, in 
order to secure his observance of this, she required 
that six of the chief noblemen in the kingdom should 
be sent into England as hostages/ With respect to 
the safe custody of the queen, she relied on Murray’s 
vigilance, whose security, no less than her own, de¬ 
pended on preventing Mary from reascending the 
throne. The negociation for this purpose was car¬ 
ried some length, when it was discovered by the 
vigilance of the bishop of Ross, who, together with 
the French and Spanish ambassadors, remonstrated 
against the infamy of such an action, and represented 
the surrendering the queen to her rebellious subjects, 
to be the same thing as if Elizabeth should, by her 
own authority, condemn her to instant death. This 
procured a delay ; and the murder of the regent 
prevented the revival of that design. 2 

Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the But he is mur . 
person who committed this barbarous dered - 
action. He had been condemned to death soon after 
the battle of Langside, as I have already related, 
and owed his life to the regent’s clemency. But 
part of his estate had been bestowed upon one of 
the regent’s favourites, who seized his house and 

x Cald. vol. ii. 80, <fcc. y Haynes, 524. 

z Carte, vol. iii. 491. Anders, vol. iii. 84. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


136 

turned out his wife naked, in a cold night, into the 
open fields, where, before next morning, she be¬ 
came furiously mad. This injury made a deeper 
impression upon him than the benefit which he had 
received, and from that moment he vowed to be re¬ 
venged upon the regent. Party rage strengthened 
and inflamed his private resentment. His kinsmen, 
the Hamiltons, applauded the enterprise. The max¬ 
ims of that age justified the most desperate course 
which he could take to obtain vengeance. He fol¬ 
lowed the regent for some time, and watched for an 
opportunity to strike the blow. He resolved at last 
to wait till his enemy should arrive at Linlithgow, 
through which he was to pass in his way from Stir¬ 
ling to Edinburgh. He took his stand in a wooden 
gallery, which had a window towards the street; 
spread a feather-bed on the floor, to hinder the noise 
of his feet from being heard ; hung up a black cloth 
behind him, that his shadow might not be observed 
from without; and after all this preparation, calmly 
expected the regent’s approach, who had lodged 
during the night in a part of the town not far dis¬ 
tant. Some indistinct information of the danger 
which threatened him had been conveyed to the re¬ 
gent, and he paid so much regard to it, that he 
resolved to return by the same gate through which 
he had entered, and to fetch a compass round the 
town. But as the crowd about the gate was great, 
and he himself unacquainted with fear, he proceed¬ 
ed directly along the street; and the throng of the 
people obliging him to move very slowly, gave the 
assassin time to take so true an aim, that he shot 
him with a single bullet through the lower part of 
his belly, and killed the horse of a gentleman who 
rode on his other side. His followers instantly en¬ 
deavoured to break into the house whence the blow 
had come, but they found the door strongly barri¬ 
caded ; and before it could be forced open, Hamil¬ 
ton had mounted a fleet horse, which stood ready 
for him at a back -passage, and was got far beyond 
their reach. The regent died the same night of his 
wound. a 

There is no person in that age about 

Hk rharsctpi* 

whom historians have been more di¬ 
vided, or whose character has been drawn in such 
opposite colours. Personal intrepidity, military 
skill, sagacity, and vigour in the administration of 
civil affairs, are virtues which even his enemies 
allow him to have possessed in an eminent degree. 
His moral qualities are more dubious, and ought 
neither to be praised nor censured without great re¬ 
serve, and many distinctions. In a fierce age he 
was capable of using victory with humanity, and of 
treating the vanquished with moderation. A patron 
of learning, which, among martial nobles, was either 
unknown or despised. Zealous for religion, to a 
degree which distinguished him, even at a time 
when professions of that kind were not uncommon. 
His confidence in his friends was extreme, and in¬ 
ferior only to his liberality towards them, which 

« Buchan. 385. Crawf. Mem. 194. Cabbala, 171 . 


[1570. BOOK VI. 

knew no bounds. A disinterested passion for the 
liberty of his country, prompted him to oppose the 
pernicious system which the princes of Lorrain had 
obliged the queen-mother to pursue. On Mary’s 
return into Scotland he served her with a zeal and 
affection, to which he sacrificed the friendship of 
those who were most attached to his person. But 
on the other hand, his ambition was immoderate; 
and events happened that opened to him vast pro¬ 
jects, which allured his enterprising genius, and led 
him to actions inconsistent with the duty of a sub¬ 
ject. His treatment of the queen, to whose bounty 
he was so much indebted, was unbrotherly and un¬ 
grateful. The dependence on Elizabeth, under 
which he brought Scotland, was disgraceful to the 
nation. He deceived and betrayed Norfolk with a 
baseness unworthy of a man of honour. His eleva 
tion to such unexpected dignity inspired him with 
new passions, with haughtiness and reserve ; and in¬ 
stead of his natural manner, which was blunt and 
open, he affected the arts of dissimulation and re¬ 
finement. Fond, towards the end of his life, of 
flattery, and impatient of advice, his creatures, by 
soothing his vanity, led him astray, while his an¬ 
cient friends stood at a distance, and predicted his 
approaching fall. But amidst the turbulence and 
confusion of that factious period, he dispensed jus¬ 
tice with so much impartiality, he repressed the 
licentious borderers with so much courage, and esta¬ 
blished such uncommon order and tranquillity in 
the country, that his administration was extremely 
popular, and he was long and affectionately remem¬ 
bered among the commons by the name of the good 
regent. 


BOOK VI. 

The unexpected blow, by which the 1370 

regent was cut off, struck the king’s by the 00 *’ 

party with the utmost consternation, regent’s death. 
Elizabeth bewailed his death as the most fatal dis¬ 
aster which could have befallen her kingdom ; and 
was inconsolable to a degree that little suited her 
dignity. Mary’s adherents exulted, as if now her 
restoration were not only certain, but near at hand. 
The infamy of the crime naturally fell on those who 
expressed such indecent joy at the commission of 
it; and as the assassin made his escape on a horse 
which belonged to lord Claud Hamilton, and fled 
directly to Hamilton, where he was received in 
triumph, it was concluded that the regent had fallen 
a sacrifice to the resentment of the queen’s party, 
rather than to the revenge of a private man. On 
the day after the murder, Scott of Buccleugh, and 
Ker of Ferniherst, both zealous abettors of the 
queen’s cause, entered England in a hostile man¬ 
ner, and plundered and burnt the country, the in- 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


137 


BOOK VI. 1570.J 

habitants of which expected no such outrage. If 
the regent had been alive, they would scarce have 
ventured on such an irregular incursion, nor could 
it well have happened so soon after his death, unless 
they had been privy to the crime. 

This was not the only irregularity to which the 
anarchy that followed the regent’s death gave oc¬ 
casion. During such general confusion, men hoped 
lor universal impunity, and broke out into excesses 
steps taken to- of every kind. As it was impossible 
another'resent, to restrain these without a settled form 
l-eb. 12 . G f government, a convention of the 
nobles was held, in order to deliberate concerning 
the election of a regent. The queen’s adherents re¬ 
fused to be present at the meeting, and protested 
against its proceedings. The king’s ow n party was 
irresolute and divided in opinion. Maitland, w hom 
Kirkaldy had set at liberty, and who obtained from 
the nobles then assembled a declaration acquitting 
him of the crime which had been laid to his charge, 
endeavoured to bring about a coalition of the two 
parties, by proposing to admit the queen to the joint 
administration of government w ith her son. Eliza¬ 
beth, adhering to her ancient system with regard to 
Scottish affairs, laboured, notwithstanding the soli¬ 
citations of Mary’s friends, 5 to multiply, and to 
perpetuate, the factions, which tore in pieces the 
kingdom. Randolph, whom she despatched into 
Scotland on the first news of the regent’s death, and 
w ho was her usual agent for such services, found all 
parties so exasperated by mutual injuries, and so 
full of irreconcilable rancour, that it cost him little 
trouble to inflame their animosity. The convention 
broke up without coming to any agreement; and a 
new meeting, to which the nobles of all parties were 
invited, was appointed on the first of May. b 

Meantime Maitland and Kirkaldy, 
parties attempted who still continued to acknowledge the 
king’s authority, were at the utmost 
pains to restore some degree of harmony among 
their countrymen. They procured for this purpose 
an amicable conference among the leaders of the 
two factions. But while the one demanded the 
restoration of the queen, as the only thing which 
could re-establish the public tranquillity ; while the 
other esteemed the king’s authority to be so sacred, 
that it was, on no account, to be called in question 
or impaired ; and neither of them would recede in 
the least point from their opinions, they separated 
without any prospect of concord. Both were ren¬ 
dered more averse from reconcilement, by the hope 
of foreign aid. An envoy arrived from France with 
promises of powerful succour to the queen’s ad¬ 
herents ; and as the civil wars in that kingdom 
seemed to be on the point of terminating in peace, 
it was expected that Charles would soon be at 
liberty to fulfil what he promised. On the other 
hand, the earl of Sussex was assembling a power¬ 
ful army on the borders, and its operations could 

a See Appendix, No. XX7C1V. 

0 Crawr. Mem. 131. Calderw. li. 157. 


not fail of adding spirit and strength to the king's 
party. 0 

Though the attempt tow ards a coali- 

. , . Queen s party in 

tion of the factions proved ineffectual, possession ot 
. . Edinburgh. 

it contributed somewhat to moderate 
or suspend their rage ; but they soon began to act 
with their usual violence. Morton, the most vigilant 
and able leader on the king’s side, solicited Eliza¬ 
beth to interpose, without delay, for the safety of a 
party so devoted to her interest, and which stood so 
much in need of her assistance. The chiefs of the 
queen’s faction, assembling at Linlith¬ 
gow, marched thence to Edinburgh ; Apnl J °" 
and Kirkaldy, who was both governor of the castle 
and provost of the town, prevailed on the citizens, 
though with some difficulty, to admit them within 
the gates. Together with Kirkaldy, the earl of 
Athol, and Maitland, acceded almost openly to their 
party ; and the duke and lord Herries, having re¬ 
covered liberty by Kirkaldy’s favour, resumed the 
places which they had formerly held in their coun¬ 
cils. Encouraged by the acquisition of persons so 
illustrious by their birth, or so eminent for their 
abilities, they published a proclamation, declaring 
their intention to support the queen’s authority, and 
seemed resolved not to leave the city before the 
meeting of the approaching convention, in which, 
by their numbers and influence, they did not 
doubt of securing a majority of voices on their 
side. d 

At the same time they had formed a Endeavour t0 in¬ 
design of kindling war between the a tvar 6 with ° n 

two kingdoms. If they could engage En s ,and - 
them in hostilities, and revive their ancient emula¬ 
tion and antipathy, they hoped, not only to dissolve 
a confederacy of great advantage to the king’s 
cause, but to reconcile their countrymen to the 
queen, Elizabeth’s natural and most dangerous 
rival. With this view they had, immediately after 
the murder of the regent, prompted Scott and Ker 
to commence hostilities, and had since instigated 
them to continue and extend their depredations. 
As Elizabeth foresaw, on the one hand, the danger¬ 
ous consequences of rendering this a national quar¬ 
rel ; and resolved, on the other, not to suffer such 
an insult on her government to pass with impunity ; 
she issued a proclamation, declaring that she im¬ 
puted the outrages which had been committed on 
the borders, not to the Scottish nation, but to a few 
desperate and ill-designing persons ; that, with the 
former, she was resolved to maintain an inviolable 
friendship, whereas the duty which she owed to her 
own subjects obliged her to chastise the licentious¬ 
ness of the latter. e Sussex and Scrope accordingly 
entered Scotland, the one on the east, the other on 
the west borders, and laid waste the adjacent coun¬ 
tries with fire and sword/ Fame magnified the 
number and progress of their troops, and Mary’s 
adherents, not thinking themselves safe in Edin- 

c Crawf. Mem. 134. d Ibid. 137- Cald. d. 176. 

e Calderw. ii. 131. 1 Cabbala, 1<4. 



138 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


King’s party en 
ter Edinburgh, 
May 1 . 


burgh, the inhabitants whereof were ill allected to 
their cause, retired to Linlithgow. 

April 28 . rpj ier6j by a public proclamation, they 

asserted the queen’s authority, and forbad giving 
obedience to any but the duke, or the earls of 
Argyll and Huntley, whom she had constituted her 
lieutenants in the kingdom. 

The nobles who continued faithful 
to the king, though considerably weak¬ 
ened by the defection of so many of 
their friends, assembled at Edinburgh on the day 
appointed. They issued a counter-proclamation, 
declaring such as appeared for the queen enemies 
of their country; and charging them with the mur¬ 
der both of the late king and of the regent. They 
could not, however, presume so much on their own 
strength as to venture either to elect a regent, or to 
take the field against the queen’s party ; but the as¬ 
sistance which they received from Elizabeth, enabled 
them to do both. By her order sir William Drury 
marched into Scotland, with a thousand foot and 
three hundred horse; the king’s adherents joined 
him with a considerable body of troops, and ad¬ 
vancing towards Glasgow, where the adverse party 
had already begun hostilities by attacking the 
castle, they forced them to retire, plundered the 
neighbouring country, which belonged to the 
Hamiltons, and, after seizing some of their castles, 
and razing others, returned to Edinburgh. 

Motives of Eliza- Under Drury’s protection, the earl 
vd th' regald 11 to °f Lennox returned into Scotland. It 
thenK was natural to commit the government 

of the kingdom to him during the minority of his 
grandson. His illustrious birth, and alliance with 
the royal family of England, as well as of Scotland, 
rendered him worthy of that honour. His resent¬ 
ment against Mary being implacable, and his estate 
lying in England, and his family residing there, 
Elizabeth considered him as a man, who, both from 
inclination and from interest, would act in concert 
with her, and ardently wished that he might suc¬ 
ceed Murray in the office of regent. But, on many 
accounts, she did not think it prudent to discover 
her own sentiments, or to favour his pretensions too 
openly. The civil wars in France, which had been 
excited partly by real and partly by pretended zeal 
for religion, and carried on with a fierceness that 
did it real dishonour, appeared now to be on the 
point of coming to an issue ; and after shedding the 
best blood, and wasting the richest provinces, in the 
kingdom, both parties desired peace with an ardour 
that facilitated the negociations which were carrying 
on for that purpose. Charles IX. was known to be 
a passionate admirer of Mary’s beauty. Nor could 
he, in honour, suffer a queen of France, and the 
most ancient ally of his crown, to languish in her 
present cruel situation, without attempting to pro¬ 
cure her relief. He had hitherto been obliged to 
satisfy himself with remonstrating, by his ambassa¬ 
dors, against the indignity with which she had been 

g Spotsw. 240. Cald. ii. 186. See Append. No. XXXV. 


[1570. BOOK VI. 

treated. But if he were once at full liberty to pur¬ 
sue his inclinations, Elizabeth would have every 
thing to dread from the impetuosity of his temper 
and the power of his arms. It therefor© became 
necessary for her to act with some reserve, and not 
to appear avowedly to countenance the choice of a 
regent, in contempt of Mary’s authority. The jea¬ 
lousy and prejudices of the Scots required no less 
management. Had she openly supported Lennox’s 
claim ; had she recommended him to the convention, 
as the candidate of whom she approved ; this might 
have roused the independent spirit of the nobles, 
and by too plain a discovery of her intention, she 
might have defeated its success. For these reasons 
she hesitated long, and returned ambiguous answers 
to all the messages which she received from the 
king’s party. A more explicit declaration of her 
sentiments was at last obtained, and an event of an 
extraordinary nature seems to have been the occa¬ 
sion of it. Pope Pius V. having issued a bull, 
whereby he excommunicated Elizabeth, deprived 
her of her kingdom, and absolved her subjects from 
their oath of allegiance, Felton, an Englishman, had 
the boldness to affix it on the gates of the bishop of 
London’s palace. In former ages, a pope, moved 
by his own ambition, or pride, or bigotry, denounced 
this fatal sentence against the most powerful 
monarchs ; but as the authority of the court of Rome 
was now less regarded, its proceedings were more 
cautious ; and it was only when they were roused 
by some powerful prince, that the thunders of the 
church were ever heard. Elizabeth, therefore, im¬ 
puted this step, which the pope had taken, to a com¬ 
bination of the Roman Catholic princes against her, 
and suspected that some plot was formed in favour 
of the Scottish queen. In that event, she knew that 
the safety of her own kingdom depended on pre¬ 
serving her influence in Scotland ; and in order to 
strengthen this, she renewed her promises of pro¬ 
tecting the king’s adherents, encouraged them to 
proceed to the election of a regent, and even ven¬ 
tured to point out the earl of Lennox, as the person 
who had the best title. That honour was accord¬ 
ingly conferred upon him, in a convention of the 
whole party, held on the 12th of July.s 

The regent’s first care was to prevent Lennox elected 
the meetings of the parliament, which regent, 
the queen’s party had summoned to convene at Lin¬ 
lithgow. Having effected that, he marched against 
the earl of Huntley, Mary’s lieutenant in the north, 
and forced the garrison which he had placed in Bre¬ 
chin to surrender at discretion. Soon after, he made 
himself master of some other castles. Imboldened 
by this successful beginning of his administration, 
as well as by the appearance of a considerable army, 
with which the earl of Sussex hovered on the bor¬ 
ders, he deprived Maitland of his office of secretary, 
and proclaimed him, the duke, Huntley, and other 
leaders of the queen’s party, traitors and enemies 
of their country.* 1 

h Crawf. Mem. 159. Cald. ii. 198. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


130 


ROOK VI. 1570.] 

Mary> adherents In this desperate situation of their 
Spa^n iate Wlth a ffa,irs, the queen’s adherents had re¬ 
course to the king of Spain,» with 
whom Mary had held a close correspondence ever 
since her confinement in England. They prevailed 
on the duke of Alva to send two of his officers to 
take a view of the country, and to examine its 
coasts and harbours ; and obtained from them a 
small supply of money and arms, which were sent 
... , to the earl of Huntley. 14 But this aid, 

Elizabeth pro- .. . , . . . 

poses a treaty of so disproportionate to their exigencies, 
accommodation 0 

between Mary would have availed them little. They 

and her subjects. , # 

were indebted for their safety to a 
treaty which Elizabeth was carrying on, under 
colour of restoring the captive queen to her throne. 
The first steps in this negociation had been taken 
in the month of May ; but hitherto little progress 
w as made in it. The peace concluded between the 
Roman catholics and Hugonots in France, and her 
apprehensions that Charles would interpose with 
vigour in behalf of his sister-in-law, quickened Eli¬ 
zabeth’s motions. She affected to treat her prisoner 
w ith more indulgence, she listened more graciously 
to the solicitations of foreign ambassadors in her 
favour, and seemed fully determined to replace her 
on the throne of her ancestors. As a proof of her 
sincerity, she laboured to procure a cessation of 
arms between the two contending factions in Scot¬ 
land. Lennox, elated with the good fortune which 
had hitherto attended his administration, and flat¬ 
tering himself with an easy triumph over enemies 
whose estates w ere wasted, and their forces dispirit¬ 
ed, refused for some time to come into this measure. 
It was not safe for him, however, to dispute the w ill 
of his protectress. A cessation of hostilities during 
two months, to commence on the third of Septem¬ 
ber, w f as agreed upon; and, being renewed from 
time to time, it continued till the first of April next 
year. 

Soon after, Elizabeth despatched Cecil and Sir 
Walter Mildmay to the queen of Scots. The dignity 
of these ambassadors, the former her prime minister, 
the latter chancellor of the exchequer, and one of 
her ablest counsellors, convinced all parties that the 
negociation was serious, and the hour of Mary’s 
liberty was now approaching. The propositions 
which they made to her were advantageous to 
Elizabeth, but such as a prince in Mary’s situation 
had reason to expect. The ratification of the treaty 
of Edinburgh ; the renouncing any pretensions to 
the English crown, during Elizabeth’s own life, or 
that of her posterity ; the adhering to the alliance 
between the two kingdoms ; the pardoning her sub¬ 
jects who had taken arms against her; and her pro¬ 
mising to hold no correspondence, and to counte¬ 
nance no enterprise, that might disturb Elizabeth’s 
government; were among the chief articles. By 
way of security for the accomplishment of these, 
they demanded that some persons of rank should 

i See Append. No. XXXV T. 

k Anders, iii. 122. Crawf. Mem. 153. 


be given as hostages ; that the prince, her son, 
should reside in England ; and that a few castles 
on the border should be put into Elizabeth’s hands. 
To some of these propositions Mary consented ; 
some she endeavoured to mitigate; and others she 
attempted to evade. In the mean time, she trans¬ 
mitted copies of them to the pope, to the kings of 
France and Spain, and to the duke of Alva. She 
insinuated, that without some timely and vigorous 
interposition in her behalf, she would be obliged to 
accept of these hard conditions, and to purchase 
liberty at any price. But the pope was a distant 
and feeble ally, and by his great efforts at this time 
against the Turks, his treasury was entirely ex¬ 
hausted. Charles had already begun to meditate 
that conspiracy against the Hugonots, which marks 
his reign with such infamy ; and it required much 
leisure, and perfect tranquillity, to bring that exe¬ 
crable plan to maturity. Philip was employed in 
fitting out that fleet which acquired so much renown 
to the Christian arms, by the victory over the infi¬ 
dels at Lepanto ; the Moors in Spain threatened an 
insurrection ; and his subjects in the Netherlands, 
provoked by much oppression and many indignities, 
were breaking out into open rebellion. All of them, 
for these different reasons, advised Mary, without 
depending on their aid, to conclude the treaty on 
the best terms she could procure. 01 

Mary accordingly consented to many , 

J ° J J Elizabeth’s arti- 

of Elizabeth s demands, and discovered fices in the con- 

. . ... duct of it. , 

a facility of disposition, which pro¬ 
mised still further concessions. But no concession 
she could have made, would have satisfied Eliza¬ 
beth, who, in spite of her repeated professions of 
sincerity to foreign ambassadors, and notwithstand¬ 
ing the solemnity with which she carried on the 
treaty, had no other object in it than to amuse 
Mary’s allies, and to gain time." After having so 
long treated a queen, who fled to her for refuge, in 
so ungenerous a manner, she could not now dismiss 
her with safety. Under all the disadvantages of a 
rigorous confinement, Mary had found means to 
excite commotions in England, which were ex¬ 
tremely formidable. What desperate effects of her 
just resentment might be expected, if she were set 
at liberty, and recovered her former power! What 
engagements could bind her not to revenge the 
wrongs which she had suffered, nor to take advan¬ 
tage of the favourable conjunctures that might pre¬ 
sent themselves? Was it possible for her to give 
such security for her behaviour, in times to come, 
as might remove all suspicions and fears ? And was 
there not good cause to conclude, that no future 
benefits could ever obliterate the memory of past 
injuries ? It was thus Elizabeth reasoned ; though 
she continued to act as if her views had been entirely 
different. She appointed seven of her privy coun¬ 
sellors to be commissioners for settling the articles 
of the treaty ; and, as Mary had already named the 

1 Spotsw. 243. m Anders, vol. iii. 119, 120. 

n Digges, Compl. Amb. 78. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


149 

bishops of Ross and Galloway, and lord Livingston, 
for her ambassadors, she required the regent to em¬ 
power proper persons to appear in behalf ot the 
king. The earl of Morton, Pitcairn, 
abbot of Dunfermline, and sir James 
Macgil, were the persons chosen by the regent. They 
prepared for their journey as slowly as Elizabeth 
herself could have wished. At length they arrived 
at London, and met the commissioners 
of the two queens. Mary's ambassa¬ 
dors discovered the strongest inclination to comply 
with every thing that would remove the obstacles 
which stood in the way of their mistress's liberty. 
But when Morton and his associates were called 
upon to vindicate their conduct, and to explain the 
sentiments of their party, they began, in justification 
of their treatment of the queen, to advance such 
maxims concerning the limited powers of princes, 
and the natural right of subjects to resist and to 
control them, as were extremely shocking to Eliza¬ 
beth, whose notions of regal prerogative, as lias 
been formerly observed, were very exalted. With 
regard to the authority which the king now pos¬ 
sessed, they declared they neither had nor could 
possibly receive instructions, to consent to any 
treaty that tended to subvert, or even to impair, it in 
the least degree. 0 Nothing could be more trifling 
and ridiculous, than such a reply from the commis¬ 
sioners of the king of Scots to the queen of England. 
His party depended absolutely on her protection ; 
it was by persons devoted to her he had been seated 
on the throne, and to her power he owed the con¬ 
tinuance of his reign. With the utmost ease she 
could have brought them to hold very different lan¬ 
guage ; and whatever conditions she might have 
thought fit to subscribe, they would have had no 
_ , ., other choice but to submit. This de- 

claration, however, she affected to 
consider as an insuperable difficulty ; and finding 
that there was no reason to dread any danger from 
the French king, who had not discovered that eager¬ 
ness in support of Mary which was expected, the 
reply made by Morton furnished her with a pretence 
for putting a stop to the negociation, 
until the regent should send ambassa¬ 
dors with more ample powers. Thus, after being 
amused for ten months with the hopes of liberty, 
the unhappy queen of Scots remained under stricter 
custody than ever, and without any prospect of 
escaping from it; while those subjects who still 
adhered to her were exposed, without ally or pro¬ 
tector, to the rage of enemies, whom their success 
in this negociation rendered still more insolent.? 

surpr i secl°b v the® 0l1 the ^ after tlle expiration of 
regent. ‘ the truce, which had been observed 

with little exactness on either side, captain Craw- 
foid of Jordan-hill, a gallant and enterprising 
officer, performed a service of great importance to 
the regent, by surprising the castle of Dumbarton. 
This was the only fortified place in the kingdom, of 

o Cald. ii. 234. Digges, 51. Haynes, 523, 524. 


March 24. 


[1571. BOOK VI. 

which the queen had kept possession ever since the 
commencement of the civil wars. Its situation, on 
the top of a high and almost inaccessible rock, 
which rises in the middle of a plain, rendered it 
extremely strong, and, in the opinion of that age, 
impregnable ; as it commanded the river Clyde, it 
was of great consequence, and was deemed the 
most proper place in the kingdom for landing any 
foreign troops that might come to Mary’s aid. The 
strength of the place rendered lord Fleming, the 
governor, more secure than he ought to have been, 
considering its importance. A soldier who had 
served in the garrison, and had been disgusted by 
some ill usage, proposed the scheme to the regent, 
endeavoured to demonstrate that it was practicable, 
and offered himself to go the foremost man on the 
enterprise. It was thought prudent to risk any 
danger for so great a prize. Scaling-ladders, and 
whatever else might be necessary, were prepared 
with the utmost secrecy and despatch. All the 
avenues to the castle were seized, that no intelli¬ 
gence of the design might reach the governor. 
Towards evening Crawford marched from Glasgow 
with a small but determined band. By midnight 
they arrived at the bottom of the rock. The moon 
was set, and the sky, which had hitherto been ex¬ 
tremely clear, was covered with a thick fog. It 
was where the rock was highest that the assailants 
made their attempt, because in that place there were 
few sentinels, and they hoped to find them least 
alert. The first ladder was scarcely fixed, when the 
weight and eagerness of those who mounted brought 
it to the ground. None of the assailants were hurt 
by the fall, and none of the garrison alarmed at the 
noise. Their guide and Crawford scrambled up the 
rock, and fastened the ladder to the roots of a tree 
which grew in a cleft. This place they all reached 
with the utmost difficulty, but were still at a greater 
distance from the foot of the wall. Their ladder 
was made fast a second time; but in the middle of 
the ascent, they met with an unforeseen difficulty. 
One of their companions was seized with some 
sudden fit, and clung, seemingly without life, to the 
ladder. All were at a stand. It was impossible to 
pass him. To tumble him headlong was cruel, and 
might occasion a discovery. But Crawford’s pre¬ 
sence of mind did not forsake him. He ordered 
the soldier to be bound fast to the ladder, that he 
might not fall when the fit w as over; and turning 
the other side of the ladder, they mounted with ease 
over his belly. Day now began to break, and there 
still remained a high wall to scale ; but after sur¬ 
mounting so many great difficulties, this was soon 
accomplished. A sentry observed the first man who 
appeared on the parapet, and had just time to give 
the alarm, before he was knocked on the head. The 
officers and soldiers of the garrison ran out naked, 
unarmed, and more solicitous about their own safety, 
than capable of making resistance. The assailants 
rushed forwards, with repeated shouts and with the 

P Anders, iii. 01, Arc. 



BOOK VI. 1571.J THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


utmost lury; took possession of the magazine; 
seized the cannon, and turned them against their 
enemies. Lord Fleming got into a small boat, and 
lied all alone into Argyllshire. Crawford, in reward 
of his valour and good conduct, remained master of 
the castle ; and as he did not lose a single man in 
the enterprise, he enjoyed his success with unmixed 
pleasure. Lady Fleming, Verac the French envoy, 
and Hamilton, archbishop of St. Andrew’s, were 
the prisoners of greatest distinctions 

Verac’s character protected him from 
Archbishop of St. , . 

Andrew’s put to the usage which he merited by his 
death by him. ,. ., . J , 

activity in stirring up enemies against 

the king. The regent treated the lady with great 
politeness and humanity. But a very different fate 
awaited the archbishop; he was carried under a 
strong guard to Stirling ; and as he had formerly 
been attainted by act of parliament, he was, without 
any formal trial, condemned to be hanged ; and, on 
the fourth day after he was taken, the sentence was 
executed. An attempt was made to convict him of 
being accessory to the murder both of the king and 
regent, but these accusations were supported by no 
proof. Our historians observe, that he was the first 
bishop in Scotland who died by the hands of the 
executioner. The high offices he had enjoyed, both 
in church and state, ought to have exempted him 
from a punishment inflicted only on the lowest cri¬ 
minals. But his zeal for the queen, his abilities, 
and his profession, rendered him odious and for¬ 
midable to the king’s adherents. Lennox hated him 
as the person by whose counsels the reputation and 
power of the house of Hamilton were supported. 
Party rage and personal enmity dictated that inde¬ 
cent sentence, for which some colour was sought, 
by imputing to him such odious crimes.r 
KirkaWy defends The l° ss °f Dumbarton, and the se- 
bu e rgh St !n°th^ din vere treatment of the archbishop, per- 
queens name. plexed no less than they enraged the 

queen’s party ; and hostilities were renewed with 
all the fierceness which disappointment and indig¬ 
nation can inspire. Kirkaldy, who, during the 
truce, had taken care to increase the number of his 
garrison, and to provide every thing necessary for 
his defence, issued a proclamation declaring Len¬ 
nox’s authority to be unlawful and usurped ; com¬ 
manded all who favoured his cause to leave the town 
within six hours ; seized the arms belonging to the 
citizens ; planted a battery on the steeple of St. 
Giles’s, repaired the walls and fortified the gates of 
the city ; and, though the affections of the inhabit¬ 
ants leaned a different way, held out the metropolis 
against the regent. The duke, Huntley, Home, 
Herries, and other chiefs of that faction, repaired 
to Edinburgh with their followers ; and having re¬ 
ceived a small sum of money and some ammunition 
from France, formed no contemptible army within 
the walls. On the other side, Morton seized Leith 
and fortified it; and the regent joined him with a 
considerable body of men. While the armies lay 

q Buchan. 394. r Spotswood, 252. s Cald. ii. 233, &c. 


so near each other, daily skirmishes happened, and 
with various success. The queen’s party was not 
strong enough to take the field against the regent, 
nor was his superiority so great as to undertake the 
siege of the castle or of the town.® 

Some time before Edinburgh fell into 

i ° Both parties hold 

the hands of his enemies, the regent parliaments. 

i j i ,. b May 14. 

had summoned a parliament to meet 
in that place. In order to prevent any objection 
against the lawfulness of the meeting, the mem¬ 
bers obeyed the proclamation as exactly as pos¬ 
sible, and assembled in a house at the head of the 
Canongate, which, though without the walls, lies 
within the liberties of the city. Kirkaldy exerted 
himself to the utmost to interrupt their meeting ; 
but they were so strongly guarded, that all efforts 
were vain. They passed an act attainting Mait¬ 
land and a few others, and then adjourned to the 
28th of August. 1 

The other party, in order that their proceedings 
might be countenanced by the same show of legal 
authority, held a meeting of parliament soon after. 
There was produced in this assembly a declaration 
by the queen of the invalidity of that deed whereby 
she had resigned the crown, and consented to the 
coronation of her son. Conformable to this decla¬ 
ration, an act was passed pronouncing the resigna¬ 
tion to have been extorted by fear; to be null in 
itself, and in all its consequences ; and enjoining 
all good subjects to acknowledge the queen alone 
to be their lawful sovereign, and to support those 
who acted in her name. The present establishment 
of the protestant religion was confirmed by another 
statute ; and, in imitation of the adverse party, a 
new meeting was appointed on the 26th of August. 11 
Meanwhile all the miseries of civil 

, , , , , . . „ Miserable condi- 

war desolated the kingdom, bellow- tion of the king- 

citizens, friends, brothers, took differ¬ 
ent sides, and ranged themselves under the standards 
of the contending factions. In every county, and 
almost in every town and village, king's men and 
queen's men were names of distinction. Political 
hatred dissolved all natural ties, and extinguished 
the reciprocal good-will and confidence which holds 
mankind together in society. Religious zeal 
mingled itself with these civil distinctions, and con¬ 
tributed not a little to heighten and to inflame them. 
The factions which divided the king- 

State of factions. 

dom were, in appearance, only two; 
but in both these there were persons with views and 
principles so different from each other, that they 
ought to be distinguished. With some, considera¬ 
tions of religion were predominant, and they either 
adhered to the queen, because they hoped by her 
means to re-establish popery, or they defended the 
king’s authority, as the best support of the protes¬ 
tant faith. Among these the opposition was violent 
and irreconcilable. Others were influenced by po¬ 
litical motives only, or allured by views of interest; 
the regent aimed at uniting these, and did not de- 
t Crawf. Mem. 177- u Crawf. Mem. 177- 




142 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1571. BOOK VI. 


spair of gaining, by gentle arts, many of Mary’s ad¬ 
herents to acknowledge the king’s authority. Mait¬ 
land and Kirkaldy had formed the same design of a 
coalition, but on such terms that the queen might 
be restored to some share in the government, and 
the kingdom shake oft' its dependence upon England. 
Morton, the ablest, the most ambitious, and the most 
powerful man of the king’s party, held a particular 
course ; and moving only as he was prompted by 
the court of England, thwarted every measure that 
tended towards a reconcilement of the factions ; and 
as he served Elizabeth with much fidelity, he derived 
both power and credit from her avowed protection. 

The time appointed by both parties for the meet¬ 
ing of their parliaments now approached. Only 
three peers and two bishops appeared in that which 
was held in the queen’s name at Edinburgh. But, 
contemptible as their numbers were, they passed an 
act for attainting upwards of two hundred of the 
adverse faction. The meeting at Stirling was nu¬ 
merous and splendid. The regent had prevailed 
on the earls of Argyll, Eglinton, Cassils, and lord 
Boyd, to acknowledge the king’s authority. The 
three earls were among the most powerful noblemen 
in the kingdom, and had hitherto been zealous 
in the queen’s cause. Lord Boyd had been one of 
Mary’s commissioners at Y r ork and Westminster, 
and since that time had been admitted into all her 
most secret councils. But, during that turbulent 
period, the conduct of individuals, as well as the 
principles of factions, varied so often, that the sense 
of honour, a chief preservative of consistency in 
character, was entirely lost; and, without any re¬ 
gard to decorum, men suddenly abandoned one 
party, and adopted all the violent passions of the 
other. The defection, however, of so many persons 
of distinction, not only weakened the queen’s party, 
but added reputation to her adversaries. 

The king's party After the exam P le of the parliament 
surprised in stir- a t Edinburgh, that at Stirling began 

with framing acts against the opposite 
faction. But in the midst of all the security, which 
confidence in their own numbers or distance from 
danger could inspire, they were awakened early in 
gept 3 the morning of September the third, by 

the shouts of the enemy in the heart of 
the town. In a moment the houses of every person of 
distinction were surrounded, and before they knew 
what to think of so strange an event, the regent, the 
earls of Argyll, Morton, Glencairn, Cassils, Eglin¬ 
ton, Montrose, Buchan, the lords Sempil, Cathcart, 
Ogilvie, were all made prisoners, and mounted be¬ 
hind troopers, who were ready to carry them to 
Edinburgh. Kirkaldy was the author of this daring 
enterprise ; and if he had not been induced, by the 
ill-timed solicitude of his friends about his safety, not 
to hazard his own person in conducting it, that day 
might have terminated the contest between the two 
factions, and have restored peace to his country. 
By his direction four hundred men, under the com- 

x Melv. 226. Crawf. Mem. 204. 


mand of Huntley, lord Claud Hamilton, and Scott 
of Buccleugh, set out from Edinburgh, and, the 
better to conceal their design, marched towards the 
south. But they soon wheeled to the right, and, 
horses having been provided for the infantry, 
rode straight to Stirling. By four in the morning 
they arrived there; not one sentry was placed on 
the walls, not a single man was awake about the 
place. They met w ith no resistance from any per¬ 
son whom they attempted to seize, except Morton. 
He defending his house with obstinate valour, they 
were obliged to set it on fire, and he did not surren¬ 
der till forced out of it by the flames. In perform¬ 
ing this, some time was consumed ; and the private 
men, unaccustomed to regular discipline, left their 
colours, and began to rifle the houses and shops of 
the citizens. The noise and uproar in the town 
reached the castle. The earl of Mar sallied out 
with thirty soldiers, fired briskly upon the enemy, 
of whom almost none but the officers kept together 
in a body. The townsmen took arms to assist their 
governor; a sudden panic struck the assailants ; 
some fled, some surrendered themselves to their ow n 
prisoners ; and had not the borderers, who follow ed 
Scott, prevented a pursuit, by carrying off all the 
horses within the place, not a man would have es¬ 
caped. If the regent had not unfor- The regent 
tunately been killed, the loss on the kllled - 
king’s side would have been as inconsiderable as 
the alarm was great. Think on the archbishop of 
St. Andrew's , was the word among the queen’s sol¬ 
diers ; and Lennox fell a sacrifice to his memory. 
The officer to whom he surrendered, endeavouring 
to protect him, lost his ow n life in his defence. He 
was slain, according to the general opinion, by com¬ 
mand of lord Claud Hamilton. Kirkaldy had the 
glory of concerting this plan with great secrecy and 
prudence; but Morton’s fortunate obstinacy, and 
the want of discipline among his troops, deprived 
him of success, the only thing wanting to render 
this equal to the most applauded military enterprises 
of the kind.* 

As so many of the nobles were as- Marchosen 
sembled, they proceeded without de- gent> Sept - 6 - 
lay to the election of a regent. Argyll, Morton, 
and Mar were candidates for the office. Mar was 
chosen by a majority of voices. Amidst all the 
fierce dissensions which had prevailed so long in 
Scotland, he had distinguished himself by his mo¬ 
deration, his humanity, and his disinterestedness. 
As his power was far inferior to Argyll’s, and his 
abilities not so great as Morton’s, he was, for these 
reasons, less formidable to the other nobles. His 
merit, too, in having so lately rescued the leaders 
of the party from imminent destruction, contributed 
not a little to his preferment. 

While these things were carrying on 
. c . t-, Proceedings in 

in Scotland, the transactions in Eng- England against 

land were no less interesting to Mary, 

and still more fatal to her cause. The parliament 



BOOK VI. 1571.J THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


143 


of that kingdom, which met in April, passed an act, 
by which it was declared to be high treason to claim 
any right to the crown during the life of the queen ; 
to ailirin that the title of any other person was better 
than hers, or to maintain that the parliament had 
not power to settle and to limit the order of succes¬ 
sion. This remarkable statute was intended not 
only for the security of their own sovereign, but to 
curb the restless and intriguing spirit of the Scot¬ 
tish queen and her adherents.* 

Marriage negoci- At this time a treaty of marriage be- 
zabetli and the 1 tween Elizabeth and the duke of An- 
duke ot Anjou. j ou ^ t j 10 p renc | 1 ki n g> s brother, was 

well advanced. Both courts seemed to desire it 
with equal ardour, and gave out, with the utmost 
confidence, that it could not fail of taking place. 
Neither of them, however, wished it success ; and 
they encouraged it for no other end, but because it 
served to cover or to promote their particular de¬ 
signs. The whole policy of Catherine of Medicis 
was bent towards the accomplishment of her detest¬ 
able project for the destruction of the Hugonot 
chiefs ; and by carrying on a negociation for the 
marriage of her son with a princess who was justly 
esteemed the protectress of that party, by yielding 
some things in point of religion, and by discovering 
an indifference with regard to others, she hoped to 
amuse all the protestants in Europe, and to lull 
asleep the jealousy even of the Hugonots themselves. 
Elizabeth flattered herself with reaping advantages 
of another kind. During the dependence of the ne¬ 
gociation, the French could not with decency give 
any open assistance to the Scottish queen ; if they 
conceived any hopes of success in the treaty of 
marriage, they would of course interest themselves 
but coldly in her concerns ; Mary herself must be 
dejected at losing an ally, whom she had hitherto 
reckoned her most powerful protector; and, by in¬ 
terrupting her correspondence with France, one 
source, at least, of the cabals and intrigues which 
disturbed the kingdom would be stopt. Both queens 
succeeded in their schemes. Catherine’s artifices 
imposed upon Elizabeth, and blinded the Hugonots. 
The French discovered the utmost indifference about 
the interest of the Scottish queen ; and Mary, con¬ 
sidering that court as already united with her rival, 
turned for protection with more eagerness than ever 
towards the king of Spain.* Philip, whose dark 
and thoughtful mind delighted in the mystery of 
intrigue, had held a secret correspondence with 
Mary for some time, by means of the bishop of Ross, 
and had supplied both herself and her adherents in 
Scotland with small sums of money. Ridolphi, a 
Florentine gentleman, who resided at London under 
the character of a banker, and who acted privately 
as an agent for the pope, was the person whom the 
bishop intrusted with this negociation. 
racy^n^favour*of Mary thought it necessary likewise to 
communicate the secret to the duke of 


Norfolk, whom Elizabeth had lately restored to 
liberty, upon his solemn promise to have no further 
intercourse with the queen of Scots. This promise, 
however, he regarded so little, that he continued to 
keep a constant correspondence with the captive 
queen ; w hile she laboured to nourish his ambitious 
hopes, and to strengthen his amorous attachment by 
letters written in the fondest caressing strain. Some 
of these he must have received at the very time when 
he made that solemn promise of holding no further 
intercourse with her, in consequence of which Eliza¬ 
beth restored him to liberty. Mary, still consider¬ 
ing him as her future husband, took no step in any 
matter of moment without his advice. She early 
communicated to him her negociations with Ridol¬ 
phi ; and, in a long letter, which she wrote to him 
in ciphers, a after complaining of the baseness with 
which the French court had abandoned her interest, 
she declared her intention of imploring the assist¬ 
ance of the Spanish monarch, which was now her 
only resource ; and recommended Ridolphi to his 
confidence, as a person capable both of explaining 
and advancing the scheme. The duke commanded 
Hickford, his secretary, to decipher and then to 
burn this letter; but, whether he had been already 
gained by the court, or resolved at that time 
to betray his master, he disobeyed the latter part 
of the order, and hid the letter, together with 
other treasonable papers, under the duke's own 
bed. 

Ridolphi, in a conference with Norfolk, omitted 
none of those arguments, and spared none of those 
promises, which are the usual incentives to rebellion. 
The pope, he told him, had a great sum in readiness 
to bestow in so good a cause. The duke of Alva 
had undertaken to land ten thousand men not far 
from London. The catholics, to a man, would rise 
in arms. Many of the nobles were ripe for a revolt, 
and wanted only a leader. Half their nation had 
turned their eyes towards him, and called on him 
to revenge the unmerited injuries which he himself 
had suffered ; and to rescue an unfortunate queen, 
who offered him her hand and her crown, as the re¬ 
ward of his success. Norfolk approved of the design, 
and though he refused to give Ridolphi any letter 
of credit, allow ed him to use his name in negociating 
with the pope and Alva. b The bishop of Ross, who 
from the violence of his temper, and impatience to 
procure relief for his mistress, was apt to run into 
rash and desperate designs, advised the duke to 
assemble secretly a few of his followers, and at once 
to seize Elizabeth’s person. But this the duke reject¬ 
ed as a scheme equally wild and hazardous. Mean¬ 
while, the English court had received 

# . Discovered by 

some imperfect information of the Elizabeth. 

plot, by intercepting one of Ridolphi’s 

agents ; and an accident happened, which brought 

to light all the circumstances of it. The duke had 

employed Hickford to transmit to lord Herries some 


y Camd. 4.16. 

z Digges, 144, 148. Camd. 434. 


a Haynes, 597, 598. Hardw. State Papers, i. 190, &c. Digges’s Com- 
pleat Ambas. 147. b Anders, iii. 161. 



144 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


money, which was to be distributed among Mary's 
friends in Scotland. A person not in the secret was 
intrusted with conveying it to the borders, and he, 
suspecting it from the weight to be gold, whereas 
he had been told that it was silver, carried it directly 
to the privy council. The duke, his domestics, and 
all who were privy, or could be suspected of being 
privy, to the design, were taken into custody. Never 
did the accomplices in a conspiracy discover less 
firmness, or servants betray an indulgent master 
Se ^ t _ with greater baseness. Every one con¬ 
fessed the whole of what he knew. 
Hickford gave directions how to find the papers 
which he had hidden. The duke himself, relying 
at first on the fidelity of his associates, and believ¬ 
ing all dangerous papers to have been destroyed, 
confidently asserted his own innocence ; but when 
their depositions and the papers themselves were 
produced, astonished at their treachery, he acknow¬ 
ledged his guilt, and implored the queen's mercy. 
His offence was too heinous, and too often repeated, 
to obtain pardon ; and Elizabeth thought it neces¬ 
sary to deter her subjects, by his punishment, from 
holding correspondence with the queen of Scots, or 
her emissaries. Being tried by his peers, he was 
found guilty of high treason, and after several de¬ 
lays, suffered death for the crime. c 

The discovery of this conspiracy produced many 
effects, extremely detrimental to Mary's interest. 
The bishop of Ross, who appeared, by the confes¬ 
sion of all concerned, to be the prime mover in every 
cabal against Elizabeth, was taken into custody, 
his papers searched, himself committed to the 
Tow er, treated with the utmost rigour, threatened 
with capital punishment, and, after a long confine¬ 
ment, set at liberty, on condition that he should 
leave the kingdom. Mary was not only deprived 
of a servant, equally eminent for his zeal and his 
abilities, but was denied from that time the privi¬ 
lege of having an ambassador at the English court. 
The Spanish ambassador, whom the power and 
dignity of the prince he represented exempted from 
such insults as Ross had suffered, was commanded 
to leave England.* 1 As there was now the clearest 
evidence that Mary, from resentment of the wrongs 
she had suffered, and impatience of the captivity in 
which she was held, would not scruple to engage in 
the most hostile and desperate enterprises against 
the established government and religion, she began 
to be regarded as a public enemy, and was kept 
under a stricter guard than formerly; the num¬ 
ber of her domestics was abridged, and no per¬ 
son permitted to see her, but in presence of her 
keepers. 6 

Elizabeth de- At the same time, Elizabeth, fore- 
again S st°tbe lly seeing the storm which was gathering 
queen’s party. ou the cont i ne nt against her kingdom, 

began to wish that tranquillity were restored in 
Scotland ; and irritated by Mary's late attempt 

c Anders, iii. 149. State Trials, 185. d Diodes 163 

e Strype, Ann. ii. 50. f See Append. EJo? x’xxVlI. 


[1571. BOOK YI. 

against her government, she determined to act with¬ 
out disguise or ambiguity, in favour of the king’s 
party. This resolution she intimated _ 4 

1 J • HIT Oct ^3. 

to the leaders of both factions. Mary, 
she told them, had held a criminal correspondence 
with her avowed enemies, and had excited such 
dangerous conspiracies both against her crown and 
her life, that she would henceforth consider her as 
unworthy of protection, and would never consent to 
restore her to liberty, far less to replace her on her 
throne. She exhorted them, therefore, to unite in 
acknowledging the king’s authority. She promised 
to procure, by her mediation, equitable terms for 
those who had hitherto opposed it. But if they still 
continued refractory, she threatened to employ her 
utmost power to compel them to submit. 1 Though 
this declaration did not produce an immediate 
effect; though hostilities continued in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Edinburgh; though Huntley's brother, 
sir Adam Gordon, by his bravery and conduct, had 
routed the king’s adherents in the north in many 
encounters ; yet, such an explicit discovery of Eli¬ 
zabeth’s sentiments contributed not a little to ani¬ 
mate one party, and to depress the spirit and hopes 
of the other.® 

As Morton, who commanded the re- 1572 
gent’s forces, lay at Leith, and Kir- So^betw^n 
kaldy still held out the town and castle them - 
of Edinburgh, scarce a day passed without a skir¬ 
mish ; and while both avoided any decisive action, 
they harassed each other by attacking small parties, 
beating up quarters, and intercepting convoys. 
These operations, though little memorable in them¬ 
selves, kept the passions of both factions in perpe¬ 
tual exercise and agitation, and w rought them up, 
at last, to a degree of fury, which rendered them 
regardless not only of the laws of war, but of the 
principles of humanity. Nor was it in the field 
alone, and during the heat of combat, that this im¬ 
placable rage appeared; both parties hanged the 
prisoners which they took, of whatever rank or qua¬ 
lity, w ithout mercy, and without trial. Great num¬ 
bers suffered in this shocking manner ; the unhappy 
victims were led, by fifties at a time, to execution ; 
and it was not till both sides had smarted severely, 
that they discontinued this barbarous practice, so 
reproachful to the character of the nation. h Mean¬ 
while, those in the town and castle, though they 
had received a supply of money from the duke of 
Alva, 1 began to suffer for want of provisions. As 
Morton had destroyed all the mills in the neighbour¬ 
hood of the city, and had planted small garrisons in 
all the houses of strength around it, scarcity daily 
increased. At last all the miseries of famine were 
felt, and they must have been soon reduced to such 
extremities, as would have forced them to capitulate, 
if the English and French ambassadors had not pro¬ 
cured a suspension of hostilities between the two 
parties. 1 * 

£ Cald. ii. 289, 294. Strypo, ii. 76. 

h Crawf. Mem. 218, 220. i Cald, ii, 345, 


k Ibid. 340 



BOOK VI. 1572.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND 


145 


League between 
England and 
France. 


April 11. 


Though the negotiation for a mar¬ 
riage between Elizabeth and the duke 
of Anjou had been fruitless, both 
Charles and she were desirous of concluding a de¬ 
fensive alliance between the two crowns. He con¬ 
sidered such a treaty not only as the best advice for 
blinding the protestants, against whom the conspi¬ 
racy was now almost ripe for execution; but as a 
good precaution, likewise, against the dangerous 
consequences to which that atrocious measure might 
expose him. Elizabeth, who had hitherto reigned 
without a single ally, now saw her kingdom so 
threatened with intestine commotions, or exposed 
to invasions from abroad, that she was extremely 
solicitous to secure the assistance of so powerful a 
neighbour. The difficulties arising from the situa¬ 
tion of the Scottish queen were the chief occasions 
of any delay. Charles demanded some terms of 
advantage for Mary and her party. Elizabeth re¬ 
fused to listen to any proposition of that kind. Her 
obstinacy overcame the faint efforts of the French 
monarch. Mary’s name was not so much as men¬ 
tioned in the treaty ; and with regard to Scottish 
affairs, a short article was inserted, in general and 
ambiguous terms, to this purpose: 
“ That the parties contracting shall 
make no innovations in Scotland, nor suffer any 
stranger to enter, and to foment the factions there; 
but it shall be lawful for the queen of England to 
chastise, by force of arms, those Scots who shall 
continue to harbour the English rebels now in 
Scotland.” 1 In consequence of this treaty, France 
and England affected to act in concert with regard 
to Scotland, and Le Croc and sir William Drury 
appeared there, in the name of their respective 
sovereigns. By their mediation, a truce for two 
months was agreed upon, and during that time con¬ 
ferences were to be held between the leaders of the 
opposite factions, in order to accommodate their 
differences and restore peace to the kingdom. This 
truce afforded a seasonable interval of tranquillity 
to the queen’s adherents in the south : but in the 
north it proved fatal to her interest. Sir Adam 
Gordon had still maintained his reputation and su¬ 
periority there. Several parties, under different 
officers, were sent against him. Some of them he 
attacked in the field ; against others he employed 
stratagem ; and as his courage and conduct were 
equal, none of his enterprises failed of success. He 
made war too with the humanity which became so 
gallant a man, and gained ground by that, no less 
than by the terror of his arms. If he had not been 
obliged by the truce to suspend his operations, he 
would in all probability have brought that part of 
the kingdom to submit entirely to the queen’s au¬ 
thority. m 

Notwithstanding Gordon’s bravery 

Proceedings in , 

England against and success, Mary s interest was on 
the decline, not only in her own king¬ 
dom, but among the English. Nothing could be 

1 Digges, 170, 191. Camden, 414. m Crawf. Mem. 


neg- 
lect her interest. 


more offensive to that nation, jealous of foreigners, 
and terrified at the prospect of the Spanish yoke, 
than her negociations with the duke of Alva. The 
parliament, which met in May, proceeded against 
her as the most dangerous enemy of the kingdom ; 
and, after a solemn conference between the lords 
and commons, both Houses agreed in bringing in a 
bill to declare her guilty of high treason, and to de¬ 
prive her of all right of succession to the crown. 
This great cause, as it was then called, occupied 
them during the whole session, and was carried on 
with much unanimity. Elizabeth, though she ap¬ 
plauded their zeal, and approved greatly of the 
course they were taking, was satisfied with showing 
Mary what she might expect from the resentment 
of the nation ; but as she did not yet think it time 
to proceed to the most violent extremity against her, 
she prorogued the parliament." 

These severe proceedings of the The French 
English parliament were not moremor 
tifying to Mary, than the coldness and neglect of 
her allies the French. The duke of Montmorency, 
indeed, who came over to ratify the league with 
Elizabeth, made a show of interesting himself in 
favour of the Scottish queen ; but, instead of soli¬ 
citing for her liberty, or her restoration to her 
throne, all that he demanded was a slight mitiga¬ 
tion of the rigour of her imprisonment. Even this 
small request he urged with so little warmth or im¬ 
portunity, that no regard was paid to it. 0 

The alliance with France afforded The massacre of 
Elizabeth much satisfaction, and she 
expected from it a great increase of security. She 
now turned her whole attention towards Scotland, 
where the animosities of the two factions were still 
so high, and so many interfering interests to be ad¬ 
justed, that a general pacification seemed to be at a 
great distance. But while she laboured to bring 
them to some agreement, an event happened which 
filled a great part of Europe with astonishment and 
with horror. This was the massacre at Paris; an 
attempt, to which there is no parallel in the history 
of mankind, either for the long train of craft and 
dissimulation with which it was contrived, or for 
the cruelty and barbarity with which it was carried 
into execution. By the most solemn promises of 
safety and of favour, the leaders of the protestants 
were drawn to court; and though doomed to de¬ 
struction, they were received with caresses, loaded 
with honours, and treated for seven months with 
every possible mark of familiarity and 
of confidence. In the midst of their 
security, the warrant for their destruction was issued 
by their sovereign, on whose word they had relied ; 
and, in obedience to it, their countrymen, their fel¬ 
low-citizens, and companions, imbrued their hands 
in their blood. Ten thousand protestants, without 
distinction of age, or sex, or condition, were mur¬ 
dered in Paris alone. The same barbarous orders 
were sent to other parts of the kingdom, and a like 

n D’Ewea’ Journ. 206, &c. o Jebb, ii. 512, 



14(3 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1572. BOOK VI. 


carnage ensued. This deed, which no popish writer 
in the present age mentions without detestation, 
was at that time applauded in Spain ; and at Rome 
solemn thanksgivings were offered to God for its 
success. But among the protestants, it excited in¬ 
credible horror ; a striking picture of which is drawn 
by the French ambassador at the court of England, 
in his account of his lirst audience after the massa¬ 
cre. “ A gloomy sorrow,” says he, “ sat on every 
face; silence, as in the dead of night, reigned 
through all the chambers of the royal apartment; 
the ladies and courtiers were ranged on each side, 
all clad in deep mourning, and as I passed through 
them, not one bestowed on me a civil look, or made 
the least return to my salutes.”* 3 

Detrimental to Blit h° rror was not the Only passion 
Mary’s interest. w itli which this event inspired the pro¬ 
testants ; it filled them with fear. They considered 
it as the prelude to some greater blow, and believed, 
not without much probability, that all the popish 
princes had conspired the destruction of their sect. 
This opinion was of no small disservice to Mary’s 
affairs in Scotland. Many of her adherents were 
protestants ; and, though they wished her restora¬ 
tion, were not willing, on that account, to sacrifice 
the faith which they professed. They dreaded her 
attachment to a religion which allow ed its votaries 
to violate the mostsolemn engagements, and prompt¬ 
ed them to perpetrate the most barbarous crimes. A 
general confederacy of the protestants seemed to 
them the only thing that could uphold the reforma¬ 
tion against the league which was formed to over¬ 
turn it. Nor could the present establishment of 
religion be long maintained in Britain, but by a 
strict union with Elizabeth, and by the concurrence 
of both nations, in espousing the defence of it as a 
common cause. 1 * 

Encouraged by this general disposition to place 
confidence in her, Elizabeth resumed a scheme which 
she had formed during the regency of the earl of 
Murray, of sending Mary as a prisoner into Scot¬ 
land. But her sentiments and situation were now 
very different from what they had been during her 
negociation with Murray. Her animosity against 
the queen of Scots was greatly augmented by recent 
experience, which taught her that she had inclina¬ 
tion as well as power, not only to disturb the tran¬ 
quillity of her reign, but to wrest from her the crown; 
the party in Scotland favourable to Mary was almost 
entirely broken; and there was no reason to dread 
any danger from France, w hich still continued to 
court her friendship. She aimed, accordingly, at 
something very different from that which she had in 
view three years before. Then she discovered a 
laudable solicitude, not only for the safety of Mary’s 
life, but for securing to her treatment suited to her 
rank. Now she required, as an express condition, 
that immediately after Mary’s arrival in Scotland, 
she should be brought to public trial ; and, having 
no doubt that sentence would be passed according 

p Carte, iii. 522. q Digges, 244, 267. r Murdin, 224. 


to her deserts, she insisted that for the good of both 
kingdoms, it should be executed without delay/ 
No transaction, perhaps, in Elizabeth’s reign, merits 
more severe censure. Eager to cut short the days 
of a rival, the object both ot her hatred and dread, 
and no less anxious to avoid the blame to which 
such a deed of violence might expose her, she 
laboured, with timid and ungenerous artifice, to 
transfer the odium of it from herselt to Mary’s own 
subjects. The earl of Mar, happily for the honour 
of his country, had more virtue than to listen to 
such an ignominious proposal; and Elizabeth did 
not venture to renew it. 

While she was engaged in pursuing The re?enten . 
this insidious measure, the regent was ^oth parties unite 
more honourably employed in endea¬ 
vouring to negociate a general peace among his 
countrymen. As he laboured for this purpose with 
the utmost zeal, and the adverse faction placed en¬ 
tire confidence in his integrity, his endeavours could 
hardly have failed of being successful. Maitland 
and Kirkaldy came so near to an agreement with 
him, that scarce any thing remained, except the for¬ 
mality of signing the treaty. But Morton had not 
forgotten the disappointment he met with in his pre¬ 
tensions to the regency; his abilities, his wealth, 
and the patronage of the court of England, gave 
him greater sway with the party, than even the re¬ 
gent himself; and he took pleasure in thwarting 
every measure pursued by him. He was afraid that, 
if Maitland and his associates recovered any share 
in the administration, his own influence would be 
considerably diminished ; and the regent, by their 
means, would acquire that ascendant which be¬ 
longed to his station. With him concurred all those 
who were in possession of the lands which belonged 
to any of the queen’s party. His ambition, and 
their avarice, frustrated the regent’s pious inten¬ 
tions, and retarded a blessing so necessary to the 
kingdom, as the establishment of peace/ 

Such a discovery of the selfishness ^ ^ 
and ambition which reigned among his 
party, made a deep impression on the regent, who 
loved his country, and wished for peace with much 
ardour. This inward grief broke his spirit, and by 
degrees brought on a settled melancholy, that ended 
in a distemper, of which he died on the twenty-ninth 
of October. He was, perhaps, the only person in 
the kingdom who could have enjoyed the office of 
regent without envy, and have left it without loss of 
reputation. Notwithstanding their mutual animo¬ 
sities, both factions acknowledged his views to be 
honourable, and his integrity to be uncorrupted/ 

No competitor now appeared against 
Morton. The queen of England power- regent, 

fully supported his claim, and not¬ 
withstanding the fears of the people, and the 
jealousy of the nobles, he was elected regent; the 
fourth who, in the space of five years, had held that 
dangerous office. 


s Melv. 233. Crawf. Mem. 237. 


t Crawf. Mem, £41. 



BOOK VI. 1572.] THE HISTORY 

As the truce had been prolonged to the first of 
January, this gave him an opportunity of continu¬ 
ing the negociations with the opposite party, which 
had been set on foot by his predecessor. They pro¬ 
duced no effects, however, till the beginning of the 
next year. 

Before we proceed to these, some events, hitherto 
untouched, deserve our notice. 

The earl of Northumberland, who had been kept 
prisoner in Lochlevin ever since his flight into 
Scotland, in the year one thousand five hundred 
and sixty-nine, was given up to lord Hunsdon, go¬ 
vernor of Berwick; and being carried to York, 
suffered there the punishment of his rebellion. The 
king’s party were so sensible of their dependence on 
Elizabeth’s protection, that it was scarcely possible 
for them to refuse putting into her hands a person 
who had taken up arms against her ; but, as a sum 
of money was paid on that account, and shared be¬ 
tween Morton and Douglas of Lochlevin, the former 
of whom, during his exile in England, had been 
much indebted to Northumberland’s friendship, 
the abandoning this unhappy nobleman, in such a 
manner, to certain destruction, was universally 
condemned as a most ungrateful and mercenary 
action . u 

Affairs of the This year was remarkable for a con- 
church. siderable innovation in the government 

of the church. Soon after the reformation, the 
popish bishops had been confirmed by law in pos¬ 
session of part of their benefices ; but the spiritual 
jurisdiction, which belonged to their order, was ex¬ 
ercised by superintendants, though with more mo¬ 
derate authority. On the death of the archbishop 
of St. Andrew’s, Morton obtained from the crown a 
grant of the temporalities of that see. But as it was 
thought indecent for a layman to hold a benefice to 
which the cure of souls was annexed, he procured 
Douglas, rector of the university of St. Andrew’s, to 
be chosen archbishop; and, allotting him a small 
pension out of the revenues of the see, retained the 
remainder in his own hands. The nobles, who saw 
the advantages which they might reap from such a 
practice, supported him in the execution of his 
plan. It gave great offence, however, to the clergy, 
who instead of perpetuating an order whose name 
and power were odious to them, wished that the re¬ 
venues which had belonged to it might be employed 
in supplying such parishes as were still unprovided 
with settled pastors. But, on the one hand, it would 
have been rash in the clergy to have irritated too 
much noblemen, on whom the very existence of the 
protestant church in Scotland depended ; and Mor¬ 
ton, on the other, conducted his scheme with such 


OF SCOTLAND. 147 

dexterity, and managed them with so much art, that 
it was at last agreed in a convention composed of 
the leading men among the clergy, together with a 
committee of privy council, “That the name and 
office of archbishop and bishop should be continued 
during the king’s minority, and these dignities be 
conferred upon the best qualified among the protes¬ 
tant ministers ; but that, with regard to their spiri¬ 
tual jurisdictions, they should be subject to the 
general assembly of the church.” The rules to be 
observed in their election, and the persons who were 
to supply the place, and enjoy the privileges, which 
belonged to the dean and chapter in times of popery, 
were likewise particularly specified. x The whole 
being laid before the general assembly, after some 
exceptions to the name of archbishop , dean , chapter , 
&c., and a protestation that it should be considered 
only as a temporary constitution, until one more per¬ 
fect could be introduced, it obtained the approba¬ 
tion of that court.? Even Knox, who was prevented 
from attending the assembly by the ill state of his 
health, though he declaimed loudly against the 
simoniacal paction to which Douglas owed his pre¬ 
ferment, and blamed the nomination of a person 
worn out with age and infirmities, to an office which 
required unimpaired vigour both of body and mind, 
seems not to have condemned the proceedings of the 
convention ; and, in a letter to the assembly, ap¬ 
proved of some of the regulations with respect to 
the election of bishops, as worthy of being carefully 
observed. 2 In consequence of the assembly’s con¬ 
sent to the plan agreed upon in the convention, 
Douglas was installed in his office, and at the same 
time an archbishop of Glasgow and a bishop of 
Dunkeld were chosen from among the protestant 
clergy. They were all admitted to the place in par¬ 
liament which belonged to the ecclesiastical order. 
Butin imitation of the example set by Morton, such 
bargains were made with them by different noble¬ 
men, as gave them possession only of a very small 
part of the revenues which belonged to their sees. a 

Soon after the dissolution of this 

Nov. 27. 

assembly, Knox, the prime instrument Death and cha- 

J 1 ' racter of Knox. 

of spreading and establishing the re¬ 
formed religion in Scotland, ended his life, in the 
sixty-seventh year of his age. Zeal, intrepidity, 
disinterestedness, were virtues which he possessed 
in an eminent degree. He was acquainted too with 
the learning cultivated among divines in that age ; 
and excelled in that species of eloquence which is 
calculated to rouse and to inflame. 5 His maxims, 
however, were often too severe, and the impetuosity 
of his temper excessive. Rigid and uncomplying 
himself, he showed no indulgence to the infirmities 


u Crawf. Mem. 55, 222. Carnd. 44.5. V Cald. ii, 305. 

y Id. 354. z See Appendix, No. XXXVIII, a Spotsw. 2bl. 
I) A striking description of that species of eloquence for -which Knox was 
distinguished, is given by one of his contemporaries, Mr. lames Melville, 
minister of Anstruther. “ But of all the benefits I ha.d that year, [1571,] 
was the coming of that most notable prophet and apostle ot our nation, Mr. 
John Knox, to St. Andrew’s, who, by the faction of the queen occupying 
the castle and town of Edinburgh, was compelled to remove therefra with 
a number of the best, and chused to come to St. Andrew’s. 1 heard him 
teach there the prophecies of Daniel that summer and winter following. 
I had my pen and little buike, and took away sic things as I could compre¬ 
hend In the opening of his text, he was moderate the space of half an 

L 2 


hour; but when he entered to application, he made me so to grtte [thrill] 

and tremble that I could not halo the pen to write.-He was very weak. 

1 saw him every day of his doctrine go Indie [slowly] and fair, with a fur¬ 
ring of marticks about his neck, a staff in the one hand, and good godlie 
Kichart Ballenden holding him up by the oxter, [under the arm,] from the 
abbey to the parish kirk ; and he the said Richartand another servant lifted 
him up to the pulpit, where he behoved to lean at his first entrie ; but ere 
he was done with his sermon, lie was so active and vigorous, that he was 
like to ding the pulpit in hlads, [beat the pulpit to pieces,] and fly out of it.” 
MS. Life of Mr. .lames Melville, communicated to me by Mr. Patonofthe 
Custom-house, Edinburgh, p. 14,21. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1573. ROOK VI. 


of others. Regardless of the distinctions oi rank 
and character, he uttered his admonitions with an 
acrimony and vehemence, more apt to irritate than 
to reclaim. This often betrayed him into indecent 
and undutiful expressions with respect to the queen’s 
person and conduct. Those very qualities, however, 
which now render his character less amiable, fitted 
him to be the instrument of Providence for advanc¬ 
ing the reformation among a fierce people, and en¬ 
abling him to face dangers, and to surmount oppo¬ 
sition, from which a person of a more gentle spirit 
would have been apt to shrink back. By an un¬ 
wearied application to study and to business, as 
well as by the frequency and fervour of his public 
discourses, he had worn out a constitution naturally 
robust. During a lingering illness he discovered 
the utmost fortitude ; and met the approaches of 
death with a magnanimity inseparable from his 
character. He was constantly employed in acts of 
devotion, and comforted himself with those pros¬ 
pects of immortality which not only preserve good 
men from desponding, but fill them with exultation 
in their last moments. The earl of Morton, who 
was present at his funeral, pronounced his eulogium 
in a few words, the more honourable for Knox, as 
they came from one whom he had often censured 
with peculiar severity : “ There lies he, who never 
feared the face of man.” c 

15?3 Though Morton did not desire peace 

"with r ?heQueen’s f rom such generous motives as the 
party - former regent, he laboured, however, 

in good earnest, to establish it. The public confu¬ 
sions and calamities, to which he owed his power 
and importance when he was only the second per¬ 
son in the nation, were extremely detrimental to 
him now that he was raised to be the first. While 
so many of the nobles continued in arms against 
him, his authority as regent was partial, feeble, and 
precarious. Elizabeth was no less desirous of ex¬ 
tinguishing the flame which she had kindled and 
kept so long alive in Scotland. d She had discovered 
the alliance with France, from which he had ex¬ 
pected such advantages, to be no foundation of se¬ 
curity. Though appearances of friendship still 
subsisted between her and that court, and Charles 
daily renewed his protestations of inviolable adhe¬ 
rence to the treaty, she was convinced, by a fatal 
example, how little she ought to rely on the pro¬ 
mises or oaths of that perfidious monarch. Her am¬ 
bassador warned her that the French held secret 
correspondence with Mary’s adherents in Scotland, 
and encouraged them in their obstinacy. e The 
duke of Alva carried on his intrigues in that king¬ 
dom with less disguise. She was persuaded that 
they would embrace the first serene interval, which 
the commotions in France and in the Netherlands 
would allow them, and openly attempt to land a 
body of men in Scotland. She resolved, there¬ 
fore, to prevent their getting any footing in the 


island, and to cut off all their hopes of find¬ 
ing any assistance there, by uniting the two 
parties. 

The situation of Mary’s adherents Ilis overtures re¬ 
enabled the regent to carry on his ne- j^nd ami Kir- 1 
gociations with them to great advan- kfll<ly ’ 
tage. They were now divided into two factions. 
At the head of the one were Chatelherault and 
Huntley. Maitland and Kirkaldy were the leaders 
of the other. Their high rank, their extensive pro¬ 
perty, and the numbers of their followers, rendered 
the former considerable. The latter were indebted 
for their importance to their personal abilities, and 
to the strength of the castle of Edinburgh, which 
was in their possession. The regent had no inten¬ 
tion to comprehend both in the same treaty ; but as 
he dreaded that the queen’s party, if it remained 
entire, would be able to thwart and embarrass his 
administration, he resolved to divide and weaken 
it, by a separate negociation. He made the first 
overture to Kirkaldy and his associates, and endea¬ 
voured to renew the negociation with them, which, 
during the life of his predecessor, had been broken 
off by his own artifices. But Kirkaldy knew Mor¬ 
ton’s views, and system of government, to be very 
different from those of the former regent. Mait¬ 
land considered him as a personal and implaca¬ 
ble enemy. They received repeated assurances of 
protection from France; and though the siege of 
Rochelle employed the French arms at that time, 
the same hopes which had so often deceived the 
party, still amused them, and they expected that 
the obstinacy of the Hugonots would soon be sub¬ 
dued, and that Charles would then be at liberty to 
act with vigour in Scotland. Meanwhile a supply 
of money was sent, and if the castle could be held 
out till Whitsunday, effectual aid was promised/ 
Maitland’s genius delighted in forming schemes 
that were dangerous ; and Kirkaldy possessed the 
intrepidity necessary for putting them in execution. 
The castle, they knew, was so situated, that it might 
defy all the regent’s power. Elizabeth, they hoped, 
would not violate the treaty with France, by send¬ 
ing forces to his assistance ; and if the French 
should be able to land any considerable body of 
men, it might be possible to deliver the queen from 
captivity, or, at least, to balance the influence of 
France and England in such a manner, as to rescue 
Scotland from the dishonourable dependence upon 
the latter, under which it had fallen. This splen¬ 
did but chimerical project they preferred to the 
friendship of Morton. They encouraged the nego-’ 
ciation, however, because it served to gain time ; 
they proposed, for the same purpose, that the whole 
of the queen’s party should be comprehended in it, 
and that Kirkaldy should retain the command of 
the castle six months after the treaty was signed. 
His interest prompted the regent to reject the former; 
his penetration discovered the danger of complying 


c Spotsw. '266. Cald. ii. 273. 


d Digges,299. 


e Digges, 296,312. 


f Ibid. 311. 



BOOK VI. 1573.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


149 


with the latter ; and all hopes of accommodation 
vanished.? 

As soon as the truce expired, Kirkaldy began to 
fire on the city of Edinburgh, which, by the return 
of the inhabitants whom he had expelled, was de¬ 
voted as zealously as ever to the king’s cause. But, 
as the regent had now set on foot a treaty with 
Chatelherault and Huntley, the cessation of arms 
still continued with them. 

Accepted by Cha- T1 ‘ ey Were leSS SCrU P U,0US than the 
Huntley 11 and other P art Y» an d listened eagerly to 
his overtures. The duke was natur¬ 
ally unsteady, and the approach of old age increas¬ 
ed his irresolution, and aversion to action. The 
miseries of civil discord had afflicted Scotland 
almost five years, a length of time far beyond the 
duration of any former contest. The war, instead 
of doing service, had been detrimental to the queen ; 
and more ruinous than any foreign invasion to the 
kingdom. In prosecuting it, neither party had 
gained much honour: both had suffered great losses, 
and had exhausted their own estates in wasting 
those of their adversaries. The commons were in 
the utmost misery, and longed ardently for a peace, 
which might terminate this fruitless but destructive 
quarrel. 

Articles of the A great step was taken towards this 
treaty. Feb. 23. desirable event, by the treaty conclud¬ 
ed at Perth, between the regent on one hand, and 
Chatelherault and Huntley on the other, under the 
mediation of Killegrew, Elizabeth’s ambassador. 11 
The chief articles in it were these; That all the 
parties comprehended in the treaty should declare 
their approbation of the reformed religion now esta¬ 
blished in the kingdom ; that they should submit 
to the king’s government, and own Morton’s autho¬ 
rity as regent; that they should acknowledge every 
thing done in opposition to the king, since his coro¬ 
nation, to be illegal; that on both sides the prison¬ 
ers who had been taken should be set at liberty, 
and the estates which had been forfeited should be 
restored to their proper owners ; that the act of at¬ 
tainder passed against the queen’s adherents should 
be repealed, and indemnity granted for all the 
crimes of which they had been guilty since the fif¬ 
teenth of June one thousand five hundred and sixty- 
seven ; and that the treaty should be ratified by the 
common consent of both parties in parliament. 1 

siece of the castle Kirkaldy, though abandoned by his 
ot Edinburgh. associates, who neither discovered so¬ 
licitude nor made provision for his safety, did not 
lose courage, nor entertain any thoughts of accom¬ 
modation. k Though all Scotland had now submit¬ 
ted to the king, he still resolved to defend the castle 
in the queen’s name, and to wait the arrival of the 
promised succours. The regent was in want of 

g Melv. 235, <ftc. 

n See Appendix, No. XXXIX. i Crawf. Mem. 251. 

k Melvil, whose brother, Sir Robert, was one of those who joined with 
Kirkaldy in the defence of the castle, and who was himself strongly at¬ 
tached to their party, asserts that Kirkaldy offered to accept of any rea¬ 
sonable terms of composition, but that all his offers were rejected by the 
regent. Melv. 2-10. Rut, as Elizabeth was, at that time, extremely de¬ 
sirous of restoring peace in Scotland, and her ambassador Killegrew, as 


April 25. 


May 29. 


every thing necessary for carrying on a siege. But 
Elizabeth, who determined at any rate to bring the 
dissensions in Scotland to a period before the 
French could find leisure to take part in the quarrel, 
soon aff orded him sufficient supplies. Sir William 
Drury marched into Scotland with fifteen hundred 
foot, and a considerable train of artillery. The 
regent joined him with all his forces ; and trenches 
were opened and approaches regularly carried 
on against the castle. Kirkaldy, 

though discouraged by the loss of a 
great sum of money remitted to him from France, 
and which fell into the regent’s hands through 
the treachery of sir James Balfour, the most cor¬ 
rupt man of that age, defended himself with bravery, 
augmented by despair. Three-and-tliirty days 

he resisted all the efforts of the Scots and Eng¬ 
lish, who pushed on their attacks with courage 
and with emulation. Nor did he demand a parley, 
till the fortifications were battered down, and one 
of the wells in the castle dried up, and the other 
choked with rubbish. Even then, his spirit was 
unsubdued, and he determined rather to fall glo¬ 
riously behind the last intrenchment, than to yield 
to his inveterate enemies. But his garrison was 
not animated with the same heroic or desperate re¬ 
solution, and rising in a mutiny, forced 
him to capitulate. He surrendered 
himself to Drury, who promised, in the name of his 
mistress, that he should be favourably treated. 
Together with him, James Kirkaldy his brother, 
lord Home, Maitland, sir Robert Melvil, a few 
citizens of Edinburgh, and about one hundred and 
sixty soldiers, were made prisoners. 1 

Several of the officers, who had been kept in pay 
during the war, prevailed on their men to accom¬ 
pany them into the Low Countries, and entering into 
the service of the States, added, by their gallant be¬ 
haviour, to the reputation for military virtue which 
has always been the character of the Scottish nation. 

Thus by the treaty with Chatelhe- 

Review of the 

rault and Huntley, and the surrender character of both 
of the castle, the civil wars in Scot¬ 
land were brought to a period. When we review 
the state of the nation, and compare the strength of 
the two factions, Mary’s partisans among the nobles 
appear, manifestly, to have been superior both in 
numbers and in power. But these advantages were 
more than counterbalanced by others, which their 
antagonists enjoyed. Political abilities, military 
skill, and all the talents which times of action form, 
or call forth, appeared chiefly on the king’s side. 
Nor could their enemies boast of any man who 
equalled the intrepidity of Murray, tempered with 
wisdom ; the profound sagacity of Morton ; the 
subtle genius, and insinuating address, of Maitland; 

well as the earl of Rothes, used their utmost endeavours to persuade Kir¬ 
kaldy to accede to the treaty of Perth, it seems more credible to impute the 
continuance of hostilities to Kirkaldy’s obstinacy, his distrust of Morton, 
or his hope of foreign aid, than to any other cause. 

That this was really the case, is evident from the positive testimony of 
Spotsw. 269, 270. Camd. 446. Johnst. Hist. 3, 4. Digges, 334. Craw¬ 
ford’s account agrees, in the main, with theirs, Mem. 263. 

1 Cald. ii. 408. Melv. 240. Crawf. Mem. 265. 



150 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


or the successful valour of Kirkaldy ; all of which 
were, at first, employed in laying the foundation of 
the king's authority. On the one side, measures 
were concerted with prudence, and executed with 
vigour; on the other, their resolutions were rash, 
and their conduct feeble. The people, animated 
with zeal for religion, and prompted by indignation 
against the queen, warmly supported the king’s 
cause. The clergy threw the whole weight of their 
popularity into the same scale. By means of these, 
as well as by the powerful interposition of England, 
the king’s governmentwas finally established. Mary 
lost even that shadow of sovereignty, which, amidst 
all her sufferings, she had hitherto retained among 
part of her own subjects. As she was no longer 
permitted to have an ambassador at the court of 
England, the only mark of dignity which she had, 
for some time, enjoyed there, she must henceforth 
be considered as an exile stripped of all the ensigns 
of royalty ; guarded with anxiety in the one king¬ 
dom, and totally deserted or forgotten in the other. 
Kirkaldy put to Kirkaldy and his associates remain- 
death. e d j n D rur y> s custody, and were treat¬ 
ed by him with great humanity, until the queen of 
England, whose prisoners they were, should deter¬ 
mine their fate. Morton insisted that they should 
suffer the punishment due to their rebellion and 
obstinacy ; and declared that, so long as they were 
allowed to live, he did not reckon his own person 
or authority secure ; and Elizabeth, without re¬ 
garding Drury’s honour, or his promises in her 
name, gave them up to the regent’s disposal. He 
first confined them to separate prisons ; 
and soon after, with Elizabeth’s con¬ 
sent, condemned Kirkaldy, and his brother, to be 
hanged at the cross of Edinburgh. Maitland, who 
did not expect to be treated more favourably, 
prevented the ignominy of a public execution by a 
voluntary death, and “ ended his days,” says Melvil, 
“ after the old Roman fashion.”" 1 

While the regent was wreaking his vengeance on 
the remains of her party in Scotland, Mary, incapa¬ 
ble of affording them any relief, bewailed their mis¬ 
fortunes in the solitude of her prison. At the same 
time her health began to be much impaired by con¬ 
finement and want of exercise. At the entreaty of 
the French ambassador, lord Shrewsbury, her keeper, 
was permitted to conduct her to Buxton-wells, not 
far from Tuthbury, the place of her imprisonment. 
Cecil, who had lately been created baron of Bur¬ 
leigh, and lord high treasurer of England, happened 
to be there at the same time. Though no minister 
ever entered more warmly into the views of a sove¬ 
reign, or gave stronger proofs of his fidelity and 
attachment, than this great man, yet such was Eli¬ 
zabeth’s distrust of every person who approached 
the queen of Scots, that her suspicions, in conse¬ 
quence of this interview, seem to have extended 

m Melv. 242. n Strype, ii. 248, 288. o See Append. No. XL. 

p Ihe corruption of the coin, during Morton's administration, was very 
great. Although the quantity of current money coined out of a pound of 
bullion was gradually increased by former princes, the standard or fineness 
suffered little alteration, and the mixture of alloy was nearly the same 


August 3. 


[1573. BOOK VI. 


even to him ; and while Mary justly reckoned him 
her most dangerous enemy, he found some difficulty 
in persuading his own mistress that he was not par¬ 
tial to that unhappy queen." 

The duke of Alva was this year recalled from the 
government of the Netherlands, where his haughty 
and oppressive administration roused a spirit, ir* 
attempting to subdue which, Spain exhausted its 
treasures, ruined its armies, and lost its glory. Re- 
quesens, who succeeded him, was of a milder temper, 
and of a less enterprising genius. This event de¬ 
livered Elizabeth from the perpetual disquietude 
occasioned by Alva’s negociations with the Scottish 
queen, and his zeal for her interest. 

Though Scotland was now settled in 1574 
profound peace, many of the evils ^nilfmtiou be- 
which accompany civil war were still comes odlous - 
felt. The restraints of law, which in times of public 
confusion are little regarded even by civilized na¬ 
tions, were totally despised by a fierce people, un¬ 
accustomed to a regular administration of justice. 
The disorders in every corner of the kingdom were 
become intolerable ; and, under the protection of 
one or the other faction, crimes of every kind were 
committed with impunity. The regent set himself 
to redress these, and by his industry and vigour, 
order and security were re-established in the king¬ 
dom. But he lost the reputation due to this impor¬ 
tant service, by the avarice which he discovered in 
performing it; and his own exactions became more 
pernicious to the nation than all the irregularities 
which he restrained. 0 Spies and informers were 
every where employed ; the remembrance of old 
offences was revived ; imaginary crimes were in¬ 
vented ; petty trespasses were aggravated ; and 
delinquents were forced to compound for their lives 
by the payment of exorbitant fines. At the same time 
the current coin was debased ; p licences were sold 
for carrying on prohibited branches of commerce : 
unusual taxes were imposed on commodities ; and 
all the refinements in oppression, from which na¬ 
tions so imperfectly polished as the Scots are usually 
exempted, were put in practice. None of these were 
complained of more loudly, or with greater reason, 
than his injustice towards the church. The thirds 
of benefices, out of which the clergy received their 
subsistence, had always been slowly and irregularly 
paid to collectors, appointed by the general assem¬ 
bly ; and during the civil wars, no payment could 
be obtained in several parts of the kingdom. Under 
colour of redressing this grievance, and upon a 
promise of assigning every minister a stipend within 
his own parish, the regent extorted from the church 
the thirds to which they had right by law. But 
the clergy, instead of reaping any advantage from 
this alteration, found that payments became more 
irregular and dilatory than ever. One minister 
was commonly burthened with the care of four or 


with what is now used. But Morton mixed a fourth part of alloy with 
every pound of silver, and sunk, by consequence, the value of coin m pro¬ 
portion. In the year 1581, all the money coined by him was called in 
and appointed to be recoined. The standard was restored to the same’ 
purity as formerly. Ruddim. Pref. to Anders. Diplom p 74 



BOOK VI. 1574.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


five parishes, a pitiful salary was allotted him, and 
the regent’s insatiable avarice seized on the rest of 
the fund/ 

The death of Charles IX., which happened this 
year, was a new misfortune to the Scottish queen. 
Henry III., who succeeded him, had not the same 
attachment to her person ; and his jealousy of the 
house of Guise, and obsequiousness to the queen 
mother, greatly alienated him from her interest. 

1575 . The death of the duke of Chatelhe- 

rault must likewise be considered as 
some loss to Mary. As the parliament had frequently 
declared him next heir to the crown, this entitled 
him to great respect among his countrymen, and 
enabled him, more than any other person in the 
kingdom, to counterbalance the regent’s power. 

Soon after, at one of the usual interviews between 
the wardens of the Scottish and English marches, a 
scu file happened, in which the English were worsted; 
a few killed on the spot; and sir James Forrester, the 
warden, with several gentlemen who attended him, 
taken prisoners. But both Elizabeth and the regent 
were too sensible of the advantage which resulted 
from the good understanding that subsisted between 
the two kingdoms, to allow this slight accident to 
interrupt it. 


Attempts of the The c ^ omest * c tranquillity of the king- 

clergy aeainstthe dom was in some danger of being dis- 
episcopal order. 0 

turbed by another cause. Though the 
persons raised to the dignity of bishops possessed 
very small revenues, and a very moderate degree of 
power, the clergy, to whom the regent and all his 
measures were become extremely odious, began to 
be jealous of that order. Knowing that corruptions 
steal into the church gradually, under honourable 
names and upon decent pretences, they were afraid 
that, from such small beginnings, the hierarchy 
might grow in time to be as powerful and oppressive 
as ever. The chief author of these suspicions was 
Mr. Andrew Melvil, a man distinguished by his 
uncommon erudition, by the severity of his manners, 
and the intrepidity of his mind. But, bred up in 
the retirement of a college, he was unacquainted 
with the arts of life; and being more attentive to 
the ends which he pursued, than to the means which 
he employed for promoting them, he often defeated 
laudable designs by the impetuosity and imprudence 
with which he carried them on. A question was 
moved by him in the assembly, “ Whether the office 
of bishop, as now exercised in the kingdom, were 
agreeable to the word of God ? ” In the ecclesiastical 
judicatories, continual complaints were made of the 
bishops for neglect of duty, many of which their 
known remissness too well justified. The bishop 
of Dunkeld, being accused of dilapidating his be¬ 
nefice, was found guilty by the assembly. The 
regent, instead of checking, connived at these dis¬ 
putes about ecclesiastical government, as they di¬ 
verted the zeal of the clergy from attending to 


his daily encroachments on the patrimony of the 
church/ 

The weight of the regent’s oppressive 
administration had, hitherto, fallen He irritates some 
chiefly on those in the lower and mid- of 1,16 nobles • 
die rank; but he began now to take such steps as 
convinced the nobles, that their dignity would not 
long exempt them from feeling the effects of his 
power. An accident, which was a frequent cause 
of dissension among the Scottish nobles, occasioned 
a difference between the earls of Argyll and Athol. 
A vassal of the former had made some depredations 
on the lands of the latter. Athol took arms to 
punish the offender; Argyll to protect him; and 
this ignoble quarrel they were ready to decide in 
the field, when the regent, by interposing his autho¬ 
rity, obliged them to disband their forces. Both of 
them had been guilty of irregularities, which, though 
common, were contrary to the letter of the law. Of 
these the regent took advantage, and resolved to 
found on them a charge of treason. This design 
was revealed to the two earls by one of Morton’s 
retainers. The common danger to which they were 
exposed, compelled them to forget old quarrels, and 
to unite in a close confederacy for their mutual 
defence. Their junction rendered them formidable; 
they despised the summons which the regent gave 
them to appear before a court of justice ; and he 
was obliged to desist from any further prosecution. 
But the injury he intended made a deep impression 
on their minds, and drew upon him severe ven¬ 
geance/ 

Nor was he more successful in an attempt which 
he made, to load lord Claud Hamilton with the guilt 
of having formed a conspiracy against his life. 
Though those who were supposed to be his accom¬ 
plices were seized and tortured, no evidence of any 
thing criminal appeared; but, on the contrary, 
many circumstances discovered his innocence, as 
well as the regent’s secret views in imputing to him 
such an odious design/ 

The Scottish nobles, who were 
almost equal to their monarchs in They 1 mrn their 
power, and treated by them with much kmg. towards the 
distinction, observed these arbitrary proceedings of 
a regent with the utmost indignation. The people, 
who, under a form of government extremely simple 
had been little accustomed to the burthen of taxes, 
complained loudly of the regent’s rapacity. And 
all began to turn their eyes towards the young king, 
from whom they expected the redress of all their 
grievances, and the return of a more gentle and 
more equal administration. 

James was now in the twelfth year Tames> edyj?atl0n 
of his age. The queen, soon after his and disposition, 
birth, had committed him to the care of the earl of 
Mar, and during the civil wars he had resided se¬ 
curely in the castle of Stirling. Alexander Erskine, 
that nobleman’s brother, had the chief direction of 


q Crawf. Mem. 272. Spots. 273. Cald. ii. 420, 427. 
t Cald. Assemblies, 1574, &c. Johnst. Hist. 15. 


1 


s Crawf. Mem. 285. 


t Ibid. 287. 




152 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


his education. Under him, the famous Buchanan 
acted as preceptor, together with three other masters, 
the most eminent the nation afforded for skill in 
those sciences which were deemed necessary for a 
prince. As the young king showed an uncommon 
passion for learning, and made great progress in it, 
the Scots fancied that they already discovered in 
him all those virtues which the fondness or credu¬ 
lity of subjects usually ascribes to princes during 
their minority. But, as James was still far from 
that age at which the law permitted him to assume 
the reins of government, the regent did not suffi¬ 
ciently attend to the sentiments of the people, nor 
rellect how naturally these prejudices in his favour 
might encourage the king to anticipate that period. 
He not only neglected to secure the friendship of 
those who were about the king’s person, and who 
possessed his ear, but had even exas- 
ofthe regent’s 113 perated some of them by personal in- 
power ‘ juries. Their resentment concurred 

with the ambition of others, in infusing into the 
king early suspicions of Morton’s power and designs. 
A king, they told him, had often reason to fear, sel¬ 
dom to love, a regent. Prompted by ambition, and 
by interest, he would endeavour to keep the prince 
in perpetual infancy, at a distance from his subjects, 
and unacquainted with business. A small degree 
of vigour, however, was sufficient to break the yoke. 
Subjects naturally reverence their sovereign, and 
become impatient of the temporary and delegated 
jurisdiction of a regent. Morton had governed with 
rigour unknown to the ancient monarclis of Scot¬ 
land. The nation groaned under his oppressions, 
and would welcome the first prospect of a milder 
administration. At present the king’s name was 
hardly mentioned in Scotland, his friends were with¬ 
out influence, and his favourites without honour. 
But one effort would discover Morton’s power to be 
as feeble as it was arbitrary. The same attempt 
would put himself in possession of his just autho¬ 
rity, and rescue the nation from intolerable tyranny. 
If he did not regard his own rights as a king, let 
him listen, at least, to the cries of his people. 11 

a plot formed These suggestions made a deep im- 
agamst the regent. p ress j on 0 n the young king, who was 

trained up in an opinion that he was born to com¬ 
mand. His approbation of the design, however, 
was of small consequence, without the concurrence 
of the nobles. The earls of Argyll and Athol, two 
of the most powerful of that body, were animated 
with implacable resentment against the regent. To 
them the cabal in Stirling castle communicated the 
plot which was on foot; and they entering warmly 
into it, Alexander Erskine, who, since the death of 
his brother, and during the minority of his nephew, 
had the command of that fort, and the custody of 
the king’s person, admitted them secretly into the 
king’s presence. They gave him the same account 
of the misery of his subjects, under the regent’s 
arbitrary administration; they complained loudly 

u Melvil, 249. 


[1577. BOOK VI. 

of the injustice with which themselves had been 
treated, and besought the king, as the only means 
for redressing the grievances of the nation, to call a 
council of all the nobles. James consented, and 
letters were issued in his name for that purpose ; 
but the two earls took care that they should be sent 
only to such as were known to bear no good-will to 
Morton. x 

The number of these was, however, so consider¬ 
able, that on the day appointed, far the greater part 
of the nobles assembled at Stirling; and so highly 
were they incensed against Morton, that although, 
on receiving intelligence of Argyll and Athol’s in¬ 
terview with the king, he had made a 1578 
feint as if he would resign the regency, March - 4 - 

they advised the king, without regarding this offer, 
to deprive him of his office, and to take the adminis¬ 
tration of government into his own hands. Lord 
Glamis the chancellor, and Herries, were appointed 
to signify this resolution to Morton, who was at that 
time in Dalkeith, his usual place of residence. 
Nothing could equal the joy with which IIe res5gns . tlis of . 
this unexpected resolution filled the fice ' retires, 
nation, but the surprise occasioned by the seeming 
alacrity with which the regent descended from so 
high a station. He neither wanted sagacity to fore¬ 
see the danger of resigning, nor inclination to keep 
possession of an office, for the expiration of which 
the law had fixed so distant a term. But all the 
sources whence the faction of which he was head 
derived their strength, had either failed, or now 
supplied his adversaries with the means of humbling 
him. The commons, the city of Edinburgh, the 
clergy, were all totally alienated from him, by his 
multiplied oppressions. Elizabeth, having lately 
bound herself by treaty, to send a considerable body 
of troops to the assistance of the inhabitants of the 
Netherlands, who were struggling for liberty, had 
little leisure to attend to the affairs of Scotland ; 
and as she had nothing to dread from France, in 
whose councils the princes of Lorrain had not at 
that time much influence, she was not displeased, 
perhaps, at the birth of new factions in the kingdom. 
Even those nobles, who had long been joined with 
Morton in faction, or whom he had attached to his 
person by benefits, Glamis, Lindsay, Rutliven, Pit¬ 
cairn the secretary, Murray of Tullibardin, comp¬ 
troller, all deserted his falling fortunes, and appeared 
in the council at Stirling. So many concurring 
circumstances convinced Morton of his own weak¬ 
ness, and determined him to give way to a torrent, 
which was too impetuous to be resisted. He attend¬ 
ed the chancellor and Herries to Edin¬ 
burgh ; was present when the king’s 
acceptance of the government was proclaimed; 
and, in the presence of the people, surrendered to 
the king all the authority to which he had any claim 
in virtue of his office. This ceremony was accom¬ 
panied with such excessive joy and acclamations of 
the multitude, as added, no doubt, to the anguish 

x Spotsw, 278. 


March 12. 




BOOK VI. 1578.] THE HISTORY 


which an ambitious spirit must feel, when compel¬ 
led to renounce supreme power; and convinced 
Morton how entirely he had lost the affections of 
his countrymen. He obtained, however, from the 
king an act containing the approbation of every 
thing done by him in the exercise of his office, and 
a pardon, in the most ample form that his fear or 
caution could devise, of all past offences, crimes, 
and treasons. The nobles, who adhered to the king, 
bound themselves under a great penalty, to procure 
the ratification of this act in the first parliaments 

Continues to watch A council of twelve peers was ap- 

adverse'party the P°i nte d to assist the king in the ad¬ 
ministration of affairs. Morton, de¬ 
serted by his own party, and unable to struggle with 
the faction which governed absolutely at court, 
retired to one of his seats, and seemed to enjoy the 
tranquillity, and to be occupied only in the amuse¬ 
ments, of a country life. His mind, however, was 
deeply disquieted with all the uneasy reflections 
w hich accompany disappointed ambition, and intent 
on schemes for recovering his former grandeur. 
Even in this retreat, which the people called the 
lions den y his wealth and abilities rendered him 
formidable ; and the new counsellors were so im¬ 
prudent as to rouse him, by the precipitancy with 
which they hastened to strip him of all the remains 
of power. They required him to surrender the 
castle of Edinburgh, which was still in his posses¬ 
sion. He refused at first to do so, and began to 
prepare for its defence ; but the citizens of Edin¬ 
burgh having taken arms, and repulsed part of the 
garrison, which was sent cut to guard a convoy of 
provisions, he was obliged to give up that important 
fortress without resistance. This encouraged his 
adversaries to call a parliament to meet at Edin¬ 
burgh, and to multiply their demands upon him, in 
such a manner, as convinced him that nothing less 
than his utter ruin would satisfy their inveterate 
hatred. 

Their power and popularity, however, began al¬ 
ready to decline. The chancellor, the ablest and 
most moderate man in the party, having been killed 
at Stirling, in an accidental rencounter between his 
followers and those of the earl of Crawford; Athol, 
who was appointed his successor in that high office, 
the earls of Eglinton, Caithness, and lord Ogilvie, 
all the prime favourites at court, were either avowed 
papists, or suspected of leaning to the opinions of 
that sect. In an age when the return of popery was 
so much and so justly dreaded, this gave universal 
alarm. As Morton had always treated the papists 
with rigour, this unseasonable favour to persons of 
that religion made all zealous protestants remember 
that circumstance in his administration with great 
praise. z 


„ .. , Morton, to whom none of these par- 

Resumes his form- ’ 1 

er authority, ticulars were unknown, thought this 

the proper juncture for setting to work the instru¬ 
ments which he had been preparing. Having gain- 


y Spotsw. 278. Crawf. Mem. 289. Cald. ii. 522. 


OF SCOTLAND. 


153 


April. 26. 


ed the confidence of the earl of Mar, and of the 
countess his mother, he insinuated to them, that 
Alexander Erskine had formed a plot to deprive his 
nephew of the government of Stirling castle, and 
the custody of the king’s person; and easily induced 
an ambitious woman, and a youth of twenty, to 
employ force to prevent this supposed 
injury. The earl repairing suddenly 
to Stirling, and being admitted as usual into the 
castle with his attendants, seized the gates early in 
the morning, and turned out his uncle, who dreaded 
no danger from his hands. The soldiers of the 
garrison submitted to him as their governor, and, 
with little danger and no effusion of blood, he be¬ 
came master both of the king’s person, and of the 
fortress. 1 

An event so unexpected occasioned great conster¬ 
nation. Though Morton’s hand did not appear in 
the execution, he was universally believed to be the 
author of the attempt. The new counsellors saw 
it to be necessary, for their own safety, to change 
their measures, and, instead of pursuing him with 
such implacable resentment, to enter into terms of 
accommodation with an adversary, still so capable 
of creating them trouble. Four were named, on 
each side, to adj ust their differences. They met not far 
from Dalkeith ; and when they had brought matters 
near a conclusion, Morton, who was too sagacious 
not to improve the advantage which their security 
and their attention to the treaty afforded him, set 
out in the night time for Stirling, and having gained 
Murray of Tullibardin, Mar’s uncle, 
was admitted by him into the castle ; 
and managing matters there with his usual dexterity, 
he soon had more entirely the command of the fort, 
than the earl himself. He was likewise admitted to 
a seat in the privy council, and acquired as complete 
an ascendant in it. b 

As the time appointed for the meeting of parlia¬ 
ment at Edinburgh now approached, this gave him 
some anxiety. He was afraid of conductingtlieyoung 
king to a city whose inhabitants were so much at 
the devotion of the adverse faction. He was no less 
unwilling to leave James behind at Stirling. In 
order to avoid this dilemma, he issued a proclama¬ 
tion in the king’s name, changing the place of 
meeting from Edinburgh to Stirling castle. This 
Athol and his party represented as a step altogether 
unconstitutional. The king, said they, is Morton’s 
prisoner; the pretended counsellors are his slaves; 
a parliament, to which all the nobles may repair 
without fear, and where they may deliberate with 
freedom, is absolutely necessary for settling the 
nation, after disorders of such long continuance. 
But in an assembly, called contrary to all form, held 
within the walls of a garrison, and overawed by 
armed men, what safety could members expect? 
what liberty could prevail in debate? or what 
benefit result to the public? The par¬ 
liament met, however, on the day ap- 


May 24. 


July 25. 


z Spotsw. 283. 


a Cald. ii. 535. 


b Ibid. 536. 



154 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1578. BOOK VI. 


Aug. 11. 


pointed, and, notwithstanding the protestation of 
the earl of Montrose and lord Lindsay, in name of 
their party, proceeded to business. The king's ac¬ 
ceptance of the government was confirmed ; the act 
granted to Morton, for his security, ratified ; some 
regulations with regard to the numbers and authority 
of the privy council, were agreed upon; and a 
pension for life granted to the countess of Mar, who 
had been so instrumental in bringing about the late 
revolution. 0 

Argyll and Athol Meanwhile Argyll, Athol, and their 

take arms against 

him. followers, took arms, upon the specious 

pretence of rescuing the king from captivity, and 
the kingdom from oppression. James himself, im¬ 
patient of the servitude in which lie was held by a 
man whom he had long been taught to hate, secretly 
encouraged their enterprise; though, at the same 
time, he was obliged not only to disavow them in 
public, but to levy forces against them, and even to 
declare, by proclamation, that he was perfectly free 
from any constraint, either upon his 
person or his will. Both sides quickly 
took the field. Argyll and Athol were at the head 
of seven thousand men; the earl of Angus, Morton’s 
nephew, met them with an army five thousand 
strong ; neither party, however, was eager to engage. 
Morton distrusted the fidelity of his own troops. 
The two earls w^ere sensible that a single victory, 
however complete, would not be decisive ; and, as 
they were in no condition to undertake the siege of 
Stirling castle, where the king w^as kept, their 
strength would soon be exhausted, while Morton’s 
own wealth and the patronage of the queen of Eng¬ 
land, might furnish him with endless resources. By 
Elizabeth negoci- ^ ie mediation of Bowes, whom Eliza- 
datioif between 0 " had sent i nto Scotland to negoci- 

them- ate an accommodation between the two 

factions, a treaty was concluded, in consequence of 
which, Argyll and Athol were admitted into the 
king’s presence ; some of their party were added to 
the privy council; and a convention of nobles 
called, in order to bring all remaining differences 
to an amicable issue. d 

As soon as James assumed the government into 
bis own hands, he despatched the abbot of Dun¬ 
fermline to inform Elizabeth of that event; to offer 
to renew the alliance between the two kingdoms ; 
and to demand possession of the estate which had 
lately fallen to him by the death of his grandmother 
the countess of Lennox. The lady’s second son 
had left one daughter, Arabella Stewart, who was 
born in England. And as the chief objection 
against the pretensions of the Scottish line to the 
crown of England, was that maxim of English law, 
which excludes aliens from any right of inheritance 
within the kingdom, Elizabeth, by granting this 
demand, would have established a precedent in 
James’s favour, that might have been deemed de¬ 
cisive with regard to a point which it had been her 
constant care to keep undecided. Without suffering 

c Cald ii. 547. Pari. 5 Jac. 6. d Crawf. Mem. 307. 


1579. 


April 24. 


this delicate question to be tried, or allowing any 
new light to be thrown on that which she considered 
as the great mystery of her reign, she commanded 
lord Burleigh, master of the wards, to sequester the 
rents of the estate ; and by this method of proceed¬ 
ing, gave the Scottish king early warning how ne¬ 
cessary it would be to court her favour, if ever he 
hoped for success in claims of greater importance, 
but equally liable to be controverted. 6 

After many delays, and with much 
difficulty, the contending nobles were 
at last brought to some agreement. But it was 
followed by a tragical event. Morton, in token of 
reconcilement, having invited the leaders of the 
opposite party to a great entertainment, Athol the 
chancellor was soon after taken ill, and 
died within a few days. The symptoms 
and violence of the disease gave rise to strong sus¬ 
picions of his being poisoned ; and though the 
physicians, who opened his body, differed in opinion 
as to the cause of the distemper, the chancellor’s 
relations publicly accused Morton of that odious 
crime. The advantage which visibly accrued to 
him by the removal of a man of great abilities, and 
averse from all his measures, was deemed a sufficient 
proof of his guilt by the people, who are ever fond 
of imputing the death of eminent persons to extra¬ 
ordinary causes/ 

The office of chancellor was bestow- Morton . s ille , ral 
ed upon Argyll, whom this preferment Ssuhlfamiiy 
reconciled, in a great measure, to Mor- ot Hiimllton - 
ton’s administration. He had now recovered all 
the authority which he possessed during his regency, 
and had entirely broken, or baffled, the power and 
cabals of his enemies. None of the great families 
remained to be the objects of his jealousy or to ob¬ 
struct his designs, but that of Hamilton. The earl 
of Arran, the eldest brother, had never recovered 
the shock which he received from the ill success of 
his passion for the queen, and had now altogether 
lost his reason. Lord John, the second brother, 
was in possession of the family estate. Lord Claud 
was commendator of Paisley ; both of them young 
men, ambitious and enterprising. Morton dreaded 
their influence in the kingdom; the courtiers hoped 
to share their spoils among them ; and as all princes 
naturally view their successors with jealousy and 
hatred, it was easy to infuse these passions into the 
mind of the young king. A pretence was at hand 
to justify the most violent proceedings. The par¬ 
don, stipulated in the treaty of Perth, did not ex¬ 
tend to such as were accessory to the murder of the 
regents Murray or Lennox. Lord John and his 
brother were suspected of being the authors of both 
these crimes, and had been included in a general 
act of attainder on that account. Without summon¬ 
ing them to trial, or examining a single witness to 
prove the charge, this attainder w as now thought 
sufficient to subject them to all the penalties which 
they would have incurred by being formally con- 

e Camd. 461. f Spotsw. 306. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


loo 


BOOK VI. 1579.| 

victed. The earls of Morton, Mar, and Eglinton, 
together with the lords Ruthven, Boyd, and Cath- 
cart, received a commission to seize their persons 
and estates. On a few hours’ warning, a consider¬ 
able body of troops was ready, and marched towards 
Hamilton in hostile array. Happily the two bro¬ 
thers made their escape, though with great difficulty. 
But their lands were confiscated; the castles of 
Hamilton and Draffan besieged ; those who defend¬ 
ed them punished. The earl of Arran, though in¬ 
capable, from his situation, of committing any 
crime, was involved, by a shameful abuse of law, in 
the common ruin of his family ; and as if he, too, 
could have been guilty of rebellion, he was confined 
a close prisoner. These proceedings, so contrary to 
the fundamental principles of justice, were all rati¬ 
fied in the subsequent parliament.? 

About this time Mary sent, by Naue her secretary, 
a letter to her son, together with some jewels of 
value, and a vest embroidered with her own hands. 
But, as she gave him only the title of prince of 
Scotland, the messenger was dismissed without 
being admitted into his presence. 11 

Though Elizabeth had, at this time, no particular 
reason to fear any attempt of the popish princes in 
Mary’s favour, she still continued to guard her with 
the same anxious care. The acquisition of Portugal, 
on the one hand, and the defence of the Netherlands, 
on the other, fully employed the councils and arms 
of Spain. France, torn in pieces by intestine com¬ 
motions, and under a weak and capricious prince, 
despised and distrusted by his own subjects, was in 

no condition to disturb its neighbours, 
a nfar C r4?e n be-° r Elizabeth had long amused that court 
andThe^akeof by carrying on a treaty of marriage 
Aiengon. with the duke of Alencon, the king’s 

brother. But whether, at the age of forty-five, she 
really intended to marry a prince of twenty; whether 
the pleasure of being flattered and courted made 
her listen to the addresses of so young a lover, 
whom she allowed to visit her at two different times, 
and treated with the most distinguishing respect; 
or whether considerations of interest predominated 
in this as well as in every other transaction of her 
reign, are problems in history which we are not 
concerned to resolve. During the progress of this 
negociation, which was drawn out to an extraor¬ 
dinary length, Mary could expect no assistance from 
the French court, and seems to have held little cor¬ 
respondence with it; and there was no period in her 
reign, wherein Elizabeth enjoyed more perfect se¬ 
curity. 

Morton seems at this time to have 

Two favourites . 

gain an ascendant been equally secure ; but his security 
over James. .. „ , , TT , , 

was not so well founded. He had 
weathered out one storm, had crushed his adversa¬ 
ries, and M as again in possession of the sole direc¬ 
tion of affairs. But as the king Mas now of an age 
when the character and dispositions of the mind 
begin to unfold themselves, and to become visible, 

g Crawf. Mem. 311. Spotsw. 306. 


the smallest attention to these might have convinced 
him, that there M as reason to expect new and more 
dangerous attacks on his power. Janies early dis¬ 
covered that excessive attachment to favourites 
which accompanied him through his whole life. 
This passion, Mhich naturally arises from inexpe¬ 
rience and youthful warmth of heart, Mas, at his 
age, far from being culpable; nor could it be well 
expected that the choice of the objects, on whom 
he placed his affections, should be made with great 
skill. The most considerable of them was Esme 
Stewart, a native of France, and son of a second 
brother of the earl of Lennox. He was distinguish¬ 
ed by the title of lord D’Aubigne, an estate in 
France, which descended to him from his ancestors, 
on whom it had been conferred in reward of their 
valour and services to the French gept g 
crown. He arrived in Scotland about 
this time, on purpose to demand the estate and title 
of Lennox, to which he pretended a legal right. He 
was received at first by the king with the respect 
due to so near a relation. The gracefulness of his 
person, the elegance of his dress, and his courtly 
behaviour, made a great impression on James, who, 
even in his more mature years, was little able to re¬ 
sist these frivolous charms ; and his affection flowed 
with its usual rapidity and profusion. Within a 
few days after Stewart’s appearance at court, he was 
created lord Aberbrothock, soon after earl, and then 
duke, of Lennox, governor of Dumbarton castle, 
captain of the guard, first lord of the bed-chamber, 
and lord high chamberlain. At the same time, and 
without any of the envy or emulation which is usual 
among candidates for favour, captain James Stew¬ 
art, the second son of lord Ochiltree, grew into great 
confidence. But, notwithstanding this union, Len¬ 
nox and captain Stewart were persons of very op¬ 
posite characters. The former was naturally gentle, 
humane, candid ; but, unacquainted with the state 
of the country, and misled or misinformed by those 
whom he trusted; not unMorthy to be the compa¬ 
nion of the young king in his amusements, but 
utterly disqualified for acting as a minister in 
directing his affairs. The latter was remarkable 
for all the vices which render a man formidable to 
his country, and a pernicious counsellor to his 
prince ; nor did he possess any one virtue to coun¬ 
terbalance these vices, unless dexterity in conduct¬ 
ing his own designs, and an enterprising courage, 
superior to the sense of danger, may pass by that 
name. Unrestrained by religion, regardless of de¬ 
cency, and undismayed by opposition, he aimed at 
objects seemingly unattainable ; but, under a prince 
void of experience, and blind to all the defects of 
those who had gained his favour, his audacity was 
successful; and honours, wealth, and power, were 
the reM'aid of his crimes. 

Both the favourites concurred in 

. . They labour (o 

employing their whole address to un- undermine Mor- 

dermine Morton’s credit, which alone t0US auth01> ‘ 

h Crawf. Mem. 314. 




15G 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


Oct. 17. 


1580. 


obstructed their full possession of power. As 
James had been bred up with an aversion for that 
nobleman, who endeavoured rather to maintain the 
authority of a tutor, than to act with the obsequious¬ 
ness of a minister, they found it no difficult matter 
to accomplish their design. Morton, 
who could no longer keep the king 
shut up within the walls of Stirling castle, having 
called a parliament to meet at Edinburgh, brought 
him thither. James made his entry into the capital 
with great solemnity ; the citizens received him 
with the loudest acclamations of joy, and with many 
expensive pageants, according to the mode of that 
age. After a long period of thirty-seven years, 
during which Scotland had been subjected to the 
delegated power of regents, or to the feeble govern¬ 
ment of a woman ; after having suffered all the 
miseries of civil war, and felt the insolence of 
foreign armies, the nation rejoiced to sec the sceptre 
once more in the hands of a king. Fond even of 
that shadow of authority, which a prince of fifteen 
could possess, the Scots flattered themselves, that 
union, order, and tranquillity would now be restored 
to the kingdom. James opened the parliament 
with extraordinary pomp, but nothing remarkable 
passed in it. 

These demonstrations, however, of 
the people’s love and attachment to 
their sovereign, encouraged the favourites to con¬ 
tinue their insinuations against Morton ; and as the 
king now resided in the palace of Holyrood-house, 
to which all his subjects had access, the cabal 
against the earl grew daily stronger, and the intrigue 
which occasioned his fall, ripened gradually. 

Morton began to be sensible of his 

Morton endeav- , , , , . 

ours to prevent danger, and endeavoured to put a stop 

to the career of Lennox’s preferment, 
by representing him as a formidable enemy to the 
reformed religion, a secret agent in favour of popery, 
and a known emissary of the house of Guise. The 
clergy, apt to believe every rumour of this kind, 
spread the alarm among the people. But Lennox, 
either out of complaisance to his master, or con¬ 
vinced by the arguments of some learned divines 
whom the king appointed to instruct him in the 
principles of the protestant religion, publicly re¬ 
nounced the errors of popery, in the church of St. 
Giles, and declared himself a member of the church 
of Scotland, by signing her confession of faith. 
This, though it did not remove all suspicions, nor 
silence some zealous preachers, abated, in a great 
degree, the force of the accusation.* 

On the other hand, a rumour prevailed that Mor¬ 
ton was preparing to seize the king’s person, and to 
carry him into England. Whether despair of main¬ 
taining his power by any other means, had driven 
him to make any overture of that kind to the English 
court, or whether it was a calumny invented by his 
adversaries to render him odious, cannot now be 
determined with certainty. As he declared at his 

i Crawf. Mem. 319. Spotsw. 308. 


[1680. BOOK VI. 

death that such a design had never entered into 
his thoughts, the latter seems to be most probable. 
It afforded a pretence, however, for reviving the 
office of lord chamberlain, which had been for some 
time disused. That honour was conferred on Len¬ 
nox. Alexander Erskine, Morton’s capital enemy, 
was his deputy ; they had under them a band of 
gentlemen, who were appointed constantly to at¬ 
tend the king, and to guard his person. 14 

Morton was not ignorant of what his 

. Elizabeth mter- 

enemies intended to insinuate by such poses in his be- 
, . „ , , . , halt, 

unusual precautions for the king s 

safety ; and, as his last resource, applied to Eliza¬ 
beth, whose protection had often stood him in stead 
in his greatest difficulties. In consequence of this 
application, Bowes, her envoy, accused Lennox of 
practices against the peace of the two kingdoms, 
and insisted, in her name, that he should instantly 
be removed from the privy council. Such an unpre¬ 
cedented demand was considered by the counsellors 
as an affront to the king, and an encroachment on 
the independence of the kingdom. They affected 
to call in question the envoy’s powers, and upon 
that pretence refused him further audience; and he 
retiring in disgust, and without taking leave, sir 
Alexander Home was sent to expostulate with Eli¬ 
zabeth on the subject. After the treatment which 
her envoy had received, Elizabeth thought it below 
her dignity to admit Home into her presence. Bur¬ 
leigh, to whom he was commanded to impart his 
commission, reproached him with his master’s in¬ 
gratitude toward a benefactress who had placed the 
crown on his head, and required him to advise the 
king to beware of sacrificing the friendship of so 
necessary an ally to the giddy humours of a young 
man, without experience, and strongly suspected of 
principles and attachments incompatible with the 
happiness of the Scottish nation. 

This accusation of Lennox hastened, 
in all probability, Morton’s fall. The of th t e OI murder S of 
act of indemnity, which he had ob- the ldte km= ' 
tained when he resigned the regency, was worded 
with such scrupulous exactness, as almost screened 
him from any legal prosecution. The murder of 
the late king was the only crime which could not, 
with decency, be inserted in a pardon granted by 
his son. Here Morton still lay open to the penalties 
of the law, and captain Stewart, who shunned no 
action, however desperate, if it led to power or to 
favour, entered the council-chamber while the king 
and nobles were assembled, and fall¬ 
ing on his knees, accused Morton of 
being accessory, or, according to the language of 
the Scottish law, art and part , in the conspiracy 
against the life of his majesty’s father, and offered, 
under the usual penalties, to verify this charge by 
legal evidence. Morton, who was present, heard 
this accusation with firmness ; and replied with a 
disdainful smile, proceeding either from contempt 
of the infamous character of his accuser, or from 

k Crawf. Mem. 320. 


Dec. 30. 




BOOK VI. 1580.] THE HISTORY 

consciousness of his own innocence, “ that his 
known zeal in punishing those who were suspected 
of that detestable crime, might well exempt himself 
from any suspicion of being accessory to it; never¬ 
theless, he would cheerfully submit to a trial, either 
in that place or in any other court; and doubted 
not but his own innocence, and the malice of his 
enemies, would then appear in the clearest light/' 
Stewart, who was still on his knees, began to in¬ 
quire how he w ould reconcile his bestowing so many 
honours on Archibald Douglas, whom he certainly 
knew to be one of the murderers, with his pretended 
zeal against that crime. Morton was ready to an¬ 
swer. But the king commanded both to be removed. 

i 58 i. The earl was confined first of all to 

January 2. ljj s Qwn h ouse , an( J then committed 

to the castle of Edinburgh, of which Alexander 
Erskine w as governor ; and, as if it had not been a 
sufficient indignity to subject him to the power of 
one of his enemies, he was soon after carried to Dum- 

Jan is barton, of which Lennox had the com¬ 
mand. A warrant was likewise issued 
for apprehending Archibald Douglas; but he, 
having received timely intelligence of the approach¬ 
ing danger, fled into England. 1 

The earl of Angus, who imputed these violent 
proceedings, not to hatred against Morton alone, 
but to the ancient enmity between the houses of 
Stewart and of Douglas, and who believed that a 
conspiracy was now formed for the destruction of 
all who bore that name, was ready to take arms in 
order to rescue his kinsman. But Morton abso¬ 
lutely forbad any such attempt, and declared that 
he would rather suffer ten thousand deaths, than 
bring an imputation upon his own character by 
seeming to decline a trial." 1 

. ,, Elizabeth did not fail to interpose, 

Elizabeth s mea¬ 
sures in order to with warmth, in behalf of a man who 
save him. 

had contributed so much to preserve 
her influence over Scotland. The late transactions 
in that kingdom had given her great uneasiness. 
The power which Lennox had acquired independent 
of her was dangerous ; the treatment her ambassa¬ 
dors had met with differed greatly from the respect 
with which the Scots were in use to receive her 
ministers; and the attack now made on Morton, 
fully convinced her that there was an intention to sow 
the seeds of discord between the two nations, and 
to seduce James into a new alliance with France, 
or into a marriage with some popish princess. Full 
of these apprehensions, she ordered a considerable 
body of troops to be assembled on the borders of 
Scotland, and despatched Randolph as her ambas¬ 
sador into that kingdom. He addressed himself not 
only to James, and to his council, but to a conven¬ 
tion of estates, met at that time. He began with 
enumerating the extraordinary benefits which Eliza¬ 
beth had conferred on the Scottish nation; that 
without demanding a single foot of land for herself, 
without encroaching on the liberties of the kingdom 

1 Crawf. Mem. 323. m Johnst. 64. Spotsw. 311. 


OF SCOTLAND. 157 

in the smallest article, she had, at the expense of 
the blood of her subjects and the treasures of her 
crown, rescued the Scots from the dominion of 
France, established among them true religion, and 
put them in possession of their ancient rights : that 
from the beginning of civil dissensions in the king¬ 
dom, she had protected those who espoused the 
king’ s cause, and by her assistance alone, the crown 
had been preserved on his head, and all the attempts 
of the adverse faction baffled : that an union, un¬ 
known to their ancestors, but equally beneficial to 
both kingdoms, had subsisted for a long period of 
years, and though so many popish princes had com¬ 
bined to disturb this happy state of things, her care, 
and their constancy, had hitherto defeated all these 
efforts: that she had observed of late an unusual 
coldness, distrust, and estrangement in the Scottish 
council, which she could impute to none but to 
Lennox, a subject of France, a retainer to the house 
of Guise, bred up in the errors of popery, and still 
suspected of favouring that superstition. Not sa¬ 
tisfied with having mounted so fast to an uncommon 
height of power, which he exercised with all the 
rashness of youth, and all the ignorance of a stran¬ 
ger; nor thinking it enough to have deprived the 
earl of Morton of the authority due to his abilities 
and experience, he had conspired the ruin of that 
nobleman, who had often exposed his life in the 
king’s cause, who had contributed more than any 
other subject to place him on the throne, to resist 
the encroachments of popery, and to preserve the 
union between the two kingdoms. If any zeal for 
religion remained among the nobles in Scotland, if 
they wished for the continuance of amity with 
England, if they valued the privileges of their own 
order, he called upon them, in the name of his mis¬ 
tress, to remove such a pernicious counsellor as 
Lennox from the presence of the young king, to 
rescue Morton out of the hands of his avowed ene¬ 
my, and to secure him the benefit of a fair and im¬ 
partial trial: and if force was necessary towards 
accomplishing a design so salutary to the king and 
kingdom, he promised them the protection of his 
mistress in the enterprise, and whatever assistance 
they should demand, either of men or money." 

But these extraordinary remonstrances, accom¬ 
panied with such an unusual appeal from the king 
to his subjects, were not the only means employed 
by Elizabeth in favour of Morton, and against Len¬ 
nox. She persuaded the prince of Orange to send 
an agent into Scotland, and, under colour of com¬ 
plimenting James on account of the valour which 
many of his subjects had displayed in the service of 
the States, to enter into a long detail of the restless 
enterprises of the popish princes against the pro- 
testant religion ; to beseech him to adhere inviola¬ 
bly to the alliance with England, the only barrier 
which secured his kingdom against their dangerous 
cabals ; and, above all things, to distrust the insi¬ 
nuations of those who endeavoured to weaken or to 

n Cald. iii. 0. Strype, ii. 621. 



158 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


dissolve that union between the British nations, 
which all the protestants in Europe beheld with so 
much pleasure. 0 

James’s counsellors were too intent 

James determines . „ . 

to proceed against upon the destruction ot their enemy to 
listen to these remonstrances. The 
officious interposition of the prince of Orange, the 
haughty tone of Elizabeth’s message, and her avowed 
attempt to excite subjects to rebel against their so¬ 
vereign, were considered as unexampled insults on 
the majesty and independence of a crowned head. 
A general and evasive answer was given to Ran¬ 
dolph. James prepared to assert his own dignity 
with spirit. All those suspected of favouring Mor¬ 
ton were turned out of office, some of them were 
required to surrender themselves prisoners; the 
men capable of bearing arms throughout the king¬ 
dom were commanded to be in readiness to take the 
field ; and troops were levied and posted on the 
borders. The English ambassador, finding that 
neither the public manifesto which lie had delivered 
to the convention, nor his private cabals with the 
nobles, could excite them to arms, fled in the night 
time out of Scotland, where libels against him had 
been daily published, and even attempts made upon 
his life. In both kingdoms every thing wore a hos¬ 
tile aspect. But Elizabeth, though she wished to 
have intimidated the Scottish king by her prepara¬ 
tions, had no inclination to enter into a war with 
him, and the troops on the borders, which had given 
such umbrage, were soon dispersed. 15 

The greater solicitude Elizabeth discovered for 
Morton’s safety, the more eagerly did his enemies 
drive on their schemes for his destruction. Captain 
Stewart, his accuser, was first appointed tutor to 
the earl of Arran, and soon after both the title and 
estate of his unhappy ward, to which he advanced 
some frivolous claim, were conferred upon him. 
The new-made peer was commanded to conduct 
Morton from Dumbarton to Edinburgh ; and by 
that choice the carl w as not only warned what fate 
he might expect, but had the cruel mortification of 
seeing his deadly enemy already loaded with ho¬ 
nours, in reward of the malice with which he had 
contributed to his ruin. 

He is tried and The records of the court of justiciary 

condemned. this period are lost. The account 

which our historians give of Morton’s trial is inac¬ 
curate and unsatisfactory. The proceedings against 
him seem to have been carried on with violence. 
During the trial, great bodies of armed men were 
drawn up in different parts of the city. The jury 
was composed of the earl’s known enemies; and 
though he challenged several of them, his objections 
were overruled. After a short consultation, his 
peers found him guilty of concealing, and of being 
art and part in the conspiracy against the life of the 
late king. The first part of the verdict did not sur¬ 
prise him, but he twice repeated the words art and 

o Cald. iii. 9. See Append. No. XLI. 

p Crawf. Mem. 328. Strype, ii. App. 138. 


[1581. BOOK VI. 

part with some vehemence, and added, “ God knows 
it is not so.” The doom which the law decrees 
against a traitor was pronounced. The king, how¬ 
ever, remitted the cruel and ignominious part of 
the sentence, and appointed that he should suffer 
death next day, by being beheaded.** 

During that awful interval, Morton 

° His death. 

possessed the utmost composure of 
mind. He supped cheerfully; slept a part of the 
night in his usual manner, and employed the rest 
of his time in religious conferences, and in acts of 
devotion wdtli some ministers of the city. The clergy¬ 
men who attended him dealt freely with his con¬ 
science, and pressed his crimes home upon him. 
What he confessed with regard to the crime for 
which he suffered, is remarkable, and supplies, in 
some measure, the imperfection of our records. He 
acknowledged, that on his return from England, 
after the death of Rizzio, Bothwell had informed 
him of the conspiracy against the king, which the 
queen, as he told him, knew of and approved ; that 
he solicited him to concur in the execution of it, 
which at that time he absolutely declined ; that soon 
after Bothwell himself, and Archibald Douglas, in 
his name, renewing their solicitations to the same 
purpose, he had required a warrant under the queen’s 
hand, authorizing the attempt, and as that had never 
been produced, he had refused to be any further 
concerned in the matter. “ But,” continued he, “ as 
I neither consented to this treasonable act, nor as¬ 
sisted in the committing of it, so it was impossible 
for me to reveal or to prevent it. To whom could 
I make the discovery ? The queen was the author 
of the enterprise. Darnley w as such a changeling, 
that no secret could be safely communicated to him. 
Huntley and Bothwell, who bore the chief sway in 
the kingdom, were themselves the perpetrators of 
the crime.” These circumstances, it must be con¬ 
fessed, go some length towards extenuating Mor¬ 
ton’s guilt; and though his apology for the favour 
he had shown to Archibald Douglas, whom he knew 
to be one of the conspirators, be far less satisfac¬ 
tory, no uneasy reflections seem to have disquieted 
his own mind on that account. r When his keepers 
told him that the guards were attending, and all 
things in readiness, “ I praise my God,” said he, 
“ I am ready likewise.” Arran commanded these 
guards ; and even in those moments, when the most 
implacable hatred is apt to relent, the malice of his 
enemies could not forbear this insult. On the scaf¬ 
fold, his behaviour was calm : his countenance and 
voice unaltered ; and, after some time spent in de¬ 
votion, he suffered death with the intrepidity which 
became the name of Douglas. His head was placed 
on the public gaol of Edinburgh ; and his body, 
after lying till sunset on the scaffold, covered with 
a beggarly cloak, was carried by common porters 
to the usual burying-place of criminals. None of 
his friends durst accompany it to the grave, or dis- 

q Spots. 314. .Tohnst. 65. Crawf. Mem. 332. Cald. iii. 45. Arnot’s 
Crimin. Trials, 388. r Crawf. Mem. App. iii. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


169 


BOOK VI. 1581.] 


Odious conduct of 
Arran. 


July 6. 


Oct. 24. 


cover their gratitude and respect by any symptoms 
of sorrow .* 5 

Arran, no less profligate in private 
life, than audacious in his public con¬ 
duct, soon after drew the attention of his country¬ 
men, by his infamous marriage with the countess of 
March. Before he grew into favour at court, he 
had been often entertained in her husband’s house, 
and without regarding the laws of hospitality or of 
gratitude, carried on a criminal intrigue with the 
wife of his benefactor, a woman young and beauti¬ 
ful, but, according to the description of a contempo¬ 
rary historian, “ intolerable in all the imperfections 
incident to her sex.” Impatient of any restraint 
upon their mutual desires, they, with equal ardour, 
wished to avow their union publicly, and to legiti¬ 
mate, by a marriage, the offspring of their unlawful 
passion. The countess petitioned to be divorced 
from her husband, for a reason which no modest 
woman will ever plead. The judges, 
overawed by Arran, passed sentence 
without delay. This infamous scene was concluded 
by a marriage, solemnized with great pomp, and 
beheld by all ranks of men with the utmost horror . 1 

A parliament was held this year, at 
the opening of which some disputes 
arose between Arran and the new-created duke of 
Lennox. Arran, haughty by nature, and pushed on 
by his wife’s ambition, began to affect an equality 
with the duke, under whose protection he had 
hitherto been contented to place himself. After 
various attempts to form a party in the council 
against Lennox, he found him fixed so firmly in the 
king’s affections, that it was impossible to shake 
him ; and, rather than lose all interest at court, from 
which he was banished, he made the most humble 
submissions to the favourite, and again recovered 
his former credit. This rupture contributed, how¬ 
ever, to render the duke still more odious to the 
nation. During the continuance of it, Arran affected 
to court the clergy, pretended an extraordinary zeal 
for the protestant religion, and laboured to confirm 
the suspicions which were entertained of his rival, 
as an emissary of the house of Guise, and a favourer 
of popery. As he was supposed to be acquainted 
with the duke’s most secret designs, his calumnies 
w ere listened to with greater credit than was due to 
his character. To this rivalship between Lennox 
and Arran, during the continuance of which each 
endeavoured to conciliate the good-will of the clergy, 
we must ascribe several acts of this parliament un¬ 
commonly favourable to the church, particularly 
one which abolished the practice introduced by 
Morton, of appointing but one minister to several 
parishes. 

Ecclesiastical N0 not i° e hath been taken f° r several 

affairs. years of ecclesiastical affairs. While 

the civil government underwent so many extraordi¬ 
nary revolutions, the church was not free from con¬ 
vulsions. Two objects chiefly engrossed the atten- 

s Crawf. Mem. 334. Spotsw. 314. 


tion of the clergy. The one was, the forming a 
system of discipline, or ecclesiastical polity. After 
long labour, and many difficulties, this system was 
at last brought to some degree of perfection. The 
assembly solemnly approved of it, and appointed it 
to be laid before the privy council, in order to 
obtain the ratification of it in parliament. But 
Morton, during his administration, and those who, 
after his fall, governed the king, were equally un¬ 
willing to see it carried into execution; and by 
starting difficulties and throwing in objections, pre¬ 
vented it from receiving a legal sanction. The other 
point in view was, the abolition of the episcopal 
order. The bishops were so devoted to the king, to 
whom they owed their promotion, that the function 
itself was by some reckoned dangerous to civil 
liberty. Being allowed a seat in parliament, and 
distinguished by titles of honour, these not only 
occasioned many avocations from their spiritual 
functions, but soon rendered their character and 
manners extremely different from those of the clergy 
in that age. The nobles viewed their power with 
jealousy ; the populace considered their lives as 
profane ; and both wished their downfall witli equal 
ardour. The personal emulation between Melvil 
and Adamson, a man of learning and eminent for 
his popular eloquence, who was promoted, on the 
death of Douglas, to be archbishop of St. Andrew’s, 
mingled itself with the passions on each side, and 
heightened them. Attacks were made in every 
assembly on the order of bishops ; their privileges 
were gradually circumscribed ; and at last an act 
was passed, declaring the office of bishop, as it w as 
then exercised within the realm, to have neither 
foundation nor warrant in the word of God ; and 
requiring, under pain of excommunication, all who 
now possessed that office, instantly to resign it, and 
to abstain from preaching or administering the sacra¬ 
ments, until they should receive permission from the 
General Assembly. The court did not acquiesce in 
this decree. A vacancy happened soon after in the see 
of Glasgow. Montgomery, minister at Stirling, a man 
vain, fickle, presumptuous, and more apt, by the 
blemishes in his character, to have alienated the 
people from an order already beloved, than to recon¬ 
cile them to one which was the object 

1582 

of their hatred, made an infamous 
simoniacal bargain with Lennox, and on his recom¬ 
mendation was chosen archbishop. The presbytery 
of Stirling, of which he was a member, the presby¬ 
tery of Glasgow, whither he was to be translated, 
the general assembly, vied with each other in pro¬ 
secuting him on that account. In order to screen 
Montgomery, James made trial both of gentle and 
of rigorous measures, and both were equally inef¬ 
fectual. The general assembly was just ready to 
pronounce against him the sentence of excommuni¬ 
cation, when an herald entered, and commanded 
them in the king’s name, and under pain of rebel¬ 
lion, to stop further proceedings. Even this injunc- 

t Spotsv/. 315. 




160 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


tion they despised ; and though Montgomery, by 
his tears and seeming penitence, procured a short 
respite, the sentence was at last issued by their 
appointment, and published in all the churches 
throughout the kingdom. 

The firmness of the clergy in a collective body 
was not greater than the boldness of some indi¬ 
viduals, particularly of the ministers of Edinburgh. 
They inveighed daily against the corruptions in the 
administration ; and, with the freedom of speech 
admitted into the pulpit in that age, named Lennox 
and Arran as the chief authors of the grievances 
under which the church and kingdom groaned. The 
courtiers, in their turn, complained to the king of 
the insolent and seditious spirit of the clergy. In 
order to check the boldness of their discourses, 
James issued a proclamation, commanding Dury, 
one of the most popular ministers, not only to leave 
the town, but to abstain from preaching in any other 
place. Dury complained to the judicatories of this 
encroachment upon the immunities of his office. 
They approved of the doctrine which he had deliver¬ 
ed ; and he determined to disregard the royal pro¬ 
clamation. But the magistrates being determined 
to compel him to leave the city, according to the 
king's orders, he w r as obliged to abandon his charge, 
after protesting publicly, at the cross of Edinburgh, 
against the violence which was put upon him. The 
people accompanied him to the gates with tears 
and lamentations; and the clergy denounced the 
vengeance of heaven against the authors of this 
outrage. 11 

In this perilous situation stood the church, the 
authority of its judicators called in question, and 
the liberty of the pulpit restrained, when a sudden 
revolution of the civil government procured them 
unexpected relief. 

His favourites The * wo favourites, by their ascend- 
Fn g unpop h uiar ms ant over the king, possessed uncon¬ 
trolled power in the kingdom, and ex¬ 
ercised it with the utmost wantonness. James 
usually resided at Dalkeith, or Kinneil, the seats 
of Lennox and of Arran, and was attended by such 
company, and employed in such amusements, as did 
not suit his dignity. The services of those who had 
contributed most to place the crown on his head 
were but little remembered. Many who had op¬ 
posed him with the greatest virulence, enjoyed the 
rewards and honours to which the others were en¬ 
titled. Exalted notions of regal prerogative, utterly 
inconsistent with the constitution of Scotland, being 
instilled by his favourites into the mind of the young 
monarch, unfortunately made, at that early age, a 
deep impression there, and became the source of 
almost all his subsequent errors in the government 
of both kingdoms. 14 Courts of justice were held in 
almost every county, the proprietors of land were 
called before them, and upon the slightest neglect 
of any of the numerous forms which are peculiar 
to the feudal holdings, they were fined with unusual 

u Cald. Assem. 1576—1582. Spotsw. 277, &c. 


[1582. BOOK VI. 

and intolerable rigour. The lord chamberlain re¬ 
vived the obsolete jurisdiction of his office over the 
boroughs, and they were subjected to actions no less 
grievous. A design seemed likewise to have been 
formed to exasperate Elizabeth, and to dissolve the 
alliance with her, which all good protestants 
esteemed the chief security of their religion in 
Scotland. A close correspondence was carried on 
between the king and his mother, and considerable 
progress made towards uniting their titles to the 
crown, by such a treaty of association as Maitland 
had projected ; which could not fail of endangering 
or diminishing his authority, and must have proved 
fatal to those who had acted against her with the 
greatest vigours 


All these circumstances irritated the The nobles con¬ 
spire against 
em. 


impatient spirit of the Scottish nobles, £ 
who resolved to tolerate no longer the insolence of 
the two minions, or to stand by, while their pre¬ 
sumption and inexperience ruined both the king 
and the kingdom. Elizabeth, who, during the ad¬ 
ministration of the four regents, had the entire 
direction of the affairs of Scotland, felt herself de¬ 
prived of all influence in that kingdom ever since 
the death of Morton, and was ready to countenance 
any attempt to rescue the king out of the hands of 
favourites who were leading him into measures so 
repugnant to all her views. The earls of Mar and 
Glencairn, lord Ruthven, lately created earl of 
Gowrie, lord Lindsay, lord Boyd, the tutor of 
Glamis, the eldest son of lord Oliphant, with 
several barons and gentlemen of distinction, enter¬ 
ed into a combination for that purpose; and as 
changes in administration, which, among polished 
nations, are brought about slowly and silently, by 
artifice and intrigue, were in that rude age effected 
suddenly and by violence, the king’s situation, and 
the security of the favourites, encouraged the con¬ 
spirators to have immediate recourse to force. 

es, after having resided for some Seize the king’s 
time in Athol, where he enjoyed his ve^° ndtRu 
favourite amusement of hunting, w as now returning 
towards Edinburgh with a small train. He was 
invited to Ruthven castle, which lay in his way ; 
and as he suspected no danger, he went thither in 
hopes of further sport. The multitude 
of strangers whom he found there gave 
him some uneasiness ; and as those who were in the 
secret arrived every moment from different parts, 
the appearance of so many new faces increased his 
fears. He concealed his uneasiness, however, with 
the utmost care ; and next morning prepared for the 
field, expecting to find there some opportunity of 
making his escape. But just as he was ready to 
depart, the nobles entered his bed-chamber in a 
body, and presented a memorial against the illegal 
and oppressive actions of his two favourites, whom 
they represented as most dangerous enemies to the 
religion and liberties of the nation. James, though 
he received this remonstrance with the complaisance 

x Cald. iii. 157. 


y Ibid. 357. 



BOOK VI. 1582.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


161 


which was necessary in his present situation, was 
extremely impatient to be gone; but as he approach¬ 
ed the door of his apartment, the tutor of Glamis 
rudely stopped him. The king complained, expos¬ 
tulated, threatened, and finding all these without 
effect, burst into tears: “ No matter,” said Glamis 
fiercely, “ better children weep than bearded men.” 
These words made a deep impression on the king’s 
mind, and were never forgotten. The conspirators, 
without regarding his tears or indignation, dismissed 
such of his followers as they suspected; allowed 
none but persons of their own party to have access 
to him ; and, though they treated him with great 
respect, guarded his person with the utmost care. 
This enterprise is usually called, by our historians, 
The Raid of Ruthven. 2 

Commit Arran Lennox and Arran were astonished 
to prison. ^ t j ie i as t degree at an event so unex¬ 
pected, and so fatal to their power. The former 
endeavoured, but without success, to excite the in¬ 
habitants of Edinburgh to take arms in order to 
rescue their sovereign from captivity. The latter, 
with his usual impetuosity, mounted on horseback 
the moment he heard what had befallen the king, 
and with a few followers rode towards Ruthven 
castle ; and as a considerable body of the conspira¬ 
tors, under the command of the earl of Mar, lay in 
his way reidy to oppose him, he separated himself 
from his companions, and with two attendants ar¬ 
rived at the gate of the castle. At the sight of a 
man so odious to his country, the indignation of the 
conspirators rose, and instant death must have been 
the punishment of his rashness, if the friendship of 
Gowrie, or some other cause not explained by our 
historians, had not saved a life so pernicious to the 
kingdom. He was confined, however, to the castle 
of Stirling, without being admitted into the king’s 
presence. 

The king, though really the prisoner 

Command Lennox ° . J r 

to leave the king- of lllS OWn SubieCtS, With wllOSe COll- 
dom. J 

duct he could not help discovering 
many symptoms of disgust, was obliged to publish 
a proclamation, signifying his approbation of their 
enterprise, declaring that he was at full liberty, 
without any restraint or violence offered to his per¬ 
son ; and forbidding any attempt against those 
concerned in the Raid of Ruthven, under pretence 
of rescuing him out of their hands. At 
the same time, he commanded Lennox 
to leave Scotland before the twentieth of Septem¬ 
ber. 4 

Soon after, sir George Carey and 
countenanced by Robert Bowes arrived as ambassadors 
from Elizabeth. The pretext of their 
embassy was to inquire after the king’s safety: to 
encourage and countenance the conspirators was 
the real motive of it. By their intercession, the 
earl of Angus, who, ever since the death of his uncle 
Morton, had lived in exile, obtained leave to return. 

z Cald. iii. 134. Spotsw. 320. Melv. 357. 

a Cald. iii. 135, 138. 

M 


And the accession of a nobleman so powerful and 
so popular strengthened the faction. b 

Lennox, whose amiable and gentle qualities had 
procured him many friends, and who received pri¬ 
vate assurances that the king’s favour towards him 
was in no degree abated, seemed resolved, at first, 
to pay no regard to a command extorted by violence, 
and no less disagreeable to James, than it was rigor¬ 
ous with regard to himself. But the power of his 
enemies, who were masters of the king’s person, 
who were secretly supported by Elizabeth, and 
openly applauded by the clergy, deterred him from 
any enterprise, the success of which was dubious, 
and the danger certain, both to himself and to his 
sovereign. He put off the time of his departure, 
however, by various artifices, in expectation either 
that James might make his escape from the conspi¬ 
rators, or that fortune might present 'some more 
favourable opportunity of taking arms for his relief. 

On the other hand, the conspirators 

, . , Their conductap- 

were extremely solicitous not only to proved by an as- 

i ,• . , sembly and a 

secure the approbation ot their country- convention of 

• estates 

men, but to obtain some legal sanction 
of their enterprise. For this purpose they published 
a long declaration, containing the motives which 
had induced them to venture on such an irregular 
step, and endeavoured to heighten the public indig¬ 
nation against the favourites, by representing, in 
the strongest colours, their inexperience and inso¬ 
lence, their contempt of the nobles, their violation 
of the privileges of the church, and their oppression 
of the people. They obliged the king, who could 
not with safety refuse any of their demands, to 
grant them a remission in the most ample form; and 
not satisfied with that, they applied to the assembly 
of the church, and easily procured an act, declaring 
“ that they had done good and acceptable service to 
God, to their sovereign, and to their 
native country; ” and requiring all 
sincere protestants to concur with them in carrying 
forward such a laudable enterprise. In order to 
add the greater weight to this act, every minister 
was enjoined to read it in his own pulpit, and to 
inflict the censures of the church on those who set 
themselves in opposition to so good a cause. A 
convention of estates assembled a few days after, 
passed an act to the same effect, and granted full 
indemnity to the conspirators for every thing they 
had done. c 

James was conducted by them, first 

. , Lennox’s depar- 

to Stirling, and afterwards to the ture from Scot 

palace of Holyrood-house ; and though 
he was received every where with the external 
marks of respect due to his dignity, his motions 
were carefully observed, and he was under a re¬ 
straint no less strict than at the first moment when 
he was seized by the conspirators. Lennox, after 
eluding many commands to depart out of the king¬ 
dom, was at last obliged to begin his journey. He 

b (’aid. iii. 152. 

c Ibid. 177, 187, COO. Spotsw. 322. 


Oct. 3. 



1G‘2 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


Dec. 30. 


lingered, however, for some time in the neighbour¬ 
hood of Edinburgh, as if he had still intended to 
make some effort towards restoring the king to 
liberty. But either from the gentleness of his own 
disposition, averse to bloodshed and the disorders 
of civil war, or from some other cause unknow n to 
us, he abandoned the design, and set 
out for France, by the way of England. 
The king issued the order for his departure with no 
less reluctance than the duke obeyed it; and both 
mourned a separation, which neither of them had 
power to prevent. Soon after his arrival in France, 
the fatigue of the journey, or the anguish of his 
mind, threw him into a fever. In his last moments 
he discovered such a firm adherence to the protest- 
ant faith, as fully vindicates his memory from the 
imputation of an attachment to popery, with which 
he had been uncharitably loaded in Scotland.* 1 As 
he was the earliest, and best beloved, he was per¬ 
haps the most deserving, though not the most able, 
of all James’s favourites. The warmth and tender¬ 
ness of his master’s affection for him were not 
abated by death itself. By many acts of kindness 
and generosity towards his posterity, the king not 
only did great honour to the memory of Lennox, 
but set his own character in one of its most favour¬ 
able points of view. 

Mary’s anxiety The success of the conspiracy which 

about her son. deprived James of liberty made great 

noise over all Europe, and at last reached the ears 
of Mary in the prison to which she was confined. 
As her own experience had taught her what injuries 
a captive prince is exposed to suffer; and as many 
of those who were now concerned in the enterprise 
against her son, were the same persons whom she 
considered as the chief authors of her own misfor¬ 
tunes, it was natural for the tenderness of a mother 
to apprehend that the same calamities were ready 
to fall on his head ; and such a prospect did not 
fail of adding to the distress and horror of her own 


situation. In the anguish of her heart, she wrote 
to Elizabeth, complaining in the bitterest terms of 
the unprecedented rigour with which she herself 
had been treated, and beseeching her not to aban¬ 
don her son to the mercy of his rebellious subjects ; 
nor permit him to be involved in the same misfor¬ 
tunes under which she had so long groaned. The 
peculiar vigour and acrimony of style, for which 
this letter is remarkable, discovers both the high 
spirit of the Scottish queen, unsubdued by her suf¬ 
ferings, and the violence of her indignation at Eli¬ 
zabeth’s artifices and severity. But it was ill adapt¬ 
ed to gain the end which she had in view, and 
accordingly it neither procured any mitigation of 
the rigour of her own confinement, nor any inter¬ 
position in favour of the king. e 

1583 . Henry III. who, though he feared 

riFrance an( * hated the princes of Guise, was 
and England. often obliged to court the j r f avour> [ n _ 


[1583. BOOK VI. 

terposed with warmth, in order to extricate James 
out of the hands of a party so entirely devoted to 
the English interest. He commanded M. de la Motte 
Fenelon, his ambassador at the court of England, 
to repair to Edinburgh, and to contribute his utmost 
endeavours towards placing James in a situation 
more suitable to his dignity. As Elizabeth could 
not, with decency, refuse him liberty to execute his 
commission, she appointed Davison to attend him 
into Scotland as her envoy, under colour of con¬ 
curring with him in the negociation, but in reality 
to be a spy upon his motions, and to obstruct his 
success. James, whose title to the crown had not 
hitherto been recognized by any of the princes on 
the continent, was extremely fond of such an ho¬ 
nourable embassy from the French monarch ; and, 
on that account, as well as for the sake of the errand 
on which he came, received Fenelon with great re¬ 
spect. The nobles, in whose power the 
king was, did not relish this interpo¬ 
sition of the French court, which had long lost its 
ancient influence over the affairs of Scotland. The 
clergy were alarmed at the danger to which religion 
would be exposed, if the princes of Guise should 
recover any ascendant over the public councils. 
Though the king tried every method for restraining 
them within the bounds of decency, they declaimed 
against the court of France, against the princes of 
Guise, against the ambassador, against entering into 
any alliance with such notorious persecutors of the 
church of God, with a vehemence which no regular 
government would now tolerate, but which was then 
extremely common. The ambassador, watched by 
Davison, distrusted by the nobles, and exposed to 
the insults of the clergy and of the people, returned 
into England without procuring any change in the 
king’s situation, or receiving any answer to a pro¬ 
posal which he made, that the government should 
be carried on in the joint names of James and the 
queen Ids mother/ 

Meanwhile James, though lie dis- James e5capes 
sembled with great art, became every °lA 01 the h ^ nds 
day more uneasy under his confine- tors - 
ment; his uneasiness rendered him continually at¬ 
tentive to find out a proper opportunity for making 
his escape ; and to this attention he at last owed his 
liberty, which the king of France was not able, nor 
the queen of England willing, to procure for him. As 
the conspirators had forced Lennox out of the kina:- 

o 

dom, and kept Arran at a distance from court, they 
grew secure ; and imagining that time had recon¬ 
ciled the king to them, and to his situation, they 
watched him with little care. Some occasions of 
discord had arisen among themselves ; and the 
French ambassador, by fomenting these during the 
time of his residence in Scotland, had weakened 
the union, in which alone their safety consisted.® 
Colonel William Stewart, the commander of the band 
of gentlemen who guarded the king’s person, being 

f paid. iii. 207. Spotsw. 324. Murdin, 372. Arc. See Appendix, No. 

g Camd. 482. 


d Spotsw. 324. Cald. iii. 172. 
e Camd. 489. 



BOOK VI. 1583. | 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


163 


June 27 . 


gained by James, had the principal merit in the 
scheme for restoring his master to li¬ 
berty. Under pretence of paying a 
visit to the earl of March, bis grand-uncle, James 
was permitted to go from Falkland to St. Andrew’s. 
That he might not create any suspicion, he lodged 
at first in an open defenceless house in the town, but 
pretending a curiosity to see the castle, no sooner 
was he entered with some of his attendants whom 
he could trust, than colonel Stewart commanded 
the gates to be shut, and excluded all the rest of 
his train. Next morning the earls of Argyll, Hunt- 
ley, Crawford, Montrose, Rothes, with others to 
whom the secret had been communicated, entered 
the town with their followers ; and though Mar, 
with several of the leaders of the faction, appeared 
in arms, they found themselves so far outnumbered, 
that it was in vain to think of recovering possession 
of the king’s person, which had been in their power 
somewhat longer than ten months. James was na¬ 
turally of so soft and ductile a temper, that those 
who were near his person commonly made a deep 
impression on his heart, which was formed to be 
under the sway of favourites. As he remained im¬ 
placable and unreconciled to the conspirators during 
so long a time, and at a period of life when resent¬ 
ments are rather violent than lasting, they must 
either have improved the opportunities of insinuat¬ 
ing themselves into favour with little dexterity, or 
the indignation, with which this first insult to his 
person and authority filled him, must have been 
very great. 

His joy at his escape was youthful 

Resolves, bow- , . TT i j i 

ever, to treat them and excessive. He resolved, however, 

with moderation. , , . „ . T n/ri'i j 

by the advice of sir James Melvil, and 
his wisest counsellors, to act with the utmost mode¬ 
ration. Having called into his presence the leaders 
of both factions, the neighbouring gentry, the de¬ 
puties of the adjacent boroughs, the ministers, and 
the heads of colleges, he declared, that although he 
had been held under restraint for some time by vio¬ 
lence, he would not impute that as a crime to any 
man, but, without remembering the irregularities 
which had been so frequent during his minority, 
would pass a general act of oblivion, and govern all 
his subjects with undistinguishing and equal affec¬ 
tion. As an evidence of his sincerity, he visited 
the earl of Gowrie, at Ruthven castle, and granted 
him a full pardon of any guilt lie had contracted, 
by the crime committed in that very place. h 

But James did not adhere long to 
gains his ascend- this prudent and moderate plan. His 

former favourite, the earl of Arran, 
had been permitted for some time to reside at Kin- 
neil, one of his country seats. As soon as the king 
felt himself at liberty, his love for him began to re¬ 
vive, and he expressed a strong desire to see him. 
The courtiers violently opposed the return of a 
minion, whose insolent and overbearing temper they 
dreaded, as much as the nation detested his crimes. 

h Melv. 272. i Ibid. 27R 

M 2 


James, however, continued his importunity, and 
promising that he should continue with him no 
longer than one day, they were obliged to yield. 
This interview rekindled ancient affection ; the king 
forgot his promise ; Arran regained his ascendant 
over him ; and, within a few days, resumed the ex¬ 
ercise of power, with all the arrogance of an un¬ 
deserving favourite, and all the rashness peculiar to 
himself.' 

The first effect of his influence was an <i the king pur- 
a proclamation with regard to those sues another plan. 

concerned in the Raid of Ruthven. They were re¬ 
quired to acknowledge their crime in the humblest 
manner ; and the king promised to grant them a full 
pardon, provided their future conduct were such as 
did not oblige him to remember past miscarriages. 
The tenor of this proclamation was extremely 
different from the act of oblivion which the conspi¬ 
rators had been encouraged to expect. Nor did any 
of them reckon it safe to rely on a promise clogged 
with such an equivocal condition, and granted by a 
young prince under the dominion of a minister void 
of faith, regardless of decency, and transported by 
the desire of revenge even beyond the usual ferocity 
of his temper. Many of the leaders, who had at 
first appeared openly at court, retired to their own 
houses ; and, foreseeing the dangerous storm which 
was gathering, began to look out for a retreat in 
foreign countries. k 

Elizabeth, who had all along pro- EIizabeth . s H 

tected the conspirators, was extremely citations in behalf 
A # or the conspira- 

disgusted with measures which tended tors 

0 August 7 . 

so visibly to their destruction, and 

wrote to the king a harsh and haughty letter, re¬ 
proaching him, in a style very uncommon among 
princes, with breach of faith in recalling Arran to 
court, and with imprudence in proceeding so rigor¬ 
ously against his best and most faithful subjects. 
James, with a becoming dignity, replied, that pro¬ 
mises extorted by violence, and conditions yielded 
out of fear, were no longer binding, when these 
were removed ; that it belonged to him alone to 
choose what ministers he would employ in his ser¬ 
vice ; and that though he resolved to treat the con¬ 
spirators at Ruthven with the utmost clemency, it 
was necessary, for the support of his authority, that 
such an insult on his person should not pass alto¬ 
gether uncensured. 1 

Elizabeth’s letter was quickly follow- Sept E 

ed by W alsingham her secretary, whom eSSy iX' s 
she appointed her ambassador to James, Scotlail(1 - 
and who appeared at the Scottish court with a 
splendour and magnificence well calculated to 
please and dazzle a young prince. Walsingliam 
was admitted to several conferences with James 
himself, in which he insisted on the same topics 
contained in the letter, and the king repeated his 
former answers. 

After suffering several indignities from the arro¬ 
gance of Arran and his creatures, he returned to 

k Melv. 27B. Spotsw. 326. Cald. iii. 330. 1 Melv. 270. 




164 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


England, without concluding any new treaty with 
the king. Walsingham was, next to Burleigh, the 
minister on whom the chief weight of the English 
administration rested ; and when a person of his 
rank stepped so far out of the ordinary road of busi¬ 
ness, as to undertake a long journey in his old age, 
and under a declining state of health, some alfair of 
consequence was supposed to be the cause, or some 
important event was expected to be the effect of 
this measure. But as nothing conspicuous either 
occasioned or followed this embassy, it is probable 
that Elizabeth had no other intention in employing 
this sagacious minister, than to discover, with ex¬ 
actness, the capacity and disposition of the Scottish 
king, who was now arrived at a time of life when, 
with some degree of certainty, conjectures might be 
formed concerning his character and future conduct. 
As James possessed talents of that kind, which 
make a better figure in conversation than in action, 
he gained a great deal by this interview with the 
English secretary, who, notwithstanding the cold 
reception which he met with, gave such an advan¬ 
tageous representation of his abilities, as determined 
Elizabeth to treat him, henceforward, with greater 
decency and respect." 1 

Elizabeth’s eagerness to protect the conspirators 
rendered James more violent in his proceedings 
against them. As they had all refused to accept of 
pardon upon the terms which he had offered, they 
were required, by a new proclamation, to surrender 
themselves prisoners. The earl of Angus alone 
complied ; the rest either fled into England, or ob¬ 
tained the king’s licence to retire into foreign parts. 

^ A convention of estates was held, the 

Dec. 17 . 

members of which, deceived by an un¬ 
worthy artifice of Arran’s, declared those concerned 
in the Raid of Ruthven to have been guilty of high 
treason ; appointed the act passed last year approv¬ 
ing of their conduct to be expunged out of the re¬ 
cords ; and engaged to support the king in prose¬ 
cuting the fugitives with the utmost rigour of law. 

The conspirators, though far from having done 
any thing that was uncommon in that age, among 
mutinous nobles, and under an unsettled state of 
government, must be acknowledged to have been 
guilty of an act of treason against their sovereign; 
and James, who considered their conduct in this 
light, had good reason to boast of his clemency, 
when he offered to pardon them upon their confess¬ 
ing their crime. But, on the other hand, it must 
be allowed that, after the king’s voluntary promise 
of a general oblivion, they had some reason to com¬ 
plain of breach of faith, and without the most un¬ 
pardonable imprudence, could not have put their 
lives in Arran’s power. 

The interest of the church was con- 

1584. . , . , 

The clergy favour siderably affected by these contrary 

the conspirators, , . J J 

and irritate the revolutions. While the conspirators 

king. , . r 

kept possession of power, the clergy 
not only recovered, but extended, their privileges. 

m Melv, 293. Cald. iii. 258. Jeb. ii. 536. 


[1584. BOOK YI. 

As they had formerly declared the hierarchy to be 
unlawful, they took some bold measures towards 
exterminating the episcopal order out of the church ; 
and it was owing more to Adamson’s dexterity in per¬ 
plexing and lengthening out the process for that 
purpose, than to their own want of zeal, that they 
did not deprive, and perhaps excommunicate, all 
the bishops in Scotland. When the king recovered 
his liberty, things put on a very different aspect. 
The favour bestowed upon Arran, the enemy of 
every thing decent and sacred, and the rigorous 
prosecution of those nobles who had been the most 
zealous defenders of the protestant cause, were 
considered as sure presages of the approaching ruin 
of the church. The clergy could not conceal their 
apprehensions, nor view the impending danger in 
silence. Dury, who had been restored to his office 
as one of the ministers of Edinburgh, openly ap¬ 
plauded the Raid of Ruthven in the pulpit, at which 
the king was so enraged, that, notwithstanding 
some symptoms of his submission, he commanded 
him to resign his charge in the city. Mr. Andrew 
Melvil, being summoned before the privy council 
to answ er for the doctrine which he had uttered in 
a sermon at St. Andrew’s, and accused of compar¬ 
ing the present grievances of the nation with those 
under Janies III., and of intimating obliquely that 
they ought to be redressed in the same manner, 
thought it incumbent on him to behave with great 
firmness. He declined the jurisdiction of a civil 
court, in a cause which he maintained to be purely 
ecclesiastical ; the presbytery of which he was a 
member, had, as he contended, the sole right to call 
him to account for words spoken in the pulpit; and 
neither the king nor the council could judge, in 
the first instance, of the doctrine delivered by 
preachers, without violating the immunities of the 
church. This exemption from civil jurisdiction 
was a privilege which the popish ecclesiastics, ad¬ 
mirable judges of whatever contributed to increase 
the lustre or power of their body, had long struggled 
for, and had at last obtained. If the same plea 
had now been admitted, the protestant clergy w ould 
have become independent on the civil magistrate ; 
and an order of men extremely useful to society, 
while they inculcate those duties which tend to pro¬ 
mote its happiness and tranquillity, might have be¬ 
come no less pernicious, by teaching without fear 
or control the most dangerous principles, or by ex¬ 
citing their hearers to the most desperate and law¬ 
less actions. The king, jealous to excess of his 
prerogative, was alarmed at this daring encroach¬ 
ment on it; and as Melvil, by his learning and zeal, 
had acquired the reputation and authority of head 
of the party, he resolved to punish him with the 
rigour which that pre-eminence rendered necessary, 
and to discourage, by a timely severity, the revival 
of such a dangerous claim. Melvil, however, avoid¬ 
ed his rage, by flying into England ; and the pul¬ 
pits resounded with complaints that the king had 




165 


BOOK VI. 1584.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


extinguished the light of learning in the kingdom, 
and deprived the church of the ablest and most 
faithful guardian of its liberties and discipline. 11 

These violent declamations of the clergy against 
the measures of the court were extremely accept¬ 
able to the people. The conspirators, though driven 
out of the kingdom, still possessed great influence 
there ; and as they had every thing to fear from the 
resentment of a young prince, irritated by the furi¬ 
ous counsels of Arran, they never ceased soliciting 
their adherents to take arms in their defence. Gow- 
rie, the only person among them who had submitted 
to the king, and accepted of a pardon, soon re¬ 
pented of a step which lost him the esteem of one 
party, without gaining the confidence of the other; 
and, after suffering many mortifications from the 
king’s neglect and the haughtiness of Arran, he was 
at last commanded to leave Scotland, and to re¬ 
side in France. While he w aited at Dundee for an 
opportunity to embark, he was informed that the 
earls of Angus, Mar, and the tutor of Glamis, had 
concerted a scheme for surprising the castle of Stir¬ 
ling. In his situation, little persuasion was neces¬ 
sary to draw him to engage in it. Under various 
pretexts he put off his voyage, and lay ready to take 
arms on the day fixed by the conspirators for the 
execution of their enterprise. His lingering so long 
at Dundee, without any apparent reason, awakened 
the suspicion of the court, proved fatal to himself, 
and disappointed the success of the conspiracy. 
Colonel William Stewart surrounded the house 
where he lodged with a body of soldiers, and, in 
spite of his resistance, took him prisoner. Two 
days after, Angus, Mar, and Glamis seized the cas¬ 
tle of Stirling, and erected their standard there, 
published a manifesto, declaring that they took 
arms for no other reason but to remove from the 
king’s presence a minion who had acquired power 
by the most unworthy actions, and who exercised it 

with the most intolerable insolence. The account 

/ 

of Gowrie’s imprisonment struck a damp upon 
their spirits. They imputed it to treachery on his 
part, and suspected, that as he had formerly desert¬ 
ed, he had now betrayed, them. At the same time 
Elizabeth having neglected to supply them in good 
time with a sum of money, which she had promised 
to them, and their friends and vassals coming in 
slowly, they appeared irresolute and disheartened ; 
and as the king, who acted with great vigour, ad¬ 
vanced towards them at the head of twenty thou¬ 
sand men, they fled precipitately towards England, 
and with difficulty made their escape. 0 This rash 
and feeble attempt produced such effects as usually 
follow disappointed conspiracies. It not only hurt 
the cause for which it was undertaken, but added 
strength and reputation to the king ; confirmed Ar¬ 
ran’s power; and enabled them to pursue their 
measures with more boldness and greater success. 
Gowrie was the first victim of their resentment. 


n Spotsw. 3.10. Cald. iii. 304. 
o Home’s Hist, of House of Doug. 376. 


Spotsw. 330. Cald. iii. 324, &c. 


May 22. 

A parliament 
held. 


After a very informal trial, a jury of peers found 
him guilty of treason, and he was publicly behead¬ 
ed at Stirling. 

To humble the church was the 
king’s next step. But as it became 
necessary, for this purpose, to call in 
the aid of the legislative authority, a parliament 
was hastily summoned ; and while so many of the 
nobles were banished out of the kingdom, or forbid¬ 
den to appear in the king’s presence ; while Arran’s 
haughtiness kept some at a distance, and intimi¬ 
dated others ; the meeting consisted only of such 
as were absolutely at the devotion of 
the court. In order to conceal the against the 
laws which were framing from the 
knowledge of the clergy, the lords of articles 
were sworn to secrecy; and when some of the 
ministers, who either suspected or were informed of 
the danger, deputed one of their number to declare 
their apprehensions to the king, he was seized at 
the palace-gate, and carried to a distant prison. 
Others, attempting to enter the parliament-house, 
were refused admittance ;P and such laws were 
passed, as totally overturned the constitution and 
discipline of the church. The refusing to acknow¬ 
ledge the jurisdiction of the privy council; the pre¬ 
tending an exemption from the authority of the civil 
courts ; the attempting to diminish the rights and 
privileges of any of the three estates in parliament, 
were declared to be high treason. The holding 
assemblies, whether civil or ecclesiastical, without 
the king’s permission or appointment; the uttering 
either privately or publicly, in sermons or in decla¬ 
mations, any false and scandalous reports against 
the king, his ancestors, or ministers, were pronounc¬ 
ed capital crimes. q 

When these laws were published at the cross of 
Edinburgh, according to the ancient custom, Mr. 
Robert Pont, minister of St. Cuthbert’s and one of 
the lords of session, solemnly protested against 
them, and in the name of his brethren, because they 
had been passed without the knowledge or consent 
of the church. Ever since the reformation, the pul¬ 
pits and ecclesiastical judicatories had both been 
esteemed sacred. In the former, the clergy had 
been accustomed to censure and admonish with un¬ 
bounded liberty. In the latter, they exercised an 
uncontrolled and independent jurisdiction. The 
blow was now aimed at both these privileges. 
These new statutes were calcuated to render church¬ 
men as inconsiderable as they were indigent; and 
as the avarice of the nobles had stripped them of 
the wealth, the king’s ambition was about to deprive 
them of the power, which once belonged to their 
order. No wonder the alarm was universal, and 
the complaints loud. 411 the ministers of Edin¬ 
burgh forsook their charge, and fled into England. 
The most eminent clergymen throughout the king¬ 
dom imitated their example. Desolation and asto- 


p Cald. iii. 365. 


q Pari. 8 Jac. VI. 



166 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1584. BOOK VII. 


nisliment appeared in every part of the Scottish 
church ; the people bewailed the loss of pastors 
whom they esteemed ; and, full of consternation at 
an event so unexpected, openly expressed their rage 
against Arran, and began to suspect the king him¬ 
self to be an enemy to the reformed religion/ 


BOOK VII. 

1584. W hile Scotland was torn by intestine 

conspiracy 011 ' 3 factions, Elizabeth was alarmed with 
against Elizabeth. ^fie rumour 0 f a project in agitation 

for setting Mary at liberty. Francis Throkmorton, a 
Cheshire gentleman, was suspected of being deeply 
concerned in the design, and on that suspicion 
he was taken into custody. Among liis papers were 
found two lists ; one, of the principal harbours in the 
kingdom, with an account of their situation, and of 
the depth of water in each ; the other, of all the 
eminent Roman catholics in England. This cir¬ 
cumstance confirmed the suspicion against him, and 
some dark and desperate conspiracy was supposed 
just ready to break out. At first he boldly avowed 
his innocence, and declared that the two papers 
were forged by the queen’s ministers, in order to 
intimidate or insnare him ; and he even endured 
the rack with the utmost fortitude. But being 
brought a second time to the place of torture, his 
resolution failed him, and he not only acknowledged 
that he had held a secret correspondence with the 
queen of Scots, but discovered a design that was 
formed to invade England. The duke of Guise, he 
said, undertook to furnish troops, and to conduct the 
enterprise. The pope and king of Spain were to 
supply the money necessary for carrying it on ; all 
the English exiles were ready to take arms; many 
of the catholics at home would be ready to join 
them at their landing ; Mendoza, the Spanish am¬ 
bassador, who was the life of the conspiracy, spared 
no pains in fomenting the spirit of disaffection 
among the English, or in hastening the preparations 
on the continent; and by his command, he made 
the two lists, the copies whereof had been found in 
his possession. This confession he retracted at his 
trial; returned to it again after sentence was passed 
on him ; and retracted it once more at the place of 
execution/ 

To us in the present age, who are assisted in 
forming our opinion of this matter by the light 
which time and history have thrown upon the de¬ 
signs and characters of the princes of G uise, many 
circumstances of Throkmorton’s confession appear 
to be extremely remote from truth, or even from 
probability. The duke of Guise was, at that junc¬ 
ture, far from being in a situation to undertake 
foreign conquests. Without either power or office 
at court; hated by the king, and persecuted by the 

a Hollingshed, 1370. 


favourites; he had no leisure for any thoughts of 
disturbing the quiet of neighbouring states; his 
vast and ambitious mind was wholly occupied in 
laying the foundation of that famous league which 
shook the throne of France. But at the time when 
Elizabeth detected this conspiracy,*the close union 
between the house of Guise and Philip was remark¬ 
able to all Europe; and as their great enterprise 
against Henry III. was not yet disclosed, as they 
endeavoured to conceal that under their threaten- 
ings to invade England, Throkmorton’s discovery 
appeared to be extremely probable ; and Elizabeth, 
who knew how ardently all the parties mentioned 
by him wished her downfall, thought that she could 
not guard her kingdom with too much care. The 
indiscreet zeal of the English exiles , 

. Designs ofMarys 

increased her fears. Not satisfied with adherents against 

Llizabeth. 

incessant outcries against her seventy 
towards the Scottish queen, and her cruel persecu¬ 
tion of her catholic subjects, not thinking it enough 
that one pope had threatened her with the sentence 
of excommunication, and another had actually pro¬ 
nounced it, they now began to disperse books and 
writings, in which they endeavoured to persuade 
their disciples, that it would be a meritorious action 
to take away her life; they openly exhorted the 
maids of honour to treat her as Judith did Holo- 
fernes, and, by such an illustrious deed, to render 
their own names honourable and sacred in the 
church throughout all future ages. b For all these 
reasons, Elizabeth not only inflicted the punishment 
of a traitor on Throkmorton, but commanded the 
Spanish ambassador instantly to leave England ; 
and that she might be in no danger of being at¬ 
tacked within the island, she determined to use her 
utmost efforts, in order to recover that influence over 
the Scottish councils which she had for some time 
entirely lost. 

There were three different methods 
by which Elizabeth might hope to ac¬ 
complish this ; either by furnishing 
such effectual aid to the banished no¬ 
bles, as would enable them to resume the chief di¬ 
rection of affairs ; or by entering into such a treaty 
with Mary as might intimidate her son, who being 
now accustomed to govern, would not bt averse 
from agreeing to any terms rather than resign the 
sceptre, or admit an associate in the throne ; or by 
gaining the earl of Arran, to secure the direction of 
the king his master. The last was not only the 
easiest and speediest, but most likely to be success¬ 
ful. This Elizabeth resolved to pursue ; but with¬ 
out laying the other two altogether aside. With 
this view she sent Davidson, one of her principal 
secretaries, a man of abilities and address, into 
Scotland. A minister so venal as Arran, hated by 
his own countrymen, and holding his power by the 
most precarious of all tenures, the favour of a young 
prince, accepted Elizabeth’s offers without hesita¬ 
tion, and deemed the acquisition of her protection 


She endeavours to 
re-establish her 
influence in Scot¬ 
land by gaining 
Arran. 


r Spotsw. 333. 


b Camd. 49*. 




BOOK VII. 1584.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAN D. 


IG7 


August 22. 


A . to be the most solid foundation of his 
own greatness. Soon after he con¬ 
sented to an interview with lord Hunsdon, the 
governor of Berwick, and being honoured with the 
pompous title of lieutenant-general for the king, he 
appeared at the place appointed with a splendid 
train. In Hunsdon’s presence he renewed his pro¬ 
mises of an inviolable and faithful attachment to 
the English interest, and assured him that James 
should enter into no negociation which might tend 
to interrupt the peace between the two kingdoms ; 
and as Elizabeth began to entertain the same fears 
and jealousies concerning the king’s marriage, which 
had formerly disquieted her with regard to his 
mother’s, he undertook to prevent James from 
listening to any overture of that kind, until he 
had previously obtained the queen of England’s 
consent.® 

c „„ , The banished lords and their adhe- 

Severe proceed- 

baifishe^/'imds 6 rents soon felt the effects of Arran’s 
friendship with England. As Eliza¬ 
beth had permitted them to take refuge in her do¬ 
minions, and several of her ministers were of opinion 
that she ought to employ her arms in defence of 
their cause, the fear of this was the only thing 
which restrained James and his favourite from pro¬ 
ceeding to such extremities against them, as might 
have excited the pity or indignation of the English, 
and have prompted them to exert 
themselves with vigour in their behalf. 
But every apprehension of this kind being now re¬ 
moved, they ventured to call a parliament, in which 
an act was passed, attainting Angus, Mar, Glamis, 
and a great number of their followers. Theii estates 
devolved to the crown, and according to the practice 
of the Scottish monarchs, who were obliged to re¬ 
ward the faction which adhered to them, by dividing 
with it the spoils of the vanquished, James dealt 
out the greater part of these to Arran and his asso¬ 
ciates. 4 

Nor was the treatment of the clergy 
less rigorous. All ministers, readers, 
and professors in colleges, were enjoined to sub¬ 
scribe, within forty days, a paper testifying their 
approbation of the laws concerning the church 
enacted in last parliament. Many, overawed or 
corrupted by the court, yielded obedience ; others 
stood out. The stipends of the latter were seques¬ 
tered, some of the more active committed to prison, 
and numbers compelled to fly the kingdom. Such 
as complied, fell under the suspicion of acting from 
mercenary or ambitious motives. Such as adhered 
to their principles, and suffered in consequence of 
it, acquired a high reputation, by giving this con¬ 
vincing evidence of their firmness and sincerity. 
The judicatories of the church were almost entirely 
suppressed. In some places, scarce as many minis¬ 
ters remained as to perform the duties of religious 
worship ; they soon sunk in reputation among the 
people, and being prohibited not only from dis- 

c Cald. iii. 491. Meiv. 315. See Append. No. XLIN. 


against the clergy. 


coursing of public affairs, but obliged, by the jea¬ 
lousy of the administration, to frame every sentiment 
and expression in such a manner as to give the 
court no offence, their sermons were deemed languid, 
insipid, and contemptible ; and it became the gene¬ 
ral opinion, that, together with the most virtuous of 
the nobles and the most faithful of the clergy, the 
power and vigour of religion were now banished 
out of the kingdom. e 

Meanwhile, Elizabeth was carrying on one of 
those fruitless negociations with the queen of Scots, 
which it had become almost matter of form to renew 
every year. They served not only to amuse that 
unhappy princess with some prospect of liberty, but 
furnished an apology for eluding the solicitations 
of foreign powers on her behalf; and were of use 
to overawe James, by showing him that she could 
at any time set free a dangerous rival to dispute his 
authority. These treaties she suffered to proceed 
to what length she pleased, and never wanted a 
pretence for breaking them off, when they became 
no longer necessary. The treaty now on foot was 
not, perhaps, more sincere than many which pre¬ 
ceded it; the reasons, however, which rendered it 
ineffectual were far from being frivolous. 

As Crichton, a Jesuit, was sailing New conspiracy 
from Flanders towards Scotland, the Elizabeth, 
ship on board of which he was a passenger hap¬ 
pened to be chased by pirates, who, in that age, 
often infested the narrow seas. Crichton, in great 
confusion, tore in pieces some papers in his custody, 
and threw them away; but, by a very extraordinary 
accident, the wind blew them back into the ship, 
and they were immediately taken up by some of the 
passengers, who carried them to Wade, the clerk 
of the privy-council. He, with great industry and 
patience, joined them together, and they were found 
to contain the account of a plot, said to have been 
formed by the king of Spain and the duke of Guise, 
for invading England. The people were not yet 
recovered from the fear and anxiety occasioned by 
the conspiracy in which Throkmorton had been 
engaged, and as his discoveries appeared now to 
be confirmed by additional evidence, not only all 
their former apprehensions recurred, but the con¬ 
sternation became general and excessive. As all 
the dangers w ith which England had been threat¬ 
ened for some years, flowed either immediately from 
Mary herself, or from such as made use of her name 
to justify their insurrections and conspiracies, this 
gradually diminished the compassion due to her 
situation, and the English, instead of pitying*, began 
to fear and to hate her. Elizabeth, under whose 
wise and pacific reign the English enjoyed tranquil¬ 
ly, and had opened sources of wealth unknown to 
their ancestors, was extremely beloved by all her 
people ; and regard to her safety, not Oc( . asion? an M . 
less than to their ow n interest, animated soc-iationmoppo- 
them against the Scottish queen. In 
order to discourage her adherents, it was thought 

d Cald. iii. 527. e Ibid. 539. 



168 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


Oct. 19. 


necessary to convince them, by some public deed, 
of the attachment of the English to their own sove¬ 
reign, and that any attempt against her life would 
prove fatal to her rival. With this 
view an association was framed, the 
subscribers of which bound themselves, by the most 
solemn oaths, “ to defend the queen against all her 
enemies, foreign and domestic ; and if violence 
should be offered to her life, in order to favour the 
title of any pretender to the crown, they not only 
engaged never to allow or acknowledge the person 
or persons by whom, or for whom, such a detestable 
act should be committed, but vowed, in the presence 
of the eternal God, to prosecute such person or 
persons to the death, and to pursue them, with their 
utmost vengeance, to their utter overthrow and 
extirpation.” f Persons of all ranks subscribed this 
combination with the greatest eagerness and una¬ 
nimity. 8 

which greatly Mary considered this association, 

alarms her. no t on iy as an av0 wed design to ex¬ 
clude her from all right of succession, but as the 
certain and immediate forerunner of her destruction. 
In order to avert this, she made such feeble efforts 
as were still in her power, and sent Naue, her secre¬ 
tary, to court, with offers of more entire resignation 
to the will of Elizabeth, in every point which had 
been the occasion of their long enmity, than all her 
sufferings hitherto had been able to extort. 11 But 
whether Mary adhered inflexibly to her privileges 
as an independent sovereign, or, yielding to the 
necessity of her situation, endeavoured, by conces¬ 
sions, to soothe her rival, she was equally unsuccess¬ 
ful. Her firmness was imputed to obstinacy, or to 
the secret hope of foreign assistance; her conces¬ 
sions were either believed to be insincere, or to flow 
from the fear of some imminent danger. Her pre¬ 
sent willingness, however, to comply with any terms 
was so great, that Walsingham warmly urged his 
mistress to come to a final agreement with her. 1 
But Elizabeth was persuaded, that it was the spirit 
raised by the association which had rendered her 
so passive and compliant. She always imagined 
that there was something mysterious and deceitful 
in all Mary's actions, and suspected her of carrying 
on a dangerous correspondence with the English 
catholics, both within and without the kingdom. 
Nor were her suspicions altogether void of founda¬ 
tion. Mary had, about this time, written a letter to 
Sir Francis Inglefield, urging him to hasten the 
execution of what she calls the great plot or design- 
tnent, without hesitating on account of any danger 
in which it might involve her life, which she would 
most willingly part with, if by that sacrifice she 
could procure relief for so great a number of the 
oppressed children of the church. k Instead, there¬ 
fore, of hearkening to the overtures which the Scot- 
She is treated with q ueen made, or granting any miti¬ 

gation of the hardships of which she 


greater rigour. 


[1584. BOOK VII. 

complained, Elizabeth resolved to take her out of 
the hands of the earl of Shrewsbury, and to appoint 
sir Amias Paulet and sir Drue Drury to be her 
keepers. Shrewsbury had discharged his trust with 
great fidelity, during fifteen years, but, at the same 
time, had treated Mary with gentleness and respect, 
and had always sweetened harsh commands by the 
humanity with which he put them in execution. 
The same politeness was not to be expected from 
men of an inferior rank, whose severe vigilance 
perhaps was their chief recommendation to that 
employment, and the only merit by which they 
could pretend to gain favour or preferment. 1 

As James was no less eager than ever Gray, a new f a - 

, vourite ot the 

to deprive the banished nobles of Eliza- king’s, 
beth's protection, he appointed the master of Gray his 
ambassador to the court of England, and intrusted him 
with the conduct of a negociation for that purpose. 
For this honour he was indebted to the envy and 
jealousy of the earl of Arran. Gray possessed all 
the talents of a courtier; a graceful person, an in¬ 
sinuating address, boundless ambition, and a rest¬ 
less and intriguing spirit. During his residence in 
France, he had been admitted into the most intimate 
familiarity with the duke of Guise, and, in order 
to gain his favour, had renounced the protestant 
religion, and professed the utmost zeal for the cap¬ 
tive queen, who carried on a secret correspondence 
with him, from which she expected great advantages. 
On his return into Scotland, he paid court to James 
with extraordinary assiduity, and his accomplish¬ 
ments did not fail to make their usual impression 
on the king's heart, Arran, who had introduced 
him, began quickly to dread his growing favour; 
and flattering himself that absence would efface any 
sentiments of tenderness which were forming in the 
mind of a young prince, pointed him out by his 
malicious praises, as the most proper person in the 
kingdom for an embassy of such importance; and 
contributed to raise him to that high dignity, in 
order to hasten his fall. Elizabeth, who had an 
admirable dexterity in discovering the proper instru¬ 
ments for carrying on her designs, endeavoured, by 
caresses and by presents, to secure Gray to her 
interest. The former flattered his vanity, which 
was great; the latter supplied his profuseness, 
which was still greater. He abandoned himself 
without reserve to Elizabeth’s direction, and not only 
undertook to retain the king under the influence of 
England, but acted as a spy upon the Scottish 
queen, and betrayed to her rival every secret that 
he could draw r from her by his high pretensions of 
zeal in her service." 1 

Gray's credit with the English court His interest with 
was extremely galling to the banished iand.° urtot Eng ’ 
nobles. Elizabeth no longer thought of employing 
her power to restore them; she found it easier to 
govern Scotland by corrupting the king’s favourites; 
and, in compliance with Gray's solicitations, she 


f State Trials, i. 122. 
h Id. ib. 


g Camd. 499. 
i See App. No. XL1V. 


k Strype, iii. 246. 
m Strype, iii. 302. Melv. 316. 


1 Camd. 500. 



BOOK VII. 1584.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


1G9 


Dec. 31 


commanded the exiles to leave the north 
of England, and to remove into the 
heart of the kingdom. This rendered it difficult for 
them to hold any correspondence with their partisans 
in Scotland, and almost impossible to return thither 
without her permission. Gray, by gaining a point 
which James had so much at heart, rivetted himself 
more firmly than ever in his favour; and, by ac¬ 
quiring greater reputation, became capable of serv¬ 
ing Elizabeth with greater success." 

]585> Arran had now possessed for some 

«on a and C TnS?’ ^ me the power, the riches, and the 
honours, that his immoderate ambition 
could desire, or the fondness of a prince, who set 
no limits to his liberality towards his favourites, 
could bestow. The office of lord chancellor, the 
highest and most important in the kingdom, was 
conferred upon him, even during the life of the 
earl of Argyll, who succeeded Athol in that dignity;° 
and the public beheld, with astonishment and indig¬ 
nation, a man educated as a soldier of fortune, 
ignorant of law, and a contemner of justice, ap¬ 
pointed to preside in parliament, in the privy- 
council, in the court of session, and intrusted with 
the supreme disposal of the property of his fellow- 
subjects. He was, at the same time, governor of 
the castles of Stirling and Edinburgh, the two 
principal forts in Scotland; provost of the city of 
Edinburgh ; and as if by all these accumulated 
dignities his merits were not sufficiently recom¬ 
pensed, he had been created lieutenant-general over 
the whole kingdom. No person was admitted into 
the king’s presence without his permission; no 
favour could be obtained but by his mediation. 
James, occupied with youthful amusements, de¬ 
volved upon him the whole regal authority. Such 
unmerited elevation increased his natural arrogance, 
and rendered it intolerable. He was no longer 
content with the condition of a subject, but pre¬ 
tended to derive his pedigree from Murdo duke of 
Albany ; and boasted openly, that his title to the 
crown was preferable to that of the king himself. 
Rut, together with these thoughts of royalty, he 
retained the meanness suitable to his primitive 
indigence. His venality as a judge was scandalous, 
and was exceeded only by that of his wife, who, in 
defiance of decency, made herself a party in almost 
every suit which came to be decided, employed her 
influence to corrupt or overawe the judges, and 
almost openly dictated their decisions. 15 His rapa¬ 
ciousness as a minister was insatiable. Not satis¬ 
fied with the revenues of so many offices; with the 
estate and honours which belonged to the family of 
Hamilton ; or with the greater part of Gowrie’s 
lands, which had fallen to his share; he grasped at 
the possessions of several of the nobles. He re¬ 
quired lord Maxwell to exchange part of his 
estate, for the forfeited lands of Kinneil; and be¬ 
cause he was unwilling to quit an ancient inherit¬ 


ance for a possession so precarious, he stirred up 
against him his hereditary rival, the laird of John¬ 
ston, and involved that corner of the kingdom in a 
civil war. He committed to prison the earl of Athol, 
lord Home, and the master of Cassils ; the first, 
because he would not divorce his wife, the daughter 
of the earl of Gowrie, and entail his estate on him; 
the second, because he was unwilling to part with 
some lands adjacent to one of Arran’s estates; and 
the third, for refusing to lend him money. His 
spies and informers filled the whole country, and 
intruded themselves into every company. The 
nearest neighbours distrusted and feared each other. 
All familiar society was at an end. Even the com¬ 
mon intercourses of humanity were interrupted, no 
man knowing in whom to confide or where to utter 
his complaints. There is not perhaps in history an 
example of a minister so universally detestable to a 
nation, or who more justly deserved its detestation/* 

Arran, notwithstanding, regardless of the senti¬ 
ments and despising the murmurs of the people, gave 
a loose to his natural temper, and proceeded to acts 
still more violent. David Home of Argaty, and 
Patrick his brother, having received letters from one 
of the banished lords about private business, were 
condemned and put to death for holding correspon¬ 
dence with rebels. Cunninghame of Drumwhasel, 
and Douglas of Mains, two gentlemen of honour 
and reputation, were accused of having conspired 
with the exiled nobles to seize the king’s person : a 
single witness only appeared ; the evidence they 
produced of their innocence was unanswerable; 
their accuser himself not long after acknowledged 
that he had been suborned by Arran; and all 
men believed the charge against them 
to be groundless: they were found 
guilty, notwithstanding, and suffered the death of 
traitors/ 

About the same time that these Paf? . y > sconspiracy 
gentlemen were punished for a pre- againsl E1 >zabeth. 
tended conspiracy, Elizabeth’s life was endangered 
by a real one. Parry, a doctor of laws, and a 
member of the House of Commons, a man vain and 
fantastic, but of a resolute spirit, had lately been 
reconciled to the church of Rome; and fraught 
with the zeal of a new convert, he offered to de¬ 
monstrate the sincerity of his attachment to the 
religion which he had embraced, by killing Eliza¬ 
beth. Cardinal Allen had published a book, to 
prove the murder of an excommunicated prince to 
be not only lawful, but a meritorious action. The 
pope’s nuncio at Venice, the Jesuits both there and 
at Paris, the English exiles, all approved of the 
design. The pope himself exhorted him to perse¬ 
vere ; and granted him for his encouragement a 
plenary indulgence, and remission of his sins. 
Cardinal di Como wrote to him a letter to the same 
purpose ; but though he often got access to the 
queen, fear, or some remaining sense of duty, re 


Feb. 9. 


n Cald. iii. 643. 

o Crawf. Oflic. of State, App. 447* 


p Cald. iii. 331. Scotstarvet’s Staggering State, 7. 
q Spotsw. 337, 338. r Spotsw. 338. Cald. iii. 794. 




170 


THE PI I STORY OF SCOTLAND. 


strained him from perpetrating the crime. Hap¬ 
pily h is intention was at last discovered by Nevil, 
the only person in England to whom he had com¬ 
municated it; and having himself 
March 2 . voluntarily confessed his guilt, he suf¬ 
fered the punishment which it deserved." 

These repeated conspiracies against 

A severe statute, ... • • j .1 • j. _ 

which proved fa- their sovereign awakened the indigna¬ 
tion of the English parliament, and 
produced a very extraordinary statute, which, in the 
end, proved fatal to the queen of Scots. By this 
law the association in defence of Elizabeth’s life 
was ratified, and it was further enacted, “That if 
any rebellion shall be excited in the kingdom, or 
any thing attempted to the hurt of her majesty’s 
person, by or for any person pretending a title to the 
crown, the queen shall empower twenty-four per¬ 
sons, by a commission under the great seal, to ex¬ 
amine into, and pass sentence upon, such offences ; 
and after judgment given, a proclamation shall be 
issued, declaring the persons whom they find guilty 
excluded from any right to the crown; and her 
majesty’s subjects may lawfully pursue every one 
of them to the death, with all their aiders and abet¬ 
tors ; and if any design against the life of the queen 
take effect, the persons by or for whom such a detest¬ 
able act is executed, and their issues, being in any 
wise assenting or privy to the same, shall be dis¬ 
abled for ever from pretending to the crown, and be 
pursued to death in the like manner.” 1 This act 
was plainly levelled at the queen of Scots ; and, 
wdiether we consider it as a voluntary expression of 
the zeal and concern of the nation for Elizabeth’s 
safety, or whether we impute it to the influence 
which that artful princess preserved over her parlia¬ 
ments, it is no easy matter to reconcile it with the 
general principles of justice or humanity. Mary 
was thereby rendered accountable not only for her 
own actions, but for those of others ; in consequence 
of which she might forfeit her right of succession, 
and even her life itself. 

. ... Mary justly considered this act as a 

i he rigour with J u J 

treatecfIncreased wa rning to prepare for the worst ex¬ 
tremities. Elizabeth’s ministers, it is 
probable, had resolved by this time to take away 
her life; and suffered books to be published, in 
order to persuade the nation that this cruel and un¬ 
precedented measure was not only necessary but 
just. u Even that short period of her days which 
remained they rendered uncomfortable, by every 
hardship and indignity which it was in their power 
to inflict. Almost all her servants were dismissed, 
she was treated no longer with the respect due to a 
queen ; and, though the rigour of seventeen years’ 
imprisonment had broken her constitution, she was 
confined to two ruinous chambers, scarcely habit¬ 
able, even in the middle of summer, by reason of 
cold. Notwithstanding the scantiness of her revenue, 
she had been accustomed to distribute regularly 
some alms among the poor in the village adjoining 

s State Trials, i. 103. State Trials, i. 123. u Strype, in. 299. 


[1585. BOOK VII. 

to the castle. Paulet now refused her liberty to 
perform this pious and humane oflice, which had 
afforded her great consolation amidst her own sufler- 
ings. The castle in which she resided was converted 
into a common prison ; and a young man, suspected 
of popery, was confined there, and treated under her 
eye with such rigour, that he died of the ill usage. 
She often complained to Elizabeth of these multi¬ 
plied injuries, and expostulated as became a woman 
and a queen ; but as no political reason now obliged 
that princess to amuse her any longer with falla¬ 
cious hopes, far from granting her any redress, she 
did not even deign to give her any answer. The 
king of France, closely allied to Elizabeth, on w hom 
he depended for assistance against his rebellious 
subjects, was afraid of espousing Mary’s cause with 
any warmth ; and all his solicitations in her behalf 
were feeble, formal, and inefficacious. But Castel- 
nau, the French ambassador, w hose compassion and 
zeal for the unhappy queen supplied the defects in 
his instructions, remonstrated with such vigour 
against the indignities to which she was exposed, 
that by his importunity he prevailed at length to 
have her removed to Tuthbury ; though she was 
confined the greater part of another winter in her 
present wretched habitation. x 

Neither the insults of her enemies, . , , , 

A breach be- 

nor the neglect of her friends, made [ ween Mary and 

0 her son. 

such an impression on Mary, as the 
ingratitude of her son. James had hitherto treated 
his mother with filial respect, and had even entered 
into negociations with her, which gave umbrage to 
Elizabeth. But as it was not the interest of the 
English queen that his good correspondence should 
continue, Gray, who, on his return to Scotland, 
found his favour with the king greatly increased by 
the success of his embassy, persuaded him to write 
a harsh and undutiful letter to his mother, in which 
he expressly refused to acknow ledge her to be queen 
of Scotland, or to consider his affairs as connected 
in any w ise with hers. This cruel requital of her 
maternal tenderness overwhelmed Mary with sorrow 
and despair. “ Was it for this,” said , 

1 • , , ’ March 24. 

she, in a letter to the F rench ambas¬ 
sador, “ that I have endured so much, in order to 
preserve for him the inheritance to which I have 
a just right? I am far from envying his autho¬ 
rity in Scotland. I desire no power there ; nor 
wish to set my foot in that kingdom, if it were not 
for the pleasure of once embracing a son, whom 
I have hitherto loved with too tender affection. 
Whatever he either enjoys or expects, he derived it 
from me. From him I never received assistance, 
supply, or benefit of any kind. Let not my allies 
treat him any longer as a king: he holds that dig¬ 
nity by my consent; and if a speedy repentance do 
not appease my just resentment, I will load him 
with a parent’s curse, and surrender my crown, with 
all my pretensions, to one who will receive them with 
gratitude, and defend them with vigour.”-? The love 

X Jebb, ii. 576—598. v Murdin, 566. Jebb, ii. 571. See App. No. XLV. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


171 


Pansrerous 
situation of 
Elizabeth ; 


BOOK VII. 1585.] 

which Janies bore to his mother, whom he had never 
known, and whom he had been early taught to con¬ 
sider as one of the most abandoned persons of her sex, 
cannot be supposed ever to have been ardent; and 
he did not now take any pains to regain her favour. 
But whether her indignation at his undutiful beha¬ 
viour, added to her bigoted attachment to popery, 
prompted Mary at any time to think seriously of 
disinheriting her son; or whether these threaten- 
ings were uttered in a sudden sally of disappointed 
affection, it is now no easy matter to determine. 
Some papers which are still extant seem to render 
the former not improbable. 2 

Cares of another kind, and no less dis¬ 
quieting, occupied Elizabeth’s thoughts. 
The calm which she had long enjoyed, 
seemed now to be at an end ; and such storms were 
gathering in every quarter, as filled her with just 
alarm. All the neighbouring nations had under¬ 
gone revolutions extremely to her disadvantage. 
The great qualities which Henry III. had displayed 
in his youth, and which raised the expectations of 
his subjects so high, vanished on his ascending the 
throne ; and his acquiring supreme power seems not 
only to have corrupted his heart, but to have im¬ 
paired his understanding. He soon lost the esteem 
and affection of the nation ; and a life divided be¬ 
tween the austerities of a superstitious devotion and 
the extravagances of the most dissolute debauchery, 
rendered him as contemptible as he was odious on 
account of his rapaciousness, his profusion, and the 
fondness with which he doated on many unworthy 
minions. On the death of his only brother, those 
sentiments of the people burst out with violence. 
Henry had no children, and though but thirty-two 
years of age, the succession of the crown was al¬ 
ready considered as open. The king of Navarre, a 
distant descendant of the royal family, but the un¬ 
doubted heir to the crown, was a zealous protestant. 

from the progress Tlie prospect of an event so fatal to 
of the league; their religion, as his ascending the 

throne of France, alarmed all the catholics in Eu¬ 
rope ; and induced the duke of Guise, countenanced 
by the pope, and aided by the king of Spain, to 
appear as the defender of the Romish faith, and the 
asserter of the cardinal of Bourbon’s right to the 
crown. In order to unite the party, a bond of con¬ 
federacy was formed, distinguished by the name of 
the holy leayuc. All ranks of men joined in it with 
emulation. The spirit spread with the irresistible 
rapidity which was natural to religious passions 
in that age. The destruction of the reformation, 
not only in France but all over Europe, seemed 
to be the object and wish of the whole party; and 
the duke of Guise, the head of this mighty and 
zealous body, acquired authority in the kingdom, 
from the power far superior to that which the king 
of phihp it. himself possessed. Philip If. by the 
conquest of Portugal, had greatly increased the 
naval power of Spain, and had at last reduced under 

c See Append. Xo. XLVI, 


his dominion all that portion of the continent which 
lies beyond the Pyrenean mountains, and which 
nature seems to have destined to form one great 
monarchy. William, prince of Orange, who first 
encouraged the inhabitants of the Netherlands to 
assert their liberties, and whose wisdom and valour 
formed and protected the rising commonwealth, had 
fallen by the hands of an assassin. The superior 
genius of the prince of Parma had given an entire 
turn to the fate of war in the Low Countries : all 
his enterprises, concerted with consummate skill, 
and executed with equal bravery, had been attended 
with success; and the Dutch, reduced to the last 
extremity, were on the point of falling under the 
dominion of their ancient master. 

None of those circumstances to which IIer wise and vi _ 
Elizabeth had hitherto owed her se- gorous conduct - 
curity, existed any longer. She could derive no 
advantage from the jealousy which had subsisted 
between France and Spain ; Philip, by means of 
his confederacy with the duke of Guise, had an 
equal sway in the councils of both kingdoms. The 
Hugonots were unable to contend with the power 
of the league ; and little could be expected from 
any diversion which they might create. Nor was it 
probable that the Netherlands could long employ the 
arms or divide the strength of Spain. In this situation 
of the affairs of Europe, it became necessary for Eli¬ 
zabeth to form a new plan of conduct; and her wis¬ 
dom in forming it was not greater than the vigour 
with which she carried it on. The measures most 
suitable to her natural temper, and which she had 
hitherto pursued, w ere cautious and safe; those 
which she now adopted were enterprising and ha¬ 
zardous. She preferred peace, but was not afraid 
of w ar ; and was capable, w hen compelled by ne¬ 
cessity, not only of defending herself with spirit, but 
of attacking her enemies with a boldness which 
averted danger from her own dominions. She im¬ 
mediately furnished the Hugonots with a consider¬ 
able supply in money. She carried on a private 
negociation with Henry III., who, though compelled 
to join the league, hated the leaders of it, and wish¬ 
ed for their destruction. She openly undertook the 
protection of the Dutch commonwealth, and sent 
a powerful army to its assistance. She endeavoured 
to form a general confederacy of the protestant 
princes, in opposition to the popish league. She 
determined to proceed with the utmost Resplves to pun- 
rigour against the queen of Scots, lsh Mary> 
whose sufferings and rights afforded her enemies a 
specious pretence for invading her dominions. She 
resolved to redouble her endeavours, an d to gain the 
in order to effect a closer union with king - 
Scotland, and to extend and perpetuate her influ¬ 
ence over the councils of that nation. 

She found it no difficult matter to induce most of 
the Scottish courtiers to promote all her designs. 
Gray, sir John Maitland, who had been advanced 
to the office of secretary, which his brother formerly 




172 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


July 29. 


held, sir Lewis Bellenden, the justice-clerk, who 
had succeeded Gray as the king’s resident at Lon¬ 
don, were the persons in whom she chiefly confided. 
In order to direct and quicken their motions, she 
despatched sir Edward Wotton along 
with Bellenden into Scotland. This 
man was gay, well-bred, and entertaining; he ex¬ 
celled in all the exercises for which James had a 
passion, and amused the young king by relating the 
adventures which he had met with, and the obser¬ 
vations he had made, during a long residence in 
foreign countries ; but, under the veil of these su¬ 
perficial qualities, he concealed a dangerous and 
intriguing spirit. He soon grew into high favour 
with James, and while he was seemingly attentive 
only to pleasure and diversions, he acquired influ¬ 
ence over the public councils, to a degree which 
was indecent for a stranger to possess.* 

Proposes a league Nothing, however, could be more 

with Scotland, acceptable to the nation, than the pro¬ 
posal which he made of a strict alliance between 
the two kingdoms, in defence of the reformed reli¬ 
gion. The rapid and alarming progress of the 
popish league seemed to call on all protestant 
princes to unite for the preservation of their com¬ 
mon faith. James embraced the overture with 
warmth, and a convention of estates empowered 
him to conclude such a treaty, and en¬ 
gaged to ratify it in parliaments The 
alacrity with which James concurred in this mea¬ 
sure must not be wholly ascribed either to his own 
zeal, or to Wotton’s address ; it was owing in part 
to Elizabeth’s liberality. As a mark of her motherly 
affection for the young king, she settled on him an 
annual pension of five thousand pounds ; the same 
sum which her father had allotted her before she 
ascended the throne. This circumstance, which she 
took care to mention, rendered a sum which in that 
age M as far from being inconsiderable, a very accept¬ 
able present to the king, whose revenues, during a 
long minority, had been almost totally dissipated. 0 

Undermines Ar- But tlie ch^f object of Wotton’s in- 
ran’s power, trigues was to ruin Arran. While a 

minion so odious to the nation continued to govern 
the king, his assistance could be of little advantage 
to Elizabeth. And though Arran, ever since his 
interview with Hunsdon, had appeared extremely 
for her interest, she could place no great confidence 
in a man whose conduct was so capricious and ir¬ 
regular, and who, notwithstanding his protestations 
to the contrary, still continued a secret correspond¬ 
ence both with Mary and with the duke of Guise. 
The banished lords were attached to England from 
affection as well as principle, and were the only 
persons among the Scots whom, in any dangerous 
exigency, she could thoroughly trust. Before Bel¬ 
lenden left London, they had been summoned thi¬ 
ther, under colour of vindicating themselves from 
his accusations, but, in reality, to concert with him 
the most proper measures for restoring them to their 

a Melv. 317. b Spotsw. 330. c Cald. iii. 505. 


[1585. BOOK VII. 

country. Wotton pursued this plan, and endea¬ 
voured to ripen it for execution ; and it was greatly 
facilitated by an event neither uncommon nor con¬ 
siderable. Sir John Foster, and Ker of Ferniherst, 
the English and Scottish wardens of the middle 
marches, having met, according to the custom of 
the borders, about midsummer, a fray arose, and 
lord Russel, the earl of Bedford’s eldest son, hap¬ 
pened to be killed. This scuffle was purely acci¬ 
dental, but Elizabeth chose to consider it as a de¬ 
sign formed by Ker, at the instigation of Arran, to 
involve the two kingdoms in war. She insisted that 
both should be delivered up to her; and, though 
James eluded that demand, he was obliged to con¬ 
fine Arran in St. Andrews, and Ker in Aberdeen. 
During his absence from court, Wotton and his as¬ 
sociates carried on their intrigues without interrup¬ 
tion. By their advice, the banished 

Assists the ban- 

nobles endeavoured to accommodate ished nobles, 
their differences with lord John and 
lord Claud, the duke of Chatelherault’s two sons, 
whom Morton’s violence had driven out of the 
kingdom. Their common sufferings, and common 
interest, induced both parties to bury in oblivion 
the ancient discord which had subsisted between 
the houses of Hamilton and Douglas. By Eliza¬ 
beth’s permission, they returned in a body to the 
borders of Scotland. Arran, who had again re¬ 
covered favour, insisted on putting the kingdom in 
a posture of defence ; but Gray, Bellenden, and 
Maitland, secretly thwarted all his measures. Some 
necessary orders they prevented from being issued ; 
others they rendered ineffectual by the manner of 
execution ; and all of them were obeyed slowly, and 
with reluctance. 4 

Wotton’s fertile brain was, at the same time, big 
with another and more dangerous plot. He had 
contrived to seize the king, and to carry him by force 
into England. But the design was happily discover¬ 
ed ; and, in order to avoid the punishment which his 
treachery merited, he departed without taking leave.® 

Meanwhile the banished lords has- They return into 
tened the execution of their enter- reconu’ie/to^he 6 
prise ; and, as their friends and vas- king * 
sals were now ready to join them, they entered 
Scotland. Wherever they came, they were wel¬ 
comed as the deliverers of their country, and the 
most fervent prayers were addressed to Heaven for 
the success of their arms. They advanced, without 
losing a moment, towards Stirling, at the head of 
ten thousand men. The king, though he had as¬ 
sembled an army superior in number, could not 
venture to meet them in the field with troops whose 
loyalty was extremely dubious, and who at best 
were far from being hearty in the cause ; nor w as 
either the tow n or castle provided for a siege. The 
gates, however, of both were shut, and the nobles 
encamped at St. Ninian’s. That same 
night they surprised the town, or, more 
probably, it was betrayed into their hands; and 

d Spotsw. 340. e Melv. 335. 



BOOK VII- 1585.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


173 


Arran, who had undertaken to defend it, was 
obliged to save himself by a precipitate flight. Next 
morning they invested the castle, in which there 
were not provisions for twenty-four hours; and 
J ames was necessitated immediately to hearken to 
terms of accommodation. They were not so elated 
with success as to urge extravagant demands, nor 
was the king unwilling to make every reasonable 
concession. They obtained a pardon, in the most 
ample form, of all the offences which they had com¬ 
mitted ; the principal forts in the kingdom were, by 
way of security, put into their hands; Crawford, 
Montrose, and Colonel Stewart, were removed from 
the king’s presence; and a parliament was called, 
in order to establish tranquillity in the nation/ 

a parliament. Though a great majority in this par- 
Dec. 10. Lament consisted of the confederate 
nobles and their adherents, they were far from dis¬ 
covering a vindictive spirit. Satisfied with pro¬ 
curing an act, restoring them to their ancient hon¬ 
ours and estates, and ratifying the pardon granted 
by the king, they seemed willing to forget all past 
errors in the administration, and spared James the 
mortification of seeing his ministers branded with 
any public note of infamy. Arran alone, deprived 
of all his honours, stripped of his borrowed spoils, 
and declared an enemy to his country by public 
proclamation, sunk back into obscurity, and must 
henceforth be mentioned by his primitive title of 
captain James Stewart. As he had been, during 
his unmerited prosperity, the object of the hatred 
and indignation of his countrymen, they beheld his 
fall without pity, nor did all his sufferings mitigate 
their resentment in the least degree. 

, _ The clergy were the only body of 

Church affairs. . , J , . 

men who obtained no redress of their 
grievances by this revolution. The confederate 
nobles had all along affected to be considered as 
guardians of the privileges and discipline of the 
church. In all their manifestos they had declared 
their resolution to restore these, and by that popular 
pretence had gained many friends. It was now na¬ 
tural to expect some fruit of these promises, and 
some returns of gratitude towards many of the most 
eminent preachers who had suffered in their cause, 
and who demanded the repeal of the laws passed 
the preceding year. The king, however, was reso¬ 
lute to maintain these laws in full authority; and 
as the nobles were extremely solicitous not to dis¬ 
gust him by insisting on any disagreeable request, 
the claims of the church in this, as well as in many 
other instances, were sacrificed to the interest of the 
laity. The ministers gave vent to their indignation 
in the pulpit, and their impatience under the disap¬ 
pointment broke out in some expressions extreme¬ 
ly disrespectful even towards the king himself. 6 

The archbishop of St. Andrew’s, too, 

felt the effects of their anger. The 
provincial synod of Fife summoned him to appear, 
and to answer for his contempt of the decrees of 


former assemblies, in presuming to exercise the 
functions of a bishop. Though he refused to ac¬ 
knowledge the jurisdiction of the court, and appeal¬ 
ed from it to the king, a sentence of excommunica¬ 
tion, equally indecent and irregular, was pronounced 
against him. Adamson, with no less indecency, 
thundered his archiepiscopal excommunication 
against Melvil, and some other of his opponents. 

Soon after, a general assembly was a j3 
held, in which the king, with some 
difficulty, obtained an act, permitting the name and 
office of bishop still to continue in the church. The 
power of the order, however, was considerably re¬ 
trenched. The exercise of discipline, and the in¬ 
spection of the life and doctrine of the clergy, were 
committed to presbyteries, in which bishops should 
be allowed no other pre-eminence but that of pre¬ 
siding as perpetual moderators. They themselves 
were declared to be subject, in the same manner as 
other pastors, to the jurisdiction of the general as¬ 
sembly. As the discussion of the archbishop’s 
appeal might have kindled unusual heats in the as¬ 
sembly, that affair was terminated by a compromise. 
He renounced any claim of supremacy over the 
church, and promised to demean himself suitably to 
the character of a bishop, as described by St. Paul. 
The assembly, without examining the foundations 
of the sentence of excommunication, declared that 
it should be held of no effect, and restored him to 
all the privileges which he enjoyed before it was 
pronounced. Notwithstanding the extraordinary 
tenderness shown for the honour of the synod, and 
the delicacy and respect with which its jurisdiction 
was treated, several members were so zealous as to 
protest against this decision/ 

The court of Scotland was now filled 


with persons so w armly attached to England 6 con- h 

eluded. 

Elizabeth, that the league between the 
two kingdoms, which had been proposed last year, 
met with no interruption, but from D’Esneval, the 
French envoy. James himself first offered to renew 
the negociations. Elizabeth did not suffer such a 
favourable opportunity to slip, and in- July 5 
stantly despatched Randolph to con¬ 
clude a treaty, which she so much desired. The 
danger to which the protestant religion was exposed 
by the late combination of the popish powers for its 
destruction, and the necessity of a strict confede¬ 
racy among those who had embraced the reforma¬ 
tion, in order to obstruct their pernicious designs, 
were mentioned as the foundation of the league. 
The chief articles in it were, that both parties should 
bind themselves to defend the evangelical religion; 
that the league should be offensive and defensive 
against all who shall endeavour to disturb the ex¬ 
ercise of religion in either kingdom ; that if one of 
the two parties be invaded, the other, notwithstand¬ 
ing any former alliance, should not, directly or in¬ 
directly, assist the invader; that if England be 
invaded in any part remote from Scotland, James 


f Cald. iii. 795. 


g Spotsw. .343. 


h Cald. iii. 894. Spotsw. 346. 



174 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


should assist the queen with two thousand horse and 
five thousand foot; that if the enemy landed or ap- 
proached within sixty miles of Scotland, the king 
should take the field with his whole forces, in the 
same manner as he would do in defence of his own 
kingdom. Elizabeth, in return, undertook to act in 
defence of Scotland, if it should be invaded. At 
the same time she assured the king, that no step 
should be taken which might derogate in any de¬ 
gree from his pretensions to the English crown.' 
Elizabeth expressed great satisfaction w ith a treaty 
which rendered Scotland a useful ally instead of a 
dangerous neighbour, and afforded her a degree of 
security on that side, which all her ancestors had 
aimed at, but none of them had been able to obtain. 
Zeal for religion, together with the blessings of 
peace which both kingdoms had enjoyed during a 
considerable period, had so far abated the violence 
of national antipathy, that the king’s conduct was 
universally acceptable to his own people. 14 

The acquittal of Archibald Douglas, at this time, 
exposed James to much and deserved censure. 
This man was deeply engaged in the conspiracy 
against the life of the king his father. Both Mor¬ 
ton and Binny, one of his own servants, who suffer¬ 
ed for that crime, had accused him of being present 
at the murder. 1 He had escaped punishment by 
flying into England, and James had often required 
Elizabeth to deliver up a person so unworthy of her 
protection. He now obtained a licence, from the 
king himself, to return into Scotland ; and after un¬ 
dergoing a mock trial, calculated to conceal rather 
than to detect his guilt, he was not only taken into 
favour by the king, but sent back to the court of 
England, with the honourable character of his am¬ 
bassador. James was now of such an age, that his 
youth and inexperience cannot be pleaded in ex¬ 
cuse for this indecent transaction. It must be im¬ 
puted to the excessive facility of his temper, which 
often led him to gratify his courtiers at the expense 
of his own dignity and reputation.'" 

■Rise of Babing- Not long after, the inconsiderate 
agafnst C0I ElLza- cy affection of the English catholics to- 
beth- wards Mary, and their implacable 

resentment against Elizabeth, gave rise to a conspi¬ 
racy which proved fatal to the one queen, left an 
indelible stain on the reputation of the other, and 
presented a spectacle to Europe, of which there had 
been hitherto no example in the history of man¬ 
kind. 

Dr. Gilford, Gilbert Gilford, and Hodgson, priests 
educated in the seminary at Rheims, had adopted 
an extravagant and enthusiastic notion, that the 
bull of Pius Y. against Elizabeth was dictated im¬ 
mediately by the Holy Ghost. This wild opinion 
they instilled into Savage, an officer in the Spanish 
army, noted for his furious zeal and daring courage; 
and persuaded him that no service could be so ac¬ 
ceptable to Heaven, as to take aw ay the life of an ex- 

i Spotsw. 351. k Camd. 513. 

I See Append. No. XLVII. Arnot, Crim. Trials, 7, Ike. 


[158(3. BOOK VII. 

communicated heretic. Savage, eager to obtain the 
crown of martyrdom, bound himself by a solemn vow 
to kill Elizabeth. Ballard, a prag- April26> 
matical priest of that seminary, had 
at that time come over to Paris, and solicited 
Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador there, to procure 
an invasion of England, while the affairs of the 
league were so prosperous, and the kingdom left 
naked by sending so many of the queen’s best 
troops into the Netherlands. Paget and the English 
exiles demonstrated the fruitlessness of such an 
attempt, unless Elizabeth were first cut off, or the 
invaders secured of a pow erful concurrence on their 
landing. If it could be hoped that either of these 
events would happen, effectual aid was promised; 
and in the mean time Ballard was sent back to 
renew his intrigues. 


He communicated his designs to 


May 15. 


Anthony Babington, a young gentle¬ 
man in Derbyshire, of a large fortune and many 
amiable qualities, who having contracted, during his 
residence in France, a familiarity w ith the archbishop 
of Glasgow, had been recommended b}^ him to the 
queen of Scots. He concurred with Paget in con¬ 
sidering the death of Elizabeth as a necessary pre¬ 
liminary to any invasion. Ballard gave him hopes 
than an end would soon be put to her days, and 
imparted to him Savage’s vow, who was now in 
London waiting for an opportunity to strike the 
blow. But Babington thought the attempt of too 
much importance to rely on a single hand for the 
execution of it, and proposed that five resolute 
gentlemen should be joined with Savage in an enter¬ 
prise, the success of which w^as the foundation of 
all their hopes. He offered to find out persons 
willing to undertake the service, whose honour, 
secrecy, and courage, they might safely trust. He 
accordingly opened the matter to Edward Windsor, 
Thomas Salisbury, Charles Tinley, Chidioc Tich- 
bourne, Robert Gage, John Travers, Robert Barn¬ 
well, John Charnock, Henry Dun, John Jones, and 
Robert Polly; all of them, except Polly, w hose 
bustling forward zeal introduced him into their 
society, gentlemen of good families, united together 
in the bonds of private friendship, strengthened by 
the more powerful tie of religious zeal. Many con¬ 
sultations were held ; their plan of operations was 
at last settled, and their different parts assigned. 
Babington himself was appointed to June, 
lescue the queen of Scots ; Salisbury, conspirators, 
with some others, undertook to excite several coun¬ 
ties to take arms; the murder of the queen, the 
most dangerous and important service of all, fell to 
Tichbourne and Savage, with four associates. So 
totally had their bigoted prejudices extinguished 
the principles of honour, and the sentiments of 
humanity suitable to their rank, that, without 
scruple or compunction, they undertook an action 
which is viewed with horror, even when committed 

m Spotsw. 348. Cald. iii. 917. 



KOOK VII. 156G»] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


175 


by the meanest and most profligate of mankind. 
This attempt, on the contrary, appeared to them no 
less honourable than it was desperate; and, in 
order to perpetuate the memory of it, they had a 
picture drawn, containing the portraits of the six 
assassins, with that of Babington in the middle, and 
a motto intimating that they were jointly embarked 
in some hazardous design. 

Discovered by The conspirators, as appears by this 

w aisingham. wan t on am j imprudent instance of 

vanity, seem to have thought a discovery hardly 
possible, and neither distrusted the fidelity of their 
companions, nor doubted the success of their un¬ 
dertaking. But while they believed that their 
machinations were carried on with the most profound 
and impenetrable secrecy, every step they took was 
fully known to Walsingham. Polly was one of his 
spies, and had entered into the conspiracy with no 
other design than to betray his associates. Gilbert 
Gifford, too, having been sent over to England to 
quicken the motions of the conspirators, had been 
gained by Walsingham, and gave him sure intelli¬ 
gence of all their projects. That vigilant minister 
immediately imparted the discoveries which he had 
made to Elizabeth; and, without communicating 
the matter to any other of the counsellors, they 
agreed, in order to understand the plot more per¬ 
fectly, to wait until it w as ripened into some form, 
and brought near the point of execution. 

They are seized At last, Elizabeth thought it dan- 

and punished. . . . , , . 

August 4. gerous and criminal to expose her own 
life, and to tempt Providence any further. Ballard, 
the prime mover in the whole conspiracy, was 
arrested. His associates, disconcerted and struck 
with astonishment, endeavoured to save themselves 
by flight. But within a few days, all of them, 
except Windsor, were seized in different places of 
the kingdom, and committed to the Tower. Though 
they had undertaken the part, they wanted the firm 
and determined spirit, of assassins ; and, influenced 
by fear or by hope, at once confessed all that they 
knew. The indignation of the people, and their 
impatience to revenge such an execrable combina¬ 
tion against the life of their sovereign, 
hastened their trial, and all of them 
suffered the death of traitors." 

Mary .is accused Thus far Elizabeth’s conduct may 
compfice in the Te pronounced both prudent and laud- 
conspiracy. able, nor can she be accused of vio¬ 
lating any law' of humanity, or of taking any pre¬ 
cautions beyond what were necessary for her own 
safety. But a tragical scene followed, with regard 
to which posterity will pass a very different judg¬ 
ment. 

The frantic zeal of a few rash young men accounts 
sufficiently for all the wild and wicked designs 
which they had formed. But this was not the light 
in which Elizabeth and her ministers chose to place 
the conspiracy. They wished to persuade the 
nation, that Babington and his associates should be 

n Camd. 515. State Trials, vol. i. 110. 


Sept. 20. 


considered merely as instruments employed by the 
queen of Scots, the real though secret author of so 
many attempts against the life of Elizabeth, and 
the peace of her kingdoms. They produced letters, 
which they ascribed to her, in support of this charge. 
These, as they gave out, had come into their hands 
by the follow ing singular and mysterious method of 
conveyance. Gifford, on his return into England, 
had been trusted by some of the exiles with letters 
to Mary ; but, in order to make a trial of his fidelity 
and address, they were only blank papers made up 
in that form. These being safely delivered by him, 
he was afterwards employed without further scruple. 
Walsingham having found means to gain this man, 
he, by the permission of that minister, and the con¬ 
nivance of Paulet, bribed a tradesman in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Chartley, whither Mary had been con¬ 
veyed, who deposited the letters in a hole in the 
wall of the castle, covered with a loose stone. 
Thence they were taken by the queen, and in the 
same manner her answers returned. All these were 
carried to Walsingham, opened by him, deciphered, 
sealed again so dexterously that the fraud could not 
be perceived, and then transmitted to the persons to 
whom they were directed. Two letters to Babing¬ 
ton, with several to Mendoza, Paget, Englefield, 
and the English fugitives, were procured by this 
artifice. It was given out, that in these letters Mary 
approved of the conspiracy, and even of the assas¬ 
sination ; that she directed them to proceed with 
the utmost circumspection, and not to take arms 
until foreign auxiliaries were ready to join them ; 
that she recommended the earl of Arundel, his 
brothers, and the young earl of Northumberland, 
as proper persons to conduct and to add reputation 
to their enterprise; that she advised them, if possible, 
to excite at the same time some commotion in Ire¬ 
land ; and, above all, besought them to concert 
with care the means of her ow n escape, suggesting 
to them several expedients for that purpose. 

All these circumstances were opened The j ndignation 
at the trial of the conspirators; and gainsther g on h 
while the nation was under the influ- that account - 
ence of those terrors which the association had 
raised, and the late danger had augmented, they 
were believed without hesitation or inquiry, and 
spread a general alarm. Mary’s zeal for her religion 
was well known ; and in that age, examples of the 
violent and sanguinary spirit which it inspired w ere 
numerous. All the cabals against the peace of the 
kingdom for many years had been carried on in her 
name ; and it now appears evidently, said the Eng¬ 
lish, that the safety of the one queen is incompatible 
with that of the other. Why then, added they, 
should the tranquillity of England be sacrificed for 
the sake of a stranger? Why is a life so dear to 
the nation, exposed to the repeated assaults of an 
exasperated rival ? The case supposed in the asso¬ 
ciation has now happened, the sacred person of our 
sovereign has been threatened, and why should not 



176 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


an injured people execute that just vengeance which 
they had vowed ? 

Elizabeth resolve, No sentiments could be more agree- 
to proceed to the a | } j e than these to Elizabeth and her 

against her. ministers. They themselves had at 

first propagated them among the people, and they 
now served both as an apology and a motive for 
their proceeding to such extremities against the 
Scottish queen as they had long meditated. The 
more numerous the injuries were which Elizabeth 
had heaped on Mary, the more she feared and hated 
that unhappy queen, and came at last to be per¬ 
suaded that there could be no other security for her 
own life, but the death of her rival. Burleigh and 
Walsingham had promoted so zealously all Eliza¬ 
beth’s measures with regard to Scottish affairs, and 
had acted with so little reserve in opposition to 
Mary, that they had reason to dread the most violent 
effects of her resentment, if ever she should mount 
the throne of England. From this additional con¬ 
sideration they endeavoured, with the utmost ear¬ 
nestness, to hinder an event so fatal to themselves, 
by confirming their mistress’s fear and hatred of the 
Scottish queen. 


Meanwhile, Mary was guarded with 

Her domestics, . 

papers, &c. unusual vigilance, and great care was 
seized ^ 

taken to keep her ignorant of the dis¬ 
covery of the conspiracy. Sir Thomas Gorges was 
at last sent from court to acquaint her both of it, and 
of the imputation w ith which she was loaded as ac¬ 
cessory to that crime, and he surprised her with the 
account just as she had got on horseback to ride out 
along with her keepers. She was struck with as¬ 
tonishment, and w ould have returned to her apart¬ 
ment, but she was not permitted; and, in her absence, 
her private closet was broke open, her cabinet and 
papers were seized, sealed, and sent up to court. 
Her principal domestics too were arrested, and 
committed to different keepers. Naue and Curie, 
her two secretaries, the one a native of France, the 
other of Scotland, w ere carried prisoners to London. 
All the money in her custody, amounting to little 
more than two thousand pounds, was secured. 0 
And, after leading her about for some days, from 
one gentleman’s house to another, she was conveyed 
to Fotheringay, a strong castle in Northamptonshire .p 
Deliberates con- No further evidence could now be 
thod'of proceed- expected against Mary, and nothing 
remained but to decide what should be 
her fate. With regard to this, Elizabeth, and those 
ministers in whom she chiefly confided, seem to have 
taken their resolution ; but there was still great va¬ 
riety of sentiments among her other counsellors. 
Some thought it sufficient to dismiss all Mary’s at¬ 
tendants, and to keep her under such close restraint, 
as would cut off all possibility of corresponding 
with the enemies of the kingdom ; and as her con¬ 
stitution, broken by long confinement, and her spirit, 
dejected with so many sorrows, could not long sup¬ 
port such an additional load, the queen and nation 

o See Appendix, No. XLVIII. p. Camd. 517. 


[1586. BOOK VII. 

would soon be delivered from all their fears. But 
though it might be easy to secure Mary’s ow n person, 
it was impossible to diminish the reverence which 
the Roman catholics had for her name, or to extin¬ 
guish the compassion with which they viewed her 
sufferings; while such sentiments continued, insur¬ 
rections and invasions would never be wanting for 
her relief, and the only effect of any new rigour 
would be to render these attempts more frequent and 
more dangerous. For this reason the expedient was 
rejected. 

A public and legal trial, though the Dete rminesto try 
most unexampled, was judged the most lier P ubllcl y* 
unexceptionable method of proceeding; and it 
had, at the same time, a semblance of justice, ac¬ 
companied with an air of dignity. It was in vain to 
search the ancient records for any statute or prece¬ 
dent to justify such an uncommon step as the trial of 
a foreign prince, who had not entered the kingdom 
in arms, but had fled thither for refuge. The pro¬ 
ceedings against her were founded on the act of last 
parliament, and by applying it in this manner, the 
intention of those who had framed that severe sta¬ 
tute became more apparent. 

Elizabeth resolved that no circumstance of pomp 
or solemnity should be wanting, which could render 
this transaction such as became the dignity of the 
person to be tried. She appointed, by a commission 
under the great seal, forty persons, the most illustri¬ 
ous in the kingdom by their birth or offices, together 
w ith five of the judges, to hear and decide this great 
cause. Many difficulties were started by the law¬ 
yers about the name and title by which Mary should 
be arraigned; and, while the essentials of justice 
were so grossly violated, the empty forms of it were 
the objects of their care. They at length agreed 
that she should be styled “ Mary, daughter and heir 
of James V. late king of Scots, commonly called 
queen of Scots and dowager of France.” r 

After the many indignities which she had lately 
suffered, Mary could no longer doubt but that her 
destruction was determined. She expected every 
moment to end her days by poison, or by some of 
those secret means usually employed against captive 
princes. Lest the malice of her enemies, at the 
same time that it deprived her of life, should en¬ 
deavour likewise to blast her reputation, she wrote 
to the duke of Guise, and vindicated herself, in the 
strongest terms, from the imputation of encouraging 
or of being accessory to the conspiracy for assas¬ 
sinating Elizabeth. s In the solitude of her prison, 
the strange resolution of bringing her to a public 
trial had not reached her ears, nor did the idea of 
any thing so unprecedented, and so repugnant to 
regal majesty, once enter into her thoughts. 

On the eleventh of October the com- The trial at 
missioners appointed by Elizabeth r ° thenngay - 
arrived at Fotheringay. Next morning they de¬ 
livered a letter from their sovereign to Mary, in 
which, after the bitterest reproaches and accusa- 

q Camd. 519. Johnst. Hist. 113. r Strype, iii. 362. s Jebb. ii. 283. 



BOOK VII. 158C.] THE HISTORY 

tions, she informed her, that regard for the happi¬ 
ness of the nation had at last rendered it necessary 
to make a public inquiry into her conduct, and 
therefore required her, as she had lived so long 
under the protection of the laws of England, to sub¬ 
mit now to the trial which they ordained to be taken 
of her crimes. Mary, though surprised at this mes- 

Mary refuses at sa » e * was neither appalled at the dan- 
lirst to plead. g er? nor unmindful of her own dignity. 

She protested, in the most solemn manner, that she 
was innocent of the crime laid to her charge, and 
had never countenanced any attempt against the life 
of the queen of England ; but, at the same time, 
refused to acknowledge the jurisdiction of her com¬ 
missioners. “ I came into the kingdom,” said she, 
“ an independent sovereign, to implore the queen’s 
assistance, not to subject myself to her authority. 
Nor is my spirit so broken by its past misfortunes, 
or so intimidated by present dangers, as to stoop to 
any thing unbecoming the majesty of a crowned 
head, or that will disgrace the ancestors from whom 
I am descended, and the son to whom I shall leave 
my throne. If I must be tried, princes alone can 
be my peers. The queen of England’s subjects, 
however noble their birth may be, are of a rank 
inferior to mine. Ever since my arrival in this 
kingdom I have been confined as a prisoner. Its 
laws never afforded me any protection. Let them 
not now be perverted in order to take away my life.” 

The commissioners employed arguments and 
entreaties to overcome Mary’s resolution. They 
even threatened to proceed according to the forms 
of law, and to pass sentence against her on account 
of her contumacy in refusing to plead ; she persist¬ 
ed, however, for two days, to decline their jurisdic¬ 
tion. An argument used by Hatton, the vice-cham¬ 
berlain, at last prevailed. He told her, that by 
avoiding a trial she injured her own reputation, and 
deprived herself of the only opportunity of setting 
her innocence in a clear light; and that nothing 
would be more agreeable to them, or more accept¬ 
able to the queen their mistress, than to be con¬ 
vinced, by undoubted evidence, that she had been 
unjustly loaded with foul aspersions. 

Consents however No wonder pretexts so plausible 
to do so. should impose on the unwary queen, 

or that she, unassisted at that time by any friend or 
counsellor, should not be able to detect and elude 
all the artifices of Elizabeth’s ablest ministers. In 
a situation equally melancholy, and under circum¬ 
stances nearly similar, her grandson, Charles I., re¬ 
fused with the utmost firmness to acknowledge the 
usurped jurisdiction of the high court of justice ; 
and posterity has approved his conduct, as suitable 
to the dignity of a king. If Mary was less constant 
in her resolution, it must be imputed solely to her 
anxious desire of vindicating her own honour. 

At her appearance before the judges, 
who were seated in the great ball of 
the castle, where they received her with much cere¬ 
mony, she took care to protest, that by condescend- 

N 


OF SCOTLAND. 177 

ing to hear and to give an answer to the accusations 
which should be brought against her, she neither 
acknowledged the jurisdiction of the court, nor ad¬ 
mitted the validity and justice of those acts by 
which they pretended to try her. 

The chancellor, by a counter-protestation, endea¬ 
voured to vindicate the authority of the court. 

Then Elizabeth’s attorney and soli- The accusation 
citor opened the charge against her, against her. 
with all the circumstances of the late conspiracy. 
Copies of Mary’s letters to Mendoza, Babington, 
Englefield, and Paget, were produced. Babington’s 
confession, those of Ballard, Savage, and the other 
conspirators, together with the declarations of Naue 
and Curie, her secretaries, were read, and the whole 
ranged in the most specious order which the art of 
the lawyers could devise, and heightened by every 
colour their eloquence could add. 

Mary listened to their harangues attentively, and 
without emotion. But at the mention of the earl 
of Arundel’s name, who was then confined in the 
Tower, she broke out into this tender and generous 
exclamation : “ Alas, how much has the noble house 
of Howard suffered for my sake !” 

When the queen’s counsel had TT , . 

* # Her defence. 

finished, Mary stood up, and with 
great magnanimity, and equal presence of mind, 
began her defence. She bewailed the unhappi¬ 
ness of her own situation, that after a captivity of 
nineteen years, during which she had suffered treat¬ 
ment no less cruel than unmerited, she was at last 
loaded with an accusation, which tended not only 
to rob her of her right of succession, and to deprive 
her of life itself, but to transmit her name with in¬ 
famy to future ages : that, without regarding the 
sacred rights of sovereignty, she was now subjected 
to laws framed against private persons ; though an 
anointed queen, commanded to appear before the 
tribunal of subjects ; and, like a common criminal, 
her honour exposed to the petulant tongues of law¬ 
yers, capable of wresting her words, and of misre¬ 
presenting her actions : that, even in this dishon¬ 
ourable situation, she was denied the privileges 
usually granted to criminals, and obliged to under¬ 
take her own defence, without the presence of any 
friend with whom to advise, without the aid of coun¬ 
sel, and without the use of her own papers. 

She then proceeded to the particular articles in 
the accusation. She absolutely denied any corres¬ 
pondence with Babington or Ballard ; copies only of 
her pretended letters to them were produced; though 
nothing less than her hand-writing or subscription 
was sufficient to convict her of such an odious 
crime : no proof could be brought that their letters 
were delivered into her hands, or that any answer 
was returned by her direction: the confessions of 
wretches condemned and executed for such a de¬ 
testable action, were of little weight; fear or hope 
might extort from them many things inconsistent 
with truth, nor ought the honour of a queen to be 
stained with such vile testimony. The declaration 



178 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


of her secretaries was not more conclusive : pro¬ 
mises and threats might easily overcome the resolu¬ 
tion of two strangers ; in order to screen themselvos 
they might throw the blame on her ; but they could 
discover nothing to her prejudice, without violating, 
in the first place, the oath of fidelity which they had 
sworn to her; and their perjury in one instance, 
rendered them unworthy of credit in another: the 
letters to the Spanish ambassador were either no¬ 
thing more than copies, or contained only what was 
perfectly innocent; “ I have often,” continued she, 
“ made such efforts for the recovery of my liberty, 
as are natural to a human creature. Convinced, by 
the sad experience of so many years, that it was 
vain to expect it from the justice or generosity of 
the queen of England, I have frequently solicited 
foreign princes, and called upon all my friends, to 
employ their whole interest for my relief. I have 
likewise endeavoured to procure for the English 
catholics some mitigation of the rigour with which 
they are now treated; and if I could hope, by my 
death, to deliver them from oppression, am willing 
to die for their sake. I wish, however, to imitate 
the example of Esther, not of Judith, and would ra¬ 
ther make intercession for my people, than shed the 
blood of the meanest creature, in order to save them. 

I have often checked the intemperate zeal of my ad¬ 
herents, when either the severity of their own per¬ 
secutions, or indignation at the unheard-of injuries 
which I have endured, were apt to precipitate them 
into violent councils. I have even warned the queen 
of dangers to which these harsh proceedings exposed 
herself. And worn out, as I now am, with cares and 
sufferings, the prospect of a crown is not so inviting, 
that I should ruin my soul in order to obtain it. I 
am no stranger to the feelings of humanity, norun- 
acquainted with the duties of religion, and abhor 
the detestable crime of assassination, as equally 
repugnant to both. And, if ever I have given con¬ 
sent by my words, or even by my thoughts, to any 
attempt against the life of the queen of England, far 
from declining the judgment of men, I shall not 
even pray for the mercy of God.” 1 

Two different days did Mary appear before the 
judges, and in every part of her behaviour main¬ 
tained the magnanimity of a queen, tempered with 
the gentleness and modesty of a woman. 

Sentence against The commissioners, by Elizabeth’s 
her. Oct. 25. eX p ress command, adjourned, without 

pronouncing any sentence, to the Star-chamber in 
Westminster. When assembled in that place, Naue 
and Curie were brought into court, and confirmed 
their former declaration upon oath; and after re¬ 
viewing all their proceedings, the commissioners 
unanimously declared Mary “ to be accessor}^ to 
Rabington’s conspiracy, and to have imagined divers 
matters tending to the hurt, death, and destruction 
of Elizabeth, contrary to the express words of 
the statute made for the security of the queen’s 
life.” 0 


[1586. ROOK VII. 

It is no easy matter to determine irregularities in 
whether the injustice in appointing thetriaL 
this trial, or the irregularity in conducting it, were 
greatest and most flagrant. Ry what right did Eli¬ 
zabeth claim authority over an independent queen ? 
Was Mary bound to comply with the laws of a 
foreign kingdom? How could the subjects of ano¬ 
ther prince become her judges ? or if such an insult 
on royalty were allowed, ought not the common 
forms of justice to have been observed ? If the tes¬ 
timony of Rabington and his associates were so ex¬ 
plicit, why did not Elizabeth spare them for a few 
weeks, and by confronting them with Mary, over¬ 
whelm her with the full conviction of her crimes? 
Naue and Curie were both alive, wherefore did not 
they appear at Fotheringay, and for what reason 
were they produced in the Star-chamber, where 
Mary was not present to hear what they deposed ? 
Was this suspicious evidence enough to condemn a 
queen ? Ought the meanest criminal to have been 
found guilty upon such feeble and inconclusive 
proofs ? 

It was not, however, on the evidence produced 
at her trial, that the sentence against Mary was 
founded. That served as a pretence to justify, but 
was not the cause of the violent steps taken by Eli¬ 
zabeth and her ministers towards her destruction ; 
and was employed to give some appearance of jus¬ 
tice to what was the offspring of jealousy and fear. 
The nation, blinded with resentment against Mary, 
and solicitous to secure the life of its own sovereign 
from every danger, observed no irregularities in the 
proceedings, and attended to no defects in the proof, 
but grasped at the suspicions and probabilities, as 
if they had been irrefragable demonstrations. 

The parliament met a few days 

n. . , The parliament 

after sentence was pronounced against confirm the sen- 

• • tdlCC 

Mary. In that illustrious assembly 
more temper and discernment than are to be found 
among the people, might have been expected. Roth 
lords and commons, however, were equally under 
the dominion of popular prejudices and passions, 
and the same excess of zeal, or of fear, which pre¬ 
vailed in the nation, is apparent in all their pro¬ 
ceedings. They entered with impatience upon an 
inquiry into the conspiracy, and the danger which 
threatened the queen’s life as well as the peace of 
the kingdom. All the papers which had been pro¬ 
duced at Fotheringay were laid before them ; and, 
after many violent invectives against the queen of 
Scots, both Houses unanimously ratified the pro¬ 
ceedings of the commissioners by whom she had 
been tried, and declared the sentence against her to 
be just and well founded. Not satis- and demand the 
tied with this, they presented a joint execu tion ot it. 
address to the queen, beseeching her, as she regard ¬ 
ed her own safety, the preservation of the protestant 
religion, the welfare and wishes of her people, to 
publish the sentence; and without further delay to 
inflict on a rival, no less irreclaimable than danger- 

u Camd. 525. 


t Camd. 520, &c. 




BOOK VII. 1586.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


179 


ous, the punishment which she had merited by so 
many crimes. This request, dictated by fears un¬ 
worthy of that great assembly, was enforced by 
reasons still more unworthy. They were drawn, 
not from justice, but from conveniency. The most 
rigorous confinement, it was pretended, could not 
curb Mary’s intriguing spirit ; her address was 
found, by long experience, to be an overmatch for 
the vigilance and jealousy of all her keepers ; the 
severest penal laws could not restrain her adherents, 
who, while they believed her person to be sacred, 
would despise any danger to which themselves alone 
were exposed: several foreign princes were ready 
to second their attempts, and waited only a proper 
opportunity for invading the kingdom, and asserting 
the Scottish queen’s title to the crown. Her life, 
they contended, was, for these reasons, incompatible 
with Elizabeth’s safety ; and if she were spared out 
of a false clemency, the queen’s person, the religion 
and liberties of the kingdom, could not be one mo¬ 
ment secure. Necessity required that she should 
be sacrificed in order to preserve these ; and to prove 
this sacrifice to be no less just than necessary, se¬ 
veral examples in history were produced, and many 
texts of Scripture quoted ; but both the one and the 
other were misapplied, and distorted from their 
true meaning. 

Elizabeths dissi- Nothing, however, could be more 
muiation. acceptable to Elizabeth, than an ad¬ 
dress in this strain. It extricated her out of a situ¬ 
ation extremely embarrassing ; and, without de¬ 
priving her of the power of sparing, it enabled her 
to punish her rival with less appearance of blame. 
If she chose the former, the whole honour would 
redound to her own clemency. If she determined 
on the latter, whatever was rigorous might now 
seem to be extorted by the solicitations of her people, 
rather than to flow from her own inclination. Her 
answer, however, was in a style which she often 
used, ambiguous and evasive, under the appearance 
of openness and candour ; full of such professions 
of regard for her people, as served to heighten their 
loyalty ; of such complaints of Mary’s ingratitude, 
as were calculated to excite their indignation ; and 
of such insinuations that her own life was in danger 
as could not fail to keep alive their fears. In the 
end, she besought them to save her the infamy and 
the pain of delivering up a queen, her nearest kins¬ 
woman, to punishment; and to consider whether it 
might not still be possible to provide for the public 
security without forcing her to imbrue her hands in 
royal blood. 

The true meaning of this reply was easily under¬ 
stood. The lords and commons renewed their 
former request with additional importunity, which 
was far from being either unexpected or offensive. 
Elizabeth did not return any answer more explicit; 
and having obtained such a public sanction of her 
proceedings, there was no longer any reason for pro¬ 
tracting this scene of dissimulation ; there was even 

x Camd. 526. D’Ewes, 75- y Camd. 531. 

N 2 


some danger that her feigned difficulties might at 
last be treated as real ones ; she therefore prorogued 
the parliament, and reserved in her own hands the 
sole disposal of her rival’s fate.* 

All the princes in Europe observed 

.. ,, . . , France interposes 

the proceedings against Mary with feebly in behalf 
astonishment and horror; and even 
Henry III., notwithstanding his known aversion to 
the house of Guise, was obliged to interpose in her 
behalf, and to appear in defence of the common 
rights of royalty. Aubespine, his resident ambas¬ 
sador, and Bellievre, who was sent with an extra¬ 
ordinary commission to the same purpose, inter¬ 
ceded for Mary with great appearance of warmth. 
They employed all the arguments which the cause 
naturally suggested ; they pleaded from justice, 
from generosity, and humanity ; they intermingled 
reproaches and threats ; but to all these Elizabeth 
continued deaf and inexorable ; and having receiv¬ 
ed some intimation of Henry’s real unconcern about 
the fate of the Scottish queen, and knowing his an¬ 
tipathy to all the race of Guise, she trusted that 
these loud remonstrances would be followed by no 
violent resentment.*' 

She paid no greater regard to the so- 

j gipgg endear 

licitations of the Scottish kina:, which, vours to save his 

. . . mother’s life. 

as they were urged with greater since¬ 
rity, merited more attention. Though her commis¬ 
sioners had been extremely careful to soothe James, 
by publishing a declaration that their sentence 
against Mary did, in no degree, derogate from his 
honour, or invalidate any title which he formerly 
possessed ; he beheld the indignities to which his 
mother had been exposed with filial concern, and 
with the sentiments which became a king. The 
pride of the Scottish nation was roused by the in¬ 
sult offered to the blood of their monarchs, and called 
upon him to employ the most vigorous efforts, in 
order to prevent or to revenge the queen’s death. 

At first, he could hardly believe that Elizabeth 
would venture upon an action so unprecedented, 
which tended so visibly to render the persons of 
princes less sacred in the eyes of the people, and 
which degraded the regal dignity, of which, at 
other times, she was so remarkably jealous. But 
as soon as the extraordinary steps which she took 
discovered her intention, he despatched sir William 
Keith to London ; who, together with Douglas, his 
ambassador in ordinary, remonstrated, in the strong¬ 
est terms, against the injury done to an independent 
queen, in subjecting herto be tried like a private per¬ 
son, and by laws to which she owed no obedience; and 
besought Elizabeth not to add to this inj ury, by suffer¬ 
ing a sentence unjust in itself, as well as dishonour¬ 
able to the king of Scots, to be put into execution. 2 

Elizabeth returning no answer to these remon¬ 
strances of his ambassador, James wrote to her with 
his own hand, complaining in the bitterest terms of 
her conduct, not without threats that both his duty 
and his honour would oblige him to renounce her 

z See Append. No. XLTX. Murdin. 573, &c. Birch. Mem. i. 52. 



180 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


friendship, and to act as became a son when called 
to revenge his mother's wrongs. a At the same time 
he assembled the nobles, who promised to stand by 
him in so good a cause. He appointed ambassadors 
to France, Spain, and Denmark, in order to implore 
the aids of these courts ; and took other steps to¬ 
wards executing his threats with vigour. The high 
strain of his letter enraged Elizabeth to such a de¬ 
gree, that she was ready to dismiss his ambassadors 
without any reply. But his preparations alarmed 
and embarrassed her ministers, and at their entreaty 
she returned a soft and evasive answer, promising 
to listen to any overture from the king, that tended 
to his mother’s safety ; and to suspend the execution 
of the sentence, until the arrival of new ambassadors 
from Scotland. 5 

Dec 6 Meanwhile, she commanded the sen- 

agldnsHinry fence against Mary to be published, 

published. and f 0r g 0 t not to inform the people, 

that this was extorted from her by the repeated en¬ 
treaty of both Houses of parliament. At the same 
time she despatched lord Buckhurst and Beale to 
acquaint Mary with the sentence, and how importu¬ 
nately the nation demanded the execution of it; 
and though she had not hitherto yielded to these 
solicitations, she advised her to prepare for an event 
which might become necessary for securing the pro- 
testant religion, as well as quieting the minds of 
the people. Mary received the message, not only 
without symptoms of fear, but with expressions of 
triumph. “ No wonder," said she, “ the English 
should now thirst for the blood of a foreign prince ; 
they have often offered violence to their own mon- 
archs. But after so many sufferings, death comes 
to me as a welcome deliverer. I am proud to think 
that my life is deemed of importance to the catholic 
religion, and as a martyr for it I am now willing 
to die." c 

After the publication of the sentence, 

ohG is treated 

with the utmost Mary was stripped of every remaining: 
rigour. J r 1 J p 

mark of royalty. The canopy of state 
in her apartment was pulled down ; Paulet entered 
her chamber, and approached her person without 
any ceremony ; and even appeared covered in her 
presence. Shocked with these indignities, and of¬ 
fended at this gross familiarity, to which she had 

never been accustomed, Mary once 

Dec. 19. . J 

more complained to Elizabeth ; and at 
the same time, as her last request, entreated that 
she would permit her servants to carry her dead 
body into France, to he laid among her ancestors in 
hallowed ground; that some of her domestics might 
be present at her death, to bear witness of her inno¬ 
cence, and firm adherence to the catholic faith ; 
that all her servants might be suffered to leave the 
kingdom, and to enjoy those small legacies which 
she should bestow on them, as testimonies of her 
affection; and that, in the mean time, her almoner, 
or some other catholic priest, might be allowed to 


[1586. BOOK VII. 

attend her, and to assist her in preparing for an 
eternal world. She besought her, in the name of 
Jesus, by the soul and memory of Henry VII. their 
common progenitor, by their near consanguinity, 
and the royal dignity with which they were both 
invested, to gratify her in these particulars, and to 
indulge her so far as to signify her compliance by a 
letter under her own hand. Whether Mary's letter 
was ever delivered to Elizabeth, is uncertain. No 
answer was returned, and no regard paid to her re¬ 
quests. She w as offered a protestant bishop or dean 
to attend her. Them she rejected, and without any 
clergyman to direct her devotions, she prepared, in 
great tranquillity, for the approach of death, which 
she now believed to be at no great distance. d 

James, without losing a moment, sent 

_ 100 |• 

new ambassadors to London. These January i. 

James renews 

were the master of Gray, and sir Ro- his solicitations 

J in her behalf. 

bert Melvil. In order to remove Eliza¬ 
beth's fears, they offered that their master would 
become bound that no conspiracy should be under¬ 
taken against her person, or the peace of the king¬ 
dom, with Mary's consent ; and for the faithful 
performance of this, w ould deliver some of the most 
considerable of the Scottish nobles as hostages. If 
this were not thought sufficient, they proposed that 
Mary should resign all her rights and pretensions to 
her son, from whom nothing injurious to the protes¬ 
tant religion, or inconsistent with Elizabeth’s safety, 
could he feared. The former proposal Elizabeth 
rejected as insecure; the latter, as dangerous. The 
ambassadors were then instructed to talk in a higher 
tone; and Melvil executed the commission with fide¬ 
lity and with zeal. But Gray, with his usual perfidy, 
deceived his master, who trusted him with a nego- 
ciation of so much importance, and betrayed the 
queen whom he was employed to save. He en¬ 
couraged and urged Elizabeth to execute the sen¬ 
tence against her rival. He often repeated the old 
proverbial sentence, “ The dead cannot bite." And 
whatever should happen, he undertook to pacify 
the king’s rage, or at least to prevent any violent 
effects of his resentment. e 

Elizabeth, meanwhile, discovered 
all the symptoms of the most violent ety and dissimu- 
agitation and disquietude of mind. d 
She shunned society, she was often found in a me¬ 
lancholy and musing posture, and repeating with 
much emphasis these sentences which she borrowed 
from some of the devices then in vogue ; Aut fer 
out feri ; ne feriare,feri. Much, no doubt, of this 
apparent uneasiness must be imputed to dissimula¬ 
tion : it was impossible, however, that a princess, 
naturally so cautious as Elizabeth, should venture 
on an action, which might expose her memory to 
infamy, and her life and kingdom to danger, with¬ 
out reflecting deeply, and hesitating long. The 
people waited her determination in suspense and 
anxiety ; and lest their fear or their zeal should 


a Birch. Mem. i. 52. 
c Canid, 528. Jebb, 291. 


b Spotsw. 551. Cald. iv, 5. 
d Camd. 528. Jebb, ii. 295. 


e Spotsw. 352. Murdin, 568. See Append. No. L. 



BOOK VII. 1587.] THE HISTORY 

subside, rumours of danger were artfully invented 
and propagated with the utmost industry. Aubes- 
pine, the French ambassador, was accused of hav¬ 
ing suborned an assassin to murder the queen. The 
Spanish fleet was said by some to be already arriv¬ 
ed at Milford-haven. Others affirmed that the duke 
of Guise had landed with a strong army in Sussex. 
Now, it was reported that the northern counties 
were up in arms ; next day, that the Scots had en¬ 
tered England with all their forces ; and a conspi¬ 
racy, it was whispered, was on foot for seizing the 
queen and burning the city. The panic grew every 
day more violent; and the people, astonished and 
enraged, called for the execution of the sentence 
against Mary, as the only thing which could restore 
tranquillity to the kingdom/ 

Feb. i. While these sentiments prevailed 
m ary^ 1 execution among her subjects, Elizabeth thought 
s* 811611, she might safely venture to strike the 

blow which she had so long meditated. She com¬ 
manded Davison, one of the secretaries of state, to 
bring to her the fatal warrant; and her behaviour 
on that occasion plainly showed, that it is not to 
humanity that we must ascribe her forbearance 
hitherto. At the very moment she was signing the 
writ which gave up a woman, a queen, and her own 
nearest relation, into the hands of the executioner, 
she w as capable of jesting. “ Go," says she to 
Davison, “and tell Walsingham what I have now 
done, though I am afraid he will die for grief when 
he hears it." Her chief anxiety was how to secure 
the advantages which would arise from Mary’s 
death, without appearing to have given her consent 
to a deed so odious. She often hinted to Paulet 
and Drury, as well as to some other courtiers, that 
now was the time to discover the sincerity of their 
concern for her safety, and that she expected their 
zeal would extricate her out of her present perplex¬ 
ity. But they were wise enough to seem not to un¬ 
derstand her meaning. Even after the warrant was 
signed, she commanded a letter to be written to 
Paulet in less ambiguous terms, complaining of his 
remissness in sparing so long the life of her capital 
enemy, and begging him to remember at last what 
was incumbent on him as an affectionate subject, 
as well as what he was bound to do by the oath of 
association, and to deliver his sovereign from con¬ 
tinual fear and danger, by shortening the days of 
his prisoner. Paulet, though rigorous and harsh, 
and often brutal in the discharge of what he thought 
his duty, as Mary’s keeper, w r as nevertheless a man 
of honour and integrity. He rejected the proposal 
with disdain ; and lamenting that he should ever 
have been deemed capable of acting the part of an 
assassin, he declared that the queen might dispose 
of his life at her pleasure, but that he would never 
stain his own honour, nor leave an everlasting mark 
of infamy on his posterity, by lending his hand to 
perpetrate so foul a crime. On the receipt of this 
answer, Elizabeth became extremely peevish ; and 

g Biog. Britan, article Davison . 


OF SCOTLAND. 181 

calling him a dainty and precise fellow, who would 
promise much but perform nothing, she proposed to 
employ one Wingfield, who had both courage and 
inclination to strike the blow\S But Davison re¬ 
monstrating against this, as a deed dishonourable 
in itself, and of dangerous example, she again de¬ 
clared her intention that the sentence pronounced 
by the commissioners should be executed according 
to law ; and as she had already signed the warrant, 
she begged that no further application might be 
madd to her on that head. By this, the privy-coun¬ 
sellors thought themselves sufficiently authorized to 
proceed ; and prompted, as they pretended, by zeal 
for the queen’s safety, or instigated, as is more pro¬ 
bable, by the apprehension of the danger to which 
they would themselves be exposed, if the life of the 
queen of Scots were spared, they assembled in the 
council-chamber: and by a letter under all their 
hands, empowered the earls of Shrewsbury and 
Kent, together with the high sheriff' of the county, 
to see the sentence put in execution/ 

On Tuesday the seventh of February Mary * s bel)aTiour 
the two earls arrived at Fotheringay, at death, 
and demanded access to the queen, read in her pre¬ 
sence the warrant for execution, and required her 
to prepare to die next morning. Mary heard them 
to the end without emotion, and crossing herself in 
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the 
Holy Ghost, “ That soul,” said she, “ is not worthy 
the joys of heaven, which repines because the body 
must endure the stroke of the executioner; and 
though I did not expect that the queen of England 
would set the first example of violating the sacred 
person of a sovereign prince, I w illingly submit to 
that which Providence has decreed to be my lot 
and laying her hand on a Bible, which happened to 
be near her, she solemnly protested that she was 
innocent of that conspiracy which Babington had 
carried on against Elizabeth’s life.' She then men¬ 
tioned the requests contained in her letter to Eliza¬ 
beth, but obtained no satisfactory answer. She 
entreated with particular earnestness, that now in 
her last moments her almoner might be suffered to 
attend her, and that she might enjoy the consola¬ 
tion of those pious institutions prescribed by her 
religion. Even this favour, which is usually granted 
to the vilest criminal, was absolutely denied. 

Her attendants, during this conversation, were 
bathed in tears, and though overawed by the pre¬ 
sence of the two earls, with difficulty suppressed 
their anguish ; but no sooner did Kent and Shrews¬ 
bury withdraw, than they ran to their mistress, and 
burst out into the most passionate expressions of 
tenderness and sorrow. Mary, however, not only 
retained perfect composure of mind herself, but en¬ 
deavoured to moderate their excessive grief; and 
falling on her knees with all her domestics round 
her, she thanked Heaven that her sufferings were 
now so near an end, and prayed that she might be 
enabled to endure what still remained with decency 

i Jebb, ii. 301. 


f Camd. 533. 534. 


h Camd. 534. Strype, iii. 361, 364. 



182 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1587. BOOK V II 


and with fortitude. The greater part of the evening 
she employed in settling her worldly affairs. She 
wrote her testament with her own hand. Her money, 
her jewels, and her clothes, she distributed among 
her servants, according to their rank or merit. She 
wrote a short letter to the king of France, and an¬ 
other to the duke of Guise, full of tender but mag¬ 
nanimous sentiments, and recommended her soul to 
their prayers, and her afflicted servants to their pro¬ 
tection. At supper she ate temperately, as usual, 
and conversed not only with ease, but with cheer¬ 
fulness; she drank to every one of her servants, 
and asked their forgiveness, if ever she had failed 
in any part of her duty towards them. At her 
wonted time she went to bed, and slept calmly a few 
hours. Early in the morning she retired into her 
closet, and employed a considerable time in devo¬ 
tion. At eight o’clock the high sheriff and his offi¬ 
cers entered her chamber, and found her still kneel¬ 
ing at the altar. She immediately started up, and 
with a majestic mien, and a countenance undis¬ 
mayed, and even cheerful, advanced towards the 
place of execution, leaning on two of Paulet’s at¬ 
tendants. She was dressed in a mourning habit, 
but with an elegance and splendour which she had 
long laid aside except on a few festival days. An 
Agnus Dei hung by a pomander chain at her neck ; 
her beads at her girdle ; and in her hand she carried 
a crucifix of ivory. At the bottom of the stairs the 
two earls, attended by several gentlemen from the 
neighbouring counties, received her; and there 
sir Andrew Melvil, the master of her household, 
who had been secluded for some weeks from her 
presence, was permitted to take his last farewell. 
At the sight of a mistress whom he tenderly loved, 
in such a situation, he melted into tears ; and as he 
was bewailing her condition, and complaining of 
his own hard fate, in being appointed to carry the 
account of such a mournful event into Scotland, 
Mary replied, “ Weep not, good Melvil, there is at 
present great cause for rejoicing. Thou shalt this 
day see Mary Stewart delivered from all her cares, 
and such an end put to her tedious sufferings, as she 
has long expected. Bear witness that I die con¬ 
stant in my religion; firm in my fidelity towards 
Scotland; and unchanged in my affection to France. 
Commend me to my son. Tell him I have done 
nothing injurious to his kingdom, to his honour, or 
to his rights ; and God forgive all those who have 
thirsted w ithout cause for my blood.” 

With much difficulty, and after many entreaties, 
she prevailed on the two earls to allow Melvil, to¬ 
gether with three of her men-servants and two 
of her maids, to attend her to the scaffold. It was 
erected in the same hall w here she had been tried, 
raised a little above the floor, and covered, as well 
as a chair, the cushion, and block, with black cloth. 
Mary mounted the steps with alacrity, beheld all 
this apparatus of death with an unaltered counte¬ 
nance, and signing herself with the cross, she sat 

h Camd. 534. Spotaw. .355. Jebb, ii. 300. Strype, iii. 383. See Ap- 


down in the chair. Beale read the warrant for ex¬ 
ecution with a loud voice, to which she listened 
with a careless air, and like one occupied in other 
thoughts. Then the dean of Peterborough began a 
devout discourse, suitable to her present condition, 
and offered up prayers to Heaven in her behalf; 
but she declared that she could not in conscience 
hearken to the one, nor join with the other; and 
kneeling down, repeated a Latin prayer. When the 
dean had finished his devotions, she, with an audi¬ 
ble voice, and in the English tongue, recommended 
unto God the afflicted state of the church, and pray¬ 
ed for prosperity to her son, and for a long life and 
peaceable reign to Elizabeth. She declared that 
she hoped for mercy only through the death of 
Christ, at the foot of whose image she now willingly 
shed her blood ; and lifting up and kissing the 
crucifix, she thus addressed it: “As thy arms, O 
Jesus, were extended on the cross ; so with the out¬ 
stretched arms of thy mercy receive me, and forgive 
my sins.” 

She then prepared for the block, by taking off her 
veil and upper garments ; and one of the execution¬ 
ers rudely endeavouring to assist, she gently check¬ 
ed him, and said with a smile, that she had not 
been accustomed to undress before so many specta¬ 
tors, nor to be served by such valets. With calm 
but undaunted fortitude, she laid her neck on the 
block ; and while one executioner held her hands, 
the other, at the second stroke, cut off her head, 
which falling out of its attire, discovered her hair 
already grown quite gray with cares and sorrows. 
The executioner held it up still streaming with blood, 
and the dean crying out, “ So perish all queen 
Elizabeth’s enemies,” the earl of Kent alone answer¬ 
ed Amen. The rest of the spectators continued 
silent, and drowned in tears ; being incapable, at 
that moment, of any other sentiments but those of 
pity or admiration. k 

Such was the tragical death of Mary, 
queen of Scots, after a life of forty- toriam^oncern- 
four years and two months, almost in " her ' 
nineteen years of which she passed in captivity. 
The political parties which were formed in the 
kingdom during her reign, have subsisted under 
various denominations ever since that time. The 
rancour with which they were at lirst animated, 
hath descended to succeeding ages, and their pre¬ 
judices, as well as their rage, have been perpetu¬ 
ated, and even augmented. Among historians, who 
were under the dominion of all these passions, and 
who have either ascribed to her every virtuous and 
amiable quality, or have imputed to her all the 
vices of which the human heart is susceptible, we 
search in vain for Mary’s real character. She 
neither merited the exaggerated praises of the one, 
nor the undistinguished censure of the other. 

To all the charms of beauty, and 
the utmost elegance of external form, Her c,IHrac,er ’ 
she added those accomplishments which render 

pend. No. LI. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


183 


BOOK VII. 1587.] 

their impression irresistible. Polite, affable, in¬ 
sinuating, sprightly, and capable of speaking and 
of writing with equal ease and dignity. Sudden, 
however, and violent in all her attachments ; be¬ 
cause her heart was warm and unsuspicious. Im¬ 
patient of contradiction; because she had been 
accustomed from her infancy to be treated as a 
queen. No stranger, on some occasions, to dissi¬ 
mulation ; which, in that perfidious court where she 
received her education, was reckoned among the 
necessary arts of government. Not insensible of 
flattery, or unconscious of that pleasure with which 
almost every woman beholds the influence of her 
own beauty. Formed with the qualities which we 
love, not with the talents that we admire ; she was 
an agreeable woman, rather than an illustrious 
queen. The vivacity of her spirit, not sufficiently 
tempered with sound judgment, and the warmth of 
her heart, which was not at all times under the re¬ 
straint of discretion, betrayed her both into errors 
and into crimes. To say that she was always un¬ 
fortunate, will not account for that long and almost 
uninterrupted succession of calamities which befell 
her ; we must likewise add, that she was often im¬ 
prudent. Her passion for Darnley was rash, youth¬ 
ful, and excessive; and though the sudden transi¬ 
tion to the opposite extreme, was the natural effect 
of her ill-requited love, and of his ingratitude, 
insolence, and brutality; yet neither these, nor 
Bothwell’s artful address and important services, 
can justify her attachment to that nobleman. Even 
the manners of the age, licentious as they were, are 
no apology for this unhappy passion ; nor can they 
induce us to look on that tragical and infamous 
scene which followed upon it, with less abhorrence. 
Humanity will draw a veil over this part of her 
character, which it cannot approve ; and may, per¬ 
haps, prompt some to impute some of her actions to 
her situation, more than to her dispositions ; and to 
lament the unhappiness of the former, rather than 
accuse the perverseness of the latter. Mary’s 
sufferings exceed, both in degree and in duration, 
those tragical distresses which fancy has feigned to 
excite sorrow and commiseration; and while we 
survey them, we are apt altogether to forget her 
frailties, we think of her faults with less indigna¬ 
tion, and approve of our tears, as if they were shed 
for a person who had attained much nearer to pure 
virtue. 

With regard to the queen’s person, a circum¬ 
stance not to be omitted in writing the history of a 
female reign, all contemporary authors agree in as¬ 
cribing to Mary the utmost beauty of countenance, 
and elegance of shape, of which the human form is 
capable. Her hair was black, though, according to 
the fashion of that age, she frequently wore borrow¬ 
ed locks, and of different colours. Her eyes were 
a dark grey ; her complexion was exquisitely fine ; 
and her hands and arms remarkably delicate, both 
as to shape and colour. Her stature was of an 
height that rose to the majestic. She danced, she 


walked, and rode with equal grace. Her taste for 
music was just, and she both sung and played upon 
the lute with uncommon skill. Towards the end of 
her life, long confinement, and the coldness of the 
houses in which she had been imprisoned, brought 
on a rheumatism, which often deprived her of the 
use of her limbs. No man, says Brantome, ever 
beheld her person without admiration and love, or 
will read her history without sorrow. 

None of her women were suffered to come near 
her dead body, which was carried into a room ad¬ 
joining to the place of execution, where it lay foi 
some days, covered with a coarse cloth torn from a 
billiard table. The block, the scaffold, the aprons 
of the executioners, and every thing stained with 
her blood, were reduced to ashes.- Not long after, 
Elizabeth appointed her body to be buried in the 
cathedral of Peterborough with royal magnificence. 
But this vulgar artifice was employed in vain ; the 
pageantry of a pompous funeral did not efface the 
memory of those injuries which laid Mary in her 
grave. James, soon after his accession to the Eng¬ 
lish throne, ordered her body to be removed to 
Westminster abbey, and to be deposited among the 
monarchs of England. 

Elizabeth aff ected to receive the ac- T , t . , , „ 

Elizabeth affects 

counts of Mary s death with the most to lament Mary s 

J . death. 

violent emotions of surprise and con¬ 
cern. Sighs, tears, lamentations, and mourning, 
were all employed to display the reality and great¬ 
ness of her sorrow. Evident marks of dissimula¬ 
tion and artifice may be traced through every period 
of Elizabeth’s proceedings against the life of the 
Scottish queen. The commission for bringing Mary 
to a public trial was seemingly extorted from her 
by the entreaties of her privy-counsellors. She de¬ 
layed publishing the sentence against her till she 
was twice solicited by both Houses of parliament. 
Nor did she sign the warrant for execution without 
the utmost apparent reluctance. One scene more of 
the boldest and most solemn deceit remained to be 
exhibited. She undertook to make the world be- 
believe that Mary had been put to death without 
her knowledge, and against her will. Davison, 
who neither suspected her intention nor his own 
danger, was her instrument in carrying on this arti¬ 
fice, and fell a victim to it. 

It was his duty, as secretary of state, to lay before 
her the warrant for execution, in order to be signed ; 
and, by her command, he carried it to the great seal. 
She pretended, however, that she had charged him 
not to communicate what she had done to any per¬ 
son, nor to suffer the warrant to go out of his hands 
without her express permission ; that, in contempt 
of this order, he had not only revealed the matter to 
several of her ministers, but had, in concert with 
them, assembled her privy-counsellors, by whom, 
without her consent or knowledge, the warrant was 
issued, and the earls of Shrewsbury and Kent em¬ 
powered to put it in execution. Though Davison 
denied all this, and with circumstances which bear 




184 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


the strongest marks of truth and credibility ; though 
it can scarcely be conceived that her privy-council, 
composed of the persons in whom she most confided, 
of her ministers and favourites, would assemble 
within the walls of her palace, and venture to trans¬ 
act a matter of so much importance without her 
privity, and contrary to her inclination ; yet so far 
did she carry her dissimulation, that, with all the 
signs of displeasure and of rage, she banished most 
of her counsellors out of her presence ; and treated 
Burleigh, in particular, so harshly, and with such 
marks of disgust, that he gave himself up for lost, 
and in the deepest affliction wrote to the queen, beg¬ 
ging leave to resign all his places, that he might re¬ 
tire to his own estate. Davison she instantly 
deprived of his office, and committed him a close 

prisoner to the Tower. He was soon 

March. . 

after brought to a solemn trial in the 
Star-chamber, condemned to pay a fine of ten thou¬ 
sand pounds, and to be imprisoned during the 
queen’s pleasure. He languished several years in 
confinement, and never recovered any degree of 
favour or of power. As her jealousy and fear had be¬ 
reaved the queen of Scots of life, in order to palliate 
this part of her conduct, Elizabeth made no scruple 
of sacrificing the reputation and happiness of one of 
the most virtuous and able men in her kingdom. 1 

This solemn farce, for it deserves 

Elizabeth endea- , .. „ . , , , , 

vours to soothe no better name, furnished Elizabeth, 

however, with an apology to the king 
of Scots. As the prospect of his mother’s danger 
had excited the king’s filial care and concern, the 
account of her death filled him with grief and re¬ 
sentment. His subjects felt the dishonour done to 
him and to the nation. In order to soothe both, 
Elizabeth instantly despatched Robert Cary, one of 
lord Hunsdon’s sons, with a letter, expressing her 
extreme affliction on account of that miserable ac¬ 
cident, which, as she pretended, had happened far 
contrary to her appointment or intention. James 
would not permit her messenger to enter Scotland, 
and with some difficulty received a memorial which 
he sent from Berwick. It contained the tale con¬ 
cerning Davison, dressed up with all the circum¬ 
stances which tended to exculpate Elizabeth, and 
to throw r the whole blame on his rashness or treach¬ 
ery. Such a defence gave little satisfaction, and 
was considered as mockery added to insult; and 
many of the nobles, as well as the king, breathed 
nothing but revenge. Elizabeth was extremely so¬ 
licitous to pacify them, and she wanted neither 
able instruments nor plausible reasons, in order to 
accomplish this. Leicester wrote to the king, and 
Walsingham to secretary Maitland. They repre¬ 
sented the certain destruction to which James would 
expose himself, if, with the forces of Scotland alone, 
he should venture to attack a kingdom so far supe¬ 
rior in power ; that the history of past ages, as well 
as his mother’s sad experience, might convince him, 
that nothing could be more dangerous, or deceitful, 

1 Camd. 536. Strype, iii. 370. See App. No. LII. Cabala, 229, See. 


[1587. BOOK VII. 

than dependence on foreign aid ; that the king of 
France would never wish to see the British king¬ 
doms united under one monarch, nor contribute to 
invest a prince so nearly allied to the house of Guise 
with such formidable power; that Philip might be 
a more active ally, but would certainly prove a more 
dangerous one; and, under pretence of assisting 
him, would assert his own right to the English 
crown, which he already began openly to claim ; 
that the same statute, on which the sentence of 
death against his mother had been founded, would 
justify the excluding him from the succession to 
the crown; that the English, naturally averse from the 
dominion of strangers, would not fail, if exasperated 
by his hostilities, to apply it in that manner; that 
Elizabeth was disposed to repair the wrongs which 
the mother had suffered, by her tenderness and af¬ 
fection towards the son ; and that, by engaging in 
a fruitless war, he would deprive himself of a noble 
inheritance, which, by cultivating her friendship, 
he must infallibly obtain. These representations, 
added to the consciousness of his own weakness, to 
the smallness of his revenues, to the mutinous spirit 
of some of the nobles, to the dubious fidelity of 
others, and to the influence of that faction which 
was entirely at Elizabeth’s devotion, convinced 
James that a war with England, however just, 
would in the present juncture be altogether impoli- 
tical. All these considerations induced him to stifle 
his resentment; to appear satisfied with the punish¬ 
ment inflicted on Davison ; and to preserve all the 
semblances of friendship with the English court.™ 
In this manner did the cloud which threatened such 
a storm pass away. Mary’s death, like that of a 
common criminal, remained unavenged by any 
prince; and, whatever infamy Elizabeth might in¬ 
cur, she was exposed to no new danger on that 
account. 

Mary’s death, however, proved fatal Disgrace ofthe 
to the master of Gray, and lost him master of Gray, 
the king’s favour which he had for some time pos¬ 
sessed. He was become as odious to the nation as 
favourites who acquire power without merit, and 
exercise it without discretion, usually are. The 
treacherous part which he had acted during his late 
embassy was no secret, and filled James, who at 
length came to the knowledge of it, with astonish¬ 
ment. The courtiers observed the symptoms of 
disgust arising in the king’s mind, his enemies 
seized the opportunity, and sir William Stewart, 
in revenge of the perfidy with which 
Gray had betrayed his brother captain 
James, publicly accused him before a convention of 
nobles, not only of having contributed, by his ad¬ 
vice and suggestions, to take away the life of the 
queen, but of holding correspondence with popish 
princes, in order to subvert the religion established 
in the kingdom. Gray, unsupported by the king, 
deserted by all, and conscious of his own guilt, 
made a feeble defence. He was condemned to per- 

m Spotsw. 362. Cald. iv. 13, 14. Strype, 377. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK VII. 1587.] 

petual banishment, a punishment very unequal to 
his crimes. But the king was unwilling to abandon 
one whom he had once favoured so highly, to the 
rigour of justice; and lord Hamilton, his near 
relation, and the other nobles who had lately re¬ 
turned from exile, in gratitude for the zeal with 
which he had served them, interceded warmly in 
his behalf. 

Having thus accomplished the destruction of one 
of his enemies, captain James Stewart thought the 
juncture favourable for prosecuting his revenge on 
them all. He singled out secretary Maitland, the 
most eminent both for abilities and enmity to him ; 
and offered to prove that he was no less accessory 
than Gray to the queen’s death, and had even form¬ 
ed a design of delivering up the king himself into 
the hands of the English. But time and absence 
had, in a great measure, extinguished the king’s 
affection for a minion who so little deserved it. All 
the courtiers combined against him as a common 
enemy ; and, instead of gaining his point, he had 
the mortification to see the office of chancellor 
conferred upon Maitland, who, together with that 
dignity, enjoyed all the power and influence of a 
prime minister. 

In the assembly of the church, which met this 
year, the same hatred of the order of bishops, and 
the same jealousy and fear of their encroachments, 
appeared. But as the king was now of full age, 
and a parliament was summoned on that occasion, 
the clergy remained satisfied with appointing some 
of their number to represent their grievances to that 
court, from which great things were expected. 

Previous to this meeting of parlia- 
impS unite ment, James attempted a work worthy 
of a king. The deadly feuds which 
subsisted between many of the great families, and 
which w ere transmitted from one generation to ano¬ 
ther, w eakened the strength of the kingdom ; con¬ 
tributed, more than any other circumstance, to pre¬ 
serve a fierce and barbarous spirit among the no¬ 
bles ; and proved the occasion of many disasters to 
themselves and to the country. After many prepa¬ 
ratory negociations, he invited the contending par¬ 
ties to a royal entertainment in the palace of Holy- 
rood-house ; and partly by his authority, partly by 
his entreaties, obtained their promise to bury their 
dissensions in perpetual oblivion. From thence he 
conducted them, in solemn procession, through the 
streets of Edinburgh, marching by pairs, each hand 
in hand with his enemy. A collation of wine and 
sweetmeats was prepared at the public cross, and 
there they drank to each other with all the signs of 
reciprocal' forgiveness and of future friendship. 
The people who were present at a spectacle so un¬ 
usual, conceived the most sanguine hopes of seeing 
concord and tranquillity established in every part 
of the kingdom, and testified their satisfaction by 
repeated acclamations." Unhappily, the effects of 
this reconciliation were not correspondent either to 

n Spotsw. 161. Cald. iv. 13. 


185 

the pious endeavours of the king, or to the fond 
wishes of the people. 

The first care of the parliament was the security 
of the protestant religion. All the laws passed in 
its favour, since the reformation, were ratified ; and 
a new and severe one was enacted against seminary 
priests and jesuits, whose restless industry in mak¬ 
ing proselytes brought many of them into Scotland 
about this time. Two acts of this parliament de¬ 
serve more particular notice on account of the con¬ 
sequences with which they were followed-. 

The one respected the lands of the 

, , . General annexa- 

cnurch. As the public revenues were tions of church 
not sufficient for defraying the king’s 
ordinary charges ; as the administration of the go¬ 
vernment became more complicated and more ex¬ 
pensive ; as James was naturally profuse, and a 
stranger to economy ; it was necessary, on all these 
accounts, to provide some fund proportioned to his 
exigencies. But no considerable sum could be 
levied on the commons, who did not enjoy the bene¬ 
fit of an extensive commerce. The nobles were un¬ 
accustomed to bear the burthen of heavy taxes. 
The revenues of the church were the only source 
whence a proper supply could be drawn. Notwith- 
standing all the depredations of the laity since the 
reformation, and the various devices which they 
had employed to seize the church lands, some con¬ 
siderable portion of them remained still unalienated, 
and were held either by the bishops who possessed 
the benefices, or were granted to laymen during 
pleasure. All these lands were, in this parliament, 
annexed, by one general law,° to the crown, and 
the king was empowered to apply the rents of them 
to his own use. The tithes alone were reserved for 
the maintenance of the persons who served the cure, 
and the principal mansion-house, with a few acres 
of land, by way of glebe, allotted for their residence. 
By this great accession of property, it is natural to 
conclude that the king must have acquired a vast 
increase of power, and the influence of the nobles 
have suffered a proportional diminution. The very 
reverse of this seems, however, to have been the 
case. Almost all grants of church lands, prior to 
this act, were thereby confirmed ; and titles which 
were formerly reckoned precarious, derived thence 
the sanction of parliamentary authority. James 
was likewise authorized, during a limited time, to 
make new alienations ; and such was the facility of 
his temper, ever ready to yield to the solicitations 
of his servants, and to gratify their most extrava¬ 
gant demands, that not only during the time limited, 
but throughout his whole reign, he was continually 
employed in bestowing, and his parliament in ra¬ 
tifying, grants of this kind to his nobles ; hence 
little advantage accrued to the crown from that 
which might have been so valuable an addition 
to its revenues. The bishops, however, were 
great sufferers by the law. But at this juncture 
neither the king nor his ministers were solicit- 


o Pari. 11 Jac. VI. c. 29. 



18G 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


ous about the interests of an order of men, odious 
to the people, and persecuted by the clergy. Their 
enemies promoted the law with the utmost zeal. 
The prospect in their spoils induced all parties to 
consent to it; and after a step so fatal to the wealth 
and power of the dignified clergy, it was no difficult 
matter to introduce that change in the government 
of the church which soon after took place. p 
Lesser barons ad- The change which the other statute 
Hament'by their produced in the civil constitution was 
representatives. n 0 less remarkable. Under the feudal 

system, every freeholder, or immediate vassal of the 
crown, had a right to be present in parliament. 
These freeholders were originally few in number, 
but possessed of great and extensive property. By 
degrees, these vast possessions were divided by the 
proprietors themselves, or parcelled out by the 
prince, or split by other accidents. The number of 
freeholders became greater, and their condition more 
unequal; besides the ancient barons, who preserved 
their estates and their power unimpaired, there 
arose another order, whose rights were the same, 
though their wealth and influence were far inferior. 
But, in rude ages, when the art of government was 
extremely imperfect, when parliaments were seldom 
assembled, and deliberated on matters little inter¬ 
esting to a martial people, few of the lesser barons 
took their seats, and the whole parliamentary juris¬ 
diction was exercised by the greater barons, in con¬ 
junction with the ecclesiastical order. James I. 
fond of imitating the forms of the English constitu¬ 
tion, to which he had been long accustomed, and 
desirous of providing a counterpoise to the power 
of the great nobles, procured an act in the year one 
thousand four hundred and twenty seven, dispensing 
with the personal attendance of the lesser barons, 
and empowering those in each county to choose two 
commissioners to represent them in parliament. 
This law, like many other regulations of that wise 
prince, produced little effect. All the king’s vas¬ 
sals continued, as formerly, possessed of a right to 
be present in parliament; but, unless in some ex¬ 
traordinary conjunctures, the greater barons alone 
attended. But, by means of the reformation, the 
constitution had undergone a great change. The 
aristocratical power of the nobles had been much 
increased, and the influence of the ecclesiastical 
order, which the crown usually employed to check 
their usurpation, and to balance their authority, 
had diminished in proportion. Many of the abbeys 
and priories had been erected into temporal peer¬ 
ages ; and the protestant bishops, an indigent race 
of men, and odious to the nation, were far from pos¬ 
sessing the weight and credit, which their predeces¬ 
sors derived from their own exorbitant wealth and 
the superstitious reverence of the people. In this 
situation, the king had recourse to the expedient 
employed by James I. and obtained a law reviving 
the statuteof one thousand four hundred and twenty- 
seven ; and from that time the commons of Scotland 


[J587. BOOK VII. 

have sent their representatives to parliament. An 
act, which tended so visibly to abridge their autho¬ 
rity, did not pass without opposition from many of 
the nobles. But as the king had a right to summon 
the lesser barons to attend in person, others were 
apprehensive of seeing the house filled with a mul¬ 
titude of his dependants, and consented the more 
willingly to a law which laid them under the re¬ 
striction of appearing only by their representatives. 

The year one thousand five hundred 1588 
and eighty-eight began with an uni- 
versal expectation throughout all mada ‘ 

Europe, that it was to be distinguished by wonder¬ 
ful events and revolutions. Several astrologers, 
according to the accounts of contemporary histori¬ 
ans, had predicted this ; and the situation of affairs 
in the two principal kingdoms of Europe was such, 
that a sagacious observer, without any supernatural 
intelligence, might have hazarded the prediction, 
and have foreseen the approach of some grand cri¬ 
sis. In France, it was evident, from the astonishing 
progress of the league, conducted by a leader whose 
ambition was restrained by no scruples, and whose 
genius had hitherto surmounted all difficulties, as 
well as from the timid, variable, and impolitic coun¬ 
cils of Henry III. that either that monarch must 
submit to abandon the throne, of which he was un¬ 
worthy, or by some sudden and daring blow cut off 
his formidable rival. Accordingly, in the beginning 
of the year, the duke of Guise drove his master out 
of his capital city, and forced him to conclude a 
peace, which left him only the shadow of royalty ; 
and before the year expired, he himself fell a victim 
to the resentment and fear of Henry, and to his own 
security. In Spain, the operations were such as 
promised something still more uncommon. During 
three years Philip had employed all the power of 
his European dominions, and exhausted the trea¬ 
sures of the Indies, in vast preparations for war. A 
fleet, the greatest that had ever appeared in the 
ocean, was ready to sail from Lisbon, and a numer¬ 
ous land army was assembled to embark on board 
of it. Its destination was still unknown, though 
many circumstances made it probable that the blow 
was aimed, in the first place, against England. 
Elizabeth had long given secret aid to the revolted 
provinces in the Low Countries, and now openly 
aff orded them her protection. A numerous body of 
her troops was in their service; the earl of Leicester 
commanded their armies ; she had great sway in the 
civil government of the republic; and some of its 
most considerable towns were in her possession. 
Her fleets had insulted the coasts of Spain, inter¬ 
cepted the galleons from the West Indies, and 
threatened the colonies there. Roused by so many 
injuries, allured by views of ambition, and animated 
by a superstitious zeal for propagating the Romish 
religion, Philip resolved not only to invade, but to 
conquer England, to which his descent from the 
house of Lancaster, and the donation of pope 


p Spotsw. 365 



BOOK VII. 1588.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


Sixtus V. gave him in his own opinion a double 
title. 

Conduct of James Elizabeth saw the danger approach, 
on that occasion. and pre pared to encounter it. The 

measures for the defence of her kingdom were con¬ 
certed and carried on with the wisdom and visrour 
which distinguished her reign. Her chief care was 
to secure the friendship of the king of Scots. She 
had treated the queen his mother with a rigour 
unknown among princes; she had often used him¬ 
self harshly, and with contempt; and though he had 
hitherto prudently suppressed his resentment of 
these injuries, she did not believe it to be altogether 
extinguished, and was afraid that, in her present 
situation, it might burst out with fatal violence. 
Philip, sensible how much an alliance with Scotland 
would facilitate his enterprise, courted James with 
the utmost assiduity. He excited him to revenge 
his mother’s wrong; he flattered him with the hopes 
of sharing his conquests ; and offered him in mar¬ 
riage his daughter the infanta Isabella. At the 
same time Scotland swarmed with priests, his emis¬ 
saries, who seduced some of the nobles to popery, 
and corrupted others with bribes and promises. 
Huntley, Errol, Crawford, were the heads of a fac¬ 
tion which openly espoused the interest of Spain. 
Lord Maxwell, arriving from that court, began to 
assemble his followers, and to take arms, that he 
might be ready to join the Spaniards. In order to 
counterbalance all these, Elizabeth made the warm¬ 
est professions of friendship to the king ; and Ashby, 
her ambassador, entertained him with magnificent 
hopes and promises. He assured him, that his right 
of succession to the crown should be publicly ac¬ 
knowledged in England ; that he should be created 
a duke in that kingdom ; that he should be admitted 
to some share in the government; and receive a 
considerable pension annually. James, it is pro¬ 
bable, was too well acquainted with Elizabeth’s arts, 
to rely entirely on these promises. But he under¬ 
stood his ow n interest in the present juncture, and 
pursued it with much steadiness. He rejected an 
alliance with Spain, as dangerous. He refused to 
admit into his presence an ambassador from the 
pope. He seized colonel Semple, an agent of the 
prince of Parma. He drove many of the seminary 
priests out of the kingdom. He marched suddenly 
to Dumfries, dispersed Maxwell’s followers, and 
took him prisoner. In a convention of the nobles, 
he declared his resolution to adhere inviolably to 
the league with England ; and without listening to 
the suggestions of revenge, determined to act in 
concert with Elizabeth, against the common enemy 
of the protestant faith. He put the kingdom in a 
posture of defence, and levied troops to obstruct 
the landing of the Spaniards. He offered to send 
an army to Elizabeth’s assistance; and told her 
ambassador that he expected no other favour from 
the king of Spain, but that which Polyphemus had 
promised to Ulysses, that when he had devoured 


all his companions, he would make him his last 
morsels 

The zeal of the people, on this occa¬ 
sion, was not inferior to that Of the nanfindefence*" 
king; and the extraordinary danger ofleh « loli - 
w ith which they were threatened, suggested to them 
an extraordinary expedient for their security. A 
bond was framed for the maintenance of true re¬ 
ligion, as well as the defence of the king’s person 
and government, in opposition to all enemies, foreign 
and domestic. This contained a confession of the 
protestant faith, a particular renunciation of the 
errors of popery, and the most solemn promises, in 
the name and through the strength of God; of ad¬ 
hering to each other in supporting the former, and 
contending against the latter, to the utmost of their 
power. r The king, the nobles, the clergy, and the 
people, subscribed with equal alacrity. Strange or 
uncommon as such a combination may now appear, 
many circumstances contributed at that time to re¬ 
commend it, and to render the idea familiar to the 
Scots. When roused by an extraordinary event, 
or alarmed by any public danger, the people of 
Israel were accustomed to bind themselves, by a 
solemn covenant, to adhere to that religion which 
the Almighty had established among them ; this the 
Scots considered as a sacred precedent, which it 
became them to imitate. In that age, no consider¬ 
able enterprise was undertaken in Scotland, without 
a bond of mutual defence, which all concerned 
reckoned necessary for their security. The form of 
this religious confederacy is plainly borrowed from 
those political ones, of which so many instances 
have occurred ; the articles, stipulations, and pecu¬ 
liar modes of expression, are exactly the same in 
both. Almost all the considerable popish princes 
were then joined in a league for extirpating the re¬ 
formed religion, and nothing could be more natural, 
or seemed more efficacious, than to enter into a 
counter-association, in order to oppose the progress 
of that formidable conspiracy. To these causes did 
the covenant, which is become so famous in history, 
ow e its origin. It was renewed at different times 
during the reign of James. s It was revived with 
great solemnity, though with considerable altera¬ 
tions, in the year one thousand six hundred and 
thirty-eight. It was adopted by the English in the 
year one thousand six hundred and forty-three, and 
enforced by the civil and ecclesiastical authority of 
both kingdoms. The political purposes to which it 
was then made subservient, and the violent and 
unconstitutional measures which it was then em¬ 
ployed to promote, it is not our province to explain. 
But at the juncture in which it was first introduced, 
we may pronounce it to have been a prudent and 
laudable device for the defence of the religion and 
liberties of the nation ; nor were the terms in which 
it was conceived other than might have been ex¬ 
pected from men alarmed with the impending dan¬ 
ger of popery, and threatened with an invasion by 


o Camd. 544. Johnst. 139. Spofcw. 369. 


r Dunlop's Collect, of Confess, vol. ii. 108. 


s Cald. iv. 129. 



188 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1589. BOOK VII. 


the most bigoted and most powerful prince in 
Europe. 

Philip’s eagerness to conquer England did not in¬ 
spire him either with the vigour or despatch neces¬ 
sary to ensure the success of so mighty an enter¬ 
prise. His fleet, which ought to have sailed in April, 
did not enter the English channel till the middle of 
July. It hovered many days on the coast, in ex¬ 
pectation of being joined by the prince of Parma, 
who was blocked up in the ports of Flanders by a 
Dutch squadron. Continual disasters pursued the 
Spaniards during that time ; successive storms and 
battles, which were well known, conspired with their 
own ilbconduct to disappoint their enterprise. And, 

The Armada de- b y the blessing of Providence, which 
feated. watched with remarkable care over the 
protestant religion and the liberties of Britain, the 
English valour scattered and destroyed the Armada, 
on which Philip had arrogantly bestowed the name 
of Invincible. After being driven out of the English 
seas, their shattered ships were forced to steer their 
course towards Spain, round Scotland and Ireland. 
Many of them suffered shipwreck on these dangerous 
and unknown coasts. Though James kept his 
subjects under arms, to watch the motions of the 
Spaniards, and to prevent their landing in an hos¬ 
tile manner, he received with great humanity seven 
hundred wbo were forced ashore by a tempest, and, 
after supplying them with necessaries, permitted 
them to return into their own country. 

On the retreat of the Spaniards Elizabeth sent an 
ambassador to congratulate with James, and to com¬ 
pliment him on the firmness and generosity he had 
discovered during a conjuncture so dangerous. But 
none of Ashby’s promises were any longer remem¬ 
bered ; that minister was even accused of having 
exceeded his powers, by his too liberal offers ; and 
conscious of his own falsehood, or ashamed of 
being disowned by his court, he withdrew secretly 
out of Scotland. 1 

1589 .. Philip, convinced by fatal experi- 

Philip s intrigues . r 

in Scotland. ence of his own rashness in attempt¬ 
ing the conquest of England by a naval armament, 
equipped at so great a distance, and subjected, in 
all its operations, to the delays, and dangers, and 
uncertainties, arising from seas and wind, resolved 
to make his attack in another form, and to adopt the 
plan which the princes of Lorrain had long medi¬ 
tated, of invading England through Scotland. A 
body of his troops, he imagined, might be easily 
wafted over from the Low Countries to that king¬ 
dom, and if they could once obtain footing, or pro¬ 
cure assistance there, the frontier of England was 
open and defenceless, and the northern counties full 
of Roman catholics, who would receive them with 
open arms. Meanwhile a descent might be threat¬ 
ened on the southern coast, which would divide the 
English army, distract their councils, and throw the 
whole kingdom into terrible convulsions. In order 

tJohnst. 134. Camd. 548. Murdin, 635, 7£8. 


to prepare the way for the execution of this design, 
he remitted a considerable sum of money to Bruce, 
a seminary priest in Scotland, and employed him, 
together with Hay, Creighton, and Tyrie, Scottish 
jesuits, to gain over as many persons of distinction 
as possible to his interest. Zeal for Popish nobles 

1 . conspire against 

popery, and the artful insinuations oi the king, 
these emissaries, induced several noblemen to favour 
a measure which tended so manifestly to the de¬ 
struction of their country. Huntley, though the 
king had lately given him in marriage the daughter 
of his favourite the duke of Lennox, continued 
warmly attached to the Romish church. Crawford 
and Errol were animated with the zeal of new 
converts. They all engaged in a correspondence 
with the prince of Parma, and, in their letters to 
him, offered their service to the king of Spain, and 
undertook, with the aid of six thousand men, to 
render him master of Scotland, and to bring so 
many of their vassals into the field, that he should 
be able to enter England with a numerous army. 
Francis Stewart, grandson of James V. u w hom the 
king had created earl of Both well, though influenced 
by no motive of religion, for he still adhered to the 
protestant faith, was prompted merely by caprice, 
and the restlessness of his nature, to join in this 
treasonable correspondence. 

All these letters were intercepted in 

Feb 17 

England. Elizabeth, alarmed at the 
danger which threatened her own kingdom, sent 
them immediately to the king, and, reproaching him 
with his former lenity towards the popish party, 
called upon him to check this formidable conspiracy 
by a proper severity. But James, The kings max- 
though firmly attached to the protestant to popery. e 
religion, though profoundly versed in the theological 
controversies between the reformers and the church 
of Rome, though he had employed himself, at that 
early period of life, in writing a commentary on the 
Revelations, in which he laboured to prove the 
pope to be antichrist, had nevertheless adopted 
already those maxims concerning the treatment of 
the Roman catholics, to which he adhered through 
the rest of his life. The Roman catholics were at 
that time a powerful and active party in England ; 
they were far from being an inconsiderable faction 
in his own kingdom. The pope and the king of 
Spain were ready to take part in all their machi¬ 
nations, and to second every effort of their bigotry. 
The opposition of such a body to his succession to 
the crown of England, added to the averseness of 
the English from the government of strangers, might 
create him many difficulties. In order to avoid 
these, he thought it necessary to soothe rather than 
to irritate the Roman catholics, and to reconcile them 
to his succession, by the hopes of gentler treatment, 
and some mitigation of the rigour of those Jaws 
which were now in force against them. This 
attempt to gain one party by promises of indulgence 

u He was the son cf John, prior of Coldingham, one of James’s natural 
children. 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


189 


BOOK VII. 1589.] 

and acts of clemency, while he adhered with all the 
obstinacy of a disputant to the doctrines and tenets 
of the other, has given an air of mystery, and even 
of contradiction, to this part of the king’s character. 
The papists, with the credulity of a sect struggling to 
obtain power, believed his heart to be wholly theirs; 
and the protestants, with the jealousy inseparable 
from those who are already in possession of power, 
viewed every act of lenity as a mark of indiffer¬ 
ence, or a symptom of apostasy. In order to please 
both, James often aimed at an excessive refinement, 
mingled with dissimulation, in which he imagined 
the perfection of government and of king-craft to 
consist. 

, His behaviour on this occasion was 

His excessive le- 

nity to the con- agreeable to these general maxims, 
spirators. ° . ... 

Notwithstanding the solicitations of 
the queen of England, enforced by the zealous re¬ 
monstrances of his own clergy, a short imprisonment 
was the only punishment he inflicted upon Huntley 
and his associates. But he soon had reason to re¬ 
pent an act of clemency so inconsistent with the 
dignity of government. The first use which the 
conspirators made of their liberty was, to assemble 
their followers, and under pretence of removing 
chancellor Maitland, an able minister, but warmly 
devoted to the English interest, from the king’s 
council and presence, they attempted to seize James 
himself. This attempt being defeated, partly by 
Maitland’s vigilance, and partly by their own ill 
conduct, they were forced to retire to the north, 
where they openly erected the standard of rebellion. 
But as the king’s government was not generally un¬ 
popular, or his ministers odious, their own vassals 
joined them slowly, and discovered no zeal in the 
cause. The king in person advancing against them 
with such forces as he could suddenly levy, they 
durst not rely so much on the fidelity of the troops, 
which, though superior in number, followed them 
with reluctance, as to hazard a battle; but suffering 
them to disperse, they surrendered to the king, and 
threw themselves on his mercy. Huntley, Errol, 
Crawford, and Bothwell, were all brought to a pub¬ 
lic trial. Repeated acts of treason were easily 
proved against them. The king, however, did not 
permit any sentence to be pronounced ; and after 
keeping them a few months in confinement, he took 
occasion, amidst the public festivity and rejoicings 
at the approach of his marriage, to set them at 
liberty.* 

As Janies was the only descendant 
riage with Anne of the ancient monarchs of Scotland 

in the direct line ; as all hopes of 
uniting the crowns of the two kingdoms would have 
expired with him ; as the earl of Arran, the pre¬ 
sumptive heir to the throne, was lunatic ; the king s 
marriage was, on all these accounts, an event which 
the nation w'ished for with the utmost ardour. He 
himself was no less desirous of accomplishing it; 
and had made overtures for that purpose to the eldest 

x Spotsw. 373. Cald. iv. 103-130. 


daughter of Frederick II. king of Denmark. But 
Elizabeth, jealous of every thing that would render 
the accession of the house of Stewart more accept¬ 
able to the English, endeavoured to perplex James 
in the same manner she had done Mary, and em¬ 
ployed as many artifices to defeat or to retard his 
marriage. His ministers, gained by bribes and pro¬ 
mises, seconded her intention ; and though several 
different ambassadors were sent from Scotland to 
Denmark, they produced powers so limited, or in¬ 
sisted on conditions so extravagant, that Frederick 
could not believe the king to be in earnest; and 
suspecting that there was some design to deceive or 
amuse him, gave his daughter in marriage to the 
duke of Brunswick. Not discouraged by this dis¬ 
appointment, which he imputed entirely to the 
conduct of his own ministers, James made addresses 
to the princess Anne, Frederick’s second daughter. 
Though Elizabeth endeavoured to divert him from 
this by recommending Catherine, the king of Na¬ 
varre’s sister, as a more advantageous match; though 
she prevailed on the privy-council of Scotland to 
declare against the alliance with Denmark, he per¬ 
sisted in his choice ; and despairing of overcoming 
the obstinacy of his own ministers in any other 
manner, he secretly encouraged the citizens of Edin¬ 
burgh to take arms. They threatened to tear in 
pieces the chancellor, whom they accused as the 
person whose artifices had hitherto disappointed the 
wishes of the king and the expectations of his 
people. In consequence of this, the earl Marischal 
was sent into Denmark at the head of a splendid 
embassy. He received ample powers and instruc¬ 
tions, drawn with the king’s own hand. The mar 
riage articles were quickly agreed upon, and the 
young queen set sail towards Scotland. James made 
great preparations for her reception, and waited her 
landing with all the impatience of a lover, when the 
unwelcome account arrived, that a violent tempest 
had risen, which drove back her fleet to Norway, 
in a condition so shattered, that there was little hope 
of its putting again to sea before the spring. This 
unexpected disappointment he felt w ith the utmost 
sensibility. He instantly fitted out some ships, and 
wdthout communicating his intention to any of his 
council, sailed in person, attended by the chancellor, 
several noblemen, and a train of three hundred 
persons, in quest of his bride. He 
arrived safely in a small harbour near 
Upslo, where the queen then resided. There the 
marriage was solemnized ; and as it 

° Nov 24 

would have been rash to trust those 
boisterous seas in the winter season, James accepted 
the invitation of the court of Denmark, and repair¬ 
ing to Copenhagen, passed several months there, 
amidst continual feasting and amusements, in which 
both the queen and himself had great delight . y 

No event in the king’s life appears to be a wider 
deviation from his general character, than this sud¬ 
den sally. His son Charles I. was capable of that 

y Melvil, 352. Spotsw. 377. Murdin, 687. 



190 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


excessive admiration of the other sex, which arises 
from great sensibility of heart, heightened by ele¬ 
gance of taste ; and the romantic air of his journey 
to Spain suited such a disposition. But James was 
not susceptible of any refined gallantry, and always 
expressed that contempt for the female character 
which a pedantic erudition, unacquainted with po¬ 
liteness, is apt to inspire. He was exasperated, how¬ 
ever, and rendered impatient by the many obstacles 
which had been laid in his way. He was anxious 
to secure the political advantages which he expect¬ 
ed from marriage ; and fearing that a delay might 
afford Elizabeth and his own ministers an oppor¬ 
tunity of thwarting him by new intrigues, he sud¬ 
denly took the resolution of preventing them by a 
voyage from which he expected to return in a few 
weeks. The nation seemed to applaud his conduct, 
and to be pleased with this appearance of amorous 
ardour in a young prince. Notwithstanding his 
absence so long beyond the time he expected, the 
nobles, the clergy, and the people, vied with one 
another in loyalty and obedience; and no period of 
the king’s reign was more remarkable for tranquil¬ 
lity, or more free from any eruption of those factions 
which so often disturbed the kingdom. 


BOOK VIII. 


1590 . On the first of May the king and 
queen^arfiveln q ue en arrived at Leith, and were re- 
Scotiand. ceived by their subjects with every 

possible expression of joy. The solemnity of the 
queen’s coronation was conducted with great mag¬ 
nificence ; but so low had the order of bishops 
fallen in the opinion of the public, that none of them 
were present on that occasion; and Mr. Robert 
Bruce, a presbyterian minister of great reputation, 
set the crown on her head, administered the sacred 
unction, and performed the other customary cere¬ 
monies. 

The zeal and success with which many of the 
clergy had contributed towards preserving peace 
and order in the kingdom, during his absence, recon¬ 
ciled James, in a great degree, to their persons, and 
even to the presbyterian form of government. In 
August 4 . presence of an assembly which met 
this year, he made high encomiums on 
the discipline as well as the doctrine of the church, 
promised to adhere inviolably to both, and permitted 
the assembly to frame such acts as gradually abo¬ 
lished all the remains of episcopal jurisdiction, and 
paved the way for a full and legal establishment of 
the presbyterian model. 3 

1 59 1. An event happened soon after, 
which afforded the clergy no small 

triumph. Archbishop Adamson, their ancient op¬ 
ponent, having fallen under the king’s displeasure, 

a Cald. iv. 204. 


[1591. BOOK VII. 

having been deprived of the revenues of his see in 
consequence of the act of annexation, and being 
oppressed with age, with poverty, and diseases, 
made the meanest submission to the clergy, and de¬ 
livered to the assembly a formal recantation of all his 
opinions concerning church government, which had 
been matter of offence to the presbyterians. Such a 
confession, from the most learned person of the epis¬ 
copal order, was considered as a testimony which 
the force of truth had extorted from an adversary. 1 * 

Meanwhile, the king’s excessive cle- D j sor d e rs in the 
mency towards offenders multiplied kingdom, 
crimes of all kinds, and encouraged such acts of 
violence, as brought his government under contempt, 
and proved fatal to many of his subjects. The his¬ 
tory of several years, about this time, is filled with 
accounts of the deadly quarrels between the great 
families, and of murders and assassinations perpe¬ 
trated in the most audacious manner, and with cir¬ 
cumstances of the utmost barbarity. All the de¬ 
fects in the feudal aristocracy were now felt more 
sensibly, perhaps, than at any other period in the 
history of Scotland, and universal licence and an¬ 
archy prevailed to a degree scarce consistent with 
the preservation of society: while the king, too 
gentle to punish, or too feeble to act with vigour, 
suffered all these enormities to pass with impunity. 

But though James connived at real 

. . . , . .An attempt of 

crimes, witchcraft, which is commonly BothweiPs 

. . ... .. against the king. 

an imaginary one, engrossed his atten¬ 
tion, and those suspected of it felt the w hole weight 
of his authority. Many persons, neither extremely 
old nor wretchedly poor, which were usually held 
to be certain indications of this crime, but masters 
of families, and matrons of a decent rank, and in 
the middle age of life, were seized and tortured. 
Though their confessions contained the most absurd 
and incredible circumstances, the king’s prejudices, 
those of the clergy and of the people, conspired in 
believing their extravagances without hesitation, 
and in punishing their persons without mercy. 
Some of these unhappy sufferers accused Bothwell 
of having consulted them in order to know r the time 
of the king’s death, and of having employed their 
art to raise the storms which had endangered the 
queen’s life, and had detained James so long in 
Denmark. Upon this evidence that nobleman was 
committed to prison. His turbulent and haughty 
spirit could neither submit to the restraint, nor 
brook such an indignity. Having gained his keep¬ 
ers, he made his escape, and imputing the accusa¬ 
tion to the artifices of his enemy the chancellor, he 
assembled his followers, under pretence of driving 
him from the king’s councils. Being favoured by 
some of the king’s attendants, he was admitted by a 
secret passage, under cloud of night, into the court 
of the palace of Holyrood-house. He advanced 
directly towards the royal apartment, but happily, 
before he entered, the alarm was taken, 

7 Dec. 27 

and the doors shut. While he attempt- 

fa Spotsw. 385. Cald. iv. 214. 




BOOK VIII. 1591.] THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


191 


1592. 


Feb. 8. 


cd to burst open some of them, and set fire to others, 
the citizens of Edinburgh had time to run to their 
arms, and he escaped with the utmost difficulty ; 
owing his safety to the darkness of the night, and 
the precipitancy with which he fled. c 

He retired towardsthe north, and the 
king having unadvisedly given a com¬ 
mission to the earl of Huntley to pursue him and 
his followers with fire and sword, he, under colour 
of executing that commission, gratified his private 
revenge, and surrounded the house of the earl of 
Murray, burnt it to the ground, and 
slew Murray himself. The murder of 
a young nobleman of such promising virtues, and 
the heir of the regent Murray, the darling of the 
people, excited universal indignation. The citizens 
of Edinburgh rose in a tumultuous manner; and, 
though they were restrained by the care of the ma¬ 
gistrates from any act of violence, they threw aside 
all respect for the king and his ministers, and openly 
insulted and threatened both. While this mutinous 
spirit continued, James thought it prudent to with¬ 
draw from the city, and fixed his residence for some 
time at Glasgow. There Huntley surrendered him¬ 
self to justice ; and, notwithstanding the atrocious¬ 
ness of his crime, and the clamours of the people, 
the power of the chancellor, with whom he was now 
closely confederated, and the king’s regard for the 
memory of the duke of Lennox, whose daughter he 
had married, not only protected him from the sen¬ 
tence which such an odious action merited, but ex¬ 
empted him even from the formality of a public 
trial. d 

Presbyterian A step of much importance was 

ment estabfished taken soon after with regard to the 
by law. government of the church. The clergy 

had long complained of the encroachments made 
upon their privileges and jurisdiction by the acts of 
the parliament one thousand five hundred and 
eighty-four, and though these laws had now lost 
much of their force, they resolved to petition the 
parliament, which was approaching, to repeal them 
in form. The juncture for pushing such a measure 
was well chosen. The king had lost much of the 
public favour by his lenity towards the popish fac¬ 
tion, and still more by his remissness in pursuing 
the murderers of the earl of Murray. The chan¬ 
cellor had not only a powerful party of the courtiers 
combined against him, but was become odious to 
the people, who imputed to him every false step in 
the king’s conduct. Bothwell still lurked in the 
kingdom, and being secretly supported by all the 
enemies of Maitland’s administration, was ready 
every moment to renew his audacious enterprises. 
James, for all these reasons, was extremely willing 
to indulge the clergy in their request, and not only 
consented to a law, whereby the acts of one thou¬ 
sand five hundred and eighty-four were rescinded or 
explained, but he carried his complaisance still 
further, and permitted the parliament to establish 

c Melv. 388. Spotsw. 386. d Spotsw. 3S7. 


the presbyterian government, in its general assem¬ 
blies, provincial synods, presbyteries, and kirk-ses¬ 
sions, with all the different branches of their dis¬ 
cipline and jurisdiction, in the most ample manner. 
All the zeal and authority of the clergy, even under 
the administration of regents from whom they might 
have expected the most partial favour, could not 
obtain the sanction of law, in confirmation of their 
mode of ecclesiastical government. No prince was 
ever less disposed than James to approve a system, 
the republican genius of which inspired a passion 
for liberty extremely repugnant to his exalted no¬ 
tions of royal prerogative. Nor could any aversion 
be more inveterate than his, to the austere and un¬ 
complying character of the presbyterian clergy in 
that age ; who, more eminent for zeal than for po¬ 
licy, often contradicted his opinions, and censured 
his conduct, with a freedom equally offensive to his 
dogmatism as a theologian, and to his pride as a 
king. His situation, however, obliged him fre¬ 
quently to conceal, or to dissemble, his sentiments; 
and, as he often disgusted his subjects, by indulg¬ 
ing the popish faction more than they approved, he 
endeavoured to atone for this by concessions to the 
presbyterian clergy, more liberal than he himself 
would otherwise have chosen to grant. e 

In this parliament, Bothwell and all his adherents 
were attainted. But he soon made a new attempt 
to seize the king at Falkland ; and James, betrayed 
by some of his courtiers, and feebly defended by 
others, who wished well to Bothwell, as the chan¬ 
cellor’s avowed enemy, owed his safety to the fide¬ 
lity and vigilance of sir Robert Melvil, and to the 
irresolution of Bothwell’s associates/ 

Scarcely was this danger over, when „ 

J ° # # A new eonspi- 

the nation was alarmed with the dis- racy of the 

popish lords. 

covery of a new and more formidable 
conspiracy. George Ker, the lord Newbattle’s 
brother, being seized as he was ready to set sail for 
Spain, many suspicious papers were found in his 
custody, and among these several blanks signed by 
the earls of Angus, Huntley, and Errol. By this 
extraordinary precaution they hoped to escape any 
danger of discovery. But Ker’s resolution shrink¬ 
ing when torture was threatened, he confessed that 
he was employed by these noblemen to carry on a 
negociation with the king of Spain ; that the blanks 
subscribed with their names were to be filled up by 
Crichton and Tyrie ; that they were instructed to 
offer the faithful service of the three earls to that 
monarch ; and to solicit him to land a body of his 
troops, either in Galloway, or at the mouth of 
Clyde, with which they undertook, in the first place, 
to establish the Roman catholic religion in Scotland, 
and then to invade England with the whole forces 
of the kingdom. David Graham of Fintry, and 
Barclay of Ladyland, whom he accused of being 
privy to the conspiracy, were taken into custody, 
and confirmed all the circumstances of his confes¬ 
sion. 6 

e Cald. iv. 248. 262. Spotsw. 388. f Melv. 402. g Rymer, xvi. 190. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


192 


1593. 

Zeal of the 
peoplt. 


Jan. 8. 


The nation having been kept for 
some time in continual terror and agi¬ 
tation by so many successive conspira¬ 
cies, the discovery of this new danger completed 
the panic. All ranks of men, as if the enemy had 
already been at their gates, thought themselves 
called upon to stand forth in defence of their coun¬ 
try. The ministers of Edinburgh, without waiting 
for any warrant from the king, who happened at 
that time to be absent from the capital, and with¬ 
out having received any legal commission, assem¬ 
bled a considerable number of peers and barons, in 
order to provide an instant security against the im¬ 
pending danger. They seized the earl of Angus, 
and committed him to the castle; they examined 
Ker; and prepared a remonstrance to be laid before 
the king, concerning the state of the nation, and the 
necessity of prosecuting the conspirators with be¬ 
coming vigour. James, though jealous 

and proceedings _ ° ° , ’ . 

of Oie king of every encroachment on Ins preroga¬ 
tive, and offended with his subjects, 
who, instead of petitioning, seemed to prescribe to 
him, found it necessary, during the violence of the 
ferment, not only to adopt their plan, but even to 
declare that no consideration should ever induce 
him to pardon such as had been guilty of so odious 
a treason. He summoned the earls of Huntley 
and Errol to surrender themselves to 
justice. Graham of Fintry, whom his 
peers pronounced to be guilty of treason, he com¬ 
manded to be publicly beheaded; and marching 
into the north at the head of an army, the two earls, 
together with Angus, who had escaped out of pri¬ 
son, retired to the mountains. He placed garrisons 
in the castles which belonged to them ; compelled 
their vassals, and the barons in the adjacent coun¬ 
tries, to subscribe a bond containing professions of 
their loyalty towards him, and of their firm adhe¬ 
rence to the protestant faith ; and the better to se¬ 
cure the tranquillity of that part of the kingdom, 
constituted the earls of Athol and Marisclial his 
lieutenants there. h 

March is. Having finished this expedition, 
him totreauhem James returned to Edinburgh, where 
with rigour. he found lord Borrough, an extraordi¬ 
nary ambassador from the court of England. Eli¬ 
zabeth, alarmed at the discovery of a conspiracy 
which she considered as no less formidable to her 
own kingdom than to Scotland, reproached James 
with his former remissness, and urged him, as he 
regarded the preservation of the protestant religion, 
or the dignity of his own crown, to punish this re¬ 
peated treason with rigour; and if he could not 
apprehend the persons, at least to confiscate, the 
estates of such audacious rebels. She weakened, 
however, the force of these requests, by interceding 
at the same time in behalf of Bothwell, whom, ac¬ 
cording to her usual policy in nourishing a factious 
spirit among the Scottish nobles, she had taken 
under her protection. James absolutely refused to 

li Spotsw. 301. Cald. iv. 291. 


[1593. BOOK VIII. 

listen to any intercession in favour of one who had 
so often, and with so much outrage, insulted both 
his government and his person. With regard to the 
popish conspirators, he declared his resolution to 
prosecute them with vigour ; but that he might be 
the better able to do so, he demanded a small sum 
of money from Elizabeth, which she, distrustful 
perhaps of the manner in which he might apply it, 
showed no inclination to grant. The zeal, however, 
and importunity of his own subjects, obliged him 
to call a parliament, in order to pass an act of at¬ 
tainder against the three earls. But before it met, 
Ker made his escape out of prison, and, on pretence 
that legal evidence of their guilt could not be pro¬ 
duced, nothing was concluded against them. The 
king himself was universally suspected of having 
contrived this artifice, on purpose to elude the re¬ 
quests of the queen of England, and to disappoint 
the wishes of his own people ; and, therefore, in 
order to soothe the clergy, who exclaimed loudly 
against his conduct, he gave way to the passing of 
an act, which ordained such as obstinately con¬ 
temned the censures of the church to be declared 
outlaws. 1 

While the terror excited by the po- Bothwell sur- 
pish conspiracy possessed the nation, prises the king. 

the court had been divided by two rival factions, 
which contended for the chief direction of affairs. 
At the head of one was the chancellor, in whom 
the king reposed entire confidence. For that very 
reason, perhaps, he had fallen early under the 
queen’s displeasure. The duke of Lennox, the 
earl of Athol, lord Ochiltree, and all the name of 
Stewart, espoused her quarrel, and widened the 
breach. James, fond no less of domestic tranquil¬ 
lity than of public peace, advised his favourite to 
retire for some time, in hopes that the queen’s resent¬ 
ment would subside. But as soon as he stood in 
need, in the present juncture, of the assistance of 
an able minister, he had recalled him to court. In 
order to prevent him from recovering his former 
power, the Stewarts had recourse to an expedient 
no less illegal than desperate. Hav¬ 
ing combined w ith Bothwell, who was July24 * 
of the same name, they brought him back secretly 
into Scotland ; and seizing the gates of the palace, 
introduced him into the royal apartment with a nu¬ 
merous train of armed followers. James, though 
deserted by all his courtiers, and incapable of re¬ 
sistance, discovered more indignation than fear, and 
reproaching them for their treachery, called on the 
earl to finish his treasons, by piercing his sovereign 
to the heart. But Bothwell fell on his knees, and 
implored pardon. The king was not in a condition 
to refuse his demands. A few days after he signed 
a capitulation with this successful traitor, to whom 
he was really a prisoner, whereby he bound himself 
to grant him a remission for all past offences, and 
to procure the ratification of it in parliament; and 
in the mean time to dismiss the chancellor, the 


i Cald. iv. 343. Spotsw. 393. Pari. 13 Jac. VI. c. 164. 



BOOK VIII. 1593.] THE HISTORY 

master of Glarnis, lord Home, and sir George Home, 
from his councils and presence. Bothwell, on his 
part, consented to remove from court, though he left 
there as many of his associates as he thought suffi¬ 
cient to prevent the return of the adverse faction. 

He recovers his But it was now no easy matter to 
liberty, Sept. 7 . keep the king under the same kind of 

bondage to which he had been often subject during 
his minority. He discovered so much impatience 
to shake off his fetters, that those who had imposed 
durst not continue the restraint. They permitted 
him to call a convention of the nobles at Stirling, 
and to repair thither himself. All Bothwell’s ene¬ 
mies, and all who were desirous of gaining the 
king’s favour by appearing to be so, obeyed the 
summons. They pronounced the insult offered to 
the king’s person and authority to be high treason, 
and declared him absolved from any obligation to 
observe conditions extorted by force, and which vio¬ 
lated so essentially his royal prerogative. James, 
however, still proffered him a pardon, provided he 
would sue for it as an act of mercy, and promise to 
retire out of the kingdom. These conditions Both¬ 
well rejected with disdain, and betaking himself 
once more to arms, attempted to surprise the king ; 
but finding him on his guard, fled to the borders. k 

Suspected of fa The king's ardour against Bothwell, 
vouringthe popish compared with his slow and evasive 

lords. A 

proceedings against the popish lords, 
occasioned a general disgust among his subjects ; 
and was imputed either to an excessive attachment 
to the persons of those conspirators, or to a secret 
partiality towards their opinions ; both which gave 
rise to no unreasonable fears. The 
Sept. 25 . clergy, as the immediate guardians of 
the protestant religion, thought themselves bound, 
at such a juncture, to take extraordinary steps for its 
preservation. The provincial synod of Fife happen¬ 
ing to meet at that time, a motion was made to ex¬ 
communicate all concerned in the late conspiracy, 
as obstinate and irreclaimable papists ; and though 
none of the conspirators resided within the bounds 
of the synod, or were subject to its jurisdiction, 
such was the zeal of the members, that, overlooking 
this irregularity, they pronounced against them the 
sentence of excommunication, to which the act of 
last parliament added new terrors. Lest this should 
be imputed to a few men, and accounted the act of 
a small part of the church, deputies were appointed 
to attend the adjacent synods, and to desire their 
approbation and concurrence. 

An event happened a few weeks 
wards^hem? after, which increased the people’s sus¬ 
picions of the king. As he was march¬ 
ing on an expedition against the borderers, the three 
popish earls coming suddenly into his presence, 
offered to submit themselves to a legal trial; and 
James, without committing them to custody, ap¬ 
pointed a day for that purpose. They prepared to 
appear with a formidable train of their friends and 

k Cald. iv. 326. Spotsw. 395. 

O 


OF SCOTLAND. 193 

vassals. But in the mean time the clergy, together 
with many peers and barons, assembled at Edin¬ 
burgh, remonstrated against the king’s extreme in¬ 
dulgence with great boldness, and demanded of 
him, according to the regular course of justice, to 
commit to sure custody persons charged with the 
highest acts of treason, who could not be brought 
to a legal trial until they were absolved from the 
censures of the church ; and to call a convention of 
estates, to deliberate concerning the method of pro¬ 
ceeding against them. At the same time they offered 
to accompany him in arms to the place of trial, lest 
such audacious and powerful criminals should over¬ 
awe justice, and dictate to the judges, to whom 
they pretended to submit. James, though extremely 
offended, both with the irregularity of their proceed¬ 
ings and the presumption of their demands, found 
it expedient to put off the day of trial, and to call a 
convention of estates, in order to quiet the fears 
and jealousies of the people. By being humoured 
in this point, their suspicions began gradually to 
abate, and the chancellor managed the convention 
so artfully, that he himself, together with a few 
other members, were empowered to pronounce a 
final sentence upon the conspirators. 

After much deliberation they ordained, 
that the three earls and their associates should be 
exempted from all further inquiry or prosecution, 
on account of their correspondence with Spain ; 
that, before the first day of February, they should 
either submit to the church, and publicly renounce 
the errors of popery, or remove out of the kingdom ; 
that, before the first of January, they should declare 
which of these alternatives they would embrace ; 
that they should find surety for their peaceable de¬ 
meanour for the future; and that if they failed to 
signify their choice in due time, they should lose 
the benefit of this act of abolition, and remain ex¬ 
posed to all the pains of law. 1 

By this lenity towards the conspira¬ 
tors, James incurred much reproach, 
and gained no advantage. Devoted to the popish 
superstition, submissive to all the dictates of their 
priests, and buoyed up with hopes and promises of 
foreign aid, the three earls refused to accept of the 
conditions, and continued their treasonable corres¬ 
pondence with the court of Spain. A 

^ Jan. 18. 

convention of estates pronounced them 
to have forfeited the benefit of the articles which 
were offered; and the king required them, by pro¬ 
clamation, to surrender themselves to justice. The 
presence of the English ambassador contributed, 
perhaps, to the vigour of these proceedings. Eliza¬ 
beth, ever attentive to James’s motions, and imput¬ 
ing his reluctance to punish the popish lords to a 
secret approbation of their designs, had sent lord 
Zouche to represent, once more, the danger to which 
he exposed himself by this false moderation; and 
to require him to exercise that rigour which their 
crimes, as well as posture of affairs, rendered ne- 

1 Cald. iv. 330. Spotsw. 397. 



194 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1594. BOOK VIII. 


cessary. Though the steps now taken by the king 
silenced all complaints on that head, yet Zouche, 
forgetful of his character as an ambassador, entered 
into private negociations with such of the Scottish 
nobles as disapproved of the king’s measures, and 
held almost an open correspondence with Bothwell, 
who, according to the usual artifice of malcontents, 
pretended much solicitude for reforming the disor¬ 
ders of the commonwealth; and covered his own 
ambition with the specious veil of zeal against 
those counsellors, who restrained the king from pur¬ 
suing the avowed enemies of the protestant faith. 
Zouche encouraged him, in the name of his mistress, 
to take arms against his sovereign. 

a new attempt Meanwhile, the king and the clergy 
ot Bothweii’s. W ere filled with mutual distrust of each 

other. They were jealous, perhaps to excess, that 
J ames’s affections leaned too much towards the popish 
faction ; he suspected them, without good reason, of 
prompting Bothwell to rebellion, and even of sup¬ 
plying him with money for that purpose. Little 
instigation, indeed, was wanting to rouse such a 
turbulent spirit as Bothwell’s to any daring enter¬ 
prise. He appeared suddenly within a mile of- 
Edinburgh, at the head of four hundred horse. The 
pretences by which he endeavoured to justify this 
insurrection were extremely popular; zeal for reli¬ 
gion, enmity to popery, concern for the king’s ho¬ 
nour, and for the liberties of the nation. James was 
totally unprovided for his own defence ; he had no 
infantry, and was accompanied only with a few 
horsemen of lord Home’s train. In this extremity, 
he implored the aid of the citizens of Edinburgh, 
and, in order to encourage them to act with zeal, he 
promised to proceed against the popish lords with 
the utmost rigour of law. Animated by their minis¬ 
ters, the citizens ran cheerfully to their arms, and 
advanced, with the king at their head, against 
Bothwell; but he, notwithstanding his success in 
putting to flight lord Home, who had rashly charged 
him with a far inferior number of cavalry, retired 
to Dalkeith without daring to attack the king. His 
followers abandoned him soon after, and discourag¬ 
ed by so many successive disappointments, could 
never afterwards be brought to venture into the 
field. He betook himself to his usual lurking-places 
in the north of England; but Elizabeth, in com¬ 
pliance with the king’s remonstrances, obliged him 
to quit his retreat." 1 

„ , , No sooner was the king delivered 

iresh dangers „ 

from the popish from one danger, than he was called 

lords. April 3. 

to attend to another. The popish 
lords, in consequence of their negociations with 
Spain, received, in the spring, a supply of money 
from Philip. What bold designs this might inspire, 
it was no easy matter to conjecture. From men 
under the dominion of bigotry, and whom indul¬ 
gence could not reclaim, the most desperate actions 
were to be dreaded. The assembly of the church 
immediately took the alarm ; remonstrated against 

m Spotsw. 403. Cald. iv. .'{59. 


them with more bitterness than ever ; and unani¬ 
mously ratified the sentence of excommunication 
pronounced by the synod of Fife. James himself, 
provoked by their obstinacy and ingratitude, and 
afraid that his long forbearance would not only be 
generally displeasing to his own subjects, but give 
rise to unfavourable suspicions among the English, 
exerted himself with unusual vigour. T 

° June 8. 

He called a parliament; laid before 
it all the circumstances and aggravations of the 
conspiracy; and though there were but few mem¬ 
bers present, and several of these connected with 
the conspirators by blood or friendship, he prevailed 
on them, by his influence and importunity, to pro¬ 
nounce the most rigorous sentence which the law 
can inflict. They were declared to be guilty of 
high treason, and their estates and honours forfeit¬ 
ed. At the same time, statutes, more severe than 
ever, w ere enacted against the professors of the 
popish religion. 

How to put this sentence in execu- Battle 0 f oienii- 
tion, was a matter of great difficulty. vat> 
Three pow erful barons, cantoned in a part of the 
country of difficult access, surrounded with nume¬ 
rous vassals, and supported by aid from a foreign 
prince, w ere more than an overmatch for a Scottish 
monarch. No entreaty could prevail on Elizabeth 
to advance the money necessary for defraying the 
expenses of an expedition against them. To attack 
them in person, with his ow n forces alone, might 
have exposed James both to disgrace and to dan¬ 
ger. He had recourse to the only expedient which 
remained, in such a situation, for aiding the impo¬ 
tence of sovereign authority ; he delegated his au¬ 
thority to the earl of Argyll and lord Forbes, the 
leaders of tw o clans at enmity with the conspirators ; 
and gave them a commission to invade their lands, 
and to seize the castles which belonged to them. 
Bothwell, notwithstanding all his high pretensions 
of zeal for the protestant religion, having now en¬ 
tered into a close confederacy with them, the dan¬ 
ger became every day more urging. Argyll, soli¬ 
cited by the king, and roused by the clergy, took 
the field at the head of seven thousand men. Hunt- 
ley and Errol met him at Glenlivat, with an army 
far inferior in number, but composed chiefly of 
gentlemen of the Low Countries, mounted on horse¬ 
back, and who brought along with them a train of 
field-pieces. They encountered each 
other w ith all the fury which heredi¬ 
tary enmity and ancient rivalship add to undisci¬ 
plined courage. But the Highlanders, disconcerted 
by the first charge of the cannon, to which they 
were little accustomed, and unable to resist the 
impression of cavalry, were soon put to flight; 
and Argyll, a gallant young man of eighteen, was 
carried by his friends out of the field, weeping 
with indignation at their disgrace, and calling on 
them to stand, and to vindicate the honour of their 
name." 


Oct. 3. 


n Cald. iv. 4CO. 



1S00K VIII. 1595.] THE HISTORY 

15g5 On the first intelligence of this de¬ 

feat, James, though obliged to pawn 
his jewels in order to raise money, 0 assembled a small 
body of troops, and marched towards the north. He 
was joined by the Irvines, Keiths, Lesleys, Forbeses, 
and other clans at enmity with Huntley and Errol, 
who, having lost several of their principal followers at 
Glenlivat, and others refusing to bear arms against 
the king in person, w ere obliged to retire to the moun¬ 
tains. James wasted their lands; put garrisons in 
some of their castles; burntothers; and left the duke 
of Lennox as his lieutenant in that part of the king¬ 
dom, with a body of men sufficient to restrain them 
from gathering to any head there, or from infesting the 
„ . low country. Reduced at last to ex- 

Popish lords 

driven out of the treme distress by the rigour of the sea- 

kingdoin. J 

son, and the desertion of their followers, 
they obtained the king’s permission to go beyond 
seas, and gave security that they should neither re¬ 
turn without his licence, nor engage in any new 
intrigues against the protestant religion, or the peace 
of the kingdom.? 

By their exile, tranquillity was re-established in 
the north of Scotland ; and the firmness and vigour 
which James had displayed in his last proceedings 
against them, regained him, in a great degree, the 
confidence of his protestant subjects. But he sunk 
in the same proportion, and for the 

The Roman ca- . 

tholics incensed same reason, in the esteem of the Ro- 

liUTlPS 

man catholics. They had asserted his 
mother’s right to the crown of England with so 
much warmth, that they could not, with any decency, 
reject his; and the indulgence with w hich he affect¬ 
ed to treat the professors of the popish religion, in¬ 
spired them with such hopes, that they viewed his 
accession to the throne as no undesirable event. 
But the rigour with which the king had lately pur¬ 
sued the conspirators, and the severe statutes against 
popery to which he had given his consent, convinced 
them now that these hopes were visionary ; and they 
began to look about in quest of some new successor, 
whose rights they might oppose to his. The papists 
who resided in England turned their eyes towards 
the earl of Essex, whose generous mind, though 
firmly established in the protestant faith, abhorred 
the severities inflicted in that age on account of re¬ 
ligious opinions. Those of the same sect, who w ere 
in exile, formed a bolder scheme, and one more 
suitable to their situation. They advanced the 
claim of the infanta of Spain ; and Parsons the 
jesuit published a book, in which, by false quota¬ 
tions from history, by fabulous genealogies, and 
absurd arguments, intermingled with bitter invec¬ 
tives against the king of Scots, he endeavoured to 
prove the infanta’s title to the English crown to be 
preferable to his. Philip, though involved already 
in a war both with France and England, and scarce 
able to defend the remains of the Burgundian pro¬ 
vinces against the Dutch commonwealth, eagerly 

o Birch. Mem. i. 186. p Spotsw. 404. Cald. 373, &c. 

q Winw. Mem. i. Spotsw. 410. r Spotsw. 411. 

s Alexander Seaton, president of the session, Walter Stewart, commen- 

o 2 


OF SCOTLAND. 195 

grasped at this airy project. The dread of a Span¬ 
ish pretender to the crown, and the opposition which 
the papists began to form against the king’s succes¬ 
sion, contributed not a little to remove the preju¬ 
dices of the protestants, and to prepare the way for 
that event. 

Botliwell, whose name has been so Bothwell forced 
often mentioned as the disturber of the t0 fly int0 Spain - 
king’s tranquillity, and of the peace of the kingdom, 
was now in a wretched condition. Abandoned by 
the queen of England, on account of his confederacy 
w ith the popish lords; excommunicated by the 
church for the same reason ; and deserted, in his dis¬ 
tress, by his own follow ers ; he was obliged to lly for 
safety to France, and thence to Spain and Italy, 
where, after renouncing the protestant faith, he led 
many years an obscure and indigent life, remark¬ 
able only for a low and infamous debauchery. The 
king, though extremely ready to sacrifice the strong¬ 
est resentment to the slightest acknowledgments, 
could never be softened by his submission, nor be 
induced to listen to any intercession in his behalf/ 

This year the king lost chancellor Maitland, an 
able minister, on whom he had long devolved the 
whole weight of public affairs. As James loved 
him while alive, he wrote in honour of his memory 
a copy of verses, which, when compared with the 
compositions of that age, are far from being inele¬ 
gant/ 

Soon after his death, a considerable a change in the 
change was made in the administra- admmistr ation. 
tion. At that time, the annual charges of govern¬ 
ment far exceeded the king’s revenues. The queen 
was fond of expensive amusements. James himself 
was a stranger to economy. It became necessary, 
for all these reasons, to levy the public revenues 
with greater order and rigour, and to husband them 
with more care. This important trust was com¬ 
mitted to eight gentlemen of the law,* who, from their 
number, were called Octavians. The powers vested 
in them were ample, and almost unlimited. The 
king bound himself neither to add to their number, 
nor to supply any vacancy that might happen, with¬ 
out their consent: and, knowing the facility of his 
own temper, agreed that no alienation of his re¬ 
venue, no grant of a pension, or order on the trea¬ 
sury, should be held valid, unless it were ratified by 
the subscription of five of the commissioners ; all 
their acts and decisions were declared to be of equal 
force with the sentence of judges in civil courts; 
and in consequence of them, and without any other 
warrant, any person might be arrested, or their 
goods seized. Such extensive jurisdiction, together 
with the absolute disposal of the public money, 
drew the whole executive part of government into 
their hands. United among themselves, they gra¬ 
dually undermined the rest of the king’s ministers, 
and seized on every lucrative or honourable office. 
The ancient servants of the crow n repined at being 

dator of Blantyre, lord privy seal, David Carnegy, John Lindsay, James 
Llphingstone, ihomas Hamilton, John Skene, clerk register, and Peter 
Young, eleemosynar. 



196 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


obliged to quit their stations to new 
men. The favourites and young cour¬ 
tiers murmured at seeing the king’s liberality stinted 
by their prescriptions. And the clergy exclaimed 
against some of them as known apostates to popery, 
and suspected others of secretly favouring it. They 
retained their power, however, notwithstanding this 
general combination against them; and they owed 
it entirely to the order and economy which they in¬ 
troduced into the administration of the finances, by 
which the necessary expenses of government were 
more easily defrayed than in any other period of the 
king’s reign. 1 


March 24. 


The rumour of vast preparations 
nation against the which Philip was said to be carrying- 
popish lords. on this time, filled both England 

and Scotland with the dread of a new invasion. 
James took proper measures for the defence of his 
kingdom. But these did not satisfy the zeal of the 
clergy, whose suspicions of the king’s sincerity began 
to revive; and as he had permitted the wives of the 
banished peers to levy the rents of their estates, and 
to live in their houses, they charged him with ren¬ 
dering the act of forfeiture ineffectual, by support¬ 
ing the avowed enemies of the protestant faith. 

The assembly of the church took under 
consideration the state of the kingdom, 
and having appointed a day of public fasting, they 
solemnly renewed the covenant by which the nation 
was bound to adhere to the protestant faith, and to 
defend it against all aggressors. A committee, con¬ 
sisting of the most eminent clergymen, and of many 
barons and gentlemen of distinction, waited on the 
king, and laid before him a plan for the security of 
the kingdom, and the preservation of religion. They 
urged him to appropriate the estates of the banished 
lords as a fund for the maintenance of soldiers ; to 
take the strictest precautions for preventing the re¬ 
turn of such turbulent subjects into the country ; 
and to pursue all who were suspected of being their 
adherents with the utmost rigour. 

, ni ,. , Nothing could be more repugnant 

The king s re- 1 ° 

missness with re- to the king s schemes, or more dis- 
gard to them. ..... 

agreeable to his inclination, than these 
propositions. Averse, through his whole life, to 
any course where he expected opposition or danger ; 
and fond of attaining his ends with the character of 
moderation, and by the arts of policy, he observed 
with concern the prejudices against him which were 
growing among the Roman catholics, and resolved 
to make some atonement for that part of his con¬ 
duct which had drawn upon him their indignation. 
Elizabeth was now well advanced in years ; her life 
had lately been in danger; if any popish compe¬ 
titor should arise to dispute his right of succession, 
a faction so powerful as that of the banished lords 
might be extremely formidable ; and any division 
among his own subjects might prove fatal at a junc¬ 
ture which would require their united and most 
vigorous efforts. Instead, therefore, of the addi¬ 


[1596. BOOK VIIL 

tional severities which the assembly proposed, 
James had thoughts of mitigating the punishment 
which they already suffered. And as they were 
surrounded, during their residence in foreign parts, 
by Philip’s emissaries ; as resentment might dis¬ 
pose them to listen more favourably than ever to 
their suggestions ; as despair might drive them to 
still more atrocious actions ; he resolved to recall 
them, under certain conditions, into their native 
country. Encouraged by these sentiments of the 
king in their favour, of which they did not w ant in¬ 
telligence, and wearied already of the dependent 
and anxious life of exiles, they ventured to return 
secretly into Scotland. Soon after, they presented 
a petition to the king, begging his permission to re¬ 
side at their own houses, and offering to give secu¬ 
rity for their peaceable and dutiful behaviour. 
James called a convention of estates to deliberate 
on a matter of such importance, and by their advice 
he granted the petition. 

The members of a committee ap- The rash pr0 . 
pointed by the last general assembly, clergy 1 andpeo- 
as soon as they were informed of this, ple - 
met at Edinburgh, and with all the precipitancy of 
fear and of zeal, took such resolutions as they 
thought necessary for the safety of the kingdom. 
They wrote circular letters to all the presbyters in 
Scotland ; they warned them of the approaching 
danger; they exhorted them to stir up their people 
to the defence of their just rights ; they commanded 
them to publish, in all their pulpits, the act excom¬ 
municating the popish lords ; and enjoined them to 
lay all those who w r ere suspected of favouring po¬ 
pery under the same censure by a summary sen¬ 
tence, and without observing the usual formalities 
of trial. As the danger seemed too pressing to wmit 
for the stated meetings of the judicatories of the 
church, they made choice of the most eminent cler¬ 
gymen in different corners of the kingdom, appointed 
them to reside constantly at Edinburgh, and to meet 
every day with the ministers of that city, under the 
name of the Standing Council of the Church , and 
vested in this body the supreme authority, by en¬ 
joining it, in imitation of the ancient Roman form, 
to take care that the church should receive no de¬ 
triment. 

These proceedings, no less unconstitutional than 
unprecedented, were manifest encroachments on the 
royal prerogative, and bold steps towards open re¬ 
bellion. The king’s conduct, however, justified in 
some degree such excesses. His lenity towards the 
papists, so repugnant to the principles of that age ; 
his pardoning the conspirators, notwithstanding re¬ 
peated promises to the contrary; the respect he paid 
to lady Huntley, who was attached to the Romish 
religion no less than her husband ; his committing 
the care of his daughter, the princess Elizabeth, to 
lady Livingston, who was infected with the same 
superstition; the contempt with which he talked 
on all occasions, both of the character of ministers. 


t Spotsw. 413. 435. 



BOOK VIII. 1596.] THE HISTORY 

and of their function, were circumstances which 
might have filled minds, not prone by nature to 
jealousy, with some suspicions; and might have 
precipitated into rash councils those who were far 
removed from intemperate zeal. But, however 
powerful the motives might be which influenced the 
clergy, or however laudable the end they had in 
view, they conducted their measures with no ad¬ 
dress, and even with little prudence. James dis¬ 
covered a strong inclination to avoid a rupture with 
the church, and, jealous as he was of his preroga¬ 
tive, would willingly have made many concessions 
for the sake of peace. By his command, some of 
the privy-counsellors had an interview with the 
more moderate among the clergy, and inquired 
whether Huntley and his associates might not, upon 
making proper acknowledgments, be again received 
into the bosom of the church, and be exempted 
from any further punishment on account of their 
past apostasy and treasons. They replied, that 
though the gate of mercy stood always open for 
those who repented and returned, yet as these noble¬ 
men had been guilty of idolatry, a crime deserving 
death both by the law of God and man, the civil 
magistrate could not legally grant them a pardon ; 
and even though the church should absolve them, 
it was his duty to inflict punishment upon them. 
This inflexibility in those who were reckoned the 
most compliant of the order, filled the king with 
indignation, which the imprudence and obstinacy 
of a private clergyman heightened into rage. 

„ . , Mr. David Black, minister of St. An- 

Seditious doc- 

trine taught by drews, discoursing in one of his ser- 
Black. # ° 

mons, according to custom, concerning 
the state of the nation, affirmed that the king had 
permitted the popish lords to return into Scotland, 
and by that action had discovered the treachery of 
his own heart; that all kings were the devil’s chil¬ 
dren ; that Satan had now the guidance of the court; 
that the queen of England was an atheist; that the 
judges were miscreants and bribers; the nobility 
godless and degenerate; the privy-counsellors cor¬ 
morants and men of no religion ; and in his prayer 
for the queen he used these words, We must pray 
for her for fashion-sake, but we have no cause, she 
will never do us good. James commanded him to 
be summoned before the privy-council, to answer 
for such seditious expressions ; and the clergy, in- 
Nov 10 stead of abandoning him to the punish- 

pouse le hf^de S - ment which such a petulant and crimi- 
fence - nal attack on his superiors deserved, 

were so imprudent as to espouse his cause, as if it 
had been the common one of the whole order. The 
controversy concerning the immunities of the pulpit, 
and the rights of the clergy to testify against vices 
of every kind, which had been agitated in one thou¬ 
sand five hundred and eighty-four, was now revived. 
It was pretended that, with regard to their sacred 
function, ministers were subject to the church alone; 
that it belonged only to their ecclesiastical superiors 
to judge of the truth or falsehood of doctrines de¬ 


OF SCOTLAND. 197 

livered in the pulpit; that if, upon any pretence 
whatever, the king usurped this jurisdiction, the 
church would, from that moment, sink under servi¬ 
tude to the civil magistrate ; that, instead of re¬ 
proving vice with that honest boldness which had 
often been of advantage to individuals, and salutary 
to the kingdom, the clergy would learn to flatter the 
passions of the prince, and to connive at the vices 
of others; that the king’s eagerness to punish the 
indiscretion of a protestant minister, while he was 
so ready to pardon the crimes of popish conspirators, 
called on them to stand upon their guard, and that 
now was the time to contend for their privileges, 
and to prevent any encroachment on those rights, 
of which the church had been in possession ever 
since the reformation. Influenced by these con¬ 
siderations, the council of the church enjoined Black 
to decline the jurisdiction of the privy-council. 
Proud of such an opportunity to display his zeal, 
he presented a paper to that purpose, and with the 
utmost firmness refused to plead, or to answer the 
questions which were put to him. In order to add 
greater weight to these proceedings, the council of 
the church transmitted the declinature to all the 
presbyteries throughout the kingdom, and enjoined 
every minister to subscribe it in testimony of his 
approbation. 

James defended his rights with no less vigour 
than they were attacked. Sensible of the contempt 
under which his authority must fall, if the clergy 
should be permitted publicly, and with impunity, 
to calumniate his ministers, and even to censure 
himself; and knowing, by former examples, what 
unequal reparation for such offences he might ex¬ 
pect from the judicatories of the church, he urged 
on the inquiry into Black’s conduct, and issued a 
proclamation, commanding the members of the coun¬ 
cil of the church to leave Edinburgh, and to return 
to their own parishes. Black, instead of submitting, 
renewed his declinature ; and the members of the 
council, in defiance of the proclamation, declared, 
that as they met by the authority of the church, obe¬ 
dience to it was a duty still more sacred than that 
which they owed to the king himself. The privy- 
council, notwithstanding Black’s refusing to plead, 
proceeded in the trial; and, after a solemn inquiry, 
pronounced him guilty of the crimes of which he 
had been accused ; but referred it to the king to 
appoint what punishment he should suffer. 

Meanwhile, many endeavours were used to bring 
matters to accommodation. Almost every day pro¬ 
duced some new scheme of reconcilement; but, 
through the king’s fickleness, the obstinacy of the 
clergy, or the intrigues of the courtiers, they all 
proved ineffectual. Both parties appealed to the 
people, and by reciprocal and exaggerated accusa¬ 
tions endeavoured to render each other odious. 
Insolence, sedition, treason, were the crimes with 
which James charged the clergy; while they made 
the pulpits resound with complaints of his excessive 
lenity towards papists, and of the no less excessive 




198 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


[1596. BOOK VIII. 


A tumult in 
Edinburgh. 


rigour with which he oppressed the established 
church. Exasperated by their bold invectives, he 
at last sentenced Black to retire beyond the river 
Spey, and to reside there during his pleasure ; and 
once more commanding the members of the stand¬ 
ing council to depart from Edinburgh, he required 
all the ministers of the kingdom to subscribe a bond, 
obliging themselves to submit, in the same manner 
as other subjects, to the jurisdiction of the civil 
courts in matters of a civil nature. 

This decisive measure excited all 
the violent passions which possess 
disappointed factions ; and deeds no less violent 
immediately followed. These must be imputed in 
part to the artifices of some courtiers, who expected 
to reap advantage from the calamities of their coun¬ 
try, or who hoped to lessen the authority of the 
Gctavians, by engaging them in hostilities with the 
church. On one hand, they informed the king that the 
citizens of Edinburgh were under arms every night, 
and had planted a strong guard round the houses of 
their ministers. James, in order to put a stop to this 
imaginary insult on his government, issued a procla¬ 
mation, commanding twenty-four of the principal 
citizens to leave the town within six hours. On the 
other hand, they wrote to the ministers, advising them 
to look to their own safety, as Huntley had been se¬ 
cretly admitted to an interview with the king, and had 
been the author of the severe proclamation against 
the citizens of Edinburgh. 11 They doubted no more 
of the truth of this intelligence, than the king had done 
of that which he received, and fell as blindly into the 
snare. The letter came to their hands just as one 
of their number was going to mount 
Dec ' 17> the pulpit. They resolved that he 
should acquaint the people of their danger; and he 
painted it with all the strong colours which men 
naturally employ in describing any dreadful and 
instant calamity. When the sermon was over, he 
desired the.nobles and gentlemen to assemble in the 
little church. The whole multitude, terrified at what 
they had heard, crowded thither : they promised 
and vowed to stand by the clergy ; they drew up a 
petition to the king, craving the redress of those 
grievances of which the church complained, and 
beseeching him to deliver them from all future ap¬ 
prehensions of danger, by removing such of his 
counsellors as were known to be enemies of the pro- 
testant religion. Two peers, two gentlemen, two 

The king in burgesses, and two ministers, were ap- 
danger. pointed to present it. The king hap¬ 

pened to be in the great hall of the Tolbooth, where 
the court of session was sitting. The manner in 
which the petition was delivered, as well as its con¬ 
tents, offended him. He gave a haughty reply; 
the petitioners insisted with warmth ; and a pro¬ 
miscuous multitude pressing into the room, James 
retired abruptly into another apartment, and com- 

u Though matters were industriously aggravated by persons who wished 
both parties to pursue violent measures, neither of these reports was alto¬ 
gether destitute ot foundation. As their ministers were supposed to be in 
danger, some of the more zealous citizens had determined to defend them 


manded the gates to be shut behind him. The de¬ 
puties returned to the multitude, who were still as¬ 
sembled, and to whom a minister had been reading, 
in their absence, the story of Haman. When they 
reported that the king had refused to listen to their 
petitions, the church was filled in a moment with 
noise, threatenings, execrations, and all the out¬ 
rage and confusion of a popular tumult. Some 
called for their arms, some to bring out the wicked 
Haman; others cried, ‘The sword of the Lord and of 
Gideon ;’ and rushing out with the most furious im¬ 
petuosity, surrounded the Tolbooth, threatening the 
king himself, and demanding some of his counsellors, 
whom they named, that they might tear them in pieces. 
The magistrates of the city, partly by authority, partly 
by force, endeavoured to quell the tumult; the king 
attempted to soothe the malcontents, by promising 
to receive their petitions, when presented in a regu¬ 
lar manner ; the ministers, sensible of their own 
rashness in kindling such a llame, seconded both ; 
and the rage of the populace subsiding as suddenly 
as it had arisen, they all dispersed, and the king 
returned to the palace ; happy in having escaped 
from an insurrection, which, through the instanta¬ 
neous and unconcerted effect of popular fury, had 
exposed his life to imminent danger, and was con¬ 
sidered by him as an unpardonable affront to his 
authority. 31 

As soon as he retired, the leaders of the malcon¬ 
tents assembled, in order to prepare their petition. 
The punishment of the popish lords ; the removal of 
those counsellors who were suspected of favouring 
their persons or opinions ; the repeal of all the late 
acts of council, subversive of the authority of the 
church ; together with an act approving the pro¬ 
ceedings of the standing council, were the chief of 
their demands. But the king’s indignation was 
still so high, that the deputies chosen for this pur¬ 
pose durst not venture that night to present requests 
which could not fail of kindling his rage anew. 
Before next morning, James, with all 
his attendants, withdrew to Linlith- burgh, av ^d E proi 
gow ; the session, and other courts of my VaVuit the’ 6 ' 
justice, were required to leave a city c,tlzens - 
where it was no longer consistent either with their 
safety or their dignity to remain ; and the noblemen 
and barons were commanded to return to their own 
houses, and not to re-assemble without the king’s 
permission. The vigour with which the king acted 
struck a damp upon the spirit of his adversaries. 
The citizens, sensible how much they would suffer 
by his absence, and the removal of the courts of 
justice, repented already of their conduct. The 
ministers alone resolved to maintain the contest. 
They endeavoured to prevent the nobles from dis¬ 
persing ; they inflamed the people by violent invec¬ 
tives against the king ; they laboured to procure 
subscriptions to an association for their mutual de- 

by force of arms. Birch. Mem. ii, 250. Huntley had been privately in 
Edinburgh, where he had an interview, if not with the king, at least with 
some or ms ministers. Birch. Ibid. 230. 
x Spotsw. 417, &c. Cald. v. 54, &c. Birch. Mem. ii. 235 



BOOK VIII. 1596.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


199 


1597. 


fence ; and conscious what lustre and power the 
junction of some of the greater nobles would add to 
their cause, the ministers of Edinburgh Avrote to 
lord Hamilton, that the people, moved by the word 
ot God, and provoked by the injuries offered to the 
church, had taken arms ; that many of the nobles 
had determined to protect the protestant religion, 
which owed its establishment to the piety and va¬ 
lour of their ancestors ; that they wanted only a 
leader to unite them, and to inspire them with 
vigour ; that his zeal for the good cause, no less 
than his noble birth, entitled him to that honour: 
They conjured him, therefore, not to disappoint their 
hopes and wishes, nor to refuse the suffering church 
that aid which she so much needed. Lord Hamilton, 
instead of complying with their desire, 
carried the letter directly to the king, 
whom this new insult irritated to such a degree, that 
he commanded the magistrates of Edinburgh instantly 
to seize their ministers, as manifest incendiaries, and 
encouragers of rebellion. The magistrates, in order 
to regain the king’s favour, were preparing to obey; 
and the ministers, who saw no other hope of safety, 
fled towards England. y 

The kin* hum- This unsuccessful insurrection, in- 
theVilurr’h wer ° f stea( l °f overturning, established the 
Jan. 3. king’s authority. Those concerned in 
it were confounded and dispersed. The rest of 
James’s subjects, in order to avoid suspicion, or to 
gain his favour, contended who should be most for¬ 
ward to execute his vengeance. A convention of 
estates being called, pronounced the late insurrec¬ 
tion to be high treason ; ordained every minister to 
subscribe a declaration of his submission to the 
king’s jurisdiction, in all matters civil and criminal; 
empowered magistrates to commit, instantly, to 
prison, any minister, who, in his sermons, should 
utter any indecent reflections on the king’s conduct; 
prohibited any ecclesiastical judicatory to meet 
without the king’s licence ; commanded that no 
person should be elected a magistrate of Edinburgh, 
for the future, without the king’s approbation ; and 
that, in the mean time, the present magistrates should 
either discover and inflict condign punishment on 
the authors of the late tumult, or the city itself 
should be subjected to all the penalties of that trea¬ 
sonable action. 2 

Abridges the pH- Armed with the authority of these 
zemfof Edin- cltI ' decrees, James resolved to crush en- 
bll, s h - tirely the mutinous spirit of his sub¬ 

jects. As the clergy had hitherto derived their 
chief credit and strength from the favour and zeal 
of the citizens of Edinburgh, his first care was to 
humble them. Though the magistrates submitted 
to him in the most abject terms ; though they vindi¬ 
cated themselves, and their fellow-citizens, from the 
most distant intention of violating his royal person 
or authority ; though, after the strictest scrutiny, 
no circumstances that could fix on them the sus¬ 
picion of premeditated rebellion had been discover- 

y Spotsw. 451. Cald. v, 126. z Cald. v. 147. 


Feb. 28. 


March 21. 


ed ; though many of the nobles, and such of the 
clergy as still retained any degree of favour, inter¬ 
ceded in their behalf; neither acknowledgments 
nor intercessions were of the least avail. 3 The king 
continued inexorable, the city was 
declared to have forfeited its privileges 
as a corporation, and to be liable to all the penalties 
of treason. The capital of the kingdom, deprived 
of magistrates, deserted by its ministers, abandoned 
by the courts of justice, and proscribed by the king, 
remained in desolation and despair. The courtiers 
even threatened to raze the city to the foundation, 
and to erect a pillar where it stood, as an everlasting 
monument of the king’s vengeance, and of the guilt 
of its inhabitants. At last, in compliance with 
Elizabeth, who interposed in their 
favour, and moved by the continual 
solicitations of the nobles, James absolved the citi¬ 
zens from the penalties of law, but at the same time 
he stripped them of their most important privileges: 
they were neither allowed to elect their own magis¬ 
trates nor their own ministers ; many new burthens 
were imposed on them ; and a considerable sum of 
money was exacted by way of peace-offering. b 

James was, meanwhile, equally as- New regulations 
siduous, and no less successful, in ^ b c r ^ gardtothe 
circumscribing the jurisdiction of the 
church. Experience had discovered, that to attempt 
this by acts of parliament, and sentences of privy 
council, was both ineffectual and odious. He had 
recourse now to an expedient more artful, and better 
calculated for obtaining his end. The ecclesiastical 
judicatories were composed of many members ; the 
majority of the clergy were extremely indigent, and 
unprovided of legal stipends ; the ministers in the 
neighbourhood of Edinburgh, notwithstanding the 
parity established by the presbyterian government, 
had assumed a leading in the church which filled 
their brethren with envy ; every numerous body of 
men is susceptible of sudden and strong impressions, 
and liable to be influenced, corrupted, or overawed. 
Induced by these considerations, James thought it 
possible to gain the clergy, whom he had in vain 
attempted to subdue. Proper agents were set to 
work all over the kingdom ; promises, flattery, and 
threats were employed; the usurpations o f the bre¬ 
thren near the capital were aggravated; the jealousy 
of their power, which was growing in the distant 
provinces, was augmented; and two different general 
assemblies were held, in both which, notwithstand¬ 
ing the zeal and boldness wherewith a few leading 
clergymen defended the privileges of the church, a 
majority declared in favour of those measures which 
were agreeable to the king. Many practices, which 
had continued since the reformation, were con¬ 
demned ; many points of discipline, which had 
hitherto been reckoned sacred and uncontroverted, 
were given up ; the licence with which ministers 
discoursed of political matters was restrained ; the 
freedom with which they inveighed against par- 

a Cald. v. 149. b Spotsw. 434, 441. 




200 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1597. BOOK VIII. 


ticular persons was censured ; sentences of sum¬ 
mary excommunication were declared unlawful ; 
the convoking a general assembly, without the 
king's permission, was prohibited ; and the right of 
nominating ministers to the principal towns, was 
vested in the crown. Thus, the clergy themselves 
surrendered privileges, which it would have been 
dangerous to invade, and voluntarily submitted to 
a yoke more intolerable than any James would have 
ventured to impose by force; while such as con¬ 
tinued to oppose his measures, instead of their 
former popular topic of the king's violent encroach¬ 
ments on a jurisdiction which did not belong to him, 
w ere obliged to turn their outcries against the cor¬ 
ruptions of their own order. c 

Popish lords par- By the authority of these general as- 
doned - semblies, the popish earls w ere allowed 
to make a public recantation of their errors; were ab¬ 
solved from the sentence of excommunication ; and 
received into the bosom of the church. But, not many 
years after, they relapsed into their former errors, 
w ere again reconciled to the church of Rome, and by 
their apostasy justified, in some degree, the fears and 
scruples of the clergy with regard to their absolution. 

The ministers of Edinburgh owed to the intercession 
of these assemblies the liberty of returning to their 
charges in the city. But this liberty was clogged in 
such a manner as greatly abridged their power. The 
city was divided into distinct parishes; the number of 
ministers doubled ; persons on whose fidelity the king 
could rely w ere fixed in the new parishes; and these 
circumstances, added to the authority of the late 
decrees of the church, contributed to confirm that 
absolute dominion in ecclesiastical affairs, which 
James possessed during the remainder of his reign. 

The king was so intent on new' modelling the 
church, that the other transactions of this period 
scarce deserve to be remembered. The Octavians, 
envied by the other courtiers, and splitting into 
factions among themselves, resigned their commis¬ 
sion ; and the administration of the revenue re¬ 
turning into its former channel, both the king and 
the nation were deprived of the benefit of their 
regular and frugal economy. 

d ^ Towards the end of the year, a par¬ 
liament was held in order to restore 
Huntley and his associates to their estates and 
honours, by repealing the act of forfeiture passed 
against them. The authority of this supreme court 
was likewise employed to introduce a further inno¬ 
vation into the church ; but, conformable to the 
system which the king had now' adopted, the motion 
for this purpose took its rise from the clergy them- 

Ecciesiastios re- selves. As the act of general annex- 
stored to a seat in 

parliament. ation, and that establishing the pres- 
byterian government, had reduced the few bishops 
who still survived to poverty and contempt; as 
those who possessed the abbeys and priories w'cre 
mere laymen, and many of them temporal peers, 
few or none of the ecclesiastical order remained to 


vote in parliament, and by means of that, the in¬ 
fluence of the crown was considerably diminished 
there, and a proper balance to the power and number 
of the nobles was wanting. But the prejudices which 
the nation had conceived against the name and cha¬ 
racter of bishops were so violent, that James w'as 
obliged, with the utmost care, to avoid the appearance 
of a design to revive that order. He 

. . 1598. 

prevailed therefore on the commission 
appointed by the last general assembly to complain 
to the parliament, that the church was the only body 
in the kingdom destitute of its representatives in that 
supreme court, where it so nearly concerned every 
order to have some who were bound to defend its 
rights ; and to crave that a competent number of the 
clergy should be admitted, according to ancient cus¬ 
tom, to a seat there. In compliance w ith this request, 
an act w as passed, by which those ministers on w horn 
the king should confer the vacant bishoprics and 
abbeys, were entitled to a vote in parliament; and 
that the clergy might conceive no jealousy of any 
encroachment upon their privileges, it was remitted 
to the general assembly, to determine what spiritual 
jurisdiction or authority in the government of the 
church these persons should possess. d 

The king, however, found it no easy matter to 
obtain the concurrence of the ecclesiastical judi¬ 
catories, in which the act of parliament met w ith a 
fierce opposition. Though the clergy perceived 
how much lustre this new privilege would reflect 
upon their order; though they were not insensible 
of the great accession of personal pow er and dignity 
which many of them would acquire, by being ad¬ 
mitted into the supreme council of the nation, their 
abhorrence of episcopacy was extreme ; and to that 
they sacrificed every consideration of interest or 
ambition. All the king’s professions of regard for 
the present constitution of the church did not con¬ 
vince them of his sincerity ; all the devices that 
could be invented for restraining and circumscrib¬ 
ing the jurisdiction of such as were to be raised to 
this new' honour, did not diminish their jealousy and 
fear. Their own experience had taught them, with 
what insinuating progress the hierarchy advances, 
and though admitted at first with moderate authority, 
and under specious pretences, how rapidly it ex¬ 
tends its dominion. “ Varnish over this scheme," 
said one of the leading clergymen, “ with what 
colours you please ; deck the intruder with the ut¬ 
most art; under all this disguise, I see the horns of 
his mitre.” The same sentiments prevailed among 
many of his brethren, and induced them to reject 
power and honours with as much zeal as ever those 
of their order courted them. Many, how ever, were 
allured by the hopes of preferment; the king him¬ 
self and his ministers employed the same arts which 
they had tried so successfully last year; and after 
long debates, and much opposition, the general 
assembly declared that it w as lawful 
for ministers to accept of a seat in par¬ 
ti Spotsw. 450. Pari. 15th Jac. VI. c. 235. 


c Spotsw. 433. Cald. v. 189. 233. 




BOOK VIII. 1598.] THE HISTORY 

liaraent; that it would be highly beneficial to the 
church to have its representatives in that supreme 
court; and that fifty-one persons, a number nearly 
equal to that of the ecclesiastics who were anciently 
called to parliament, should be chosen from among 
the clergy for that purpose. The manner of their 
election, together with the powers to be vested in 
them, were left undecided for the present, and fur¬ 
nished matter of future deliberation. 6 

^ r As the prospect of succeeding to the 

James endeavours crown of England drew nearer, James 
with success to , . ,. , 

gam a ^arty in multiplied precautions in order to 
render it certain. As he was allied to 
many of the princes of Germany by his marriage, 
he sent ambassadors extraordinary to their several 
courts, in order to explain the justness of his title 
to the English throne, and to desire their assistance, 
if any competitor should arise to dispute his un¬ 
doubted rights. These princes readily acknowledged 
the equity of his claim ; but the aid which they 
could afford him was distant and feeble. At the 
same time, Edward Bruce, abbot of Kinloss, his 
ambassador at the English court, solicited Elizabeth 
with the utmost warmth, to recognize his title by 
some public deed, and to deliver her own subjects 
from the calamities which are occasioned by an 
uncertain or disputed succession. But age had 
strengthened all the passions which had hitherto 
induced Elizabeth to keep this great question obscure 
and undecided ; and a general and evasive answer 
was all that James could obtain. As no impression 
could be made on the queen, the ambassador was 
commanded to sound the disposition of her subjects, 
and to try what progress he could make in gaining 
them. Bruce possessed all the talents of secrecy, 
judgment, and address, requisite for conducting a 
negociation no less delicate than important. A 
minister of this character was entitled to the confi¬ 
dence of the English. Many of the highest rank 
unbosomed themselves to him without reserve, and 
gave him repeated assurances of their resolution to 
assert his master’s right, in opposition to every pre¬ 
tender/ As several pamphlets were dispersed, at 
this time, in England, containing objections to his 
title, James employed some learned men in his 
kingdom to answer these cavillers, and to explain 
the advantages which would result to both kingdoms 
by the union of the crowns. These books were 
eagerly read, and contributed not a little to reconcile 
the English to that event. A book published this 
year by the king himself, produced an effect still 
more favourable. It was entitled Basilicon Doron , 
and contained precepts concerning the art of govern¬ 
ment, addressed to prince Henry his son. Notwith¬ 
standing the great alterations and refinements in 
national taste since that time, we must allow this to 
be no contemptible performance, and not to be in¬ 
ferior to the works of most contemporary writers, 
either in purity of style or justness of composition. 
Even the vain parade of erudition with which it 

e Spotsw. 450. Cald. v. 278. f Johnst. 242. g Camd. Spotsw. 457- 


OF SCOTLAND. 201 

abounds, and which now disgusts us, raised the 
admiration of that age ; and as it was filled with 
those general rules which speculative authors deliver 
for rendering a nation happy, and of which James 
could discourse with great plausibility, though often 
incapable of putting them in practice, the English 
conceived a high opinion of his abilities, and ex¬ 
pected an increase of national honour and prosperity, 
under a prince so profoundly skilled in politics, and 
who gave such a specimen both of his wisdom and 
of his love to his people. 8 

The queen of England’s sentiments concerning 
James were very different from those of her subjects. 
His excessive indulgence towards the popish lords ; 
the facility with which he pardoned their repeated 
treasons ; his restoring Beatoun, the popish arch¬ 
bishop of Glasgow, who had fled out of Scotland at 
the time of the reformation, to the possession of the 
temporalities of that benefice ; the appointing him 
his ambassador at the court of France; the applause 
he bestowed, in the Basilicon Doron, on those who 
adhered to the queen his mother ; Elizabeth con¬ 
sidered as so many indications of a mind alienated 
from the protestant religion, and suspected that he 
would soon revolt from the profession 

Accuses him or 

of it. These suspicions seemed to be corresponding 

with the pope. 

fully confirmed by a discovery which 
came from the master of Gray, who resided at that 
time in Italy, and who, rather than suffer his in¬ 
triguing spirit to be idle, demeaned himself so far as 
to act as a spy for the English court. He conveyed 
to Elizabeth the copy of a letter written by James 
to pope Clement VIII., in which the king, after many 
expressions of regard for that pontiff, and of grati¬ 
tude for his favours, declared his firm resolution 
to treat the Roman catholics with indulgence; and, 
in order to render the intercourse between the court 
of Rome and Scotland more frequent and familiar, 
he solicited the pope to promote Drummond, bishop 
of Vaison, a Scotsman, to the dignity of a cardinal. 11 
Elizabeth, who had received by another channel 1 
some imperfect intelligence of this correspondence, 
was filled with just surprise, and immediately des¬ 
patched Bowes into Scotland, to inquire more fully 
into the truth of the matter, and to reproach James 
for an action so unbecoming a protestant prince. 
He was astonished at the accusation, and with a 
confidence which nothing but the consciousness of 
innocence could inspire, affirmed the whole to be a 
mere calumny, and the letter itself to be forged by 
his enemies, on purpose to bring his sincerity in 
religion to be suspected. Elphingston, the secretary 
of state, denied the matter with equal solemnity. 
It came, however, to be known by a very singular 
accident, which happened some years after, that the 
information which Elizabeth had received was well 
founded, though at the same time the king’s decla¬ 
rations of his own innocence were perfectly con¬ 
sistent with truth. Cardinal Bellarmine, in a reply 
which he published to a controversial treatise of 
h Cald. 333. i Winw. Mem. vol. i. 37, 52. 




202 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


which the king was the author, accused him of 
having abandoned the favourable sentiments which 
he had once entertained of the Roman catholic re¬ 
ligion, and, as a proof of this, quoted his letter to 
Clement VIII. It was impossible, any longer, to 
believe this to be a fiction; and it was a matter too 
delicate to be passed over without strict inquiry. 
James immediately examined Elpliingston, and his 
confession unravelled the whole mystery. He ac¬ 
knowledged that he had shuffled in this letter among 
other papers, which he laid before the king to be 
signed, who suspecting no such deceit, subscribed 
it together with the rest, and without knowing what 
it contained ; that he had no other motive, however, 
to this action, but zeal for his majesty’s service; and, 
by flattering the Roman catholics with hopes of in¬ 
dulgence under the king’s government, he imagined 
that he was paving the way for his more easy ac¬ 
cession to the English throne. The privy-council 
of England entertained very different sentiments of 
the secretary’s conduct. In their opinion, not only 
the king’s reputation had been exposed to reproach, 
but his life to danger, by this rash imposture; they 
even imputed the gunpowder treason to the rage 
and disappointment of the papists, upon finding 
that the hopes which this letter inspired were frus¬ 
trated. The secretary was sent a prisoner into 
Scotland, to be tried for high treason. His peers 
found him guilty, but, by the queen’s intercession, 
he obtained a pardon. k 

According to the account of other historians, James 
himself was no stranger to this correspondence with 
the pope ; and, if we believe them, Elpliingston, 
being intimidated by the threats of the English 
council, and deceived by the artifices of the earl of 
Dunbar, concealed some circumstances in his narra¬ 
tive of this transaction, and falsified others; and at 
the expense of his own fame, and with the danger 
of his life, endeavoured to draw a veil over this 
part of his master’s conduct. 1 

T But whether we impute the writing 

James at great ° 

pains to gain the oi this letter to the secretary’s officious 

.Roman catholics. . ^ 

zeal, or to the king s command, it is 
certain that, about this time, James was at the ut¬ 
most pains to gain the friendship of the Roman 
catholic princes, as a necessary precaution towards 
facilitating his accession to the English throne. 
Lord Home, who was himself a papist, was intrusted 
with a secret commission to the pope ; m the arch¬ 
bishop of Glasgow was an active instrument with 
those of his own religion." The pope expressed 
such favourable sentiments both of the king, and of 
his rights to the crown of England, that James 
thought himself bound, some years after, to acknow¬ 
ledge the obligation in a public manner." Sir 
James Lindsay made great progress in gaining the 
English papists to acknowledge his majesty’s title. 
Of all these intrigues Elizabeth received obscure 
hints from different quarters. The more imperfectly 

k State Trials, vol. i. 429. Spotsw. 456, 507. Johnst. 448. 

1 Cald. vol. v. 322. vi. 147. m Winw. Mem. vol. ii. 57. 


[1600. BOOK VIII. 

she knew, the more violently she suspected, the king’s 
designs ; and the natural jealousy of her temper in¬ 
creasing with age, she observed his conduct with 
greater solicitude than ever. 

The questions with regard to the ^ ^ 

election and power of the representa- March 28 . 

. His regulations 

tives of the church, were finally de- with regard to the 

... church. 

cided this year by the general assem¬ 
bly, which met at Montrose. That place was chosen 
as most convenient for the ministers of the north, 
among whom the king’s influence chiefly lay. Al¬ 
though great numbers resorted from the northern 
provinces, and the king employed his whole interest, 
and the authority of his own presence, to gain a 
majority, the following regulations were with diffi¬ 
culty agreed on. That the general assembly shall 
recommend six persons to every vacant benefice 
which gave a title to a seat in parliament, out of 
whom the king shall nominate one ; that the person 
so elected, after obtaining his seat in parliament, 
shall neither propose nor consent to any thing there, 
that may affect the interest of the church, without 
special instructions to that purpose; that he shall 
be answerable for his conduct to every general 
assembly, and submit to its censure, without ap¬ 
peal, upon pain of infamy and excommunication ; 
that he shall discharge the duties of a pastor in a 
particular congregation ; that he shall not usurp 
any ecclesiastical jurisdiction superior to that of 
his other brethren ; that if the church inflict on 
him the censure of deprivation, he shall there¬ 
by forfeit his seat in parliament; that he shall 
annually resign his commission to the general as¬ 
sembly, which may be restored to him, or not, as 
the assembly, with the king’s approbation, shall 
judge most expedient for the good of the church.!’ 
Nothing could be more repugnant to the idea of 
episcopal government than these regulations. It 
was not in consequence of rights derived from their 
office, but of powers conferred by a commission, that 
the ecclesiastical persons were to be admitted to a 
seat in parliament; they were the representatives, 
not the superiors, of the clergy. Destitute of all 
spiritual authority, even their civil jurisdiction was 
temporary. James, however, flattered himself that 
they would soon be able to shake off these fetters, 
and gradually acquire all the privileges which be¬ 
longed to the episcopal order. The clergy dreaded 
the same thing; and of course he contended for the 
nomination of these commissioners, and they op¬ 
posed it, not so much on account of the powers then 
vested in them, as of those to which it was believed 
they would soon attain.^ 

During this summer the kingdom en- Gowrie , s conspi 
joyed an unusual tranquillity. The racy - 
clergy, after many struggles, were brought under 
great subjection ; the popish earls were restored to 
their estates and honours, by the authority of parlia¬ 
ment, and with the consent of the church ; the rest 

n Cald. vol. vi. 147. o Ibid. vol. v. 604. 

p Spotsw. 453, 457. Cald. vol. v. 368. q Spotsw. 454. 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


203 


BOOK VIII. 1600.] 

of the nobles were at peace among themelves, and 
obedient to the royal authority ; when in the midst 
of this security, the king’s life was exposed to the 
utmost danger, by a conspiracy altogether unex¬ 
pected, and almost inexplicable. The authors of it 
were John Ruthven, earl of Gowrie, and his bro¬ 
ther Alexander, the sons of that earl who was be¬ 
headed in the year one thousand five hundred and 
eighty-four. Nature had adorned both these young 
men, especially the elder brother, with many accom¬ 
plishments, to which education had added its most 
elegant improvements. More learned than is usual 
among persons of their rank ; more religious than is 
common at their age of life ; generous, brave, popu¬ 
lar ; their countrymen, far from thinking them capa¬ 
ble of any atrocious crime, conceived the most san¬ 
guine hopes of their early virtues. Notwithstand¬ 
ing all these noble qualities, some unknown motive 
engaged them in a conspiracy, which, if we adhere 
to the account commonly received, must be trans¬ 
mitted to posterity as one of the most wicked, as 
well as one of the worst concerted, of which history 
makes any mention. 

On the fifth of August, as the king, who resided 
during the hunting season in his palace of Falk¬ 
land, was going out to his sport early in the morn¬ 
ing, he was accosted by Mr. Alexander Ruthven, 
who, with an air of great importance, told the king, 
that the evening before he had met an unknown 
man, of a suspicious aspect, w alking alone in a bye- 
path near his brother’s house at Perth ; and on 
searching him had found, under his cloak, a pot 
filled with a great quantity of foreign gold ; that 
he had immediately seized both him and his treasure, 
and without communicating the matter to any per¬ 
son, had kept him confined and bound in a solitary 
house ; and that he thought it his duty to impart 
such a singular event first of all to his majesty. 
James immediately suspected this unknown person 
to be a seminary priest, supplied with foreign coin, 
in order to excite new commotions in the kingdom ; 
and resolved to empower the magistrates of Perth 
to call the person before them, and inquire into all 
the circumstances of the story. Ruthven violently 
opposed this resolution, and with many arguments 
urged the king to ride directly to Perth, and to ex¬ 
amine the matter in person. Meanwhile the chace 
began ; and James, notwithstanding his passion for 
that amusement, could not help ruminating upon 
the strangeness of the tale, and on Ruthven’s impor¬ 
tunity. At last he called him, and promised when 
the sport was over to set out for Perth. The chace, 
however, continued long ; and Ruthven, w ho all 
the while kept close by the king, was still urging 
him to make haste. At the death of the buck he would 
notallow James to stay till a fresh horse was brought 
him ; and observing the duke of Lennox and the 
earl of Mar preparing to accompany the king, he 
entreated him to countermand them. This James 
refused ; and though Ruthven’s impatience and 
anxiety, as well as the apparent perturbation in his 


whole behaviour, raised some suspicions in his 
mind, yet his own curiosity, and Ruthven’s solicita¬ 
tions, prevailed on him to set out for Perth. When 
within a mile of the town, Ruthven rode forward to 
inform his brother of the king’s arrival, though he 
had already despatched two messengers for that 
purpose. At a little distance from the town, the 
earl, attended by several of the citizens, met the 
king, who had only twenty persons in his train. No 
preparations were made for the king’s entertainment; 
the earl appeared pensive and embarrassed, and 
was at no pains to atone, by his courtesy or hospi¬ 
tality, for the bad fare with which he treated his 
guests. When the king’s repast was over, his atten¬ 
dants were led to dine in another room, and he being 
left almost alone, Ruthven whispered him, that now 
was the time to go to the chamber where the un¬ 
known person was kept. James commanded him 
to bring sir Thomas Erskine along with them ; but 
instead of that, Ruthven ordered him not to follow, 
and conducting the king up a staircase, and then 
through several apartments, the doors of which he 
locked behind him, led him at last into a small study- 
in which there stood a man clad in armour, with a 
sword and dagger by his side. The king, who ex¬ 
pected to have found one disarmed and bound, 
started at the sight, and inquired if this was the 
person; but Ruthven snatching the dagger from the 
girdle of the man in armour, and holding it to the 
king’s breast, “ Remember,” said he, “ how unjustly 
my father suffered by your command ; you are now 
my prisoner ; submit to my disposal without resist¬ 
ance or outcry ; or this dagger shall instantly 
avenge his blood.” James expostulated with Ruth¬ 
ven, entreated, and flattered him. The man whom he 
found in the study stood all the while, trembling and 
dismayed, without courage either to aid the king, or 
to second his aggressor. Ruthven protested, that if 
the king raised no outcry, his life should be safe; 
and, moved by some unknown reason, retired in 
order to call his brother, leaving to the man in ar¬ 
mour the care of the king, whom he bound by oath 
not to make any noise during his absence. 

While the king was in this dangerous situation, 
his attendants growing impatient to know whither 
he had retired, one of Gowrie’s domestics entered 
the room hastily, and told them that the king had 
just rode away towards Falkland. All of them 
rushed out into the street; and the earl, in the ut¬ 
most hurry, called for their horses. But by this 
time his brother had returned to the king, and 
swearing that now there was no remedy, he must 
die, offered to bind his hands. Unarmed as James 
was, he scorned to submit to that indignity ; and 
closing with the assassin, a fierce struggle ensued. 
The man in armour stood, as formerly, amazed and 
motionless; and the king, dragging Ruthven to¬ 
wards a window, which during his absence he had 
persuaded the person with whom he was left to open, 
cried with a wild and affrighted voice, “treason! 
treason ! help ! I am murdered!” His attendants 




201 the history 

heard, and knew the voice, and saw at the window 
a hand which grasped the king's neck with violence. 
They Hew with precipitation to his assistance. Len¬ 
nox and Mar, with the greater number, ran up the 
principal stair-case, where they found all the doors 
shut, which they battered with the utmost fury, endea¬ 
vouring to burst them open. But sir John Ramsey, 
entering by a back stair which led to the apartment 
where the king was, found the door open; and 
rushing upon Rutliven, who was still struggling 
with the king, struck him twice with his dagger, 
and thrust him towards the stair-case, where sir 
Thomas Erskine and sir Hugh Herries met, and 
killed him ; he crying with his last breath, “ Alas ! 
I am not to blame for this action.” During this 
scuffle the man who had been concealed in the study 
escaped unobserved. Together with Ramsey, Ers¬ 
kine, and Herries, one Wilson, a footman, entered 
the room where the king was, and before they had 
time to shut the door, Gowrie rushed in with a 
drawn sword in each hand, followed by seven of his 
attendants well armed, and with a loud voice 
threatened them all with instant death. They im¬ 
mediately thrust the king into the little study, and 
shutting the door upon him, encountered the earl. 
Notwithstanding the inequality of numbers, sir John 
Ramsey pierced Gowrie through the heart, and he 
fell down dead without uttering a word ; his fol¬ 
lowers, having received several wounds, immediately 
fled. Three of the king’s defenders were likewise 
hurt in the conflict. A dreadful noise continued 
still at the opposite door, where many persons la¬ 
boured in vain to force a passage; and the king 
being assured that they were Lennox, Mar, and his 
other friends, it was opened on the inside. They 
ran to the king, whom they unexpectedly found safe, 
with transports of congratulation; and he, falling 
on his knees, with all his attendants around him, 
offered solemn thanks to God for such a wonderful 
deliverance. The danger, however, was not yet 
over. The inhabitants of the town, whose provost 
Gowrie was, and by whom he was extremely be¬ 
loved, hearing the fate of the two brothers, ran to 
their arms, and surrounded the house, threatening 
revenge, with many insolent and opprobrious 
speeches against the king. James endeavoured to 
pacify the enraged multitude, by speaking to them 
from the window ; he admitted their magistrates 
into the house ; related to them all the circumstances 
of the fact; and their fury subsiding by degrees, 
they dispersed. On searching the earl’s pockets for 
papers that might discover his designs and accom¬ 
plices, nothing was found but a small parchment bag, 
full of magical characters and words of enchant¬ 
ment; and, if we may believe the account of the 
conspiracy published by the king, “while these 
were about him the wound of which he died bled 
not; but as soon as they were taken away, the blood 
gushed out in great abundance.” After all the 
dangerous adventures of this busy day, the king re¬ 
turned in the evening to Falkland, having com- 


OF SCOTLAND. [1600. BOOK VIII. 

mitted the dead bodies of the two brothers to the 
custody of the magistrates of Perth. 

Notwithstanding the minute detail The motives of 
which the king gave of all the circum- 
stances of this conspiracy against his 1>1<uned ' 
life, the motives which induced the two brothers to 
attempt an action so detestable, the end they had in 
view, and the accomplices on whose aid they de¬ 
pended, were altogether unknown. The words of 
Ruthven to the king gave some grounds to think 
that the desire of revenging their father’s death had 
instigated them to this attempt. But, whatever in¬ 
juries their father had suffered, it is scarcely pro¬ 
bable that they could impute them to the king, 
whose youth, as well as his subjection at that time 
to the violence of a faction, exempted him from 
being the object of resentment, on account of actions 
which were not done by his command. James had 
even endeavoured to repair the wrongs which the 
father had suffered, by benefits to his children ; and 
Gowrie himself, sensible of his favour, had acknow¬ 
ledged it with the warmest expressions of gratitude. 
Three of the earl’s attendants, being convicted of 
assisting him in this assault on the king’s servants, 
were executed at Perth ; but they could give no 
light into the motives which had prompted their 
master to an action so repugnant to these acknow¬ 
ledgments. Diligent search was made for the per¬ 
son concealed in the study, and from him great 
discoveries were expected. But Andrew Hender¬ 
son, the earl’s steward, who, upon a promise of 
pardon, confessed himself to be the man, was as 
much a stranger to his master’s design as the rest; 
and though placed in the study by Gowrie’s com¬ 
mand, he did not even know for what end that sta¬ 
tion had been assigned him. The whole transac¬ 
tion remained as impenetrably dark as ever; and 
the two brothers, it was concluded, had concerted 
their scheme without either confidant or accomplice, 
with unexampled secrecy as well as wickedness. 

An accident no less strange than the 

... _ s profs disco- 

other circumstances 01 the story, and yeries concerning 

which happened nine years after, dis¬ 
covered that this opinion, however plausible, was 
ill founded, and that the two brothers had not car¬ 
ried on their machinations all alone. One Sprot, a 
notary, having whispered among several persons 
that he knew some secrets relating to Gowrie’s 
conspiracy, the privy-council thought the matter 
worthy of their attention, and ordered him to be 
seized. His confession was partly voluntary, and 
partly forced from him by torture. According to 
his account, Logan of Restalrig, a gentleman of 
an opulent fortune, but of dissolute morals, was 
privy to all Gowrie’s intentions, and an accomplice 
in his crimes. Mr. Ruthven, he said, had frequent 
interviews with Logan in order to concert the plan 
of their operations ; the earl had corresponded with 
him to the same purpose; and one Bour, Logan’s 
confidant, was trusted with the secret, and carried 
the letters between them. Both Logan and Bour 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


205 


BOOK VIII. 1600.] 

were now dead. But Sprot affirmed that he had 
read letters written both by Gowrie and Logan on 
that occasion ; and in confirmation of his testimony, 
several of Logan’s letters, which a curiosity fatal to 
himself had prompted Sprot to steal from among 
Bour’s papers, were produced/ These were com¬ 
pared by the privy-council with papers of Logan’s 
hand-writing, and the resemblance was manifest. 
Persons of undoubted credit, and well qualified to 
judge of the matter, examined them, and swore to 
their authenticity. Death itself did not exempt 
Logan from prosecution ; his bones were dug up 
and tried for high treason, and, by a sentence equally 
odious and illegal, s his lands were forfeited, and his 
posterity declared infamous. Sprot was condemned 
to be hanged for misprision of treason. He adhered 
to his confession to the last, and having promised 
on the scaffold to give the spectators a sign in con¬ 
firmation of the truth of what he had deposed, he 
thrice clapped his hands after he was thrown off the 
ladder by the executioner/ 

But though it be thus unexpectedly discovered 
that Gowrie did not act without associates, little 
additional light is thrown, by this discovery, on the 
motives and intention of his conduct. It appears 
almost incredible that two young men of such dis¬ 
tinguished virtue should revolt all at once from their 
duty, and attempt a crime so atrocious as the mur¬ 
der of their sovereign. It appears still more im¬ 
probable that they should have concerted their 
undertaking with so little foresight and prudence. 
If they intended that the deed should have remained 


r Logan’s letters were five in number. One to Bour, another to Gowrie, 
and three of them without any direction ; nor could Sprot discover the 
name of the person to whom they were written. Logan gives him the ap¬ 
pellation of Right Honourable. It appears from this, however, and from 
other words in the letter, Grom. 95. that there were several persons privy 
to the conspiracy. The date of the first letter is .luly 18th. Mr. Ruthven 
had communicated the matter to Logan only five clays before. Ibid. It 
appears from the original summons of forfaulture against Logan’s heirs, that 
Bour, though he had letters addressed to him with regard to a conspiracy 
equally dangerous and important, was so illiterate that he could not read. 
“ Jacobus Bour, literarum prorsus ignarus, dicti Georgii opera in legendis 
omnibus scriptis ad eum missis, vel pertinentibus utebatur.” This is al¬ 
together strange ; and nothing but the capricious character of Logan can 
account for his choosing such a confidant. 

s By the Roman law, persons guilty of the crime of high treason might 
be tried even after death. This practice was adopted b)' the Scots with¬ 
out any limitation. Pari. 1540. c. 09. But the unlimited exercise of this 
power was soon conceived to be dangerous ; and the crown was laid under 
proper restrictions, by an act A. D. 1542, which has never been printed. 
The words of it are,’ “ And because the said lords (i. e. the lords of ar¬ 
ticles) think the said act (viz. in 1540,) too general, and prejudicial to the 
barons in the realm, therefore statutes and ordains that the said act shall 
have no place in time coming, but against the heirs of them that notori¬ 
ously commit or shall commit lese majesty against the king’s person, 
against the realm for averting the same, and against them that shall happen 
to betray the king’s army allenarly, and being notoriously known in their 
time ; and the heirs of these persons to be called and judged within five 
years after the decease of the said persons committers of the said crimes ; 
and the said time being by-past, the said heirs never to be pursued for the 
Same.” The sentence against Logan violated this statute in two particu¬ 
lars. He was not notoriously known during his life to be an accom¬ 
plice in the crime for which he was tried ; and his heir was called in 
question more than five years after his death. It is remarkable that this 
statute seems not to have been attended to in the parliament which for¬ 
feited Logan. Another singular circumstance deserves notice. As it is a 
maxim of .justice that no person can be tried in absence ; and as lawyers 
are always tenacious of their forms, and often absurd in their devices for 
preserving them, they contrived that, in any process against a dead per¬ 
son, his corpse or bones shall be presented at the bar. Examples of this 
occur frequently in the Scottish history. After the battle of Corrichie, 
the dead body of the earl of Huntley was presented in parliament, before 
sentence of forfaulture was pronounced against him. For the same reason, 
the bodies of Gowrie and his brother were preserved, in order that they 
might be produced in parliament. Logan’s bones, in compliance with 
the same rule, were dug up. Mackenz. Grim. Law, Book i. tit. 6. $ 22. 

t It appears that archbishop Spotswood was present at the execution of 
Sprot, Grom. 115. and yet he seems to have given no credit to his disco¬ 
veries. 1 he manner in which he speaks of him is remarkable : “ Whether 
or not f should mention the arraignment and execution of George Sprot, 
who suffered at Edinburgh, I am doubtful ; his confession, though volun¬ 
tary and constant, carrying small probability. 'Ihe man deposed, &c. It 
seemed to be a very fiction, and a mere invention of the man’s own brain ; 
for neither did he show the letter, nor could any wise man think that 
Gowrie, who went about the treason so secretly, would have communi¬ 
cated the matter to such a man as Logan was known to be,” p. 508. 
Spotswood could not be ignorant of the solemnity with which Logan had 


concealed, they could not have chosen a more im¬ 
proper scene for executing it than their own house. 
If they intended that Henderson should have struck 
the blow, they could not have pitched on a man 
more destitute of the courage that must direct the 
hand of an assassin ; nor could they expect that he, 
unsolicited, and unacquainted with their purpose, 
would venture on such a desperate action. If Ruth¬ 
ven meant to stab the king with his own hand, w hy 
did he withdraw the dagger, after it w as pointed at 
his breast? How could he leave the king after such 
a plain declaration of his intention? Was it not 
preposterous to commit him to the keeping of such 
a timid associate as Henderson? For what purpose 
did he waste time in binding the hands of an un¬ 
armed man, whom he might easily have despatched 
with his sword ? Had Providence permitted them to 
imbrue their hands in the blood of their sovereign, 
what advantage could have accrued to them by his 
death? And what claims or pretensions could they 
have opposed to the rights of his children ? 11 Inevit¬ 
able and instant vengeance, together w ith perpetual 
infamy, were the only consequences they could ex¬ 
pect to follow such a crime. 

On the other hand, it is impossible to believe that 
the king had formed any design against the life of 
the two brothers. They had not incurred his indig¬ 
nation by any crime ; and were in no degree the 
objects of his jealousy or hatred ; x nor was he of a 
spirit so sanguinary, or so noted for rash and des¬ 
perate valour, as to have attempted to murder them 
in their own house, where they were surrounded 


been tried, and of the proof brought of the authenticity of his letters. He 
himself was probably present in parliament at the trial. 'Ihe earl of 
Dunbar, of whom he always speaks with the highest respect, was the per¬ 
son who directed the process against Logan. Such a peremptory decla¬ 
ration against the truth of Sprot’s evidence, notwithstanding all these cir¬ 
cumstances, is surprising. Sir I homas Hamilton, the kings advocate at 
that time, and afterwards earl of Haddington, represents the proof pro¬ 
duced at I ogan’s trial as extremely convincing ; and in an original letter 
of his to the king, the 21st of June 1609, (in Bibl, Facult. Jurid.) after 
mentioning the manner in which the trial had been conducted, he thus 
goes on: 

“ When the probation of the summons was referred to the lords of arti¬ 
cles votes, they found uniformly, all in one voice, the said summons to be 
so clearly proved, that they seemed to contend who should be able most 
zealously to express the satisfaction of his heart, not only by the most pithy 
words, but by tears of joy ; diverse of the best rank confessing, that that 
whereof they doubted at their entry into the house was now so manifest, 
that they behoved to esteem them traitors who should any longer refuse to 
declare their assured resolution of the truth of that treason.” 

u It has been asserted, that, in consequence of the king’s death, the earl 
of Gowrie might have pretended to the crown of England, as the son of 
Dorothea Stewart, daughter of lord Methven by Margaret of England, 
who, after her divorce from the earl of Angus, took that nobleman for her 
third husband. Burnet, Hist, of his own limes. But this assertion is ill- 
founded. It appears, from undoubted evidence, that lord Methven had 
only one child by queen Margaret, which died in its infancy, and Doro¬ 
thea lady Ruthven was not the daughter of queen Margaret, but of Janet 
Stewart, lord Methven’s second wife, a daughter of John earl of Athol. 
Grawf. Peer. 329. And though Gowrie had really been descended from 
the blood-royal of England, the king at that time had a son and a daugh¬ 
ter ; and besides them, lady Arabella Stewart, daughter of Gharles earl 
of Lennox, had a preferable title to the crown of England. 

x Sir Flenry Seville, in a letter to sir Ralph Wmwood, imputes the 
death of the two brothers to a cause not mentioned by any of our histori¬ 
ans. “ Out of Scotland we hear that there is no good agreement, but ra¬ 
ther an open diffidence, betwixt the king and his wife, and many are of 
opinion that the discovery of some affection between her and the earl of 
Gowrie’s brother (who was killed with him) was the truest cause and mo¬ 
tive of that tragedy.” Winw. Mem. vol. i. 274. Whether the following 
passages in Nicholson’s letter be any confirmation of that suspicion, is 
submitted to the reader. In his letter, Sept. 22. 1602, he mentions the re¬ 
turn of Gowrie’s two younger brothers into Scotland, and adds, “ Ihe 
coming in of these two, and the queen of Scots dealing with them, and 
senrling away and furnishing Mrs. Beatrix (their sister) with such infor¬ 
mation as sir I homas Erskine has given, hath bred great suspicion in the 
king of Scots that they come not in but upon some dangerous plot.” In 
another letter, January 1.1603, “ I he day of writing my last, Mrs. Beatrix 
Ruthven was brought by the lady Paisley, and Mrs. of Angus, as one 
of their gentlewomen, into the court in the evening, and stowed in a 
chamber prepared for her by the queen’s direction, where the queen had 
much time and conference with her. Of this the king got notice, and 
showed his dislike thereof to the queen, gently reproving her for it, and 
examining quietly of the queen’s servants of the same, and of other mat¬ 
ters thereunto belonging, with such discretion and secresy as requires 
such a matter.” 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1600. BOOK VIII. 


with many domestics, he only with a slender and 
unarmed train ; where they could call to their as¬ 
sistance the inhabitants of a city at the devotion of 
their family, while he was at a distance from all 
aid ; and least of all would he have chosen for his 
associates in such an enterprise the earl of Mar and 
the duke of Lennox, the former connected in close 
friendship with the house of Gowrie, and the latter 
married to one of the earl’s sisters. 
a conjecture Whichsoever of these opposite sys- 

intenUorTof the tems we embrace; whether we impute 
conspirators. the intention of murder to Gowrie, 

or to the king; insuperable difficulties arise, and 
we are involved in darkness, mystery, and contra¬ 
dictions. Perhaps the source of the whole conspi¬ 
racy ought to be searched for deeper, and by de¬ 
riving it from a more remote cause, we may discover 
it to be less criminal. 

To keep the king of Scots in continual depend- 
ance, was one great object of Elizabeth’s policy. In 
order to this, she sometimes soothed him, and some¬ 
times bribed his ministers and favourites ; and when 
she failed of attaining her end by these means, she 
encouraged the clergy to render any administration 
which she distrusted unpopular, by decrying it, or 
stirred up some faction of the nobles to oppose and 
to overturn it. In that fierce age, men little ac¬ 
quainted with the arts of undermining a ministry 
by intrigue, had recourse to the ruder practice of 
rendering themselves masters of the king’s person, 
that they might thereby obtain the direction of his 
councils. Those nobles who seized the king at the 
Raid of Rut/iven, were instigated and supported by 
Elizabeth, Bothwell, in all his wild attempts, en¬ 
joyed her protection, and when they miscarried, he 
was secure of a retreat in her dominions. The con¬ 
nexions which James had been forming of late with 
the Roman catholic princes, his secret negociations 
in England with her subjects, and the maxims by 
which he governed his own kingdom, all contributed 
to excite her jealousy. She dreaded some great 
revolution in Scotland to be approaching, and it was 
her interest to prevent it. The earl of Gowrie was 
one of the most powerful of the Scottish nobles, and 
descended from ancestors warmly attached to the 
English interest. He had adopted the same system, 
and believed the welfare of his country to be inse¬ 
parably connected with the subsistence of the alli¬ 
ance between the two kingdoms. During his resi¬ 
dence tit Paris, he had contracted an intimate friend¬ 
ship with sir Henry Neville, the queen’s ambassa¬ 
dor there, and was recommended by him to his 
court as a person of whom great use might be made. y 
Elizabeth received him as he passed through Eng¬ 
land with distinguished marks of respect and favour. 
From all these circumstances a suspicion may arise, 
that the plan of the conspiracy against the king was 
formed at that time in concert with her. Such a 
suspicion prevailed in that age, and from the letters 
of Nicholson, Elizabeth’s agent in Scotland, it ap- 

y Winw. i. 156. 


pears not to be destitute of foundation. An Englisn 
ship was observed hovering, tor some time, in the 
mouth of the Frith of Forth. The earl’s two younger 
brothers fled into England after the ill success of 
the conspiracy, and were protected by Elizabeth. 
James himself, though he prudently concealed it, 
took great umbrage at her behaviour. None, how¬ 
ever, of Elizabeth’s intrigues in Scotland tended to 
hurt the king’s person, but only to circumscribe his 
authority, and to thwart his schemes. His life was 
the surest safeguard of her own, and restrained the 
popish pretenders to her crown, and their abettors, 
from desperate attempts, to which their impatience 
and bigotry might otherwise have urged them on. 
To have encouraged Gowrie to murder his sovereign, 
would, on her part, have been an act of the utmost 
imprudence. Nor does this seem to have been the 
intention of the two brothers. Mr. Ruthven, first of 
all, endeavoured to decoy the king to Perth, with¬ 
out any attendants. When these proved more nu¬ 
merous than was expected, the earl employed a 
stratagem in order to separate them from the king, by 
pretending that he had rode away towards Falkland, 
and by calling hastily for their horses that they 
might follow him. By their shutting James up, 
meanwhile, in a distant corner of the house, and by 
attempting to bind his hands, their design seems to 
have been rather to seize than to assassinate him. 
Though Gowrie had not collected his followers in 
such numbers as to have been able to detain him 
long a prisoner, in that part of the kingdom, by 
open force, he might soon have been conveyed 
aboard the English ship, which waited perhaps to 
receive him, and he might have been landed at 
Fastcastle, a house of Logan’s, in which, according 
to many obscure hints in his letters, some rendez ¬ 
vous of the conspirators was to be held. Amidst 
the surprise and terror into which the king must 
have been thrown by the violence offered to him, it 
was extremely natural for him to conclude that his 
life was sought. It was the interest of all his follow¬ 
ers to confirm him in this belief, and to magnify his 
danger, in order to add to the importance and merit 
of their own services. Thus, his fear and their va¬ 
nity, aided by the credulity and wonder which the 
contemplation of any great and tragical event, when 
not fully understood, is apt to inspire, augmented 
the whole transaction. On the other hand, the ex¬ 
travagance and improbability of the circumstances 
which were added, detracted from the credit of those 
which really happened, and even furnished pretences 
for calling in question the truth of the whole con¬ 
spiracy. 

The account of what had happened Many disbelieve 
at Perth reached Edinburgh next Il^hed^by t tEe b ' 
morning. The privy-council com- kln§ - 
manded the ministers of that city instantly to as¬ 
semble their people ; and after relating to them the 
circumstances of the conspiracy formed against the 
king’s life, to return public thanks to God for the 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


207 


BOOK VIII. 1600.] 

protection which he had so visibly afforded him. 
But as the first accounts transmitted to Edinburgh, 
written in a hurry, and while the circumstances of 
the conspiracy were but imperfectly known, and 
the passions which it excited strongly felt, were 
indistinct, exaggerated, and contradictory, the min¬ 
isters laid hold of this ; and though they offered to 
give public thanks to God for the king’s safety, they 
refused to enter into any detail of particulars, or to 
utter from the chair of truth what appeared to be 
still dubious and uncertain. 

A few days after, the king returned to Edinburgh ; 
and though Galloway, the minister of his own 
chapel, made an harangue to the people at the pub¬ 
lic cross, in which he recited all the circumstances 
of the conspiracy ; though James himself, in their 
hearing, confirmed his account; though he com¬ 
manded a narrative of the whole transaction to be 
published ; the ministers of that city, as well as 
many of their brethren, still continued incredulous 
and unconvinced. Their high esteem of Gowrie, 
their jealousy of every part of the king’s conduct, 
added to some false and many improbable circum¬ 
stances in the narrative, not only led them to sus¬ 
pect the whole, but gave their suspicions an air of 
credibility. But at length the king, partly by argu¬ 
ments, partly by threats, prevailed on all of them, 
except Mr. Robert Bruce, to own that they were 
convinced of the truth of the conspiracy. He could 
be brought no further than to declare, that he re¬ 
verenced the king’s account of the transaction, but 
could not say that he himself was persuaded of the 
truth of it. The scruples or obstinacy of a single 
man would have been little regarded ; but as the 
same spirit of incredulity began to spread among 
the people, the example of one in so high reputa¬ 
tion for integrity and abilities, was extremely dan¬ 
gerous. The king w as at the utmost pains to con- 

z Spotsw. 461, &c. Cald. v. 389, &c. 

a A few weeks after the death of the two brothers, the king published a 
Discourse of their vile and unnatural conspiracy against his life. In the year 
1713, George earl of Cromartie published an “ Historical Account of the 
Conspiracy by the earl of Gowrie and Robert I.ogan of Restalrig, against 
King James VI.” lie seems not to have seen the account which the king 
himself had given of that matter, and borrows the whole historical part 
from Spotswood and other authors; but he lias extracted from the public 
records the depositions of the witnesses produced by the king's council, in 
order to make good the charge against the two brothers, and I.ogan their 
associate. From these two treatises our knowledge of all the material cir¬ 
cumstances of the conspiracy is derived, 'the evidence which they con¬ 
tain, one would expect to be authentic and decisive. An account of a 
fact still recent/ published by royal authority, and the original deposi¬ 
tions of persons examined in presence of the highest court in the nation, 
ought to convey a degree of evidence seldom attained in historical rela¬ 
tions, and to exclude all remaining doubt and pnpertainty. But as every 
thing with regard to this transaction is dark and problematical, the king's 
account and the depositions of the witnesses not only vary, but contra¬ 
dict each other in so many circumstances, that much room is still left for 
hesitation and historical scepticism. The testimony of Henderson is the 
fullest and most important, but in several particulars the king’s account 
and his are contradictory. 1. According to the king’s account, while Mr. 
Ruthven was holding the dagger at his breast, “ the fellow in the study 
stood quaking and trembling.” Disc. 17. But Henderson says, that he 
himself wrested the dagger out of Mr. Ruthven’s hands. Disc. 53. Crom. 
50. Henderson likewise boasted to his wife, that he had that day twice 
saved the king from being stabbed. Disc. 54. Cfom. 53. II. the king 
asserts that Henderson opened the window during Mr. Ruthven’sabsence. 
Disc. 23. Henderson deposes that he was only attempting to open it when 
Mr. Ruthven returned, and that during the struggle between the king and 
him, he opened it. Disc. 53, 54. Crom. 51, 52. III. If we may believe 
the king, the fellow in the study stood, during the struggle, behind the 
king’s back, inactive and trembling all the time. Disc. 27. But Hender¬ 
son affirms, that he snatched away the garter with which Mr. Ruthven at¬ 
tempted to bind the king : that he pulled back Mr. Ruthven’s hand while 
he was endeavouring to stop the king’s mouth, and that he opened the 
window. Disc. 54. Crom. 52. IV. By the king's account, Mr. Ruthven 
left him in the study, and went away in order to meet with his brother, 
and the earl came up the stairs for the same purpose. Disc. 23. Hender¬ 
son deposes, that when Mr. Ruthven left the king, ‘ he believes that he 
did not pass from the door.” Crom. 51. It is apparent, both from the 
situation of the house, and from other circumstances, that there could not 
possibly have been any interview between the brothers at this time. 
Disc. 23. 


vince and to gain Bruce, but finding it impossible 
to remove his doubts, he deprived him of his bene¬ 
fice, and after repeated delays, and many attempts 
towards a reconcilement, banished him the kingdom. 2 

The proceedings of parliament were „ „ 

° 1 Proceedings of 

not retarded by any scruples of this parliament against 
^ J the conspirators. 

sort. The dead bodies of the two bro¬ 
thers were produced there, according to law; an 
indictment for high treason was preferred against 
them ; witnesses were examined ; and, by an unani¬ 
mous sentence, their estates and honours were for¬ 
feited ; the punishment due to traitors was inflicted 
on their dead bodies; and, as if the punishment 
hitherto in use did not express sufficient detestation 
of their crimes, the parliament enacted that the sur¬ 
name of Ruthven should be abolished ; and, in order 
to preserve the memory of the king’s miraculous 
escape, and to declare the sense which the nation 
had of the divine goodness to all future ages, ap¬ 
pointed the fifth of August to be observed annually 
as a day of public thanksgiving. 2 

Though Gowrie’s conspiracy occa- ^ 
sioned a sudden and a great alarm, it 
was followed by no consequences of importance; 
and having been concerted by the two brothers, 
either without any associates, or with such as were 
unknown, the danger was over as soon as discovered. 
But not long after, a conspiracy broke out in Eng¬ 
land against Elizabeth, which, though _ 

° 7 ° Essex s consDira- 

the first danger was instantly dispelled, ^ tl against i:iiza ‘ 
produced tragical effects, that rendered 
the close of that queen’s reign dismal and unhappy. 
As James was deeply interested in that event, it 
merits our particular notice. 

The court of England was at this time divided 
between two powerful factions, which contended 
for the supreme direction of affairs. The leader of 
the one was Robert D’Evreux, earl of Essex ; sir 


Henderson was twice examined, first at Falkland before the privy- 
council in August, and next at Edinburgh before the parliament in No- 
vember. Not to mention some lesser variations between these depositions, 
we shall point out two which are remarkable. 1. In his first deposition, 
Mr. I lenderson relates the most material circumstance of the whole in these 
words; “ Mr. Ruthven pulled out the deponent’s dagger, and held the 
same to his Majesty’s breast, saying, Remember you of my father's mur¬ 
der ; you shall now die for it: and pointing to his highness’s heart with the 
dagger, the deponent threw the same out of Mr. Ruthven’s hands, and 
swore, as God should judge his soul, that if Mr. Ruthven had retained 
the dagger in his hand the space a man may go six steps, he would have 
stricken the king to the hilts with it.” Disc. 52. Rut at his second ex¬ 
amination he varied from this in two material circumstances. First, the 
words he at that time put in Mr. Ruthven’s mouth while he held the dag¬ 
ger at the king’s breast are, “ Sir, you must be my prisoner ; remember on 
my father's death." Secondly, when he threatened him with death, it was 
only to deter him from making any noise, “ Hold your tongue, or by Christ 
you shall die." 2. “ In his first deposition, the words of Mr. Ruthven, 
when he returned to the chamber where, he had left the kin", are, “ There is 
no remedy , by God you must die." But in his second deposition, “ By 
God there is no remedy, and offered to bind hjs Majesty’s hands.” Crom. 
51. The material words you must die are omitted. The first deposition 
seems plainly to intimate that it was Ruthven’s intention to murder the 
king, ihe second would lead us to conclude that he had no other design 
than to detain him as a prisoner. 

There are likewise some remarkable contradictions in the testimonies of 
the other witnesses. 1. In the discourse published by authority, it is in¬ 
sinuated that the tumult of the inhabitants was raised against the king, 
and that it required some art to pacify them. Disc. 32. J he duke of 
Lennox confirms this in his deposition. Crom. 44. An act of privv- 
council summoning the magistrates of Perth to answer for that riot is still 
extant. And yet Andrew Roy, one of the bailies of the town, deposes, 
that he hirnselt raised the people, and that they took arms in order to assist 
the king. Crom. 66. 2. Henderson deposes, that he gave an evasive an¬ 
swer to Mr. John Moncrief, who inquired where he had been that morn¬ 
ing. because the earl had commanded him not to let any man know that 
he had been at Falkland. Disc. 54. Moncrief deposes to the same pur¬ 
pose. Crom. 64. And yet George Hay, afterwards lord Kinnoul, and 
the chancellor of Scotland, and Peter Hay, depose, that the earl, in their 
presence, asked Henderson, “ Whom he found with the king at Falkland ?” 
Crom. 70, 71. Which question seems to prove that he did not aim at keep¬ 
ing that journey a secret. In the Collection of Criminal Trials published 
by Mr. Arnot m 1785, the evidence against the two brothers nas been 
considered with great attention. Page 20, <fec. 




208 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


Robert Cecil, the son of lord Treasurer Burleigh, 
was at the head of the other. The former was the 
most accomplished and the most popular of all the 
English nobles ; brave, generous, affable ; though 
impetuous, yet willing to listen to the counsels of 
those whom he loved ; an avowed, but not an im¬ 
placable, enemy ; a friend no less constant than 
warm ; incapable of disguising his own sentiments, 
or of misrepresenting those of others ; better fitted 
for a camp than for a court; of a genius that quali¬ 
fied him for the first place in the administration, 
with a spirit that scorned the second as below 
his merit. He was soon distinguished by the 
queen, who, with a profusion uncommon to her, 
conferred on him, even in his earliest youth, the 
highest honours. Nor did this diminish the esteem 
and affection of his countrymen ; but, by a rare 
felicity, he was at once the favourite of his sove¬ 
reign, and the darling of the people. Cecil, on the 
other hand, educated in a court, and trained under 
a father deeply skilled in all its arts, was crafty, 
insinuating, industrious ; and though possessed of 
talents which fitted him for the highest offices, he 
did not rely upon his merit alone for attaining them, 
but availed himself of every advantage, which his 
own address, or the mistakes of others, afforded 
him. Two such men were formed to be rivals and 
enemies. Essex despised the arts of Cecil as low 
and base. To Cecil, the earl’s magnanimity appear¬ 
ed to be presumption and folly. All the military 
men, except Raleigh, favoured Essex. Most of the 
courtiers adhered to Cecil, whose manners more 
nearly resembled their own. 

As Elizabeth advanced in years, the 

His correspond- _ . , 

ence with the struggle between these tactions became 

Scottish king. 00 . . . 

more violent. Essex, in order to 
strengthen himself, had early courted the friendship 
of the king of Scots, for whose right of succession 
he was a zealous advocate, and held a close corres¬ 
pondence both with him and with his principal 
ministers. Cecil, devoted to the queen alone, rose 
daily to new honours, by the assiduity of his ser¬ 
vices, and the patience with which he expected the 
reward of them ; while the earl’s high spirit and 
impetuosity sometimes exposed him to checks from 
a mistress, who, though partial in her affection to¬ 
ward him, could not easily bear contradiction, and 
who conferred favours often unwillingly, and al¬ 
ways slowly. His own solicitations, however, 
seconded maliciously by his enemies, who wished 
to remove him at a distance from court, advanced 
him to the command of the army employed in Ire¬ 
land against Tyrone, and to the office of lord lieu¬ 
tenant of that kingdom, with a commission almost 
unlimited. His success in that expedition did not 
equal either his own promises, or the expectations 
of Elizabeth. The queen, peevish from her disap¬ 
pointment, and exasperated against Essex by the 
artifices of his enemies, wrote him a harsh letter, 
full of accusations and reproaches. These his 
impatient spirit could not bear, and in the first 


[1G01. BOOK VIII. 

transports of his resentment, he proposed to carry 
over a part of his army into England, and, by driving 
his enemies from the queen’s presence, to reinstate 
himself in favour and in power. But, upon more 
mature thoughts, he abandoned this rash design, 
and setting sail with a few officers devoted to his 
person, landed in England, and posted directly to 
court. Elizabeth received him without any symp¬ 
tom either of affection or of displeasure. By proper 
compliances and acknowledgments, he might have 
regained his former ascendant over the queen. But 
he thought himself too deeply injured to submit to 
these. Elizabeth, on the other hand, determined to 
subdue his haughty temper; and though her seve¬ 
rity drew from him the most humble letters, she 
confined him to the lord keeper’s house, and ap¬ 
pointed commissioners to try him, both for his con¬ 
duct during his government of Ireland, and for 
leaving that kingdom without her permission. By 
their sentence, he was suspended from all his offices, 
except that of master of the horse, and continued a 
prisoner during the queen’s pleasure. Satisfied 
with having mortified his pride thus far, Elizabeth 
did not suffer the sentence to be recorded, and soon 
after allowed him to retire to his own house. During 
these transactions, which occupied several months, 
Essex fluctuated between the allegiance he owed to 
his sovereign and the desire of revenge; and some¬ 
times leaned to the one, and sometimes to the other. 
In one of the intervals when the latter prevailed, he 
sent a messenger into Scotland, to encourage the 
king to assert his own right to the succession by 
force of arms, and to promise that, besides the 
assistance of the earl and all his friends in England, 
lord Mountjoy, now lord lieutenant of Ireland, 
would join him with five thousand men from that 
kingdom. But James did not choose James , s cautious 
to hazard the losing of a kingdom, of conduct, 
which he was just about to obtain possession, by a 
premature attempt to seize it. Mountjoy, too, de¬ 
clined the enterprise, and Essex adopted more duti¬ 
ful schemes ; all thoughts of ambition appearing to 
be totally effaced out of his mind. 

This moderation, which was merely The wild at- 
the effect of disgust and disappoint- tem P ts of Essex, 
ment, was not of long continuance ; and the queen, 
having not only refused to renew a lucrative grant 
which she had formerly bestowed, but even to ad¬ 
mit him into her presence, that new injury drove a 
temper, naturally impatient, and now much fretted, 
to absolute despair. His friends, instead of sooth¬ 
ing his rage or restraining his impetuosity, added 
to both by their imprudent and interested zeal. 
After many anxious consultations, he determined 
to attempt to redress his wrongs by violence. But 
being conscious how unpopular such an enterprise 
would be, if it appeared to proceed from motives of 
private revenge alone, he endeavoured to give it the 
semblance of public utility, by mingling the king of 
Scotland’s interest with his own. He wrote to 
James, that the faction which now predominated in 



BOOK VIII. 1G01.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


209 


llic English court had resolved to support the pre¬ 
tensions of the infanta of Spain to the crown ; that 
the places of the greatest importance in the king¬ 
dom were put into the hands of his avowed enemies ; 
and that unless he sent ambassadors, without delay, 
to insist on the immediate declaration of his right 
of succession, their measures were so well concerted, 
that all his hopes would be desperate. James, who 
knew r how disagreeable such a proposal would be to 
the queen of England, was not willing rashly to ex¬ 
pose himself to her displeasure. Essex, neverthe¬ 
less, blinded by resentment, and impatient for re¬ 
venge, abandoned himself to these passions, and 
acted like a man guided by frenzy or despair. With 
two or three hundred followers incompletely armed, 
he attempted to assault a throne the best established 
in Europe. Sallying at their head out of his own 
house, he called on the citizens of London, if they 
either valued his life, or wished to preserve the 
kingdom from the dominion of the Spaniards, to 
take arms, and to follow his standard. He ad¬ 
vanced towards the palace with an intention to drive 
Cecil and his faction out of the queen’s presence, 
and to obtain a declaration of the Scottish king’s 
right of succession. 1 * But, though almost adored 
by the citizens, not a man would join him in this 
wild enterprise. Dispirited by their indifference, 
deserted by some of his own attendants, and almost 
surrounded by the troops which marched against 
him under different leaders into the city, he retreat¬ 
ed to his own house ; and without any bold effort, 
suitable to his present condition, or worthy of his 
former reputation for courage, he surrendered to his 
enemies. 

As soon as James heard of Essex’s ill success, he 
appointed the earl of Mar, and Bruce, abbot of Kin- 
loss, to repair as his ambassadors to the court of 
England. The former of these was the person by 
whose means Essex had carried on his correspond¬ 
ence with the king. He was a passionate admirer 
of the earl’s character, and disposed to attempt every 
thing that could contribute to his safety. Bruce, 
united in a close friendship with Mar, was ready to 
second him with equal zeal. Nor was the purpose 
of the embassy less friendly to Essex, than the 
choice of his ambassadors ; they were commanded 
to solicit, in the warmest manner, for the earl’s life, 
and if they found that the king, by avowing his 
friends, could either promote their designs or con¬ 
tribute to their safety, they were empowered to lay 
aside all disguise, and to promise that he would put 
himself at their head, and claim what was due to 
him by force of arms. c But before the 
ambassadors could reach London, Es¬ 
sex had suffered the punishment which he merited 
by his treason. Perhaps the fear of their interpos¬ 
ing in order to obtain his pardon, hastened his 
death. Elizabeth continued for some time irreso¬ 
lute concerning his fate, and could not bring herself 
to consign into the hands of the executioner a man 

b Birch. Mem. ii. 477. c Johnst. 289. Birch. Mem. ii. 510. 

P 


His death. 


who had once possessed her favour so entirely, 
without a painful struggle between her resentment 
against his late misconduct, and her ancient affec¬ 
tion towards him. The distress to which she was 
now reduced, tended naturally to soften the former, 
while it revived the latter with new tenderness ; and 
the intercession of one faithful friend, who had in¬ 
terest with the queen, might perhaps have saved his 
life, and have procured him a remission, which of 
herself she was ashamed to grant. But this gene¬ 
rous nobleman had at that time no such friend. 
Elizabeth, solicited incessantly by her ministers, 
and offended with the haughtiness of Essex, who, 
as she imagined, scorned to sue for pardon, at last 
commanded the sentence to be put in execution. 
No sooner was the blow struck than she repented 
of her own rashness, and bewailed his death with 
the deepest sorrow. James always considered him 
as one who had fallen a martyr to his service, a»d, 
after his accession to the English throne, restored 
his son to his honours, as well as all his associates 
in the conspiracy, and distinguished them with his 
favour.* 1 

The Scottish ambassadors, finding 

. James continues 

that they had arrived too late to exe- his intrigues in 

cute the chief business committed to Engldnd - 
their charge, not only concealed that part of their 
instructions with the utmost care, but congratulated 
the queen, in their master’s name, on her happy es¬ 
cape from such an audacious conspiracy. Eliza¬ 
beth, though no stranger to the king’s correspond¬ 
ence with Essex, or to that nobleman’s intentions of 
asserting James’s right to the crown, was not willing 
that these should be known to the people, and, for 
that reason, received the congratulations of the 
Scottish ambassadors with all possible marks of 
credit and good-will; and in order to soothe James, 
and to preserve the appearances of union between 
the two courts, increased the subsidy which she paid 
him annually. The ambassadors resided for some 
time in England, and were employed with great 
success in renewing and extending the intrigues 
which Bruce had formerly entered into with the 
English nobles. As Elizabeth advanced in years, 
the English turned their eyes more and more to¬ 
wards Scotland, and were eager to prevent each 
other in courting the favour of their future monarch. 
Assurances of attachment, professions of regard, and 
promises of support, were offered to James from 
every corner of the kingdom. Cecil himself, per¬ 
ceiving what hopes Essex had founded on the 
friendship of the Scottish king, and what advantages 
he might have derived from it, thought it prudent to 
stand no longer at a distance from a prince who 
might so soon become his master. But being sensible 
at the same time how dangerous such an intercourse 
might prove, under a mistress naturally jealous, and 
whose jealousy grew stronger with old age ; though 
he entered into a correspondence with him, he car¬ 
ried it on with all the secrecy and caution necessary 

d Camd. Spotsw. 464. 



210 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. [1602. ROOK VIII. 


in his situation and peculiar to his character/ 
James having gained the man whose opposition and 
influence he had hitherto chiefly dreaded, waited, 
in perfect security, till that event should happen 
which would open his way to the throne of England/ 
It was with some difficulty that he restrained within 
proper bounds his adherents in that kingdom, who 
labouring to distinguish themselves by that officious 
zeal, with which a prince, who has a near prospect 
of mounting the throne is always served, urged him 
to allow a motion to be made in parliament for de¬ 
claring his right of succession to the crown. James 
prudently discouraged that design ; but it was with 
no small satisfaction that he observed the ascendant 
ae was acquiring in a court, the dictates of which 
he had been so long obliged to obey ; and which 
had either prescribed or thwarted every step he 
had taken during the whole course of his reign/ 

1602 . Notwithstanding the violent strug- 

tee^heHi^ifand- gl es °f t* ie political factions which 
ers ’ divided the court, and the frequent re¬ 

volutions which had happened there since the king 
first took the reins of government into his own hands, 
Scotland had enjoyed unusual tranquillity, being 
undisturbed by any foreign enemy, and free from 
any intestine commotion of long continuance. Dur¬ 
ing this period, James endeavoured to civilize the 
Highlands and the Isles, a part of his dominions 
too much neglected by former monarchs, though 
the reformation of it was an object highly worthy 
of their care. The long peace with England had 
afforded an opportunity of subduing the licentious 
spirit of the borderers, and of restraining their de¬ 
predations, often no less ruinous to their country¬ 
men than to their enemies. The inhabitants of the 
low country began gradually to forget the use of 
arms, and to become attentive to the arts of peace. 
But the Highlanders, retaining their natural fierce¬ 
ness, averse from labour, and inured to rapine, in¬ 
fested their more industrious neighbours by their 
continual incursions. James, being solicitous not 
only to repress their inroads, but to render them 
useful subjects, 1 ' had at different times enacted many 
wise laws extremely conducive to these ends. All 
landlords, or chiefs of clans, were enjoined to per¬ 
mit no persons to reside in their estates who could 
not find sufficient surety for their good behaviour; 
they were required to make a list of all suspicious 
persons under their jurisdiction, to bind themselves 
to deliver them to justice, and to indemnify those 
who should suffer by their robberies; and, in order 
to ascertain the faithful performance of these ar¬ 
ticles, the chiefs themselves were obliged to give 
hostages to the king, or to put pledges in his hands. 
Three towns, which might serve as a retreat for the 
industrious, and a nursery for arts and commerce, 
were appointed to be built in different parts of the 

e See Append. No. T,1II. 

f Dr. Birch, in his life of prince Henry, p. 232. hns given some account 
of the mysterious modem which this correspondence was eafried on, and 
how the letters were conveyed from London to Dublin, and from thence 
to Scotland. Notwithstanding the solicitude which Cecil repeatedly dis¬ 
covers that his letters should be destroyed as soon as the king had read 


Highlands ; one in Can tire, another in Lochaber, 
and a third in the Isle ol Lewis; and, in order to 
draw inhabitants thither, all the privileges of royal 
boroughs were to be conferred upon them. Finding 
it, however, to be no easy matter to inspire the na¬ 
tives of those countries with the love of industry, a 
resolution was taken to plant among them colonies 
of people from the more industrious counties. 
The first experiment was made on the Isle ol Lewis ; 
and as it was advantageously situated for the fishing 
trade, a source from which Scotland ought natu¬ 
rally to derive great wealth, the colony transported 
thither was drawn out of Fife, the inhabitants of 
which were well skilled in that branch of commerce. 
But before they had remained there long enough to 
manifest the good effects ol this institution, the 
islanders, enraged at seeing their country occupied 
by those intruders, took arms, and surprising them 
in the night-time, murdered some of them, and com¬ 
pelled the rest to abandon the settlement. The king’s 
attention being soon after turned to other subjects, 
we hear no more of this salutary project. Though 
James did not pursue the design with that steady 
application and perseverance, without which it is 
impossible to change the manners of a whole people, 
he had the glory, however, not only of having first 
conceived the thought, but of having first pointed 
out the proper method, of introducing the civil arts 
of life into that part of the island. 1 

After having long enjoyed a good Elizabeth’s last 
state of health, the effect of a sound lllnessand death, 
constitution, and the reward of uncommon regularity 
and temperance, Elizabeth began this winter to 
feel her vigour decrease, and to be sensible of the 
infirmities of old age. Having removed on a very 
stormy day from Westminster to Richmond, whither 
she was impatient to retire, her com- 1603 
plaints increased. She had no formed Jan- 31 • 

fever ; her pulse was good ; but she ate little and 
could not sleep. Her distemper seemed to proceed 
from a deep melancholy, which appeared both in 
countenance and behaviour. She delighted in soli¬ 
tude ; she sat constantly in the dark ; and was often 
drowned in tears. 

No sooner was the queen’s indisposition known, 
than persons of all ranks, and of all different sects 
and parties, redoubled their applications to the king 
of Scots, and vied with each other in professions of 
attachment to his person, and in promises of sub¬ 
mission to his government. Even some of Eliza¬ 
beth’s own servants, weary of the length of her reign, 
fond of novelty, impatient to get rid of the burden 
of gratitude for past benefits, and expecting to share 
in the liberality of anew prince, began to desert her; 
and crowds of people hurried towards Scotland, 
eager to preoccupy the favour of the successor, or 
afraid of being too late in paying homage to him. 

them, a considerable number of them has been preserved, and published 
by sir David Dalrymple in the year 1766. They were written bv lord 
Henry Howard, under the inspection of Cecil, m a style affectedly ob¬ 
scure. The whole correspondence is more curious than ’instructive. 

Spotsw. 467, 471. Birch, Mem. ii. 514. 

h Basil. Dor. 139. i Pari. 1587,1594, 1597. Spotsw. 468. 



BOOK VIII. 1603.] 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


211 


Meanwhile, the queen’s disease increased, and 
her melancholy appeared to be settled and incurable. 
Various conjectures were formed concerning the 
causes of a disorder, from which she seemed to be 
exempted by the natural cheerfulness of her temper. 
Some imputed it to her being forced, contrary to 
her inclination, to pardon the earl of Tyrone, whose 
rebellion had for many years created her much trou¬ 
ble. Others imagined that it arose from observing 
the ingratitude of her courtiers, and the levity of 
her people, who beheld her health declining with 
the most indecent indifference, and looked forward 
to the accession of the Scottish king with an im¬ 
patience which they could not conceal. The most 
common opinion, at that time, and perhaps the most 
probable, was, that it flowed from grief for the earl 
of Essex. She retained an extraordinary regard 
for the memory of that unfortunate nobleman; and 
though she often complained of his obstinacy, seldom 
mentioned his name without tears. k An accident 
happened soon after her retiring to Richmond, which 
revived her affection with new tenderness, and im- 
bittered her sorrows. The countess of Nottingham, 
being on her death-bed, desired to see the queen, in 
order to reveal something to her, without discover¬ 
ing which she could not die in peace. When the 
queen came into her chamber, she told her, that 
while Essex lay under sentence of death, he was 
desirous of imploring pardon in the manner which 
the queen herself had prescribed, by returning a 
ring, which during the height of his favour she had 
given him, with a promise that if, in any future 
distress, he sent that back to her as a token, it 
should entitle him to her protection; that lady 
Scrope was the person he intended to employ in 
order to present it; that, by a mistake, it w as put 
into her hands instead of lady Scrope’s ; and, that 
she having communicated the matter to her husband, 
one of Essex’s most implacable enemies, he had for¬ 
bid her either to carry the ring to the queen, or to 
return it to the earl. The countess having thus 
disclosed her secret, begged the queen’s forgiveness; 
but Elizabeth, who now saw both the malice of the 
earl’s enemies, and how unjustly she had suspected 
him of inflexible obstinacy, replied, “God may 
forgive you, but I never can and left the room in 
great emotion. 1 From that moment her spirit sunk 
entirely ; she could scarce taste food ; she refused 
all the medicines prescribed by her physicians; de¬ 
claring that she wished to die, and would live no 
longer. No entreaty could prevail on her to go to 
bed ; she sat on cushions, during ten days and 
nights, pensive and silent, holding her finger almost 
continually in her mouth, with her eyes open, and 
fixed on the ground. The only thing to which she 

k Birch. Mem. ii. 505. 

1 This anecdote concerning Elizabeth was first published by Osborne, 
Mem. of Eliz. p. 23. is confirmed by the testimony of De Maurier. Mem. 
‘260. and by the traditional evidence of lady Elizabeth Spelman, published 
by Dr. Birch, Negoc. 106. Camden mentions the queen s grief for Essex’s 
death as one of the causes of her melancholy. Some original papers 
remain, which prove that this was commonly believed at the time. Birch. 
Mem. ii. 5(>6. Essex, however, had been beheaded two years before her 
death, and there seems to have been no other reason, but that which we 
have assigned, why her sorrows should revive with so much violence at 
so great a distance of time. As the death of the countess of Nottingham 

p 2 


Her character. 


seemed to give any attention, was the acts of devo¬ 
tion performed in her apartment by the archbishop 
of Canterbury ; and in these she joined with great 
appearance of fervour. Wasted, at last, as well by 
anguish of mind as by long abstinence, she expired, 
without a struggle, on Thursday the twenty-fourth 
day of March, in the seventieth year of her age, and 
in the forty-fifth of her reign." 1 

Foreigners often accuse the English 
of indifference and disrespect towards 
their princes ; but without reason. No people are 
more grateful than they to those monarchs who 
merit their gratitude. The names of Edward III. 
and Henry Y. are mentioned by the English of this 
age with the same warmth as they were by those 
who shared in the blessings and splendour of their 
reigns. The memory of Elizabeth is still adored in 
England. The historians of that kingdom, after 
celebrating her love of her people ; her sagacity in 
discerning their true interest; her steadiness in 
pursuing it; her wisdom in the choice of her minis ¬ 
ters ; the glory she acquired by arms ; the tranquil¬ 
lity she secured to her subjects ; and the increase 
of fame, of riches, and of commerce, which were 
the fruits of all these ; justly rank her among the 
most illustrious princes. Even the defects in her 
character, they observe, were not of a kind per¬ 
nicious to her people. Her excessive frugality was 
not accompanied with the love of hoarding; and, 
though it prevented some great undertakings, and 
rendered the success of others incomplete, it intro¬ 
duced economy into her administration, and ex¬ 
empted the nation from many burdens, which a 
monarch, more profuse or more enterprising, must 
have imposed. Her slowness in rewarding her ser¬ 
vants sometimes discouraged useful merit; but it 
prevented the undeserving from acquiring power 
and w ealth to which they had no title. Her extreme 
jealousy of those princes who pretended to dispute 
her right to the crown, led her to take such precau¬ 
tions, as tended no less to the public safety than to 
her own ; and to court the affections of her people, 
as the firmest support of her throne. Such is the 
picture which the English draw of this great queen. 

Whoever undertakes to write the history of Scot¬ 
land, finds himself obliged, frequently, to view her 
in a very different, and in a less amiable, light. Her 
authority in that kingdom, during the greater part 
of her reign, was little inferior to that which she 
possessed in her own. But this authority, acquired 
at first by a service of great importance to the na¬ 
tion, she exercised in a manner extremely pernicious 
to its happiness. By her industry in fomenting the 
rage of the two contending factions ; by supplying 
the one with partial aid ; by feeding the other with 

happened about a fortnight before the queen’s death, the coincidence of 
these events, together with the other evidence mentioned, adds so much 
probability to the story related by Osborne, as will entitle it to a place 
in history. The only objection to the account we have given of Eliza¬ 
beth’s attachment to Essex, arises from her great age. AEthe age of 68. 
the amorous passions are commonly abundantly cool, and the violence of 
all the passions, except one, is much abated. But the force of this ob¬ 
jection is entirely removed by an author who has illustrated many passages 
in the English History, and adorned more. Catalogue of Royal and 
Noble Authors, Article Essex. 

m Camd. Birch. Mem. ii. 506. Birch. Negoc. 206. Strype, iv. 373. 



212 THE HISTORY 

false hopes; by balancing their powers so artfully, 
that each of them was able to distress, and neither 
of them to subdue,the other; she rendered Scotland 
long the seat of discord, confusion, and bloodshed ; 
and her craft and intrigues, effecting what the valour 
of her ancestors could not accomplish, reduced that 
kingdom to a state of dependence on England. The 
maxims of policy, often little consonant to those of 
morality, may, perhaps, justify this conduct. But 
no apology can be offered for her behaviour to queen 
Mary ; a scene of dissimulation without necessity, 
and of severity beyond example. In almost all her 
other actions, Elizabeth is the object of our highest 
admiration ; in this we must allow that she not only 
laid aside the magnanimity which became a queen, 
but the feelings natural to a woman. 

James proclaimed Though Elizabeth would never per- 
kmgot England. th e question concerning the right 

of succession to the crown to be determined in par¬ 
liament; nor declare her own sentiments concerning 
a point which she wished to remain an impenetrable 
mystery ; she had, however, formed no design of 
excluding the Scottish king from an inheritance to 
which his title was undoubted. A short time before 
her death, she broke the silence which she had so 
long preserved on that subject, and told Cecil and 
the lord Admiral, “ That her throne was the throne 
of kings ; that she would have no mean person to 
ascend it, and that her cousin the king of Scots 
should be her successor.” This she confirmed on 
her death-bed. As soon as she breathed her last, 
the lords of the privy-council proclaimed James king 
of England. All the intrigues carried on by foreign¬ 
ers in favour of the infanta, all the cabals formed 
within the kingdom to support the titles of lady 
Arabella and the earl of Hartford, disappeared in 
a moment; the nobles and people, forgetting their 
ancient hostilities with Scotland, and their aversion 
for the dominion of strangers, testified their satis¬ 
faction with louder acclamations than were usual at 
the accession of their native princes. Amidst this 
tumult of joy, a motion made by a few patriots, who 
proposed to prescribe some conditions to the suc¬ 
cessor, and to exact from him the redress of some 
grievances, before they called him to the throne, 
was scarcely heard ; and Cecil, by stifling it, added 
to his stock of merit with his new master. Sir 
Charles Percy, brother of the earl of Northumber¬ 
land, and Thomas Somerset, the earl of Worcester’s 
son, were despatched to Scotland with a letter to 
the king, signed by all the peers and privy-counsel¬ 
lors then in London, informing him of the queen’s 
death, of his accession to the throne, of their care 
to recognize his title, and of the universal applause 
with which the public proclamation of it had been 
attended. They made the utmost haste to deliver 
this welcome message ; but were prevented by the 
zeal of sir Robert Carey, lord Hunsdon’s youngest 
son, who setting out a few hours after Elizabeth’s 
death, arrived at Edinburgh on Saturday night,just 


OF SCOTLAND. [1603. BOOK VIII. 

as the king had gone to bed. He was immediately 
admitted into the royal apartment, and kneeling by 
the king’s bed, acquainted him with the deatli of 
Elizabeth, saluted him king of England, Scotland, 
France, and Ireland ; and as a token of the truth 
of the intelligence which he brought, presented him 
a ring, which his sister lady Scrope had taken from 
the queen’s finger after her death. James heard him 
with a decent composure. But as Carey was only 
a private messenger, the information which he 
brought was not made public, and the king kept his 
apartment till the arrival of Percy and Somerset. 
Then his titles were solemnly proclaimed; and his 
own subjects expressed no less joy than the English 
at this increase of his dignity. As his presence was 
absolutely necessary in England, where the people 
were extremely impatient to see their new sovereign, 
he prepared to set out for that kingdom without de¬ 
lay. He appointed his queen to follow him within 
a few weeks. He committed the government of 
Scotland to his privy-council. He intrusted the care 
of his children to different noblemen. On the Sun¬ 
day before his departure he repaired to the church 
of St. Giles, and after hearing a sermon, in which 
the preacher displayed the greatness of the divine 
goodness in raising him to the throne of such a 
powerful kingdom without opposition or bloodshed, 
and exhorted him to express his gratitude, by pro¬ 
moting to the utmost the happiness and prosperity 
of his subjects ; the king rose up, and addressing 
himself to the people, made many professions of 
unalterable affection towards them ; promised to 
visit Scotland frequently ; assured them that his 
Scottish subjects, notwithstanding his absence, 
should feel that he w r as their native prince, no less 
than when he resided among them ; and might still 
trust that his ears should be always open to their 
petitions, which he would answer with the alacrity 
and love of a parent. His w ords were often inter¬ 
rupted by the tears of the whole audience; who, 
though they exulted at the king’s prosperity, were 
melted into sorrow by these tender declarations." 

On the fifth of April lie began his Takes possession 
journey, with a splendid but not a of the throne, 
numerous train ; and next day he entered Berwick. 
Wherever he came, immense multitudes were as¬ 
sembled to welcome him ; and the principal persons 
in the different counties through which he passed, 
displayed all their wealth and magnificence in en¬ 
tertainments prepared for him at their houses. 
Elizabeth had reigned so long in England, that most 
of her subjects remembered no other court but hers, 
and their notions of the manners and decorums 
suitable to a prince were formed upon what they 
had observed there. It was natural to apply this 
standard to the behaviour and actions of their new 
monarch, and to compare him, at first sight, with 
the queen on whose throne he was to be placed. 
James, whose manners were extremely different 
from hers, suffered by the comparison. He had 


n Spotsw. 476. 



BOOK VIII. 1603.] THE HISTORY 

not that flowing affability by which Elizabeth cap¬ 
tivated the hearts of her people ; and, though easy 
among a few whom lie loved, his indolence could 
not bear the fatigue of rendering himself agreeable 
to a mixed multitude. He was no less a stranger 
to that dignity with which Elizabeth tempered her 
familiarity. And, instead of that well-judged fru¬ 
gality with which she conferred titles of honour, he 
bestowed them with an undistinguishing profusion, 
that rendered them no longer marks of distinction, 
or rewards of merit. But these were the reflections 
of the few alone ; the multitude continued their 
acclamations ; and, amidst these, James entered 
London on the 7th of May, and took peaceable pos¬ 
session of the throne of England. 

_ , . Thus were united two kingdoms, di- 

Conclusion. . ° 

vided from the earliest accounts of 
time, but destined, by their situation, to form one 
great monarchy. By this junction of its whole na¬ 
tive force, Great Britain hath risen to an eminence 
and authority in Europe, which England and Scot¬ 
land, while separate, could never have attained. 
a view of the re- The Scots had so long considered 
const!tmion n of he their monarchs as next heir to the 
fheacceLicmof English throne, that they had full lei- 
James \ i. sure to reflect on all the consequences 
of their being advanced to that dignity. But, daz¬ 
zled with the glory of giving a sovereign to their 
powerful enemy, relying on the partiality of their 
native prince, and in full expectation of sharing 
liberally in the wealth and honours which he would 
now be able to bestow, they attended little to the 
most obvious consequences of that great event, and 
rejoiced at his accession to the throne of England, 
as if it had been no less beneficial to the kingdom 
than honourable to the king. They soon had rea¬ 
son, however, to adopt very different sentiments ; 
and from that period we may date a total alteration 
in the political constitution of Scotland. 

The feudal aristocracy, which had been subverted 
in most nations of Europe by the policy of their 
princes, or had been undermined by the progress of 
commerce, still subsisted with full force in Scotland. 
Many causes had contributed gradually to augment 
the power of the Scottish nobles : and even the re¬ 
formation, which, in every other country where it 
prevailed, added to the authority of the monarch, 
had increased their wealth and influence. A king 
possessed of a small revenue, with a prerogative 
extremely limited, and unsupported by a standing 
army, could not exercise much authority over such 
potent subjects. He was obliged to govern by ex¬ 
pedients ; and the laws derived their force, not 
from his pow er to execute them, but from the vo¬ 
luntary submission of the nobles. But though this 
produced a species of government extremely feeble 
and irregular ; though Scotland, under the name 
and with all the outward ensigns of a monarchy, 
was really subject to an aristocracy, the people 
were not altogether unhappy ; and, even in this 
wild form of a constitution, there were principles 


OF SCOTLAND. 213 

which tended to their security and advantage. The 
king, checked and overawed by the nobles, durst 
venture upon no act of arbitrary power. The no¬ 
bles, jealous of the king, whose claims and preten¬ 
sions were many, though his pow er was small, were 
afraid of irritating their dependants by unreason¬ 
able exactions, and tempered the rigour of aristocra- 
tical tyranny, with a mildness and equality to which 
it is naturally a stranger. As long as the military 
genius of the feudal government remained in vigour, 
the vassals both of the crown and of the barons 
were generally not only free from oppression, but 
were courted by their superiors, whose power and 
importance were founded on their attachment and 
love. 

But, by his accession to the throne of England, 
James acquired such an immense accession of wealth, 
of power, and of splendour, that the nobles, aston¬ 
ished and intimidated, thought it vain to struggle 
for privileges which they were now unable to de¬ 
fend. Nor was it from fear alone that they submit¬ 
ted to the yoke ; James, partial to his countrymen, 
and willing that they should partake in his good 
fortune, loaded them with riches and honours ; and 
the hope of his favour concurred with the dread of 
his power, in taming their fierce and independent 
spirits. The w ill of the prince became the supreme 
law in Scotland ; and the nobles strove, with emu¬ 
lation, who should most implicitly obey commands 
which they had formerly been accustomed to con¬ 
temn. Satisfied with having subjected the nobles 
to the crown, the king left them in full possession 
of their ancient jurisdiction over their own vassals. 
The extensive rights vested in a feudal chief, be¬ 
came in their hands dreadful instruments of op¬ 
pression, and the military ideas on which these 
rights were founded, being gradually lost or disre¬ 
garded, nothing remained to correct or to mitigate 
the rigour with which they were exercised. The 
nobles, exhausting their fortunes by the expense of 
frequent attendance upon the English court, and by 
attempts to imitate the manners and luxury of their 
more wealthy neighbours, multiplied exactions upon 
the people, who durst hardly utter complaints which 
they knew would never reach the ear of their sove¬ 
reign, nor move him to grant them any redress. 
From the union of the crowns to the revolution in 
1688, Scotland w as placed in a political situation 
of all others the most singular and the most unhap¬ 
py ; subjected at once to the absolute will of a mo¬ 
narch, and to the oppressive jurisdiction of an aris¬ 
tocracy, it suffered all the miseries peculiar to both 
these forms of government. Its kings were despo¬ 
tic ; its nobles were slaves and tyrants; and the 
people groaned under the rigorous domination of 
both. 

During this period, the nobles, it is true, made 
one effort to shake off the yoke, and to regain their 
ancient independence. After the death of James, 
the Scottish nation was no longer view ed by our 
monarchs with any partial affection. Charles I. 



214 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK YIII. 


educated among the English, discovered no peculiar 
attachment to the kingdom of which he was a native. 
The nobles, perceiving the sceptre to be now in 
hands less friendly, and swayed by a prince with 
whom they had little connexion, and over whose 
councils they had little influence, no longer sub¬ 
mitted with the same implicit obedience. Provoked 
by some encroachments of the king on their order, 
and apprehensive of others, the remains of their 
ancient spirit began to appear. They complained 
and remonstrated. The people being at the same 
time violently disgusted at the innovations in reli¬ 
gion, the nobles secretly heightened this disgust; 
and their artifices, together with the ill conduct of 
the court, raised such a spirit, that the whole nation 
took arms against their sovereign, with an union 
and animosity of which there had formerly been no 
example. Charles brought against them the forces 
of England, and, notwithstanding their own union, 
and the zeal of the people, the nobles must have 
sunk in the struggle. But the disaffection which 
was growing among his English subjects prevented 
the king from acting w ith vigour. A civil war broke 
out in both kingdoms ; and after many battles and 
revolutions, which are well known, the Scottish 
nobles, who first began the war, were involved in 
the same ruin with the throne. At the restoration, 
Charles II. regained full possession of the royal 
prerogative in Scotland; and the nobles, whose 
estates were wasted, or their spirit broken, by the 
calamities to which they had been exposed, were 
less able and less willing than ever to resist the 
power of the crown. During his reign, and that 
of James VII., the dictates of the monarch were re¬ 
ceived in Scotland with the most abject submission. 
The poverty to which many of the nobles w r ere re¬ 
duced, rendered them meaner slaves and more in¬ 
tolerable tyrants than ever. The people, always 
neglected, were now odious, and loaded with every 
injury, on account of their attachment to religious 
and political principles, extremely repugnant to 
those adopted by their princes. 

The revolution introduced other maxims into the 
government of Scotland. To increase the authority 
of the prince, or to secure the privileges of the 
nobles, had hitherto been almost the sole object of 
our laws. The rights of the people were hardly 
ever mentioned, were disregarded or unknown. 
Attention began, henceforward, to be paid to the 
welfare of the people. By the claim of right, their 
liberties were secured ; and the number of their re¬ 
presentatives being increased, they gradually ac¬ 
quired new weight and consideration in parliament. 
As they came to enjoy more security, and greater 
power, their minds began to open, and to form more 
extensive plans of commerce, of industry, and of 
police. But the aristocratical spirit, which still 
predominated, together with many other accidents, 
retarded the improvement and happiness of the 
nation. 

Another great event completed what the revolu¬ 


tion had begun. The political power of the nobles, 
already broken by the union of the two crow ns, was 
almost annihilated by the union of the two king¬ 
doms. Instead of making a part, as formerly, of 
the supreme assembly of the nation, instead of 
bearing the most considerable sway there, the peers 
of Scotland are admitted into the British parliament 
by their representatives only, and form but an in¬ 
considerable part of one of those bodies in which 
the legislative authority is vested. They themselves 
are excluded absolutely from the House of Com¬ 
mons, and even their eldest sons are not permitted 
to represent their countrymen in that august assem¬ 
bly. Nor have their feudal privileges remained, to 
compensate for this extinction of their political au¬ 
thority. As commerce advanced in its progress, and 
government attained nearer to perfection, these were 
insensibly circumscribed, and at last, by laws no 
less salutary to the public than fatal to the nobles, 
they have been almost totally abolished. As the 
nobles were deprived of power, the people acquired 
liberty. Exempted from burdens to which they 
were formerly subject, screened from oppression to 
which they had been long exposed, and adopted 
into a constitution, whose genius and laws were 
more liberal than their own, they have extended their 
commerce, refined their manners, made improve¬ 
ments in the elegances of life, and cultivated the 
arts and sciences. 

This survey of the political state of Scotland, in 
w hich events and their causes have been mentioned 
rather than developed, enables us to point out three 
eras, from each of which we may date some great 
alteration in one or other of the three different mem¬ 
bers of which the supreme legislative assembly in 
our constitution is composed. At their accession 
to the throne of England, the kings of Scotland, 
once the most limited, became, in an instant, the 
most absolute, princes in Europe, and exercised a 
despotic authority, which their parliaments were 
unable to control, or their nobles to resist. At the 
union of the two kingdoms, the feudal aristocracy, 
which had subsisted so many ages, and with power 
so exorbitant, was overturned, and the Scottish 
nobles, having surrendered rights and pre-eminen¬ 
ces peculiar to their order, reduced themselves to a 
condition which is no longer the terror and envy of 
other subjects. Since the union, the commons, an¬ 
ciently neglected by their kings, and seldom court¬ 
ed by the nobles, have emerged into dignity; and, 
being admitted to a participation of all the privi¬ 
leges which the English had purchased at the ex¬ 
pense of so much blood, must now be deemed a 
body not less considerable in the one kingdom, than 
they have long been in the other. 

The church felt the effects of the absolute pow er 
which the king acquired by his accession ; and its 
revolutions, too, are worthy of notice. James, 
during the latter years of his administration in Scot¬ 
land, had revived the name and office of bishops. 
But they possessed no ecclesiastical jurisdiction or 



BOOK VIII. 


215 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


pre-eminence; their revenues were inconsiderable, 
and they w ere scarcely distinguished by any thing 
but by their seat in parliament, and by being the 
object of the clergy’s jealousy, and the people’s 
hatred. The king, delighted with the splendour 
and authority which the English bishops enjoyed, 
and eager to effect an union in the ecclesiastical 
policy, which he had, in vain, attempted in the civil 
government of the two kingdoms, resolved to bring 
both churches to an exact conformity with each 
other. Three Scotsmen were consecrated bishops 
at London. From them their brethren were com¬ 
manded to receive orders. Ceremonies unknown in 
Scotland were imposed ; and though the clergy, less 
obsequious than the nobles, boldly opposed these 
innovations, James, long practised and well skilled 
in the arts of managing them, obtained at length 
their compliance. But Charles I. a superstitious 
prince, unacquainted with the genius of the Scots, 
imprudent and precipitant in all the measures he 
pursued in that kingdom, pressing too eagerly the 
reception of the English liturgy, and indiscreetly 
attempting a resumption of church lands, kindled 
the flames of civil w ar ; and the people being left at 
liberty to indulge their own wishes, the episcopal 
church was overturned, and the presbyterian go¬ 
vernment and discipline were re-established with 
new vigour. Together with monarchy, episcopacy 
was restored in Scotland. A form of government 
so odious to the people, required force to uphold it; 
and though not only the whole rigour of authority, 
but all the barbarity of persecution, w^ere employed 
in its support, the aversion of the nation was insur¬ 
mountable, and it subsisted with difficulty. At the 
revolution, the inclinations of the people were 
thought worthy the attention of the legislature, the 
presbyterian government was again established, 
and, being ratified by the union, is still maintained 
in the kingdom. 

Nor did the influence of the accession extend to 
the civil and ecclesiastical constitutions alone ; the 
genius of the nation, its taste and spirit, things of a 
nature still more delicate, were sensibly affected by 
that event. When learning revived in the fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries, all the modern languages 
were in a state extremely barbarous, devoid of ele¬ 
gance, of vigour, and even of perspicuity. No 
author thought of writing in language so ill adapted 
to express and embellish his sentiments, or of erect¬ 
ing a work for immortality with such rude and 
perishable materials. As the spirit which prevailed 
at that time did not owe its rise to any original 
effort of the human mind, but was excited chiefly 
by admiration of the ancients, w hich began then to 
be studied with attention in every part of Europe, 
their compositions were deemed not only the stand¬ 
ards of taste and of sentiment but of style ; and 
even the languages in which they wrote were thought 
to be peculiar, and almost consecrated to learning 
and the muses. Not only the manner of the ancients 
w as imitated, but their language w as adopted ; and, 


extravagant as the attempt may appear to write in 
a dead tongue, in which men were not accustomed 
to think, and which they could not speak, or even 
pronounce, the success of it was astonishing. As 
they formed their style upon the purest models ; as 
they were uninfected with those barbarisms, which 
the inaccuracy of familiar conversation, the affecta¬ 
tion of courts, intercourse with strangers, and a 
thousand other causes, introduce into living 
languages ; many moderns have attained to a de¬ 
gree of elegance in their Latin compositions, which 
the Romans themselves scarcely possessed beyond 
the limits of the Augustan age. While this was 
almost the only species of composition, and all au¬ 
thors, by using one common language, could be 
brought to a nearer comparison, the Scottish writers 
were not inferior to those of any other nation. The 
happy genius of Buchanan, equally formed to excel 
in prose and in verse, more various, more original, 
and more elegant, than that of almost any other 
modern who writes in Latin, reflects, with regard to 
this particular, the greatest lustre on his country. 

But the labour attending the study of a dead 
tongue was irksome; the unequal return for their 
industry which authors met with, who could be 
read and admired only w ithin the narrow circle of 
the learned, was mortifying ; and men, instead of 
wasting half their lives in learning the language of 
the Romans, began to refine and to polish their 
own. The modern tongues were found to be sus¬ 
ceptible of beauties and graces, which, if not equal 
to those of the ancient ones, were at least more at¬ 
tainable. The Italians having first set the example, 
Latin was no longer used in works of taste ; it w as 
confined to books of science ; and the politer na¬ 
tions have banished it even from these. The Scots, 
we may presume, would have had no cause to re¬ 
gret this change in the public taste, and would still 
have been able to maintain some equality with 
other nations, in their pursuit of literary honour. 
The English and Scottish languages, derived from 
the same sources, were, at the end of the sixteenth 
century, in a state nearly similar, differing from one 
another somewhat in orthography, though not only 
the words, but the idioms, were much the same. The 
letters of several Scottish statesmen of that age are 
not inferior in elegance, or in purity, to those of the 
English ministers with whom they corresponded. 
Janies himself was master of a style far from con¬ 
temptible ; and by his example and encouragement, 
the Scottish language might have kept pace with 
the English in refinement. Scotland might have 
had a series of authors in its own, as well as in the 
Latin language, to boast of; and the improvements 
in taste, in the arts, and in the sciences, which 
spread over the other polished nations of Europe, 
would not have been unknown there. 

But, at the very time when other nations were 
beginning to drop the use of Latin in works of taste, 
and to make trial of the strength and compass of 
their own languages, Scotland ceased to be a king- 



21C 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


BOOK VIII. 


dora. The transports of joy which the accession at 
first occasioned, were soon over ; and the Scots, 
being at once deprived of all the objects that refine 
or animate a people ; of the presence of their prince, 
of the concourse of nobles, of the splendour and 
elegance of a court, an universal dejection of spirit 
seems to have seized the nation. The court being 
withdrawn, no domestic standard of propriety and 
correctness of speech remained ; the few compo¬ 
sitions that Scotland produced were tried by the 
English standard, and every word or phrase that 
varied in the least from that, was condemned as 
barbarous; whereas, if the two nations had con¬ 
tinued distinct, each might have retained idioms 
and forms of speech peculiar to itself; and these, 
rendered fashionable by the example of a court, 
and supported by the authority of writers of reputa¬ 
tion, might have been viewed in the same light with 
the varieties occasioned by the different dialects in the 
Greek tongue ; they even might have been consider¬ 
ed as beauties, and in many cases might have been 
used promiscuously by the authors of both nations. 
But, by the accession, the English naturally became 
the sole judges and lawgivers in language, and re¬ 
jected as solecisms every form of speech to which 
their ear was not accustomed. Nor did the Scots, 
while the intercourse between the two nations was 
inconsiderable, 0 and ancient prejudices were still 
so violent as to prevent imitation, possess the means 
of refining their own tongue according to the purity 
of the English standard. On the contrary, new cor¬ 
ruptions flowed into it from every different source. 
The clergy of Scotland, in that age, were more 
eminent for piety than for learning ; and though 
there did not arise many authors among them, yet 
being in possession of the privilege of discoursing 
publicly to the people, and their sermons being too 
long, and perhaps too frequent, such hasty produc¬ 
tions could not be elegant, and many slovenly and 
incorrect modes of expression may be traced back 
to that original. The pleadings of lawyers were 
equally loose and inaccurate, and that profession 
having furnished more authors, and the matters of 
which they treat mingling daily in common discourse 
and business, many of those vicious forms of speech 
which are denominated Scotticisms , have been in¬ 
troduced by them into the language. Nor did either 
the language or public taste receive any improve¬ 
ment in parliament, where a more liberal and more 


correct eloquence might have been expected. All 
business was transacted there by the lords of arti¬ 
cles, and they were so servilely devoted to the court, 
that few debates arose, and, prior to the revolution, 
none were conducted with the spirit and vigour na¬ 
tural to a popular assembly. 

Thus, during the whole seventeenth century, the 
English were gradually refining their language and 
their taste ; in Scotland, the former was much de¬ 
based, and the latter almost entirely lost. In the 
beginning of that period, both nations were emerg¬ 
ing out of barbarity ; but the distance between them, 
which was then inconsiderable, became, before the 
end of it, immense. Even after science had once 
dawned upon them, the Scots seemed to be sinking 
back into ignorance and obscurity ; and active and 
intelligent as they naturally are, they continued, 
while other nations were eager in the pursuit of 
fame and knowledge, in a state of languor. This, 
however, must be imputed to the unhappiness of 
their political situation, not to any defect of genius ; 
for no sooner was the one removed in any degree, 
than the other began to display itself. The act abo¬ 
lishing the power of the lords of articles, and other 
salutary laws passed at the revolution, having intro¬ 
duced freedom of debate into the Scottish parliament, 
eloquence, with all the arts that accompany or per¬ 
fect it, became immediate objects of attention; and 
the example of Fletcher of Salton alone is sufficient 
to show that the Scots were still capable of gene¬ 
rous sentiments, and, notwithstanding some pecu¬ 
liar idioms, were able to express themselves with 
energy and with elegance. 

At length the union having incorporated the two 
nations, and rendered them one people, the distinc¬ 
tions which had subsisted for many ages gradually 
wear away ; peculiarities disappear ; the same 
manners prevail in both parts of the island ; the 
same authors are read and admired; the same 
entertainments are frequented by the elegant and 
polite ; and the same standard of taste and of purity 
in language is established. The Scots, after being 
placed, during a whole century, in a situation no 
less fatal to the liberty than to the taste and genius 
of the nation, were at once put in possession of 
privileges more valuable than those which their an¬ 
cestors had formerly enjoyed ; and every obstruction 
that had retarded their pursuit, or prevented their 
acquisition, of literary fame, was totally removed. 


o A remarkable proof of the little intercourse between the English and 
Scots before the union of the crowns, is to be found in two curious papers, 
one published by Haynes, the other by Strype. In the year 1567, Eliza¬ 
beth commanded the bishop of London to take a survey of all the stran¬ 
gers within the cities of London and Westminster. By this report, which is 
very minute, it appears that the whole number of Scots at that time was 


naynes, 4oo. A survey ot the same kind was made by sir Thomas 
Row, lord Mayor, A. D. 1568. The number of Scots had then increased 
t° 88. strype, iv. Supplement, No. I. On the accession of James a 
considerable number of Scots, especially of the higher rank, resorted'to 
England ; but it was not till the Union that the intercourse between the 
two kingdoms became great. 



CRITICAL DISSERTATION 


CONCERNING 


THE MURDER OF KING HENRY, AND THE GENUINENESS OF THE QUEEN’S 

LETTERS TO BOTHWELL. 


It is not my intention to engage in all the contro¬ 
versies to which the murder of King Henry, or the 
letters from queen Mary to Both well, have given rise; 
far less to appear as an adversary to any particular 
author, who hath treated of them. To repeat and 
to expose all the ill-founded assertions, with regard 
to these points, which have flowed from inattention, 
from prejudice, from partiality, from malevolence, 
and from dishonesty, would be no less irksome to 
myself, than unacceptable to most of my readers. 
All I propose is, to assist others in forming some 
judgment concerning the facts in dispute, by stating 
the proofs produced on each side, with as much 
brevity as the case will admit, and with the same 
attention and impartiality, which I have endea¬ 
voured to exercise in examining other controverted 
points in the Scottish history. 

In order to account for the king’s murder, two 
different systems have been formed. The one sup¬ 
poses Bothwell to have contrived and executed this 
crime. The other imputes it to the earls of Murray, 
Morton, and their party. 

The decision of many controverted facts in his¬ 
tory, is a matter rather of curiosity than of use. 
They stand detached; and whatever we determine 
with regard to them, the fabric of the story remains 
untouched. But the fact under dispute in this 
place is a fundamental and essential one, and ac¬ 
cording to the opinion which an historian adopts 
with regard to it, he must vary and dispose the whole 
of his subsequent narration. An historical system 
may be tried in two different ways,—whether it be 
consistent with probability, and whether it be sup¬ 
ported by proper evidence. 

Those who charge the king’s murder upon Both¬ 
well, argue in the following manner; and, though 
their reasonings have been mentioned already in 
different parts of the narrative, it is necessary to 
repeat them here. Mary’s love for Darnley, say 
they, was a sudden and youthful passion. The 
beauty of his person, set off by some external 
frivolous accomplishments, was his chief merit, and 
gained her affections. His capricious temper soon 


raised in the queen a disgust, which broke out on 
different occasions. His engaging in the conspiracy 
against Rizzio, converted this disgust into an anti¬ 
pathy, which she was at no pains to conceal. This 
breach was, perhaps, in its own nature irreparable? 
the king certainly wanted that art and condescen¬ 
sion which alone could have repaired it. It widen¬ 
ed every day, and a deep and settled hatred effaced 
all remains of affection. Bothwell observed this, 
and was prompted by ambition, and perhaps by 
love, to found upon it a scheme, which proved 
fatal both to the queen and to himself. He had 
served Mary at different times with fidelity and 
success. He insinuated himself into her favour by 
address and by flattery. By degrees he gained her 
heart. In order to gratify his love, or at least his 
ambition, it was necessary to get rid of the king. 
Mary had rejected the proposal which, it is said, 
had been made to her for obtaining a divorce. The 
king was equally hated by the partisans of the 
house of Hamilton, a considerable party in the 
kingdom ; by Murray, one of the most powerful and 
popular persons in his country ; by Morton and his 
associates, whom he had deceived, and whom Both¬ 
well had bound to his interest by a recent favour. 
Among the people, Darnley was fallen under ex¬ 
treme contempt. Bothwell might expect, for all 
these reasons, that the murder of the king would 
pass without any inquiry, and might trust to Mary’s 
love, and to his own address and good fortune, for 
the accomplishment of the rest of his wishes. What 
Bothwell expected really came to pass. Mary, if 
not privy herself to the design, connived at an 
action which rid her of a man whom she had such 
good reason to detest. A few months after the 
murder of her husband, she married the person who 
was both suspected and accused of having perpe¬ 
trated that odious crime. 

Those who charge the guilt upon Murray and his 
party, reason in this manner: Murray, they say, was 
a man of boundless ambition. Notwithstanding the 
illegitimacy of his birth, he had early formed a 
design of usurping the crown. On the queen’s 




218 


DISSERTATION ON 


return into Scotland, he insinuated himself into her 
favour, and engrossed the whole power into his own 
hands. He set himself against every proposal of 
marriage which was made to her, lest his own 
chance of succeeding to the crown should be de¬ 
stroyed. He hated Darnley, and was no less hated 
by him. In order to be revenged on him, he entered 
into a sudden friendship with Bothwell, his ancient 
and mortal enemy. He encouraged him to assassi¬ 
nate Henry, by giving him hopes of marrying the 
queen. All this was done with a design to throw 
upon the queen herself the imputation of being 
accessory to the murder, and, under that pretext, to 
destroy Bothwell, to depose and imprison her, and 
to seize the sceptre which he had wrested out of her 
hands. 

The former of these systems has an air of proba¬ 
bility, is consistent with itself, and solves appear¬ 
ances. In the latter, some assertions are false, some 
links are wanting in the chain, and effects appear, 
of which no sufficient cause is produced. Murray, 
on the queen’s return into Scotland, served her with 
great fidelity, and by his prudent administration 
rendered her so popular, and so powerful, as enabled 
her with ease to quash a formidable insurrection 
raised by the party of which he was the leader in 
the year 1565. What motive could induce Murray 
to murder a prince without capacity, without fol¬ 
lowers, without influence over the nobles, whom the 
queen, by her neglect, had reduced to the lowest 
state of contempt, and who, after a long disgrace, 
had regained (according to the most favourable 
supposition) the precarious possession of her favour 
only a few days before his death ? It is difficult to 
conceive what Murray had to fear from the king’s 
life. It is still a more difficult matter to guess what 
he could gain by his death. If we suppose that the 
queen had no previous attachment to Bothwell, 
nothing can appear more chimerical than a scheme 
to persuade her to marry a man, whose wife was 
still alive, and who was not only suspected, but ac¬ 
cused, of murdering her former husband. But that 
such a scheme should really succeed is still more 
extraordinary.—If Murray had instigated Bothwell 
to commit the crime, or had himself been accessory 
to the commission of it, what hopes were there 
that Bothwell would silently bear from a fellow- 
criminal all the prosecutions which he suffered, 
without ever retorting upon him the accusation, or 
revealing the whole scene of iniquity? An ancient 
and deadly feud had subsisted between Murray and 
Bothwell; the queen with difficulty had brought 
them to some terms of agreement. But, is it pro¬ 
bable that Murray would choose an enemy, to whom 
he had been so lately reconciled, for his confident 
in the commission of such an atrocious crime? Or, 
on the other hand, would it ever enter into the 
imagination of a wise man, first to raise his rival to 
supreme power, in hopes that afterwards he might 
render him odious, by accusing him of crimes which 
he had not committed, and, in consequence of this 


unjust charge, should be enabled to deprive him of 
that power? The most adventurous politician never 
hazarded such a dangerous experiment. The most 
credulous folly never trusted such an uncertain 
chance. 

How strong soever these general reasonings may 
appear to be, it is not upon them alone that we must 
decide, but according to the particular evidence that 
is produced. This we now proceed to examine. 

That Bothwell was guilty of the king’s murder, 
appears, 1. From the concurring testimony of all 
the contemporary historians. 2. From the confes¬ 
sion of those persons who suffered for assisting at 
the commission of the crime, and who entered into 
a minute detail of all its circumstances. Anders. 

ii. 165. 3. From the acknowledgment of Mary’s 

own commissioners, who allow Bothwell to have 
been one of those who were guilty of this crime. 
Good. ii. 213. 4. From the express testimony of 

Lesley, bishop of Ross, to the same effect with the 
former. Def. of Q. Mary’s Hon. Anders, i. 76. Id. 

iii. p. 31. 5. Morton, at his death, declared that 

Bothwell had solicited him, at different times, to 
concur in the conspiracy formed against the life of 
the king; and that he was informed by Archibald 
Douglas, one of the conspirators, that Bothwell was 
present at the murder. Crawf. Mem. App. 4. The 
letter from Douglas to the Queen, which I have 
published in the Appendix, No. XLYII. confirms 
Morton’s testimony. 6. Lord Herries promises, in 
his own name, and in the name of the nobles who 
adhered to the queen, that they would concur in 
punishing Bothwell as the murderer of the king. 
Append. No. XXIV. 

The most direct charge ever brought against Mur¬ 
ray is in these words of bishop Lesley : “ Is it un¬ 
known,” addressing himself to the earl of Murray, 
“ what the Lord Herries said to your face openly, 
even at your own table, a few days after the murder 
was committed? Did he not charge you with the 
foreknowledge of the same murder ? Did he not, 
nulla circuitione usus, flatly and plainly burden you, 
that riding in Fife, and coming with one of your 
most assured and trusty servants the same day 
whereon you departed from Edinburgh, you said to 
him, among other talk, This night, ere morning. Lord 
Darnley shall lose his life?” Defence of Q. Mary, 
Anders, ii. 75. But the assertion of a man so heated 
with faction as Lesley, unless it were supported by 
proper evidence, is of little weight. The servant to 
whom Murray is said to have spoken these words, 
is not named ; nor the manner in which this secret 
conversation was brought to light mentioned. Lord 
Herries was one of the most zealous advocates for 
Mary, and it is remarkable that, in all his negocia- 
tion at the court of England, he never once repeated 
this accusation of Murray. In answering the chal¬ 
lenge given him by lord Lindsay, Herries had a fair 
opportunity of mentioning Murray’s knowledge of 
the murder ; but, though he openly accuses of that 
crime some of those who adhered to Murray, he 



219 


KING HENRY'S 

industriously avoids any insinuation against Murray 
himself. Keith, Pref. xii. Mary herself, in conver¬ 
sation with sir Francis Knolles, accused Morton 
and Maitland of being privy to the murder, but does 
not mention Murray. And. iv. 55. When the bishop 
of Ross and lord Herries appeared before the Eng¬ 
lish council, January 11, 1569, they declared them¬ 
selves ready, in obedience to the queen's command, 
to accuse Murray and his associates of being acces¬ 
sory to the murder, but “ they being also required, 
whether they, or any of them, as of themselves, 
would accuse the said earl in special, or any of his 
adherents, or thought them guilty thereofthey 
answered, “ that they took God to witness that none 
of them did ever know any thing of the conspiracy 
of that murder, or were in council and foreknow¬ 
ledge thereof; neither who were devisors, inventors, 
and executors of the same, till it was publicly dis¬ 
covered long thereafter by some of the assassins, 
who suffered death on that account." Good. ii. 308. 
These words are taken out of a register kept by 
Ross and Herries themselves, and seem to be a 
direct confutation of the bishop’s assertion. 

The earls of Huntley and Argyll, in their protest¬ 
ation touching the murder of the king of Scots, after 
mentioning the conference at Craigmillar concern¬ 
ing a divorce, add, “ So after these premises, the 
murder of the king following, we judge in our con¬ 
sciences, and hold for certain and truth, that the 
earl of Murray and secretary Lctbington were 
authors, inventors, counsellors, and causers of the 
same murder, in what manner, or by whatsoever 
persons, the same was executed." Anders, iv. 188. 
But, 1. This is nothing more than the private opinion 
or personal affirmation of these two noblemen. 2. 
The conclusion which they make has no connexion 
with the premises on which they found it. Because 
Murray proposed to obtain for the queen a divorce 
from her husband with her own consent, it does not 
follow that therefore he committed the murder with¬ 
out her knowledge. 3. Huntley and Argyll were 
at that time the leaders of that party opposite to 
Murray, and animated with all the rage of faction. 

4. Both of them were Murray’s personal enemies. 
Huntley, on account of the treatment which his 
family and clan had received from that nobleman. 
Argyll was desirous of being divorced from his wife, 
with whom he lived on no good terms, Knox, 328. 
and by whom he had no children. Crawf. Peer. 19. 
She was Murray’s sister, and by his interest Argyll’s 
design was obstructed. Keith, 551. These circum¬ 
stances would go far towards invalidating a positive 
testimony ; they more than counterbalance an inde¬ 
terminate suspicion. 5. It is altogether uncertain 
whether Huntley and Argyll ever subscribed this 
protestation. A copy of such a protestation as the 
queen thought would be of advantage to her cause, 
was transmitted to them by her. Anders, iv. b. ii. 
186. The protestation itself, published by Ander¬ 
son, is taken from an unsubscribed copy, with 
blanks for the date and place of subscribing. On 


MURDER, &c. 

the hack of this copy there is pasted, indeed, a 
paper, which Cecil has marked, “ answer of the earl 
of Murray to a writing of the earls of Huntley and 
Argyll." Anders. 194, 195. But it can hardly be 
deemed a reply to the above-mentioned protestation. 
Murray’s answer bears date at London, Jan. 19, 
1568. The queen’s letter, in which she enclosed the 
copy of the protestation, bears date at Bowton, Jan. 
5, 1568. Now it is scarce to be supposed that the 
copy could be sent into Scotland, be subscribed by 
the two earls, and be seen and answered by Murray, 
within so short a time. Murray’s reply seems in¬ 
tended only to prevent the impression which the 
vague and uncertain accusations of his enemies 
might make in his absence. Cecil had got the ori¬ 
ginal of the queen’s letter into his custody. Anders, 
iv. 185. This naturally leads us to conjecture that 
the letter itself, together with the enclosed protest¬ 
ation, were intercepted before they came to the 
hands of Huntley and Argyll. Nor is this mere 
conjecture alone. The letter to Huntley, in which 
the protestation was enclosed, is to be found ; Cott. 
Lib. Cal. C. 1. fol. 280; and is an original, sub¬ 
scribed by Mary, though not written by her own 
hand, because she seldom chose to write in the 
English language. The protestation is in the same 
volume, fol. 282., and is manifestly written by the 
same person who wrote the queen’s letter. This 
seems to render it highly probable that both were 
intercepted. So that much has been founded on a 
paper not subscribed by the two earls, and probably 
never seen by them. Besides, this method which 
the queen took of sending a copy to the two earls, 
of what was proper for them to declare with regard 
to a conference held in their own presence, appears 
somewhat suspicious. It would have been more 
natural, and not so liable to any misinterpretation, 
to have desired them to write the most exact ac¬ 
count, which they could recollect, of what had 
passed at the conversation at Craigmillar. 6. But 
even if all this reasoning should be set aside, and 
the authenticity of the protestation should be ad¬ 
mitted in its fullest extent, it may still be a question, 
what degree of credit should be given to the asser¬ 
tion of the two earls, who were not only present in 
the first parliament held by Murray as regent in 
December 1567, in which the one carried the sceptre, 
and the other the sword of state, Spotsw. 241. but 
were both members of the committee of lords of 
articles, and in that capacity assisted in framing all 
the acts by which the queen was deprived of the 
crown, and her son seated on the throne ; and in 
particular concurred in the act by which it was de¬ 
clared, that whatever had befallen the queen “ was 
in her awin default, in sa far as, be divers hir previe 
letters written halelie with hir awin hand, and send 
by hir to James sometyme earle of Both well, cheif 
executour of the said horribill murthour, as weill 
befoir the committing thairof as thairaftir : And be 
hir ungodlie and dishonourabill proceeding to ane 
pretendit marriage with him, suddainlie and unpro- 



220 


DISSERTATION ON 


visitlic thairaftir, it is maist certane that sche was 
previe, airt and pairt, of the actual devise and deid 
of the foirnamit murthour of the king her lauchful 
husband, and tliairfoir justlie deservis quhatsum- 
ever lies bene done to hir in ony tyme bygaine, or 
that sal be usit towards hir, for the said cause/’ 
Anders, ii. 221. 

The queen’s commissioners at the conferences in 
England accused Murray and his associates of hav¬ 
ing murdered the king. Good. ii. 281. Rut this 
charge is to be considered as a recrimination, ex¬ 
torted by the accusation preferred against the queen, 
and contains nothing more than loose and general 
affirmations, without descending to such particular 
circumstances as either ascertain their truth, or 
discover their falsehood. The same accusation is 
repeated by the nobles assembled at Dumbarton, 
Sept. 1568. Good. ii. 359. And the same observa¬ 
tion may be made concerning it. 

All the queen’s advocates have endeavoured to 
account for Murray’s murdering of the king, by 
supposing that it was done on purpose that he might 
have the pretence of disturbing the queen’s adminis¬ 
tration, and thereby rendering ineffectual her general 
revocation of crown lands, which would have de¬ 
prived him and his associates of the best part of 
their estates. Lesley, Def. of Mary’s Hon. p. 73. 
Anders, iv. part ii. 130. But whoever considers the 
limited powers of a Scottish monarch, will see that 
such a revocation could not be very formidable to 
the nobles. Every king of Scotland began his reign 
with such a revocation ; and as often as it was re¬ 
newed, the power of the nobles rendered it ineffec¬ 
tual. The best vindication of Murray and his party 
from this accusation, is that which they presented 
to the queen of England, and which hath never 
hitherto been published. 

Answers to the objections and alled- 

Paper office. r „ , . , , 

gance oj the queen, alledging the earl 

of Murray, lord regent, the earl of Morton, Marr, 

Glencairn , Hume, Ruthven, Sfc., to have been moved 

to armour,for that they abhorred and might not 

abide her revocation of the alienation made of her 

property. 

It is answered, that is, alledged but [i. e. with¬ 
out] all appearance, and it appears God has bereft 
the alledgance of all wit and good remembrance, 
for tliir reasons following: 

Imprimis, As to my lord regent, he never had 
occasion to grudge thereat, in respect the queen 
made him privy to the same, and took resolution 
with him for the execution thereof, letting his lord- 
ship know she would assuredly in the samine except 
all things she had given to him, and ratefy them in 
the next parliament, as she did indeed ; and for 
that cause wished my lord to leave behind him 
master John Wood, to attend upon the same, to 
whom she declared, that als well in that as in all 
other her grants it should be provided, yea, of free 


will did promise and offer before ever he demanded, 
as it came to pass without any let or impediment; 
for all was ratified by her command, and hand write, 
at the parliament, but [i. e. without] any difficulty. 

Item, as to my lord of Morton, he could not 
grudge thereat quha never had of her property worth 
twenty dollars that ever I knew of. 

Item, the same may I say of my lord Glencairn. 

Item, the same I may say of my lord Hume. 

Item, the same I may say of my lord Ruthven. 

Item, the same I may say of my lord Lindsay. 

Only my lord of Marr had ane little thing of the 
property, quilk alsua was gladly and liberally con¬ 
firmed to him, in the said parliament preceding a 
year; was never ane had any cause of miscontent 
of that revocation, far less to have put their lives 
and heritage to so open and manifest ane danger as 
they did for sic ane frivole cause. 

Gyf ever any did make evill countenance, and 
show any miscontentment of the said revocation, it 
was my lord of Argyll in special, quha spak largely 
in the time of parliament thairanents to the queen 
herself, and did complain of the manifest corrup¬ 
tion of ane act of parliament past upon her ma¬ 
jesty’s return, and sa did lett any revocation at that 
time ; but the armour for revenge of the king’s deid 
was not till twa months after, at quhat time there 
was no occasion given thereof, nor never a man had 
mind thereof. 

Having thus examined the evidence which has 
been produced against the earls of Murray and 
Bothwell, we shall next proceed to inquire whether 
the queen herself was accessory to the murder of 
her husband. 

No sooner was the violent death of Darnley 
known, than strong suspicion arose, among some 
of her subjects, that Mary had given her consent to 
the commission of that crime. Anders, ii. 156. We 
are informed, by her own ambassador in France, 
the archbishop of Glasgow, that the sentiments of 
foreigners on this head were no less unfavourable 
to her. Keith, Pref. ix. Many of her nobles loudly 
accused her of that crime, and a great part of the 
nation, by supporting them, seem to have allowed 
the accusation to be well founded. 

Some crimes, however, are of such a nature, that 
they hardly admit of a positive or direct proof. 
Deeds of darkness can seldom be brought perfectly 
to light. Where persons are accused not of being 
principals, but only of being accessories in the com¬ 
mission of a crime; not of having perpetrated it 
themselves, but only of giving consent to the com¬ 
mission of it by others, the proof becomes still more 
difficult; and unless when some accomplice betrays 
the secret, a proof by circumstances, or presump¬ 
tive evidence, is all that can be attained. Even in 
judicial trials, such evidence is sometimes held to 
be sufficient for condemning criminals. The degree 
of conviction which such evidence carries along 
with it, is often not inferior to that which arises from 



221 


KING HENRY'S MURDER, &c. 


positive testimony ; and a concurring series of cir¬ 
cumstances satisfies the understanding no less than 
the express declaration of witnesses. 

Evidence of both these kinds has been produced 
against Mary. We shall first consider that which 
is founded upon circumstances alone. 

Some of these suspicious circumstances preceded 
the king’s death ; others were subsequent to it. 
With regard to the former, we may observe that 
the queen’s violent love of Darnley was soon con¬ 
verted into an aversion to him no less violent; and 
that his own ill conduct and excesses of every kind 
were such, that if they did not justify, at least they 
account tor, this sudden change of her disposition 
towards him. The rise and progress of this do¬ 
mestic rupture I have traced with great care in the 
history, and to the proofs of it which may be found 
in papers published by other authors, I have added 
those contained in App. No. XYI. and XVII. Le 
Croc, the French ambassador, who was an eye¬ 
witness of what he describes, not only represents 
her aversion to Darnley to be extreme, but declares 
that there could be no hopes of a reconcilement 

Dec. 12 . between them. “ The queen is in the 
i5fi6. hands of physicians, and I do assure 
you is not at all well; and do believe the principal 
part of her disease to consist in deep grief and 
sorrow ; nor does it seem possible to make her forget 
the same. Still she repeats these words, I could 
wish to be dead. You know very well that the injury 
she has received is exceeding great, and her ma¬ 
jesty will never forget it.—To speak my mind freely 
to you, I do not expect, upon several accounts, any 
good understanding between them, [i. e. the king 
and queen,] unless God effectually put to his hand. 

Dec 23 —His ^ad deportment is incurable ; 

nor can there ever be any good ex¬ 
pected from him, for several reasons, which I might 
tell you was I present with you. I cannot pretend to 
foretell how all may turn, but I will say, that mat¬ 
ters cannot subsist long as they are, without being 
accompanied with sundry bad consequences.” Keith, 
Pref. vii. Had Henry died a natural death at this 
juncture, it must have been considered as a very 
fortunate event to the queen, and as a seasonable 
deliverance from a husband who had become alto¬ 
gether odious to her. Now as Henry was murdered 
a few weeks afterwards, and as nothing had hap¬ 
pened to render the queen’s aversion to him less 
violent, the opinion of those who consider Mary as 
the author of an event which was manifestly so 
agreeable to her, will appear perhaps to some of 
our readers to be neither unnatural nor over re¬ 
fined. If we add to this, what has been observed 
in the history, that in proportion to the increase 
of Mary’s hatred of her husband, Bothwell seems 
to have made progress in her favour, and that he 
became the object not only of her confidence but 
her attachment, that opinion acquires new strength. 
It is easy to observe many advantages which might 
redound to Mary as well as to Bothwell from the 


king’s death ; but excepting them, no person, and 
no party in the kingdom, could derive the least 
benefit from that event. Bothwell, according¬ 
ly, murdered the king, and it was, in that age, 
thought no unwarranted imputation on Mary’s cha¬ 
racter, to suppose that she had consented to the 
deed. 

The steps which the queen took after her hus¬ 
band’s death, add strength to that supposition. 1. 
Melvil, who was in Edinburgh at the time of the 
king’s death, asserts that “ every body suspected the 
earl of Bothwell ; and those who durst speak freely 
to others, said plainly that it was he,” p. 155. 2. 
Mary having issued a proclamation, on the 12th of 
February, offering a reward to any person who 
should discover those who had murdered her hus¬ 
band, And. i. 36.; a paper in consequence of this 
was affixed to the gates of the Tollbooth, February 
16, in which Bothwell was named as the chief person 
guilty of that crime, and the queen herself was ac¬ 
cused of having given her consent to it. And. ii. 
156. 3. Soon after, February 20, the earl of Len¬ 
nox, the king’s father, wrote to Mary, conjuring her 
by every motive to prosecute the murderers with 
the utmost rigour. He plainly declared his own 
suspicions of Bothwell, and pointed out a method 
of proceeding against him, and for discovering the 
authors of that crime, no less obvious than equita¬ 
ble. He advised her to seize, and to commit to sure 
custody, Bothwell himself, and such as were already 
named as his accomplices; to call an assembly 
of the nobles ; to issue a proclamation, inviting 
Bothwell’s accusers to appear ; and if, on that en¬ 
couragement, no person appeared to accuse them, to 
hold them as innocent, and to dismiss them without 
further trial. And. i. 40. 4. Archbishop Beatoun, 

her ambassador in France, in a letter to Mary, 
March 9th, employs arguments of the utmost 
weight to persuade her to prosecute the murderers 
with the greatest severity. “ I can conclude nathing 
(says he) by quhat zour majesty writes to me zour- 
self, that sen it has plesit God to conserve zow to 
make a rigorous vengeance thereof, that rather 
than it be not actually taine, it appears to me better 
in this warld that ze had lost life and all. I ask 
zour majestie pardon, that I writ sa far, for I can 
heir nathing to zour prejudise, but I man [rwws/] 
constraindly writ the samin, that all may come to 
zour knawledge ; for the better remede may be put 
therto. Heir it is needfull that ze forth shaw now 
rather than ever of before, the greite vertue, mag- 
nanimitie, and Constance that God has grantit zow, 
be quhais grace, I hope ze sail overcome this most 
heavy envie and displesir of the committing thereof, 
and conserve that reputation in all godliness, ze have 
conquist of lang, quhich can appear na wayis mair 
dearie, than that zou do sick [ such ] justice that the 
haill \rvliole\ world may declare zour innocence, and 
give testimony for ever of thair treason that has 
committed ( but [without^ fear of God or man) so 
cruel and ungodlie a murther, quhairof there is 




222 


DISSERTATION ON 


sa meiJde [much] ill spoken, that I am constrainit 
to ask zow mercy, that neither can I or will I make 
the rehearsal thereof, which is owr [too] odious. 
But alas ! madame, all over Europe this day, 
there is na purpose in head sa frequent as of zour 
majestie, and of the present state of zour realm, 
quliilk is in the most part interpretit sinisterly.” 
Keith, Pref. ix. 5. Elizabeth, as appears from 
Appendix, No. XIX. urged the same thing in 
strong terms. 6. The circumstances of the case 
itself, no less than these solicitations and remon¬ 
strances, called for the utmost vigour in her pro¬ 
ceedings. Her husband had been murdered in a 
cruel manner, almost in her own presence. Her 
subjects were filled with the utmost horror at the 
crime. Bothwell, one of her principal favourites, 
had been publicly accused as the author of it. 
Reflections extremely dishonourable to herself, had 
been thrown out. If indignation, and the love of 
justice, did not prompt her to pursue the murder¬ 
ers with ardour, decency, at least, and concern for 
vindicating her own character, should have induced 
her to avoid any appearance of remissness or want 
of zeal. 

But instead of this, Mary continued to discover, 
in all her actions, the utmost partiality towards 
Bothwell. On the 15th of February, five days after 
the murder, she bestowed on him the reversion of 
the superiority of the town of Leith, which, in the 
year 1565, she had mortgaged to the citizens of Edin¬ 
burgh. This grant was of much importance, as it 
gave him not only the command of the principal 
port in the kingdom, but a great ascendant over the 
citizens of Edinburgh, who wished much to keep pos¬ 
session of it. a 2. Bothwell being extremely desir¬ 
ous to obtain the command of the castle of Edin¬ 
burgh, the queen, in order to prevail on the earl of 
Mar to surrender the government of it, offered to 
commit the young prince to his custody. Mar con¬ 
sented ; and she instantly appointed Bothwell 
governor of the castle. And. i. Pref. 64. Keith, 
379. note ( d ). 3. The inquiry into the murder, pre¬ 

vious to Bothwell’s trial, seems to have been con¬ 
ducted with the utmost remissness. Buchanan ex¬ 
claims loudly against this. And. ii. 24. Nor was it 
without reason that he did so, as is evident from a 
circumstance in the affidavit of Thomas Nelson, 
one of the king’s servants, who was in the house 
when his master was murdered, and was dug up 
alive out of the rubbish. Being examined on the 

a Copy from the original in the Charter-house of the City of Edinburgh of 
an Assignation to the reversion of the superiority of Leith, by Queen 
Mary, to the Earl of Bothwell. 

Maria Dei gratia Regina Scotorum, omnibus probis hominibus suis ad 
quos praesentes liter* pervenerint saluteni. Sciatis, quod nos ad memo- 
riam reducentes multiplex bonum verum et fidele servitium, non tantum 
quondam nostras chanssim* rnatri Marias Reginae regni nostri pro tem¬ 
pore in nostraminoritate factum et impensum, verum etiam nobismet ipsis, 
tarn intra partes Galliae quam intra hoc nostrum regnum, ad extentionem 
nostri honoris ct auctoritatis in punitione furum, malefactorum, et trans- 
gressorum infra idem, per nostrum confisum consanguineum et consilia- 
rium .lacobum comitem Bothuile, dominum Halis, Creighton, et Liddis- 
dale, magnum admirallum regni nostri, commissionem et onerationem ad 
hunc effectum habentem, per quas ipse suum corpus et vitam in magno 
periculo posuit; ac etiarn, in performatione et extentione nostri dicti ser- 
vitii, suam hereditatem, supra summam viginti millium mercarum hujus 
nostri regni, alienavitac laesit. Et nos cogitantes quod, ex nostra princi- 
rali honore et dcvoria dictum nostrum confisum consanguineum et consi- 
iarium cum quodam accidente et gratitudine recompensare et gratificare 


Monday after the king’s death, “ 1 his deponar 
scliew that Bonkle had the key of the sellare, and 
the Queenis servandis the keyis of her shalmir. 
Quhilk the laird of Tillibardin hearing, said, Hald 
thair, here is ane ground. Efter quhilk words spo- 
kin, thai left of, and procedit na farther in the in¬ 
quisition.” And. iv. part ii. 167. Had there been any 
intention to search into the bottom of the matter, a 
circumstance of so much importance merited the 
most careful inquiry. 4. Notwithstanding Lennox’s 
repeated solicitations, notwithstanding the reason¬ 
ableness of his demands, and the necessity of com¬ 
plying with them, in order to encourage any accuser 
to appear against Bothwell, she not only refused to 
commit him to custody, or even to remove him from 
her presence and councils, And. i. 42. 48.; but by 
the grants which we have mentioned, and by other 
circumstances, discovered an increase of attach¬ 
ment to him. 5. She could not avoid bringing 
Bothwell to a public trial; but she permitted him 
to sit as a member in that meeting of the privy- 
council which directed his own trial ; and the trial 
itself was carried on with such unnecessary preci¬ 
pitancy, and with so many other suspicious circum¬ 
stances, as to render his acquittal rather an argu¬ 
ment of his guilt than a proof of his innocence. These 
circumstances have all been mentioned at length in 
Book IV. and therefore are not repeated in this 
place. 6. Two days after the trial, Mary gave a 
public proof of her regard for Bothwell, by ap¬ 
pointing him to carry the sceptre before her at the 
meeting of parliament. Keith, 378. 7. In that 

parliament, she granted him a ratification of all the 
great possessions and honours which she had con¬ 
ferred upon him, in which was contained an ample 
enumeration of all the services he had performed. 
And. i. 117. 8. Though Melvil, who foresaw that 

her attachment to Bothwell would at length induce 
her to marry him, warned her of the infamy and 
danger which would attend that action, she not only 
disregarded this salutary admonition, but discover¬ 
ed what had passed between them to Bothwell, 
which exposed Melvil to his resentment. Melv. 
156. 9. Bothwell seized Mary as she returned from 

Stirling, April 24. If he had done this without her 
knowledge and consent, such an insult could not 
have failed to have filled her with the most violent 
indignation. But according to the account of an 
old MS. “The friendly love was so highly contract¬ 
ed between this great princess and her enormous 

incumbit, quas nos commode sibi concedere poterimus, unde ipse magis 
habilis omnibus affuturis temporibus esse poterit, et ad hujusrnodi perfor- 
mandum in omnibus causis seu eventibus : In recompensationem quorum 
pr*missorum, ac pro diversis aliis nostris rationabihbus causis et consi- 
clerationibus nos moventibus, Fecimus, &c. dictum .lacobum comitem 
Bothuile, &c. ac suos h*redes masculos quoscumque nostros legitimos, 
&c. assignatos in et ad literas reversionis factas, &c. per Symonem Pres¬ 
ton de eodem militem, pr*positum, balivos, consules, et oommunitatem 
hujus nostri burgi de Edinburgh, pro seipsis ac suis successoribus, &c. 
nobis, nostrisque heredibus, successoribus, et assignatis pro redemptione. 
&c. superioritatis totius villa; de Leith, See. impignorat* per nos dictis 
orseposito, Sic. sub reversione alienat* continents summam decern mil¬ 
ium mercarum monetae prescript*, numerandum et calculandum in pa- 
rochiali ecclesia de Edinburgh, super premonitione quadragmta dierum, 
ut moris est, veluti in dictis reversionis literis, Sic. de data 8vo Octob. 
1565, &c. (1 he rest is form, and contains a clause of absolute warrandice.) 
In cuius rei Testimonium prassentibus magnum sigillum nostrum 
apponi fecimus. Apud Edinburgh, decimo quinto die mensis Februarii, 
anno Domini millesimo quingentesimo sexagesimo sexto, et regni nostn 
vicesimo quinto. The great seal entire. 



223 


KING HENRY’S MURDER, &c. 


subject, that there was no end thereof, (for it was 
constantly esteemed by all men, that either of them 
loved other carnally,) so that she suffered patiently 
to be led where the lover list, and all the way 
neither made obstacle, impediment, clamour, or re¬ 
sistance, as in such accidents use to be, or that she 
might have done by her princely authority, being 
accompanied with the noble earl of Huntley and 
secretary Maitland of Lcthington.” Keith, 383. 
Melvil, who was present, confirms this account, and 
tells us, that the officer by whom he was seized in¬ 
formed him, that nothing was done without the 
queen’s consent. Melv. 158. 10. On the 12th of 

May, a few days before her marriage, Mary de¬ 
clared that she was then at full liberty, and that 
though Bothwell had offended her by seizing her 
person, she was so much satisfied with his dutiful 
behaviour since that time, and so indebted to him 
for past services, that she not only forgave that 
offence, but resolved to promote him to higher hon¬ 
ours. And. i. 87. 11. Even after the confederate 

nobles had driven Bothwell from the queen’s pre¬ 
sence, and though she saw that he was considered 
as the murderer of her former husband by so great 
a part of her subjects, her affection did not in the 
least abate, and she continued to express the most 
unalterable attachment to him. “I can perceive 
(says sir N. Throkmorton) that the rigour with 
which the queen is kept proceedeth by order from 
these men, because that the queen will not by any 
means be induced to lend her authority to prosecute 
the murderer; nor will not consent by any persua¬ 
sion to abandon the lord Bothwell for her husband, 
but avoweth constantly that she will live and die 
with him ; and saith, that if it were put to her choice 
to relinquish her crown and kingdom, or the lord 
Bothwell, she would leave her kingdom and dignity 
to go a simple damsel with him, and that she will 
never consent that he shall fare worse, or have more 
harm, than herself.” Appendix, No. XXII. In 
all their negociation with Throkmorton, the con¬ 
federates mention this unalterable attachment of 
the queen to Bothwell, as a sufficient reason for re¬ 
jecting his proposals of an accommodation with 
their sovereign. Keith, 419. 449. This assertion 
they renewed in the conferences at York. Anders, 
iv. part ii. p. 66. Murray, in his interview with 
Mary in Loehlevin, charged her with persisting in 
her inordinate affection to Bothwell. Keith, 446. 
All these, however, may be considered merely as 
accusations brought by the confederates, in order to 
vindicate their rigour towards the queen. But 
Throkmorton, who, by his residence in Edinburgh, 
and by his intercourse with the queen’s partisans, 
as well as with her enemies, had many opportunities 
of discovering whether or not Mary had expressed 
herself in such terms, and who was disposed to view 
her actions in the most favourable light, appears, by 
the passage which I have quoted from his letter of 
the 14th of July, to be persuaded that the confede¬ 
rates had not misrepresented her sentiments. He 


had soon an opportunity of being confirmed with 
greater certainty in this opinion. Although the 
confederates had refused him access to the captive 
queen, he found means of holding a secret corres¬ 
pondence with her, and endeavoured to persuade 
her to give her consent to have her marriage with 
Bothwell dissolved by a sentence of divorce, as the 
most probable means of regaining her liberty. She 
hath sent me word that she Mull in no ways con¬ 
sent unto that, but rather die. Appendix, No. 
XXII. There is evidence of the continuance of 
Mary’s attachment still more explicit. Lord Her- 
ries, in the parliament held the 15th of December 
1567, acknowledged the queen’s inordinate affec¬ 
tion to that wicked man, and that she could not be 
induced by persuasion to leave him; and that in 
sequestering her within Loehlevin, the confede¬ 
rates had done the duty of noblemen. Appendix, 
No. XXIY. In the year 1571, a conference was 
held by some deputies from a convention of clergy, 
with the duke of Chatelherault, secretary Maitland, 
sir James Balfour, and Kirkaldy ; and an account 
of it written by Mr. Craig, one of the ministers of 
Edinburgh, is extant in Calderwood MSS. Hist. ii. 
244. In presence of all these persons, most of whom 
were in Edinburgh when the queen was taken at 
Carberry, Maitland, who was now an avowed par¬ 
tisan of Mary, declares, that on the same night she 
w as brought to Edinburgh, he himself had offered, 
that if she would abandon Bothwell, she should 
have as thankful obedience as ever she had since 
she came to Scotland. But in no wise would she 
consent to leave Bothwell. According to sir James 
Melvil, the queen found means of writing a letter to 
Bothwell on the evening of that day when she was 
conducted as a prisoner to Edinburgh, in which she 
declared her affection to him in the most tender ex¬ 
pressions, and her resolution never to abandon him. 
This letter, he says, was intercepted by the con¬ 
federates, and determined them to confine Mary in 
the castle of Loehlevin. But as neither Buchanan 
nor Knox, both abundantly disposed to avail them¬ 
selves of every fact and report that could be em¬ 
ployed in order to represent Mary’s conduct as im¬ 
proper and criminal, mention this letter ; and as the 
confederates themselves in their negociation with 
Throkmorton, as well as in their accusations of the 
queen before the English commissioners at York 
and Westminster, maintain the same silence with 
regard to it, I am satisfied that Melvil, who wrote 
his memoirs for the information of his son in his old 
age, and long after the events which he records 
happened, has been mistaken with regard to this 
particular. From this long enumeration of circum¬ 
stances, we may, without violence, draw the follow¬ 
ing conclusion : Had Mary really been accessory to 
the murder of her husband ; had Bothwell per¬ 
petrated the crime with her consent, or at her com¬ 
mand ; and had she intended to stifle the evidence 
against him, and to prevent the discovery of his 
guilt, she could scarcely have taken any other steps 



224 


DISSERTATION ON 


than those which she took, nor could her conduct 
have been more repugnant to all the maxims of 
prudence and of decency. 

The positive evidence produced against Mary 
may be classed under two heads. 

1. The depositions of some persons who were 
employed in committing the murder, particularly 
of Nicholas Hubert, who, in the writings of that 
age, is called French Paris. This person, who was 
Bothwell’s servant, and much trusted by him, was 
twice examined, and the original of one of his de¬ 
positions, and a copy of the other, are still extant. 
It is pretended that both these are notorious forge¬ 
ries. But they are remarkable for simplicity and 
naivete which it is almost impossible to imitate ; 
they abound with a number of minute facts and 
particularities, which the most dexterous forger 
could not have easily assembled and connected to¬ 
gether with any appearance of probability ; and 
they are filled with circumstances which can scarcely 
be supposed to have entered the imagination of any 
man but one of Paris’s rank and character. But, 
at the same time, it must be acknowledged, that 
his depositions contain some improbable circum¬ 
stances. He seems to have been a foolish talkative 
fellow ; the fear of death, the violence of torture, 
and the desire of pleasing those in whose power he 
was, tempted him, perhaps, to feign some circum¬ 
stances, and to exaggerate others. To say that 
some circumstances in an affidavit are improbable 
or false, is very different from saying that the whole 
is forged. I suspect the former to be the case here ; 
but I see no appearance of the latter. Be that as it 
will, some of the most material facts in Paris’s affi¬ 
davits rest upon his single testimony ; and for that 
reason, I have not in the history, nor shall I in this 
place, lay any stress upon them. 

2. The letters said to be written by Mary to Both- 
well. These have been frequently published. The 
accident by which the queen’s enemies got them 
into their possession, is related in Book V. When 
the authenticity of any ancient paper is dubious or 
contested, it may be ascertained either by external 
or internal evidence. Both these have been pro¬ 
duced in the present case. 

I. External proofs of the genuineness of Mary’s 
letters. I. Murray, and the nobles who adhered to 
him, affirm upon their word and honour, that the 
letters were written with the queen’s own hand, 
with which they were well acquainted. Good. ii. 
64. 92. 2. The letters were publicly produced in 
the parliament of Scotland, December 1567; and 
were so far considered as genuine, that they are 
mentioned in the act against Mary, as one chief ar¬ 
gument of her guilt. Good. ii. 66, 67. 3. They 
were shown privately to the duke of Norfolk, the 
earl of Sussex, and sir Ralph Sadler, Elizabeth’s 
commissioners at York. In the account which they 
gave of this matter to their mistress, they seem to 
consider the letters as genuine, and express no sus¬ 
picion of any forgery ; they particularly observe, 


“ that the matter contained in them is such, that it 
could hardly be invented and devised by any other 
than herself; for that they discourse of some things 
which were unknown to any other than to herself 
and Bothwell ; and as it is hard to counterfeit so 
many, so the matter of them, and the manner how 
these men came by them is such, as it seemeth that 
God, in whose sight murder and bloodshed of the 
innocent is abominable, would not permit the same 
to be hid or concealed.” Good. ii. 142. They seem 
to have made such an impression on the duke of 
Norfolk, that in a subsequent letter to Pembroke, 
Leicester, and Cecil, he has these words : “ If the 
matter shall be thought as detestable and manifest 
to you, as for ought we can perceive it seemeth 
here to us.” Good. ii. 154. Nor did Norfolk de¬ 
clare these to be his sentiments only in public offi¬ 
cial letters, he expressed himself in the same man¬ 
ner to his most confidential friends. In a secret 
conference with the bishop of Ross at York, the 
duke informed him, that he had seen the letters, &c. 
which the regent had to produce against the queen, 
whereby there would be such matter proved against 
her, as would dishonour her for ever. State Trials, 
edition of Hargrave, i. 91. Murdin, 52. The bishop 
of Ross, if he had known the letters to be a noto¬ 
rious forgery, must have been naturally led, in 
consequence of this declaration, to undeceive the 
duke, and to expose the imposture. But, instead 
of this, the duke, and he, and Lethington, after 
consulting together, agreed, that the bishop should 
write to Mary, then at Bolton, and instruct her to 
make such a proposal to Elizabeth as might prevent 
the public production of the letters and other evi¬ 
dence. State Trials, i. 94. Murdin, 45. Indeed, 
the whole of this secret conference seems to imply, 
that Lethington, Ross, and Norfolk, were conscious 
of some defect in Mary’s cause, and therefore ex¬ 
erted all their ingenuity in order to avoid a public 
accusation. Murdin, 52, 53. To Banister, whom 
the duke seems to have trusted more entirely than 
any other of his servants, he expressed himself in 
similar terms with respect to the queen of Scots. 
State Trials, i. 98. The words of Banister’s evi¬ 
dence are remarkable: “ I confess that I, waiting 
of my lord and master, when the earl of Sussex and 
Mr. Chancellor of the dutchy that now is, were in 
commission at York, did hear his grace say, that 
upon examination of the matter of the murder, it 
did appear that the queen of Scots was guilty and 
privy to the murder of lord Darnley, whereby I ve¬ 
rily thought that his grace would never join in mar¬ 
riage with her.” Murdin, 134. Elizabeth, in her 
instructions to the earl of Shrewsbury and Beale, 
in 1583, asserts, that both the duke and earl of 
Arundel did declare to herself, that the proof, by 
the view of her letters, did fall out sufficient.against 
the queen of Scots ; however, they were after drawn 
to cover her faults and pronounce her innocency. 
MS. Advoc. Library. A. iii. 28. p. 314. from Cot. 
Lib. Calig. 9. 4. A similar impression was made 



225 


KING HENRY’S MURDER, &c. 


upon other contemporaries of Mary by the produc¬ 
tion of the letters, which implies a full belief of 
their being genuine. Cecil, in his correspondence 
with sir Henry Norris, the English ambassador in 
France, relates this transaction in terms which leave 
no room to doubt with respect to his own private 
opinion. In his letter, December 14, 1568, the very 
day on which the letters, &c. were laid before the 
meeting of privy-councillors and peers, he informs 
him, “ That the regent was driven, from his defence, 
to disclose a full fardel of the naughty matter, tend¬ 
ing to convince the queen as adviser of the murther, 
and the earl of Bothwell as her executour; and 
now the queen’s party, so great, refuse to make any 
answer, and press that their mistress may come in 
person to answer the matter herself before the 
queen’s majesty; which is thought not fit to be 
granted until the great blot of the marriage with 
her husband’s murtherer, and the evident charges, 
by letters of her own, to be deviser of the mur¬ 
ther, be somewhat razed out or recovered ; for that 
as the matters are exhibited against her, it is far 
unseemly for any prince, or for chaste ears, to be 
annoyed with the filthy noise thereof; and yet, as 
being a commissioner, I must and will forbear to 
pronounce any thing herein certainly, though as a 
private person I cannot but with horrour and trem¬ 
bling think thereof.” Cabala, 156. 5. From the 

correspondence of Bowes, the English resident in 
Scotland, with Walsingham, in the year 1582, pub¬ 
lished towards the close of this dissertation, it is 
manifest that both in England and Scotland, both 
by Elizabeth and James, both by the duke of Len¬ 
nox and earl of Gowrie, the letters were deemed to 
be genuine. The eagerness on one side to obtain, 
and on the other to keep, possession of the casket 
and letters, implies that this was the belief of both. 
These sentiments of contemporaries, who were in a 
situation to be thoroughly informed, and who had 
abilities to judge with discernment, will, in the opi¬ 
nion of many of my readers, far outweigh theories, 
suppositions, and conjectures, formed at the dis¬ 
tance of two centuries. 6. The letters were sub¬ 
jected to a solemn and judicial examination with 
respect to their authenticity, as far as that could be 
ascertained by resemblance of character and fashion 
of writing ; for, after the conferences at York and 
Westminster were finished, Elizabeth, as I have 
related, assembled her privy-councillors, and join¬ 
ing to them several of the most eminent noblemen 
in her kingdom, laid before them all the proceed¬ 
ings against the Scottish queen, and particularly 
ordered, that “ the letters and writings exhibited by 

b Mary's letter has never been published, and ought to have a place 
here, where evidence on all sides is fairly produced. “ Madam, if the 
wrang and false reportis of rebellis, enemeis weill knawin for traitouris 
to zow, and alace to muche trusted of me by zoure advice, had not so far 
sturred zow aganis my innocency, (and I must say aganis all kyndness, 
that zow have not onelie as it were condempnit me wrangfullie, bot so 
hated me, as some wordis and open deideis has testifeit to all the warlde, 
a manyfest mislyking in zow aganis zoure awn blude,) 1 wold not have 
omittit thus lang my dewtie in wryting to zow excusing me of those un- 
trew reporties made of me. But hoping with Godis grace and tyme to have 
my innocency knawin to zow, as I trust it is already to the maist pairt of 
all indifferent personis, 1 thocht it best not to trouble zow for a tyme till 
that such a matter is moved that tuichis us bayth, quhilk is the transport¬ 
ing zoure littil son, and my onelie child in this countrey. To the quhilk 
albeit I be never sa willing, 1 wald be glaid to have zoure advyse therein, 

Q 


the regent, as the queen of Scots’ letters and writ 
ings, should also be showed, and conference [i. e. 
comparison] thereof made in their sight, with the 
letters of the said queen’s being extant, and here¬ 
tofore written with her own hand, and sent to the 
queen’s majesty ; whereby may be searched and 
examined what difference is betwixt them.” Good, 
ii. 252. They assembled accordingly, at Hampton 
Court, December 14 and 15, 1568 ; and “ The ori¬ 
ginals of the letters supposed to be written with the 
queen of Scots’ own hand, were then also presently 
produced and perused ; and, being read, were duly 
conferred and compared, for the manner of writing 
and fashion of orthography, with sundry other 
letters long since heretofore written, and sent 
by the said queen of Scots to the queen’s majes¬ 
ty. In collation whereof no difference M as found.” 
Good. ii. 256. 7. Mary having written an apolo- 

getical letter for her conduct to the countess of 
Lennox, July 10, 1570, b she transmitted it to her 
husband then in Scotland; and he returned to the 
countess the following answer : “ Seeing you have 
remittit to me, to answer the queen the king’s mo¬ 
ther’s letters sent to you, what can I say but that I 
do not marvel 1 to see liir writ the best can for hirself, 
to seame to purge her of that, quhairof many besyde 
me are certainly persuadit of the contrary, and I not 
only assurit by my awin knawledge, but by her 
handwrit, the confessionis of men gone to the death, 
and uther infallibil experience. It wull be lang 
tyme that is hable to put a mattir so notorious in 
oblivioun, to make black quhyte, or innocency to 
appear quhair the contrary is sa weill knawin. The 
maist indifferent, I trust, doubtis not of the equitie 
of zoure and my cause, and of the just occasioun of 
our mislyking. Hir richt dewtie to zow and me, 
being the parteis interest, were hir trew confessioun 
and unfeyned repentance of that lamentable fact, 
odious for hir to be reportit, and sorrowfull for us to 
think of. God is just, and will not in the end be 
abused; but as he has manifested the trewth, so 
will he puneise the iniquity.” Lennox’s Oriy. Reyist. 
of Letters. In their public papers, the queen’s ene¬ 
mies may be suspected of advancing what would be 
most subservient to their cause, not what was agree¬ 
able to truth, or what flowed from their own inward 
conviction. But in a private letter to his own wife, 
Lennox had no occasion to dissemble; and it is 
plain, that he not only thought the queen guilty, 
but believed the authenticity of her letters to Both¬ 
well. 8. In opposition to all these reasons for be¬ 
lieving the letters, &c. to be authentic, the conduct 
of the nobles confederated against Mary, in not pro¬ 
as in all uther thingis tuiching him. I have born him, and God knawis 
with quhat daunger to him and me boith ; and of zow he is descendit. 
So 1 meane not to forzet my dewtie to zow, in schewin herein any un- 
kyndness to zow, how unkyndlie that ever ze have delt with me, bot will 
love zow as my awnt, and respect zow as my moder in law. And gif ye 
pies to knaw farther of my mynde in that and all uther thingis betwixt 
us, my ambassador the bishop of Ross sail be ready to confer with zow. 
And so after my hairtlie commendationis, remitting me to my saide ambas¬ 
sador, and zour better consideratioun, 1 commit zow to the protectioun of 
Almyghty God, quhom I pray to preserve zow and my brother Charles, 
and cans zow to knaw my pairt better nor ze do. From Chatisworth this 
x of July 1570. 

To my ladie Lennox, Your natural gude Nice 

my moder in law. and lovynge aochter.” 



226 


DISSERTATION ON 


ducing them directly as evidence against her, has 
been represented as an irrefragable proof of their 
being forged. According to the account of the con¬ 
federates themselves, the casket containing the 
letters was seized by them on the twentieth of June 
one thousand five hundred and sixty-seven ; but the 
first time that they were judicially stated as evi¬ 
dence against the queen was in a meeting of the re¬ 
gent’s privy-council, December fourth, and they 
afterwards served as the foundation of the acts made 
against her in the parliament held on the fifteenth 
of the same month. If the letters had been genuine, 
it is contended, that the obtaining possession of 
them must have afforded such matter of triumph to 
the confederates, that they would instantly have 
proclaimed it to the whole world; and in their ne- 
gociations with the English and French ministers, 
or with such of their fellow-subjects as condemned 
their proceedings, they would have silenced, at once, 
every advocate for the queen, by exhibiting this 
convincing proof of her guilt. But in this reason¬ 
ing sufficient attention is not paid to the delicate and 
perilous situation of the confederates at that junc¬ 
ture. They had taken arms against their sovereign, 
had seized her person at Carberry-hill, and had con¬ 
fined her a prisoner at Loch levin. A considerable 
number, however, of their fellow-subjects, headed 
by some of the most powerful noblemen in the king¬ 
dom, M as combined against them. This combina¬ 
tion, they soon perceived, they could not hope to 
break or to vanquish, without aid either from France 
or England. In the former kingdom, Mary’s uncles, 
the duke of Guise and cardinal of Lorrain, were, 
at that period, all-powerful, and the king himself 
was devotedly attached to her. If the confederates 
confined their views to the dissolution of the mar¬ 
riage of the queen with Bothwell, and to the ex¬ 
clusion of him for ever from her presence, they 
might hope, perhaps, to be countenanced by Charles 
IX. and his ministers, who had sent an envoy into 
Scotland of purpose to dissuade Mary from that ill- 
fated match ; Append. No. XXII.; whereas the 
loading her publicly with the imputation of being 
accessory to the murder of her husband, would be 
deemed such an inexpiable crime by the court of 
France, as must cut off every hope of countenance 
or aid from that quarter. From England, with 
which the principal confederates had been long and 
intimately connected, they had many reasons to ex¬ 
pect more effectual support; but to their astonish¬ 
ment, Elizabeth condemned their proceedings with 
asperity, warmly espoused the cause of the captive 
queen, and was extremely solicitous to obtain her re¬ 
lease and restoration. Nor was this merely the only 
one of the artifices which Elizabeth often employed 
in her transactions with Scotland. Though her most 
sagacious ministers considered it as the wisest policy 

c This was the opinion of Throkmorton, as appears from an extract of 
his letter of July 11, published in the Append. No. XXII. 1 he same 
were the sentiments of Cecil, in his letter of Aug. 19, 1565, to sir Henry 
Norris, Elizabeth’s ambassador to France: “You shall perceive ” savs 
lie, “ by the queen’s letter to you, at this present, how earnestly’she'is 
bent in favour of the queen of Scots, and truly since the beginning she 


to support the confederate lords rather than the 
queen of Scots, Elizabeth disregarded their counsel. 0 
Her high notions of royal authority, and of the sub¬ 
mission due by subjects, induced her, on this occa¬ 
sion, to exert herself in behalf of Mary, not only 
with sincerity but with zeal; she negociated, she 
solicited, she threatened. Finding the confederates 
inflexible, she endeavoured to procure Mary’s re¬ 
lease by means of that party in Scotland which con¬ 
tinued faithful to her, and instructed Throkmorton 
to correspond with the leaders of it, and to make 
overtures to that effect. Keith, 451. Append. No. 
XXIII. She even went so far as to direct her am¬ 
bassador at Paris to concert measures with the 
French king, how they, by their joint efforts, might 
persuade or compel the Scots to “ acknowledge the 
queen her good sister to be their sovereign lady 
and queen, and renounce their obedience to her son.” 
Keith, 462, 3, 4. From all these circumstances, the 
confederates had every reason to apprehend that 
Mary would soon obtain liberty, and by some ac¬ 
commodation be restored to the whole, or at least 
to a considerable portion, of her authority as sove¬ 
reign. In that event they foresaw, that if they should 
venture to accuse her publicly of a crime so atro¬ 
cious as the murder of her husband, they must not 
only be excluded for ever from poM’er and favour, 
but from any hope of personal safety. On this ac¬ 
count they long confined themselves to that which 
was originally declared to be the reason of their 
taking arms; the avenging the king’s death, the 
dissolving the marriage with Bothwell, the inflict¬ 
ing on him condign punishment, or banishing him 
for ever from the queen’s presence. It appears from 
the letters of Throkmorton, published by bishop 
Keith, and in my Appendix, that his sagacity early 
discovered that this would be the tenor of their con¬ 
duct. In his letter from Edinburgh, dated July 14th, 
he observes, that “ they do not forget their own 
peril conjoined with the danger of the prince, but, 
as far as I perceive, they intend not to touch the 
queen either in surety or in honour; for they speak 
of her with respect and reverence, and do affirm, as 
I do learn, that, the condition aforesaid accomplish¬ 
ed, [i. e. the separation from Bothwell,] they will 
both put her to liberty, and restore her to estate.” 
App. No. XXII. His letter of August 22d contains 
a declaration made to him by Lethington, in name 
and in presence of his associates, “ that they never 
meant harm neither to the queen’s person nor to 
her honour—that they have been contented hitherto 
to be condemned, as it m ere, of all princes, strangers, 
and, namely, of the queen of England, being charg¬ 
ed of grievous and infamous titles, as to be noted 
rebels, traitors, seditious, ingrate, and cruel, all 
M'hich they suffer and bear upon their backs, because 
they will not justify themselves, nor proceed in any 

hath been greatly offended with the lords ; and, howsoever her majestv 
might make her profit by bearing with the lords in this action, yet no 
counsel can stay her majesty from manifesting her misliking of them.’’ 

C abala, 140. And in his letter of Sept. 3. “The queen’s majesty, our 
sovereign, remaineth still offended with the lords for the queen ; tne ex 
ample moveth her.” lb 141. Digges Comp. Arnb. 14. 



227 


KING HENRY'S MURDER, &c. 


thing that may touch their sovereign’s honour. Rut 
in case they be with these defamations continually 
oppressed, or with the force, aid, and practices of 
other princes, and namely of the queen of England, 
put in danger, or to an extremity, they shall be 
compelled to deal otherwise with the queen than 
they intend, or than they desire ; for, added he, 
you may be sure we will not lose our lives, have 
our lands forfeited, and be reputed rebels through 
the world, seeing we have the means to justify our¬ 
selves.” Keith, 448. From this view of the slippery 
ground on which they stood at that time, their con¬ 
duct in not producing the letters for several months, 
appears not only to have been prudent, but essen¬ 
tial to their own safety. 

But, at a subsequent period, when the confederates 
found it necessary to have the form of government 
which they had established confirmed by authority 
of parliament, a different mode of proceeding be¬ 
came requisite. All that had hitherto been done 
with respect to the queen’s dismission, the seating 
the young king upon the throne, and the appoint¬ 
ment of a regent, was in reality nothing more than 
the deed of private men. It required the exhibition 
of some legal evidence to procure a constitutional 
act giving the sanction of its approbation to such 
violent measures, and to obtain “ a perfect law and 
security for all them that, either by deed, counsel, 
or subscription, had entered into that cause since 
the beginning.” Haynes, 453. This prevailed with 
the regent and his secret council, after long delibe¬ 
ration, to agree to produce all the evidence of which 
they were possessed; and upon that production 
parliament passed the acts which were required. 
Such a change had happened in the state of the 
kingdom as induced the confederates to venture 
upon this change in their conduct. In June, a 
powerful combination was forming against them, 
under the leading of the Hamiltons. In December, 
that combination was broken; most of the members 
of it had acknowledged the king as their lawful 
sovereign, and had submitted to the regent’s govern¬ 
ment. Huntley, Argyll, Herries, the most powerful 
noblemen of that party, were present in the parlia¬ 
ment, and concurred in all its acts. Edinburgh, 
Dunbar, Dumbarton, and all the chief strong-holds 
in the kingdom, were now in the hands of the regent: 
the arms of France had full occupation in its civil 
war with the Hugonots. The ardour of Elizabeth’s 
zeal in behalf of the captive queen seems to have 
abated. A step that would have been followed with 
ruin to the confederates in June, was attended with 
little danger in December. From this long deduc¬ 
tion it appears, that no proof of the letters being 
forged can be drawn from the circumstance of their 
not having been produced immediately after the 
twentieth of June; but though no public accusation 
was brought instantly against the queen, in conse¬ 
quence of seizing the casket, hints were given by 
the confederates, that they possessed evidence 
sufficient to convict her. This is plainly implied in 

Q 2 


a letter of ThrokmoGon, July 21, Keith, Pref. p. 
xii. and more clearly in the passage which I have 
quoted from his letter of August 22. In his letter 
of July 25, the papers contained in the casket are 
still more plainly pointed out. “They [i. e. the 
confederates] say, that they have as apparent proof 
against her as may be, as well by the testimony of 
her own hand-writing, which they have recovered, 
as also by sufficient witnesses.” Keith, 426. 

II. With regard to the internal proofs of the 
genuineness of the queen’s letters to Bothwell, we 
may observe, 1. That whenever a paper is forged 
with a particular intention, the eagerness of the 
forger to establish the point in view, his solicitude 
to cut off all doubts and cavils, and to avoid any 
appearance of uncertainty, seldom fail of prompt¬ 
ing him to use expressions the most explicit and 
full to his purpose. The passages foisted into an¬ 
cient authors by heretics in different ages ; the le¬ 
gendary miracles of the Romish saints; the suppo¬ 
sititious deeds in their own favour produced by 
monasteries; the false charters of homage mentioned 
B. I. are so many proofs of this assertion. No 
maxim seems to be more certain than this, that a 
forger is often apt to prove too much, but seldom 
falls into the error of proving too little. The point 
which the queen’s enemies had to establish was, 
“ that as the earl of Bothwell was chief executor of 
the horrible and unworthy murder perpetrated, &c. 
so was she of the foreknowledge, counsel, devise, 
persuader, and commander of the said murder to be 
done.” Good. ii. 207. But of this there are only 
imperfect hints, obscure intimations, and dark ex¬ 
pressions in the letters, which, however convincing 
evidence they might furnish if found in real letters, 
bear no resemblance to that glare and superfluity of 
evidence which forgeries commonly contain. All 
the advocates for Mary’s innocence in her own age, 
contend that there is nothing in the letters which 
can serve as a proof of her guilt. Lesley, Black¬ 
wood, Turner, &c. abound with passages to this 
purpose; nor are the sentiments of those in the 
present age different. “ Yet still it might have been 
expected, (says one of her ablest defenders,) that 
some one or other of the points or articles of the 
accusation should be made out clearly by the proof. 
But nothing of that is to be seen in the present case. 
There is nothing in the letters that could plainly 
show the writer to have been in the foreknowledge, 
counsel, or device of any murder, far less to have 
persuaded or commanded it; and as little is there 
about maintaining or justifying any murders.” 
Good. i. 76. How ill advised were Mary’s adver¬ 
saries, to contract so much guilt, and to practise so 
many artifices, in order to forge letters, which are 
so ill contrived for establishing the conclusion they 
had in view! Had they been so base as to have 
recourse to forgery, is it not natural to think that 
they would have produced something more explicit 
and decisive ? 2. It is almost impossible to invent 
a long narration of fictitious events, consisting of 



228 


DISSERTATION ON 


various minute particulars, and to connect these in 
such a manner with real facts, that no mark of fraud 
shall appear. For this reason, skilful forgers avoid 
any long detail of circumstances, especially of 
foreign and superfluous ones, well knowing that 
the more these were multiplied, the more are 
the chances of detection increased. Now Mary’s 
letters, especially the first, are filled with a multi¬ 
plicity of circumstances, extremely natural in a 
real correspondence, but altogether foreign to the 
purpose of the queen’s enemies, and which it 
would have been extreme folly to have inserted, if 
they had been altogether imaginary, and without 
foundation. 3. The truth and reality of several 
circumstances in the letters, and these, too, of no 
very public nature, are confirmed by undoubted 
collateral evidence. Lett. i. Good. ii. p. 1. The 
queen is said to have met one of Lennox’s gentle¬ 
men, and to have had some conversation with him. 
Thomas Crawford, who was the person, appeared 
before Elizabeth’s commissioners, and confirmed, 
upon oath, the truth of this circumstance. He 
likewise declared, that during the queen’s stay at 
Glasgow, the king repeated to him, every night, 
whatever had passed through the day between her 
majesty and him; and that the account given of 
these conversations in the first letter, is nearly the 
same with what the king communicated to him. 
Good. ii. 245. According to the same letter there 
was much discourse between the king and queen 
concerning Mynto, Hiegait, and Walcar. Good. ii. 
8, 10, 11. What this might be was altogether un¬ 
known, until a letter of Mary’s preserved in the 
Scottish college at Paris, and published, Keith, 
Pref. vii. discovered it to be an affair of so much 
importance as merited all the attention she paid to 
it at that time. It appears by a letter from the 
French ambassador, that Mary was subject to a vio¬ 
lent pain in her side. Keith, Ibid. This circum¬ 
stance is mentioned, Lett. i. p. 30. in a manner so 
natural as can scarcely belong to any but a genuine 
production. 4. If we shall still think it probable 
to suppose that so many real circumstances were 
artfully introduced into the letters by the forgers, 
in order to give an air of authenticity to their pro¬ 
duction, it will hardly be possible to hold the same 
opinion concerning the following particular. Before 
the queen began her first letter to Bothwell, she, as 
usual among those who write long letters containing 
a variety of subjects, made notes or memorandums 
of the particulars she wished to remember ; but as 
she sat up writing during a great part of the night, 
and after her attendants were asleep, her paper 
failed her, and she continued her letter upon the 
same sheet on which she had formerly made her 
memorandums. This she herself takes notice of, 
and makes an apology for it: “ It is late ; I desire 
never to cease from writing unto you, yet now, after 
the kissing of your hands, I will end my letter. 
Excuse my evil writing, and read it twice over. 
Excuse that thing that is scriblit, for I had na paper 


zesterday, quhen I wraite that of the memorial. 
Good. ii. 28. These memorandums still appear in 
the middle of the letter; and what we have said 
seems naturally to account for the manner how they 
might find their way into a real letter. It is scarce 
to be supposed, however, that any forger would 
think of placing memorandums in the middle of a 
letter, where, at first sight, they make so absurd 
and so unnatural an appearance. But if any shall 
still carry their refinement to such a length, as to 
suppose that the forgers were so artful as to throw 
in this circumstance, in order to preserve the ap¬ 
pearance of genuineness, they must at least allow 
that the queen’s enemies, who employed these forgers, 
could not be ignorant of the design and meaning of 
these short notes and memorandums ; but we find 
them mistaking them so far as to imagine that they 
were the credit of the bearer , i. e. points concerning 
which the queen had given him verbal instructions. 
Good. ii. 152. This they cannot possibly be; for 
the queen herself writes with so much exactness 
concerning the different points in the memorandums, 
that there was no need of giving any credit or in¬ 
structions to the bearer concerning them. The 
memorandums are indeed the contents of the letter. 
5. Mary, mentioning her conversation with the king 
about the affair of Mynto, Hiegait, &c. says, “ The 
morne [?'. e. to-morrow] I will speik to him upon 
that pointand then adds, “ As to the rest of Wil¬ 
lie Hiegait’s, he confessit it; but it was the morne 
[i. e. the morning] after my coming or he did it.” 
Good. ii. 9. This addition, which could not have 
been made till after the conversation happened, 
seems either to have been inserted by the queen 
into the body of the letter, or, perhaps, she having 
written it on the margin, it was taken thence into 
the text. If we suppose the letter to be a real one, 
and written at different times, as it plainly bears, 
this circumstance appears to be very natural; but 
no reason could have induced a forger to have 
ventured upon such an anachronism, for which 
there was no necessity. An addition perfectly 
similar to this made to a genuine paper, may be 
found, Good. ii. 282. 

But on the other hand, Mary herself, and the ad¬ 
vocates for her innocence,have contended, that these 
letters were forged by her enemies, on purpose to 
blast her reputation, and to justify their own rebel¬ 
lion. It is not necessary to take notice of the ar¬ 
guments which were produced in her own age in 
support of this opinion ; the observations which 
we have already made, contain a full reply to them. 
An author, who has inquired into the affairs of that 
period with great industry, and who has acquired 
much knowledge of them, has published (as he 
affirms) a demonstration of the forgery of Mary’s 
letters. This demonstration he founds upon evidence 
both internal and external. With regard to the 
former, he observes that the French copy of the 
queen’s letters is plainly a translation of Buchanan’s 
Latin copy; which Latin copy is only a translation 



KING HENRY'S MURDER &e. 


229 


of the Scottish copy ; and, by consequence, the as¬ 
sertion of the queen's enemies, that she wrote them 
originally in French, is altogether groundless, and 
the whole letters are gross forgeries. He accounts for 
this strange succession of translations by supposing, 
that when the forgery was projected, no person 
could be found capable of writing originally in the 
French language letters which would pass for the 
queen’s; for that reason they were first composed 
in Scottish ; but unluckily the French interpreter, 
as he conjectures, did not understand that language; 
and therefore Buchanan translated them into Latin, 
and from his Latin they were rendered into French. 
Good. i. 79, 80. 

It is hardly necessary to observe, that no proof 
whatever is produced of any of these suppositions. 
The manners of the Scots in that age, when almost 
every man of rank spent a part of his youth in 
France, and the intercourse between the two nations 
was great, renders it altogether improbable that so 
many complicated operations should be necessary 
in order to procure a few letters to be written in the 
French language. 

But without insisting further on this, we may ob¬ 
serve, that all this author's premises may be granted, 
and yet his conclusion will not follow, unless he 
likewise prove that the French letters, as we now 
have them, are a true copy of those which were pro¬ 
duced by Murray and his party in the Scottish par¬ 
liament, and at York and Westminster. But this 
he has not attempted ; and if we attend to the his¬ 
tory of the letters, such an attempt, it is obvious, 
must have been unsuccessful. The letters were 
first published at the end of Buchanan’s Detection . 
The first edition of this treatise was in Latin, in 
which language three of the queen's letters were 
subjoined to it; this Latin edition was printed A. D. 
1571. Soon after, a Scottish translation of it was 
published, and at the end of it were printed, like¬ 
wise in Scottish, the three letters which had form¬ 
erly appeared in Latin, and five other letters in 
Scottish, which were not in the Latin edition. Next 
appeared a French translation of the Detection, 
and of seven of the letters ; this bears to have been 
printed at Edinburgh by Waltem, 1572. The name of 
the place, as well as the printer, is allowed by all 
parties to be a manifest imposture. Our author, from 
observing the day of the month from which the 
printing is said to have been finished, has asserted 
that this edition was printed at London; but no 
stress can be laid upon a date found in a book, w here 
every other circumstance with regard to the printing 
is allowed to be false. Blackwood, who (next to 
Lesley) was the best informed of all Mary’s advo¬ 
cates in that age, affirms, that the French edition 
of the Detection was published in France: “11 
[Buchanan] a depuis adjouste a cette declamation 
un petit libelle du pretendu mariage du Due de 
Norfolk, et de la fa^on de son proces, et la tout en- 
voye aux freres a la Rochelle, lesquels voyants 
qu’il pouvoit servir a la cause, 1’ont traduit en 


Francois, et iceluy fut imprimee a Edinbourg, e’est 
a dire a la Rochelle, par Thomas Waltem, nom 
aposte et fait a plaisir. Martyre de Marie. Jebb, 
ii. 256.” The author of the Innocence de Marie 
goes further, and names the French translator of 
the Detection. “ Et icelui premierement compose 
(comme il semble) par George Buchanan Escossoys, 
et depuis traduit en langue Francoise par un Hu- 
gonot, Poitevin (advocat de vocation) Camuz, soy 
disant gentilhomme, et un de plus remarquez sedi- 
tieuz de France. Jebb, i. 425, 443.” The concur¬ 
ring testimony of two contemporary authors, whose 
residence in France afforded them sufficient means 
of information, must outweigh a slight conjecture. 
The French translator does not pretend to publish 
the original French letters as written by the queen 
herself; he expressly declares that he translated 
them from the Latin. Good. i. 103. Had our au¬ 
thor attended to all these circumstances, he might 
have saved himself the labour of so many criticisms 
to prove that the present French copy of the letters 
is a translation from the Latin. The French editor 
himself acknowledges it, and, so far as I know, no 
person ever denied it. 

We may observe that the French translator was 
so ignorant as to affirm that Mary had written these 
letters, partly in French, partly in Scottish. Good, 
i. 103. Had this translation been published at 
London by Cecil, or had it been made by his direc¬ 
tion, so gross an error would not have been ad¬ 
mitted into it. This error, however, was owing to 
an odd circumstance. In the Scottish translation 
of the Detection, two or three sentences of the ori¬ 
ginal French were prefixed to each letter, which 
breaking off with an &c. the Scottish translation of 
the whole letter followed. This method of printing 
translations was not uncommon in that age. The 
French editor observing this, foolishly concluded 
that the letters had been written partly in French, 
partly in Scottish. 

If we carefully consider those few French sen¬ 
tences of each letter which still remain, and apply 
to them that species of criticism by which our au¬ 
thor has examined the whole, a clear proof will 
arise, that there was a French copy not translated 
from the Latin, but which was itself the original 
from which both the Latin and Scottish have been 
translated. This minute criticism must necessarily 
be disagreeable to many readers ; but luckily a few 
sentences only are to be examined, which will ren¬ 
der it extremely short. 

In the first letter, the French sentence prefixed 
to it ends with these words, y faisoit bon. It is plain 
this expression, veil ce qae peut un corps sans cceur , 
is by no means a translation of cum plane perinde 
assem atque corpus sine corde. The whole sentence 
has a spirit and elegance in the French, which 
neither the Latin nor Scottish has retained. Jus- 
ques a la dinbe is not a translation of toto prandii 
tempore ; the Scottish translation quliile denner-time , 
expresses the sense of the French more properly ; 



230 


DISSERTATION ON 


for anciently quhile signified until as well as during. 
Je riay pas tenu grand propos is not justly rendered 
neque contulerim sermonem cum quoqnam; the 
phrase used in the French copy is one peculiar to 
that language, and gives a more probable account of 
her behaviour than the other. Jugcant bien qu'il n’y 
faisoit bon is not a translation of ut qui judicarent 
id non esse ex usu. The French sentence prefixed 
to lett. 2. ends with apprendre. It is evident that 
both the Latin and Scottish translations have omitted 
altogether these words, et toutefois je ne puis appren¬ 
dre. The French sentence prefixed to lett. 3. ends 
with presenter. J'aye veille plus tard la haut is 
plainly no translation of diutius iltic morata sum ; the 
sense of the French is better expressed by the Scot¬ 
tish,/ have walkit later there up. Again, Pour ex- 
cuser vostre affaire is very different from ad excu- 
sandam nostra negotia. The five remaining letters 
never appeared in Latin ; nor is there any proof 
of their being ever translated into that language. 
Four of them, however, are published in French. 
This entirely overturns our author’s hypothesis 
concerning the necessity of a translation into 
Latin. 

In the Scottish edition of the Detection, the whole 
sonnet is printed in French as well as in Scottish. 
It is not possible to believe that this Scottish copy 
could be the original from which the French was 
translated. The French consists of verses which 
hath both measure and rhyme, and which in many 
places are far from being inelegant. The Scottish 
consists of an equal number of lines, but without 
measure or rhyme. Now no man could ever think 
of a thing so absurd and impracticable, as to require 
one to translate a certain given number of lines in 
prose, into an equal number of verses where both 
measure and rhyme were to be observed. The 
Scottish, on the contrary, appears manifestly to be a 
translation of the French ; the phrases, the idioms, 
and many of the words are French, and not Scottish. 
Besides, the Scottish translator has, in several in¬ 
stances, mistaken the sense of the French, and in 
many more expressed the sense imperfectly. Had 
the sonnet been forged, this could not have hap¬ 
pened. The directors of the fraud would have un¬ 
derstood their own work. I shall satisfy myself 
with one example, in which there is a proof of both 
my assertions. Stanza viii. ver. 9. 

Pour luy j’attendz toute bonne fortune, 

Pour luy je veux garder sante et vie, 

Pour luy tout vertu de suivre j’ay envie. 

For him I attend all good fortune. 

For him 1 will conserve helthe and life. 

For him I desire to ensue courage. 

Attend in the first line is not a Scottish but a 
French phrase ; the two other lines do not express 
the sense of the French, and the last is absolute 
nonsense. 

The eighth letter was never translated into French. 
It contains much refined mysticism about devices , a 


folly of that age, of which Mary was very fond, as 
appears from several other circumstanpes, particu¬ 
larly from a letter concerning impresas , by Drum¬ 
mond of Hawthornden. If Mary’s adversaries forged 
her letters, they were certainly employed very idly 
when they produced this. 

From these observations it seems to be evident 
that there was a French copy of Mary s letters, ot 
which the Latin and Scottish were only translations. 
Nothing now remains of this copy but those few 
sentences which are prefixed to the Scottish trans¬ 
lation. The French editor laid hold of these sen¬ 
tences, and tacked his own translation to them, 
which, so far as it is his work, is a servile and a 
very wretched translation of Buchanan’s Latin ; 
whereas, in those introductory sentences, we have 
discovered strong marks of their being originals, 
and certain proofs that they are not translated from 
the Latin. 

It is apparent, too, from comparing the Latin and 
Scottish translations with these sentences, that the 
Scottish translator has more perfectly attained the 
sense and spirit of the French than the Latin. And 
as it appears that the letters were very early trans¬ 
lated into Scottish, Good. ii. 76. it is probable that 
Buchanan made his translation, not from the French 
but from the Scottish copy. Were it necessary, 
several critical proofs of this might be produced. 
One that has been already mentioned seems deci¬ 
sive. Diutius illic morata sum bears not the least 
resemblance to j'ay veille plus tard la haut; but if, 
instead of I walkit [i. e. watched] laiter thereup, we 
suppose that Buchanan read I waitit , &c. this mis¬ 
take, into which he might so easily have fallen, 
accounts for the error in his translation. 

These criticisms, however minute, appear to be 
well founded. But whatever opinion may be formed 
concerning them, the other arguments, with regard 
to the internal evidence, remain in full force. 

The external proofs of the forgery of the queen’s 
letters, which our author has produced, appear at 
first sight to be specious, but are not more solid than 
that which we have already examined. These 
proofs may be classed under two heads. 1. The 
erroneous and contradictory accounts which are 
said to be given of the letters, upon the first judicial 
production of them. In the secret council held 
Decem. 4, 1567, they are described “ as her privie 
letters written and subscrivit with her awin hand.” 
Haynes, 454. Good. ii. 64. In the act of parliament, 
passed on the 15th of the same month, they are de¬ 
scribed as “ her privie letters written halelie with 
her awin hand.” Good. ib. 67. This diversity of 
description has been considered as a strong pre¬ 
sumption of forgery. The manner in which Mr. 
Hume accounts for this is natural and plausible, vol. 
v. p. 498. And several ingenious remarks, tending 
to confirm his observations, are made in a pamphlet 
lately published, entitled, Miscellaneous Remarks on 
the Enquiry into the Evidence against Mary Queen of 
Scots. To what they have observed it may be 




KING HENRY’S 

added, that the original act of secret council does 
not now exist; we have only a copy of it found 
among Cecil’s papers, and the transcriber has been 
manifestly so ignorant, or so careless, that an argu¬ 
ment founded entirely upon the supposition of his 
accuracy is ol little force. Several errors into which 
he has fallen we are enabled to point out, by com¬ 
paring his copy of the act of secret council with the 
act of parliament passed in consequence of it. The 
former contains a petition to parliament; in the 
latter, the real petition is resumed verbatim , and 
converted into a law. In the copy, the queen’s 
marriage with Bothwell is called “ a priveit mar- 
riage,” which it certainly was not; for it was cele¬ 
brated, after proclamation of banns in St. Giles’s 
church three several days, and with public solem¬ 
nity ; but in the act it is denominated “ ane pre- 
tendit marriage,” which is the proper description of 
it, according to the ideas of the party. In the copy, 
the queen is said to be “ so thrall and bludy affec- 
tionat to the privat appetite of that tyran,” which is 
nonsense ; but in the act it is “ blindly affectionat.” 
In the copy it is said, “ all nobill and virtuous men 
abhorring their traine and company; ” in the act, 
“their tyrannie and companie,” which is evidently 
the true reading, as the other has either no meaning, 
or is a mere tautology. 2. The other proof of the 
forgery of the letters, is founded upon the impossi¬ 
bility of reconciling the account given of the time 
when, and the places from which, the letters are 
supposed to have been written, with what is certain¬ 
ly known concerning the queen’s motions. Accord¬ 
ing to the paper published, Anders, ii. 269. which 
has been called Murray’s Diary, and which is form¬ 
ed upon the authority of the letters, Mary set out 
from Edinburgh to Glasgow, Jan. 21, 1567 ; she ar¬ 
rived there on the 23d ; left that place on the 27th ; 
she, together with the king, reached Linlithgow on 
the 28th, stayed in that town only one night, and re¬ 
turned to Edinburgh before the end of the month. 
But, according to Mr. Goodall, the queen did not 
leave Edinburgh until Friday January 24th ; as she 
stayed a night at Callendar, she could not reach 
Glasgow sooner than the evening of Saturday the 
25th, and she returned to Linlithgow on Tuesday the 
28th. By consequence, the first letter, which sup¬ 
poses the queen to have been at least four days in 
Glasgow, as well as the second letter, which bears 
date at Glasgow, Saturday morning , whereas she did 
not arrive there until the evening, must be forgeries. 
That the queen did not set out from Edinburgh 
sooner than the 24th of January, is evident (as he 
contends) from the public records, which contain a 
Precept of a confirmation of a liferent by James Boyd 
to Margaret Chalmers, granted by the queen, on 
the 24th of January, at Edinburgh ; and likewise a 
letter of the queen’s, dated at Edinburgh on the 
same day, appointing James Inglis taylor to the 
prince her son. That the king and queen had re¬ 
turned to Linlithgow on the 28th, appears from a 
deed, in which they appoint Andrew Ferrier keeper 


MURDER, &c, 231 

i 

of their palace there, dated at Linlithgow, January 
28. Good. i. 118. 

This has been represented to be not only a con¬ 
vincing but a legal proof of the forgery of the let¬ 
ters said to be written by Mary ; but how far it falls 
short of this, will appear from the following con¬ 
siderations:— 

1. It is evident from a declaration or confession 
made by the bishop of Ross, that before the confer¬ 
ences at York, which were opened in the beginning 
of October 1568, Mary had, by an artifice of Mait¬ 
land’s, got into her hands a copy of those letters 
which her subjects accused her of having written 
to Bothwell. Brown’s Trial of the duke of Norfolk, 
31. 36. It is highly probable that the bishop of 
Ross had seen the letters before he wrote the de¬ 
fence of queen Mary’s honour in the year 1570. 
They were published to all the world, together with 
Buchanan’s Detection, A. D. 1571. Now, if they 
had contained an error so gross, and, at that time, 
so obvious to discovery, as the supposing the queen 
to have passed several days at Glasgow, while she 
was really at Edinburgh ; had they contained a 
letter dated at Glasgow, Saturday morning, though 
she did not arrive there till the evening; is it pos¬ 
sible that she herself, who knew her own motions, 
or the able and zealous advocates who appeared 
for her in that age, should not have published and 
exposed this contradiction, and, by so doing, have 
blasted at once the credit of such an imposture ? In 
disquisitions which are naturally abstruse and in¬ 
tricate, the ingenuity of the latest author may dis¬ 
cover many things which have escaped the atten¬ 
tion, or baffled the sagacity, of those who have for¬ 
merly considered the same subject. But when a 
matter of fact lay so obvious to view, this circum¬ 
stance of its being unobserved by the queen herself, 
or by any of her adherents, is almost a demonstra¬ 
tion that there is some mistake or fallacy in our 
author’s arguments. So far are any, either of our 
historians, or of Mary’s defenders, from calling in 
question the common account concerning the time 
of the queen’s setting out to Glasgow, and her re¬ 
turning from it, that there is not the least appearance 
of any difference among them with regard to this 
point. But further, 

2. Those papers in the public records, on which 
our author rests the proof of his assertion concern¬ 
ing the queen’s motions, are not the originals sub¬ 
scribed by the queen, but copies only, or translations 
of copies of those originals. It is not necessary, 
nor would it be very easy, to render this intelligible 
to persons unacquainted with the forms of law in 
Scotland ; but every Scotsman conversant in busi¬ 
ness will understand me when I say, that the pre¬ 
cept of confirmation of the liferent to Boyd is only 
a Latin copy or note of a precept, which was sealed 
with the privy-seal, on a warrant from the signet- 
office, proceeding on a signature which bore date at 
Edinburgh the 24th of January ; and that the deed 
in favour of James Inglis is the copy of a letter, 



232 


DISSERTATION ON 


sealed with the privy-seal, proceeding on a signa¬ 
ture which bore date at Edinburgh, January 24. 
From all this we may argue with some degree of 
reason, that a proof founded on papers which are 
so many removes distant from the originals, cannot 
but be very lame and uncertain. 

3. At that time all public papers were issued in 
the name both of the king and queen : by law, the 
king’s subscription was no less requisite to any pa¬ 
per than the queen’s ; and therefore, unless the 
original signatures be produced, in order to ascer¬ 
tain the particular day when each of them signed, 
or to prove that it was signed only by one of them, 
the legal proof arising from these papers would be, 
that both the king and queen signed them at Edin¬ 
burgh on the 24th of January. 

4. The dates of the warrants or precepts issued 
by the sovereign in that age, seem to have been in 
a great measure arbitrary, and affixed at the plea¬ 
sure of the writer ; and of consequence, these dates 
were seldom accurate, are often false, and can 
never be relied upon. This abuse became so fre¬ 
quent, and was found to be so pernicious, that an 
act of parliament, A. D. 1592, declared the fixing a 
false date to a signature to be high treason. 

5. There still remain in the public records a 
great number of papers, which prove the necessity 
of this law, as well as the fallacy of our author’s 
arguments. And though it be no easy matter, at 
the distance of two centuries, to prove any particu¬ 
lar date to be false, yet surprising instances of this 
kind shall be produced. Nothing is more certain 
from history, than that the king was at Glasgow 
24th January 1567 ; and yet the record of signa¬ 
tures from 1565 to 1582, fol. 16th, contains the copy 
of a signature to Archibald Edmonston, said to 
have been subscribed by our sovereigns , i. e. the 
king and queen, at Edinburgh, January 24, 1567; 
so that if we were to rely implicitly upon the dates 
in the records of that age, or to hold our author’s 
argument to be good, it would prove that not only 
the queen, but the king too, was at Edinburgh on 
the 24th of January. 

It appears from an original letter of the bishop of 
Ross, that on the 25th of October 1566, Mary lay 
at the point of death ; Keith, App. 134.; and yet a 
deed is to be found in the public records, which 
bears that it was signed by the queen that day. 
Privy-seal, lib. 35. fol. 89. Ouchterlony . d 

Bothwell seized the queen as she returned from 
Stirling, April 24, 1567, and (according to her own 
account) conducted her to Dunbar with all dili¬ 
gence. And. i. 95. But our author, relying on the 

d N. B.—In some of the early editions of this Dissertation, another in¬ 
stance or the same nature with those which go before and follow was men- 
tioned ; but that, as has since been discovered, was founded on a mistake 
or the person employed to search the records, and is therefore omitted in this 
edition. I he reasoning, however, in the Dissertation, stands still in force 
notwithstanding this omission. 

e The uncertainty of any conclusion formed merely on the date of pub- 
lic papers in that age, especially with respect to the king, is confirmed and 
illustrated by a discovery which was made lately. Mr. Davidson (to 
whom 1 was indebted toi much information when 1 composed this Disser¬ 
tation thirty-three years ago) has, in the course of his intelligent researches 
into the antiquities of his country, found an original paper which must ap¬ 
pear curious to Scottish antiquaries. Ruchanan asserts, that on ac¬ 
count of the king s frequent absence, occasioned by his dissipation and love 
of field-sports, a cachette, or stamp cut in metal, was made, with which his 


dates of some papers which he found in the records, 
supposes that Bothwell allowed her to stop at Edin¬ 
burgh, and to transact business there. Nothing can 
be more improbable than this supposition. We 
may therefore rank the date of the deed to Wright , 
Privy-seal, lib. 36. fol. 43. and which is mentioned 
by our author, vol. i. 124. among the instances of 
the false dates of papers which were issued in the 
ordinary course of business in that age. Our au¬ 
thor has mistaken the date of the other paper to 
Forbes, ibid.; it is signed April 14th, not April 24th. 

If there be any point agreed upon in Mary’s his¬ 
tory, it is, that she remained at Dunbar from the 
time that Bothwell carried her thither, till she re¬ 
turned to Edinburgh along with him in the begin¬ 
ning of May. Our author himself allows that she 
resided twelve days there, vol. i. 367. Now though 
there are deeds in the records which bear that they 
were signed by the queen at Dunbar during that 
time, yet there are others which bear that they were 
signed at Edinburgh ; e. y. there is one at Edin¬ 
burgh, April 27. Privy-seal, lib. 36. fol. 97. There 
are others said to be signed at Dunbar on that 
day. Lib. 31. Chart. No. 524, 526. Ib. lib. 32. 
No. 154, 157. There are some signed at Dunbar, 
April 28. Others at Edinburgh, April 30. lib. 32. 
Chart. No. 492. Others at Dunbar, May l. Id. 
ibid. No. 158. These different charters suppose 
the queen to have made so many unknown, impro¬ 
bable, and inconsistent journeys, that they afford 
the clearest demonstration that the dates in these 
records ought not to be depended on. 

This becomes more evident from the date of the 
charter said to be signed April 27th, which happen¬ 
ed that year to be a Sunday, which was not, at that 
time, a day of business in Scotland, as appears from 
the books of sederunt , then kept by the lords of 
session. 

From this short review of our author’s proof of the 
forgery of the letters to Bothwell, it is evident that 
his arguments are far from amounting to demon¬ 
stration. 6 

Another argument against the genuineness of 
these letters is founded on the style and composition, 
which are said to be altogether unworthy of the 
queen, and unlike her real productions. It is plain, 
both from the great accuracy of composition in most 
of Mary’s letters, and even from her solicitude to 
write them in a fair hand, that she valued herself 
on those accomplishments, and was desirous of 
being esteemed an elegant writer. But when she 
wrote at any time in a hurry, then many marks of 
inaccuracy appear. A remarkable instance of this 

name was affixed to public deeds, as if he had been present. Hist. lib. 
xvii. p. 343. Edit. Ruddim. Knox relates the same thing, Hist. p. 303 
How much this may have divested the king of the consequence which lie 
derived from having his name conjoined with that of the queen in all pub¬ 
lic deeds, as the affixing of his name was thereby put entirely in the power 
of the person who had the custody of the cachette, is manifest. The keep¬ 
ing of it, as both Buchanan and Knox affirm, was committed to Rizzio. A 
late defender of queen Mary calls in question what they relate, and seems 
to consider it as one of their aspersions. Goodall, p. 238. Ihe truth of 
their assertion, however, is now fully established by the original deed 
which 1 have mentioned. This 1 have seen and examined with attention 
It is now lodged by Mr. Davidson in the signet office. In it the sub¬ 
scription ot the king’s name has evidently been made by a cachette with 
printers' ink. 



233 


KING HENRY'S MURDER, &c. 


may be found in a paper published, Good. ii. 301. 
Mary's letters to Bothwell were written in the ut¬ 
most hurry ; and yet under all the disadvantages of 
translation, they are not destitute either of spirit or 
of energy. The manner in which she expresses her 
love to Bothwell has been pronounced indecent and 
even shocking. But Mary’s temper led her to warm 
expressions of her regard ; those refinements of de¬ 
licacy, which now appear in all the commerce be¬ 
tween the sexes, were in that age but little known, 
even among persons of the highest rank. Among 
the earl of Hardwicke’s papers, there is a series of 
letters from Mary to the duke of Norfolk, copied 
from the Harleian library, p. 37. b. 9. fol. 88. in 
which Mary declares her love to that nobleman in 
language which would now be reckoned extremely 
indelicate ; Hard. State Papers, i. 189, &c. 

Some of Mary's letters to Bothwell were written 
before the murder of her husband ; some of them 
after that event, and before her marriage to Both- 
well. Those which are prior to the death of her 
husband abound with the fondest expressions of 
her love to Bothwell, and excite something more 
than a suspicion that their familiarity had been ex¬ 
tremely criminal. VVe find in them, too, some dark 
expressions, which her enemies employed to prove 

f Tlmt letters of so much importance as those of Mary to Bothwell 
should have been entirely lost, appears to many altogether unaccountable. 
After being produced in England before Elizabeth’s commissioners, they 
were delivered back by them to the earl of Murray. Good. ii. 235. He 
seems to have kept them in his possession during life. After his death, 
they fell into the hands of Lennox his successor, who restored them to the 
earl of Morton. Good. ii. 91. I hough it be not necessarily connected 
with any of the questions which gave occasion to this Dissertation, it may 
perhaps satisfy the curiosity of some of my readers to inform them, that, 
after a very diligent search, which has lately been made, no copy of Mary’s 
letters to Bothwell can be found in any of the public libraries in Great 
Britain. The only certain intelligence concerning them, since the time of 
their being delivered to Morton, was communicated by the accurate Dr. 
Birch. 

Extract of the letters of Robert Bowes, Esq. ambassador from queen 
Elizabeth to the king of Scotland, written to sir Francis Walsingham, 
secretary of state, from the original register book of Mr. Howes’s letters, 
from 15th August 1582, to 28th September 1583, in the possession of 
Christopher Hunter, M. D. of Durham. 

1582, 8th November, from Edinburgh. 

Albeit 1 have been borne in hand. That the coffer wherein were the ori¬ 
ginals of letters between the Scottish queen and the earl of Bothwell, had 
been delivered to sundry hands, and thereby was at present wanting, and 
unknown where it rested, yet I have learned certainly by the prior of 
Pluscardyne’s means that both the coffer and also the writings are come, 
and now remain with the earl of Gowrie, who, 1 perceive, will be hardly 
intreated to make delivery to her majesty, according to her majesty’s de¬ 
sire. 

This time past I have expended in searching where the coffer and writ¬ 
ings were, wherein, without the help of the prior, I should have found 
reat difficulty ; now 1 will essay Gowrie, and of my success you shall 
e shortly advertised. 

12th of November, 1582, from Edinburgh. 

Because T had both learned, that the casket and letters mentioned in my 
last, before these were come to the possession of the earl of Gowrie, and 
also found that no mean might prevail to win the same out of his hands 
■without his own consent and privity ; in which behalf 1 had employed fit 
instruments, that nevertheless profiting nothing ; therefore l attempted to 
essay himself, letting him know that the said casket and letters should have 
been brought to her majesty by the offer and good means of good friends, 
promising to have delivered them to her majesty before they came into his 
hands and custody, and knowing that he did bear the like affection, and 
was ready to pleasure her majesty in all things, and chiefly in this that 
had been thus far tendered to her majesty, and which thereby should be 
well accepted, and with princely thanks and gratuity be requited to his 
comfort and contentment; 1 moved him that they might be a present to be 
sent to her majesty from him, and that I might cause the same to be con¬ 
veyed to her majesty, adding hereunto such words and arguments as might 
both stir up a hope of liberality, and also best effect the purpose. At the 
first he was loth to agree that they were in his possession ; but I let him 
plainly know that 1 was certainly informed that they were delivered to 
nim by Sanders Jardin ; whereupon he pressed to know who did so inform 
me, inquiring whether the sons of the earl of Morton had done it, or no. 
1 did not otherwise in plain terms deny or answer thereunto, but that he 
might think that he had told me as the prior is ready to avouch, and well 
pleased that 1 shall give him to be the author thereof; after he had said 
[though] all these letters were in his keeping, (which he would neither 
grant nor deny,) yet he might not deliver them to any person without the 
consents and privities, as well of the king, that had interest therein, as also of 
the rest of the noblemen enterprisers of the action against the king’s mother, 
and that would have them kept as an evidence to warrant and make good 
that action. And albeit I replied, that their action in that part touching 
the assignation of the crown to the king by his mother, had received such 
establishment, confirmation, and strength, by acts of parliaments and 
other public authority and instruments, as neither should that case be 
suffered to come in debate and question, nor such scrolls and papers ought 
to be showed for the strengthening thereof, so as these might well be left 
and be rendered to the hands of her majesty whom they were destined 
before they tell in his keeping ; yet he would not be removed or satisfied ; 


that she was no stranger to the schemes which were 
formed against her husband’s life. Of this kind 
are the following passages: “ Alace! I never dis- 
savit ony body; but I remit me altogidder to zour 
will. Send me advertisement quhat I sail do, and 
quhatsaever thing come thereof, I sail obey zow. 
Advise to with zourself, gif ze can find out ony 
mair secret inventioun by medicine, for he suld tak 
medicine and the bath at Craigmillar." Good. ii. 22. 
“ See not hir quhais fenzeit teiris suld not be sa 
meikle praisit and estemit, as the trew and faithfull 
travellis quhilk I sustene for to merit hir place. 
For obtaining of the quhilk, againis my natural, I 
betrayis thame that may impesclie me. God forgive 
me," &c. Ibid. 27. “ I have walkit later thairup, 

than I wald have done, gif it had not been to draw 
something out of him, quhilk this berer will schaw 
zow, quhilk is the fairest commodity that can be 
olferit to excuse zour affairs." Ibid. 32. From the 
letters posterior to the death of her husband, it is 
evident that the scheme of Bothwell's seizing Mary 
by force, and carrying her along with him, was 
contrived in concert with herself, and with her ap¬ 
probation/ 

With respect to the sonnets, sir David Dalrymple 
has proved clearly, that they must have been written 

concluding, after much reasonings, that the earl of Morton, nor any other 
that had the charge and keeping thereof, durst at any time make delivery • 
and because it was the first time that 1 had moved him therein, and that 
he would gladly both answer her majesty’s good expectation in him, and 
also perform his duty due to his sovereign and associates in the action 
aforesaid : therefore he would seek out the said casket and letters, at his 
return to his house, which he thought should be within a short time ; and 
upon finding of the same, and better advice and consideration had of the 
cause, he would give further answer. J his resolution 1 have received as 
to the thing ; and for the present 1 could not better, leaving him to give 
her majesty such testimony of his good-will towards her, by his frank 
dealing herein, as she may have cause to confirm her highnesses good 
opinion conceived already of him, and be thereby drawn to greater good¬ 
ness towards him. I shall still labour him, both by myself and also by 
all other means ; but 1 greatly distrust the desired success herein. 

24th of November 1582, from Edinburgh. 

For the recpvery of the letters in the coffer, come to the hands of the 
earl of Gowrie, 1 have lately moved him earnestly therein, letting him 
know the purpose of the Scottish queen, both giving out that the letters 
are counterfeited by her rebels, and also seeking thereon to have them 
delivered to her or defaced, and that the means which she will make in 
this behalf shall be so great and effectual, as these writings cannot be 
safely kept in that realm without dangerous offence of him that hath the 
custody thereof, neither shall he that is once known to have them be suf¬ 
fered to hold them in his hands. Herewith 1 have at large opened the 
perils likely to fall to that action, and the parties therein, and particularly 
to himself that is now openly known to have the possession ot these writ¬ 
ings, and I have lettin him see what surety it shall bring to the said cause 
and all the parties therein, and to himself, that these writings may be with 
secrecy and good order committed to the keeping of her majesty, that 
will have them ready whensoever any use shall be for them, and by her 
highnesses countenance defend them and the parties from such wrongful 
objections as shall be laid against them, offering at length to him, that if 
he be not fully satisfied herein, or doubt that the rest of the associates shall 
not like of the delivery of them to her majesty in this good manner, and 
for the interest rehearsed, that 1 shall readily, upon meeting and confer¬ 
ence with them, procure their assent in this part (a matter more easy to 
offer than to perform) ; and lastly, moving him that (for the secrecy and 
benefit of the cause, and that her majesty’s good opinion towards himself 
may be firmly settled and confirmed by his acceptable forwardness herein) 
he would, without needless scruple, frankly commit these writings to her 
majesty’s good custody for the good uses received. After long debate he 
resolved, and said, that he would unfeignedly show and do to her majesty 
all the pleasure that he might without offence to the king his sovereign, 
and prejudice to the associates in the action, and therefore he would first 
make search and view the said letters, and herein take advice what he 
might do, and how far he might satisfy and content her majesty, promising 
thereon to give more resolute answer ; and he concluded flatly, that after 
he had found and seen the writings, that he might not make delivery of 
them without the privity of the king. Albeit 1 slood along with him 
against his resolution in this point, to acquaint the king with this matter 
before the letters were in the hands of her majesty, letting him see that 
his doings there should admit great danger to the cause ; yet 1 could not 
remove him from it. It may be that he meaneth to put over the matter 
from himself to the king, upon sight whereof 1 shall travel effectually to 
obtain the king’s consent that the letters may be committed to her majesty’s 
keeping, thinking it more easy to prevail herein with the king, in the pre 
sent love and affection that he beareth to her highness, than to win any 
thing at the hands of the associates in the action, whereof some principal of 
them now come and remain at the devotion of the king’s mother. I n this 1 
shall still call on Gowrie to search out the coffer, according to his promise ; 
and as I shall find him minded to do therein, so shall I do my best and 
whole endeavour to effect the success to her majesty’s best contentment. 

2d December 1582, from Edinburgh. 

Because I saw good opportunity offered to renew the matter to the earl 
of Gowrie for recovery of the letters in the coffer in his hands, therefore 
1 put him in mind thereof; whereupon he told me that the duke of Lennox 
lmd sought earnestly to have had those letters, and that the king did know 
where they were, so as they could not be delivered to her majesty without 



234 


DISSERTATION, &c. 


after (he murder of the king, and prior to Mary's 
marriage with Bothwell. But as hardly any part of 
my narrative is founded upon what is contained in 
the sonnets, and as in this Dissertation I have been 
constrained to dwell longer upon minute and verbal 
criticisms, than may be interesting or agreeable to 
many of my readers, I shall rest satisfied with re¬ 
ferring, for information concerning every particular 
relative to the sonnets, to Remarks on the History of 
Scotland, Chap. XT. 

Having thus stated the proof on both sides ; hav¬ 
ing examined at so great a length the different sys¬ 
tems with regard to the facts in controversy ; it may 
be expected that I should now pronounce sentence. 
In my opinion, there are only two conclusions which 
can be drawn from the facts which have been 
enumerated. 

One, that Bothwell, prompted by his ambition or 
love, encouraged by the queen’s known aversion to 
her husband, and presuming on her attachment to 
himself, struck the blow without having concerted 
with her the manner or circumstances of perpetrating 
that crime. That Mary, instead of testifying much 
indignation at the deed, or discovering any resent¬ 
ment against Bothwell, who was accused of having 

the king’s privity and consent, and he pretended to be still willing' to 
pleasure her majesty in the same, so far as he may with his duty to the king 
and to the rest of the associates in that action ; but I greatly distrust to 
effect this to her majesty’s pleasure, wherein, nevertheless, 1 shall do my 
utmost endeavours. 

Whether James VI., who put the earl of Gowrie to death, A. D. 1584, 


committed it, continued to load him with marks of 
her regard, conducted his trial in such a manner as 
rendered it impossible to discover his guilt, and 
soon after, in opposition to all the maxims of de¬ 
cency or of prudence, voluntarily agreed to a mar¬ 
riage with him, which every consideration should 
have induced her to detest. By this verdict, Mary 
is not pronounced guilty of having contrived the 
murder of her husband, or even of having previously 
given her consent to his death ; but she is not ac¬ 
quitted of having discovered her approbation of the 
deed, by her behaviour towards him who was the 
author of it. 

The other conclusion is that which Murray and 
his adherents laboured to establish. “ That James, 
sometymme earl of Bothwile, was the cliiefe execu- 
tour of the horribill and unworthy murder, perpetrat 
in the person of umquliile king Henry of gude 
memory, fader to our soveraine lord, and the queenis 
lauchfull husband ; sa was she of the foreknow¬ 
ledge, counsall, devise, perswadar, and command of 
the said murder to be done.” Good. ii. 207. 

Which of these conclusions is most agreeable to 
the evidence that has been produced, I leave my 
readers to determine. 

and seized all his effects, took care to destroy his mother's letters, for 
whose honour he was at that time extremely zealous; whether they have 
perished by some unknown accident; or whether they may not still remain 
unobserved among the archives of some of our great families, it is impos¬ 
sible to determine. 



APPENDIX. 


No. I. (Page 58.) 

A Memorial of certain Points meet for restoring the 
Realm of Scotland to the ancient Weale. 

5 th August 1559. Imprimis, it is to be noted, that the 
k ot r*\ C 7 al . wor ldly felicity that Scotland can 
secretary Cecil’s h ave > is either to continue in a perpe- 
hand - tual peace with the kingdom of Eng¬ 

land, or to be made one monarchy with England, as 
they both make but one island, divided from the 
rest of the world. 

If the first is sought, that is, to be in perpetual 
peace with England, then must it necessarily be 
provided, that Scotland be not so subject to the ap¬ 
pointments of France as is presently, which, being 
an ancient enemy to England, secketh always to 
make Scotland an instrument, to exercise thereby 
their malice upon England, and to make a footstool 
thereof to look over England as they may. 

Therefore, when Scotland shall come into the 
hands of a mere Scottish man in blood, then may 
there be hope of such accord ; but as long as it is 
at the commandment of the French, there is no hope 
to have accord long betwixt these two realms. 

Therefore, seeing it is at the French king’s com¬ 
mandment by reason of his wife, it is to be considered 
for the weale of Scotland, that until she have chil¬ 
dren, and during her absence out of the realm, the 
next heirs to the crown, being the house of the Ha- 
miltons, should have regard hereto, and to see that 
neither the crown be imposed nor wasted ; and, on 
the other side, the nobility and commonalty ought 
to force that the laws and the old customs of the 
realm be not altered, neither that the country be not 
impoverished by taxes, emprest, or new imposts, 
after the manner of France; for provision wherein, 
both by the law of God and man, the French king 
and his wife may be moved to reform their mis- 
governance of the land. 

And for this purpose it were good that the nobility 
and commons joined with the next heir of the crown, 
to seek due reformation of such great abuses as 
tend to the ruin of their country, which must be 
done before the French grow too strong and insolent. 

First, That it may be provided by the consent of 
the three estates of the land, that the land may be 
free from all idolatry like as England is ; for justi- J 


fication whereof, if any free general council may 
be had where the pope of Rome have not the scat 
of judgment, they may offer to show their cause to 
be most agreeable to Christ’s religion. 

Next, To provide that Scotland might be govern¬ 
ed, in all rules and offices, by the ancient blood of 
the realm, without either captains, lieutenants, or 
soldiers, as all other princes govern their countries, 
and especially that the forts might be in the hands 
of mere Scottish men. 

Thirdly, That they might never be occasioned 
to enter into wars against England, except England 
should give the first cause to Scotland. 

Fourthly, That no nobleman of Scotland should 
receive pension of France, except it were whilst 
he did serve in France, for otherwise thereby the 
French would shortly corrupt many to betray their 
own country. 

Fifthly, That no office, abbey, living, or com¬ 
modity, be given to any but mere Scottish men, by 
the assent of the three estates of the realm. 

Sixthly, That there be a council in Scotland 
appointed in the queen’s absence, to govern the 
whole realm, and in those cases not to be directed 
by the French. 

Seventhly, That it be by the said three estates 
appointed how the queen’s revenue of the realm 
shall be expended, how much the queen shall have 
for her portion and estate during her absence, how 
much shall be limited to the governance and defence 
of the realm, how much yearly appointed to be kept 
in treasure. 

In these, and such like points, if the French king 
and the queen be found unwilling, and will with¬ 
stand these provisions for the weale of the land, 
then hath the three estates of the realm authority, 
forthwith, to intimate to the said king and queen 
their humble requests ; and if the same be not effec¬ 
tually granted, then humbly they may commit the 
governance thereof to the next heir of the crown, 
binding the same also to observe the laws and 
ancient rights of the realm. 

Finally, If the queen shall be unwilling to this, 
as it is likely she will, in respect of the greedy and 
tyrannous affection of France, then it is apparent 
that Almighty God is pleased to transfer from her 
the rule of the kingdom for the weale of it, and this 
time must be used with great circumspection to 
avoid the degepts and tromperies of the French. 






236 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


And then may the realm of Scotland consider, 
being once made free, what means may be devised, 
by God’s goodness, to accord the two realms, to 
endure for time to come at the pleasure of Almighty 
God, in whose hands the hearts of all princes be. 

No. II. (Page 60.) 

A Letter of Maitland of Lethington’s , thus directed: 

To my loving friend James. Be this de¬ 
livered at London. 

CO th January, I understand by the last letter I re- 
Cott . 1 Libf Cal ce i ve( l from zow, that discoursing with 
or'iginafinhis he zour countrymen upon the matter of 
own hand. Scotland, and comoditeys may ensew 

to that realm hereafter, giff ze presently assist ws 
with zour forces, ze find a nombre of the contrary 
advise, douting that we sail not at length be found 
trusty fiends, nor mean to contynew in constant 
ametye, albeit we promise, but only for avoyding 
the present danger make zow to serve our turne, 
and after being delivered, becum enemies as of be¬ 
fore. For profe quhareof, they alledge things that 
have past betwixt ws heretofore, and a few pre- 
sumptiones tending to the sam end, all grounded 
upon mistrust; quhilks, at the first sicht, have some 
shewe of apparence, gif men wey not the circum¬ 
stances of the matter ; but gif they will confer the 
tyme past with the present, consider the nature of 
this caus, and estate of our countrey, I doubt not 
but jugement sal be able to banish mistrust. And 
first, I wad wish ze should examyne the causes oil' 
the old inmitye betwixt the realms of England and 
Scotland, and quhat moved our ancestours to enter 
into ligue with the Frenche ; quhilks by our storeys 
and registres of antiquiteys appear to be these. The 
princes of England, some tyme, alledging a certain 
kynde of soveraintye over this realm; some tyme 
upon hye courage, or incited by incursions off our 
bordourares, and semblable occasions, mony tymes 
enterprised the conquest of ws, and sa far furth 
preist it by force off armes, that we wer dry ven to 
great extramiteys, by loss of our princes, our noble¬ 
men, and a good part of our countrey, sa that ex¬ 
perience taught ws that our owne strength was scarse 
sufficient to withstand the force of England. The 
Frenche zour auncient enemyes, considering well 
how nature had sa placed ws in a iland with zow, 
that na nation was able sa to annoye England as we, 
being enemyes, souclit to joine ws to theym in ligue, 
tending by that meane to detourne zour armyes from 
the invasion of France, and occupy zow in the de¬ 
fence off zour country at liame, offering for that 
effect to bestowe some charges upon ws, and for 
compassing off theyr purpos, choysed a tyme to 
propone the matter, quhen the fresche memory off 
injuris lately receaved at zour hands, was sa depely 
prented on our hartes, that all our myndes were 
occupied how to be revenged, and arme ourselfes 
with the powar off a forayne prince against zour 
enterprises thereafter. 


This wes the beginning off our confederacy with 
France. At quhilk time, our cronicles maks men¬ 
tion, that some off the wysest foresaw the perril, 
and small frute should redound to ws thereof at 
lenth : zit had affection sa blinded jugement, that 
the advise of the maist part owercame the best. 
The maist part of all querells betwixt ws since that 
tyme, at least quhen the provocation came on our 
syde, hes ever fallen out by theyr procurement ra¬ 
ther than any one caus off ourselfes : and quhensa- 
ever we brack the peace, it came partly by theyr 
intysements, partly to eschew the conquest intended 
by that realm. But now hes God’s providence sa 
altered the case, zea changed it to the plat contrary, 
that now hes the Frenche taken zour place, and we, 
off very jugement, becum desyrous to have zow in 
theyr rowme. Our eyes are opened, we espy how 
uncareful they have been of our weile at all tymes, 
how they made ws ever to serve theyr turne, drew 
us in maist dangerous weys for theyr commodite, 
and nevertheless wad not styck, oft tymes, against 
the natour of the ligue, to contrak peace, leaving ws 
in weyr. We see that their support, off late zeres, 
was not grantit for any affection they bare to ws, 
for pytie they had off our estate, for recompense off 
the lyke friendship schawin to them in tyme of theyr 
afflictiones, but for ambition, and insaciable cupi- 
dite to reygne, and to mak Scotland ane accessory 
to the crown of France. This was na friendly office, 
but mercenary, craving liyre farre exceeding the 
proportion of theyr deserving; a hale realm for 
the defence of a part. We see theym manifestly 
attempt the thing we suspected of zow; we feared 
ze ment the conquest off Scotland, and they are 
planely fallen to that work ; we hated zow for doubt 
we had ze ment evill towards ws, and sail we love 
theym, quhilks bearing the name of frends, go about 
to bring ws in maist vile servitude? Gif by zour 
frendly support at this tyme, ze sail declare that not 
only sute ze not the ruyne of our countrey, but will 
preserve the libertie thereof from conquest by stran- 
geares, sail not the occasion off all inimitie with 
zow, and ligue with theym, be taken away? The 
causes being removed, how sail the effectes remane? 
The fear of conquest made ws to hate zow and love 
theym; thecais changed, quhen we see them planely 
attempt conquest, and zow schaw ws frendship, sail 
we not hate them, and favour zow? Gif we have 
schawne sa great Constance, continuing sa mony 
zeares in amity with theym, off quhome we had sa 
small commodite, quhat sail move us to breake with 
zow, that of all nationes may do ws greatest pie- 
sour ? 

But ze will say, this mater may be reconcyled 
and then frends as off before. I think weill peace 
is the end of all weyr, but oft' this ze may be assured, 
we will never sa far trust that reconciliation, that we 
will be content to forgo the amitye of England, nor 
do any thing may bring ws in suspicion with zow. 
Giff we wold at any tyme to please theym, break 
with zow, should we not, besides the losse off esti- 





237 


APPENDIX, No. II. 


motion and discrediting of ourselfes, perpetually 
expone our common weill to a maist manifest dan¬ 
ger, and becum a pray to theyr tyranny ? Quhais 
aid could we implore, being destitute of zour frend- 
ship, giff they off new wald attempt theyr formar 
enterprise? Quhat nation myght help ws giff they 
wald, or wald giff they myght ? and it is lyke eneuch, 
they will not stick hereafter to tak theyr time off ws, 
quhen displesour and grudge lies taken depe rute 
on baith sydes, seeing ambition has sa impyrit ower 
theyr reason, that before we had ever done any thing 
myght oflend theym, but by the contrary pleased 
theym by right and wrang, they did not stick to at- 
tempte the subversion of our hale state. I wald ze 
should not esteeme ws sa barayne of jugement, that 
we cannot forese our awne perril; or sa foolische, 
that we will not study by all gode means to enter- 
tayne that thing may be our safetye ; quhilk con- 
sistes all in the relaying of zour frendships. I pray 
zow consider in lyke case, when, in the days of zour 
princes of maist noble memory, king Henry VIII. 
and king Edward the VI., meanes wer opened off 
amitye betwixt baith realms; was not at all tymes 
the difference of religion the onley stay they wer 
not embraced ? Did not the craft of our clergy and 
power of theyr adherents subvert the devises of the 
better sort ? But now has God off his mercy re¬ 
moved that block furth of the way ; now is not theyr 
practise lyke to tak place any mare, when we ar 
comme to a conformity off doctrine, and profes the 
same religion with zow, quhilk I take to be the 
straytest knot off amitye can be devised. Giff it 
may be alledged that some off our countrymen at 
ony time violated theyr promis, giff ze liff to way 
the circumstances, ze sail fynd the promis is rather 
brought on by necessite, after a great owerthraw off 
our men, then comme off fre will, and tending ever 
to our great incommodite and decay off our haill 
state, at leist sa taken. But in this case, sail tli§ 
preservation off our libertie be inseperably joined 
with the keping off promesse, and the violation off 
our fayth cast ws in maist miserable servitude. Sa 
that giff neyther the feare off God, reverence of 
man, religion, othe, promise, nor warldly honestye 
wcs sufficient to bynd ws, yet sail the zeale off our 
native countrey, the maintenance off our owne state, 
the safety of ourwyffes and childrene from slavery, 
compell ws to kepe promisse. I am assured, it is 
trewly and sincerely ment on our part to continew 
in perpetual ametye with zow ; it sail be uttered by 
our proceedings. Giff ze be as desirous of it as we 
ar, assurances may be devysed, quharby all partyes 
will be out of doubte. There be gode meanes to do 
it, fit instruments for the purpos, tyme serves weill, 
the inhabitants of baith realms wish it, God hes 
wrought in the people’s hartes on baytli parties a 
certaine still agreement upon it, never did, at any 
tyme, so mony things concurre at ones to knyt it 
up, the disposition off a few, quhais harts are in 
Godis hands, may mak up the hale. I hope he 
quha hes begun this work, ar.d mainteyned it 


quhile now, by the expectation of man, sale per- 
fyte it. 

I pray zow, let not zour men dryve time in con¬ 
sultation, quhether ze sail support ws or no ; seying 
the mater speaketli for itself, that ze mon take upon 
zow the defence off our caus, giff ze have any re¬ 
spect for zour awne weill. Their preparatives in 
France, and levying of men in Germany, (quheyrolf 
I am lately advertised,) ar not altogydder ordeyned 
for us ; ze ar the mark they shote at; they seke our 
realme, but for ane entrey to zours. Giff they should 
directly schaw hostilitie to zow, they knaw zow 
wald mak redy for theyme, therefor they do, by in¬ 
direct meanes, to blind zow, the thing they dare 
not as zit planely attempte. They seme to invade us 
to th’ end, that having assembled theyr hale forces 
sa nere zour bordours, they may unlok it to attack 
zow : it is ane off their aid fetches, making a schaw 
to one place, to lyght one ane other. Remember 
how covertly zour places about Boulougne were 
assaizeit, and carried away, ze being in peace as 
now. How the enterprise of Calais was fynely dis¬ 
sembled, I think ze have not sa sone forgotten. Be¬ 
ware of the third, prevent theyr policy by prudence. 
Giff ze se not the lyke disposition presently in them, 
ze se nathing. It is a grosse ignorance to misknaw, 
what all nations planely speks off. Tak heed ze 
say not hereafter, “ Had I wist;” ane uncomely 
sentence to procede off a wyse man’s mouth. That is 
onwares chanced on to zow quhilk zow commonly 
wissed, that this countrey might be divorsed from 
the Frensche, and is sa comme to pass as was maist 
expedient for zow. For gift' by your intysement we 
had taken the mater in hand, ze myght have sus¬ 
pected we would have been ontrusty frends, and na 
langer continued stedfaste then perril had appeared. 
But now, quhen off our self we have conceyved the 
hatered, provoked by private injuries, and that theyr 
evil dealing with ws hes deserved our inimitye, let 
no man doubte but they sail fynd ws ennemyes in 
ernest, that sa ungently hes demeyned our countrey, 
and at quhais hands we look for nathing but all 
extremitye, giff ever they may get the upper hand. 
Let not this occasion, sa happely offered, escape 
zow : giff ze do, neglecting the present opportunite, 
and hoping to have ever gode luk comme sleaping 
upon zow, it is to be feared zour enemye waxe sa 
great, and sa strang, that afterwards quhen ze wald, 
ze sail not be able to put him down; and then, to 
zour smart, after the tyme ze will acknowledge 
zour error. Ze have felt, by experience, quhat harme 
cometh off oversight, and trusting to zour enemyes 
promesse. We offer zow the occasion, quheyrby zour 
former losses may be repayred. Quhilk gif ze let 
over slyde, suffering ws to be owerrun, quha then, 
I pray zow, sail stay the Frensche, that they sail 
not invade zow in zour own boundes ; sic is their 
lust to reygne, that they can neyther be content with 
theyr fortune present, nor rest and be satisfied when 
they have gode luk, but will still follow on, having 
in their awne brayne conceaved the image of sa 



238 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


great a conquest, quhat think ye sail be the end ? 
Is ther any of sa small jugement, that he doth not 
foresee already, that theyr hail force sail then be 
bent against zow ? 

It sail not be amis, to consider in quhat case the 
Frensche be presently. Theyr estate is not always 
sa calme at hame as every man thinketli. And 
trewly it wes not theyr great redines for weyr made 
theym to tak this mater on hand at this tyme, but 
rather a vayne trust in their awne policy, thinking 
to have found na resistance ; theyr opinion lies de- 
ceaved theym, and that makes them now amased. 
The estates olf the empire (as I heare) has suted res¬ 
titution off th’ imperial towns Metz, Toull, and 
Verdun, quhilk may grow to some besynes ; and all 
thing is not a calme within theyr awne countrey ; 
the les fit they be presently for weyr, the mare opor- 
tune esteme ze the time for zow. Giff the lyke oc¬ 
casion wer offered to the Frensche against zow, wey, 
how gladly would they embrace it. Are ze not 
eschamed of zour sleuth, to spare theym that lies 
already compassed zour destruction, giff they wer 
able? Consider with zour self quhilk is to be 
choysed ? To weyr against them outwitli zour 
realme or within? Giff quhill ze sleape, we sal be 
overthrowne, then sail they not fayle to fyte zow in 
zour awne countrey, and use ws as a fote stole to 
overloke zow. But some will say, perhaps they 
meane it not. It is foly to think they wald not giff 
they wer able, quhen*before hand they stick not to 
giff zour armes, and usurpe the style of zour crown. 
Then quhat difference there is to camp within zour 
awne bounds or without, it is manifest. Giff 
twa armyes should camp within zour countrey but a 
moneth ; albeit ye receaved na other harme, zit 
should zour losse be greatar nor all the charge ze 
will nede to bestow on our support will draw to, 
besydes the dishonour. 

Let not men, that eyther lack gode advise, or ar 
not for perticular respects weill affected to the caus, 
move zow to subtract zour helping hand, by alleging 
things not apparent, for that they be possible. It 
is not, I grant, impossible that we may receave con¬ 
ditions of peace ; but I see little likelyhode that 
our ennemyes will offer ws sik as will remove all 
mistrust, and giff we wald have accepted others, the 
mater had bene lang or now compounded. Let zow 
not be moved for that they terme ws rebelles, and 
diffames our just querell with the name of conspi¬ 
racy against our soverayne. It is her hyenes ryght 
we inanetayne. It is the liberty off hir realme we 
study to preserve with the hazard of our lyves. We 
are not (God knaweth) comrne to this poynt for 
wantones, as men impacient of rewll, or willing to 
schake off the zoke of government, but ar drawne to 
it by necessite, to avoyde the tyranny of strangeares, 
seaking to defraude ws off lawful government. Giff 
we should suffer strangeares to plant themselffes 
peaceably in all the strenthes of our realme, fortify 
the sey-portes, and maist important places, as ane 
entre to a plain conquest, now in the minorite of our 


soverayne, beyng furtli of the realme, should we not 
be thought oncareful off the common weill, betray - 
ares of our native countrey, and evill subjects to 
her majeste? Quhat other opinion could sche have 
offws? Might she not justly hereafter call ws to 
accompt, as negligent ministeres? Giff strangeares 
should be thus suffered to broke the chefe offices, 
beare the hail rewll, alter and pervert our lawes and 
liberty at theyr plesour, myght not the people esteem 
our noblemen unworthy the place of counsalours? 
We mean na wyse to subtrak our obedience from 
our soverayne, to defraud hir hyenes of her dew 
reverence, rents and revenues off hir crown. We 
seke nathing but that Scotland may remane, as of 
before, a fre realme, rewdit by hir hyenes and hir 
ministeres, borne men of the sam ; and that the suc¬ 
cession of the crown may remane with the lawful 
blode. 

I wald not ze sould not sa lyttill esteme the frend- 
ship of Scotland, that ze juged it not worthy to be 
embraced. It sail be na small commodite for zow 
to be delivered off the anoyance of so neir a nyght- 
bour, quhais inimitye may more trouble zow, then 
off any other nation albeit twyss as puissant, not 
lyeng dry marche with zow. Besydes that ze sail 
not nede to feare the invasion of any prince lackyng 
the commodite to invade zow by land, on our hand. 
Consider quhat superfluous charges ze bestows on 
the fortification and keping of Barwick ; quhilk ze 
may reduce to a mean sowme, having ws to frendes. 
The realme of Ireland being of natour a gode and 
fertill countrey, by reason of the continew r all un- 
quietnes arid lack of policy, ze knaw to be rather a 
burthen unto zow than great advantage ; and gift 
it were peaceable may be very commodious. For 
pacification quliayroff, it is not onknowne to zow 
quhat service we ar abill to do. Refuse not theyr 
commoditeys, besides mony ma quhen they are 
offred. Quhilks albeit I study not to amplify and 
dilate, yet is na other countrey able to offer zow the 
lyke, and are the rather to be embraced, for that 
zour auncestors, by all meanes, maist earnestly suted 
our amity, and yet it was not theyr hap to come by 
it. The mater lies almaist carryed me beyond the 
boundes of a lettre, quliarfor I will leave to trouble 
zow after I have given you this note. I wald wiss 
that ze, and they that ar learned, sould rede the twa 
former orations of Demosthenes, called Olyntliiacas, 
and considere quhat counsall that wyse oratour gave 
to the Athenians, his countrymen, in a lyke case ; 
quhilk hes so great affinite with this cause of ours, 
that every word thereoff myght be applyed to our 
purpos. There may ze learne of him quhat advise 
is to be followed, when zour nyghbour's hous is on 
fyre. Thus I bid zow hartely farew eill. From Sant 
Andrews, the 20th of January 1559. 




APPENDIX No. IV. 


239 


No. III. (Page 62.) 

Part of a Letter from Tho. Randolph to Sir William 
Cecil, from the camp before Leith, 29 th of April 
1560. 

An original in I will only, for this time, discharge 
the Pape! office. m y Se |f 0 f m y promise to the earl of 

Huntley, who so desyreth to be recommended to you, 
as one, who, with all his heart, favoureth this cause, 
to the uttermost of his power. Half the words that 
come out of his mouth were able to persuade an un¬ 
experienced man to speak farther in his behalf, 
than I dare be bold to write. I leave it to your 
honour to judge of him, as of a man not unknown 
to you, and will myself always measure my thoughts 
as he shall deserve to be spoken of. With much 
difficulty, and great persuasion, he hath subscribed 
with the rest of the lords to join with them in this 
action ; whatsomever he can invent to the further¬ 
ance of this cause, he hath promised to do with 
solemn protestation and many w ords ; he trusteth to 
adjoin many to this cause ; and saitli surely that no 
man shall lie where he taketh part. He hath this 
day subscribed a bond between England and this 
nation ; he saith, that there was never thing that 
liked him better. 

No. IV. (Page 66.) 

Randolph to Cecil, 10 th Avg. 1560. From Edinburgh. 

An original in Since the 29th of July, at what time 
the Paper office, j wro t e last to your honour, I have 

heard of nothing worth the reporting. At this pre¬ 
sent it may please you to know, that the most part 
of the nobles are here arrived, as your honour shall 
receive their names in writing. The earl of Hunt- 
ley excuseth himself by an infirmity in his leg. His 
lieutenant for this time is the lord of Lidington, 
chosen speaker of the parliament, or harangue- 
maker, as these men term it. The first day of their 
sitting in parliament will be on Thursday next. 
Hitherto as many as have been present of the lords 
have communed and devised of certain heads then 
to be propounded, as, who shall be sent into France, 
who into England. It is much easier to find them 
than the other. It seemeth almost to be resolved 
upon, that for England the master of Maxwell and 
laird of Lidington ; for France, Pittarow and the 
justice-clerk. Also they have consulted whom they 
think meetest to name for the XXIV. of the which 
the XII. counsellors must be chosen. They intend 
very shortly to send away Dingwall the herald into 
France, with the names of those they shall choose ; 
and also to require the king and queen’s consent 
unto this parliament. They have devised how to 
have the contract with England confirmed by autho¬ 
rity of parliament; how also to have the articles of 
the agreement between them and their king and 
queen ratified. These things yet have only been had 
in communication. For the confirmation of the 
contract with England I have no doubt; tor that I 


hear many men very well like the same, as the earl 
of Athol, the earl of Sutherland, the 1. Glamis, who 
dined yesterday with the 1. James. The lord James 
requested me this present day to bring the contract 
unto him. I intend, also, this day, to speak unto 
the 1. Gray, in our 1. Gray’s name, for that he pro¬ 
mised in my hearing to subscribe, and then presently 
would have done it, if the contract could have been 
had. For the more assurance against all inconve- 
nients, I would, besides that, that I trust it shall be 
ratified in parliament, that every nobleman in Scot¬ 
land had put his hand and set his seal, which may 
always remain as a notable monument, though the 
act of parliament be hereafter disannulled. If it 
might, therefore, stand with your advice, that the 
lords might be written unto, now that they are here 
present, to that effect, or that I might receive from 
your hon r . some earnest charge to travel herein, I 
doubt not but it would serve to good purpose. If it 
might be also known with what substantial and 
effectious words or charge you desire to have it con¬ 
firmed, I think no great difficulty would be made. 
The earl marshal has often been moved to subscribe; 
he useth mo delays than men judged he would. 
His son told me yesterday, that he would speak with 
me at leisure, so did also Drumlanrick ; I know not 
to what purpose. I have caused 1. James to be the 
earnester with the 1. marshal, for his authority’s 
sake, when of late it was in consultation by what 
means it might be wrought, that the amity between 
these two realms might be perpetual; and among 
diverse men’s opinion, one said that he knew of no 
other, but by making them both one, and that in 
hope of that mo things were done than would other¬ 
wise have ever been granted. The earl of Argyll 
advised him earnestly to stick unto that that he had 
promised, that it should pass his power and all the 
crafty knaves of his counsel, (I am bold to use unto 
your h. his own words,) to break so godly a purpose. 
This talk liked well the assisters, howsomever it 
pleased him to whom it was spoken unto. The 
barons, who in time past have been of the parlia¬ 
ment, had yesterday a convention among themselves 
in the church, in very honest and quiet sort; they 
thought it good to require to be restored unto their 
ancient liberty, to have voice in parliament. They 
presented that day a bill unto the lords to that 
effect, a copy whereof shall be sent as soon as it can 
be had. It was answered unto gently, and taken in 
good part. It was referred unto the lords of arti¬ 
cles, when they are chosen, to resolve thereupon. 

- Here follows a long paragraph concerning the 

fortifications of Dunbar, &c.-This present morn¬ 

ing, viz. the 9th, I understood that the lords intend¬ 
ed to be at the parliament, which caused me some¬ 
what to stay my letter, to see what I could hear or 
learn worth the reporting unto your hon r . The 
lords, at ten of the clock, assembled themselves at 
the palace, where the duke lieth ; from whence they 
departed towards the Tolbooth, as they were in dig ¬ 
nity. Each one being set in his seat, in such order 





240 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


as your li. shall receive them in this scroll. The 
crown, the mace, the sword, were laid in the queen’s 
seat. Silence being commanded, the I. of Liding- 
ton began his oration. He excused his insufficiency 
to occupy that place. He made a brief discourse 
of things past, and of what necessity men were 
forced unto for the defence of their country, what 
remedy and support it pleased God to send them in 
the time of their necessity, how much they were 
bound heartily to acknowledge it, and to require it. 
He took away the persuasion that was in many 
men’s mind that lay back, that misdeemed other 
things to be meant than was attempted. He advised 
all estates to lay all particulars apart, and to bend 
themselves wholly to the true service of God and of 
their country. He willed them to remember in what 
state it had been of long time for lack of govern¬ 
ment, and exercise of justice. In the end, he ex¬ 
horted them to mutual amity and hearty friendship, 
and to live with one another as members all of one 

body.-He prayed God long to maintain this 

peace and amity with all princes, especially betwixt 
the realms of England and Scotland, in the fear of 
God, and so ended. The clerk of register immedi¬ 
ately stood up, and asked them to what matter they 
would proceed. It was thought necessary that the 
articles of the peace should be confirmed with the 
common consent, for that it was thought necessary 
to send them away with speed into France, and to 
receive the ratification of them as soon as might be. 
The articles being read, were immediately agreed 
unto: a day was appointed to have certain of the 
nobles subscribe unto them, and to put to their seals, 
to be sent away by a herald, who shall also bring 
the ratification again with him. The barons, of 
whom I have above written, required an answer to 
their request: somewhat was said unto the contrary. 
The barons alleged for them custom and authority. 
It was in the end resolved, that there should be 
chosen six to join with the lords of the articles, and 
that if they, after good advisement, should find it 
right and necessary for the commonwealth, it should 
be ratified at this parliament for a perpetual law. 
The lords proceeded immediately hereupon to the 
chusing of the lords of the articles. The order is, 
that the lords spiritual chuse the temporal, and the 
temporal the spiritual, and the burgesses their own. 
There were chosen as in this other paper I have writ¬ 
ten. This being done, the lords departed and accom¬ 
panied the duke, all as far as the Bow, (which is the 
gate going out of the High-street,) and many down 
into the palace where he lieth. The town all in 
armour, the trumpets sounding, and other music such 
as they have. Thus much I report unto your honour 
of that I did both hear and see. Other solemnities 
have not been used, saving in times long past the 
lords have had parliament robes, which are now 
with them wholly out of use. 

The names of as many earls and lords spiritual 
and temporal as are assembled at this parliament. 


The duke of Chatelherault. 


Earls. 

Lords. 

Lords spiritual. 

Arran. 

Erskine. 

St. Andrews. 

Argyll. 

Ruthven. 

Dunkell. 

Athole. 

Lindsey. 

Athens. 

Crawford. 

Somerville. 

The bishop of the Isles. 

Cassils. 

Cathcart. 

Abbots and priors, I 

Marshall. 

Hume. 

know not how many. 

Morton. 

Livingston. 


Glencairn. 

Innermeth. 


Sutherland. 

Boyd. 


Caithness. 

Ogilvy. 


Rothes. 

Fleming. 


Monteith. 

Glamis. 

Gray. 

Ochiltree. 

Gordon. 



The Lords of the Articles. 


Spiritual. 

Temporal. 

Barons elected to 
be of the Articles. 

Athens. 

The Duke. 

Maxwell. 

Isles. 

Argyll. 

Tillibardine. 

Lord James. 

Marshall. 

Cunninghamhead. 

Arbroath. 

Athole. 

Lochenvar. 

Newbottle. 

Morton. 

Pittarow. 

Lindoris. 

Glencairn. 

Lundy. 

Cowpar. 

Ruthven. 

Ten provosts of the 

Kinross. 

Erskine. 

chief towns, which 

Kilwinning. 

Boyd. 

also are of the Ar¬ 


Lindsay. 

ticles. 


So that, with the subprior of St. Andrews, the whole 
is 36. 


It were too long for me to rehearse particularly 
the disposition, and chiefly the affections, of these 
men, that are at this time chosen lords of the arti¬ 
cles. May it satisfy your hon r . for this time to know, 
that, by the common opinion of men, there was not 
a substantialler or more sufficient number of all 
sorts of men chosen in Scotland these many years, 
nor of whom men had greater hope of good to ensue. 
This present morning, viz. the 10th, the 1. of Lid- 
ington made me privy unto your letter; he intendeth, 
as much as may be, to follow your advice. Some 
hard points there are. He himself is determined 
not to go into France. He allegeth many reasons, 
but speaketh least of that that moveth him most, 
which is the example of the last, that went on a 
more grateful message than he shall carry, and 
stood on other terms with their prince than he doth, 
and yet your hon r . knoweth what the whole world 
judgeth. 

Petition of the Lesser Barons to the Parliament held 

August 1560. 

My lords, Unto your lordships hum- 

. , , , , Enclosed in Ran- 

bly means and shows, we the barons dole's letter to 

i r* l ii n j, * i Cecil, 15th Auj, 

and freeholders of this realm, your i56o. 





APPENDIX, No. V. 241 


brethren in Christ, That whereas the causes of true 
religion, and common well of this realm, are, in 
this present parliament, to be treated, ordered, and 
established to the glory of God, and maintenance 
of the commonwealth ; and we being the greatest 
number in proportion, where the said causes con¬ 
cern, and has been, and yet are ready to bear the 
greatest part of the charge thereuntil, as well in 
peace as in war, both with our bodies and with our 
goods; and seeing there is no place where we may 
do better service now than in general councils and 
parliaments, in giving our best advice and reason, 
vote and councell for the furtherance thereof, for 
the maintenance of virtue and punishment of vice, 
as use and custom had been of old by ancient acts 
of parliament observed in this realm ; and whereby 
we understand that we ought to be heard to reason 
and vote in all causes concerning the common¬ 
wealth, as well in councils, as in parliament ; 
otherwise we think that whatsomever ordinances 
and statutes be made concerning us and our estate, 
we not being required and suffered to reason and 
vote at the making thereof, that the same should 
not oblige us to stand thereto. Therefore it will 
please your lordships to take consideration thereof, 
and of the charge born, and to be born by us, since 
we are willing to serve truly to the common well of 
the realm, after our estate, that ye will, in this pre¬ 
sent parliament, and all counsells, where the com¬ 
mon well of the realm is to be treated, take our 
advice, counsell and vote, so that, without the same, 
your lordships would suffer nothing to be passed 
and concluded in parliament or councils aforesaid ; 
and that all acts of parliament made, in times past, 
concerning us for our place and estate, and in our 
favour, be at this present parliament confirmed, ap¬ 
proved, and ratified, and act of parliament made 
thereupon. And your lordships’ answer humbly 
beseeches. 

Of the success of this petition , the following account 
is given by Randolph; Lett, to Cecil, 19th Aug. 1560. 
The matters concluded and past by common consent 
on Saturday last, in such solemn sort as the first 
day that they assembled, are these : First, that the 
barons, according to an old act of parliament, made 
in the time of James I., in the year of God 1427, 
shall have free voice in parliament; this act passed 
without any contradiction. 

No. V. (Page 68.) 

A Letter of Thomas Randolph , the English Resident, 

to the Right Worshipful Sir William Cecil , Knt. 

Principal Secretary to the Queen’s Majesty. 

, . I have received your honour’s letters 

9th Augf. 1501. J 

Cott. Lib. b. x. 0 f th e first of this month, written at 
ro» 32* 

Osyes in Essex; and also a letter unto 
the lord James, from his kinsman St Come out of 
France; in this they agree both that the queen of 

R 


Scotland is nothing changed of her purpose in home 
coming. I assure your honour that will be a stout 
adventure for a sick erased woman, that may be 
doubted as well what may happen unto her upon 
the seas, as also how heartily she may be received 
when she cometh to land of a great number, who are 
utterly persuaded that she intendeth their utter ruin, 
come when she will ; the preparance is very small 
whensoever that she arrive, scarcely any man can 
be persuaded that she hath any such thought in her 
head. I have shown your honour’s letter unto the 
lord James, lord Morton, lord Lidington ; they wish, 
as your honour doth, that she might be stayed yet 
for a space, and if it were not for their obedience 
sake, some of them care not tho’ they never saw her 
face. They travel what they can to prevent the 
wicked devices of these mischievous purposes of 
her ministers, but I fear that that will always be 
found that filij hujus seculi, they do what they can 
to stand with the religion, and to maintain amity 
with their neighbours : they have also need to look 
unto themselves, for their hazard is great, and that 
they see there is no remedy nor safety for them¬ 
selves, but to repose themselves upon the queen’s 
majesty, our sovereign’s favour and support. Friends 
abroad they have none, nor many in whom they may 
trust at home. There are in mind shortly to try 
what they may be assured at of the queen’s majesty, 
and what they may assuredly perform of that they 
intend to offer for their parties. This the queen of 
Scotland above all other things doubteth ; this she 
seeketh by all means to prevent; and hath caused 
St Come, in her name, earnestly to write to charge 
him that no such things be attempted before her 
coming home ; for that it is said, that they too 
already arrived here out of England for the purpose. 
What semblance somever the noblemen do make, 
that they are grieved with their queen’s refusal, that 
cometh far from their hearts. They intend to ex¬ 
postulate with me hereupon. I have my answer 
ready enough for them. If she thrust Englishmen 
all out of this country, I doubt not but there will 
be some of her own that will bear us some kindness. 
Of me she shall be quit, so soon as it pleaseth the 
queen’s majesty, my mistress, no longer to use my 
service in this place. By such talk as I have of 
late had with the lord James and lord of Lidington, 
I perceive that they are of mind that immediately 
of the next convention I shall repair towards you 
with their determinations, and resolutions, in all 
purposes, wherein your honour’s advice is earnestly 
required and shortly looked for. Whatsomever I 
desire myself, I know my will ought to be subject 
unto the queen my sovereign’s pleasure, but to con¬ 
tent myself, would God I were so happy as to serve 
her majesty in as mean a state as ever poor gentle¬ 
man did, to be quit of this place ; not that I do in 
my heart wax weary of her majesty’s service, but 
because my time and years require some place of 
more repose and quietness than I find in this coun¬ 
try. I doubt also my insufficience when other trou- 



242 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


bles in this country arise, or ought shall he required 
of me to the advancement of her majesty’s service 
that either my will is not able to compass, or my 
credit sufficient to work to that effect, as perchance 
shall be looked for at my hands. As your honour 
hath been a means of my continuance in this room, 
so I trust that I shall find that continual favour at 
your hands, that so soon as it shall stand with the 
queen’s majesty’s pleasure, 1 may give this place 
unto some far worthier than I am myself, and in the 
mean season have my course directed by your good 
advice, how I may by my contrivance do some such 
service as may be agreeable to her majesty’s will 
and pleasure. 

These few words I am bold to write unto your 
honour of myself. For the rest, where that is wished 
that the lords will stoutly continue yet for one 
month, I assure your honour that there is yet nothing 
omitted of their old and accustomed manner of 
doing, and seeing that they have brought that unto 
this point, and should now prevail, they were un¬ 
worthy of their lives. 

I find not that they are purposed so to leave the 
matter. I doubt more her money than I do her fair 
words ; and yet can I not conceive what great things 
can be wrought with forty thousand crowns, and 
treasure of her own here I know there is no sure 
or ready means to get it. The lord of Lidington 
leaveth nothing at this time unwritten, that he 
thinketh may be able to satisfye your desire, in 
knowledge of the present state of things here. 
Wliatsomever cometh of that, he findeth it ever best 
that she come not; but if she do come, to let her 
know, at the first, what she shall find, which is due 
obedience, and willing service, if she embrace 
Christ, and desire to live in peace with her neigh¬ 
bours. By such letters as you have last received, 
your honour somew hat understandeth of Mr. Knox 
himself, and also of others, what is determined ; he 
himself to abide the uttermost, and other never to 
leave him until God have taken his life ; and thus 
together with what comfort somever it will please 
you to give him by your letters, that the queen’s 
majesty doth not utterly condemn him, or at the 
least in that point that he is so sore charged with 
by his own queen, that her majesty will not allow 
her doing. I doubt not but it will be a great com¬ 
fort unto him, and will content many others: his 
daily prayer is for the maintenance of unity with 
England, and that God will never suffer men to be 
so ungrate, as by any persuasion to run headlong 
unto the destruction of them that have saved their 
lives, and restored their country to liberty. I leave 
farther, at this time, to trouble your honour, desiring 
God to send such an amity betw een these two realms 
that God may be glorified to them of this world.— 
At Edenbourgh the 9th of August 1561. 


a This is the complete paper of which that industrious and impartial 


No. YI. (Page 71.) 

A Letter of Queen Elizabeth to Queen Mary? 

To the right excellent, right high, and mighty prin- 

cesse, our right dear and well-beloved sister and 

cousin the queen of Scotland. 

Right excellent, right high, and lhthAu£r l561 
mighty princesse, our right dear and Pa^otfice, 
right well-beloved sister and cousin, 
we greet you well. The lord of St Cosme brought 
to us your letters, dated the 8th of this present at 
Abbeville, whereby ye signify, that although by the 
answer brought to you by Monsieur Doyzell, ye 
might have had occasion to have entered into some 
doubt of our amity, yet after certain purposes passed 
betw ixt you and our ambassador, you would assure 
us of your good meaning to live with us in amity, 
and for your purpose therein ye require us to give 
credit to the said St Cosme. We have thereunto 
thought good to answer as followeth : The same St 
Cosme hath made like declaration unto us on your 
part, for your excuse in not ratifying the treaty, as 
yourself made to our ambassador, and we have 
briefly answered to every the same points, as he can 
show you : and if he shall not so do, yet least in 
the mean season you might be induced to think that 
your reasons had satisfied us, somerally we assure 
you, that to our requests your answer cannot be 
reputed for a satisfaction. For w e require no benefit 
of you, but that you will perform your promise 
whereunto you are bound by your seal and your 
hand, for the refusal whereof we see no reason al- 
ledged can serve. Neither covet we any thing, but 
that which is in your own power as queen of Scot¬ 
land, that which yourself in words and speech 
doth confess, that which your late husband’s our 
good brother’s ambassadors and you concluded, that 
which your own nobility and people were made 
privy unto, that which indeed made peace and 
quietness betwixt us, yea that without which no 
perfect amity can continue betwixt us, as, if it be 
indifferently weighed, we doubt not but ye will 
perceive, allow, and accomplish. Nevertheless, 
perceiving, by the report of the bringer, that you 
mean furthwith upon your coming home, to follow 
herein the advice of your council in Scotland, we 
are content to suspend our conceipt of all unkind- 
ness, and do assure you that we be fully resolved, 
upon this being performed, to unite a sure band of 
amity, and to live in neighbourhood with you as 
quietly, friendly, yea as assuredly in the knot of 
friendship, as we be in the knot of nature and 
blood. And herein we be so earnestly determined, 
that the world should see if the contrary should 
follow (which God forbid) the very occasion to be 
in you and not in us; as the stQry witnesseth the 

collector, bishop Keith, has published a fragment, from what he calls his 
shattered MS. 154. note (a) 181. 



243 


APPENDIX, No. VII. 


like of the king your father, our uncle, with whom 
our father sought to have knitt a perpetual bond, by 
inviting to come in this realm to York; of which 
matter we know there remain with us, and we think 
with you, sundry witnesses of our father’s earnest 
good meaning, and of the error whereunto divers 
evil councillors induced your father; or finally w here 
it seemeth that report hath been made unto you, 
that we had sent our admiral to the seas with our 
navy to empeache your passage, both your servants 
do well understand how false that is, knowing for 
a truth that we have not any more than two or three 
small barks upon the seas, to apprehend certain 
pirates, being thereto entreated, and almost com¬ 
pelled, by the earnest complaint of the ambassador 
of our good brother the king of Spain, made of 
certaine Scottishmen haunting our seas as pirates, 
under pretence of letters of marque, of which mat¬ 
ter also we earnestly require you, at your coming to 
your realme, to have some good consideration, and 
the rather for respect that ought to be betwixt your 
realme and the countries of us, of France, of Spain, 
and of the house of Burgundy. And so, right ex¬ 
cellent, right high, and mighty princesse, we recom¬ 
mend us to you, with most earnest request not to 
neglect these our friendly and sisterly offers of 
friendship, w hich, before God, w e mean and intend 
to accomplish. Given under our signet at Henyng- 
ham, the 16th of August, in the third year of our 
reign. 

N o. VII. (Page 80.) 

A Letter of Randolph to the Right Honourable Sir 
William Cecil, Knight, Principal Secretary to the 
Queen’s Majesty. 

Of late, until the arrival of Monsieur 

15th May 1563. 

Paper office, Le Groch, I had nothing worth the 

from the original. t» r- i • 

writing unto your honour.—Before Ins 
coming we had so little to hint upon, that we did 
nothing but pass our time in feasts, banquetting, 
masking, and running at the ring, and such like. 
He brought with him such a number of letters, and 
such abundance of news, that, for the space of 
three days, we gave ourselves to nothing else but to 
reading of writings, and hearing of tales, many so 
truly reported, that they might be compared to any 
that ever Luciane did write de veris narrationibus. 
Among all his tidings, for the most assured I send 
this unto your honour as an undoubted truth, which 
is, that the cardinal of Lorraine, at his being with 
the emperor, moved a marriage betw een his young¬ 
est son, the duke of Astruche, and this queen ; 
w herein he hath so far travailed, that it hath already 
come unto this point, that if she find it good, the said 
duke will out of hand send hither his ambassador, 
and farther proceed to the consummation hereof, 
with as convenient speed as may be ; and to the 
intent her mind may be the better know n, LeCroch 
is sent unto her with this message from the cardinal, 


who hath promised unto the emperor to have word 
again before the end of May ; and for this cause Le 
Croch is ready for his departure, and liis letters 
writing both day and night. This queen being be¬ 
fore advertised of his towardness, by many means 
hath sought far off to know' my lord of Murray’s 
mind herein, but would never so plainly deal with 
him, that he could learn what her meaning is, or 
how she is bent. She useth no man’s counsel but 
only this man’s that last arrived, and assuredly 
until the 1. of Lidington’s return, she will do what 
she can to keep that secret; and because resolution 
in his absence cannot be taken, she will, for this 
time, return Le Croch with request to have longer 
time to devise; and after, with the most speed she 
can, she fully purposeth to advertise him, I mean 
her uncle the cardinal, of her mind. Of this matter 
the 1. of Lidington is made privy. I know not 
whether by some intelligence that he had before his 
departure, or since his arrival in France, divers let¬ 
ters have passed betw een her grace and him, whereof 
as much as it imported not greatly the knowledge 
of, was communicated to some, as much as was 
written in cypher is kept unto themselves. Whether 
also the 1. of Lidington hath had conference with 
the Spanish ambassador in England of this matter 
or any like, I leave it unto your honour’s good means 
to get true knowledge thereof. Guesses or surmizes 
in so grave matters, I would be loth to write for 
verities. This also your honour may take for truth, 
that the emperor hath offered with his son, for this 
queen’s dower, the county of Tyroll, which is said 
to be worth 30,000 franks by year. Of this matter 
also the rhingrave w rote a letter unto this queen 
out of France, not long since. This is all that pre¬ 
sently I can write unto your honour hereof; as I 
can come by farther knowledge, your honour shall 
be informed. 

I have received your honour’s writings by the 
Scottisliman that last came into these parts; he 
brought also letters unto this queen from the I. of 
Lidington ; their date was old, and contained only 
the news of France. I perceive divers ways that 
Newhaven is sorre closed, but I am not so ignorant 
of their nature, but that I know' they will say as 
much as they dare do, I will not say as the proverb 
doth, ‘ canis timidus fortius latrat.’ From hence I 
do assure them, what means somever they make, or 
how pitiful somever their mone be, they are like to 
receive but small comfort for all their long allie. 
We stand daily in doubt what friendship we shall 
need ourself, except we put better order into our 
misruled papists than yet we do, or know how' 
to bring to pass that we may be void of their 
comber. 

To-morrow, the 15th of this instant, the queen 
departeth of this town, towards Edenborough. If 
my hap be good, you shall thoroughly hear some 
merry tidings of the Bp. of St. Andrews: upon 
Wednesday next, he shall be arreigned, and five 
other priests, for their massing at Easter last. Thus 



244 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


most humbly I take my leave. At St. Andrews, the 
15th of May, 1593. 

No. VIII. (Page 82.) 

Letter of Randolph to the Right Honourable Sir 

William Cecil , Knight , Principal Secretary to the 

Queen's Majesty. 

loth April 156^. May it please your honour, the 7th 

from r the°orSnal of t5l * s instant, Rowlet, this queen’s 
m ins own hand, secretary, arrived here; he reporteth 

very honestly of his good usage ; he brought with 
him many letters unto the queen that came out of 
France, full of lamentation and sorrow. She re¬ 
ceived from the queen-mother two letters, the one 
contained only the rehearsal of her griefs, the other 
signify the state of France as then it was, as in what 
sort things were accorded, and what farther was in¬ 
tended for the appeasing of the discords there, not 
mistrusting but that if reason could not be had at 
the queen of England’s hands, but that the realm of 
France should find her ready and willing to support 
and defend the right thereof, as by friendship and 
old alliance between the two realms she is bound. 

How well these words do agree with her doings 
your honour can well consider, and by her writings 
in this sort unto this queen, (which I assure your 
honour is true,) you may assuredly know, that 
nothing shall be left undone of her part, that may 
move debate or controversie between this queen and 
our sovereign. 

It was much mused by the queen herself, how 
this new kindness came about, that at this time she 
received two long letters written all with her own 
hand, saying, all the time since her return she never 
received half so many lines as were in one of the 
letters, which I can myself testify by the queen’s 
own saying, and other good assurance, where 
hitherto I have not been deceived. I can also far¬ 
ther assure your honour, that this queen hath sayed 
that she knoweth now, that the friendship of the 
queen’s majesty my sovereign may stand her more 
in stead than that of her good mother in France, 
and as she is desirous of them both, so will she not 
lose the one for the other. I may also farther assure 
your honour, that whatsomever the occasion is, this 
queen hath somewhat in her heart that will burst 
out in time, which will manifest that some unkind¬ 
ness hath passed between them that will not be easy 
forgotten. In talk sometimes with myself, she saith 
that the queen-mother might have used the matter 
otherwise than she hath done, and doth much doubt 
what shall be the success of her great desire to 
govern alone, in all things to have her will. Seeing 
then that presently they stand in such terms one 
with the other, I tho’tit better to confirm her in that 
mind, (this queen I mean,) than to speak any word 
that might cause her to conceive better of the other. 
And yet I am assured she shall receive as friendly 
letters, and as many good w ords from this queen, as 


the other did write unto her. Whether the queen- 
mother will speak any thing unto the 1. of Lidington 
of that purpose she did write unto this queen of, I 
know not; but if she do, I think it hard if your 
honour can get no favour thereof, at his return, or 
I perchance by some means here. It may perchance 
be written only by that queen, to try what answer 
this queen w ill give, or understand what mind she 
beareth unto the queen’s majesty our sovereign. 
The queen knoweth now that the earl Bothwell is 
sent for to London. She caused a gentleman of 
hers to inquire the cause; I answered, that I knew 
none other but that his takers were in controversy 
who took him, and that it should be judged there. 
I know' that she thinketh much that he is not 
sent into Scotland. It is yet greatly doubted that 
if he were here, he would be reserved for an evil 
instrument. If the lord of Lidington have not been 
plain with your honour herein, he is in the w rong 
to those who are his friends here, but most of all to 
himself. There comes a vulture in this realm, if 
ever that man come again into credit. 

No. IX. (Page 84.) 

The Oration made by William Maitland of Lething- 
ton. Younger Secretary for the time , in the Parlia¬ 
ment holden by our Sovereign the King's Mother , 
Queen of this Realm for the time , the time of the 
Restitution of umquile Matthew Earl of Lenox. 

My lords, and others here convened. Albeit, 
be that it has pleased her majesty most graciously 
to utter unto you, by her own mouth, ye may 
have sufficiently conceived the cause of this your 
present assembly ; yet having her majesty’s com ¬ 
mandment to supply my lord chancellor’s place, 
being presently as ye see deceased, I am willed to 
express the same somewhat more at large. 

Notour it is, how, in her highness’s minority, a 
process of forfaltour w as decreed against my lord 
of Lennox, for certain offences alledged committed 
by him; specified in the dome and censement of 
parliament given thereupon ; by reason whereof he 
has this long time been exiled, and absent forth of 
his native country. How grievous the same has 
been unto him, it has w ell appeared by divers his 
suites, sundry ways brought unto her majesty’s 
knowledge, not only containing most humble and 
due submission, but always bearing witness of his 
good devotion to her majesty, his natural princess, 
and earnest affection he had to her highness’s most 
humble service, if it should please her majesty of 
her clemency to make him able to enjoy the benefit 
of a subject. Many respects might have moved her 
highness favourably to incline to his request, as the 
anciency of his house, and the sirname he bears, 
the honour he has to appertain to her majesty by 
affinity, by reason of my lady Margaret her high¬ 
ness’s aunt, and divers other his good considera- 





245 


APPENDIX, No. IX. 


tions, as also the affectuous request of her good sis¬ 
ter the queen’s majesty of England, whose earnest 
commendation was not of least moment; besides 
that, of her own natural, her majesty has a certain 
inclination to pity the decay of noble houses, and 
as we heard, by her own report, has a great deal 
more pleasure to be the instrument of the uphold, 
maintenance, and advancement of the ancient blood, 
than to have matter ministered of the decay or over¬ 
throw of any good race. Upon this occasion, her 
majesty the more tenderly looked upon his request, 
and her good sister the queen of England’s favour¬ 
able letter, written for recommendation of his cause; 
in consideration whereof, not only has she granted 
unto him her letter of restitution, by way of grace, 
but also licensed him to pursue, by way of reduc¬ 
tion, the remedies provided by the. law for such as 
think themselves grieved by any judgment, unor¬ 
derly led, and to have the process reversed ; for 
examination whereof, it has pleased her majesty 
presently to assemble you the three estates of this 
her realme, by whose advice, deliberation, and de¬ 
cision, at her majesty’s mind, to proceed forward 
upon his complaints, as the merits of the cause, 
laws of the realme, and practice observed in such 
cases, will bear out. The sum of all your proceed¬ 
ings at this time being, by that we have heard, thus 
as it were pointed out, I might here end, if the 
matter we have in hand gave me not occasion to 
say a few more words, not far different from the 
same subject, wherein I would extend the circum¬ 
stances more largely, if I feared not to offend her 
highness, whose presence and modest nature abhors 
long speaking and adulation, and so will compel 
me to speak such things as may seem to tend to 
any good and perfect point; and lest it should be 
compted to me, as that I were oblivious if I should 
omit to put you in remembrance, in what part we 
may accept this, and the like demonstrations of her 
gentill nature ; whose gracious behaviour towards 
all her subjects, in general, may serve for a good 
proof of that felicity we may look for under her 
happy government, so long as it shall please God 
to grant her unto us ; for a good harmony to be had 
in the common weill, the offices between the prince 
and the subjects must be reciproque, as by her ma¬ 
jesty’s prudence we enjoy this present peace with 
all foreign nations, and quietness among yourselves, 
in such sort, that I think justly it may be affirmed 
Scotland, in no man’s age, that presently lives, was 
in greater tranquillity ; so is it the duty of all us 
her loving subjects, to acknowledge the same as a 
most high benefit proceeding from the good govern¬ 
ment of her majesty, declaring ourselves thankful 
for the same, and rendering to her majesty such due 
obedience, as a just prince may look for at the 
hands of faithful and obedient subjects. I mean 
no forced nor unwilling obedience, which I know her 
nature does detest, but such as proceeds from the 
contemplation of her modest kind of regiment will 
for love and duty sake produce the fruits thereof. 


A good proof have we all in general had of her ma¬ 
jesty’s benignity these three years that she has lived 
in the government over you, and many of you have 
largely tasted of her large liberality and frank deal - 
ing: on the other part, her highness has had large 
appearance of your dutiful obedience, so it becomes 
you to continue, as we have begun, in consideration 
of the many notable examples of her clemency above 
others her good qualities, and to abhor and detest all 
false bruites and rumours, which are the most pes¬ 
tilent evils that can be in any common weil, and the 
sowers and inventors .thereof. Then may we be 
well assured to have of her an most gracious prin- 
cesse, and she most faithful and loving subjects; and 
so both the head and the members, being encou¬ 
raged to maintain the harmony and accord of the 
politic bodies, whereof I made mention before, as 
the glory thereof shall partly appertain to her ma¬ 
jesty, so shall no small praise and unspeakable 
commodity redound therethrough to you all univer¬ 
sally her subjects. 

No. X. (Page 87.) 

The perils and troubles that, may presently ensue, and 

in time to come follow , to the Queen’s Majesty of 

England and state of this realm , upon the Marriage 

of the Queen of Scots to the Lord Darnley. 

First, The minds of such as be affected to the 
queen of Scotts, either for herself, or for the opinion 
of her pretence to this crown, or for the desire to 
have change of the forme of religion in this realm, 
or for the discontentation they have of the queen’s 
majesty, or her succession, or of the succession of 
any other beside the queen of Scotts, shall be, by 
this marriage, erected, comforted, and induced to 
devise and labour how to bring their desires to pass: 
and to make some estimate what persons those are, 
to the intent the quantity of the danger may be 
weighed, the same may be compassed in those sorts, 
either within the realm or without. 

The first are such as are specially devoted to the 
queen of Scotts, or to the lord Darnley, by bond of 
blood and alliance ; as first, all the house of Lor- 
rain and Guise for her part, and the earl of Lennox 
and his wife, all such in Scotland as be of their 
blood, and have received displeasures by the duke 
of Chatelherault and the Hamiltons. The second 
are all manner of persons, both in this realm and 
other countries, that are devoted to the authority of 
Rome, and mislike of the religion now received ; 
and in these two sorts are the substance of them 
comprehended, that shall take comfort in this 
marriage. 

Next therefore to be considered what perils and 
troubles these kind of men shall intend to this realm. 

First, the general scope and mark of all their de¬ 
sires is, and always shall be, to bring the queen of 
Scotts to have the royal crown of this realm ; and 
therefore, though the devisees may vary among 



24G 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


themselves for the compassing hereof, according to 
the accidents of the times, and according to the 
impediments which they shall find by means of the 
queen’s majesty’s actions and governments, yet all 
their purposes, drifts, devises, and practices, shall 
wholly and only tend to make the queen of Scotts 
queen of this realm, and to deprive our sovereign 
lady thereof: and in their proceedings, there are 
two manners to be considered, whereof the one is 
far worse than the other ; the one is intended by 
them, that either from malicious blindness in reli¬ 
gion, or for natural alfection to the queen of Scotts, 
or the lord Darnley, to persuade themselves that 
the said queen of Scotts hath presently more right 
to the crown than our sovereign lady the queen, of 
which sort be all their kindred on both sides, and 
all such as are devoted to popery, either in England, 
Scotland, Ireland, or elsewhere ; the other is meant 
by them, which, with less malice, are persuaded 
that the queen of Scotts hath only right to be the 
next heir to succeed the queen’s majesty and her 
issue, of which sort few are without the realm, but 
here within, and yet of them, not so many as are of 
the contrary; and from these two sorts shall the 
peril, devises, and practices proceed. From the 
first, which imagine the queen of Scotts to have 
perpetually right, are to be looked for these perils. 
First, is it to be doubted the devil will infect some of 
them to imagine the hurt of the life of our dear 
sovereign lady, by such means as the devil shall 
suggest to them, although it is to be assuredly hoped, 
that Almighty God will, as he has hitherto, gra¬ 
ciously protect and preserve her from such dangers ? 
Secondly, there will be attempted, by persuasions, 
by bruites, by rumours, and such like, to alienate 
the minds of good subjects from the queen’s majesty, 
and to conciliate them to the queen of Scotts, and 
on this behalf the frontiers and the north will be 
much solicited and laboured. Thirdly, there will 
be attempted causes of some tumults and rebellions, 
especially in the north toward Scotland, so as there¬ 
upon may follow some open enterprise set by vio¬ 
lence. Fourthly, there will be, by the said queen’s 
council and friends, a new league made with France, 
or Spain, that shall be offensive to this realm, and a 
furtherance to their title. And as it is also very 
likely, that they will set a-foot as many practices as 
they can, both upon the frontiers and in Ireland, to 
occasion the queen’s majesty to increase and con¬ 
tinue her charge thereby, to retain her from being 
mighty or potent, and for the attempting of all these 
things, many devises will be imagined from time to 
time, and no negligence will therein appear. 

From the second sort, which mean no other fa¬ 
vour to the queen of Scotts, but that she should 
succeed in the title to the queen’s majesty, is not 
much to be feared, but that they w ill content them¬ 
selves to see not only the queen’s majesty not to 
marry, and so to impeach it, but to hope, that the 
queen of Scotts shall have issue, which they will 
think to be more pleaseable to all men, because 


thereby the crowns of England and Scotland shall 
be united in one, and thereby the occasion of war 
shall cease; with which persuasion many people 
may be seduced, and abused to incline themselves 
to the part of the queen of Scotts. 

The remedies against these perils. 

A Duplicat. 

A summary of the consultation and ad - 4th June ]565 
vice given by the lords and others of Cott. Lib. Cai. 
the privy council. Collected out of 

the sundry and several speeches of the said coun¬ 
sellors. 

Lord Keeper, Mr. Comptroller, 

Lord Treasurer, Mr. Vice-Chamberlain, 

(Derby, Mr. Secretary, 

Earls of < Bedford, Cave, 

( Leicester, Peter, 

Lord Admiral, Mason. 

Lord Chamberlain. 

Questions propounded were these two: 

1. First, wdiat perils might ensue to the queen’s 
majesty, or this realm, of the marriage betwixt the 
queen of Scotts and the lord Darnley. 

2. What w ere meet to be done, to avoid or reme¬ 
dy the same. 

To the First. 

The perils being sundry, and very many, were re¬ 
duced by some counsellors into one only. 

1. First, That by this marriage, the queen of 
Scots, (being not married,) a great number in this 
realm, not of the w orst subjects, might be alienated 
in their minds from their natural duties to her 
majesty, to depend upon the success of this marriage 
of Scotland, as a mean to establish the succession 
of both the crowns in the issue of the same marriage, 
and so favour all devises and practices that should 
tend to the advancement of the queen of Scotts. 

2. Secondly , That considering the chief founda¬ 
tion of them, which furthered the marriage of lord 
Darnley, was laid upon the trust of such as were 
papists, as the only means left to restore the religion 
of Rome, it was plainly to be seen, that both in this 
realm and Scotland, the papists would most favour, 
maintain, and fortify this marriage of the lord 
Darnley, and would, for furtherance of faction in re¬ 
ligion, devise all means and practices that could be 
within this realm, to disturb the estate of the queen’s 
majesty, and the peace of the realm, and conse¬ 
quently to atchieve their purposes by force rather 
than fail. By some other, these perils having in¬ 
deed many branches, were reduced, though some¬ 
what otherwise, into tw o sorts, and these were in 
nature such as they could not be easily severed the 
one from the other, but were knit and linked to¬ 
gether naturally, for maintaining the one with the 



247 


APPENDIX, No. X. 


other. The first of these sort of perils was, that by 
this marriage with the lord Darnley, there was a 
plain intention to further the pretended title of the 
queen of Scots, not only to succeed the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty, as in her best amity she had professed, but 
that to occupy the queen’s estate, as when she was 
in power she did manifestly declare. 

The second was, that hereby the Romish religion 
should be erected, and increased daily in this realm, 
and these two were thus knit together, that the fur¬ 
therance and maintenance of the title staid in fur¬ 
thering of the religion of Rome within this realm; 
and in like manner the furtherance of the same reli¬ 
gion stood by the title, for otherwise the title had 
no foundation. 

Pro ves of the first.) And to prove that the inten¬ 
tion to advance the title to disturb the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty must needs ensue, was considered that always 
the intention and will of any person is most mani¬ 
fest w hen their power is greatest, and contrary when 
their power is small; then the intention and w ill of 
every person is covered and less seen. So as when 
the queen of Scotts power was greatest, by her 
marriage with the Dauphin of France, being after¬ 
wards French king, it manifestly appeared of 
w hat mind she and all her friends were, using then 
manifestly all the means that could be devised to 
impeach and dispossess the queen’s majesty, first by 
writing and publishing herself in all countries 
queen of England ; by granting charters, patents, 
and commissions, with that style, and with the arms 
of England, both the French and Scotts, which 
charters remain still undefaced ; and to prosecute 
it with effect, it is known what preparations of war 
were made, and sent into Scotland ; and what other 
forces were assembled in foreign countries ; yea, in 
what manner a shameful peace was made by the 
French with king Philip, to employ all the forces of 
France to pursue all the matters by force, which by 
God’s providence and the queen’s majesty contrary 
power, were repelled ; and afterwards, by her hus¬ 
band’s death, her fortune and power being changed, 
the intention began to hide itself, and although by 
the Scottish queen’s commissaries an accord was 
made at Edenbrough, to reform all those.titles, and 
claims, and pretences, yet to this day, by delays 
and cavillations, the ratification of that treaty has 
been deferred. And so now, as soon as she shall 
feel her power, she will set the same again abroad, 
and by considering of such errors as were committed 
in the first, her friends and allies will amend the 
same, and proceed substantially to her purpose. 
By some it was thought plainly, that the peril was 
greater of this marriage with the lord Darnley, 
being a subject of this realm, than with the mighti¬ 
est prince abroad, for by this he, being of this realm, 
and having for the cause of religion, and other re¬ 
spects, made a party here, should encrease by force 
with diminution of the power of the realm ; in that 
whatsoever power he could make by the faction of 
the papists, and other discontented persons here, 


should be as it were deducted out of the power of 
this realm; and by the marriage of a stranger, she 
could not be assured of any part here ; so as by this 
marriage she should have a portion of her own pow er 
to serve her turn ; and a small portion of adversa¬ 
ries at home in our own bowels, always seem more 
dangerous than treble the like abroad, whereof the 
examples are in our own stories many, that foreign 
powers never prevailed in this realm, but with the 
help of some at home. It w as also remembered, that 
seeing how before this attempt of marriage, it is 
found, and manifestly seen, that in every corner of 
the realm the faction that most favoureth the Scot¬ 
tish title is grown stout and bold, yea seen mani¬ 
festly in this court, both in hall and chamber, it 
could not be but (except good heed were speedily 
given to it) by this marriage, and by the practice of 
the fautors thereof, the same faction would shortly 
increase, and grow so great and dangerous, as the 
redress thereof would be almost desperate. And to 
this purpose it was remembered, how of late in pe¬ 
rusing of the substance of the justices of the peace, 
in all the countries of the realm, scantly a third was 
found fully assured to be trusted in the matter of 
religion, upon which only string the queen of Scotts 
title doth hang, and some doubt might be, that the 
friends of the earl of Lennox, and his had more 
knowledge hereof than was thought, and thereby 
made avant now in Scotland, and their party was 
so great in England as the queen’s majesty durst 
not attempt to contrary his marriage. And in this 
sort was the sum of the perils declared, being not¬ 
withstanding more largely and plainly set out, and 
made so apparent by many sure arguments, as no 
one of the council could deny them to be but many 
and very dangerous. 

Second Question. 

The question of this consultation was, what were 
meet to be done to avoid these perils, or else to di¬ 
vert the force thereof from hurting the realm ; 
wherein there were a great number of particular de¬ 
vises propounded, and yet the more part of them 
was reduced by some into three heads. 

1. The first thought necessary by all persons, as 
the only thing of the most moment and efficacy, to 
remedy all these perils, and many others, and such 
as without it no other remedy could be found suffi¬ 
cient, and that was to obtain that the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty would marry, and make therein no long delay. 

2. The second was, to advance, establish, and 
fortify indeed the profession of religion, both in 
Scotland and in England, and to diminish, weaken, 
and feeble the contrary. 

3. The third was, to proceed in sundry things, 
either to disappoint and break this intended marri¬ 
age, or, at the least, thereby to procure the same not 
to be so hurtful to this realm as otherwise it will be. 

The first of these three hath no particular rights 
in it, but an earnest and unfeigned desire and suite, 



248 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


with all humbleness, by prayer to Almighty God, 
and advice and counsel to the queen’s majesty, that 
she would defer no more time from marriage, where¬ 
by the good subjects of the realm might stay their 
hearts to depend upon her majesty, and the issue of 
her body, without which no surety can be devised 
to ascertain any person of continuance of their fa¬ 
milies or posterities, to enjoy that which otherwise 
should come to them. 

Second, concerning the matters of religion, 
wherein both truth and policy were joined together, 
had these particulars. 

First, Whereas of late the adversaries of religion, 
in the realm, have taken occasion to comfort and in¬ 
crease their faction, both in England, Scotland, and 
abroad, with a rumour and expectation that the re¬ 
ligion shall be shortly changed in this realm, by 
means that the bishops, by the queen’s majesty’s 
commandment, have of late dealt streightly with 
some persons of good religion, because they had 
forborn to wear certain apparel, and such like things, 
being more of form and accidents than of any sub¬ 
stance, for that it is well known that her majesty 
had no meaning to comfort the adversaries, but only 
to maintain an uniformity as well in things external 
as in the substance, nor yet hath any intention to 
make any change of the religion, as it is established 
by laws : It w r as thought by all men very necessary, 
for the suppressing of the pride and arrogancy of 
the adversaries, indirectly hereby to notify, by her 
special letters to the tw o archbishops, that her former 
commandment was only to retain an uniformity, and 
not to give any occasion to any person to misjudge 
of her majesty in the change of any part of religion, 
but that she did determine firmly to maintain the 
form of her religion, as it was established, and to 
punish such as did therein violate her laws. And 
in these points, some also wished that it might please 
her archbishops, that if they should see that the ad¬ 
versaries continued in taking occasion to fortify 
their faction, that in that case they should use a 
moderation therein until the next parliament, at 
which time, some good, uniform, and decent order 
might be devised, and established, for such cere¬ 
monies, so as both uniformity and gravity might be 
retained amongst the clergy. 

The second means was, that the quondam bishops, 
and others, which had refused to acknowledge the 
queen’s majesty’s power over them, according to the 
law, and were of late dispersed in the plague time 
to sundry places abroad, where it is known they 
cease not to advance their faction, might be returned 
to the tower, or some other prison, where they might 
not have such liberty to seduce and inveigle the 
queen’s majesty’s subjects as they daily do. 

The third means was, that where the bishops do 
complain that they dare not execute the ecclesi¬ 
astical laws, to the furtherance of religion, for fear 
of the premunire wherewith the judges and lawyers 
of the realm, being not best affected in religion, do 
threaten them, and in many cases lett not to pinch 


and deface them, that upon such cases opened, some 
convenient authority might be given them from the 
queen’s majesty, to continue during her pleasure. 

The fourth was, that there were daily lewd, inju¬ 
dicious, and unlawful books in English brought from 
beyond seas, and are boldly received, read, and 
kept, and especially in the north, seducing of great 
numbers of good subjects, the like boldness whereof 
was never suffered in any other princess’s time, that 
some streight order might be given to avoid the 
same, and that it might be considered by the judges, 
what manner of crime the same is, to maintain such 
books, made directly against her majesty’s authority, 
and maintaining a foreign power, contrary to the 
laws of the realm. 

The fifth was, that w here a great number of monks, 
fryars, and such lewd persons, are fled out of Scot¬ 
land and do serve in England, especially in the 
North, as curates of churches, and all such of them 
as are not found honest and conformable, may be 
banished out of the realm, for that it appeareth they 
do sow sedition in the realm in many places, and 
now will increase their doings. 

The sixth, where sundry having ecclesiastical 
livings, are on the other side the sea, and from 
thence maintain sedition in the realm ; that livings 
may be better bestowed to the commodity of the 
realm, upon good subjects. 

The seventh is, that the judges of the realm, 
having no small authority in this realm, in govern¬ 
ance of all property of the realm, might be sworn to 
the queen’s majesty, according to the laws of the 
realm, and so thereby they should for conscience 
sake maintain the queen’s majesty’s authority. 

The particulars of the third intention to break and 
avoid this marriage, or to divert the perils. 

First, To break this marriage, considering no¬ 
thing can likely do it but force, or fear of force, it 
is thought by some that these means follow ing might 
occasion the breach of the marriage. 

1. That the earl of Bedford repair to his charge. 

2. That the works at Berwick be more advanced. 

3. That the garrison be there increased. 

4. That all the wardens put their frontiers in or¬ 
der with speed, to be ready at an hour’s warning. 

5. That some noble person, as the duke of Nor¬ 
folk, or the earl of Salop, or such other, be sent into 
Yorkshire, to be lieutenant-general in the North. 

6. That preparations be made of a power, to be in 
readiness to serve, either at Berwick, or to invade 
Scotland. 

7. That presently lady Lennox be committed to 
some place, w here she may be kept from giving or 
receiving of intelligence. 

8. That the earl of Lennox and his son may be 
sent for, and required to be sent home by the queen 
of Scotts, according to the treaty ; and if they shall 
not come, then to denounce to the queen of Scotts 
the breach of the treaty, and thereupon to enter with 
hostility ; by which proceeding, hope is conceived 



249 


APPENDIX, No. X. 


(so the same be done in deeds and not in shews) that 
the marriage will be avoided, or at the least that it 
may be qualified from many perils ; and whatsoever 
is to be done herein, is to be executed with speed, 
whilst she has a party in Scotland that favoureth 
not the marriage, and before any league made by 
the queen of Scotts with France or Spain. 

9. Some other allows well of all these proceedings, 
saving of proceeding to hostility, but all do agree in 
the rest, and also to these particularities following. 

10. That the earl's lands upon his refusal, or his 
son’s refusing, should be seized, and bestowed in 
gift or custody, as shall please her majesty, upon 
good subjects. 

11. That all manifest favourers of the earl, in the 
North or elsewhere, be inquired for, and that they 
be, by sundry means, well looked to. 

12. That enquiry be made in the North, who have 
the stewardship of the queen’s majesty’s land there, 
and that no person, deserving mistrust, be suffered 
to have governance or rule of any of her subjects 
or lands in the North, but only to retain their fees, 
and more trusty persons have rule of the same peo¬ 
ple’s lands. 

13. That all frequent passages into this realm, to 
and from Scotland, be restrained to all Scottish 
men, saving such as have safe-conduct, or be espe¬ 
cially recommended from Mr. Randolph, as favour¬ 
ers of the realm. 

14. That some intelligence be used with such in 
Scotland as favour not the marriage, and they com¬ 
forted from time to time. 

15. That the queen’s majesty’s household, cham¬ 
ber, and pensioners, be better seen unto, to avoid 
broad and uncomely speech used by sundry against 
the state of the realm. 

16. That the younger son of the earl of Lennox, 
Mr. Charles, be removed to some place where he 
may be forthcoming. 

17. That considering the faction and title of the 
queen of Scotts hath now of long time received great 
favour, and continued, by the queen’s majesty’s 
favour herein to the queen of Scotts and her minis¬ 
ters, and the lady Catharine, whom the said queen 
of Scotts accompted as a competitor unto her in pre¬ 
tence of title, it may please the queen’s majesty, by 
some exterior act, to show some remission of her dis¬ 
pleasure to the lady, and to the earl of Hartford, 
that the queen of Scotts thereby may find some 
change, and her friends put in doubt of further pro¬ 
ceeding therein. 

18. That whosoever shall be lieutenant in the 
North, sir Ralph Sadler may accompany him. 

19. That with speed the realm of Ireland may be 
committed to a new governor. 

20. Finally, that these advices being considered 
by her majesty, it may please her to choose which 
of them she liketh, and to put them in execution in 
deeds, and not to pass them over in consultations 
and speeches. 

For it is to be assured, that her adversaries will 


use all means to put their intention in execution ; 
some by practice, some by force, when time shall 
serve, and no time can serve so well the queen’s 
majesty to interrupt the perils as now at the first, 
before the queen of Scotts purposes be fully settled. 

No. XI. (Page 90.) 

Randolph to the Earl of Leicester, from Edinburgh, 

the 31$f of July 1565. 

May it please your lordship, I have Cott Iib Cal 
received your lordship’s letter by my B ix. foi.2i6. 
servant, sufficient testimony of your 
lordship’s favour towards me, whereof I think my¬ 
self always so assured, that what other mishap 
soever befal me, I have enough to comfort myself 
with. Though I have not at this time received nei¬ 
ther according to the need I stand, nor the necessity 
of the service that I am employed in, I will rather 
pass it as I may with patience, than trouble your 
lordship to be further suiter for me, when there is 
so little hope that any good will be done for me. I 
doubt not but your lordship hath heard by such 
information as I have given from hence, what the 
present state of this country is ; how this queen is 
now become a married wife, and her husband, the 
self-same day of his marriage, made a king. In 
their desires, hitherto, they have found so much to 
their contentment, that if the rest succeed and pros¬ 
per accordingly, they may think themselves much 
happier than there is appearance that they shall be. 
So many discontented minds, so much misliking of 
the subjects to have these matters thus ordered, and 
in this sort to be brought to pass, I never heard of 
any marriage ; so little hope, so little comfort as 
men do talk was never seen, at any time, when men 
should most have shewed themselves to rejoice, if 
that consideration of her own honour and well of 
her country had been had as appertained in so 
weighty a case. This is now their fear, the over¬ 
throw of religion, the breach of amitie with the 
queen’s majesty, and the destruction of as many of 
the nobility, as she hath misliking of, or that he 
liketh to pitch a quarrel unto. To see all these in- 
conveniencys approaching, there are a good number 
that may sooner lament with themselves and com¬ 
plain to their neighbours, than be able to find re- 
medie to help them ; some attempt with all the force 
they have, but are too weak to do any good ; what 
is required otherways, or what means there is made, 
your lordship knoweth ; what will be answered, or 
what will be done therein, we are in great doubt, 
and though your intent be never so good unto us, 
yet do we so much fear your delay, that our ruin 
shall prevent your support when council is once 
taken. Nothing so needful, as speedy execution. 
Upon the queen’s majesty we wholly depend; in 
her majesty’s hands it standeth to save our lives, or 
to sulfer us to perish ; greater honour her majesty 
cannot have, than in that which lieth in her majes- 




250 


THE HISTORY 

ty’s power to do for us : the sums are not great, the 
numbers of men are not many that we desire ; many 
M ill daily be found, though this will be some charge; 
men grow daily, though, at this time, I think her 
majesty shall lose but few. Her friends here being 
once taken away, where will her majesty find the 
like ? I speak least of that which I think is most 
earnestly intended by this queen, and her husband, 
when by him it was lately said, that he cared more 
for the papists in England, than he did for the pro- 
testants in Scotland ; if therefore his hopes be so 
great in the papists of England, what may your 
lordship believe that he thinketh of the protestants 
there ? for his birth, for his nurritour, for the honour 
he hath to be of kine to the queen my mistress, if 
in preferring those that are the queen’s majesty’s 
worst subjects to those that are her best, he declareth 
what mind he beareth to the queen’s majesty’s self, 
any man may say it is slenderly rewarded, and his 
duty evil forgotten. He would now seem to be 
indifferent to both the religions, she to use her mass, 
and he to come sometimes to the preaching. They 
were married M r ith all the solemnities of the popish 
time, saving that he heard not the mass< his speech 
and talk argueth his mind, and yet would he fain 
seem to the world that he were of some religion ; 
his words to all men against M r hom he conceiveth 
any displeasure, how unjust soever it be, so proud 
and spiteful, that rather he seemeth a monarch of 
the world, than he that, not long since, M r e have 
seen and known the lord Darnley : he looketh now 
for reverence of many that have little will to give it 
him : and some there are that do give it, that think 
him little worth of it. All honour that may be attri¬ 
buted unto any man by a wife, he hath it wholly 
and fully ; all praises that may be spoken of him, 
he lacketli not from herself; all dignities that she 
can endue him with, which are already given and 
granted; no man pleaseth her that contenteth not 
him ; and what may I say more, she hath given over 
to him her whole will, to be ruled and guided as 
himself best liketh : she can as much prevail with 
him, in any thing that is against his will, as your 
lordship may with me to persuade that I should 
hang myself; this last dignity out of hand to have 
been proclaimed king, she would have it deferred 
untill it were agreed by parliament, or he had been 
himself 21 years of age, that things done in his 
name might have the better authority. He Mould, 
in no case, have it deferred one day, and either then 
or never ; whereupon this doubt has risen amongst 
our men of law, whether she being clad with a hus¬ 
band, and her husband not twenty-one years, any 
thing without parliament can be of strength that is 
done between them. Upon Saturday at afternoon 
these matters were long in debating, and before they 
were well resolved upon, at nine hours at night, by 
three heralds, at sound of the trumpet he was pro¬ 
claimed king. This was the night before the mar¬ 
riage. This day, Monday at twelve of the clock, 
the lords, all that were in the town, were present at 


OF SCOTLAND. 

the proclaiming of him again, where no man said 
so much as Amen, saving his father, that cried out 
aloud, God save his queen ! The manner of the 
marriage was in this sort: upon Sunday in the 
morning,between five and six, she was conveyed by 
divers of her nobles to the chapcll; she had upon 
her back the great mourning gown of black, with 
the great M r ide mourning hood, not unlike unto that 
which she wore the doulful day of the burial of her 
husband: she was led into the chapell by the carl 
of Lennox and Athol, and there was she left until 
her husband came, who also was conveyed by the 
same lords ; the minister priests, two, do there re¬ 
ceive them; the bands are asked the third time, and 
an instrument taken by a notour that no man said 
against them, or alledged any cause why the mar¬ 
riage might not proceed. The words Mere spoken, 
the rings, which were three, the middle a rich dia¬ 
mond, were put upon her finger ; they kneel toge¬ 
ther, and many prayers said over them ; she tarrieth 
out the mass, and he taketli a kiss, and leaveth her 
there, and went to her chamber, whither within a 
space she followeth ; and being required, according 
to the solemnity, to cast off her cares and leave aside 
those sorrowful garments, and give herself to a 
more pleasant life, after some pretty refusall, more 
I believe for manner sake than grief of heart, she 
suffered them that stood by, every man that could 
approach, to take out a pin, and so being commit¬ 
ted to her ladies, changed her garments, but M r cnt 
not to bed, to signify to the world that it was not 
lust that moved them to marry, but only the neces¬ 
sity of her country, not, if God will, long to leave it 
destitute of an heir. Suspicious men, or such as 
are given of all things to make the worst, Mould that 
it should be believed, that they kneM r each other 
before that they came there ; I would not your lord- 
ship should so believe it, the likelihoods are so great 
to the contrary, that if it were possible to see such 
an act done I would not believe it. After the mar¬ 
riage followeth commonly great cheer and dancing: 
to their dinner they were conveyed by the whole 
nobility ; the trumpets sound ; a largess cried ; 
money thrown about the house in great abundance, 
to such as were happy to get any part; they dine 
both at one table, she upon the upper hand ; there 
serve her these earls, Athole seM er, Morton carver, 
Craufoord cup-bearer; these serve him in like 
offices, earls Eglinton, Cassels, and Glencairn. After 
dinner they danced awhile, and then retired them¬ 
selves till the hour of supper ; and as they dined so 
do they sup, some dancing there was, and so they 
go to bed. Of all this I have written to your lord- 
ship, I am not oculatus testis to this, but of the 
verity your lordship shall not need to doubt, how¬ 
soever I came by it. I was sent for to have been at 
the supper, but like a currish or uncourtly carle I 
refused to be there ; and yet that which your lord- 
ship may think might move me much, to have had 
the sight of my mistress, of whom these eighteen 
days by just account I got not a sight. I am, my 



251 


APPENDIX, No. XII. XIII. 


lord, taken by all that sort as a very evil person, 
which in my heart I do well allow, and like of 
myself the better, for yet can I not find either honest 
or good that liketh their doings. I leave at this time 
further to trouble your lordship, craving pardon for 
my long silence; I have more ado than I am able 
to discharge. I walk now more abroad by night 
than by day, and the day too little to discharge 
myself of that which I conceive, or receive in the 
night. As your lordship, I am sure, is partaker of 
such letters as I write to Mr. Secretary, so that I 
trust that he shall be to this, to save me of a little 
labour to write the same again, most humbly I take 
my leave at Edinburgh, the last day of July, 1565. 

No. XII. (Page 91.) 

Letter of the Earl of Bedford to the Honourable Sir 
William Cecil , Knt. her Majesty's Principal Secre¬ 
tary, and one of her Highness's Privy Council. 

2d of Sept. 1565 . After my hearty commendations: 

Paper Ofh<e, from J J 

the original. Ihis day at noon captain Bnckwell 

came hither, who brought with him the queen’s 
majesty’s letters, containing her full resolution and 
pleasure for all things he had in charge to give in¬ 
formation of, saving that for the aid of the lords of 
the Congregation there is nothing determined, or at 
the least expressed in the same letters ; and for that 
purpose received I this morning a letter subscribed 
by the duke, the earl of Murray, Glencarne, and 
others, craving to be liolpen with 300 harquebusyers 
out of this garrison, for their better defence. And 
albeit I know right well the goodness of their cause, 
and the queen’s majesty our sovereign’s good will 
and care towards them ; and do also understand that 
it were very requisite to have them holpen, for that 
now their cause is to be in this manner decided, and 
that it now standeth upon their utter overthrow and 
undoing, since the queen’s party is at the least 5000, 
and they not much above 1000; besides that the 
queen hath harquebusyers, and they have none, and 
do yet want the power that the earl of Arguile 
should bring to them, who is not yet joined with 
theirs ; I have thereupon thought good to pray you 
to be a means to learn her majesty’s pleasure in 
this behalf, what, and how, I shall answer them, or 
otherwise deal in this matter, now at this their ex¬ 
treme necessity. For, on the one side, lyeth there¬ 
upon their utter ruin and overthrow, and the miser¬ 
able subversion of religion there ; and, on the other 
side, to adventure so great and weighty a matter as 
this is, (albeit it be but of a few soldiers, for a small 
time,) without good warraunte, and thereby to bring, 
peradventure, upon our heads some wilful warrs, 
and in the mean time to leave the place unfurnished, 
(having in the whole but 800,) without any grant of 
new supply for the same; and by that means also 
to leave the marches here the more subject to in¬ 
vasion, while in the mean season new helps are pre¬ 
paring; to this know not I what to say or how to 


do. And so much more I marvel thereof, as that 
having so many times written touching this matter, 
no resolute determination cometh. And so between 
the writing and looking for answer, the occasion 
cannot pass, but must needs proceed and have 
success. God turn it to his glory ; but surely all 
men’s reason hath great cause to fear it. Such a 
push it is now come unto, as this little supply would 
do much good to advance God’s honour, to continue 
her majesty’s great and careful memory of them, 
and to preserve a great many noblemen and gen¬ 
tlemen. If it be not now helpen it is gone for 
ever. Your good will and affection that way I do 
nothing mistrust, and herein shall take such good 
advice as by any means I can. I received from 
these lords two papers inclosed, the effect whereof 
shall appear unto you. For those matters that 
captain Brickwell brought, I shall answer you by 
my next, and herewith send you two letters from 
Mr. Randolph, both received this day. By him you 
shall hear that the protestants are retired from 
Edenborough, further off. So I hope your resolution 
for their aid shall come in time, if it come with 
speed, for that they will not now so presently need 
them ; and so with my hearty thanks commit you to 
God. From Berwick, this 2d of Sept. 1565. 

No. XIII. (Page 91.) 

The Queen to the Earl of Bedford. 

Upon the advertizements lately re- lct h Sept isr.5 
ceived from you, with such other things Paper oftice - 
as came also from the lord Scrope and Thomas Ran¬ 
dolph, and upon the whole matter well considered, 
we have thus determined. We will, with all the 
speed that we can, send to you £3000 to be thus 
used. If you shall certainly understand that the 
earl of Murray hath such want of money, as the 
impresting to him of £1000 might stand him in 
stead for the help to defend himself, you shall pre¬ 
sently let him secretly to understand, that you will, 
as of yourself, let him have so much, and so we will 
that you let him have, in the most secret sort that 
you can, when the said sum shall come to you, or if 
you can, by any good means, advance him some 
part thereof beforehand. 

The other £2000 you shall cause to be kept whole, 
unspent, if it be not that you shall see necessary 
cause to imprest some part thereof to the now 
numbers of the 600 footmen and 100 horsemen ; or 
to the casting out of wages of such workmen, as by 
sickness, or otherwise, ought to be discharged. 
And where we perceive, by your sundry letters, the 
earnest request of the said earl of Murray and his 
associates, that they might have at the least 300 of 
our soldiers to aid them; and that you also write, 
that tho’ we would not command you to give them 
aid, yet if we would but wink at your doing herein, 
and seem to blame you for attempting such things, 
as you with the help of others should bring about, 



252 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


you doubt not but things would do well; you shall 
understand for a truth, that we have no intention, 
for many respects, to maintain any other prince’s 
subjects to take arms against their sovereign; 
neither would we willingly do any thing to give oc¬ 
casion to make wars betwixt us and that prince, 
which has caused us to forbear, hitherto, to give you 
any power to let them be aided with any men. But 
now, considering we take it that they are pursued, 
notwithstanding their bumble submission and offer 
to be ordered and tried by law and justice, which 
being refused to them, they are retired to Dum- 
frese, a place near our west marches, as it seemeth 
there to defend themselves, and adding thereunto 
the good intention that presently the French king 
pretendeth, by sending one of his to join with some 
one of ours, and jointly to treat with that queen, and 
to induce her to forbear this manner of violent and 
rigorous proceeding against her subjects, for which 
purpose the French ambassador here with us has 
lately written to that queen, whereof answer is daily 
looked for ; to the intent in the mean time the said 
lords should not be oppressed and ruined for lack 
of some help to defend them, we are content and 
do authorize, if you shall see it necessary for their 
defence, to let them (as of your own adventure, and 
without notifying that you have any direction therein 
from us) to have the number of 300 soldiers, to be 
taken, either in whole bands, or to be drawn out of 
all your bands, as you shall see cause. And to 
cover the matter the better, you shall send these 
numbers to Carlisle, as to be laid there in garrison, 
to defend that march, now in this time that such 
powers are on the other part drawing to those fron¬ 
tiers, and so from thence, as you shall see cause to 
direct of, the same numbers, or any of them, may 
most covertly repair to the said lords, when you 
shall expressly advertize that you send them that 
aid only for their defence, and not therewith to make 
war against the queen, or to do any thing that may 
offend her person ; wherein you shall so precisely 
deal with them, that they may perceive your care 
to be such as, if it should otherwise appear, your 
danger should be so great, as all the friends you 
have could not be able to save you towards us. And 
so we assure you our conscience moveth us to charge 
you so to proceed with them ; for otherwise than to 
preserve them from ruin, we do not yield to give 
them aid of money or men: And yet we would not 
that either of these were known to be our act, but 
rather to be covered with your own desire and at¬ 
tempt. 

No. XIV. (Page 93.) 

Randolph to Cecil, from Edinburgh, 7th Feb. 1565-G. 

An original. My humble dut y considered ; what 
to write of the present state of the 
country I am so uncertain, by reason of the daily 
alterations of men’s minds, that it maketh me much 


slower than otherwise I would. Within these few 
days there was some good hope, that this queen 
would have showed some favour towards the lords, 
and that Robert Melvin should have returned unto 
them with comfort upon some conditions. Since 
that time, there are come out of France Clernau by 
land, and Thorneton by sea; the one from the cardi¬ 
nal, the other from the bishop of Glasgow. Since 
whose arrival neither can there be good word gotten, 
nor appearance of any good intended them, except 
that they be able to perswade the queen’s majesty, 
our sovereign, to make her heir apparent to the 
croun of England. I write of this nothing less than 
I know that she hath spoken. And by all means 
that she thinketh the best, doth travaile to bring it 
to pass. There is a band lately devised, in whicli 
the late pope, the emperor, the king of Spain, the 
duke of Savoy, with divers princes of Italy, and the 
queen-mother suspected to be of the same confede- 
rac} f ,to maintain papistry throughout Christiandom; 
this band was sent out of France by Thorneton, and 
is subscribed by this queen, the copy thereof re¬ 
maining with her, and the principal to be returned 
very shortlie, as I hear, by Mr. Stephen Willson, a 
fit minister for such a devilish devise; if thecoppie 
hereof may be gotten, that shall be sent as I conve¬ 
niently may. Monsieur Rambollet came to this 
toun upon Monday ; he spoke that night to the 
queen and her husband, but not long ; the next day 
he held long conferences with them both, but no¬ 
thing came to the knowledge of any whereof they 
intreated. I cannot speak with any that hath any 
hope that there will be any good done for the lords 
by him, though it is said that he hath very good will 
to do so to the uttermost of his power. He is lodg¬ 
ed near to the court, and livetli upon the queen’s 
charges. Upon Sunday the order is given, whereat 
means made to many to be present that day at the 
mass. Upon Candlemas-day there carried their 
candles with the queen, her husband, the earle of 
Lennox, and earle Athol; divers other lords have 
been called together and required to be at the mass 
that day ; some have promised, as Casscls, Mont¬ 
gomerie, Seton, Caithness ; others have refused, as 
Fleming, Levingston, Lindsay, Huntley, and Bothel, 
and of them all Bothel is the stoutest, but worst 
thought of. Tt was moved in council that mass 
should have been in St. Giles church, which I believe 
was rather to tempt men’s minds, than intended in¬ 
deed : She was of late minded again to send Ro¬ 
bert Melvin to negociate with such as she trusteth 
in amongst the queen’s majesty’s subjects, of whose 
good willis this way I trust that the bruit is greater 
than the truth ; but in these matters her majesty is 
too wise not in time to be ware, and provide for the 
worst: some in that country are thought to be privie 
unto the bands and confederacie of which I have 
written, whereof I am sure there is some things, tho’ 
perchance of all I have not heard the truth. In this 
court divers quarles, contentions, and debates, no¬ 
thing so much sought as to maintain mischief and 



253 


APPENDIX, No. XV. 


disorder. David yet retaineth still his place, not 
without heart-grief to many, that see their sovereign 
guided chiefly by such a fellow. The queen hath 
utterly refused to do any good to my lord of Argyll, 
and it is said that shall be the first voyage that she 
will make after she is delivered of being with child; 
the bruit is common that she is, but hardly believed 
of many, and of this, I can assure you, that there 
have of late appeared some tokens to the contrary. 

No. XV. (Page 96.) 

Part of a Letter from the Earl of Bedford and Mr. 
Thomas Randolph to the Lords of the Council of 
England, from Harwich , 27th of March 1566. An 
Original in the Cotton Library , Caligula , b. 10. 
fol. 372. 

May it please your Honours, 

Hering of so maynie matters as we 

27 March. J 

do, and fyndinge such varietie in the 
reports, we have myche ado to decerne the veritie 5 
which maketh us the slower and loothcr to put any 
thing in wrytinge, to the entente we wold not that 
your honours, and by you the queen’s majestie, our 
sovereigne, should not be advertised but of the 
verie trothe as we can possible. To this end we 
thought good to send up captain Carewe, who was 
in Edinbourge at the tyme of the last attemptate, 
who spoke there with diverse, and after that with 
the queen’s self and her husband : conforme to that 
which we have learned by others and know by this 
reporte, we send the same, confirmed by the parties 
self that were there present, and assysters unto these 
that were executors of the acte. 

This we fynde for certain, that the queen’s hus¬ 
band being entered into a vehement suspicion of 
David, that by hym some thynge was committed 
which was most agaynste the queen’s honour, and 
not to be borne of his perte, fyrste communicated 
his mynde to George Duglas, who fynding his 
sorrowes so great, sought all the means he coulde 
to put some remedie to his grieff; and communicat¬ 
ing the same unto my lord Ruthen by the king’s com¬ 
mandment, no other waye coulde be found than that 
David should be taken out of the waye. Wherein 
he was so earnest and daylye pressed the same, 
that no reste could be had untyll it was put in exe¬ 
cution. To this that was found good, that the lord 
Morton and lord Lyndsaye should be made privie 
to th’ intente, that theie might have their friends at 
hande, yf neade required ; which caused them to 
assemble so mayny as theie thought sufficient 
against the tyme that this determination of theirs 
should be put in executione ; which was determin¬ 
ed the ixth of this instant 3 daies afore the parlia¬ 
ment should begyne, at which time the sayde lordes 
were assured that the erles Argyle, Morraye, Rothes 
and their complyces, shoide have been forfeited, yf 
the king could not be persuaded through this means 


to be their friends ; who for the desyre he hade that 
this intent should take effect the one waye, was 
contente to yielde without all difficultie to t’other, 
with this condition, that theie should give their con¬ 
sents that he might have the crowne matrimonial. 
He was so impatient to see these things he saw r , 
and were daylye brought to his eares, that he day- 
ly pressed the said lord Ruthen that there might 
be no longer delaye ; and to the intent that myght 
be manifest unto the world that he approved the 
acte, was content to be at the doing of that himself. 

Upon Saturday at night neire unto vm of the 
clock the king conveyeth himself, the lord Ruthen, 
George Duglass, and two others, tlirowe his owne 
chamber by the privy stayres up to the queen’s 
chamber, going to which there is a cabinet about 
xii foot square; in the same a little low reposing 
bed and a table, at the which theyr were sitting at 
supper the queene, the lady Argile, and David w ith 
his capp upon his head. Into the cabinet there 
cometh in the king and lord Ruthen, who willed Da¬ 
vid to come forth, saying, that was no place for him. 
The queen said, that it was her will. Her hows- 
band answerede, that y l was against her honour. 
The lord Ruthen said, that he should lerne better 
his dutie, and offering to have taken him by the 
arm, David took the queen by the blychtes of her 
gown, and put himself behind the queen, who wold 
gladlee have saved him : but the king having loos¬ 
ed his hand, and holding her in his arms, David 
was thrust out of the cabinet throw the bed-cham¬ 
ber into the chamber of presens, whar were the lord 
Morton, lord Lindsey, who intending that night to 
have reserved him, and the next day to hang him, 
so many being about him that bore him evil will, 
one thrust him into the boddie with a dagger, and 
after him a great many others, so that he had in his 
bodie above wonds. It is told for certayne, 
that the kinges own dagger was left sticking in him. 
Wheather he stuck him or not we cannot here for 
certayn. He was not slayne in the queen’s presens, 
as was said, but going down the stayres out of the 
chamber of presens. 

There remained a long tyme with the queen her 
howsband and the lord Ruthen. She made, as we 
here, great intercession that he shold have no harm. 
She blamed greatlee her howsband that was the 
actor of so foul a deed. It is said that he did an¬ 
swer, that David had more companie of her boddie 
than he for the space of two months ; and therefore 
for her honour and his own contentment he gave his 
consent that he should be taken away. “ It is not” 
(saythe she) “ the woman’s part to seek the hus¬ 
band,” and therefore in that the fault was his own. 
He said that when he came, she either wold not or 
made herself sick. “Well,” saythe she, “you 
have taken your last of me and your farewell.” 
Then were pity, saythe the lord Ruthen, he is your 
majesty’s husband, and must yield dutie to each 
other. “ Why may I not,” saythe she, “ leave him 
as w ell as your wife did her husband ? Other have 



‘254 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


done the like.” The lord lluthen said that she was 
lawfully divorced from her husband, and for no 
such cause as the king found himself greve. Be- 
sydes this man was mean, basse, enemie to the no¬ 
bility, shame to her, and destruction to herself and 
country. “ Well,” saythe she, “ that shall be dear 
blude to some of you, yf his be spylt.” God forbid, 
saythe the lord Ruthen ; for the more your grace 
sliowe yourself offended, the world will judge the 
worse. 

Her husband this tyme speaketh little, herself 
continually weepeth. The lord Ruthen being ill at 
ease and weak, calleth for a drink, and saythe, 
“ This I must do with your majesties pardon,” and 
persuadeth her in the best sort he could, that she 
would pacify herself. Nothing that could be said 
could please her. 

In this mean time there rose a nombre in the 
court; to pacify which there went down the lord 
Ruthen, who went strayt to the erles Huntley, Botli- 
well, and Atholl, to quiet them, and to assure them 
from the king that nothing was intend against 
them. These notwithstanding taking fear, when 
theie heard that my lord of Murray would be there 
the next day, and Argile meet them, Huntley and 
Both well both get out of a window and so depart. 
Atholl had leave of the king with Flysh and Glan- 
dores (who was lately called Deysley the person of 
Owne) to go where they wold, and bring concorde 
out of the court by the lord of Lidington. Theie 
went that night to such places where they thought 
themselves in most sauftie. 

Before the king left talk with the queen, in the 
hering of the lord Ruthen she was content that he 
shold lie with her that night. We know not how 
he * * himself, but came not at her, and excused 
hymself to his friends, that he was so sleepie that 
he could not wake in due season. 

There were in this companie two that came in 
with the king ; the one Andrewe Car of Fawden- 
side, whom the queen saytli would have stroken her 
with a dagger, and one Patrick Balentine, brother 
to the justice-clerk, who also, her grace sayth, 
offered a dag against her belly with the cock down. 
We have been earnestly in hand with the lord 
Ruthen to know the varitie ; but he assureth us of 
the contrarie. There were in the queen’s chamber 
the lord Robert, Arthur Arskin, one or two others. 
They at the first offering to make a defence, the lord 
Ruthen drawd his dagger, and 4 mo weapons then, 
that were not drawn nor seen in her presens, as we 
are by this lord assured. 

[The letter afterwards gives an account of the 
flight to Dunbar castle, whither resorted unto the 
lords Huntley, and Bothwell: That the earl of Mor¬ 
ton and lord Ruthven find themselves left by the 
king for all his fair promises, bonds, and subscrip¬ 
tions. That he had protested before the council, 
that he was never consenting to the death of David, 
and that it is sore against his will: “ That of the 
great substance David had there is much spoken, 


some say in gold to the value of 1 l m £. His apparel 
was very good, as it is said, 28 pair of velvet hose. 
His chamber well furnished, armour, dagger, pys- 
toletts, harquebuses, 22 swords. Of all this no¬ 
thing spoyld or lacked saving 2 or 3 dagger. He 
had the custody of all the queen’s letters, which all 
were delivered unlooked upon. We hear of a juill 
that he had hanging about his neck of some price, 
that cannot be heard of. He had upon his back 
when he was slayn, a night gown of damask furred, 
with a satin doublet, a hose of russet velvet.”] 

No. XYI. (Page 98.) 

Part of a Letter from Randolph to Cecil , 

Jan. 16, 1565-6. 

- 1 cannot tell what misliking of late there 

hath been between her grace and her husband; 
he presseth earnestly for the matrimonial crown, 
which she is loth hastily to grant, but willing to 
keep somewhat in store, until she know how well 
he is worth to enjoy such a sovereignty ; and there¬ 
fore it is thought that the parliament for a time shall 
be deferred, but hereof I can write no certainty. 

From Mr. Randolph’s Letter to Secretary Cecil. 

-The justice-clerk in hard 

4th April 1566. 

terms, more for his brother s cause Paper office, 

t from the original, 

than any desert, and as far as I can 

hear, the king of all other in worst; for neither 
hath the queen good opinion of him for attempting 
of any thing that was against her will, nor the 
people that he hath denied so manifest a matter, 
being proved to be done by his commandment, and 
now himself to be the accuser and pursuer of them 
that did hs he willed them. This Scott that was 
executed, and Murray that was yesterday arreigned, 
were both accused by him. It is written to me for 
certain, by one that upon Monday last spoke with 
the queen, that she is determined that the house of 
Lennox shall be as poor in Scotland as ever it was. 
The earl continueth sick, sore troubled in mind ; he 
staith in the abbey ; his son has been once with 
him, and he once with the queen, since she came to 
the castle. The queen hath now seen all the cove¬ 
nants and bands that passed between the king and 
the lords, and now findeth that his declaration, be¬ 
fore her and council, of his innocency of the death 
of David, was false; and grievously offended that, 
by their means, he should seek to come to the crown 
matrimonial. 

Part of a Letter from Randolph to Cecil, from 
Benvick, 25th April 1566. 

-There is continually very much speech of 

the discord between the queen and her husband, so 
far that is commonly said and believed of himself, 
that Mr. James Thornton is gone to Rome to sue for 






APPENDIX, No. XVII. XVIII. 


a divorce between them. It is very certain that 
Malevasier had not spoken with him within these 
three days. He is neither accompany’d nor looked 
upon oi any nobleman : attended upon by certain 
ot his own servants, and six or seven of the guard ; 
at liberty to do and go where and what he will; 
they have no hope yet among themselves of quiet¬ 
ness. 

---David’s brother, named Joseph, who came 

this way with Malevasier, unknown to any man 
here, is become secretary in his brother’s place. 

No. XVII. (Page 99.) 

The earl of Bedford to Cecil , 3d August 1566. 

The queen and her husband agree after the old 
manner, or rather worse. She eateth but very sel¬ 
dom with him, lieth not, nor keepeth company with 
him, nor loveth any such as love him. He is so far 
out of her books, as at her going out of the castle of 
Edinburgh, to remove abroad, he knew nothing 
thereof. It cannot for modesty, nor with the honour 
of a queen, be reported what she said of him. One 
Hickman, an English merchant there, having a 
water spaniel which was very good, gave him to 
Mr. James Melvil, who afterwards, for the pleasure 
which he saw' the king have in such kind of dogs, 
gave him to the king. The queen thereupon fell 
marvellously out with Melvil, and called him dis¬ 
sembler and flatterer, and said she could not trust 
one who would give any thing to such a one as she 
loved not. 

The Earl of Bedford to Cecil , Aug. 8. 

The disagreement between the queen and her hus¬ 
band continueth, or rather increaseth. RobertMelvill 
drawing homewards, within twelve miles of Edin¬ 
burgh, could not tell where to find the queen ; sith 
which time she is come to Edinburgh, and had not 
twelve horses attending on her. There was not 
then, nor that I can hear of since, any lord, baron, 
or other nobleman in her company. The king her 
husband is gone to Dumfermling, and passeth his 
time as w ell as he may ; having at his farewell such 
countenance as would make a husband heavy at his 
heart. 

Sir John Forster to Cecily 8th Sept, from Berwick. 

The queen hath her husband in small estimation, 
and the earl of Lennox came not in the queen’s sight 
since the death of Davy. 

Sir John Forster to Cecily Wth Dec. 

The earl of Bothwell is appointed to receive the 
ambassadors, and all things for the christening are 
at his lordship’s appointment, and the same is 
scarcely well liked of the nobility, as is said. The 


king and queen is presently at Craigmillar, but in 
little greater familiarity than he was all the while 
past. 

Advertisements out of Scotland from the Earl of 

Bedford. 

That the king and queen agreed w ed August 1566 
together two days after her coming- F aper office. 

from-; and after my lord of gina1, 

Murray’s coming to Edinburgh, some new discord 
has happened. The queen hath declared to my lord 
of Murray that the king bears him evil will, and 
has said to her that he is determined to kill him, 
finding fault that she doth bear him so much com¬ 
pany ; and in like manner hath willed my lord of 
Murray to spiere it at the king, which he did a few 
nights since in the queen’s presence, and in the hear¬ 
ing of divers. The king confessed, that reports were 
made to him, that my lord of Murray w as not his 
friend, which made him speak that thing he re¬ 
pented; and the queen affirmed, that the king had 
spoken such words unto her, and confessed be¬ 
fore the whole house, that she could not be content 
that either he or any other should be unfriend to my 
lord of Murray. My lord of Murray enquired the 
same stoutly, and used his speech very modestly. 
In the mean time the king departed very grieved ; 
he cannot bear that the queen should use familiarity 
either with man or woman, and especially the ladies 
of Arguile, Murray, and Marre, who keep most 
company with her. My lord of Murray and Both¬ 
well have been at evil words for the 1. of Ledington 
before the queen, for he and sir James Balfour had 
new come from Ledington, with his answer upon 
such heads or articles as Bothwell and he should 
agree upon; which being reported to the said earl 
in the queen’s presence, made answer, that ere he 
parted with such lands as was desired, he should 
part with his life. My lord of Murray said stoutly 
to him, that twenty as honest men as he should lose 
their lives ere he reafte Ledington. The queen 
spake nothing, but heard both ; in these terms they 
parted, and since, that I hear of, have not met. The 
queen after her hunting came to Edinburgh, and 
carryeth the prince thence to Stirling with her. This 
last Saturday was executed a servant of lord Ruth- 
ven’s, who confessed that he was in the cabinet, but 
not of council of the fact. The queen hath also 
opened to my lord of Murray, that money was sent 
from the pope, how much it was, and by whom, and 
for what purpose it was brought. 

No. XVIII. (Page 103.) 

Part of a Letter from Elizabeth to Mary , Feb. 20. 

1569. A copy interlined by Cecil. It contains an 

answer to a complaining letter of Alary’s upon the 

imprisoning of the Bishop of Boss. 

-After this [i. e. Mary’s landing in Scot¬ 
land] how patiently did I bear with many vain de- 






256 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


lays in not ratifying the treaty accorded by your 
own commissioners, whereby I received no small 
unkindness, besides the manifold causes of sus¬ 
picion that I might not hereafter trust to any writ¬ 
ings. Then followed a hard manner of dealing with 
me, to entice my subject and near kinsman, the 
lord Darnley, under colour of private suits for land, 
to come into the realm, to proceed in treaty of mar¬ 
riage with him without my knowledge, yea to con¬ 
clude the same without my assent or liking. And 
how many unkind parts accompany’d that fact, by 
receiving of my subjects that were base runnagates 
and offenders at home, and enhancing them to 
places of credit against my will, with many such 
like, I will leave, for that the remembrance of the 
same cannot but be noysome to you. And yet all 
these did I as it were suppress and overcome with 
my natural inclination of love towards you; and 
did afterwards gladly, as you know, christen your 
son, the child of my said kinsman, that had before 
so unloyally offended me, both in marriage of you, 
and in other undutiful usages towards me his sove¬ 
reign. How friendly also dealt I by messages to 
reconcile him, being your husband, to } r ou, when 
others nourished discord betwixt you, who as it 
seemed had more power to work their purposes, be¬ 
ing evil to you both, than I had to do you good, in 
respect of the evil I had received. Well, I will 
overpass your hard accidents that followed for lack 
of following my counsel. And then in your most 
extremity, when you was a prisoner indeed and in 
danger of your life from your notorious evil willers, 
how far from my mind was the remembrance of any 
former unkindness you had shewed me. Nay, how 
void was I of respect to the designs which the world 
had seen attempted by you to my crown, and the 
security that might have ensued to my state by your 
death ; when I finding your calamity to be great, 
that you were at the pit’s brink to have miserably 
lost your life, did not only intreat for your life, but 
so threatened some as were irritated against you, 
that I only may say it, even I was the principal 
cause to save your life. 

No. XIX. (Page 108.) 

Letter of Q. Elizabeth to Q. of Scots. Thus 
marked on the bach with Cecil's hand,—Copia Lite- 
rarutn Regice Majestatis ad Reginarn Scotorum, 
VIII Aprilis. 

Paper office. Madame, vous ayant trop moleste 

par M. de Crocq, je n’eusse eu si peu 
de consideration de vous fascher de cette lettre, si 
les liens de eharite vers les ruinez, et les prieres des 
miserables ne m y contraignassent. Je entens que 
un edit a etc divulgue de par vous, madame, que 
ung chascun, que veult justifier que ons este les 
meurtriers de votre feu mari, et mon feu cousin, 
viennent a le faire le xiime de ce mois. La quelle 


chose, comme c’cst plus honorable et necessaire, qui 
en tel cas se pourra faire, ne y estant cache quelque 
mist^re ou finesse, ainsi le pere et amis du rnort 
gentelhomme m’ont humblement requis, que je vous 
priasse de prolongue le jour, pour ce qu’ilz cognois- 
sent que les iniques se sont combines par force de 
faire ce que par droict ils ne pourront pas faire ; 
partant, je ne puis mais sinon pour l’amour do vous 
meme, a qui il touche le plus, et pour la consolation 
des innocens, de vous exhorter le leur conceder cette 
requeste, laquelle, si elle les seroit nie, vous tour- 
neroit grandement en souptjon, de plus que j’espere 
ne pensez, et que ne voudriez volontiers ouyr. 
Pour l’amour de Dieu, madame, usez de telle sin¬ 
cerity & prudence en ce cas qui vous touche de si 
pres, que tout le monde aye raison de vous livrer 
comme innocente d’ung crime si cnorme, chose que 
si ne fistes, seriez dignement esbloye hors de rancz 
de princesses, & non sans cause faite opprobre de 
vulgaire, et plutot que cela vous avienne, je vous 
souhaiterois une sepulture honorable, qu’une vie 
maculee ; vous voiez, madame, que je vous traite 
comme ma fille, et vous promets, que si j’en eusse, 
ne luy souhaiterois mieulx, que je vous desire, 
comme le Seigneur Dieu me porte tesmoignage, a 
qui je prie de bon cocur de vous inspirer a faire ce 
qui vous sera plus a honneur, et a vos amis plus de 
consolation, avec mes tres cordialles recommenda¬ 
tions comme a icelle a qui sc souhaite le plus de 
bien, qui vous pourra en ce monde avenir. De 
West, ce 8 jour de Janvier 6 en haste. 

No. XX. (Page 111.) 

Account of the sentence of divorce between the Earl of 
Bothwell and Lady Jean Gordon his wife. From a 
manuscript belonging to Mr. David Falconer, ad¬ 
vocate. Fol. 455. 

Upon the 29 of Apryle 1567, before the Richt 
Hon. Mr. Robert Maitland dean of Aberdene, Mr. 
Edward Henryson, doctor in the laws, two of the 
senators of the college of justice, Mr. Clement Little, 
and Mr. Alexander Syme advocattis, commissers of 
Edin r ; compeered Mr. Henry Kinrosse, procurator 
for Jean Gourdoune countess of Bothwell, consti¬ 
tute be her for pursewing of ane proces of divorce¬ 
ment intendit by her contra James Erie Bothwel 
her husband for adultly, committed be him with 
Bessie Crawfurde the pursuer’s servant for the time ; 
and sicklyke, for the said Erie, compeared Mr. 
Edmund Hay, who efterhehad pursued and craved 
the pursuer’s procurator’s oath de calumnia, if he 
had just cans to pursewthe said action, and obtain¬ 
ed it, denyed the libell, and the said Mr. Harric 
took the morne, the last day of Apryle, to prove the 
same pro prima. The quhilk day, having produced 
some witnesses, he took the next day, being the 1 of 
May, to do farther diligence. Upon the quhilk 1 of 
May, he produced some moe witnesses, and re- 

fa A mistake in the date, corrected with Cecil’s hand VI11° Aprilis. 




257 


APPENDIX, No. XXL 


nounced farther probatioune. After quhilfc, he de¬ 
sired a term to be assigned to pronounce sentence. 
To whom the said eominissars assigned Satterday 
next, the 3 of May, to pronounce sentence therein, 
secundum allegata et probata, qnilk accordingly 
was given that day in favour of the pursewar. 

At the same time there was another proces in- 
tendit be the erl of Bothwell contr his lady, for to 
have their marriage declared nul, as being contract¬ 
ed against the canons, without a dispensation, and 
he and his lady being within degrees defendand, viz. 
ferdis a kin; and that wyse, for expeding of this 
process, there was a commissioune grantit to the 
archbishop of St. Androis to cognosce and deter¬ 
mine it, and Ro‘ bishop of Dunkeld, William 
bishop of Dumblane, Mr. Andro Craufurd chanon 
in Glasgow and parson of Egelshame, Mr. Alex¬ 
ander Creichtoun, and Mr. George Cooke chan¬ 
cellor of Dunkeld, and Mr. Joline Manderstoune 
chanon in Dunbar and prebendar of Beltoune, or 
any ane of them. This commissione is datit 27th 
Aprile 1567, was presented to two of the saids com¬ 
missioners, viz. Mr. And r . Craufurd and Mr. John 
Manderstoune on Satterday 3 May, by Mr. Thomas 
Hepburne parson of Auldhamstocks, procurator for 
the erle of Bothwell, who accepted the delega- 
tioune, and gave out their citation by precept, 
directed, Decano Christianitatis de Hadingtoune, 
nec non vicario scu curato eccle. parochiae de 
Creichtoune, seu cuicunq ; alteri cappellano debiti 
requisitis, for summoning, at the said erle’s in¬ 
stance, both of the lady personally if she could be 
had, or otherways at the paroschc kerk of Creich¬ 
toune the time of service, or at her dwelling-place 
before witnesses, primo, secundo, tertio et peremp¬ 
tory, unico tamen contextu protuplice edicto. And 
likeways to be witnesses in the said matter, Alex. 
Bishop of Galloway, who did marry the said Erie 
and his lady in Halerud-hous kirk, in Feb. 1565, 
sir John Bannatyne of Auchnole, justice-clerk, 
Mr. Robert Creichtoun of Elliok the queen’s advo¬ 
cate, Mr. David Chalmers provost of Creichtoun 

and chancellor of Ross, Michael-abbot of Mel- 

ross, and to compear before the said judges or any 
one of them in St. Geil’s kirk in Ed r on Monday 
the 5 of May, be thamselves, or their procurators. 
Upon the said 5 day, Mr. John Manderstoun, one of 
the judge’s delegat only being present, compeared 
the same procurators for both the parties that were 

Two words in the tlie f ° rmer P r0CeS - Mr - Edmund 

S nthesis Hle ~ ( articulatlie ) and 

some of the witnesses summoned, pro¬ 
duced and received for proving the same. The said 
procurator renounced farder probatioune, and the 
judge assigned the morne, the 6th of May, ad pub- 
licandum producta, nempe depositiones ipsorum 
testium. The quhilk day, post publicatas deposi¬ 
tiones praedictas, Mr. Hen. Kinrosse, procurator for 
the lady instanter objecit objectiones juris genera- 
liter, contra producta, insuper renunciavit ulteriori 
defensioni; proinde conclusa de consensu procura- j 

s 


tornm hinc inde causa, judex praedictus statu it 
crastinum diem pro termina, ad pronunciandum 
suam sententiam definitivam, exdeductis coram eo, 
in praesenti causa et processu. Conform hereunto, 
on Wednesday the 7th of May, the said judge gave 
out his sentence in favour of the erle, declaring the 
marriage to be, and to have been null from the be¬ 
ginning, in respect of their contingence in blood, 
which hindered their lawful marriage without a dis¬ 
pensation obtained of befoir. 

No. XXI. (Page 112.) 

A Letter from England concerning the Murder of 
King Henrg Darnley. 

Ha ving the commodity of this bear- „ 

J E. of Morton’s 

er, Mr. Clark, I tho t good to write a Archives, eun- 

° die B. JSio. 25. 

few words unto you. I have rec d some 
writs from you, and some I have seen lately sent 
others from you, as namely to the earl of Bedford 
of the 16th of May. I have participat the contents 
thereof to such as I thought meet. This mekle I 
can assure you, the intelligence given hithere by 
the French was untrue, for there was not one papist 
nor protestant which did not consent that justice 
should be done, be the queen my sov ns aid and sup¬ 
port, against such as had committed that abomina¬ 
ble ill murder in your country ; but to say truth, 
the lack and coldness did not rise from such as 
were called to council, but from such as should 
give life and execution thereunto. And further, I 
assure you, I never knew no matter of estate pro¬ 
poned which had so many favourers of all sorts of 
nations as this had : yea, I can say unto you, no 
man promoted the matter with greater affection than 
the Spanish ambassador. And sure I am that no 
man dare openly be of any other mind, but to affirm 
that whosoever is guilty of this murder, handfasted 
with advoutre, is unworthy to live. I shall not 
need to tell you, which be our letts and stayes from 
all good things here ; you are acquainted with 
them as well as I. Neds I must confess, that how¬ 
soever we omit occasions of benefit, honour, and 
surety, it behoveth your whole nobility, and namely 
such as before and after the murder were deemed 
to allow of Bodwell, to prosecute with sword and 
justice the punishment of those abominable acts, 
though we lend you but a cold aid ; and albeit you, 
and divers others, both honourable and honest, be 
well known to me, and sundry others here, to be 
justifiable in all their actions and doings ; yet think 
not the contrary but your whole nation is blemished 
and infamit by these doings which lately passed 
among you. What we shall do I know not, neither 
do I write unto you assuredly, for we be subject 
iWo many mutations, and yet I think we shall 
either aid you, or continue in the defence and safe¬ 
guard of your prince, so as it appear to us that you 
mean his safeguard indeed, and not to run the for- 





258 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


tune of France, which will be your own destruction 
if you be unadvised. I know not one, no not one 
of any quality or estate in this country, which does 
allow of the queen your sovereign, but would gladly 
the world were rid of her, so as the same were done 
without further slander, that is to say by ordinary 
justice. This I send the 23d of May. 

No. XXII. (Page 114.) 

Part of a Letter from Sir Nicolas Throkmorton to 
Cecil , 11 th of July 1567, from Berwick. 

An original. -Sir, Your letter of the 6th of 

Paper office. July I received the 10th, at Berwick. 

I am sorry to see that the queen's majesty’s dispo¬ 
sition altereth not towards the lords, for when all is 
done, it is they which must stand her more in stead 
than the queen her cousin, and will be better in¬ 
struments to work some benefite and quietness to 
her majesty and her realm, than the queen of Scot¬ 
land, which is void of good fame. 

A Letter from Sir Nicolas Throkmorton to Cecil, 
from Fastcastle, 12 th of July 1567. 

Sir, As yow might perceive by my 

Paper Office. , „ , . T . 

letter ot the 11th July, 1 lodged at 
Fastcastle that night, accompanied w ith the lord 
Hume, the lord of Ledington, and James Melvin, 
where I was entreated very well according to the 
state of the place, which is fitter to lodge prisoners 
than folks at liberty ; as it is very little, so it is 
very strong. By the conference I have had with 
the lord of Ledington, I find the lords his associates 
and he hath left nothing unthought of, which may 
be either to their danger or work them suerty, 
wherein they do not forget what good and harme 
France may do them, and likewise they consider 
the same of England ; but as farr as I can perceive, 
to be plain with yow, they find more perril to grow 
unto them through the queen’s majesty’s dealing, 
than either they do by the French, or by any con¬ 
trary faction amongest themselves, for they assure 
themselves the queen will leave them in the bryers 
if they run her fortoun ; and though they do ac¬ 
knowledge great benefit as well to them as to the 
realm of England, by her majesty’s doings at Leith, 
whereof they say mutually her majesty and both 
the realms have received great fruit; yet upon 
other accidents which have chanced since, they 
have observed such things in her majesty’s doings as 
have ended to the danger of such as she hath dealt 
withal, to the overthrow of your own designments, 
and little of the suerty of any party : and upon 
these considerations and discourses at length, me- 
thinketh I find a disposition in them, that either 
they mind to make their bargain with France, or 
else do deal neither with France nor yow, but to do 
what they shall think meet for their state and suer¬ 


ty, and to use their remedys as occasion shall move 
them; meaning neither to irritate France nor Eng¬ 
land, untill such time as they have made their bar¬ 
gain assuredly with one of yow ; for they think it 
convenient to proceed with yow both for a while pari 
passu, for that was my lord of Ledington’s terms. 
I do perceave they take the matter very unkindly, 
that no better answer is made to the letter which 
the lords did send to her majesty, and likewise that 
they hear nothing from yow to their satisfaction. I 
have answered as well as I can, and have alleged 
their own proceedings so obscurely with the queen, 
and their uncertainty, hath occasioned this that is 
yet happened, and therefore her majesty hath sent 
me to the end I may inform her throughly of the 
state of the matters, and upon the declaration of 
their minds and intents to such purposes as shall 
be by me proposed on her majesty’s behalf unto 
them, they shall be reasonably and resolutely an¬ 
swered. At these things the lord of Ledington 
smiled and shook his head, and said it were better 
for us yow would let us alone, than neither to do 
us nor yourselves good, as I fear me in the end that 
will prove: S r , if there be any truth in Ledington, 
Le Crocq is gone to procure Ramboilet his coming 
hither, or a man of like quality, and to deliver them 
of their queen for ever, who shall lead her life in 
France in a abbey recluscd, the prince at the French 
devotion, the realm governed by a council of their 
election of the Scottish nation, the forts committed 
to the custody of such as shall be chosen amongst 
themselves. As yet I find no great likelihood that 
I shall have access to the queen : it is objected they 
may not so displease the French king, unless they 
were sure to find the queen of England a good 
friend ; and when they once by my access to the 
queen have offended the French, then they say yow 
will make your profit thereof to their undoing; 
and as to the queen’s liberty, which was the first 
head that I proposed, they said that thereby they 
did perceive that the queen wants their undoing, 
for as for the rest of the matters it was but folly to 
talk of them, the liberty going before ; but said 
they, if you will do us no good, do us no harm, and 
we will provide for ourselves. In the end they 
said, we shall refuse our own commodity, before 
they concluded with any other, which I should 
hear of at my coming to Edn r ; by my next I hope 
to send yow the band concluded by Hamiltons, 
Argyll, Huntley, and that faction, not so much to 
the prejudice of the lords of Edin r , as that which 
was sent into France. Thus having no more lei¬ 
sure, but compell’d to leap on horseback with the 
lords to go to Edin r , I humbly take my leave of 
from Fastcastle the 12th of July 1567. 


To Sir Nicolas Throkmorton, beiny in Scotland. 
By the Queen, the 14 th July 1567. 


Trusty and well beloved we greet 
you well ; though we think that the 


Paper Office. 




259 


APPENDIX, No. XXII. 
causes will often change upon variety of accidents, 


yet we think for sundry respects not amiss, that as 
yow shall deal with the lords having charge of the 
young prince for the committing of him into our 
realm, so shall yow also do well, in treaty with the 
queen, to offer her, that where her realm appeareth 
to be subject to sundry troubles from time to time, 
and thereby (as it is manifest) her son cannot be 
lree, it she shall be contented that her son may en¬ 
joy suerty and quietness within this our realm, being 
so near as she knows it is ; we shall not faill to 
yield her as good suerty therein for her child, as 
can be devised for any that might be our child born 
ot our own body, and shall be glad to shew to her 
therein the trew effect of nature ; and herein she 
may be by yow remembered how much good may 
ensue to her son to be nourished and acquainted 
with our country: and therefore, all things con¬ 
sidered, this occasion for her child were rather to be 
sought by her, and the friends of him, than offered 
by us ; and to this end, we mean that yow shall so 
deal with her, both to stay her indeed from inclin¬ 
ing to the French practice, which is to us notorious, 
to convey her and the prince into France, and also 
to avoid any just offence that she might hereafter 
conceive, if she should hear that we should deal with 
the lords for the prince. 

Sir Nicolas Throkmorton to Queen Elizabeth , 

14 th July 1567. From Edinburgh. 

An original. It ma y please your majesty to be 

Paper dmce. advertized, I did signifie unto Mr. Se¬ 
cretary by my letters of the 11th and 12th of July, 
the day of mine entry into Scotland, the causes of 
my stay, my lodging at Fastcastle, a place of the 
lord Hume’s, where I was met by the said lord and 
by the lord Lidington, and what had passed in con¬ 
ference betwixt us, whitest I was at the said Fast¬ 
castle. Since which time, accompanyed with the 
lords aforesaid, and with 400 horses by their ap¬ 
pointment for my better conduct, I came to Edin r 
the 12th of this present. The 13th being Sunday 
appointed for a solemne communion in this town, 
and also a solemne fast being published, I could 
not have conference with the lords which be assem¬ 
bled within this town, as I desired, that is to say, 
the earles of Athole and Morton, the lord Hume, the 
lord of Lidington, sir James Balfour captain of the 
castle, Mr. James M‘Gill, and the president of the 
session. 

Nevertheless I made means by the lord of Liding¬ 
ton that they would use no protracte of time in mine 
audience, so did I likewise to the earle of Morton, 
whom I met by chance ; I was answered by them 
both, that albeit the day were destined to sacred ex¬ 
ercises, such as were there of the council would 
consult upon any moyen touching my access unto 
them and my conference with them, and said also, 
that in the afternoon either they would come to me, 

or I should hear from them. About 4 of the clock 

s 2 


in the afternoon, the said thirteenth day, the lord of 
Lidington came to my lodgings, and declared unto 
me on the behalf of the lords and others, that they 
required me to have patience, though they had de¬ 
ferred my conference with them, which was ground¬ 
ed principally upon the absence of the earles of 
Mar and Glencairn, the lords Semple, Crighton, 
and others of the council, saying also that they did 
consider the matters which I was on your behalf to 
treate with them of, were of great importance, as 
they could not satisfy nor conveniently treate with 
me, nor give me answer without the advice of the 
lords, and others their associates : the lord of Liding¬ 
ton also said unto me, that where he perceived, by 
his private conference with me in my journey hither¬ 
wards, that I pressed greatly to have speedy access 
to the queen their sovereign, he perceived by the 
lords and others which were here, that in that mat¬ 
ter, there was great difficulty for many respects, but 
specially because they had refused to the French 
ambassador the like access, which being granted 
unto me, might greatly offend the French, a matter 
which they desired and intended to eschew; for 
they did not find by your majesty’s dealings with 
them hitherto, that it behoved them to irritate the 
French king, and to lose his favour and good intel¬ 
ligence with him. I answered, that as to their re¬ 
fusal made unto the French ambassador, Monsieur 
de Ville Roye was dispatched forth of France before 
these accidents were happened, and his special 
errand was to impeach the queen’s marriage with 
the earle of Bothel ; (for so indeed since my coming 
hither, I learned his commission tended to that end, 
and to make offer to the queen of another marriage ;) 
and as to Monsieur de Crocq, he could have no 
order forth of France concerning these matters, 
since they happened ; and therefore they might very 
well hold them suspected to have conference with 
the queen, lest they might treate of matters in this 
time without instructions, and so rather do harm 
than good: but your majesty being advertized of 
all things which had chanced, had sent me hither to 
treat with them, for the well of the realm ; for the 
conservation of their honors and credit, and for their 
suerty ; and I might boldly say unto him, that your 
majesty had better deserved than the French had. 
He said, for his own part, he was much bound unto 
your majesty, and had always found great favour 
and courtesy'in England ; but to be plain with you, 
sir, sayed he, there is not many of this assembly 
that have found so great obligation at the queen 
your sovereign’s hands, as at the French king’s ; 
for the earles of Morton and Glencairn be the only 
persons which took benefit by the queen’s majesty’s 
aid at Leith, the rest of the noblemen were not in 
the action; and we think, said he, the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty your sovereign, by the opinion of her own 
council, and all the world, took as great benefit by 
that charge as the realm of Scotland, or any parti¬ 
cular person ; and not to talk with you as an ambas¬ 
sador, but with sir Nicholas Throkmorton, my lord 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 

with the danger of the prince, but as far as I can 


2G0 

Morton, and such as were in pain tor the death of 
Davie, found but cold favour at the queen’s majes¬ 
ty’s hands, when they were banish’d forth of their 
own country; but I would all our whole company 
were as well willing to accomplish the queen your 
sovereign’s intents and desires as I am ; for mine 
own part, I am but one, and that of the meanest 
sort, and they be many noblemen and such as have 
great interest in the matter; mary, yow shall be 
assured I will imploy myself to imploy my credit, 
and all that I may do, to satisfie the queen your 
mistress, as much as lyeth in me, and for your own 
part you have a great many friends in this assem¬ 
bly ; with many other good words. But for conclu¬ 
sion I must take this for an answer, to stay untill 
the other lords were come, and thereupon I thought 
meet to advertize your majesty what hath passed, 
and how far forth I have proceeded ; your expecta¬ 
tion being great to hear from hence. 

And now to advertize your majesty of the state of 
all things, as I have learned since my coming 
hither, it may please your majesty to understand as 
folio wetli. 

The queen of Scotland remaineth in good health 
in the castle of Lochleven, guarded by the lord 
Lindsay, and Lochleven the owner of the house ; 
for the lord Ruthven is employed in another com¬ 
mission, because he began to show r great favour to 
the queen, and to give her intelligence. She is 
waited on with 5 or 6 ladys, 4 or 5 gentlewomen, 
and 2 chamberers, whereof one is a French woman. 
The earle of Buchan, the earle of Murray’s brother, 
hath also liberty to come to her at his pleasure ; the 
lords aforesaid, which have her in guard, doe keep 
her very straitly, and as far as 1 can perceive, their 
rigour proceedeth by their order from these men, 
because that the queen will not by any means be 
induced to lend her authority to prosecute the mur¬ 
der, nor will not consent by any perswasion to 
abandon the lord Bothell for her husband, but 
avoweth constantly that she will live and die with 
him ; and saitli, that if it were put to her choice to 
relinquish her crown and kingdom, or the lord 
Bothell, she would leave her kingdom and dignity, 
to go as a simple damsell with him, and that she 
will never consent that he shall fare worse or have 
more harm than herself. 

And as far as I can perceive, the principall cause 
of her detention is, for that these lords do see the 
queen being of so fervent affection tow ards the earle 
Bothell as she is, and being put at, as they should 
be compelled to be in continual arms, and to have 
occasion ol many battles, he being with manifest 
evidence notoriously detected to be the principal 
murderer, and the lords meaning prosecution of 
justice against him according to his merits. 

The lords mean also a divorce betwixt the queen 
and him, as a marriage not to be suffered for many 
respects, which separation cannot take place if the 
queen be at liberty, and have power in her hands. 

They do not also forget their ow n perill, conjoin’d 


perceave, they intend not either to touch the queen 
in suerty or in honor, for they do speak ot her with 
respect and reverence, and do affirm, as I do learn, 
that the conditions aforesaid accomplished, they w ill 
both put her to liberty, and restore her to her estate. 

These lords have for the guard of their town 450 
harqubushers which be in very good order, for the 
entertainment of which companys, untill all matters 
be compounded, they did sue unto your majesty to 
aid them with such sum of money as hath been 
mentioned to Mr. Secretary by the lord of Lidington’s 
writing, amounting as I perceive to ten or twelve 
thousand crouns of the 

They were lately advertized that the French king 
doth mind to send hither Monsieur de la Chapell 
des Ursine, a knight of the French order, and always 
well affectionate to the house of Guise ; and howso¬ 
ever La Forest, Villaroy, and Du Crocq have used 
language in the queen’s favour and to these lords 
disadvantage there, to your Majesty, La Crocq doth 
carry with him such matter as shall be little to the 
queen’s advantage; so as it is thought the French 
king, upon his coming to his presence, will rather 
satisfie the lords than pleasure the queen ; for they 
have their party so well made, as the French will 
rather make their profit by them, than any other 
way. 

Herewith I send your majesty the last bond agreed 
on, and signed by the Hamiltons, the earl of Argyll, 
Huntley, and sundry others, at Dumbarton. 

Nevertheless, since my coming to this town, the 
Hamiltons have sent unto me a gentleman of their 
surname, named Robert Hamilton, with a letter from 
the bishop of St Andrew’s, and the abbot of Arbroth, 
the copy whereof I send your majesty and mine 
answer unto them, referring to the bearer the de¬ 
claration of some things as these did by him unto me. 

The earle of Argyll hath, in like manner, sent 
another unto me with a letter and credit; I have 
used him as I did the others, the copy of both which 
letters I send your majesty also. The lord Harrys 
hath also sent unto me but not w ritten, and I have 
returned unto him in like sort. 

Against the 20tli day of this month there is a ge- 
nerall assembly of all the churches, shires, and 
boroughs towns of this realm, namely of such as be 
contented to repair to these lords to this town, where 
it is thought the whole state of this matter will be 
handeled, and I fear me much to the queen’s dis¬ 
advantage and danger ; unless the lord of Lidington 
and some others which be best affected unto her do 
provide some remedy ; for I perceave the great num¬ 
ber, and in manner all, but chielly the common 
people, which have assisted in these doings, do 
greatly dishonour the queen, and mind seriously 
either her deprivation, or her destruction ; I used 
the best means I can (considering the furie of the 
world here) to prorogue this assembly, for that ap- 
peareth to me to be the best remedy: I may not 
speak of dissolution of it, for that may not be abiden, 



261 


APPENDIX, No. XXII. 


and I should thereby bring myself into great hatred 
and peril. The chicfest of the lords which be here 
present at this time dare not show so much lenity 
to the queen as I think they could be contented, 
for fear of the rage of the people. The women be 
most furious and impudent against the queen, and 
yet the men be mad enough ; so as a stranger over 
busie may soon be made a sacrifice amongst them. 

There was a great bruit that the Hamiltons with 
their adherents would put their force into the fields 
against the 24th of this month, but I do not find 
that intent so true as the common bruit goeth. 

The earle of Argyll is in the Highlands, where 
there is trouble among his own countrymen. 

The earle of Lennox is by these lords much de¬ 
sired here, and I do believe your majesty may so 
use him, and direct him, as he shall be able to pro¬ 
mote your purpose with these men. 

The earle of Argyll, the Hamiltons and he be in¬ 
compatible.-1 do find amongst the Hamiltons, 

Argyll, and the company, two strange and sundry 
humours. 

Hamiltons do make shew of the liberty of the 
queen, and prosecute that with great earnestness, 
because they would have these lords destroy her, 
rather than she should be recovered from them by 
violence ; another time they seem to desire her 
liberty and Bothwell’s destruction, because they 
would compass a marriage betwixt the queen and 
the lord of Arbroth. 

The earle of Argyll doth affect her liberty, and 
Bothwell’s destruction, because he would marry the 
queen to his brother. 

And yet neither of them, notwithstanding their 
open concurance, (as appeareth by their bond,) doth 
discover their minds to each other, nor mind one 
end : Knox is not here, but in the west parts; he 
and the rest of the ministers will be here at the great 
assembly, whose austerity against the queen I fear 
as much as any man’s. 

By some conference which I had with some of 
this councill, me thinketh that they have intelligence 
that there is a disposition in the queen of Scotland 
to leave this realm, and to retire herself either into 
England or into France, but most willingly into Eng¬ 
land ; for such-and mislikings as she knoweth 

hath been, and is meant unto her in France, leaving 
the regiment either to a number of persons deleagued, 
and authorized by her, or to some one or more. 

And it may please your majesty, I think it not 
amiss to put 3 ow in remembrance, that in case the 
said queen come into England by your allowance, 
without the French king’s consent, she shall loose 
her dowery in France, and have little or nothing 
from hence to entertain her; and in case she do go 
into France with the king’s contentment, she may be 
an instrument (if she can recover favour, as time 
will help to cancell her disgrace) either by matching 
with some husband of good quality, or by some 
other devise, to work new unquietness to her own 
country, and so consequently to your majesty’s. 


Therefore it may please your majesty to consider 
of this matter, and to let me know your pleasure 
with convenient speed, how I shall answer the same, 
if it be propounded unto me, either by the queen or 
by the councill, as a piece of the end and composi¬ 
tion. For I am sure, of late, she hath seemed very 
desirous to have the matter brought to pass that she 
might go into England, retaining her estate and 
jurisdiction in herself, though she do not exercise 
it; and likewise I understand that some of this 
council which be least affected to her safety do think 
there is no other way to save her. Thus Almighty 
God preserve your majesty in health, honour, and 
all felicity. At Edin r , the 14th July 1567. 

Sir Nicolas Throhmorton to Queen Elizabeth, the 18f/< 
of July 1567, from Edinburgh. 

It may please your majesty, yow An ordinal 
might perceave by my letters of the 16th Paper OHlce - 
how far I had proceeded with these lords, and what 
was their answer ; since which time I have spoken 
particularly with the earle Morton, the lord of Lid- 
ington, and sir James Balfour captain of this castle ; 
at whose hands I cannot perceave that as yet access 
to the queen to Lochleven will be granted me, stay¬ 
ing themselves still by the absence of the lords and 
others their associates, which (they say) they look 
for within two days ; and for that I find, by likeli¬ 
hood and apparent presumptions, that mine access 
to the queen will hardly be granted, I have thought 
good not to defer this dispatch untill I have a reso¬ 
lute answer in that matter. 

May it therefore please your majesty to under¬ 
stand, Robert Melvin returned from the queen in 
Lochleven, to this town, the 6 th of July, and brought 
a letter from her written of her own hand to these 
lords, which doth contain, as I understand, matter 
as followeth :—A request unto them to have consi¬ 
deration of her health, and if they will not put her 
to liberty, to change the place of restraint to the 
castle of Stirling, to the end she might have the 
comfort and company of her son ; and if they will 
not change her from Lochleven, she required to have 
some other gentlewomen about her, naming none. 

To have her apothecary ; to have some modest 
minister: to have an imbroiderer to draw forth 
such work as she would be occupied about, and to 

have a varlet of the chamber.-Touching the 

government of the realm she maketh two offers, 
which are but generally touched in her letter, the 
particularitys be not specified, but referred to 
Robert Melvin’s credit; the one is to commit it only 
and wholty to the earle of Murray ; the other is, to 
the lords whose names ensue, assisted with such 
others as they shall call unto them, that is to say, 
the duke of Chattelrault, the earls of Morton, Mur¬ 
ray, Marr, and Glencairn. 

She hath written unto them that I might have ac¬ 
cess unto her.-She requireth further, that if they 

will not treat her and regard her as their queen, yet 







202 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


to use her as the king their sovereign’s daughter 
(whom many of them knew) and as their prince’s 
mother.—She will by no means yield to abandon 
Bothell for her husband, nor relinquish him ; which 
matter will do her most harm of all, and hardeneth 
these lords to great severity against her. 

She yieldeth in words to the prosecution of the 
murder. 

I have the means to let her know that your ma¬ 
jesty hath sent me hither for her relief. 

I have also persuaded her to conform herself to 
renounce Bothell for her husband, and to be con¬ 
tented to suffer a divorce to pass betw ixt them ; she 
hath sent me word that she will in no ways consent 
unto that, but rather die ; grounding herself upon 
this reason, taking herself to be seven w r eeks gone 
with child, by renouncing Bothell she should ac¬ 
knowledge herself to be with child of a bastard, and 
to have forfeited her honour, which she will not do 
to die for it; I have perswaded her, to save her 
own life and her child, to choose the least hard 
condition. 

Mr. Knox arrived here in this town the 6th of this 
month, with whom I have had some conference, and 
with Mr. Craig also, the other minister of this town. 

I have perswaded with them to preach and per- 
swad lenitj\ I find them both very austere in this 
conference ; what they shall do hereafter I know 
not; they are furnished with many arguments, some 
forth of the Scripture, some forth of histories, some 
grounded (as they say) upon the laws of this realm, 
some upon practices used in this realm, and some 
upon the conditions and oath made by their prince 
at her coronation. 

The bishop of Galloway, uncle to the earle of 
Huntley, hath sent hither to these lords, that his 
nephew the earle and some others of that side may, 
at Linlithgow or at Stirling, have some communica¬ 
tion with some appointed on this side, assuring them 
that there is a good disposition in the lords of the 
other party to concurre with these, assuring further 
that they will not dissent for trifles or unnecessary 
things, and (as I am given to understand) they can 
be pleased the queen’s restraint be continued untill 
the murder be pursued in all persons, whereby the 
separation of the queen and Bothell is implyed, the 
preservation of the prince, the security for all men, 
and a good order taken for the governance of the 
realm in tranquillity. 

Captain Clerk, which hath so long served in Den¬ 
mark, and served at Newhaven, did the 16tli of this 
month (accompanyed with one of his soldiers, or 
rather the soldier as the greater fame goeth) kill one 
Wilson a seaman, and such a one as had great esti¬ 
mation with these lords, both for his skill, his 
hardiness, honesty, and willingness in this action; 
whereupon Clerk hath retired himself ; their quar¬ 
rel was about the ship which took Blacketer, which 
ship was appointed by these lords to go to the north 
of Scotland to impeach the passage of the earle 
Bothell, in case he went either to the isles, or to any 


other place; by the death of this man this enter- 
prize was dashed. 

The bishop of Galloway is come to Linlithgow, 
and doth desire to speak with the lord of Lidington. 

The abbot of Kilwinning hath sent for sir James 
Balfour, captain of the castle, to have conference 
with him. 

As I wrote unto your majesty in my last, the 
Hamiltons now find no matter to disever these lords 
and them asunder, but would concurr in all things 
(yea in any extremity against the queen) so as that 
they might be assured the prince of Scotland were 
crouned king, and should die without issue, that 
the earle of Lenox’s son living should not inherit 
the crouri of this realm, as next heir to his nephew. 

And although the lords and councelors speak re¬ 
verently, mildly, and charitably of their queen, so 
as I cannot gather by their speech any intention to 
cruelty or violence, yet I do find by intelligence, 
that the queen is in very great peril of her life, by 
reason that the people assembled at this convention 
do mind vehemently the destruction of her. 

It is a public speech among all the people, and 
amongst all estates (saving of the counselors) that 
their queen hath no more liberty nor privilege to 
commit murder nor adultery, than any other private 
person, neither by God’s laws, nor by the laws of 
the realm. 

The earl of Bothell, and all his adherents and 
associates, be put to the horn by the ordinary justice 
of this town, named the lords of the session ; and 
commandment given to all sherriffs, and all other 
officers, to apprehend him, and all other his follow¬ 
ers and receiptors.—The earl of Bothell’s porter, 
and one of his other servitors of his chamber, being 
apprehended, have confessed such sundry circum¬ 
stances, as it appeareth evidently, that he the said 
earl was one of the principal executors of the mur¬ 
der, in his own person, accompanyed with sundry 
others, of which number I cannot yet certainly learn 
the names but of three of them, that is to say, two 
of the Ormistons of Tivotdall, and one Hayborn of 
Bolton. The lords would be glad that none of the 
murderers should have any favour or receipt in 
England, and hereof their desire is, that the officers 
upon the border may be warned. Bothell doth still 
remain in the north parts, but the lord Seaton and 
Fleming, which have been there, have utterly aban¬ 
doned him, and do repair hitherwards.—The intelli¬ 
gence doth grow daily betwixt these lords, and those 
which held off; and notwithstanding these lords 
have sent an hundred and fifty harqubushers to 
Stirling, to keep the town and passage from surprize; 
and so have they done in like manner to St John¬ 
ston, which be the two passages from the north and 
west to this town. I do understand the captain of 
Dunbar is much busied in fortifying that place ; I 
do mervile the carriages be not impeached otherwise 
than they be. 

Of late this queen hath written a letter to the cap¬ 
tain of the said castle, which hath been surprized; and 



APPENDIX, 

thereby matter is discovered which maketh little to 
the queen’s advantage. 

Thus, having none other matter worthy your ma¬ 
jesty’s knowledge, I beseech God to prosper your 
majesty with long life, perfect health, and prosperous 
felicity. At Edinburgh, the 18th of July 1567. 

Letter of Sir Nicolas T/trokmorton to the Right 

Honourable the Earl of Leicester , Knight of the 

Order , and one of the Lords of her Majesty s Most 

Honourable Privy Council. 

24th of July 1567 ^ deS P atclleS Sent t0 her 

Paper office.. '' majesty, and Mr. Secretary, since the 

J?rom the original. 1 J ’ 

12 th ot July, your lordship might have 
perceived the state of this country, and to what end 
these matters be like to come. So as not to trouble 
your lordship with many words, this queen is like 
very shortly to be deprived of her royal estate, her 
son to be crowned king, and she detained in prison 
within this realm, and the same to be governed in 
the young king’s name, by a councel, consisting of 
certain of the nobility, and other wise men of this 
realm ; so as it is easy to be seen that the power 
and ability to do any thing to the commodity of the 
queen’s majesty, and the realm of England, will 
chiefly, and in manner wholly, rest in the hands of 
these lords, and others their associates, assembled 
at Edinburgh. Now if the queen’s majesty will 
still persist in her former opinion towards the queen 
of Scotland, (unto whom she shall be able to do no 
good,) then I do plainly see that these lords and all 
their accomplices will become as good French as 
the French king can wish, to all intents and pur¬ 
poses. And as for the Hamiltons, the earls of Ar- 
guile, Huntlye, and that faction, they be already so 
far inchanted that way, as there needeth little devise 
to draw them to the French devotion. Then this is 
the state of things so come to pass of this country, 
that France has Scotland now as much conjoined 
unto them, to all purposes, as ever it was ; and what 
an instrument the young prince will prove, to un¬ 
quiet England, I report me to your lordship’s wis¬ 
dom ; and therefore considering the weight of the 
matter, and all the circumstances, I trust your lord- 
ship will well bethink you in time (for ’tis high 
time) how to advise her majesty, to leave nothing 
undone that may bring the prince of Scotland to be 
in her possession, or, at the least, to be at her devo¬ 
tion. And amongst other things that I can imagine, 
for the first degree nothing is more meet to bring 
this to effect, than to allure this company here as¬ 
sembled to bear her majesty their favour. Some 
talk hath passed between the lord of Lidington and 
me, in certain conferences about this matter. By 
him I find, that when her majesty shall have won 
these men to her devotion, the principal point that 
will make them conformable to deliver their prince 
into England, will rest upon the queen, and the 
realm’s enabling him to the succession of the crown 
of England, for fault of issue of the queen’s ma- 


, No. XXII. 263 

jesty’sbody; some other things will also be required, 
as the charge of said prince and his train to be at 
the charge of England. I do well perceive that 
these men will never be brought to deliver their 
prince into England without the former condition, 
for the succession of England; for (saith Lidington) 
that taking place, the prince shall be as dear to the 
people of England as to the people of Scotland ; 
and the one will be as careful of his preservation 
as the other. Otherwise, he saith, all things con¬ 
sidered, it will be reported that the Scottishmen 
have put their prince to be kept in safety, as those 
which commit the sheep to be kept by the wolves. So 
as for conclusion, your lordship may perceive here 
will be the scope of this matter. As unto the de¬ 
livering of him upon hostages, he sayeth, let no man 
think, that the condition of the succession not being 
accomplished, the nobility and the gentry will never 
consent to leave themselves destitute of their sove¬ 
reign upon any hostages, neither upon any promises, 
nor likelihood of good to issue in time to come. It 
were not good for yourselves (saith he) that the 
matter were so handled ; for then you should ad¬ 
venture all your goods in one ship, which might 
have a dangerous effect, considering the unwilling¬ 
ness of the queen your sovereign to consent to 
establishing any successor to the crown. And then, 
how unmete were it, that her majesty having in her 
possession already all such persons as do pretend 
to it, or be inheritable to the crown, to have our 
prince also in her custody. For so there might fol¬ 
low, without good capitulations, a strange and dan¬ 
gerous issue, tho’ the queen your mistress do think 
that such imaginations could not proceed but from 
busy heads, as you have uttered unto us on her 
behalf. What is come to pass since my last des¬ 
patch, and how far forth things are proceeded, I 
refer your lordship to be informed by my letters sent 
unto her majesty at this time. And so I pray Al¬ 
mighty God preserve your lordship in much honour 
and felicity. At Edenburgh, this 24th of July 1567. 

It may please your good lordship to make my 
lord Stuart partner of this letter. 

The Queen to Sir Nicolas Throkmorton. 

By the Queen. 

Trusty and right well-beloved, we 

x ,, t- i 6th Au S- 1567. 

greet you well. For as much as we 

do consider that you have now a long time remain¬ 
ed in those parts without expedition in the charge 
committed unto you, we think it not meet, seeing 
there hath not followed the good acceptation and 
fruit of our well meaning towards that state, which 
good reason would have required that you should 
continue there any longer; our pleasure, therefore, 
is, that you shall, immediately upon the receipt 
hereof, send your servant Middlemore unto the 
lords and estates of that realm, that are assembled 
together, willing him to declare unto them, that it 



‘ 2(34 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


cannot but seem very strange unto us, that you 
having been sent from us, of such good intent, to 
deal with them in matters tending so much to their 
own quiet, and to the benefit of the whole estate of 
their country, they have so far forgotten themselves, 
and so slightly regarded us and our good meaning, 
not only in delaying to hear you, and deferring your 
access to the queen their sovereign, but also, which 
is strangest of all, in not vouchsafing to make any 
answer unto us. And altlio’ these dealings be such, 
indeed, as were not to be looked for at their hands, 
yet do we find their usage and proceeding towards 
their sovereign and queen, to overpass all the rest 
in so strange a degree, as we for our part, and we 
suppose the whole world besides, cannot but think 
them to have therein gone so far beyond the duty of 
subjects, as must needs remain to their perpe¬ 
tual tauche for ever. And therefore ye shall say, 
that we have tho’t good, without consuming any 
longer time in vain, to revoke you to our presence, 
requiring them to grant you licence and passport so 
to do, which when you shall have obtained, we will 
that you make your repair hither unto us, with as 
convenient speed as you may. Given, &c. 

Indorsed 6 th August, 1567. 

Throkmorton to the Right Honourable Sir William 
Cecil, Knight, one of her Majesty's Privy Council 
and Principal Secretary, give these. 

Sir, 

12 th Aug. 1567. What I have learned, since the 

Paper Office. . _ , , „ _ _ 

From the original, arrival of my lord of Murray, and 

Mons. de Linnerol, you shall understand by my 
letter to her majesty, at this time. The French do 
in their negotiations, as they do in their drink, put 
water to their wine. As I am able to see into their 
doings, they take it not greatly to the heart how the 
queen sleep, whether she live or die, whether she 
be at liberty or in prizon. The mark they shoot at 
is, to renew their old league; and can be as well 
contented to take it of this little king, (howsoever 
his title be,) and the same by the order of these 
lords, as otherwise. Lyneroll came but yesterday, 
and methinketh he will not tarry long; you may 
guess how the French will seek to displease these 
lords, when they changed the coming of La Chapelle 
des Oursins for this man, because they doubted that 
de la Chapelle should not be grateful to them, being 
a papist. Sir, to speak more plainly to you than I 
will do otherwise, methinketh the earl of Murray 
will run the course that those men do, and be par¬ 
taker of their fortune. I hear no man speak more 
bitterly against the tragedy, and the players therein, 
than he, so little like he hath to horrible sins. I 
hear an inkling that Ledington is to go into France, 
which I do as much mislike as any thing for our 
purpose. I can assure you the whole protestants 
of France will live and die in these mens quarrels; 
and, where is bruit amongst you, that aid should be 
sent to the adverse party, and that Martigues should 


come hither with some force, Mons. Baudelot hath 
assured me of his honour, that instead of Martigues 
coming against them, he will come with as good a 
force to succour them ; and if that be sent under 
meaner conduct, Robert Stuart shall come with as 
many to fortify them. Rut the constable hath 
assured these lords, that the king meaneth no way 
to ofFend them. Sir, I pray you find my revocation 
convenient, and speed you to further it, for I am 
here now to no purpose, unless it be to kindle these 
lords more against us. Thus I do humbly take 
my leave of you, from Edinburgh, the 12th of 
August 1567. 

Yours to use and command. 

The Queen to Nicolas Throkmorton. 

Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well. 
We have, within these two days, received three 
sundry letters of yours, of the 20th, 22d, and 23d of 
this month, having not before those received any 
seven days before; and do find, by these your letters, 
that you have very diligently and largely advertized 
us of all the hasty and peremptory proceedings 
there ; which as we nothing like, so we trust in time 
to see them wax colder, and to receive some refor¬ 
mation. For we cannot perceive, that they with 
whom you have dealt can answer the doubts moved 
by the Hamiltons, who howsoever they may be 
carried for their private respects, yet those things 
which they move will be allowed by all reasonable 
persons. For if they may not, being noblemen of 
the realm, be suffered to hear the queen their 
sovereign declare her mind concerning the reports 
which are made of her, by such as keep her in 
captivity, how should they believe the reports, or 
obey them which do report it? And therefore our 
meaning is, you shall let the Hamiltons plainly 
understand that we do well allow of their proceed¬ 
ings ; (as far forth as the same doth concern the 
queen their sovereign for her relief;) and in such 
things as shall appear reasonable for us therein to 
do for the queen our sister, we will be ready to 
perform the same. And where it is so required, that 
upon your coming thence the lord Scroope should 
deal with the lord Herds to impart their meanings 
to us, and ours to them, we are well pleased there¬ 
with, and we require you to advertize the lord 
Scroope hereof by your letters, and to will him to 
show himself favourable to them in their actions, 
that may appear plainly to tend to the relief of the 
queen, and maintenance of her authority. And as 
we willed our secretary to write unto you, that, upon 
your message done to the earl of Murray, you might 
return, so our meaning is you shall. And if these 
our letters shall meet you on the way, yet we will 
have you advertize both the lord Scroope and the 
Hamiltons of our meaning. 

Indorsed 29 Aug. 1587. 



APPENDIX, No. XXIII. XXIV. 


265 


No. XXIII. (Page 116.) 

Sir Nicolas Throhmorton to the Archbishop of St. 

Andrew’s and the Abbot of Arbrothe. 

13th Aug. 1567. After my good commendations to 
From'a^copy" y our good lordships, this shall be to 

las'senfto the 00 ” advertize you, that the queen’s majesty 
queen. my sovereign having sent me hither 

her ambassador to the queen her sister your sove¬ 
reign, to communicate unto her such matter as she 
thought meet, considering the good amity and in¬ 
telligence betwixt them, who being detained in 
captivity (as your lordships know) contrary to the 
duty of all good subjects, for the enlargement of 
whose person, and the restitution of her to her dig¬ 
nity, her majesty gave me in charge to treat with 
these lords, assembled at Edenburgh, ottering them 
all reasonable conditions and means as might be, 
for the safeguard of the young prince, the punish¬ 
ment of the late horrible murder, the dissolution of 
the marriage betwixt the queen and the earl of Bod- 
well, and lastly for their own sureties. In the 
negotiation of which matters I have (as your lord- 
ships well know) spent a long time to no purpose, 
not being able to prevail in any thing with those 
lords to the queen my sovereign’s satisfaction. Of 
which strange proceedings towards her majesty, and 
undutiful behaviour towards their sovereign, I have 
advertized the queen’s majesty; she (not being 
minded to bear this indignity) hath given me in 
charge to declare her further pleasure unto them, in 
such sort as they may well perceive her majesty 
doth disallow of their proceedings, and thereupon 
hath revoked me : And further hath given me in 
charge to communicate the same unto your lord- 
ships, requiring you to let me know, before my de¬ 
parture hence (which shall be, God willing, as soon 
as I have received answer from you) what you and 
your confederates will assuredly do to set the queen 
your sovereign at liberty, and to restore her to her 
former dignity by force or otherwise, seeing these 
lords have refused all other mediation, to the end 
the queen’s majesty my sovereign may concur with 
your lordships in this honourable enterprize. 

And in case, through the dispersion of your asso¬ 
ciates, your lordships can neither communicate this 
matter amongst you, nor receive resolution of them 
all by that time, it may please you to send me the 
opinion of so many of you as may confer together, 
within two or three days, so as I may have your 
answer here in this town by Monday or Tuesday 
next at the farthest, being the 19th of this August; 
for I intend (God willing) to depart towards Eng¬ 
land, upon Wednesday following. Thus I most 
humbly take my leave of your lordships at Edeu- 
burgh, the 13th of Aug. 1567. 

Indorsed the 13th of Aug. 1567. 


Sir Nicolas Throhmorton to the Lord Herrys. 

Your good lordship’s letter of the 24th Au „ 1507 
13th of August I have received the 19th Irolmacopx 
of the same. For answer whereunto ^s'sent’toVeae 
itmay like your lordship to understand, tary Cecil# 
that I will signify unto you plainly, how far forth I 
am already thoroughly instructed of the queen’s 
majesty my sovereign’s pleasure concerning the 
detention of the queen your sovereign, and concern¬ 
ing her relief. 

To the first her majesty hath given in charge, to 
use all kinds of persuasion in her name, to move 
these lords assembled at Edenburgh to desist from 
this violent and undutiful behaviour which they use 
towards their sovereign. And in this part, besides 
the show of many reasons, and sundry persuasions 
of amicable treaty with them, her majesty hath will¬ 
ed me to use some plain and severe speech unto 
them, tending so far forth, as if they would not be 
better advised, and reform these their outrageous 
proceedings exercised against their sovereign, that 
then they might be assured her majesty neither 
would nor could endure such an indignity to be 
done to the queen, her good cousin and neighbour. 

And notwithstanding these my proceedings with 
them, they have made proof to be little moved 
thereby ; for as yet neither will they consent to the 
enlargement, neither suffer me to speak with her. 
So as it seemeth to me, it is superfluous to treat any 
more with them after this manner. Whereupon I 
have advertised the queen’s majesty my sovereign, 
expecting daily her majesty’s further order; and as 
I shall be advertised thereof, so will not fail to sig¬ 
nify the same to your good lordship ; and in the 
mean time will advertise her majesty also, what your 
lordship hath written unto me. Thus, with my due 
commendations to your good lordship, I commit the 
same to Almighty God, resting always to do you the 
pleasure and service that I can lawfully. At Eden¬ 
burgh. 

Indorsed 24th of August, 1567. 

No. XXIY. (Page 119.) 

Account of Lord Herries’s behaviour in the Parlia¬ 
ment held December 15, 1567. 

The lord Herrys made a notable p 
harangue in the name of the duke and 
himself, their friends and adherents, (the duke him¬ 
self, the earl of Cassilles, and the abbot of Kilwin¬ 
ning being also present,) to persuade the union of 
the whole realm in one mind. Wherein he did not 
spare to set forth solemnly the great praise that 
part of this nobility did deserve, which in the be¬ 
ginning took meanes for the punishment of the earl 
of Bothwell; as also seeing the queen’s inordinate 
affection to that wicked man, and that she could 
not be induced by their persuasion to leave him, 




THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


2(i0 

that in sequestring her person within Loehleven, 
they did the duty of noblemen. That their honour¬ 
able doings, which had not spared to hazard their 
lives, and to avenge their native country from the 
slanderous reports that were spoken of it among 
other nations, had well deserved that all their breth¬ 
ren should join with them in so good a cause. That 
he and they, in whose names he did speak, would 
willingly, and without any compulsion, enter them¬ 
selves in the same yoke, and put their lives and 
lands in the like hazard, for maintenance of our 
cause. And if the queen herself were in Scotland, 
accompanied with 20,000 men, they will be of the 
same mind, and fight in our quarrel. He hoped 
the remainder noblemen of their party, Huntley, 
Arguile, and others, which had not as yet acknow¬ 
ledged the king, would come to the same conform¬ 
ity, whereunto he would also earnestly move them. 
And if they will remain obstinate, and refuse to 
qualify themselves, then will the duke, he and their 
friends, join with us to correct them that otherwise 
will not reform themselves. So plausible an ora¬ 
tion, and more advantageous for our party, none of 
ourselves could have made. He did not forget to 
term my lord regent by the name of regent, (there 
was no mention at all of the earl of Murray,) and to 
call him grace at every word, when his speeches 
were directed to him, accompanying all his words 
with low courtesies after his manner. 

No. XXY. (Page 125.) 

Queen Mary to Queen Elizabeth. 

Madam, 

Cott. Lib.Cal.i. Although the necessity of my 
babf^a^ransia- cause (which maketh me to importune 
tlon * to you) do make you to judge that I 

am out of the way ; yet such as have not my pas¬ 
sion, nor the respects whereof you are persuaded, 
will think that I do as my cause doth require. 
Madam, I have not accused you, neither in words, 
nor in thought, to have used yourself evil towards 
me. And I believe that you have no want of good 
understanding, to keep you from perswasion against 
your natural good inclination. But in the mean 
time I can’t chuse (having my senses) but perceive 
very evil furtherance in my matters, since my com¬ 
ing hither. I thought that I had sufficiently dis¬ 
coursed unto you the discommodities which this 
delay bringeth unto me ; and especially that they 
think, in this next month of August, to hold a par¬ 
liament against me and all my servants ; and in the 
mean time I am stayed here, and yet will you, that 
I should put myself further into your country, (with¬ 
out seeing you,) and remove me further from mine ; 
and there do me this dishonour at the request of my 
rebels, as to send commissioners to hear them 
against me as you would do to a mere subject, and 
not hear me by mouth. Now, madam, I have pro¬ 


mised you to come to you, and having there made 
my moan and complaint of these rebels, and they 
coming thither, not as possessors, but as subjects to 
answer, I would have besought you to hear my jus¬ 
tification of that which they have falsely set forth 
against me, and if I could not purge myself thereof, 
you might then discharge your hands of my causes, 
and let me go for such as I am. But to do as you 
say, if I were culpable I would be better advised ; 
but being not so, I can’t accept this dishonour at 
their hands, that being in possession they will come 
and accuse me before your commissioners, whereof 
I can’t like : and seeing you think it to be against 
your honour and consignage to do otherwise, I be¬ 
seech you that you will not be mine enemy, untill 
you may see how I can discharge myself every way, 
and to suffer me to go into France, where I have a 
dowry to maintain me ; or at least to go into Scot¬ 
land, with assurance that if there come any stran¬ 
gers thither, I will bind myself for their return 
without any prejudice to you ; or if it pleis you not 
to do thus, I protest that I will not impute it to 
falsehood if I receive strangers in my country with¬ 
out makeing you any other discharge for it. Do 
with my body as you will, the honour or blame shall 
be yours. For I had rather die here, and that my 
faithful servants may be succoured (tho’ you would 
not so) by strangers, than to suffer them to be utterly 
undone, upon hope to receive in time to come par¬ 
ticular commodity. There be many things to move 
me to fear that I shall have to do in this country 
with others than with you. But forasmuch as 
nothing hath followed upon my last moan, I hold 
my peace, happen what may hap. I have as leef 
to e^'ure} m y fortune, as to seek it and not find it. 
Further, it pleased you to give license to my sub¬ 
ject to go and come. This has been refused by my 
lord Scroop and Mr. Knolls (as they say) by your 
commandment, because I would not depart hence 
to your charge, untill I had answer of this letter, 
tlio’ I shewed them, that you required my answer 
upon the two points contained in your letter. 

The one is to let you briefly to understand, I am 
come to you to make my moan to you, the which 
being heard, I would declare unto you mine inno- 
cency, and then require your aid ; and for lack 
thereof, I can’t but make my moan and complaint 
to God, that I am not heard in my just quarrel, and 
to appeal to other princes to have respect thereunto 
as my case requireth ; and to you, madam, first of 
all, when you shall have examined your conscience 

before him, and have him for witness.-And the 

other, which is to come further into your country, 
and not to come to your presence, I will esteem that 
as no favour, but will take it for the contrary, obey¬ 
ing it as a thing forced. In the mean time, I be¬ 
seech you to return to me my lord Herries, for I 
can’t be without him, having none of my counsal 
here, and also to suffer me, if it please you, without 
further delay, to depart hence, whithersoever it be 
out of this country. I am sure you will not deny 




267 


APPENDIX, No. XXVI. XXVII. 


me this simple request for your honour’s sake, seeing 
it doth not please you to use your natural goodness 
towards me otherwise, and seeing that of mine own 
accord I am come hither, let me depart again with 
yours. And if God permit my causes to succeed 
well, I shall be bound to you for it; and happening 
otherwise, yet I can’t blame you. As for lord Flee- 
ming, seeing that upon my credit you have suffered 
him to go home to his house, I warrant you he shall 
pass no further, but shall return when it shall please 
you. In that you trust me, I will not (to die for it) 
deceive you. But from [perhaps/or] Dumbarton I 
answer not, when my 1. Fleeming shall be in the 
tower. For they which are within it will not for¬ 
bear to receive succour, if I don’t assure them of 
yours ; no, tho’ you would charge me withal, for I 
have left them in charge to have more respect to my 
servants and to my estate than to my life. Good 
sister, be of another mind; win the heart, and all 
shall be yours, and at your commandment. I 
thought to satisfy you wholly, if I might have seen 
you. Alas ! do not as the serpent, that stoppeth 
his hearing, for I am no enchanter, but your sister, 
and natural cousin. If Caesar had not disdained to 
hear or read the complaint of an advertiser, he had 
not so died ; why should princes ears be stopped, 
seeing that they are painted so long ? meaning that 
they should hear all and be well advised, before they 
answer. I am not of the nature of the basilisk, and 
less of the chamelion, to turn you to my likeness ; 
and tho’ I should be so dangerous and curs’d as 
men say, you are sufficiently armed with constancy 
and with justice, which I require of God, who give 
you grace to use it well with long and happy life. 
From Carlisle, the 5th of July 1568. 


No. XXVI. (Page 125.) 

Part of a Letter from Sir Francis Knollys to Cecil , 
8th Aug. 1568, from Bolton. 


An original. -But surely the queen doth seem, 

Paper office, outwardly, not only to favour the form, 

but also the chief article, of the religion of the gos¬ 
pel, namely, justification by faith only; and she 
heareth the faults of papistry revealed by preaching 
or otherwise, with contented ears, and with gentle 
and weak replys, and she doth not seem to like the 
worse of religion throw me. 


Part of a Letter from Sir Francis Knollys to Cecil , 
21 st Sept. 1568, from Bolton. 


-It came to this queen’s ears of late that she 

was bruited to be lately turned to the religion of the 
gospell, to the great disliking of the papists herea¬ 
bouts, which thing she herself confessed unto me, 
and yesterday openly in the great chamber, when the 
assembly was full, and some papists present, she 
took occasion to speak of religion, and then openly 


she professed herself to be of the papist religion, and 
took upon her to patronize the same more earnestly 
than she had done a great while afore, altho’ her 
defences and arguments were so weak, that the ef¬ 
fect of her speech was only to shew her zeal; and 
afterwards to me alone, when I misliked to see her 
become so confidently backward in religion. Why, 
said she, would you have me to lose France and 
Spain, and all my friends in other places, by 
seeming to change my religion, and yet I am not 
assured the queen my good sister will be my assur¬ 
ed friend, to the satisfaction of my honour and ex¬ 
pectation. 


No. XXVII. (Page 125.) 

A Letter from my Lord Herries to my Lord Scroop 
and Sir F. Knollys , Sept. 3d, 1568. 

My lords, pleasit your honourable LJb CaJ 
lordships, I am informed by James ,A n original in 

\ J Ins own hand. 

Borthwick, lately come from the 
queen’s majesty your soverane, that is schawin to 
her highness I sliuld have ridden in Crafurdmure, 
sen my last cuming into this realm, upon the earl of 
Murray’s dependants ; and that I suld have causit, 
or been of counsall to Scottismen to have ridden in 
Ingland, to slay or spulzie her majesty’s subjects. 

My lords, I thought it right needful, because your 
lordships is, by your soverane, commanded to at¬ 
tend upon the queen’s majesty my mistress, so hav¬ 
ing daily access in tliir matters, to declare upon the 
truth ; humbly desiring that your lordships will, 
for God’s cause, certificate the queen your soverane 
the same. 

As God lives, I have neither consented, nor any 
wise had knowledge of any Scottisman’s riding in 
England, to do the subjects thereof hurt in bodies 
or goods, sene the siege of Leith ; and as I under¬ 
stand it shall be fund true, that gif ony sic open 
hurt be done, it is by the queen my sovereign’s dis- 
obedients; and that I have not ridden nor hurt no 
Scottisman, nor commanded no hurt to be done to 
them, sen my coming from the queen’s majesty of 
England, it is well kend, for that never ane will 
complain of me. 

I have done more good to Crawfurdmure nor 
ever the earl of Murray has done, and will be 
loather to do them any harm than he will. Except 
the queen’s majesty your sovereign command sic 
false reports to be try it, quhereof this is altogidder 
an inventit leasing, her grace sail be trublit, and 
tyne the hearts of true men here, quhom of sic re¬ 
port sail be made, that baith would serve hir, and 
may, better than they unworthy liars. 

My lords, I understand the queen’s majesty your 
sovereign is not contented of this bruite, that there 
should ony Frenchman come in this realm, with the 
duke of Chattelherault. Truth it is, I am no man¬ 
ner of way the counsall of their cuming, nor has no 
sic certainty thereof as I hear, by Borthwick’s re- 




268 


THE HISTORY 

port, from the queen’s majesty your sovereign. 
And gif I might as well say it, as it is true 
indeed, her grace’s self is all the wyitt, and the 
counsall that will never let her take order with my 
maistress cause. For that our sovereign havand 
her majesty’s promise, be writing, of luff', friendship, 
and assistance, gif need had so requirit, enterit that 
realm upon the 16 day of May ; sen that time the 
queen’s majesty has commanded me diverse times 
to declare she would accept her cause, and do for 
her, and to put her in peaceable possession of this 
realme ; and when I required of her majesty, in my 
maistress name, that her highness would either do 
for her, (as her special trust was she wold,) accord¬ 
ing to her former promises, or otherwise give her 
counsal, wold not consent, (as I show her grace I 
fand diverse repugnant,) then that she would per¬ 
mit her to pass in France, or to some other prince 
to seek support, or failing hereof, (quhilk was 
agains all reason,) that she would permit her to re¬ 
turn in her awin countrie, in sic semple manner as 
she eame out of it, and said to her majesty ane of 
thir, for her honour, would not be refusit, seeand 
that she was corned in her realm upon her writings 
and promises of friendship. And sicklike, I said 
to her highness, gif my maistress had the like pro¬ 
mise of her nobility and estates, as she had of her¬ 
self, I should have reprovit them highly, gif they 
had not condescendit to one of thir three ; and so I 
say, and so I write, that in the world it shall be 
maist reprehendable, gif this promise taketh not 
other good effect nor yet it does. Notwithstanding, 

I get gud answer of thir promises of friendship made 
to my sovereign, and to put her grace in this her 
awin countrie peaceably, we have fund the con¬ 
trary working by Mr. Middlemore directit from 
her highness to stay the army that cuist down 
our houses. And alsua, in the proceeding of this 
late pretendit parliament, promised twenty days be¬ 
fore the time to myself, to have caused it been dis¬ 
charge. And yet contrary to this promise, have they 
made their pretendit manner of forfaulture of 31 men 
of guid reputation, bishops, abbottis, and baronis, 
obedient subjects to our sovereign, only for her cause. 

They have also disponit, sen our sovereign’s 
cause was taken upon hand be the queen’s majesty 
of that realm, an hundred thousand pound Scots 
worth of her awin true subjects geir, under the co¬ 
lour of the law, groundit upon their false, treason¬ 
able, stowin, authority. 

The murders, the oppressions, the burnings, the 
ravishing of women, the destruction of policy, both 
ecclesiastical and temporal, in this mean time, as 
in my former writings I said, it was lamentable to 
ony Christian man to hear of; except God gif grace, 
the profession of the evangile of Jesus Christ pro- 
fessit be your prince, counsall and realme, be mair 
myndit, nor the auld inamity that has stand betwixt 
the realms, many of my countrymen will doubt in 
this article, and their proceedings puttis myself in 
Sanct Thomas belief 


OF SCOTLAND. 

Now, my lords, gif the queen’s majesty of that 
realm, upon quliais promise and honour my mais¬ 
tress came there, as I have said, will leave all the 
French writings, and French phrases ot writings, 
quhilks amongis them is over meikle on baith the 
sides unfit, and plainly, according to the auld true 
custom of Ingland and Scotland, quherein be a word 
promist truth was observ’d, promise, in the name of 
the eternal God, and upon the high honour of that 
nobill and princely blude of the kings of Ingland, 
quhereof she is descendit, and presently wears the 
diadem, that she will put my maistress in her awin 
country, and cause her as queen thereof in her au¬ 
thority and strength to be obeyit, and to do the same 
will appoint an certain day within two months at 
the farthest, as we understand this to be our weil, 
sua will we, or the maist part of us all, follow upon 
it, leaving the Frenchmen, and their evil French 
ph rases togidder. And therefore, and for the true 
perpetual friendship of that realm, will condition, 
and for our part, with the grace of Almighty God, 
keep sic heads and conditions of agreement, as 
noble and wise men can condescend upon, for the 
weill of this hail island. As I have been partlings 
declaring to the queen your sovereign, quhilk I 
shew to your lordships selfis both in religion, in the 
punishment of the earl Bothwile, for the queen’s 
last husband’s slaughter, and for a mutual band of 
amity perpetually to remain amangis us. 

Doubtless, my lords, without that we may find 
sic time and friendly working, as may give us occa¬ 
sion baith to forgette Middlemore and his late pre¬ 
tendit parliament, we will turn the leaf, leaving our 
sovereign agains our will to rest where she is, under 
the promise of friendship, as I have baith said, and 
will ever affirm, made by your sovereign, quhilk 
was only cause of her grace’s coming in that realme, 
and seek the help and moyen of French, or Spanish, 
till expulse this treasonable and false pretendit 
authority, quhilk means to reign above us. 

My lords, I desire your lordships consider, that 
it is he that maist desires the amity betwixt Ingland 
and Scotland to continue, and of a poor man best 
cause has, that writ this. 

My brother, the laird of Skirling, schaws me, that 
in your lordships communing with him, it appearit 
to him your mind was we shold suffer the earl of 
Murray to work, altho’ it were agains reason to us, 
and complain thereof to the queen’s majesty, and 
her highness wald see it reformit. My lords, 
her majesty will be over meikle troublit to reform 
the wranges we have sustainit already. For I am 
sure, gif reason and justice may have place, our 
maistress, and we her subjects, have received ex¬ 
press wrangs far above two hundred thousand pounds 
sterling, in the time of this unhappy government; 
seeing the reformation of sa great causes comes, 
now a days, so slowly, and the ungodly law of ob¬ 
livion in sic matters so meikle practis’d, I think, 
nowther for the queen’s honour, nor our weill, your 
lordships would sua mean, nor that it is good to us 



269 


APPENDIX 

to follow it. And that ye will give your sovereign 
sic advertisement thereof, as your good wisdoms 
shall find in this cause meet. It will be true and 
friendful working for us indeed, and nowther French 
phrases, nor boasting, and finding little other effect, 
that will cause us to hold away the Frenchmen. 
This is plainly written, and I desire your lordships 
plain answer, for in truth and plainness langest 
continues gud friendship, quhilk in this matter I 
pray God may lang continue, and have your lord- 
ships in his keeping. Off Dumfreis, the 3d day of 
September 1568. 

Your lordships at my power 
to command leifully, 

HERRIS. 

Queen Mary to Queen Elizabeth. 

Madame ma bonne soeur. J’ay 

1568. ? J 

Cott. Lib. Cal. i. resceu de vos lettres, d’une mesme 

An original. 

dete ; l’une, ou vous faites mention de 
l’excuse de Mons r . de Murra pour tenir son preten- 
du parlement, qui me semble bien froid, pour ob- 
tenir plus de tollerance que je m’estois persuadee 
n’avoir par vostre promesse, quant a n’osser donner 
commission de venir sans un parlement pour leur 
peu de nombre de noblesse alors, je vous respons, 
qu’ils n’ont que trois ou quatre d’avantage, qui 
eussent aussi bien dit leur opinion hors de parle¬ 
ment, qui n’a este tenu tant pour cette effect, mais 
pour faire ce qu’expressement nous avions requis 
estre empesches, qui est la forfalture de mes sub¬ 
jects pour m’avoir estes fidelles, ce que je m’assu- 
rois, jusques a hier, avoir eu en promesse de vous, 
par la lettre ecrite a mi Lord Scrup e Maistre Kno- 
leis vous induire a ire contre eulx, voire, a les en- 
sayre resentir ; toutefois je vois que je Fay mal 
pris, j’en suis plus marrie, pour ce que sur votre 
lettre qu’il me montrerent, et leur parole, je Fay si 
divulguement assuray que pour vengeance que j’en 
desirasse, si non mettre difference entre leur faux 
deportemens, et les miens sinceres. Dans vostre 
lettre aussi datee du 10 me d’Aoust, vous metties ces 
mots : “ I think your adverse party, upon my sundry 
former advices, will hold no parliament at all; and 
if they do, it shall be only in form of an assembly 
to accord whom to send into this realm, and in what 
sort; for otherwise, if they shall proceed in manner 
of a parliament, with any act of judgment against 
any person, I shall not, in any wise, allow thereof; 
and if they shall be so overseen, then you may think 
the same to be of no other moment than the former 
procedures; and by such their rash manner of pro¬ 
ceeding, they shall most prejudice themselves, and 
be assured to find me ready to condemn them in their 
doings.” Sur quoy, j’ay contremande mes serviteurs, 
les faissant retirer, souffrant selon vostre commande- 
ment d’etre faussement nommes traitres, par ceulx, 
qui le sont de vray ; et encore d’etre provoques par 
escarmons dies, et par prinses de mes gens et lettres, 
et au contraire vousetes informeeque mes subjects 


, No. XXVII. 

out evahis les vostres, Madame, qui a fait ce rapport 
n’est pas homme de bien, car Laird de Sesford et son 
fi Is sont etont estes mes rebelles depuis le commence¬ 
ment; enquires vous, s’ils n’estoient a Donfris ave- 
ques eulx ; j’avois offri respondre de la frontiere, ce 
que me fut refuse, ce que m’en devroit asses deschar- 
ger; neanmoins, pour vous faire preuve de ma fide¬ 
lity, et de leur falsite, s’il vous me fayte donner le 
nom des coulpables, et me fortifier, je commanderay 
mes subjects les pour suivre, ou si vous voules que 
ce soit les vostres, les miens leur ayderont; je vous 
prie m’en mander vostre volonte, au restemes subjects 
fidelles seront responsables a tout ce que leur sera 
mis su les contre vous, ni les vostres, ni les rebelles, 
despuis que me conseillates les faire retirer. Quant 
aux Francois, j’escrivis que l’on me’n fit nulle pour- 
suite, car j’esperois tant en vous, que je n’en au- 
rois besoign,—je ne sceu si le diet aura en mes let¬ 
tres, mais je vous jure devant Dieu que je ne scay 
chose du monde le leur venue, que ce que m’en aves 
manday, ni n’en ai oui de France mot du monde, et 
ne le puis croire pour cest occasion, et si ils si sont, 
e’est sans mon sceu ni consentement. Pourquoy 
je vous supplie ne me condamner sans m’ouire, car 
je suis prest de tenir tout ce que j’ay offert a Mester 
Knoleis, et vous assure que vostre amite, qu’il vous 
plest m’offrir, sera rescue avant toutes les choses du 
monde, quant France servit la pour presser leur re¬ 
tour a ceste condition, que prenies mes affaires en 
mein, en soeur, et bonne ami, comme ma France est 
en vous ; mais une chose seule me rende confuse, 
j’ay tant d’enemies qu’ont votre oreille, la quelle ne 
pouvant avoir par parolle, toutes mes actions vous 
sont desguisees, et falsement raportees, par quoi il 
m’est impossible dem’assurer de vous, pour les man- 
teries qu’on vous a fait, pour destruire vostre bonne 
volonte de moy ; par quoy je desirerois bien avoir ce 
bien vous faire entendre ma sincere et bonne affection, 
laquelle je ne puis si bien descrire, que mes enemis 
a tort ne la decolore. Ma bonne soeur, gagnes moy; 
envoyes moy querir, n’entres en jalousie paur faulx 
raports de celle que ne desire que votre bonne grace ; 
je me remettray sur Mester Knoleis, a qui je me 
suis librement descouverte, et apres vous avoir 
baisee les mains, je prierai Dieu vous donner en 
sante, longue et heureuse vie. De Boton, ou je 
vous promets, je n’espere pertir qu’aveques vostre 
bonne grace, quoyque les menteurs mentent. Ce26 
d’Aoust. 

No. XXVIXI. (Page 126.) 

Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Murray. 

Right trusty and right well-beloved Paper office 
cousin, we greet you well. Where we r/rtS bv°sJcre r * 
hear say, that certain reports are made tary Cecil - 
in sundry parts of Scotland, that whatsoever should 
fall out now upon the hearing of the queen of Scotts 
cause, in any proof to convince or to acquit the said 
queen concerning the horrible murder of her late 




270 


TIIE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


husband our cousin, we have determined to restore 
her to her kingdom and government, we do so much 
mislike hereof, as we cannot indure the same to re¬ 
ceive any credit; and therefore we have thought 
good to assure you, that the same is untruly devised 
by the authors to our dishonour. For as we have 
been always certified from our said sister, both by 
her letters and messages, that she is by no means 
guilty or participant of that murder, which we wish 
to be true, so surely if she should be found justly 
to be guilty thereof as hath been reported of her, 
whereof we would be very sorry, then indeed, it 
should behoove us to consider otherwise of her 
cause than to satisfy her desire in restitution of her 
to the government of that kingdom. And so we 
would have you and all others think, that should 
be disposed to conceive honourably of us and our 
actions. 

Indorsed 20 Sept. 1568. 


No. XXIX. (P. 127.) 

Sir Francis Knollys to Cecil , the 9th of October , 1568, 

from York. 

An orisrinai. My lord’s grace of Norfolk sending 
Paper office. f or me J3 0 lt 0n , to attend upon him 

here Thursday last, I made my repair hither ac¬ 
cordingly, meaning to stay here until Munday next: 
as touching the matters of the commission, that his 
grace and the rest have from her highness, his grace 
hath imparted unto me of all things thereunto ap¬ 
pertaining, and what hath hitherto passed; and 
altlio’ the matters be too weighty for my weak capa¬ 
city, to presume to utter any opinion of mine own 
thereof, yet I see that my lord Herris for his parte 
laboureth a reconciliation, to be had without the 
extremity of odious accusations ; my lord of Leding- 
ton also saith to me, that he could wish these mat¬ 
ters to be ended in dulce maner, so that it might 
be done with safety : Of the rest you can conceive 
by the advertisements and writings sent up by our 
commissioners. 

A Letter from the Bishop of Ross to the Queen of 
Scots, from York, October 1568. 

Cott. Lib. Caiig. Pleis your Majesty I conferred at 
c. i. a copy, w jth A. ane great part of a 

night, who assurit me that he had reasoned with B. 
this Saturday C. on the field, who determinate to 
him that it was the D. determinit purpose not to 
end your cause at this time, but to hold the same in 
suspense, and did what was in her power to make 
the E. pursue extremity, to the effect F. and his 
adherents might utter all they could to your dis¬ 
honour, to the effect to cause you come in disdain 
with the hail subjects of this realm, that ye may be 
the mair unable to attempt any thing to her disad¬ 
vantage. And to this effect is all her intention ; 


and when they have produced all they can against 
you, D. will not appoint the matter instantly, but 
transport you up in the country, and retain you 
there till she think time to show you favour, which 
is not likely to be hastily, because of your uncles 
in France, and the fear she has of yourself to be her 
unfriend. And therefore their counsel is, that ye 
write an writing to the D. meaning that ye are in- 
formit that your subjects which has offendit you— 
This in effect, that your majesty hearing the estate 
of your affairs as they proceed in York, was informed 
that her majesty was informed of you, that you 
could not gudely remit your subjects in such sort 
as they might credit you hereafter, which was a 
great cause of the stay of this controversy to be 
ended. And therefore persuading her D. effectually 
not to trust any who had made such narration. But 
like as ye had rendered you in her hands, as most 
tender to you of any living, so prayither to take na 
opinion of you, but that ye wald use her counsell 
in all your affairs, and wald prefer her friendship 
to all others, as well uncles as others, and assure 
her to keep that thing ye wald promise to your sub¬ 
jects by her advice. And if D. discredit you, ye 
wald be glad to satisfy her in that point be removing 
within her realm in secret and quiet manner, where 
her G. pleased, until the time her G. were fully 
satisfied, and all occasion of discredit removed from 
her ; so that in the mean time your realm were 
holden in quietness, and your true subjects restored 
and maintained in their own estate, and sic other 
things tending to this effect. And affirms that they 
believe that this may be occasion to cause her credit 
you that ye offer so far; and it may come that within 
two or three months she may become better minded 
to your grace, for now she is not well-minded, and will 
not shew you any pleasure for the causes aforsaid. 

N. B. The title of this paper is in Cecil’s hand; 
the following key is added in another hand. 

A. The laird of Letliington. 

B. The duke of Norfolk. 

C. Was the day he rode to Cawood. 

D. The queen of England. 

E. The queen of Scots’ commissioners. 

F. The earl of Murray. 


No. XXX. (Page 130.) 

Deliberation of Secretary Cecil's concerning Scotland , 

Dec. 21 , 1568. 

The best way for England, but not 
the easiest, that the queen of Scots Pdper office ' 
might remain deprived of her crown, and the state 
continue as it is. 

The second way for England profitable, and not 
so hard.—That the queen of Scots might be induced, 
by some perswasions, to agree that her son might 
continue king, because he is crowned, and herself 
to remain also queen ; and that the government of 
the realm might be committed to such persons as 



271 


APPENDIX, No. XXX. 


the queen of England should name, so as for the 
nomination of them it might be ordered, that a con¬ 
venient number of persons of Scotland should be 
first named to the queen of England, indifferently 
for the queen of Scots and for her son ; that is to 
say, the one half by the queen of Scots, and the 
other by the earle of Lennox, and lady Lennox, 
parents to the child ; and out of those, the queen’s 
majesty of England to make choice for all the officers 
of the realm, that are, by the laws of Scotland, dis¬ 
posable by the king or queen of the land. 

That untill this may be done by the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty, the government remain in the hands of the 
earle of Murray as it is, providing he shall not dis¬ 
pose of any offices or perpetuals to continue any 
longer but to these offered of the premises. 

That a parliament be summoned in Scotland by 
several commandments, both of the queen of Scots 
and of the young king. 

—-—That hostages be delivered unto England on 
the young king’s behalf, to the number of twelve 
persons of the earle of Murray’s part, as the queen 
of Scots shall name ; and likewise on the queen’s 
behalf, to the like number as the earle of Murray 
shall name; the same not to be any that have by 
inheritance or office cause to be in this parliament; 
to remain from the beginning of the summons of 
that parliament, untill three months after that par¬ 
liament ; which hostages shall be pledges, that the 
friends of either part shall keep the peace in all 
cases, till by this parliament it be concluded, that 
the ordinance which the queen of England shall 
devise for the government of the realm (being not 
to the hurt of the crown of Scotland, nor contrary 
to the laws of Scotland for any man’s inheritance, 
as the same was before the parliament at Edin r the 
Decem r 1567) shall be established to be kept and 
obeyed, under pain of high treason for the breakers 
thereof. 

-That by the same parliament also be estab¬ 
lished all executions and judgments given against 
any person for the death of the late king. 

-That by the same parliament, a remission be 

made universally from the queen of Scots to any 
her contrarys, and also from every one subject to 
another, saving that restitution be made of lands 
and houses, and all other things heritable, that have 
been by either side taken from them which were the 
owners thereof at the committing of the queen of 
Scots to Lochleven. 

That by the same parliament it be declared who 
shall be successors to the crown next after the q. of 
Scots and her issue ; or else, that such right as the 
d. of Chattelherault had at the marriage of the q. of 
Scots with the lord Darn ley, may be conserved and 
not prejudiced. 

That the q. of Scots may have leave of the 
queen’s majesty of England, twelve months after 
the said parliament, and that she shall not depart 
out of England, without special licence of the 
queen’s majesty. 


That the young king shall be nourished and 
brought up in England till he be years of age. 

It is to be considered, that in this cause the com¬ 
position between the queen and her subjects may be 
made with certain articles, outwardly to be seen to 
the world for her honour, as though all the parts 
should come of her, and yet for the surety of con¬ 
trarys, that certain betwixt her and the queen’s 
majesty are to be concluded. 

No. XXXI. (Page 131.) 

The Queen to Sir Francis Knolleys, 22 January 

1568-9. 

We greet you well; We mean not, 

p a p er office 

at this point, by any writing, to renew 
that which it hath pleased God to make grievous to 
us and sorryful to yow ; but forbearing the same as 
unmeet at this point, having occasion to command 
yow in our service, and yow also whilest yow are to 
serve us, we require yow to consider of this that 
followeth, with like consideration and diligence as 
hitherto yow have accustomate in our servise. At 
the time of our last letters written to yow the four¬ 
teenth of this month for removing of the queen of 
Scots, we had understanding out of Scotland of 
certain writings sent by her from thence into Scot¬ 
land, amongst the which one is found to contain 
great and manifest untruths touching us and others 
also, as shall and may plainly appear unto yow by 
the copy of the same, which likewise we send yow, 
and because at the same time we were advertised, 
that it should be shortly proclaimed in Scotland, 
though then it was not, we thought good first to 
remove the queen, before we would disclose the 
same, and then expect the issue thereof; and now, 
this day, by letters from our cousin of Hunsdon we 
are ascertained, that since that time the same matters 
contained in the writing are published in divers 
parts of Scotland, whereupon we have thought it 
very meet, for the discharge of our honor, and to 
confound the falsehood contained in that writting, 
not only to have the same reproved by open procla¬ 
mation upon our frontiers, the coppy whereof we do 
herewith send yow, but also in convenient sort to 
charge that queen therewith, so as she may be moved 
to declare the authors thereof, and persuaders of her 
to write in such slanderous sort such untruths of us; 
and in the mean season, we have here stayed her 
commissioners, knowing no other whom we may 
more probably presume to be parties hereunto than 
they, untill the queen shall name some other, and 
acquit them ; who being generally charged, without 
expressing to them any particularity, do use all 
manner of speeches to discharge themselves; where¬ 
fore our pleasure is, that ye shall, after ye have well 
perused the coppy of this writting sent to yow, 
speedily declare unto her, that we have good under¬ 
standing given us of diverse letters and writtings 
sent by her into Scotland, signed by her own hand. 






THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


272 

amongst which one such writting is sent with her 
commandment, expressly as now it is already pub¬ 
lished, as we are much troubled in mind that a 
princess as she is, having a cause in our hands so 
implicated with difficultys and calamitys, should 
either conceave in her own mind, or allow r of them 
that should devise such false, untrue, and improba¬ 
ble matters against us and our honor, and specially 
to have the aventure to have the same, being known 
so untrue, to be published ; and you shall also say, 
because we will not think so ill of her as that it 
should proceed of herself, but rather she hath been 
counselled thereunto, or by abuse made to think 
some part thereof to be true, w e require her, even as 
she may look for any favour at our hands, that she 
will disburden herself as much as truly she may 
herein, and name them which have been the authors 
and perswaders thereof, and so she shall make as 
great amends to us as the case may require. After 
you have thus far proceeded, and had some answer 
of her, whether she shall deny the writing abso¬ 
lutely, or name any that have been the advisers 
thereof, you shall say unto her that we have stayed 
her commissioners here, untill we may have some 
answer hereof, because we cannot but impute to 
them some part of this evil dealing, untill by her 
answer the authors may be known. And as soon as 
you can have direct answers from her, we pray you 
to return us the same; for as the case standeth, we 
cannot but be much disquieted with it, having our 
honour so deeply touched contrary to any intention 
in us, and for any thing we know in our judgment, 
the earl of Murray and others named in the same 
writting, void of thought for the matters to them 
therein imputed. Y r ou may impart to the queen of 
Scots either the contents of the slanderous letter, or 
shew her the copy to read it, and you may also im¬ 
part this matter to the lord Scroop, to join with you 
there as you shall think meet. 

Sir Francis Knolleys to Queen Elizabeth, from 
Wetherby, the 2 St/i January 1568. 

An original. - 1 will supress my own grielfs, 

Paper othce. an( j p ass them over with silence, for 

the present learning of your majesty.—And for 
this queen’s answer to the coppic of her supposed 
letter sent unto Scotland, I must add this unto my 
brother’s letter, sent unto Mr. Secretary yesternight 
late ; in process of time she did not deny but that 
the first lines contained in the same coppie was 
agreeable to a letter that she had sent unto Scotland, 
which touched my lord of Murray’s promise to de¬ 
liver her son into your majesty’s hands, and to avoid 
that the same should not be done without her con¬ 
sent, made her, she saith, to write in that behalf: 
she saith also that she w r rote that they should cause 
a proclamation to be made to stir her people to de¬ 
fend my lord of Murray’s intent and purpose for 
delivering of her said son, and impunge his rebel¬ 
lious government, as she termed it; but she utterly 


denyeth to have w ritten any of the other slanderous 
parts of the said letter touching your majesty: she 
said also, that she suspected that a Frenchman, now 
in Scotland, might be the author of some Scotch 
letters devised in her name,but she would not allow 
me to w rite this for any part of her answer. 

No. XXXII. (Page 133.) 

Sir Nicolas Throlwiorton to the Right Honourable 
the Lord of Liddington. 

Your letter of the 3rd of July, I 20t h 0 f July i 5 C 9 . 
have received the 15th of the same. * romt he original. 

For answer whereunto you shall understand, that 
friends here to my lord regent and you do wish such 
a concurrence in all doings, as in matter and cir¬ 
cumstances there arise no dissension, or at the least, 
no more nor other than the difference of countries 
doth necessarily require. We here do think con¬ 
venient that as few delays be used as may be, for 
the consummation of the matter in hand, which 
principally to advance your allowance, prosecu¬ 
tion, and speedy promotion in Scotland, is most 
requisite; for you are so wise, and well acquainted 
with the state of the w orld, and with all our hu¬ 
mours, as you know that some do allow and dis¬ 
allow for reason, some for respect of multitude, 
some for respect of persons, and so the cause is 
to go forward as men do like to set it forward. 
Aou are not to seek that some will use cautions, 
some neutrality, some delays, and some will plainly 
impunge it. And yet all and every of these sorts 
will alter their doings, when they shall see the 
regent and his favourers accord w ith the best and 
greatest part there, and agree with the wisest and 
strongest party here. Tho’ the matter has taken its 
beginning here, upon deep and weighty considera¬ 
tions, for the weil of both the princes and their 
realms, as well presently as in time to come, yet it 
is thought most expedient that the regent, and realm 
of Scotland, by you, should propose the matter to 
the queen our sovereign, if you like to use conve¬ 
nience, good order, or be disposed to leave but a 
scar, and no wound of the hurts past. I would be 
glad that this my letter should come to your hands 
before the convention, whereat it seems your queen’s 
restoration and marriage to the duke of Norfolk 
shall be propounded, either to wynne in them both 
allowance or rejection. To wdiicli proceedings, be¬ 
cause you pray me to write frankly, I say and reason 
thus : Metliinketh you use a preposterous order to 
demand the consent of such persons, in such mat¬ 
ters, as their minds to a good end hath neither been 
felt or prepared, and therefore there must needs 
follow either a universal refusal, or factious division 
amongst you, whereby a bloustering intelligence 
must needs come to queen Elizabeth of the intended 
marriage from thence, which ought to have been 
secretly and advisedly propounded unto her high- 




273 


APPENDIX 

ness ; hereby you see then the meaning is, by this 
dealing, her majesty shall be made inexorable, and 
so bring the matter to such passe, as this which 
should have wrought surety, quietness, and a stay 
to both queens and their realms, shall augment your 
calamity, and throw us your best friends into divorce 
with you, and into unhappy division amongst our¬ 
selves ; for you may not conjecture that the matter 
is now in deliberation, but expecteth good occasion 
for executing. Sure I am you do not judge so slen¬ 
derly of the managing of this matter, as to think 
we have not cast the worst, or to enter therein so far 
without the assistance of the nobility, the ablest, the 
wisest, and the mightiest of this realm, except queen 
Elizabeth, from whom it hath been concealed, until 
you, as the fittest minister, might propound it to her, 
on the behalf of the regent and the nobility of Scot¬ 
land. How far master Woddes defamations do carry 
them of queen Elizabeth's affections, and master 
Secretary's, to assist the regent and to suppress the 
queen of Scotts, I know not, nor it is not material ; 
but I do assuredly think, that her majesty will pre¬ 
fer her surety, the tranquillity of her reign, and the 
conservation of her people, before any device, which 
may proceed from vain discourse, or imperfections 
of passions and inconsiderate affections. And as 
for Mr. Secretary, you are not to learn that as he 
liketh not to go too fast afore, so he coveteth not to 
tarry too far behind, and specially when the reliques 
be of no great value or power. If I could as well 
assure you of his magnanimity, and constancy, as 
of his present conformity, I would say confidently, 
you may repose as well of him in this matter, as of 
the duke of Norfolk, the earls of Arundel, Pem¬ 
broke, Leicester, Bedford, Shrewsbury, and the rest 
of the nobility ; all which do embrace and proteste 
the accomplishment of this case. I have, according 
to your advice, written presently to my lord regent, 
with the same zeal and care of his well-doing that I 
owe to him, whom I love and honour. Mr. Secretary 
hath assured unto him the queen of Scotland’s fa¬ 
vour and good opinion, wherewith he seemeth to be 
well satisfy'd. If your credit be as I trust, hasten 
your coming hither, for it is very necessary that you 
were here presently. Q. Elizabeth both doth write 
to my lord regent in such sort, as he may perceive 
Mr. Wood’s discourses of her majesty’s affection to 
be vain, and Mr. Secretary otherwise bent than he 
conjectureth of him, the effect of which her ma¬ 
jesty’s letter you shall understand by my lord 
Leicester’s letter unto you at this dispatch. At the 
court, 20th July 1569. 

No. XXXIII. (Page 134.) 

Part of a Letter from the Earl of Murray to L. B. 

(probably Lord Burleigh.) 

a -Because I see that great ad- 

Hail. Lib. 37 . vantage is taken on small occasions, 

K. 9. to. 43. ° 

and that the mention of the marriage 


No. XXXIII. 

betwixt the queen my sovereign’s mother, and the 
d. of Norfolk, hath this while past been very fre¬ 
quent in both the realms, and then I myself to be 
spoken of as a motioner, which I perceive is at the 
last come to her majesty's ears ; I will, for satisfac¬ 
tion of her highness, and the discharge of my duty 
towards her majesty, manifest unto you my interest 
and medling in that matter, from the very beginning, 
knowing whatsoever is prejudicial to her highness, 
cannot but be hurtful to the king my sovereign, this 
his realm, and me. What conferences was betwixt 
the duke of Norfolk, and any of them that were 
with me within the realm of England, I am not able 
to declare ; but I am no wise forgetful of any thing 
that passed betwixt him and me, either at that time, 
or since. And to the end her majesty may under¬ 
stand how I have been dealt with in this matter, I 
am compelled to touch some circumstances, before 
there was any mention of her marriage. In York, 
at the meeting of all the commissioners, I found 

very-and neutral dealing with the duke, and 

others her highness's commissioners, in the begin¬ 
ning of the cause, as in the making of the others to 
proceed sincerely, and so furtli. During which 
time, I entered into general speech, sticking at our 
just defence in the matters that were objected against 
us by the said queen’s commissioners, looking cer¬ 
tainly for no other thing, but summary cognition in 
the cause of controversy, with a linal declaration to 
have followed. Upon a certain day the lord Lithing- 
ton, secretary, rode with the duke to Howard. 
What purpose they had I cannot say, but that night 
Lithington returning, and entring into conferrence 
with me upon the state of our action, I was advised 
by him to pass to the duke, and require familiar 
conferrence, by the which I might have some feeling 
to what issue our matters would tend. According 
to which advice, having gotten time and place con¬ 
venient in the gallery of the house where the duke 
was lodged, after renewing of our first acquaintance 
made at Berwick, the time before the assize of 
Leith, and some speeches passed betwixt us, he 
began to say to me, how he in England had favour 
and credit, and I in Scotland had will and friend¬ 
ship of many; it was to be tho't there could be 
none more fit instruments to travel for the continu¬ 
ance of the amity betwixt the realms, than we two. 
And so that discourse upon the present state of both 
and how I was entered in that action tending so far 
to the queen’s dishonour, I was willed by him to 
consider how matters stood in this, what honour I 
had received of the queen, and what inconveniences 
her defamation in the matters laid to her charge 
might breed to her posterity. Her respect was not 
little to the crown of England, there was but one 
heir. The Hamiltons, my unfriends, had the next 
respect; and that I should esteem the issue of her 
body would be the more affectionate to me and mine, 
than any other that could attain to that crown. And 
so it should be meetest, that she affirmed her dis¬ 
mission made in Lochlevin, and we to abstract the 





THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


letters of her liand-write, that she should not be de¬ 
famed in England. My reply to that was, how the 
matter had passed in parliament, and the letters 
seen of many, so that the abstracting of the same 
could not then secure her to any purpose, and yet 
should we, in that doing, bring the ignominy upon 
us ; affirming it would not be fair for us.that way to 
proceed, seeing the queen’s majesty of England was 
not made privy to the matter as she ought to be, in 
respect we were purposely come in England for that 
end, and for the — of the grants of our cause. The 
duke’s answer was, he would take in hand to handle 
matters well enough at the court. After this, on the 
occasion of certain articles that were required to he 
resolved on before we entered on the declaration of 
the very ground of our action, we came up to the 
court; where some new commissioners were adjoin¬ 
ed to the former, and the hearing of the matter or¬ 
dained to be in the parliament-house at West¬ 
minster, in presence of which commissioners of the 

said queen, and-- through the-rebuking of 

the queen of England’s own commissioners, we ut¬ 
tered the whole of the action, and produced such 
evidences, letters, and probations, as we had, which 
might move the queen’s majesty to think well of 
our cause. Whereupon expecting her highness’ 
declaration, and seeing no great likelihood of the 
same to be suddenly given, but daily motions then 
made to come to an accord with the said queen, 
our matters in hand in Scotland, in the mean season, 
standing in hazard and danger, we were put to the 
uttermost point of our wit, to imagine wliereunto 
the matters would tend, tho’ albeit we had left 
nothing undone for justification of our causes, 
yet appeared no end, but continual motions made 
to come to some accord with the queen, and restore 
her to whole or half reign. I had no other answer 
to give them, but that I should neither do against 
conscience or honour in that matter. Notwith¬ 
standing, seeing this my plain answer wrought 
no end nor dispatch to us, and that I was in¬ 
formed that the duke began to mislike of me, and 
to speak of me, as that I had reported of the said 

queen irreverently, calling her-[probably 

adulterer ] and murderer, I was advised to pass 
to him, and give him good words, and to purge my¬ 
self of the things objected to me, that I should not 
open the sudden entry of his evil grace, nor have 

him to our enemy-considering his greatness. 

It being therewithal whispered and shewed to me, 
that if I departed, he standing discontented and not 
satisfied, I might peradventure find such trouble in 
my way, as my throat might be cut before I came 
to Berrick. And therefore, since it might well 
enough appear to her marriage, I should not put 
him in utter despair, that my good will could not 
be had therein. So, few days before my departing, 
I came to the park in Hampton court, where the 
duke and I met together, and there I declared unto 
him that it was come to my ears, how some misre- 
port should be made of me to him, as that I should 


speak irreverently and rashly of the said queen 
my sovereign’s mother, such words as before ex¬ 
pressed, that he might-[probably suspect .] 

thereby my affection to be so alienate from her, as 
that I could not love her, nor be content of her pre¬ 
ferment ; howbeit he might persuade himself ol the 
contrary, for as she once was the person in the 
world that I loved best, having that honour to be so 
near unto her, and having received such advance¬ 
ment and honour by her, I was not so ungrate or so 
unnatural ever to wish her body harm, or to speak 
of her as was untruly reported of me, (howsoever 
the truth was in the self); and as the preservation 
of her son, now my sovereign, had moved me to en¬ 
ter into this cause, and that her own pressing was 
the occasion of that was uttered to her-[pro¬ 

bably dishonour ] whensoever God should move her 
heart to repent of her bypast behaviour and life, 
and after her known repentance that she should be 
separate from that ungodly and unlawful marriage 
that she was entered in, and then after were joined 
with such a godly and honourable personage as 
were affectioned to the true religion, and whom we 
might trust, I could find in my heart to love her, 
and to shew her as great pleasure, favour, and good 
will, as ever I did in my life , and in case he should 
be that personage, there was none whom I could 

better like of; the queen-in-of England 

being made privy to the matter, and she allowing 
thereof; which being done, I should labour in all 
things that I could to her honour and pleasure, that 
were not prejudicial to the king my sovereign’s 
estate, and prayed him not to think otherwise of me, 
for my affection was rather buried and hidden within 
me, awaiting until God should direct her to know 
herself, than utterly alienated and abstracted from 
her; which he seemed to accept in very good part, 
saying, Earl of Murray, thou thinks of me that thing, 
whereunto I will make none in England or Scotland 
privy, and thou hast Norfolk’s life in thy hands. 
So departing, I came to my lodging; and by the 
way, and all night, I was in continual thought and 
agitation of mind how to behave myself in that 
weighty matter, first imagining whereunto this 
should tend, if it were attempted without the queen’s 
majesty of England’s knowledge and good will, this 
realm, and I myself in particular, having received 
such favour and comfort at her highness’s hands, 
and this whole isle such peace and quietness, since 
God possessed her majesty with her crown. And 
on the other part, seeing the duke had disclosed him 
to me, protesting, none other were or should be 
privy to our speech, I tho’t I could not find in my 
heart to utter any thing that might endanger him : 
moved to the uttermost with these cogitations, and 
all desire of sleep then removed, I prayed God to 
send me some good relief and outgate, to my dis¬ 
charge, and satisfaction of my troubled mind, which 
I found indeed ; for upon the morn, or within a day 
or two thereafter, I entered in conversation with my 
lord of Leicester, in his chamber at the court, where 











275 


APPENDIX, No. XXXIV. 


lie began to find strange with me, that in the mat¬ 
ter I made so difficult to him, standing so precisely 
on the conference, and how when I had in my 

communication with the duke come so far-and 

there he made some discourse with me, about that 
which was talke betwixt us. I perceiving that 
the duke had-[probably disclosed] the mat¬ 

ter to my lord of Leicester, and thinking me 
thereby discharged at the duke’s hands, therefore I 
repeated the same communication in every point to 
my lord of Leicester, who desired me to show the 
same to the queen’s majesty, which I refused to do, 
willing him, if he tho’t it might import her highness 

any thing, that he as one-by her majesty, and 

for many benefits received at her highness’s hands, 
is obliged to wish her well, should make declara¬ 
tion of the same to her majesty, as I understand by 
some speech of her highness to me, he did. This 
my declaration to the duke was the only cause that 
staid the violence and trouble prepared for me un¬ 
executed, as I have divers ways understood. The 
same declaration I was obliged to renew since in 

writing of-sent to my servant John Wood. 

The sum whereof, I trust, he shewed the duke, and 
something also I wrote to himself, for it was tho’t 
this should redeem some time, that the duke should 
not suddenly declare him our enemy, for his great¬ 
ness was oft laid before me, and what friendship he 
had of the chief of the nobility in England, so that 
it might appear to the queen’s majesty of England 

-so cold tow ards us, and doing nothing publicly 

that might seem favourable for us, we had some cause 
to suspect that her highness should not be contrari- 
ous to the marriage when it should be proposed to her. 
The sharp message sent by her majesty with the lord 
Boyd, who had the like commission from the duke 
tending so far to the said queen’s preferment, as it 
w'ere proposing one manner of conditions from both, 
gave us to think that her highness had been foreseen 
in the duke’s design, and that she might be induced 
to allow thereof. But howbeit it was devised in 
England, that the lord of Lethington should come as 
from me, and break the matter to her highness, as 
her majesty in a letter declared that she looked for 
his coming, yet that devise proceeded never of 
me, nor the noblemen at the convention could no 
wise accord to his sending, nor allow of the matter 
motioned, but altogether misliked it, as bringing 
with it the same great inconveniences to the surety 
and quietness of this whole isle ; for our proceed¬ 
ings have declared our misliking and disallowance 
of the purpose from the beginning, and if we had 
pleased he was ready for the journey. And in 
likewise it was devised to give consent that the 

-[probably divorce] between the said queen 

and Bothwell, should be suffered to proceed in this 
realm, as it was desired by the said lord Boyd, by 
reason we could not understand what w as the queen’s 

majesty’s pleasure and allowance in that behalf- 

and whereas ye mean, that her highness was not 

made privy of any such intention, the fault was not 

T 2 


in me. The first motion being declared, as I have 
written to my lord of Leicester, and by him imparted 
to her majesty, so far as I could perceive by some 
speech of her highness’s to me, before my departing. 
Thus I have plainly declared how I have been 
dealt withal for this marriage, and how just ne¬ 
cessity moved me not to require directly that which 

the duke appeared so-unto. And for my 

threatenings to assent to the same, I have expressed 
the manner ; the persons that laid the matter before 
me were of my own company. But the duke since 
hath spoken, that it was his writing which saved 
my life at that time. In conclusion, 1 pray you 
persuade her majesty, that she let no speeches nor 
any other thing passed and objected to my preju¬ 
dice, move her majesty to alter her favour towards 
me, or any ways to doubt of my assured constancy 
towards her highness ; for in any thing which may 
tend to her honour and surety, I will, while I live, 
bestow myself, and all that will do for me, notwith¬ 
standing my hazard or danger, as proof shall de¬ 
clare, w hen her majesty finds time to employ me. 


No. XXXIY. (Page 137.) 

William Maitland of Ledington to my lord of Leices¬ 
ter, March 20th , 1570, from Ledington. 


An original. 


The great desolation threatened to 
this whole realm, be the divisions 
thereof in dangerous factions, doth press me to 
frame my letters to your lordship in other sort than 
were behovefull for me, if I had no other respect 
but only to maintain my private credit; therefore I 
am driven to furnish them with matter, which I 
know not to be plausible, whereupon, by miscon¬ 
struing my meaning, some there may take occasion 
of offence, thinking that I rather utter my own pas¬ 
sions, than go about to inform your lordship truly 
of the state ; but I trust my plain dealing shall bear 
record to the sincerity of my meaning. To make 
the same sensible, I will lay before your lordship’s 
eyes the plat of this country ; which first is divided 
into two factions, the one pretending the mainten¬ 
ance of the king’s reign, the other alledging the 
queen to have been cruelly dealt withall, and un- 
j ustly deprived of her state : the former is composed 
of a good number of nobility, gentlemen, and prin¬ 
cipal burroughs of the realme, who shall have, as 
Mr. Randolph beareth us in hand, the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty your sovereign’s allowance and protection; the 
other hath in it some most principall of the nobility, 
and therewithall, good numbers of the inferior sort, 
throughout the whole realm, which also look assur¬ 
edly that all kings do allow their quarrel, and will 
aid them accordingly. What consequence this di¬ 
vision will draw after it, I leave it to your lordship’s 
consideration. There is fallen out another division 
accidentally, by my lord regent’s death, which is 
like to change the state of the other two factions, to 
increase the one, and diminish the other, which is 











270 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


grounded upon the regiment of the realm. Some 
number of noblemen aspire to the government, pre¬ 
tending right thereto by reason of the queen s de- 
mission of the crown, and her commission granted 
at that time for the regiment during the king’s 
minority; another faction doth altogether repine 
against that division, thinking it neither fit nor tole¬ 
rable that three or four of the meanest sort amongst 
the earls, shall presume to challenge to themselves 
a rule over the whole realme, the next of the blood, 
the first in rank, the greatest alvvay both for the an¬ 
tientry of their houses, degree, and forces, being 
negleckted ; this order they think preposterous, 
that the meaner sort shall be placed in public func¬ 
tion to command, and the greater shall continue as 
private men to obey. Besides that, they think if 
the commission had in the beginning been valew- 
able, (which the most part will not grant,) yet can it 
not be extended to the present; for that the condi¬ 
tions thereunto annexed are ceased, and so the effect 
of the whole void : The latter part of this division 
hath many pretences; for besides the queen’s faction, 
which is wholly on that side, a great number of these 
that have heretofore professed the king’s obedience, 
do favour the same, and will not yield to the govern¬ 
ment of the others, whose preferment for respects 
they mislike, when the queen’s faction shall be in¬ 
creased with a part of the king’s, and these not of least 
substance, and yow may judge what is like to ensue. 
Another incident is like to move men to enter in fur¬ 
ther discourses; it is given out here in Scotland that 
the queen’s majesty is setting forth some forces to¬ 
wards the border, which shall enter this realm, to 
countenance these that aspire to the regiment, and 
suppress the contrary faction, and bruits are spread, 
that the same shall be here out of hand. These that 
think themselves of equal force with their contrary 
faction at home, or rather an overmatch to them, yet 
not able to encounter with the forces of another 
prince, rather than yield to their inferiors, will, I fear, 
take advice of necessity, and evill councillors, and 
seek also the maintenance of some foreign prince, 
whereby her majesty (altho’ no further inconvenient 
were to be feared) must be given to excessive charges; 
and it would appear there were a conspiracy of all 
the elements at one time to set us together by the ears, 
for now, when the rumour of your forces coming 
towards the border is spread abroad, even at the 
same time is arrived at Dumbarton a galzeon, with 
a messenger sent expressly from the king of France, 
to that part of the nobility that favours the queen, 
to learn the state of the country, and what support 
they lack or desire, either for furtherance of her 
affairs, or for their own safety ; assuredly this mes¬ 
sage will be well received, and suffered accordingly. 
This is the present state of Scotland. Now, if your 
lordship would also know my opinion, how to 
choice the best, as the case standeth, I will in that 
also satisfie your lordship. I am required from them 
to deal plainly, and your lordship shall judge 
wither I do so or not; for I think it plain dealing. 


when I simply utter my judgment, and go not about 
to disguise my intents. I trust the queen’s majesty 
hath a desire to retain at her devotion the realme of 
Scotland, which she hath gone about to purchase, 
with bestowing great charges, and the loss of some 
of her people : this desire is honourable for her 
highness, profitable for both the countreys, and of 
none to be disallowed; specially if it be (as I take 
it) to have the amity of the whole realm, for it is 
not a portion of Scotland can serve her turn, nor will 
it prove commodious for her to suit the friendship 
of a faction of Scotland, for in so doing, in gaining 
the best, she may lose the more, and the same would 
bring all her actions with us in suspicion, if she 
should go about to nourish factions amongst us, 
which meaning I am sure never entered into her 
majesty’s heart. Then if it be the friendship of the 
whole she doth demand, let her not, for pleasure of 
one part, go about to overthrow the remnant, which 
will not be so faisable as some may give her to un¬ 
derstand ; but rather, by way of treaty, let her go 
about to pacify the whole state, bring the parties to 
an accord, reduce us all by good means to an uni¬ 
formity, so shall she give us all occasion to think 
well of her doings, that she tendeth our wealth, and 
provokes us universally to wish unto her majesty a 
most prosperous continuance; by the contrary, if, 
for the pleasure of a few, she will send forces to 
suppress these whom they mislike, and so conse¬ 
quently offend many, men be not so faint-hearted, 
but they have courage to provide for their own 
safety, and not only will embrace the means partly 
offered, but will also procure further at the hand of 
other princes. This for mine own part, I do abhor, 
and protest I desire never to see forces of strangers 
to set foot within this land ; yet I know not what 
point necessity may drive men into, as if men in the 
middle of the sea were in a ship, which suddenly 
should be set on fire, the fear of burning would 
make them leap into the sea, and soon after the fear 
of the watter would drive them to cleive again to 
the fired ship, so for avoiding present evil, men will 
many times be inforced to have recourse to another 
no less dangerous. Trust me, forces will not bring 
forth any good fruit to her majesty’s behove ; it 
must be some way of treaty shall serve the turn, 
wherein by my former letters your lordship doth know 
already what is my judgement. You see how plainly 
I do w'rite, w ithout consideration in what part my 
letters may be taken, yet my hope is that such as 
w ill favourably interpret them, shall think that I 
mean as well to her majesty and that realme, as 
these that will utter other language. I w ish the 
continuance of the amity betwixt the two countrys, 
without other respect, and will not conceal from her 
majesty any thing, to my knowledge, tending to the 
prejudice thereof; if I shall perceave her majesty 
taking frank dealings in evil part, I shall from thence¬ 
forth forbear; in the mean season, I will not cease 
to trowble your lordship, as I shall have occasion to 
write, and so I take my leave of your lordship. 




277 


APPENDIX, No. XXXV. 


No. XXXV. (Page 138.) 

Letter of Queen Elizabeth to the Earle of Susseks, 

July 2d, 1570. 

Caiderw. Right trusty and well beloved cousin, 

™?; 2 H pS: we £ reet y° u wel1 - This da y we have 
received your letters of 28th the last 
month, with all other letters sent from Scotland, and 
mentioned in your letters, whereunto answer is de¬ 
sired to be given before the tenth of this month ; 
which is a very short time, the weightiness of the 
matters, and the distance of the places considered ; 
nevertheless we have, as the shortness could suffer 
it, resolved to give this answer following, which we 
w ill that yow, by warrand hereof, shall cause to be 
given in our name to the earl of Lennox and the 
rest of the noblemen conveend with him. Where 
it is by them in their letters and writings alledg’d, 
that for lack of our resolute answer concerning the 
establishing of the regiment of the realm under their 
young king, great inconveniences have happened, 
and therefore they have deferred now at their last 
convention to determine at the samine, who shall 
havetheplaceof governour, untilthe21st thismonth, 
before which time they require to have our advise, 
in what person or persons the government of that 
realm shall be established, we accept very thank¬ 
fully the good-will and reputation they have of us, 
in yielding so frankly to require and follow our 
advise in a matter that toucheth the state of their 
king, theirselves, and realm so near, wherein as we 
perceive that by our former forbearing to intermed¬ 
dle therein they have taken some discomfort, as 
though that we would not have regard to their state 
and suerty, so on the other part, they of their wis¬ 
doms ought to think that it might be by the whole 
world evil interpreted in us to appoint them a form 
of government, or a governor by name ; for that 
howsoever we should mean well if we should do so, 
yet it could not be without some jealousy in the 
heads of the estate, nobility, and community of that 
realm, that the government thereof should be by me 
specially named and ordained ; so as finding diffi¬ 
culty on both parts, and yetmisliking most that they 
should take any discomfort by our forbearing to 
show our mind therein, we have thought in this sort 
for to proceed, considering with ourselves how now 
that realm had been a good space of time ruled in 
the name of their king, and by reason of his base 
age, governed heretofore by a very careful and ho¬ 
nourable person, the earle of Murray, until that by 
a mischievous person (an evil example) he was 
murdered, whereby great disorder and confusion of 
necessity had, and will more follow, if determina¬ 
tion be not made of some other speciall person, or 
persons, to take the charge of governour, or superior 
ruler speciall for administration of law and justice, 
we cannot but very well al!ow r the desire of these 


lords to have some speciall governour to be chosen; 
and therefore being well assured, that their own 
understanding of all others is best to consider the 
state of that realm, and to discern the abilities and 
qualities of every person meet and capable for such 
a charge, we shall better satisfie ourselves whom 
they by their common consent shall first choose and 
appoint to that purpose, than of any to be by us 
aforehand uncertainly named; and that because 
they shall perceave that we have care of the person 
of their king, who by nearness of blood, and in re¬ 
spect to his so young years, ought to be very tender 
and dear to us, we shall not hide our opinion from 
them, but if they shall all accord to name his grand¬ 
father, our cousin, the earl of Lennox, to be governor 
alone, or jointly with others, (w hom we hear to be 
in the mean time by their common consent appointed 
lieutenant-general,) reason moveth us to think that 
none can be chosen in that whole realm, that shall 
more desire the preservation of the king, and be 
more meet to have the government for his safety, 
being next to him in blood of any nobleman of that 
realm, or elsewhere ; and yet hereby we do not mean 
to prescribe to them this choice, except they shall 
of themselves fully and freely allow thereof. Fur¬ 
thermore we would have them well assured, that 
whatsoever reports of devises are or shall be spread 
or invented, that we have already yielded our mind 
to alter the state of the king or government of that 
realm, the same are without just cause or ground 
by us given ; for as we have already advertized 
them, that although we have yielded to hear, which 
in honour we could not refuse, what the queen of 
Scots on her part shall say and offer, not only for 
her own assurance, but for the wealth of that realm; 
yet not knowing what the same will be that shall 
be offered, we mean not to break the order of law 
and justice, by advancing her cause, or prejudging 
her contrary, before we shall deliberately and as¬ 
suredly see, upon the hearing of the whole, some 
place necessary, and just cause to do; and there¬ 
fore finding that realm ruled by a king, and the 
same affirmed by laws of that realm, and thereof 
invested by coronation and other solemnities used 
and requisite, and generally so received by the 
whole estates, we mean not, by yielding to hear the 
complaints or informations of the queen against her 
son, to do any act whereby to make conclusion of 
governments, but as we have found it, so to suffer 
the same to continue, yea not to suffer it to be 
altered by any means that we may impeshe, as to 
our honour it doth belong, as by your late actions 
hath manifestly appeared, until by some justice and 
clear cause we shall be directly induced otherwise 
to declare our opinion ; and this we would have 
them to know to be our determination and course 
that we mean to hold, whereon we trust they for 
their king may see how plainly and honourably we 
mean to proceed, and how little cause they have to 
doubt of us, whatsoever to the contrary they have 
or shall hear ; and on the other part, we pray them 




278 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


of their wisdoms to think how unhonourable, and 
contrary to all human order it w ere for us, when the 
queen of Scotland doth so many ways require to 
hear her cause, and doth offer to he ordered by us 
in the same, as well for matters betwixt ourselves 
and her, as betwixt herself and her son and his 
party of that realm, against which offers no reason 
could move us to refuse to give ear, that we should 
aforehand openly and directly, before the causes 
be heard and considered as it were, give ajudgment 
or sentence either for ourselves or for them whom 
she maketli to be her contraries. Finally ye shall 
admonish them, that they do not, by misconceiving 
our good meaning towards them, or by indirect 
assertions of their adversary, grounded on untruths, 
hinder or weaken their own cause, in such sort, that 
our good meaning towards them shall not take such 
effect towards them, as they shall desire, or them¬ 
selves have need of. All this our answer ye shall 
cause be given them, and let them know, that for 
the shortness of time, this being the end of the 
second of this month, we neither could make any 
longer declaration of our mind, nor yet write any 
several letters, as if time might have served we 
would have done. 2d July 1570. 

No. XXXYI. (Page 139.) 

The Bishop of Boss to Secretary Lidington, from 

Chattisworth. 

T have received your letters dated 

15th June, 1570. , , J 

the 26th of May, here, at Chattisw orth, 
the 10th of January, but on the receipt thereof I 
had written to you at length, like as the queen did 
with my lord Levingston, by which you will be re¬ 
solved of many points contained in your said letter. 
I writ to you that I received your letter and credit 
from Tho s . Cowy at London, and sent to Leicester 
to know the queen of England's mind, whether you 
should come here or not. He sent me word that she 
will no ways have you come as one of the commis¬ 
sioners, because she is yet offended with you ; and 
therefore it appears good that ye come not hither, 
but remain where you are, to use your wisdom and 
diligence as may best advance the queen’s affairs, 
for I perceive your weill and safety depends there¬ 
on, in respect to the great feid and ennimity born 
against you by your Scots people, and the great 
heirship taken of your father’s landis; both were 
sure demonstrations of their malice. Yet I am 
encouraged by your stout and deliberate mind. 
Assure yourself no diligence shall be omitted to 
procure supports forth off all parts where it may be 
had. We will not refuse the aid neither of papist, 
Jew, nor Gentil, after my advice; and to this end, 
during this treaty, let all things be well prepared. 
And seeing my lord Seaton is desirous to go into 
Flanders, the queen thinks it very necessary that he 
so do, for the duke D’Alva has gotten express com¬ 
mand of the king of Spain to give support, and I 


am sure that there he shall have aid both of Flan¬ 
ders and the pope, for it abides only on the coming 
of some men of countenance, to procure and receive 
the same. He must needs tarry there, on the pre¬ 
parations thereof, during the treaty, which will be 
a great furtherance to the same here. The queen 
has already written to the duke D’Alva for this 
effect, advertizing of his coming: there is certain 
sums of money coming for support of the English¬ 
men, as I wrote to you before, from the pope. 
Whereupon I would he had a general commission 
to deal for them, and receive such sums as shall be 
given. The means shall be found to cause you be 
ensuerit of the sums you writ for, to be disposit 
upon the furnishing of the castle of Edinburgh, so 
being some honest and true man were sent to Flan¬ 
ders to receive it, as said is, which I would you pre¬ 
pared and sent. Orders shall be taken for the metals 
as you writ of. We have proponit your avyce in 
entring to treat with the queen of England, for re¬ 
tiring of her forces puntyoally for lack of aid. 
Your answers to the Englishmen are tho’t very good, 
but above all keep you weill out of their hands, in 
that case, estote prudentes sicut serpentes. You 
may take experience with the hard dealing with 
me, how ye would be used if ye w ere here, and yet 
I am not forth of danger, being in media nationis 
pravae ; alway no fear, with God’s grace, shall make 
me shrink from her majesty’s service. Since the 
queen of England has refused that you come here, 
it appears to me quod nondum est sedata malitia 
amorreorum, &c. and therefore if Athol or Cathenes 
might by any means be procured to come, they were 
the most fit for the purpose ; Rothes were also meet, 
if he and I were not both of one sirname ; so the 
treaty would get the less credit either in Scotland 
or here. Therefore avys, and send the best may 
serve the turn, and fail not Robert Melvii come with 
them, whoever comes, for so is the queen’s pleasure. 
In my last packet, with James Fogo, to you, in 
the beginning of May, I sent a letter of the queen’s 
own handwriting to him, which I trust ye received. 
I am sorry ye come not for the great relief I hoped 
to have had by your presence, for you could well 
have handled the queen of England, after her 
humour, as you were wont to do. The rest I refer 
to your good wisdom, praying God to send you 
health. From Chattisworth the 15th of January. 

No. XXXVII. (Page 144.) 

The declaration of John Cais to the Lords of Grange 

and Lethington zoungare , upon the 8/A day of Oct. 

1571. 

Whereas you desire to know the queen’s ma¬ 
jesty’s pleasure, what she will do for appeasing of 
these controversies, and therewith has offered your¬ 
selves to be at her commandment, touching the 
common tranquillity of the whole isle, and the amity 
of both realms ; her pleasure is in this behalf, that 



279 


APPENDIX, No. XXXVIII XXXIX. 


ye should leave oft' the maintenance of this civil 
discord, and give your obedience to the king, whom 
she will maintain to the utmost of her power. 

And in this doing, she will deal with the regent 
and the king's party to receive you into favour, upon 
reasonable conditions for security of life and livings. 

Also she says, that the queen of Scotts, for that 
she has practised with the pope and other princes, 
and also with her own subjects in England, great 
and dangerous treasons against the state of her own 
country, and also to the destruction of her own 
person, that she shall never bear authority, nor have 
liberty while she lives. 

If ye refuse these gentle offers now offered unto 
you, she will presently aid the king’s party, with 
men, ammunition, and all necessary things, to be 
had against you. 

Whereupon her majesty requires your answer 
with speed, without any delay. 

No. XXXVIII. (Page 147.) 

Articles sent by Knox to the General Assembly , 
August 5th, 1572. 

Caiderw. ms. Fi rst, desiring a new act to be made 

tlistory, vol. ii. „ ... . 

356. ratifying all things concerning the 

king and his obedience that were enacted of before 

without any change, and that the ministers who 

have contravened the former acts be corrected as 

accordeth. 

That sute be made to the regent’s grace, and no¬ 
bility maintaining the king’s cause, that whatsoever 
proceedetli in this treaty of peace, they be mindful 
the kirk be not prejudg’d thereby, in any sort, and 
they especially of the ministers that have been rob¬ 
bed of their possessions within the kirk during the 
time of the troubles, or otherwise dung and injured, 
may be restored. 

To sute at the regent, that no gift of any bishop- 
rick or other benefice be given to any person, con¬ 
trary to the tenor of the acts made in the time of 
the first regent of good memory, and they that are 
given contrar the said acts, or to any unqualified 
person, may be revoked and made null be an act of 
secret council; and that all bishopricks so vacand 
may be presented, and qualified persons nominat 
thereunto, within a year after the vaking thereof, 
according to the order taken in Leith be the com¬ 
missioners of the nobility and of the kirk in the 
month of January last, and in special to complain 
upon the giving of bishoprick of Ross to the lord 
Methven. 

That no pensions of benefices, great or small, be 
given be simple donation of any lord regent, with¬ 
out consent of the possessor of the said benefices, 
having tittle thereto, and the admission of the super- 
intendant or commissioners of the province where 
this benefice lyeth, or of the bishops lawfully elect¬ 
ed according to the said order taken at Leith ; and 
desire an act of council to be made thereupon, until 


the next parliament, wherein the samine may be 
specially enacted, with inhibition to the lords of 
session to give any letters, or decreets, upon such 
simple gifts of benefices or pensions not being given 
in manner above rehearsed, and that the kirk pre¬ 
sently assembled declare all such gifts null, so far 
as lyeth in their power. 

That the first form of presentation to benefices, 
which were in the first and second regent’s time, be 
not chang’d as now it is commonly ; but that this 
clause be contained in the presentation, that if the 
person presented make not residence, or be slan¬ 
derous, or found unworthy either in life or doctrine 
be the judgment of the kirk, (to which alwise he 
shall be subject,) or meet to be transported to an¬ 
other room at the sight of the kirk, the said pre¬ 
sentation and all that shall fall thereupon shall be 
null and of no force nor effect; and this to have 
place also in the nomination of the bishops. 

That an act be made in this assembly, that all 
things done in prejudice of the kirk’s assumption 
of the third, either by papists or others, by giving 
of fews, liferents, or taks, or any otherwise disponing 
the said assumed thirds, be declared null, with a 
solemn protestation the whole kirk dissenteth thereto. 

That an act be made decerning and ordaining all 
bishops, admitted to the order of the kirk now re¬ 
ceived, to give account of their whole rents, and 
intromissions therewith, once in the year, as the 
kirk shall appoint, for such causes as the kirk may 
easily consider the same to be most expedient and 
necessar. 

Anent the jurisdiction of the kirk, that the same 
be determined in this assembly, because this article 
hath long been postponed, to make sute to the 
regent and council for remedy against messengers 
and excommunicate persons. 

Last, That orders be taken anent the procurers of 
the kirk, who procure against ministers and minis¬ 
try, and for sutting of justice of the kirk’s actions 
in the session. 

No. XXXIX. (Page 149.) 

Declaration of Henry Killigreive. Esq. upon the peace 

concluded the 2'3rd Feb. 1572. 

Be it known to all men, by these presents, that I 
Henry Killigrewe, Esq. ambassador for the queen’s 
majesty of England, Forasmuch as, at the earnest 
motion and solicitation being made to me, on her 
highness’s behalf, there is accord and pacification 
of the public troubles and civil war within this 
realm of Scotland agreed and concluded, and 
the same favourably extended towards the right 
honourable George earl of Huntley, lord Gordon 
and Baidzenoch, and the lord John Hamilton, son 
of the duke’s grace of Chastellarault, and commen- 
datour of the abby of Abirbrothock, for the surety of 
the lives, livings, honours, and goods of them, their 



280 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


kinfolks, friends, servants, and partakers, now pro¬ 
perly depending on them ; in treating of the which 
said pacification, the murders ol the late eail of 
Murray, uncle, and the earl of Levenax, grandfather, 
late regent to the king’s majesty of Scotland his 
realm and lieges, as also an article touching the 
discharge for the fructis or moveable goods which 
the said persons have taken fra persons professing 
the king’s obedience, before the damages done or 
committed by them, since the 15th of Junij 1567, 
and before the penult day of July last by passed, 
by reason of the common cause or any thing depend¬ 
ing thereupon, being thought by the king’s commis¬ 
saries matteris of such wecht and importance, as 
the king’s present regent could not conveniently, of 
himself, remit or discharge the same; yet in respect 
of the necessity of the present pacification, and for 
the weil of the king, and common quietness of this 
realm and lieges, it is accorded, that the matters of 
remission of the said murderers, and of the dis¬ 
charge of the said fructis, moveable goods, and 
other damages, be moved by the persons desiring 
the said remissions and discharge to the queen’s 
majesty my sovereign, as to the princess nearest both 
in blood and habitation to the king of Scots. And 
whatsoever her majesty shall advise and counsel 
touching the said remission and discharge, the said 
lord regent, for the weil of the king and universal 
quietness of the realm of Scotland, shall perform, 
observe, and fulfil the same. And in likewise, the 
said earl Huntly, and Commendatour of Abirbro- 
thock, being urged to have delivered pledges and 
hostages for observation of the conditions of the 
said accord and pacification, hath required me in 
place thereof, in her majesty’s name, by virtue of 
my commission, to promise for them, that they shall 
truly and faithfully observe and keep the said pa¬ 
cification, and all articles and conditions thereof, 
for their parts, and that it would please her majesty 
to interpose herself, as surety and cautioner for them 
to that effect, to the king’s majesty of Scotland their 
sovereign and his said regent, which I have done 
and promise to do, by virtue of her majesty’s com¬ 
mission, as by the honourable and plain dealing of 
the said earl and lord, their intention to peace well 
appears, the same being most agreeable to the mind 
of the queen’s majesty my sovereign, which so long 
by her ministers hath travelled for the said pacifi¬ 
cation, and in the end, at her motion and solicitation 
the same is accorded. Knowing her majesty’s godly 
desire that the same may continue unviolate, and 
that the noblemen and others now returning to the 
king’s obedience shall have sufficient surety for 
their lives, livings, honours, and goods; Therefore 
in her majesty’s name, and by virtue of my commis¬ 
sion, I promise to the aforesaid earl Huntley and 
commendatour of Abirbrothock, that by her ma¬ 
jesty’s good means the said remission and discharge 
shall be purchased and obtained to them, their 
kinfolks, friends, servants, and partakers, now pro¬ 
perly depending upon them, (the persons specified 


in the first abstinence always excepted,) as also 
that the said pacification shall be truly observed to 

them, and that her majesty shall interpose herself 
as conservatrix thereof, and endeavour herself to 
cause the same to be truly and sincerely kept in all 
points and articles thereof accordingly. In witness 
whereof I have to this present subscribed with my 
hand, and sealed the same with mine own seal the 
13th day of Feb. Anno Domini 1572. And this to 
be performed by me, betwixt the date hereof and 
the parliament which shall be appointed for their 
restitution, or at the furthest before the end of the 
said parliament. Sic subscribitur. 

The Bishop of Glasgow's Note concerning the Queen 
of Scotland's dowry. 

The queen of Scotland, dowager of 15?6 
France, had for her dowry, besides 
other possessions, the dukedom of 
Turene, which was solemnly contracted and given 
to her by the king and estates of parliament; which 
dukedom she possessed peacefully till 1576, and 

then, upon the pacification betwixt the king and 
mons. his brother, to augment Avhose appenage this 
dutchy was given, to which the queen of Scotland 
yielded upon account of princes who were her near 
relations, provided the equivalent which was pro¬ 
mised her should be faithfully performed. So that 
year, after a great many solicitations, in lieu of that 
dutchy, she had granted her the county of Verman- 
daise, with the lands and bailiwicks of Seuley and 
Yetry; tho’ ’tis known that country and the other 
lands were not of equal value w ith Turene, but was 
promised to have an addition of lands in the neigh¬ 
bourhood to an equal value. Upon this letters 
patent were granted, which were confirmed in the 
courts of parliament, chamber of accompts, court of 
aids, chamber of the treasury, and others necessary : 
upon which she entered into possession of that 
county, &c. Afterwards, by a valuation of the com¬ 
missioners of the chamber of accompts, it was found 
that the revenue of that county, &c. did not amount 
to those of Turene by 3000 livres. But instead of 
making up this deficiency according to justice, some 
of the privy-council, viz. M. de Cheverny, the pre¬ 
sidents of Bellievre, Nicocholay, and St. Bonet, in 
the name of the king, notw ithstanding of her afore¬ 
said losses, did sell and alienate the lands of Sen¬ 
ds, and the dutchy of Estaimpes, to Madame de 
Montpensier, from w hom the king received money ; 
of which sale the counsellors aforesaid obliged 
themselves to be guarantees, which hath hindered 
the aforesaid queen to have justice done her. So 
that Madam de Montpensier hath been put in pos¬ 
session of these lands of Senlis, contrary to all the 
declaration, protestation, and assurances of the king 
of France to queen Mary’s ambassadors. So that 
the queen of Scotland is dispossessed of her dowry, 
contrary to all equity, without any regard to her 
quality. 



APPENDIX, No. XL. 


No. XL. (Page 150.) 

A Letter from the Lord of Lochlevin to the Regent 

Mortoun . 

3 d March 1577 . please your grace, I received 

Archivist Bund. 3' 0ur grace’s letter, and has considered 
the same. The parson of Camsey was 
here at me before the receit thereof, directed fra 
my lord of Mar, and the master, anent my last w rit¬ 
ten, which was the answer of the writing that the 
master sent to me, which I send to your grace, de¬ 
siring me to come to Stirling to confer with them. 
I had given my answer before the receit of your 
grace’s letter, that I behuiffit to be besyd Sanct 
Androis, at ane friend’s tryst, which I might not 
omit; I understand by my said cousin, that the 
king’s majesty is to write to divers of the nobility to 
come there, anent your lordship’s trial, and that he 
had written before his departing to my lord Mon- 
throis. I understand likewise, he will write to your 
grace to come there for the same effect, which I 
tho’t good to make your grace foreseen of the same, 
praying your grace, for the love of God Almighty, 
to look upon the best, and not to sleep in security, 
but to turn you with unfeigned heart to God, and 
to consider with yourself, that when the king’s ma¬ 
jesty was very young, God made him the instru¬ 
ment to divest his mother from her authority, who 
was natural princess, for offending of his divine 
Majesty, and that there ran no vice in her, but that 
the same is as largely in you, except that your 
grace condescended not to the destruction of your 
wife. For as to harlotry and ambition, I think your 
grace has as far offended God, and far more in ava- 
ritiousness ; which vycis God never left unplagued, 
except speedy repentance, which I pray God grant 
to your grace, for otherwise your grace can ne> er 
have the love of God nor man. I pray your grace 
flatter not yourself: for if your grace believes that 
ye have the good-will of them that are the king’s 
good-willers, ye deceive yourself; for surely I see 
perfectly that your own particulars are not content¬ 
ed, lat be the rest, and that most principally for 
your hard dealing. I pray your grace, bear with 
me that I am thus hamlie, for certainly it proceeds 
from no grudge, but from the very affection of my 
heart towards your grace, which has continued since 
we were acquainted. And now I see, because the 
matter stands in your grace’s handling with the 
king’s majesty, for certainly if your grace fall forth 
with him now, I see not how ye shall meet hereafter; 
pray I your grace to call to God, and look on the 
best, and cast from your grace both your vices, to 
w it, ambition and avaritiousness. I am riding this 
day to Sanct Androis, and trust to return on Wed¬ 
nesday at the farthest. If your grace w ill command 
me in any offices that are honest, that I may do your 
grace pleasure in at Stirling, advertise of your 


281 

grace’s mind, and shall do to my power and know¬ 
ledge, and this with my heartlie, &c. &c. 

To our Trusty Cousin the Lord Lochleven. 

Trusty cousin, after our most hearty From the original, 
commendations, we received your let- Archives. rt ° n S 
ter of the 3d of March, and as we take Bund> B> No> 31 * 
your plainness therein in good part, as proceeding 
from a friend and kinsman, in whose good affection 
towards us we never doubted, so ye may not think 
it strange that we purge ourselves so far of your ac¬ 
cusation, as in conscience we find not ourselves to 
have offended in. As touching our offence to God, 
we intend not to excuse it, but to submit us to his 
mercy : for ambition surely we think none can just¬ 
ly accuse us ; for in our private estate we could 
and can live as well contented, as any of our degree 
in Scotland, without further aspiring. The bearing 
too the charge of the government of the realm, in¬ 
deed, mon lead us, or any other that shall occupy 
that place, not simply to respect ourself, but his 
majesty’s rowme, which we supply, and therein not 
transcending the bounds of measure, as we trust it 
shall not be found we have done, it ought not to be 
attributed to any ambition in us. For as soon as 
ever his majesty shall think himself ready and able 
for his own government, none shall more willingly 
agree and advance the same nor I, since I think 
never to set my face against him, whose honour, 
safety, and preservation has been so dear unto me ; 
nor I will never believe to find otherwise at his hand 
than favour, although all the unfriends I have in the 
earth were about him, to persuade him to the con¬ 
trary. As we write unto you, our friendly dealing 
and confidence in the house of Mar is not thankfully 
acquit; as we trust yourself considers; but be¬ 
cause the ambassadors of England, my lord of An¬ 
gus, the chancellor, treasurer, and some noblemen 
rides w est this day to see the king, we pray you 
heartily address yourself to be there as soon as ye 
can, and as ye shall find the likelihood of all things, 
let us be advertised thereof with your own advice, 
by Alex r . Hay, whom we have thought good to send 
west, seeing my lord of Angus from Stirling rides to 
Douglas. And so we commit you in the protection 
of God. At Holyroodhouse, the 4th of March, 1577. 

For the avaritiousness laid to our charge, indeed 
it lies not in us so liberally to deal the king’s geare, 
as to satisfy all cravers, nor never shall any sove¬ 
reign and native-born prince, let be any officer, 
eschew the disdains of such as thinks them judges 
to their own reward ; in many cases I doubt not to 
find the assistance of my friends, but where my ac¬ 
tions shall appear unhonest, I will not crave their 
assistance, but let me bear my own burthen. 



282 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


No. XLI. (Page 158.) 

Letter of Walsingham s to Randolph , 
February 3, 1580-1. 

Cott Lib. Caiig. Sir, — I have received from my lord¬ 
ed lieutenant the copy of your letter of 

the 25th of the last directed unto his lordship, con¬ 
taining a report of your negotiation with the king 
and his council, in your second audience, wherewith 
having made her majesty acquainted, she seemed 
somewhat to mislike that you should so long defer 
to deal for the enlargement of Empedocles. But I 
made answer in your behalf, that I thought you were 
directed by the advice of the said Empedocles’ 
friends , in the soliciting of that cause, who knew 
what time was fittest for you to take to deal therein, 
with most effect, and best success ; with which an¬ 
swer her majesty did in the end rest very well satis¬ 
fied, touching that point. 

Your putting of us in hope that D’Aubigney might 
easily be won at her majesty’s devotion, was at first 
interpreted to have been ironie spoke by you. But 
since it seemeth you insist upon it, I could wish you 
were otherwise persuaded of the man, or at least 
kept that opinion to yourself; for considering the 
end and purpose of his coming into Scotland, as 
may be many ways sufficiently proved, was only to 
advance the queen’s liberty, and reception into that 
government, to overthrow religion, and to procure 
a foreign match with Villenarius, wherein the in¬ 
closed copy, which you may use to good purpose 
there, shall partly give you some light; there is no 
man here can be persuaded that he will change his 
purpose for so small advantage as he is likely to 
find by it, and therefore you shall do well to forbear 
to harp any more upon that string, as I have already 
written to you. The Prince of Orange sending, I 
fear will not be in time that it may do any good; 
for besides that these people are in themselves slow 
in their resolutions, their own affairs are, at present, 
so great, their state so confused, and the prince’s 
authority so small, that he cannot so soon take order 
in it; and yet, for mine own part, I have not been 
negligent or careless in the matter, having more 
than three weeks past sent one about it, from whom 
nevertheless I do yet hear nothing. The letters you 
desire should be written thither by the French mi¬ 
nisters, I have given order to Mr. Killingrew to pro¬ 
cure, who, I doubt not, will carefully perform it, so 
that, I hope, I shall have them to send you by the 
next. And so I commit you to God. At Whitehall, 
the 3d of February 1580. 

A r our very loving cousin and servant, 

Fra. Walsingham. 


This letter is an original , and in some parts of it wrote 
in cyphers and explained by another hand. By 
Empedocles is understood Morton. By Villena- 
7'ius, the king of Scots. D'Aubigney is marked 
thus o_ 1 -o. 


3d Feb. 1580. 

Sundry notes gathered upon good diligence given , and 
in time to be better manifested , being now thought 
meet to be in convenient sort used ami laid against 
D’ Aubigney , to prove him abusing the king , the 
nobility , and that state. 

First, it hath been informed by ere- Cott Lib c ,. g> 
dible means, that D’Aubigney was Anongi- 
privy and acquainted with La Nave 
the king’s mother’s secretary, coming into Scotland, 
and of his errand there, tending chiefly to persuade 
the king to think and esteem it an evil president for 
princes that subjects might have power to deprive 
their lawful sovereigns, as they did his mother, 
who was not minded, by any mean, to defeat him, 
either of the present government of that realm, or 
yet of the possession of the crown and inheritance 
thereof, but rather to assure the same to him : and 
that for the accomplishment of that assurance, the 
king should have been advised and drawn to have 
governed, for some short time, as prince, calling 
D’Aubigney to rule as governor of the prince, by 
commission from the queen his mother, until the 
king’s enemies were suppressed ; after which time 
D’Aubigney should have power given to establish 
and resign that kingdom to the king, by his mother’s 
voluntary consent, whereby all such as had before 
been in action against the queen or her authority, 
might be brought to stand in the king’s mercy. And 
for that the king might live in more surety, D’Au¬ 
bigney should be declared both second person in 
succession of that crown, and also lieutenant-gene¬ 
ral of Scotland, and that D’Aubigney, before his 
departure out of France, received commission from 
the king’s mother to the effects remembered, or near 
the same. That in this behalf he had conference 
with the bishops of Glasgow and Ross, and with sir 
James Baford, with which persons, and with the 
duke of Guise, he had and hath frequent intelli¬ 
gence; and by sir James Baford he was advised to 
confer with the lord John Hamilton before his re¬ 
pair into Scotland, whereunto he agreed, and yet 
afterwards he sent one John Hamilton to the said 
lord John to excuse him in this part, alledging that 
he did forbear to come to him, lest thereby he should 
mar or hinder greater effects to be executed by him 
in Scotland. 

That before his coming into that realm, the nobi¬ 
lity and country were well quieted and united in 
good concord, with great love betwixt the king 
and nobility, and amongst the noblesse, but he 
hath both drawn the king against sundry of the 
chiefest of his nobility, that have been most ready, 
and have expended their blood and possessions to 
preserve religion, and defend the king’s person, his 
government and estate, and also hath given occasion 
of great suspicions and offence to be engendered 
betwixt the king and his nobility, and especially 




.APPENDIX 

with such as have been in action against the king’s 
mother, and her authority, who by force and means 
ot the said commission and practice, should have 
been brought into most dangerous condition ; and 
who also may find themselves in no small perill 
while he possesses the king’s ear, abuseth his pre¬ 
sence, and holdeth such of the principal keys and 
ports of this realm, as he presently enjoyeth. 

That he hath drawn the king not only to forget 
the great benefits done to him and his realm, by 
the queen’s majesty of England, but also to requite 
the same with sundry signs of great unthankfulness, 
and wounding therewith the honour of her majesty, 
and thereby hath adventured to shake the happy 
amity long time continued betwixt those princes. 

And whereas these griefs were to be repaired by 
gentle letter and good offers, to have passed and 
been done betwixt them ; in which respect the king 
and council having resolved to write to her majesty, 
for her highness’ better satisfaction in the late ne¬ 
gotiation of Mr. Alexander Hume of North-Ber- 
wick, had given order to the king’s secretary to 
frame that letter : He minding to break the bond of 
amity in sunder, w illed the secretary to be sure that 
nothing should be inserted in that letter whereby 
the king should crave any thing at her hands, seek¬ 
ing thereby to cut off all loving courtesies betwixt 
them, as by the declaration of the said secretary may 
be better learned, und thereupon further approved. 

That under the hope and encouragement of D’Au- 
bigney’s protection, Alexander King presumed 
with that boldness to make his lewd harangue, and 
by his means hath hitherto escaped chastisement 
and correction due for his offence. 

That sir James Baford, condemned of the slaugh¬ 
ter of the king’s father, hath been called into the 
realm by Lennox, without the privity of the king, 
and whereas the said sir James found in a green 
velvet desk, late the earl of Bothwell’s, and saw 
and had in his hands the principal band of the con¬ 
spirators in that murder, and can best declare and 
witness who were authors and executors of the same; 
he is drawn by Lennox to suppress the truth, and 
to accuse such as he himself knoweth to be inno¬ 
cent ; and as by order of law will be so found, if 
they may have due trial, which, contrary to all jus¬ 
tice, is by Lennox means denied. 

This is the charge against D’ Aubigncy, mentioned 
in the foregoing letter by Walsingham ; but by Ba¬ 
ford they mean Sir James Balfour. 

No. XLII. (Page 162.) 

The copy of the King of France his directions sent to 

Scotland with Seigneur de la Motte Fenelon. 

Translated out of the French. 

First, on their majestys’ most chris- 

Calderw. MS. . ’ , ,, , , , 

History, voi. 3. tian part, he shall make the most ho- 

p. 208. 1 

nourable salutation and visiting to the 


, No. XLII. 283 

most serene king of Scotland, their good brother 
and little son, that in him is possible. 

To give him their letters that are closed, such and 
such like as they have written to him with their 
hands, and to show expressly the perfect friendship 
and singular affection that their majestys bear to 
him, and to bring back the answer. 

To take heed to the things which touch near the 
most serene king, to the effect that his person may 
be in no danger, but that it may be most surely 
preserved. 

And that he be not hindered in the honest liberty 
that he ought to have, and that no greater or straiter 
guards be about him than he had before. 

And such like, that he be not impeached in the 
authority that God hath given to him of king and 
prince sovereign above his subjects, to the effect he 
may as freely ordain and command in his affairs, 
and in the affairs of his country, with his ordinary 
council, as he was used to do of before. 

That his nobility, barons, and commonalty of his 
country, may have their free liberty to resort to his 
serene majesty w ithout suspicion of greater guards 
or more armed men about his person than the use 
was, that they be not afraid and hindered to resort; 
and further, that the seigneur de la Motte Fenelon 
sail liberally and freely speak of the said serene 
king and council, requiring the re-establishing of 
that that may or hath been changed or altered. 

And that he may know if the principalis of the 
nobility and other men of good behaviour of the 
towns, and commonality of the contry, conveens, 
and are content with the form of government pre¬ 
sently with the said serene king, to the end that if 
there be any miscontent he may travaile to agree 
them together, and that he return not without the 
certainty of the samine. 

And if he may understand that there be any who 
have not used them so reverently towards the said 
serene king their sovereign lord, as the duty of 
their obedience required, that he may pray on this 
behalf of his majesty most Christian, the said serene 
king his good brother, giving him councill wholly 
to forget the same, and exhorting them to do their 
duty towards his majesty in time coming, in all re¬ 
spects, with the obedience and true subjection they 
ought him. 

And if the said seigneur de la Motte perceives the 
said serene king to be in any manner constrained of 
his person, authority, liberty, and disposition of his 
affairs, than he used to be, and not convenient for 
his royal dignity, or as the sovereignty of a prince 
doth require, that he use all moyen lawful and ho¬ 
nest to place him in the samine, and that he employ 
as much as the credit of his most Christian majesty 
may do toward the nobility and subjects of that 
contry, and as much as may his name, with the 
name of his crown, towards the Scottish nation, the 
which he loves and confides in as much as they 
w ere proper Frenchmen. 

And that he witness the said serene king, and his 



284 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


estates, of his consent, and to all the nobility and 
principall personages of the contry, that his most 
Christian majesty will continue on his part in the 
most ancient alliance and confederacy which he hath 
had with the said serene king his good brother, 
praying his nobility and contry, with his principall 
subjects, to persevere in the samine, in all good 
understanding and friendship with him, the which, 
on his part, he shall do, observing the samine most 
inviolable. 

Further, his most Christian majesty understanding 
that the serene king his good brother was contented 
with the duke of Lennox, and his servise, the said 
seigneur de la Motte had charge to pray his serene 
majesty that he might remain beside him to his con¬ 
tentment, believing that he should more willingly 
intertain the points of love and confederacie betwixt 
their majestys and their contrys, because he was a 
good subject to them both ; and if he might not re¬ 
main without some alteration of the tranquillity of 
his estate, that he might retire him to his own house 
in the said contry, in sureness, or if he pleased to 

return to France that he might surely;-and if it 

pleases his serene majesty, to cause cease and stay 
the impeachments that are made of new upon the 
frontiers, to the effect that the natural Frenchmen 
may enter as freely into the contry as they were wont 
to do of before. 

And that there may be no purpose of dilfamation, 
nor no speech but honourable of the most Christian 
king, in that contry, but such like as is spoken most 
honourably of the serene king of Scotland in France. 

He had another head to propone, which he con¬ 
cealed till a little before his departure, to wit, that 
the queen, the king's mother, was content to receive 
her son in association of the kingdom. 


No. XLIII. (Page 167.) 


Lord Hunsdane to Sir Francis Walsingham, the 14 th 
August 1584 ,from Berwick. 

Sir, 


According to my former letters, 

Calderw. MS. , . .... 

History, voi. 3 . touching my meeting with the earl of 

Arran upon Wednesday last, there 
came hither to me from the carle, the justice clerk, 
and sir William Stuart, captain of Dumbarton, 
both of the king’s privie council, to treat with me 
about the order of our meeting, referring wholly to 
me to appoint the hour, and the number we should 
meet withal; so as we concluded the place to be 
Foulden, the hour to be ten o’clock, and the num¬ 
ber with ourselves to be 13 of a side ; and the rest 
of our troops to stand each of them a mile from the 
town; the one on the one side, the other on the other 
side, so as our troops were two miles asunder: I 
was not many horsemen, but I supplied it with 
footmen, M'here I had 100 shot on horse, but they 
were very near 500 horse well appointed : Accord¬ 
ing to which appointment we met yesterday, and 
after some congratulations, the earlc fell in the like 


protestations of his good will and readiness to serve 
the queen’s majesty, before any prince in the world, 
next his sovereign, as he had done heretofore by his 
letters, and rather more; with such earnest vows, 
as, unless he be worse than a devil, her majesty 
may dispose of him at her pleasure. This being 
ended, I entered with him touching the cause I had 
to deal with him, and so near as I could, left nothing 
unrehearsed that I had to charge the king or him 
with any unkind dealing toward her majesty, ac¬ 
cording to my instructions, which without any delay 
he answered presently, as ye shall perceive by the 
said answers sent herewith ; but I replying unto 
him, he amplified them with many moe circum¬ 
stances, but to this effect. Then I dealt with him 
touching the point of her majesty’s satisfaction, for 
the uttering such practices as has been lately set on 
foot forthe disquieting of her majesty and her estate, 
who thereof made sundry discourses, what marriages 
have been offered to his majesty by sundry princes, 
and by what means the earle has sought to divert 
them, and for what causes; the one, for that be 
marriage with Spain or France, he must also alter 
his religion, which as he is sure the king will never 
doe, so will he never suffer him to hearken unto 
it, so long as he hath any credit with him. He 
denys not but the king has been dealt withal be 
practices to deal against her majesty, which he 
has so far denied and refused to enter into, as 
they have left dealing therein, but whatsoever the 
king or he knoweth therein, there shall be nothing 
hidden from her majesty, as her majesty shall know 
very shortly. Surely it seems by his speeches, that 
if the king would have yielded thereunto there had 
been no small company of French in Scotland ere 

now to disquiet her majesty.-This being ended, 

I dealt with him earnestly for the stay of this par¬ 
liament which now approacheth ; or at the least, 
that there may be nothing done therein to the pre¬ 
judice of these noblemen and others now in England, 
for the forfaulting of their livings and goods. Here¬ 
upon he made a long discourse to me, first of the 
earl of Angus dealing about the earl of Morton, 
then of his going out, notwithstanding of sundrie 
gracious offers the king had made him ; then of the 
road of Ruthven, how that presently after they had 
the king’s majesty in their hands, they imprisoned 
himself, dealt with the king for putting of the duke 
out of the realme ; the king refused so to do ; they 
told him plainly that if he would not, he should 
have the earl of Arran’s head in a dish. The king 
asked what offence the earl had made? and they 
answered, it must be so, and should be so. Here¬ 
upon, for the safeguard of Arran’s life, the king was 
content to send away the duke, and yet Arran after¬ 
wards sundrie times in danger of his life. I alledged 
unto him the king’s letter to the queen’s majesty, 
and his acts in council, that they had done nothing 
but for his service, and with his good liking and 
contentment; who answered me, he durst do no 
otherwise, nor could not do any thing but that which 





285 


APPENDIX, No. XLIII. 


pleased them, with such a number of other their 
dealings with the king whilest he was in their hands 
as are too long to be written, and too bad if they 
were true. I said the king might have let the 
queen’s majesty’s ambassador have known his mind 
secretly, and her majesty would have relieved 
him; he answered, that the king was not ignorant 
that the apprehensions in that manner proceeded 
from Mr. Bow’s praetice, and thereby durst not 
impart so much to him ; and yet the king was con¬ 
tent, and did give remission to as many as would 
acknowledge their faults, and ask remission, and 
such as would not, he thought fit to banish, to try 
their further loyalty, in which time they conspired 
the king’s second apprehension, and the killing of 
the earle and others, and seduced the ministers to 
their faction ; and yet not satisfied with these con¬ 
spiracies and treasonable dealings, (as he terms 
them,) are entered into a third, being in England 
under her majesty’s protection, to dishonour her 
majesty as far as in them lieth, or at least to cause 
the king conceive some unkindness in her majesty, 
for harbouring of them. I wrote to yow what the 
conspiracy was, the taking of the king, the killing 
of the earle of Arran, and some others, the taking 
of the castle of Edin r , and bringing home the 
earles to take the charge of the king; all which 
(says he) is by Drummond confessed, and by the 
provost of Glencudden not greatly denied, and the 
constable of the castle thereupon fled. The earle 
brought Drummond with him as far as Langton, 
where he lay, to have confessed the conspiracy be¬ 
fore me, but having at his lighting received a blow 
on his leg with a horse, so as he could bring him no 
further, I replied that I thought verily they would 
not work any such practices in respect of the 
queen’s majesty, abiding within her realme, and if 
there be any such practices, they have proceeded 
from others, and they not privie unto them: and 
that if it be not apparently proved against them, 
that it will bethought to be some practice to aggra¬ 
vate the fault, and to make them the more odious 
to the king. He answered me, that it should be 
proved so sufficiently, that they should not be able 
with truth to deny it, for their own hands is to be 
showed to part of it, and therefore concluded, that 
if her majesty should so press the king for them at 
this time, that would rather hinder this matter of 
the amity nor further it; and that since they seek 
chiefly his life, he could not, in any reason, seek to 
do them any good ; and besides he assured me, that 
if he would, he dare not, this last matter being fallen 
out as it is ; and surely if this matter had not fallen 
out, I would not have doubted the restoring of the 
earl of Mar very shortly, if her majesty would have 
employed me therein ; but for the earl of Angus, I 
perceive the king is persuaded that both he, and the 
rest of the Douglasses, have conceived so mortall 
an hatred against him and the earl of Arran, about 
the death of the earl of Morton, as, if they were at 
home to-morrow next, they would not leave to prac¬ 


tise and conspire the death of them both, and there¬ 
fore a hard matter to do any thing for him. Finally, 
he concluded and required me to assure her majesty 
from the king, that there shall nothing be hid from 
her, nor any thing left undone that may satisfie her 
majesty with reason ; and that the king shall never 
do any thing, nor consent to have any thing done 
in her prejudice, so long as he had any credit with 
him, or authority under him. Having this far pro¬ 
ceeded, he desired to shew me his commission, 
which is under the great seal, to himself only, which 
is as large as may be, and yet sundrie of the privie 
council there with him, but not one in commission, 
nor present, nor near us all this time, having spent 
almost five hours in these matters. He presented 
to me the master of Gray, who delivered to me a 
letter from the king in his commendation, whom I 
perceive the king means to send to her majesty, and 
therefore requires a safe-conduct for his passage, 
which I pray you procure, and to send it so soon as 
you may. I let him understand of the lord Seaton’s 
negociation with the French king. He swore to 
me, that Seaton was but a knave, and that it was 
partly against his will that he should be sent thither. 
But his commission and instruction being of no 
great importance, he yielded the sooner; and if 
Seaton has gone beyond his instructions, which 
Arran drew himself, he will make Seaton smart for 
it. Touching William Newgate and Mark Golgan, 
he protested he never heard of any such ; he says 
there was a little poor soul, with a black beard, 
come thither a begging, who said he was an enemy 
to Desmond, to whom he gave a croun, but never 
heard of him since; and for any Scots man going 
into Ireland, he says there is no such matter ; if 
there be, there may be some few raskals that he 
knows not of; and touching the coming of any 
jesuits into Scotland, he says it is but the slander¬ 
ous devise of the king’s enemys, and such as would 
have the world believe the king were ready to re¬ 
volt in religion, who the world shall well see will 
continue as constant therein as what prince soever 
professes it most; and the earle himself does pro¬ 
test to me, that to his knowledge he never saw a 
jesuit in his life, and did assure me if there was any 
in Scotland, they should not do so much harm in 
Scotland as their ministers would do, if they preach 
such doctrine as they did in Scotland ; and touch¬ 
ing one Ballenden, of whom I wrote to yow, I heard 
from Mr. Colvil, the earle avows constantly that he 
knows not, nor hath not heard of any such man ; 
but he would inquire at the Justice-clerk, and would 
inform me what he could learn of that. Thus I 
have made yow as short a discourse as I can of so 
many matters, so long discoursed upon, but these 
are the principal points of all our talk, so near as I 
can remember it, and for this time I commit yow to the 
Almighty. At Berwick the 14th of August, 1584. 

The king is very desirous to have 
my son Robert Carrie to come to him. 

I pray yow know her majesty’s pleasure 



286 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


Arran*s Answers to the Grieffsor Articles proponed 

to the Lord Hunsdane, set down in another form. 

As to the strait and severe persecution of all such 
as have been noted to have been well affected to 
the queen’s Majesty, it cannot appear they were 
either for that cause punished, or hardly dealt with, 
since liis majesty of late has been so careful and 
diligent to choice out good instruments to deal be¬ 
twixt her majesty and him, as his majesty has done 
in electing of your lordship and me : besides that, 
in all their accusations, their good will and affection 
born to her majesty was, at no time, laid to their 
charge, but capital actions of treason many way 
tried now be the whole three estates, and more than 
manifest to the world. 

As for his majesty inhibiting, by public procla¬ 
mation, such as were banished, not to repair in 
England ; the bruits and whisperings that came to 
his majesty’s ears of their conspiracies and treasons, 
which since syn they accomplished, so far as in 
them lay, moved his majesty to inhibit them to re¬ 
pair to any place, so near his majesty’s realm, lest 
they should have attempted these things, which 
shortly they did attempt, being farther off, and more 
distant both by sea and land. 

As for reception of Jesuits, and others, her ma¬ 
jesty’s fugitives, and not delivering them according 
to his promise, as your lordship propones, his 
majesty would be most glad, that so it might fall 
out by your lordship’s traviles, that no fugitive of 
either realme should be received of either, and 
when so shall be, it shall not fail on his majesty’s 
part; albeit in very deed this time bygone his ma¬ 
jesty has been constrained to receipt her majesty’s 
mean rebells and fugitives, contrar his good naturall, 
since her majesty hath receipt, in effect, the whole 
and greatest rebells and traitors his majesty in his 
own blood ever had. As for the agreement with 
his majesty’s mother anent their association, his 
majesty has commanded me, in presence of your 
lordship’s servant, to assure her majesty and your 
lordship, in his majesty’s name, that it is altogether 
false, and an untruth, nor any such like matter 
done yet. 

His majesty has also commanded me to assure 
your lordship, that it is also false and untrue, that 
his majesty has, by any means, direct or indirect, 
sent any message to the pope, or received any from 
him ; or that his majesty has dealt with Spain or 
any foreigners, to harm her majesty or her realme, 
which his majesty could have no honour to do, this 
good intelligence taking place, as I hope in God it 
shall. 

As concerning the contemptuous usage of her 
majesty’s ministers sent unto his majesty, his ma¬ 
jesty used none of them so ; and if his majesty had, 
sufficient cause was given by them, as some of their 
own writs do yet testify, as I more particularly show¬ 
ed your lordship at Foulden at our late meeting. 


No. XLIY. (Page 168.) 

The Scottish Queen’s offers upon the effect of her 

liberty propounded by her Secretary JSaiv, Novem¬ 
ber 1584. 

The queen my mistress being once Cott Lib Caligi 
well assured of your majesty’s amity, c ' 8 ‘ A t0,,y ’ 

1. Will declare openly that she will (as it is sin¬ 
cerely her meaning) straitly to join unto your 
majesty, and to the same to yield and bear the chief 
honour and respect, before all other kings and 
princes in Christendom. 

2. She will swear, and protest solemnly, a sincere 
forgetfullness of all wrongs which she may pretend 
to have been done unto her in this realm, and will 
never, in any sort or manner whatsoever, show 
offence for the same. 

3. She will avow and acknowledge, as well in her 
own particular name, as also for her heirs and others 
descending of her for ever, your majesty, for just, 
true, and lawful queen of England. 

4. And consequently, will renounce, as well for 
herself as for her said heirs, all rights and pretences 
which she may claim to the crown of England, 
during your majesty’s life, and other prejudice. 

5. She will revoke all acts, and shows, by her 
heretofore made, of pretence to this said crown to 
the prejudice of your majesty, as may be the taking 
of the arms and style of queen of England, by 
the commandment of king Francis her late lord and 
husband. 

6. She will renounce the pope’s bull for so much 
as may be expounded to turn in her favour, or for 
her behoof, touching the deprivation of your ma¬ 
jesty, and will declare that she will never help and 
serve herself with it. 

7. She will not prosecute, during your majesty’s 
life, by open force or otherways, any public decla¬ 
ration of her right in the succession of this realm, 
so as secret assurance be given unto her, or at the 
least public promise, that no deciding thereof shall 
be made in the prejudice of her, or of the king her 
son, during your majesty’s life, nor after your 
decease, untill such time as they have been heard 
thereupon, in public, free, and general assembly of 
the parliament of the said realm. 

8. She will not practise, directly or indirectly, 
with any of jour majesty’s subjects, neither within 
nor out of your realm, any thing tending to war, 
civil or foreign, against your majesty and your 
estate, be it under pretext of religion, or for civil 
and politick government. 

9. She will not maintain or support any of your 
subjects declared rebels, and convicted of treason 
against you. 

10. She will enter into the association which was 
shewed her at Wingfield for the surety of your 

J majesty’s life, so as there be mended or right expli- 




287 


APPENDIX 

cated some clauses which I will show to your ma¬ 
jesty, when I shall have the copy thereof, as I have 
before time required. 

11. She will not treat with foreign kings and 
princes for any war or trouble against this state, and 
w ill renounce, from this time, all enterprises made 
or to be made in her favour for that respect. 

12. Furthermore, this realm being assailed by any 
civil or foreign war, she will take part with your 
majesty, and will assist you in your defence with 
all her forces and means, depending of herself and 
with all her friends of Christendom. 

13. And to that effect, for the mutual defence and 
maintenance of your majesty, and the two realms 
of this isle, she will enter with your majesty in a 
league defensive as shall be more particularly ad¬ 
vised, and w ill persuade as much as in her, the king 
her son to do the like. The leagues with all parts 
abroad remaining firm, and especially the ancient 
league between France and Scotland, in that which 
shall not be against this present. 

14. She will enter into a league offensive, having 
good assurance or secret declaration and acknow¬ 
ledgment of her right in the succession of this 
crown, and promise that happening any breach be¬ 
tween France and this realm, (which she prayeth 
God never to happen,) the just value of her dowry 
shall be placed for her in lands of the revenue of 
the crown. 

15. For assurance of her promises and covenants, 
she doth offer to abide herself in this realm for a 
certain time, (better hostage can she not give than 
her own person,) which, so as she be kept in the 
liberty here before propounded, is not in case to 
escape secretly out of this country, in the sickly 
state she is in, and with the good order which your 
majesty can take therein. 

16. And in case your majesty do agree to her full 
and whole deliverance, to retire herself at her will 
out of this realm, the said queen of Scots she will 
give sufficient hostage for such time as will be ad¬ 
vised. 

17. If she abide in this realm, she will promise 
not to depart out of it without your licence, so as it 
be promised unto her that her state, in such liberty 
as shall be accorded unto her, shall not be in any 
sort altered, untill after tryall to have attempted 
against your life, or other trouble of your estate. 

18. If she go into Scotland, she will promise to 
alter nothing there in the religion which is now used 
there, she being suffered to have free exercise of 
hers, for her and her household, as it was at her 
return out of France; and further, to pull out every 
root of new division between the subjects, that none 
of the subjects of Scotland shall be sifted for his 
conscience, nor constrained to go to the service of 
the contrary religion. 

19. She will grant a general abolition of all of¬ 
fences done against her in Scotland, and things shall 
remain there as they are at this present, lor that 
respect, saving that which hath been done against 


, No. XLIV. 

her honour, which she meaneth to have revoked and 
annulled. 

20. She will travel to settle a sure and general 
reconciliation between the nobility of the country, 
and to cause to be appointed about the king her son, 
and in his council, such as shall be fit for the en¬ 
tertainment of the peace and quiet of the country, 
and the amity of the realm. 

21. She will do her best to content your majesty, 
in favour of the Scots lords banished and refuged 
hither, upon their due submission to their princes, 
and your majesty’s promise to assist the said queen 
and king of Scotland against them, if they happen 
to fall into their former faults. 

22. She will proceed to the marriage of the king 
her son, with the advice and good council of your 
majesty. 

23. As she will pass nothing without the king her 
son, so doth she desire that he intervene conjointly 
with her in this treaty, for the greater and perfecter 
assurance thereof; for otherwise any thing can 
hardly be established to be sound and continue. 

24. The said Scotch queen trusteth, that the 
French king, her good brother, according to the 
good affection which he hath always shewed her, 
and hath been afresh testified unto me by Mons r . de 
Mannissiere for this said treaty, will very w illingly 
intervene, and will assist her for the surety of her 
promises. 

25. And so will the princes of the house of Lor- 
rain, following the will of the said king, will bind 
themselves thereunto. 

26. For other kings and princes of Christendom, 
she will assay to obtain the like of them, if for 
greater solemnity and approbation of the treaty it 
be found to be necessary. 

27. She doth desire a speedy answer, and final 
conclusion of the premises, to the end to meet in 
time with all inconveniences. 

28. And in the mean time, the more to strengthen 
the said treaty, as made by her of a pure and frank 
will, she desireth that demonstration be made of 
some releasement of her captivity. 

Objections against the Scottish Queen, under Secre¬ 
tary Walsingham's hand, November 1584. 

The queen of Scots is ambitious, and standeth ill 
affected to her majesty, and therefore it cannot be 
but that her liberty should bring peril unto her ma¬ 
jesty. 

That her enlargement will give comfort to papists, 
and other ill affected subjects, and greatly advance 
the opinion had of her title as successor. 

That as long as she shall be continued in her ma¬ 
jesty’s possession, she may serve as it were a gage 
of her majesty’s surety, for that her friends, for fear 
of the danger she may be thrown into, in case any 
thing should be done in her favour, dare not attempt 
any thing in offence of her majesty. 




288 


THE HISTORY 

What course were Jit to be taken 
November 1584. ^ the queen of Scots, either 

£ to be enlarged or not . 

The course to be taken with the said 

Cott. Lib. Ceil. 8. _ • | j /» • <i 

queen may be considered ot in three 
degrees ; either, 

1 . To continue her under custody in that state she 
now is. 

2 . To restrain her of the present liberty she now 
hath. 

3. Or to set her at liberty upon caution. 

1. Touching the first, to continue her under cus¬ 
tody in that state she now is ; it is to be considered, 
that the princes that favour that queen, upon the 
complaint she maketh of hard usage, are greatly 
moved with commiseration towards her, and pro¬ 
mise to do their endeavour for her liberty, for which 
purpose her ministers solicit them daily. 

And to move them the more to pity her case, she 
acquainted them with her offers made to her ma¬ 
jesty, which appeared to be no less profitable than 
reasonable for her majesty, so as the refusal and re¬ 
jecting giveth her friends and favourers cause to 
think her hardly dealt withal, and therefore may, 
with the better ground and reason, attempt some¬ 
what for the setting of her at liberty. 

It is also likely that the said queen, upon this re¬ 
fusal, finding her case desperate, will continue her 
practice under hand, both at home and abroad, not 
only for her delivery, but to attain to the present 
possession of this crown upon her pretended title, 
as she hath hitherto done, as appeared), and is most 
manifest by letters and plots intercepted, and 
chiefly by that late alteration of Scotland, which 
hath proceeded altogether by her direction, whereby 
a gap is laid open for the malice of all her majesty’s 
enemies, so as it appearet’i that this manner of keep¬ 
ing her, with such number of persons as she now 
hath, and with liberty to write and receive letters, 
(being duly considered,) is offensive to the princes, 
the said queen’s friends, rather chargeable than profit¬ 
able to her majesty, and subject to all such practices 
as may peril her majesty’s person or state, without 
any provision for her majesty’s safety, and therefore 
no way to be liked of. 

2 . Touching the second, to restrain her in a more 
straighter degree of the liberty she hath hitherto 
enjoyed. 

It may at first sight be thought a remedy very apt 
to stop the course of the dangerous practices foster¬ 
ed heretofore by her ; for true it is, that this remedy 
might prove very profitable, if the realm of Scot¬ 
land stood in that sort devoted to her majesty, as 
few years past it did, and if the king of that realm 
were not likely, as w ell for the release of his mother, 
as for the advancement of both their pretended titles, 
to attempt somewhat against this realm and her ma¬ 
jesty, wherein he should neither lack foreign as¬ 
sistance, nor a party here within this realm. But 


OF SCOTLAND. 

the king and that realm standing affected as they 
do, this restraint, instead of remedying, is likely to 
breed these inconveniences following:— 

First, It will increase the offence, both in him and 
in the rest of the princes her friends, that misliked 
of her restraint. 

Secondly, It will give them just cause to take 
some way of redress. 

Lastly, It is to be doubted, that it may provoke 
some desperate ill-disposed person, all hope of her 
liberty removed, to attempt somewhat against her 
majesty’s own person, (a matter above all others to 
be weighed,) which inconveniency being duly con¬ 
sidered, it will appear manifestly, that the restraint 
in a straighter degree, is like to prove a remedy 
subject to very hard events. 

The latter degree, whether it were fit to set the 
said queen at liberty, ministereth some cause of 
doubt, touching the manner of the liberty, in what 
sort the same is to be performed, whether to be con¬ 
tinued here within the realm, or to be restored into 
her own country. 

But first, this proposition, before the particulari¬ 
ties be weighed, is to be considered in generality. 

For it is very hard for a well-affected subject, that 
tendereth her majesty’s surety, and weigheth either 
the nature of the Scottish queen, being inclined to 
ambition and revenge, or her former actions, w hat 
practices she hath set on foot most dangerous for 
her majesty and this realm, to allow of her liberty, 
being not made acquainted with such causes, as 
time hath wrought, to make it less perilous than it 
hath been, nor with such cautions as may, in some 
sort, be devised to prevent both her ambition and 
malice; and therefore, to make this apparent, 

It is to be considered, that the danger that was in 
the mother, is now r grow'n to be in the son. He 
pretendeth the same title she doth. Such as do 
affect her, both at home and abroad, do affect him ; 
(and he is the more dangerous for that he is un¬ 
married, which may greatly advance his fortune ; 
and that he is a man, whereby he may enter into ac¬ 
tion in his own person ;) where she is restrained, he 
is at liberty ; his own realm is now altogether at his 
devotion, and the party affected to this crown 
abased ; so as the matter duly considered, neither 
her liberty nor restraint doth greatly alter the case 
for perils towards her majesty, unless, by such pro¬ 
mises as may be made by way of treaty with her, 
the danger likely to grow from the king her son be 
provided for. 

But in this behalf it may be objected, that so long 
as the mother remains in her majesty’s hands, the 
king will attempt nothing for fear of his mother’s 
peril. 

To this objection it may be answered, first, That 
they hope that her majesty, being a prince of justice, 
and inclined to mercy, will not punish the mother 
for the son’s offence, unless she shall be found, by 
good proof, culpable. Secondarily, That men will 
not be over hasty, considering in what predicament 



28 0 


<r 


APPENDIX 

the king standeth touching his expectation of this 
crown, to advise any thing that in time future may 
be dangerous to the giver of such council as may 
reach to his mother’s peril. 

And lastly. The taking away of his mother, he 
being strong in the field through both foreign as¬ 
sistance and a party here within the realm, will ap¬ 
pear so weak a remedy, (which may rather exaspe¬ 
rate both him and her party, to proceed with more 
courage and heat to revenge, if any such hard 
measure should be offered unto her,) as they will 
suppose, for the reason above specified, that no such 
extremity will be used. 

It may also be objected, that the setting of her at 
liberty will greatly encourage the papists both at 
home and abroad ; but herein, if the provision be 
duly considered, that may be made by parliament 
both here and there, they shall rather find cause of 
discomfort than otherwise. 

These two doubts being resolved, and the perils 
that was in the mother appearing most manifestly 
to be seen in the son accompanied with more dan¬ 
ger, with due consideration had also of such reme¬ 
dies as may be provided for the preventing of the 
dangers that her liberty may minister just cause to 
doubt of; there will be good cause of hope found, 
that the same will rather breed benefit than perils. 

Now it restetli, in what sort the said liberty shall 
be performed; if it shall be thought meet she shall 
be continued within the realm with some limitation, 
especially in that place where she now resideth, the 
country round about being so infected in religion as 
it is, it is greatly to be doubted that will very^ much 
increase the corruption and falling away in that be¬ 
half. Besides, she should have commodity, with 
much more ease and speed, to entertain practices 
within this realm, than by being in her own country. 

If abroad freely without limitation either in Scot¬ 
land or France, then shall her majesty lose the gages 
of her safety, then shall she be at hand to give ad¬ 
vice in furtherance of such practices as have been 
laid for to stir trouble in this realm, wherein she 
hath been a principal party. 

For the first, it is answered before, that the respect 
of any perils that may befal unto her, will in no 
sort restrain her son. For the other, if it be con¬ 
sidered what harm her advice will work unto her¬ 
self, in respect of the violation of the treaty, and 
the provision that may be made in parliament here, 
it is to be thought, that she will then be well ad¬ 
vised, before she attempt any such matter, which 
now she may do without peril. Besides, such 
princes as have interposed their faith and promise 
for her, cannot with honour assist her, wherein the 
French king will not be found very forward, who, 
in most friendly sort, hath lately rejected all such 
requests, propounded either by her or her son’s 
ministers, that might any way offend her majesty. 
And so to conclude, seeing the cause of her grief 
shall be taken away; the French king gratified, 
who is a mediator for her, and will mislike that, by 


, No. XLIV. 

any Spanish practice, she should be drawn to violate 
her faith ; that the rest of the princes shall have no 
just cause of offence, but rather to think honourably 
of her majesty, considering the Scottish queen’s 
carriage towards her, which hath deserved no way 
any such favour ; the noblemen of Scotland shall 
be restored, who will be a good stay of such coun¬ 
sells as may tend to the troubling of this realm, es¬ 
pecially having so good a ground of warrant as the 
parliament to stand unto; the charges and perils 
which her practices might have bred to this realm 
shall be avoided ; and lastly, the hope of the papists 
shall be taken away, by such good provisions as in 
both the realms may be made, whereby the perils 
that might fall into her majesty’s own person (a 
matter of all others to be weighed) shall be avoided, 
when by the change that may grow by any such 
wicked and ungodly practice, they shall see their 
case no way relieved in point of religion. 

Reasons to induce her Majesty to proceed in the Treaty 
under Secretary Walsinyham’s hand. 

That such plots as have of late Cott Lib 
years been devised (tending to the Cal - C - 8 * 
raising of trouble within this realm) have grown 
from the Scots queen’s ministers and favourers, not 
without her allowance and seeking : Or, 

That the means used by the said ministers to in¬ 
duce princes to give ear to the said plots, is princi¬ 
pally grounded upon some commisseration had of 
her restraint. 

That the stay why the said plots have not been 
put in execution, hath proceeded, for that the said 
princes have, for the most part, been entertained 
with home and domestic troubles. 

That it is greatly to be doubted, that now their 
realms begin to be quiet, that somewhat will be 
attempted in her favours by the said princes. 

That it is also to be doubted, that somewhat may 
be attempted by some of her fautors in an extraor¬ 
dinary sort, to the peril of her majesty. 

That for the preservation thereof, it shall be con¬ 
venient for her majesty to proceed to the finishing 
of the treaty, not long sithence begun between her 
and the said queen. 

No. XLV. (Page 170.) 

Letter of Q. Mary to Q. Elizabeth. 

Madame ma bonne Seur, 

M’ASSEURANTquevous avez eu com- 

Cott. Lib.Cal. B. 

munication d une lettre de Dray que vm.ioi. 1-17. 

An or gmal. 

vostre homme aemer me livra lner 
soubz le nom de mon filz, y recognoissant quasi de 
mot a la mot mesmes raisons que le dit Gray m’es- 
crivit en chifre estant dernierement pres de vous 
desmontrant la suffisance Sc bonne intention du 
personage, je vous prieray seulement suivant ce 

que si devant je vous ay tant instantement impor- 

u 



290 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


tune, que vous me permettiez desclaircir librement 
ec ouvertement ce point de I’association d entre moy 
& mon lilz, Sc me dessier les mains pour proceder 
avec lui comme je jugeray estre requis pour son 
bien Sc le mien. Et j’entreprendz quoy que l’on 
vous die Sc puisse en rapporter de faire mentir ce 
petit brouillon, qui persuade par aucuns de vos min¬ 
istres, a enterpris cette separation entre moy Sc mon 
enfant; Sc pour y commeneer je vous supplie in’oc- 
troyer qui je puisse parler a ce J ustice-clerk qui vous 
a este nouvellement envoye, pour mander par luy 
a mon filz mon intention surcela, ce qui je me pro- 
mis que ne me refuserez, quant ce ne seroit que 
pour demontrer en effect la bonne intention que 
vouz m’avez asseur^e avoir a l’accord Sc entretien 
de naturel devoir entre la mere Sc 1’enfant, qui dit 
en bonnes termes estre empesche pour vous me 
tenant captive en un desert, ce que vous ne pourrez 
mieux desmentir Sc faire paroitre vostrebon desir a 
notre union que me dormant les moyens d’y pro¬ 
ceder, Sc non m’en retenir et empescher comme 
aucune des vos ministres pretendent, a fm de laisser 
toujours lieu a leur mauvais Sc sinistres practiques 
entre nous. La lettre porte que l’association n’est 
pas pass6e, aussi ne luy ai je jamais dit, bien que 
mon filz avoit accepte ; Sc que nous en avions con- 
venu ensemble, comme l’acte signe de sa main, Sc 
ces lettres tant a moy, que en France en font foy, 
ayant donne ce meme temoignage de sa bouche 
propre a plusieurs ambassadeurs Sc personnes de 
credit, s’excusant de ne Loser faire publier par 
craint de vous seulement, demandant forces pour 
vous resister d’avant de ce declarer si ouvertement, 
estant journellement persuade au contrarie par vos 
ministres, qui luy prometoyent avecque une entreire 
a Y r orck le faire declairer votre lreretier. Au sur¬ 
plus Madame quand mon enfant seroit si malheu- 
reux que de s’opiniastrer en cette extreme impiete 
Sc ingratitude vers moy, je ne puis penser que vous 
non plus qu’aucun aultre Prince de la Cliretiente, le 
voulissiez en cela applaudir ou meintenir pour luy 
fayre acquerirmamalediction, ainsi queplutoti/iLro- 
viendrez pour luy faire recongnoitre la raison trop 
juste Sc evidant devant Dieu and les hommes. Helas 
Sc encores ne lui vouloier j’enofter, mays donner avec 
droit ce qu’il tient par usurpation. Je me suis du 
tout commise a vous, Sc fidelement faites si il vous 
plest que je ne en soye pis qu’aupravant, Sc que le 
faulsete des uns ne prevale desvant la verite vers vous, 
pour bien recevantmal, Sc laplus grande affliction que 
me scaurroit arriver a scavoir la perte de mon fils. 
Je vous supplie de me mander en cas qu’il persiste 
en cette m’esconnoissance deson devoir, que de luy 
ou de moy il vous plaist advouer pour legittime Roy 
ou Royne d’Escosse, Sc si vous aves agreable de 
poursivre avec moy a part la traite commence entre 
nous, de quoy je vous requiers sans plus attendre 
de response de ce mal gouverne enfant, vous en re- 
querrant avec autant d’affection que je sens mon 
coeur oppresse d’ennuy. Pour Dieu souvenez vous 
de la promesse que m’avez faites de me prendre en 


votre protection, me rapportant de tout a vous, Sc 
sur ce priant Dieu qu’il vous viueille preserver de 
touts vos ennemys Sc dissimulez amys, comme je le 
desire de me consoler Sc de me venger de ceulz qui 
pourchassent un tel malheur entre la mere Sc l’enlan. 
Je cesseray de vous troubler, mais non a m’ennuier 
que je ne recoive quelque consolation dc vous, Scde 
Dieu encore un coup je le supplie dc vous garder 
de tout peril. Futlibery XII Mars. 

Votre fidelement vouee soeur 

Sc obeissant cousine, 

MARIE Q. 

A la Reyne d’Angleterre 
Madame ma bonne soeur Sc 
cousine. 

,7 

No. XLVI. (Page 171.) 

A Testament by Q. Mary. 

N. B.—The following paper was transcribed by the 
Rev. Mr. Crawford, late Regius Professor of 
Church History in the University of Edinburgh. 
Part of this paper, according to him, is written 
by Nauc, Mary’s secretary, the rest with the 
queen’s own hand. What is marked (“) is in 
the queen’s hand. 

Considerant par ma condition pre- „ , .... 

^ . 1 Cott. Lib. Yes- 

sente l’estat de vie humaine, si incer- p«s. l. ig. p. 

415. 

tain, que personne ne s en peust, ou 
doibt asseurer, sinnon soubs la grande et infinie 
misericorde de Dieu. Et me voulant prevaloir 
d’icelle contre tous les dangers et accidens qui me 
pourroient inopinement survenir et cette captivite, 
mesmes a cause des grandes et longues maladies ou 
j’ay ete detenue jusques a present; j’ay advise tan- 
dis que j’ay la eommodite, ou raison en jugement, 
de pourvoir apres ma mort la salut demon arne, en- 
terrement de mon corps, et disposition de mon bien, 
estat, & affaires, par ce present mon testament et 
ordonnance de mon dernier volonte, qui s’ensuyt. 

Au nom du Pere, du Filz, et du benoite S l . Es¬ 
prit. Premierement, me recongnoissant indigne pe- 
cheresse avec plus d’ofl'ences envers mon Dieu que 
de satisfaction par toutes les adversites que j’ay 
soulfert; dont je la loue sa bonte; et m’appftyant 
sur la croix de mon Sauveur et Redempteur Jesus 
Christ, je recommende mon ame a la benoiste et in- 
dividue Trinite, et aux prieres de la glorieuse Vierge 
Marie, et de tous les anges saincts Sc sainctes de 
paradis, esperant par leur merites Sc intercession, 
estre aydee a obtenir de estre faicte participante 
avec eulx de felicite eternelle. Et pour m’y ache- 
miner de coeur plus net et entier, despouillant des 
a present tout ressentiment des injures, calomnies, 
rebellions, et aultres offenses, qui me pourroient 
avoir este factes durant ma vie, par mes subjets re- 
belles et aultres ennemis ; J’en retriet la vengeance 
a Dieu, Sc le supplie leur pardonner, de mesme affec¬ 
tion que je luy requiers pardons a mes faultes, et a 



‘29 T 


APPENDIX, 

tous ceuls et celles que je puis avoir offense de 
faicts ou de parolles. 

Je \eulx et ordonne, &c. ( The-two following pa¬ 

ragraphs contain directions concerning the place and 
circumstance of her burial.) 

Pour ne contrcvenir a la gloire, honneur, et con¬ 
servation de l’Eglise catholique, apostolique, et Ro- 
maine, en la quelle je veulx vivre et mourir, si le 
Prince d’Escosse mon filz y puest etre reduiet con- 
tre la mauvaise nourriture qu’il a prise a mon tres 
grand regret en l’heresie de Calvin entre mes re- 
belles, je le laisse seul et unique lieretier de mon 
royaume d’Escosse, de droict que je pretende juste- 
ment en la couronne d’Angleterre et pays qui en 
dependent, et generallement de tous et chacun mes 
meubles et immeubles qui resteront apres ma mort, 
et execution de ce present testament. 

Si non, et que mon dit filz continue a vivre en la 
dite heresie, Je cede, transporte, et faicte don “ de 
touts et cliacuns mes droicts, que je pretende & 
puis pretendre a la couronne d’Angleterre, et aul- 
tres droicts, seigneuries, ou royaulmes en depen- 
dantz, au roy catholique, ou aultre de siens qu’il 
luy plaira, avesques advis, consentement de sa 
Saintete; tante pour le vovr aujourdhuy le seul 
seurs appui de la religion catholique, que pour re- 
connoissance de gratuites faveurs que moy, et les 
miens reeommandez par moy, ont avons receu de 
luy en ma plus grand necessite ; et resguard aussi 
au droict que luy mesme peut pretendre a ces ditz 
royaulmes et pays, je le supplie qu’en recompence 
il preign alliance, de la maison de Lorraine, et si il 
ce pleut de celle de Guise, pour memoire de la race 
de laquelle je suis sortie au coste de mere, n’a ayant 
de celuy de mon pere que mon seul enfant, lequel 
estant Catholique j’ay tousjours voue pour une de 
ses lilies, si il luy plaisoit de l’accepter, ou faillant 
une de ses niepces mariee comme sa fille. 

“ Je laysse mon filz a la protection du Roy, de 
Prince, et Dues de Lorrayne et de Guise, et du 
Mayne, aux quelz je recommende et son estat en 
Escosse, et mon droict en Angleterre, si il est catho¬ 
lique, et quelle le parlie de ceste royne.” 

Je faitz don au “ Compte de Lenox” de Compte 
de Lenox tenu par feu son pere, et commande mon 
filz, comme mon heretier et successeur, d’obeyr en 
cest endroit a mon volonte. 

Je veulx et ordonne toutes les sommes et de- 
niers, qui se troveront par moys deues, tien mis 
cause de droict estre faits “ a Loch liven” etre 
promptement payee et acquittees, et tout tort et 
griefs repares par les dits executeurs, desquelz j’en 
charge la conscience. Oultre, &c. ( Follow two or 
three paragraphs concerning particular legacies , and 
then is added ) Faict au manoir de Sheffeld en An¬ 
gleterre le jour de-Mil cincq cens soixant & 

dix sept. 

After a large blank page follows in the queen's hand: 

“ Si mon filz meurt, au Comte de Lenox, au 

Claude Hamilton, lequel se montrera le plus fidelle 

u 2 


No. XLVII. 

vers moy, et plus constant en religion, au jugement 

de-Dues de Lorraine et de Guyse, ou je le 

rapport sur ce de ceulx a qui j’auray donnay la 1 
charge de tray ter avesque eux de par moy et ceulx, 
a condition de ce marrier ou allier en la dite may- 
son ou par leur advis.” 

Follow near two pages of part icular legacies. 

“ Et le remets ma tante de Lenox au droict qu’ 
elle peut pretendre a la Conte d’Angous avant 
l’acort fait par mon commandement entre ma dite 
tante de Lenox et le Comte de Morton, veu quil a 
este fait par le feu Roy mon mary et moy, sur la 
promesse de sa fidelle assistance, si luy et moy en- 
eourions dangier et besoing d’ayde, ce qu’il rompit, 
s’entendant secretement au les nos ennemies rebel- 
les, qu’attemtprient contre sa vie, et pour cest 
effect pris les armes, et ont porte les banieres des- 
ploiees contre nous. Je revoque aussi toute autre 
don que je luy ay fait de Conte de Morton sur pro¬ 
messes de ses bons services a advenir, et entends 
que la dite Conte soit reunie a la couronne, si ell 
se trouve y partenir, comme ses trahisons tant en 
la mort de mon feu mary, que en mon banissement, 
et poursuit de la mien ne l’ont merite. Et defends 
a mon fils de ce jamays servir de luy, pour la liayne 
qu’il aye a ses parents, laquelle je crains ne s’es- 
tende jusques a luy, le connoissant du tout affec- 
tionne aux ennemis de mon droite en ce royaume, 
duquel il es pen^onnaire. 

“ Je recommende mon nepveu Francois Stuart a 
mon fils, et luy commande detenir pres de luy et 
s’enservit, et je luy laisse le bien du Conte de Bo- 
duel son oncle, en respect qu’il est de mon sang, 
mon filleul, etm’aeste laisse en tutelle parson pere. 

“ Je declare que mon frere bastard Robert Abbe 
de St Croix n’a en que par circonvention Orkenay, 
et que le ne fut jamays mon intention, comme il 
apret par la revocation que j’ay fayte depuys, et ete 
aussi fait d’avant la asge de xxv ans, ce que j’ai- 
mois deliberer si il ne m’eussent prenner par prison 
de se de defayre aulx estats. Je veulx done que 
Orkenay soit reunie a la couronne comme une de 
plus necessaries pour mon filz, & sans mayson ne 
pourra etre bien tenue. 

“ Les filles de Morra ne parvient accessi lieritei, 
ains revient la Conte a la couronne, si il luy plest 
luy donner sa ou fille en marriasge, et il nome 
Ten sienne ligne.” 

No. XLVII. (Page 174.) 

A Letter from Mr. Archibald Douglas to the Queen 

of Scotts. 

PLEASEyourmajesty,Ireceivedyour A _ HarI 

letter of the date of the 12th of Nov r . Li ^- 3 7- B - t0 - 

12 6 . 

and in like manner has seen some 

part of the contents of one other of the same date, 






292 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


directed to Mons r . de Movisir, ambassador for his 
majesty the most Christian king, both which are 
agreeable to your princely dignity. As by the one 
your highness desires to know the true cause of 
my banishment, and offers unto me all favour if 
I shall be innocent of the heinous facts committed 
in the person of your husband of good memory, 
so by the other the said ambassador is willed to de¬ 
clare unto me, if your husband’s murder could be 
laid justly against me, that you could not solicit in 
my cause, neither yet for any person that was par¬ 
ticipant of that execrable fact, but would seek the 
revenge thereof, when you should have any means 
to do it; your majesty’s offer, if I be innocent of 
that crime, is most favourable, and your desire to 
know the truth of the same is most equitable ; and 
therefore that I should with all my simplicity, sin¬ 
cerity, and truth, answer thereunto, is most reason¬ 
able, to the end that your princely dignity may be 
my help, if my innocence shall sufficiently appear, 
and procure my condemnation if I be culpable in 
any matter, except in the knowledge of the evil 
disposed minds of the most part of your nobility 
against your said husband, and not revealing of it; 
which I am assured was sufficiently known to him¬ 
self, and to all that had judgment never so little in 
that realm; which also I was constrained to under¬ 
stand, as he that was specially employed betwixt 
the earl of Morton, and a good number of your 
nobility, that they might with all humility intercede 
at your majesty’s hand for his relief, in such matters 
as are more specially contained in the declaration 
following, which I am constrained, for my own jus¬ 
tification, by this letter to call to your majesty’s re¬ 
membrance ; notwithstanding that I am assured, to 
my grief, the reading thereof will not smally offend 
your princely mind. It may please your majesty 
to remember, that in the year of God 1566, the said 
earl of Morton, with divers other nobility and gent, 
were declared rebels to your majesty, and banished 
your realm for insolent murder committed in your 
majesty’s own chamber, which they alledged was 
done by command of your husband, who notwith¬ 
standing affirmed that he was compelled by them to 
subscribe the warrant given for that effect; howso¬ 
ever the truth of that matter remains amongst them, 
it appertains not to me at this time to be curious ; 
true it is that I was one of that number that heavily 
offended against your majesty, and passed into 
France the time of our banishment, at the desire of 
the rest, to humbly pray your brother, the most 
Christian king, to intercede that our offences might 
be pardoned, and your majesty’s clemency extended 
toward us, albeit divers of no small reputation, in 
that realm, was of the opinion, that the said fact 
merited neither to be requisite for, nor yet pardoned. 
Always such was the careful mind of his majesty 
towards the quietness of that realm, that the dealing 
in that cause was committed to Monsr. de Movisir, 
who w as directed at that time to go into Scotland, 
to congratulate the happy birth of your son, whom 


Almighty God of his goodness may long preserve in 
happy estate and perpetual felicity. The careful 
travail of the said de Movisir w^as so effectual, and 
your majesty’s mind so inclined to mercy, that w ithin 
short space thereafter I was permitted to repair in 
Scotland, to deal with earls Murray, Athol, Bodwel, 
Arguile, and Secretary Ledington, in the name and 
behalf of the said earl Morton, lords Reven, Lindsay, 
and remanent complesis, that they might make offer 
in the names of the said earl of any matter that 
might satisfy your majesty’s wrath, and procure 
your clemency to be extended in their favours. At 
my coming to them, after I had opened the effect of 
my message, they declared that the marriage betwixt 
you and your husband had been the occasion already 
of great evil in that realm ; and if your husband 
should be suffered to follow the appetite and mind 
of such as was about him, that kind of dealing 
might produce with time worse effects ; for helping 
of such inconvenience that might fall out by that 
kind of dealing, they had thought it convenient to 
join themselves in league and band with some other 
noblemen, resolved to obey your majesty as their 
natural sovereign, and have nothing to do with your 
husband’s command whatsoever, if the said earl 
would for himself enter into that band and confede¬ 
racy with them, they could be content to humbly 
request and travel by all means with your majesty 
for his pardon ; but before they could any farther 
proceed, they desired to know the said earl’s mind 
herein ; when I had answered, that he nor his 
friends, at my departure, could not know that any 
such like matter would be proponit, and therefore 
was not instructed what to answer therein, they de¬ 
sired that I should return sufficiently instructed in 
this matter to Sterling, before the baptism of your 
son, whom God might preserve. This message was 
faithfully delivered to me at Newcastle in England, 
where the said earl then remained, in presence of 
his friends and company, where they all conde¬ 
scended to have no farther dealing with your hus¬ 
band, and to enter into the said band. With this 
deliberation I returned to Sterling, where, at the 
request of the most Christian king and the queen’s 
majesty of England, by their ambassadors present, 
your majesty’s gracious pardon was granted unto 
them all, under condition always that they should 
remain banished forth of the realm the space of two 
years, and farther during your majesty’s pleasure, 
which limitation w as after mitigated at the humble 
request of your ow n nobility ; so that immediately 
after the said earl of Morton repaired into Scotland 
to Quhittingaime, where the earl of Bodvell and 
Secretary Ledington came to him; what speech 
passed there amongst them, as God shall be my 
judge, I knew nothing at that time, but at their de¬ 
parture I was requested by the said earl Morton to 
accompany the earl Bodvell and Secretary to Eden- 
burgh, and to return with such answer as they 
should obtain of your majesty ; which being given 
to me by the said persons, as God shall be my judge. 



293 


APPENDIX, 

was no other than these words, “ Schavv to the earl 
Morton that the queen will hear no speech of that 
matter appointed unto him:” when I crafit that the 
answer might be made more sensible, Secretary 
Ledington said, that the earl would sufficiently 
understand it, albeit few or none at that time under¬ 
stand what passed amongst them. It is known to 
all men, als veill be milling letters passed betwixt 
the said earl and Ledington when they become in 
divers factions, as also ane buck sett furth by the 
ministers, wherein they affirm that the earl of Mor¬ 
ton has confessed to them, before his death, that the 
earl Bodvell came to Quhittingaime to prepone the 
calling away off' the king your husband, to the 
which proposition the said earl of Morton affirms 
that he could give no answer unto such time he 
might know your majesty’s mind therein, which he 
never received. As to the abominable murder, it 
is know n too by the depositions of many persons that 
were executed to the death for the committing 
thereof, that the same was executed by them, and 
at the command of such of the nobility as had sub- 
scrivit band for that effect. By this unpleasant 
declaration, the most part thereof known to your¬ 
self, and the remainder may be understood by the 
aforesaid witnesses that was examined in torture, 
and that are extant in the custody of the ordinary 
judges in Scotland, my innocency, so far as may 
concern any fact, does appear sufficiently to your 
majesty. And as for my dealing aforesaid, I can 
be no otherwise charged therein, but as what would 
accuse the vessel that preserves the wine from harm, 
for the intemperancy of such as immoderately use 
the same. As for the special cause of my banish¬ 
ment, I think the same has proceeded upon ane 
opinion conceived, that I was able to accuse the earl 
of Morton of so much matter as they alledge himself 
to have confessed before he died, and would not be 
induced, for loss of reputation, to perform any part 
thereof. If this be the occasion of my trouble, as I 
suppose it is, what punishment I should deserve I 
remit me to your majesty’s better judgment, who well 
knows how careful ever ilk gentleman should be of 
his fame, reputation and honour, and how far ever ilk 
man should abhor the name of a pultroun, and how 
indecent it would have been to me to accuse the 
earl of Morton, being so near of his kin, notwith¬ 
standing all the injuries I was constrained to receive 
at his hand all the time of his government, and for 
no other cause, but for shewing of particular friend¬ 
ship to particular friends in the time of the last 
cruel troubles in Scotland. Sorry I be now to 
accuse him in any matter being dead, and more 
sorry that being on lylf, be such kind of dealing 
obtained that name of Ingrate. Always for my own 
part I have been banished my native country those 
three years and four months, living in anxiety of 
mind, my holl guds in Scotland, which were not 
small, intermittit and disponit upon, and has con¬ 
tinually since the time I was relieved out of my last 
troubles at the desire of Mons r . de Movisir, attended 


No. XLV1I. 

to know your majesty’s pleasure, and to wait upon 
what service it should please your majesty for to 
command. Upon the 8th of April inst. your good 
friend Secretary Walsingham has declared unto me, 
that her highness tho’t it expedient that I should 
retire myself where I pleased ; I declared unto him 
I had no means whereby I might perform that desire, 
until such time as I should receive it from your 
majesty. Neither knew I where it would please 
your highness to direct me, until such time as I 
should have received further information from you. 
Upon this occasion, and partly by permission, I have 
taken the hardress to write this present letter, where¬ 
by your majesty may understand any part of my 
troubles past, and straight present. As to my in¬ 
tention future, I will never deny that I am fully 
resolved to spend the rest of my days in your ma¬ 
jesty’s service, and the king your son’s, wheresoever 
I shall be directed by your majesty ; and for the 
better performing thereof, if so shall be her majesty’s 
pleasure, to recommend the tryal of my innocency, 
and examination of the verity of the preceding 
narration, to the king your son, with request that I 
may be pardoned for such offences as concerned 
your majesty’s service, and var common to all men 
the time of his les aige and perdonit to all, except 
to me; I should be the bearer thereof myself, and 
be directed in whatsoever service it should please 
your majesty for to command. Most humble I be¬ 
seech your majesty to consider hereof, and to be so 
gracious as to give order, that I may have means to 
serve your majesty according to the sincerity of my 
meaning ; and so expecting your majesty’s answer, 
after the kissing your hand with all humility, I 
take leave from London. 

No. XLVIII. (Page 176.) 

A Letter from Sir Amias Paulet. 

Sir, 

I did forbear, according to your 
.. . . a , . , e Origin. Cal. c. 9. 

direction signified in your letters ot 

the fourth of this present, to proceed to the execu¬ 
tion of the contents of Mr. Waade’s letters unto 
you, for the dispersing of this lady’s unnecessary 
servants, and for the ceasing of her money, wherein 
I Mas bold to Mrite unto you my simple opinion, 
(although in vain as it now falleth out,) by my 
letters of the 7th of this instant, which, I doubt not, 
are with you before this time ; but upon the receipt 
of your letters of the 5th, which came not unto my 
hands until the 8th in the evening, by reason, as did 
appear by indorsement, that they had been mistaken, 
and were sent back to Windsor, after they were 
entered into the way towards me, I considered, that 
being accompanied only with my own servants, it 
might be thought that they M ould be intreated to say 
as I Mould command them ; and therefore I thought 
good, for my better discharge in these money matters, 
to crave the assistance of Mr. Richard 13agot, who 



THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


294 

repairing unto me the next morning, we had access 
to this queen, whom we found in her bed, troubled 
after the old manner with a delluxion, which was 
fallen down into the side of her neck, and had be¬ 
reft her of the use of one of her hands, unto whom 
I declared, that upon occasion of her former prac¬ 
tices, doubting lest she would persist therein by 
corrupting underhand some bad members of this 
state, I was expressly commanded to take her money 
into my hands, and to rest answerable for it, when 
it shall be required ; advising her to deliver the 
said money unto me with quietness. After many 
denials, many exclamations, and many bitter words 
against you, (I say nothing of her railing against 
myself,) with flat affirmation that her majesty might 
have her body, but her heart she should never have, 
refusing to deliver the key of the cabinet, I called 
my servants, and sent for barrs to break open the 
door, whereupon she yielded, and causing the door 
to be opened, I found there in the coffers, mentioned 
in Mr. Waade's remembrance, five rolls of canvass, 
containing five thousand French crowns, and two 
leather bags, whereof the one had, in gold, one hun¬ 
dred and four pounds two shillings, and the other 
had three pounds in silver, which bag of silver w as 
left with her, affirming that she had no more money 
in this house, and that she was indebted to her ser- 
Curie can tell vants for their wages. Mr. Waade’s 

you the truth of , , . , . 

this matter. note maketh mention ot 3 rolls left in 
Curie’s chamber, wherein, no doubt, he was mis- 
reckoned, which is evident as well by the testimonies 
and oaths of diverse persons, as also by probable 
conjectures ; so as in truth we found only two rolls, 
every of which containeth one thousand crowns, 
w hich was this queen’s guifte to Curie’s wife at her 
marriage. There is found in Naw’s chamber, in a 
cabinet, a chain worth by estimation one hundred 
pounds, and in money, in one bag nine hundred 
pounds, in a second bag two hundred fourscore and 
six pounds eighteen shillings. All the foresaid 
parcels of money are bestowed in bags, and sealed 
by Mr. Richard Bagot, saving five hundred pounds 
of Naw’s money, which I reserve in my hands for 
the use of this household, and may be repayed at 
London, where her majesty shall appoint, out of the 
money received lately by one of my servants, out 
of the exchequer. I feared lest the people might 
have dispersed this money in all this time, or have 
hidden the same in some secret corners ; for doubt 
whereof I had caused all this queen’s family, from 
the highest to the lowest, to be guarded in the 
several places where I found them, so as yff I had 
not found the money with quietness, I had been 
forced to have searched first all their lodgings, and 
then their own persons. I thank God with all my 
heart, as for a singular blessing, that that falleth 
out so well, fearing lest a contrary success might 
have moved some hard conceits in her majesty. 

Touching the dispersing of this queen’s servants, 

I trust 1 have done so much as may suffice to satisfy 
her majesty for the time, wherein I could not take 


any absolute course, until I heard again from you, 
partly because her majesty, by Mr. Waade’s letter, 
doth refer to your consideration to return such as 
shall be discharged to their several dwellings and 
countries, wherein, as it seemeth,you have forgotten 
to deliver your opinion ; partly, for that as yet I 
have received no answ er from you of your resolution, 
upon the view of the Scottish family sent unto you, 
what persons you will appoint to be dismist; only 
this I have done, I have bestowed all such as are 
mentioned in this bill, inclosed in three or four 
several rooms, as the same may suffice to contain 
them, and that their meat and drink shall be brought 
unto them by my servants. It may please you, to 
advertise me by your next letters, in what sort, and 
for what course, I shall make their 
passports, as also, it they shall say good store of mo- 
they are unpaid of their wages, what in the Wench am- 
I shall do therein. Yt is said that they bdSSddor b 1,ands * 
have been accustomed to be paid of their wages at 
Christmas, for the w hole year. Her majesty’s charge 
will be somewhat diminished by the departure of 
this people, and my charge by this occasion will be 
the more easy. But the persons, all save Bastian, 
are such silly and simple souls, as there was no 
great cause to fear their practices ; and upon this 
ground I was of opinion, in my former letters, that 
all this dismissed train should have followed their 
mistress until the next remove, and there to have 
been discharged upon the sudden, for doubt that 
the said remove might be delayed, yf she did fear, 
or expect any hard measure. 

Others shall excuse their foolish pity as they may; 
but, for my part, I renunce my part of the joys of 
heaven, yf in any thing that I have said, written, 
or done, I have had any other respect than the fur¬ 
therance of her majesty’s service; and so I shall 
most earnestly pray you to affirm for me, as likewise 
for the not seasing of the money by Mr. Manners, 
the other commissioners, and myself. I trust Mr. 
Waade hath answ ered, in all humble duties, for the 
whole company, that no one of us did so much as 
think that our commission reaching only to the 
papers, we might be bold to touch the money, so as 
there was no speech of that all to my knowledge, 
and as you know I was no commissioner in this 
search, but had my hands full at Tyxall; discreet 
servants are not hastily to deal in great matters 
without warrant, and especially where the cause is 
such as the delay of it carrieth no danger. 

Your advertisement of that happy remove hath 
been greatly comfortable unto me. I will not say 
in respect of myself, because my private interest 
hath no measure of comparison with her majesty’s 
safety, and with the quiet of this realm. God grant 
a happy and speedy yssue to these good and godly 
counsels; and so I commyt you to his merciful 
protection. From Chartley, the 10th of September 
1586. 



295 


APPENDIX, No. XLIX. L. 


No. XLIX. (Page 179) 

Letter from the King of Scots to Mr. Archibald 
Douglas, his ambassador in England, October 1586. 

Cott. Lib. Calijr. Reserve up yourself na langer in 
nan'n the king’s tlie ernest dealing for my mother, for 
hand * ye have done it too long ; and think 

not that any your travellis can do goode if hir lyfe 
be takin, for then adieu with my dealing with thaime 
that are the special instrumentis thairof; andtheir- 
fore, gif ye looke for the contineuance of my favour 
towards you, spair na pains nor plainnes in this 
cace, but reade my letter wrettin to Williame Keith, 
and conform yourself quhollie to the contends 
thairof, and in this requeist let me reap the fruictis 
of youre great credit there, ather now or never. 
Fairwell. October 1586. 


Letter to Sir William Keith, ambassador in England, 
probably from Secretary Maitland. Nov. 27. 1586. 


a copy in the By y° ur letters sent by this bearer, 
A°DkA- vokA (albeitconcerningnopleasantsubject,) 
foi. 2 iy. his majesty conceives well of your 

earnestness and fidelity in your negotiations, as 
also of Mr. Archibald’s activity and diligence, 
whom you so greatly praise and recommend ; I 
wish the issue correspond to his majesty’s opinion, 
your care and travell, and his great diligence, as yon 
write. His majesty takes this rigorous proceeding 
against his mother deeply in heart, as a matter 
greatly concerning him both in honour and other¬ 
wise. His highnesses actions and behaviour utter 
plainly not only how far nature prevails, but also 
how he apprehends of the sequel of that process, 
and of what moment he esteems it. There is an 
ambassade shortly to be directed, wherein will be 
employed an earl and two counsellors, on whose 
answer will depend the continuance or dissolution 
of the amity and good intelligence between the 
princes of this isle. In the mean season, if farther 
extremity be used, and his majesty’s suit and re¬ 
quest disdained, his highness will think himself dis¬ 
honoured and contemned far besides his expecta¬ 
tion and deserts. Ye may perceive his majesty’s 
disposition by his letter to you, which you shall im¬ 
part to Mr. Archibald, and both deal according 
thereto. I need not to recommend to you care, con¬ 
cerning your master’s service both in weill and in 
honour. As you and your colleague shall behave 
yourself in this behalf, so for my own part will I in¬ 
terpret your affection to your master. I am glad of 
that I hear of yourself, and I do fully credit that 
you write of Mr. Archibald, whose friends here 
make great account of his professed devotion to the 
Queen, besides the duty he owes to the king’s majes¬ 
ty, her son. Farther I am constrained to remit to 
next occasion, having scarce time to scribble these 
few lines (which of themselves may bear witness of 


my haste). Wishing you a prosperous issue of your 
negociation, I commit you, &c. Halyrudhouse, 
Nov r . 27th, 1586. 

The people, and all estates here, are so far moved 
by the rigorous proceedings against the queen, that 
his majesty, and all that have credit are importuned, 
and may not go abroad for exclamations against 
them, and imprecations against the queen of Eng¬ 
land. 


No. L. (Page 180.) 

To the King's Majesty,from Mr. Archibald Douglas. 

Please your majesty, I received 

. , _ J , , „ 16th Oct. 1586. 

your letter ot the date the 28th ot hep- Prom the ordinal 

in the Collect, of 

tember the 5th of October, which was sir a. nick. 

1 , , t Vol. B. fol. 324. 

the same day that I directed W ra . 

Murray towards your highness. By such letters as 
he carried, and others of several dates, your ma¬ 
jesty may perceive that I had omitted nothing so 
far as my travel might reach unto, anent the per¬ 
forming of the two chief points contained in the 
said letter before the receipt thereof, which by these 
presents I must repeat for answering of the saidis. 
As to the first, so far as may concern the interceding 
for the queen your majesty’s mother her life, I have 
divers times, and in every audience, travelled with 
this queen in that matter, specially to know what 
her full determination must be in that point, and 
could never bring her to any further answer, but 
that this proceeding against her by order of justice 
was no less against her mind, than against their will 
that loved her best: as towards her life she could 
give no answer thereunto, until such time as the 
law hath declared whether she was innocent or 
guilty. Herewithal it was her pleasure thus far to 
inform me, that it was a number of the associants 
that earnestly pressed her that the law might pro¬ 
ceed against her, giving reasons that as long as she 
was suffered to deal in matters, so long would never 
this realm be in quiet, neither her life, neither this 
state in assurance; and in the end they used this 
protestation, that if she would not in this matter 
follow their advice, that they should remain without 
all blame, whatsoever should fall out: whereupon 
she had granted them liberty to proceed, lest such 
as had made the request might hereafter have 
charged herself with inconvenience if any should 
happen. 

And by myself I know this her speech to be true, 
because both papist and protestant has behaved 
them, as it hath been her pleasure to declare, but 
upon divers respects, the one to avoid suspicion 
that otherwise was conceived against them, the other 
upon zeal, and care that they will be known to have 
for preservation of their sovereign’s life and state in 
this perilous time ; upon consideration whereof, I 
have been constrained to enter into some dealing 
with both, wherewith I made her majesty acquaint- 



296 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


cd ; the protestants, and such as in other matters 
will be known to bear no small favour unto your 
majesty’s service, hath prayed that they may be ex¬ 
cused from any dealing in the contrary of that, 
which by their oath they have avowed, and by their 
speech to their sovereign requested for, and that be¬ 
fore my coming in this country ; if they should now 
otherwise do, it would produce no better effect but 
to make them subject to the accusation of their 
sovereign, when it should please her to do it, of their 
inconstancy, in giving councell whereby they might 
incur the danger of ill councellors, and be conse¬ 
quent worthy of punishment. Such of the papists 
as I did deal with, went immediately, and told her 
majesty what I had spoken to them, who albeit she 
understood the matter of before, sent for me, and 
declared to me my own speech that I had uttered to 
them, willing me for the weil of my maister’s service 
to abstain from dealing with such as were not yet 
sufficiently moved to think of my master as she did. 
I craved leave of her majesty, that I might inform 
them of your majesty’s late behaviour towards her, 
and the state of this realm, whereunto with some 
difficulty she gave her consent. At my late depar¬ 
ture from court, which was upon the 5th of this in¬ 
stant, and the day after that the lords of this grand 
jury had taken their leaves of her majesty to go 
northward to Fothringham, it was her pleasure to 
promise to have further speech in this matter at the 
returning of the said lords, and to give full an¬ 
swer according to your majesty’s contentment 
to the remainder matters that I had proponit in 
name of your majesty. As to the second part 
concerning the association, and desire that the 
promise made to the master of Gray concerning 
your majesty’s title may be fulfilled ; it appears 
by the said letter, that the very point whereupon 
the question that may bring your majesty’s title 
in doubt, hath not been rightly at the writing 
of the said letter considered, which I take to have 
proceeded for lack of reading of the act of parlia¬ 
ment, wherein is fulfilled all the promise made by 
the queen to the said master, and nothing may now 
cause any doubt to arise against your said title, ex¬ 
cept that an opinion should be conceived by these 
lords of this parliament that are so vehement at this 
time against the queen your majesty’s mother, that 
your majesty is, or may be proved hereafter assent¬ 
ing to her proceedings; and some that love your 
majesty’s service were of that opinion, that too ear¬ 
nest request might move a ground whereupon sus¬ 
picions might grow in men so ill affected in that 
matter, which I tho’t might be helped by obtaining 
of a declaration in parliament of your majesty’s 
innocence at this time, and by reason that good 
nature and public honesty "would constrain you to 
intercede for the queen your mother, which would 
carry with itself, without any further, some suspi¬ 
cion that might move ill affected men to doubt. In 
my former letters I humbly craved of your majesty 
that some learned men in the laws might be moved 


to advise with the words of the association, and the 
mitigation contained in the act of parliament, and 
withall to advise what suspicious effects your 
majesty’s request might work in these choleric men 
at this time, and how their minds might be best 
moved to receive reason ; and upon all these con¬ 
siderations they might have formed the words of a 
declarator of your majesty’s innocence to be obtain¬ 
ed in this parliament, and failing thereof, the very 
words of a protestation for the same effect that might 
best serve for your majesty’s service, and for my 
better information. Albeit this was my simple opi¬ 
nion, I shall be contented to follow any direction 
it shall please your majesty to give. I have already 
opened the substance hereof to the queen of this 
realm, who seems not to be offended herewith, and 
hath granted liberty to deal therein with such of the 
parliament as may remain in any doubt of mind. 
This being the sum of my proceedings in this mat¬ 
ter, besides the remainder, contained in other letters 
of several dates, I am constrained to lay the whole 
open before your majesty, and to humbly pray that 
full information may be sent unto me what further 
to do herein ; in this middle time, while I shall re¬ 
ceive more ample direction, I shall proceed and be 
doing according to such direction as I have already 
received. And so, most gracious sovereign, wish¬ 
ing unto your majesty all happy success in your 
affairs, I humbly take my leave. From London, 
this 16th of October 1586. A r our majesty’s most 
humble subject and obed 1 . servant. 

A Memorial for his Majesty hy the Master of Gray. 

It will please your majesty I have 12th Jan 158 g 
tho’t meeter to set down all things as his owrflfandhi 
they occur, and all advertisements as ^ ^mck °oi 
they came to my ears, then jointly in A -*° 1,222 - 
a lettre. 

I came to Yare the 24th of Dec r . and sent to W m . 
Keith and Mr. Archibald Douglas to advertise the 
queen of it, like as they did at their audience. She 
promised the queen your majesty’s mother’s life 
should be spared till we were heard. The 27th they 
came to Vare to me, the which day sir Rob 1 , came to 
Yare, where they shewed us how far they had already 
gone in their negotiation ; but for that the discourse 
of it is set down in our general letter, I remit me 
to it, only this far will I testify unto your majesty 
that W m . Keith hath used himself right honestly 
and wisely till our coming, respecting all circum¬ 
stances, and chiefly his colleague his dealing, which 
indeed is not better than yourmajesty knows already. 

The 29th day of Dec r . we came to London, where 
we were no ways friendly received, nor after the 
honest sort it has pleased your majesty use her 
ambassadors ; never man sent to welcome or convey 
us. The same day we understood of Mr. de Bellievre 
his leave taking ; and for that the custom permitted 
not, we sent our excuses by Mr. George l r oung. 

The 1st day of Jan r >'. W* u . Keith and his colleague, 



297 


APPENDIX, No. L. 


according to the custom, sent to crave our audience. 
We received the answer contained in the general 
letter, and could not have answer till the Gth day ; 
what was done that day your majesty has it in the 
general, yet we was not out of esperance at that 
time, albeit we received hard answers. 

The 8th day we speak with the earl of Leicester, 
where our conferrence was, as is set down in the 
general. I remarked this, that he that day said 
plainly the detaining of the queen of Scotland pri¬ 
soner was for that she pretended a succession to 
this crown. Judge then by this what is tho’t of 
your majesty, as ye shall hear a little after. 

The 9th day we speak with the French ambassa¬ 
dor, whom we find very plain in making to us a 
wise discourse of all his proceedings ; and Mr. de 
Bellievre we thanked him in your majesty's name, 
and opened such things as we had to treat with 
this queen, save the last point, as more largely set 
down by our general. 

It is tho’t here, and some friends of your majes¬ 
ty’s advised me, that Bellievre his negotiation was 
not effectual, and that the resident was not privy to 
it, as in deed I think is true, for since Bellievre his 
parting, there is a talk of this Chasteauneuf his ser¬ 
vants taken with his whole papers and pacquets, 
which he was sending in France, for that they 
charge him with a conspiracy of late against the 
queen here her life. It is alleged his servant has 
confessed the matter, but whom I shall trust I know 
not; but till I see proof I shall account him an 
honest man, for indeed so he appears, and one 
(without doubt) who hath been very instant in this 
matter. I shew him that the queen and earl of Lei¬ 
cester had desired to speak with me in private, 
and craved his opinion ; he gave it freely, that he 
tho’t it meetest I shew him the reason why I com¬ 
municate that to him, for that I had been suspected 
by some of her majesty’s friends in France to have 
done evil offices in her service, that he should be 
my witness that my earnest dealing in this should be 
a sufficient testimony that all was lies, and that this 
knave Naue who now had betrayed her, had in that 
done evil offices: he desired me, seeing she saw 
only with other folk’s eyes, that I should no ways 
impute it to her, for the like she had done to him¬ 
self by Naue his persuasion. I answered, he should 
be my witness in that. 

The 9th day we sent to court to crave audience, 
which we got the 10th day : at the first, she said a 
thing long looked for should be welcome when 
it comes ; I would now see your master’s offers. I 
answered, no man makes offers but for some cause ; 
we would, and like your majesty, first know the 
cause to be extant for which we offer, and likewise 
that it be extant till your majesty has heard us. I 
think it be extant yet, but I will not promise for an 
hour; but you think to shift in that sort. I an¬ 
swered, we mind not to shift, but to offer from 
our sovereign all things that with reason may be, 
and, in special, we offered as is set down in our 


general; all was refused and tho’t nothing. She 
called on the three that were in the house, the eail 
of Leicester, my lord admiral and chamberlain, and 
very despitefully repeated all our offers in presence 
of them all. I opened the last part, and said, 
Madam, for what respect is it that men deal against 
your person or estate for her cause? She answered, 
because they think she shall succeed to me, and for 
that she is a papist; appearingly, said I, both the 
causes may be removed ; she said she would be glad 
to understand it. If Madam, said I, all that she 
has of right of succession were in the king our 
sovereign’s person, were not all hope of papists re¬ 
moved ? She answered, I hope so. Then, Madam, 
I think the queen his mother shall willingly demit 
all her rights in his person. She answered, she 
hath no right, for she is declared unhabil. Then I 
said, if she have no right, appearingly the hope 
ceases already, so that it is not to be feared that 
any man attempt for her. The queen answered, but 
the papists allow not our declaration: then let it fall, 
says I, in the king’s person by her assignation. The 
earl of Leicester answered, she is a prisoner, and 
how can she demit? I answered, the demission is 
to her son, by the advice of all the friends she has 
in Europe, and in case, as God forbid, that any at¬ 
tempt cuttis the queen here away, who shall party 
with her to prove the demission or assignation to be 
ineffectual, her son being opposite party, and hav¬ 
ing all the princes her friends for him, having 
bonded for the efficacy of it with his majesty of be¬ 
fore. The queen made as she could not comprehend 
my meaning, and sir Rob 1 , opened the matter again; 
she yet made as tho’ she understood not. So the 
earl of Leicester answered, that our meaning was, 
that the king should be put in his mother’s place. Is 
it so, the queen answered, then I put myself in a 
worse case than of before; by God’s passion, that 
were to cut my own throat; and for a dutchy or an 
earldom to yourself, you or such as you would 
cause some of your desperate knaves kill me. No, 
by God, he shall never be in that place. I answered, 
he craves nothing of your majesty but only of his 
mother. The earl of Leicester answered, that were 
to make him party to the queen my mistress. I said, 
he will be far more party, if he be in her place 
through her death. She would stay no longer, but 
said she would not have a worse in his mother’s 
place; and said, tell your king what good I have 
done for him in holding the crown on his head since 
he was born ; and that I mind to keep the league 
that now stands between us, and if he break it shall 
be a double fault; and with this minded to have 
bidden us farewell; but we achevit (i. e. finished 
arguing upon this point). And I spake, craving of 
her that her life may be spared for 15 days; she 
refused. Sir Rob 1 , craved for only eight days ; she 
said, not for an hour; and so geid her away. Your 
majesty sees we have delivered all we had for offers ; 
but all is for nothing, for she and her councel has 
laid a determination that they mind to follow forth ; 



298 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


and I see it comes rather of her councel than her¬ 
self, which I like the worse; for without doubt, sir, 
it shall cut off all friendship ye had here. Altho’ 
it were that once they had meaned well to your ma¬ 
jesty, yet remembering themselves, that they have 
meddled with your mother’s blood, good faith they 
cannot hope great good of yourself, a thing in truth 
I am sorry for; further, your majesty may perceive 
by this last discourse of that I proponit, if they had 
meaned well to your majesty, they had used it other¬ 
wise than they have done, for reason has bound 
them. But I dare not write all. I mind something 
to speak in this matter, because we look shurly our 
letters shall be trussit by the way. 

For that I see private credit nor no means can 
alter their determination, altho’ the queen again 
and the earl of Leicester has desired to speak with 
me in particular; I mind not to speak, nor shall 
not; but assuredly shall let all men see that I in 
particular was no ways tyed to England, but for the 
respect of your majesty’s service. So, albeit at this 
time I could not effectuate that I desired, yet my 
upright dealing in it shall be manifested to the 
world. We are, God willing, then to crave audi¬ 
ence, where we mind to use sharply our instruc¬ 
tions, which hitherto we have used very calmly; 
for we can, for your honour’s cause, say no less for 
your majesty, than the French ambassador has said 
for his master. 

So I pray your majesty consider my upright deal¬ 
ing in your service, and not the effect; for had it 
been doable (i. e. possible to be done) by any, I 
might have here had credit; but being I came only 
for that cause, I will not my credit shall serve here 
to any further purpose. I pray God preserve your 
majesty, and send you a true and sincere friend¬ 
ship. From London this 12th of Jan. 1586. 

I understand the queen is to send one of her own 
to your majesty. 


To the Right Hon. my Lord Vice-chancellor and Se¬ 
cretary to his Majesty , from the Master of Gray. 


Mv lord, I send you these lines with 

12th .Tan. 1586. , . . , , 

An original in this inclosed to his majesty, whereby 

the Collect, of , . . . ... 

Sir a. Dick. your lordship shall understand how 
Vol. A. fol. 179. , . . , . 

matters goes here. And before all 
things I pray your lordship move his majesty to re¬ 
spect my diligence, and not the effect in this nego- 
ciation ; for I swear, if it had been for the crown of 
England to myself I could do no more ; and let not 
unfriends have advantage of me, for the world shall 
see that I loved England for his majesty’s service 
only. I look shortly to find your lordship friend as 
ye made promise, and by God I shall be to you if I 
can. W". Keith and I devyset, if matters had gone 
well, to have run a course that your lordship might 
have here been in credit and others disappointed; 
but now I will do for you as for myself; which is to 
care for no credit here, for in conscience they mean 
not honestly to the king our sovereign, and if they 


may, he will go the get his mother is gone, or shortly 
to go, therefore my lord, without all kind of scruple 
I pray you to advise him the best is not this way. 
They say here, that it has Been said by one who 
heard it from you, that ye desired not the king and 
England to agree, because it would rack the noble¬ 
men, and gave an example of it by king James the 
fourt; I answered in your name, that I was assured 
you never had spoken it. Mr. Archibald is the 
speaker of it, who I assure your lordship has been a 
poison in this matter, for they lean very mickle to 
his opinion. He cares not, he says, for at length 
the king will be fain to deal this way, either by fair 
means or necessity, so that when he deals this course 
he is assured to be welcome. To set down all that 
is past of the like purposes, it would consume more 
paper than I have here, so I defer it to meeting. 
There is a new conspiracy alledged against the 
queen to have been intended, for the French am¬ 
bassador resident three of his men taken, but I think 
in the end it shall prove nothing. Mr. Stafford, 
who is ambassador for this queen in France, is 
touched with it, his brother is taken here, always it 
has done this harm in our negotiation, that all this 
council would not move this queen to meddle with 
the queen of Scotland’s blood, till this invention 
was found forth. I remit all other things to the in¬ 
closed. We minded to have sent to his majesty a 
discourse, which we have set down of all our pro¬ 
ceedings since our hither coming, but we are surely 
advertized that the bearer is to be trussed by the 
way for our pacquets, so that we defer it till our 
own coming ; this I have put in a privy part beside 
the pacquet. We shall, I think, take leave on 
Friday the 13th day, wdiere we mind exactly to fol¬ 
low the rigour of our instructions, for it cannot 
stand with the king’s honour that we say less than 
the French ambassador, which was, Le roy mon 
maistre ne peult moins faire que se resentir. So that 
about the 24th I think we shall, God willing, be at 
home, except that some stay come which we look 
not for. The queen and the earl of Leicester has 
desired to speak with me. I refused save in pre¬ 
sence of my colleagues, by reason I see a determi¬ 
nation which particular credit cannot help, and I 
crave no credit but for that cause. It will please 
your lordship retire the inclosed from his majesty 
and keep it. So after my service commended to 
yourself and bedfellow, I commit you to God. From 
London the 12th of Jan. 1586. 

To the lung's Majesty , from Sir Robert Melvil. 

It may please your majesty, since 201h Jju?< 15?6> 
the direction of our former letters, we h\s ow'n'haLd'in 
had audience, and her majesty ap- i/kk Ct Voi Sir 
peared to take our overtures in good A * fo1 - 181 - 
part in presence of her council ; albeit no offers 
could take place with them, having taken resolution 
to proceed with extremity, not the less it pleased 
her majesty to desire us to stay for two days on 



APPENDIX, No. L. 


299 


taking our leave, until she had advised upon our 
propositions ; since which time her majesty is be¬ 
come more hard by some letters (as we are informed) 
has come from Scotland, making some hope to be¬ 
lieve that your majesty takes not this matter to heart, 
as we know the contrary in effect, and had of be¬ 
fore removed the like opinion out of her majesty’s 
mind, which by sinister information was credited, 
their reports has hindered our commission, and 
abused this queen, fearing in like manner we shall 
be stayed until answer come from Scotland by such 
person as they have intelligence of. And albeit 
that it will be well enough known to all men how 
heavily y our majesty takes this proceeding to heart; 
the truth is, that they have by this occasion so per¬ 
suaded the queen, that it is like to hinder our ne¬ 
gotiation. As also Alchinder (i. e. Alexander) 
Steward is to be directed in their party, by our 
knowledge, who has awantyt more of his credit than 
I believe he may perform, and we willed him to de¬ 
sist from this dealing, saying it does harm, and he 
is not meet for that purpose, remitting to your ma¬ 
jesty’s good discretion to take order herein, as we 
shall be answerable to your majesty not to omit any 
point we have in charge, as the truth is, the master 
of Grhaye has behaved himself very uprightly and 
discreetly in this charge, and evil tayne with be di¬ 
vers in these parts who were of before his friends. 
We have been behalden to the menstrals who has 
born us best company, but has not been troubled 
with others. Wylzeme Kethe hath left nothing un¬ 
done that he had in charge. As for master Archi¬ 
bald he has promised at all times to do his dewoyr, 
wherein he shall find true report made to your ma¬ 
jesty. Craving pardon of your majesty that I have 
been so tedious, after I have kissed your majesty’s 
hand I humbly take my leave. Praying God to 
grant your majesty many good days and happy, in 
whose protection I commit your majesty. At Lon¬ 
don, the 20th of Jan. 1586. 

Sir, 

Albeit Master George has not been in commission, 
he is not inferior in his service to any of us, as well 
by his good advice and diligent care he takes for 
the advancement of your service, wherein we have 
not been a little furthered. 

To the King's Majesty , from the Master of Gray 
and Sir Robert Melvil. 

Please it your majesty in the last 

21st Jan. 1586. .. i , • , 

>\n original in audience we had, since our last adver- 

the Collect, of „ , , 

sir a. Dick.voi. tisement by YV in . Murray, we find her 

A.fol. 180. / . 

majesty at the resuming our oilers 
something mitigated, and inclined to consider more 
deeply of them, before we got our leave. At our 
reasoning, certain of the council, namely, my lord 
of Leicester, sir Christopher Haton, my lord Huns- 
don, and my lord Hawart being present in the cham¬ 
ber, gave little show of any great contentment to 


have her from her former resolution, now cassin in 
perplexitie what we should do, always we left her 
in that state, and since have daily pressed confer¬ 
ence with the whole council, which to this hour we 
have not yet obtained. This day we have sent down 
to crave our leave. The greatest hinder which our 
negotiation has found hitherto is a persuasion they 
have here, that either your majesty deals superfici¬ 
ally in this matter, or that with time ye may be moved 
to digest it, which when with great difficulty we had 
expugnit, we find anew that certain letters written 
to them of late from Scotland has found some place 
of credit with them in our contrare. So that resolv¬ 
ing now to clear them of that doubt by a special 
message, they have made choice of sir Alexander 
Stewart to try your highness’s meaning in it, and to 
persuade your majesty to like of their proceedings, 
wherefrom no terror we can say out unto him is 
able to divert him; he has given out that he has 
credit with your majesty, and that he doubts not to 
help this matter at your highness’s hand. If he 
come there that errand, we think your majesty will 
not oversee the great d/sgrace that his attempts 
shall give us here, if he Jje not tane order with be¬ 
fore that he be further heard ; and if so be that any 
other he directed (as our intelligence gives us there 
shall) our humble suit is to your majesty, that it 
may please your highness to hear of us what we find 
here, and at what point we leave this matter with 
her majesty, before that they find accidence, the 
causes whereof remitting to our private letters. We 
commit your majesty for the present to God’s eter¬ 
nal protection. From London, this 21st of Jan. 1586. 


No. LI. (Page 182.) 

Copy of a letter from the Earls of Shreivsbury and 
Kent , fyc. touching their proceedings with regard to 
the death of the Scottish queen , to her Majesty's 
Council . 

It may please your hon b,e good lordships to be 
advertised, that, on Saturday the 4th of this present, 
I Robert Beale came to the house of me the earl of 

Kent, in the county of-, to whom your lord- 

ships’ letter and message was delivered, and her 
majesty’s commission shewn ; whereupon I the earl 
forthwith sent precepts for the staying of such hues 
and cries as had troubled the country, requiring 
the officers to make stay of all such persons as 
should bring any such warrants without names, as 
before had been done, and to bring them to the 
next justice of peace, to the intent that upon their 
examination the occasion and causes of such sedi¬ 
tious bruites might be bolted out and known. It 
was also resolved that I the said earl of Kent should, 
on the Monday following, come to Lylford to Mr. 
Elmes, to be the nearer and readier to confer with 
my lord of Shrewsbury. Sunday at night, I Robert 




300 


THE HISTORY 

Beale came to Fotheringay, where, after the com¬ 
municating the commission, &c. unto us sir Amice 
Pawlet and sir Drue Drury, by reason that sir A. 
Paw let was but late recovered and not able to re¬ 
pair to the earl of Shrewsbury, being then at Orton, 
six miles oil', it was thought good that we sir Drue 
Drury and Robert Beale should go unto him, which 
we did on-morning ; and together with the de¬ 

livery of her majesty's commission, and your lord- 
ships’ letter, imparted unto him what both the earl 
of Kent and we thought meet to be done in the 
cause, praying his lordship hither the day follow¬ 
ing, to confer with me the said earl, concerning the 
same ; which his lordship promised. And for the 
better colouring of the matter, I the said earl of 
Shrewsbury sent to Mr. Beale, a justice of peace of 
the county of Huntingdon next adjoining, to whom 
I communicated that warrant, which Robert Beale 
had under your lordships’ hands, for the staying of 
the hues and cries, requiring him to give notice 
thereof to the town of Peterborough, and especially 
unto the justices of peace of Huntingdonshire, and 
to cause the pursuers and bringers of such war¬ 
rants to be stayed, and brought to the next justice 
of peace ; and to bring us word to Fotheringay cas¬ 
tle on Wednesday morning what he had done, and 
what he should in the mean time understand of the 
authors of such bruites. Which like order, I also 
sir Amias Pawlet had taken on Monday morning 
in this towm, and other places adjoining. The same 
night the sheriff of the county of Northampton, upon 
the receipt of your lordships’ letter, came to Arun¬ 
del, and letters w ere sent to me the earl of Kent of 
the earl of Shrewsbury’s intention and meeting 
here on Tuesday by noon ; and other letters were 
also sent with their lordships’ assent to sir Edward 
Montague, sir Richard Knichtly, Mr. Tho. Bruden- 
ell, See. to be here on Wednesday by eight of the 
clock in the morning, at which time it was thought 
meet that the execution should be. So upon Tues¬ 
day we the earls came hither, where the sheriff met 
us ; and upon conference between us it was resolv¬ 
ed, that the care for the sending for the surgeons, 
and other necessary provision, should be committed 
unto him against the time. And we forthwith re¬ 
paired unto her, and first in the presence of herself 
and her folks, to the intent that they might see and 
report hereafter that she w as not otherwise proceed¬ 
ed with than according to law, and the form of the 
statute made in the 27th year of her majesty’s 
reign, it was thought convenient that her majesty’s 
commission should be read unto her, and afterwards 
she was by sundry speeches willed to prepare her¬ 
self against the next morning. She was also put 
in remembrance of her fault, the honourable manner 
of proceeding with her, and the necessity that was 
imposed upon her majesty to proceed to execution, 
for that otherwise it was found that they could not 
both stand together; and however, sithence the lord 
Buckhurst’s his being here new conspiracies were 
attempted, and so would be still; wherefore since 


OF SCOTLAND. 

she had now a good while sine warning, by the said 
lord and Robert Beale, to think upon and prepare 
herself to die, we doubted not but that she was, 
before this, settled, and therefore would accept this 
message in good part. And to the eflect that no 
Christian duty might be said to be omitted that 
might be for her comfort, and tend to the salvation 
both of her body and soul in the world to come, w e 
offered unto her, that if it would please her to confer 
with the bishop and dean of Peterborough, she 
might; which dean, we had, for that purpose, ap¬ 
pointed to be lodged within one mile of that place. 
Hereto she replied, crossing herself in the name of 
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, saying 
that she was ready to die in the catholic Roman 
faith, which her ancestors had professed, from which 
she would not be removed. And albeit we used 
many persuasions to the contrary, yet we prevailed 
nothing; and therefore, w hen she demanded the 
admittance of her priest, we utterly denied that unto 
her. Hereupon, she demanded to understand what 
answer we had touching her former petition to her 
majesty, concerning her papers of accounts, and the 
bestowing of her body. To the first we had none 
other answer to make, but that we thought if they 
were not sent before, the same might be in Mr. 
Waade’s custody, who was now in France; and 
seeing her papers could not any w ise pleasure her 
majesty, we doubted not but that the same would 
be delivered unto such as she should appoint. For, 
for our own parts, we undoubtedly thought that her 
majesty would not make any profit of her things, 
and therefore (in our opinions) she might set down 
what she would have done, and the same should be 
imparted unto her majesty, of whom both she and 
others might expect all courtesy. Touching her 
body, we knew not her majesty’s pleasure, and there¬ 
fore could neither say that her petition should be 
denied or granted. For the practice of Babington, 
she utterly denied it, and would have inferred it that 
her death w as for her religion ; wliereunto it was 
eftsoons by us replied, that for many years she was 
not touched for religion, nor should have been now, 
but that this proceeding against her W’as for treason, 
in that she was culpable of that horrible conspiracy 
for destroying her majesty’s person, which she again 
denied, adding further, that albeit she for herself 
forgave them that w r ere the procurers of her death, 
yet she doubted not but that God would take ven¬ 
geance thereof. And being charged with the de¬ 
positions of Naueand Curie to prove it against her, 
she replied, that she accused none, but that here¬ 
after when she shall be dead, and they remain alive, 
it shall be seen how indifferently she had been dealt 
with, and what measure had been used unto her; 
and asked, whether it had been heard before this, 
that servants had been practised to accuse their 
mistress? and hereupon also required what was 
become of them, and where they remained. 

Upon our departure from her, for that it seemed 
by the commission that the charge of her was in the 





301 


APPENDIX. No. LI. 


disposition of us the earls, we required s. Amias I 
Pawlet and s. Drue Drurie, to receive for that night 
the charge which they had before, and to cause the 
whole number of soldiers to watch that night, and 
that her folks should be put up, and take order that 
only four of them should be at the execution, re¬ 
maining aloof of, and guarded with certain persons 
so as they should not come near unto her, which 
were Melvil her steward, the physician, surgeon, 
and apothecary. 

Wednesday morning, after that we the earls were 
repaired unto the castle, and the sheriff had prepar¬ 
ed all things in the hall for the execution, he was 
commanded to go into her chamber, and to bring 
her down to the place where were present, we which 
have signed this letter, Mr. Henry Talbot, Esq. sir 
Edw ard Montague, Knt. his son and heir apparent, 
and William Montague his brother, sir Richard 
Knichtly, Knt. Mr. Thomas Brudenell, Mr. Beuill, 
Mr. Robert and John Wingefield, Mr. Forrest, and 
Rayner, Benjamin Piggot, Mr. Dean of Peter¬ 
borough, and others. 

At the stairfold she paused to speak to Melvil in 
our hearing, which was to this effect, “ Melvil, as 
thou hast been an honest servant to me, so I pray 
thee continue to my son, and commend me unto 
him. I have not impugn’d his religion, nor the re¬ 
ligion of others, but wish him well. And as I for¬ 
give all that have offended me in Scotland, so I 
would that he should also ; and beseech God, that 
he would send him his Holy Spirit, and illuminate 
him.” Melvil’s answer was, that he would so do, 
and at that instant he would beseech God to assist 
him with his Spirit. Then she demanded to speak 
with her priest, which was denied unto her, the 
rather for that she came with a superstitious pair of 
beads and a crucifix. She then desired to have her 
women to help her, and upon her earnest request, 
and saying that when other gentlewomen were exe- 
cu ted, she had read in chronicles that they had women 
allow ed unto them, it was permitted that she should 
have tw o named by herself, which were Mrs. Curie 
and Kennedy. After she came to the scaffold, first 
in presence of them all, her majesty’s commission 
was openly read, and afterwards Mr. Dean of Peter¬ 
borough, according to a direction which he had 
received the night before from us the earls, wou’d 
have made a godly admonition to her, to repent and 
die well in the fear of God and charity to the world. 
But at the first entry, she utterly refused it, saying 
that she was a catholique, and that it were a folly 
to move her, being so resolutely minded, and that 
our prayers would little avail her. Whereupon, to 
the intent it might appear that we, and the whole 
assembly, had a Christian desire to have her die 
well, a godly prayer, conceived by Mr. Dean, was 
read and pronounced by us all. “ That it would 
please Almighty God to send her his Holy Spirit 
and grace, and also, if it were his will, to pardon 
all her offences, and of his mercy to receive her into 
his heavenly and everlasting kingdom, and finally 


to bless her majesty, and confound ail her enemies 
whereof Mr. Dean, minding to repair up shortly, 
can shew your lordships a copy. 

This done, she pronounced a prayer upon her 
knees to this effect, “ to beseech God to send her his 
Holy Spirit; and that she trusted to receive her 
salvation in his blood, and of his grace to be re¬ 
ceived into his kingdom, besought God to forgive 
her enemies, as she forgave them ; and to turn his 
wrath from this land, to bless the queen’s majcstie, 
that she might serve him. Likewise to be merciful 
to her son, to have compassion of his church, and 
altho’ she was not worthy to be heard, yet she had 
a confidence in his mercy, and prayed all the saints 
to pray unto her Saviour to receive her.” After 
this (turning towards her servants) she desired them 
to pray for her, that her Saviour would receive her. 
Then, upon petition made by the executioners, she 
pardoned them ; and said, she was glad that the end 
of all her sorrows was so near. Then she mis- 
liked the wliinning and weeping of her women, 
saying that they rather ought to thank God for 
her resolution, and kissing them, willed them to 
depart from the scaffold, and farewell; and so re¬ 
solutely kneeled down, and having a kerchief band¬ 
ed about her eyes, laid down her neck, whereupon 
the executioner proceeded. Her servants were 
incontinently removed, and order taken that none 
should approach unto her corps, but that it should 
be embalmed by the surgeon appointed. And fur¬ 
ther, her crosse, apparel, and other things are re¬ 
tained here, and not yielded unto the executioner 
for inconveniences that might follow ; but he is 
remitted to be rewarded by such as sent him hither. 

This hath been the manner of our dealings in this 
service, whereof we have thought good to advertise 
your lordships as particularly as we could for the 
time ; and further, have thought good to signify 
unto your lordships besides, that for the avoiding of 
all sinester and slanderous reports that may be 
raised to the contrary, we have caused a note there¬ 
of to be conceived to the same effect in writing, 
which we the said lords have subscribed, with the 
hands of such other there the knights and gentle¬ 
men above named that were present at the action. 
And so beseeching Almighty God long to bless her 
majesty with a most prosperous reign, and to con¬ 
found all his and her enemies, we take our leaves. 
From Fotheringay-castle, the 8th of February 1586, 
in hast. 

Your lordships at commandment. 

N. B. This, as well as several other papers in this 
Appendix, is taken from a collection made by 
Mr. Crawfurd of Drumsoy, historiographer to 
queen Anne, now in the library of the Faculty of 
Advocates. Mr. Crawfurd’s transcriber has omitted 
to mention the book in the Cott. Lib. where it is 
to be found. 


.302 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


No. LIT. (Page 184.) 

The objections against Mr. Davison , in the cause of 

the late Scottish queen, must concern things done, 

either, 1. Before her trial at Fotheringay. 2. 

During that session. 3. After the same. 

Cott. Lib. Cal. L Before her trial, lie neither is, 
c -nor can be, charged to have had any 
hand at all in the cause of the said queen, or done 
any thing whatsoever concerning the same directly 
or indirectly. 

2. During that session he remained at court, where 
the only interest he had therein was, as her ma¬ 
jesty’s secretary, to receive the letters from the 
commissioners, impart them to her highness, and 
return them her answers. 

3. After the return thence of the said commis¬ 
sioners, it is well known to all her council, 

1. That he never was at any deliberation or meet¬ 
ing whatsoever, in parliament or council, concern¬ 
ing the cause of the said queen, till the sending 
down of her majesty’s warrant unto the commis¬ 
sioners, by the lords and others of her council. 

2. That he was no party in signing the sentence 
passed against her. 

3. That he never penned either the proclamation 
publishing the same, the warrant after her death, 
nor any other letter or thing whatsoever concerning 
the same. And, 

That the only thing which can be specially and 
truly imputed to him, is the carrying up the said 
warrant unto her majesty to be signed ; she sending 
a great counsellor unto him, with her pleasure to 
that end, and carrying it to the great seal of Eng¬ 
land, by her own special direction and command¬ 
ment. 

For the better clearing of which truth, it is evi¬ 
dent, 

1. That the letter, being penned by the lord trea¬ 
surer, was delivered by him unto Mr. Davison, with 
her majesty’s own privity, to be ready for to sign, 
when she should be pleased to call for it. 

2. That being in his hands, he retained it at the 
least five or six weeks unpresented, nor once offer¬ 
ing to carry it up, till she sent a great counsellor 
unto him for the same, and was sharply reproved 
therefor by a great peer, in her majesty’s own pre¬ 
sence. 

3. That having signed it, she gave him an express 
commandment to carry it to the seal, and, being 
sealed, to send it immediately away unto the com¬ 
missioners, according to the direction; herself ap¬ 
pointing the hall of Fotheringay for the place of 
execution, misliking the court-yard in divers re¬ 
spects; and, in conclusion, absolutely forbad him 
to trouble her any further, or let her hear any more 


hereof, till it was done; she, for her part, having 
(as she said) performed all that, in law or reason, 
could be required of her. 

4. Which directions notwithstanding, he kept the 
warrant sealed all that night, and the greatest part 
of the next day in his hands, brought it back with 
him to the court, acquainted her majesty withal, 
and finding her majesty resolved to proceed therein, 
according to her former directions, and yet desirous 
to carry the matter so as she might throw the burthen 
from herself, he absolutely resolved to quit his hands 
thereof. 

5. And hereupon went over unto the lord trea¬ 
surer’s chamber, together with Mr. Vice-chamber¬ 
lain Hatton, and in his presence restored the same 
into the hands of the said lord treasurer, of whom 
he had before received it, who from thenceforth 
kept it, till himself and the rest of the council sent 
it away. 

Which, in substance and truth, is all the part and 
interest the said Davison had in this cause, what¬ 
soever is, or may be pretended to the contrary. 

Touching the sending down thereof unto the com¬ 
missioners, that it was the general act of her ma¬ 
jesty’s council, (as is before mentioned,) and not 
any private act of his, may appear by, 

1. Their own confession. 2. Their own letters 
sent down therewith to the commissioners. 3. The 
testimonies of the lords and others to whom they 
were directed. As also, 4. Of Mr. Beale, by whom 
they were sent. 5. The tenor of her majesty’s first 
commission for their calling to the star-chamber for 
the same, and private appearance and submission 
afterward instead thereof before the lord chancellor 
Bromley. 6. The confession of Mr. Attorney-gene¬ 
ral in open court confirmed. 7. By the sentence 
itself upon record. 8. Besides a common act of 
council, containing an answer to be verbally deliver¬ 
ed to the Scottish ambassador then remaining here, 
avowing and justifying the same. 

Now where some suppose him to have given some 
extraordinary furtherance thereunto, the contrary 
may evidently appear by, 

1. His former absolute refusal to sign the band of 
association, being earnestly pressed thereunto by 
her majesty’s self. 

2. His excusing of himself from being used as a 
commissioner, in the examination of Babington and 
his complices, and avoiding the same by a journey 
to the Bath. 

3. His being a mean to stay the commissioners 
from pronouncing of the sentence at Fotheringay, 
and deferring it till they should return to her ma¬ 
jesty’s presence. 

4. His keeping the warrant in his hands six 
weeks unpresented, without once offering to carry it 
up, till her majesty sent expressly for the same to 
sign. 

5. His deferring to send it away after it was sealed 
unto the commissioners, as he was specially com- 



303 


APPENDIX, No. LIII. 


manded, staying it all that night, and the greatest 
part of the next day in his hands. 

G. And finally, his restoring thereof into the hands 
of the lord treasurer, of whom he had before receiv¬ 
ed the same. 

Which are clear and evident proofs, that the said 
Davison did nothing in this cause whatsoever, con¬ 
trary to the duty of the place he then held in her 
majesty’s service. 

Cal. c. 9. 

This seems to he an original. On the back is 
this title: 

The innocency of Mr. Davison in the cause of the 
late Scottish queen. 

No. LIII. (Page 210.) 

Letter from 0, to his Majesty King James.* 

From the original. MosT worthy prince, the depending 
F.Un. A? c i. 34 ? r ’ dangers upon your affectionates, have 
^ ov - 4 - been such, as hath inforced silence in 

him who is faithfully devoted to your person, and 
in due time of trial will undergo all hazards of for¬ 
tune for the maintenance of the just regal rights, 
that, by the laws divine, of nature and of nations, 
is invested in your royal person. Fall not then, 
most noble and renowned prince, from him whose 
providence hath in many dangers preserved you, no 
doubt to be an instrument of his glory, and the good 
of his people. Some secrets, I find, have been re¬ 
vealed to your prejudice, which must proceed from 
some ambitious violent spirited person near your 
majesty in council and favour; no man in particu¬ 
lar will I accuse, but I am sure it hath no founda¬ 
tion from any, with whom, for your service, I have 
held correspondence; otherwise I had long since 
been disabled from performance of those duties that 
the thoughts of my heart endeavoureth ; being only 
known to this worthy nobleman bearer hereof, one 
noted in all parts of Christendom for his fidelity to 
your person and state, and to Mr. David Fowlis 
your most loyal servant, my first and faithful corres¬ 
pondent, and unto James Hudsone, whom I have 
found, in all things that concern you, most secret 
and assured. It may therefore please you majesty, 
at the humble motion of 0, which jargon I desire to 
be the indorsement of your commands unto me, that 
by some token of your favour, he may understand 
in what terms you regard his fidelity, secrecy, and 
service. My passionate affection to your person 
(not as you are a king, but as you are a good king, 
and have just title, after my sovereign, to be a great 
king) doth transport me to presumption. Condemn 
not, most noble prince, the motives of care and love, 
altlio’ mixed with defects in judgment. 

1. I therefore first beseech your majesty, that for 
the good of those whom God, by divine providence, 
hath destined to your charge, that you will be pleas- 

a In the former editions, T printed this as a letter from sir Robert 
Cecil, but am now satisfied that I was mistaken in forming this opinion. 
See Sir D. Dalrymple’s Rem. on the History of Scot. p. 233. As the 


ed to have an extraordinary care of all practicers or 
practices against your person ; for it is not to be 
doubted, but that in both kingdoms, either out of 
ambition, faction, or fear, there are many that desire 
to have their sovereign in minority, whereby the 
sovereignty and state might be swayed by partiality 
of subalternate persons, rather than by true rule of 
power and justice. Preserve your person, and fear 
not the practices of man upon the point of your 
right, which will be preserved and maintained 
against all assaults of competition whatever. Thus 
I leave the protection of your person and royal pos¬ 
terity to the Almighty God of heaven, who bless and 
preserve you, and all yours, in all regal happiness 
to his glory. 

2. Next to the preservation of your person, is the 
conservation and secret keeping of your councells, 
which, as I have said, are often betrayed and dis¬ 
covered, either, out of pretended zeal in religion, 
turbulent faction, or base conception, the which 
your majesty is to regard with all circumspection, 
as a matter most dangerous to your person and state, 
and the only means to ruin and destroy all those that 
stand faithfully devoted to your majesty’s service. 
Some particulars, and persons of this nature, I make 
no doubt have been discovered by the endeavours 
of this nobleman, the bearer hereof, of whom your 
majesty may be further informed. 

3. The third point considerable is, that your ma¬ 
jesty by all means possible, secure yourself of the 
good affection of the French king and states, by the 
negotiation of some faithful secret confident; the 
French naturally distasting the union of the British 
islands under one monarch. In Germany, I doubt 
not but you have many allies and friends, but by 
reason of their remote state they do not so much im- 
porte this affair, which must be guided by a quick 
and sudden motion. 

4. When God, by whose providence the period of 
all persons and times is determined, shall call to his 
kingdom of glory her majesty, (although I do as¬ 
suredly hope that there will not be any question in 
competition, yet for that I hold it not fitting to give 
any minute entrance into a cause of so high a na¬ 
ture,) I do humbly beseech your majesty to design 
a secret, faithful, and experienced confident servant 
of yours, being of an approved fidelity and judg¬ 
ment, continually to be here resident, whose nego¬ 
tiation it were convenient your majesty should for- 
tifie with such secret trust and powers, as there may 
not need 14 days respite to post for authority, in a 
cause that cannot endure ten hours respite without 
varieties of danger. In the which it is to be consi¬ 
dered, that all such as pretend least good to your 
establishment, will not in public oppugn your title, 
but out of their cunning ambition will seek to gain 
time by alledging their pretence of common good to 
the state, in propounding of good conditions for dis- 
burthening the common weale of divers hard laws, 

letter is curious, I republish it, though I cannot pretend to say to which 
of the king’s numerous correspondents in England it should be ascribed. 



304 


THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


heavy impositions, corruptions, oppressions, &c. 
which is a main point to lead the popular, who are 
much disgusted with many particulars of this na¬ 
ture. It were therefore convenient, that these mo¬ 
tives, out of your majesty’s providence, should be 
prevented, by your free olfer in these points follow¬ 
ing, viz. 

1. That your majesty would be pleased to abolish 
purveyors and purveyance, being a matter infinitely 
offensive to the common people, and the whole king¬ 
dom, and not profitable to the prince. 

2. That your majesty would be pleased to dissolve 
the court of wards, being the ruin of all the noble 
and ancient families of this realm, by base matches, 
and evil education of their children, by which no 
revenue of the crown will be defrayed. 

3. The abrogating the multiplicity of penal laws, 
generally repined against by the subject, in regard 
of their uncertainty, being many times altered from 
their true meaning, by variety of interpretation. 

4. That your majesty will be pleased to admit free 
outport of the native commodities of this kingdom, 
now often restrained by subalternate persons for 
private profit, being most prejudicial to the com¬ 
merce of all merchants, and a plain destruction of 
the true industry and manufacture of all kingdoms, 
and against the profit of the crown. 

These, being by your majesty’s confidents in the 
point of time propounded, will assuredly confirm 
unto your majesty the hearts and affections of the 
whole kingdom, and absolutely prevent all insinua¬ 
tions and devices of designing patriots, that, out of 
pretext of common good, would seek to patronize 


themselves in popular opinion and power, and there¬ 
by to derogate from your majesty’s bounty and free 
favour by princely merit of your moderation, judg¬ 
ment, and justice. 

Your majesty’s favour, thus granted to the sub¬ 
ject, will no way impeach the profits of the crown 
but advance them. The disproportionable gain of 
some chequer officers, with the base and mercenary 
profits of the idle unnecessary clerks and attendants, 
will only suffer some detriment; but infinite will be 
the good unto the kingdom, which will confirm unto 
your majesty the universal love and affection of the 
people, and establish your renown in the highest 
esteem to all posterity. 

The Lord preserve your majesty, and make you 
triumphant over all your enemies. 

My care over his person whose letters pass in this 
pacquet, and will die before he leave to be yours, 
shall be no less than of mine own life; and in like 
esteem will I hold all your faithful confidents, not¬ 
withstanding I will hold myself reserved from being 
known unto any of them, in my particular devoted 
affections unto your majesty ; only this extraordi¬ 
nary worthy man, whose associate I am in his mis¬ 
fortune, doth know my heart, and we both will pray 
for you ; and if we live you shall find us together. 

I beseech your majesty burn this letter, and the 
others ; for altho’ it be in an unusual hand, yet it 
may be discovered. 

Your majesty’s most devoted, 

and humble servant, 

e. 



HISTORY 


OF THE 


REIGN OF CHARLES V. 


DEDICATION. 


TO THE KING. 


Sir, 

I presume to lay before your majesty the history of a period which, if the abilities of the writer were 
equal to the dignity of the subject, would not be unworthy the attention of a monarch who is no less a 
judge than a patron of literary merit. 

History claims it as her prerogative to offer instruction to kings as well as to their people. What re¬ 
flections the reign of the emperor Charles V. may suggest to your majesty, it becomes not me to con¬ 
jecture. But your subjects cannot observe the various calamities which that monarch’s ambition to be 
distinguished as a conqueror brought upon his dominions, without recollecting the felicity of their own 
times, and looking up with gratitude to their sovereign, who during the fervour of youth, and amidst the 
career of victory, possessed such self-command and maturity of judgment as to set bounds to his own 
triumphs, and prefer the blessings of peace to the splendour of military glory. 

Posterity will not only celebrate the wisdom of your majesty’s choice, but will enumerate the many 
virtues which render your reign conspicuous for a sacred regard to all the duties incumbent on the sove¬ 
reign of a free people. 

It is our happiness to feel the influence of these virtues, and to live under the dominion of a prince who 
delights more in promoting the public welfare than in receiving the just praise of his royal beneficence. 

I am, 


Sir, 


YOUR MAJESTY’S 

Most faithful Subject 

And most dutiful Servant, 


WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 



PREFACE. 


No period in the history of one’s own country can 
be considered as altogether uninteresting. Such 
transactions as tend to illustrate the progress of its 
constitution, laws, or manners, merit the utmost 
attention. Even remote and minute events are ob¬ 
jects of a curiosity, which being natural to the hu¬ 
man mind, the gratification of it is attended with 
pleasure. 

But with respect to the history of foreign states, 
we must set other bounds to our desire of informa¬ 
tion. The universal progress of science during the 
tw o last centuries, the art of printing, and other ob¬ 
vious causes, have filled Europe with such a multi¬ 
plicity of histories, and with such vast collections of 
historical materials, that the term of human life is 
too short for the study or even the perusal of them. 
It is necessary, then, not only for those who are 
called to conduct the affairs of nations, but for such 
as inquire and reason concerning them, to remain 
satisfied with a general knowledge of distant events, 
and to confine their study of history in detail chief¬ 
ly to that period in which the several states of 
Europe having become intimately connected, the 
operations of one power are so felt by all as to influ¬ 
ence their councils and to regulate their measures. 

Some boundary, then, ought to be fixed in order 
to separate these periods. An era should be point¬ 
ed out, prior to which each country, little connected 
with those around it, may trace its own history 
apart; after which the transactions of every con¬ 
siderable nation in Europe become interesting and 
instructive to all. With this intention I undertook 
to write the history of the emperor Charles Y. 
It was during his administration that the powers of 
Europe w ere formed into one great political system, 
in which each took a station, wherein it has since 
remained with less variation than could have been 
expected after the shocks occasioned by so many 
internal revolutions and so many foreign wars. The 
great events which happened then have not hitherto 
spent their force. The political principles and 
maxims then established still continue to operate. 
The ideas concerning the balance of power, then 
introduced or rendered general, still influence the 
councils of nations. 

X 2 


The age of Charles V. may therefore be con¬ 
sidered as the period at which the political state of 
Europe began to assume a new form. I have en¬ 
deavoured to render my account of it an introduction 
to the history of Europe subsequent to his reign. 
While his numerous biographers describe his per¬ 
sonal qualities and actions ; while the historians of 
different countries relate occurrences the conse¬ 
quences of which were local or transient, it hath 
been my purpose to record only those great transac¬ 
tions in his reign, the effects of which were univer¬ 
sal, or continue to be permanent. 

As my readers could derive little instruction from 
such a history of the reign of Charles Y. without 
some information concerning the state of Europe 
previous to the sixteenth century, my desire of sup¬ 
plying this has produced a preliminary volume, in 
which I have attempted to point out and to explain 
the great causes and events to whose operation all 
the improvements in the political state of Europe, 
from the subversion of the Roman empire to the be¬ 
ginning of the sixteenth century, must be ascribed. 
I have exhibited a view of the progress of society 
in Europe, not only with respect to interior govern¬ 
ment, laws, and manners, but with respect to the 
command of the national force requisite in foreign 
operations : and I have described the political con¬ 
stitution of the principal states in Europe at the 
time when Charles V. began his reign. 

In this part of my work I have been led into seve¬ 
ral critical disquisitions, which belong more proper¬ 
ly to the province of the lawyer or antiquary than 
to that of the historian. These I have placed at the 
end of the first volume, under the title of Proofs 
and Illustrations. Many of my readers will pro¬ 
bably give little attention to such researches. To 
some they may, perhaps, appear the most curious 
and interesting part of the work. I have carefully 
pointed out the sources from which I have derived 
information, and have cited the writers on whose 
authority I rely, with a minute exactness, which 
might appear to border upon ostentation, if it w ere 
possible to be vain of having read books, many of 
which nothing but the duty of examining w ith accu¬ 
racy whatever I laid before the public, would have 




308 


PREFACE. 


induced me to open. As my inquiries conducted me 
often into paths which were obscure or little fre¬ 
quented, such constant references to the authors who 
have been my guides, were not only necessary for 
authenticating the facts which are the foundations 
of my reasonings, but may be useful in pointing 
out the way to such as shall hereafter hold the 
same course, and in enabling them to carry on their 
researches with greater facility and success. 

Every intelligent reader will observe one omission 
in my work, the reason of which it is necessary to 
explain. I have given no account of the conquests 
of Mexico and Peru, or of the establishment of the 
Spanish colonies in the continent and islands of 
America. The history of these events I originally 
intended to have related at considerable length. 
But upon a nearer and more attentive consideration 
of this part of my plan, I found that the discovery 
of the New World ; the state of society among its 
ancient inhabitants ; their character, manners, and 
arts ; the genius of the European settlements in its 
various provinces, together with the influence of 
these upon the systems of policy or commerce in 


Europe ; were subjects so splendid and important, 
that a superficial view of them could afford little 
satisfaction; and, on the other hand, to treat of 
them as extensively as they merited, must pro¬ 
duce an episode disproportionate to the principal 
work. I have therefore reserved these for a sepa¬ 
rate history ; which, if the performance now offered 
to the public shall receive its approbation, I pur¬ 
pose to undertake. 

Though by omitting such considerable but de¬ 
tached articles in the reign of Charles V., I have 
circumscribed my narration within more narrow 
limits, I am yet persuaded, from this view of the in¬ 
tention and nature of the work which I thought it 
necessary to lay before my readers, that the plan 
must still appear to them too extensive and the 
undertaking too arduous. I have often felt them 
to be so. But my conviction of the utility of such 
a history prompted me to persevere. With what 
success I have executed it the public must now 
judge. I wait, not without solicitude, for its deci¬ 
sion, to which I shall submit with a respectful 
silence. 




A 


VIEW 


OF THE 

PROGRESS OF SOCIETY 

IN EUROPE, 


FROM THE SUBVERSION OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE BEGINNING 

OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 


SECTION I. 

View of the Progress of Society in Europe , with re¬ 
spect to interior Government , Laws, and Manners. 

The effects of the Two great revolutions have happened 
Se m state 0 of e Eu- the political state and in the man- 
rope - ners of the European nations. The 

first was occasioned by the progress of the Roman 
power, the second by the subversion of it. When 
the spirit of conquest led the armies of Rome be¬ 
yond the Alps, they found all the conntries which 
they invaded inhabited by people whom they deno¬ 
minated barbarians, but who were nevertheless 
brave and independent. These defended their an¬ 
cient possessions with obstinate valour. It was by 
the superiority of their discipline, rather than that 
of their courage, that the Romans gained any ad¬ 
vantage over them. A single battle did not, as 
among the effeminate inhabitants of Asia, decide 
the fate of a state. The vanquished people resum¬ 
ed their arms with fresh spirit, and their undisci¬ 
plined valour, animated by the love of liberty, 
supplied the want of conduct as well as of union. 

During those long and fierce struggles 

The desolation - , . . . . , 

which it occa- for dominion or independence, the 

sioned. . • . ^ , 

countries of Europe were successively 
laid waste, a great part of their inhabitants perish¬ 
ed in the field, many were carried into slavery, and 
a feeble remnant, incapable of further resistance, 
submitted to the Roman power. 

The Romans having thus desolated 
ments which it Europe, set themselves to civilize it. 

The form of government which they 
established in the conquered provinces, though se¬ 


vere, was regular, and preserved public tranquillity. 
As a consolation for the loss of liberty, they com¬ 
municated their arts, sciences, language, and man¬ 
ners to their new subjects. Europe began to breathe 
and to recover strength after the calamities which 
it had undergone : agriculture was encouraged ; po¬ 
pulation increased ; the ruined cities were rebuilt: 
new towns were founded ; an appearance of pros¬ 
perity succeeded, and repaired, in some degree, the 
havoc of war. 

This state, however, was far from 

, . . „ - . - . The bad conse- 

being happy, or favourable to the 1 m- quences of their 
provement of the human mind. The ommion - 
vanquished nations were disarmed by their conquer¬ 
ors, and overawed by soldiers kept in pay to restrain 
them. They were given up as a prey to rapacious 
governors, who plundered them with impunity ; and 
were drained of their wealth by exorbitant taxes, le¬ 
vied with so little attention to the situation of the pro¬ 
vinces, that the impositions were often increased in 
proportion to their inability to support them. They 
were deprived of their most enterprising citizens, 
who resorted to a distant capital in quest of prefer¬ 
ment or of riches ; and were accustomed in all their 
actions to look up to a superior, and tamely to re¬ 
ceive his commands. Under so many depressing 
circumstances it was hardly possible that they could 
retain vigour or generosity of mind. The martial 
and independent spirit which had distinguished 
their ancestors became, in a great measure, extinct 
among all the people subjected to the Roman yoke ; 
they lost not only the habit, but even the capacity, 
of deciding for themselves, or of acting from the 
impulse of their own minds ; and the dominion of 
the Romans, like that of all great empires, degrad¬ 
ed and debased the human species.® 


a See Note I. 





310 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


The irruption of 
the barbarous na¬ 
tions. 


A society in such a state could not 
subsist long. There were defects in 
the Roman government, even in its 
most perfect form, which threatened its dissolution. 
Time ripened these original seeds of corruption, 
and gave birth to many new disorders. A consti¬ 
tution unsound and worn out must have fallen into 
pieces of itself without any external shock. The 
violent irruption of the Goths, Vandals, Huns, and 
other barbarians, hastened this event, and precipi¬ 
tated the downfall of the empire. New nations 
seemed to arise, and to rush from unknown regions, 
in order to take vengeance on the Romans for 
the calamities which they had inflicted on man¬ 
kind. These fierce tribes either inhabited the va¬ 
rious provinces in Germany which had never been 
subdued by the Romans, or were scattered over 
those vast countries in the north of Europe and 
north-west of Asia which are now occupied by the 
Danes, the Swedes, the Poles, the subjects of the 
Russian empire, and the Tartars. Their condition 
and transactions previous to their invasion of the 
empire are but little known. Almost all our in¬ 
formation with respect to these is derived from the 
Romans ; and as they did not penetrate far into 
countries which were at that time uncultivated and 
uninviting, the accounts of their original state given 
by the Roman historians are extremely imperfect. 
The rude inhabitants themselves, destitute of sci¬ 
ence as well as of records, and without leisure or 
curiosity to inquire into remote events, retained 
perhaps some indistinct memory of recent occur¬ 
rences, but beyond these all was buried in oblivion, 
or involved in darkness and in fable. b 

The prodigious swarms which pour- 
tries 6 from 6 which ed in upon the empire from the begin- 
they issued. ning of the fourth century to the final 

extinction of the Roman power, have given rise to 
an opinion that the countries whence they issued 
were crowded with inhabitants ; and various theo¬ 
ries have been formed to account for such an ex¬ 
traordinary degree of population as hath procured 
these countries the appellation of The Storehouse of 
Nations. But if we consider that the countries 
possessed by the people who invaded the empire 
were of vast extent; that a great part of these was 
covered with woods and marshes ; that some of the 
most considerable of the barbarous nations subsist¬ 
ed entirely by hunting or pasturage, in both which 
states of society large tracts of land are required for 
maintaining a few inhabitants ; and that all of them 
were strangers to the arts and industry without 
which population cannot increase to any great de¬ 
gree, we must conclude that these countries could 
not be so populous in ancient times as they are in 
the present, when they still continue to be less 
peopled than any other part of Europe or of Asia. 

The people fit drCHmStanC(!S tha ‘ P«- 

for daring enter- vented the barbarous nations from 
becoming populous, contributed to in¬ 
fo See Note II. 


spire or to strengthen the martial spirit by which 
they were distinguished. Inured by the rigour of 
their climate or the poverty of their soil, to hard¬ 
ships which rendered their bodies firm and their 
minds vigorous; accustomed to a course of life 
which was a continual preparation for action ; and 
disdaining every occupation but that of war or ot 
hunting, they undertook and prosecuted their mili¬ 
tary enterprises with an ardour and impetuosity ot 
which men softened by the refinements of more 
polished times can scarcely form any idea. c 

Their first inroads into the empire Th?motivesof 
proceeded rather from the love of then- first; excur- 
plunder than from the desire of new 
settlements. Roused to arms by some enterprising 
or popular leader, they sallied out of their forests ; 
broke in upon the frontier provinces with irresistible 
violence ; put all who opposed them to the sword ; 
carried off" the most valuable effects of the inha¬ 
bitants ; dragged along multitudes of captives in 
chains ; wasted all before them with fire or sword ; 
and returned in triumph to their wilds and fast¬ 
nesses. Their success, together with the accounts 
which they gave of the unknown conveniences and 
luxuries that abounded in countries better culti¬ 
vated or blessed with a milder climate than their 
own, excited new adventurers, and exposed the 
frontier to new devastations. 

When nothing was left to plunder T he, r reasons for 
in the adjacent provinces, ravaged by coStmsVhfch 
frequent excursions, they marched they conquered, 
further from home, and finding it difficult or dan¬ 
gerous to return, they began to settle in the coun¬ 
tries which they had subdued. The sudden and 
short excursions in quest of booty which had 
alarmed and disquieted the empire ceased ; a more 
dreadful calamity impended. Great bodies of armed 
men, with their wives and children, and slaves and 
flocks, issued forth, like regular colonies, in quest 
of new settlements. People who had no cities, and 
seldom any fixed habitation, were so little attached 
to their native soil, that they migrated without re¬ 
luctance from one place to another. New adven¬ 
turers followed them. The lands which they deserted 
were occupied by more remote tribes of barbarians. 
These, in their turn, pushed forward The extent of 
into more fertile countries, and, like a their settl ements. 
torrent continually increasing, rolled on, and swept 
every thing before them. In less than two centu¬ 
ries from their first irruption, barbarians of various 
names and lineage plundered and took possession 
of Thrace, Pannonia, Gaul, Spain, Africa, and at 
last of Italy and Rome itself. The vast fabric of 
the Roman power, which it had been the work of 
ages to perfect, was in that short period overturned 
from the foundation. 

Many concurring causes prepared 
the way for this great revolution, and S'whkhocca-' 
insured success to the nations which 
invaded the empire. The Roman com- cmpire ' 

c See Note III. 




SECT. I. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


311 


monwealth had conquered the world by the wisdom 
of its civil maxims and the rigour of its military 
discipline. But under the emperors the former 
were forgotten or despised, and the latter was gra¬ 
dually relaxed. The armies of the empire in the 
fourth and fifth centuries bore scarcely any re¬ 
semblance to those invincible legions which had 
been victorious wherever they marched. Instead of 
freemen who voluntarily took arms from the love of 
glory or of their country, provincials and barbarians 
were bribed or forced into service. These were too 
feeble, or too proud, to submit to the fatigue of mi¬ 
litary duty. They even complained of the weight of 
their defensive armour as intolerable, and laid it 
aside. Infantry, from which the armies of ancient 
Rome derived their vigour and stability, fell into 
contempt; the effeminate and undisciplined soldiers 
of later times could hardly be brought to venture 
into the field but on horseback. These wretched 
troops, however, were the only guardians of the em¬ 
pire. The jealousy of despotism had deprived the 
people of the use of arms ; and subjects oppressed 
and rendered incapable of defending themselves, 
had neither spirit nor inclination to resist their in¬ 
vaders, from whom they had little to fear, because 
their condition could hardly be rendered more un¬ 
happy. At the same time that the martial spirit 
became extinct, the revenues of the empire gra¬ 
dually diminished. The taste for the luxuries of 
the east increased to such a pitch in the imperial 
court, that great sums were carried into India, from 
which, in the channel of commerce, money never 
returns. By the large subsidies paid to the barbar¬ 
ous nations, a still greater quantity of specie was 
withdrawn from circulation. The frontier provinces, 
wasted by frequent incursions, became unable to 
pay the customary tribute; and the w ealth of the 
world, which had long centred in the capital of the 
empire, ceased to flow thither in the same abund¬ 
ance, or was diverted into other channels. The 
limits of the empire continued to be as extensive as 
ever, while the spirit requisite for its defence de¬ 
clined, and its resources were exhausted. A vast 
body, languid, and almost unanimated, became in¬ 
capable of any effort to save itself, and was easily 
overpowered. The emperors, who had the absolute 
direction of this disordered system, sunk in the soft¬ 
ness of eastern luxury, shut up within the walls of 
a palace, ignorant of war, unacquainted with aff airs, 
and governed entirely by women and eunuchs, or by 
ministers equally effeminate, trembled at the ap¬ 
proach of danger, and under circumstances which 
called for the utmost vigour in counsel as well as in 
action, discovered all the impotent irresolution of 
fear and of folly. 

In every respect the condition of the 

The circum- , ,. .. r 

stances which barbarous nations was the reverse of 

contributed to the ,, _ . 

success of the bar- that of the Romans. Among the 

barous nations. „ , , ... . r .. 

former the martial spirit was in tufl 
vigour; their leaders were hardy and enterpris¬ 
ing ; the arts which had enervated the Romans were 


unknown ; and such w as the nature of their mili¬ 
tary institutions, that they brought forces into the 
field without any trouble, and supported them at 
little expense. The mercenary and effeminate troops 
stationed on the frontier, astonished at their fierce¬ 
ness, either fled at their approach, or were routed 
on the first onset. The feeble expedient to which 
the emperors had recourse, of taking large bodies 
of the barbarians into pay, and of employing them 
to repel new invaders, instead of retarding, hastened 
the destruction of the empire. These mercenaries 
soon turned their arms against their masters, and 
with greater advantage than ever ; for by serving 
in the Roman armies they had acquired all the dis¬ 
cipline or skill in war which the Romans still re¬ 
tained ; and by adding these to their native ferocity, 
they became altogether irresistible. 

But though, from these and many 

,, , The spirit witn 

other causes, the progress and con- which they car- 

t. i i ried on war. 

quests of the nations which overran 
the empire became so extremely rapid, they were 
accompanied with horrible devastations, and an in¬ 
credible destruction of the human species. Civil¬ 
ized nations, which take arms upon cool reflection, 
from motives of policy or prudence, with a view to 
guard against some distant danger or to prevent 
some remote contingency, carry on their hostilities 
w ith so little rancour or animosity, that war among 
them is disarmed of half its terrors. Barbarians 
are strangers to such refinements. They rush into 
war with impetuosity, and prosecute it with vio¬ 
lence. Their sole object is to make their enemies 
feel the weight of their vengeance; nor does their 
rage subside until it be satiated with inflicting on 
them every possible calamity. It is with such a 
spirit that the savage tribes in America carry on 
their petty w ars: It was with the same spirit that 
the more powerful and no less fierce barbarians in 
the north of Europe and of Asia fell upon the Ro¬ 
man empire. 

Wherever they marched their route The desolation 
was marked with blood. They ra- brought u^n 
vaged or destroyed all around them. Lurope - 
They made no distinction between what was sacred 
and w hat was profane. They respected no age, or 
sex, or rank. What escaped the fury of the first 
inundation perished in those which followed it. 
The most fertile and populous provinces were con¬ 
verted into deserts, in which were scattered the ruins 
of villages and cities, that afforded shelter to a few 
miserable inhabitants whom chance had preserved, 
or the sword of the enemy, wearied with destroying, 
had spared. The conquerors who first settled in 
the countries which they had wasted, were expelled 
or exterminated by new invaders, who coming 
from regions further removed from the civilized 
parts of the world, Avere still more fierce and rapa¬ 
cious. This brought fresh calamities upon man¬ 
kind, which did not cease until the north, by pour¬ 
ing forth successive swarms, was drained of people, 
and could no longer furnish instruments of destruc- 



312 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


tion. Famine and pestilence, which always march 
in the train of war when it ravages with such in¬ 
considerate cruelty, raged in every part of Europe, 
and completed its sufferings. If a man were called 
to fix upon the period in the history of the world 
during which the condition of the human race was 
most calamitous and afflicted, he would without 
hesitation name that which elapsed from the death 
of Theodosius the Great to the establishment of 
the Lombards in Italy, d The contemporary authors 
who beheld that scene of desolation, labour and 
are at a loss for expressions to describe the horror 
of it. The scourge of God, the destroyer of nations, 
are the dreadful epithets by which they distin¬ 
guish the most noted of the barbarous leaders; and 
they compare the ruin which they had brought on 
the world to the havoc occasioned by earthquakes, 
conflagrations, or deluges, the most formidable and 
fatal calamities which the imagination of man can 
conceive. 


Tne universal 
change which 
they occasioned 
i th 


But no expressions can convey 
so perfect an idea of the destructive 


rope state ° f Eu P r °g ress °f the barbarians as that 
which must strike an attentive ob¬ 
server when he contemplates the total change which 
he will discover in the state of Europe, after it be¬ 
gan to recover some degree of tranquillity, towards 
the close of the sixth century. The Saxons were 
by that time masters of the southern and more fer¬ 
tile provinces of Britain; the Franks of Gaul; 
the Huns of Pannonia; the Goths of Spain; the 
Goths and Lombards of Italy and the adjacent pro¬ 
vinces. Very faint vestiges of the Roman policy, 
jurisprudence, arts, or literature remained. New 
forms of government, new laws, new manners, new 
dresses, new languages, and new names of men and 
countries, were every where introduced. To make a 
great or sudden alteration with respect to any of 
these, unless where the ancient inhabitants of a 
country have been almost totally exterminated, has 
proved an undertaking beyond the power of the 
greatest conquerors. 15 The great change which the 
settlement of the barbarous nations occasioned in 
the state of Europe may, therefore, be considered as 
a more decisive proof than even the testimony of con¬ 
temporary historians, of the destructive violence 
with which these invaders carried on their conquest, 
and of the havoc which they had made from one 
extremity of this quarter of the globe to the other/ 
From this state In the obscurity of the chaos occa- 
fawfofgoVem- sioned by this general wreck of nations 
iSfraust^h" we must search for the seeds of order, 
traced. and en( j eavour t 0 discover the first 

rudiments of the policy and laws now established 
in Europe. To this source the historians of its dif¬ 
ferent kingdoms have attempted, though with less 
attention and industry than the importance of the 
inquiry merits, to trace back the institutions and 
customs peculiar to their countrymen. It is not my 

d Theodosius died A. D. 395; the reign of Alboinus in Lombaidy 
began A. D. 571; so that this period was 176 years, 
e See Note IV., f See Note V. 


province to give a minute detail of the progress of 
government and manners in each particular nation 
whose transactions are the object of the following 
history. But in order to exhibit a just view of the 
state of Europe at the opening of the sixteenth cen¬ 
tury, it is necessary to look back and to contemplate 
the condition of the northern nations upon their first 
settlement in those countries which they occupied. 
It is necessary to mark the great steps by which 
they advanced from barbarism to refinement, and to 
point out those general principles and events which, 
by their uniform as well as extensive operation, 
conducted all of them to that degree of improvement 
in policy and in manners which they had attained 
at the period when Charles V. began his reign. 

When nations subject to despotic 

, The principles on 

government make conquests, these whichthenorth- 

. , _ . . , ern nations made 

serve only to extend the dominion and their settlements 
the power of their master. But armies in Emope ’ 
composed of freemen conquer for themselves, not 
for their leaders. The people who overturned the 
Roman empire and settled in its various provinces 
were of the latter class. Not only the different 
nations that issued from the north of Europe, which 
has always been considered as the seat of liberty, 
but the Huns and Alans, who inhabited part of 
those countries which have been marked out as the 
peculiar region of servitude, 8 enjoyed freedom and 
independence in such a high degree as seems to be 
scarcely compatible with a state of social union, or 
with the subordination necessary to maintain it. 
They followed the chieftain who led them forth in 
quest of new settlements, not by constraint, but 
from choice ; not as soldiers whom he could order 
to march, but as volunteers who offered to accom¬ 
pany him. h They considered their conquests as a 
common property, in which all had a title to share, 
as all had contributed to acquire them. 1 In what 
manner or by what principles they divided among 
them the lands which they seized, we cannot now 
determine with any certainty. There is no nation 
in Europe whose records reach back to this remote 
period; and there is little information to be got 
from the uninstructive and meagre chronicles com¬ 
piled by writers ignorant of the true end, and unac¬ 
quainted with the proper objects of history. 

This new division of property, how- The feudal g0 _ 
ever, together with the maxims and dual^estabifsh- 
manners to which it gave rise, gradu- ed among them, 
ally introduced a species of government formerly 
unknown. This singular institution is now distin¬ 
guished by the name of the Feudal System: and 
though the barbarous nations which framed it set¬ 
tled in their new territories at different times, came 
from different countries, spoke various languages, 
and were under the command of separate leaders, 
the feudal policy and laws were established, with 
little variation, in every kingdom of Europe. This 
amazing uniformity had induced some authors k to 

g De l’Eesprit des Loix, liv. xvii. ch. 3. 
h See Note VI. i See Note VII. 

k Procop. de Bello Vandal, ap. Script. Byz. edit. Ven. vol. i. p. 345. 



SECT. I. 


313 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


believe that all these nations, notwithstanding so 
many apparent circumstances of distinction, were 
originally the same people. But it may be ascribed, 
with great probability, to the similar state of society 
and of manners to which they were accustomed in 
their native countries, and to the similar situation 
in which they found themselves on taking posses¬ 
sion of their new domains. 

As the conquerors of Europe had their acquisitions 
to maintain, not only against such of the ancient 
inhabitants as they had spared, but against the 
more formidable inroads of new invaders, self-de¬ 
fence was their chief care, and seems 
thereat object^ to have been the chief object of their 
of feudal policy. fi rs t institutions and policy. Instead 

of those loose associations which, though they 
scarcely diminished their personal independence, 
had been sufficient for their security while they re¬ 
mained in their original countries, they saw the 
necessity of uniting in more close confederacy, and 
of relinquishing some of their private rights in order 
to attain public safety. Every freeman, upon re¬ 
ceiving a portion of the lands which were divided, 
bound himself to appear in arms against the enemies 
of the community. This military service was the 
condition upon which he received and held his 
lands: and as they were exempted from every other 
burden, that tenure among a warlike people was 
deemed both easy and honourable. The king or 
general who led them to conquest, continuing still 
to be the head of the colony, had, of course, the 
largest portion allotted to him. Having thus ac¬ 
quired the means of rewarding past services as well 
as of gaining new adherents, he parcelled out his 
lands with this view, binding those on whom they 
w ere bestowed to resort to his standard with a num¬ 
ber of men in proportion to the extent of the terri¬ 
tory which they received, and to bear arms in his 
defence. His chief officers imitated the example 
of the sovereign, and in distributing portions of 
their lands among their dependents, annexed the 
same condition to the grant. Thus a feudal king¬ 
dom resembled a military establishment rather than 
a civil institution. The victorious army, cantoned 
out in the country which it had seized, continued 
ranged under its proper officers, and subordinate to 
military command. The names of a soldier and of 
a freeman were synonymous. 1 Every proprietor of 
land, girt with a sword, was ready to march at the 
summons of his superior, and to take the field against 
the common enemy. 

The feudal ro- Rut though the feudal policy seems 
itspro^* to be so admirably calculated for de- 
rior°or S der r ia nte fence against the assau Its of any foreign 
society. power, its provisions for the interior 

order and tranquillity of society were extremely 
defective. The principles of disorder and corrup¬ 
tion are discernible in that constitution under its 
best and most perfect form. They soon unfolded 
themselves, and, spreading with rapidity through 

1 Du Cange Glossar. voc. Miles. 


every part of the system, produced the most fatal 
effects. The bond of political union was extremely 
feeble, the sources of anarchy were innumerable. 
The monarchical and aristocratical parts of the con¬ 
stitution having no intermediate power to balance 
them, were perpetually at variance, and justling 
with each other. The powerful vassals of the crown 
soon extorted a confirmation for life of those grants 
of land, which being at first purely gratuitous, had 
been bestowed only during pleasure. Not satisfied 
with this, they prevailed to have them converted 
into hereditary possessions. One step more com¬ 
pleted their usurpations, and rendered them unalie- 
nable. m With an ambition no less enterprising, and 
more preposterous, they appropriated to themselves 
titles of honour, as wxll as offices of power or trust. 
These personal marks of distinction, which the 
public admiration bestows on illustrious merit, or 
which the public confidence confers on extraordi¬ 
nary abilities, were annexed to certain families, and 
transmitted, like fiefs, from father to son, by here¬ 
ditary right. The crown vassals having thus secured 
the possession of their lands and dignities, the 
nature of the feudal institutions, which though 
founded on subordination verged to independence, 
led them to new and still more dangerous encroach¬ 
ments on the prerogatives of the sovereign. They 
obtained the power of supreme jurisdiction, both 
civil and criminal, within their own territories; the 
right of coining money ; together with the privilege 
of carrying on war against their private enemies, in 
their own name and by their own authority. The 
ideas of political subjection were almost entirely 
lost, and frequently scarce any appearance of feudal 
subordination remained. Nobles who had acquired 
such enormous power scorned to consider them¬ 
selves as subjects. They aspired openly at being 
independent: the bonds which connected the prin¬ 
cipal members of the constitution with the crown 
were dissolved. A kingdom considerable in name 
and in extent was broken into as many separate 
principalities as it contained powerful barons. A 
thousand causes of jealousy and discord subsisted 
among them, and gave rise to as many Avars. Every 
country in Europe, wasted or kept in continual 
alarm during these endless contests, Avas filled with 
castles and places of strength erected for the security 
of the inhabitants, not against foreign force, but 
against internal hostilities. An universal anarchy, 
destructive, in a great measure, of all the advantages 
which men expect to derive from society, prevailed. 
The people, the most numerous as well as the most 
useful part of the community, were either reduced 
to a state of actual servitude, or treated with the 
same insolence and rigour as if they had been de¬ 
graded into that wretched condition." The king, 
stripped of almost every prerogative, and without 
authority to enact or to execute salutary laws, could 
neither protect the innocent nor punish the guilty. 
The nobles, superior to all restraint, harassed each 


m See Note VIII. 


n See Note IX. 




314 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


other with perpetual wars, oppressed their fellow- 
subjects, and humbled or insulted their sovereign. 
To erown all, time gradually fixed, and rendered 
venerable, this pernicious system which violence 
had established. 

it prevented Such was the state of Europe with 

from acting"wttii respect to the interior administration 
external'opera- °f government from the seventh to the 
tIons - eleventh century. All the external 

operations of its various states, during this period, 
were, of course, extremely feeble. A kingdom dis¬ 
membered and torn with dissension, without any 
common interest to rouse or any common head to 
conduct its force, was incapable of acting with 
vigour. Almost all the wars in Europe, during the 
ages which I have mentioned, were trifling, inde¬ 
cisive, and productive of no considerable event. 
They resembled the short incursions of pirates or 
banditti, rather than the steady operations of a re¬ 
gular army. Every baron, at the head of his vassals, 
carried on some petty enterprise, to which he was 
prompted by his own ambition or revenge. The 
state itself, destitute of union, either remained alto¬ 
gether inactive, or if it attempted to make any effort, 
that served only to discover its impotence. The 
superior genius of Charlemagne, it is true, united 
all these disjointed and discordant members, and 
forming them again into one body, restored to go¬ 
vernment that degree of activity which distinguishes 
his reign, and renders the transactions of it objects 
not only of attention but of admiration to more en¬ 
lightened times. But this state of union and vigour 
not being natural to the feudal government, was of 
short duration. Immediately upon his death, the 
spirit which animated and sustained the vast system 
which he had established being withdrawn, it broke 
into pieces. All the calamities which flow from 
anarchy and discord, returning with additional force, 
afflicted the different kingdoms into which his 
empire was split. From that time to the eleventh 
century, a succession of uninteresting events, a 
series of wars, the motives as well as the conse¬ 
quences of which were unimportant, fill and deform 
the annals of all the nations in Europe. 

The fatal effects To these pernicious effects of the 
society S cmsd- feudal anarchy may be added its fatal 
ences and arts ; influence on the character and im¬ 
provement of the human mind. If men do not enjoy 
the protection of regular government, together with 
the expectation of personal security, w hich naturally 
flows from it, they never attempt to make progress 
in science, nor aim at attaining refinement in taste 
or in manners. That period of turbulence, oppres¬ 
sion, and rapine which I have described, w^as ill 
suited to favour improvement in any of these. In 
less than a century after the barbarous nations set¬ 
tled in their new conquests, almost all the effects of 
the knowledge and civility which the Romans had 
spread through Europe disappeared. Not only the 
arts of elegance, which minister to luxury, and are 


supported by it, but many of the useful arts, with¬ 
out which life can scarcely be considered as com¬ 
fortable, were neglected or lost. Literature, sci¬ 
ence, taste, were words little in use during the 
ages which we are contemplating; or if they 
occur at any time, eminence in them is ascribed to 
persons and productions so contemptible, that it 
appears their true import was little understood. 
Persons of the highest rank, and in the most emi¬ 
nent stations, could not read or write. Many of the 
clergy did not understand the breviary which they 
were obliged daily to recite; some of them could 
scarcely read it. 0 The memory of past transactions 
was, in a great degree, lost, or preserved in annals 
filled with trifling events or legendary tales. Even the 
codes of laws published by the several nations which 
established themselves in the different countries of 
Europe, fell into disuse, while, in their place, cus¬ 
toms vague and capricious were substituted. The 
human mind, neglected, uncultivated, and depress¬ 
ed, continued in the most profound ignorance. Eu¬ 
rope, during four centuries, produced few authors 
who merit to be read, either on account of the ele¬ 
gance of their composition or the justness and 
novelty of their sentiments. There are few inven¬ 
tions useful or ornamental to society of which that 
long period can boast. 

Even the Christian religion, though 
its precepts are delivered and its in- Upon rellgI0n » 
stitutions are fixed in Scripture, with a precision 
which should have exempted them from being mis¬ 
interpreted or corrupted, degenerated, during those 
ages of darkness, into an illiberal superstition. The 
barbarous nations, when converted to Christianity, 
changed the object, not the spirit, of their religious 
worship. They endeavoured to conciliate the favour 
of the true God by means not unlike to those which 
they had employed in order to appease their false 
deities. Instead of aspiring to sanctity and virtue, 
which alone can render men acceptable to the great 
Author of order and of excellence, they imagined 
that they satisfied every obligation of duty by a 
scrupulous observance of external ceremonies.? 
Religion, according to their conceptions of it, com¬ 
prehended nothing else ; and the rites by which they 
persuaded themselves that they should gain the fa¬ 
vour of Heaven, were of such a nature as might have 
been expected from the rude ideas of the ages which 
devised and introduced them. They were either so 
unmeaning as to be altogether unworthy of the Be¬ 
ing to whose honour they were consecrated, or so 
absurd as to be a disgrace to reason and humanity. 1q 
Charlemagne in France, and Alfred the Great in 
England r endeavoured to dispel this darkness, and 
gave their subjects a short glimpse of light and 
know ledge. But the ignorance of the age was too 
powerful for their efforts and institutions. The 
darkness returned, and settled over Europe more 
thick and heavy than before. 

As the inhabitants of Europe, during these cen- 


o See NoteX. 


P See Note XI. 


q See Note XII. 



SECT. I. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


315 


upon the cha- turies, were strangers to the arts whicli 
tue^of the human embellished a polished age, they were 
mmd ’ destitute of the virtues which abound 

among people who continue in a simple state. Force 
of mind, a sense of personal dignity, gallantry in 
enterprise, invincible perseverance in execution, 
contempt of danger and of death, are the character¬ 
istic virtues of uncivilized nations. But these are 
all the offspring of equality and independence, both 
which the feudal institutions had destroyed. The 
spirit of domination corrupted the nobles ; the yoke 
of servitude depressed the people; the generous 
sentiments inspired by a sense of equality were ex¬ 
tinguished, and hardly any thing remained to be a 
check on ferocity and violence. Human society 
is in its most corrupted state, at that period when 
men have lost their original independence and sim¬ 
plicity of manners, but have not attained that de¬ 
gree of refinement which introduces a sense of de¬ 
corum and of propriety in conduct, as a restraint 
on those passions which lead to heinous crimes. 
Accordingly, a greater number of those atrocious 
actions which fill the mind of man with astonish¬ 
ment and horror, occur in the history of the centu¬ 
ries under review, than in that of any period of the 
same extent in the annals of Europe. If we open 
the history of Gregory of Tours, or of any contem¬ 
porary author, we meet with a series of deeds of 
cruelty, perfidy, and revenge, so wild and enormous 
as almost to exceed belief. 

From the begin- But > according to the observation of 
eleventh century an elegant and profound historian, r 
manners begin n to ^ iere an ultimate point of depres- 
lmprove. sion, as well as of exaltation, from 

which human affairs naturally return in a contrary 
progress, and beyond which they never pass either 
in their advancement or decline. When defects, 
either in the form or in the administration of go¬ 
vernment, occasion such disorders in society as are 
excessive and intolerable, it becomes the common 
interest to discover and to apply such remedies as 
will most effectually remove them. Slight incon¬ 
veniences may be long overlooked or endured ; but 
when abuses grow to a certain pitch, the society 
must go to ruin, or must attempt to reform them. 
The disorders in the feudal system, together with 
the corruption of taste and manners consequent 
upon these, which had gone on increasing during a 
long course of years, seemed to have attained their 
utmost point of excess towards the close of the 
eleventh century. From that era we may date the 
return of government and manners in a contrary 
direction, and can trace a succession of causes and 
events which contributed, some with a nearer and 
more conspicuous, others with a more remote and 
less perceptible, influence, to abolish confusion 
and barbarism, and to introduce order, regularity, 
and refinement. 

r Hume’s History of England, vol. ii. p. 441. 

8 llcvcl xx* 

t Chronic. Will. Godelli ap. Bouquet Recueil des Historiens de France, 


In pointing out and explaining these Necess f0 
causes and events, it is not necessary point out the 

J causes and events 

to observe the order of time with a which contri- 

bute towards 

chronological accuracy; it is of more ^ s n j mprove ' 
importance to keep in view their mu¬ 
tual connexion and dependence, and to show how 
the operation of one event or one cause prepared 
the way for another, and augmented its influence. 
We have hitherto been contemplating the progress 
of that darkness which spread over Europe, from 
its first approach to the period of greatest obscura¬ 
tion ; a more pleasant exercise begins here,—to ob¬ 
serve the first dawnings of returning light, to mark 
the various accessions by which it gradually increased 
and advanced towards the full splendour of day. 

I. The Crusades, or expeditions in 
order to rescue the Holy Land out of the crusaded to 

... , , introduce a 

the hands of infidels, seemed to be the change in go- 

first event that roused Europe from manners. 

... . i The more remote 

the lethargy in which it had been long causes of these 

sunk, and that tended to introduce expedltl0ns ’ 
any considerable change in government or in man¬ 
ners. It is natural to the human mind to view those 
places which have been distinguished by being the 
residence of any illustrious personage, or the scene 
of any great transaction, with some degree of de¬ 
light and veneration. To this principle must be 
ascribed the superstitious devotion with which Chris¬ 
tians, from the earliest ages of the church, were ac¬ 
customed to visit that country which the Almighty 
had selected as the inheritance of his favourite peo¬ 
ple, and in which the Son of God had accomplished 
the redemption of mankind. As this distant pil¬ 
grimage could not be performed without consider¬ 
able expense, fatigue, and danger, it appeared the 
more meritorious, and came to be considered as an 
expiation for almost every crime. An opinion which 
spread with rapidity over Europe about the close 
of the tenth and beginning of the eleventh century, 
and which gained universal credit, wonderfully 
augmented the number of credulous pilgrims, and 
increased the ardour with which they undertook 
this useless voyage. The thousand years mentioned 
by St. John* were supposed to be accomplished, 
and the end of the world to be at hand. A general 
consternation seized mankind ; many relinquished 
their possessions; and abandoning their friends 
and families, hurried with precipitation to the Holy 
Land, where they imagined that Christ would 
quickly appear to judge the world. 1 While Pales¬ 
tine continued subject to the Caliphs, they had en¬ 
couraged the resort of pilgrims to Jerusalem ; and 
considered this as a beneficial species of commerce, 
which brought into their dominions gold and silver, 
and carried nothing out of them but relics and con¬ 
secrated trinkets. But the Turks having conquered 
Syria about the middle of the eleventh century, 
pilgrims were exposed to outrages of every kind 


tom. x. p.262. Vita Abbonis, ibid. p. 332. Chronic. S. Pantaleonls ap. 
Eccard. Corp. Scrip. mediiiEvi, vol. I. p. 909. Annalista Saxo, ibid. 
576. 




316 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


from these fierce barbarians. 0 This change hap¬ 
pening precisely at the juncture when the panic 
terror which I have mentioned rendered pilgrimages 
most frequent, filled Europe with alarm and indig¬ 
nation. Every person who returned from Palestine 
related the dangers which he had encountered in 
visiting the Holy City, and described with exagge¬ 
ration the cruelty and vexations of the Turks. 

The immediate When the minds of men were thuS 
occasion of them. p re p ar ed, the zeal of a fanatical monk 

who conceived the idea of leading all the forces of 
Christendom against the infidels, and of driving 
them out of the Holy Land by violence, was suffi¬ 
cient to give a beginning to that wild enterprise. 
Peter the Hermit, for that was the name of this 
martial apostle, ran from province to province with 
a crucifix in his hand, exciting princes and people 
to this holy war, and wherever he came kindled 
the same enthusiastic ardour for it with which he 
himself was animated. The council of Placentia, 
where upwards of thirty thousand persons were 
assembled, pronounced the scheme to have been 
suggested by the immediate inspiration of Heaven. 
In the council of Clermont, still more numerous, as 
soon as the measure was proposed, all cried out 
with one voice, “ It is the will of God.” Persons 
of all ranks catched the contagion ; not only the 
gallant nobles of that age, with their martial fol¬ 
lowers, whom we may suppose apt to be allured by 
the boldness of a romantic enterprise, but men in the 
more humble and pacific stations of life, ecclesiastics 
of every order, and even women and children, engaged 
with emulation in an undertaking which was deemed 
sacred and meritorious. If we may believe the con¬ 
curring testimony of contemporary authors, six mil¬ 
lions of persons assumed the cross, x which was the 
badge that distinguished such as devoted themselves 
to this holy warfare. All Europe, says the princess 
Anna Comnena, torn up from the foundation, seemed 
ready to precipitate itself in one united body upon 
Asia.* Nor did the fumes of this enthusiastic zeal 
evaporate at once: the frenzy was as lasting as it 
was extravagant. During two centuries Europe 
seems to have had no object but to recover or keep 
possession of the Holy Land ; and through that 
period vast armies continued to march thither. 2 

The success of The first efforts of valour, animated 
the Crusades. i>y enthusiasm, were irresistible: part 

of the Lesser Asia, all Syria and Palestine, were 
wrested from the infidels; the banner of the cross 
was displayed on mount Sion ; Constantinople, the 
capital of the Christian empire in the east, was 
afterwards seized by a body of those adventurers, 
who had taken arms against the Mahometans, and 
an earl of Flanders, and his descendants, kept pos¬ 
session of the imperial throne during half a century. 
But though the first impression of the crusaders 
was so unexpected that they made their conquests 


with great ease, they found infinite difficulty in pre¬ 
serving them. Establishments so distant from Eu¬ 
rope, surrounded by warlike nations animated with 
fanatical zeal scarcely inferior to that of the crusa¬ 
ders themselves, were perpetually in danger of being 
overturned. Before the expiration of ^ D 12Q1 
the thirteenth century, the Christians 
were driven out of all their Asiatic possessions, in 
acquiring of which incredible numbers ot men had 
perished, and immense sums of money had been 
wasted. The only common enterprise in which the 
European nations ever engaged, and which they all 
undertook with equal ardour, remains a singular 
monument of human folly. 

But from these expeditions, extra- T j ie beneficial 
vagant as they were, beneficial conse- ifdesonman^ 11 ' 
quences followed which had neither ners> 
been foreseen nor expected. In their progress to¬ 
wards the Holy Land, the followers of the cross 
marched through countries better cultivated and 
more civilized than their own. Their first rendez¬ 
vous was commonly in Italy, in which Venice, 
Genoa, Pisa, and other cities, had begun to apply 
themselves to commerce, and had made considerable 
advances towards wealth as well as refinement. 
They embarked there, and landing in Dalmatia, 
pursued their route by land to Constantinople. 
Though the military spirit had been long extinct 
in the eastern empire, and a despotism of the worst 
species had annihilated almost every public virtue, 
yet Constantinople, having never felt the destruc¬ 
tive rage of the barbarous nations, was the greatest 
as well as the most beautiful city in Europe, and 
the only one in which there remained any image of 
the ancient elegance in manners and arts. The 
naval power of the eastern empire was consider¬ 
able. Manufactures of the most curious fabric 
were carried on in its dominions. Constantinople 
was the chief mart in Europe for the commodities of 
the East Indies. Although the Saracens and Turks 
had torn from the empire many of its richest pro¬ 
vinces, and had reduced it within very narrow 
bounds, yet great wealth flowed into the capital 
from these various sources, which not only cherish¬ 
ed such a taste for magnificence, but kept alive 
such a relish for the sciences, as appears consider¬ 
able when compared w ith what was known in other 
parts of Europe. Even in Asia, the Europeans who 
had assumed the cross found the remains of the 
knowledge and arts which the example and en¬ 
couragement of the Caliphs had diffused through 
their empire. Although the attention of the histo¬ 
rians of the Crusades was fixed on other objects 
than the state of society and manners among the 
nations which they invaded, although most of them 
had neither taste nor discernment enough to de¬ 
scribe these, they relate, however, such signal acts 
of humanity and generosity in the conduct of Sala- 


u Jo. Dan. Schoepflini de sacris Gallorum in Orientum Expeditionibus, y Alexias, lib. x. ap. Byz. Script, vol. xi. p. 224. 

p. 4. Argent. 1726. 4to. 2 See Mote XIII. 

x Fulcherus Carnotensis ap. Bongarsii Gesta Dei per Francos, vol. i. 

387. edit. Han. 1611. 



SECT. I. 


317 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


din, as well as some other leaders of the Mahomet¬ 
ans, as give us a very high idea of their manners. 
It was not possible for the crusaders to travel 
through so many countries, and to behold their va¬ 
rious customs and institutions, without acquiring 
information and improvement. Their views en¬ 
larged ; their prejudices wore off; new ideas crowd¬ 
ed into their minds ; and they must have been 
sensible, on many occasions, of the rusticity of their 
own manners, when compared with those of a more 
polished people. These impressions were not so 
slight as to be effaced upon their return to their na¬ 
tive countries. A close intercourse subsisted be¬ 
tween the east and west during two centuries ; new 
armies were continually marching from Europe to 
Asia, while former adventurers returned home and 
imported many of the customs to which they had 
been familiarized by a long residence abroad. Ac¬ 
cordingly we discover, soon after the commence¬ 
ment of the Crusades, greater splendour in the 
courts of princes, greater pomp in public ceremo¬ 
nies, a more refined taste in pleasure and amuse¬ 
ments, together with a more romantic spirit of 
enterprise, spreading gradually over Europe; and 
to these wild expeditions, the effect of superstition 
or folly, we owe the first gleams of light which 
tended to dispel barbarism and ignorance. 

_ But these beneficial consequences of 

Their influence * 

on the state of the Crusades took place slowly ; their 

property. # 1 J 1 

influence upon the state of property, 
and consequently of power, in the different king¬ 
doms of Europe, was more immediate as well as 
discernible. The nobles who assumed the cross, 
and bound themselves to march to the Holy Land, 
soon perceived that great sums were necessary to¬ 
wards defraying the expense of such a distant ex¬ 
pedition, and enabling them to appear with suitable 
dignity at the head of their vassals. But the genius 
of the feudal system was averse to the imposition of 
extraordinary taxes, and subjects in that age were 
unaccustomed to pay them. No expedient remained 
for levying the sums requisite but the sale of their 
possessions. As men were inflamed with romantic 
expectations of the splendid conquests which they 
hoped to make in Asia, and possessed with such zeal 
for recovering the Holy Land as swallowed up every 
other passion, they relinquished their ancient inhe¬ 
ritances without any reluctance, and for prices far 
below their value, that they might sally forth as ad¬ 
venturers in quest of new settlements in unknown 
countries. The monarchs of the great kingdoms in 
the west, none of whom had engaged in the first 
Crusade, eagerly seized this opportunity of annex¬ 
ing considerable territories to their crowns at small 
expense. a Besides this, several great barons who 
perished in the holy war having left no heirs, their 
fiefs reverted of course to their respective sove¬ 
reigns ; and by these accessions of property as well 
as power, taken from the one scale and thrown into 

a Willelm. Malmsbur. Guibert. Abbas ap. Bongars. vol. i. 481. 

b Du Cange Glossar. voc. Cruce signatus. Guil. Abbas ap. Bongars. 
vol. i. 480, 482. 


the other, the regal authority rose in proportion as 
that of the aristocracy declined. The absence, too, 
of many potent vassals, accustomed to control and 
give law to their sovereigns, afforded them an op¬ 
portunity of extending their prerogative, and of ac¬ 
quiring a degree of weight in the constitution which 
they did not formerly possess. To these circum¬ 
stances we may add, that as all who assumed the 
cross were taken under the immediate protection of 
the church, and its heaviest anathemas were de¬ 
nounced against such as should disquiet or annoy 
those who had devoted themselves to this service, 
the private quarrels and hostilities which banished 
tranquillity from a feudal kingdom were suspended 
or extinguished ; a more general and steady ad¬ 
ministration of justice began to be introduced, and 
some advances were made towards the establish¬ 
ment of regular government in the several kingdoms 
ofEurope. bc 

The commercial effects of the Cru- Their commer _ 
sades were not less considerable than Clal etiect> 
those which I have already mentioned. The first 
armies under the standard of the cross, which Peter 
the Hermit and Godfrey of Bouillon led through 
Germany and Hungary to Constantinople, suffered 
so much by the length of the march, as well as by 
the fierceness of the barbarous people who inhabited 
those countries, that it deterred others from taking 
the same route ; and rather than encounter so many 
dangers, they chose to go by sea. Venice, Genoa, 
and Pisa furnished the transports on which they 
embarked. The sum which these cities received 
merely for freight from such numerous armies was 
immense. d This, however, was but a small part of 
what they gained by the expeditions to the Holy 
Land ; the crusaders contracted with them for mili¬ 
tary stores and provisions; their fleets kept on the 
coast as the armies advanced by land ; and supply¬ 
ing them with w hatever was wanting, engrossed all 
the profits of a branch of commerce which, in every 
age, has been extremely lucrative. The success 
which attended the arms of the crusaders was pro¬ 
ductive of advantages still more permanent. There 
are charters yet extant, containing grants to the 
Venetians, Pisans, and Genoese, of the most exten¬ 
sive immunities in the several settlements which the 
Christians made in Asia. All the commodities which 
they imported or exported are thereby exempted 
from every imposition ; the property of entire sub¬ 
urbs in some of the maritime towns, and of large 
streets in others, is vested in them; and all ques¬ 
tions arising among persons settled within their 
precincts, or who traded under their protection, are 
appointed to be tried by their own laws, and by 
judges of their own appointment. 6 When the cru¬ 
saders seized Constantinople, and placed one of their 
own leaders on the imperial throne, the Italian 
states were likewise gainers by that event. The 
Venetians, who had planned the enterprise, and 

c See Note XIV. 

d Muratori Antiquit. Italic. mediiiEvi, vol. ii. 905. 

e Ibid. 906, &c. 



318 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


took a considerable part in carrying it into execu¬ 
tion, did not neglect to secure to themselves the 
chief advantages redounding from its success. They 
made themselves masters of part of the ancient Pe¬ 
loponnesus in Greece, together with some of the 
most fertile islands in the Archipelago. Many 
valuable branches of the commerce which formerly 
centred in Constantinople were transferred to Ve¬ 
nice, Genoa, or Pisa. Thus a succession of events 
occasioned by the Holy War opened various sources 
from which wealth flowed in such abundance into 
these cities/ as enabled them, in concurrence with an¬ 
other institution which shall be immediately mention¬ 
ed, to secure their own liberty and independence. 

_. , L1 .. II. The institution to which I allud- 

The establish- 

ment of comma- e d was the forming of cities into com- 
mties favourable ° 

to government munities, corporations, or bodies po- 

and order. r 1 

litic, and granting them the privilege 
of municipal jurisdiction, which contributed more, 
perhaps, than any other cause, to introduce regular 
government, police, and arts, and to diffuse them over 
Europe. The feudal government had degenerated 
into a system of oppression. The usurpations of the 
nobles were become unbounded and intolerable ; 
they had reduced the great body of the people into 
a state of actual servitude; the condition of those 
dignified with the name of freemen was often little 
preferable to that of the other. Nor was such op¬ 
pression the portion of those alone who dwelt in 
the country, and were employed in cultivating the 
The ancient state estate of their master. Cities and vil- 
of Clties - lages found it necessary to hold of some 
great lord, on whom they might depend for protec¬ 
tion, and became no less subject to his arbitrary 
jurisdiction. The inhabitants were deprived of those 
rights which, in social life, are deemed most natural 
and inalienable. They could not dispose of the 
effects which their own industry had acquired, 
either by a latter will, or by any deed executed 
during their life. g They had no right to appoint 
guardians for their children during their minority. 
They were not permitted to marry without purchas¬ 
ing the consent of the lord on whom they depended. 11 
If once they had commenced a law-suit, they durst 
not terminate it by an accommodation, because that 
would have deprived the lord in whose court they 
pleaded, of the perquisites due to him on passing 
sentence. 1 Services of various kinds, no less dis¬ 
graceful than oppressive, were exacted from them 
without mercy or moderation. The spirit of industry 
was checked in some cities by absurd regulations, 
and in others by unreasonable exactions ; nor would 
the narrow and oppressive maxims of a military 
aristocracy have permitted it ever to rise to any 
degree of height or vigour. k 

„„ , , , But as soon as the cities of Italy be- 

1 he freedom of J 

cities first esta- gan to turn their attention towards 
bhshed in Italy. 

commerce, and to conceive some idea 

f Villehardouin Hist, de Constant, sous l’Fmpereurs Fangois, 105, &c. 

g Dacherii Spiciieg. tom. xi. 374, 375. edit, in 4to. Ordonnances des 
Rois de France, tom. in. 204. Nos. 2, 6. 

h Ordonnances des Rois de France, tom. i. p. 22. tom. iii. 203. No. 1. 
Murat. Antiq. ltal. vol. iv. p. 20. Dacher. Spicil. vol. xi. 325, 341. 


of the advantages which they might derive from it, 
they became impatient to shake off the yoke of their 
insolent lords, and to establish among themselves 
such a free and equal government as would render 
property secure and industry flourishing. The 
German emperors, especially those of the Franco¬ 
nian and Suabian lines, as the seat of their govern¬ 
ment was far distant from Italy, possessed a feeble 
and imperfect jurisdiction in that country. Their 
perpetual quarrels, either with the popes, or with 
their own turbulent vassals, diverted their attention 
from the interior police of Italy, and gave constant 
employment to their arms. These circumstances 
encouraged the inhabitants of some of the Italian 
cities, towards the beginning of the eleventh cen¬ 
tury, to assume new privileges, to unite together 
more closely, and to form themselves into bodies 
politic, under the government of laws established 
by common consent. 1 The rights which many cities 
acquired by bold or fortunate usurpations, others 
purchased from the emperors, who deemed them¬ 
selves gainers when they received large sums for 
immunities which they were no longer able to with¬ 
hold ; and some cities obtained them gratuitously, 
from the generosity or facility of the princes on 
whom they depended. The great increase of 
wealth which the Crusades brought into Italy oc¬ 
casioned a new kind of fermentation and activity in 
the minds of the people, and excited such a general 
passion for liberty and independence, that, before 
the conclusion of the last Crusade, all the consider¬ 
able cities in that country had either purchased or 
had extorted large immunities from the emperors.'" 

This innovation was not long known Is introduced into 
in Italy before it made its way into othTcounS-iesS 
France. Louis le Gros, in order to Euro ^> D 
create some power that might counter- 1108 - 1137 . 
balance those potent vassals who controlled or gave 
law to the crown, first adopted the plan of confer¬ 
ring new privileges on the towns situated within 
his own domain. These privileges were called 
charters of community , by which he enfranchised the 
inhabitants, abolished all marks of servitude, and 
formed them into corporations or bodies politic, to 
be governed by a council and magistrates of their 
own nomination. These magistrates had the right 
of administering justice within their own precincts, 
of levying taxes, of embodying and training to arms 
the militia of the town, which took the field when 
required by the sovereign, under the command of 
officers appointed by the community. The great 
barons imitated the example of their monarch, and 
granted like immunities to the towns within their 
territories. They had wasted such great sums in 
their expeditions to the Holy Land, that they were 
eager to lay hold on this new expedient for raising 
money, by the sale of those charters of liberty. 
Though the institution of communities was as re- 

i Dacher. Spicil. vol. ix. 182. 

k M. l’Abbe Mably Observat. sur l’Hist. de F wince, tom. ii. p. 2, 96. 

1 Murat. Antiquit. ltal. vol. iv. p. 5. 

m See Note XV. 



SECT. I. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


319 


pugnant to their maxims of policy as it was adverse 
to their power, they disregarded remote conse¬ 
quences in order to obtain present relief. In less 
than two centuries servitude was abolished in most 
of the towns in France, and they became free cor¬ 
porations instead of dependent villages without 
jurisdiction or privileges. 11 Much about the same 
period the great cities in Germany began to acquire 
like immunities, and laid the foundation of their 
present liberty qnd independence. 0 The practice 
spread quickly over Europe, and was adopted in 
Spain, England, Scotland, and all the other feudal 
kingdoms.? 


its happy effects The good effects of this new insti- 
tionof'the^nha- tution were immediately felt, and its 
influence on government as well as 
manners was no less extensive than salutary. A 
great body of the people was released from servi¬ 
tude, and from all the arbitrary and grievous impo¬ 
sitions to which that wretched condition had sub¬ 
jected them. Towns, upon acquiring the right of 
community, became so many little republics, govern¬ 
ed by known and equal laws. Liberty was deemed 
such an essential and characteristic part in their 
constitution, that if any slave took refuge in one of 
them, and resided there during a year without being 
claimed, he was instantly declared a freeman, and 
admitted as a member of the community/' 

Upon the power As one P art °f the people owed their 

of the nobility ; t 0 the erection of communities, 

another was indebted to them for their security. 
Such had been the state of Europe during several 
centuries, that self-preservation obliged every man 
to court the patronage of some powerful baron, and 
in times of danger his castle was the place to which 
all resorted for safety. But towns surrounded with 
walls, whose inhabitants were regularly trained to 
arms, and bound by interest, as well as by the most 
solemn engagements, reciprocally to defend each 
other, afforded a more commodious and secure re¬ 
treat. The nobles began to be considered as of less 
importance, when they ceased to be the sole guar¬ 
dians to whom the people could look up for protec¬ 
tion against violence. 


upon the power If the nobility suffered some dimi- 
ot the crown; nution of their credit and power by 

the privileges granted to the cities, the crown ac¬ 
quired an increase of both. As there were no 
regular troops kept on foot in any of the feudal 
kingdoms, the monarch could bring no army into 
the field but what was composed of soldiers fur¬ 
nished by the crown vassals, always jealous of the 
regal authority ; nor had he any funds for carrying 
on the public service but such as they granted him 
with a very sparing hand. But when the members 
of communities were permitted to bear arms, and 
were trained to the use of them, this in some degree 
supplied the first defect, and gave the crown the 
command of a body of men, independent of its 


great vassals. The attachment of the cities to their 
sovereigns, whom they respected as the first,authors 
of their liberties, and whom they were obliged to 
court as the protectors of their immunities against 
the domineering spirit of the nobles, contributed 
somewhat towards removing the second evil, as, on 
many occasions, it procured the crown supplies of 
money, which added new force to government/ 

The acquisition of liberty made such U p 0n the increase 
a happy change in the condition of all ot industr y- 
the members of communities, as roused them from 
that inaction into which they had been sunk by the 
wretchedness of their former state. The spirit of 
industry revived: commerce became an object of 
attention, and began to flourish: population in¬ 
creased: independence was established: and wealth 
flowed into cities which had long been the seat of 
poverty and oppression. Wealth was accompanied 
by its usual attendants, ostentation and luxury; 
and though the former was formal and cumbersome, 
and the latter inelegant, they led gradually to great¬ 
er refinement in manners and in the habits of life. 
Together with this improvement in manners, a more 
regular species of government and police was intro¬ 
duced. As cities grew to be more populous, and 
the occasions of intercourse among men increased, 
statutes and regulations multiplied of course, and 
all became sensible that their common safety de¬ 
pended on observing them with exactness, and on 
punishing such as violated them with promptitude 
and rigour. Laws and subordination, as well as 
polished manners, taking their rise in cities, diffused 
themselves insensibly through the rest of the society. 

III. The inhabitants of cities having 

... , „ i • The inhabitants 

obtained personal freedom and muni- of cities acquire 

..... political power as 
Cipal jurisdiction, soon acquired Civil members of the 

constitution. 

liberty and political power. It was a 
fundamental principle in the feudal system of policy, 
that no freeman could be subjected to new laws or 
taxes unless by his own consent. In consequence 
of this, the vassals of every baron were called to 
his court, in which they established, by mutual 
consent, such regulations as they deemed most bene¬ 
ficial to their small society, and granted their 
superior such supplies of money as were propor¬ 
tioned to their abilities or to his wants. The barons 
themselves, conformably to the same maxim, were 
admitted into the supreme assembly of the nation, 
and concurred with the sovereign in enacting laws 
or in imposing taxes. As the superior lord, accord¬ 
ing to the original plan of feudal policy, retained 
the direct property of those lands which he granted, 
in temporary possession, to his vassals; the lav/, 
even after fiefs became hereditary, still supposed 
this original practice to subsist. The great council 
of each nation, whether distinguished by the name 
of a parliament, a diet, the cortes, or the states- 
general, was composed entirely of such barons and 
dignified ecclesiastics as held immediately of the 


n See Note XVI. o See Note XVII. p See Note XVIII. 

q Statut. Ilumberti Bellojoci Dacher. Spicil. vol. ix. 182, 185. Charta 


Comit. Forens. ibid. 193. 
602, 785 ; tom. ii. 318, 422. 


r Ordon. des Rois de France, tom. i. 



320 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


A. D. 1265. 


crown. Towns, whether situated within the royal 
domain or on the lands of a subject, depended 
originally for protection on the lord of wdiom they 
held. They had no legal name, no political exist¬ 
ence, which could entitle them to be admitted into 
the legislative assembly, or could give them any 
authority there. But as soon as they were enfran¬ 
chised, and formed into bodies corporate, they be¬ 
came legal and independent members of the consti¬ 
tution, and acquired all the rights essential to free¬ 
men. Amongst these the most valuable was the 
privilege of a decisive voice in enacting public 
laws and granting national subsidies. It was 
natural for cities accustomed to a form of municipal 
government, according to which no regulation could 
be established within the community, and no money 
could be raised but by their own consent, to claim 
this privilege. The wealth, the power and consider¬ 
ation, which they acquired on recovering their 
liberty, added weight to their claim ; and favourable 
events happened, or fortunate conjunctures occurred, 
in the different kingdoms of Europe, which facili¬ 
tated their obtaining possession of this important 
right. In England, one of the first countries in 
which the representatives of boroughs were admit¬ 
ted into the great council of the nation, the barons 
who took arms against Henry III. 
summoned them to attend parliament, 
in order to add greater popularity to their party, and 
to strengthen the barrier against the encroachment 
of regal power. In France, Philip the Fair, a 
monarch no less sagacious than enterprising, con¬ 
sidered them as instruments which might be em¬ 
ployed with equal advantage to extend the royal 
prerogative, to counterbalance the exorbitant power 
of the nobles, and to facilitate the imposition of 
new taxes. With these views he introduced the 
deputies of such towns as were formed into com¬ 
munities, into the states-general of the nation.* In 
the empire, the w ealth and immunities of the im¬ 
perial cities placed them on a level with the most 
considerable members of the Germanic body. Con¬ 
scious of their own power and dignity, they pre¬ 
tended to the privilege of forming a separate bench 
in the diet: and made good their pre- 

A. D. 1293. . ° r 

tensions.' 

„ . But in what way soever the represen- 

The happy effects J # r 

of this upon go- tatives of cities first gained a place in 
vernment. ° 1 

the legislature, that event had great 
influence on the form and genius of government. 
It tempered the rigour of aristocratical oppression 
with a proper mixture of popular liberty; it secured 
to the great body of the people, who had formerly 
no representatives, active and powerful guardians 
of their rights and privileges; it established an 
intermediate power between the king and the nobles, 
to which each had recourse alternately, and which 
at some times opposed the usurpations of the former, 
on other occasions checked the encroachments of 

s Pasquier Kecherches de la France, p. 81. edit. Par. 1633. 
t Pfeffel Abrege de 1’Histoire et Droit d’Allemagne, p. 408, 451. 


the latter. As soon as the representatives of com¬ 
munities gained any degree of credit and influence 
in the legislature, the spirit of laws became different 
from what it had formerly been ; it flowed from new 
principles ; it was directed towards new objects; 
equality, order, the public good, and the redress of 
grievances, were phrases and ideas brought into use, 
and which grew to be familiar in the statutes and 
jurisprudence of the European nations. Almost all 
the efforts in favour of liberty in every country of 
Europe have been made by this new power in the 
legislature. In proportion as it rose to consideration 
and influence, the severity of the aristocratical spirit 
decreased; and the privileges of the people became 
gradually more extensive, as the ancient and exor¬ 
bitant jurisdiction of the nobles was abridged. 11 

IY. The inhabitants of towns hav- 

. The people rc- 

ing been declared free by the charters cover liberty by 

, . enfranchisement. 

of communities, that part of the peo¬ 
ple which resided in the country, and was employed 
in agriculture, began to recover liberty by enfran¬ 
chisement. During the rigour of feudal government, 
as hath been already observed, the great body of the 
lower people was reduced to servitude. They were 
slaves fixed to the soil which they cultivated, and 
together with it were transferred from one proprietor 
to another, by sale or by conveyance. The spirit of 
feudal policy did not favour the enfranchisement of 
that order of men. It was an established maxim, 
that no vassal could legally diminish the value of 
a fief, to the detriment of the lord from whom he 
had received it. In consequence of this, manumis¬ 
sion by the authority of the immediate master was 
not valid ; and unless it was confirmed by the su¬ 
perior lord of whom he held, slaves belonging to 
the fief did not acquire a complete right to their 
liberty. Thus it became necessary to ascend through 
all the gradations of feudal holding to the king, the 
lord paramount. 51 A form of procedure so tedious 
and troublesome discouraged the practice of manu¬ 
mission. Domestic or personal slaves often obtained 
liberty from the humanity or beneficence of their 
masters, to whom they belonged in absolute pro¬ 
perty. The condition of slaves fixed to the soil was 
much more unalterable. 

But the freedom and independence Xhe motives and 
which one part of the people had ob- P r °g ress of uns¬ 
tained by the institution of communities inspired 
the other with the most ardent desire of acquiring 
the same privileges ; and their superiors, sensible 
of the various advantages which they had derived 
from their former concessions to their dependants, 
were less unwilling to gratify them by the grant of 
new immunities. The enfranchisement of slaves 
became more frequent; and the monarclis of France, 
prompted by necessity no less than by A d. 1.315 and 
their inclination to reduce the power 1318 - 
of the nobles, endeavoured to render it general. 
Louis X. and Philip the Long issued ordinances, 

u See Note XIX. 

x Ftablissemens de St. Louis, liv. ii. cl>. 34. Ordon. tom. i 283, note a. 



SECT. 1. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


32 L 


declaring, “That as all men were by nature free¬ 
born, and as their kingdom was called the kingdom 
of Franks, they determined that it should be so in 
reality as well as in name; therefore they appointed 
that enfranchisements should be granted throughout 
the whole kingdom, upon just and reasonable con¬ 
ditions.”* These edicts were carried into immediate 
execution within the royal domain. The example 
of their sovereigns, together with the expectation 
of considerable sums which they might raise by this 
expedient, led many of the nobles to set their de¬ 
pendants at liberty ; and servitude was gradually 
abolished in almost every province of the kingdom. 2 
In Italy, the establishment of republican govern¬ 
ment in their great cities, the genius and maxims 
of which were extremely different from those of the 
feudal policy, together with the ideas of equality, 
which the progress of commerce had rendered fa¬ 
miliar, gradually introduced the practice of enfran¬ 
chising the ancient predial slaves. In some provinces 
of Germany, the persons who had been subject to 
this species of bondage were released; in others the 
rigour of their state was mitigated. In England, 
as the spirit of liberty gained ground, the very name 
and idea of personal servitude, without any formal 
interposition of the legislature to prohibit it, was 
totally banished. 

The effects of such a remarkable 

The effects of this , • .. . ~ 

upon the improve- change in the condition of so great a 

ment of society. . . . ,, 

part of the people could not fail of 
being considerable and extensive. The husband¬ 
man, master of his own industry, and secure of 
reaping for himself the fruits of his labour, became 
the farmer of the same fields where he had formerly 
been compelled to toil for the benefit of another. 
The odious names of master and of slave, the most 
mortifying and depressing of all distinctions to 
human nature, were abolished. New prospects 
opened, and new incitements to ingenuity and en¬ 
terprise presented themselves to those who were 
emancipated. The expectation of bettering their 
fortune, as well as that of raising themselves to a 
more honourable condition, concurred in calling 
forth their activity and genius; and a numerous 
class of men, who formerly had no political exist¬ 
ence, and were employed merely as instruments of 
labour, became useful citizens, and contributed to¬ 
wards augmenting the force or riches of the society 
which adopted them as members. 

The introduction v - The various expedients which 
ndministradoi/of were employed in order to introduce 
J to S the e improve- es a more regular, equal, and vigorous 
ment of society, administration of justice, contributed 

greatly towards the improvement of society. What 
were the particular modes of dispensing justice, in 
their several countries, among the various barbarous 
nations which overran the Roman empire, and took 
possession of its different provinces, cannot now be 
determined with certainty. We may conclude, 
from the form of government established among 

y Ordon. tom. i. p. 583, 653. 

Y 


them, as well as from their ideas concerning the 
nature of society, that the authority of the magis¬ 
trate was extremely limited, and the independence 
of individuals proportionally great. History and 
records, as far as these reach back, justify this con¬ 
clusion, and represent the ideas and exercise of jus¬ 
tice in all the countries of Europe as little different 
from those which must take place in the most simple 
state of civil life. To maintain the order and tran¬ 
quillity of society by the regular execution of known 
laws ; to inflict vengeance on crimes destructive of 
the peace and safety of individuals, by a prosecu¬ 
tion carried on in the name and by the authority of 
the community; to consider the punishment of 
criminals as a public example to deter others from 
violating the laws, were objects of government little 
understood in theory, and less regarded in practice. 
The magistrate could hardly be said to hold the 
sword of justice ; it was left in the hands of private 
persons. Resentment was almost the sole motive 
for prosecuting crimes, and to gratify that passion 
was considered as the chief end in punishing them. 
He who suffered the wrong was the only person who 
had a right to pursue the aggressor, and to exact 
or to remit the punishment. From a system of ju¬ 
dicial procedure, so crude and defective that it 
seems to be scarcely compatible with the subsistence 
of civil society, disorder and anarchy flowed. Su 
perstition concurred with this ignorance concerning 
the nature of government, in obstructing the admi¬ 
nistration of justice, or in rendering it capricious 
and unequal. To provide remedies for these evils, 
so as to give a more regular course to justice, was, 
during several centuries, one great object of poli¬ 
tical wisdom. The regulations for this purpose 
may be reduced to three general heads. To explain 
these, and to point out the manner in which they 
operated, is an important article in the history of 
society among the nations of Europe. 

1. The first considerable step to- This effected b 
wards establishing an equal adminis- pr^tlceTofNi¬ 
tration of justice, was the abolishment vate war - 
of the right which individuals claimed of waging 
war with each other, in their own name and by 
their own authority. To repel injuries, and to re¬ 
venge wrongs, is no less natural to man than to 
cultivate friendship ; and while soci¬ 
ety remains in its most simple state, ^n^onceraing 
the former is considered as a personal Justlce - 
right no less unalienable than the latter. Nor do 
men in this situation deem that they have a title to 
redress their own wrongs alone ; they are touched 
with the injuries done to those with whom they are 
connected, or in whose honour they are interested, 
and are no less prompt to avenge them. The sa¬ 
vage, how imperfectly soever he may comprehend 
the principles of political union, feels warmly the 
sentiments of social affection, and the obligations 
arising from the ties of blood. On the appearance 
of an injury or affront offered to his family or tribe, 
z See Note XX. 




322 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


he kindles into rage, and pursues the authors of it 
with the keenest resentment. He considers it as 
cowardly to expect redress from any arm but his 
own, and as infamous to give up to another the 
right of determining what reparation he should 
accept, or with what vengeance he should rest 
satisfied.* 

The maxims and practice of all un- 
practice of pri- civilized nations with respect to the 
prosecution and punishment of offend¬ 
ers, particularly those of the ancient Germans, and 
other barbarians who invaded the Roman empire, 
are perfectly conformable to these ideas. a While 
they retained their native simplicity of manners, and 
continued to be divided into small tribes or socie¬ 
ties, the defects in this imperfect system of criminal 
jurisprudence (if it merits that name) were less sen¬ 
sibly felt. When they came to settle in the exten¬ 
sive provinces which they had conquered, and to 
form themselves into great monarchies ; when new 
objects of ambition presenting themselves, increas¬ 
ed both the number and the violence of their dis¬ 
sensions, they ought to have adopted new maxims 
concerning the redress of injuries, and to have re¬ 
gulated, by general and equal laws, that which they 
formerly left to be directed by the caprice of private 
passion. But fierce and haughty chieftains, accus¬ 
tomed to avenge themselves on such as had injured 
them, did not think of relinquishing a right which 
they considered as a privilege of their order, and a 
mark of their independence. Laws enforced by the 
authority of princes and magistrates who possessed 
little power, commanded no great degree of rever¬ 
ence. The administration of justice among rude 
illiterate people was not so accurate, or decisive, or 
uniform, as to induce men to submit implicitly to 
its determinations. Every offended baron buckled 
on his armour, and sought redress at the head of 
his vassals. His adversary met him in like hostile 
array. Neither of them appealed to impotent laws, 
which could afford them no protection. Neither of 
them would submit points in which their honour 
and their passions were warmly interested, to the 
slow determination of a judicial inquiry. Both 
trusted to their swords for the decision of the con¬ 
test. The kindred and dependants of the aggressor 
as well as of the defender were involved in the 
quarrel. They had not even the liberty of remain¬ 
ing neutral. Such as refused to act in concert with 
the party to which they belonged, were not only ex¬ 
posed to infamy, but subjected to legal penalties. 

The pernicious The different kingdoms of Europe 

effects of it. W ere tom and afflicted, during several 

centuries, by intestine wars, excited by private ani¬ 
mosities, and carried on with all the rage natural 
to men of fierce manners and of violent passions. 
The estate of every baron was a kind of independent 
territory disjoined from those around it, and the 
hostilities between them seldom ceased. The evil 

a Tacit de Mor. German, cap. 21. Veil. Paterc. lib. ii. c. 118. 

b Beaumanoir Coustumes de Beauvoisis,ch 59, et les Motes de Thau- 
massiere, p. 447. 


Various methods 
employed in or¬ 
der to abolish it. 


became so inveterate and deep-rooted, that the form 
and laws of private war were ascertained, and re¬ 
gulations concerning it made a part in the system 
of jurisprudence, b in the same manner as if this 
practice had been founded in some natural right of 
humanity, or in the original constitution of civil 
society. 

So great was the disorder, and such 
the calamities, which these perpetual 
hostilities occasioned, that various ef¬ 
forts were made to wrest from the nobles this per¬ 
nicious privilege. It was the interest of every 
sovereign to abolish a practice which almost anni¬ 
hilated his authority. Charlemagne prohibited it 
by an express law, as an invention of the devil to 
destroy the order and happiness of society; 0 but 
the reign of one monarch, however vigorous and 
active, was too short to extirpate a custom so firmly 
established. Instead of enforcing this prohibition, 
his feeble successors durst venture on nothing more 


than to apply palliatives. They declared it unlaw¬ 
ful for any person to commence war until he had 
sent a formal defiance to the kindred and depend¬ 
ants of his adversary ; they ordained, that after the 
commission of the trespass or crime which gave 
rise to a private war, forty days must elapse be¬ 
fore the person injured should attack the vassals of 
his adversary ; they enjoined all persons to suspend 
their private animosities, and to cease from hostili¬ 
ties, when the king was engaged in any war against 
the enemies of the nation. The church co-operated 
with the civil magistrate, and interposed its au¬ 
thority in order to extirpate a practice so repugnant 
to the spirit of Christianity. Various councils is¬ 
sued decrees prohibiting all private w ars; and 
denounced the heaviest anathemas against such as 
should disturb the tranquillity of society, by claim¬ 
ing or exercising that barbarous right. The aid of 
religion was called in to combat and subdue the 
ferocity of the times. The Almighty was said to 
have manifested, by visions and revelations to dif¬ 
ferent persons, his disapprobation of that spirit 
of revenge which armed one part of his creatures 
against the other. Men were required, in the 
name of God, to sheathe their swords, and to 
remember the sacred ties which united them as 
Christians, and as members of the same society. But 
this junction of civil and ecclesiastic authority, 
though strengthened by every thing most apt to 
alarm and to overawe the credulous spirit of those 
ages, produced no other effect than some temporary 
suspensions of hostilities, and a cessation from 
war on certain days and seasons consecrated to the 
more solemn acts of devotion. The nobles con¬ 
tinued to assert this dangerous privilege; they re¬ 
fused to obey some of the laws calculated to annul 
or circumscribe it; they eluded others ; they peti¬ 
tioned ; they remonstrated ; they struggled for the 
right of private war, as the highest and most ho- 


c Capital. A. D. 801. Edit. Baluz. vol.i. p. 371. 



SECT. I. 


323 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


The prohibition 
of trial by judi¬ 
cial combat, an 
other improve¬ 
ment in the ad¬ 
ministration of 
justice. 


Defects in the 
judicial proceed- : ntr 
ings of the mid- 111 » 
die ages. 


nourable distinction of their order. Even so late 
as the fourteenth century, we find the nobles in 
several provinces of France contending for their 
ancient method of terminating their differences by 
the sword, in preference to that of submitting them 
to the decision of any judge. The final abolition 
of this practice in that kingdom and the other coun¬ 
tries in which it prevailed, is not to be ascribed so 
much to the force of statutes and decrees, as to the 
gradual increase of the royal authority, and to the 
imperceptible progress of juster sentiments con¬ 
cerning government, order, and public security.* 1 

2. The prohibition of the form of 
trial by judicial combat was another 
considerable step towards the intro¬ 
duction of such regular government as 
secured public order and private tran¬ 
quillity. As the right of private war left many of the 
quarrels among individuals to be decided, like those 
between nations, by arms; the form of trial by judicial 
combat, which was established in every country of 
Europe, banished equity from courts of justice, and 
rendered chance or force the arbiter of their deter¬ 
minations. In civilized nations, all transactions of 
any importance are concluded in writ- 
The exhibition of the deed or in¬ 
strument is full evidence of the fact, and 
ascertains with precision what each party has stipu¬ 
lated to perform. But among a rude people, when 
the arts of reading and writing were such uncommon 
attainments, that to be master of either entitled a 
person to the appellation of a clerk or learned man, 
scarcely any thing was committed to writing but 
treaties between princes, their grants and charters 
to their subjects, or such transactions between pri¬ 
vate parties as were of extraordinary consequence, 
or had an extensive effect. The greater part of 
affairs in common life and business was carried on 
by verbal contracts or promises. This, in many 
civil questions, not only made it difficult to bring 
proof sufficient to establish any claim, but en¬ 
couraged falsehood and fraud, by rendering them 
extremely easy. Even in criminal cases, where a 
particular fact must be ascertained, or an accusa¬ 
tion must be disproved, the nature and effect of legal 
evidence were ’little understood by barbarous na¬ 
tions. To define with accuracy that species of 
evidence which a court had reason to expect; to 
determine when it ought to insist on positive proof, 
and when it should be satisfied with a proof from 
circumstances; to compare the testimony of dis¬ 
cordant witnesses, and to fix the degree of credit due 
to each, were discussions too intricate and subtile 
for the jurisprudence of ignorant ages. In order to 
avoid encumbering themselves with these, a more 
simple form of procedure was introduced into courts 
as well civil as criminal. In all cases where the 
notoriety of the fact did not furnish the clearest and 

H Note XXI. 

e Leg. Burgund. tit. 8 & 45. Leg. Aleman, tit. 89. Leg. Barwar. 

tit r Oj 5 ^ ... • 

f |)’u Cange Giossar. voc. Juramentum, vol. iii. p. 1607. Ldict. Bened. 

Y 2 


most direct evidence, the person accused, or he 
against whom an action was brought, was called 
legally, or offered voluntarily, to purge himself by 
oath ; and upon his declaring his innocence, he was 
instantly acquitted.* 5 This absurd practice effectu¬ 
ally screened guilt and fraud from detection and 
punishment, by rendering the temptation to perjury 
so powerful, that it was not easy to resist it. The 
pernicious effects of it were sensibly felt; and in 
order to guard against them, the laws ordained that 
oaths should be administered with great solemnity, 
and accompanied with every circumstance which 
could inspire religious reverence or superstitious 
terror/ This, however, proved a feeble remedy: 
these ceremonious rites became familiar, and their 
impression on the imagination gradually diminish¬ 
ed ; men who could venture to disregard truth were 
not apt to startle at the solemnities of an oath. Their 
observation of this put legislators upon devising a 
new expedient for rendering the purgation by oath 
more certain and satisfactory. They required the 
person accused to appear with a certain number of 
freemen, his neighbours or relations, who corrobo¬ 
rated the oath which he took, by swearing that they 
believed all that he had uttered to be true. These 
were called compurgators, and their number varied 
according to the importance of the subject in dis¬ 
pute, or the nature of the crime with which a person 
was charged. 2 In some cases the concurrence of no 
less than three hundred of these auxiliary witnesses 
was requisite to acquit the person accused. 1 ' But 
even this device was found to be ineffectual. It was 
a point of honour with every man in Europe, during 
several ages, not to desert the chief on whom he 
depended, and to stand by those with whom the ties 
of blood connected him. Whoever then was bold 
enough to violate the laws, was sure of devoted ad¬ 
herents, willing to abet and eager to serve him in 
whatever manner he required. The formality of 
calling compurgators proved an apparent not a real 
security against falsehood and perjury ; and the 
sentences of courts, while they continued to refer 
every point in question to the oath of the defendant, 
became so flagrantly iniquitous as to excite univer¬ 
sal indignation against this method of procedure/ 
Sensible of these defects, but stran- These j ntro duced 
gers to the manner of correcting them, applSgto^ 
or of introducing a more proper form, ileaven ; 
our ancestors, as an infallible method of discovering 
truth and of guarding against deception, appealed 
to Heaven, and referred every point in dispute to 
be determined, as they imagined, by the decisions 
of unerring wisdom and impartial justice. The 
person accused, in order to prove his innocence, 
submitted to trial, in certain cases, either by plung¬ 
ing his arm in boiling water, or by lifting a red-hot 
iron with his naked hand, or by walking barefoot 
over burning ploughshares, or by other experiments 

g Du Cange, ibid. vol. iii. p. 1599. . 

n Spelman Giossar. voc. Assath. Gregor. Turon. Hist. lib. vm. c. 9. 

i Leg. Langobard. lib. ii. tit. 55. § 34. 



A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


324 


particularly by equally perilous and formidable. On 
judicial combat. 0 th er occasions lie challenged his ac¬ 
cuser to fight him in single combat. All these 
various forms of trial were conducted with many 
devout ceremonies ; the ministers of religion were 
employed, the Almighty was called upon to inter¬ 
pose for the manifestation of guilt and for the pro¬ 
tection of innocence ; and whoever escaped unhurt, 
or came off victorious, was pronounced to be ac¬ 
quitted by the judgment of God. k 

A , . Among all the whimsical and absurd 

i he introduction # ° 

of this practice institutions which owe their existence 

favoured by the 

superstition of to the weakness of human reason, this, 

the middle ages; 

which submitted questions that affected 
the property, the reputation, and the lives of men, 
to the determination of chance, or of bodily strength 
and address, appears to be the most extravagant 
and preposterous. There were circumstances, how¬ 
ever, which led the nations of Europe to consider 
this equivocal mode of deciding any point in con¬ 
test, as a direct appeal to Heaven, and a certain 
method of discovering its will. As men are unable 
to comprehend the manner in which the Almighty 
carries on the government of the universe, by equal, 
fixed, and general laws, they are apt to imagine, 
that in every case which their passions or interest 
render important in their own eyes, the Supreme 
Ruler of all ought visibly to display his power in 
vindicating innocence and punishing guilt. It re¬ 
quires no inconsiderable degree of science and phi¬ 
losophy to correct this popular error. But the 
sentiments prevalent in Europe during the dark 
ages, instead of correcting, strengthened it. Religion, 
for several centuries, consisted chiefly in believing 
the legendary history of those saints whose names 
crowd and disgrace the Romish calendar. The 
fabulous tales concerning their miracles had been 
declared authentic by the bulls of popes and the 
decrees of councils ; they made the great subject of 
the instructions which the clergy offered to the peo¬ 
ple, and were received by them with implicit cre¬ 
dulity and admiration. By attending to these, men 
were accustomed to believe that the established laws 
of nature might be violated on the most frivolous 
occasions, and were taught to look rather for par¬ 
ticular and extraordinary acts of power under the 
divine administration, than to contemplate the re¬ 
gular progress and execution of a general plan. 
One superstition prepared the way for another; and 
whoever believed that the Supreme Being had in¬ 
terposed miraculously on those trivial occasions 
mentioned in legends, could not but expect his 
intervention in matters of greater importance, when 
solemnly referred to his decision. 

«d likewise by W ! t1 ' tbis s "Perstitious °P'nion the 
sp!rit martial martia * spirit of Europe, during the 

middle ages, concurred in establishing 
the mode of trial by judicial combat. To be ready 
to maintain with his sword whatever his lips had 
uttered, was the first maxim of honour with every 
Murat. Disscrtatio de Judiciis Dei, Antiquit. Ital. vol. iii. p. 612. 


gentleman. To assert their own rights by force of 
arms, to inflict vengeance on those who had injured 
or affronted them, were the distinction and pride of 
high-spirited nobles. The form of trial by combat, 
coinciding with this maxim, flattered and gratified 
these passions. Every man was the guardian of 
his own honour and of his own life ; the justice of 
his cause, as well as his future reputation, depended 
on his own courage and prowess. This mode of 
decision was considered, accordingly, as one of the 
happiest efforts of wise policy; and as soon as it 
was introduced, all the forms of trial by fire or 
water, and other superstitious experiments, fell into 
disuse, or were employed only in controversies be¬ 
tween persons of inferior rank. As it was the pri¬ 
vilege of a gentleman to claim the trial by combat, 
it was quickly authorized over all Europe, and re¬ 
ceived in every country with equal satisfaction. 
Not only questions concerning uncertain or contested 
facts, but general and abstract points in law, were 
determined by the issue of a combat; and the latter 
was deemed a method of discovering truth more 
liberal, as well as more satisfactory, than that by 
investigation and argument. Not only might par¬ 
ties whose minds were exasperated by the eagerness 
and the hostility of opposition defy their antagonist, 
and require him to make good his charge, or to 
prove his innocence, with his sword ; but witnesses, 
who had no interest in the issue of the question, 
though called to declare the truth by laws which 
ought to have afforded them protection, were equally 
exposed to the danger of a challenge, and equally 
bound to assert the veracity of their evidence by 
dint of arms. To complete the absurdities of this 
military jurisprudence, even the character of a judge 
was not sacred from its violence. Any one of the 
parties might interrupt a judge when about to de¬ 
liver his opinion, might accuse him of iniquity and 
corruption in the most reproachful terms, and throw¬ 
ing down his gauntlet, might challenge him to de¬ 
fend his integrity in the field; nor could he, without 
infamy, refuse to accept the defiance, or decline to 
enter the lists against such an adversary. 

Thus the form of trial by combat, i t becomes uni¬ 
like other abuses, spread gradually, versai. 

and extended to all persons and almost to all 
cases. Ecclesiastics, women, minors, superannu¬ 
ated and infirm persons, who could not with 
decency or justice be compelled to take arms, 
or to maintain their own cause, were obliged to 
produce champions, who offered from affection, or 
were engaged by rewards, to fight their battles. 
The solemnities of a judicial combat were such as 
were natural in an action which was considered 
both as a formal appeal to God, and as the final 
decision of questions of the highest moment. Every 
circumstance relating to them was regulated by 
the edicts of princes, and explained in the com¬ 
ments of lawyers, with a minute and even super¬ 
stitious accuracy. Skill in these laws and rights 





SECT. I. 


325 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


was frequently the only science of which warlike 
nobles boasted, or which they were ambitious to 
attain. 1 

The pernicious By this barbarous custom, the natural 

eflects oi it. course 0 f proceeding, both in civil and 

criminal questions, was entirely perverted. Force 
usurped the place of equity in courts of judicature, 
and justice was banished from her proper mansion. 
Discernment, learning, integrity, w ere qualities less 
necessary to a judge than bodily strength and dex¬ 
terity in the use of arms. Daring courage, and 
superior vigour or address, w ere of more moment 
towards securing the favourable issue of a suit, 
than the equity of a cause, or the clearness of the 
evidence. Men, of course, applied themselves to 
cultivate the talents which they found to be of great¬ 
est utility. As strength of body and address in 
arms were no less requisite in those lists which 
they were obliged to enter in defence of their pri¬ 
vate rights than in the field of battle, where they 
met the enemies of their country, it became the 
great object of education, as well as the chief em¬ 
ployment of life, to acquire these martial accom¬ 
plishments. The administration of justice, instead 
of accustoming men to listen to the voice of equity, 
or to reverence the decisions of law, added to the 
ferocity of their manners, and taught them to con¬ 
sider force as the great arbiter of right and wrong. 

These pernicious effects of the trial 

Various expedi- . 

ents for abolish- by combat were so obvious, that they 

mg this practice. „ 

did not altogether escape the view of 
the unobserving age in which it was introduced. 
The clergy, from the beginning, remonstrated against 
it as repugnant to the spirit of Christianity, and 
subversive of justice and order." 1 But the maxims 
and passions w hich favoured it had taken such hold 
of the minds of men, that they disregarded admo¬ 
nitions and censures which on other occasions would 
have struck them with terror. The evil was too 
great and inveterate to yield to that remedy, and 
continuing to increase, the civil power at length 
found it necessary to interpose. Conscious, how¬ 
ever, of their own limited authority, monarchs pro¬ 
ceeded with caution, and their first attempts to 
restrain or to set any bounds to this practice were 
extremely feeble. One of the earliest restrictions 
of this practice which occurs in the history of 
Europe, is that of Henry I. of England. It ex¬ 
tended no further than to prohibit the trial by 
combat in questions concerning property of small 
value." Louis VII. of France imitated liis ex¬ 
ample, and issued an edict to the same effect. 0 
St. Louis, whose ideas as a legislator were far 
superior to those of his age, endeavoured to intro¬ 
duce a more perfect jurisprudence, and to sub¬ 
stitute the trial by evidence in place of that by 
combat. But his regulations with respect to this 
w ere confined to his ow n domains; for the great 
vassals of the crown possessed such independent 


authority, and were so fondly attached to the ancient 
practice, that he had not power to venture to extend 
it to the vvhole kingdom. Some barons voluntarily 
adopted his regulations. The spirit of courts of 
justice became averse to the mode of decision by 
combat, and discouraged it on every occasion. The 
nobles nevertheless thought it so honourable to 
depend for the securitj r of their lives and fortunes 
on their own courage alone, and contended with so 
much vehemence for the preservation of this favour¬ 
ite privilege of their order, that the successors of 
St. Louis, unable to oppose, and afraid of offending, 
such powerful subjects, were obliged not only to 
tolerate, but to authorize, the practice which he had 
attempted to abolish.? In other countries of Europe, 
efforts equally zealous were employed to maintain 
the established custom, and similar concessions were 
extorted from their respective sovereigns. It con¬ 
tinued, however, to be an object of policy with 
every monarch of abilities or vigour, to explode the 
trial by combat; and various edicts were issued for 
this purpose. But the observation which was made 
concerning the right of private war is equally ap¬ 
plicable to the mode of trial under review. No 
custom, how absurd soever it may be, if it has sub¬ 
sisted long, or derives its force from the manners 
and prejudices of the age in which it prevails, was 
ever abolished by the bare promulgation of laws 
and statutes. The sentiments of the people must 
change, or some new power, sufficient to counteract 
the prevalent custom, must be introduced. Such a 
change accordingly took place in Europe, as science 
gradually increased, and society advanced towards 
more perfect order. In proportion as the preroga¬ 
tive of princes extended, and came to acquire new' 
force, a power interested in suppressing every prac¬ 
tice favourable to the independence of the nobles 
was introduced. The struggle, nevertheless, sub¬ 
sisted for several centuries; sometimes the new • 
regulations and ideas seemed to gain ground; 
sometimes ancient habits recurred: and though, 
upon the whole, the trial by combat went more and 
more into disuse, yet instances of it occur, as late 
as the sixteenth century, in the history both of 
France and of England. In proportion as it declined, 
the regular administration of justice was restored, 
the proceedings of courts were directed by known 
laws, the study of these became an object of atten¬ 
tion to judges, and the people of Europe advanced 
fast towards civility, when this great cause of the 
ferocity of their manners was removed.' 1 

By authorizing the right of appeal The privilefrf! oP 
from the courts of the baron to those thTcourtl of'the 
of the king, and subjecting the de- great 11S imp“?e h - er 
cisions of the former to the review of migration of 1 ’ 
the latter, a new step, not less consider- lustlce * 
able than those which I have already mentioned, 
was taken towards establishing the regular, consist¬ 
ent, and vigorous administration of justice. Among 


1 See a curious discourse concerning the laws of judicial combat, by 
Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester, uncle to Richard 11., in 
Spelman’s Glossar. voc. Campus. 


m Du Cange Glossar. voc. Duel/nm, vol. ii. p. 1675. 
n Brussel usage des Fiefs, vol. ii. p. 962. o Ordon. tom. i. p. 16. 

p Ordon. tom. i. p. 328, 390, 435. q See Note XXII. 




326 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


all the encroachments of the feudal nobles on the 
prerogative of their monarchs, their usurping the 
administration of justice with supreme authority, 
both in civil and criminal causes, within the pre¬ 
cincts of their own estates, was the most singular. 
In other nations subjects have contended with their 
sovereigns, and have endeavoured to extend their 
own power and privileges ; but in the history of 
their struggles and pretensions we discover nothing 

similar to this right which the feudal 

Origin of the su- T 

preme and inde- barons claimed and obtained. It must 
pendent juris- 

diction ot the have been something peculiar in their 

nobility. . 6 . . , 

genius and manners that suggested 
this idea, and prompted them to insist on such a 
claim. Among the rude people who conquered the 
various provinces of the Roman empire, and esta¬ 
blished new kingdoms there, the passion of resent¬ 
ment, too impetuous to bear control, was permitted 
to remain almost unrestrained by the authority of 
laws. The person offended, as has been observed, 
retained not only the right of prosecuting, but of 
punishing his adversary. To him it belonged to 
inflict such vengeance as satiated his rage, or to 
accept of such satisfaction as appeased it. But 
while tierce barbarians continued to be the sole 
judges in their own cause, their enmities were im¬ 
placable and immortal; they set no bounds either 
to the degree of their vengeance, or to the duration 
of their resentment. The excesses which this oc¬ 
casioned proved so destructive of peace and order 
in society, as to render it necessary to devise some 
remedy. At first recourse was had to arbitrators, 
who by persuasion or entreaty prevailed on the 
party offended to accept of a fine or composition 
from the aggressor, and to drop all further prosecu¬ 
tion. But as submission to persons who had no 
legal or magisterial authority was altogether volun¬ 
tary, it became necessary to establish judges with 
power sufficient to enforce their own decisions. The 
leader whom they were accustomed to follow and 
to obey, whose courage they respected, and in whose 
integrity they placed confidence, was the person to 
whom a martial people naturally committed this 
important prerogative. Every chieftain was the 
commander of his tribe ill war, and their judge in 
peace. Every baron led his vassals to the field, and 
administered justice to them in his hall. The high- 
spirited dependants would not have recognised any 
other authority, or have submitted to any other ju¬ 
risdiction. But in times of turbulence and violence, 
the exercise of this new function was attended not 
only with trouble, but with danger. No person 
could assume the character of a judge, if he did not 
possess power sufficient to protect the one party from 
the violence of private revenge, and to compel the 
other to accept of such reparation as he enjoined. 
In consideration of the extraordinary efforts which 
this office required, judges, besides the fine which 
they appointed to be paid as a compensation to the 
person or family who had been injured, levied an 


additional sum as a recompenc-e for their own la¬ 
bour; and in all the feudal kingdoms the latter was 
not only as precisely ascertained, but as regularly 
exacted, as the former. 

Thus, by the natural operation of 

. J . The extent and 

circumstances peculiar to the manners bad effects of this 

• privilege. 

or political state of the feudal nations, 
separate and territorial jurisdictions came not only 
to be established in every kingdom, but were es¬ 
tablished in such a way that the interest of the 
barons concurred with their ambition in maintain¬ 
ing and extending them. It was not merely a point 
of honour with the feudal nobles to dispense justice 
to their vassals, but from the exercise of that power 
arose one capital branch of their revenue ; and the 
emoluments of their courts were frequently the 
main support of their dignity. It was with infinite 
zeal that they asserted and defended this high privi¬ 
lege of their order. By this institution, however, 
every kingdom in Europe was split into as many 
separate principalities as it contained powerful 
barons. Their vassals, whether in peace or in war, 
were hardly sensible of any authority but that of 
their immediate superior lord. They felt themselves 
subject to no other command. They were amenable 
to no other jurisdiction. The ties which linked to¬ 
gether these smaller confederacies became close and 
firm; the bonds of public union relaxed, or were 
dissolved. The nobles strained their invention in 
devising regulations which tended to ascertain and 
perpetuate this distinction. In order to guard 
against any appearance of subordination in their 
courts to those of the crown, they frequently con¬ 
strained their monarchs to prohibit the royal judges 
from entering their territories, or from claiming any 
jurisdiction there; and if, either through mistake 
or from the spirit of encroachment, any royal judge 
ventured to extend his authority to the vassals of a 
baron, they might plead their right of exemption, 
and the lord of whom they held could not only res¬ 
cue them out of his hands, but was entitled to legal 
reparation for the injury and affront offered to him. 
The jurisdiction of the royal judges scarcely reached 
beyond the narrow limits of the king’s demesnes. 
Instead of a regular gradation of courts, all ac¬ 
knowledging the authority of the same general laws, 
and looking up to these as the guides of their de¬ 
cisions, there were in every feudal kingdom a num¬ 
ber of independent tribunals, the proceedings of 
which were directed by local customs and contra¬ 
dictory forms. The collision of jurisdiction among 
these different courts often retarded the execution 
of justice. The variety and caprice of their modes 
of procedure must have for ever kept the adminis¬ 
tration of it from attaining any degree of uniformity 
or perfection. 

All the monarchs of Europe per- Expedi e nts em - 
ceived these encroachments on their toiimftoraboiisii 
jurisdiction, and bore them with im- lt * 
patience. But the usurpations of the nobles were 




SECT. I. 


327 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


so firmly established, and the danger of endeavour¬ 
ing to overturn them by open force was so manifest, 
that kings were obliged to remain satisfied with at¬ 
tempts to undermine them. Various expedients 
were employed for this purpose ; each of which 
merits attention, as they mark the progress of law 
and equity in the several kingdoms of Europe. At 
first princes endeavoured to circumscribe the juris¬ 
diction of the barons, by contending that they ought 
to take cognizance only of smaller offences, reserv¬ 
ing those of greater moment, under the appellation 
ot Pleas of the Crown and Royal Causes, to be tried 
in the king’s courts. This, however, affected only 
the barons of inferior note; the more powerful 
nobles scorned such a distinction, and not only 
claimed unlimited jurisdiction, but obliged their 
sovereigns to grant them charters, conveying or re¬ 
cognising this privilege in the most ample form. 
The attempt, nevertheless, was productive of some 
good consequences, and paved the way for more. 
It turned the attention of men towards a jurisdic¬ 
tion distinct from that of the baron whose vassals 
they were ; it accustomed them to the pretensions 
of superiority which the crown claimed over territo¬ 
rial judges; and taught them, when oppressed by 
their own superior lord, to look up to their sovereign 
as their protector. This facilitated the introduction 
of appeals, by which princes brought the decisions 
of the barons’ courts under the review of the royal 
judges. While trial by combat subsisted in full 
vigour, no point decided according to that mode 
could be brought under the review of another court. 
It had been referred to the judgment of God ; the 
issue of battle had declared his will; and it would 
have been impious to have called in question the 
equity of the divine decision. But as soon as that 
barbarous custom began to fall into disuse, princes 
encouraged the vassals of the barons to sue for re¬ 
dress by appealing to the royal courts. The pro¬ 
gress of this practice, however, was slow and gra¬ 
dual. The first instances of appeals were on 
account of the delay or the refusal of justice in the 
barons’ court; and as these were countenanced by 
the ideas of subordination in the feudal constitu¬ 
tion, the nobles allowed them to be introduced with¬ 
out much opposition. But when these were follow¬ 
ed by appeals on account of the justice or iniquity 
of the sentence , the nobles then began to be sensible 
that if this innovation' became general, the shadow 
of pow er alone would remain in their hands, and all 
real authority and jurisdiction would centre in those 
courts which possessed the right of review. They 
instantly took the alarm, remonstrated against the 
encroachment, and contended boldly for their an¬ 
cient privileges. But the monarchs in the different 
kingdoms of Europe pursued their plan with steadi¬ 
ness and prudence. Though forced to suspend their 
operations on some occasions, and seemingly to 
yield when any formidable confederacy of their vas¬ 
sals united against them, they resumed their mea¬ 


sures as soon as they observed the nobles to be re¬ 
miss or feeble, and pushed them with vigour. They 
appointed the royal courts, which originally were 
ambulatory, and irregular with respect to their times 
of meeting, to be held in a fixed place and at stated 
seasons. They were solicitous to name judges of 
more distinguished abilities than such as usually 
presided in the courts of the barons. They added 
dignity to their character and splendour to their 
assemblies. They laboured to render their forms re¬ 
gular and their decrees consistent. Such judicato¬ 
ries became, of course, the objects of public confi¬ 
dence as well as veneration. The people, relin¬ 
quishing the tribunals of their lords, were eager 
to bring every subject of contest under the more 
equal and discerning eye of those w hom their sove¬ 
reign had chosen to give judgment in his name. 
Thus kings became once more the heads of the com¬ 
munity and the dispensers of justice to their sub¬ 
jects. The barons in some kingdoms ceased to 
exercise the right of jurisdiction, because it sunk 
into contempt; in others it was circumscribed by 
such regulations as rendered it innocent, or it was 
entirely abolished by express statutes. Thus the 
administration of justice, taking its rise from one 
source and following one direction, held its course 
in every state with more uniformity and with greater 
force/ 

VI. The forms and maxims of the 

. The regulations 

canon law. which were become uni- of the canon law 

promote a more 

versally respectable Irom their autho- perfect adminis- 
. . .... •, i tration. 

nty in the spiritual courts, contributed 
not a little towards those improvements in jurispru¬ 
dence which I have enumerated. If we consider 
the canon law politically, and view it either as a 
system framed on purpose to assist the clergy in 
usurping powers and jurisdiction no less repug¬ 
nant to the nature of their function than inconsistent 
with the order of government, or as the chief instru¬ 
ment in establishing the dominion of the popes, 
which shook the throne and endangered the liber¬ 
ties of every kingdom in Europe, w e must pronounce 
it one of the most formidable engines ever formed 
against the happiness of civil society. But if we 
contemplate it merely as a code of laws respecting 
the rights and property of individuals, and attend 
only to the civil effects of its decisions concerning 
these, it will appear in a different and a much more 
favourable light. In ages of ignorance and credu¬ 
lity, the ministers of religion are the objects of su¬ 
perstitious veneration. When the bar- 
1 in The progress of 

barians who overran the Roman em- ecclesiastical 

pire first embraced the Christian faith, usurpatlon - 
they found the clergy in possession of considerable 
power; and they naturally transferred to those new 
guides the profound submission and reverence which 
they w ere accustomed to yield to the priests of that 
religion which they had forsaken. They deemed 
their persons to be equally sacred with their func¬ 
tion ; and would have considered it as impious to 


r See Note XXIIT. 



328 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


subject them to the profane jurisdiction of the laity. 
The clergy were not blind to these advantages which 
the weakness of mankind alforded them. They 
established courts in which every question relating 
to their own character, their function, or their pro¬ 
perty, was tried. They pleaded and obtained an 
almost total exemption from the authority of civil 
judges. Upon different pretexts, and by a multi¬ 
plicity of artifices, they communicated this privilege 
to so many persons, and extended their jurisdiction 
to such a variety of cases, that the greater part of 
those affairs which gave rise to contest and liti¬ 
gation was drawn under the cognisance of the 
spiritual courts. 

But in order to dispose the laity to 

The plan of ec- _ ,. ... 

ciesiastical juris- suffer these usurpations without mur- 
prudence more . . 

perfect than that mur or opposition, it was necessary 
in the civil courts. . ,, , 

to convince them that the administra¬ 
tion of justice would be rendered more perfect by 
the establishment of this new jurisdiction. This 
was not a difficult undertaking at that period, when 
ecclesiastics carried on their encroachments with 
the greatest success. That scanty portion of science 
which served to guide men in the ages of darkness 
was almost entirely engrossed by the clergy. They 
alone were accustomed to read, to inquire, and to 
reason. Whatever knowledge of ancient jurispru¬ 
dence had been preserved, either by tradition or in 
such books as had escaped the destructive rage of 
barbarians, was possessed by them. Upon the max¬ 
ims of that excellent system they founded a code of 
laws consonant to the great principles of equity. 
Being directed by fixed and known rules, the forms 
of their courts were ascertained, and their decisions 
became uniform and consistent. Nor did they want 
authority sufficient to enforce their sentences. Ex- 
communication and other ecclesiastical censures 
were punishments more formidable than any that 
civil judges could inflict in support of their decrees. 

It is not surprising, then, that eccle- 

The good effects , , 

of imitating and siastical jurisprudence should become 
such an object of admiration and re¬ 
spect, that exemption from civil jurisdiction was 
courted as a privilege and conferred as a reward. 
It is not surprising that, even to a rude people, the 
maxims of the canon law should appear more equal 
and just than those of the ill-digested jurisprudence 
which directed all proceedings in civil courts. Ac¬ 
cording to the latter, the differences between con¬ 
tending barons were terminated, as in a state of 
nature, by the sword; according to the former, every 
matter was subject to the decision of laws. The 
one, by permitting judicial combats, left chance and 
force to be arbiters of right or wrong, of truth or 
falsehood ; the other passed judgment with respect 
to these by the maxims of equity and the testimony 
of witnesses. Any error or iniquity in a sentence 
pronounced by a baron to whom feudal jurisdiction 
belonged, was irremediable, because originally it 
was subject to the review of no superior tribunal: the 

s See Note XXIV. 


ecclesiastical law established a regular gradation of 
courts, through all which a cause might be carried 
by appeal, until it was determined by that authority 
which was held to be supreme in the church. Thus 
the genius and principles of the canon law prepared 
men for approving those three great alterations in 
the feudal jurisprudence which I have mentioned. 
But it was not with respect to these points alone 
that the canon law suggested improvement bene¬ 
ficial to society. Many of the regulations now 
deemed the barriers of personal security, or the safe¬ 
guards of private property, are contrary to the spirit 
and repugnant to the maxims of the civil jurispru¬ 
dence known in Europe during several centuries, 
and were borrowed from the rules and practice of 
the ecclesiastical courts. By observing the wisdom 
and equity of the decisions in these courts, men be¬ 
gan to perceive the necessity either of deserting the 
martial tribunals of the barons, or of attempting to 
reform them. s 

VII. The revival of the knowledge The revival of the 
and study of the Roman law co-ope- £ibutS towards 
rated with the causes which I have concVrnfng 1 jus - 3 
mentioned, in introducing more just t«* and order. 

and liberal ideas concerning the nature of govern¬ 
ment and the administration of justice. Among the 
calamities which the devastations of the barbarians 
who broke in upon the empire brought upon man¬ 
kind, one of the greatest was their overturning the 
system of Roman jurisprudence, the noblest monu¬ 
ment of the w isdom of that great people, formed to 
subdue and to govern the world. The The c i, cums tan- 
laws and regulations of a civilized com- Roman law 
munity were repugnant to the man- tel1 int0 obhvion. 
ners and ideas of these fierce invaders. They had no 
respect to objects of which a rude people had no con¬ 
ception, and were adapted to a state of society with 
which they were entirely unacquainted. For this rea¬ 
son, wherever they settled the Roman jurisprudence 
soon sunk into oblivion, and lay buried for some 
centuries under the load of those institutions which 
the inhabitants of Europe dignified with the name 
of laws. But towards the middle of the twelfth 
century, a copy of Justinian’s Pandects was acci¬ 
dentally discovered in Italy. By that time the 
state of society was so far advanced, and the ideas 
of men so much enlarged and improved by the oc¬ 
currences of several centuries, during which they 
had continued in political union, that they were 
struck with admiration of a system which their an¬ 
cestors could notcomprehend. Though 

* Circumstances 

they had not hitherto attained such a which favoured 

the revival of it. 

degree oi refinement as to acquire 
from the ancients a relish for true philosophy or 
speculative science ; though they were still insen¬ 
sible, in a great degree, to the beauty and elegance 
of classical composition ; they were sufficiently 
qualified to judge with respect to the merit of their 
system of laws, in which the many points most in¬ 
teresting to mankind were settled with discernment, 





SECT. I. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 329 


precision, and equity. All men of letters studied 
this new science with eagerness ; and within a few 
years alter the discovery of the Pandects, professors 
ot civil law were appointed, who taught it publicly 
in most countries of Europe. 

The effects of this The effects °f having such an ex- 
men! and 'thesis- cclIent model to study and to imitate 
pensation of jus- were immediately perceived. Men, as 

soon as they were acquainted with 
fixed and general laws, perceived the advantage of 
them, and became impatient to ascertain the prin¬ 
ciples and forms by which judges should regulate 
their decisions. Such was the ardour with which 
they carried on an undertaking of so great im¬ 
portance to society, that before the close of the 
twelfth century, the feudal law was reduced into a 
regular system ; the code of canon law was en¬ 
larged and methodized ; and the loose uncertain 
customs of different provinces or kingdoms, were 
collected and arranged with an order and accuracy 
acquired from the knowledge of Roman jurispru¬ 
dence. In some countries of Europe the Roman 
law was adopted as subsidiary to their own munici¬ 
pal law r ; and all cases to which the latter did not 
extend, were decided according to the principles of 
the former. In others, the maxims as well as 
forms of Roman jurisprudence mingled imper¬ 
ceptibly with the laws of the country, and had a 
powerful though less sensible influence in improv¬ 
ing and perfecting them . 1 

From all these These various improvements in the 
tjon 6 in profesT system of jurisprudence and adminis¬ 
tration of justice, occasioned a change 
in manners of great importance, and of extensive 
effect. They gave rise to a distinction of profes¬ 
sions ; they obliged men to cultivate different ta¬ 
lents, and to aim at different accomplishments, in 
order to qualify themselves for the various depart¬ 
ments and functions which became necessary in 
society." Among uncivilized nations there is but 
one profession honourable, that of arms. All the 
ingenuity and vigour of the human mind are ex¬ 
erted in acquiring military skill or address. The 
functions of peace are few and simple, and require 
no particular course of education or of study, as a 
preparation for discharging them. This was the 
state of Europe during several centuries. Every 
gentleman, born a soldier, scorned any other occu¬ 
pation; he was taught no science but that of war ; 
even his exercises and pastimes were feats of mar¬ 
tial prowess. Nor did the judicial character, which 
persons of noble birth were alone entitled to assume, 
demand any degree of knowledge beyond that 
which such untutored soldiers possessed. To re¬ 
collect a few traditionary customs which time bad 
confirmed and rendered respectable ; to mark out 
the lists of battle with due formality ; to observe 
the issue of the combat; and to pronounce whether 
it had been conducted according to the laws of 

t See Note XXV. 

u Dr. Ferguson’s Essay on the Ilistory’of Civil Society, part iv. sect. 1. 


arms, included every thing that a baron who acted 
as a judge found it necessary to understand. 

But when the forms of legal pro- The effect of this 
ceedings were fixed, when the rules on society. 

of decision were committed to writing, and col¬ 
lected into a body, law became a science, the know¬ 
ledge of which required a regular course of study, 
together with long attention to the practice of 
courts. Martial and illiterate nobles had neither 
leisure nor inclination to undertake a task so la¬ 
borious, as well as so foreign from all the occupa¬ 
tions which they deemed entertaining or suitable to 
their rank. They gradually relinquished their places 
in courts of justice, where their ignorance exposed 
them to contempt. They became weary of attend¬ 
ing to the discussion of cases which grew too in¬ 
tricate for them to comprehend. Not only the 
judicial determination of points which were the 
subject of controversy, but the conduct of all legal 
business and transactions, was committed to persons 
trained by previous study and application, to the 
knowledge of law. An order of men to whom their 
fellow-citizens had daily recourse for advice, and 
to whom they looked up for decision in their most 
important concerns, naturally acquired considera¬ 
tion and influence in society. They were advanced 
to honours which had been considered hitherto 
as the peculiar rewards of military virtue. They 
were intrusted with offices of the highest dignity 
and most extensive power. Thus another profes¬ 
sion than that of arms came to be introduced 
among the laity, and was reputed honourable. 
The functions of civil life were attended to: the 
talents requisite for discharging them were culti¬ 
vated. A new road was opened to wealth and 
eminence. The arts and virtues of peace were 
placed in their proper rank, and received their due 
recompence. x 

VIII. While improvements so im- The spirit of chi- 
portant with respect to the state of so- li'bdraUen- 
ciety and the administration of justice gene'i-mis’man ^ 6 
gradually made progress in Europe, ners - 
sentiments more liberal and generous had begun to 
animate the nobles. These were inspired by the 
spirit of chivalry, which, though considered, com¬ 
monly, as a wild institution, the effect of caprice 
and the source of extravagance, arose naturally 
from the state of society at that period, and had a 
very serious influence in refining the manners of 
the European nations. The feudal origin of 
state was a state of almost perpetual chivalry, 
war, rapine, and anarchy ; during which the weak 
and unarmed were exposed to insults or injuries. 
The power of the sovereign was too limited to pre¬ 
vent these w rongs, and the administration of justice 
too feeble to redress them. The most effectual pro¬ 
tection against violence and oppression was often 
found to be that which the valour and generosity of 
private persons afforded. The same spirit of enter- 

x See Note XXVI. 



330 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


prise which had prompted so many gentlemen to 
take arms in defence of the oppressed pilgrims in 
Palestine, incited others to declare themselves the 
patrons and avengers of injured innocence at home. 
When the iinal reduction of the Holy Land under 
the dominion of infidels put an end to these foreign 
expeditions, the latter was the only employment 
left for the activity and courage of adventurers. 
To check the insolence of overgrown oppressors; 
to rescue the helpless from captivity ; to protect or 
to avenge women, orphans, and ecclesiastics, who 
could not hear arms in their own defence ; to re¬ 
dress wrongs and to remove grievances, were deem¬ 
ed acts of the highest prowess and merit. Valour, 
humanity, courtesy, justice, honour, were the cha¬ 
racteristic qualities of chivalry. To these was add¬ 
ed religion, which mingled itself with every pas¬ 
sion and institution during the middle ages, and by 
infusing a large proportion of enthusiastic zeal, 
gave them such force as carried them to romantic 
excess. Men were trained to knighthood by a long 
previous discipline; they were admitted into the 
order by solemnities no less devout than pompous ; 
every person of noble birth courted that honour ; it 
was deemed a distinction superior to royalty ; and 
monarchs were proud to receive it from the hands 
of private gentlemen. 

its beneficial This singular institution, in which 
etiects. valour, gallantry, and religion were so 
strangely blended, was wonderfully adapted to the 
taste and genius of martial nobles ; and its elfects 
were soon visible in their manners. War was car¬ 
ried on with less ferocity when humanity came to 
be deemed the ornament of knighthood no less than 
courage. More gentle and polished manners were 
introduced when courtesy was recommended as the 
most amiable of knightly virtues. Violence and 
oppression decreased when it was reckoned merito¬ 
rious to check and to punish them. A scrupulous 
adherence to truth, with the most religious atten¬ 
tion to fulfil every engagement, became the distin¬ 
guishing characteristic of a gentleman, because 
chivalry was regarded as the school of honour, and 
inculcated the most delicate sensibility with respect 
to those points. The admiration of these qualities, 
together with the high distinctions and prerogatives 
conferred on knighthood in every part of Europe, 
inspired persons of noble birth on some occasions 
with a species of military fanaticism, and led them 
to extravagant enterprises. But they deeply im¬ 
printed on their minds the principles of generosity 
and honour. These were strengthened by every 
thing that can affect the senses or touch the heart. 
The wild exploits of those romantic knights who 
sallied forth in quest of adventures are well known, 
and have been treated with proper ridicule. The 
political and permanent effects of the spirit of chi¬ 
valry have been less observed. Perhaps the hu¬ 
manity which accompanies all the operations of 
war, the refinements of gallantry, and the point of 

y See Note XXVII. 


honour, the three chief circumstances which distin¬ 
guish modern from ancient manners, may be as¬ 
cribed in a great measure to this institution, which 
has appeared whimsical to superficial observers, but 
by its effects has proved of great benefit to mankind. 
The sentiments which chivalry inspired had a won¬ 
derful influence on manners and conduct during 
the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth 
centuries. They were so deeply rooted, that they 
continued to operate after the vigour and reputation 
of the institution itself began to decline. Some 
considerable transactions recorded in the following 
history, resemble the adventurous exploits of chi¬ 
valry rather than the well-regulated operations of 
sound policy. Some of the most eminent person¬ 
ages, whose characters will be delineated, were 
strongly tinctured with this romantic spirit. Fran¬ 
cis I. was ambitious to distinguish himself by all 
the qualities of an accomplished knight, and en¬ 
deavoured to imitate the enterprising genius of 
chivalry in war, as well as its pomp and courtesy 
during peace. The fame which the French mo¬ 
narch acquired by these splendid actions so far 
dazzled his more temperate rival, that he departed 
on some occasions from his usual prudence and 
moderation, and emulated Francis in deeds of 
prowess or of gallantry. y 

IX. The progress of science, and 
the cultivation of literature, had con- science has great 

. . , , influence on the 

siderable effect in changing the man- manners and cha- 

., „ ,. , . racter of men. 

ners of the European nations, and in¬ 
troducing that civility and refinement by which they 
are now distinguished. At the time when their em¬ 
pire was overturned, the Romans, though they had 
lost that correct taste which has rendered the pro¬ 
ductions of their ancestors standards of excellence 
and models of imitation for succeeding ages, still 
preserved their love of letters, and cultivated the 
arts with great ardour. But rude bar- ignorance of the 
barians were so far from being struck nuddle a s es - 
with any admiration of these unknown accomplish¬ 
ments, that they despised them. They were not 
arrived at that state of society when those faculties 
of the human mind which have beauty and elegance 
for their objects begin to unfold themselves. They 
were strangers to most of those wants and desires 
which are the parents of ingenious invention; and 
as they did not comprehend either the merit or utility 
of the Roman arts, they destroyed the monuments 
of them with an industry not inferior to that with 
which their posterity have since studied to preserve 
or to recover them. The convulsions occasioned by 
the settlement of so many unpolished tribes in the 
empire ; the frequent as well as violent revolutions 
in every kingdom which they established, together 
with the interior defects in the form of government 
which they introduced, banished security and lei¬ 
sure ; prevented the growth of .taste or the culture 
of science; and kept Europe, during several cen¬ 
turies, in that state of ignorance which has been 



SECT. I. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


331 


already described. But the events and institutions 
which I have enumerated produced great alterations 
in society. As soon as their operations in restoring 
liberty and independence to one part of the commu¬ 
nity began to be felt; as soon as they began to 
communicate to all the members of society some 
taste of the advantages arising from commerce, from 
public order, and from personal security, the human 
mind became conscious of powers which it did not 
formerly perceive, and fond of occupations or pur¬ 
suits of which it was formerly incapable. Towards 
the beginning of the twelfth century, we discern the 
first symptoms of its awakening from that lethargy 
in which it had been long sunk, and observe it 
turning with curiosity and attention towards new 
objects. 

The first literary The first literary efforts, however, of 
e!i ,°a ik i'the causes ^ ie European nations in the middle 
of thls * ages were extremely ill-directed. 

Among nations as well as individuals, the powers 
of imagination attain some degree of vigour before 
the intellectual faculties are much exercised in 
speculative or abstract disquisition. Men are poets 
before they are philosophers. They feel with sensi¬ 
bility and describe with force, when they have made 
but little progress in investigation or reasoning. 
The age of Homer and of Hesiod long preceded 
that of Thales or of Socrates. But unhappily for 
literature, our ancestors, deviating from this course 
which nature points out, plunged at once into the 
depths of abstruse and metaphysical inquiry. They 
had been converted to the Christian faith soon after 
they settled in their new conquests. But they did 
not receive it pure. The presumption of men had 
added to the simple and instructive doctrines of 
Christianity the theories of a vain philosophy, that 
attempted to penetrate into mysteries and to decide 
questions which the limited faculties of the human 
mind are unable to comprehend or to resolve. These 
over-curious speculations were incorporated with 
the system of religion, and came to be considered 
as the most essential part of it. As soon, then, as 
curiosity prompted men to inquire and to reason, 
these were the subjects which first presented them¬ 
selves and engaged their attention. The scholastic 
theology, with its infinite train of bold disquisitions 
and subtle distinctions concerning points which are 
not the object of human reason, was the first pro¬ 
duction of the spirit of inquiry, after it began to 
resume some degree of activity and vigour in Europe. 
It was not, however, this circumstance alone that 
gave such a wrong turn to the minds of men, when 
they began again to exercise talents which they 
had so long neglected. Most of the persons who 
attempted to revive literature in the twelfth and 
thirteenth centuries, had received instruction or 
derived their principles of science from the Greeks 
in the eastern empire, or from the Arabians in Spain 
and Africa. Both these people, acute and inquisi¬ 
tive to excess, had corrupted those sciences which 
they cultivated. The former rendered theology a 


system of speculative refinement or of endless con¬ 
troversy. The latter communicated to philosophy a 
spirit of metaphysical and frivolous subtilty. Mis¬ 
led by these guides, the persons who first applied 
to science were involved in a maze of intricate in¬ 
quiries. Instead of allowing their fancy to take its 
natural range, and to produce such works of inven¬ 
tion as might have improved their taste and refined 
their sentiments ; instead of cultivating those arts 
which embellish human life, and render it comfort¬ 
able ; they were fettered by authority, they were led 
astray by example, and wasted the whole force of 
their genius in speculations as unavailing as they 
were difficult. 

But fruitless and ill-directed as these They had, how- 
• • ever consider- 

speculations were, their novelty roused able’effects. 

and their boldness interested the human mind. The 
ardour with which men pursued those uninviting 
studies was astonishing. Genuine philosophy was 
never cultivated, in any enlightened age, with more 
zeal. Schools upon the model of those instituted 
by Charlemagne were opened in every cathedral, 
and almost in every monastery of note. Colleges 
and universities were erected and formed into com¬ 
munities or corporations, governed by their own 
laws, and invested with separate and extensive 
jurisdiction over their own members. A regular 
course of studies was planned. Privileges of great 
value were conferred on masters and scholars. 
Academical titles and honours of various kinds were 
invented as a recompence for both. Nor was it in 
the schools alone that superiority in science led to 
reputation and authority; it became an object of 
respect in life, and advanced such as acquired it to 
a rank of no inconsiderable eminence. Allured by 
all these advantages, an incredible number of stu¬ 
dents resorted to those new seats of learning, and 
crowded with eagerness into that new path which 
was opened to fame and distinction. 

But how considerable soever these A c i rcu mstance 
first efforts may appear, there was one theirVeing more 
circumstance which prevented the extensive - 
effects of them from being as extensive as they 
naturally ought to have been. All the languages 
in Europe, during the period under review, were 
barbarous. They were destitute of elegance, of 
force, and even of perspicuity. No attempt had 
been hitherto made to improve or to polish them. 
The Latin tongue was consecrated by the church to 
religion. Custom, with authority scarcely less 
sacred, had appropriated it to literature. All the 
sciences cultivated in the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries were taught in Latin. All books with 
respect to them were written in that language. It 
would have been deemed a degradation of any im¬ 
portant subject, to have treated of it in a modern 
language. This confined science within a very narrow 
circle. The learned alone were admitted into the 
temple of knowledge ; the gate was shut against all 
others, who were suffered to remain involved in their 
former darkness and ignorance. 



332 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. I. 


Its influence on But tllOUgh SCicHCG was tllUS prc- 
attention. me ‘ ItS vented, during several ages, from dif¬ 
fusing itself through society, and its influence was 
much circumscribed ; the progress which it made 
may be mentioned, nevertheless, among the great 
causes which contributed to introduce a change of 
manners into Europe. The ardent though ill-judged 
spirit of inquiry which I have described, occasioned 
a fermentation of mind that put ingenuity and in¬ 
vention in motion, and gave them vigour. It led 
men to a new employment of their faculties, which 
they found to be agreeable as well as interesting. 
It accustomed them to exercises and occupations 
which tended to soften their manners, and to give 
them some relish for the gentle virtues peculiar to 
people among whom science has been cultivated 
with success. 2 


, X. The progress of commerce had 

The progress of 

commerce had considerable influence in polishing the 

great influence 1 # ° 

on manners and manners of the European nations, and 

government. 

in establishing among them order, 
equal laws, and humanity. The wants of men, in 
the original and most simple state of society, are so 
few, and their desires so limited, that they rest con¬ 
tented with the natural productions of their climate 
and soil, or with what they can add to these by 
their own rude industry. They have no superfluities 
to dispose of, and few necessities that demand a 
supply. Every little community subsisting on its 
own domestic stock, and satisfied with it, is either 
little acquainted with the states around it, or at 
variance with them. Society and 

commerce ?n the manners must be considerably im- 

middie ages. proved, and many provisions must be 

made for public order and personal security, before 
a liberal intercourse can take place between differ¬ 
ent nations. We find, accordingly, that the first 
effect of the settlement of the barbarians in the 
empire was to divide those nations which the Roman 
power had united. Europe was broken into many 
separate communities. The intercourse between 
these divided states ceased almost entirely during 
several centuries. Navigation was dangerous in 
seas infested by pirates; nor could strangers trust 
to a friendly reception in the ports of uncivilized 
nations. Even between distant parts of the same 
kingdom, the communication was rare and difficult. 
The lawless rapine of banditti, together with the 
avowed exactions of the nobles, scarcely less for¬ 
midable and oppressive, rendered a journey of any 
length a perilous enterprise. Fixed to the spot in 
which they resided, the greater part of the inhabit¬ 
ants of Europe lost, in a great measure, the know¬ 
ledge of remote regions, and were unacquainted 
with their names, their situations, their climates, 
and their commodities.® 

Various causes, however, contri¬ 
buted to revive the spirit of commerce, 
and to renew, in some degree, the intercourse be¬ 
tween different nations. The Italians, by their 


Causes of its re¬ 
vival. 


z See Note XXVIII. 


connexion with Constantinople and other cities of 
the Greek empire, had preserved in their own coun¬ 
try considerable relish for the precious commodities 
and curious manufactures of the east. They com¬ 
municated some knowledge of these to the countries 
contiguous to Italy. But this commerce being ex¬ 
tremely limited, the intercourse which it occasioned 
between different nations was not considerable. 
The Crusades, by leading multitudes from every 
corner of Europe into Asia, opened a more exten¬ 
sive communication between the east and west, 
which subsisted for two centuries ; and though the 
object of these expeditions was conquest and not 
commerce; though the issue of them proved as un¬ 
fortunate as the motives for undertaking them were 
wild and enthusiastic ; their commercial effects, as 
hath been shown, were both beneficial and perma¬ 
nent. During the continuance of the Crusades, the 
great cities in Italy, and in other countries of 
Europe, acquired liberty, and together with it such 
privileges as rendered them respectable and inde¬ 
pendent communities. Thus, in every state, there 
was formed a new order of citizens, to whom com¬ 
merce presented itself as their proper object, and 
opened to them a certain path to wealth and con¬ 
sideration. Soon after the close of the Holy War, 
the mariner’s compass was invented, which, by ren¬ 
dering navigation more secure, encouraged it to 
become more adventurous, facilitated the communi¬ 
cation between remote nations, and brought them 
nearer to each other. 

The Italian states, during the same ri rs t among the 
period, established a regular commerce Italians: 
with the east in the ports of Egypt, and drew from 
thence all the rich products of the Indies. They 
introduced into their own territories manufactures 
of various kinds, and carried them on with great 
ingenuity and vigour. They attempted new arts ; 
and transplanted from warmer climates, to which 
they had been hitherto deemed peculiar, several 
natural productions which now furnish the mate¬ 
rials of a lucrative and extended commerce. All 
these commodities, whether imported from Asia or 
produced by their own skill, they disposed of to 
great advantage among the other people of Europe, 
who began to acquire some taste for an elegance in 
living unknown to their ancestors, or despised by 
them. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, 
the commerce of Europe was almost entirely in the 
hands of the Italians, more commonly known in 
those ages by the name of Lombards. Companies 
or societies of Lombard merchants settled in every 
different kingdom. They were taken under the 
immediate protection of the several governments: 
They enjoyed extensive privileges and immunities. 
The operation of the ancient barbarous laws con¬ 
cerning strangers was suspended with respect to 
them. They became the carriers, the manufacturers, 
and the bankers of all Europe. 

While the Italians, in the south of Europe, were 

a See Note XXIX. 



SECT. I. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


333 


Then by the means cu ^ va ^ n S trade with such industry 
League IIanseatic ai] d success, the commercial spirit 

awakened in the north towards the 
middle of the thirteenth century. As the nations 
around the Baltic were, at that time, extremely bar¬ 
barous, and infested that sea with their piracies, the 
cities of Lubec and Hamburgh, soon after they 
began to open some trade with these people, found 
it necessary to enter into a league of mutual defence. 
They derived such advantages from this union, that 
other towns acceded to their confederacy, and, in 
a short time, eighty of the most considerable cities 
scattered through those extensive countries which 
stretch from the bottom of the Baltic to Cologne on 
the Rhine, joined in the famous Hanseatic league, 
which became so formidable, that its alliance was 
courted and its enmity was dreaded by the greatest 
monarchs. The members of this powerful associa¬ 
tion formed the first systematic plan of commerce 
known in the middle ages, and conducted it by 
common laws enacted in their general assemblies. 
They supplied the rest of Europe with naval stores, 
and pitched on different towns, the most eminent of 
which was Bruges in Flanders, where they esta¬ 
blished staples in which their commerce was regu¬ 
larly carried on. Thither the Lombards brought the 
productions of India, together with the manufactures 
of Italy, and exchanged them for the more bulky 
but not less useful commodities of the north. The 
Hanseatic merchants disposed of the cargoes which 
they received from the Lombards, in the ports of the 
Baltic, or carried them up the great rivers into the 
interior parts of Germany. 

This regular intercourse opened be- 

Gommerce makes . . 

progress in the tween the nations in the north and 

^ ether lands * 

south of Europe made them sensible 
of their mutual wants, and created such new and 
increasing demands for commodities of every kind, 
that it excited among the inhabitants of the Nether¬ 
lands a more vigorous spirit in carrying on the two 
great manufactures of wool and flax, which seem to 
have been considerable in that country as early as 
the age of Charlemagne. As Bruges became the 
centre of communication between the Lombard and 
Hanseatic merchants, the Flemings traded w ith both 
in that city to such extent as well as advantage, as 
spread among them a general habit of industry, 
which long rendered Flanders and the adjacent pro¬ 
vinces themost opulent, the most populous, and best- 
cultivated countries in Europe. 

Struck with the flourishing state of 
and m England. ^| iese provinces, of which lie discerned 

the true cause, Edward III. of England endeavoured 
to excite a spirit of industry among his own sub¬ 
jects, who, blind to the advantages of their situation, 
and ignorant of the source from which opulence was 
destined to flow into their country, were so little 
attentive to their commercial interests, as hardly 
to attempt those manufactures the materials of which 
they furnished to foreigners. By alluring Flemish 

b See Note XXX. 


artisans to settle in his dominions, as well as by 
many wise laws for the encouragement and regula¬ 
tion of trade, Edward gave a beginning to the 
woollen manufactures of England, and first turned 
the active and enterprising genius of his people 
towards those arts which have raised the English 
to the highest rank among commercial nations. 

This increase of commerce and of Xhe benefici?1 ef- 
intercourse between nations, how in- fects of this - 
considerable soever it may appear in respect of 
their rapid and extensive progress during the last 
and present age, seems wonderfully great when we 
compare it with the state of both in Europe previous 
to the twelfth century. It did not fail of producing 
great effects. Commerce tends to wear off those 
prejudices which maintain distinction and animosity 
between nations. It softens and polishes the man- 
ners of men. It unites them by one of the strong¬ 
est of all ties, the desire of supplying their mutual 
wants. It disposes them to peace, by establishing 
in every state an order of citizens bound by their 
interests to be the guardians of public tranquillity. 
As soon as the commercial spirit acquires vigour 
and begins to gain an ascendant in any society, we 
discover a new genius in its policy, its alliances, its 
wars, and its negociations. Conspicuous proofs of 
this occur in the history of the Italian states, of the 
Hanseatic league, and the cities of the Netherlands, 
during the period under review'. In proportion as 
commerce made its way into the different countries 
of Europe, they successively turned their attention 
to those objects and adopted those manners which 
occupy and distinguish polished nations . 15 


SECTION II. 

View of the Progress of Society in Europe, with re¬ 
spect to the command of the national force requisite 
in foreign operations. 

Such are the events and institutions f . 

which, by their powerful operation, greatly improved 
, i ,1 . , , at the beginning 

contributed gradually to introduce re- of the fifteenth 

.. . , century. 

gular government and polished man¬ 
ners into the various nations of Europe. When we 
survey the state of society or the character of in¬ 
dividuals at the opening of the fifteenth century, 
and then turn back to view the condition of both at 
the time when the barbarous tribes which overturned 
the Roman power completed their settlement in 
their new r conquests, the progress which mankind 
had made towards order and refinement will appear 
immense. 

Government, however, was still far sti]1 defective 
from having attained that state in thecommanVof 
which extensive monarchies act with the national force. 




334 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. IT. 


the united vigour of the whole community, or carry 
on great undertakings with perseverance and suc¬ 
cess. Small tribes or communities, even in their 
rudest state, may operate in concert, and exert their 
utmost force. They are excited to act, not by the 
distant objects or the refined speculations which in¬ 
terest or affect men in polished societies, but by 
their present feelings. The insults of an enemy 
kindle resentment; the success of a rival tribe 
awakens emulation: these passions communicate 
from breast to breast, and all the members of the 
community with united ardour rush into the field, 
in order to gratify their revenge, or to acquire dis¬ 
tinction. But in widely extended states, such as the 
great kingdoms of Europe at the beginning of the 
fifteenth century, where there is little intercourse 
between the distant members of the community, and 
where every great enterprise requires previous con¬ 
cert and long preparation, nothing can rouse and 
call forth their united strength but the absolute 
command of a despot, or the powerful influence 
of regular policy. Of the former the vast empires 
in the east are an example ; the irresistible man¬ 
date of the sovereign reaches the most remote pro¬ 
vinces of his dominions, and compels whatever 
number of his subjects he is pleased to summon, to 
follow his standard. The kingdoms of Europe, in 
the present age, are an instance of the latter; the 
prince, by the less violent but no less effectual ope¬ 
ration of laws and a well-regulated government, is 
enabled to avail himself of the whole force of his 
state, and to employ it in enterprises which require 
strenuous and persevering efforts. 

But at the opening of the fifteenth 
monarch^"very century, the political constitution in 
all the kingdoms of Europe was very 
different from either of these states of government. 
The several mouarchs, though they had somewhat 
enlarged the boundaries of prerogative by successful 
encroachments on the immunities and privileges of 
the nobility, were possessed of an authority extreme¬ 
ly limited. The laws and interior police of king¬ 
doms, though much improved by the various events 
and regulations which I have enumerated, were still 
feeble and imperfect. In every country a numerous 
body of nobles, who continued to be formidable 
notwithstanding the various expedients employed 
to depress them, watched all the motions of their 
sovereign with a jealous attention which set bounds 
to his ambition, and either prevented his forming 
schemes of extensive enterprise, or obstructed the 
execution of them. 

The ordinary revenues of every 
prince were so extremely small as to 
be inadequate to any great undertaking. He de¬ 
pended for extraordinary supplies on the good-will 
of his subjects, who granted them often with a re¬ 
luctant, and always with a sparing, hand. 

The armies unfit As revenues of princes were in- 
forconquest. considerable, the armies which they 

could bring into the field were unfit for long and 


Their revenues 
small. 


effectual service. Instead of being able to employ 
troops trained to skill in arms and to military sub¬ 
ordination by regular discipline, monarchs were 
obliged to depend on such forces as their vassals con¬ 
ducted to their standard in consequence of their 
military tenures. These, as they were bound to 
remain under arms only for a short time, could not 
march far from their usual place of residence, and 
being more attached to the lord of whom they held 
than to the sovereign whom they served, were often 
as much disposed to counteract as to forward his 
schemes. Nor were they, even if they had been 
more subject to the command of the monarch, proper 
instruments to carry into execution any great and 
arduous enterprise. The strength of an army form¬ 
ed either for conquest or defence lies in infantry. 
To the stability and discipline of their legions, con¬ 
sisting chiefly of infantry, the Romans, during the 
times of the republic, were indebted for their victo¬ 
ries ; and when their descendants, forgetting the 
institutions which had led them to universal domi¬ 
nion, so far altered their military system as to place 
their principal confidence in a numerous cavalry, 
the undisciplined impetuosity of the barbarous na¬ 
tions, who fought mostly on foot, was sufficient, as 
I have already observed, to overcome them. These 
nations, soon after they settled in their new con¬ 
quests, uninstructed by the fatal error of the Ro¬ 
mans, relinquished the customs of their ancestors, 
and converted the chief force of their armies into 
cavalry. Among the Romans this change was 
occasioned by the effeminacy of their troops, who 
could not endure the fatigues of service, which their 
more virtuous and hardy ancestors had sustained 
with ease. Among the people who established the 
new monarchies into which Europe was divided, 
this innovation in military discipline seems to have 
flowed from the pride of the nobles, who, scorning 
to mingle with persons of inferior rank, aimed at 
being distinguished from them in the field as well 
as during peace. The institution of chivalry, and 
the frequency of tournaments, in which knights, in 
complete armour, entered the lists on horseback 
with extraordinary splendour, displaying amazing 
address, force, and valour, 'brought cavalry into 
still greater esteem. The fondness for that service 
increased to such a degree, that, during the thir¬ 
teenth and fourteenth centuries, the armies of Eu¬ 
rope were composed almost entirely of cavalry. No 
gentleman would appear in the field but on horse¬ 
back. To serve in any other manner he would have 
deemed derogatory to his rank. The cavalry, by 
way of distinction, w as called The Battle , and on it 
alone depended the fate of every action. The in¬ 
fantry, collected from the dregs and refuse of the 
people, ill armed and worse disciplined, was almost 
of no account. 

As these circumstances rendered the 
operations of particular kingdoms less biS tornfi^ 
considerable and less vigorous, so they expensive pkn of 
long kept the princes of Europe from operat,on - 



SECT. II. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


33.3 


giving such attention to the schemes and transac¬ 
tions of their neighbours as might lead them to form 
any regular system of public security. They were, 
ot consequence, prevented from uniting in confede¬ 
racy or from acting with concert, in order to estab¬ 
lish such a distribution and balance of power, as 
should hinder any state from rising to a superiority 
which might endanger the general liberty and inde¬ 
pendence. During several centuries the nations of 
Europe appear to have considered themselves as 
separate societies, scarcely connected together by 
any common interest, and little concerned in each 
other’s affairs or operations. An extensive com¬ 
merce did not afford them an opportunity of observ¬ 
ing and penetrating into the schemes of every 
different state. They had not ambassadors residing 
constantly in every court to watch and give early 
intelligence of all its motions. The expectation of 
remote advantages, or the prospect of distant and 
contingent evils, was not sufficient to excite nations 
to take arms. Such only as were within the sphere 
of immediate danger, and unavoidably exposed to 
injury or insult, thought themselves interested in 
any contest, or bound to take precautions for their 
own safety. 

.. , Whoever records the transactions of 

They were little 

connected with any ot the more considerable European 

each other. . 

states during the two last centuries, 
must write the history of Europe. Its various king¬ 
doms, throughout that period, have been formed into 
one great system, so closely united, that each hold¬ 
ing a determinate station, the operations of one are 
so felt by all as to influence their counsels and re¬ 
gulate their measures. But previous to the fifteenth 
century, unless when vicinity of territory rendered 
the occasions of discord frequent and unavoidable, 
or when national emulation fomented or imbittered 
the spirit of hostility, the affairs of different coun¬ 
tries are seldom interwoven with each other. In 
each kingdom of Europe great events and revolu¬ 
tions happened, which the other powers beheld with 
almost the same indifference as if they had been un¬ 
interested spectators, to whom the effect of these 
transactions could never extend. 

A - ,» During the violent struggles between 

A confirmation ° 00 

of this troin th e France and England, and notwith- 

affairs or 1' ranee; , . 

standing the alarming progress which 
was made towards rendering one prince the master 
of both these kingdoms, hardly one measure which 
can be considered as the result of a sagacious and 
prudent policy was formed in order to guard against 
an event so fatal to Europe. The dukes of Burgun¬ 
dy and Bretagne, whom their situation would not 
permit to remain neutral, engaged, it is true, in the 
contest; but in taking their part they seem rather 
to have followed the impulse of their passions than 
to have been guided by any just discernment of the 
danger which threatened themselves and the tran¬ 
quillity of Europe. The other princes, seemingly 
unaffected by the alternate successes of the con¬ 
tending parties, left them to decide the quarrel by 


themselves, or interposed only by feeble and in¬ 
effectual negociations. 

Notwithstanding the perpetual hos- Fromthoseof 
tilities in which the various kingdoms spam; 
of Spain were engaged during several centuries, 
and the successive occurrences which visibly 
tended to unite that part of the continent into one 
great monarchy, the princes of Europe hardly took 
any step from which we may conclude that they 
gave a proper attention to that important event. 
They permitted a power to arise imperceptibly and 
to acquire strength there, which soon became for¬ 
midable to all its neighbours. 

Amidst the violent convulsions with from those of 
which the spirit of domination in the Germany * 
see of Rome, and the turbulent ambition of the 
German nobles, agitated the empire, neither the 
authority of the popes, seconded by all their arti¬ 
fices and intrigues, nor the solicitations of the em¬ 
perors, could induce any of the powerful monarchs 
in Europe to engage in their quarrel, or to avail 
themselves of many favourable opportunites of in¬ 
terposing with effect and advantage. 

This amazing inactivity during trans- This j nac tivity 
actions so interesting, is not to be im- ^eiyby e thestate 
puted to any incapacity of discerning of government. 

their political consequences. The power of judging 
with sagacity, and of acting with vigour, is the por¬ 
tion of men of every age. The monarchs who reigned 
in the different kingdoms of Europe during several 
centuries were not blind to their particular interest, 
negligent of the public safety, or strangers to the 
method of securing both. If they did not adopt that 
salutary system which teaches modern politicians to 
take the alarm at the prospect of distant dangers, 
which prompts them to check the first encroach¬ 
ments of any formidable power, and which renders 
each state the guardian, in some degree, of the 
rights and independence of all its neighbours, this 
was owing entirely to such imperfections and dis¬ 
orders in the civil government of each country, as 
made it impossible for sovereigns to act suitably to 
those ideas which the posture of affairs and their 
own observation must have suggested. 

But during the course of the fif- 

. Events happened 

teenth century, various events happen- during the 15th 

...... . century, winch 

ed which, by giving princes more en- render the efforts 
. , „ , . °t nations more 

tire command of the torce in their powerful and ex- 

tensive 

respective dominions, rendered their 
operations more vigorous and extensive. In conse¬ 
quence of this, the affairs of different kingdoms be¬ 
coming more frequently as well as more intimately 
connected, they were gradually accustomed to act in 
concert and confederacy, and were insensibly pre¬ 
pared for forming a system of policy, in order to 
establish or to preserve such a balance of power as 
was most consistent with the general security. It 
was during the reign of Charles the fifth, that the 
ideas on which this system is founded first came to 
be fully understood. It was then that the maxims 
by which it has been uniformly maintained since 



33G 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. II. 


that era were universally adopted. On this aceount 
a view of the causes and events whieh contributed 
to establish a plan of policy more salutary and ex¬ 
tensive than any that has taken place in the conduct 
of human affairs, is not only a necessary introduc¬ 
tion to the following; work, but is a capital object 
in the history of Europe. 

The first of these The first event that occasioned any 
hi^the 5 English considerable alteration in the arrange- 
r/es h on r thecon- m ent of affairs in Europe, was the an- 
tineut ’ nexation of the extensive territories 

which England possessed on the continent to the 
crown of France. While the English were masters 
of several of the most fertile and opulent provinces 
in France, and a great part of its most martial in¬ 
habitants was bound to follow their standard, an 
English monarch considered himself rather as the 
rival than as the vassal of the sovereign of whom he 
held. The kings of France, circumscribed and 
thwarted in their schemes and operations by an ad¬ 
versary no less jealous than formidable, durst not 
enter upon any enterprise of importance or of diffi¬ 
culty. The English were always at hand ready to 
oppose them. They disputed even their right to 
their crown, and being able to penetrate with ease 
into the heart of the kingdom, could arm against 
them those very hands which ought to have been 
employed in their defence. Timid counsels and 
feeble efforts were natural to monarclis in such a 
situation. France, dismembered and overawed, 
could not attain its proper station in the system of 
Europe. But the death of Henry V. of England, 
happily for France, and not unfortunately for his 
own country, delivered the French from the cala¬ 
mity of having a foreign master seated on their 
throne. The weakness of a long minority, the dis¬ 
sensions in the English court, together with the un¬ 
steady and languid conduct which these occasioned, 
afforded the French a favourable opportunity of re¬ 
covering the territories which they had lost. The 
native valour of the French nobility, heightened to 
an enthusiastic confidence by a supposed interpo¬ 
sition of Heaven in their behalf; conducted in the 
field by skilful leaders, and directed in the cabinet 
by a prudent monarch, was exerted with such vigour 
and success during this favourable juncture, as not 
only wrested from the English their new conquests, 
but stript them of their ancient possessions in 
France, and reduced them within the narrow pre¬ 
cincts of Calais and its petty territory. 

The effect of this As soon as so many considerable 
power of the the provinces were reunited to their domi- 

rench monarchy, n i ons> ^he kj n tr S 0 f France, Conscious 

of this acquisition of strength, began to form bolder 
schemes of interior policy, as well as of foreign 
operations. They immediately became formidable 
to their neighbours, who began to fix their attention 
on their measures and motions, the importance of 
which they fully perceived. From this era France, 
possessed of the advantages which it derives from 
the situation and contiguity of its territories, as well 


I as from the number and valour of its people, rose 
to new influence in Europe, and was the first power 
in a condition to give alarm to the jealousy or fears 
of the states around it. 

Nor was France indebted for this 

. - f On the state of the 

increase of importance merely to the military force in 

reunion of the provinces which had 
been torn from it. A circumstance attended the re¬ 
covery of these, which, though less considerable and 
less observed, contributed not a little to give addi¬ 
tional vigour and decision to all the efforts of that 
monarchy. During the obstinate struggles between 
France and England, all the defects of the military 
system under the feudal government were sensibly 
felt. A war of long continuance languished when 
carried on by troops bound and accustomed to keep 
the field only for a short time. Armies composed 
chiefly of heavy-armed cavalry, were unfit either for 
the defence or the attack of the many towns and 
castles which it became necessary to guard or to 
reduce. In order to obtain such permanent and 
effective force as became requisite during these 
lengthened contests, the kings of France took into 
their pay considerable bands of mercenary soldiers, 
levied sometimes among their own subjects, and 
sometimes in foreign countries. But as the feudal 
policy provided no sufficient fund for such extraor¬ 
dinary service, these adventurers were dismissed at 
the close of every campaign, or upon any prospect 
of accommodation : and having been little accus¬ 
tomed to the restraints of discipline, they frequently 
turned their arms against the country which they 
had been hired to defend, and desolated it with 
cruelty not inferior to that of its foreign ene¬ 
mies. 

A body of troops kept constantly on 
- , , . f , . . , ... . It occasions the 

toot, and regularly trained to military introduction of 

, ,. .. ,, , ... standing armies. 

subordination, would have supplied 
what was wanting in the feudal constitution, and 
have furnished princes with the means of executing 
enterprises to which they were then unequal. Such 
an establishment, however, was so repugnant to the 
genius of feudal policy, and so incompatible with 
the privileges and pretensions of the nobility, that 
during several centuries no monarch was either so 
bold or so powerful as to venture on any step to¬ 
wards introducing it. At last Charles VII., avail¬ 
ing himself of the reputation which he had acquired 
by his success against the English, and taking ad¬ 
vantage of the impressions of terror which such a 
formidable enemy had left upon the minds of his 
subjects, executed that which his predecessors durst 
not attempt. Under pretence of having always 
ready a force sufficient to defend the kingdom 
against any sudden invasion of the English, he, at 
that time when he disbanded bis other 
troops, retained under arms a body of A ' D< 1445, 
nine thousand cavalry and of sixteen thousand in¬ 
fantry. He appropriated funds for the regular pay¬ 
ment of these ; he stationed them in different places 
of the kingdom according to his pleasure ; and ap- 



SECT. II. 


337 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


pointed the officers who commanded and disciplined 
them. The prime nobility courted this service, in 
which they were taught to depend on their sove¬ 
reign, to execute his orders, and to look up to him 
as the judge and rewarder of their merit. The feu¬ 
dal militia, composed of the vassals whom the no¬ 
bles could call out to follow their standard, as it 
was in no degree comparable to a body of soldiers 
regularly trained to war, sunk gradually in reputa¬ 
tion. The strength of an army was no longer esti¬ 
mated solely by the number of cavalry which served 
in it. From the time that gunpowder was invented, 
and the use of cannon in the held became general, 
horsemen cased in complete armour lost all the ad¬ 
vantages which gave them the pre-eminence over 
other soldiers. The helmet, the shield, and the 
breastplate, which resisted the arrow or the spear, 
no longer afforded them security against these new 
instruments of destruction. The service of infantry 
rose again into esteem, and victories were gained 
and conquests made chiefly by their efforts. The 
nobles and their military tenants, though sometimes 
summoned to the field according to ancient form, 
w ere considered as an encumbrance upon the troops 
with which they acted, and were viewed with con¬ 
tempt by soldiers accustomed to the vigorous and 
steady operations of regular service. 

The effects of Thus the regulations of Charles VII. 
this. by establishing the first standing army 
known in Europe, occasioned an important revolu¬ 
tion in its affairs and policy. By taking from the 
nobles the sole direction of the national military 
force, which had raised them to such high authority 
and importance, a deep wound was given to the 
feudal aristocracy in that part where its power 
seemed to be most complete. 

France, by forming this body of regular troops at 
a time when there was hardly a squadron or com¬ 
pany kept in constant pay in any other part of Eu¬ 
rope, acquired such advantages over its neighbours, 
either in attack or defence, that self-preservation 
made it necessary for them to imitate its example. 
Mercenary troops were introduced into all the con¬ 
siderable kingdoms on the continent. They gradu¬ 
ally became the only military force that was em¬ 
ployed or trusted. It has long been the chief object 
of policy to increase and to support them. It has 
long been the great aim of princes and ministers to 
discredit and to annihilate all other means of na¬ 
tional activity or defence. 

The monarchs of As the kin g s of France got the start 
ra^ed e to n extend °f other powers in establishing a mi- 
their prerogative, jjtary force in their dominions, which 

enabled them to carry on foreign operations with 
more vigour and to greater extent, so they were the 
first who effectually broke the feudal aristocracy, 
and humbled the great vassals of the crown, who by 
their exorbitant power had long circumscribed the 
royal prerogative within very narrow limits, and had 
rendered all the efforts of the monarchs of Europe 

a Boulainvilliers Ilistoirc du Gouvernementde France, Lettre xri. 


inconsiderable. Many things concurred to under¬ 
mine gradually the power of the feudal aristocracy 
in France. The wealth and property of the nobility 
were greatly impaired during the long wars which 
the kingdom was obliged to maintain with the Eng¬ 
lish. The extraordinary zeal with which they ex¬ 
erted themselves in defence of their country against 
its ancient enemies exhausted entirely the fortunes 
of some great families. As almost every province 
in the kingdom was in its turn the seat of war, the 
lands of others were exposed to the depredations of 
the enemy, were ravaged by the mercenary troops 
which their sovereigns hired occasionally but could 
not pay, or w r ere desolated with rage still more de¬ 
structive by the peasants in different insurrections. 
At the same time, the necessities of government 
having forced their kings upon the desperate expe¬ 
dient of making great and sudden alterations in the 
current coin of the kingdom, the fines, quit-rents, 
and other payments fixed by ancient custom, sunk 
much in value, and the revenues of a fief were re¬ 
duced far below the sum which it had once yielded. 
During their contests with the English, in which a 
generous nobility courted every station where dan¬ 
ger appeared or honour could be gained, many 
families of note became extinct, and their fiefs w ere 
reunited to the crown. Other fiefs, in a long course 
of years, fell to female heirs, and were divided 
among them, were diminished by profuse donations 
to the church, or were broken and split by the suc¬ 
cession of remote collateral lieirs. a 

Encouraged by these manifest symp- The progress of 
toms of decline in that body which he u h nder 0 ;y uia^ies er 
wished to depress, Charles VII., during xn - 
the first interval of peace with England, made several 
efforts towards establishing the regal prerogative on 
the ruins of the aristocracy. But his obligations to 
the nobles were so many as well as recent, and their 
services in recovering the kingdom so splendid, as 
rendered it necessary for him to proceed with mode¬ 
ration and caution. Such, however, was the autho¬ 
rity which the crown had acquired by the progress 
of its arms against the English, and so much was the 
power of the nobility diminished, that, without any 
opposition, he soon made innovations of great con¬ 
sequence in the constitution. He not only esta¬ 
blished that formidable body of regular troops 
which has been mentioned, but he was the first 
monarch of France who, by his royal edict, without 
the concurrence of the states-general , ^ 

n . A. D. 1440. 

of the kingdom, levied an extraordi¬ 
nary subsidy on his people. He prevailed likewise 
with his subjects to render several taxes perpetual 
which had formerly been imposed occasionally, 
and exacted during a short time. By means of all 
these innovations he acquired such an increase of 
power, and extended his prerogative so far beyond 
its ancient limits, that from being the most depen¬ 
dent prince who had ever sat upon the throne of 
France, he came to possess, during the latter years 




3,38 


SECT. ir. 


A VIEW OF THE 


of his reign, a degree of authority which noneot his 
predecessors had enjoyed for several ages. b 

That plan of humbling the nobility 

Under Louis XI. , , . , , . 

which Charles began to execute, his 
son Louis XI. carried on with a bolder spirit and 
with greater success. Louis w as formed by nature 
to be a tyrant; and at whatever period he had been 
called to ascend the throne, his reign must have 
abounded with schemes to oppress his people, and 
to render his own power absolute. Subtle, unfeel¬ 
ing, cruel; a stranger to every principle of integrity, 
and regardless of decency, he scorned all the re¬ 
straints which a sense of honour or the desire of 
fame impose even upon ambitious men. Sagacious, 
at the same time, to discern w hat he deemed his true 
interest, and influenced by that alone, he was capa¬ 
ble of pursuing it with a persevering industry, and of 
adhering to it with a systematic spirit, from w hich no 
object could divert and no danger could deter him. 

The maxims of his administration 

His measures for „ , , „ , 

humbling the no- were as profound as they were fatal to 

the privileges of the nobility. He 
filled all the departments of government with new 
men, and often with persons whom he called from 
the lowest as well as most despised functions in 
life, and raised at pleasure to stations of great power 
or trust. These were his only confidents, whom he 
consulted in forming his plans, and to whom he 
committed the execution of them : while the nobles, 
accustomed to be the companions, the favourites, 
and the ministers of their sovereigns, were treated 
with such studied and mortifying neglect, that if 
they would not submit to follow a court in which 
they appeared without any shadow of their ancient 
power, they were obliged to retire to their castles, 
where they remained unemployed and forgotten. 
Not satisfied with having rendered the nobles of 
less consideration, by taking out of their hands the 
sole direction of affairs, Louis added insult to neg¬ 
lect ; and by violating their most valuable privileges, 
endeavoured to degrade the order, and to reduce the 
members of it to the same level with other subjects. 
Persons of the highest rank among them, if so bold 
as to oppose his schemes, or so unfortunate as to 
awaken the jealousy of his capricious temper, were 
persecuted with rigour, from which all who belonged 
to the order of nobility had hitherto been exempt; 
they were tried by judges who had no right to take 
cognizance of their actions, and were subjected to 
torture, or condemned to an ignominious death, with¬ 
out regard to their birth or condition. The people, 
accustomed to see the blood of the most illustrious 
personages shed by the hands of the common execu¬ 
tioner, to behold them shut up in dungeons, and 
carried about in cages of iron, began to view the 
nohility with less reverence than formerly, and 
looked up with terror to the royal authority, which 
seemed to have humbled or annihilated every other 
power in the kingdom. 

b Histoire de France, par Vellyet Villaret, tom. xv.33l, &c. 389 tom. 
xvi. 324. Variations de la Monarchic l-'rangoise, tom. i;i. 162. 


At the same time Louis, being afraid and of dividing 
that oppression might rouse the no- them * 
hies, whom the rigour of his government had in¬ 
timidated, or that self-preservation might at last 
teach them to unite, dexterously scattered among 
them the seeds of discord, and industriously fo¬ 
mented those ancient animosities between the great 
families, which the spirit of jealousy and emulation, 
natural to the feudal government, had originally 
kindled and still kept alive. To accomplish this, 
all the arts of intrigue, all the mysteries and refine¬ 
ments of his fraudulent policy, were employed, and 
with such success, that at a juncture w hich required 
the most strenuous efforts as well as the most per¬ 
fect union, the nobles never acted, except during 
one short sally of resentment at the beginning of 
his reign, either with vigour or in concert. 

As he stripped the nobility of their JJe addg tQ 
privileges, he added to the power and stand- 

prerogative of the crown. In order to 
have at command such a body of soldiers as might 
be sufficient to crush any force that his disaffected 
subjects could draw together, he not only kept on 
foot the regular troops which his father had raised, 
but, besides augmenting their number considerably, 
he took into his pay six thousand Swiss, at that 
time the best disciplined and most formidable in¬ 
fantry in Europe . 0 From the jealousy natural to 
tyrants, he confided in these foreign mercenaries, 
as the most devoted instruments of oppression, and 
the most faithful guardians of the power which he 
had usurped. That they might be ready to act on 
the shortest warning, he, during the latter years of 
his reign, kept a considerable body of them en¬ 
camped in one place. d 

Great funds were requisite, not 
only to defray the expense of this revenuesPof^e 16 
additional establishment, but to sup- crown ' 
ply the sums employed in the various enterprises 
which the restless activity of his genius prompted 
him to undertake. But the prerogative that his 
father had assumed, of levying taxes without the 
concurrence of the states-general, which he was 
careful not only to retain but to extend, enabled 
him to provide in some measure for the increasing 
charges of government. 

What his prerogative, enlarged as Hjs add 
it was, could not furnish, his address managing the as- 

, T , . , sembly of states. 

procured. He was the first monarch 
in Europe who discovered the method of managing 
those great assemblies in which the feudal policy 
had vested the power of granting subsidies and of 
imposing taxes. He first taught other princes 
the fatal art of beginning their attack on public 
liberty, by corrupting the source from which it 
should flow. By exerting all his power and ad¬ 
dress in influencing the election of representatives, 
by bribing or overawing the members, and by va¬ 
rious changes which he artfully made in the form of 

c Mem. de Comines, tom. i. 367 Han. Hist, de la Millice Frangoise 
tom. i. 182. d Mem. de Com. tom. i. 381. 




SECT. II. 


339 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


their deliberations, Louis acquired such entire di¬ 
rection of these assemblies, that from being the 
viligant guardians of the privileges and property of 
the people, he rendered them tamely subservient 
towards promoting the most odious measures of his 
reign. e As no power remained to set bounds to 
his exactions, he not only continued all the taxes 
imposed by his father, but he made great additions 
to them, which amounted to a sum that appeared 
astonishing to his contemporaries/* 

TTe enlarges the Nor waa ^ the power alone Or 
French °mo- e wealth of the crown that Louis in¬ 
creased ; he extended its territories 
by acquisitions of various kinds. He got possession 
of Rousillon by purchase ; Provence was conveyed 
to him by the will of Charles de Anjou ; and upon 
the death of Charles the Bold, he seized, with a 
strong hand, Burgundy and Artois, which had be¬ 
longed to that prince. Thus, during the course of 
a single reign, France was formed into one compact 
kingdom, and the steady unrelenting policy of 
Louis XI. not only subdued the haughty spirit of 
the feudal nobles, but established a species of go¬ 
vernment scarcely less absolute or less terrible than 
eastern despotism. 

By ail these the But as his administration was 

meirtrendered" to the liberties of his subjects, the au- 
enterprlsin* and thority which lie acquired, the re¬ 
sources of which he became master, 
and his freedom from restraint in concerting his 
plans, as well as in executing them, rendered his 
reign active and enterprising. Louis negociated 
in all the courts of Europe; he observed the motions 
of all his neighbours ; he engaged, either as prin¬ 
cipal or as an auxiliary, in every great transaction ; 
his resolutions were prompt, his operations vigor¬ 
ous ; and upon every emergence he could call forth 
into action the whole force of his kingdom. From 
the era of his reign, the kings of France, no longer 
fettered and circumscribed at home by a jealous 
nobility, have exerted themselves more abroad, 
have formed more extensive schemes of foreign 
conquests, and have carried on war with a spirit 
and vigour long unknown in Europe. 

^ t k ( The exam pl e which Louis set was 
wards extending too inviting not to be imitated by other 

the power of the . 

crown in Eng- princes. Henry VII., as soon as he 
was seated on the throne of England, 
formed the plan of enlarging his own prerogative 
by breaking the power of the nobility. The cir¬ 
cumstances under which he undertook to execute 
it were less favourable than those which induced 
Charles VII. to make the same attempt; and the 
spirit with w hich he conducted it was very different 
from that of Louis XI. Charles, by the success of 
his arms against the English, by the merit of having 
expelled them out of so many provinces, had estab¬ 
lished himself so firmly in the confidence of his 


people, as encouraged him to make bold encroach¬ 
ments on the ancient constitution. The daring 
genius of Louis broke through every barrier, and 
endeavoured to surmount or to remove every obsta¬ 
cle that stood in his way. But Henry held the 
sceptre by a disputed title; a popular faction was 
ready every moment to take arms against him ; and 
after long civil wars, during which the nobility had 
often displayed their power in creating and de¬ 
posing kings, he felt that the regal authority had 
been so much relaxed, and that he entered into 
possession of a prerogative so much abridged, as 
rendered it necessary to carry on his measures de¬ 
liberately and without any violent exertion. He 
endeavoured to undermine that formidable structure 
which he durst not attack by open force. His 
schemes, though cautious and slow in their opera¬ 
tion, were well concerted, and productive in the end 
of great effects. By his laws permitting the barons 
to break the entails of their estates and expose them 
to sale; by his regulations to prevent the nobility 
from keeping in their service those numerous bands 
of retainers which rendered them formidable and 
turbulent; by favouring the rising power of the 
commons ; by encouraging population, agriculture, 
and commerce ; by securing to his subjects, during 
a long reign, the enjoyment of the blessings which 
flow from the arts of peace ; by accustoming them 
to an administration of government under which the 
laws were executed with steadiness and vigour; he 
made imperceptibly considerable alterations in the 
English constitution, and transmitted to his suc¬ 
cessor authority so extensive, as rendered him one 
of the most absolute monarchs in Europe, and capa¬ 
ble of the greatest and most vigorous efforts. 

In Spain the union of all its crowns 

. „ Tii anc * Spain. 

by the marriage of Ferdinand and 
Isabella ; the glory that they acquired by the con¬ 
quest of Grenada, which brought the odious domi¬ 
nion of the Moors to a period ; the command of the 
great armies which it lmd been necessary to keep 
long on foot in order to accomplish this ; the w is- 
dom and steadiness of their administration ; and 
the address with which they availed themselves of 
every incident that occurred to humble the nobility 
and to extend their own prerogative, conspired in 
raising these monarchs to such eminence and au¬ 
thority as none of their predecessors had ever en¬ 
joyed. Though several causes which shall be 
explained in another place prevented their attaining 
the same powers with the kings of France and Eng¬ 
land, and preserved the feudal constitution longer 
entire in Spain, their great abilities supplied the 
defects of their prerogative, and improved, with 
such dexterity, all the advantages which they pos¬ 
sessed, that Ferdinand carried on his foreign ope¬ 
rations, which were very extensive, with extraordi¬ 
nary vigour and effect. 


e Mem. de Comin. tom. i. 136. Chro. Scandal, ibid. tom. ii. p. 7L 
f Mem. de Com. tom. i. 334. , _ 

* Charles VII. levied taxes to the amount of 1,800,000 francs; Louis 

z 2 


XT. raised 4,700,000. The former had in pay 9000 cavalry and 16,000 in¬ 
fantry : the latter augmented the cavalry to 15,000, and the infantry to 
‘25,000. Mem. de Comines, i. 384. 




A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. II. 


While these princes were thus en- 

Kvents happened . 

which called the larsring the boundaries of prerogative, 

several monarchs o ^ 

t« exert the new and taking such steps towards render- 

powers which ° 

they had ac- ing their kingdom capable of acting 
q lured. ° , 

with union and force, events occurred 
which called them forth to exert the new powers 
which they had acquired. These engaged them in 
such a series of enterprises and negociations, that 
the aff airs of all the considerable nations in Europe 
came to be insensibly interwoven with each other; 
and a great political system was gradually formed, 
which grew to be an object of universal attention. 

The first of these The first event which meritS n0tice ’ 
marriag<fofthe 011 account of its influence in pro- 
housTof B^r- ducing this change in the state of 
gundy. Europe, was the marriage of the daugh¬ 

ter of Charles the Bold, the sole heiress of the house 
.of Burgundy. For some years before her father’s 
death she had been considered as the apparent 
successor to his territories, and Charles had made 
proposals of marrying her to several different princes, 
with a view of alluring them by that offer to favour 
the schemes which his restless ambition was con¬ 
tinually forming. 

. This rendered the alliance with her 

Ine importance 

of this to the state an object of general attention ; and all 

or Europe. J ° 

the advantages of acquiring possession 

of her territories, the most opulent at that time, and 

the best cultivated of any on this side of the Alps, 

a d 1477. were perfectly understood. As soon, 

January 5 . then, as the untimely death of Charles 

opened the succession, the eyes of all the princes 

in Europe were turned towards Mary, and they felt 

themselves deeply interested in the choice which 

she was about to make of the person on whom she 

would bestow that rich inheritance. 

views of Louis Louis XI., from whose kingdom 
XL with respect . , 

to it. several ot the provinces which she 

possessed had been dismembered, and whose do¬ 
minions stretched along the frontier of her terri¬ 
tories, had every inducement to court her alliance. 
He had, likewise, a good title to expect the favour¬ 
able reception of any reasonable proposition he 
should make with respect to the disposal of a 
princess who was the vassal of his crown, and de¬ 
scended from the royal blood of France. There 
were only two propositions, how ever, which he could 
make with propriety. The one was the marriage of 
the dauphin, the other that of the count Angouleme, 
a prince of the blood, with the heiress of Burgundy. 
By the former he would have annexed all her terri¬ 
tories to his crown, and have rendered France at 
once the most respectable monarchy in Europe. 
But the great disparity of age between the two 
parties, Mary being twenty, and the dauphin only 
eight years old; the avowed resolution of the 
Flemings, not to choose a master possessed of such 
power as might enable him to form schemes dan¬ 
gerous to their liberties ; together with their dread 
of falling under the odious and oppressive govern- 

g Mem. de Comines, i. 358. 


ment of Louis, were obstacles in the way of exe¬ 
cuting this plan which it w r as vain to think of sur¬ 
mounting. By the latter, the accomplishment of 
which might have been attained with ease, Mary 
having discovered some inclination to a match with 
the count of Angouleme, 1 * Louis would have pre¬ 
vented the dominions of the house of Burgundy 
from being conveyed to a rival power, and in return 
for such a splendid establishment for the count of 
Angouleme, he must have obtained, or would have 
extorted from him, concessions highly beneficial to 
the crown of France. But Louis had been accus¬ 
tomed so long to the intricacies of a crooked and 
insidious policy, that he could not be satisfied with 
what was obvious and simple ; and was so fond of 
artifice and refinement, that he came to consider 
these rather as an ultimate object than merely as 
the means of conducting affairs. From this prin¬ 
ciple, no less than from his unwillingness to aggran¬ 
dise any of his own subjects, or from his desire of 
oppressing the house of Burgundy, which he hated, 
he neglected the course which a prince less able 
and artful would have taken, and followed one more 
suited to his own genius. 

He proposed to render himself, by The singular 

course which he 

force of arms, master of those pro- followed, 
vinces which Mary held of the crown of France, 
and even to push his conquests into her other terri¬ 
tories, whilehe amused her with insisting continual!}' 
on the impracticable match with the dauphin. In 
prosecuting this plan he displayed w onderful talents 
and industry, and exhibited such scenes of treachery, 
falsehood, and cruelty, as are amazing even in the 
history of Louis XI. Immediately upon the death of 
Charles, he put his troops in motion, and advanced 
towards the Netherlands. He corrupted the leading 
men in the provinces of Burgundy and Artois, and 
seduced them to desert their sovereign. He got 
admission into some of the frontier towns, by brib¬ 
ing the governors ; the gates of others were opened 
to him in consequence of his intrigues with the in¬ 
habitants. He negociated with Mary, and in order 
to render her odious to her subjects, he betrayed to 
them her most important secrets. He carried on a 
private correspondence w ith the two ministers whom 
she chiefly trusted, and then communicated the 
letters which he had received from them to the 
states of Flanders, who, enraged at their perfidy, 
brought them immediately to trial, tortured them 
with extreme cruelty, and, unmoved by the tears 
and entreaties of their sovereign, w ho knew and 
approved of all that the ministers had done, they 
beheaded them in her presence. 11 

While Louis, by this conduct, un- T!le effectof m 
worthy of a great monarch, was se- Maxlmluai^witb 
curing the possession of Burgundy, Burgundy 3 ° f 
Artois, and the towns on the Somme, A - D - ^ 77 - 
the states of Flanders carried on a negociation with 
the emperor Frederic III., and concluded a treaty 
of marriage between their sovereign and his son, 

h Mem. de Comines, liv. v. chap. 15. p. 3U9, Set. 



SECT. II. 


341 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


Maximilian, archduke of Austria. The illustrious 
birth ot that prince, as well as the high dignity of 
which he had the prospect, rendered the alliance 
honourable for Mary, while, from the distance of his 
hereditary territories, and the scantiness of his re¬ 
venues, his power was so inconsiderable as did not 
excite the jealousy or fear of the Flemings. 

The influence of T1 ' US L ° U ' S ’ ^ tlle Ca P riCe ° f llis 

of a Eun>pe e state tem P er a,lt * ^ ie excess of his refine¬ 
ments, put the house of Austria in 
possession of this noble inheritance. By this ac¬ 
quisition, the foundation of the future grandeur of 
Charles Y. was laid; and he became master of those 
territories which enabled him to carry on his most 
formidable and decisive operations against France. 
Thus, too, the same monarch who first united the 
interior force of France, and established it on such 
a footing as to render it formidable to the rest of 
Europe, contributed, far contrary to his intention, 
to raise up a rival power, which, during two cen¬ 
turies, has thwarted the measures, opposed the arms, 
and checked the progress of his successors. 

The next event of consequence in 

1 he next consider- 

able event was the the fifteenth century, was the expe- 

invasion ot Italy ... „ , __ 

by Charles viii. dition of Charles VIII. into Italy. 

Ihis occasioned revolutions no less 
memorable ; produced alterations, both in the mili¬ 
tary and political system, which were more imme¬ 
diately perceived ; roused the states of Europe to 
bolder eff orts ; and blended their affairs and interests 
The motives of more closely together. The mild ad- 
this. ministration of Charles, a weak but 
generous prince, seems to have revived the spirit 
and genius of the French nation, which the rigid 
despotism of Louis XI. his father, had depressed 
and almost extinguished. The ardour for military 
service, natural to the French nobility, returned, 
and their young monarch was impatient to distin¬ 
guish his reign by some splendid enterprise. While 
he was uncertain towards what quarter he should 
turn his arms, the solicitations and intrigues of an 
Italian politician, no less infamous on account of 
his crimes than eminent for his abilities, determined 
his choice. Ludovico Sforza having formed the de¬ 
sign of deposing his nephew the duke of Milan, and 
of placing himself on the ducal throne, was so much 
afraid of a combination of the Italian powers to op¬ 
pose this measure, and to support the injured prince, 
with whom most of them were connected by blood 
or alliance, that he saw the necessity of securing 
the aid of some able protector. The king of France 
was the person to whom he applied; and without 
disclosing his own intentions, he laboured to pre¬ 
vail with him to march into Italy, at the head of a 
powerful army, in order to seize the crown of 
Naples, to which Charles had pretensions as heir of 
the house of Anjou. The right to that kingdom, 
claimed by the Anjevin family, had been conveyed 
to Louis XI. by Charles of Anjou, count of Maine 
and Provence. But that sagacious monarch, though 

i Mezeray Hist. tom. ii. 777. 


lie took immediate possession of those territories of 
which Charles was really master, totally disregard¬ 
ed his ideal title to a kingdom over which another 
prince reigned in tranquillity ; and uniformly de¬ 
clined involving himself in the labyrinth of Italian 
politics. His son, more adventurous or more incon¬ 
siderate, embarked eagerly in this enterprise ; and 
contemning all the remonstrances of his most expe¬ 
rienced counsellors, prepared to carry it on with the 
utmost vigour. 

The power which Charles possessed TT . 

1 r His resources for 

was so great, that he reckoned himself this enterprise. 

equal to this arduous undertaking. His father had 
transmitted to him such an ample prerogative as 
gave him the entire command of his kingdom. He 
himself had added considerably to the extent of his 
dominions, by his prudent marriage with the heiress 
of Bretagne, which rendered him master of that 
province, the last of the great fiefs that remained to 
be annexed to the crown. He soon assembled forces 
which he thought sufficient; and so impatient was 
he to enter on his career as a conqueror, that sacri¬ 
ficing what was real for what was chimerical, he 
restored Rousillon to Ferdinand, and gave up part 
of his father’s acquisitions in Artois to Maximi¬ 
lian, with a view of inducing these princes not to 
molest France while he was carrying on his opera¬ 
tions in Italy. 

But so different were the efforts of His preparations 
the states of Europe in the fifteenth forit - 
century from those which we shall behold in the 
course of this history, that the army with which 
Charles undertook this great enterprise did not 
exceed twenty thousand men. The train of artil¬ 
lery, however, the ammunition and warlike stores 
of every kind provided for its use, were so consider¬ 
able as to bear some resemblance to the immense 
apparatus of modern war. 1 

When the French entered Italy, they 

** ** Its success 

met with nothing able to resist them. 

The Italian powers having remained, during a long 
period, undisturbed by the invasion of any foreign 
enemy, had formed a system with respect to their 
affairs, both in peace and war, peculiar to them¬ 
selves. In order to adjust the interests and balance 
the power of the different states into which Italy was 
divided, they were engaged in perpetual and end¬ 
less negociations with each other, which they con¬ 
ducted with all the subtilty of a refining and de¬ 
ceitful policy. Their contests in the field, when 
they had recourse to arms, were decided in mock 
battles, by innocent and bloodless victories. Upon 
the first appearance of the danger which now im¬ 
pended, they had recourse to the arts which they 
had studied, and employed their utmost skill in in¬ 
trigue in order to avert it. But this proving in¬ 
effectual, their bands of effeminate mercenaries, the 
only military force that remained in the country, 
being fit only for the parade of service, were terri¬ 
fied at the aspect of real war, and shrunk at its ap- 


I 



342 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. II. 


proach. The impetuosity of the French valour 
appeared to them irresistible. Florence, Pisa, and 
Rome opened their gates as the French army ad¬ 
vanced. The prospect of this dreadful invasion 
struck one king of Naples with such panic terror, 
that he died (if we may believe historians) of the 
fright. Another abdicated his throne from the same 
pusillanimous spirit. A third fled out of his domi¬ 
nions as soon as the enemy appeared on the Nea¬ 
politan frontiers. Charles, after marching thither 
from the bottom of the Alps, with as much rapi¬ 
dity, and almost as little opposition, as if he had 
been on a progress through his own dominions, 
took quiet possession of the throne of Naples, 
and intimidated or gave law to every power in 
Italy. 


^ Such was the conclusion of an ex- 

cuiariy in’giving pedition that must be considered as 
concerning a ba- the first great exertion of those new 

lance of power. . . , „ _ 

powers which the princes ot Europe 
had acquired, and now began to exercise. Its 
effects were no less considerable than its success 
had been astonishing. The Italians, unable to re¬ 
sist the impression of the enemy, who broke in upon 
them, permitted him to hold on his course undis¬ 
turbed. They quickly perceived that no single 
power which they could rouse to action was an equal 
match for a monarch who ruled over such extensive 
territories, and was at the head of such a martial 
people ; but that a confederacy might accomplish 
what the separate members of it durst not attempt. 
To this expedient, the only one that remained to de¬ 
liver or to preserve them from the yoke, they had 
recourse. While Charles inconsiderately wasted 
his time at Naples in festivals and triumphs on ac¬ 
count of his past successes, or was fondly dreaming 
of future conquests in the east, to the empire of 
which he now aspired, they formed against him a 
powerful combination of almost all the Italian states, 
supported by the emperor Maximilian, and Ferdi¬ 
nand, king of Aragon. The union of so many 
powers, who suspended or forgot all their particular 
animosities, that they might act in concert against 
an enemy who had become formidable to them all, 
awakened Charles from his thoughtless security. 
He saw now no prospect of safety but in returning 
to France. An army of thirty thousand men, as¬ 
sembled by the allies, was ready to obstruct his 
march ; and though the French, with a daring cou¬ 
rage which more than countervailed their inferio¬ 
rity in number, broke through that great body, and 
gained a victory which opened to their monarch a 
safe passage into his own territories, he was strip¬ 
ped of all his conquests in Italy in as short a time 


as it had taken to acquire them ; and the political 
system in that country resumed the same appearance 
as before his invasion. 


, ru . , .. The sudden and decisive effect of 

This becomes the 

great object of po- this contederacy seems to have in- 

licy, first in Italy, 

and then in Eu- structed the princes and statesmen of 
Italy as much as the irruption of the 


French had disconcerted and alarmed them. They 
had extended, on this occasion, to the affairs of Eu¬ 
rope the maxims of that political science which 
had hitherto been applied only to regulate the ope¬ 
rations of the petty states in their own country. 
They had discovered the method of preventing any 
monarch from rising to such a degree of power as 
was inconsistent with the general liberty, and had 
manifested the importance of attending to that great 
secret in modern policy, the preservation of a pro¬ 
per distribution of power among all the members of 
the system into which the states of Europe are 
formed. During all the wars of which Italy from 
that time was the theatre, and amidst the hostile 
operations which the imprudence of Louis XII. and 
the ambition of Ferdinand of Aragon carried on in 
that country, with little interruption, from the close 
of the fifteenth century to that period at which the 
subsequent history commences, the maintaining a 
proper balance of power between the contending 
parties became the great object of attention to the 
statesmen of Italy. Nor was the idea confined to 
them. Self-preservation taught other powers to 
adopt it. It grew to be fashionable and universal. 
From this era we can trace the progress of that in¬ 
tercourse between nations which has linked the 
powers of Europe so closely together, and can dis¬ 
cern the operations of that provident policy which, 
during peace, guards against remote and contingent 
dangers, and, in war, has prevented rapid and de¬ 
structive conquests. 

This was not the only effect of the The wars in 
operations which the great powers of stan^in^armies 
Europe carried on in Italy. They general: 

contributed to render general such a change as the 
French had begun to make in the state of their 
troops, and obliged all the princes who appeared 
on this new theatre of action to put the military 
force of their kingdoms on an establishment similar 
to that of France. When the seat of war came to 
be remote from the countries which maintained the 
contest, the service of the feudal vassals ceased to 
be of any use ; and the necessity of employing sol¬ 
diers regularly trained to arms, and kept in con¬ 
stant pay, came at once to be evident. When 
Charles VIII. marched into Italy, his cavalry was 
entirely composed of those companies of gendarmes 
embodied by Charles VII. and continued by Louis 

XI. ; his infantry consisted partly of Swiss, hired 
of the cantons, and partly of Gascons, armed and 
disciplined after the Swiss model. To these Louis 

XII. added a body of Germans, well known in the 
wars of Italy by the name of the Black Bands. 
But neither of these monarchs made any account of 
the feudal militia, or ever had recourse to that mi¬ 
litary force, which they might have commanded, in 
virtue of the ancient institutions in their kingdom. 
Maximilian and Ferdinand, as soon as they began 
to act in Italy, employed similar instruments, and 
trusted the execution of their plans entirely to mer¬ 
cenary troops. 



SECT. II. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


343 


teach the Euro- This innovation in the military sys- 

orlmportance of tem was quickly followed by another 
mtantr> m war. w j,j c ]j the custom of employing Swiss 

in the Italian wars was the occasion of introducing. 
The arms and discipline of the Swiss were different 
from those of other European nations. During their 
long and violent struggles in defence of their liber¬ 
ties against the house of Austria, whose armies, 
like those of other considerable princes, consisted 
chiefly of heavy-armed cavalry, the Swiss found 
that their poverty, and the small number of gentle¬ 
men residing in their country, at that time barren 
and ill cultivated, put it out of their power to bring 
into the field any body of horse capable of facing 
the enemy. Necessity compelled them to place all 
their confidence in infantry ; and in order to render 
it capable of withstanding the shock of cavalry, 
they gave the soldiers breastplates and helmets as 
defensive armour, together with long spears, hal¬ 
berds, and heavy swords, as weapons of offence. 
They formed them into large battalions, ranged in 
deep and close array, so that they could present on 
every side a formidable front to the enemy. k The 
men at arms could make no impression on the solid 
strength of such a body. It repulsed the Austrians 
in all their attempts to conquer Swisserland. It 
broke the Burgundian gendarmerie, which was 
scarcely inferior to that of France, either in number 
or reputation ; and when first called to act in Italy, 
it bore down, by its irresistible force, every enemy 
that attempted to oppose it. These repeated proofs 
of the decisive effect of infantry, exhibited on such 
conspicuous occasions, restored that service to re¬ 
putation, and gradually re-established the opinion, 
which had been long exploded, of its superior im¬ 
portance in the operations of war. But the glory 
which the Swiss had acquired having inspired them 
with such high ideas of their own prowess and con¬ 
sequence as frequently rendered them mutinous and 
insolent, the princes who employed them became 
weary of depending on the caprice of foreign mer¬ 
cenaries, and began to turn their attention towards 
the improvement of their national infantry. 

... The German powers having the com- 

National infan- * n 

try established in mand of men whom nature has endow- 
Germany; 

ed with that steady courage and per¬ 
severing strength which forms them to be soldiers, 
soon modelled their troops in such a manner that 
they vied with the Swiss both in discipline and 
valour. 

The French monarchs, though more 
slowly and with greater difficulty, ac¬ 
customed the impetuous spirit of their people to 
subordination and discipline ; and were at such 
pains to render their national infantry respectable, 
that as early as the reign of Louis XII. several gen¬ 
tlemen of high rank so far abandoned their ancient 
ideas as to condescend to enter into that service. 1 

The Spaniards, whose situation made 
it difficult to employ any other than 


in France. 


in Spain. 


their national troops in the southern parts of Italy, 
which was the chief scene of their operations in 
that country, not only adopted the Swiss discipline, 
but improved upon it, by mingling a proper number 
of soldiers armed with heavy muskets in their bat¬ 
talions ; and thus formed that famous body of in¬ 
fantry which, during a century and a half, was the 
admiration and terror of all Europe. The Italian 
states gradually diminished the number of their 
cavalry, and, in imitation of their more powerful 
neighbours, brought the strength of their armies to 
consist in foot soldiers. From this period the na¬ 
tions of Europe have carried on war with forces 
more adapted to every species of service, more capa¬ 
ble of acting in every country, and better fitted both 
for making conquests and for preserving them. 

As their efforts in Italy led the people m 

J . 1 he Italian wars 

of Europe to these improvements in the occasion an in- 
1 1 _ crease of the 

arts of war, they gave them likewise public revenues 

. in Europe. 

the first idea of the expense with which 
it is accompanied when extensive or of long con¬ 
tinuance, and accustomed every nation to the bur¬ 
then of such impositions as are necessary for sup¬ 
porting it. While the feudal policy subsisted in 
full vigour, while armies were composed of military 
vassals, called forth to attack some neighbouring 
power, and to perform, in a short campaign, the ser¬ 
vices which they owed to their sovereign, the ex¬ 
pense of war was extremely moderate. A small 
subsidy enabled a prince to begin and to finish his 
greatest military operations. But when Italy be¬ 
came the theatre on which the powers of Europe 
contended for superiority, the preparations requi¬ 
site for such a distant expedition, the pay of armies 
kept constantly on foot, their subsistence in a foreign 
country, the sieges to be undertaken, and the towns 
to be defended, swelled the charges of war im¬ 
mensely, and, by creating demands unknown in less 
active times, multiplied taxes in every kingdom. 
The progress of ambition, however, was so rapid, 
and princes extended their operations so fast, that 
it was impossible at first to establish funds propor¬ 
tional to the increase of expense which these occa¬ 
sioned. When Charles VIII. invaded Naples, the 
sums requisite for carrying on that enterprise so far 
exceeded those which France had been accustomed 
to contribute for the support of government, that 
before he reached the frontiers of Italy his trea¬ 
sury was exhausted, and the domestic resources 
of which his extensive prerogative gave him the 
command were at an end. As he durst not venture 
to lay any new imposition on his people, oppressed 
already with the weight of unusual burthens, the 
only expedient that remained was, to borrow of the 
Genoese as much money as might enable him to con¬ 
tinue Ins march But he could not obtain a suffi¬ 
cient sum without consenting to pay annually the 
exorbitant interest of forty-tw o livres for every hun¬ 
dred that he received. m We may observe the same 
disproportion between the efforts and revenues of 


k Machiavel’s Art of War, b. ii. chap. ii. p. 451. 


I Brant, t. x. p, 18. Mem. de Fleur. 113. m Mem. de Com. 1. vii. c. 5. p. 440. 



H44 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. II. 


other princes his contemporaries. From this period 
taxes went on increasing; and during the reign of 
Charles V. such sums were levied in every state as 
would have appeared enormous at the close of the 
fifteenth century, and gradually prepared the way 
for the still more exorbitant exactions of modern 


times. 


The league of The transaction previous to the 
important a occur- reign of Charles V. that merits atten- 
rence - tion on account of its influence upon 

the state of Europe, is the league of Cambray. To 
humble the republic of Venice, and to divide its 
teiritories, was the object of all the powers who 
united in this confederacy. The civil constitution 
of Venice, established on a firm basis, had suffered 
no considerable alteration for several centuries ; 
during which the senate conducted its affairs by 
maxims of policy no less prudent than vigorous, 
and adhered to these with an uniform consistent 
spirit, which gave that commonwealth great ad¬ 
vantage over other states, whose views and mea¬ 
sures changed as often as the form of their govern¬ 
ment, or the persons who administered it. By 
these unintermitted exertions of wisdom and valour, 
the Venetians enlarged the dominions of their 
commonwealth, until it became the most consider¬ 
able power in Italy ; while their extensive com¬ 
merce, the useful and curious manufactures which 
they carried on, together with the large share which 
they had acquired of the lucrative commerce with 
the east, rendered Venice the most opulent state in 
Europe. 


.. The power of the Venetians was the 

j he motives of it. * ... 

object of terror to their Italian neigh¬ 
bours. Their wealth was viewed with envy by the 
greatest monarchs, who could not vie with many of 
their private citizens in the magnificence of their 
buildings, in the richness of their dress and furni¬ 
ture, or in splendour and elegance of living. 11 Julius 
II., whose ambition was superior and his abilities 
equal to those of any pontiff who ever sat on the 
papal throne, conceived the idea of this league 
against the Venetians, and endeavoured, by apply¬ 
ing to those passions which I have mentioned, to 
persuade other princes to join in it. By working 
upon the fears of the Italian powers, and upon the 
avarice of several monarchs beyond the Alps, he in¬ 
duced them, in concurrence with other causes which 
it is not my province to explain, to form one of the 
most powerful confederacies that Europe had ever 
beheld, against those haughty republicans. 

., The emperor, the king of France, the 

The rapid pro- 

F-der tes the con king °f Aragon, and the pope, were 

principals in the league of Cambray, 
to which almost all the princes of Italy acceded, the 
least considerable of them hoping for some share in 
the spoils of a state which they deemed to be now 
devoted to destruction. The Venetians might have 
diverted this storm, or have broken its force : but 
with a presumptuous rashness to which there is 


n Heliani Oratio apud Goldasturn in Polit. Imperial, p. 980. 


nothing similar in the course of their history, they 
waited its approach. The impetuous valour of the 
French rendered ineffectual all their precautions 
for the safety of the republic ; and the fatal battle 
of Ghiarraddada entirely ruined the army on which 
they relied for defence. Julius seized all the towns 
which they held in the ecclesiastical territories. 
Ferdinand re-annexed the towns of which they had 
got possession on the coast of Calabria, to his Nea¬ 
politan dominions. Maximilian, at the head of a 
powerful army, advanced towards Venice on the 
one side. The French pushed their conquests on 
the other. The Venetians, surrounded by so many 
enemies, and left without one ally, sunk from the 
height of presumption to the depths of despair; 
abandoned all their territories on the continent, 
and shut themselves up in their capital, as their last 
refuge, and the only place which they hoped to 
preserve. 

This rapid success, however, proved Division arises 
fatal to the confederacy. The mem- among tim¬ 
bers of it, whose union continued while they were 
engaged in seizing their prey, began to feel their 
ancient jealousies and animosities revive as soon as 
they had a prospect of dividing it. When the Ve¬ 
netians observed these symptoms of distrust and 
alienation, a ray of hope broke in upon them ; the 
spirit natural to their councils returned; they re¬ 
sumed such wisdom and firmness as made some 
atonement for their former imprudence and dejec¬ 
tion ; they recovered part of the territory which they 
had lost; they appeased the pope and Ferdinand 
by well-timed concessions in their favour ; and at 
length dissolved the confederacy, which had brought 
their commonwealth to the brink of ruin. 

Julius, elated with beholding the 
effects of a league which he himself their policy and 
had planned, and imagining that no- ambltl0n * 
thing was too arduous for him to undertake, con- 
conceived the idea of expelling every foreign power 
out of Italy, and bent all the force of his mind 
towards executing a scheme so well suited to his 
enterprising genius. He directed his first attack 
against the French, who, on many accounts, were 
more odious to the Italians than any of the foreign¬ 
ers who had acquired dominion in their country. 
By his activity and address, he prevailed on most of 
the powers who had joined in the league of Cam¬ 
bray, to turn their arms against the king of France, 
their former ally ; and engaged Henry VIII., who 
had lately ascended the throne of England, to fa¬ 
vour their operations, by invading France. Louis 
XII. resisted all the efforts of this formidable and 
unexpected confederacy with undaunted fortitude. 
Hostilities were carried on, during several cam¬ 
paigns, in Italy, on the frontiers of Spain, and 
Picardy, with alternate success. Exhausted, at 
length, by the variety as well as extent of his ope¬ 
rations ; unable to withstand a confederacy which 
brought against him superior force, conducted w ith 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


345 


wisdom and acting with perseverance, Louis found 
it necessary to conclude separate treaties of peace 
with his enemies; and the war terminated with the 
loss of every thing which the French had acquired 
in Italy, except the castle of Milan, and a few in¬ 
considerable towns in that duchy. 

By this the inter- The various negociations carried on 
European nations during this busy period, and the dif- 
mcreases. ferent combinations formed among 

powers hitherto little connected with each other, 
greatly increased that intercourse among the nations 
of Europe, which I have mentioned as one effect of 
the events in the fifteenth century ; while the great¬ 
ness of the objects at which different nations aimed, 
the distant expeditions which they undertook, as 
well as the length and obstinacy of the contest in 
which they engaged, obliged them to exert them¬ 
selves with a vigour and perseverance unknown in 
the preceding ages. 

Those active scenes which the fol- 
pared for the lowing history will exhibit, as well as 

transactions of . . 

the sixteenth cen- the variety and importance of those 
transactions which distinguish the pe¬ 
riod to which it extends, are not to be ascribed 
solely to the ambition, to the abilities, or to the 
rivalship of Charles V. and of Francis I. The king¬ 
doms of Europe had arrived at such a degree of im¬ 
provement in the internal administration of govern¬ 
ment, and princes had acquired such command of 
the national force which was to be exerted in 
foreign wars, that they were in a condition to en¬ 
large the sphere of their operations, to multiply 
their claims and pretensions, and to increase the 
vigour of their efforts. Accordingly the sixteenth 
century opened with the certain prospect of its 
abounding in great and interesting events. 


SECTION III. 


View of the political constitution of the principal 
States in Europe at the commencement of the six¬ 
teenth Century. 

Having thus enumerated the prin- 
\ariety^iu^the cipal causes and events, the influence 

the different na- of which was felt in every part of Eu- 
tionsof Luiope. rQ p e ^ an( j contributed either to im¬ 
prove internal order and police in its various states, 
or to enlarge the sphere of their activity, by giving 
them more entire command of the force with which 
foreign operations are carried on, nothing further 
seems requisite for preparing my readers to enter, 
with full information, upon perusing the history of 
Charles V., but to give a view of the political con¬ 
stitution and form of civil government in each of 
the nations which acted any considerable part dur¬ 
ing that period. For as the institutions and events 
which I have endeavoured to illustrate, formed the 


people of Europe to resemble each other, and con¬ 
ducted them from barbarism to refinement, in the 
same path and by nearly equal steps, there were 
other circumstances which occasioned a difference 
in their political establishments, and gave rise to 
those peculiar modes of government, which have 
produced such variety in the character and genius 
of nations. 

It is no less necessary to become ac¬ 
quainted with the latter, than to have pUin S the y state e of 
contemplated the former. Without a Charles v^began 
distinct knowledge of the peculiar form hls rel ° n ’ 
and genius of civil government in each state, a great 
part of its transactions must appear altogether 
mysterious and inexplicable. The historians of 
particular countries, as they seldom extended 
their views further than to the amusement or in¬ 
struction of their fellow-citizens, by whom they 
might presume that all their domestic customs and 
institutions were perfectly understood, have often 
neglected to descend into such details with respect 
to these, as are sufficient to convey to foreigners 
full light and information concerning the occur¬ 
rences which they relate. But a history which 
comprehends the transactions of so many different 
countries would be extremely imperfect without a 
previous survey of the constitution and political 
state of each. It is from his knowledge of these 
that the reader must draw those principles which 
will enable him to judge with discernment and to 
decide with certainty concerning the conduct of 
nations. 

A minute detail, however, of the peculiar forms 
and regulations in every country, would lead to de¬ 
ductions of immeasurable length. To sketch out, 
the great lines which distinguish and characterize 
each government, is all that the nature of my pre¬ 
sent work will admit of, and all that is necessary 
to illustrate the events which it records. 

At the opening of the sixteenth The state of 
century, the political aspect of Italy ltaly * 
was extremely different from that of any other part of 
Europe. Instead of those extensive monarchies which 
occupied the rest of the continent, that delightful 
country was parcelled out among many small states, 
each of which possessed sovereign and independent 
jurisdiction. The only monarchy in Italy was that 
of Naples. The dominion of the popes was of a 
peculiar species, to which there is nothing similar 
either in ancient or modern times. In Venice, 
Florence, and Genoa, a republican form of govern¬ 
ment was established. Milan was subject to sove¬ 
reigns who had assumed no higher title than that 
of dukes. 

The pope was the first of these Thepapaldig . 
powers in dignity, and not the least fn^urope 8 * 168 * 
considerable by the extent of his ter¬ 
ritories. In the primitive church, the jurisdiction 
of bishops was equal and co-ordinate. They derived, 
perhaps, some degree of consideration from the 
dignity of the see in which they presided. They 




34G 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


possessed, however, no real authority or pre-emi¬ 
nence but what they acquired by superior abilities 
or superior sanctity. As Rome had 

gress of the papal so long been the seat of empire, and 
power. the ca pit a i 0 f the world, its bishops 

were on that account entitled to respect; they re¬ 
ceived it; but. during several ages, they received 
and even claimed nothing more. From these hum¬ 
ble beginnings they advanced w ith such adventurous 
and well-directed ambition, that they established a 
spiritual dominion over the minds and sentiments 
of men, to which all Europe submitted with implicit 
obedience. Their claim of universal jurisdiction, 
as heads of the church, and their pretensions to in¬ 
fallibility in their decisions, as successors of St. 
Peter, are as chimerical as they are repugnant to 
the genius of the Christian religion. But on these 
foundations the superstition and credulity of man¬ 
kind enabled them to erect an amazing superstruc¬ 
ture. In all ecclesiastical controversies their de¬ 
cisions were received as the infallible oracles of 
truth. Nor was the plenitude of their power con¬ 
fined solely to what was spiritual ; they dethroned 
monarchs ; disposed of crowns; absolved subjects 
from the obedience due to their sovereigns ; and 
laid kingdoms under interdicts. There was not a 
state in Europe which had not been disquieted by 
their ambition : there was not a throne which they 
had not shaken ; nor a prince who did not tremble 
at their power. 

. .. . Nothing was wanting to render this 

I he territories ° ° 

of the popes in- empire absolute, and to establish it on 

adequate to sup- r 

uafjurisdiction" ^ Ie ruins of all civil authority, but that 
the popes should have possessed such 
a degree of temporal power as was sufficient to 
second and enforce their spiritual decrees. Hap¬ 
pily for mankind, at the time when their spiritual 
jurisdiction was most extensive and most revered, 
their secular dominion was extremely limited. They 
were powerful pontiffs, formidable at a distance ; 
but they were petty princes, without any consider¬ 
able domestic force. They had early endeavoured, 
indeed, to acquire territory by arts similar to those 
which they had employed in extending their spirit¬ 
ual jurisdiction. Under pretence of a donation from 
Constantine, and of another from Charlemagne or 
his father Pepin, they attempted to take possession 
of some towns adjacent to Rome. But these dona¬ 
tions were fictitious, and availed them little. The 
benefactions for which they w r ere indebted to the 
credulity of the Norman adventurers who conquered 
Naples, and to the superstition of the countess Ma¬ 
tilda, were real, and added ample domains to the 
holy see. 

Their authority But the power of the popes did not 
dtories extreme- increase in proportion to the extent of 
ly limited, territory which they had acquired. In 

the dominions annexed to the holy see, as well as 
in those subject to other princes in Italy, the sove- 

a Otto Frisingencis de Gestis Frider. Imp. lib. ii. cap. 10. 


reign of a state was far from having the command 
of the force which it contained. During the turbu¬ 
lence and confusion of the middle ages, the power¬ 
ful nobility or leaders of popular factions in Italy 
had seized the government of different towns; and, 
after strengthening their fortifications, and taking 
a body of mercenaries into pay, they aspired at in¬ 
dependence. The territory which the church had 
gained was filled with petty lords of this kind, who 
left the pope hardly the shadow of domestic 
authority. 

As these usurpations almost anni- it was drcum- 
hilated the papal power in the greater amtdtionofdU 
part of the towns subject to the church, J{omHn barons; 
the Roman barons frequently disputed the authority 
of the popes, even in Rome itself. In the twelfth 
century, an opinion began to be propagated, “ That 
as the function of ecclesiastics was purely spiritual, 
they ought to possess no property, and to claim no 
temporal jurisdiction ; but, according to the lauda¬ 
ble example of their predecessors in the primitive 
church, should subsist wholly upon their tithes, or 
upon the voluntary oblations of the people .” 4 This 
doctrine being addressed to men who had beheld 
the scandalous manner in which the avarice and 
ambition of the clergy had prompted them to con¬ 
tend for wealth, and to exercise power, they listened 
to it with fond attention. The Roman barons, who 
had felt most sensibly the rigour of ecclesiastical 
oppression, adopted these sentiments with such 
ardour, that they set themselves instantly to shake 

off the yoke. They endeavoured to 

, . „ . , A. D. 1148. 

restore some linage of their ancient 

liberty, by reviving the institution of the Roman 
senate, in which they vested supreme authority; 
committing the executive power sometimes to one 
chief senator, sometimes to two, and sometimes to 
a magistrate dignified with the name of The Patri¬ 
cian. The popes exerted themselves with vigour 
in order to check this dangerous encroachment on 
their jurisdiction. One of them finding all his en¬ 
deavours ineffectual, was so much mortified, that 
extreme grief cut short his days. Another having 
ventured to attack the senators at the head of some 
armed men, was mortally wounded in the fray. b 
During a considerable period, the power of the 
popes, before which the greatest monarchs in Europe 
trembled, was circumscribed within such narrow 
limits in their own capital, that they durst hardly 
exert any act of authority without the permission 
and concurrence of the senate. 

Encroachments were made upon the 

and by the tur- 

papal sovereignty, not only by the buienceof the 
„ , .... lloman people, 

usurpations of the Roman nobility, from a. d. 1308 

J to A. L). 1377. 

but by the mutinous spirit of the peo¬ 
ple. During seventy years of the fourteenth cen¬ 
tury, the popes fixed their residence in Avignon. 
The inhabitants of Rome, accustomed to consider 
themselves as the descendants of the people who 

b Otto Trising. Chron. lib. vii. can. 27, 31. Id. de Gest. Frid. lib. l.c. 
27. Muratori Annali d’Italia, vol. ix. 398, 404. 



SECT. III. 


347 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


had conquered the world and had given laws to it, 
were too high-spirited to submit with patience to 
the delegated authority of those persons to whom 
the popes committed the government of the city. 
On many occasions they opposed the execution of 
the papal mandates, and on the slightest appear¬ 
ance of innovation or oppression, they were ready 
to take arms in defence of their own immunities. 
Towards the middle of the fourteenth century, being 
instigated by Nicolas Rienzo, a man of low birth 
and a seditious spirit, but of popular eloquence and 
an enterprising ambition, they drove all the nobility 
out of the city, established a democratical form of 
government, elected Rienzo tribune of the people, 
and invested him with extensive authority. But 
though the frantic proceedings of the tribune soon 
overturned this new system, though the government 
of Rome was reinstated in its ancient form, yet 
every fresh attack contributed to weaken the papal 
jurisdiction ; and the turbulence of the people con¬ 
curred with the spirit of independence among the 
nobility, in circumscribing it more and more. 0 
Gregory VII. and other domineering pontiffs ac¬ 
complished those great things which rendered them 
so formidable to the emperors with whom they con¬ 
tended, not by the force of their arms, or by the ex¬ 
tent of their power, but by the dread of their spiritual 
censures, and by the effect of their intrigues, which 
excited rivals and called forth enemies against every 
prince whom they wished to depress or to destroy. 

Many attempts were made by the 

Alexander VI. J , ,, , 

and Julius ii. popes, not only to humble those 

render the popes . 

considerable usurpers who lorded it over the cities 

princes. 

in the ecclesiastical state, but to break 
the turbulent spirit of the Roman people. These 
were long unsuccessful. But at last Alexander VI., 
with a policy no less artful than flagitious, subdued 
or extirpated most of the great Roman barons, and 
rendered the popes masters of their own dominions. 
The enterprising ambition of Julius II. added con¬ 
quests of no inconsiderable value to the patrimony 
of St. Peter. Thus the popes by degrees became 
powerful temporal princes. Their territories in the 
age of Charles V. were of greater extent than at 
present; their country seems to have been better 
cultivated, as well as more populous; and as they 
drew large contributions from every part of Europe, 
their revenues far exceeded those of the neighbour¬ 
ing powers, and rendered them capable of more 
sudden and vigorous efforts. 

Defects in the na- The genius of the papal government, 
ticai dominion, however, was better adapted to the 
exercise of spiritual dominion than of temporal 
power. With respect to the former, all its maxims 
were steady and invariable. Every new pontiff* 
adopted the plan of his predecessor. By education 
and habit, ecclesiastics were so formed that the 
character of the individual was sunk in that of the 
profession, and the passions of the man were sacri- 

c 11istoire Florentine de Giov. Villani, lib. xii .c. 89, 104. ap. Murat. 
Script. Rerum Ital. vol. xiii. Vita de Cola di Rienzo, ap. Murat. 


ficed to the interest and honour of the order. The 
hands which held the reins of administration might 
change, but the spirit which conducted them was 
always the same. While the measures of other 
governments fluctuated, and the objects at which 
they aimed varied, the church kept one end in view; 
and to this unrelaxing constancy of pursuit it was 
indebted for its success in the boldest attempts ever 
made by human ambition. 

But in their civil administration the popes fol¬ 
lowed no such uniform or consistent plan. There, 
as in other governments, the character, the passions, 
and the interest of the person who had the supreme 
direction of affairs, occasioned a variation both in 
objects and measures. As few prelates reached the 
summit of ecclesiastical dignity until they were far 
advanced in life, a change of masters was more 
frequent in the papal dominions than in other 
states, and the political system was, of course, less 
stable and permanent. Every pope was eager to 
make the most of the short period during which he 
had the prospect of enjoying power, in order to 
aggrandize his own family, and to attain his private 
ends ; and it was often the first business of his suc¬ 
cessor to undo all that he had done, and to overturn 
w hat he had established. 

As ecclesiastics were trained to pacific arts, and 
early initiated in the mysteries of that policy by 
which the court of Rome extended or supported its 
spiritual dominion, the popes in the conduct of their 
temporal aff airs were apt to follow the same maxims, 
and in all their measures were more ready to employ 
the refinements of intrigue than the force of arms. 
It was in the papal court that address and subtilty 
in negociation became a science ; and during the 
sixteenth century, Rome was considered as the 
school in which it might be best acquired. 

As the decorum of their ecclesiastical character 
prevented the popes from placing themselves at the 
head of their armies, or from taking the command, 
in person, of the military force in their dominions, 
they were afraid to arm their subjects; and in all 
their operations, whether offensive or defensive, 
they trusted entirely to mercenary troops. 

As their power and dominions could not descend 
to their posterity, the popes were less solicitous than 
other princes to form or to encourage schemes of 
public utility and improvement. Their tenure was 
only for a short life ; present advantage was what 
they chiefly studied ; to squeeze and to amass, ra¬ 
ther than to ameliorate, was their object. They 
erected, perhaps, some work of ostentation to remain 
as a monument of their pontificate ; they found it 
necessary at some times to establish useful institu¬ 
tions in order to soothe and silence the turbulent 
populace of Rome ; but plans of general benefit to 
their subjects, framed with a view to futurity, were 
rarely objects of attention in the papal policy. The 
patrimony of St. Peter was worse governed than 

Antiq. Ital. vol. iii. p. 399, &c. Hist, de Nic. Rienzy, par M. de Bois- 
preaux, p. 91, &c. 



348 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


any part of Europe ; and though a generous pontiff 
might suspend for a little, or counteract, the effects 
of those vices which are peculiar to the adminis¬ 
tration of ecclesiastics, the disease not only remained 
without remedy, but has gone on increasing from 
age to age ; and the decline of the state has kept 
pace with its progress. 

The popes derive One circumstance further concerning 
froni the ^unfon the papal government is so singular as 
and h fempora^au- t° attention. As the spiritual 

thonty. supremacy and temporal power were 

united in one person, and uniformly aided each 
other in their operations, they became so blended 
together that it was difficult to separate them even 
in imagination. The potentates who found it ne¬ 
cessary to oppose the measures which the popes 
pursued as temporal princes, could not easily divest 
themselves of the reverence which they imagined 
to be due to them as heads of the church, and vicars 
of Jesus Christ. It was with reluctance that they 
could be brought to a rupture with the head of the 
church ; they were unwilling to push their opera¬ 
tions against him to extremity; they listened eagerly 
to the first overtures of accommodation, and were 
anxious to procure it almost upon any terms. Their 
consciousness of this encouraged the enterprising 
pontiffs who filled the papal throne about the be¬ 
ginning of the sixteenth century, to engage in 
schemes seemingly the most extravagant. They 
trusted that if their temporal power was not suf¬ 
ficient to carry them through with success, the re¬ 
spect paid to their spiritual dignity would enable 
them to extricate themselves with facility and with 
honour/ 1 But when popes came to take part more 
frequently in the contests among princes, and to 
engage as principals or auxiliaries in every war 
kindled in Europe, this veneration for their sacred 
character began to abate; and striking instances 
will occur in the following history of its being 
almost totally extinct. 

Constitution Of the of a11 the Italian powers, the re- 
wi'th b its nslTnd public of Venice, next to the papal 
progress, see, was mos t connected with the rest 

of Europe. The rise of that commonwealth during 
the inroads of the Huns in the fifth century; the 
singular situation of its capital in the small isles 
of the Adriatic gulf; and the more singular form 
of its civil constitution, are generally known. If 
we view the Venetian government as calculated for 
the order of nobles alone, its institutions may be 
pronounced excellent; the deliberative, legislative, 
and executive powers are so admirably distributed 
and adjusted, that it must be regarded as a perfect 
model of political wisdom. But if we consider it 
as formed for a numerous body of people subject 

d The manner in which Louis XTI. of France undertook and carried on 
war against Julius II. remarkably illustrates this observation. Louis 
solemnly consulted the clergy of France whether it was lawful to take 
arms against a pope who had wantonly kindled war in Europe, and 
whom neither the faith of treaties, nor gratitude for favours received nor 
the decorum of Ins character, could restrain from the most violent actions 
to which the lustot power prompts ambitious princes, though his clergy 
authorized the war, yet Anne of Bretagne, his queen, entertained scruples 
with regard to the lawfulness of it. The king himself, from some super¬ 
stition of the same kind, carried it on faintly : and, upon every fresh ad- 


to its jurisdiction, it will appear a rigid and partial 
aristocracy, which lodges all power in the hands of 
a few members of the community, while it degrades 
and oppresses the rest. 

The spirit of government in a com- 

° Defects m its go- 

monwealth of this species was, of vernment, parti- 

1 cularly with re¬ 

course, timid and jealous. The Ve- spect to its miii 

J . tary operations. 

netian nobles distrusted their own 
subjects, and were afraid of allowing them the use 
of arms. They encouraged among them arts of in¬ 
dustry and commerce; they employed them in 
manufactures and in navigation ; but never admitted 
them into the troops which the state kept in its pay. 
The military force of the republic consisted entirely 
of foreign mercenaries. The command of these 
was never trusted to noble Venetians, lest they 
should acquire such influence over the army as 
might endanger the public liberty, or become ac¬ 
customed to the exercise of such power as would 
make them unwilling to return to the condition of 
private citizens. A soldier of fortune was placed 
at the head of the armies of the commonwealth ; 
and to obtain that honour was the great object of 
the Italian Condottieri, or leaders of bands, wdio, in 
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, made a trade 
of war, and raised and hired out soldiers to different 
states. But the same suspicious policy which in¬ 
duced the Venetians to employ these adventurers, 
prevented their placing entire confidence in them. 
Two noblemen appointed by the senate accompanied 
their army when it took the field, with the appella¬ 
tion of Proveditori , and, like the field-deputies of 
the Dutch republic in latter times, observed all the 
motions of the general, and checked and controlled 
him in all his operations. 

A commonwealth with such civil and military 
institutions was not formed to make conquests. 
While its subjects were disarmed, and its nobles 
excluded from military command, it carried on its 
warlike enterprises with great disadvantage. This 
ought to have taught the Venetians to rest satisfied 
with making self-preservation, and the enjoyment 
of domestic security, the objects of their policy. 
But republics are apt to be seduced by the spirit of 
ambition as well as kings. When the Venetians so 
far forgot the interior defects in their government 
as to aim at extensive conquests, the fatal blow 
which they received in the war excited by the 
league of Cambray, convinced them of the impru¬ 
dence and danger of making violent efforts in 
opposition to the genius and tendency of their 
constitution. 

It is not, however, by its military, but 
by its naval and commercial power, navai'fmtitu/ lts 
that the importance of the Venetian tlons " 

vantage, renewed his propositions of peace. Mezeray Ilist. de France 
fol. edit. 1685, tom. i. 852. 1 shall produce another proof of this reve¬ 
rence for the papal character still more striking. Guicciardini, the most 
sagacious, perhaps, of all modern historians, and the boldest in painting 
the vices and ambition of the popes, represents the death of Migliau a 
Spanish officer who was killed during the siege of Naples, as a punish¬ 
ment inflicted on him by heaven, on account of his having opposed the 
setting of Clement Vll. at liberty. Guic. Historia d’ltalia, Genev 1645 
vol. ii. lib. 18. p. 46?. 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


349 


commonwealth must be estimated. The latter con¬ 
stituted the real force and nerves of the state. The 
jealousy of government did not extend to this de¬ 
partment. Nothing was apprehended from this 
quarter that could prove formidable to liberty. 
The senate encouraged the nobles to trade, and to 
serve on board the lleet. They became merchants 
and admirals: they increased the wealth of their 
country by their industry ; they added to its do¬ 
minions by the valour with which they conducted 
its naval armaments. 

The extent of its Commerce was an inexhaustible 
source of opulence to the Venetians. 
All the nations in Europe depended upon them, 
not only for the commodities of the east, hut for 
various manufactures fabricated by them alone, or 
finished with a dexterity and elegance unknown in 
other countries. From this extensive commerce the 
state derived such immense supplies as concealed 
those vices in its constitution which I have men¬ 
tioned, and enabled it to keep on foot such armies 
as were not only an over-match for the force which 
any of its neighbours could bring into the field, but 
were sufficient to contend, for some time, with the 
powerful monarchs beyond the Alps. During its 
struggles with the princes united against it by the 
league of Cambray, the republic levied sums which 
even in the present age would be deemed considera¬ 
ble; and while the king of France paid the exorbi¬ 
tant interest which I have mentioned for the money 
advanced to him, and the emperor, eager to borrow, 
but destitute of credit, was known by the name of 
Maximilian the Moneyless , the Venetians raised what¬ 
ever sums they pleased, at the moderate premium 
of five in the hundred. e 

The constitution The constitution of Florence was per- 
ot Horence. f e ctly the reverse of the Venetian. 

It partook as much of democratical turbulence and 
licentiousness as the other of aristocratical rigour. 
Florence, however, was a commercial, not a mili¬ 
tary, democracy. The nature of its institutions was 
favourable to commerce, and the genius of the peo¬ 
ple was turned towards it. The vast wealth which 
the family of Medici had acquired by trade, to¬ 
gether with the magnificence, the generosity, and 
the virtue of the first Cosmo, gave him such an 
ascendant over the affections as well as the councils 
of his countrymen, that though the forms of popu¬ 
lar government were preserved, though the various 
departments of administration were filled by ma¬ 
gistrates distinguished by the ancient names, and 
elected in the usual manner, he was in reality the 
head of the commonwealth ; and in the station of a 
private citizen, he possessed supreme authority. 
Cosmo transmitted a considerable degree of this 
power to his descendants ; and during the greater 
part of the fifteenth century, the political state of 
Florence was extremely singular. The appearance 
of republican government subsisted, the people 


were passionately attached to it, and on some oc¬ 
casions contended warmly for their privileges, and 
yet they permitted a single family to assume the 
direction of their affairs, almost as absolutely as if 
it had been formally invested with sovereign power. 
The jealousy of the Medici concurred with the 
commercial spirit of the Florentines, in putting the 
military force of the republic upon the same footing 
with that of the other Italian states." The troops 
which the Florentines employed in their wars, con¬ 
sisted almost entirely of mercenary soldiers, fur¬ 
nished by the Condottieri, or leaders of bands, whom 
they took into their pay. 

In the kingdom of Naples, to which 

The constitution 

the sovereignty of the island ot ©icily of the kingdom of 

Naples. 

was annexed, the feudal government 
was established in the same form, and with the 
same defects, as in the other nations of Europe. 
The frequent and violent revolutions which hap¬ 
pened in that monarchy had considerably increased 
these defects, and rendered them more intolerable. 
The succession to the crown of Naples had been so 
often interrupted or altered, and so many princes 
of foreign blood had, at different periods, obtain¬ 
ed possession of the throne, that the Neapolitan 
nobility had lost, in a great measure, that attach¬ 
ment to the family of their sovereigns, as well as 
that reverence for their persons, which in other feu¬ 
dal kingdoms contributed to set some bounds to the 
encroachments of the barons upon the royal prero¬ 
gative and power. At the same time, the different 
pretenders to the crown being obliged to court the 
barons who adhered to them, and on whose support 
they depended for the success of their claims, they 
augmented their privileges by liberal concessions, 
and connived at their boldest usurpations. Even 
when seated on the throne, it was dangerous for a 
prince who held his sceptre by a disputed title, to 
venture on any step towards extending his own 
power or circumscribing that of the nobles. 

From all these causes the kingdom of Naples was 
the most turbulent of any in Europe, and the au¬ 
thority of its monarchs the least extensive. Though 
Ferdinand I., who began his reign in the year one 
thousand four hundred and sixty-eight, attempted 
to break the power of the aristocracy ; though his 
son Alphonso, that he might crush it at once by 
cutting off the leaders of greatest reputation and 
influence among the Neapolitan barons, ventured 
to commit one of the most perfidious and cruel ac¬ 
tions recorded in history ; the order of 
nobles was nevertheless more exaspe¬ 
rated than humbled by their measures/ The re¬ 
sentment which these outrages excited was so vio¬ 
lent, and the power of the malcontent nobles was 
still so formidable, that to these may be ascribed, 
in a great degree, the ease and rapidity with 
which Charles VIII. conquered the kingdom of 
Naples/ 


A. D. 1487. 


e Hist, de la T.ijrue fait a Cambray, par M. l’Abbedu Bos, lib. v. San- 
di Storia Civil Veneziana, lib. viii. c. 16. p. 891, <Scc. 


f Giannone, book xxviii. chap. 2. vol. ii. p. 410, &c. 
g Id. ibid. p. 414. 



3,00 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


A. D. 1254. 


The event that gave rise to the vio- 

State of the dis- , , . 

lnite concerning lent contests concerning the succession 
cess ion '* to °the U c to the crown of Naples and Sicily, 
which brought so many calamities 
upon these kingdoms, happened in the thirteenth 
century. Upon the death of the emperor Frederic 
II., Manfred, his natural son, aspiring to the Nea¬ 
politan throne, murdered his brother 
the emperor Conrad, (if we may be¬ 
lieve contemporary historians,) and by that crime 
obtained possession of it. h The popes, from their 
implacable enmity to the house of Suabia, not only 
refused to recognise Manfred’s title, but endea¬ 
voured to excite against him some rival capable of 
wresting the sceptre out of his hand. Charles, 
count of Anjou, the brother of St. Louis, king of 
France, undertook this ; and he received from the 
popes the investiture of the kingdom of Naples and 
Sicily as a fief held of the holy see. The count of 
Anjou’s efforts were crowned with success ; Man¬ 
fred fell in battle ; and he took possession of the 
vacant throne. But soon after, Charles sullied the 
glory which he had acquired, by the injustice and 
cruelty with which he put to death, by the hands of 
the executioner, Conradin, the last prince of the 
house of Suabia, and the rightful heir of the Nea¬ 
politan crown. That gallant young prince asserted 
his title, to the last, with a courage worthy of a 
better fate. On the scaffold he declared Peter, at 
that time prince, and soon after king, of Aragon, 
who had married Manfred’s only daughter, his heir; 
and throwing his glove among the people, he en¬ 
treated that it might be carried to Peter, as the 
symbol by which he conveyed all his rights to him. 1 
The desire of avenging the insult offered to royalty 
by the death of Conradin, concurred with his own 
ambition in prompting Peter to take arms in sup¬ 
port of the title which he had acquired. From that 
period, during almost two centuries, the houses of 
Aragon and Anjou contended for the crown of Na¬ 
ples. Amidst a succession of revolutions more 
rapid, as w ell as of crimes more atrocious, than what 
occur in the history of almost any other kingdom, 
monarchs, sometimes of the Aragonese line, and 
sometimes of the Anjevin, were seated on the throne. 

At length the princes of the house of 
Aragon obtained such firm possession 
of this long-disputed inheritance, that they trans¬ 
mitted it quietly to a bastard branch of their 
family. k 

Pretensions of The race of the Anjevin kings, how- 
Spaiiis e h nL mo a " d ey er, was not extinct; nor had they 
relinquished their title to the Neapo¬ 
litan crown. The count of Maine and Provence, 
the heir of this family, conveyed all his rights and 
pretensions to Louis XI. and to his successors. 
a. d. 1494 . Charles VIII., as I have already re¬ 
lated, crossed the Alps at the head of 

h Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ i 481. Giannone, book xviii. C h. v 
l Giannone, book xix. ch. 4. §. 2. 
k Id. book xxvi. ch. 2 


A. D. 1434. 


A. D. 1501. 


a powerful army, in order to prosecute his claim 
with a degree of vigour far superior to that which 
the princes from whom he derived it had been ca¬ 
pable of exerting. The rapid progress of his arms 
in Italy, as well as the short time during which he 
enjoyed the fruits of his success, have already been 
mentioned, and are well known. Frederic the heir 
of the illegitimate branch of the Aragonese family, 
soon recovered the throne of which Charles had 
dispossessed him. Louis XII. and Ferdinand of 
Aragon united against this prince, whom both, 
though for different reasons, considered as an 
usurper, and agreed to divide his dominions be¬ 
tween them. Frederic, unable to re¬ 
sist the combined monarchs, each of 
whom was far superior in power, resigned his scep¬ 
tre. Louis and Ferdinand, though they had con¬ 
curred in making the conquest, differed about the 
division of it; and from allies became enemies. 
But Gonsalvo de Cordova, partly by the exertion of 
such military talents as gave him a just title to the 
appellation of the great captain , which the Spanish 
historians have bestowed upon him ; and partly by 
such shameless and frequent violations of the most 
solemn engagements as leave an indelible stain on 
his memory, stripped the French of all that they 
possessed in the Neapolitan dominions, and secured 
the peaceable possession of them to his master. 
These, together with his other kingdoms, Ferdinand 
transmitted to his grandson Charles V., whose right 
to possess them, if not altogether uncontrovertible, 
seems, at least, to be as well founded as that wdiich 
the kings of France set up in opposition to it. 1 

There is nothing in the political con- stateofthe duchy 
stitution or interior government of the and the 

duchy of Milan so remarkable as to S10nt0it - 
require a particular explanation. But as the right 
of succession to that fertile province was the cause 
or the pretext of almost all the wars carried on in 
Italy during the reign of Charles V., it is necessary 
to trace these disputes to their source, and to in¬ 
quire into the pretensions of the various competitors. 

During the long and fierce contests Ri , e „ dprw;TOi 

excited in Italy by the violence of the concernino P thiI s 
Guelf and Ghibelline factions, the a. d. 1354 . 
family of Visconti rose to great eminence among 
their fellow-citizens of Milan. As the Visconti 
had adhered uniformly to the Ghibelline or imperial 
interest, they, by way of recompence, received, 
from one emperor, the dignity of perpetual vicars 
of the empire in Italy : m they were created, by ano¬ 
ther, dukes of Milan; and, together 
with that title, the possession of the 
city and its territories was bestowed upon them 
as an hereditary fief." John, king of France, among 
other expedients for raising money wdiich the ca¬ 
lamities of his reign obliged him to employ, conde¬ 
scended to give one of his daughters in marriage to 

1 Droits de Rois de France an Royaume de Sicile. Mem. de Comin 
edit, de Fresnoy, tom. iv. part 11. p. 5 . 
m Petrarch Foist, ap. Struv. Corp. i. 625. 
n Leibnit. Cod. Jur. Gent. Diplom. vol. i. 257. 


A. D. 1395. 




SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


351 


John Galeazzo Visconti, the first duke of Milan, 
from whom he had received considerable sums. 
Valentine Visconti, one of the children of this mar¬ 
riage, married her cousin, Louis, duke of Orleans, 
the only brother of Charles VI. In their marriage- 
contract, which the pope confirmed, it was stipulated 
that upon failure of heirs-male in the family of Vis¬ 
conti, the duchy of Milan should descend to the 
posterity of Valentine and the duke of Orleans. 
That event took place. In the year one thousand 
four hundred and forty-seven, Philip Maria, the last 
prince of the ducal family of Visconti, died. Va¬ 
rious competitors claimed the succession. Charles, 
duke of Orleans, pleaded his right to it, founded on 
the marriage-contract of his mother with Valentine 
Visconti. Alphonso, king of Naples, claimed it in 
consequence of a will made by Philip Maria in his 
favour. The emperor contended, that upon the ex¬ 
tinction of male issue in the family of Visconti, the 
fief returned to the superior lord, and ought to be 
reannexed to the empire. The people of Milan, 
smitten with the love of liberty which in that age 
prevailed among the Italian states, declared against 
the dominion of any master, and established a re¬ 
publican form of government. 

But during the struggle among so many compe¬ 
titors, the prize for which they contended was seized 
by one from whom none of them apprehended any 
danger. Francis Sforza, the natural son of Jaco- 
muzzo Sforza, whom his courage and abilities had 
elevated from the rank of a peasant to be one of the 
most eminent and powerful of the Italian Condottieri , 
having succeeded his father in the command of the 
adventurers who followed his standard, had married 
a natural daughter of the last duke of Milan. Upon 
this shadow of a title Francis founded his preten¬ 
sions to the duchy, which he supported with such 
talents and valour as placed him at last on the 
ducal throne. The virtues as well as abilities with 
which he governed inducing his subjects to forget 
the defects in his title, he transmitted his dominions 
quietly to his son ; from whom they descended to his 
grandson. He was murdered by his grand-uncle 
Ludovico, surnamed the Moor, who took possession 
of the duchy ; and his right to it was confirmed by 
the investiture of the emperor Maximilian in the 
year one thousand four hundred and ninety-four . 0 

Louis XI., who took pleasure in depressing the 
princes of the blood, and who admired the political 
abilities of Francis Sforza, wmuld not permit the 
duke of Orleans to take any step in prosecution of 
his right to the duchy of Milan. Ludovico the 
Moor kept up such a close connexion with Charles 
VIII. that, during the greater part of his reign, the 
claim of the family of Orleans continued to lie dor¬ 
mant. But when the crown of France devolved on 
Louis XII. duke of Orleans, he instantly asserted 
the ri-ghts of his family with the ardour which it 
was natural to expect, and marched at the head of 
a powerful army to support them. Ludovico Sforza, 

4 Ripalin Hist. Mediol. lib. vi. G5i. ap. Struv. Corp. i. 930. Du Mont 


A. D. 1512. 


incapable of contending with such a rival, was 
stripped of all his dominions in the space of a few 
days. The king, clad in the ducal robes, entered 
Milan in triumph ; and soon after, Ludovico, hav¬ 
ing been betrayed by the Swiss in his pay, was sent 
a prisoner into France, and shut up in the castle of 
Loches, where he lay unpitied during the remainder 
of his days. In consequence of one of the singular 
revolutions which occur so frequently in the history 
of the Milanese, his son Maximilian Sforza was 
placed on the ducal throne, of which he kept posses¬ 
sion during the reign of Louis XII. But his suc¬ 
cessor Francis I. was too high spirited and enter¬ 
prising tamely to relinquish his title. 

As soon as he was seated upon the 
throne, he prepared to invade the Milanese ; and 
his right of succession to it appears, from this detail, 
to have been more natural and more just than that 
of any other competitor. 

It is unnecessary to enter into any detail with 
respect to the form of government in Genoa, Parma, 
Modena, and the other inferior states of Italy. Their 
names, indeed, will often occur in the following 
history. But the power of these states themselves 
was so inconsiderable, that their fate depended 
little upon their own efforts ; and the frequent re¬ 
volutions which they underw ent were brought about 
rather by the operations of the princes who attacked 
or defended them, than by any thing peculiar in 
their internal constitution. 

Of the great kingdoms on this side 

„ The constitution 

of the Alps, Spam IS one of the most and g 9 vernment 

considerable ; and as it was the here- ° f Spam ' 
ditary domain of Charles V., as well as the chief 
source of his power and wealth, a distinct know¬ 
ledge of its political constitution is of capital im¬ 
portance towards understanding the transactions of 
his reign. 

The Vandals and Goths, who over- conquered by 
turned the Roman power in Spain, the Vandals : 
established a form of government in that country, 
and introduced customs and laws perfectly similar 
to those which were established in the rest of Eu¬ 
rope by the other victorious tribes which acquired 
settlements there. For some time society advanced 
among the new inhabitants of Spain by the same 
steps, and seemed to hold the same course, as in other 
European nations. To this progress a 
sudden stop w as put by the invasion of 
the Saracens or Moors from Africa, 
could not withstand the efforts of their 
enthusiastic valour, which subdued the 
greatest part of Spain w ith the same impetuous ra¬ 
pidity that distinguishes all the operations of their 
arms. The conquerors introduced into the country 
in which they settled, the Mahometan religion, the 
Arabic language, the manners of the east, together 
with that taste for the arts, and that love of elegance 
and splendour, which the Califs had begun to cul¬ 
tivate among their subjects. 

Corps Diplom. tom. iii. p. 333. ibid. 


A. D. 712. 

The Goths 

and by the 
Moors. 



352 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


The cnnstians Such Gothic nobles as disdained to 

ver^dommionTn to the Moorish yoke fled for re- 

Spain. f U ge t0 t j ie inaccessible mountains of 

Asturias. There they comforted themselves with 
enjoying the exercise of the Christian religion, and 
with maintaining the authority of their ancient laws. 
Being joined by many of the boldest and most war¬ 
like among their countrymen, they sallied out upon 
the adjacent settlements of the Moors in small par¬ 
ties ; but venturing only upon short excursions at 
first, they were satisfied with plunder and revenge, 
without thinking of conquest. By degrees their 
strength increased, their views enlarged, a regular 
government was established among them, and they 
began to aim at extending their territories. While 
they pushed on their attacks with the unremitting 
ardour excited by zeal for religion, by the desire of 
vengeanee, and by the hope of rescuing their coun¬ 
try from oppression ; while they conducted their 
operations with the courage natural to men who had 
no other occupation but war, and who w ere strangers 
to all the arts which corrupt or enfeeble the mind; 
the Moors gradually lost many of the advantages to 
which they had been indebted for their first success. 
They threw off all dependence on the Califs ; p they 
neglected to preserve a close connexion with their 
countrymen in Africa ; their empire in Spain was 
split into many small kingdoms; the arts which 
they cultivated, together with the luxury to which 
these gave rise, relaxed in some measure the force 
of their military institutions, and abated the vigour 
of their warlike spirit. The Moors, however, con¬ 
tinued still to be a gallant people, and possessed 
great resources. According to the magnificent style 
of the Spanish historians, eight centuries of almost 
uninterrupted war elapsed, and three thousand 
seven hundred battles were fought, before the last 
of the Moorish kingdoms in Spain 
submitted to the Christian arms. 

_ As the Christians made their con- 

The union of its 

various king- quests upon the Mahometans at vari- 

doms. L 9 

ous periods and under different leaders, 
each formed the territory which he had wrested 
from the common enemy into an independent state. 
Spain was divided into almost as many separate 
kingdoms as it contained provinces ; in each city 
of note a petty monarch established his throne, and 
assumed all the ensigns of royalty. In a series of years 
however, by the usual events of intermarriages, or 
succession, or conquest, all these inferior principali¬ 
ties were annexed to the more powerful kingdoms of 
Castile and of Aragon. At length, by the fortunate 
marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, the former the 
hereditary monarch of Aragon, and the latter raised 
to the throne of Castile by the affection 
of her subjects, all the Spanish crowns 
were united, and descended in the same line. 

Their ancient From this period the political con- 

customs and laws ... .•_ r 0 , 

preserved amidst stitution ot Spain began to assume a 
tions; re\°iu- re g U i ar and uniform appearance; the 

p Jos. Sim. Assemanni Histor. Ital. Scriptores, vol. iii. p. 135. 


1492. 


1481. 


genius of its government may be delineated, and 
the progress of its laws and manners may be 
traced with certainty. Notwithstanding the sin¬ 
gular revolution which the invasion of the Moors 
occasioned in Spain, and the peculiarity of its fate 
in being so long subject to the Mahometan yoke, the 
customs introduced by the Vandals and Goths had 
taken such deep root, and were so thoroughly in¬ 
corporated with the frame of its government, that in 
every province which the Christians recovered from 
the Moors, we find the condition of individuals, as 
well as the political constitution, nearly the same 
as in other nations of Europe. Lands were held 
by the same tenure; justice was dispensed in the 
same form; the same privileges were which ren d er s 
claimed by the nobility ; and the same some degree 1 si- 
power exercised by the cortes, or ge - Nations of 
neral assembly of the kingdom. Seve- Europu ' 
ral circumstances contributed to secure this per¬ 
manence of the feudal institutions in Spain, not¬ 
withstanding the conquest of the Moors, which 
seemed to have overturned them. Such of the 
Spaniards as preserved their independence, ad¬ 
hered to their ancient customs, not only from attach¬ 
ment to them, but out of antipathy to the Moors, to 
whose ideas concerning property and government 
these customs were totally repugnant. Even among 
the Christians who submitted to the Moorish con¬ 
querors, and consented to become their subjects, 
ancient customs were not entirely abolished. They 
were permitted to retain their religion, their laws 
concerning private property, their forms of adminis¬ 
tering justice, and their mode of levying taxes. The 
followers of Mahomet are the only enthusiasts who 
have united the spirit of toleration with zeal for 
making proselytes, and who, at the same time that 
they took arms to propagate the doctrine of their 
prophet, permitted such as would not embrace it to 
adhere to their own tenets and to practise their own 
rites. To this peculiarity in the genius of the Ma¬ 
hometan religion, as well as to the desire w hich the 
Moors had of reconciling the Christians to their 
yoke, it was owing that the ancient manners and laws 
in Spain survived the violent shock of a conquest, 
and were permitted to subsist, notwithstanding the 
introduction of a new religion and a new form of 
government into that country. It is obvious, from 
all these particulars, that the Christians must have 
found it extremely easy to re-establish manners and 
government on their ancient foundations, in those 
provinces of Spain which they wrested successively 
from the Moors. A considerable part of the people 
retained such a fondness for the customs, and such 
a reverence for the laws, of their ancestors, that 
wishing to see them completely restored, they were 
not only willing but eager to resume the former, 
and to recognise the authority of the latter. 

But though the feudal form of go- Certajn peculia . 
vernment, with all the institutions stitutionS 000 ' 
which characterize it, was thus pre- laws - 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


353 


served entire in Castile and Aragon, as well as in all 
the kingdoms which depended on these crowns, 
there were certain peculiarities in their political 
constitutions which distinguish them from those of 
any other country in Europe. The 

J he prerogative . ... 

more limited, and royal prerogative, extremely limited 

the immunities of . . 

the pe 9 pie more in every leudal kingdom, was circum¬ 
scribed, in Spain, within such narrow 
hounds as reduced the power of the sovereign almost 
to nothing. The privileges of the nobility were 
great in proportion, and extended so far as to bor¬ 
der on absolute independence. The immunities of 
the cities were likewise greater than in other feudal 
kingdoms ; they possessed considerable influence 
in the Cortes, and they aspired at obtaining more. 
Such a state of society, in which the political ma¬ 
chine was so ill-adjusted, and the several members of 
the legislature so improperly balanced, produced in¬ 
ternal disorders in the kingdoms of Spain, which 
rose beyond the pitch of turbulence and anarchy 
usual under the feudal government. The whole 
tenor of the Spanish history confirms the truth of 
this observation ; and when the mutinous spirit to 
which the genius of their policy gave birth and 
vigour was no longer restrained and overawed by 
the immediate dread of the Moorish arms, it broke 
out into more frequent insurrections against the 
government of their princes, as well as more out¬ 
rageous insults on their dignity, than occur in the 
annals of any other country. These were accompa¬ 
nied at some times with more liberal sentiments 
concerning the rights of the people, at other times 
with more elevated notions concerning the privileges 
of the nobles, than were common in other nations. 

In the principality of Catalonia, 

Instances of this. # 

which was annexed to the kingdom of 
Aragon, the impatience of the people to obtain the 
redress of their grievances having prompted them to 
a d i46c take arms against their sovereign John 
II., they, by a solemn deed, recalled 
the oath of allegiance which they had sworn to him, 
declared him and his posterity to be unworthy of 
the throne, q and endeavoured to establish a repub¬ 
lican form of government, in order to secure the 
perpetual enjoyment of that liberty after which they 
aspired/ Nearly about the same period, the indig¬ 
nation of the Castilian nobility against the weak 
and flagitious administration of Henry IV. having 
led them to combine against him, they arrogated, as 
one of the privileges belonging to their order, 
the right of trying and passing sentence on their 
sovereign. That the exercise of this power might 
be as public and solemn as the pretension to it w^as 
_ _ bold, they summoned all the nobility 

of their party to meet at Avila ; a spa¬ 
cious theatre was erected in a plain without the 
w alls of the town : an image representing the king 
was seated on a throne clad in royal robes, with a 

q Zurita Annales de Arag. tom. iv. 11.3, 115, &c. , 

r Ferreras Hist, d’ Espagne, tom. vii. p. 92. P. Orleans Revo I. d’Es- 
pagne, tom. iii. p. 155. L. Marinmus Siculus de Reb. Ilispan. apud 
Scbotti Script. Hispan. fol. 429. 
s Marian. Hist. lib. xxiii. c. 9. 

2 A 


crown on its head, a sceptre in its hand, and the 
sword of justice by its side. The accusation against 
the king was read, and the sentence of deposition 
was pronounced, in presence of a numerous as¬ 
sembly. At the close of the first article of the 
charge, the archbishop of Toledo advanced and tore 
the crown from the head of the image ; at the close 
of the second, the Oonde de Placentia snatched the 
sword of justice from its side ; at the close of the 
third, the Conde de Benevente wrested the sceptre 
from its hand ; at the close of the last, Don Diego 
Lopes de Stuniga tumbled it headlong from the 
throne. At the same instant, Don Alfonso, Henry's 
brother, w as proclaimed king of Castile and Leon 
in his stead . 8 

The most daring leaders of faction would not 
have ventured on these measures, nor have conduct¬ 
ed them with such public ceremony, if the senti¬ 
ments of the people concerning the royal dignity 
had not been so formed by the laws and policy to 
which they were accustomed both in Castile and 
Catalonia, as prepared them to approve of such ex¬ 
traordinary proceedings, or acquiesce in them. 

In Aragon the form of government 

. , . The constitution 

was monarchical, but the genius and and government 
~ ., , ... of Aragon. 

maxims ot it were purely republican. 

The kings, who were long elective, retained only 
the shadow of power ; the real exercise of it was 
in the Cortes or parliament of the kingdom. This 
supreme assembly was composed of four different 
arms or members. The nobility of the first rank. 
The equestrian order, or nobility of the second class. 
The representatives of the cities and towns, whose 
right to a place in the Cortes, if we may give credit 
to the historians of Aragon, was coeval with the 
constitution. The ecclesiastical order, composed of 
the dignitaries of the church, together with the re¬ 
presentatives of the inferior clergy/ No law could 
pass in this assembly without the assent of every 
single member who had a right to vote/ Without 
the permission of the Cortes, no tax could be im¬ 
posed ; no war could be declared ; no peace could 
be concluded; no money could be coined; nor 
could any alteration be made in the current specie/ 
The power of reviewing the proceedings of all infe¬ 
rior courts, the privilege of inspecting every depart¬ 
ment of administration, and the right of redressing 
all grievances, belonged to the Cortes. Nor did 
those wdio conceived themselves to be aggrieved, 
address the Cortes in the humble tone of suppli¬ 
cants, and petition for redress ; they demanded it 
as the birthright of freemen, and required the 
guardians of their liberty to decide with respect to 
the points which they laid before them/ This so¬ 
vereign court was held, during several centuries, 
every year ; but, in consequence of a regulation in¬ 
troduced about the beginning of the fourteenth 
century, it was convoked from that period only once 

t Forma de Celebrar. Cortes in Aragon, por Geron Martel. 

u Martel, ibid. p. 2. 

x Hier. Blanca Comment. Rer. Aragon, ap. Schot. Script. Ilispan. 
vol. iii. p. 750. 

y Martel. Forma de Celebr. p. 2. 



364 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. HE 


in two years. After it was assembled, the king had 
no right to prorogue or dissolve it without its own 
consent; and the session continued forty days . 2 
^ . Not satisfied with having erected 

Office and juris- . , 

diction of the such formidable barriers against the 

J ustiza. u 

encroachments of the royal prerogative, 
nor willing to commit the sole guardianship of their 
liberties entirely to the vigilance and authority of 
an assembly similar to the diets, states-general, and 
parliaments, in which the other feudal nations have 
placed so much confidence, the Aragonese had re¬ 
course to an institution peculiar to themselves, and 
elected a Justiza or supreme judge. This magis¬ 
trate, whose office bore some resemblance to that of 
the Ephori in ancient Sparta, acted as the protector 
of the people and the comptroller of the prince. 
The person of the Justiza was sacred, his power 
and jurisdiction almost unbounded. He was the 
supreme interpreter of the laws. Not only inferior 
judges, but the kings themselves, were bound to 
consult him in every doubtful case, and to receive 
his responses with implicit deferences An appeal 
lay to him from the royal judges, as well as from 
those appointed by the barons within their respect¬ 
ive territories. Even when no appeal was made to 
him, he could interpose by his own authority, pro¬ 
hibit the ordinary judge to proceed, take immediate 
cognizance of the cause himself, and remove the 
party accused to the Manifestation, or prison of the 
state, to which no person had access but by his per¬ 
mission. His power was exerted with no less vigour 
and effect in superintending the administration of 
government, than in regulating the courts of justice. 
It was the prerogative of the Justiza to inspect the 
conduct of the king. He had a title to review all 
the royal proclamations and patents, and to declare 
whether or not they were agreeable to law, and 
ought to be carried into execution. He, by his sole 
authority, could exclude any of the king's ministers 
from the conduct of aff airs, and call them to answer 
for their mal-administration. He himself was ac¬ 
countable to the Cortes only for the manner in which 
he discharged the duties of this high office; and 
performed functions of the greatest importance that 
could be committed to a subject . 6 c 
The regal power It is evident from a bare enumera- 
withi^narrow tion of the privileges of the Aragonese 

Cortes, as well as of the rights belong¬ 
ing to the Justiza, that a very small portion of power 
remained in the hands of the king. The Aragonese 
seem to have been solicitous that their monarchs 
should know and feel this state of impotence to 
which ^hey were reduced. Even in swearing alle¬ 
giance to their sovereign, an act which ought 
naturally to be accompanied with professions of 
submission and respect, they devised an oath, in 
such a form as to remind him of his dependence on 
his subjects. “ We," said the Justiza to the king, 


in name of his high-spirited barons, “ who are each 
of us as good, and who are altogether more powerful 
than you, promise obedience to your government, if 
you maintain our rights and liberties; but if not, 
not." Conformably to this oath, they established 
it as a fundamental article in their constitution, that 
if the king should violate their rights and privileges, 
it was lawful for the people to disclaim him as their 
sovereign, and to elect another, even though a hea¬ 
then, in his plaoe. d The attachment of the Aragon¬ 
ese to this singular constitution of government was 
extreme, and their respect for it approached to 
superstitious veneration . 6 In the preamble to one 
of their laws they declare, that such was the barren¬ 
ness of their country, and the poverty of the inhabit¬ 
ants, that if it were not on account of the liberties 
by which they were distinguished from other nations, 
the people would abandon it, and go in quest of a 
settlement to some more fruitful region/ 

In Castile there were not such peeu- ~ ... .. 

liarities in the form of government as ^ 6 r^ meIlt of 
to establish any remarkable distinction 
between it and that of the other European nations. 
The executive part of government was committed 
to the king, but with a prerogative extremely limited. 
The legislative authority resided in the Cortes, 
which was composed of the nobility, the dignified 
ecclesiastics, and the representatives of the cities. 
The assembly of the Cortes in Castile was very 
ancient, and seems to have been almost coeval with 
the constitution. The members of the three differ¬ 
ent orders, who had a right of suffrage, met in one 
place, and deliberated as one collective body, the 
decisions of which were regulated by the sentiments 
of the majority. The right of imposing taxes, of 
enacting laws, and of redressing grievances, be¬ 
longed to this assembly ; and in order to secure the 
assent of the king to such statutes and regulations 
as were deemed salutary or beneficial to the king¬ 
dom, it was usual in the Cortes to take no step 
towards granting money until all business relative 
to the public welfare was concluded. The repre¬ 
sentatives of cities seem to have obtained a seat 
very early in the Cortes of Castile, and soon ac¬ 
quired such influence and credit as were very un¬ 
common at a period when the splendour and pre¬ 
eminence of the nobility had eclipsed or depressed 
all other orders of men. The number of members 
from cities bore such a proportion to that of the 
whole collective body, as rendered them extremely 
respectable in the Cortes.* The degree of consider¬ 
ation which they possessed in the state may be esti¬ 
mated by one event. Upon the death 
of John I., a council of regency was A ' D 1390 ’ 
appointed to govern the kingdom during the minority 
of his son. It was composed of an equal number 
of noblemen and of deputies chosen by the cities ; 
the latter were admitted to the same rank and in- 


z Hier. Blanca Comment. 763. 

a Blanca has preserved two responses of the Justiza to James II. 
reigned towards the close ot the thirteenth century Blanca 748 
b See Note XXXI. ’ 


who 


c Hier. Blanca Comment, p. 747. 755. 
d Flier. Blanca Comment. 720. 
f Hier. Blanca Com. p. 751. 


e See Note XXXII. 
g See Note XXXI11 



SECT. Il'T. 


355 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


vested with the same powers as prelates and gran¬ 
dees of the first order. 1 ’ But though the members 
of communities in Castile were elevated above the 
condition wherein they were placed in other king¬ 
doms of Europe ; though they had attained to such 
political importance, that even the proud and jealous 
spirit of the feudal aristocracy could not exclude 
them from a considerable share in government; yet 
the nobles, notwithstanding these acquisitions of 
the commons, continued to assert the privileges of 
their order in opposition to the crown, in a tone 
extremely high. There was not any body of nobility 
in Europe more distinguished for independence of 
spirit, haughtiness of deportment, and bold preten¬ 
sions, than that of Castile. The history of that 
monarchy affords the most striking examples of the 
vigilance with which they observed, and of the 
vigour with which they opposed, every measure of 
their kings that tended to encroach on their juris¬ 
diction, to diminish their dignity, or to abridge 
their power. Even in their ordinary intercourse 
with their monarchs, they preserved such a consci¬ 
ousness of their rank, that the nobles of the first 
order claimed it as a privilege to be covered in the 
royal presence, and approached their sovereigns 
rather as equals than as subjects. 

The constitutions of the subordinate monarchies 
which depended on the crowns of Castile and Ara¬ 
gon, nearly resembled those of the kingdoms to 
which they were annexed. In all of them the dignity 
and independence of the nobles were great, the im¬ 
munities and power of the cities were considerable. 
Various causes of An attentive observation of the sin- 
rity 1 of'the Span- n u ^ ar situation of Spain, as well as 
the various events which occurred 
there, from the invasion of the Moors to the union 
of its kingdoms under Ferdinand and Isabella, will 
discover the causes to which all the peculiarities in 
its political constitution I have pointed out ought 
to be ascribed. 

As the provinces of Spain were wrested from the 
Mahometans gradually and with difficulty, the nobles 
who followed the standard of any eminent leader in 
these wars, conquered not for him alone, but for 
themselves. They claimed a share in the lands 
which their valour had won from the enemy, and 
their prosperity and power increased in proportion 
as the territory of the prince extended. 

During their perpetual wars with the Moors, the 
monarchs of the several kingdoms in Spain depended 
so much on their nobles, that it became necessary 
to conciliate their good-will by successive grants of 
new honour and privileges. By the time that any 
prince could establish his dominion in a conquered 
province, the greater part of the territory was 
parcelled out by him among his barons, with such 
jurisdiction and immunities as raised them almost 
to sovereign power. 

At the same time the kingdoms erected in so many 
different corners of Spain were of inconsiderable 


extent. The petty monarch was but little elevated 
above his nobles. They feeling themselves to be 
almost his equals, acted as such ; and could not look 
up to the kings of such limited domains with the 
same reverence that the sovereigns of the great mo¬ 
narchies in Europe were viewed by their subjects.’ 

While these circumstances concurred in exalting 
the nobility, and in depressing the royal authority, 
there were other causes which raised the cities in 
Spain to consideration and power. 

As the open country, during the wars with the 
Moors, was perpetually exposed to the excursions 
of the enemy, with whom no peace or truce was so 
permanent as to prove any lasting security, self- 
preservation obliged persons of all ranks to fix their 
residence in places of strength. The castles of the 
barons, which, in other countries, afforded a com¬ 
modious retreat from the depredations of banditti, 
or from the transient violence of any interior com¬ 
motion, were unable to resist an enemy whose ope¬ 
rations were conducted with regular and persevering 
vigour. Cities, in which great numbers united for 
their mutual defence, were the only places in which 
people could reside with any prospect of safety. 
To this was owing the rapid growth of those cities 
in Spain of which the Christians recovered posses¬ 
sion. All who lied from the Moorish yoke resorted 
to them as to an asylum; and in them the greater part 
of those who took the field against the Mahometans 
established their families. 

Several of these cities, during a longer or shorter 
course of years, were the capitals of little states, 
and enjoyed all the advantages which accelerate the 
increase of inhabitants in every place that is the 
seat of government. 

From those concurring causes, the number of 
cities in Spain at the beginning of the fifteenth 
century had become considerable, and they were 
peopled far beyond the proportion which was com¬ 
mon in other parts of Europe, except in Italy and 
the Low Countries. The Moors had introduced 
manufactures into those cities while under their 
dominion. The Christians, who, by intermixture 
with them, had learned their arts, continued to cul¬ 
tivate these. Trade, in several of the Spanish 
towns, appears to have been carried on with vigour; 
and the spirit of commerce continued to preserve 
the number of their inhabitants, as the sense of 
danger had first induced them to crowd together. 

As the Spanish cities were populous, many of the 
inhabitants were of a rank superior to those who 
resided in towns in other countries of Europe. 
That cause which contributed chiefly to their popu¬ 
lation, affected equally persons of every condition, 
who Hocked thither promiscuously in order to find 
shelter there, or in hopes of making a stand against 
the enemy with greater advantage than in any other 
station. The persons elected as their representa¬ 
tives in the Cortes by the cities, or promoted to 
offices of trust and dignity in the government of the 


h Marian Hist. lib. xviii. c. 15. 
2 A 2 


i See Note XXXIV. 



356 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


community, were often, as will appear from transac¬ 
tions which I shall hereafter relate, of such con¬ 
siderable rank in the kingdom, as reflected lustre 
on their constituents, and on the stations wherein 
they were placed. 

As it was impossible to carry on a continual war 
against the Moors, without some other military force 
than that which the barons were obliged to bring 
into the field in consequence of the feudal tenures, it 
became necessary to have some troops, particularly a 
body of light cavalry, in constant pay. It was one 
of the privileges of the nobles, that their lands were 
exempt from the burden of taxes. The charge of 
supporting the troops requisite for the public safety 
fell wholly upon the cities, and their kings being 
obliged frequently to apply to them for aid, found 
it necessary to gain their favour by concessions 
which not only extended their immunities, but 
added to their w ealth and power. 

When the influence of all these circumstances, 
peculiar to Spain, is added to the general and com¬ 
mon causes which contributed to aggrandize cities 
in other countries of Europe, this will fully account 
for the extensive privileges which they acquired, as 
well as for the extraordinary consideration to w hich 
they attained, in all the Spanish kingdoms. k 
Measures of dif- these exorbitant privileges of the 

order 1 to^xtend nobility, and this unusual power of 
their power: the c j^ es j n Spain, the royal preroga¬ 

tive was hemmed in on every side, and reduced 
within very narrow bounds. Sensible of this, and 
impatient of such restraint, several monarchs en¬ 
deavoured, at various junctures and by different 
means, to enlarge their own jurisdiction. Their 
power, however, or their abilities, were so unequal 
to the undertaking, that their efforts w ere attended 
t> i j of with little success. But when Ferdi- 

Ferdinand and nand and Isabella found themselves 

Isabella. 

at the head of the united kingdoms 
of Spain, and delivered from the danger and inter¬ 
ruption of domestic wars, they were not only in a 
condition to resume, but were able to prosecute with 
advantage, the schemes of extending the preroga¬ 
tive, which their ancestors had attempted in vain. 
Ferdinand’s profound sagacity in concerting his 
measures, his persevering industry in conducting 
them, and his uncommon address in carrying them 
into execution, fitted him admirably for an under¬ 
taking which required all these talents. 

As the overgrow n power and high 
Ferdinand’s dif- . ,, , .... , 

ferent schemes for pretensions of the nobility were what 

viiegesand power the monarchs of Spain lelt most sensi¬ 
bly, and bore with the greatest impa¬ 
tience, the great confidence of Ferdinand’s policy 
was to reduce these within more moderate bounds. 
Under various pretexts, sometimes by violence, more 
frequently in consequence of decrees obtained in 
the courts of law, he wrested from the barons a 
great part of the lands which had been granted to 


k See Note XXXV. 
m See Note XXXVI. 


1 Zurita Annalesde Arag. tom. vi. p. 22. 

n Marian. Hist. lib. xxv. c. 5. 


them by the inconsiderate bounty of former mon¬ 
archs, particularly during the feeble and profuse 
reign of his predecessor, Henry IV. He did not 
give the entire conduct of affairs to persons of noble 
birth, who were accustomed to occupy every depart¬ 
ment of importance in peace or in war, as if it had 
been a privilege peculiar to their order to be em¬ 
ployed as the sole counsellors and ministers of the 
crown. He often transacted business of great con¬ 
sequence without their intervention, and bestowed 
many offices of power and trust on new men devot¬ 
ed to his interest . 1 He introduced a degree of state 
and dignity into his court, which being little known 
in Spain while it remained split into many small 
kingdoms, taught the nobles to approach their sove¬ 
reign with more ceremony, and gradually rendered 
him the object of greater deference and respect. 

The annexing the masterships of the part icuiariy by 
three military orders of St. Jago, Ca- ^and-master- 
latrava, and Alcantara, to the crown, or^ers^o'the ^ 66 
was another expedient by which Fer- crown; 
dinand greatly augmented the revenue and power 
of the kings of Spain. These orders were instituted 
in imitation of those of the knights templars and of 
St. John of Jerusalem, on purpose to wage perpetual 
war with the Mahometans, and to protect the pil¬ 
grims who visited Compostella or other places of 
eminent sanctity in Spain. The zeal and supersti¬ 
tion of the ages in which they were founded, 
prompted persons of every rank to bestow such 
liberal donations on those holy warriors, that in a 
short time they engrossed a considerable share in 
the property and wealth of the kingdom. The mas¬ 
terships of these orders came to be stations of the 
greatest power and opulence to which a Spanish 
nobleman could be advanced. These high dignities 
were in the disposal of the knights of the order, 
and placed the persons on whom they conferred 
them almost on a level with their sovereign ." 1 Fer¬ 
dinand, unwilling that the nobility, whom he con¬ 
sidered as already too formidable, should derive 
such additional credit and influence from possess¬ 
ing the government of these wealthy fraternities, 
was solicitous to wrest it out of their hands, and to 
vest it in the crown. His measures A D 14?G 
for accomplishing this were wisely aud 1493 - 
planned, and executed with vigour." By address, 
by promises, and by threats, he prevailed on the 
knights of each order to place Isabella and him at 
the head of it. Innocent VIII. and Alexander VI. 
gave this election the sanction of papal authority ;° 
and subsequent pontiffs rendered the annexation of 
these masterships to the crown perpetual. 

While Ferdinand by this measure ^ *, y circum- 
diminished the power and influence of dktion^fUie’no- 
the nobility, and added new lustre bility - 
or authority to the crown, he was taking other im¬ 
portant steps with a view to the same object. The 
sovereign jurisdiction which the feudal barons ex- 

o Zurita Annales.tom. v. p. 22. iElii Anton. Nebrissensis rerum a Fer¬ 
dinand. et Elizab. gestarum decades ii. apud Schot. script. Hispan. i.86o. 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


357 


ercised within their own territories, was the pride 
and distinction of their order. To have invaded 
openly a privilege which they prized so highly, and 
in defence of which they would have run so eagerly 
to arms, was a measure too daring for a prince of 
Ferdinand’s cautious temper. He took advantage, 
however, of an opportunity which the state of his 
kingdoms and the spirit of his people presented 
him, in order to undermine what he durst not as¬ 
sault. The incessant depredations of the Moors, 
the want of discipline among the troops which were 
employed to oppose them, the frequent civil wars 
between the crown and the nobility, as well as the 
undiscerning rage with which the barons carried on 
their private wars with each other, filled all the 
provinces of Spain with disorder. Rapine, outrage, 
and murder became so common as not only to inter¬ 
rupt commerce, but in a great measure to suspend 
all intercourse between one place and another. 
That security and protection which men expect 
from entering into civil society ceased in a great 
degree. Internal order and police, while the feudal 
institutions remained in vigour, were so little ob¬ 
jects of attention, and the administration of justice 
was so extremely feeble, that it would have been 
vain to have expected relief from the established 
laws or the ordinary judges. But the evil became 
so intolerable, and the inhabitants of cities, who 
were the chief sufferers, grew so impatient of this 
anarchy, that self-preservation forced them to have 
recourse to an extraordinary remedy. 
About the middle of the thirteenth 
century, the cities in the kingdom of Aragon, and, 
after their example, those in Castile, formed them¬ 
selves into an association distinguished by the name 
of the Holy Brotherhood. They exacted a certain 
contribution from each of the associated towns; 
they levied a considerable body of troops in order 
to protect travellers and to pursue criminals ; they 
appointed judges, who opened their courts in va¬ 
rious parts of the kingdom. Whoever was guilty 
of murder, robbery, or of any act that violated the 
public peace, and was seized by the troops of the 
Brotherhood , was carried before judges of their 
nomination, who, without paying any regard to the 
exclusive and sovereign jurisdiction which the lord 
of the place might claim, tried and condemned the 
criminals. By the establishment of this fraternity 
the prompt and impartial administration of justice 
was restored ; and, together with it, internal tran¬ 
quillity and order began to return. The nobles alone 
murmured at this salutary institution. They com¬ 
plained of it as an encroachment on one of their 
most valuable privileges: they remonstrated against 
it in an high tone ; and on some occasions refused 
to grant any aid to the crown unless it were abo¬ 
lished. Ferdinand, however, was sensible not only 
of the good effects of the Holy Brotherhood with 
respect to the police of his kingdoms, but perceived 
its tendency to abridge, and at length to annihilate, 

p See Note XXXVII. 


the territorial jurisdiction of the nobility. He 
countenanced it on every occasion: he supported 
it with the whole force of royal authority : and, be¬ 
sides the expedients employed by him in common 
with the other monarclis of Europe, he availed 
himself of this institution, which was peculiar to 
his kingdom, in order to limit and abolish that in¬ 
dependent jurisdiction of the nobility, which was 
no less inconsistent with the authority of the prince 
than with the order of society. p 

But though Ferdinand by these mea- Notwithstanding 
. , . , , , ,, i . all these, the go- 

sures considerably enlarged the bound- vemment of Spain 

r .. . . , still extremely 

anes ol prerogative, and acquired a free, 
degree of influence and power far beyond what any 
of his predecessors had enjoyed, yet the limitations 
of the royal authority, as well as the barriers against 
its encroachments, continued to be many and strong. 
The spirit of liberty was vigorous among the people 
of Spain; the spirit of independence was high among 
the nobility ; and though the love of glory peculiar 
to the Spaniards in every period of their history 
prompted them to support Ferdinand with zeal in 
his foreign operations, and to afford him such 
aid as enabled him not only to undertake but to 
execute great enterprises, he reigned over his sub¬ 
jects with a jurisdiction less extensive than that of 
any of the great monarclis in Europe. It will ap¬ 
pear from many passages in the following history, 
that during a considerable part of the reign of his 
successor Charles V., the prerogative of the Spa¬ 
nish crown was equally circumscribed. 

The ancient government and laws in 

t, . , . ., . i Constitution and 

France so nearly resemble those of the government of 

other feudal kingdoms, that such a 
detail with respect to them as was necessary in or¬ 
der to convey some idea of the nature arid effects of 
the peculiar institutions which took place in Spain, 
would be superfluous. In the view which I have 
exhibited of the means by which the French 
monarclis acquired such a full command of the na¬ 
tional force of their kingdom as enabled them to 
engage in entensive schemes of foreign operation, I 
have already pointed out the great steps by which 
they advanced towards a more ample possession of 
political power, and a more uncontrolled exercise of 
their royal prerogative. All that now remains is to 
take notice of such particulars in the constitution 
of France, as serve either to distinguish it from that 
of other countries, or tend to throw any light on the 
transactions of that period to which the following 
history extends. 


Under the French monarchs of the 


Power of the «e 


first race, the royal prerogative was SrtheTrst^ 
very inconsiderable. The general as- race ; 
semblies of the nation, which met annually at stated 
seasons, extended their authority to every depart¬ 
ment of government. The power of electing kings, 
of enacting laws, of redressing grievances, of con¬ 
ferring donations on the prince, of passing judg¬ 
ment in the last resort, with respect to every person 



358 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. Ill 


under the second; 


under the third; 


and to every eause, resided in this great convention 
of the nation. Under the second race 
of kings, notwithstanding the power 
and splendour which the conquests of Charlemagne 
added to the crown, the general assemblies of the 
nation continued to possess extensive authority. 
The right of determining which of the royal family 
should be placed on the throne, was vested in them. 
The princes, elevated to that dignity by their suffrage, 
were accustomed regularly to call and to consult 
them with respect to every affair of importance to 
the state; and without their consent no law was 
passed and no new tax was levied. 

But by the time that Hugh Capet, 
the father of the third race of kings, 
took possession of the throne of France, such 
changes had happened in the political state of the 
kingdom as considerably affected the power and 
jurisdiction of the general assembly of the nation. 
The royal authority, in the hands of the degenerate 
posterity of Charlemagne, had dwindled into insig¬ 
nificance and contempt. Every considerable pro¬ 
prietor of land had formed his territory into a barony, 
almost independent of the sovereign. The dukes or 
* governors of provinces, the counts or governors of 
towns and small districts, and the great officers of 
the crown, had rendered these dignities, which ori¬ 
ginally were granted only during pleasure or for 
life, hereditary in their families. Each of these had 
usurped all the rights which hitherto had been 
deemed the distinctions of royalty, particularly the 
privileges of dispensing justice within their own 
domains, of coining money, and of waging war. 
Every district was governed by local customs, ac¬ 
knowledged a distinct lord, and pursued a separate 
interest. The formality of doing homage to their 
sovereign was almost the only act of subjection 
which those haughty barons would perform, and that 
bound them no further than they were willing to 
acknowledge its obligation/ 

The power of the In a kingdom broken into so many 

fess 6 considerabfe independent baronies, hardly any com- 
and extensive. mon p r j nc ipi e 0 f union remained ; and 

the general assembly, in its deliberations, could 
scarcely consider the nation as forming one body, 
or establish common regulations to be of equal force 
in every part. Within the immediate domains of 
the crown the king might publish laws, and they 
were obeyed, because there he was acknowledged 
as the only lord. But if he had aimed at rendering 
these laws general, that would have alarmed the 
barons as an encroachment upon the independence 
of their jurisdiction. The barons, when met in the 
great national convention, avoided with no less care 
the enacting of general laws to be observed in every 
part of the kingdom, because the execution of them 
must have been vested in the king, and would have 
enlarged that paramount power which was the ob¬ 
ject of their jealousy. Thus, under the descendants 
of Hugh Capet, the states-general (for that was the 

q See Note XXXVIII. 


name by which the supreme assembly of the French 
nation came then to be distinguished) lost their 
legislative authority, or at least entirely relinquished 
the exercise of it. From that period the jurisdic¬ 
tion of the states-general extended no further than 
to the imposition of new taxes, the determination of 
questions with respect to the right of succession to 
the crown, the settling of the regency when the 
preceding monarch had not fixed it by his will, 
and the presenting remonstrances enumerating the 
grievances of which the nation wished to obtain 
redress. 

As, during several centuries, the monarchs of 
Europe seldom demanded extraordinary subsidies 
of their subjects, and the other events which re¬ 
quired the interposition of the states rarely occurred, 
their meetings in France were not frequent. They 
were summoned occasionally by their kings, when 
compelled by their wants or by their fears to have 
recourse to the great convention of their people ; 
but they did not, like the Diet in Germany, the 
Cortes in Spain, or the Parliament in England, form 
an essential member of the constitution, the regular 
exertion of whose powers was requisite to give 
vigour and order to government. 

When the states of France ceased to 
exercise legislative authority, the kings to acquire legis- 
began to assume it. They ventured at latlveauthonty > 
first on acts of legislation with great reserve, and 
after taking every precaution that could prevent 
their subjects from being alarmed at the exercise of 
a new power. They did not at once issue their 
ordinances in a tone of authority and command. 
They treated with their subjects; they pointed out 
what was best, and allured them to comply with it. 
By degrees, however, as the prerogative of the crown 
extended, and as the supreme jurisdiction of the 
royal courts came to be established, the kings of 
France assumed more openly the style and autho¬ 
rity of lawgivers ; and, before the beginning of the 
fifteenth century, the complete legislative power was 
vested in the crown/ 

Having secured this important ac- an d the power of 
quisition, the steps which led to the levymg taxes - 
right of imposing taxes were rendered few and easy. 
The people, accustomed to see their sovereigns 
issue ordinances, by their sole authority, which 
regulated points of the greatest consequence with 
respect to the property of their subjects, were not 
alarmed when they were required, by the royal 
edicts, to contribute certain sums toward supplying 
the exigences of government, and carrying forward 
the measures of the nation. When Charles VII. 
and Louis XI. first ventured to exercise this new 
power in the manner which I have already described, 
the gradual increase of the royal authority had so 
imperceptibly prepared the minds of the people of 
France for this innovation, that it excited no com¬ 
motion in the kingdom, and seems scarcely to have 
given rise to any murmur or complaint. 


r See Note XXXIX. 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


351) 


„ . . When the kings of France had thus 

France becomes engrossed every power which can be 
exerted in government; when the 
right of making laws, of levying money, of keeping 
an army of mercenaries in constant pay, of declar¬ 
ing war, and of concluding peace, centred in the 
crown, the constitution of the kingdom, which under 
the first race of kings, was nearly democratical; 
which, under the second race, became an aristocracy; 
terminated, under the third race, in a pure mon¬ 
archy. Every thing that tended to preserve the ap¬ 
pearance or revive the memory of the ancient 
mixed government, seems from that period to have 
been industriously avoided. During the long and 
active reign of Francis I., the variety as well as ex¬ 
tent of whose operations obliged him to lay many 
heavy impositions on his subjects, the states -gene¬ 
ral of France were not once assembled, nor were the 
people once allowed to exert the power of taxing 
themselves, which, according to the original ideas 
of feudal government, was a right essential to every 
freeman. 


r „. Two things, however, remained, 

The exercise of ° ’ 

prerogative re- which moderated the exercise of the 
strained by the 

privileges of the regal prerogative, and restrained it 
within such bounds as preserved the 
constitution of France from degenerating into mere 
despotism. The rights and privileges claimed by 
the nobility must be considered as one barrier 
against the absolute dominion of the crown. Though 
the nobles of France had lost that political power 
which was vested in their order as a body, they still 
retained the personal rights and pre-eminence which 
they derived from their rank. They preserved a 
consciousness of elevation above other classes of 
citizens ; an exemption from burdens to which per¬ 
sons of inferior condition were subject; a contempt 
of the occupations in which they were engaged ; the 
privilege of assuming ensigns that indicated their 
own dignity ; a right to be treated with a certain 
degree of deference during peace; and a claim to 
various distinctions when in the field. Many of 
these pretensions were not founded on the words of 
statutes, or derived from positive laws; they were 
defined and ascertained by the maxims of honour, a 
title more delicate, but no less sacred. These rights 
established and protected by a principle equally 
vigilant in guarding and intrepid in defending them, 
are to the sovereign himself objects of respect and 
veneration. Wherever they stand in its way, the 
royal prerogative is bounded. The violence of a 
despot may exterminate such an order of men ; but 
as long as it subsists, and its ideas of personal dis¬ 
tinction remain entire, the power of the prince has 
limits . 8 

As in France the body of nobility was very nume¬ 
rous, and the individuals of which it was composed 
retained an high sense of their own pre-eminence, 
to this we may ascribe, in a great measure, the mode 
of exercising the royal prerogative which peculiarly 


s I)e l'Esprit ties Loix, liv. ii. c. 4. Dr. Ferguson's Essay on the 


distinguishes the government of that kingdom. An 
intermediate order was placed between the monarch 
and his other subjects, and in every act of authority 
it became necessary to attend to its privileges, and 
not only to guard against any real violation of them, 
but to avoid any suspicion of supposing it to be 
possible that they might be violated. Thus a spe¬ 
cies of government was established in France, un¬ 
known in the ancient world, that of a monarchy, in 
which the power of the sovereign, though unconfined 
by any legal or constitutional restraint, has certain 
bounds set to it by the ideas which one class of his 
subjects entertain concerning their own dignity. 

The jurisdiction of the parliaments and by thejuns- 
in France, particularly that of Paris, Hamentsfparticu- 
was the other barrier which served to larl y th atotr j am 
confine the exercise of the royal prerogative within 
certain limits. The parliament of Paris was origi¬ 
nally the court of the kings of France, to which 
they committed the supreme administration of jus¬ 
tice within their own domains, as well as the power 
of deciding with respect to all cases brought before 
it by appeals from the courts of the barons. When 
in consequence of events and regulations which 
have been mentioned formerly, the time and place 
of its meeting were fixed, when not only the form of 
its procedure, but the principles on which it de¬ 
cided, were rendered regular and consistent, when 
every cause of importance was finally determined 
there, and when the people became accustomed to 
resort thither as to the supreme temple of justice, 
the parliament of Paris rose to high estimation in 
the kingdom, its members acquired dignity, and its 
decrees were submitted to with deference. Nor was 
this the only source of the power and influence which 
the parliament obtained. The kings of France, 
when they first began to assume the legislative 
power, in order to reconcile the minds of their 
people to this new exertion of prerogative, produced 
their edicts and ordinances in the parliament of 
Paris, that they might be approved of and registered 
there, before they were published and declared to 
be of authority in the kingdom. During the inter¬ 
vals between the meetings of the states-general of 
the kingdom, or during those reigns in which the 
states-general were not assembled, the monarchs of 
France were accustomed to consult the parliament 
of Paris with respect to the most arduous affairs of 
government, and frequently regulated their conduct 
by its advice, in declaring war, in concluding peace, 
and in other transactions of public concern. Thus 
there was erected in the kingdom a tribunal which 
became the great depository of the laws, and, by the 
uniform tenor of its decrees, established principles 
of justice and forms of proceeding which were con¬ 
sidered as so sacred, that even the sovereign power 
of the monarch durst not venture to disregard or to 
violate them. The members of this illustrious body, 
though they neither possess legislative authority, 
nor can be considered as the representatives of the 

Hist, of Civil Society, part i. sect. 10. 



3(30 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


Its state under 
Charlemagne 
and his descend 
ants. 


people, have availed themselves of the reputation 
and influence which they had acquired among their 
countrymen, in order to make a stand, to the utmost 
of their ability, against every unprecedented and 
exorbitant exertion of the prerogative. In every 
period of the French history, they have merited the 
praise of being the virtuous but feeble guardians of 
the rights and privileges of the nation . 1 

Constitution and After takin S tllis view ° f the P 0 '*' 
the German em- ti ca l state °f France, I proceed to con- 
pire - sider that of the German empire, from 

which Charles V. derived his title of highest dignity. 
In explaining the constitution of this great and 
complex body at the beginning of the sixteenth cen¬ 
tury, I shall avoid enteri ng into such a detail as would 
involve my readers in that inextricable labyrinth 
which is formed by the multiplicity of its tribunals, 
the number of its members, their interfering rights, 
and by the endless discussions or refinements of the 
public lawyers of Germany with respect to all these. 

The empire of Charlemagne was a 
structure erected in so short a time, 
that it could not be permanent. Un¬ 
der his immediate successor it began to totter, and 
soon after fell to pieces. The crown of Germany 
was separated from that of France, and the de¬ 
scendants of Charlemagne established two great 
monarchies, so situated as to give rise to a perpe¬ 
tual rivalship and enmity betw een them. But the 
princes of the race of Charlemagne w ho were placed 
on the imperial throne, were not altogether so de¬ 
generate as those of the same family who reigned 
in France. In the hands of the former, the royal 
authority retained some vigour, and the nobles of 
Germany, though possessed of extensive privileges 
as well as ample territories, did not so early attain 
independence. The great offices of the crown con¬ 
tinued to be at the disposal of the sovereign, and 
during a long period fiefs remained in their original 
state, without becoming hereditary and perpetual 
in the families of the persons to whom they had 
been granted. 

,. t . f ... At length the German branch of the 
Other families ° 

are raised to the famil y of C harlemagne became extinct, 
imperial dignity. . 

and his feeble descendants who reign¬ 
ed in France had sunk into such contempt, that the 
Germans, without looking towards them, exercised 
the right inherent in a free people, 
and in a general assembly of the na¬ 
tion elected Conrad, count of Franconia, emperor. 
After him Henry of Saxony, and his descendants 
the three Othos, were placed in succession on the 
imperial throne, by the suffrages of their country¬ 
men. The extensive territories of the Saxon em¬ 
perors, their eminent abilities and enterprising ge¬ 
nius, not only added new vigour to the imperial 
dignity, but raised it to higher power and pre-emi¬ 
nence. Otho the great marched at 
the head of a numerous army into 


A. D. 911. 


A. D. 952. 


Italy, and, after the example of Charlemagne, gave 
law to that country. Every power there recognised 
his authority. He created popes and deposed them 
by his sovereign mandate. He annexed the king¬ 
dom of Italy to the German empire. Elated with 
his success, he assumed the title of Cassar Augus¬ 
tus . 0 A prince born in the heart of Germany pre¬ 
tended to be the successor of the emperors of an¬ 
cient Rome, and claimed a right to the same power 
and prerogative. 

But while the emperors, by means 

r ... The German no- 

of these new titles and new dominions, bility acquire 

independent and 

gradually acquired additional autho- sovereign autho- 
rity and splendour, the nobility of 
Germany had gone on at the same time extending 
their privileges and jurisdiction. The situation of 
affairs was favourable to their attempts. The vigour 
which Charlemagne had given to government quickly 
relaxed. The incapacity of some of his successors 
was such as would have encouraged vassals less 
enterprising than the nobles of that age, to have 
claimed new rights, and to have assumed new 
powers. The civil wars in which other emperors 
were engaged, obliged them to pay perpetual court 
to their subjects, on whose support they depended, 
and not only to connive at their usurpations, but to 
permit and even to authorize them. Fiefs gradually 
became hereditary. They w ere transmitted not only 
in the direct but also in the collateral line. The 
investiture of them was demanded not only by 
male but by female heirs. Every baron began to 
exercise sovereign jurisdiction within his own do¬ 
mains ; and the dukes and counts of Germany took 
wide steps towards rendering their territories dis¬ 
tinct and independent states . 51 The „ 

A # The German ec- 

Saxon emperors observed their pro- ciesiastics raised 

1 , 1 to the same power. 

gress, and were aware of its tendency. 

But as they could not hope to humble vassals al¬ 
ready grown too potent, unless they had turned their 
wffiole force as well as attention to that enterprise, 
and as they were extremely intent on their expedi¬ 
tions into Italy, which they could not undertake 
without the concurrence of their nobles, they were 
solicitous not to alarm them by any direct attack on 
their privileges and jurisdictions. They aimed, 
however, at undermining their powder. With this 
view they inconsiderately bestowed additional ter¬ 
ritories and accumulated new honours on the clergy, 
in hopes that this order might serve as a counter¬ 
poise to that of the nobility in any future struggle/ 

The unhappy effects of this fatal The fatal effects 
error in policy were quickly felt. Un- £h e a ff e ^y dizins 
der the emperors of the Franconian a.d. io24. 
and Suabian lines, whom the Germans by their 
voluntary election placed on the imperial throne, 
a new face of things appeared, and a scene was ex¬ 
hibited in Germany which astonished all Christen¬ 
dom at that time, and in the present age appears 
almost incredible. The popes hitherto depended 


t See Note XL. 

u Annalista Saxo, &c. ap. Struv. Corp. vol. i. p. 246. 


x Pfeffel Abrege, p. 120,152. Lib. Feudor, tit. i. 
y Pfeffel Abrege, p. 154. 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


361 


on the emperors, and, indebted for power as well as 
dignity to their beneficence and protection, began 
to claim a superior jurisdiction; and, in virtue of 
authority which they pretended to derive from 
Heaven, tried, condemned, excommunicated, and 
deposed their former masters. Nor is this to be 
considered merely as a frantic sally of passion in a 
pontifl intoxicated with high ideas concerning the 
extent of priestly domination and the plenitude of 
papal authority. Gregory VII. was able as well as 
daring. His presumption and violence were ac¬ 
companied with political discernment and sagacity. 
He had observed that the princes and nobles of 
Germany had acquired such considerable territories 
and such extensive jurisdiction, as rendered them 
not only formidable to the emperors, but disposed 
them to favour any attempt to circumscribe their 
power. He foresaw that the ecclesiastics of Ger¬ 
many, raised almost to a level with its princes, were 
ready to support any person who would stand forth 
as the protector of their privileges and indepen¬ 
dence. With both of these Gregory negociated, 
and had secured many devoted adherents among 
them before he ventured to enter the lists against 
the head of the empire. 

He began his rupture with Henry 

'1 he contests be- ° 1 J 

tween the popes IV. upon a pretext that was popular 
and emperors, , 

andtheconse- and plausible. He complained of the 

quences of these. 

venality and corruption with which 
the emperor had granted the investiture of bene¬ 
fices to ecclesiastics. He contended that this right 
belonged to him as the head of the church ; he re¬ 
quired Henry to confine himself within the bounds 
of his civil jurisdiction, and to abstain for the future 
from such sacrilegious encroachments on the spiri¬ 
tual dominion. All the censures of the church were 
denounced against Henry, because he refused to 
relinquish those powers which his predecessors had 
uniformly exercised. The most considerable of the 
German princes and ecclesiastics were excited to 
take arms against him. His mother, his wife, his 
sons, were wrought upon to disregard all the ties of 
blood as well as of duty, and to join the party of 
his enemies . 2 Such were the successful arts with 
which the court of Rome inflamed the superstitious 
zeal and conducted the factious spirit of the Ger¬ 
mans and Italians, that an emperor distinguished 
not only for many virtues, but possessed of consi¬ 
derable talents, was at length obliged to appear as 
a supplicant at the gate of the castle in which the 
pope resided, and to stand there three days bare¬ 
footed in the depth of winter, imploring a par¬ 
don, which at length he obtained with 
difficulty . 11 

This act of humiliation degraded the imperial 
dignity. Nor was the depression momentary only. 
The contest between Gregory and Henry gave rise 
to the two great factions of the Guelfs and Ghibel- 
lines ; the former of which supporting the preten¬ 
sions of the popes, and the latter defending the 

z Annal. German, ap. Struv. i. p. 325. 


A. D. 1077- 


in 


rights of the emperor, kept Germany and Italy in 
perpetual agitation during three centu- 

. . , _ , , The imperial au- 

nes. A regular system for humbling thoritygradually 

• (Iticl 1HCS • 

the emperors and circumscribing their 
power was formed, and adhered to uniformly 
throughout that period. The popes, the free states 
in Italy, the nobility and ecclesiastics of Germany 
w ere all interested in its success ; and notwith¬ 
standing the return of some short intervals of vigour 
under the administration of a few able emperors, the 
imperial authority continued to de- 

Jr\ * G . I4OO. 

cline. During the anarchy of the long 
interregnum subsequent to the death of William of 
Holland, it dwindled down almost to nothing. 
Rodulph of Hapsburg, the founder of 

A. D» 

the House of Austria, and who first 
opened the way to its future grandeur, was at length 
elected emperor, not that he might re-establish and 
extend the imperial authority, but because his terri¬ 
tories and influence were so inconsiderable as to ex¬ 
cite no jealousy in the German princes, who were 
willing to preserve the forms of a constitution the 
power and vigour of w hich they had destroyed. Se¬ 
veral of his successors were placed on the imperial 
throne from the same motive ; and almost every re¬ 
maining prerogative was w rested out of the hands of 
feeble princes unable to exercise or to defend them. 

During this period of turbulence and A total changei 
confusion, the constitution of the Ger- stitationofthe 11 * 
manic body underwent a total change. empire ' 

The ancient names of courts and magistrates, 
together with the original forms and appearance 
of policy, were preserved ; but such new r privileges 
and jurisdiction were assumed, and so many various 
rights established, that the same species of govern¬ 
ment no longer subsisted. The princes, the great 
nobility, the dignified ecclesiastics, the free cities, 
had taken advantage of the interregnum which I 
have mentioned, to establish or to extend their 
usurpations. They claimed and exercised the right 
of governing their respective territories with full 
sovereignty. They acknowledged no superior with 
respect to any point relative to the interior admi¬ 
nistration and police of their domains. They en¬ 
acted laws, imposed taxes, coined money, declared 
w ar, concluded peace, and exerted every preroga¬ 
tive peculiar to independent states. The ideas of 
order and political union which had originally 
formed the various provinces of Germany into one 
body, were almost entirely lost; and the society 
must have dissolved, if the forms of feudal subor¬ 
dination had not preserved such an appearance of 
connexion or dependence among the various mem¬ 
bers of the community as preserved it from falling 
to pieces. 

This bond of union, however, was Expedients for 
extremely feeble; and hardly any {o"m steteof 
principle remained in the German anarchy > 
constitution, of sufficient force to maintain public 
order, or even to ascertain personal security. From 

a See Note XLI. 



302 


A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


the accession of Rodulpli of Hapsburg, to the reign 
of Maximilian, the immediate predecessor of 
Charles V., the empire felt every calamity which a 
state must endure when the authority of government 
is so much relaxed as to have lost its proper degree 
of vigour. The causes of dissension among that 
vast number of members which composed the Ger¬ 
manic body, were infinite and unavoidable. These 
gave rise to perpetual private wars, which were 
carried on with all the violence that usually ac¬ 
companies resentment when unrestrained by superior 
authority. Rapine, outrage, exactions, became 
universal. Commerce was interrupted ; industry 
suspended ; and every part of Germany resembled 
a country which an enemy had plundered and left 
desolate . 5 The variety of expedients employed 
with a view to restore order and tranquillity, prove 
that the grievances occasioned by this state of anar¬ 
chy had grown intolerable. Arbiters were appointed 
to terminate the differences among the several states. 
The cities united in a league the object of which 
was to check the rapine and extortions of the no¬ 
bility. The nobility formed confederacies on pur¬ 
pose to maintain tranquillity among their own order. 
Germany was divided into several circles, in each 
of which a provincial and partial jurisdiction was 
established, to supply the place of a public and 
common tribunal . 0 


A. D. 1495. 


A.D. 1512. 


particularly by But aB these remedies were so inef- 
ihe imperial 011 ° f fectual, that they served only to de¬ 
monstrate the violence of that anarchy 
which prevailed, and the insufficiency of the means 
employed to correct it. At length Maximilian re¬ 
established public order in the empire, by instituting 
the imperial chamber, a tribunal composed of judges 
named partly by the emperor, partly 
by the several states, and vested with 
authority to decide finally concerning all differences 
among the members of the Germanic body. A few 
years after, by giving a new form to 
the Aulic council, which takes cogni¬ 
sance of all feudal causes, and such as belong to 
the emperor’s immediate jurisdiction, he restored 
some degree of vigour to the imperial authority. 

At the beginning But notwithstanding the salutary 
century ^he^em- effects of these regulations and im- 
tion ofsovwebm provements, the political constitution 
states - of the German empire, at the com¬ 

mencement of the period of which I propose to 
write the history, was of a species so peculiar as 
not to resemble perfectly any form of government 
known either in the ancient or modern world. It 
was a complex body, formed by the association of 
several states, each of which possessed sovereign 
and independent jurisdiction within its own terri¬ 
tories. Of all the members which composed this 
united body, the emperor was the head. In his 
name all decrees and regulations, with respect to 
points of common concern, were issued ; and to him 


b See above, page 322, and note xxi. Datt. de pace publica Irnper. p. 
25. no. 53. p. 2d. no. 26. p. 35. no. 11. 


the power of carrying them into execution was 
committed. Rut this appearance of monarchical 
power in the emperor was more than counterbalanced 
by the influence of the princes and states of the 
empire in every act of administration. No law 
extending to the whole body could pass, no resolu¬ 
tion that affected the general interest could be taken, 
without the approbation of the diet of the empire. 
In this assembly every sovereign prince and state 
of the Germanic body had a right to be present, to 
deliberate, and to vote. The decrees or recesses of 
the diet were the laws of the empire, which the 
emperor was bound to ratify and enforce. 

Under this aspect the constitution of 

. Peculiarities in 

the empire appears a regular conlede- the nature of this 

f V „ . , , . association. 

racy, similar to the Achaean league in 
ancient Greece, or to that of the United Provinces 
and of the Swiss Cantons in modern times. But if 
viewed in another light, striking peculiarities in its 
political state present themselves. The Germanic 
body was not formed by the union of members al¬ 
together distinct and independent. All the princes 
and states joined in this association were originally 
subject to the emperors, and acknowledged them 
as sovereigns. Besides this, they originally held 
their lands as imperial fiefs, and in consequence of 
this tenure owed the emperor all those services which 
feudal vassals are bound to perform to their liege 
lord. But though this political subjection was en¬ 
tirely at an end, and the influence of the feudal 
relation much diminished, the ancient forms and 
institutions, introduced while the emperors governed 
Germany with authority not inferior to that which 
the other monarchs of Europe possessed, still re¬ 
mained. Thus an opposition was established be¬ 
tween the genius of the government and the forms 
of administration in the German empire. The 
former considered the emperor only as the head of 
a confederacy, the members of which, by their 
voluntary choice, have raised him to that dignity ; 
the latter seemed to imply that he is really invested 

with sovereign power. By this cir- 

, . . . „ , .... The defects in the 

cumstance such principles of hostility constitution of the 

and discord w ere interwoven into the empue ’ 
frame of the Germanic body as affected each of its 
members, rendering their interior union incomplete, 
and their external efforts feeble and irregular. The 
pernicious influence of this defect inherent in the 
constitution of the empire is so considerable, that 
without attending to it we cannot fully comprehend 
many transactions in the reign of Charles V., or 
form just ideas concerning the genius of the Ger¬ 
man government. 

The emperors of Germany at the be- arising from the 
ginning of the sixteenth century were the emperors: 
distinguished by the most pompous titles, and by 
such ensigns of dignity as intimated their authority 
to be superior to that of all monarchs. The greatest 
princes of the empire attended and served them, on 


c Datt. passim. Struv. Corp Hist. i. 510, &c. 




SECT. [II. 


363 


ST^ATE OF 

some occasions, as the officers of their household. 
They exercised prerogatives which no other sove¬ 
reign ever claimed. They retained pretensions to 
all the extensive powers which their predecessors 
had enjoyed in any former age. But at the same 
time, instead of possessing that ample domain which 
had belonged to the ancient emperors of Germany, 
and which stretched from Basil to Cologne, along 
both banks of the Rhine, d they were stripped of all 
territorial property, and had not a single city, a 
single castle, a single foot of land, that belonged to 
them as heads of the empire. As their domain was 
alienated, their stated revenues were reduced almost 
to nothing; and the extraordinary aids which, on a 
few occasions, they obtained, were granted sparingly 
and paid with reluctance. The princes and states 
of the empire, though they seemed to recognise the 
imperial authority, were subjects only in name, 
each of them possessing a complete municipal 
jurisdiction within the precincts of his own terri¬ 
tories. 

from the nature From this ill-compacted frame of 
of their titles and 

pretensions: government eflects that were unavoid¬ 

able resulted. The emperors, dazzled with the 
splendour of their titles and the external signs of 
vast authority, were apt to imagine themselves to be 
the real sovereigns of Germany, and were led to aim 
continually at recovering the exercise of those 
powers which the forms of the constitution seemed 
to vest in them, and which their predecessors 
Charlemagne and the Othos had actually enjoyed. 
The princes and states, aw r are of the nature as well 
as extent of these pretensions, were perpetually on 
their guard in order to w atch all the motions of the 
imperial court, and to circumscribe its power within 
limits still more narrow. The emperors, in support 
of their claims, appealed to ancient forms and in¬ 
stitutions, w hich the states held to be obsolete. The 
states founded their rights on recent practice and 
modern privileges, which the emperors considered 
as usurpations. 

from the manner This jealousy of the imperial autho- 

in which they . . . 

were electetf : rity, together with the opposition be¬ 

tween it and the rights of the states, increased con¬ 
siderably from the time that the emperors were 
elected, not by the collective body of German nobles, 
but by a few princes of chief dignity. During a 
long period all the members of the Germanic body 
had a right to assemble, and to make choice of the 
person whom they appointed to be their head. But 
amidst the violence and anarchy which prevailed 
for several centuries in the empire, seven princes 
who possessed the most extensive territories, and 
who had obtained an hereditary title to the great 
offices of the state, acquired the exclusive privilege 
of nominating the emperor. This right was con¬ 
firmed to them by the Golden Bull; the mode of 
exercising it was ascertained, and they were dignified 
with the appellation of Electors. The nobility and 
free cities being thus stripped of a privilege which 


EUROPE. 

they had once enjoyed, were less connected with a 
prince towards whose elevation they had not contri¬ 
buted by their suffrages, and came to be more ap¬ 
prehensive of his authority. The electors, by their 
extensive power, and the distinguishing privileges 
which they possessed, became formidable to the 
emperors, with whom they were placed almost on a 
level in several acts of jurisdiction. Thus the in¬ 
troduction of the electoral college into the empire, 
and the authority which it acquired, instead of 
diminishing, contributed to strengthen, the principles 
of hostility and discord in the Germanic constitution. 

These were further augmented by „ 

from the differ- 

the various and repugnant forms of ent forms of go- 

, vernment estab- 

civil policy in the several states which lished in the states 
* J . . w “ich composed 

composed the Germanic body. It is the^Germanic 

no easy matter to render the union of 
independent states perfect and entire, even when 
the genius and forms of their respective govern¬ 
ments happen to be altogether similar. But in the 
German empire, which w r as a confederacy of princes, 
of ecclesiastics, and of free cities, it was impossi¬ 
ble that they could incorporate thoroughly. The 
free cities w ere small republics, in which the maxims 
and spirit peculiar to that species of government 
prevailed. The princes and nobles, to wdiom supreme 
jurisdiction belonged, possessed a sort of monar¬ 
chical power within their own territories, and the 
forms of their interior administration nearly resem¬ 
bled those of the great feudal kingdoms. The 
interests, the ideas, the objects of states so differ- 
ently constituted, cannot be the same. Nor could 
their common deliberations be carried on with the 
same spirit, while the love of liberty and attention 
to commerce were the reigning principles in the 
cities, while the desire of power and ardour for mili¬ 
tary glory w ere the governing passions of the princes 
and nobility. 

The secular and ecclesiastical mem* 

from the oppo- 

bers of the empire were as little fitted sition between the 

x . secular and ec- 

for union as the free cities and the no- ciesiasticai mem- 

. . . hers: 

bility. Considerable territories had 
been granted to several of the German bishoprics 
and abbeys, and some of the highest offices in the 
empire having been annexed to them inalienably, 
were held by the ecclesiastics raised to these 
dignities. The younger sons of noblemen of the 
second order, who had devoted themselves to the 
church, were commonly promoted to these stations 
of eminence and power; and it was no small morti¬ 
fication to the princes and great nobility, to see 
persons raised from an inferior rank to the same 
level with themselves, or even exalted to superior 
dignity. The education of these churchmen, the 
genius of their profession, and their connexion w ith 
the court of Rome, rendered their character as well 
as their interest different from those of the other 
members of the Germanic body, with whom they 
w ere called to act in concert. Thus another source 
of jealousy and variance was opened, which ought 


d Pfefffcl Abreg£, p. 241. 



A VIEW OF THE 


SECT. III. 


304 


not to be overlooked when we are searching into the 
nature of the German constitution. 

^ , To all these causes of dissension 

From the un- 

equal distribu- may be added one more, arising from 
tion of wealth J ° 

and power among the unequal distribution of power and 

the members. 1 r 

wealth among the states of the empire. 
The electors, and other nobles of the highest rank, 
not only possessed sovereign jurisdiction, but go¬ 
verned such extensive, populous, and rich countries, 
as rendered them great princes. Many of the other 
members, though they enjoyed all the rights of 
sovereignty, ruled over such petty domains, that 
their real power bore no proportion to this high pre¬ 
rogative. A well-compacted and vigorous confede¬ 
racy could not be formed of such dissimilar states. 
The weaker were jealous, timid, and unable either 
to assert or to defend their just privileges. The 
more powerful were apt to assume and to become 
oppressive. The electors and emperors, by turns, 
endeavoured to extend their own authority by en¬ 
croaching on those feeble members of the Germanic 
bod} r , who sometimes defended their rights with 
much spirit, but more frequently, being overawed 
or corrupted, they tamely surrendered their privi¬ 
leges, or meanly favoured the designs formed 
against them. e 


All these render After contemplating all these prin- 
body incapable ciples of disunion and opposition in 
unfonand Wlth ^ ie constitution of the German empire, 
Vlg0ur- it will be easy to account for the want 

of concord and uniformity conspicuous in its coun¬ 
cils and proceedings. That slow, dilatory, distrust¬ 
ful, and irresolute spirit which characterizes all its 
deliberations, will appear natural in a body the 
junction of whose members was so incomplete, the 
different parts of which were held together by such 
feeble ties, and set at variance by such powerful 
motives. But the empire of Germany, nevertheless, 
comprehended countries of such great extent, and 
was inhabited by such a martial and hardy race of 
men, that when the abilities of an emperor, or zeal 
for any common cause, could rouse this unwieldy 
body to put forth its strength, it acted with almost 
irresistible force. In the following history we shall 
find, that as the measures on which Charles V. was 
most intent were often thwarted or rendered abor¬ 
tive by the spirit of jealousy and division peculiar 
to the Germanic constitution, so it was by the influ¬ 
ence which he acquired over the princes of the 
empire, and by engaging them to co-operate with 
him, that he was enabled to make some of the 
greatest efforts which distinguish his reign. 

view of the Turk- The Turkish history is so blended, 
ish government. during the reign of Char l eS V., with 

that of the great nations in Europe, and the Otto¬ 
man Porte interposed so often, and with such de¬ 
cisive influence, in the wars and negociations of the 
Christian princes, that some previous account of 
the state of government in that great empire is no 
less necessary for the information of my readers, 


e See Note XLII, 


than those views of the constitution of other king¬ 
doms which I have already exhibited to them. 

It has been the fate of the southern 

Its origin. 

and more fertile parts of Asia, at dif¬ 
ferent periods, to be conquered by that warlike and 
hardy race of men who inhabit the vast country 
known to the ancients by the name of Scythia, and 
among the moderns by that of Tartary. One tribe 
of these people, called Turks or Turcomans, ex¬ 
tended its conquests, under various leaders, and 
during several centuries, from the shore of the Cas¬ 
pian sea to the straits of the Dardanelles. Towards 
the middle of the fifteenth century, these formidable 
conquerors took Constantinople by storm, and esta¬ 
blished the seat of their government in that imperial 
city. Greece, Moldavia, Wallachia, and the other 
provinces of the ancient kingdoms of Thrace and 
Macedonia, together with part of Hungary, were 
subjected to their power. 

But though the seat of the Turkish Its despotic 
government was fixed in Europe, and gemus- 
the sultans obtained possession of such extensive 
dominions in that quarter of the globe, the genius 
of their policy continued to be purely Asiatic ; and 
may be properly termed a despotism, in contradis¬ 
tinction to those monarchical and republican forms 
of government which we have been hitherto con¬ 
templating. The supreme power was vested in sul¬ 
tans of the Ottoman race, that blood being deemed 
so sacred, that no other was thought worthy of the 
throne. From this elevation these sovereigns could 
look down and behold all their subjects reduced to 
the same level before them. The maxims of Turk¬ 
ish policy do not authorize any of those institutions 
which, in other countries, limit the exercise or 
moderate the rigour of monarchical power: they 
admit neither of any great court with constitutional 
and permanent jurisdiction to interpose, both in 
enacting laws and in superintending the execution 
of them ; nor of a body of hereditary nobles, whose 
sense of their own pre-eminence, whose conscious¬ 
ness of what is due to their rank and character, 
whose jealousy of their privileges, circumscribe the 
authority of the prince, and serve not only as a bar¬ 
rier against the excesses of his caprice, but stand 
as an intermediate order between him and the peo¬ 
ple. Under the Turkish government the political 
condition of every subject is equal. To be employed 
in the service of the sultan is the only circumstance 
that confers distinction. Even this distinction is 
rather official than personal, and so closely annexed 
to the station in which any individual serves, that 
it is scarcely communicated to the persons of those 
who are placed in them. The highest dignity in 
the empire does not give any rank or pre-eminence 
to the family of him who enjoys it. As every man, 
before he is raised to any station of authority, must 
go through the preparatory discipline of a long and 
servile obedience/ the moment he is deprived of 
power he and his posterity return to the same con- 

f State of the Turkish Empire b> Tticaut, p. 25. 



SECT. III. 


STATE OF EUROPE. 


SG5 


dition with other subjects, and sink back into ob¬ 
scurity. It is the distinguishing and odious cha¬ 
racteristic of eastern despotism, that it annihilates 
all other ranks of men in order to exalt the monarch; 
that it leaves nothing to the former, while it gives 
every thing to the latter; that it endeavours to fix 
in the minds of those who are subject to it, the idea 
of no relation between men but that of a master and 
of a slave, the former destined to command and to 
punish, the latter formed to tremble and obey>' 
x, C1 But as there are circumstances which 

Power of the sul- 

reiigion- ted by ^ rC( l ucn ^y obstruct or defeat the salu¬ 
tary effects of the best-regulated go¬ 
vernments, there are others which contribute to mi¬ 
tigate the evils of the most defective forms of policy. 
There can, indeed, be no constitutional restraints 
upon the will of a prince in a despotic government; 
but there may be such as are accidental. Absolute 
as the Turkish sultans are, they feel themselves cir¬ 
cumscribed both by religion, the principle on which 
their authority is founded , 11 and by the army, the 
instrument which they must employ in order to 
maintain it. Wherever religion interposes, the will 
of the sovereign must submit to its decrees. When 
the Koran hath prescribed any religious rite, hath 
enjoined any moral duty, or hath confirmed by its 
sanction any political maxim, the command of the 
sultan cannot overturn that which a higher autho¬ 
rity hath established. The chief restriction, how- 
and by the ever, on the will of the sultans, is im- 
mihtary. posed by the military power. An 
armed force must surround the throne of every 
despot, to maintain his authority, and to execute 
his commands. As the Turks extended their em¬ 
pire over nations which they did not exterminate, 
but reduce to subjection, they found it necessary to 
render their military establishment 

Origin of the , c . , , , . 

janizaries. numerous and iormidable. Amurath, 

their third sultan, in order to form a 
body of troops devoted to his will, that might serve 
as the immediate guards of his person and dignity, 
commanded his officers to seize annually, as the im¬ 
perial property, the fifth part of the youth taken in 
war. These, after being instructed in the Maho¬ 
metan religion, inured to obedience by severe disci¬ 
pline, and trained to warlike exercises, were formed 
into a body distinguished by the name of Jani¬ 
zaries, or new soldiers. Every sentiment which 
enthusiasm can inspire, every mark of distinction 
that the favour of the prince could confer, were em¬ 
ployed in order to animate this body with martial 
ardour, and with a consciousness of its own pre¬ 
eminence.' The janizaries soon became the chief 
strength and pride of the Ottoman armies ; and by 
their number as well as reputation, were distinguish¬ 
ed above all the troops whose duty it was to attend 
on the person of the sultans. k 

Thus as the supreme power in every 

cnce 1 inthe fm'k- society is possessed by those who have 
ish government. arms . q t j ie j r j ian( j s> this formidable 


g See Note XLIIT. 


h Rycaut, p. 8. 


body of soldiers, destined to be the instruments of 
enlarging the sultan’s authority, acquired at the 
same time the means of controlling it. The janiza¬ 
ries in Constantinople, like the praetorian bands in 
ancient Rome, quickly perceived all the advantages 
which they derived from being stationed in the capi¬ 
tal ; from their union under one standard ; and 
from being masters of the person of the prince. The 
sultans became no less sensible of their influence 
and importance. The capiculy, or soldiery of the 
Porte, w as the only power in the empire that a sultan 
or his vizier had reason to dread. To preserve the 
fidelity and attachment of the janizaries was the 
great art of government, and the principal object of 
attention in the policy of the Ottoman court. Under 
a monarch whose abilities and vigour of mind fit 
him for command, they are obsequious instruments ; 
execute whatever he enjoins, and render his power 
irresistible. Under feeble princes, or such as are 
unfortunate, they become turbulent and mutinous ; 
assume the tone of masters ; degrade and exalt sul¬ 
tans at pleasure; and teach those to tremble on 
whose nod at other times life and death depend. 

From Mahomet II., who took Con- 

. . , , ■»»- •/> Progress of the 

stantinople, to fcolyman the Magnih - Turks towards 

cent, who began his reign a few months 
after Charles V. was placed on the imperial throne 
of Germany, a succession of illustrious princes 
ruled over the Turkish empire. By their great abi¬ 
lities they kept their subjects of every order, military 
as well as civil, submissive to government, and had 
the absolute command of whatever force their vast 
empire was able to exert. Solyman in particular, 
who is known to the Christians chiefly as a conqueror, 
but is celebrated in the Turkish annals as the great 
lawgiver who established order and police in their 
empire, governed, during his long reign, with no 
less authority than wisdom. He divided his domin¬ 
ions into several districts ; he appointed the num¬ 
ber of soldiers which each should furnish ; he ap¬ 
propriated a certain proportion of the land in every 
province for their maintenance ; he regulated with 
a minute accuracy every thing relative to their dis¬ 
cipline, their arms, and the nature of their service. 
He put the finances of the empire into an orderly 
train of administration ; and though the taxes in 
the Turkish dominions, as well as in the other des¬ 
potic monarchies of the east, are far from being con¬ 
siderable, he supplied that defect by an attentive 
and severe economy. 

Nor was it only under such sultans Ad vantages 
as Solyman, whose talents were no S'S 'oZ the' 
less adapted to preserve internal order ^th^silHh 
than to conduct the operations of war, century - 
that the Turkish empire engaged with advantage in 
its contests with the Christian states. The long suc¬ 
cession of able princes which I have mentioned, had 
given such vigour and firmness to the Ottoman 
government, that it seems to have attained, during 
the sixteenth century, the highest degree of perfec- 

i Prince Cantemir’s Hist, of the Othman. Emp. p. 87. k See Note XLIV. 



3(K> 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


SECT. III. 


tion of which its constitution was capable: where¬ 
as the great monarchies in Christendom were still 
far from that state which could enable them to act 
with a full exertion of their force. Besides this, the 
Turkish troops in that age possessed every advan¬ 
tage which arises from superiority in military disci¬ 
pline. At the time when Solyman began his reign, 
the janizaries had been embodied near a century 
and a half; and during that long period, the seve¬ 
rity of their military discipline had in no degree 
relaxed. The other soldiers, drawn from the pro¬ 
vinces of the empire, had been kept almost con¬ 
tinually under arms in the various wars which the 
sultans had carried on, with hardly any interval of 
peace. Against troops thus trained and accustomed 


to service, the forces of the Christian powers took 
the field with great disadvantage. The most intel¬ 
ligent as well as impartial authors of the sixteenth 
century acknowledge and lament the superior at¬ 
tainments of the Turks in the military art . 1 The 
success which almost uniformly attended their arms 
in all their wars, demonstrates the justness of this 
observation. The Christian armies did not acquire 
that superiority over the Turks which they now pos¬ 
sess, until the long establishment of standing forces 
had improved military discipline among the former, 
and until various causes and events which it is not 
my province to explain had corrupted or abolish¬ 
ed their ancient warlike institutions among the 
latter. 


1 See Note XLV. 





PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note I. Sect. I. p. 309. 

The consternation of the Britons, when invaded by 
the Piets and Caledonians after the Roman legions 
were called out of the island, may give some idea 
of the degree of debasement to which the human 
mind was reduced by long servitude under the Ro¬ 
mans. In their supplicatory letter to ^Etius, which 
they call the Groans of Britain , “ We know not (say 
they) which way to turn us. The barbarians drive 
us to the sea, and the sea forces us back on the bar¬ 
barians ; between which we have only the choice of 
two deaths, either to be swallowed up by the waves, 
or to be slain by the sword.” Histor. Gildae. ap. 
Gale, Hist. Britan. Script, p. 6. One can hardly 
believe this dastardly race to be the descendants of 
that gallant people who repulsed Caisar, and de¬ 
fended their liberty so long against the Roman arms. 

Note II. Sect. I. p. 310. 

The barbarous nations were not only illiterate, 
but regarded literature with contempt. They found 
the inhabitants of all the provinces of the empire 
sunk in effeminacy, and averse to war. Such a 
character was the object of scorn to a high-spirited 
and gallant race of men. “ When we would brand 
an enemy/' says Liutprandus, “ with the most dis¬ 
graceful and contumelious appellation, we call him 
a Roman ; hoc solo, id est Romani nomine, quic- 
quid ignobilitatis, quicquid timiditatis, quicquid 
avaritiae, quicquid luxurim, quicquid mendacii, 
immo quicquid vitiorum est comprehendentes.” 
Liutprandi Legatio apud Murat. Scriptor. Italic, 
vol. ii. pars 1. p. 481. This degeneracy of manners 
illiterate barbarians imputed to their love of learn¬ 
ing. Even after they settled in the countries which 
they had conquered, they would not permit their 
children to be instructed in any science; “ for (say 
they) instruction in the sciences tends to corrupt, 
enervate, and depress the mind ; and he who has 
been accustomed to tremble under the rod of a pe¬ 
dagogue, will never look on a sword or spear with 
an undaunted eye.'’ Procop. de bello Gothor. lib. i. 
p. 4. ap. Scrip. Byz. edit. Venet. vol. i.—A con¬ 


siderable number of years elapsed before nations so 
rude and so unwilling to learn could produce histo¬ 
rians capable of recording their transactions, or of 
describing their manners and institutions. By that 
time the memory of their ancient condition was in 
a great measure lost, and few monuments remained 
to guide their first writers to any certain knowledge 
of it. If one expects to receive any satisfactory 
account of the manners and laws of the Goths, Lom¬ 
bards, or Franks, during their residence in those 
countries where they were originally seated, from 
Jornandes, Paulus Warnefridus, or Gregory of 
Tours, the earliest and most authentic historians of 
these people, he will be miserably disappointed. 
Whatever imperfect knowledge has been conveyed 
to us of their ancient state, we owe not to their own 
writers, but to the Greek and Roman historians. 

Note III. Sect. I. p. 310. 

A circumstance related by Priscus in his history 
of the embassy to Attila, king of the Huns, gives a 
striking view of the enthusiastic passion for war 
which prevailed among the barbarous nations. 
When the entertainment to which that fierce con¬ 
queror admitted the Roman ambassadors was ended, 
two Scythians advanced towards Attila, and recited 
a poem in which they celebrated his victories and 
military virtues. All the Huns fixed their eyes with 
attention on the bards. Some seemed to be delight¬ 
ed with the verses ; others, remembering their own 
battles and exploits, exulted with joy ; while such 
as were become feeble through age, burst out into 
tears bewailing the decay of their vigour, and the 
state of inactivity in which they were now obliged 
to remain. Excerpta ex historia Prisci Rhetoris 
ap. Byz. Hist. Script, vol. i. p. 45. 

Note IV. Sect. I. p. 312. 

A remarkable confirmation of both parts of this 
reasoning occurs in the history of England. The 
Saxons carried on the conquest of that country with 
the same destructive spirit which distinguished the 
other barbarous nations.—The ancient inhabitants 
of Britain were either exterminated, or forced to 
take shelter among the mountains of Wales, or re- 




3G8 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


duced to servitude. The Saxon government, laws, 
manners, and language, were of consequence intro¬ 
duced into Britain, and were so perfectly established, 
that all memory of the institutions previous to their 
conquest of the country was in a great measure lost. 
The very reverse of this happened in a subsequent 
revolution. A single victory placed William the 
Norman on the throne of England. The Saxon in¬ 
habitants, though oppressed, were not exterminated. 
William employed the utmost efforts of his power 
and policy to make his new subjects conform in 
every thing to the Norman standard, but without 
success. The Saxons, though vanquished, were far 
more numerous than their conquerors : when the 
two races began to incorporate, the Saxon laws and 
manners gradually gained ground; the Norman 
institutions became unpopular and odious ; many 
of them fell into disuse : and in the English consti¬ 
tution and language, at this day, many essential 
parts are manifestly of Saxon, not of Norman, ex¬ 
traction. 

Note V. Sect. I. p. 312. 

Procopius the historian declines, from a principle 
of benevolence, to give any particular detail of the 
cruelties of the Goths : “ Lest/' says he, “ I should 
transmit a monument and example of inhumanity 
to succeeding ages.” Proc. de bello Goth. lib. iii. 
cap. 10. ap. Byz. Script, vol. i. 126. But as the 
change which I have pointed out as a consequence 
of the settlement of the barbarous nations in the 
countries formerly subject to the Roman empire 
could not have taken place if the greater part of 
the ancient inhabitants had not been extirpated, an 
event of such importance and influence merits a 
more particular illustration. This will justify me 
for exhibiting some part of that melancholy spec¬ 
tacle over which humanity prompted Procopius to 
draw a veil. I shall not, however, disgust my read¬ 
ers by a minute narration; but rest satisfied with 
collecting some instances of the devastations made 
by two of the many nations which settled in the 
empire. The Vandals were the first of the bar¬ 
barians who invaded Spain. It was one of the 
richest and most populous of the Roman provinces; 
the inhabitants had been distinguished for courage, 
and had defended their liberty against the arms of 
Rome, with greater obstinacy, and during a longer 
course of years, than any nation in Europe. But 
so entirely were they enervated by their subjection 
to the Romans, that the Vandals, who entered the 
kingdom, A. D. 409, completed the conquest of it 
with such rapidity, that in the year 411 these bar¬ 
barians divided it among them, by casting lots. 
The desolation occasioned by their invasion is thus 
described by Idatius, an eye-witness : “ The bar¬ 
barians wasted every thing with hostile cruelty. 
The pestilence was no less destructive. A dreadful 
famine raged to such a degree, that the living were 
constrained to feed on the dead bodies of their fel¬ 
low-citizens ; and all those terrible plagues deso¬ 


lated at once the unhappy kingdoms." Idatii Chron. 
ap. Biblioth. Patrum, vol. vii. p. 1233. edit. Lugd. 
1677. The Goths having attacked the Vandals in 
their new settlements, a fierce war ensued; the 
country was plundered by both parties ; the cities 
which had escaped from destruction in the first 
invasion of the Vandals were now laid in ashes, 
and the inhabitants exposed to suffer every thing 
that the wanton cruelty of barbarians could inflict. 
Idatius describes these scenes of inhumanity, ibid, 
p. 1235. b. 1236. c. f. A similar account of their 
devastations is given by Isidorus Hispalensis and 
other contemporary writers. Isid. Chron. ap. Grot. 
Hist. Goth. 732. From Spain the Vandals passed 
over into Africa, A. D. 428. Africa was, next to 
Egypt, the most fertile of the Roman provinces. It 
was one of the granaries of the empire, and is called 
by an ancient writer the soul of the commonwealth. 
Though the army with which the Vandals invaded 
it did not exceed 30,000 fighting men, they became 
absolute masters of the province in less than two 
years. A contemporary author gives a dreadful 
account of the havoc which they made: “ They 
found a province well cultivated, and enjoying 
plenty, the beauty of the whole earth. They carried 
their destructive arms into every corner of it; they 
dispeopled it by their devastations, exterminating 
every thing with fire and sword. They did not even 
spare the vines and fruit-trees, that those to whom 
caves and inaccessible mountains had afforded a 
retreat might find no nourishment of any kind. 
Their hostile rage could not be satiated, and there 
was no place exempted from the effects of it. They 
tortured their prisoners with the most exquisite 
cruelty, that they might force from them a discovery 
of their hidden treasures. The more they discovered 
the more they expected, and the more implacable 
they became. Neither the infirmities of age nor of 
sex, neither the dignity of nobility nor the sanctity 
of the sacerdotal office, could mitigate their fury ; 
but the more illustrious their prisoners were, the 
more barbarously they insulted them. The public 
buildings which resisted the violence of the flames 
they levelled with the ground. They left many 
cities without an inhabitant. When they approached 
any fortified place which their undisciplined army 
could not reduce, they gathered together a multi¬ 
tude of prisoners, and putting them to the sword, 
left their bodies unburied, that the stench of the 
carcases might oblige the garrison to abandon it." 
Victor A itensis de persecutione Africana ap. Bibl. 
Patrum, vol. viii. p. 666. St. Augustin, an African 
who survived the conquest of his country by the 
Vandals some years, gives a similar description of 
their cruelties, Opera, vol. x. p. 372. edit. 1616.— 
About a hundred years after the settlement of the 
A^andals in Africa, Belisarius attacked and dispos¬ 
sessed them. Procopius, a contemporary historian, 
describes the devastation which that war occasion¬ 
ed. “ Africa," says he, “ was so entirely dispeo¬ 
pled, that one might travel several days in it with- 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS 


369 


out meeting one man ; and it is no exaggeration to 
say, that in the course of the war five millions of 
persons perished .” Proc. Hist. Arcana, cap. 18. ap. 
Byz. Script, vol. i. 315.—I have dwelt longer upon 
the calamities of this province, because they are 
described not only by contemporary authors, but by 
eye-witnesses. The present state of Africa confirms 
their testimony. Many of the most flourishing and 
populous cities with which it was filled were so 
entirely ruined, that no vestiges remain to point out 
where they were situated. That fertile territory 
which sustained the Roman empire still lies in a 
great measure uncultivated ; and that province 
which Victor in his barbarous Latin called Speci- 
ositas totius terra florentis , is now the retreat of 
pirates and banditti. 

While the Vandals laid waste a great part of the 
empire, the Huns desolated the remainder. Of all 
the barbarous tribes they were the fiercest and most 
formidable. Ammianus Marcellinus, a contempo¬ 
rary author, and one of the best of the later histori¬ 
ans, gives an account of their policy and manners, 
which nearly resembles those of the Scythians de¬ 
scribed by the ancients, and of the Tartars known 
to the moderns. Some parts of their character, and 
several of their customs, are not unlike those of the 
savages in North America. Their passion for war 
was extreme. “ As in polished societies (says 
Ammianus) ease and tranquillity are courted, they 
delight in war and dangers. He who falls in battle 
is reckoned happy. They who die of old age or of 
disease are deemed infamous. They boast with the 
utmost exultation of the number of enemies whom 
they have slain ; and, as the most glorious of all 
ornaments, they fasten the scalps of those who have 
fallen by their hands to the trappings of their 
horses.” Ammian. Marc. lib. xxxi. p* 477. edit. 
Gronov. Lugd. 1693.—Their incursions into the 
empire began in the fourth century ; and the 
Romans, though no strangers, by that time, to the 
effects of barbarous rage, were astonished at the 
cruelty of their devastations. Thrace, Pannonia, 
and Illyricum, were the countries which they first 
laid desolate. As they had at first no intention of 
settling in Europe, they made only inroads of short 
continuance into the empire, but these were fre¬ 
quent, and Procopius computes that in each of 
these, at a medium, two hundred thousand persons 
perished, or were carried off as slaves. Procop. 
Hist. Arcan. ap. Byz. Script, vol. i. 316. Thrace, 
the best-cultivated province in that quarter of the 
empire, was converted into a desert; and when 
Priscus accompanied the ambassadors sent to Attila, 
there were no inhabitants in some of the cities, but 
a few miserable people who had taken shelter among 
the ruins of the churches; and the fields were 
covered with the bones of those who had fallen by 
the sword. Priscus ap. Byz. Script, vol. i. 34. 
Attila became king of the Huns A. D. 434. He is 
one of the greatest and most enterprising conquerors 

mentioned in history. He extended his empire over 

2 B 


all the vast countries comprehended under the 
general names of Scythia and Germany in the an¬ 
cient division of the world. While he was carrying 
on his wars against the barbarous nations, he kept 
the Roman empire under perpetual apprehensions, 
and extorted enormous subsidies from the timid 
and effeminate monarchs who governed it. In the 
year 451, he entered Gaul at the head of an army 
composed of all the various nations which he had 
subdued. It was more numerous than any with 
which the barbarians had hitherto invaded the 
empire. The devastations which he committed were 
horrible; not only the open country, but the most 
flourishing cities, were desolated. The extent and 
cruelty of his devastations are described by Salvi- 
anus de Gubernat. Dei, edit. Baluz. Par. 1669. p. 
139, &c.; and by Idatius, ubi supra, p. 1235. yEtius 
put a stop to his progress in that country by the 
famous battle of Chalons, in which (if we may be¬ 
lieve the historians of that age) three hundred thou¬ 
sand persons perished. Idat. ibid. Jornandes de 
Robus Geticis ap. Grot. Hist. Gothor. p. 671. Amst. 
1665. But the next year he resolved to attack the 
centre of the empire, and marching into Italy, wasted 
it with rage, inflamed by the sense of his late dis¬ 
grace. What Italy suffered by the Huns exceeded 
all the calamities which the preceding incursions 
of the barbarians had brought upon it. Conringius 
has collected several passages from the ancient 
historians, which prove that the devastations com¬ 
mitted by the Vandals and Huns in the countries 
situated on the banks of the Rhine were no less 
cruel and fatal to the human race. Exercitatio de 
urbibus Germanise, Opera, vol. i. 488. It is end¬ 
less, it is shocking, to follow these destroyers of 
mankind through so many scenes of horror, and to 
contemplate the havoc which they made of the 
human species. 

But the state in which Italy appears to have been 
during several ages after the barbarous nations 
settled in it, is the most decisive proof of the 
cruelty as well as extent of their devastations. 
Whenever any country is thinly inhabited, trees 
and shrubs spring up in the uncultivated fields, 
and, spreading by degrees, form large forests; by 
the overflowing of rivers, and the stagnating of 
waters, other parts of it are converted into lakes 
and marshes. Ancient Italy, which the Romans 
rendered the seat of elegance and luxury, was cul¬ 
tivated to the highest pitch. But so effectually did 
the devastations of the barbarians destroy all the 
effects of Roman industry and cultivation, that in 
the eighth century a considerable part of Italy 
appears to have been covered with forests and 
marshes of great extent. Muratori enters into a 
minute detail concerning the situation and limits of 
several of these ; and proves, by the most authentic 
evidence, that great tracts of territory in all the 
different provinces of Italy were either overrun with 
wood or laid under water. Nor did these occupy 
parts of the country naturally barren or of little value, 



370 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


but were spread over districts which ancient writers 
represent as extremely fertile, and which at pre¬ 
sent are highly cultivated. Muratori Antiquitates 
Italicae medii jEvi, dissert, xxi. v. ii. p. 149,153, &c. 
A strong proof of this occurs in a description of 
the city of Modena, by an author of the tenth cen¬ 
tury, Murat. Scrip. Rerum Italic, vol. ii. pars ii. 
p. 691. The state of desolation in other countries 
of Europe seems to have been the same. In many 
of the most early charters now extant, the lands 
granted to monasteries or to private persons are dis¬ 
tinguished into such as are cultivated or inhabited, 
and such as were cremi, desolate. In many instances 
lands are granted to persons because they had taken 
them from the desert, ab eremo, and had cultivated 
and planted them with inhabitants. This appears 
from a charter of Charlemagne, published by Eck- 
hart de Rebus Franciac Oricntalis, vol. ii. p. 864, 
and from many charters of his successors quoted by 
Du Cange, voc. Eremvs .—Wherever a right of pro¬ 
perty in land can be thus acquired, it is evident 
that the country must be extremely desolate and 
thinly peopled. The first settlers in America ob¬ 
tained possession of land by such a title. Whoever 
was able to clear and cultivate a field, was recog¬ 
nized as the proprietor. His industry merited such 
a recompencc. The grants in the charters which I 
have mentioned How from a similar principle, and 
there must have been some resemblance in the state 
of the countries. 

Muratori adds, that during the eighth and ninth 
centuries Italy was greatly infested by wolves and 
other wild beasts, another mark of its being desti¬ 
tute of inhabitants. Murat. Antiq. vol. ii. p. 163. 
Thus Italy, the pride of the ancient world for its 
fertility and cultivation, was reduced to the state 
of a country newly peopled and lately rendered 
habitable. 

I am sensible, not only that some of these de¬ 
scriptions of the devastations which I have quoted 
may be exaggerated, but that the barbarous tribes 
in making their settlements did not proceed inva¬ 
riably in the same manner. Some of them seemed 
to be bent on exterminating the ancient inhabitants; 
others were more disposed to incorporate with them. 
It is not my province either to inquire into the 
causes which occasioned this variety in the conduct 
of the conquerors, or to describe the state of those 
countries where the ancient inhabitants were treated 
most mildly. The facts which I have produced are 
sufficient to justify the account which I have given 
in the text, and to prove that the destruction of the 
human species occasioned by the hostile invasions 
of the northern nations, and their subsequent settle¬ 
ments, was much greater than many authors seem 
to imagine. 

Note VI. Sect. I. p. 312. 

I have observed, Note II., that our only certain 
information concerning the ancient state of the bar¬ 
barous nations must be derived from the Greek and 


Roman writers. Happily an account ol the insti¬ 
tutions and customs of one people, to which those 
of all the rest seem to have been in a great measure 
similar, has been transmitted to us by two authors, 
the most capable perhaps that ever wrote, of observ¬ 
ing them with profound discernment, and ol de¬ 
scribing them with propriety and force. The reader 
must perceive that Caesar and Tacitus are the authors 
whom I have in view. The former gives a short 
account of the ancient Germans in a few chapters 
of the sixth book of his Commentaries; the latter 
wrote a treatise expressly on that subject. These 
are the most precious and instructive monuments of 
antiquity to the present inhabitants of Europe. 
From them we learn, 

1. That the state of society among the ancient 
Germans was of the rudest and most simple form. 
They subsisted entirely by hunting or by pasturage. 
Cms. lib. vi. c. 21. They neglected agriculture, 
and lived chiefly on milk, cheese, and flesh. Ibid, 
c. 22. Tacitus agrees with him in most of these 
points: De Morib. Germ. c. 14, 15, 23. The Goths 
were equally negligent of agriculture. Prise. Rhet. 
ap. Byz. Script, v. i. p. 31. B. Society was in the 
same state among the Huns, who disdained to culti¬ 
vate the earth or to touch a plough. Amm. Marcel, 
lib. xxxi. p. 475. The same manners took place 
among the Alans; ibid. p. 477. While society 
remains in this simple state, men by uniting toge¬ 
ther scarcely relinquish any portion of their natural 
independence. Accordingly we are informed, 2. 
That the authority of civil government was ex¬ 
tremely limited among the Germans. During times 
of peace they had no common or fixed magistrate, 
but the chief men of every district dispensed justice 
and accommodated differences. Coes. ibid. c. 23. 
Their kings had not absolute or unbounded power ; 
their authority consisted rather in the privilege of 
advising than in the power of commanding. Mat¬ 
ters of small consequence were determined by the 
chief men ; affairs of importance by the whole com¬ 
munity. Tacit, c. 7, 11. The Huns, in like man¬ 
ner, deliberated in common concerning every busi¬ 
ness of moment to the society ; and were not subject 
to the rigour of regal authority. Amm. Marcel. 

lib. xxxi. p. 474.-3. Every individual among the 

ancient Germans was left at liberty to choose whe¬ 
ther he would take part in any military enterprise 
which was proposed ; there seems to have been no 
obligation to engage in it imposed on him by public 
authority. “ When any of the chief men proposes 
an expedition, such as approve of the cause and of 
the leader, rise up and declare their intention of 
following him; after coming under this engagement, 
those who do not fulfil it are considered as deserters 
and traitors, and are looked upon as infamous.” 
Coes. ibid. c. 23. Tacitus plainly points at the same 
custom, though in terms more obscure. Tacit, c. 11. 

-4. As every individual was so independent, and 

master in so great a degree of his own actions, it 
became of consequence the great object of every 




371 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


person among the Germans who aimed at being a 
leader, to gain adherents, and attack them to his 
person and interest. These adherents Caesar calls 
Ambacti and Clientes, i. e. retainers or clients; 
Tacitus, Comites , or companions. The chief dis¬ 
tinction and power of the leaders consisted in being 
attended by a numerous band of chosen youth. 
This was their pride as well as ornament during 
peace, and their defence in war. The leaders gained 
or preserved the favour of these retainers by pre¬ 
sents of armour and of horses; or by the profuse 
though inelegant hospitality with which they enter¬ 
tained them, Tacit, c. 14, 15.-5. Another conse¬ 

quence of the personal liberty and independence 
which the Germans retained, even after they united 
in society, was their circumscribing the criminal 
jurisdiction of the magistrates within very narrow 
limits, and their not only claiming but exercising 
almost all their rights of private resentment and 
revenge. Their magistrates had not the power 
either of imprisoning or of inflicting any corporal 
punishment on a free man. Tacit, c. 7. Every 
person was obliged to avenge the wrongs which his 
parents or friends had sustained. Their enmities 
were hereditary, but not irreconcilable. Even mur¬ 
der was compensated by paying a certain number of 
cattle. Tacit, c. 21. A part of the fine went to the 
king or state, a part to the person who had been 
injured, or to his kindred. Ibid. c. 12. 

Those particulars concerning the institutions and 
manners of the Germans, though well known to 
every person conversant in ancient literature, I have 
thought proper to arrange in this order, and to lay 
before such of my readers as may be less acquainted 
with these facts, both because they confirm the 
account which I have given of the state of the bar¬ 
barous nations, and because they tend to illustrate 
all the observations I shall have occasion to make 
concerning the various changes in their government 
and customs. The laws and customs introduced by 
the barbarous nations into their new settlements are 
the best commentary on the writings of Caesar and 
Tacitus ; and their observations are the best key to a 
perfect knowledge of these laws and customs. 

One circumstance with respect to the testimonies 
of Caesar and Tacitus concerning the Germans 
merits attention. Caesar wrote his brief account of 
their manners more than an hundred years before 
Tacitus composed his Treatise De Moribus Ger- 
manorum. A hundred years make a consider¬ 
able period in the progress of national manners, 
especially if during that time those people who are 
rude and unpolished have had much communication 
with more civilized states. This was the case with 
the Germans. Their intercourse with the Romans 
began w hen Caesar crossed the Rhine, and increased 
greatly during the interval between that event and 
the time w hen Tacitus flourished. We may accord¬ 
ingly observe, that the manners of the Germans in 
his time, which Caesar describes, were less improved 
than those of the same people as delineated by 

2 b 2 


Tacitus. Besides this, it is remarkable that there 
was a considerable difference in the state of society 
among the different tribes of Germans. The Suiones 
were so much improved that they began to be cor¬ 
rupted. Tacit, cap. 44. The Fenni were so bar¬ 
barous, that it is wonderful how they were able to 
subsist. Ibid. cap. 46. Whoever undertakes to 
describe the manners of the Germans, or to found 
any political theory upon the state of society among 
them, ought carefully to attend to both these cir¬ 
cumstances. 

Before I quit this subject, it may not be improper 
to observe, that though successive alterations in their 
institutions, together with the gradual progress of 
refinement, have made an entire change in the man¬ 
ners of the various people who conquered the Ro¬ 
man empire, there is still one race of men nearly in 
the same political situation with theirs w hen they 
first settled in their new conquests; I mean the 
various tribes and nations of savages in North 
America. It cannot then be considered either as a 
digression, or as an improper indulgence of curiosity, 
to inquire whether this similarity in their political 
state has occasioned any resemblance between their 
character and manners. If the likeness turns out 
to be striking, it is a stronger proof that a just 
account has been given of the ancient inhabitants 
of Europe, than the testimony even of Caesar or of 
Tacitus. 

1. The Americans subsist chiefly by hunting and 
fishing. Some tribes neglect agriculture entirely. 
Among those who cultivate some small spot near 
their huts, that, together with all works of labour, is 
performed by the women. P. Charlevoix Journal 
Historique d’un Voyage de l’Amerique, 4to. Par. 
1744. p. 334. In such a state of society, the common 
wants of men being few, and their mutual depend¬ 
ence upon each other small, their union is extremely 
imperfect and feeble, and they continue to enjoy 
their natural liberty almost unimpaired. It is the 
first idea of an American, that every man is born 
free and independent, and that no power on earth 
hath any right to diminish or circumscribe his 
natural liberty. There is hardly any appearance of 
subordination either in civil or domestic government. 
Every one does what he pleases. A father and 
mother live with their children, like persons whom 
chance has brought together, and whom no common 
bond unites. Their manner of educating their 
children is suitable to this principle. They never 
chastise or punish them, even during their infancy. 
As they advance in years, they continue to be 
entirely masters of their own actions, and seem not 
to be conscious of being responsible for any part of 

their conduct. Ibid. p. 272, 273.-2. The power 

of their civil magistrates is extremely limited. 
Among most of their tribes, the Sachem or chief is 
elective. A council of old men is chosen to assist 
him, without whose advice he determines no affair 
of importance. The Sachems neither possess nor 
claim any great degree of authority. They propose 




372 


A VIEW OF THE S’lATE OF EUROPE. 


and entreat rather than command. The obedience 
of their people is altogether voluntary. Ibid. p. 

266, 268.-3. The savages of America engage in 

their military enterprises not from constraint but 
choice. When war is resolved, a chief arises and 
offers himself to be the leader. Such as are willing 
(for they compel no person) stand up one after an¬ 
other and sing their war-song. But if, after this, any 
of these should refuse to follow the leader to whom 
they have engaged, his life would be in danger, and 
he would be considered as the most infamous of 

men. Ibid. p. 217, 218.-4. Such as engage to 

follow any leader, expect to be treated by him with 
great attention and respect; and he is obliged to 
make them presents of considerable value. Ibid. 

p. 218.-5. Among the Arhericans the magistrate 

has scarcely any criminal jurisdiction. Ibid. p. 272. 
Upon receiving any injury, the person or family 
offended may inflict what punishment they please on 
the person who was the author of it. Ibid. p. 274. 
Their resentment and desire of vengeance are ex¬ 
cessive and implacable. Time can neither extin¬ 
guish nor abate it. It is the chief inheritance 
parents leave to their children ; it is transmitted 
from generation to generation, until an occasion be 
found of satisfying it. Ibid. p. 309. Sometimes, 
however, the offended party is appeased. A com¬ 
pensation is paid for a murder that has been com¬ 
mitted. The relations of the deceased receive it: 
and it consists most commonly of a captive taken 
in war, who being substituted in place of the person 
who was murdered, assumes his name, and is 
adopted into his family. Ibid. p. 274. The resem¬ 
blance holds in many other particulars. It is suf¬ 
ficient for my purpose to have pointed out the simi¬ 
larity of those great features which distinguish and 
characterize both people. Bochart, and other phi¬ 
lologists of the last century, who, with more eru¬ 
dition than science, endeavoured to trace the mi¬ 
grations of various nations, and who were apt, upon 
the slightest appearance of resemblance, to find an 
affinity between nations far removed from each other, 
and to conclude that they were descended from the 
same ancestors, would hardly have failed, on view¬ 
ing such an amazing similarity, to pronounce with 
confidence, “ That the Germans and Americans must 
be the same people.” But a philosopher will satisfy 
himself with observing, “ That the characters of 
nations depend on the state of society in which they 
live, and on the political institutions established 
among them; and that the human mind, whenever 
it is placed in the same situation, w ill, in ages the 
most distant, and in countries the most remote, 
assume the same form, and be distinguished by the 
same manners.” 

I have pushed the comparison between the Ger¬ 
mans and Americans no further than was necessary 
for the illustration of my subject. I do not pretend 
that the state of society in the two countries was 
perfectly similar in every respect. Many of the 
German tribes were more civilized than the Ame¬ 


ricans. Some of them were not unacquainted with 
agriculture ; almost all of them had flocks of tame 
cattle, and depended upon them for the chief part 
of their subsistence. Most of the American tribes 
subsist by hunting, and are in a ruder and more 
simple state than the ancient Germans. The resem¬ 
blance, however, between their condition, is greater, 
perhaps, than any that history affords an oppor¬ 
tunity of observing between any tw o races of un¬ 
civilized people, and this has produced a surprising 
similarity of manners. 

Note VII. Sect. I. p. 312. 

The booty gained by an army belonged to the 
army. The king himself had no part of it but 
what he acquired by lot. A remarkable instance 
of this occurs in the history of the Franks. The 
army of Clovis, the founder of the French monarchy, 
having plundered a church, carried off', among other 
sacred utensils, a vase of extraordinary size and 
beauty. The bishop sent deputies to Clovis, be¬ 
seeching him to restore the vase, that it might be 
again employed in the sacred services to which it 
had been consecrated. Clovis desired the deputies 
to follow him to Soissons, as the booty was to be 
divided in that place ; and promised, that if the lot 
should give him the disposal of the vase, he would 
grant w hat the bishop desired. When he came to 
Soissons, and all the booty was placed in one great 
heap in the middle of the army, Clovis entreated 
that, before making the division, they would give 
him that vase over and above his share. All ap¬ 
peared willing to gratify the king, and to comply 
w ith his request, when a fierce and haughty soldier 
lifted up his battle-axe, and, striking the vase with 
the utmost violence, cried out with a loud voice, 
“ You shall receive nothing here but that to which 
the lot gives you a right.” Gregor. Turon. Histor. 
Francorum, lib. ii. c. 27. p. 70. Par. 1610. 

Note VIII. Sect. I. p. 313. 

The history of the establishment and progress of 
the feudal system is an interesting object to all the 
nations of Europe. In some countries their juris¬ 
prudence and laws are still in a great measure feu¬ 
dal. In others,many forms and practices established 
by custom, or founded on statutes, took their rise 
from the feudal law, and cannot be understood 
without attending to the ideas peculiar to it. Several 
authors of the highest reputation for genius and 
erudition have endeavoured to illustrate this sub¬ 
ject, but still many parts of it are obscure. I shall 
endeavour to trace, with precision, the progress and 
variation of ideas concerning property in land among 
the barbarous nations; and shall attempt to point 
out the causes which introduced these changes, as 
well as the effects which followed upon them. 
Property in land seems to have gone through four 
successive changes among the people who settled in 
the various provinces of the Roman empire. 

I. While the barbarous nations remained in their 





PROOFS AN1) ILLUSTRATIONS. 


373 


original countries, tneir property in land was only 
temporary, and they had no certain limits to their 
possessions. After feeding their flocks in one dis¬ 
trict, they removed with them and with their wives 
and families to another ; and abandoned that like¬ 
wise in a short time. They were not, in consequence 
of this imperfect species of property, brought under 
any positive or formal obligation to serve the com¬ 
munity ; all their services were purely voluntary. 
Every individual was at liberty to choose how far 
he would contribute towards carrying on any mili¬ 
tary enterprise. If he followed a leader in any 
expedition, it was from attachment, not from a sense 
of obligation. The clearest proof of this has been 
produced in Note VI. While property continued 
in this state, we can discover nothing that bears any 
resemblance to a feudal tenure, or to the subordi¬ 
nation and military service which the feudal system 
introduced. 

II. Upon settling in the countries which they had 
subdued, the victorious troops divided the conquer¬ 
ed lands. Whatever portion of them fell to a 
soldier, he seized the recompence due to his valour, 
as a settlement acquired by his own sword. He 
took possession of it as a freeman in full property. 
He enjoyed it during his own life, and could dis¬ 
pose of it at pleasure, or transmit it as an inherit¬ 
ance to his children. Thus property in land became 
fixed. It was at the same time allodial; i. e. the 
possessor had the entire right of property and do¬ 
minion ; he held of no sovereign or superior lord, 
to whom he was bound to do homage and perform 
service. But as these new proprietors were in some 
danger (as has been observed in the text) of being 
disturbed by the remainder of the ancient inhabit¬ 
ants, and in still greater danger of being attacked 
by successive colonies of barbarians as fierce and 
rapacious as themselves, they saw the necessity of 
coming under obligations to defend the community, 
more explicit than those to which they had been 
subject in their original habitations. On this ac¬ 
count, immediately upon their fixing in their new 
settlements, every freeman became bound to take 
arms in defence of the community, and if he refused 
or neglected so to do, was liable to a considerable 
penalty. I do not mean that any contract of this 
kind was formally concluded, or mutually ratified 
by any legal solemnity. It was established by 
tacit consent, like the other compacts which hold 
society together. Their mutual security and pre¬ 
servation made it the interest of all to recognise its 
authority, and to enforce the observation of it. We 
can trace back this new obligation on the proprie¬ 
tors of land to a very early period in the history of 
the Franks. Chilperic, who began his reign A. D. 
5G2, exacted a fine, bannos jussit exigi , from certain 
persons who had refused to accompany him in an 
expedition. Gregor. Turon. lib. v. c. 26. p. 211. 
Childebert, who began his reign A. D.576, proceed¬ 
ed in the same manner against others who had been 
guilty of a like crime. Ibid. lib. vii. c. 42. p. 342. 


Such a fine could not have been exacted while pro¬ 
perty continued in its first state, and military ser¬ 
vice was entirely voluntary. Charlemagne ordained 
that every freeman who possessed five mansi, i. e. 
sixty acres of land, in property, should march in 
person against the enemy. Capitul. A. D. 807, 
Louis le Debonnaire, A. D. 815, granted lands to 
certain Spaniards who lied from the Saracens, and 
allowed them to settle in his territories, on con¬ 
dition that they should serve in the army like other 
freemen. Capitul. vol. i. p. 500. By land possessed 
in property , which is mentioned in the law of 
Charlemagne, we are to understand, according to 
the style of that age, allodial land ; alodes and pro- 
prietas, alodum and proprium , being words perfectly 
synonymous. Du Cange, voce Alodis. The clearest 
proof of the distinction between allodial and bene¬ 
ficiary possession is contained in two charters pub¬ 
lished by Muratori, by which it appears that a 
person might possess one part of his estate as al¬ 
lodial, which he could dispose of at pleasure, the 
other as a bencficium , of which he had only the 
usufruct, the property returning to the superior lord 
on his demise. Antiq. Ital. medii M\\, vol. i. p. 
559, 565. The same distinction is pointed out in a 
Capitulare of Charlemagne, A. D. 812, edit. Baluz. 
vol. i. p. 491. Count Everard, who married a 
daughter of Louis le Debonnaire, in the curious 
testament by which he disposes of his vast estate 
among his children, distinguishes between what he 
possessed proprietate and what he held beneficio ; 
and it appears that the greater part was allodial. 
A. D. 837. Aub. Miraei Opera Diplomatica, Lovan. 
1723. vol. . p. 19. 

In the same manner Liber homo is commonly op¬ 
posed to Vassus or Vassallus ; the former denotes 
an allodial proprietor, the latter one who held of a 
superior. These/ree men were under an obligation 
to serve the state ; and this duty was considered as 
so sacred, that freemen were prohibited from enter¬ 
ing into holy orders unless they had obtained the 
consent of the sovereign. The reason given for this 
in the statute is remarkable: “ For we are informed 
that some do so, not so much out of devotion as in 
order to avoid that military service which they are 
bound to perform/’ Capitul. lib. i. § 114. If, upon 
being summoned into the field, any freeman refused 
to obey, a full herebannum , i. e. a fine of sixty 
crowns, was to be exacted from him, according to 
the law of the Franks. Capit. Car. Magn. ap. Leg. 
Longob. lib. i.tit. 14. § 13. p. 539. This expression, 
according to the law of the Franks, seems to imply 
that both the obligation to serve, and the penalty 
on those who disregarded it, were coeval with the 
laws made by the Franks at their first settlement in 
Gaul. This fine was levied with such rigour, “ That 
if any person convicted of this crime was insolvent, 
he was reduced to servitude, and continued in that 
state until such time as his labour should amount 
to the value of the herebannum ” Ibid. The emperor 
Lotbarius rendered the penalty still more severe ; 



374 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


and if any person possessing such an extent of pro¬ 
perty as made it incumbent on him to take the field 
in person, refused to obey the summons, all his 
goods were declared to be forfeited, and he himself 
might be punished with banishment. Murat. Script. 
Ital. yoI. i. pars ii. p. 153. 

III. Property in land having thus become fixed, 
and subject to military service, another change was 
introduced, though slowly, and step by step. We 
learn from Tacitus, that the chief men among the 
Germans endeavoured to attach to their persons 
and interests certain adherents whom he calls Co¬ 
mites. These fought under their standard, and fol¬ 
lowed them in all their enterprises. The same cus¬ 
tom continued among them in their new settlements, 
and those attached or devoted followers were called 
fideles , antrustiones, homines in trnste Dominica , 
leudes. Tacitus informs us that the rank of a Comes 
was deemed honourable; De Morib. Germ. c. 13. 
The composition, which is the standard by which 
we must judge of the rank and condition of persons 
in the middle ages, paid for the murder of one in 
truste Dominica , was triple to that paid for the 
murder of a free man. Leg. Salicor. tit. 44. § 1 & 
2. While the Germans remained in their own 
country, they courted the favour of these Comites 
by presents of arms and horses, and by hospitality. 
See Note YI. As long as they had no fixed pro¬ 
perty in land, these were the only gifts that they 
could bestow, and the only reward which their fol¬ 
lowers desired. But upon their settling in the 
countries which they conquered, and when the 
value of property came to be understood among 
them, instead of those slight presents, the kings and 
chieftains bestowed a more substantial recompence 
in land on their adherents. These grants were 
called heneficia , because they w ere gratuitous dona¬ 
tions ; and honores, because they were regarded 
as marks of distinction. What were the services 
originally exacted in return for these beneficia can¬ 
not be determined w ith absolute precision, because 
there are no records so ancient. When allodial 
possessions were first rendered feudal, they were 
not at once subjected to all the feudal services. 
The transition here, as in all other changes of im¬ 
portance, was gradual. As the great object of a 
feudal vassal was to obtain protection, when allodial 
proprietors first consented to become vassals of any 
powerful leader, they continued to retain as much 
of their ancient independence as was consistent 
with that new relation. The homage which they 
did to the superior of whom they chose to hold, was 
called homagium planum , and bound them to no¬ 
thing more than fidelity, but without any obligation 
either of military service or attendance in the courts 
of their superior. Of this homagium planum some 
traces, though obscure, may still be discovered. 
Brussel, tom. i. p. 97. Among the ancient writs 
published by D. D. De Vic and Yaisette Hist, de 
Langued. are a great many which they call homagia . 
They seem to be an intermediate step between the 


homagium planum mentioned by Brussel, and the 
engagement to perforin complete feudal service. 
The one party promises protection, and grants cer¬ 
tain castles or lands; the other engages to de¬ 
fend the person of the granter, and to assist him 
likewise in defending his property as often as he 
shall be summoned to do so. But these engage¬ 
ments are accompanied with none of the feudal for¬ 
malities, and no mention is made of any of the 
other feudal services. They appear rather to be a 
mutual contract between equals, than the engage¬ 
ment of a vassal to perform services to a superior 
lord. Preuves de THist. de Lang. tom. ii. 173, et 
passim. As soon as men were accustomed to these, 
the other feudal services were gradually introduced. 
M. de Montesquieu considers these henejicia as fiefs 
which originally subjected those who held them to 
military service. L’Esprit des Loix, 1. xxx. c. 3 & 
16. M. l’Abbe de Mably contends that such as 
held these were at first subjected to no other service 
than what was incumbent on every free man. Ob¬ 
servations sur l’Histoire de France, i. 356. But 
upon comparing their proofs and reasonings and 
conjectures, it seems to be evident, that as every 
free man, in consequence of his allodial property, 
was bound to serve the community under a severe 
penalty, no good reason can be assigned for confer¬ 
ring these beneficia, if they did not subject such as 
received them to some new obligation. Why should 
a king have stripped himself of his domain, if he had 
not expected that, by parcelling it out, he might 
acquire a right to services to which he had formerly 
no title? We may then warrantably conclude, 
“ That as allodial property subjected those who 
possessed it to serve the community, so beneficia 
subjected such as held them to personal service 
and fidelity to him from whom they received these 
lands. These beneficia were granted originally only 
during pleasure. No circumstance relating to the 
customs of the middle ages is better ascertained 
than this; and innumerable proofs of it might be 
added to those produced in L’Esprit des Loix, 1. 
xxx. c. 16. and by Du Cange, voc. Beneficium et 
Feudum. 

IY. But the possession of the benefices did not 
continue long in this state. A precarious tenure 
during pleasure was not sufficient to satisfy such as 
held lands, and by various means they gradually 
obtained a confirmation of their benefices during 
life. Feudor. Lib. tit. i. Du Cange produces several 
quotations from ancient charters and chronicles in 
proof of this ; Glos. voc. Beneficium. After this it 
was easy to obtain or extort charters rendering bene¬ 
ficia hereditary, first in the direct line, then in the 
collateral, and at last in the female line. Leg. 
Longob. lib. iii. tit. 8. Du Cange, voc. Beneficium. 

It is no easy matter to fix the precise time when 
each of these changes took place. M. l’Ab. Mably 
conjectures, with some probability, that Charles 
Martel first introduced the practice of granting 
beneficia for life : Observat. tom. i. p. 103, 160 ; and 



375 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


that Louis le Debonnaire was among the first who 
rendered them hereditary, is evident from the au¬ 
thorities to which lie refers: Ibid. 429. Mabillon 
however has published a placitum of Louis le De¬ 
bonnaire, A. D. 8G0, by which it appears that he 
still continued to grant some benejicia only during 
life. De Re Diplomatica, lib. vi. p. 353. In the 
year 889, Odo, king of France, granted lands to 
Ricabodo, fideli suo, jure beneficiario et fructuario, 
during his own life ; and if he should die, and a 
son were born to him, that right was to continue 
during the life of his son. Mabillon ut supra, p. 
556. This was an intermediate step between fiefs 
merely during life, and fiefs hereditary to perpetu¬ 
ity. While benejicia continued under their first 
form, and were held only during pleasure, he who 
granted them not only exercised the dominium or 
prerogative of superior lord, but he retained the 
property, giving his vassal only the usufruct. But 
under the latter form, when they became hereditary, 
although feudal lawyers continued to define a benc- 
ficium agreeably to its original nature, the property 
was in effect taken out of the hands of the superior 
lords, and lodged in those of the vassal. As soon 
as the reciprocal advantages of the feudal mode of 
tenure came to be understood by superiors as well 
as vassals, that species of holding became so agree¬ 
able to both, that not only lands, but casual rents, 
such as the profits of a toll, the fare paid at ferries, 
&c. the salaries or perquisites of offices, and even 
pensions themselves, were granted and held as fiefs; 
and military service w as promised and exacted on 
account of these. Morice Mem. pour servir de 
Preuves it 1’Hist. de Bretagne, tom. ii. 78, 690. 
Brussel, tom. i. p. 41. How' absurd soever it may 
seem to grantor to hold such precarious and casual 
property as a fief, there are instances of feudal 
tenures still more singular. The profits arising from 
the masses said at an altar were properly an eccle¬ 
siastical revenue, belonging to the clergy of the 
church or monastery which performed that duty ; 
but these were sometimes seized by the powerful 
barons. In order to ascertain their right to them, 
they held them as fiefs of the church, and parcelled 
them out in the same manner as other property to 
their subvassals. Bouquet, Recueil des Hist. vol. x. 
238, 480. The same spirit of encroachment which 
rendered fiefs hereditary, led the nobles to extort 
from their sovereigns hereditary grants of offices. 
Many of the great offices of the crow n became he¬ 
reditary in most of the kingdoms in Europe; and 
so conscious were monarchs of this spirit of usurpa¬ 
tion among the nobility, and so solicitous to guard 
against it, that on some occasions they obliged the 
persons whom they promoted to any office of dig¬ 
nity, to grant an obligation, that neither they nor 
their heirs should claim it as belonging to them by 
hereditary right. A remarkable instance of this is 
produced, Mem. de l’Acad. des Inscript, tom. xxx. 
p. 595. Another occurs in the Thcsaur. Anecdot. 
published by Martene & Durand, vol. i. p. 873.— 


This revolution in property occasioned a change 
corresponding to it in political government; the 
great vassals of the crown, as they acquired such 
extensive possessions, usurped a proportional de¬ 
gree of power, depressed the jurisdiction of the 
crown, and trampled on the privileges of the people. 
It is on account of this connexion that it becomes 
an object of importance in history to trace the pro¬ 
gress of feudal property ; for upon discovering in 
what state property w as at any particular period, 
we may determine with precision what was the de¬ 
gree of power possessed by the king or by the nobi¬ 
lity at that juncture. 

One circumstance more with respect to the 
changes which property underwent, deserves atten¬ 
tion. I have shown, that when the various tribes 
of barbarians divided their conquests in the fifth 
and sixth centuries, the propert} r which they ac¬ 
quired was allodial; but in several parts of Europe, 
property had become almost entirely feudal by the 
beginning of the tenth century. The former species 
of property seems to be so much better and more 
desirable than the latter, that such a change appears 
surprising, especially when we are informed that 
allodial property was frequently converted into 
feudal, by a voluntary deed of the possessor. The 
motives which determined them to a choice so re¬ 
pugnant to the ideas of modern times concerning 
property, have been investigated and explained bj 
M. de Montesquieu, with his usual discernment and 
accuracy, lib. xxxi. c. 8. The most considerable is 
that of which we have an hint in Lambertus Arden- 
sis, an ancient writer quoted by Du Cange, voce 
Alodis. In those times of anarchy and disorder 
which became general in Europe after the death of 
Charlemagne, when there was scarcely any union 
among the different members of the community, and 
individuals were exposed, single and undefended 
by government, to rapine and oppression, it became 
necessary for every man to have a powerful pro¬ 
tector, under whose banner he might range himself, 
and obtain security against enemies whom singly 
he could not oppose. For this reason he relin¬ 
quished his allodial independence, and subjected 
himself to the feudal services, that he might find 
safety under the patronage of some respectable su¬ 
perior. In some parts of Europe, this change from 
allodial to feudal property became so general, that 
he who possessed land had no longer any liberty of 
choice left. He was obliged to recognise some liege 
lord, and to hold of him. Thus Beaumanoir in¬ 
forms us, that in the counties of Clermont and 
Beauvois, if the lord or count discovered any lands 
within his jurisdiction for which no service was 
performed, and which paid to him no taxes or cus¬ 
toms, he might instantly seize it as his own ; for, 
says he, according to our custom no man can hold 
allodial property. Coust. ch. 24. p. 123. Upon the 
same principle is founded a maxim, which has at 
length become general in the law of France, Nul/e 
terre sans Scif/neur. In other provinces of France, 




376 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


allodial property seems to have remained longer 
unalienated, and to have been more highly valued. 
A great number of charters, containing grants, or 
sales, or exchanges of allodial lands in the province 
of Languedoc, are published Hist, gener. de Lan- 
gued. par. D. D. De Vic et Vaisette, tom. ii. 
During the ninth, tenth, and great part of the ele¬ 
venth century, the property in that province seems 
to have been entirely allodial; and scarcely any 
mention of feudal tenures occurs in the deeds of that 
country. The state of property, during these cen¬ 
turies, seems to have been perfectly similar in Cata¬ 
lonia and the country of Rousillon, as appears from 
the original charters published in the appendix to 
Petr, de la Marca’s treatise de Marca sive Limite 
Hispanico. Allodial property seems to have con¬ 
tinued in the Low Countries to a period still later. 
During the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centu¬ 
ries, this species of property appears to have been 
of considerable extent. Miraei Opera diplom. vol. i. 
34, 74, 75, 83, 817, 296, 842, 847, 578. Some ves¬ 
tiges of allodial property appear there as late as the 
fourteenth century. Ibid. 218. Several facts which 
prove that allodial property subsisted in different 
parts of Europe long after the introduction of feudal 
tenures, and which tend to illustrate the distinction 
between these two different species of possession, 
are produced by M. Houard, Anciennes Loix des 
Francois, conservees dans les Coutumes Angloises, 
vol. i. p. 192, &c. The notions of men with respect 
to property vary according to the diversity of their 
understandings and the caprice of their passions. 
At the same time that some persons were fond of 
relinquishing allodial property, in order to hold it 
by feudal tenure, others seem to have been solicit¬ 
ous to convert their fiefs into allodial property. An 
instance of this occurs in a charter of Louis le De- 
bonnaire, published by Eckhard, Commentarii de 
rebus Franciae Orientalis, vol. ii. p. 885. Another 
occurs in the year 1299, Reliquiae MSS. omnis iEvi, 
by Ludwig, vol. i. p. 209; and even one as late as 
the year 1337, ibid. vol. vii. p. 40. The same thing 
took place in the Low Countries. Miraei Oper. i. 52. 

In tracing these various revolutions of property, 
I have hitherto chiefly confined myself to what hap¬ 
pened in France, because the ancient monuments 
of that nation have either been more carefully pre¬ 
served, or have been more clearly illustrated, than 
those of any people in Europe. 

In Italy the same revolutions happened in pro¬ 
perty, and succeeded each other in the same order. 
There is some ground, however, for conjecturing 
that allodial property continued longer in estimation 
among the Italians than among the French. It ap¬ 
pears that many of the charters granted by the em¬ 
perors in the ninth century, conveyed an allodial 
right to land. Murat. Antiq. med. ^Evi, vol. i. p. 575, 
&c. But in the eleventh century we find some ex¬ 
amples of persons who resigned their allodial pro¬ 
perty, and received it back as a feudal tenure. Ibid, 
p. 610, &c. Muratori observes that the word feu- 


durn , which came to be substituted in place of beneji- 
cium , does not occur in any authentic charter previ¬ 
ous to the eleventh century. Ibid. 594. A charter 
of king Robert of France, A. D. 1008, is the earliest 
deed in which I have met with the word fevdum. 
Bouquet Recueil des Historiens de Gaule et de la 
France, tom. x. p. 593, b. This word occurs indeed 
in an edict, A. D. 790, published by Brussel, vol. i. 
p. 77. But the authenticity of that deed has been 
called in question, and perhaps the frequent use of 
the word feudum in it is an additional reason for 
doing so. The account which I have given of the 
nature both of allodial and feudal possessions re¬ 
ceives some confirmation from the etymology of the 
words themselves. Alode or allodium is compound¬ 
ed of the German particle an and lot , i. e. land ob¬ 
tained by lot. Wachteri Glossar. Germanicum, voc. 
Allodium , p. 35. It appears from the authorities 
produced by him and by Du Cange, voc. Sors, that 
the northern nations divided the lands which they 
had conquered in this manner. Feodum is com¬ 
pounded of od , possession or estate, and feo, wages, 
pay ; intimating that it was stipendiary, and grant¬ 
ed as a recompence for service. Wachterus, ibid, 
voc. Feodum, p. 441. 

The progress of the feudal system among the Ger¬ 
mans was perfectly similar to that which we have 
traced in France. But as the emperors of Germany, 
especially after the imperial crown passed from the 
descendants of Charlemagne to the house of Saxo¬ 
ny, were far superior to the contemporary monarchs 
of France in abilities, the imperial vassals did not 
aspire so early to independence, nor did they soon 
obtain the privilege of possessing their benefices by 
hereditary right. According to the compilers of the 
Libri Feudorum, Conrad II. or the Salic, was the 
first emperor who rendered fiefs hereditary. Lib. i. 
tit. i. Conrad began his reign A. D. 1024. Ludo- 
vicus Pius, under whose reign grants of hereditary 
fiefs were frequent in France, succeeded his father 
A. D. 814. Not only was this innovation so much 
later in being introduced among the vassals of 
the German emperors, but even after Conrad had 
established it, the law continued favourable to the 
ancient practice ; and unless the charter of the vas¬ 
sal bore expressly that the fief descended to his 
heirs, it was presumed to be granted only during 
life. Lib. Feud. ibid. Even after the alteration 
made by Conrad, it was not uncommon in Germany 
to grant fiefs only for life; a charter of this kind 
occurs as late as the year 1376. Chartar ap Boeh- 
mer. Princip. Jur. Feud. p. 361. The transmission 
of fiefs to collateral and female heirs took place 
very slowly among the Germans. There is extant 
a charter, A. D. 1201, conveying the right of suc¬ 
cession to females ; but it is granted as an extraor¬ 
dinary mark of favour, and in reward of uncommon 
services. Boehmer. ibid. p. 365. In Germany as 
well as in France and Italy, a considerable part of 
the lands continued to be allodial long after the 
feudal mode of tenure was introduced. It appears 



377 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


from the Codex Diplomaticus Monasterii Bueh, 
that a great part of the lands in the marquisate of 
Misnia was still allodial as late as the thirteenth 
century. Nos. 31, 36, 37, 4G, See. ap. Scriptores 
Hist. German, cura Schoetgenii et Kreysigii. Altenb. 
1755. vol. ii. 183, See. Allodial property seems to 
have been common in another district of the same 
province during the same period. Reliquiae Di¬ 
plomatics Sanctimonial. Beutiz. Nos. 17, 36, 58. 
ibid. 374, &c. 

Note IX. Sect. I. p. 313. 

As I shall have occasion in another Note to re¬ 
present the condition of that part of the people who 
dwelt in cities, I will confine myself in this to con¬ 
sider the state of the inhabitants of the country. 
The persons employed in cultivating the ground 
during the ages under review may be divided into 
three classes : I. Servi or slaves. This seems to 
have been the most numerous class, and consisted 
cither of captives taken in war, or of persons the 
property in whom was acquired in some one of the 
various methods enumerated by Du Cange, voc. 
Servus, v. 6. p. 447. The wretched condition of 
this numerous race of men will appear from several 
circumstances. 1. Their masters had absolute do¬ 
minion over their persons. They had the power of 
punishing their slaves capitally, without the inter¬ 
vention of any judge. This dangerous right they 
possessed not only in the more early periods when 
their manners were fierce, but it continued as late 
as the twelfth century. Joach. Potgiesserus de 
Statu Servorum. Lemgov. 1736. 4to. lib. ii. cap. i. 
§ 4, 10, 13, 24. Even after this jurisdiction of mas¬ 
ters came to be restrained, the life of a slave was 
deemed to be of so little value, that a very slight 
compensation atoned for taking it away. Idem, 
lib. iii. c. 6. If masters had power over the lives of 
their slaves, it is evident that almost no bounds 
w ould be set to the rigour of the punishments which 
they might inflict upon them. The codes of ancient 
laws prescribed punishments for the crimes of slaves 
different from those which were inflicted on free 
men. The latter paid only a fine or compensation ; 
the former were subjected to corporal punishments. 
The cruelty of these was in many instances exces¬ 
sive. Slaves might be put to the rack on very 
slight occasions. The laws with respect to these 
points are to be found in Potgiesserus, lib. iii. cap. 
7. and are shocking to humanity. 2. If the domi¬ 
nion of masters over the lives and persons of their 
slaves was thus extensive, it was no less so over 
their actions and property. They were not origin¬ 
ally permitted to marry. Male and female slaves 
were allowed and even encouraged to cohabit toge¬ 
ther. But this union was not considered as a mar¬ 
riage ; it was called contubernium, not nuptice or 
matrimonium. Potgiess. lib. ii. c. 2. § 1. This no¬ 
tion was so much established, that during several 
centuries after the barbarous nations embraced the 
Christian religion, slaves wdio lived as husband and 


wife were not joined together by any religious cere¬ 
mony, and did not receive the nuptial benediction 
from a priest. Ibid. § 10, 11. When this con¬ 
junction between slaves came to be considered 
as a lawful marriage, they were not permitted to 
marry without the consent of their master, and such 
as ventured to do so without obtaining that, were 
punished with great severity, and sometimes were 
put to death. Potgiess. ibid. § 12, &c. Gregor. 
Turon. Hist. lib. v. c. 3. When the manners of the 
European nations became more gentle, and their 
ideas more liberal, slaves who married without their 
master’s consent were subjected only to a fine. Pot¬ 
giess. ibid. § 20. Du Cange Gloss, voc. Forismari - 
tagium. 3. All the children of slaves were in the 
same condition with their parents, and became 
the property of the master. Du Cange Gloss, voc. 
Servus, vol. vi. 450. Murat. Antiq. Ital. vol. i. 766. 

4. Slaves were so entirely the property of their 
masters, that they could sell them at pleasure. 
While domestic slavery continued, property in a 
slave was sold in the same manner with that which 
a person had in any other movable. Afterwards 
slaves became adscripti glebce, and were conveyed 
by sale, together with the farm or estate to which 
they belonged. Potgiesserus has collected the law s 
and charters which illustrate this well-known cir¬ 
cumstance in the condition of slaves. Lib. ii. c. 4. 

5. Slaves had a title to nothing but subsistence and 
clothes from their master ; all the profits of their 
labour accrued to him. If a master from indulgence 
gave his slaves any peculium or fixed allowance for 
their subsistence, they had no right of property in 
what they saved out of that. All that they accumu¬ 
lated belonged to their master. Potgiess. lib. ii. c. 
10. Murat. Antiq. Ital. vol. i. 768. Du Cange, 
voc. Servus , vol. vi. p. 451. Conformable to the 
same principle, all the effects of slaves belonged to 
their master at their death, and they could not dis¬ 
pose of them by testament. Potgiess. lib. ii. c. 11. 

6. Slaves were distinguished from free men by a pe¬ 
culiar dress.—Among all the barbarous nations long 
hair was a mark of dignity and of freedom ; slaves 
were, for that reason, obliged to shave their heads ; 
and by this distinction, how indifferent soever it 
may be in its own nature, they were reminded every 
moment of the inferiority of their condition. Pot¬ 
giess. lib. iii. c. 4. For the same reason it was en¬ 
acted in the laws of almost all the nations of Eu¬ 
rope, that no slave should be admitted to give evi¬ 
dence against a free man in a court of justice. Du 
Cange, voc. Servus , vol. vi. p. 451. Potgiess. lib. 
iii. c. 3. 

II. Viliam. They were likewise adscripti glebce or 
villa, from which they derived their name, and w ere 
transferrable along with it. Du Cange, voc. Villanus. 
But in this they differed from slaves, that they paid 
a fixed rent to their master for the land which they 
cultivated, and after paying that, all the fruits of 
their labour and industry belonged to themselves in 
property. This distinction is marked by Pere de 




378 a VIEW OF THE S 

Fontain’s Conseil. Vic de St. Louis par Joinville, 
p. 119. edit, de Du Cange. Several cases decided 
agreeably to this principle are mentioned by Murat, 
ibid, p.773. 

III. The last class of persons employed in agricul¬ 
ture were free men. These are distinguished by 
various names among the writers of the middle ages, 
arimanni , conditionales, originarii , tributales , &c. 
These seem to have been persons who possessed some 
small allodial property of their own, and besides that, 
cultivated some farm bclongingto their more wealthy 
neighbours, for which they paid a fixed rent; and 
bound themselves likewise to perform several small 
services in prato vel in messe , in aratura vel in vinea, 
such as ploughing a certain quantity of their land¬ 
lord’s ground, assisting him in harvest and vintage- 
work, Sec. The clearest proof of this may be found 
in Muratori, vol. i. p. 712. and in Du Cange, under 
the respective words above mentioned. I have not 
been able to discover whether these arimanni , &c. 
were removable at pleasure, or held their farms by 
lease for a certain number of years. The former, if 
we may judge from the genius and maxims of the 
age, seems to be most probable. These persons, 
however, were considered as free men in the most 
honourable sense of the word ; they enjoyed all the 
privileges of that condition, and were even called to 
serve in war ; an honour to which no slave was ad¬ 
mitted. Murat. Antiq. vol. i. p. 743. vol. ii. p. 446. 
This account of the condition of these three different 
classes of persons will enable the reader to appre¬ 
hend the full force of an argument which I shall 
produce in confirmation of what I have said in the 
text concerning the wretched state of the people 
during the middle ages. Notwithstanding the im¬ 
mense difference between the first of these classes 
and the third, such was the spirit of tyranny which 
prevailed among the great proprietors of lands, and 
so various their opportunities of oppressing those 
who were settled on their estates, and of rendering 
their condition intolerable, that many free men, in 
despair, renounced their liberty, and voluntarily 
surrendered themselves as slaves to their powerful 
masters. This they did in order that their masters 
might become more immediately interested to afford 
them protection, together with the means of subsist¬ 
ing themselves and their families. The forms of 
such a surrender, or obnoxiatio, as it was then called, 
are preserved by Marculfus, lib. ii. c. 28; and by 
the anonymous author published by M. Bignon, to¬ 
gether with the collection of formula compiled by 
Marculfus, c. 16. In both, the reason given for the 
obnoxiatio is the wretched and indigent condition of 
the person who gives up his liberty. It was still 
more common for free men to surrender their liberty 
to bishops or abbots, that they might partake of the 
security which the vassals and slaves of churches 
and monasteries enjoyed, in consequence of the 
superstitious veneration paid to the saint under 
whose immediate protection they were supposed to 
be taken. Du Cange, voc. Oblalus, vol. iv. p. 1286. 


TATE OF EUROPE. 

That condition must have been miserable indeed, 
which could induce a free man voluntarily to re¬ 
nounce his liberty, and to give up himself as a slave 
to the disposal of another. The number of slaves in 
every nation of Europe was immense. The greater 
part of the inferior class of people in trance Mere 
reduced to this state at the commencement of the 
third race of kings. L’Esprit des Loix, liv. xxx. c. 
11. the same was the casein England. Brady, Pref. 
to Gen. Hist.—Many curious facts with respect to 
the ancient state of villains or slaves in England, arc 
published in Observations on the Statutes, chiefly 
the more ancient, 3d edit. p. 269, &c. 

Note X. Sect. I. p. 314. 

Innumerable proofs of this might be produced. 
Many charters, granted by persons of the highest 
rank, are preserved, from which it appears that they 
could not subscribe their name. It was usual for 
persons who could not write, to make the sign of the 
cross in confirmation of a charter. Several of these 
remain, where kings and persons of great eminence 
affix signum crucis manu propria pro ignoratione li~ 
terarum. Du Cange, voc. Crux , vol. iii. p. 1191. 
From this is derived the phrase of signing instead 
of subscribing a paper. In the ninth century, Her- 
baud Comes Palatii, though supreme judge of the 
empire by virtue of his office, could not subscribe his 
name. Nouveau Traitc de Diplomatique par deux 
Bencdictins, 4to. tom. ii. p. 422. As late as the 
fourteenth century, Du Guesclin, constable of 
France, the greatest man in the state, and one of the 
greatest men of his age, could neither read nor M'rite. 
St. Payle Memoires sur l’Ancienne Chevalerie, tit. 
ii. p. 82. Nor was this ignorance confined to lay¬ 
men ; the greater part of the clergy was not many 
degrees superior to them in science. Many digni¬ 
fied ecclesiastics could not subscribe the canons of 
those councils in which they sat as members. Nouv. 
Traite de Diplom. tom. ii. p. 424. One of the ques¬ 
tions appointed by the canons to be put to persons 
who were candidates for orders Mas this: “Whe¬ 
ther they could read the gospels and epistles, and 
explain the sense of them, at least literally?” 
Regino Prumiensis ap. Brack. Hist. Philos, v. iii. 
p. 631. Alfred the Great complained, that from the 
Humber to the Thames there was not a priest who 
understood the liturgy in his mother-tongue, or who 
could translate the easiest piece of Latin ; and that 
from the Thames to the sea the ecclesiastics were 
still more ignorant. Asserus de rebus gestis Al- 
fredi, ap Camdeni Anglica, See. p. 25. The igno¬ 
rance of the clergy is quaintly described by an 
author of the dark ages: “ Potius dediti gulm 
quam glossae; potius colligunt libras quam le- 
gunt libros; libentius intuentur Martham quam 
Marcum; malunt legere in Salmone quam in So- 
lomone.” Alarms de Art. Predicat. ap. Lebeuf 
Dissert, tom. ii. p. 21. To the obvious causes of 
such universal ignorance, arising from the state of 
government and manners, from the seventh to the 




PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


379 


eleventh century, we may add the scarcity of books 
during that period, and the difficulty of rendering 
them more common. The Romans wrote their books 
either on parchment or on paper made of the Egyp¬ 
tian papyrus. The latter being the cheapest, was 
of course the most commonly used. But after the 
Saracens conquered Egypt in the seventh century, 
the communication between that country and the 
people settled in Italy, or in other parts of Europe, 
was almost entirely broken off, and the papyrus was 
no longer in use among them. They were obliged 
on that account to write all their books upon parch¬ 
ment, and as the price of that was high, books be¬ 
came extremely rare, and of great value. We may 
judge of the scarcity of the materials for writing 
them from one circumstance. There still remain 
several manuscripts of the eighth, ninth, and follow¬ 
ing centuries, written on parchment from which 
some former writing had been erased, in order to 
substitute a new composition in its place. In this 
manner it is probable that several works of the 
ancients perished. A book of Livy or of Tacitus 
might be erased to make room for the legendary 
tale of a saint, or the superstitious prayers of a mis¬ 
sal. Murat. Antiq. Ital. vol. iii. p. 833. P. de Mont- 
faucon affirms that the greater part of the manu¬ 
scripts on parchment which he has seen, those of 
an ancient date excepted, are written on parchment 
from which some former treatise had been erased. 
Mem. de l’Acad. des Inscript, tom. ix. p. 325. As 
the want of materials for writing is one reason why 
so many of the works of the ancients have perished, 
it accounts likewise for the small number of manu¬ 
scripts of any kind previous to the eleventh century, 
when they began to multiply, from a cause which 
shall be mentioned. Hist. Liter, de France, tom. vi. 
p. 6. Many circumstances prove the scarcity of 
books during these ages. Private persons seldom 
possessed any books whatever. Even monasteries 
of considerable note had only one missal. Murat. 
Antiq. vol. ix. p. 789. Lupus, abbot of Ferrieres, 
in a letter to the pope, A. D. 855, beseeches him to 
lend him a copy of Cicero de Oratore and Quinti¬ 
lian’s Institutions; “ for,” says he, “ although we 
have parts of those books, there is no complete copy 
of them in all France.” Murat. Ant. vol. iii. p. 835. 
The price of books became so high, that persons of 
a moderate fortune could not afford to purchase 
them. The countess of Anjou paid for a copy of 
the Homilies of Haimon, bishop of Halberstadt, 
two hundred sheep, five quarters of wheat, and the 
same quantity of rye and millet. Histoire Literaire 
de France, par des Religieux Benedictins, tom. vii. 
p. 3. Even so late as the year 1471, when Louis XI. 
borrowed the works of Rasis, the Arabian physician, 
from the faculty of medicine in Paris, he not only 
deposited in pledge a considerable quantity of plate, 
but was obliged to procure a nobleman to join with 
him as surety in a deed, binding himself, under a 
great forfeiture, to restore it. Gabr. Naude Addit. 
4 l’Histoire de Louys XI. par Comines, edit, de 


Fresnoy, tom. iv. p. 281. Many curious circum¬ 
stances with respect to the extravagant price ol 
books in the middle ages, are collected by that in¬ 
dustrious compiler, to whom I refer such of my 
readers as deem this small branch of literary his¬ 
tory an object of curiosity. When any person made 
a present of a book to a church or monastery, in 
which were the only libraries during several ages, 
it was deemed a donative of such value, that he 
offered it on the altar pro remedio animee sues, in 
order to obtain the forgiveness of his sins. Murat, 
vol. iii. p. 836. Hist. Liter, de France, tom. vi. p. 
6. Nouv. Trait, du Diplomat, par deux Benedictins, 
4to. tom. i. p. 481. In the eleventh century, the art 
of making paper, in the manner now become uni¬ 
versal, was invented ; by means of that, not only the 
number of manuscripts increased, but the study of 
the sciences was wonderfully facilitated. Murat, 
ib. p. 871. The invention of the art of making 
paper, and the invention of the art of printing, are 
two considerable events in literary history. It is 
remarkable that the former preceded the first dawn¬ 
ing of letters and improvement in knowledge to- 
towards the close of the eleventh century ; the 
latter ushered in the light which spread over Eu¬ 
rope at the era of the reformation. 

Note XI. Sect. I. p. 314. 

All the religious maxims and practices of the 
dark ages are a proof of this. I shall produce one 
remarkable testimony in confirmation of it, from an 
author canonized by the church of Rome, St. Eloy, 
or Egidius, bishop of Noyon, in the seventh century. 
“ He is a good Christian who comes frequently to 
church ; who presents the oblation which is offered 
to God upon the altar; who doth not taste of the 
fruits of his own industry until he has consecrated 
a part of them to God ; who, when the holy festivals 
approach, lives chastely even with his own wife 
during several days, that with a safe conscience he 
may draw near the altar of God ; and who, in the 
last place, can repeat the Creed and the Lord’s 
Prayer. Redeem then your souls from destruction, 
while you have the means in your power; offer pre¬ 
sents and tithes to churchmen ; come more fre¬ 
quently to church ; humbly implore the patronage 
of the saints : for if you observe these things, you 
may come with security in the day of retribution to 
the tribunal of the eternal Judg^-, and say, “ Give 
to us, O Lord, for we have given unto thee.” Da- 
cherii Spicilegium Vet. Script, vol. ii. p. 94. The 
learned and judicious translator of Dr. Mosheim’s 
Ecclesiastical History, to one of whose additional 
notes I am indebted for my knowledge of this pas¬ 
sage, subjoins a very proper reflection : “ We see 
here a large and ample description of a good Chris¬ 
tian, in which there is not the least mention of the 
love of God, resignation to his will, obedience to 
his laws, or of justice, benevolence, and charity 
towards men.” Mosh. Eccles. Hist. vol. i. p. 324. 




380 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


Note XII. Sect. I. p. 314. 

That infallibility in all its determinations to which 
the church of Rome pretends, has been attended 
with one unhappy consequence. As it is impossible 
to relinquish any opinion or to alter any practice 
which has been established by authority that cannot 
err, all its institutions and ceremonies must be 
immutable and everlasting, and the church must 
continue to observe, in enlightened times, those rites 
which were introduced during the ages of darkness 
and credulity. What delighted and edified the 
latter, must disgust and shock the former. Many 
of the rites observed in the Romish church appear 
manifestly to have been introduced by a superstition 
of the lowest and most illiberal species. Many of 
them were borrowed, with little variation, from the 
religious ceremonies established among the ancient 
heathens. Some were so ridiculous, that if every 
age did not furnish instances of the fascinating 
influence of superstition, as well as of the whimsical 
forms which it assumes, it must appear incredible 
that they should have been ever received or tole¬ 
rated. In several churches of France, they cele¬ 
brated a festival in commemoration of the Virgin 
Mary’s flight into Egypt. It was called the Feast 
of the Ass. A young girl, richly dressed, with a 
child in her arms, was set upon an ass superbly 
caparisoned. The ass was led to the altar in solemn 
procession. High mass was said with great pomp. 
The ass was taught to kneel at proper places; a hymn 
no less childish than impious was sung in his 
praise: and when the ceremony was ended, the 
priest, instead of the usual words with which he 
dismissed the people, brayed three times like an 
ass ; and the people, instead of the usual response, 
We bless the Lord, brayed three times in the same 
manner. Du Cange, voc. Festum , vol. iii. p. 424. 
This ridiculous ceremony was not, like the festival 
of fools and some other pageants of those ages, a 
mere farcical entertainment exhibited in a church, 
and mingled, as was then the custom, with an imi¬ 
tation of some religious rites ; it was an act of 
devotion, performed by the ministers of religion, 
and by the authority of the church. However, as 
this practice did not prevail universally in the 
catholic church, its absurdity contributed at last to 
abolish it. 

NoieXIH. Sect. I. p. 316. 

As there is no event in the history of mankind 
more singular than that of the Crusades, every cir¬ 
cumstance that tends to explain or to give any 
rational account of this extraordinary frenzy of the 
human mind is interesting. I have asserted in the 
text, that the minds of men were prepared gradually 
for the amazing effort which they made in conse¬ 
quence of the exhortations of Peter the hermit, by 
several occurrences previous to his time. A more 
particular detail of this curious and obscure part 
of history may perhaps appear to some of my read¬ 


ers to be of importance. That the end of the world 
was expected about the close of the tenth and be¬ 
ginning of the eleventh century, and that this occa¬ 
sioned a general alarm, is evident from the authors 
to whom I have referred in the text. This belief 
was so universal and so strong, that it mingled 
itself with civil transactions. Many charters, in 
the latter part of the tenth century, begin in this 
manner: “ Appropinquante mundi termino,” &c. 
As the end of the world is now at hand, and by 
various calamities and judgments the signs of its 
approach are now manifest. Hist, de Langued. par. 
D. D. de Vic. & Vaisette, tom. ii. Preuves, p. 86, 
89, 90, 117,158, &c. One effect of this opinion was, 
that a great number of pilgrims resorted to Jerusa¬ 
lem with a resolution to die there, or to wait the 
coming of the Lord; kings, earls, marquisses, 
bishops, and even a great number of women, be¬ 
sides persons of an inferior rank, flocked to the 
Holy Land. Glaber. Rodulph. Hist, chez Bouquet 
Recueil, tom. x. p. 50, 52. Another historian men¬ 
tions a vast cavalcade of pilgrims who accompanied 
the count of Angouleme to Jerusalem in the year 
1026. Chronic. Ademari, ibid.p. 162. Upon their 
return, these pilgrims filled Europe with lamentable 
accounts of the state of Christians in the Holy Land. 
Willerm. Tyr. Hist. ap. Gest. Dei per Franc, vol. 
ii. p. 636. Guibert. Abbat. Hist. ibid. vol. i. p. 476. 
Besides this, it was usual for many of the Christian 
inhabitants of Jerusalem, as well as of other cities 
in the east, to travel as mendicants through Europe; 
and by describing the wretched condition of the 
professors of the Christian faith under the dominion 
of infidels, to extort charity, and to excite zealous 
persons to make some attempt in order to deliver 
them from oppression. Baldrici Archiepiscopi His- 
tor. ap. Gesta Dei, &c. vol. i. p. 86. In the year 
986, Gerbert, archbishop of Ravenna, afterwards 
pope Silvester II., addressed a letter to all Chris¬ 
tians, in the name of the church of Jerusalem. It 
is eloquent and pathetic, and contains a formal 
exhortation to take arms against the pagan oppres¬ 
sors, in order to rescue the holy city from their 
yoke. Gerberti Epistolae ap. Bouquet Recueil, tom. 
x. p. 426. In consequence of this spirited call, some 
subjects of the republic of Pisa equipped a fleet, 
and invaded the territories of the Mahometans in 
Syria. Murat. Script. Rer. Italic, vol. iii. p. 400. 
The alarm was taken in the east, and an opinion 
prevailed, A. D. 1010, that all the forces of Chris¬ 
tendom were to unite, in order to drive the Mahome¬ 
tans out of Palestine. Chron. Ademari ap. Bou¬ 
quet, tom. x. p. 152. It is evident, from all these 
particulars, that the ideas which led the crusaders 
to undertake their wild enterprise did not arise, 
according to the description of many authors, from 
a sudden fit of frantic enthusiasm, but were gra¬ 
dually formed ; so that the universal concourse to 
the standard of the cross, when erected by Urban 
II., will appear less surprising. 

If the various circumstances which I have enu- 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


381 


merated in this note, as well as in the History, are 
sufficient to account for the ardour with which such 
vast numbers engaged in such a dangerous under¬ 
taking, the extensive privileges and immunities 
granted to the persons who assumed the cross, serve 
to account for the long continuance of this spirit in 
Europe. 1. They were exempted from prosecutions 
on account of debt during the time of their being 
engaged in this holy service. Du Cange, voc. 
Crucis privilegium , vol. ii. p. 1194.—2. They were 
exempted from paying interest for the money which 
they had borrowed, in order to fit them for this 
sacred warfare. Ibid.—3. They were exempted 
either entirely, or at least during a certain time, from 
the payment of taxes. Ibid. Ordonnances des Rois 
de France, tom. i. p. 33.—4. They might alienate 
their lands without the consent of the superior lord 
of whom they held. Ib.—5. Their persons and 
eff ects were taken under the protection of St. Peter, 
and the anathemas of the church were denounced 
against all who should molest them, or carry on any 
quarrel or hostility against them, during their ab¬ 
sence, on account of the holy war. Du Cange, 
ibid. Guibertus Abbas ap. Bongars. i. p. 480, 482. 
—6. They enjoyed all the privileges of ecclesiastics, 
and were not bound to plead in any civil court, but 
were declared subject to the spiritual jurisdiction 
alone. Du Cange, ibid. Ordon. des Rois, tom. i. 
p. 34, 174.—7. They obtained a plenary remission 
of all their sins, and the gates of heaven were set 
open to them, without requiring any other proof of 
their penitence buttheir engaging in this expedition ; 
and thus by gratifying their favourite passion, the 
love of war, they secured to themselves immunities 
which were not usually obtained but by paying large 
sums of money, or by undergoing painful penances. 
Guibert. Abbas, p. 480. When we behold the civil 
and ecclesiastical powers vying with each other, 
and straining their invention in order to devise ex¬ 
pedients for encouraging and adding strength to the 
spirit of superstition, can we be surprised that it 
should become so general as to render it infamous, 
and a mark of cowardice, to decline engaging in 
the holy war? Willerm. Tyriensis ap. Bongars. vol. 
ii. p. 641. The histories of the Crusades, written 
by modern authors, who are apt to substitute the 
ideas and maxims of their own age in the place of 
those which influenced the persons whose actions 
they attempt to relate, convey a very imperfect 
notion of the spirit at that time predominant in 
Europe. The original historians, who were animated 
themselves with the same passions which possessed 
their contemporaries, exhibit to us a more striking 
picture of the times and manners which they de¬ 
scribe. The enthusiastic rapture with which they 
account for the effects of the pope’s discourse in 
the council of Clermont; the exultation with which 
they mention the numbers who devoted themselves 
to this holy warfare; the confidence with which they 
express their reliance on the Divine protection ; 
the ecstasy of joy with which they describe their 


taking possession of the holy city, will enable us to 
conceive, in some degree, the extravagance of that 
zeal which agitated the minds of men with such 
violence, and will suggest as many singular reflec¬ 
tions to a philosopher as any occurrence in the 
history of mankind. It is unnecessary to select the 
particular passages in the several historians, which 
confirm this observation. But lest those authors 
may be suspected of adorning their narrative with 
any exaggerated description, I shall appeal to one 
of the leaders who conducted the enterprise. There 
is extant a letter from Stephen, the earl of Chartres 
and Blois, to Adela his wife, in which he gives her 
an account of the progress of the crusaders. He 
describes the crusaders as the chosen army of 
Christ, as the servants and soldiers of God, as men 
who marched under the immediate protection of the 
Almighty, being conducted by his hand to victory 
and conquest. He speaks of the Turks as accursed, 
sacrilegious, and devoted by Heaven to destruction; 
and when he mentions the soldiers in the Christian 
army who had died or were killed, he is confident 
that their souls were admitted directly into the joys 
of Paradise. Dacherii Spicilegium, vol. iv. p. 257. 

The expense of conducting numerous bodies of 
men from Europe to Asia must have been excessive, 
and the difficulty of raising the necessary sums 
must have been proportionally great, during ages 
when the public revenues in every nation of Europe 
were extremely small. Some account is preserved 
of the expedients employed by Humbert II. Dau¬ 
phin of Vienne, in order to levy the money requisite 
towards equipping him for the Crusade, A. D. 1346 
These 1 shall mention, as they tend to show the 
considerable influence which the Crusades had, 
both on the state of property and of civil govern¬ 
ment. 1. He exposed to sale part of his domains; 
and as the price was destined for such a sacred 
service, he obtained the consent of the French king, 
of whom these lands were held, ratifying the alie¬ 
nation. Hist, de Dauphine, tom. i. p. 332, 335.— 
2. He issued a proclamation, in which he promised 
to grant new privileges to the nobles, as well as 
new immunities to the cities and towns, in his terri¬ 
tories, in consideration of certain sums which they 
were instantly to pay on that account. Ibid. tom. 
ii. p. 512. Many of the charters of community 
which I shall mention in another Note, were ob¬ 
tained in this manner.—3. He exacted a contribution 
towards defraying the charges of the expedition 
from all his subjects, whether ecclesiastics or lay¬ 
men, who did not accompany him in person to the 
east. Ibid. tom. i. p. 335.—4. He appropriated a 
considerable part of his usual revenues for the 
support of the troops to be employed in this service. 
Ibid. tom. ii. p. 518.—5. He exacted considerable 
sums not only of the Jews settled in his dominions, 
but also of the Lombards and other bankers who had 
fixed their residence there. Ibid. tom. i. p. 338. tom. 
ii. 528. Notwithstanding the variety of these re¬ 
sources, the dauphin was involved in such expense 




382 A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE, 

by this expedition, that on his return he was obliged 


to make new demands on his subjects, and to pil¬ 
lage the Jews by fresh exactions. Ibid. tom. i. p. 
344, 347. When the count de Foix engaged in the 
iirst Crusade, he raised .the money necessary for 
defraying the expenses of that expedition by alien¬ 
ating part of his territories. Hist. de. Langued. par 
D. D. de Vic et Vaisette, tom. ii. p. 287. In like 
manner Baldwin, count of Hainault, mortgaged or 
sold a considerable portion of his dominions to the 
bishop of Liege, A. D. 1096. Du Mont Corps 
Diplomatique, tom. i. p. 59. At a later period Bald¬ 
win, count of Namur, sold part of his estate to a 
monastery, when he intended to assume the cross, 
A. D. 1239. Miraei Oper. i. 313. 

Note XIV. Sect. I. p. 317. 

The usual method of forming an opinion concern¬ 
ing the comparative state of manners in two differ¬ 
ent nations, is by attending to the facts which 
historians relate concerning each of them. Various 
passages might be selected from the Byzantine his¬ 
torians, describing the splendour and magnificence 
of the Greek empire. P. de Montfau^on has pro¬ 
duced from the writings of St. Chrysostom a very 
full account of the elegance and luxury of the 
Greeks in his age. That father in his sermons enters 
into such minute details concerning the manners 
and customs of his contemporaries, as appear 
strange in discourses from the pulpit. P. de Mont- 
faucon has collected these descriptions, and ranged 
them under different heads. The court of the more 
early Greek emperors seems to have resembled those 
of eastern monarchs, both in magnificence and in 
corruption of manners. The emperors in the ele¬ 
venth century, though inferior in power, did not 
yield to them in ostentation and splendour. Me- 
moires de l’Acad. des Inscript, tom. xx. p. 197.—But 
we may decide concerning the comparative state of 
manners in the eastern empire, and among the 
nations in the west of Europe, by another method, 
which, if not more certain, is at least more striking. 
As Constantinople was the place of rendezvous for 
all the armies of the crusaders, this brought toge¬ 
ther the people of the east and west as to one great 
interview. There are extant several contemporary 
authors, both among the Greeks and Latins, who 
were witnesses of this singular congress of people, 
formerly strangers, in a great measure, to each other. 
They describe with simplicity and candour the im¬ 
pression which that new spectacle made upon their 
own minds. This may be considered as the most 
lively and just picture of the real character and 
manners of each people. When the Greeks speak 
of the Franks, they describe them as barbarians, 
fierce, illiterate, impetuous, and savage. They 
assume a tone of superiority, as a more polished 
people, acquainted with the arts both of government 
and of elegance, of which the other was ignorant. 
It is thus Anna Comnena describes the manners of 
the Latins, Alexias, p. 224, 231, 237. ap. Byz. 


Script, vol. xi. She always views them with con¬ 
tempt as a rude people, the very mention of whose 
names was sufficient to contaminate the beauty and 
elegance of history, p. 229. Nicetas Choniatas 
inveighs against them with still more violence, and 
gives an account of their ferocity and devastations, 
in terms not unlike those which preceding histori¬ 
ans had employed in describing the incursions of 
the Goths and Vandals. Nicet. Chon. ap. Byz. 
Script, vol. iii. p. 302, &c. But on the other hand, 
the Latin historians were struck with astonishment 
at the magnificence, wealth, and elegance which 
they discovered in the eastern empire. “ O what 
a vast city is Constantinople, (exclaims Fulcherius 
Carnotensis, when he first beheld it,) and how 
beautiful! How many monasteries are there in it, 
and how many palaces, built with wonderful art! 
How many manufactures are there in the city, 
amazing to behold ! It would be astonishing to re¬ 
late how it abounds with all good things, with gold, 
silver, and stuffs of various kinds ; for every hour 
ships arrive in its port laden with all things neces¬ 
sary for the use of man.” Fulcher, ap. Bongars. vol. 
i. p. 386. Willermus, Archbishop of Tyre, the 
most intelligent historian of the Crusades, seems to 
be fond, on every occasion, of describing the ele¬ 
gance and splendour of the court of Constantinople, 
and adds, that what he and his countrymen observed 
there exceeded any idea which they could have 
formed of it, “ nostrarum enim rerum modum et dig¬ 
nitatem excedunt.” Willerm. Tyr. ap. Bong. vol. ii. 
p. 657, 664. Benjamin the Jew, of Tudela, in 
Navarre, who began his travels A. D. 1173, appears 
to have been equally astonished at the magnificence 
of that city, and gives a description of its splen¬ 
dour in terms of high admiration. Benj. Tudel. 
chez les Voyages faits en 12, 13, &c. Siecles, 
par Bergeron, p. 10, &c. Guntherus, a French 
monk, who wrote a history of the conquest of 
Constantinople by the crusaders, in the thir¬ 
teenth century, speaks of the magnificence of that 
city in the same tone of admiration: “ Structu- 
ram autem aedificiorum in corpore civitatis, in ec- 
clesiis videlicit, et turribus, et in domibus magna- 
torum, vix ullus vel describere potest, vel credere 
describenti, nisi qui ea oculata fide cognoverit.” 
Hist. Constantinop. ap. Canisii Lectiones Anti- 
quas, fob Antw. 1725. vol. iv. p. 14. Geoffrey de 
Villehardouin, a nobleman of high rank, and ac¬ 
customed to all the magnificence then known in the 
west, describes in similar terms the astonishment 
and admiration of such of his fellow-soldiers as 
beheld Constantinople for the first time : “ They 
could not have believed/’ says he, “ that there was 
a city so beautiful and so rich in the whole world. 
When they viewed its high walls, its lofty towers, 
its rich palaces, its superb churches, all appeared 
so great, that they could have formed no conception 
of this sovereign city unless they had seen it with 
their own eyes.” Histoire de la Conquete de Con¬ 
stant. p. 49. From these undisguised representations 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


of their own feelings, it is evident that to the Greeks 
the erusaders appeared to be a race of rude unpo¬ 
lished barbarians ; whereas the latter, how much 
soever they might contemn the unwarlike character 
ot the former, could not help regarding them as 
lar superior to themselves in elegance and arts.— 
That the state of government and manners was 
much more improved in Italy than in the other 
countries of Europe, is evident not only from the 
facts recorded in history, but it appears that the 
more intelligent leaders of the crusaders were struck 
with the difference. Jacobus de Vitriaco, a French 
historian of the holy war, makes an elaborate pane¬ 
gyric on the character and manners of the Italians. 
He views them as a more polished people, and par¬ 
ticularly celebrates them for their love of liberty 
and civil wisdom : “ In consiliis circumspecti, in re 
suft publica procuranda diligentes et studiosi; sibi 
in posterum providentes ; aliis subjici renuentes ; 
ante omnia libertatem sibi defendentes ; sub uno 
quern eligunt capitaneo, communitati suae jura et 
instituta dictantes et similiter observantes.” His- 
tor. Hicrosol. ap. Gesta Dei per Francos, vol. ii. 
p. 1085. 

Note XV. Sect. I. p. 318. 

The different steps taken by the cities of Italy in 
order to extend their power and dominions are re¬ 
markable. As soon as their liberties were esta¬ 
blished, and they began to feel their own impor¬ 
tance, they endeavoured to render themselves 
masters of the territory round their walls. Under 
the Romans, when cities enjoyed municipal privi¬ 
leges and jurisdiction, the circumjacent lands 
belonged to each town, and were the property of 
the community. But as it was not the genius of 
the feudal policy to encourage cities, or to show 
any regard for their possessions and immunities, 
these lands had been seized and shared among the 
conquerors. The barons to whom they were granted, 
erected their castles almost at the gates of the city, 
and exercised their jurisdiction there. Under 
pretence of recovering their ancient property, many 
of the cities in Italy attacked these troublesome 
neighbours, and dispossessing them, annexed their 
territories to the communities, and made thereby a 
considerable addition to their power. Several in¬ 
stances of this occur in the eleventh and beginning 
of the twelfth centuries. Murat. Antiq. Ital vol. iv. 
p. 159, &c. Their ambition increasing together with 
their power, the cities afterwards attacked several 
barons situated at a greater distance from their 
walls, and obliged them to engage that they would 
become members of their community ; that they 
would take the oath of fidelity to their magistrates; 
that they would subject their lands to all burdens 
and taxes imposed by common consent; that they 
would defend the community against all its ene¬ 
mies ; and that they would reside within the city 
during a certain specified time in each year. Murat, 
ibid. 163. This subjection of the nobility to the 


municipal government established in cities, became 
almost universal, and was often extremely grievous 
to persons accustomed to consider themselves as 
independent. Otto Frigensis thus describes the 
state of Italy under Frederic I. “ The cities so 
much affect liberty, and are so solicitous to avoid 
the insolence of power, that almost all of them have 
thrown off every other authority, and are governed 
by their own magistrates. Insomuch that all that 
country is now filled with free cities, most of which 
have compelled their bishops to reside within their 
walls ; and there is scarcely any nobleman, how 
great soever his power may be, who is not subject 
to the laws and government of some city." De 
Gestis Frider. I. Imp. lib. ii. c. 13. p. 453. In 
another place he observes of the marquis of Mont¬ 
serrat, that he was almost the only Italian baron 
who had preserved his independence, and had not 
become subject to the laws of any city. See also 
Muratori Antichita Estensi, vol. i. p. 411, 412. 
That state into which some of the nobles were com¬ 
pelled to enter, others embraced from choice. They 
observed the high degree of security, as well as of 
credit and estimation, which the growing wealth 
and dominion of the great communities procured 
to all the members of them. They were desirous 
to partake of these, and to put themselves under 
such powerful protection. With this view they vo¬ 
luntarily became citizens of the towns to which 
their lands were most contiguous ; and abandoning 
their ancient castles, took up their residence in the 
cities, at least during part of the year. Several 
deeds are still extant, by which some of the most 
illustrious families in Italy are associated as citizens 
of different cities. Murat, ib. p. 165, &c. A char¬ 
ter, by which Atto de Macerata is admitted as a 
citizen of Osimo, A. D. 1198, in the Marcha di An¬ 
cona, is still extant. In this he stipulates, that he 
will acknowledge himself to be a burgess of 
that community; that he will to the utmost of 
his power promote its honour and welfare ; that 
he will obey its magistrates ; that he will enter 
into no league with its enemies; that he will 
reside in the town during two months in every 
year, or for a longer time, if required by the 
magistrates. The community, on the other hand, 
take him, his family and friends, under their pro¬ 
tection, and engage to defend him against every 
enemy. Fr. Ant. Zacharias Anecdota medii iEvi. 
Aug. Taur. 1755, fol. p. 66. This privilege was 
deemed so important, that not only laymen, but 
ecclesiastics of the highest rank, condescended to 
be adopted as members of the great communities, in 
hopes of enjoying the safety and dignity which that 
condition conferred. Murat, ib. 179. Before the 
institution of communities, persons of noble birth 
had no other residence but their castles. They kept 
their petty courts there ; and the cities were desert¬ 
ed, having hardly any inhabitants but slaves or per¬ 
sons of low condition. But in consequence of the 
practice which I have mentioned, cities not only 




384 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


became more populous, but were filled with in¬ 
habitants of better rank, and a custom which still 
subsists in Italy was then introduced, that all fami¬ 
lies of distinction reside more constantly in the great 
towns than is usual in other parts of Europe. As 
cities acquired new consideration and dignity by 
the accession of such citizens, they became more 
solicitous to preserve their liberty and independ¬ 
ence. The emperors, as sovereigns, had anciently 
a palace in almost every great city of Italy ; when 
they visited that country, they were accustomed to 
reside in these palaces, and the troops which ac¬ 
companied them were quartered in the houses of 
the citizens. This the citizens deemed both igno¬ 
minious and dangerous. They could not help con¬ 
sidering it as receiving a master and an enemy 
within their walls. They laboured therefore to get 
free of this subjection. Some cities prevailed on 
the emperors to engage that they would never enter 
their gates, but take up their residence without the 
walls. Chart. Hen. IV. Murat, ib. p. 24. Others 
obtained the imperial licence to pull down the palace 
situated within their liberties, on condition that they 
built another in the suburbs for the occasional re¬ 
ception of the emperor. Chart. Hen. IV. Murat, 
ibid. p. 25. These various encroachments of the 
Italian cities alarmed the emperors, and put them 
on schemes for re-establishing the imperial jurisdic¬ 
tion over them on its ancient footing. Frederic 
Barbarossa engaged in this enterprise with great 
ardour. The free cities of Italy joined together in 
a general league, and stood on their defence; and 
after a long contest, carried on with alternate suc¬ 
cess, a solemn treaty of peace was concluded at 
Constance, A. D. 1183, by which all the privileges 
and immunities granted by former emperors to the 
principal cities in Italy were confirmed and ratified. 
Murat, dissert, xlviii. This treaty of Constance was 
considered as such an important article in the juris¬ 
prudence of the middle ages, that it is usually pub¬ 
lished together with the Libri Feudorum at the end 
of the Corpus Juris Civilis. The treaty secured 
privileges of great importance to the confederate 
cities ; and though it reserved a considerable degree 
of authority and jurisdiction to the empire, yet the 
cities persevered with such vigour in their eflorts in 
order to extend their immunities, and the conjunc¬ 
tures in which they made them were so favourable, 
that, before the conclusion of the thirteenth century, 
most of the great cities in Italy had shaken off all 
marks of subjection to the empire, and were become 
independent sovereign republics. It is not requi¬ 
site that I should trace the various steps by which 
they advanced to this high degree of power, so fatal 
to the empire, and so beneficial to the cause of liber¬ 
ty in Italy. Muratori, with his usual industry, has 
collected many original papers which illustrate this 
curious and little known part of history. Murat. 
Antiq. Ital. dissert. 1. See also Jo. Bapt. Villa- 
novae Hist. Landis Pompeii sive Lodi, in Graiv. 
Tlies. Antiquit. Ital. vol. iii. p. 888. 


Note XVI. Sect. I. p. 319. 

Long before the institution of communities in 
France, charters of immunity or franchise were 
granted to some towns and villages by the lords on 
whom they depended. But these are very diflerent 
from such as became common in the twelfth and 
thirteenth centuries. They did not erect these towns 
into corporations ; they did not establish a muni¬ 
cipal government; they did not grant them the pri¬ 
vilege of bearing arms. They contained nothing 
more than a manumission of the inhabitants from 
the yoke of servitude ; an exemption from certain 
services which were oppressive and ignominious ; 
and the establishment of a fixed tax or rent which 
the citizens were to pay to their lord in place of im¬ 
positions which he could formerly lay upon them at 
pleasure. Two charters of this kind to two villages 
in the county of Rousillon, one in A. D. 974, the 
other in A. D. 1025, are still extant. Petr, de 
Marca, Marca, sive Limes Hispanicus, App. p. 909, 
1038. Such concessions, it is probable, were not 
unknown in other parts of Europe, and may be con¬ 
sidered as a step towards the more extensive privi¬ 
leges conferred by Louis le Gros on the towns 
within his domains. The communities in France 
never aspired to the same independence with those 
in Italy. They acquired new privileges and immu¬ 
nities, but the right of sovereignty remained entire 
to the king or baron within whose territories the 
respective cities were situated, and from whom they 
received the charter of their freedom. A great 
number of these charters, granted both by the kings 
of France, and by their great vassals, are published 
by M. D’Achery in his Spicilegium, and many are 
found in the collection of the Ordonnances des Rois 
de France. These convey a very striking represen¬ 
tation of the wretched condition of cities previous 
to the institution of communities, when they were 
subject to the judges appointed by the superior lords 
of whom they held, and who had scarcely any other 
law but their will. Each concession in these char¬ 
ters must be considered as a grant of some new pri¬ 
vileges which the people did not formerly enjoy, 
and each regulation as a method of redressing some 
grievance under which the inhabitants of cities 
formerly laboured. The charters of communities 
contain likewise the first expedients employed for 
the introduction of equal laws and regular govern¬ 
ment. On both these accounts they merit particular 
attention ; and therefore, instead of referring my 
readers to the many bulky volumes in which they 
are scattered, I shall give them a view of some of the 
most important articles in these charters, ranged 
under two general heads. I. Such as respect per¬ 
sonal safety. II. Such as respect the security of 
property. 

I. During that state of turbulence and disorder 
which the corruption of the feudal government in¬ 
troduced into Europe, personal safety was the 
first and great object of every individual; and 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


385 


as the great military barons alone were able to 
give sufficient protection to their vassals, this was 
one great source of their power and authority. But 
by the institution of communities, effectual provi¬ 
sion was made for the safety of individuals, inde¬ 
pendent of the nobles. For, 1. The fundamental 
article in every charter was, that all the members 
of the community bound themselves by oath to as¬ 
sist, defend, and stand by each other against all ag¬ 
gressors, and that they should not suffer any person 
to injure, distress, or molest any of their fellow- 
citizens. D’Acher. Spicil. x. 642. xi. 341, &c.—2. 
Whoever resided in any town which was made free, 
was obliged, under a severe penalty, to accede to 
the community, and to take part in the mutual de¬ 
fence of its members. D’Acher. Spic. xi. 344.—.3. 
The communities had the privilege of carrying arms; 
of making war on their private enemies ; and of ex¬ 
ecuting by military force any sentence which their 
magistrates pronounced. D’Ach. Spicil. x. 643, 
644. xi. 343.—4. The practice of making satisfac¬ 
tion by a pecuniary compensation for murder, as¬ 
sault, or other acts of violence, most inconsistent 
with the order of society and the safety of individu¬ 
als, was abolished ; and such as committed these 
crimes were punished capitally, or with rigour ade¬ 
quate to their guilt. D’Ach. xi. 362. Miraei Opera 
Diplomatica, i. 292.—5. No member of a commu¬ 
nity was bound to justify or defend himself by 
battle or combat; but if he was charged with any 
crime, he could be convicted only by the evidence 
of witnesses, and the regular course of legal pro¬ 
ceedings. Miraeus, ibid. D’Ach. xi. 375, 349. 
Ordon. tom. iii. 265.—6. If any man suspected him¬ 
self to be in danger from the malice or enmity of 
another, upon his making oath to that effect before 
a magistrate, the person suspected was bound under 
a severe penalty to give security for his peaceable 
behaviour. D’Ach. xi. 346. This is the same spe¬ 
cies of security which is still known in Scotland 
under the name of Law-burrows. In France it was 
first introduced among the inhabitants of communi¬ 
ties, and having been found to contribute consider¬ 
ably towards personal safety, it was extended to all 
the other members of the society. Establissemens 
de St. Louis, liv. i. cap. 28, ap. Du Cange Vie de 
St. Louis, p. 15. 

II. The provisions in the charters of communi¬ 
ties concerning the security of property, are not less 
considerable than those respecting personal safety. 
By the ancient law of France, no person could be 
arrested or confined in prison on account of any 
private debt. Ordon. des Rois de France, tom. i. 
p. 72. 80. If any person was arrested upon any 
pretext but his having been guilty of a capital 
crime, it was lawful to rescue him out of the hands 
of the officers who had seized him. Ordon. iii. 
p. 17. Freedom from arrest on account of debt, 
seems likewise to have been enjoyed in other coun¬ 
tries. Gudenus Sylloge Diplom. 473. In society, 
while it remained in its rudest and most simple 

2 c 


form, debt seems to have been considered as an obli¬ 
gation merely personal. Men had made some pro¬ 
gress towards refinement before creditors acquired a 
right of seizing the property of their debtors, in order 
to recover payment. The expedients for this pur¬ 
pose were all introduced originally in communities, 
and we can trace the gradual progress of them. I. 
The simplest and most obvious species of security 
was, that the person who sold any commodity 
should receive a pledge from him who bought it, 
w hich he restored upon receiving payment. Of this 
custom there are vestiges in several charters of com¬ 
munity. D’Ach. ix. 185. xi. 377.—2. When no 
pledge was given, and the debtor became refractory 
or insolvent, the creditor was allowed to seize his 
effects with a strong hand, and by his private autho¬ 
rity ; the citizens of Paris are warranted by the 
royal mandate, “ ut ubicumque, et quocumque modo 
poterunt, tantum capiant, unde pecuniam sibi debi- 
tam integre et plenarie habeant, et inde sibi invicem 
adjutores existant.” Ordon. &c. tom. i. p. 6. This 
rude practice, suitable only to the violence of that 
which has been called a state of nature, was tole¬ 
rated longer than one can conceive to be possible 
in any society where laws and order were at all 
known. The ordonnance authorizing it was issued 
A. D. 1134; and that which corrects the law, and 
prohibits creditors from seizing the effects of their 
debtors, unless by a warrant from a magistrate, and 
under his inspection, was not published until the 
year 1351. Ordon. tom. ii. p. 438. It is probable, 
however, that men were taught, by observing the 
disorders which the former mode of proceeding oc¬ 
casioned, to correct it in practice long before a 
remedy was provided by a law to that effect. Every 
discerning reader will apply this observation to 
many other customs and practices which I have 
mentioned. New customs are not always to be as¬ 
cribed to the laws which authorize them. Those 
statutes only give a legal sanction to such things as 
the experience of mankind has previously found to 
be proper and beneficial.—3. As soon as the inter¬ 
position of the magistrate became requisite, regular 
provision was made for attaching or distraining the 
movable effects of a debtor; and if his movables 
were not sufficient to discharge the debt, his im¬ 
movable property, or estate in land, was liable to 
the same distress, and was sold for the benefit of his 
creditor. D’Ach. ix. p. 184, 185. xi. p. 348, 380. 
As this regulation afforded the most complete secu¬ 
rity to the creditor, it was considered as so severe, 
that humanity pointed out several limitations in the 
execution of it. Creditors were prohibited from 
seizing the wearing-apparel of their debtors, their 
beds, the door of their house, their instruments of 
husbandry, &c. D’Ach. ix. 184. xi. 377. Upon 
the same principles, when the power of distraining 
effects became more general, the horse and arms of a 
gentleman could not be seized. D’Ach. ix. 125. 
As hunting was the favourite amusement of mar¬ 
tial nobles, the emperor Ludovicus Pius pro- 



A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


hibited the seizing of a hawk on account of any 
composition or debt. Capitul. lib. iv. § 21. But 
if the debtor had no other movables, even these 
privileged articles might be seized.—4. In order 
to render the security of property complete within 
a community, every person who was admitted a 
member of it was obliged to buy or build a house, 
or to purchase lands within its precincts, or at least 
to bring into the town a considerable portion of his 
movables, per qua: justiciari possit, si quid forte in 
eum querela: evenerit. D’Ach. xi. 326. Ordon. i. 
367. Libertates S. Gcorgii de Esperanchia, Hist, 
de Dauphine, tom. i. p. 26.—5. That security might 
be as perfect as possible, in some towns the mem¬ 
bers of the community seem to have been bound for 
each other. D’Ach. x. 644.—6. All questions with 
respect to property were tried within the community, 
by magistrates and judges whom the citizens elected 
or appointed. Their decisions were more equal and 
fixed than the sentences which depended on the 
capricious and arbitrary will of a baron who thought 
himself superior to all laws. D’Ach. x. 644, 646. 
xi. 344, et passim. Ordon. iii. 204.—7. No member 
of a community could be burthened by any arbitrary 
tax ; for the superior lord who granted the charter 
of community, accepted of a fixed census or duty in 
lieu of all demands. Ordon. tom. iii. 204. Liber¬ 
tates de Calma. Hist, de Dauphine, tom. i. p. 19. 
Libertates S. Georgii de Esperanchia, ibid. p. 26. 
Nor could the members of a community be dis¬ 
tressed by an unequal imposition of the sum to be 
levied on the community. Regulations are inserted 
in the charters of some communities, concerning the 
method of determining the quota of any tax to be 
levied on each inhabitant. D’Ach. xi. 350, 365. St. 
Louis published an ordonnance concerning this 
matter, which extended to all the communities. 
Ordon. tom. i. 186. These regulations are extremely 
favourably to liberty, as they vest the power of pro¬ 
portioning the taxes in a certain number of citizens 
chosen out of each parish, who were bound by so¬ 
lemn oath to decide according to justice.—That the 
more perfect security of property was one great ob¬ 
ject of those who instituted communities, we learn 
not only from the nature of the thing, but from the 
express words of several charters, of which I shall 
only mention that granted by Alienor, queen of Eng¬ 
land and duchess of Guienne, to the community of 
Poitiers, “ ut sua propria melius defendere possint, 
et magis integre custodire.” Du Cange, voc. Corn- 
munia, vol. ii. p. 863.—Such are some of the capital 
regulations established in communities during the 
twelfth and thirteenth centuries. These may be 
considered as the first expedients for the re-esta¬ 
blishment of law and order, and contributed greatly 
to introduce regular government among all the mem¬ 
bers of society. As soon as communities were insti¬ 
tuted, high sentiments of liberty began to manifest 
themselves. When Humbert, lord of Beaujeu, upon 
granting a charter of community to the town of 
Belleville, exacted of the inhabitants an oath of 


fidelity to himself and successors, they stipulated, 
on their part, that he should swear to maintain their 
franchises and liberties ; and, for their greater se¬ 
curity, they obliged him to bring twenty gentlemen 
to take the same oath, and to be bound together 
with him. D’Ach. ix. 183. In the same manner the 
lord of Moricns in Dauphine produced a certain 
number of persons as his sureties for the observa¬ 
tion of the articles contained in the charter of com¬ 
munity to that town. These were bound to surrender 
themselves prisoners to the inhabitants of Moriens, if 
their liege lord should violate any of their franchises; 
and they promised to remain in custody until he should 
grant the members of the community redress. Hist, 
de Dauphine, tom. i. p. 17. If the mayor or chief ma¬ 
gistrate of a town did any injury to a citizen, he was 
obliged to give security for his appearance in judg¬ 
ment, in the same manner as a private person ; and 
if cast, was liable to the same penalty. D’Ach. ix. 
183. These are ideas of equality uncommon in the 
feudal times. Communities were so favourable to 
freedom, that they were distinguished by the name 
of Libertates. Du Cange, vol. ii. p. 863. They were 
at first extremely odious to the nobles, who foresaw 
what a check they must prove to their power and 
domination. Guibert, abbot of Nogent, calls them 
execrable inventions, by which, contrary to law 
and justice, slaves withdrew themselves from that 
obedience which they owed to their masters. Du 
Cange, ibid. 862. The zeal with which some of the 
nobles and powerful ecclesiastics opposed the estab¬ 
lishment of communities, and endeavoured to cir¬ 
cumscribe their privileges, was extraordinary. A 
striking instance of this occurs in the contests be¬ 
tween the archbishop of Reims and the inhabitants 
of that community. It was the chief business of 
every archbishop, during a considerable time, to 
abridge the rights and jurisdiction of the commu¬ 
nity ; and the great object of the citizens, especially 
when the see was vacant, to maintain, to recover, 
and to extend their own jurisdiction. Histoire 
civile et politique de la Ville de Reims, par M. An- 
quetil, tom. i. p. 287, &c. 

The observations which I have made concerning 
the low state of cities, and the condition of their 
inhabitants, are confirmed by innumerable passages 
in the historians and laws of the middle ages. It 
is not improbable, however, that some cities of the 
first order were in a better state, and enjoyed a su¬ 
perior degree of liberty. Under the Roman go¬ 
vernment, the municipal government established in 
cities was extremely favourable to liberty. The 
jurisdiction of the senate in each corporation and 
the privileges of the citizens were both extensive. 
There is reason to believe, that some of the greater 
cities which escaped the destructive rage of the bar¬ 
barous nations, still retained their ancient form of 
government, at least in a great measure. They were 
governed by a council of citizens, and by magis¬ 
trates whom they themselves elected. Very strong 
presumptions in favour of this opinion are produced 



PROOFS AND 

by M. l’Abbe De Bos, Hist. Crit. de la Mon. Franc, 
tom. i. p. 18, &c. tom. ii. p. 524. edit. 1742. Jt. ap¬ 
pears from some of the charters of community to 
cities granted in the twelfth and thirteenth centu¬ 
ries, that these only confirm the privileges possessed 
by the inhabitants previous to the establishment of 
the community. D’Acher. Spicileg. vol. xi. p. 345. 
Other cities claimed their privileges as having pos¬ 
sessed them without interruption from the times of 
the Romans. Hist. Crit. de la Mon. Franc, tom. ii. 
p. 333. But the number of cities which enjoyed 
such immunities was so small as hardly in any de¬ 
gree to diminish the force of my conclusions in 
the text. 

Note XVII. Sect. I. p. 319. 

Having given a full account of the establish¬ 
ment as well as effects of communities in Italy and 
France, it will be neccesary to inquire with some 
attention into the progress of cities and of munici¬ 
pal government in Germany. The ancient Germans 
had no cities. Even in their hamlets or villages, 
they did not build their houses contiguous to each 
other. Tacit, de Mor. Germ. cap. 16. They con¬ 
sidered it as a badge of servitude to be obliged to 
dwell in a city surrounded with walls. When one 
of their tribes had shaken off the Roman yoke, 
their countrymen required of them, as an evidence 
of their having recovered liberty, to demolish the 
walls of a town which the Romans had built in 
their country. Even the fiercest animals, said they, 
lose their spirit and courage when they are con¬ 
fined. Tacit. Histor. lib. iv. c. 64. The Romans 
built several cities of note on the banks of the 
Rhine. But in all the vast countries from that 
river to the coasts of the Baltic, there was hardly 
one city previous to the ninth century of the Chris¬ 
tian era. Conringius Exercitatio de Urbibus 
Germaniae, Oper. vol. i. § 25, 27, 31, &cc. Heinec- 
cius differs from Conringius with respect to this. 
But even after allowing to his arguments and au¬ 
thorities their utmost force, they prove only that 
there were a few places in those extensive re¬ 
gions on which some historians have bestowed the 
name of towns. Elem. Jur. German, lib. i. ^ 102. 
Under Charlemagne and the emperors of his family, 
as the political state of Germany began to improve, 
several cities w ere founded, and men became ac¬ 
customed to associate and to live together in one 
place. Charlemagne founded two archbishoprics 
and nine bishoprics in the most considerable 
towns of Germany. Aub. Miraei Opera Diploma- 
tica, vol. i. p. 16. His successors increased the 
number of these; and as bishops fixed their resi¬ 
dence in the chief town of their diocese, and per¬ 
formed religious functions there, that induced many 
people to settle in them. Conring. ibid. § 48. But 
Henry, surnamed the Fowler, who began his reign 
A. D. 920, must be considered as the great founder 
of cities in Germany. The empire was at that time 
infested by the incursions of the Hungarians and 

2 c 2 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 387 

other barbarous people. In order to oppose them, 
Henry encouraged his subjects to settle in cities, 
which he surrounded with walls strengthened by 
towers. He enjoined or persuaded a certain pro¬ 
portion of the nobility to fix their residence in the 
towns, and thus rendered the condition of citizens 
more honourable than it had been formerly. Wit- 
tikindus Annal. lib. i. ap. Conring. § 82. From 
this period the number of cities continued to in¬ 
crease, and they became more populous and more 
wealthy. But cities in Germany were still destitute 
of municipal liberty or jurisdiction. Such of them 
as were situated in the imperial demesnes w^ere 
subject to the emperors. Their Comites, Mis si, 
and other judges, presided in them, and dispensed 
justice. Towns situated on the estate of a baron 
were part of his lief, and he or his officers ex¬ 
ercised a similar jurisdiction in them. Conring. 
ibid. § 73, 74. Heinec. Elem. Jur. Germ. lib. 
i. § 104. The Germans borrowed the institution 
of communities from the Italians. Knipschildius 
Tractatus Politico-Histor. Jurid. de Civitatum 
Imperialium Juribus, vol. i. lib. i. cap. 5. No. 23. 
Frederic Barbarossa was the first emperor who, 
from the same political consideration that in¬ 
fluenced Louis le Gros, multiplied communities 
in order to abridge the power of the nobles. Pfef- 
fel Abrege de THistoire et du Droit Publique 
d’Allemagne, 4to, p. 297. From the reign of Henry 
the Fowler, to the time when the German cities ac¬ 
quired full possession of their immunities, various 
circumstances contributed to their increase. The 
establishment of bishoprics, (already mentioned,) 
and the building of cathedrals, naturally induced 
many people to settle near the chief place of wor¬ 
ship. It became the custom to hold councils and 
courts of judicature of every kind, ecclesiastical as 
well as civil, in cities. In the eleventh century, 
many slaves were enfranchised, the greater part of 
whom settled in cities. Several mines were dis¬ 
covered and wrought in different provinces, which 
drew together such a concourse of people as gave 
rise to several cities, and increased the number of 
inhabitants in others. Conring. § 105. The cities 
began, in the thirteenth century, to form leagues 
for their mutual defence, and for repressing the 
disorders occasioned by the private wars among the 
barons, as well as by their exactions. This ren¬ 
dered the condition of the inhabitants of cities more 
secure than that of any other order of men, and al¬ 
lured many to become members of their communi¬ 
ties. Conring. § 94. There were inhabitants of 
three different ranks in the towns of Germany : the 
nobles, or familiae ; the citizens, or liberi; and the 
artisans, who were slaves, or homines proprii. 
Knipschild. lib. ii. cap. 29. No. 13. Henry V., 
who began his reign A. D. 1106, enfranchised the 
slaves who were artisans or inhabitants in several 
towns, and gave them the rank of citizens or liberi. 
Pfeffel, p. 254. Kiiipsch. lib. ii. c. 29. No. 113, 119. 
Though the cities in Germany did not acquire 



388 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


liberty so early as those in France, they extended 
their privileges much further. All the imperial and 
free cities, the number of which is considerable, 
acquired the full right of being immediate; by 
which term, in the German jurisprudence, we are to 
understand that they are subject to the empire 
alone, and possess within their own precincts all 
the rights of complete and independent sovereignty. 
The various privileges of the imperial cities, the 
great guardians of the Germanic liberties, are enu¬ 
merated by Knipschild, lib. ii. The most import¬ 
ant articles are generally known, and it would be 
improper to enter into any disquisition concerning 
minute particulars. 

Note XVIII. Sect. I. p. 319. 

The Spanish historians are almost entirely silent 
concerning the origin and progress of communities 
in that kingdom; so that I cannot fix, with any de¬ 
gree of certainty, the time and manner of their first 
introduction there. It appears, however, from Ma¬ 
riana, vol. ii. p. 221. fol. Hagae, 1736, that in the 
year 1350 eighteen cities had obtained a seat in the 
Cortes of Castile. From the account which will 
be given of their constitution and pretensions, 
Sect. III. it appears that their privileges and 
form of government were the same with those 
of the other feudal corporations ; and this, as well 
as the perfect similarity of political institutions and 
transactions in all the feudal kingdoms, may lead 
us to conclude that communities were introduced 
there in the same manner, and probably about the 
same time, as in the other nations of Europe. In 
Aragon, as I shall have occasion to observe in a 
subsequent Note, cities seem early to have acquired 
extensive immunities, together with a share in the 
legislature. In the year 1118, the citizens of Sara¬ 
gossa had not only attained political liberty, but 
they were declared to be of equal rank with the 
nobles of the second class ; and many other immu¬ 
nities unknown to persons in their rank of life in 
other parts of Europe, were conferred upon them. 
Zurita Annales de Aragon, tom. i. p. 44. In Eng¬ 
land, the establishment of communities or corpora¬ 
tions was posterior to the conquest. The practice 
was borrowed from France, and the privileges grant¬ 
ed by the crown were perfectly similar to those which 
I have enumerated. But as this part of history is 
well known to most of my readers, I shall, without 
entering into any critical or minute discussion, re¬ 
fer them to authors who have fully illustrated this 
interesting point in the English history. Brady’s 
Treatise of Boroughs. Madox Firma Burgi, cap. i. 
sect. ix. Hume’s History of England, vol. i. append, 
i. and ii. It is not improbable that some of the towns 
in England were formed into corporations under 
the Saxon kings, and that the charters granted by 
the kings of the Norman race were not charters of 
enfranchisement from a state of slavery, but a con¬ 
firmation of privileges which they already enjoyed. 
See lord Lyttleton’s History of Henry II., vol. ii. p. 


317. The English cities, however, were very incon¬ 
siderable in the twelfth century. A clear proof of 
this occurs in the history to which I last referred. 
Fitzsteplien, a contemporary author, gives a de¬ 
scription of the city of London in the reign of Henry 
II.; and the terms in w hich he speaks of its trade, 
its wealth, and the splendour of its inhabitants, 
would suggest no inadequate idea of its state at 
present, when it is the greatest and most opulent 
city of Europe. But all ideas of grandeur and 
magnificence are merely comparative, and every 
description of them in general terms is very apt to 
deceive. It appears from Peter of Blois, archdea¬ 
con of London, who flourished in the same reign, 
and who had good opportunity of being well in¬ 
formed, that this city, of which Fitzstephen gives 
such a pompous account, contained no more than 
forty thousand inhabitants. Ibid. 315, 316. The 
other cities were small in proportion, and were not 
in a condition to extort any extensive privileges. 
That the constitution of the boroughs in Scotland, 
in many circumstances, resembled that of the 
towns in France and England, is manifest from 
the Leges Burgorum annexed to the Regiam Ma- 
jestatem. 

Note XIX. Sect. I. p. 320. 

Soon after the introduction of the third estate into 
the national council, the spirit of liberty which that 
excited in France began to produce conspicuous 
effects. In several provinces of France, the nobility 
and communities formed associations whereby they 
bound themselves to defend their rights and privi¬ 
leges against the formidable and arbitrary proceed¬ 
ings of the king. The count de Boulainvilliers has 
preserved a copy of one of these associations, dated 
in the year 1314, twelve years after the admission of 
the deputies from towns into the states-general. 
Histoire de l’Ancien Gouvernement de la France, 
tom. ii. p. 94. The vigour with which the people 
asserted and prepared to maintain their rights, 
obliged their sovereigns to respect them. Six years 
after this association, Philip the Long issued a writ 
of summons to the community of Narbonne, in the 
following terms : “ Philip, by the grace, &c., to our 
well-beloved, &c. As we desire, w ith all our heart, 
and above all other things, to govern our kingdom 
and people in peace and tranquillity, by the help of 
God ; and to reform our said kingdom in so far as 
it stands in need thereof, for the public good, and 
for the benefit of our subjects, who in times past 
have been aggrieved and oppressed in divers man¬ 
ners by the malice of sundry persons, as we have 
learned by common report, as well as by the infor¬ 
mation of good men worthy of credit; and we hav¬ 
ing determined in our council which we have called 
to meet in our good city, &c., to give redress to the 
utmost of our power, by all ways and means possible, 
according to reason and justice, and willing that 
this should be done with solemnity and deliberation 
by the advice of the prelates, barons, and good 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


389 


towns of our realm, and particularly of you, and 
that it should be transacted agreeably to the will of 
God, and for the good of our people, therefore we 
command,” &c. Mably, Observat. ii. App. p. 386. 
I shall allow these to be only the formal words of a 
public and legal style; but the ideas are singular, 
and much more liberal and enlarged than one could 
expect in that age. A popular monarch of Great 
Britain could hardly address himself to parliament 
in terms more favourable to public liberty. There 
occurs in the history of France a striking instance 
of the progress which the principles of liberty had 
made in that kingdom, and of the influence which 
the deputies of towns had acquired in the states- 
general. During the calamities in which the war 
with England and the captivity of king John had 
involved France, the states-general made a bold 
effort to extend their own privileges and jurisdiction. 
The regulations established by the states, held 
A. D. 1355, concerning the mode of levying taxes, 
the administration of which they vested not in the 
crown, but in commissioners appointed by the states; 
concerning the coining of money; concerning the 
redress of the grievance of purveyance ; concerning 
the regular administration of justice; are much more 
suitable to the genius of a republican government 
than that of a feudal monarchy. This curious sta¬ 
tute is published, Ordon. tom. iii. p. 19. Such as 
have not an opportunity to consult that large collec¬ 
tion, will find an abridgment of it in Hist, de 
France par Yillaret, tom. ix. p. 130, or in Histoire 
de Boulainv. tom. ii. 213. The French historians 
represent the bishop of Laon, and Marcel, provost 
of the merchants of Paris, who had the chief direc¬ 
tion of this assembly, as seditious tribunes, violent, 
interested, ambitious, and aiming at innovations 
subversive of the constitution and government of 
their country. That may have been the case ; but 
these men possessed the confidence of the people; 
and the measures which they proposed as the most 
popular and acceptable, as well as most likely to in¬ 
crease their own influence, plainly prove that the 
spirit of liberty had spread wonderfully, and that 
the ideas which then prevailed in France concern¬ 
ing government were extremely liberal. The states- 
general held at Paris A. D. 1355, consisted of about 
eight hundred members, and above one-half of these 
were deputies from towns. M. Secousse Pref. & 
Ordon. tom. iii. p. 48. It appears that in all the 
different assemblies of the states held during the 
reign of John, the representatives of towns had 
great influence, and in every respect the third state 
w'as considered as co-ordinate, and equal to either 
of the other tw o. Ib. passim. These spirited efforts 
were made in France long before the House of 
Commons in England acquired any considerable 
influence in the legislature. As the feudal system 
was carried to its utmost height in France sooner 
than in England, so it began to decline sooner in 
the former than in the latter kingdom. In England 
almost all attempts to establish or to extend the 


liberty of the people have been successful; in France 
they have proved unfortunate. What were the ac¬ 
cidental events or political causes which occasioned 
this difference, it is not my present business to 
inquire. 

Note XX. Sect. I. p. 321. 

In a former Note, No. VIII., I have inquired into 
the condition of that part of the people which was 
employed in agriculture ; and have represented the 
various hardships and calamities of their situation. 
When charters of liberty or manumission were 
granted to such persons, they contained four con¬ 
cessions corresponding to the four capital grievances 
to w hich men in a state of servitude are subject. 
1. The right of disposing of their persons by sale 
or grant was relinquished. 2. Power was given to 
them of conveying their property and effects by will 
or any other legal deed. Or if they happened to 
die intestate, it was provided that their property 
should go to their lawful heirs in the same manner 
as the property of other persons. 3. The services 
and taxes which they owed to their superior or liege 
lord, which were formerly arbitrary and imposed at 
pleasure, are precisely ascertained. 4. They are 
allowed the privilege of marrying according to their 
own inclination ; formerly they could contract no 
marriage without their lord’s permission, and with no 
person but one of his slaves. All these particulars are 
found united in the charter granted Habitatoribus 
Montis-Britonis, A. D. 1376. Hist, de Dauphine, 
tom. i. p. 81. Many circumstances concurred with 
those which I have mentioned in the text, in pro¬ 
curing them deliverance from that w T retched state. 
The gentle spirit of the Christian religion ; the doc¬ 
trines which it teaches concerning the original equa¬ 
lity of mankind; its tenets with respect to the divine 
government, and the impartial eye with which the 
Almighty regards men of every condition, and ad¬ 
mits them to a participation of his benefits, are all 
inconsistent with servitude. But in this, as in many 
other instances, considerations of interest, and the 
maxims of false policy, led men to a conduct incon¬ 
sistent with their principles. They were so sensible, 
however, of this inconsistency, that to set their 
fellow-christians at liberty from servitude was deem¬ 
ed an act of piety highly meritorious and acceptable 
to Heaven. The humane spirit of the Christian re¬ 
ligion struggled long with the maxims and manners 
of the world, and contributed more than any other 
circumstance to introduce the practice of manu¬ 
mission. When pope Gregory the Great, who 
flourished toward the end of the sixth century, 
granted liberty to some of his slaves, he gives this 
reason for it, “Cum Redemptor noster, totius con- 
ditor naturae, ad hoc propitiatus humanam carnem 
voluerit assumere, utdivinitatis suae gratia, dirempto 
(quo tenebamur captivi) vinculo, pristinae nos resti- 
tueretlibertati; salubriter agitur, si homines,quosab 
initio liberos natura protulit, et jus gentium jugo sub- 
stituit servitutis, in ek, qua nati fuerant, manumit- 




A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


tentis beneficio, libertati reddantur.” Gregor. 
Magn. ap. Potgiess. lib. iv. c. i. § 3. Several laws 
of charters founded on reasons similar to this, are 
produced by the same author. Accordingly, a great 
part of the charters of manumission previous to the 
reign of Louis X. are granted pro amore Dei, pro 
remedio animaj, et pro mercede animae. Murat. 
Antiq. Ital. vol. i. p. 849, 850. Du Cange, voc. 
Manumissio. The formality of manumission was 
executed in a church as a religious solemnity. The 
person to be set free was led round the great altar 
with a torch in his hand, he took hold of the horns 
of the altar, and there the solemn words conferring 
liberty were pronounced. Du Cange, ibid. vol. iv. 
p. 467. I shall transcribe a part of a charter of ma¬ 
numission granted A. D. 1056, both as it contains a 
full account of the ceremonies used in this form of 
manumission, and as a specimen of the imperfect 
knowledge of the Latin tongue in that barbarous 
age. It is granted by Willa, the widow of Hugo 
the duke and marquis, in favour of Clariza, one of 
her slaves. “ Et ideo nos Domine Wille indite 
cometisse—libera et absolvo te Cleriza filia Uberto 
—pro timore omnipotentis Dei, et remedio luminarie 
anime bone memorie quandam supra scripto Domi¬ 
ni Ugo gloriossissimo, ut quando ilium Dominus 
de hac vita migrare, jusserit, pars iniqua non abeat 
potestatem ullam, sed anguelus Domini nostri Jesu 
Christi colocare dignitur ilium inter sanctos dilectos 
suos; et beatus Petrus princips apostolorum, qui ha- 
bed potestatem omnium animarum ligandi et absol- 
vendi, ut ipsi absolvat animae ejus de peccatis sui, 
aperiad ilium januaparadisi; proeademvero rationi, 
in mano mite te Benzo presbiter, ut vadat tecum in 
ecclesia sancti Bartliolomaei apostoli; traad de tri¬ 
bus vicibus circa altare ipsius ecclesiae cum caereo 
apprehensum in manibus tuis et manibus suis ; 
deinde exite ambulate in via quadrubio, ubi quatuor 
vie se dividuntur. Statimq; pro remedio luminarie 
anime bone memorie quondam supra scripto Domini 
Ugo et ipsi presbiter Benzo fecit omnia, et dixit, 
Ecce quatuor vie, ite et ambulate in quacunq; par¬ 
tem tibi placuerit, tam sic supra scripta Cleriza, 
qua nosque tui heredes, qui ab ac hora in antea nati, 
vel procreati fuerit utriusq; sexus/’&c. Murat, ibid, 
p. 853. Many other charters might have been se¬ 
lected, which, in point of grammar or style, are in 
no wise superior to this. Manumission was fre¬ 
quently granted on death-bed or by latter-will. As 
the minds of men are at that time awakened to sen¬ 
timents of humanity and piety, these deeds pro¬ 
ceeded from religious motives, and were granted 
pro redemptions animce , in order to obtain accept¬ 
ance with God. Du Cange, ubi supra, p. 470. et 
voc. Sei'vus, vol. vi. p. 451. Another method of ob¬ 
taining liberty was by entering into holy orders, or 
taking the vow in a monastery. This was permitted 
for some time; but so many slaves escaped by this 
means out of the hands of their masters, that the prac¬ 
tice was afterwards restrained, and at last prohibited, 
by the laws of almost all the nations of Europe. 


Murat, ibid. p. 842. Conformably to the same prin¬ 
ciples, princes, on the birth of a son, or upon any 
other agreeable event, appointed a certain number 
of slaves to be enfranchised, as a testimony of their 
gratitude to God for that benefit. Marculfi Form, 
lib. i. cap. 39. There are several forms of manu¬ 
mission published by Marculfus, and all of them 
are founded on religious considerations, in order to 
procure the favour of God, or to obtain the forgive¬ 
ness of their sins. Lib. ii. c. 23, 33, 34. edit. Baluz. 
The same observation holds with respect to the other 
collections of formula; annexed to Marculfus. As 
sentiments of religion induced some to grant liberty 
to their fellow-cliristians who groaned under the 
yoke of servitude, so mistaken ideas concerning 
devotion led others to relinquish their liberty. When 
a person conceived an extraordinary respect for the 
saint who was the patron of any church or monas¬ 
tery in which he was accustomed to attend religious 
worship, it was not unusual among men possessed 
with an access of superstitious reverence, to give up 
themselves and their posterity to be the slaves of 
the saint. Mabillon de Re Diplomat, lib. vi. 632. 
The oblati or voluntary slaves of churches or mo¬ 
nasteries were very numerous, and may be divided 
into three different classes. The first were such as 
put themselves and effects under the protection of a 
particular church or monastery, binding themselves 
to defend its privileges and property against every 
aggressor. These were prompted to do so not 
merely by devotion, but in order to obtain that se¬ 
curity which arose from the protection of the church. 
They were rather vassals than slaves, and some¬ 
times persons of noble birth found it prudent to 
secure the protection of the church in this manner. 
Persons of the second class bound themselves to 
pay an annual tax or quitrent out of their estates to 
a church or monastery. Besides this, they some¬ 
times engaged to perform certain services. They 
were called censuales. The last class consisted of 
such as actually renounced their liberty, and be¬ 
came slaves in the strict and proper sense of the 
word. These were called minis ter idles, and en¬ 
slaved their bodies, as some of the charters bear, 
that they might procure the liberty of their souls. 
Potgiesserus de Statu Servorum, lib. i. cap. i. §6, 7. 
How zealous the clergy were to encourage the opin¬ 
ions which led to this practice, will appear from a 
clause in a charter by which one gives up himself 
as a slave to a monastery. “ Cum sit omni carnali 
ingenuitate generosius extremum quodcumq; Dei 
servitium, scilicet quod terrena nobilitas multos 
plerumq ; vitiorum servos facit, servitus vero Christi 
nobiles virtutibus reddit, nemo autem sani capitis 
virtutibus vitia comparaverit, claret pro certo eum 
esse generosiorem, qui se Dei servitio praebuerit 
proniorem. Quod ego Ragnaldus intelligens,” &c. 
Another charter is expressed in the following words : 
“ Eligens magis esse servus Dei quam libertus 
saeculi, firmiter credens et sciens, quod servire Deo, 
regnare est, summaque ingenuitas sit in qua ser- 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


391 


vitus comparabatur Christi,” See. Du Cange, \oc. 
Oblatus, vol. iv. p. 1286, 1287. Great, however, as 
the power of religion was, it does not appear that 
the enfranchisement of slaves was a frequent prac¬ 
tice while the feudal system preserved its vigour. 
On the contrary, there were laws which set bounds 
to it as detrimental to society. Potgiess. lib. iv. c. 
2. § 6. The inferior order of men owed the recovery 
of their liberty to the decline of that aristocratical 
policy which lodged the most extensive power in 
the hands of a few members of the society, and de¬ 
pressed all the rest. When Louis X. issued his 
ordonnance, several slaves had been so long accus¬ 
tomed to servitude, and their minds were so much 
debased by that unhappy situation, that they re¬ 
fused to accept of the liberty which was olfered 
them. D’Ach. Spicel. vol. xi. p. 387. Long after 
the reign of Louis X. several of the French nobility 
continued to assert their ancient dominion over their 
slaves. It appears from an ordonnance of the 
famous Bertrand de Guesclin, Constable of France, 
that the custom of enfranchising them was con¬ 
sidered as a pernicious innovation. Morice Mem. 
pour servir des Preuves a l’Hist. de Bret. tom. ii. p. 
100. In some instances, when the praedial slaves 
w r ere declared to be freemen, they were still bound 
to perform certain services to their ancient masters ; 
and were kept in a state different from other sub¬ 
jects, being restricted either from purchasing land 
or becoming members of a community within the 
precincts of the manor to which they formerly be¬ 
longed. Martene et Durand. Thesaur. Anecdot. 
vol. i. p. 914. This, however, seems not to have 
been common.—There is no general law for the 
manumission of slaves in the statute-book of Eng¬ 
land, similar to that which has been quoted from the 
ordonnar.ces of the kings of France. Though the 
genius of the English constitution seems early to 
have favoured personal liberty, personal servitude 
nevertheless continued long in England in some 
particular places. In the year 1514 we find a char¬ 
ter of Henry VIII. enfranchising two slaves belong¬ 
ing to one of his manors. Rym. Feeder, vol. xiii. 
p. 470. As late as the year 1574, there is a commis¬ 
sion from queen Elizabeth with respect to the ma¬ 
numission of certain bondmen belonging to her. 
Rymer, in Observat. on the Statutes, &c. p. 251. 

Note XXI. Sect. I. p. 323. 

There is no custom in the middle ages more 
singular than that of private war. It is a right of 
so great importance, and prevailed so universally, 
that the regulations concerning it occupy a con¬ 
siderable place in the system of laws during the mid¬ 
dle ages. M. de Montesquieu, who has unravelled 
so many intricate points in feudal jurisprudence, 
and thrown light on so many customs formerly ob¬ 
scure and unintelligible, was not led by his subject 
to consider this. I shall therefore give a more 
minute account of the customs and regulations which 
directed a practice so contrary to the present ideas 


of civilized nations concerning government and or¬ 
der. 1. Among the ancient Germans, as well as 
other nations in a similar state of society, the right 
of avenging injuries was a private and personal 
right exercised by force of arms, w ithout any refer¬ 
ence to an umpire, or any appeal to a magistrate for 
decision. The clearest proofs of this were produced 
Note VI.—2. This practice subsisted among the 
barbarous nations after their settlement in the pro¬ 
vinces of the empire which they conquered ; and as 
the causes of dissension among them multiplied, 
their family feuds and private wars became more 
frequent. Proofs of this occur in their early histo¬ 
rians. Greg. Turon. Hist. lib. vii. c. 2. lib. viii. c. 
18. lib. x. c. 27. and likewise in the codes of their 
laws. It was not only allowable for the relations to 
avenge the injuries of their family, but it was in¬ 
cumbent on them. Thus, by the laws of the Angli 
and Wei ini, ad quemeunque hereditas terrae per- 
venerit, ad ilium vestis bellica id est lorica et ultio 
proximi, et solatio leudis, debet pertinere, tit. vi. 

§ 5. ap. Lindenbr. Leg. Saliq. tit. 63. Leg. Longob. 
lib. ii. tit. 14. § 10.—3. None but gentlemen, or per¬ 
sons of noble birth, had the right of private war. 
All disputes between slaves, villani, the inhabitants 
of towns, and freemen of inferior condition, were 
decided in the courts of justice. All disputes be¬ 
tween gentlemen and persons of inferior rank were 
terminated in the same manner. The right of pri¬ 
vate war supposed nobility of birth and equality of 
rank in both the contending parties. Beaumanoir 
Coustumes de Beauv. ch. lix. p. 300. Ordon. des 
Rois de France, tom. ii. 395. § xvii. 508. § xv. &c. 
The dignified ecclesiastics likewise claimed and ex¬ 
ercised the right of private w ar; but as it was not 
altogether decent for them to prosecute quarrels in 
person, advocati or vulames were chosen by the se¬ 
veral monasteries and bishoprics. These were com¬ 
monly men of high rank and reputation, who be¬ 
came the protectors of the churches and convents by 
which they were elected, espoused their quarrels, 
and fought their battles ; armis omnia quae erant 
ecclesiae viriliter defendebant, et vigilanter prote- 
gebant. Brussel Usage des Fiefs, tom. i. p. 144. 
Du Cange, voc. Advocatus. On many occasions the 
martial ideas to which ecclesiastics of noble birth 
were accustomed, made them forget the pacific 
spirit of their profession, and led them into the field 
in person, at the head of their vassals, “ flamma, 
ferro, caede, possessiones ecclesiarum praelati defen- 
debant.” Guido Abbas ap. Du Cange, ib. p. 179.— 
4. It was not every injury or trespass that gave a 
gentleman a title to make war upon his adversary. 
Atrocious acts of violence, insults and affronts, pub¬ 
licly committed, were legal, and permitted motives 
for taking arms against the authors of them. Such 
crimes as are now punished capitally in civilized 
nations, at that time justified private hostilities. 
Beauman. ch. lix. Du Cange Dissert, xxix. sur 
Joinville, p. 331. But though the avenging of in¬ 
juries was the only motive that could legally au- 




A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


thorize a private war, yet disputes concerning civil 
property often gave rise to hostilities, and were 
terminated by the sword. Hu Cange Dissert, p. 

332.-5. All persons present when any quarrel 

arose, or any act of violence was committed, were 
included in the war which it occasioned; for it 
was supposed to be impossible for any man in 
such a situation to remain neuter, without taking 
side with one or other of the contending par¬ 
ties. Beauman. p. 300.-G. All the kindred of 

the two principals in the war were included in 
it, and obliged to espouse the quarrel of the 
chieftain with whom they were connected. Du 
Cange, ibid. 332. This was founded on the maxim 
of the ancient Germans, “ suscipere tarn inimicitias 
seu patris, seu propinqui, quam amicitias, necesse 
esta maxim natural to all rude nations, among 
which the form of society and political union 
strengthen such a sentiment. This obligation was 
enforced by legal authority. If a person refused to 
take part in the quarrel of his kinsman, and to aid 
him against his adversary, he was deemed to have 
renounced all the rights and privileges of kindred- 
ship, and became incapable of succeeding to any 
of his relations, or of deriving any beneh't from any 
civil right or property belonging to them Du 
Cange Dissert, p. 333. The method of ascertaining 
the degree of affinity which obliged a person to take 
part in the quarrel of a kinsman, was curious. 
While the church prohibited the marriage of per¬ 
sons within the seventh degree of affinity, the ven¬ 
geance of private war extended as far as this absurd 
prohibition, and all who had such a remote con¬ 
nexion with any of the principals, were involved in 
the calamities of war. But when the church relaxed 
somewhat of its rigour, and did not extend its 
prohibition of marrying beyond the fourth degree 
of affinity, the same restriction took place in the 
conduct of private war. Beauman. 303. Du Cange 
Dissert. 333.-7. A private war could not be car¬ 

ried on between two full brothers, because both 
have the same common kindred, and consequently 
neither had any persons bound to stand by him 
against the other in the contest; but two brothers 
of the half-blood might wage war, because each of 
them has a distinct kindred. Beauman. p. 299.— 
8. The vassals of each principal in any private war 
were involved in the contest, because, by the feudal 
maxims, they were bound to take arms in defence 
of the chieftain of whom they held, and to assist 
him in every quarrel. As soon, therefore, as feudal 
tenures were introduced, and this artificial connex¬ 
ion was established between vassals and the baron 
of whom they held, vassals came to be considered 
as in the same state with relations. Beauman. 303. 

-9. Private wars were very frequent for several 

centuries. Nothing contributed more to increase 
those disorders in government, or to encourage such 
ferocity of manners as reduced the nations of Eu¬ 
rope to that wretched state which distinguished the 
period of history which I am reviewing. Nothing 


was such an obstacle to the introduction of a re¬ 
gular administration of justice. Nothing could 
more effectually discourage industry or retard the 
progress and cultivation ot the arts ol peace. Pii 
vate wars were carried on with all the destructive 
rage which is to be dreaded from violent resentment 
when armed with force and authorized by law. It 
appears from the statutes prohibiting or restraining 
the exercise of private hostilities, that the invasion 
of the most barbarous enemy could not be more de¬ 
solating to a country, or more fatal to its inhabit¬ 
ants, than those intestine wars. Ordon. tom. i. p. 
701. tom. ii. p. 395, 408, 507, &c. The contempo¬ 
rary historians describe the excesses committed in 
prosecution of these quarrels in such terms as ex¬ 
cite astonishment and horror. I shall mention 
only one passage from the History of the Holy War, 
by Guibert, Abbot of Nogent: “ Erat eo tempore 
maximis ad invicem hostilitatibus, totius Franco- 
rum regni facta turbatio ; creba ubiq; latrocinia, 
viarum obsessio ; audiebantur passim, immo fiebant 
incendia infinita; nullis praeter sola et indomita 
cupiditate existentibus causis extruebantur praelia ; 
et ut brevi totum claudam, quicquid obtutibus cu- 
pidorum subjacebat, nusquam attendendo cujus 
esset, praedae patebat.” Gesta Dei per Francos, 
vol. i. p. 482. 

Having thus collected the chief regulations which 
custom had established concerning the right and 
exercise of private war, I shall enumerate, in 
chronological order, the various expedients em¬ 
ployed to abolish or restrain this fatal custom. 
1. The first expedient employed by the civil magis¬ 
trate, in order to set some bounds to the violence of 
private revenge, was the fixing by law the fine or 
composition to be paid for each different crime. 
The injured person was originally the sole judge 
concerning the nature of the wrong which he had 
suffered, the degree of vengeance which he should 
exact, as well as the species of atonement or re¬ 
paration with which he might rest satisfied. Resent¬ 
ment became of course as implacable as it was fierce. 
It w as often a point of honour not to forgive nor to 
be reconciled. This made it necessary to fix those 
compositions which make so great a figure in the 
laws of barbarous nations. The nature of crimes 
and offences was estimated by the magistrate, and 
the sum due to the person offended was ascertained 
with a minute and often a whimsical accuracy. 
Rotharis, the legislator of the Lombards, who 
reigned about the middle of the seventh century, 
discovers his intention both in ascertaining the 
composition to be paid by the offender, and in in¬ 
creasing its value; it is, says he, that the enmity 
may be extinguished, the prosecution may cease, 
and peace may be restored. Leg. Langob. lib. i. 
tit. 7. § 10.—2. About the beginning of the ninth 
century, Charlemagne struck at the root of the evil, 
and enacted, “ That when any person had been 
guilty of a crime, or had committed an outrage, he 
should immediately submit to the penance which 






PROOFS AND 

the church imposed, and offer to pay the composi¬ 
tion which the law prescribed ; and if the injured 
person or his kindred should refuse to accept of 
this, and presume to avenge themselves by force 
ot arms, their lands and properties should be 
forfeited.” Capitul. A. D. 802, edit. Baluz. vol. 
1 . 371.—3. But in this as well as in other regu¬ 
lations, the genius of Charlemagne advanced be¬ 
fore the spirit of his age. The ideas of his contem¬ 
poraries concerning regular government were too 
imperlect, and their manners too fierce, to submit 
to this law. Private wars, with all the calamities 
which they occasioned, became more frequent 
than ever after the death of that great monarch. 
His successors were unable to restrain them. The 
church found it necessary to interpose. The most 
early of these interpositions now extant is towards 
the end of the tenth century. In the year 990, 
several bishops in the south of France assembled, 
and published various regulations in order to set 
some bounds to the violence and frequency of 
private wars ; if any person within their dioceses 
should venture to transgress, they ordained that 
he should be excluded from all Christian privileges 
during his life, and be denied Christian burial after 
his death. Du Mont Corps Diplomatique, tom. i. 
p. 41. These, however, were only partial reme¬ 
dies ; and therefore a council was held at Limoges, 
A. D. 994. The bodies of the saints, according 
to the custom of those ages, were carried thither; 
and by these sacred relics men were exhorted to 
lay down their arms, to extinguish their animosi¬ 
ties, and to swear that they would not for the 
future violate the public peace by their private hos¬ 
tilities. Bouquet Recueil des Histor. vol. x. p. 
49, 147. Several other councils issued decrees to 
the same effect. Du Cange Dissert. 343.—4. But 
the authority of councils, how venerable soever in 
those ages, was not sufficient to abolish a custom 
which flattered the pride of the nobles, and gra¬ 
tified their favourite passions. The evil grew so 
intolerable that it became necessary to employ 
supernatural means for suppressing it. A bishop 
of Aquitaine, A. D. 1032, pretended that an angel 
had appeared to him, and brought him a writing 
from heaven, enjoining men to cease from their 
hostilities, and to be reconciled to each other. It 
was during a season of public calamity that he pub¬ 
lished this revelation. The minds of men were 
disposed to receive pious impressions, and willing 
to perform any thing in order to avert the wrath of 
heaven. A general peace and cessation from hos¬ 
tilities took place, and continued for seven years; 
and a resolution was formed, that no man should in 
times to come attack or molest his adversaries 
during the seasons set apart for celebrating the 
great festivals of the church, or from the evening of 
Thursday in each week to the morning of Monday 
in the week ensuing, the intervening days being 
considered as particularly holy, our Lord’s passion 
having happened on one of these days, and his re- 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 393 

surrection on another. A change in the dispositions 
of men so sudden, and which produced a resolution 
so unexpected, was considered as miraculous ; and 
the respite from hostilities which followed upon it 
was called The Truce of God. Glaber. Rodulphus 
Ilistor. lib. v. ap Bouquet, vol. x. p. 59. This, from 
being a regulation or concert in one kingdom, be¬ 
came a general law in Christendom, was confirmed 
by the authority of several popes, and the violators 
were subjected to the penalty of excommunication. 
Corpus Jur. Canon. Decretal, lib. i. tit. 34. c. 1. 
Du Cange Glossar. voc. Treuga. An act of the 
council of Toulujes in Roussillon, A. D. 1041, con¬ 
taining all the stipulations required by the truce of 
God, is published by Dorn.de Vic et Dom. Vaisette, 
Hist, de Languedoc, tom. ii. Preuves, p. 206. A 
cessation from hostilities during three complete 
days in every week, allowed such a considerable 
space for the passions of the antagonists to cool, 
and for the people to enjoy a respite from the ca¬ 
lamities of war, as well as to take measures for 
their own security, that if this truce of God had 
been exactly observed, it must have gone far towards 
putting an end to private wars. This, however, 
seems not to have been the case ; the nobles, disre¬ 
garding the truce, prosecuted their quarrels w ithout 
interruption as formerly. Qua nimirum tempestate, 
universae provinciae adeo devastationis continuae 
importunitate inquietantur, ut ne ipsa, pro observa- 
tione divinae pacis, professa sacramenta custodian- 
tur. Abbas Uspurgensis,apud Datt.de Pace Imperii 
Publica, p. 13. No. 35. The violent spirit of the 
nobility could not be restrained by any engagements. 
The complaints of this were frequent; and bishops, 
in order to compel them to renew their vows and 
promises of ceasing from their private wars, were 
obliged to enjoin their clergy to suspend the per¬ 
formance of divine service, and the exercise of any 
religious function, within the parishes of such as 
were refractory and obstinate. Hist, de Langued. 
par D. D. de Vic et Vaisette, tom. ii. Preuves, p. 

118_5. The people, eager to obtain relief from 

their sufferings, called in a second time revelation 
to their aid. Towards the end of the twelfth cen¬ 
tury, a carpenter in Guienne gave out that Jesus 
Christ, together with the blessed Virgin, had ap¬ 
peared to him, and having commanded him to exhort 
mankind to peace, had given him, as a proof of his 
mission, an image of the Virgin holding her son in 
her arms, w ith this inscription, Lamb of God who 
takest away the sins of the world , give us peace. This 
low fanatic addressed himself to an ignorant age, 
prone to credit what was marvellous. He was re¬ 
ceived as an inspired messenger of God. Many 
prelates and barons assembled at Puy, and took an 
oath, not only to make peace with all their enemies, 
but to attack such as refused to lay down their arms 
and to be reconciled to their enemies. They formed 
an association for this purpose, and assumed the 
honourable name of The Brotherhood of God. 
Robertus de Monte Michaele, ap. M. de Lauriere 



304 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


Pref. tom. i. Ordon. p. 20. Rut the influence of 
this superstitious terror or devotion was not of long 
continuance.—6. The civil magistrate was obliged 
to exert his authority in order to check a custom 
which threatened the dissolution of government. 
Philip Augustus, as some imagine, or St. Louis, as 
is more probable, published an ordonnance, A. D. 
1245, prohibiting any person to commence hostilities 
against the friends and vassals of his adversary, 
until forty days after the commission of the crime 
or offence which gave rise to the quarrel; declaring 
that if any man presumed to transgress this statute, 
he should be considered as guilty of a breach of the 
public peace, and be tried and punished by the judge- 
ordinary as a traitor. Ordon. tom. i. p. 56. This 
was called the Royal Truce , and afforded time for 
the violence of resentment to subside, as well as 
leisure for the good offices of such as were willing 
to compose the difference. The happy effects of this 
regulation seem to have been considerable, if we 
may judge from the solicitude of succeeding mo- 
narchs to enforce it.—7. In order to restrain the 
exercise of private war still further, Philip the Fair, 
towards the close of the same century, A. D. 1296, 
published an ordonnance commanding all private 
hostilities to cease while he was engaged in war 
against the enemies of the state. Ordon. tom. i. p. 
328,390. This regulation, which seems to be almost 
essential to the existence and preservation of so¬ 
ciety, was often renewed by his successors, and 
being enforced by the regal authority, proved a 
considerable check to the destructive contests of 
the nobles. Both these regulations, introduced first 
in France, were adopted by the other nations of 
Europe.—8. The evil, however, was so inveterate, 
that it did not yield to all these remedies. No 
sooner was public peace established in any kingdom, 
than the barons renewed their private hostilities. 
They not only struggled to maintain this pernicious 
right, but to secure the exercise of it without any 
restraint. Upon the death of Philip the Fair, the 
nobles of different provinces in France formed 
associations, and presented remonstrances to his 
successor, demanding the repeal of several laws 
by which he had abridged the privileges of their 
order. Among these the right of private war is 
always mentioned as one of the most valuable ; and 
they claim that the restraint imposed by the truce of 
God, the royal truce, as well as that arising from 
the ordonnance of the year 1296, should be taken 
off. In some instances the two sons of Philip, who 
mounted the throne successively, eluded their de¬ 
mands ; in others they were obliged to make con¬ 
cessions. Ordon. tom. i. p. 551, 557, 561, 573. The 
ordonnances to which I here refer are of such length 
that I cannot insert them, but they are extremely 
curious, and may be peculiarly instructive to an 
English reader, as they throw considerable light on 
that period of English history in which the attempts 
to circumscribe the regal prerogative were carried 
on, not by the people struggling for liberty, but by 


the nobles contending for power. It is not neces¬ 
sary to produce any evidence of the continuance 
and frequency of private wars under the successors 
of Philip the Fair.—9. A practice somewhat similar 
to the royal truce was introduced, in order to 
strengthen and extend it. Bonds of assurance or 
mutual security were demanded from the parties at 
variance, by which they obliged themselves to ab¬ 
stain from all hostilities, either during a time men¬ 
tioned in the bond, or for ever ; and became subject 
to heavy penalties if they violated this obligation. 
These bonds were sometimes granted voluntarily, 
but more frequently exacted by the authority of the 
civil magistrate. Upon a petition from the party 
who felt himself weakest, the magistrate summoned 
his adversary to appear in court, and obliged him 
to give him a bond of assurance. If after that lie com¬ 
mitted any further hostilities, he became subject to 
all the penalties of treason. This restraint on pri¬ 
vate war was known in the age of St. Louis. Estab- 
lissemens, liv. i. c. 28. It was frequent in Bre¬ 
tagne ; and what is very remarkable, such bonds of 
assurance were given mutualty between vassals and 
the lord of whom they held. Oliver de Clisson 
grants one to the duke of Bretagne, his sovereign. 
Morice Mem. pour servir de Preuves a l’Hist. de 
Bret. tom. i. p. 846. ii. p. 371. Many examples of 
bonds of assurance in other provinces of France are 
collected by Brussel, tom. ii. p. 856. The nobles of 
Burgundy remonstrated against this practice, and 
obtained exemption from it as an encroachment on 
the privileges of their order. Ordon. tom. i. p. 558. 
This mode of security was first introduced in cities, 
and the good effects of it having been felt there, 

was extended to the nobles. See Note XVI_10. 

The calamities occasioned by private wars became 
at some times so intolerable, that the nobles entered 
into voluntary associations, binding themselves to 
refer all matters in dispute, whether concerning 
civil property or points of honour, to the determi¬ 
nation of the majority of the associates. Morice 
Mem. pour servir de Preuves a l’Hist de Bret. tom. 
ii. p. 728.—11. But all these expedients proving 
ineffectual, Charles VI., A. D. 1413, issued an or¬ 
donnance expressly prohibiting private wars on 
any pretext whatsoever, with power to the judge 
ordinary to compel all persons to comply with this 
injunction, and to punish such as should prove re¬ 
fractory or disobedient, by imprisoning their per¬ 
sons, seizing their goods, and appointing the offi¬ 
cers of justice, Manyeurs et Gasteurs, to live at free 
quarters on their estate. If those who were disobe¬ 
dient to this edict could not be personally arrested, 
he appointed their friends and vassals to be seized 
and detained until they gave surety for keeping the 
peace; and he abolished all laws, customs, or pri¬ 
vileges which might be pleaded in opposition to 
this ordonnance. Ordon. tom. x. p. 138. How slow 
is the progress of reason and of civil order! Regu¬ 
lations which to us appear so equitable, obvious, 
and simple, required the efforts of civil and eccle- 



395 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


siastical authority, during several centuries, to in¬ 
troduce and establish them. Even posterior to this 
period, Louis XL was obliged to abolish private 
wars in Dauphine by a particular edict, A. D. 1451. 
Du Cange Dissert, p. 348. 

This Note would swell to a disproportionate bulk, 
if I should attempt to inquire with the same minute 
attention into the progress of this pernicious custom 
in the other countries of Europe. In England the 
ideas of the Saxons concerning personal revenge, 
the right of private wars, and the composition due 
to the party offended, seem to have been much the 
same with those which prevailed on the continent. 
The law of Ina de vindicantibus, in the eighth cen¬ 
tury, Lamb. p. 3.; those of Edmund in the tenth 
century, de homicidio , Lamb. p. 72. et de inimicitiis, 
p. 76.; and those of Edward the Confessor in the 
eleventh century, de temporibus et diebus pads, or 
Treuga Dei, Lamb. p. 126. are perfectly similar to 
the ordonnances of the French kings their contem¬ 
poraries. The laws of Edward, de pace regis, are 
still more explicit than those of the French mon- 
archs, and, by several provisions in them, discover 
that a more perfect police was established in Eng¬ 
land at that period. Lambard, p. 128. fol. vers. 
Even after the conquest, private wars, and the re¬ 
gulations for preventing them, were not altogether 
unknown, as appears from Madox Formulare An- 
glicanum, No. cxlv., and from the extracts from 
Doomsday Book, published by Gale, Scriptores 
Hist. Britan, p. 759, 777. The well-known clause 
in the form of an English indictment, which, as an 
aggravation of the criminal’s guilt, mentions his 
having assaulted a person who was in the peace of 
God and of the king, seems to be borrowed from 
the Treuga or Pax Dei, and the Pax Regis, which 
I have explained. But after the Conquest, the men¬ 
tion of private wars among the nobility occurs more 
rarely in the English history than in that of any 
other European nation, and no laws concerning 
them are to be found in the body of their statutes. 
Such a change in their own manners, and such a 
variation from those of their neighbours, is re¬ 
markable. Is it to be ascribed to the extraordinary 
power that William the Norman acquired by right 
of conquest, and transmitted to his successors, which 
rendered the execution of justice more vigorous and 
decisive, and the jurisdiction of the king’s court 
more extensive, than under the monarchs on the 
Continent ? Or was it owing to the settlement of 
the Normans in England, who having never adopt¬ 
ed the practice of private war in their own country, 
abolished it in the kingdom which they conquered ? 
It is asserted in an ordonnance of John, king of 
France, that in all times past persons of every rank 
in Normandy have been permitted to wage private 
war, and the practice has been deemed unlawful. 
Ordon. tom. ii. p. 407. If this fact were certain, it 
would go far towards explaining the peculiarity 
which I have mentioned. But as there are some 
English Acts of Parliament, which, according to 


the remark of the learned author of the Observations 
on the Statutes, chiefly the more ancient , recite false¬ 
hoods, it may be added that this is not peculiar to 
the laws of that country. Notwithstanding the po¬ 
sitive assertion contained in this public law of 
France, there is good reason for considering it as 
a statute which recites a falsehood. This, however, 
is not the place for discussing that point. It is an 
inquiry not unworthy the curiosity of an English 
antiquary. 

In Castile the pernicious practice of private war 
prevailed, and was authorized by the customs and 
law of the kingdom. Leges Tauri, tit. 76. cum com- 
mentario Anton. Gomezii, p. 551. As the Castilian 
nobles were no less turbulent than powerful, their 
quarrels and hostilities involved their country in 
many calamities. Innumerable proofs of this occur 
in Mariana. In Aragon the right of private revenge 
was likewise authorized by law, exercised in its 
full extent, and accompanied with the same unhappy 
consequences. Hieron. Blanca Comment, de Rebus 
Arag. ap. Schotti Hispan. illustrat. vol. iii. p. 733. 
Lex Jacobi I. A. D 1247. Fueros et Observancias 
del Reyno de Aragon, lib. ix. p. 182. Several con¬ 
federacies between the kings of Aragon and their 
nobles, for the restoring of peace, founded on the 
Truce of God, are still extant. Petr, de Marca, 
Marca sive Limes Hispanic. App. 1303,1388, 1428. 
As early as the year 1165, we find a combination of 
the king and court of Aragon in order to abolish the 
right of private war, and to punish those who pre¬ 
sumed to claim that privilege. Anales de Aragon 
por Zurita, vol. i. p. 73. But the evil was so inve¬ 
terate, that as late as A. D. 1519, Charles V. was 
obliged to publish a law enforcing all former regu¬ 
lations tending to suppress this practice. Fueros 
et Observanc. lib. ix. 183. b. 

The Lombards and other northern nations who 
settled in Italy, introduced the same maxims con¬ 
cerning the right of revenge into that country, and 
these were followed by the same effects. As the 
progress of the evil was perfectly similar to what 
happened in France, the expedients employed to 
check its career, or to extirpate it finally, resembled 
those which I have enumerated. Murat. Ant. Ital. 
vol. ii. p. 306, &c. 

In Germany the disorders and calamities occa¬ 
sioned by the right of private war were greater and 
more intolerable than in any other country of Eu¬ 
rope. The imperial authority was so much shaken 
and enfeebled by the violence of the civil wars ex¬ 
cited by the contests between the popes and the em¬ 
perors of the Franconian and Suabian lines, that 
not only the nobility, but the cities, acquired almost 
independent power, and scorned all subordination 
and obedience to the laws. The frequency of these 
faidce, or private wars, is often mentioned in the 
German annals, and the fatal effects of them are 
most pathetically described, Datt. de Pace Imper. 
pub. lib. i. cap. v. No. 30, et passim. The Ger¬ 
mans early adopted the Treuga Dei, whieh was first 





396 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


established in France. This, however, proved but 
a temporary and ineffectual remedy. The disorders 
multiplied so fast, and grew to be so enormous, that 
they threatened the dissolution of society, and com¬ 
pelled the Germans to have recourse to the only re¬ 
medy of the evil, viz. an absolute prohibition of 
private M ars. The emperor William published his 
edict to this purpose, A. I). 1255, an hundred and 
sixty years previous to the ordonnance of Charles 
VI. in France. Datt. lib. i. cap. 4. No. 20. But nei¬ 
ther he nor his successors had authority to secure 
the observance of it. This gave rise to a practice in 
Germany, which conveys to us a striking idea both 
of the intolerable calamities occasioned by private 
M'ars, and of the feebleness of government during 
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The cities 
and nobles entered into alliances and associations, 
by which they bound themselves to maintain the 
public peace, and to make war on such as should 
violate it. This was the origin of the League of the 
Rhine, of Suabia, and of many smaller confedera¬ 
cies distinguished by various names. The rise, 
progress, and beneficial effects of these associations 
are traced by Datt with great accuracy. Whatever 
degree of public peace or of regular administration 
M ? as preserved in the empire from the beginning of 
the twelfth century to the close of the fifteenth, 
Germany owes to these leagues. During that 
period, political order, respect for the laws, together 
with the equal administration of justice, made con¬ 
siderable progress in Germany. But the final and 
perpetual abolition of the right of private war was 
not accomplished until A. D. 1495. The imperial 
authority was, by that time, more firmly established ; 
the ideas of men with respect to government and 
subordination Mere become more just. That bar¬ 
barous and pernicious privilege of waging private 
war, which the nobles had so long possessed, was 
declared to be incompatible with the happiness and 
existence of society. In order to terminate any 
differences which might arise among the various 
members of the Germanic body, the imperial cham¬ 
ber was instituted with supreme jurisdiction, to 
judge without appeal in every question brought be¬ 
fore it. That court has subsisted since that period, 
forming a very respectable tribunal of essential im¬ 
portance in the German constitution. Datt. lib. iii. 
iv. v. Pfelfel Abrege de l’Histoire du Droit, &c. 
p. 556. 

% 

Note XXII. Sect. I. p. 325. 

It Mould be tedious, and of little use, to enume¬ 
rate the various modes of appealing to the justice of 
God which superstition introduced during the ages 
of ignorance. I shall mention only one, because we 
have an account of it in a placitum, or trial, in the 
presence of Charlemagne, from which M r e may learn 
the imperfect manner in which justice was adminis¬ 
tered even during his reign. In the year 775, a 
contest arose between the bishop of Paris and the 


abbot of St. Denys, concerning the property of a 
small abbey. Each of them exhibited deeds and 
records, in order to prove the right to be in them. 
Instead of trying the authenticity or considering the 
import of these, the point was referred to the judi¬ 
cium crucis. Each produced a person, who, during 
the celebration of mass, stood before the cross with 
his arms expanded ; and he whose representative 
first became weary, and altered his posture, lost the 
cause. The person employed by the bishop on this 
occasion, had less strength or less spirit than his ad¬ 
versary, and the question was decided in favour of 
the Abbot. Mabillon de Re Diplomat, lib. vi. p. 
498. If a prince so enlightened as Charlemagne 
countenanced such an absurd mode of decision, it 
is no wonder that other monarchs should tolerate it 
so long. M. de Montesquieu has treated of the trial 
by judicial combat at considerable length. The 
two talents which distinguished that illustrious au¬ 
thor, industry in tracing all the circumstances 
of ancient and obscure institutions, and sagacity 
in penetrating into the causes and principles 
which contributed to establish them, are equally 
conspicuous in his observations on this subject. 
To these I refer the reader, as they contain 
most of the principles by which I have endea¬ 
voured to explain this practice. De 1’Esprit des 
Loix, lib. xxviii. It seems to be probable from the 
remarks of M. de Montesquieu, as well as from the 
facts produced by Muratori, tom. iii. Dissert, 
xxxviii., that appeals to the justice of God by the 
experiments with fire and M'ater, &c. were frequent 
among the people who settled in the different pro¬ 
vinces of the Roman empire, before they had re¬ 
course to the judicial combat; and yet the judicial 
combat seems to have been the most ancient mode 
of terminating any controversy among the barbarous 
nations in their original settlements. This is evi¬ 
dent from Velleius Paterculus, lib. ii. c. 118. who 
informs us that all questions which were decided 
among the Romans by legal trial, were terminated 
among the Germans by arms. The same thing ap¬ 
pears in the ancient laws and customs of the Swedes, 
quoted by Jo. O. Stiernhobk de jure Sueonum et 
Gothorum vetusto, 4to. Holmiae, 1682. lib. i. c. 7. 
It is probable that when the various tribes which 
invaded the empire were converted to Christianity, 
their ancient custom of allowing judicial combats 
appeared so glaringly repugnant to the precepts of 
religion, that for some time it M as abolished, and by 
degrees several circumstances which I have men¬ 
tioned led them to resume it. 

It seems likewise to be probable, from a law 
quoted by Stiernhobk in the treatise which I have 
mentioned, that the judicial combat was originally 
permitted in order to determine points respecting the 
personal character or reputation of individuals, and 
M as afterwards extended not only to criminal cases, 
but to questions concerning property. The words of 
the law are : “ If any man shall say to another these 
reproachful words, 4 You are not a man equal to 



397 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


other men,’ or, ‘ You have not the heart of a man, 
and the other shall reply, ‘ I am a man as good as 
you,’ let them meet on the highway. If he who first 
gave offence appear, and the person offended ab¬ 
sent himself, let the latter be deemed a worse man 
even than he was called ; let him not be admitted 
to give evidence in judgment either for man or 
woman, and let him not have the privilege of mak¬ 
ing a testament. If he who gave the offence be ab¬ 
sent, and only the person offended appear, let him 
call upon the other thrice with a loud voice, and 
make a mark upon the earth, and then let him who 
absented himself be deemed infamous because he 
uttered words which he durstmot support. If both 
shall appear properly armed, and the person of¬ 
fended shall fall in the combat, let half compensa¬ 
tion be paid for his death. But if the person who 
gave the offence shall fall, let it be imputed to his 
own rashness. The petulance of his tongue hath 
been fatal to him. Let him lie in the field without 
any compensation being demanded for his death.” 
Lex Uplandica, ap. Stiern. p. 76. Martial people 
were extremely delicate with respect to everything 
that affected their reputation as soldiers. By the 
laws of the Salians, if any man called another a Imre, 
or accused him of having left his shield in the field 
of battle, he was ordained to pay a large fine. Leg. 
Sal. tit. xxxii. § 4, 6. By the law of the Lombards, 
if any one called another arga, i. e. a good-for-no¬ 
thing fellow, he might immediately challenge him 
to combat. Leg. Longob. lib. i. tit. v. § 1. By the 
law of the Salians, if one called another cenitus, a 
term of reproach equivalent to arga, he was bound 
to pay a very high fine. Tit. xxxii. § 1. Paulus 
Diaconus relates the violent impression which this 
reproachful expression made upon one of his coun¬ 
trymen, and the fatal effects with which it was at¬ 
tended. De Gestis Longobard. liv. vi. c. 34. Thus 
the ideas concerning the point of honour, which we 
are apt to consider as a modern refinement, as well 
as the practice of duelling, to which it gave rise, are 
derived from the notions of our ancestors while in 
a state of society very little impjoved. 

As M. de Montesquieu’s view of this subject did 
not lead him to consider every circumstance rela¬ 
tive to judicial combats, I shall mention some par¬ 
ticular facts necessary for the illustration of what I 
have said with respect to them. A remarkable in¬ 
stance occurs of the decision of an abstract point of 
law by combat. A question arose in the tenth cen¬ 
tury concerning the right of representation, which 
was not then fixed, though now universally estab¬ 
lished in every part of Europe. “ It was a matter 
of doubt and dispute (saith the historian) whether 
the sons of a son ought to be reckoned among the 
children of the family, and succeed equally with 
their uncles, if their father happened to die while 
their grandfather was alive. An assembly was 
called to deliberate on this point, and it was the 
general opinion that it ought to be remitted to the 
examination and decision of judges. But the em¬ 


peror following a better course, and desirous of 
dealing honourably with his people and nobles, ap¬ 
pointed the matter to be decided by battle between 
two champions. He who appeared in behalf of the 
right of children to represent their deceased father 
w as victorious ; and it was established by a perpe¬ 
tual decree, that they should hereafter share in the 
inheritance together with their uncles.” Witti- 
kindus Corbiensis, lib. Annal. ap. M. de Lauriere 
Pref. Ordon. vol. i. p. xxxiii. If we can suppose 
the caprice of folly to lead men to any action more 
extravagant than this of settling a point in law by 
combat, it must be that of referring the truth or 
falsehood of a religious opinion to be decided in the 
same manner. To the disgrace of human reason, it 
has been capable even of this extravagance. A 
question was agitated in Spain in the eleventh cen¬ 
tury, whether the Musarabic liturgy and ritual 
which had been used in the churches of Spain, or 
that approved of by the see of Rome, which differ¬ 
ed in many particulars from the other, contained 
the form of worship most acceptable to the Deity. 
The Spaniards contended zealously for the ritual 
of their ancestors. The popes urged them to re¬ 
ceive that to which they had given their infallible 
sanction. A violent contest arose. The nobles 
proposed to decide the controversy by the sword. 
The king approved of this method of decision. 
Two knights in complete armour entered the lists. 
John Ruys de Matanca, the champion of the Mus¬ 
arabic liturgy, was victorious. But the queen 
and archbishop of Toledo, w ho favoured the other 
form, insisted on having the matter submitted 
to another trial, and had interest enough to prevail 
in a request inconsistent w ith the laws of combat, 
which being considered as an appeal to God, the 
decision ought to have been acquiesced in as final. 
A great fire was kindled: a copy of each liturgy 
was cast into the flames : it was agreed that the 
book which stood this proof, and remained un¬ 
touched, should be received in all the churches of 
Spain. The Musarabic liturgy triumphed likewise 
in this trial, and if we may believe Roderigo de 
Toledo, remained unhurt by the fire, when the other 
was reduced to ashes. The queen and archbishop 
had power or art sufficient to elude this decision 
also, and the use of the Musarabic form of devo¬ 
tion was permitted only in certain churches : a de¬ 
termination no less extraordinary than the whole 
transaction. Roder. de Toledo, quoted by P. Or¬ 
leans, Hist, de Revol. d’Espagne, tom. i. p. 217. 
Mariana, lib. i. c. 18. vol. i. p. 378.—A remarkable 
proof of the general use of trial by combat, and of 
the predilection for that mode of decision, occurs in 
the laws of the Lombards. It was a custom in the 
middle ages, that any person might signify publicly 
the law to which he chose to be subjected ; and 
by the prescriptions of that law he was obliged to 
regulate his transactions, without being bound to 
comply with any practice authorized by other codes 
of law'. Persons who had subjected themselves to 



398 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


the Roman law, and adhered to the ancient juris¬ 
prudence, as far as any knowledge of it was re¬ 
tained in those ages of ignorance, were exempted 
from paying any regard to the forms of proceedings 
established by the laws of the Burgundians, Lom¬ 
bards, and other barbarous people. But the em¬ 
peror Otho, in direct contradiction to this received 
maxim, ordained, “ That all persons, under what¬ 
ever law they lived, even although it were the 
Roman law, should be bound to conform to the 
edicts concerning the trial by combat.” Leg. Longob. 
lib. ii. tit. 55. § 38. While the trial by judicial 
combat subsisted, proof by charters, contracts, or 
other deeds, became ineffectual; and even this 
species of written evidence, calculated to render 
the proceedings of courts certain and decisive, was 
eluded. When a charter or other instrument was 
produced by one of the parties, his opponent might 
challenge it, affirm that it was false and forged, and 
offer to prove this by combat. Leg. Longob. ibid. 
§ 34. It is true, that among the reasons enumerated 
by Beaumanoir, on account of which judges might 
refuse to permit a trial by combat, one is, “ If the 
point in contest can be clearly proved or ascer¬ 
tained by other evidence. Coust. de Beauv. ch. 
63. p. 325. But that regulation removed the evil 
only a single step: for the party who suspected that 
a witness was about to depose in a manner unfa¬ 
vourable to his cause, might accuse him of being 
suborned, give him the lie, and challenge him to 
combat; if the witness was vanquished in battle, 
no other evidence could be admitted, and the party 
by whom he was summoned to appear lost his 
cause. Leg. Baivar. tit. 16. § 2. Leg. Burgund. 
tit. 45. Beauman. ch. 61. p. 315. The reason 
given for obliging a witness to accept of a defiance, 
and to defend himself by combat, is remarkable, 
and contains the same idea which is still the foun¬ 
dation of what is called the point of honour; “ for 
it is just, that if any one affirms that he perfectly 
knows the truth of any thing, and offers to give 
oath upon it, that he should not hesitate to main¬ 
tain the veracity of his affirmation in combat.” 
Leg. Burgund. tit. 45. 

That the trial by judicial combat was established 
in every country of Europe, is a fact well known, 
and requires no proof. That this mode of decision 
was frequent, appears not only from the codes of 
ancient laws which established it, but from the 
earliest writers concerning the practice of law in 
the different nations of Europe. They treat of this 
custom at great length ; they enumerate the regula¬ 
tions concerning it with minute accuracy, and ex¬ 
plain them with much solicitude. It made a capital 
and extensive article in jurisprudence. There is 
not any one subject in their system of law which 
Beaumanoir, Defontaines, or the compilers of the 
Assises de Jerusalem, seem to have considered as 
of greater importance; and none upon which they 
have bestowed so much attention. The same obser¬ 
vation will hold with respect to the early authors of 


other nations. It appears from Madox, that trials 
of this kind were so frequent in England, that fines 
paid on these occasions made no inconsiderable 
branch of the king’s revenue. Hist, of the Excheq. 
vol. i. p. 349. A very curious account of a judicial 
combat between Mesire Robert de Beaumanoir, and 
Mesire Pierre Tournemine, in presence of the 
duke of Bretagne, A. D. 1385, is published by 
Morice Mem. pour servir de Preuves a l’Hist. de 
Bretagne, tom. ii. p. 498. All the formalities ob¬ 
served in such extraordinary proceedings are there 
described more minutely than in any ancient monu¬ 
ment which I have had an opportunity of consider¬ 
ing. Tournemine was accused by Beaumanoir of 
having murdered his brother. The former was 
vanquished, but was saved from being hanged upon 
the spot, by the generous intercession of his antago¬ 
nist. A good account of the origin of the laws 
concerning judicial combat is published in the 
history of Pavia by Bernardo Sacci, lib. ix. c. 8. in 
Grsev. Tlies. Antiquit. Ital. vol. iii. 743. 

This mode of trial was so acceptable, that eccle¬ 
siastics, notwithstanding the prohibitions of the 
church, were constrained not only to connive at the 
practice, but to authorize it. A remarkable instance 
of this is produced by Pasquier Recherclies, lib. iv. 
chap. i. p. 350. The abbot Wittikindus, whose 
words I have produced in this Note, considered the 
determination of a point in law by combat, as the 
best and most honourable mode of decision. In the 
year 978, a judicial combat was fought in the pre¬ 
sence of the emperor. The archbishop Aldebert 
advised him to terminate a contest which had arisen 
between two noblemen of his court, by this mode of 
decision. The vanquished combatant, though a 
person of high rank, was beheaded on the spot. 
Chronic. Ditmari Episc. Mersb. chez Bouquet Re- 
cueil des Hist. tom. x. p. 121. Questions concerning 
the property of churches and monasteries were de¬ 
cided by combat. In the year 961, a controversy 
concerning the church of St. Medard, whether it be¬ 
longed to the abbey of Beaulieu or not, was termin¬ 
ated by judicial combat. Bouquet Recueil des 
Hist. tom. ix. p. 729. Ibid. p. 612, &c. The em¬ 
peror Henry I. declares, that this law authorizing 
the practice of judicial combats was enacted with 
consent and applause of many faithful bishops. 
Ibid. p. 231. So remarkably did the martial ideas 
of those ages prevail over the genius and maxims of 
the canon law, which in other instances was in the 
highest credit and authority with ecclesiastics. A 
judicial combat was appointed in Spain, by Charles 
V., A. D. 1522. The combatants fought in the em¬ 
peror’s presence, and the battle was conducted with 
all the rites prescribed by the ancient laws of chi¬ 
valry. The whole transaction is described at great 
length by Pontus Heuterus Rer. Austriac. lib. viii. 
c. 17. p. 205. 

The last instance which occurs in the history of 
France, of a judicial combat authorized by the ma¬ 
gistrate, was the famous one between M. Jarnac 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


39D 


and M. de la Chaistaignerie, A. D. 1547. A trial 
by combat was appointed in England A. D. 1571, 
under the inspection of the judges in the court of 
Common Pleas ; and though it was not carried to 
the same extremity with the former, Queen Eliza¬ 
beth having interposed her authority, and enjoined 
the parties to compound the matter, yet, in order to 
preserve their honour, the lists were marked out, 
and all the forms previous to the combat were ob¬ 
served with much ceremony. Spelm. Gloss, voc. 
Campus , p. 103. In the year 1031, a judicial com¬ 
bat was appointed between Donald lord Rea, and 
David Ramsay, Esq. by the authority of the lord 
high constable and earl marshal of England ; but 
that quarrel likewise terminated without bloodshed, 
being accommodated by Charles I. Another in¬ 
stance occurs seven years later. Rushworth in Ob¬ 
servations on the Statutes, &c. p. 266. 

Note XXIII. Sect. I. p. 327. 

The text contains the great outlines which mark 
the course of private and public jurisdiction in the 
several nations of Europe. I shall here follow more 
minutely the various steps of this progress, as the 
matter is curious and important enough to merit this 
attention. The payment of a fine by way of satis¬ 
faction to the person or family injured, was the first 
device of a rude people in order to check the career 
of private resentment, and to extinguish those faidee , 
or deadly feuds, which were prosecuted among them 
with the utmost violence. This custom may be 
traced back to the ancient Germans, Tacit, de Morib. 
Germ. c. 21. and prevailed among other uncivilized 
nations. Many examples of this are collected by 
the ingenious and learned author of Historical Law 
Tracts, vol. i. p. 41. These fines were ascertained 
and levied in three different manners. At first they 
were settled by voluntary agreement between the 
parties at variance. When their rage began to 
subside, and they felt the bad effects of their con¬ 
tinuing in enmity, they came to terms of concord, 
and the satisfaction made was called a composition , 
implying that it was fixed by mutual consent. De 
l’Esprit des Loix, lib. xxx. c. 19. It is apparent 
from some of the more ancient codes of laws, that at 
the time when these were compiled, matters still 
remained in that simple state. In certain cases the 
person w ho had committed an offence was left ex¬ 
posed to the resentment of those whom he had in¬ 
jured, until he should recover their favour, quoquo 
modo potuerit. Lex Frision. tit. 11. § 1. The next 
mode of levying these fines was by the sentence of 
arbiters. An arbiter is called in the Regiain Ma- 
jestatem, amicabilis compositor , lib. xi. c. 4. § 10. He 
could estimate the degree of offence with more 
impartiality than the parties interested, and deter¬ 
mine with greater equity what satisfaction ought to 
be demanded. It is difficult to bring an authentic 
proof of a custom previous to the records preserved 
in any nation of Europe. But one of the Formulae 
Andegavenses compiled in the sixth century, seems 


to allude to a transaction carried on, not by the au¬ 
thority of a judge, but by the mediation of arbiters 
chosen by mutual consent. Bouquet Recueil des 
Histor. tom. iv. p. 566. But as an arbiter wanted 
authority to enforce his decisions, judges were ap¬ 
pointed with compulsive power to oblige both par¬ 
ties to acquiesce in their decisions. Previous to 
this last step, the expedient of paying compositions 
was an imperfect remedy against the pernicious 
effects of private resentment. As soon as this im¬ 
portant change was introduced, the magistrate, 
putting himself in place of the person injured, as¬ 
certained the composition w ith which he ought to 
rest satisfied. Every possible injury that could oc¬ 
cur in the intercourse of civil society was considered 
and estimated, and the compositions due to the per¬ 
son aggrieved were fixed with such minute attention 
as discovers, in most cases, amazing discernment 
and delicacy, in some instances unaccountable 
caprice. Besides the composition payable to the 
private party, a certain sum, called a fredum, was 
paid to the king or state, as Tacitus expresses it, or 
to the fiscus, in the language of the barbarous laws. 
Some authors, blending the refined ideas of modern 
policy with their reasonings concerning ancient 
transactions, have imagined that the fredum was a 
compensation due to the community on account of 
the violation of the public peace. But it is mani¬ 
festly nothing more than the price paid to the magis¬ 
trate for the protection which he afforded against the 
violence of resentment. The enacting of this was a 
considerable step towards improvement in criminal 
j urisprudence. In some of the more ancient codes of 
laws, th efreda are altogether omitted, or so seldom 
mentioned, that it is evident they were but little 
known. In the later codes, the fredum is as precisely 
specified as the composition. In common cases it 
was equal to the third part of the composition. Ca¬ 
pital. vol. i. p. 52. In some extraordinary cases, 
where it was more difficult to protect the person who 
had committed violence, the fredum was augmented. 
Capitul. vol. i. p. 515. These/recfo made a consider¬ 
able branch in the revenues of the barons; and in 
whatever district territorial jurisdiction was grant¬ 
ed, the royal judges were prohibited from levying 
any freda. In explaining the nature of the fredum , 
I have followed, in a great measure, the opinion of 
M. de Montesquieu, though I know that several 
learned antiquaries have taken the word in a dif¬ 
ferent sense. De TEsprit des Loix, liv. xxx. c. 20, 
&c. The great object of judges was to compel the 
one party to give and the other to accept the satis¬ 
faction prescribed. They multiplied regulations to 
this purpose, and enforced them by grievous penal¬ 
ties. Leg. Longob. lib. i. tit. 9. ^ 34. Ib. tit. 37. 
§ 1, 2. Capitul. vol. i. p. 371. § 22. The person 
who received a composition was obliged to cease 
from all further hostility, and to confirm his recon¬ 
ciliation with the adverse party by an oath. Leg. 
Longob. lib. i. tit. 9. § 8. As an additional and 
more permanent evidence of reconciliation, he was 




400 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


required to grant a bond of security to the person 
from whom he received a composition, absolving him 
from all further prosecution. Marculfus and the other 
collectors of ancient writs have preserved several 
different forms of such bonds. Marc. lib. xi. § 18. 
Append. § 23. Form. Sirmondicae, § 39. The Let¬ 
ters of Slanes, known in the law of Scotland, are 
perfectly similar to these bonds of security. By the 
Letters of Slanes, the heirs and relations of a per¬ 
son who had been murdered, bound themselves, in 
consideration of an assythment or composition paid 
to them, to forgive, “ pass over, and for ever forget, 
and in oblivion inter, all rancour, malice, revenge, 
prejudice, grudge, and resentment, that they have 
or may conceive against the aggressor or his poste¬ 
rity for the crime which he had committed, and dis¬ 
charge him of all action, civil or criminal, against 
him or his estate, for now and ever.” System of 
Stiles by Dallas of St. Martin's, p. 862. In the an- 
eient form of Letters of Slanes, the private party 
not only forgives and forgets, but pardons and 
grants remission of the crime. This practice Dal¬ 
las, reasoning according to the principles of his own 
age, considers as an encroachment on the rights of 
sovereignty, as none, says he, could pardon a cri¬ 
minal but the king. Ibid. But in early and rude 
times, the prosecution, the punishment, and the 
pardon of criminals, were all deeds of the private 
person who was injured. Madox has published 
two writs, one in the reign of Edward I., the other 
in the reign of Edward III., by which private per¬ 
sons grant a release or pardon of all trespasses, 
felonies, robberies, and murders committed. For- 
mul. Anglican. No. 702,705. In the last of these in¬ 
struments some regard seems to be paid to the rights 
of the sovereign, for the pardon is granted en quant 
que en nous est. Even after the authority of the 
magistrate was interposed in punishing crimes, the 
punishment of criminals is long considered chiefly 
as a gratification to the resentment of the persons 
who have been injured. In Persia a murderer is 
still delivered to the relations of the person whom 
he has slain, who put him to death with their own 
hands. If they refuse to accept a sum of money as 
a compensation, the sovereign, absolute as he is, 
cannot pardon the murderer. Voyages de Chardin, 
iii. p. 417. edit. 1735, 4to. Voyages de Tavernier, 
liv. 5. c. 5, 10. Among the Arabians, though one of 
the first polished people in the east, the same custom 
still subsists. Description de l’Arabie par M. Nie¬ 
buhr, p. 28. By a law in the kingdom of Aragon 
as late as the year 1564, the punishment of one con¬ 
demned to death cannot be mitigated but by consent 
of the parties who have been injured. Fueros et 
Observancias del Reyno de Aragon, p. 204. 6. 

If, after all the engagements to cease from enmity 
which I have mentioned, any person renewed hosti¬ 
lities, and was guilty of any violence either towards 
the person from whom he had received a composi¬ 
tion, or towards his relations and heirs, this was 
deemed a most heinous crime, and punished with 


extraordinary rigour. It was an act of direct re¬ 
bellion against the authority of the magistrate, and 
was repressed by the interposition of all his power. 
Leg. Longob. lib. i. tit. 9. § 8, 34. Capit. vol. i. p. 
371. § 22. Thus the avenging of injuries was taken 
out of private hands, a legal composition was estab¬ 
lished, and peace and amity were restored under 
the inspection and by the authority of a judge. It 
is evident, that at the time when the barbarians 
settled in the provinces of the Roman empire, they 
had fixed judges established among them with com¬ 
pulsive authority. Persons vested with this cha¬ 
racter are mentioned by the earliest historians. Du 
Cange, voc. Judices. The right of territorial juris¬ 
diction was not altogether an usurpation of the 
feudal barons, or an invasion of the prerogative of 
the sovereign. There is good reason to believe that 
the powerful leaders, who seized different districts 
of the countries which they conquered, and kept 
possession of them as allodial property, assumed 
from the beginning the right of jurisdiction, and 
exercised it within their own territories. This ju¬ 
risdiction w as supreme and extended to all causes. 
The clearest proofs of this are produced by M. 
Bouquet, Le Droit publique de France ecclairci, 
&c. tom. i. p. 206, &c. The privilege of judging 
his own vassals appears to have been originally 
a right inherent in every baron wdio held a fief. 
As far back as the archives of nations can conduct 
us with any certainty, we find the jurisdiction and 
fief united. One of the earliest charters to a layman 
which I have met with, is that of Ludovicus Pius, 
A. D. 814. And it contains the right of territorial 
jurisdiction in the most express and extensive terms. 
Capitul. vol. ii. p. 1405. There are many charters 
to churches and monasteries of a more early date, 
containing grants of similar jurisdiction, and pro¬ 
hibiting any royal judge to enter the territories of 
those churches or monasteries, or to perform any act 
of judicial authority there. Bouquet Recueil des 
Hist. tom. iv. p. 628, 631, 633. tom. v. p. 703, 710, 
752, 762. Muratori has published many very an¬ 
cient charters containing the same immunities. 
Antiq. Ital. Dissert, lxx. In most of these deeds 
the royal judge is prohibited from exacting th efreda 
due to the possessor of territorial jurisdiction, which 
shows that they constituted a valuable part of the 
revenue of each superior lord at that juncture. The 
expense of obtaining a sentence in a court of justice 
during the middle ages was so considerable, that 
this circumstance alone was sufficient to render men 
unwilling to decide any contest in judicial form. 
It appears from a charter in the thirteenth century, 
that the baron who had the right of justice received 
the fifth part of the value of every subject the pro¬ 
perty of which was tried and determined in his 
court. If, after the commencement of a law-suit, 
the parties terminated the contest in an amicable 
manner, or by arbitration, they were nevertheless 
bound to pay the fifth part of the subject contested 
to the court before w hich the suit had been brought. 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 401 


Hist, de Dauphine, Geneve, 1722, tom. i. p. 22. 
Similar to this is a regulation in the charter of 
liberty granted to the town of Friburg, A. D. 1120. 
If two of the citizens shall quarrel, and if one of 
them shall complain to the superior lord or to his 
judge, and after commencing the suit, shall be pri¬ 
vately reconciled to his adversary, the judge, if he 
does not approve of this reconciliation, may compel 
him to go on with his law-suit, and all who were 
present at the reconciliation shall forfeit the favour 
of the superior lord. Historia Zaringo Badensis. 
Auctor. Jo. Dan. Schoepflinus. Carolsr. 1765. 4to. 
vol. v. p. 55. 

What was the extent of that jurisdiction which 
those who held fiefs possessed originally, we cannot 
now determine with certainty. It is evident that 
during the disorders which prevailed in every king¬ 
dom of Europe, the great vassals took advantage of 
the feebleness of their monarehs, and enlarged their 
jurisdictions to the utmost. As early as the tenth 
century, the more powerful barons had usurped the 
right of deciding all causes, w hether civil or cri¬ 
minal. They had acquired the High Justice as well 
as the Low. Establ. de St. Louis, lib. i. c. 24, 25. 
Their sentences were final, and there lay no appeal 
from them to any superior court. Several striking 
instances of this are collected by Brussel. Traite des 
Fiefs, liv. iii. c. 11, 12, 13. Not satisfied with this, 
the more potent barons got their territories erected 
into Regalities, with almost every royal prerogative 
and jurisdiction. Instances of these were frequent 
in France. Bruss. ib. In Scotland, where the power 
of the feudal nobles became exorbitant, they were 
very numerous. Historical Law Tracts, vol. i. tract 
vi. Even in England, though the authority of the 
Norman kings circumscribed the jurisdiction of the 
barons within more narrow limits than in any other 
feudal kingdom, several counties palatine were 
erected, into which the king’s judges could not 
enter, and no writ could come in the king’s name, 
until it received the seal of the county palatine. 
Spelman. Gloss, voc. Comites Palatini; Blackstone’s 
Commentaries on the Laws of England, vol. iii. p. 
78. These lords of regalities had a right to claim 
or rescue their vassals from the king’s judges, if 
they assumed any jurisdiction over them. Brussel, 
ubi supra. In the law of Scotland this privilege 
was termed the right of repledging; and the fre¬ 
quency of it not only interrupted the course of jus¬ 
tice, but gave rise to great disorders in the exercise 
of it. Hist. Law Tracts, ib. The jurisdiction of 
the counties palatine seems to have been productive 
of like inconveniences in England. 

The remedies provided by princes against the 
bad effects of these usurpations of the nobles, or 
inconsiderate grants of the crown, were various, and 
gradually applied. Under Charlemagne and his 
immediate descendants, the regal prerogative still 
retained great vigour, and the Duces, Comites, and 
Missi Dominici , the former of whom w ere ordinary 

and fixed judges, the latter extraordinary and 

2 D 


itinerant judges, in the different provinces of their 
extensive dominions, exercised a jurisdiction co¬ 
ordinate with the barons in some cases, and superior 
to them in others. Du Cange, voc. Dux, Comites, 
et Missi. Murat. Antiq. Dissert, viii. & ix. But 
under the feeble race of monarehs who succeeded 
them, the authority of the royal judges declined, 
and the barons acquired that unlimited jurisdiction 
which has been described. Louis VI. of France 
attempted to revive the function of the Missi Domi¬ 
nici under the title of Juges des Exempts, but the 
barons were become too powerful to bear such an 
encroachment on their jurisdiction, and he was 
obliged to desist from employing them. Ilenaut 
Abrege Chron. tom. ii. p. 730. His successor (as 
has been observed) had recourse to expedients less 
alarming. The appeal de defaute de droit, or on 
account of the refusal of justice, was the first which 
was attended with any considerable effect. Accord¬ 
ing to the maxims of feudal law, if a baron had not 
as many vassals as enabled him to try, by their 
peers, the parties who offered to plead in his court, 
or if he delayed or refused to proceed in the trial, 
the cause might be carried, by appeal, to the court 
of the superior lord of whom the baron held, and 
tried there. De l’Esprit des Loix, liv. xxviii. c. 28. 
Du Cange, voc. Defectus juslicice. The number of 
peers or assessors in the courts of barons was fre¬ 
quently very considerable. It appears from a cri¬ 
minal trial in the court of the Viscount de Lautrec, 
A. D. 1299, that upwards of two hundred persons 
were present, and assisted in the trial, and voted in 
passing judgment. Hist, de Langued. par D. D. de 
Vic et Vaisette, tom. iv. Preuvcs, p. 114. But as the 
right of jurisdiction had been usurped by many in¬ 
considerable barons, they were often unable to hold 
courts. This gave frequent occasion to such appeals, 
and rendered the practice familiar. By degrees such 
appeals began to be made from the courts of the 
more powerful barons, and it is evident, from a 
decision recorded by Brussel, that the royal judges 
were willing to give countenance to any pretext for 
them. Traites des Fiefs, tom. i. p. 235, 261. This 
species of appeal had less effect in abridging the 
jurisdiction of the nobles, than the appeal on account 
of the injustice of the sentence. When the feudal 
monarehs were powerful, and their judges possessed 
extensive authority, such appeals seem to have been 
frequent. Capitul. vol. i. p. 175, 180.; and they 
were made in a manner suitable to the rudeness of 
a simple age. The persons aggrieved resorted to 
the palace of their sovereign, and with outcries and 
loud noise called to him for redress. Capitul. lib. 
iii. c. 59. Chronic. Lawterbergiense ap. Mencken. 
Script. German, vol. ii. p. 284. b. In the kingdom 
of Aragon, the appeals to the Justiza, or supreme 
judge, were taken in such a form as supposed the 
appellant to be in immediate danger of death, Qr of 
some violent outrage; he rushed into the presence 
of the judge, crying with a loud voice, Avi, Am, 
Fuerza, Fuerza, thus imploring (as it were) the 



A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


instant interposition of that supreme judge in order 
to save him. Hier. Blanca Comment, de Rebus 
Aragon, ap. Script. Hispanic. Pistorii, vol. iii. p. 
753. The abolition of the trial by combat facilitated 
the revival of appeals of this kind. The effects of 
the subordination which appeals established, in in¬ 
troducing attention, equity, and consistency of 
decision into courts of judicature, were soon con¬ 
spicuous ; and almost all causes of importance 
w ere carried to be finally determined in the king’s 
courts. Brussel, tom. i. 252. Various circum¬ 
stances which contributed towards the introduction 
and frequency of such appeals are enumerated De 
l’Esprit des Loix, liv. xxviii. c. 27. Nothing, how¬ 
ever, was of such effect as the attention which 
monarchs gave to the constitution and dignity of 
their courts of justice. It was the ancient custom 
for the feudal monarchs to preside themselves in 
their courts, and to administer justice in person. 
Marculf. lib. i. § 25. Murat-Dissert, xxxi.—Charle¬ 
magne, whilst he was dressing, used to call parties 
into his presence, and having heard and considered 
the subject of litigation, gave judgment concerning 
it. Eginhartus Vita Caroli magni, cited by Madox 
Hist, of Exchequer, vol. i. p. 91. This trial and 
decision of causes by the sovereigns themselves 
could not fail of rendering their courts respectable. 
St. Louis, who encouraged to the utmost the prac¬ 
tice of appeals, revived this ancient custom, and 
administered justice in person with all the ancient 
simplicity. “ I have often seen the saint,” says 
Joinville, “ sit under the shade of an oak in the 
wood of Vincennes, when all who had any com¬ 
plaint freely approached him. At other times he 
gave orders to spread a carpet in a garden, and 
seating himself upon it, heard the causes that were 
brought before him.” Hist, de St. Louis, p. 13. 
edit. 1761. Princes of inferior rank who possessed 
the right of justice, sometimes dispensed it in 
person, and presided in their tribunals. Two 
instances of this occur with respect to the Dauphines 
of Vienne. Hist, de Daupliine, tom. i. p. 18. tom. 
ii. p. 257. But as kings and princes could not 
decide every cause in person, nor bring them all to 
be determined in the same court, they appointed 
Baillis, with a right of jurisdiction, in different dis¬ 
tricts of their kingdom. These possessed powers 
somewhat similar to those of the ancient Comites. 
It was towards the end of the twelfth century and 
beginning of the thirteenth, that this office was 
first instituted in France. Brussel, liv. ii. c. 35. 
When the king had a court established in different 
quarters of his dominions, this invited his subjects 
to have recourse to it. It was the private interest 
of the Baillis , as well as an object of public policy, 
to extend their jurisdiction. They took advantage 
of every defect in the rights of the barons, and of 
every error in their proceedings, to remove causes 
out of their courts, and to bring them under their 
own cognizance. There was a distinction in the 
feudal law, and an extremely ancient one, between 


the high justice and the low. Capitul. 3. A. D. 
812. § 4. A. D. 815. § 3. Establ. de St. Louis, liv i. 
c. 40. Many barons possessed the latter jurisdic¬ 
tion who had no title to the former. The former in¬ 
cluded the right of trying crimes of every kind, 
even the highest; the latter was confined to petty 
trespasses. This furnished endless pretexts for ob¬ 
structing, restraining, and reviewing the proceed¬ 
ings in the baron courts. Ordon. ii. 457. § 25. 458. 
§ 29.-A regulation of greater importance suc¬ 

ceeded the institution of Baillis. The king’s 
supreme court or parliament was rendered fixed as 
to the place, and constant as to the time, of its 
meetings. In France, as well as in the other feudal 
kingdoms, the king’s court of justice was originally 
ambulatory, followed the person of the monarch, 
and was held only during some of the great festi¬ 
vals. Philip Augustus, A. D. 1305, rendered it 
stationary at Paris, and continued its terms during 
the greater part of the year. Pasquier Recherches, 
liv. ii. c. 2 & 3, &c. Ordon. tom. i. p. 366. § 62. He 
and his successors vested extensive powers in that 
court; they granted the members of it several 
privileges and distinctions which it would be tedious 
to enumerate. Pasquier. Ibid. Velly Hist, de 
France, tom. vii. p. 307. Persons eminent for in¬ 
tegrity and skill in law were appointed judges there. 
Ibid. By degrees the final decision of all causes 
of importance was brought into the parliament of 
Paris, and the other parliaments which administered 
justice in the king’s name in different provinces of 
the kingdom. This jurisdiction, however, the par¬ 
liament of Paris acquired very slowly, and the 
great vassals of the crown made violent efforts in 
order to obstruct the attempts of that parliament to 
extend its authority. Towards the close of the 
thirteenth century, Philip the Fair was obliged to 
prohibit his parliament from taking cognisance of 
certain appeals brought into it from the courts of 
the count of Bretagne, and to recognise and respect 
his right of supreme and final jurisdiction. Me- 
moires pour servir de Preuves l’Histoire de Bre¬ 
tagne par Morice, tom. i. p. 1037, 1074. Charles VI. 
at the end of the following century was obliged to 
confirm the rights of the dukes of Bretagne in still 
more ample form. Ibid. tom. ii. p. 580, 581. So 
violent was the opposition of the barons to this right 
of appeal, which they considered as fatal to their 
privileges and power, that the authors of the Ency¬ 
clopedic have mentioned several instances in which 
barons put to death or mutilated such persons as 
ventured to appeal from the sentences pronounced 
in their courts to the parliament of Paris, tom. xii. 
Art. Parlement , p. 25. 

The progress of jurisdiction in the other feudal 
kingdoms was in a great measure similar to that 
which we have traced in France. In England the 
territorial jurisdiction of the barons was both 
ancient and extensive. Leg. Edw. Conf. Nos. 5 
and 9. After the Norman conquest it became more 
strictly feudal; and it is evident from facts recorded 




PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 403 


in the English history, as well as from the institution 
of counties palatine, which I have already mention¬ 
ed, that the usurpations of the nobles in England 
were not less bold or extensive than those of their 
contemporaries on the continent. The same expe¬ 
dients were employed to circumscribe or abolish 
those dangerous jurisdictions. William the Con¬ 
queror established a constant court in the hall of 
his palace; lrom which the four courts now intrust¬ 
ed with the administration of justice in England 
took their rise. Henry II. divided his kingdom 
into six circuits, and sent itinerant judges to hold 
their courts in them at stated seasons. Blackstone’s 
Commentaries on the Laws of England, vol.iii.57. 
Justices of the peace were appointed in every county 
by subsequent monarchs, to whose jurisdiction the 
people gradually had recourse in many civil causes. 
The privileges of the counties palatine were gra¬ 
dually limited ; with respect to some points they 
were abolished ; and the administration of justice 
was brought into the king’s courts, or before judges 
of his appointment. The several steps taken for 
this purpose are enumerated in Dalrymple’s History 
of Feudal Property, chap. vii. 

In Scotland the usurpations of the nobility were 
more exorbitant than in any other feudal kingdom. 
The progress of their encroachments, and the me¬ 
thods taken by the crown to limit or abolish their 
territorial and independent jurisdictions, both which 
I had occasion to consider and explain in a former 
work, differed very little from those of which I have 
now given the detail. History of Scotland, Bk. I. 
p. 13. 

I should perplex myself and my readers in the 
labyrinth of German jurisprudence, if I were to 
attempt to delineate the progress of jurisdiction in 
the empire, with a minute accuracy. It is sufficient 
to observe, that the authority which the Aulic coun¬ 
cil and Imperial chamber now possess, took its rise 
from the same desire of redressing the abuses of 
territorial jurisdiction,and was acquired in the same 
manner that the royal courts attained influence in 
other countries of Europe. All the important facts 
with respect to both these particulars, may be found 
in Phil. Datt. de Pace publica Imperii, lib. iv. The 
capital articles are pointed out in Pfeffel Abrege de 
l’Histoire et Droit publique d’Allemagne, p. 556, 
581.; and in Traite du Droit publique de l’Empire 
par M. le Coq. de Villeray. The two last treatises 
are of great authority, having been composed under 
the eye of M. Schcepflin of Strasburg, one of the 
ablest public lawyers in Germany. 

Note XXIV. Sect. I. p. 328. 

It is not easy to fix with precision the period at 
which ecclesiastics first began to claim exemption 
from the civil jurisdiction. It is certain that during 
the early and purest ages of the church, they pre¬ 
tended to no such immunity. The authority of the 
civil magistrate extended to all persons and to all 

causes. This fact has not only been clearly esta- 

2 D 2 


blished by protestant authors, but is admitted by 
many Roman catholics of eminence, and particu¬ 
larly by the writers in defence of the liberties of 
the Gallican church. There are several original 
papers published by Muratori, which show that in 
the ninth and tenth centuries causes of the greatest 
importance relating to ecclesiastics were still de¬ 
termined by civil judges. Antiq. Ital. vol. v. dis¬ 
sert. lxx. Proofs of this are produced likewise by 
M. Houard, Anciennes Loix des Francois, &c. vol. 
i. p. 209. Ecclesiastics did not shake off all at once 
their subjection to civil courts. This privilege, like 
their other usurpations, was acquired slowly and 
step by step. This exemption seems at first to have 
been merely an act of complaisance, flowing from 
veneration for their character. Thus from a charter 
of Charlemagne in favour of the church of Mans, 
A. D. 796, to which M. l’Abbe de Foy refers in his 
Notice de Diplomes, tom. i. p. 201. that monarch 
directs his judges, if any difference should arise 
between the administrators of the revenues of that 
church and any person whatever, not to summon 
the administrators to appear in mallo publico ; but 
first of all to meet with them, and to endeavour to 
accommodate the difference in an amicable manner. 
This indulgence was in process of time improved 
into a legal exemption, which was founded on the 
same superstitious respect of the laity for the cleri¬ 
cal character and function. A remarkable instance 
of this occurs in a charter of Frederic Barbarossa, 
A. D. 1172, to the monastery of Altenburg. He 
grants them judicium non tantum sanguinolentis 
plagae, sed vitas et mortis ; he prohibits any of the 
royal judges from disturbing their jurisdiction ; and 
the reason which he gives for this ample concession 
is, nam quorum, ex Dei gratia, ratione divini mi- 
nisterii onus leve est, et jugum suave ; nos penitus 
nolumus illos oppressionis contumelia vel manu 
Laica, fatigari. Mencken Script. Rer. Germ. vol. 
iii. p. 1067. 

It is not necessary for illustrating what is con¬ 
tained in the text, that I should describe the manner 
in which the code of the canon law was compiled, 
or show that the doctrines in it most favourable to 
the power of the clergy are founded on ignorance, 
or supported by fraud and forgery. The reader will 
find a full account of these in Gerard. Van Ma- 
stricht. Historia Juris Ecclesiastici, et in Science 
de Gouvernement, par M. Real, tom. vii. c. i. & iii. § 
2,3, &c. The history of the progress and extent of 
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, with an account of the 
arts which the clergy employed in order to draw 
causes of every kind into the spiritual courts, is no 
less curious, and would throw great light upon many 
of the customs and institutions of the dark ages ; 
but it is likewise foreign from the present subject. 
Du Cange, in his Glossary, voc. Curia Christiani- 
tatis, has collected most of the causes with respect 
to which the clergy arrogated an exclusive jurisdic¬ 
tion, and refers to the authors or original papers 
which confirm his observations. Giannone, in his 



404 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


Civil History of Naples, lib. xix. § 3. has ranged 
these under proper heads, and scrutinizes the pre¬ 
tensions of the church with his usual boldness and 
discernment. M. Fleury observes, that the clergy 
multiplied the pretexts for extending the authority 
of the spiritual courts with so much boldness, that 
it was soon in their power to withdraw almost every 
person and every cause from the jurisdiction of the 
civil magistrate. Hist. Eccles. tom. xix. Disc. 
Prelim. 16. But how ill-founded soever the juris¬ 
diction of the clergy may have been, or whatever 
might be the abuses to which their manner of exer¬ 
cising it gave rise, the principles and forms of their 
jurisprudence were far more perfect than that which 
was known in the civil courts. It seems to be cer¬ 
tain that ecclesiastics never submitted, during any 
period in the middle ages, to the laws contained in 
the codes of the barbarous nations, but were go¬ 
verned entirely by the Roman law. They regulated 
all their transactions by such of its maxims as were 
preserved by tradition, or were contained in the 
Theodosian Code and other books extant among 
them. This we learn from a custom which prevailed 
universally in those ages. Every person was per¬ 
mitted to choose among the various codes of laws 
then in force, that to which he was willing to con¬ 
form. In any transaction of importance, it was 
usual for the persons contracting to mention the law 
to which they submitted, that it might be known 
how any controversy that should arise between them 
was to be decided. Innumerable proofs of this oc- 
cur in the charters of the middle ages. But the 
clergy considered it as such a valuable privilege of 
their order to be governed by the Roman law, that 
when any person entered into holy orders, it was 
usual for him to renounce the code of laws to which 
he had been formerly subject, and to declare that 
he now submitted to the Roman law. Constat me 
Johannem clericum, filium quondam Yerandi, qui 
professus sum, ex natione mea, lege vivere Lango- 
bardorum, sed tamen, pro honore ecclesiastico, lege 
nunc videor vivere Romana. Charta, A. D. 1072. 
Farulfus presbyter qui professus sum, more sacer- 
dotii mei, lege vivere Romana. Charta, A. D. 1075. 
Muratori Antichita Estensi, vol. i. p. 78. See like¬ 
wise Houard Anciennes Loix des Francois, &c. vol. 
i. p. 203. 

The code of the canon law began to be compiled 
early in the ninth century. Mem. de TAcad. des 
Inscript, tom. xviii. p. 346, &c. It was above two 
centuries after that before any collection was made 
of those customs which were the rule of judgments 
in the courts of (he barons. Spiritual judges de¬ 
cided, of course, according to written and known 
laws ; lay judges, left without any fixed guide, 
were directed by loose traditionary customs. But 
besides this general advantage of the canon law, its 
forms and principles were more consonant to reason, 
and more favourable to the equitable decision of 
every point in controversy, than those which pre¬ 
vailed in lay courts. It appears from Notes XXI. 


and XXIII., concerning private wars and the trial 
by combat, that the whole spirit of ecclesiastical 
jurisprudence was adverse to those sanguinary cus¬ 
toms which were destructive of justice; and the 
whole force of ecclesiastical authority was exerted 
to abolish them, and to substitute trials by law and 
evidence in their room. Almost all the forms in 
lay courts which contribute to establish, and conti¬ 
nue to preserve, order in judicial proceedings, arc 
borrowed from the canon law. Fleury Instit. du 
Droit canon, part iii. c. 6. p. 52. St. Louis, in his 
Establissemens, confirms many of his new regula¬ 
tions concerning property and the administration 
of justice, by the authority of the canon law, from 
which he borrowed them. Thus for instance, the 
first hint of attaching movables, for the recovery 
of a debt, was taken from the canon law. Estab. 
liv. ii. c. 21 & 40. And likewise the cessio bonoruin, 
by a person who was insolvent. Ibid. In the same 
manner he established new regulations with respect 
to the effects of persons dying intestate, liv. i. c. 89. 
These, and many other salutarj r regulations, the 
canonists had borrowed from the Roman law. Many 
other examples might be produced, of more perfect 
jurisprudence in the canon law than was known in 
lay courts. For that reason it was deemed a high 
privilege to be subject to ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 
Among the many immunities by which men were 
allured to engage in the dangerous expeditions for 
the recovery of the Holy Land, one of the most con¬ 
siderable was, the declaring such as took the cross 
to be subject only to the spiritual courts, and to the 
rules of decision observed in them. See Note XIII. 
and Du Cange, voc. Crucis privilegia. 

Note XXV. Sect. I. p. 329. 

The rapidity with which the knowledge and study 
of the Roman law spread over Europe is amaz¬ 
ing. The copy of the Pandects was found at Amal- 
plii, A. D. 1137. Irnerius opened a college of civil 
law at Bologna a few years after. Giann. Hist, 
book xi. c. 2. It began to be taught as a part of 
academical learning in different parts of France 
before the middle of the century. Vaccarius gave 
lectures on the civil law at Oxford as early as the 
year 1147. A regular system of feudal law, formed 
plainly in imitation of the Roman code, was com¬ 
posed by two Milanese lawyers about the year 1150. 
Gratian published the code of canon law, with large 
additions and emendations, about the same time. 
The earliest collection of those customs, which 
served as the rules of decision in the courts of jus¬ 
tice, is the Assises de Jerusalem. They were com¬ 
piled, as the preamble informs us, in the year 1099, 
and are called Jus Consuetudinarium quo regeba- 
tur regnum orientale. Willerm. Tyr. lib. xix. c. 2. 
But peculiar circumstances gave occasion to this 
early compilation. The victorious crusaders settled 
as a colony in a foreign country, and adventurers 
from all the different nations of Europe composed 
this new society. It was necessary on that account 




406 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


to ascertain the laws and customs which were to re¬ 
gulate the transactions of business and the adminis¬ 
tration ol justice among them. But in no country 
ot Europe was there at that time any collection of 
customs, nor had any attempt been made to render 
law fixed. The first undertaking of that kind was 
by Glanville, lord chief justice of England, in his 
Tractatus de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae, 
composed about the year 1181. The Regiam Ma- 
jestatem in Scotland, ascribed to David I., seems to 
be an imitation, and a servile one, of Glanville. 
Several Scottish antiquaries, under the influence of 
that pious credulity which disposes men to assent 
without hesitation to whatever they deem for the 
honour of their native country, contend zealously 
that the Regiam Majestatem is a production prior 
to the treatise of Glanville ; and have brought them¬ 
selves to believe that a nation in a superior state of 
improvement borrowed its laws and institutions 
from one considerably less advanced in its political 
progress. The internal evidence (were it my pro¬ 
vince to examine it) by which this theory might be 
refuted, is in my opinion decisive. The external 
circumstances which have seduced Scottish authors 
into this mistake, have been explained with so much 
precision and candour by sir David Dalrymple, in 
his examination of some of the arguments for the 
high antiquity of Regiam Majestatem, Edin. 1769, 
4to, that it is to be hoped the controversy will not 
be again revived. Pierre de Fontaines, who tells us 
that he was the first who had attempted such a work 
in France, composed his Conseil , which contains an 
account of the customs of the country of Verman- 
dois in the reign of St. Louis, which began A. D. 
1226. Beaumanoir, the author of the Couslnmes de 
Beauvoisis, lived about the same time. The Estab- 
lissemens of St. Louis, containing a large collection 
of the customs which prevailed within the royal do¬ 
mains, were published by the authority of that 
monarch. As soon as men became acquainted with 
the advantages of having written customs and laws, 
to which they could have recourse on every occa¬ 
sion, the practice of collecting them became com¬ 
mon. Charles VII. of France, by an ordonnance 
A. D. 1453, appointed the customary laws in every 
province of France to be collected and arranged. 
Velley and Villaret. Histoire, tom. xvi. p. 113. 
His successor Louis XI. renewed the injunction. 
But this salutary undertaking hath never been fully 
executed, and the jurisprudence of the French na¬ 
tion remains more obscure and uncertain than it 
would have been if these prudent regulations of 
their monarchs had taken effect. A mode of judi¬ 
cial determination was established in the middle 
ages, which affords the clearest proof that judges, 
while they had no other rule to direct their decrees 
but unwritten and traditionary customs, were often 
at a loss how to find out the facts and principles ac¬ 
cording to which they were bound to decide. They 
were obliged, in dubious cases, to call a certain 
number of old men, and to lay the case before them, 


that they might inform them what w as the practice 
or custom with regard to the point. This was called 
Enqueste par tourbe. Du Cange, voc. Tvrba. The 
effects of the revival of the Roman jurisprudence 
have been explained by M. de Montesquieu, liv. 
xxviii. c. 42. and by Mr. Hume, Hist, of England, 
vol. ii. p. 441. I have adopted many of their ideas. 
Who can pretend to review any subject which such 
writers have considered, without receiving from 
them light and information? At the same time I 
am convinced that the knowledge of the Roman 
law was not so entirely lost in Europe during the 
middle ages as is commonly believed. My subject 
does not require me to examine this point. Many 
striking facts with regard to it are collected by 
Donato Antonio d’Asti dalF uso e autorita della 
regione civile nelle provincie delF Imperio Occi- 
dentale. Nap. 1751. 2 vols. 8vo. 

That the civil law' is intimately connected with 
the municipal jurisprudence in several countries of 
Europe, is a fact so well known that it needs no 
illustration. Even in England, where the common 
law is supposed to form a system perfectly distinct 
from the Roman code, and although such as apply 
in that country to the study of the common law boast 
of this distinction with some degree of affectation, 
it is evident that many of the ideas and maxims of 
the civil law are incorporated into the English ju¬ 
risprudence. This is well illustrated by the inge¬ 
nious and learned author of Observations on the 
Statutes, chiefly the more ancient, 3d edit. p. 76, &c. 

Note XXVI. Sect. I. p. 329. 

The whole history of the middle ages makes it 
evident that war was the sole profession of gentle¬ 
men, and almost the only object attended to in their 
education. Even after some change in manners 
began to take place, and the civil arts of life had 
acquired some reputation, the ancient ideas with 
respect to the accomplishments necessary for a per¬ 
son of noble birth continued long in force. In the 
Memoires de Fleuranges, p. 9, &c. we have an ac¬ 
count of the youthful exercises and occupations of 
Francis I., and they were altogether martial and 
athletic. That father of letters owed his relish for 
them, not to education, but to his own good sense 
and good taste. The manners of the superior order 
of ecclesiastics during the middle ages furnish the 
strongest proof that, in some instances, the distinc¬ 
tion of professions was not completely ascertained 
in Europe. The functions and character of the 
clergy are obviously very different from those of 
laymen ; and among the inferior orders of church¬ 
men, this constituted a distinct character separate 
from that of other citizens. But the dignified eccle¬ 
siastics, who were frequently of noble birth, were 
above such a distinction ; they retained the idea of 
what belonged to them as gentlemen, and in spite of 
the decrees of popes or the canons of councils, they 
bore arms, led their vassals to the field, and fought 
at their head in battle. Among them the priesthood 




406 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


was scarcely a separate profession ; the military ac¬ 
complishments which they thought essential to 
them as gentlemen were cultivated ; the theological 
science and pacific virtues suitable to their spiritual 
function were neglected and despised. 

As soon as the science of law became a laborious 
study, and the practice of it a separate profession, 
such persons as rose to eminence in it obtained ho¬ 
nours which had formerly been appropriated to sol¬ 
diers. Knighthood was the most illustrious mark 
of distinction during several ages, and conferred 
privileges to which rank or birth alone were not en¬ 
titled. To this high dignity persons eminent for their 
know ledge of law were advanced, and w ere thereby 
placed on a level with those whom their military 
talents had rendered conspicuous. Miles Justitice, 
Miles Literatus, became common titles. Matthew 
Paris mentions such knights as early as A. D. 1251. 
If a judge attained a certain rank in the courts of 
justice, that alone gave him a right to the honour of 
knighthood. Pasquier Recherclies, liv. xi. c. 16. p. 
130. Dissertations Historiques sur la Chevalerie par 
Honore de Sainte Marie, p. 164, &c. A profession 
that led to offices which ennobled the persons who 
held them, grew into credit, and the people of Eu¬ 
rope became accustomed to see men rise to eminence 
by civil as well as military talents. 

Note XXVII. Sect. I. p. 300. 

The chief intention of these notes, was to bring 
at once under the view of my readers such facts 
and circumstances as tend to illustrate or confirm 
what is contained in that part of the history to which 
they refer. When these lay scattered in many dif¬ 
ferent authors, and were taken from books not gene¬ 
rally known, or which many of my readers might 
find it disagreeable to consult, I thought it would be 
of advantage to collect them together. But when 
every thing necessary for the proof or illustration 
of my narrative or reasoning may be found in any 
one book which is generally known, or deserves to 
be so, I shall satisfy myself with referring to it. 
This is the case with respect to Chivalry. Almost 
every fact w hich I have mentioned in the text, to¬ 
gether with many other curious and instructive 
particulars concerning this singular institution, may 
be found in Memoires sur FAncicnne Chevalerie 
consideree comme une Establissement politique et 
militaire, par M. de la Curne de St. Palaye. 

Note XXVIII. Sect. I. p. 332. 

The subject of my inquiries does not call me to 
write a history of the progress of science. The facts 
and observations which I have produced, are suffi¬ 
cient to illustrate the effects of its progress upon 
manners and the state of society. While science 
was altogether extinct in the western parts of Eu¬ 
rope, it was cultivated in Constantinople and othei 
parts of the Grecian empire. But the subtile genius 
of the Greeks turned almost entirely to theological 
disputation. The Latins borrowed that spirit from 


them, and many of the controversies which still 
occupy and divide theologians took their rise among 
the Greeks, from whom the other Europeans de¬ 
rived a considerable part of their knowledge. See 
the testimony of AEneas Sylvius ap. Conringium do 
antiq. Academicis, p. 43. Histoire Literaire de 
France, tom. vii. p. 113, &c. tom. ix. p. 151, &c. 
Soon after the empire of the caliphs was established 
in the east, some illustrious princes arose among 
them, who encouraged science. But when the Ara¬ 
bians turned their attention to the literature culti¬ 
vated by the ancient Greeks and Romans, the chaste 
and correct taste of their works of genius appeared 
frigid and unanimated to a people of a more warm 
imagination. Though they could not admire the 
poets and historians of Greece or of Rome, they 
were sensible of the merit of their philosophers. The 
operations of the intellect are more fixed and uni¬ 
form than those of the fancy or taste. Truth makes 
an impression nearly the same in every place: the 
ideas of wdiat is beautiful, elegant, or sublime, vary 
in different climates. The Arabians, though they 
neglected Homer, translated the most eminent of 
the Greek philosophers into their own language ; 
and, guided by their precepts and discoveries, ap¬ 
plied themselves with great ardour to the study of 
geometry, astronomy, medicine, dialectics, and me¬ 
taphysics. In the three former they made consider¬ 
able and useful improvements, which have con¬ 
tributed not a little to advance those sciences to that 
high degree of perfection which they have attained. 
In the two latter they chose Aristotle for their guide, 
and refining on the subtle and distinguishing spirit 
which characterizes his philosophy, they rendered 
it in a great degree frivolous or unintelligible. The 
schools established in the east for teaching and 
cultivating these sciences were in high reputation. 
They communicated their love of science to their 
countrymen who conquered Africa and Spain ; and 
the schools instituted there were little inferior in 
fame to those in the east. Many of the persons who 
distinguished themselves by their proficiency in 
science during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries 
w r ere educated among the Arabians. Bruckerus 
collects many instances of this, Histor. Philos, vol. 
iii. p. 681, &c. Almost all the men eminent for 
science during several centuries, if they did not 
resort in person to the schools in Africa and Spain, 
were instructed in the philosophy of the Arabians. 
The first knowledge of the Aristotelian philosophy 
in the middle ages was acquired by translations of 
Aristotle's works out of the Arabic. The Arabian 
commentators were deemed the most skilful and 
authentic guides in the study of his system. Con- 
ring. Antiq. Acad. Diss. iii. p. 95, &c. Supplem. 
p. 241, &e. Murat. Antiquit. Ital. vol. iii. p. 932, 
&c. From them the schoolmen derived the genius 
and principles of their philosophy, which contribut¬ 
ed so much to retard the progress of true science. 

The establishment of colleges or universities is 
a remarkable era in literary history. The schools 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


407 


in cathedrals and monasteries confined themselves 
chiefly to the teaching of grammar. There were 
only one or two masters employed in that office. 
Rut in colleges professors were appointed to teach 
all the different parts of science. The course or 
order of education was fixed : the time that ought 
to be allotted to the study of each science was as¬ 
certained : a regular form of trying the proficiency 
of students w as prescribed ; and academical titles 
and honours w ere conferred on such as acquitted 
themselves with approbation. A good account of 
the origin and nature of these is given by Seb. 
Bacmeisterus Antiquitates Rostochienses, sive, His- 
toria Urbis et Academiae Rostoch. ap. Monumenta 
inedita Rer. Germ, per E. J. de Westphalen, vol. 
iii. p. 781. Lips. 1743. The first obscure mention 
of these academical degrees in the university of Paris 
(from which the other universities in Europe have 
borrowed most of their customs and institutions) 
occurs A. D. 1215. Crevier Hist, de l’Univ. de 
Paris, tom. i. p. 296, &c. They w ere completely 
established A. D. 1231. Ibid. 248. It is unnecessary 
to enumerate the several privileges to which bache¬ 
lors, masters, and doctors were entitled. One cir¬ 
cumstance is sufficient to demonstrate the high 
degree of estimation in which they were held. 
Doctors in the different faculties contended with 
knights for precedence, and the dispute was termi¬ 
nated in many instances by advancing the former 
to the dignity of knighthood, the high prerogatives 
of which I have mentioned. It was even asserted 
that a doctor had a right to that title without crea¬ 
tion. Bartolus taught-doctorem actualiter re- 

genteminjure civili per decennium effici militem 
ipso facto. Honore de St. Marie Dissert, p. 165. 
This was called Chevalerie de lectures, and the 
persons advanced to that dignity, Milites Clerici. 
These new establishments for education, together 
with the extraordinary honours conferred on learned 
men, greatly increased the number of scholars. In 
the year 1262, there were ten thousand students in 
the university of Bologna ; and it appears from the 
history of that university, that law was the only 
science taught in it at that time. In the year 1340, 
there were thirty thousand in the university of Ox¬ 
ford. Speed’s Chron. ap. Anderson’s Chronol. De¬ 
duction of Commerce, vol. i. p. 172. In the same 
century, ten thousand persons voted in a question 
agitated in the university of Paris ; and as graduates 
alone were admitted to that privilege, the number 
of students must have been very great. Velley Hist, 
de France, tom. xi. p. 147. There were indeed few 
universities in Europe at that time ; but such a 
number of students may nevertheless be produced 
as a proof of the extraordinary ardour with which 
men applied to the study of science in those ages ; 
it shows likewise that they already began to con¬ 
sider other professions beside that of a soldier as 
honourable and useful. 


Note XXIX. Sect. I. p. 332. 

The great variety of subjects which I have en¬ 
deavoured to illustrate, and the extent of this upon 
which I now enter, will justify my adopting the 
words of M. de Montesquieu, when he begins to 
treat of commerce. “ The subject which follows 
would require to be discussed more at large, but 
the nature of this work does not permit it. I wish 
to glide on a tranquil stream, but I am hurried 
along by a torrent.” 

Many proofs occur in history of the little inter¬ 
course between nations during the middle ages. 
Towards the close of the tenth century, count 
Bouchard, intending to found a monastery at St. 
Maur des Fosses, near Paris, applied to an abbot 
of Clogny in Burgundy, famous for his sanctity, 
entreating him to conduct the monks thither. The 
language in which he addressed that holy man is 
singular : he tells him, that he had undertaken the 
labour of such a great journey; that he was fatigued 
with the length of it, therefore hoped to obtain his 
request, and that his journey into such a distant 
country should not be in vain. The answer of the 
abbot is still more extraordinary : he refused to 
comply with his desire, as it would be extremely 
fatiguing to go along with him into a strange and 
unknown region. Vita Burchardi venerabilis Co- 
mitis ap. Bouquet Rec. dcs Hist, vol x. p. 351. 
Even so late as the beginning of the twelfth century, 
the monks of Ferrieres, in the diocese of Sens, did 
not know that there was such a city as Tournay in 
Flanders ; and the monks of St. Martin of Tournay 
were equally unacquainted with the situation of 
Ferrieres. A transaction in which they were both 
concerned made it necessary for them to have some 
intercourse. The mutual interest of both monas¬ 
teries prompted each to find out the situation of the 
other. After a long search, which is particularly 
described, the discovery was made by accident. 
Herimannus Abbas de Restauratione St. Martini 
Tornacensis ap. Dacher. Spicil. vol. xii. p. 400. 
The ignorance of the middle ages with respect to 
the situation and geography of remote countries 
was still more remarkable. The most ancient 
geographical chart which now remains as a monu¬ 
ment of the state of that science in Europe during 
the middle ages, is found in a manuscript of the 
Chronique de St. Denys. There the three parts of 
the earth then known are so represented that Jeru¬ 
salem is placed in the middle of the globe, and 
Alexandria appears to be as near to it as Nazareth. 
Mem. de l’Acad. des Belles Lettres, tom. xvi. p. 
185. There seem to have been no inns or houses 
of entertainment for the reception of travellers 
during the middle ages. Murat. Antiq. Ital. vol. 
iii. p. 581, &c. This is a proof of the little inter¬ 
course which took place between different nations. 
Among people whose manners are simple, and who 
are seldom visited by strangers, hospitality is a 
virtue of the first rank. This duty of hospitality 





408 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


was so necessary in that state of society which took 
place during the middle ages, that it was not con¬ 
sidered as one of those virtues which men may 
practise or not, according to the temper of their 
minds and the generosity of their hearts. Hos¬ 
pitality was enforced by statutes, and such as neg¬ 
lected this duty were liable to punishment. Qui- 
cunque hospiti venienti lectum aut focum negaverit, 
trium solidorum inlatione muletetur. Leg. Bur- 
gund. tit. xxxviii. § 1. Si quis homini aliquo per- 
genti in itinere mansionem vetaverit, sexaginta so- 
lidos componat in publico. Capitul. lib. vi. § 82. 
This increase of the penalty, at a period so long 
after that in which the laws of the Burgundians 
were published, and when the state of society was 
much improved, is very remarkable. Other laws 
of the same purport are collected by Jo. Fred. 
Polac. Systema Jurisprud. Gcrmanicae, Lips. 1733, 
p. 75. The laws of the Slavi were more rigorous 
than any that he mentions ; they ordained “ that the 
movables of an inhospitable person should be 
confiscated, and his house burnt. They were even 
so solicitous for the entertainment of strangers, that 
they permitted the landlord to steal for the support 
of his guest." Quod noctu furatus fueris, eras 
appone hospitibus. Rerum Mecleburgicar. lib. viii. 
a Mat. Jo. Beehr. Lips. 1751, p. 50. In conse¬ 
quence of these laws, or of the state of society 
which made it proper to enact them, hospitality 
abounded while the intercourse among men was 
inconsiderable, and secured the stranger a kind re¬ 
ception under every roof where he chose to take 
shelter. This, too, proves clearly that the inter¬ 
course among men was rare, for as soon as this be¬ 
came frequent, what was a pleasure became a 
burden, and the entertaining of travellers was con¬ 
verted into a branch of commerce. 

But the laws of the middle ages afford a proof still 
more convincing of the small intercourse between 
different nations. The genius of the feudal system, 
as well as the spirit of jealousy which always ac¬ 
companies ignorance, concurred in discouraging 
strangers from settling in any new country. If a 
person removed from one province in a kingdom to 
another, he w as bound within a year and a day to 
acknow ledge himself the vassal of the baron in whose 
estate he settled ; if he neglected to do so, he be¬ 
came liable to a penalty; and if at his death he 
neglected to leave a certain legacy to the baron with¬ 
in whose territory he had resided, all his goods were 
confiscated. The hardships imposed on foreigners 
settling in a country, were still more intolerable. In 
more early times, the superior lord of any territory 
in w hich a foreigner settled might seize his person, 
and reduce him to servitude. Very striking in¬ 
stances of this occur in the history of the middle 
ages. The cruel depredations of the Normans in 
the ninth century, obliged many inhabitants of the 
maritime provinces of France to fly into the interior 
parts of the kingdom. But instead of being re¬ 
ceived with that humanity to which their wretched 


condition entitled them, they were reduced to a state 
of servitude. Both the civil and ecclesiastical 
powers found it necessary to interpose, in order to 
put a stop to this barbarous practice. Potgiesser. 
de Statu Servor. lib. i. c. 1. § 16. In other coun¬ 
tries the laws permitted the inhabitants of the mari¬ 
time provinces to reduce such as were shipwrecked 
on their coast to servitude. Ibid. § 17. This barba¬ 
rous custom prevailed in many countries of Europe. 
The practice of seizing the goods of persons who 
had been shipwrecked, and of confiscating them as 
the property of the lord on whose manor they were 
thrown, seems to have been universal. De West- 
phalen Monum. inedita Rer. Germ. vol. iv. p. 907, 
&c. et Du Cange, voc. Laganum, Beehr. Rer. Mecleb. 
lib. p. 512. Among the ancient Welch, three sorts 
of persons, a madman, a stranger, and a leper, might 
be killed with impunity. Leges Hoel Dda, quoted 
in Observat. on the Statutes, chiefly the more an¬ 
cient, p. 22. M. de Lauriere produces several an¬ 
cient deeds which prove, that in different provinces 
of France strangers became the slaves of the lord on 
Avhose lands they settled. Glossaire du Droit Fran¬ 
cois, Art. Aubaine, p. 92. Beaumanoir says, “ that 
there are several places in France, in which if a 
stranger fixes his residence for a year and day, he 
becomes the slave of the lord of the manor." Const, 
de Beauv. ch. 45. p. 254. As a practice so contrary 
to humanity could not subsist long, the superior 
lords found it necessary to rest satisfied, instead of 
enslaving aliens, with levying certain annual taxes 
upon them, or imposing upon them some extraordi¬ 
nary duties or services. But when any stranger 
died, he could not convey his effects by will; and 
all his real as w ell as personal estate fell to the king, 
or to the lord of the barony, to the exclusion of his 
natural heirs. This is termed in France Droit 
D' Aubaine. Pref. de Laurier. Ordon. tom. i. p. 15. 
Brussel, tom. ii. p. 944. Du Cange, voc. Albani. 
Pasquier Recherches, p. 367. This practice of con¬ 
fiscating the effects of strangers upon their death 
was very ancient. It is mentioned, though very 
obscurely, in a law of Charlemagne, A. D. 813. 
Capitul. Baluz. p. 507. § 5. Not only persons who 
were born in a foreign country were subject to the 
Droit D'Aubaiue, but in some countries such as 
removed from one diocese to another, or from the 
lands of one baron to another. Brussel, vol. ii. p. 
947, 949. It is hardly possible to conceive any law r 
more unfavourable to the intercourse between na¬ 
tions. Something similar to it, however, may be 
found in the ancient laws of every kingdom in Eu¬ 
rope. With respect to Italy, see Murat. Ant. vol. 
ii. p. 14. As nations advanced in improvement, 
this practice was gradually abolished. It is no 
small disgrace to the French jurisprudence, that 
this barbarous, inhospitable custom should have so 
long remained among a people so highly civilized. 

The confusion and outrage which abounded under 
a feeble form of government, incapable of framing 
or executing salutary law r s, rendered the communi- 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


409 


cation between the different provinces of the same 
kingdom extremely dangerous. It appears from a 
letter of Lupus, abbot of Ferrieres, in the ninth cen¬ 
tury, that the highways were so much infested by 
banditti, that it was necessary for travellers to form 
themselves into companies or caravans, that they 
might be safe from the assault of robbers. Bou¬ 
quet Recueil des Hist. vol. vii. p. 515. The nume¬ 
rous regulations published by Charles the Bald in 
the same century, discover the frequency of these 
disorders ; and such acts of violence were become 
so common, that by many they were hardly con¬ 
sidered as criminal. For this reason the inferior 
judges, called Centenarii, were required to take an 
oath, that they would neither commit any robbery 
themselves, nor protect such as were guilty of that 
crime. Capitul. edit. Baluz. vol. ii p. 03, 08. The 
historians of the ninth and tenth centuries give pa¬ 
thetic descriptions of these disorders. Some remark¬ 
able passages to this purpose are collected by Mat. 
Jo. Beehr. Rer. Mecleb. lib. viii. p. 003. They be¬ 
came so frequent and audacious, that the authority 
of the civil magistrate was unable to repress them. 
The ecclesiastical j urisdiction was called in to aid it. 
Councils were held with great solemnity, the bodies 
of the saints were brought thither, and in presence 
of their sacred relics, anathemas were denounced 
against robbers, and other violators of the public 
peace. Bouquet Recueil des Hist. tom. x. p. 300, 
431, 530. One of these forms of excommunication, 
issued A. D. 988, is still preserved, and is so sin¬ 
gular, and composed with eloquence of such a 
peculiar kind, that it will not perhaps be deemed 
unworthy of a place here. After the usual intro¬ 
duction, and mentioning the outrage which gave 
occasion to the anathema, it runs thus : “ Obtene- 
brescant oculi vestri, qui concupiverunt; arescant 
manus, quae rapuerunt; debilitentur omnia membra, 
quae adjuverunt. Semper laboretis, nec requiem 
inveniatis, fructuque vestri laboris prevemini. For- 
midetis, et paveatis, a facie persequentis, et non 
persequentis hostis, ut tabescendo deficiatis. Sit 
portio vestra cum Juda traditore Domini, in terra 
mortis et tenebrarum ; donee corda vestra ad satis- 
factionem plenum convertantur.—Ne cessent a vobis 
hae maledictiones, scelerum vestrorum persecutrices, 
quamdiuperinanebitisin peccatopervasionis. Amen, 
Fiat, Fiat.” Bouquet, ibid. p. 517. 

Note XXX. Sect. I. p. 333. 

With respect to the progress of commerce which 
I have described p. 332, &c. it may be observed that 
the Italian states carried on some commerce with 
the cities of the Greek empire as early as the age of 
Charlemagne, and imported into their own country 
the rich commodities of the east. Murat. Antiq. 
Ital. vol. ii. p. 882. In the tenth century the Vene¬ 
tians had opened a trade with Alexandria in Egypt. 
Ibid. The inhabitants of Amalphi and Pisa had 
likewise extended their trade to the same ports. 
Murat, ib. p. 884, 885. The effects of the Crusades 


in increasing the wealth and commerce of the 
Italian states, and particularly that which they 
carried on with the east, I have explained, page 
317. They not only imported the Indian com¬ 
modities from the east, but established manufac¬ 
tures of curious fabric in their own country. 
Several of these are enumerated by Muratori in his 
Dissertations concerning the arts and the weaving 
of the middle ages. Antiq. Ital. vol. ii. p. 349, 399. 
They made great progress, particularly in the 
manufacture of silk, which had long been peculiar 
to the eastern provinces of Asia. Silk stuffs were 
of such high price in ancient Rome, that only a few 
persons of the first rank were able to purchase them. 
Under Aurelian, A. D. 270, a pound of silk was 
equal in value to a pound of gold. Absit ut auro 
fila pensentur. Libra enim auri tunc libra serici 
fuit. Vopiscus in Aureliano. Justinian in the sixth 
century introduced the art of rearing silk-worms 
into Greece, which rendered the commodity some¬ 
what more plentiful, though still it was of such 
great value as to remain an article of luxury or 
magnificence, reserved only for persons of the first 
order, or for public solemnities. Roger I. kin g of 
Sicily, about the year 1130, carried off a number of 
artificers in the silk trade from Athens, and settling 
them in Palermo, introduced the culture of silk into 
his kingdom, from which it was communicated to 
other parts of Italy. Giannon. Hist, of Naples, b. 
xi. c. 7. This seems to have rendered silk so com¬ 
mon, that about the middle of the fourteenth cen¬ 
tury a thousand citizens of Genoa appeared in one 
procession clad in silk robes. Sugar is likewise a 
production of the east. Some plants of the sugar¬ 
cane were brought from Asia ; and the first attempt 
to cultivate them in Sicily was made about the 
middle of the twelfth century. From thence they 
were transplanted into the southern provinces of 
Spain. From Spain they were carried to the Canary 
and Madeira Isles, and at length into the New 
World. Ludovico Guicciardini, in enumerating the 
goods imported into Antwerp about the year 1500, 
mentions the sugar which they received from Spain 
and Portugal as a considerable article. He de¬ 
scribes that sugar as the product of the Madeira 
and Canary Islands. Descritt. de Paesi Bassi, p. 
180, 181. The sugar-cane was introduced into the 
West Indies before that time, but the cultivation of 
it was not so improved or so extensive as to furnish 
an article of much consequence in commerce. In 
the middle ages, though sugar was not raised in 
such quantities, or employed for so many purposes, 
as to become one of the common necessaries of life, 
it appears to have been a considerable article in the 
commerce of the Italian states. 

These various commodities with which the Italians 
furnished the other nations of Europe, procured 
them a favourable reception in every kingdom. 
They were established in France in the thirteenth 
century with most extensive immunities. They not 
only obtained every indulgence favourable to their 



410 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


commerce, but personal rights and privileges were 
granted to them which the natives of the kingdom 
did not enjoy. Ordon. tom. iv. p. 668. By a special 
proviso, they were exempted from the Droit d’Au- 
baine. Ibid. p. 670. As the Lombards (a name 
frequently given to all Italian merchants in many 
parts of Europe) engrossed the trade of every king¬ 
dom in which they settled, they became masters of 
its cash. Money of course was in their hands not 
only a sign of the value of other commodities, but 
became an object of commerce itself. They dealt 
largely as bankers. In an ordonnance, A. D. 1295, 
we find them styled mercatores and campsores. They 
carried on this as well as other branches of their 
commerce with somewhat of that rapacious spirit 
which is natural to monopolizers who are not re¬ 
strained by the competition of rival traders. An 
absurd opinion which prevailed in the middle ages, 
was, however, in some measure the cause of their 
exorbitant demands, and may be pleaded in apology 
for them. Trade cannot be carried on with advan¬ 
tage unless the persons who lend a sum of money 
are allowed a certain premium for the use of it, as 
a compensation for the risk which they run in per¬ 
mitting another to traffic with their stock. This 
premium is fixed by law in all commercial countries, 
and is called the legal interest of money. But the 
fathers of the church had preposterously applied 
the prohibitions of usury in Scripture to the pay¬ 
ment of legal interest, and condemned it as a sin. 
The schoolmen, misled by Aristotle, whose senti¬ 
ments they followed implicitly and without exami¬ 
nation, adopted the same error, and enforced it. 
Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, 
vol. ii. p. 455. Thus the Lombards found them¬ 
selves engaged in a traffic which was every where 
deemed criminal and odious. They were liable to 
punishment if detected. They were not satisfied, 
therefore, with that moderate premium which they 
might have claimed if their trade had been open 
and authorized by law. They exacted a sum pro¬ 
portional to the danger and infamy of a discovery. 
Accordingly we find that it was usual for them to 
demand twenty per cent, for the use of money in 
the thirteenth century. Murat. Antiq. Ital. vol. i. 
p. 893. About the beginning of that century, the 
countess of Flanders was obliged to borrow money 
in order to pay her husband’s ransom. She pro¬ 
cured the sum requisite either from Italian mer¬ 
chants or from Jews. The lowest interest which 
she paid to them was above twenty per cent, and 
some of them exacted near thirty. Martene and 
Durand. Thesaur. Anecdotorum, vol. i. p. 886. In 
the fourteenth century, A. D. 1311, Philip IV. fixed 
the interest which might be legally exacted in the 
fairs of Champagne at twenty per cent. Ordon. 
tom. i. p. 484. The interest of money in Aragon 
was somewhat lower. James I., A. D. 1242, fixed 
it by law at eighteen per cent. Petr, de Marca. 
Marca sive Limes Hispan. app. 1433. As late as 
the year 1490, it appears that the interest of money 


in Placentia was at the rate of forty per cent. This 
is the more extraordinary, because at that time the 
commerce of the Italian States was become con¬ 
siderable. Memorie Storiche de Piacenza, tom. 
viii. p. 104. Piac. 1760. It appears from Lud. Guic¬ 
ciardini, that Charles V. had fixed the rate of inter¬ 
est in his dominions in the Low Countries at twelve 
per cent, and at the time when he wrote, about the 
year 1560, it was not uncommon to exact more than 
that sum. He complains of this as exorbitant, and 
points out its bad effects both on agriculture and 
commerce. Descrit di Paesi Bassi, p. 172. This 
high interest of money is alone a proof that the pro¬ 
fits on commerce were exorbitant, and that it was 
not carried on to great extent.—The Lombards were 
likewise established in England in the thirteenth 
century, arid a considerable street in the city of 
London still bears their name. They enjoyed great 
privileges, and carried on an extensive commerce, 
particularly as bankers. See Anderson’s Chronol. 
Deduction, vol. i. p. 137, 160, 204, 231. where the 
statutes or other authorities which confirm this are 
quoted. But the chief mart for Italian commodities 
was at Bruges. Navigation was then so imperfect, 
that to sail from any port in the Baltic, and to re¬ 
turn again, was a voyage too great to be performed 
in one summer. For that reason, a magazine or 
storehouse half-way between the commercial cities 
in the north, and those in Italy, became necessary. 
Bruges was pitched upon as the most convenient 
station. That choice introduced vast wealth into 
the Low Countries. Bruges was at once the staple 
for English wool ; for the woollen and linen manu¬ 
factures of the Netherlands ; for the naval stores 
and other bulky commodities of the north ; and for 
the Indian commodities, as well as domestic pro¬ 
ductions, imported by the Italian states. The ex¬ 
tent of its commerce in Indian goods with Venice 
alone, appears from one fact. In the year 1318, five 
Venetian galeasses laden with Indian commodities 
arrived at Bruges, in order to dispose of their car¬ 
goes at the fair. These galeasses were vessels of 
very considerable burden. L. Guic. Descritt. di 
Paesi Bassi, p. 174. Bruges was the greatest em¬ 
porium in all Europe. Many proofs of this occur 
in the historians and records of the thirteenth and 
fourteenth centuries. But instead of multiplying 
quotations, I shall refer my readers to Anderson, 
vol. i. p. 12, 137, 213, 246, &c. The nature of this 
work prevents me from entering into any more 
minute detail, but there are some detached facts 
which give a high idea of the wealth both of the 
Flemish and Italian commercial states. The duke 
of Brabant contracted his daughter to the Black 
Prince, son of Edward III. of England, A. D. 1339, 
and gave her a portion which w e may reckon to be 
ot equal value with three hundred thousand pounds 
of our present money. Rymer’s Foedera, vol. v. p. 
113. John Galeazzo Visconti, duke of Milan, con¬ 
cluded a treaty of marriage between his daughter 
and Lionel, duke of Clarence, Edward’s third son, 




PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


411 


A. D. 1367, and granted her a portion equal to two 
hundred thousand pounds of ou-r present money. 
Ryrner’s Foeder. vol. vi. p. 547. These exorbitant 
sums so tar exceeding what was then granted by 
the most powerful monarchs, and which appear 
extraordinary even in the present age, when the 
wealth of Europe is so much increased, must have 
arisen from the riches which flowed into those coun¬ 
tries trom their extensive and lucrative commerce. 
The first source of wealth to the towns situated on 
the Baltic sea seems to have been the herring fish¬ 
ery ; the shoals of herrings frequenting at that time 
the coasts of Sweden and Denmark, in the same 
manner as they now resort to the British coasts. 
The effects of this fishery are thus described by an 
author of the thirteenth century. The Danes, says 
he, who were formerly clad in the poor garb of 
sailors, are now clothed in scarlet, purple, and fine 
linen. For they abound with wealth flowing from 
their annual fishery on the coast of Schonen ; so 
that all nations resort to them, bringing their gold, 
silver, and precious commodities, that they may 
purchase herrings, which the divine bounty bestows 
upon them. Arnoldus Lubecensis ap. Conring. de 
Urbib. German. § 87. 

The Hanseatic League is the most powerful com¬ 
mercial confederacy known in history. Its origin 
towards the close of the twelfth century, and the 
objects of its union, are described by Knipschildt 
Tractatus Historico-Politico Juridicus de Juribus 
Civitat. Imper. lib. i. cap. 4. Anderson has men¬ 
tioned the chief facts with respect to their commer¬ 
cial progress, the extent of the privileges which 
they obtained in different countries, their successful 
wars with several monarchs, as well as the spirit 
and zeal with which they contended for those liber¬ 
ties and rights without which it is impossible to 
carry on commerce to advantage. The vigorous 
efforts of a society of merchants attentive only to 
commercial objects, could not fail of diffusing new 
and more liberal ideas concerning justice and order 
in every country of Europe where they settled. 

In England the progress of commerce was ex¬ 
tremely slow ; and the causes of this are obvious. 
During the Saxon heptarchy, England, split into 
many petty kingdoms, which were perpetually at 
variance with each other; exposed to the fierce 
incursions of the Danes and other northern pirates ; 
and sunk in barbarity and ignorance, was in no 
condition to cultivate commerce, or to pursue any 
system of useful and salutary policy. When a bet¬ 
ter prospect began to open by the union of the 
kingdom under one monarch, the Norman conquest 
took place. ' This occasioned such a violent shock, 
as well as such a sudden and total revolution of 
property, that the nation did not recover from it 
during several reigns. By the time that the con¬ 
stitution began to acquire some stability, and the 
English had so incorporated with their conquerors 
as to become one people, the nation engaged with 
no less ardour than imprudence in support of the 


pretensions of their sovereigns to the crown of 
France, and long wasted its vigour and genius in 
its wild efforts to conquer that kingdom. When, 
by ill success, and repeated disappointments, a 
period was at last put to this fatal frenzy, and the 
nation, beginning to enjoy some repose, had leisure 
to breathe and to gather new strength, the destruc¬ 
tive wars between the houses of York and Lancas¬ 
ter broke out, and involved the kingdom in the 
worst of all calamities. Thus, besides the common 
obstructions of commerce occasioned by the nature 
of the feudal government and the state of manners 
during the middle ages, its progress in England was 
retarded by peculiar causes. Such a succession of 
events adverse to the commercial spirit was sufficient 
to have checked its growth, although every other 
circumstance had favoured it. The English were 
accordingly one of the last nations in Europe who 
availed themselves of those commercial advantages 
which were natural or peculiar to their country. 
Before the reign of Edward III., all the avooI of 
England, except a small quantity wrought into 
coarse cloths for home consumption, was sold to the 
Flemings or Lombards, and manufactured by them. 
Though Edw r ard, A. D. 1326, began to allure some 
of the Flemish weavers to settle in England, it was 
long before the English w ere capable of fabricating 
cloth for foreign markets, and the export of un¬ 
wrought wool still continued to be the chief article 
of their commerce. Anderson, passim.—All foreign 
commodities were brought into England by the 
Lombards or Hanseatic merchants. The English 
ports were frequented by ships both from the north 
and south of Europe, and they tamely allowed 
foreigners to reap all the profits arising from the 
supply of their wants. The first commercial treaty 
of England on record, is that with Haquin, king of 
Norway, A. D. 1217. Anders, vol. i. p. 108. But 
the English did not venture to trade in their ow n 
ships to the Baltic until the beginning of the four¬ 
teenth century. Ibid. p. 151. It was after the 
middle of the fifteenth before they sent any ship 
into the Mediterranean. Ibid. p. 177. Nor was it 
long before this period that their vessels began to 
visit the ports of Spain or Portugal. But though 
I have pointed out the slow progress of the English 
commerce as a fact little attended to, and yet merit¬ 
ing consideration; the concourse of foreigners to 
the ports of England, together with the communi¬ 
cation among all the different countries in Europe, 
which went on increasing from the beginning of the 
twelfth century, is sufficient to justify all the obser¬ 
vations and reasonings in the text concerning the 
influence of commerce on the state of manners and 
of society. 

Note XXXI. Sect. III. p. 354. 

I have not been able to discover the precise 
manner in which the Justiza w r as appointed. Among 
the claims of the junta or union formed against 
James I. A. D. 1264, this was one, That the king 



A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


should not nominate any person to be Justiza with¬ 
out the consent or approbation of the ricoshombres 
or nobles. Zurita Anales de Aragon, vol. i. p. 180. 
But the king in his answer to their remonstrance 
asserts, “ that it was established by immemorial 
practice, and was conformable to the laws of the 
kingdom, that the king in virtue of his royal pre¬ 
rogative should name the Justiza/’ Zurita, ib. 181. 
Blanca, 656. From another passage in Zurita it 
appears, that while the Aragonese enjoyed the pri¬ 
vilege of the union, i. e. the power of confederating 
against their sovereign as often as they conceived 
that he had violated any of their rights and immu¬ 
nities, the Justiza was not only nominated by the 
king, but held his office during the king’s pleasure. 
Nor was this practice attended with any bad effects, 
as the privilege of the union was a sufficient and 
effectual check to any abuse of the royal prerogative. 
But when the privilege of the union was abolished 
as dangerous to the order and peace of society, it 
was agreed that the Justiza should continue in office 
during life. Several kings, however, attempted to 
remove Justizas who were obnoxious to them, and 
they sometimes succeeded in the attempt. In order 
to guard against this encroachment, which would 
have destroyed the intention of the institution, and 
have rendered the Justiza the dependant and tool 
of the crown instead of the guardian of the people, 
a law was enacted in the Cortes, A. D. 1442, or¬ 
daining that the Justiza should continue in office 
during life, and should not be removed from it 
unless by the authority of the Cortes. Fueros et 
Observancias del Reyno de Arag. lib. i. p. 22. By- 
former laws the person of the Justiza had been de¬ 
clared sacred, and he was responsible only to the 
Cortes. Ibid. p. 15. b. Zurita and Blanca, who 
both published their histories while the Justiza of 
Aragon retained the full exercise of his privileges 
and jurisdiction, have neglected to explain several 
circumstances with regard to the office of that re¬ 
spectable magistrate, because they addressed their 
works to their countrymen, who were well acquaint¬ 
ed with every particular concerning the functions of 
a judge to whom they looked up as to the guardian 
of their liberties. It is vain to consult the later 
historians of Spain about any point with respect to 
which the excellent historians whom I have named 
are silent. The ancient constitution of their coun¬ 
try was overturned, and despotism established on 
the ruin of its liberties, when the writers of this and 
the preceding century composed their histories; and 
on that account they had little curiosity to know the 
nature of those institutions to which their ancestors 
owed the enjoyment of freedom, or they were afraid 
to describe them with much accuracy. The spirit 
with which Mariana, his continuator Miniana, and 
Ferreras, write their histories, is very different from 
that of the two historians of Aragon from whom I 
have taken my account of the constitution of that 
kingdom. 

Two circumstances concerning the Justiza, be¬ 


sides those which I have mentioned in the text, aie 
worthy of observation: 1. None of the ricoshombres, 
or noblemen of the lirst order, could be appointed 
Justiza. He was taken out of the second class of ca- 
vaileros, who seem to have been nearly ot the same 
condition or rank with gentlemen or commoners in 
Great Britain. Fueros et Observanc. del Reyno, 
&c. lib. i. p. 21. b. The reason was, By the laws 
of Aragon the ricoshombres were not subject to 
capital punishment; but as it was necessary lor 
the security of liberty that the Justiza should be 
accountable for the manner in which he executed 
the high trust reposed in him, it was a powerful re¬ 
straint upon him to know that he was liable to be 
punished capitally. Blanca, p. 657, 756. Zurita, 
tom. ii. 229. Fueros et Observanc. lib. ix. p. 182. 
b. 183. It appears too from many passages in Zu¬ 
rita, that the Justiza was appointed to check the 
domineering and oppressive spirit of the nobles, as 
well as to set bounds to the power of the monarch, 
and therefore he was chosen from an order of citi¬ 
zens equally interested in opposing both. 

2. A magistrate possessed of such vast powers as 
the Justiza, might have exercised them in a man¬ 
ner pernicious to the state, if he himself had been 
subject to no control. A constitutional remedy was 
on that account provided against this danger. Seven¬ 
teen persons were chosen by lot in each meeting of 
the Cortes. These formed a tribunal, called the 
court of inquisition into the office of Justiza. This 
court met at three stated terms in each year. Every 
person had liberty of complaining to it of any ini¬ 
quity or neglect of duty in the Justiza, or in the 
inferior judges who acted in his name. The Justiza 
and his deputies were called to answer for their 
conduct. The members of the court passed sentence 
by ballot. They might punish by degradation, con¬ 
fiscation of goods, or even with death. The law 
which erected this court, and regulated the form of 
its procedure, was enacted A. I). 1461. Zurita 
Anales, iv. 102. Blanca Comment. Rer. Aragon, 
770. Previous to this period, inquiry was made into 
the conduct of the Justiza, though not with the same 
formality. He was, from the first institution of the 
office, subject to the review of the Cortes. The con¬ 
stant dread of such an impartial and severe inquiry 
into his behaviour, was a powerful motive to the 
vigilant and faithful discharge of his duty. A re¬ 
markable instance of the authority of the Justiza, 
when opposed to that of the king, occurs in the year 
1386. By the constitution of Aragon, the eldest son 
or heir-apparent of the crown possessed considerable 
power and jurisdiction in the kingdom. Fueros et 
Observanc. del Reyno de Arag. lib. i. p. 16. Peter 
IV., instigated by a second wife, attempted to de¬ 
prive his son of this, and enjoined his subjects to 
yield him no obedience. The prince immediately 
applied to the Justiza, “ the safeguard and defence 
(says Zurita) against all violence and oppression.” 
The Justiza granted him the Jirmo de derecho, the 
effect ot which was, that upon his giving surety to 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


413 


appear in judgment, he could not be deprived of 
any immunity or privilege which he possessed, but 
in consequence of a legal trial before the Justiza, 
and ol a sentence pronounced by him. This was 
published throughout the kingdom ; and notwith¬ 
standing the proclamation in contradiction to this 
which had been issued by the king, the prince con¬ 
tinued in the exercise of all his rights, and his au¬ 
thority was universally recognised. Zurita Anales 
de Aragon, tom. ii. 385. 

Note XXXII. Sect. III. p. 354. 

I have been induced, by the concurring testimony 
of many respectable authors, to mention this as the 
constitutional form of the oath of allegiance which 
the Aragonese took to their sovereigns. I must ac¬ 
knowledge, however, that I have not found this 
singular oath in any Spanish author whom I have 
had an opportunity of consulting. It is mentioned 
neither by Zurita, nor Blanca, nor Argensola, nor 
Say as, who were all historiographers appointed by 
the Cortes of Aragon to record the transactions of 
the kingdom. All these writers possess a merit 
which is very rare among historians. They are ex¬ 
tremely accurate in tracing the progress of the laws 
and constitution of their country. Their silence w ith 
respect to this creates some suspicion concerning 
the genuineness of the oath. But as it is mentioned 
by so many authors who produce the ancient Spanish 
words in which it is expressed, it is probable that 
they have taken it from some writer of credit whose 
works have not fallen into my hands. The spirit of 
the oath is perfectly agreeable to the genius of the 
Aragonese constitution. Since the publication of 
the first edition, the learned M. Totze, Professor 
of History at Batzow in the duchy of Mecklenburg, 
has been so good as to point out to me a Spanish 
author of great authority who has published the 
words of this oath. It is Antonio Perez, a native 
of Aragon, secretary to Philip II. The words of 
the oath are, “ Nos que valemos tanto como vos, os 
hazemos nuestro Rey y Segnor, con tal que nos 
guardeys nuestros fueros, y libertades, y si No, No.” 
Las Obras y Relaciones de Ant. Perez. 8vo. par 
Juan de la Planche 1631, p. 143. 

The privilege of Union which I have mentioned in 
the preceding Note, and alluded to in the text, is 
indeed one of the most singular which could take 
place in a regular government, and the oath that I 
have quoted expresses nothing more than this con¬ 
stitutional privilege entitled the Aragonese to per¬ 
form. If the king or his ministers violated any of 
the laws or immunities of the Aragonese, and did 
not grant immediate redress in consequence of their 
representations and remonstrances, the nobles of 
the first rank, or Ricoshombrcs de natura, et de mes- 
nada , the equestrian order, or the nobility of the 
second class, called Hidalgos et Infanciones, toge¬ 
ther with the magistrates of cities, might, either in 
the Cortes or in a voluntary assembly, join in union, 
and binding themselves by mutual oaths and the 


exchange of hostages to be faithful to each other, 
they might require the king, in the name and by the 
authority of this body corporate, to grant them re¬ 
dress. If the king refused to comply with their 
request, or took arms in order to oppose them, they 
might, in virtue of the privilege of union, instantly 
withdraw their allegiance from the king, refuse to 
acknowledge him as their sovereign, and proceed 
to elect another monarch ; nor did they incur any 
guilt, or become liable to any prosecution, on that 
account. Blanca Com. Rer. Arag. 661, 669. This 
union did not resemble the confederacies in other 
feudal kingdoms. It was a constitutional associa¬ 
tion, in which legal privileges were vested, which 
issued its mandates under a common seal, and pro¬ 
ceeded in all its operations by regular and ascer¬ 
tained forms. This dangerous right was not only 
claimed, but exercised. In the year 1287, the Ara¬ 
gonese formed a union in opposition to Alfonso III., 
and obliged that king not only to comply with their 
demands, but to ratify a privilege so fatal to the 
power of the crown. Zurita Anales, tom. i. p. 322. In 
the year 1347, a union was formed against Peter 
IV. with equal success, and a new ratification of 
the privilege was extorted. Zurita. tom. ii. p. 202. 
But soon after, the king having defeated the leaders 
of the union in battle, the privilege of union was 
finally abrogated in the Cortes, and all the laws or 
records which contained any confirmation of it were 
cancelled or destroyed. The king, in presence of 
the Cortes, called for the act whereby he had rati¬ 
fied the union, and having wounded his hand with 
his poniard, he held it above the record—“ That pri¬ 
vilege (says he) which has been so fatal to the king¬ 
dom, and so injurious to royalty, should be effaced 
with the blood of a king.” Zurita, tom. ii. p. 229. 
The law abolishing the union is published Fueros 
et Observanc. lib. ix. p. 178. From that period the 
Justiza became the constitutional guardian of pub¬ 
lic liberty, and his power and jurisdiction occasion¬ 
ed none of those violent convulsions which the 
tumultuary privilege of the union was apt to produce. 
The constitution of Aragon, however, still remained 
extremely free. One source of this liberty arose 
from the early admission of the representatives of 
cities into the Cortes. It seems probable from Zu¬ 
rita, that burgesses were constituent members of 
the Cortes from its first institution. He mentions a 
meeting of Cortes, A. D. 1133, in which the procu- 
radores de las ciudades y villas were present. Tom. i. 
p. 51. This is the constitutional language in which 
their presence is declared in the Cortes, after the 
journals of that court were regularly kept. It is 
probable that an historian so accurate as Zurita 
would not have used these words, if he had not 
taken them from some authentic record. It was 
more than a century after this period before the re¬ 
presentatives of cities formed a constituent part in 
the supreme assemblies of the other European na¬ 
tions. The free spirit of the Aragonese government, 
is conspicuous in many particulars. The Cortes 



A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


not only opposed the attempts of their kings to in¬ 
crease their revenue or to extend their prerogative, 
but they claimed rights and exercised powers which 
will appear extraordinary even in a country accus¬ 
tomed to the enjoyment of liberty. In the year 
12SG, the Cortes claimed the privilege of naming 
the members of the king’s council and the officers 
of his household ; and they seem to have obtained 
it for some time. Zurita, tom. i. p. 303, 307. It 
was the privilege of the Cortes to name the officers 
who commanded the troops raised by their authority. 
This seems to be evident from a passage in Zurita. 
When the Cortes, in the year 1503, raised a body 
of troops to be employed in Italy, it passed an act 
empowering the king to name the officers who 
should command them, Zurita, tom. v. p. 274.; 
which plainly implies, that without this warrant it 
did not belong to him in virtue of his prerogative. 
In the Fueros etObservancias del Reyno de Aragon, 
two general declarations of the rights and privileges 
of the Aragonese are published ; the one in the 
reign of Pedro I., A. D. 1283, the other in that of 
James II., A. D. 1325. They are of such a length 
that I cannot insert them; but it is evident from 
these, that not only the privileges of the nobility, 
but the rights of the people, personal as well as po¬ 
litical, were at that period more extensive and better 
understood than in any kingdom in Europe. Lib. i. 
p. 7, 9. The oath by which the king bound himself 
to observe those rights and liberties of the people, 
was very solemn. Ibid. p. 14. b. & p. 15. The Cortes 
of Aragon discovered not only the jealousy and vi¬ 
gilance which are peculiar to free states in guarding 
the essential parts of the constitution, but they were 
scrupulously attentive to observe the most minute 
forms and ceremonies to which they were accustom¬ 
ed. According to the established laws and customs 
of Aragon, no foreigner had liberty to enter the hall 
in which the Cortes assembled. Ferdinand, in the 
year 1481, appointed his queen, Isabella, regentofthe 
kingdom, while he was absent during the course of the 
campaign. The law required that a regent should 
take the oath of fidelity in presence of the Cortes; 
but as Isabella was a foreigner, before she could be 
admitted the Cortes thought it necessary to pass an 
act authorizing the serjeant-porter to open the door 
of the hall, and to allow her to enter ; “ so attentive 
were they (says Zurita) to observe their laws and 
forms, even such as may seem most minute.” Tom. 
iv. p. 313. 

The Aragonese were no less solicitous to secure 
the personal rights of individuals than to maintain 
the freedom of the constitution ; and the spirit of 
their statutes with respect to both was equally 
liberal. Two facts relative to this matter merit ob¬ 
servation. By an express statute in the year 1335, 
it was declared to be unlawful to put any native 
Aragonese to the torture. If he could not be con¬ 
victed by the testimony of witnesses, he was in¬ 
stantly absolved. Zurita, tom. ii. p. 66. Zurita 
records the regulation with the satisfaction natural 


to an historian when he contemplates the humanity 
of his countrymen. He compares the laws of 
Aragon to those of Rome, as both exempted citizens 
and freemen from such ignominious and cruel treat¬ 
ment, and had recourse to it only in the trial of 
slaves. Zurita had reason to bestow such an en¬ 
comium on the laws of his country. Torture was 
at that time permitted by the laws of every other 
nation in Europe. Even in England, from which 
the mild spirit of legislation has long banished it, 
torture was not at that time unknown. Observa¬ 
tions on the Statutes, chiefly the more ancient, &c. 

p. 66. 

The other fact shows that the same spirit which 
influenced the legislature prevailed among the 
people. In the year 1485, the religious zeal of 
Ferdinand and Isabella prompted them to introduce 
the inquisition into Aragon. Though the Aragonese 
were no less superstitiously attached than the other 
Spaniards to the Roman catholic faith, and no less 
desirous to root out the seeds of error and of heresy 
which the Jews and Moors had scattered, yet they 
took arms against the inquisitors, murdered the 
chief inquisitor, and long opposed the establishment 
of that tribunal. The reason which they gave for 
their conduct was, That the mode of trial in the in¬ 
quisition was inconsistent with liberty. The cri¬ 
minal was not confronted with the witnesses, he was 
not acquainted with what they deposed against him, 
he was subjected to torture, and the goods of per¬ 
sons condemned were confiscated. Zurita Anales, 
tom. iv. p. 341. 

The form of government in the kingdom of Va¬ 
lencia and principality of Catalonia, which were 
annexed to the crown of Aragon, was likewise ex¬ 
tremely favourable to liberty. The Valencians en¬ 
joyed the privilege of union in the same manner 
with the Aragonese. But they had no magistrate 
resembling the Justiza. The Catalonians were no 
less jealous of their liberties than the two other na¬ 
tions, and no less bold in asserting them. But it is 
not necessary for illustrating the following history, 
to enter into any further detail concerning the pecu¬ 
liarities in the constitution of these kingdoms. 

Note XXXIII. Sect. III. p. 354. 

I have searched in vain among the historians of 
Castile for such information as might enable me to 
trace the progress of laws and government in Cas¬ 
tile, or to explain the nature of the constitution with 
the same degree of accuracy wherewith I have de¬ 
scribed the political state of Aragon. It is mani¬ 
fest not only from the historians of Castile, but from 
its ancient laws, particularly the Fuero Juzgo, that 
its monarchs were originally elective. Ley, 2, 5, 8. 
They were chosen by the bishops, the nobility, and 
the people. Ibid. It appears from the same ven¬ 
erable code of laws, that the prerogative of the 
Castilian monarchs was extremely limited. Villal- 
diego, in his commentary on the Fuero Juzgo, pro¬ 
duces many facts and authorities in confirmation of 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


415 


Doth these particulars. Dr. Geddes, who was well 
acquainted with Spanish literature, complains that 
he could find no author who save a distinct account 
of the Cortes or supreme assembly of the nation, or 
who described the manner in which it was held, or 
mentioned the precise number of members who had 
a right to sit in it. He produces, however, from 
Gil Gonzales d’Avila, who published a history of 
Henry II., the writ of summons to the town of 
Abu la, requiring it to choose representatives to ap¬ 
pear in the Cortes which he called to meet A. D. 
1390. From this we learn, that prelates, dukes, 
marquisses, the masters of the three military orders, 
corides, and ricoshombres, were required to attend. 
These composed the bodies of ecclesiastics and 
nobles, which formed two members of the legisla¬ 
ture. The cities which sent members to that meet¬ 
ing of the Cortes were forty-eight. The number of 
representatives (for the cities had right to choose 
more or fewer according to their respective dignity) 
amounted to a hundred and twenty-five. Geddes’ 
Miscellaneous Tracts, vol. i. p. 331. Zurita having 
occasion to mention the Cortes which Ferdinand 
held at Toro A. D. 1505, in order to secure for him¬ 
self the government of Castile after the death of 
Isabella, records, with his usual accuracy, the 
names of the members present, and of the cities 
which they represented. From that list it appears 
that only eighteen cities had deputies in this as¬ 
sembly. Anales de Aragon, tom. vi. p. 3. What 
was the occasion of this great difference in the num¬ 
ber of cities represented in these two meetings of 
the Cortes, I am unable to explain. 

Note XXXIV. Sect. III. p. 355. 

A great part of the territory in Spain was en¬ 
grossed by the nobility. L. Marinaeus Siculus, who 
composed his treatise De Rebus Hispaniae during 
the reign of Charles V., gives a catalogue of the 
Spanish nobility, together with the yearly rent of 
their estates. According to his account, which he 
affirms was as accurate as the nature of the subject 
would admit, the sum total of the annual revenue of 
their lands amounted to one million four hundred 
and eighty-two thousand ducats. If we make al¬ 
lowance for the great difference in the value of 
money in the fifteenth century from that which it 
now bears, and consider that the catalogue of Mari¬ 
naeus includes only the Titulados , or nobility whose 
families were distinguished by some honorary title, 
their wealth must appear very great. L. Marinaeus 
ap. Schott. Scriptores Hispan. vol i. p. 323. The 
commons of Castile, in their contests with the crown, 
which I shall hereafter relate, complain of the 
extensive property of the nobility as extremely 
pernicious to the kingdom. In one of their mani¬ 
festos they assert, that from Valladolid to St. Jago 
in Galicia, which was an hundred leagues, the 
crown did not possess more than three villages. 
All the rest belonged to the nobility, and could be 
subjected to no public burden. Sandov. Vida del 


Emperor Carl. V. vol. i. p. 422. It appears from 
the testimony of authors quoted by Bovadilla, that 
these extensive possessions were bestowed upon 
the ricoshombres , hidalgos , and cavalleros, by the 
kings of Castile, in reward for the assistance which 
they had received from them in expelling the 
Moors. They likewise obtained by the same means 
a considerable influence in the cities, many of which 
anciently depended upon the nobility. Politica 
para Corregidores. Amb. 1750. fol. vol. i. 440,442. 

Note XXXV. Sect. III. p. 356. 

I have been able to discover nothing certain, as 
I observed, Note XVIII., with respect to the origin 
of communities of free cities in Spain. It is pro¬ 
bable that as soon as the considerable towns were 
recovered from the Moors, the inhabitants who 
fixed their residence in them, being persons of dis¬ 
tinction and credit, had all the privilege of mu¬ 
nicipal government and jurisdiction conferred upon 
them. Many striking proofs occur of the splendour, 
wealth, and power of the Spanish cities. Hierony¬ 
mus Paulus wrote a description of Barcelona in 
the year 1491, and compares the dimensions of the 
town to that of Naples, and the elegance of its 
buildings, the variety of its manufactures, and the 
extent of its commerce, to Florence. Hieron. Pau¬ 
lus ap. Schott. Scrip. Hisp. ii. 844. Marinaeus 
describes Toledo as a large and populous city. A 
great number of its inhabitants were persons of 
quality and of illustrious rank. Its commerce was 
great. It carried on with great activity and success 
the manufactures of silk and wool; and the num¬ 
ber of inhabitants employed in these two branches 
of trade amounted nearly to ten thousand. Marin, 
ubi supr. p. 308. I know no city, says he, that I 
would prefer to Valladolid for elegance and splen¬ 
dour. Ibid. p. 312. We may form some estimate 
of its populousness from the following circum¬ 
stances. The citizens having taken arms, in the 
year 1516, in order to oppose a measure concerted 
by cardinal Ximenes, they mustered in the city, 
and in the territory which belonged to it, thirty 
thousand fighting men. Sandov. Vida, del Emper. 
Carl. V. tom. i. p. 81. The manufactures carried 
on in the towns of Spain were not intended merely 
for home consumption, they were exported to fo¬ 
reign countries, and their commerce was a con¬ 
siderable source of wealth to the inhabitants. The 
maritime laws of Barcelona are the foundation of 
mercantile jurisprudence in modern times, as the 
Leges Rhodiae were among the ancients. All the 
commercial states in Italy adopted these laws, and 
regulated their trade according to them. Sandi 
Storia Civile Veneziani, vol. ii. 865. It appears 
from several ordonnances of the kings of France, 
that the merchants of Aragon and Castile were re¬ 
ceived on the same footing, and admitted to the 
same privileges, with those of Italy. Ordonnances 
des Roys, &c. tom. ii. p. 135. iii. 166, 504, 635. 
Cities in such a flourishing state became a re- 



41G 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


spectable part of the society, and were entitled to 
a considerable share in the legislature. The ma¬ 
gistrates of Barcelona aspired to the highest honour 
a Spanish subject can enjoy, that of being covered 
in the presence of their sovereign, and of being 
treated as grandees of the kingdom. Origin de la 
Dignidad de Grande de Castilla por Don Alonso 
Carillo. Madr. 1657, p. 18. 

Note XXXVI. Sect. III. p. 356. 

The military order of St. Jago, the most ho¬ 
nourable and opulent of the three Spanish orders, 
was instituted about the year 1170. The bull of 
confirmation by Alexander III. is dated A. D. 1176. 
At that time a considerable part of Spain still re¬ 
mained under subjection to the Moors, and the 
whole country was much exposed to depredations 
not only of the enemy, but of banditti. It is no 
wonder, then, that an institution the object of which 
was to oppose the enemies of the Christian faith, 
and to restrain and punish those who disturbed the 
public peace, should be extremely popular, and 
meet with general encouragement. The wealth 
and power of the order became so great, that, ac¬ 
cording to one historian, the grand master of St. 
Jago was the person in Spain of greatest power and 
dignity next to the king. ^El. Anton. Nebrissen- 
sis, ap. Schott. Scrip. Hisp. i. 812. Another his¬ 
torian observes, that the order possessed every 
thing in Castile that a king would most desire to 
obtain. Zurita Anales, v. 22. The knights took 
the vows of obedience, of poverty, and of conjugal 
chastity. By the former they were bound implicitly 
to obey the commands of their grand master. The 
order could bring into the field a thousand men at 
arms. kEl. Ant. Nebriss. p. 813. If, as we have 
reason to believe, these men at arms were accom¬ 
panied as was usual in that age, this was a formi¬ 
dable body of cavalry. There belonged to this order 
eighty-four commanderies, and two hundred priories 
and other benefices. Dissertations sur la Chevalerie 
par Hon. de St. Marie, p. 262. It is obvious how 
formidable to his sovereign the command of these 
troops, the administration of such revenues, and 
the disposal of so many offices, must have rendered 
a subject. The other two orders, though inferior to 
that of St, Jago in power and wealth, were never¬ 
theless very considerable fraternities. When the 
conquest of Granada deprived the knights of St. 
Jago of those enemies against whom their zeal 
was originally directed, superstition found out a 
new object, in defence of which they engaged to 
employ their courage. To their usual oath they 
added the following clause: “We do swear to be¬ 
lieve, to maintain, and to contend in public and in 
private, that the Virgin Mary, the Mother of God, 
our Lady, was conceived without the stain of origi¬ 
nal sin.” This addition was made about the middle 
of the seventeenth century. Honore de St. Marie 
Dissertations, ike. p. 263.—Nor is such a singular 
engagement peculiar to the order of St. Jago. The 


members of the second military order in Spain, that 
of Calatrava, equally zealous to employ their 
prowess in defence of the honours of the blessed 
Virgin, have likewise professed themselves her true 
knights. Their vow, conceived in terms more the¬ 
ologically accurate than that of St. Jago, may afford 
some amusement to an English reader. “ I vow to 
God, to the Grand Master, and to you who here re¬ 
present his person, that now, and for ever, I will 
maintain and contend, that the Virgin Mary, Mother 
of God, our Lady, was conceived without original 
sin, and never incurred the pollution of it; but that 
in the moment of her happy conception, and of the 
union of her soul with her body, the Divine Grace 
prevented and preserved her from original guilt, by 
the merits of the passion and death of Christ our 
Redeemer, her future Son, foreseen in the Divine 
Council, by which she was truly redeemed, and by 
a more noble kind of redemption than any of the 
children of Adam. In the belief of this truth, and 
in maintaining the honour of the most Holy Virgin, 
through the strength of Almighty God, I will live 
and will die." Deliniciones de la Olden, de Cala¬ 
trava, conforme al Capitulo General en 1652, fol. 
Madr. 1748. p. 153. Though the church of Rome 
hath prudently avoided to give its sanction to the 
doctrine of the immaculate conception, and the two 
great monastic orders of St. Dominick and St. Fran¬ 
cis have espoused opposite opinions concerning it, 
the Spaniards are such ardent champions for the 
honour of the Virgin, that when the present king of 
Spain instituted a new military order in the year 
1771, in commemoration of the birth of his grand¬ 
son, he put it under the immediate protection of the 
most Holy Mary, in the mystery of her immaculate 
conception. Constitutiones de la Real y distin- 
guida Orden. Espanola de Carlos III. p. 7. To 
undertake the defence of the Virgin Mary's honour 
had such a resemblance to that species of refined 
gallantry which was the original object of chivalry, 
that the zeal with which the military orders bound 
themselves, by a solemn vow, to defend it, was wor¬ 
thy of a true knight, in those ages when the spirit 
of the institution subsisted in full vigour. But in 
the present age it must excite some surprise to see 
the institution of an illustrious order connected with 
a doctrine so extravagant, and destitute of any foun¬ 
dation in Scripture. 

Note XXXVII. Sect. III. p. 357. 

I have frequently had occasion to take notice of 
the defects in police during the middle ages, occa¬ 
sioned by the feebleness of government and the 
want of proper subordination among the different 
ranks of men. I have observed in a former Note, 
that this greatly interrupted the intercourse be¬ 
tween nations, and even between different places in 
the same kingdom. The description which the 
Spanish historians give of the frequency of rapine, 
murder, and every act of violence in all the pro¬ 
vinces of Spain, are amazing, and present to us the 




417 


PROOFS AND 

idea of a society but little removed from the disorder 
and turbulence of that which has been called a state 
of nature. Zurita Anales de Arag. i. 175. JE 1. Ant. 
Nebrissensis Rer. a Ferdin. gestar. Hist. ap. Schot- 
tum. ii. 849. Though the excess of these disorders 
rendered the institution of the Santa Hermandad 
necessary, great care was taken at first to avoid giv¬ 
ing any offence or alarm to the nobility. The juris¬ 
diction of the judges of the Hermandad was expressly 
confined to crimes which violated the public peace. 
All other offences were left to the cognizance of the 
ordinary judges. If a person was guilty of the most 
notorious perjury in any trial before a judge of the 
Hermandad, he could not punish him, but was 
obliged to remit the case to the ordinary judge of 
the place. Commentaria in Regias Hispan. Con- 
stitut. per Alph. de Azevedo, pars v. p. 223, &c. fol. 
Duaci, 1612. Notwithstanding these restrictions, 
the barons were early sensible how much the estab¬ 
lishment of the Hermandad would encroach on their 
jurisdiction. In Castile some opposition was made 
to the institution ; but Ferdinand had the address 
to obtain the consent of the constable to the intro¬ 
duction of the Hermandad into that part of the 
kingdom where his estate lay; and by that means, 
as well as the popularity of the institution, he sur¬ 
mounted every obstacle that stood in its way. .El. 
Ant. Nebrissen. 851. In Aragon the nobles com¬ 
bined against it with great spirit; and Ferdinand, 
though he supported it with vigour, was obliged to 
make some concessions in order to reconcile them. 
Zurita Anales de Arag. iv. 356. The power and 
revenue of the Hermandad in Castile seem to have 
been very great. Ferdinand, when preparing for the 
war against the Moors of Granada, required of the 
Hermandad to furnish him sixteen thousand beasts 
of burden, together with eight thousand men to 
conduct them ; and he obtained what he demanded. 
Ml. Ant. Nebriss. 881. The Hermandad has been 
found to be of so much use in preserving peace, 
and restraining or detecting crimes, that it is still 
continued in Spain; but as it is no longer neces¬ 
sary either for moderating the power of the nobility 
or extending that of the crown, the vigour and au¬ 
thority of the institution diminish gradually. 

Note XXXVIII. Sect. III. p. 358. 

Nothing is more common among antiquaries, 
and there is not a more copious source of error, 
than to decide concerning the institutions and man¬ 
ners of past ages by the forms and ideas which pre¬ 
vail in their own times. The French lawyers in the 
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, having found 
their sovereigns in possession of absolute power, 
seem to think it a duty incumbent on them to main¬ 
tain that such undoubted authority belonged to the 
crown in every period of their monarchy. “ The 
government of France/’ says M. de Real very 
gravely, “ is purely monarchical at this day, as it 
was from the beginning. Our kings were absolute 

originally as they are at present.” Science de Gou- 

2 E 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

vernement, tom. ii. p. 31. It is impossible, how ¬ 
ever, to conceive two states of civil society more 
unlike to each other than that of the French nation 
under Clovis and that under Louis XV. It is evi¬ 
dent from the codes of laws of the various tribes 
which settled in Gaul and the countries adjacent to 
it, as well as from the history of Gregory of Tours 
and other early annalists, that among all these people 
the form of government was extremely rude and 
simple, and that they had scarcely begun to acquire 
the first rudiments of that order and police which 
are necessary in extensive societies. The king or 
leader had the command of soldiers or companions, 
who followed his standard from choice, not by con¬ 
straint. I have produced the clearest evidence of 
this, Note VI. An event related by Gregory of Tours 
lib. iv. c. 14. affords the most striking proof of the 
dependence of the early French kings on the senti¬ 
ment and inclination of their people. Clotaire I. 
having marched at the head of his army in the year 
553 against the •Saxons, that people, intimidated at 
his approach, sued for peace, and offered to pay a 
large sum to the offended monarch. Clotaire was 
willing to close with what they proposed. But his 
army insisted to be led forth to battle. The king 
employed all his eloquence to persuade them to 
accept of what the Saxons were ready to pay. The 
Saxons, in order to soothe them, increased their 
original offer. The king renewed his solicitations ; 
but the army, enraged, rushed upon the king, tore 
his tent in pieces, dragged him out of it, and would 
have slain him on the spot, if he had not consented 
to lead them instantly against the enemy. 

If the early monarchs of France possessed such 
limited authority, even while at the head of their 
army, their prerogative during peace will be found 
to be still more confined. They ascended the throne 
not by any hereditary right, but in consequence of 
the election of their subjects. In order to avoid an 
unnecessary number of quotations, I refer my readers 
to Hottomanni Franco-Gallia, cap. vi. p. 47. edit. 
1573, where they will find the fullest proof of this 
from Gregory of Tours, Amoinus, and the most 
authentic historians of the Merovingian kings. The 
effect of this election was not to invest them with 
absolute power. Whatever related to the general 
welfare of the nation, was submitted to public de¬ 
liberation, and determined by the suffrage of the 
people, in the annual assemblies called Les Champs 
de Mars and Les Champs de Mai. These assem¬ 
blies were called Champs , because, according to the 
custom of all the barbarous nations, they were held 
in the open air, in some plain capable of containing 
the vast number of persons who had a right to be 
present. Jo. Jac. Sorberus de Comitiis veterum 
Germanorum, vol. i. § 19, &c. They were denomi¬ 
nated Champs de Mars and de Mai, from the months 
in which they were held. Every freeman seems to 
have had a right to be present in these assemblies. 
Sorberus, ibid. § 133, &c. The ancient annals of 
the Franks describe the persons who were present 



418 A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE, 

in the assembly held A. D. 788, in these words: In 


placito Ingelheimensi conveniuntpontifices, majores, 
minores, sacerdotes, reguli, duces, comites, praefecti, 
cives, oppidani. Apud Sorber. § 304. There every 
thing that concerned the happiness of their country, 
says an ancient historian, every thing that could be 
of benefit to the Franks, was considered and en¬ 
joined. Fredegarius ap Du Cange Glossar. voc. 
Campus Martii. Chlotharius II. describes the busi¬ 
ness and acknowledges the authority of these as¬ 
semblies. They are called, says he, that whatever 
relates to the common safety may be considered and 
resolved by common deliberation ; and whatever 
they determine, to that I will conform. Amoinus 
de Gest. Franc, lib. iv. c. i. ap. Bouquet Recueil, 
iii. 1IG. The statutory clauses, or words of legis¬ 
lative authority, in the decrees issued in these as¬ 
semblies, run not in the name of the king alone. 
“ We have treated, says Childebert, in a decree 
A. D. 532, in the assembly of March, together with 
our nobles, concerning some affairs, and we now 
publish the conclusion, that it may come to the 
knowledge of all.” Childeb. Decret. ap. Bouquet 
Recueil des Histor. tom. iv. p. 3. We have agreed, 
together with our vassals. Ibid. § 2. It is agreed 
in the assembly in which we were all united. Ibid. 
§ 4. The Salic laws, the most venerable monument 
of French jurisprudence, were enacted in the same 
manner. Dictaverunt Salicam legem proceres ipsius 
gentis, qui tunc tenrporis apud earn erant Rectores. 
Sunt autem electi de pluribus viri quatuor—qui per 
ties Mallos convenientes, omnes causarum origines 
solicite discurrendo, tractantes de singulis judicium 
decreverunt hoc modo. Prasf. Leg. Salic, ap. Bou¬ 
quet. Ibid. p. 122. Hoc decretum est apud regem 
et principes ejus, et apud cunctum populum christi- 
anum, qui infra regnum Merwingorum consistunt. 
Ibid. p. 124. Nay, even in their charters the kings 
of the first race are careful to specify that they were 
granted with the consent of their vassals. Ego 
Childebertus Rex una cum consensu et voluntate 
Francorum, See. A. D. 558. Bouquet, ibid. 622. 
Chlotharius III. una cum patribus nostris episcopis, 
optimatibus, caeterisque palatii nostri ministris, 
A. D. 664. Ib. 648. De consensu fidelium nostro- 
rum. Mably Observ. tom. i. p. 239. The historians 
likewise describe the functions of the king in the 
national assemblies, in such terms as imply that his 
authority there was extremely small, and that every 
thing depended on the court itself. Ipse Rex (says 
the author of Annales Francorum, speaking of the 
Field of March) sedebat in sella regia, circum- 
stante exercitu, praecipiebatque is, die illo, quic- 
quid a Francis decretum erat. Bouquet Recueil, 
tom. ii. p. 647. 

That the general assemblies exercised supreme 
jurisdiction over all persons, and with respect to 
all causes, is so evident as to stand in need of no 
proof. The trial of Brunehaut, A. D. 613, how 
unjust soever the sentence against her may be, as 
related by Fredegarius, Chron. cap. 42. Bouquet, 


ibid. 430. is in itself sufficient proof of this. The 
notorious violence and iniquity of the sentence 
serve to demonstrate the extent of jurisdiction 
which this assembly possessed, as a prince so san¬ 
guinary as Clothaire II. thought the sanction of its 
authority would be sufficient to justify his rigorous 
treatment of the mother and grandmother of so 
many kings. 

With respect to conferring donatives on the 
prince, we may observe, that among nations whose 
manners and political institutions are simple, the 
public as well as individuals having few wants, 
they are little acquainted with taxes, and free un¬ 
civilized tribes disdain to submit to any stated im¬ 
position. This was remarkably the case of the 
Germans, and of all the various people that issued 
from that country. Tacitus pronounces two tribes 
not to be of German origin, because they submitted 
to pa}' taxes. De Morib. Germ. c. 43. And speak¬ 
ing of another tribe according to the ideas preva¬ 
lent in Germany, he says, “ they were not degraded 
by the imposition of taxes.” Ibid. c. 29. Upon 
the settlement of the Franks in Gaul, we may con¬ 
clude, that while elated with the consciousness of 
victory they would not renounce the high-spirited 
ideas of their ancestors, or voluntarily submit to a 
burden which they regarded as a badge of servitude. 
The evidence of the earliest records and historians 
justifies this conclusion. M. de Montesquieu, in 
the twelfth and subsequent chapters of the thir¬ 
teenth book of FEsprit des Loix, and M. de Mably, 
Observat. sur THist. de France, tom. i. p. 247. have 
investigated this fact with great attention, and have 
proved clearly that the property of freemen among 
the Franks was not subject to any stated tax; that 
the state required nothing from persons of this rank 
but military service at their own expense, and that 
they should entertain the king in their houses when 
he was upon any progress through his dominions, or 
his officers when sent on any public employment, 
furnishing them with carriages and horses. Mon¬ 
arch s subsisted almost entirely upon the revenues 
of their own domains, and upon the perquisites 
arising from the administration of justice, together 
with a few small fines and forfeitures exacted from 
such as had been guilty of certain trespasses. It is 
foreign from my subject to enumerate these. The 
reader may find them in Observat. de M. de Mably, 
vol. i. p. 267. 

When any extraordinary aid was granted by free 
men to their sovereign, it was purely voluntary. In 
the annual assembly of March or May, it was the 
custom to make the king a present of money, of 
horses or arms, or some other thing of value. This 
was an ancient custom, and derived from their an¬ 
cestors the Germans. Mos est civitatibus, ultro ac 
viritim conferri principibus vel armentorum vel fru- 
gum, quod pro honore acceptum, etiam necessitati- 
bus subvenit. Tacit, de Mor. Germ. c. 15. These 
gifts, if we may form a judgment concerning them 
from the general terms in which they are mentioned 



4i9 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


by the ancient historians, were considerable, and 
made no small part of the royal revenue. Many 
passages to this purpose are produced by M. du 
Cange, Dissert, iv. sur Joinville, 153. Sometimes 
a conquered people specified the gift which they 
bound themselves to pay annually, and it was ex¬ 
acted as a debt if they failed. Annales Metenses, 
ap. Du Cange, ibid. p. 155. It is probable that the 
first step towards taxation was to ascertain the value 
of these gifts, which were originally gratuitous, and 
to compel the people to pay the sum at which they 
were rated. Still, however, some memory of their 
original was preserved, and the aids granted to 
monarclis in all the kingdoms of Europe were 
termed benevolences or free gifts. 

The kings of the second race in France were 
raised to the throne by the election of the people. 
Pepin us Rex pius, says an author w ho wrote a few 
years after the transaction which he records, per 
authoritatem Papas, et unctionem sancti chrismatis 
et electionem omnium Francorum in regni solio 
sublimatus est. Clausula de Pepini consecratione 
ap. Bouq. Recueil des Histor. tom. v. p. 9. At the 
same time, as the chief men of the nation had 
transferred the crown from one family to another, 
an oath was exacted of them, that they should 
maintain on the throne the family which they had 
now promoted ; ut nunquam de alterius lumbis re¬ 
gem in aevo praesumant eligere. Ibid. p. 10. This 
oath the nation faithfully observed during a con¬ 
siderable space of time. The posterity of Pepin 
kept possession of the throne; but with respect to 
the manner of dividing their dominions among their 
children, princes were obliged to consult the general 
assembly of the nation. Thus Pepin himself, A. 
D. 768, appointed his two sons, Charles and Carlo- 
mannus, to reign as joint sovereigns ; but he did 
tliis,un& cum consensu Francorum et procerum suo- 
rum seu et episcoporum, before w hom he laid the 
matter in their general assembly. Conventus apud 
Sanctum Dionysium, Capitular, vol. i. p. 187. This 
destination the French confirmed in a subsequent 
assembly, which was called upon the death of Pepin; 
for, as Eginhart relates, they not only appointed 
them kings, but by their authority they regulated 
the limits of their respective territories. Vita Car. 
Magni ap. Bouquet Recueil, tom. v. p. 90. In the 
same manner, it was by the authority of the supreme 
assemblies that any dispute which arose among the 
descendants of the royal family was determined. 
Charlemagne recognises this important part of their 
jurisdiction, and confirms it in his charter concern¬ 
ing the partition of his dominions ; for he appoints 
that, in case of any uncertainty with respect to the 
right of the several competitors, he whom the people 
shall choose shall succeed to the crown. Capitular, 
vol. i. 442. 

Under the second race of kings, the assemblies of 
the nation, distinguished by the name of Conventus, 
Malli, Placita, were regularly assembled once a 

year at least, and frequently twice in the year. One 

2 e 2 


of the most valuable monuments of the history of 
France is the treatise of Ilincmarus, archbishop of 
Rheims, de Ordine Palatii. He died A. D. 882, 
only sixty-eight years after Charlemagne, and he 
relates in that short discourse the facts which were 
communicated to him by Adalhardus, a minister and 
confidant of Charlemagne. From him we learn 
that this great monarch never failed to hold the 
general assembly of his subjects every year. In 
quo placito generalitas universorum majorum tarn 
clerieorum quam laicorum conveniebat. Hincm. 
Oper. edit. Sirmondi, vol. ii. c. 29, 211. In these 
assemblies, matters which related to the general 
safety and state of the kingdom w ? ere always dis¬ 
cussed before they entered upon any private or less 
important business. Ibid. c. 33. p. 213. His im¬ 
mediate successors imitated his example, and trans¬ 
acted no affair of importance without the advice of 
their great council. 

Under the second race of kings, the genius of the 
French government continued to be in a good mea¬ 
sure democratical. The nobles, the dignified eccle¬ 
siastics, and the great officers of the crown, were 
not the only members of the national council; the 
people, or the whole body of free men, either in 
person or by their representatives, had a right to be 
present in it. Hincmarus,in describing the manner 
of holding the general assemblies, says, that if the 
weather was favourable they met in the open air; 
but if otherwise, they had different apartments al¬ 
lotted to them : so that the dignified clergy were 
separated from the laity, and the comites vel hujus- 
modi principes sibimet honorificabiliter a caetera 
multitudine segregarentur. Ibid. c. 35. p. 114. 
Agobardus, archbishop of Lyons, thus describes a 
national council in the year 833, wherein he was 
present. Qui ubique conventus extitit ex reveren- 
dissimis episcopis, et magnificentissimis viris illus- 
tribus, collegio quoque abbatum et comitum, pro- 
miscuEeque aetatis et dignitatis populo. The ccctera 
multitudo of Hincmarus is the same with th epopulus 
of Agobardus, and both describe the inferior order 
of free men, the same who were afterwards know n 
in France by the name of the third estate, and in 
England by the name of commons. The people, as 
well as the members of higher dignity, were admit¬ 
ted to a share of the legislative power. Thus, by a 
law A. D. 803, it is ordained, “ that the question 
shall be put to the people with respect to every 
new law, and if they shall agree to it, they shall 
confirm it by their signature.” Capit. vol. i. 394. 
There are two capitularia which convey to us a full 
idea of the part which the people took in the ad¬ 
ministration of government. When they felt the 
weight of any grievance, they had a right to petition 
the sovereign for redress. One of these petitions, 
in which they desire that ecclesiastics might be 
exempted from bearing arms, and from serving in 
person against the enemy, is still extant. It is 
addressed to Charlemagne, A. D. 803, and expressed 
in such terms as could have been used only by men 



4*20 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


conscious of liberty, and of the extensive privileges 
which they possessed. They conclude with requiring 
him to grant their demand, if he wished that they 
should any longer continue faithful subjects to him. 
That great monarch, instead of being offended or 
surprised at the boldness of their petition, received 
it in a most gracious manner, and signified his will¬ 
ingness to comply with it. But sensible that he 
himself did not possess legislative authority, he 
promises to lay the matter before the next general 
assembly, that such things as were of common con¬ 
cern to all might be there considered and established 
by common consent. Capitul. tom. i. p. 405—409. 
As the people by their petitions brought matters to 
be proposed in the general assembly, we learn from 
another capitulare the form in which they were ap¬ 
proved there, and enacted as laws. The propositions 
were read aloud, and then the people were required 
to declare whether they assented to them or not. 
They signified their assent by crying, three times, 
“ We are satisfiedand then the capitulare was 
confirmed by the subscription of the monarch, the 
clergy, and the chief men of the laity. Capitul. 
tom. i. p. 627. A. D. 822. It seems probable from a 
capitulare of Carolus Calvus, A. D. 851, that the 
sovereign could not refuse his assent to what was 
proposed and established by his subjects in the 
general assembly. Tit. ix. § 6. Capitul. vol. ii. p. 
47. It is unnecessary to multiply quotations con¬ 
cerning the legislative power of the national assem¬ 
bly of France under the second race, or concerning 
its right to determine with regard to peace and war. 
The uniform style of the capitularia is an abundant 
confirmation of the former. The reader who desires 
any further information with respect to the latter, 
may consult Les Origines ou TAncien Gouvernement 
de la France, &c. tom. iii. p. 87, &c. What has 
been said with respect to the admission of the people 
or their representatives into the supreme assembly 
merits attention, not only in tracing the progress 
of the French government, but on account of the 
light which it throws upon a similar question agitated 
in England, concerning the time when the commons 
became part of the legislative body in that kingdom. 

Note XXXIX. Sect. III. p. 358. 

That important change which the constitution of 
France underwent when the legislative power was 
transferred from the great council of the nation to 
the king, has been explained by the French anti¬ 
quaries with less care than they bestow in illustrat¬ 
ing other events in their history. For that reason I 
have endeavoured with greater attention to trace the 
steps which led to this memorable revolution. I 
shall here add some particulars which tend to throw 
additional light upon it. The Leges Salicae, the 
Leges Burgundionum, and other codes published by 
the several tribes which settled in Gaul, were gene¬ 
ral laws extending to every person, to every province 
and district where the authority of those tribes was 
acknowledged. But they seem to have become ob¬ 


solete ; and the reason of their falling into disuse 
is very obvious. Almost the whole property of the 
nation was allodial when these laws were framed. 
But when the feudal institutions became general, 
and gave rise to an infinite variety of questions pe¬ 
culiar to that species of tenure, the ancient codes 
were of no use in deciding with regard to these, be¬ 
cause they could not contain regulations applicable 
to cases which did not exist at the time when they 
were compiled. This considerable change in the 
nature of property made it necessary to publish the 
new regulations contained in the Capitularia. Many 
of these, as is evident from the perusal of them, were 
public laws extending to the whole French nation, 
in the general assembly of which they were enacted. 
The weakness of the greater part of the monarchs 
of the second race, and the disorder into which the 
nation was thrown by the depredations of the Nor¬ 
mans, encouraged the barons to usurp an independ¬ 
ent power formerly unknown in France. The na¬ 
ture and extent of that jurisdiction which they 
assumed I have formerly considered. The political 
union of the kingdom was at an end, its ancient 
constitution was dissolved, and only a feudal rela¬ 
tion subsisted betw een the king and his vassals. 
The regal jurisdiction extended no further than the 
domains of the crown. Under the last kings of the 
second race, these were reduced almost to nothing. 
Under the first kings of the third race, they compre¬ 
hended little more than the patrimonial estate of 
Hugh Capet, which he annexed to the crown. Even 
with this accession, they continued to be of small ex¬ 
tent. Yelly, Hist, de France, tom. iii. p. 32. Many of 
the most considerable provinces in France did not at 
first acknowledge Hugh Capet as a lawful monarch. 
There are still extant several charters, granted during 
the first years of his reign, with this remarkable 
clause in the form of dating the charter: “ Deoreg- 
nante, rege expectante,” regnante domino nostro Jesu 
Christo, Francis autem contra jus regnum usurpan- 
te Ugone rege. Bouquet Recueil, tom. x. p. 544. 
A monarch whose title was thus openly disputed, 
was not in a condition to assert the royal jurisdiction, 
or to limit that of the barons. 

All these circumstances rendered it easy for the 
barons to usurp the rights of royalty within their 
own territories. The Capitularia became no less 
obsolete than the ancient laws ; local customs were 
every where introduced, and became the sole rule by 
which all civil transactions were conducted and all 
causes were tried. The wonderful ignorance which 
became general in France during the ninth and 
tenth centuries, contributed to the introduction of 
customary law. Few persons except ecclesiastics 
could read; and as it was not in the power of such 
illiterate persons to have recourse to written laws, 
either as their guide in business or their rule in ad. 
ministering justice, the customary law, the know¬ 
ledge of which was preserved by tradition, univer¬ 
sally prevailed. 

During this period the general assembly of the 




421 


PROOFS AND I LLUSTRATIONS. 


nation seems not to have been called, nor to have 
once exerted its legislative authority. Local cus¬ 
toms regulated and decided everything. A striking 
proof of this occurs in tracing the progress of the 
French jurisprudence. The last of the Capitula- 
ria collected by M. Baluze, was issued in the year 
921 by Charles the Simple. An hundred and 
thirty years elapsed from that period to the publica¬ 
tion of the first ordonnance of the kings of the third 
race, contained in the great collection of M. Lau- 
riere ; and the first ordonnance which appears to be 
an act of legislation extending to the whole king¬ 
dom, is that of Philip Augustus, A. D. 1190. Ordon. 
tom. i. p. 1 , 18. During that long period of two 
hundred and sixty-nine years, all transactions were 
directed by local customs, and no addition was 
made to the statutary law of France. The ordon- 
nances, previous to the reign of Philip Augustus, 
contain regulations the authority of which did not 
extend beyond the king’s domains. 

Various instances occur of the caution w ith which 
the kings of France ventured at first to exercise legis¬ 
lative authority. M. l’Ab. de Mably produces an or¬ 
donnance of Philip Augustus, A. D. 1206, concerning 
the Jews, who in that age were in some measure the 
property of the lord in whose territories they resided. 
But it is rather a treaty of the king with the countess 
of Champagne and the Compte de Dampierre, than 
an act of royal power; and the regulations in it seem 
to be established not so much by his authority as 
by their consent. Observat. sur 1’Hist. de France, 
ii. p. 355. In the same manner an ordonnance of 
Louis VIII. concerning the Jews, A. D. 1223, is a 
contract between the king and his nobles with re¬ 
spect to their manner of treating that unhappy race 
of men. Ordon. tom. i. p. 47. The Establissemens 
of St. Louis, though well adapted to serve as gene¬ 
ral laws to the whole kingdom, were not published 
as such, but only as a complete code of customary 
law, to be of authority within the king’s domains. 
The wisdom, the equity, and the order conspicuous in 
that code of St. Louis, procured it a favourable re¬ 
ception throughout the kingdom. The veneration 
due to the virtues and good intentions of its author, 
contributed not a little to reconcile the nation to 
that legislative authority which the king began to 
assume. Soon after the reign of St. Louis, the idea 
of the king’s possessing supreme legislative power 
became common. If, says Beaumanoir, the king 
makes any establishment specially for his own do¬ 
main, the barons may nevertheless adhere to their 
ancient customs : but if the establishment be gene¬ 
ral, it shall be current throughout the whole king¬ 
dom, and we ought to believe that such establish¬ 
ments are made with mature deliberation, and for 
the general good. Cout. de Beauvoisis, c. 48. p. 
265. Though the kings of the third race did not 
call the general assembly of the nation during the 
long period from Hugh Capet to Philip the Fair, 
yet they seem to have consulted the bishops and 
barons who happened to be present in their court, 


with respect to any new law which they published. 
Examples of this occur Ordon. tom. i. p. 3 & 5. This 
practice seems to have continued as late as the 
reign of St. Louis, when the legislative authority of 
the crown was well established. Ordon. tom. i. p. 
58. A. D. 1246. This attention paid to the barons, 
facilitated the king’s acquiring such full possession 
of the legislative power as enabled them afterwards 
to exercise it without observing that formality. 

The assemblies distinguished by the name of the 
states-general, were first called A. D. 1302, and were 
held occasionally from that period to the year 1614, 
since which time they have not been summoned. 
These were very different from the ancient assem¬ 
blies of the French nation under the kings of the 
first and second race. There is no point with re¬ 
spect to which the French antiquaries are more 
generally agreed, than in maintaining that the states- 
general had no suffrage in the passing of laws, 
and possessed no proper legislative jurisdiction. 
The whole tenor of the French history confirms this 
opinion. The form of proceeding in the states- 
general was this: The king addressed himself, at 
opening the meeting, to the whole body assembled 
in one place, and laid before them the affairs on 
account of which he had summoned them. Then 
the deputies of each of the three orders, of nobles, 
of clergy, and of the third estate, met apart and pre¬ 
pared their cahier or memorial, containing their 
answer to the propositions which had been made to 
them, together with the representations which they 
thought proper to lay before the king. These an¬ 
swers and representations were considered by the 
king in his council, and generally gave rise to an 
ordonnance. These ordonnances were not addressed 
to the three estates in common. Sometimes the king 
addressed an ordonnance to each of the estates in 
particular: sometimes he mentioned the assembly 
of the three estates: sometimes mention is made 
only of the assembly of that estate to which the or¬ 
donnance is addressed: sometimes no mention at 
all is made of the assembly of estates which sug¬ 
gested the propriety of enacting the law. Preface 
au tom. iii. des Ordon. p. xx. Thus the states- 
general had only the privilege of advising and re¬ 
monstrating ; the legislative authority resided in the 
king alone. 

Note XL. Sect. III. p. 360. 

If the parliament of Paris be considered only as 
the supreme court of justice, every thing relative to 
its origin and jurisdiction is clear and obvious. It is 
the ancient court of the king’s palace, new-modelled, 
rendered stationary, and invested with an extensive 
and ascertained jurisdiction. The power of this 
court, while employed in this part of its functions, 
is not the object of present consideration. The pre¬ 
tensions of the parliament to control the exercise of 
the legislative authority, and its claim of a right to 
interpose with respect to public affairs and the poli¬ 
tical administration of the kingdom, lead to in- 



422 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


quiries attended with great difliculty. As the officers 
and members of the parliament of Paris were an¬ 
ciently nominated by the king, were paid by him, 
and on several occasions were removed by him at 
pleasure, (Chronic. Scandaleuse de Louis XI. chez 
les Mem. de Comines, tom. ii. p. 51. Edit, de M. 
Lenglet de Fresnoy,) they cannot be considered as 
representatives of the people, nor could they claim 
any share in the legislative power as acting in their 
name. We must therefore search for some other 
source of this high privilege. I. The parliament was 
originally composed of the most eminent persons in 
the kingdom. The peers of France, ecclesiastics of 
the highest order, and noblemen of illustrious birth, 
were members of it, to whom were added some clerks 
and counsellors learned in the laws. Pasquier Re- 
cherches, p. 44, &c. Encyclopedic, tom. xii. art Par- 
lement , p. 3,5. A court thus constituted was properly 
a committee of thestates-general of the kingdom, and 
was composed of those barons and fideles whom the 
kings of France were accustomed to consult with re¬ 
gard to every act of jurisdiction or legislative autho¬ 
rity. It was natural, therefore, during the intervals 
between the meetings of the states-general, or during 
those periods when that assembly w as not called, to 
consult the parliament, to lay matters of public 
concern before it, and to obtain its approbation and 
concurrence, before any ordonnance was published 
to which the people were required to conform. 2. 
Under the second race of kings, every new law was 
reduced into proper form by the chancellor of the 
kingdom, was proposed by him to the people, and 
when enacted, was committed to him to be kept 
among the public records, that he might give au¬ 
thentic copies of it to all who should demand them. 
Hincm. de Ord. Palat. c. 16. Capitul. Car. Calv. 
tit. xiv. §11. tit. xxxiii. The chancellor presided 
in the parliament of Paris at its first institution. 
Encyclopedic, tom. iii. art. Clianeelier , p. 88. It 
was, therefore, natural for the king to continue to 
employ him in his ancient functions of framing, 
taking into his custody, and publishing the ordon- 
nances which were issued. To an ancient copy of 
the Capitulariaof Charlemagne, the following words 
are subjoined : Anno tertio clementissimi domini 
nostri Caroli Augusti, sub ipso anno, liaec facta 
Capitula sunt, et consignata Stephano comiti, ut 
liaec raanifesta faceret Parisiis mallo publico, et 
ilia legere faceret coram Scabineis, quod ita et fe¬ 
cit, et omnes in uno consenserunt, quod ipsi volu- 
issent observare usque in posterum, etiam omnes 
Scabinei, Episcopi, Abbates, Comites, manu pro¬ 
pria subter signaverunt. Bouquet Recueil, tom. v. 
p. 663. Mallus signifies not only the public assem¬ 
bly of the nation, but the court of justice held by 
the Comes, or missus dominicus. Scabini were the 
judges or the assessors of the judges in that court. 
Here, then, seems to be a very early instance, not 
only of laws being published in a court of justice, 
but of their being verified or confirmed by the sub¬ 
scription of the judges. If this was the common 


practice, it naturally introduced the verifying of 
edicts in the parliament of Paris. But this conjec¬ 
ture I propose w ith that diffidence which I have felt 
in all my reasonings concerning the laws and in¬ 
stitutions of foreign nations. 3. This supreme 
court of justice in France was dignified with the 
appellation of parliament, the name by which the 
general assembly of the nation was distinguished 
towards the close of the second race of kings ; and 
men both in reasoning and in conduct, were won¬ 
derfully influenced by the similarity of names. The 
preserving the ancient names of the magistrates es¬ 
tablished while the republican government subsisted 
in Rome, enabled Augustus and his successors to 
assume new powers with less observation and greater 
ease. The bestowing the same name in France 
upon two courts which were extremely different, 
contributed not a little to confound their jurisdic¬ 
tions and functions. 

All these circumstances concurred in leading the 
kings of France to avail themselves of the parlia¬ 
ment of Paris as the instrument of reconciling the 
people to the exercise of legislative authority by the 
crowm. The French, accustomed to see all new laws 
examined and authorized before they were publish¬ 
ed, did not sufficiently distinguish between the ef¬ 
fect of performing this in the national assembly, or 
in a court appointed by the king. But as that court 
was composed of respectable members, and who 
w ere well skilled in the laws of their country, w hen 
any new edict received its sanction, that was suffi¬ 
cient to dispose the people to submit to it. 

When the practice of verifying and registering 
the royal edicts in the parliament of Paris became 
common, the parliament contended that this was 
necessary in order to give them legal authority. It 
was established as a fundamental maxim in French 
jurisprudence, that no law could be published in 
any other manner; that w ithout this formality no 
edict or ordonnance could have any effect; that the 
people were not bound to obey it, and ought not to 
consider it as an edict or ordonnance, until it was 
verified in the supreme court, after free delibera¬ 
tion. Roche-flavin des Parlemens de France, 4to. 
Gen. 1621, p. 921. The parliament, at different 
times, hath with great fortitude and integrity op¬ 
posed the will of their sovereigns ; and, notwith¬ 
standing their repeated and peremptory requisi¬ 
tions and commands, hath refused to verify and 
publish such edicts as it conceived to be oppressive 
to the people, or subversive of the constitution of 
the kingdom. Roche-flavin reckons that between 
the year 1562 and the year 1589, the parliament re¬ 
fused to verify more than a hundred edicts of the 
kings. Ibid. 925. Many instances of the spirit 
and constancy w ith w hich the parliaments of France 
opposed pernicious laws, and asserted their own 
privileges, are enumerated by Limnaeus in his No- 
titiae Regni Franciae, lib. i. c. 9. p. 224. 

But the pow er of the parliament to maintain and 
defend this privilege bore no proportion to its im- 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


423 


portance, or to the courage with which the members 
asserted it. When any monarch was determined 
that an edict should be carried into execution, and 
found the parliament inflexibly resolved not to 
verify or publish it, he could easily supply this 
defect by the plenitude of his regal power. He 
repaired to the parliament in person, he took pos¬ 
session of his seat of justice, and commanded the 
edict to be read, verified, registered, and published 
in his presence. Then, according to another maxim 
of French law, the king himself being present, 
neither the parliament, nor any magistrate whatever, 
can exercise any authority or perform any function. 
Adveniente Principe, cessatmagistratus. Roche-fla- 
vin,ibid. p. 928,929. Encyclopedic, tom. ix. art. Lit. 
de Justice, p. 581. Roche-flavin mentions several in¬ 
stances of kings who actually exerted this preroga¬ 
tive, so fatal to the residue of the rights and liberties 
transmitted to the French by their ancestors. Pasquier 
produces some instances of the same kind. Rech. 
p. 61. Limnaeus enumerates many other instances, 
but the length to which this note has swelled pre¬ 
vents me from inserting them at length, though they 
tend greatly to illustrate this important article in 
the French history, p. 245. Thus by an exertion 
of prerogative, which, though violent, seems to be 
constitutional, and is justified by innumerable pre¬ 
cedents, all the efforts of the parliament to limit 
and control the king’s legislative authority are 
rendered ineffectual. 

I have not attempted to explain the constitution 
or jurisdiction of any parliament in France but 
that of Paris. All of them are formed upon the 
model of that most ancient and respectable tribunal, 
and all my observations concerning it will apply 
with full force to them. 

Note XLI. Sect. III. p. 361. 

The humiliating posture in which a great em¬ 
peror implored absolution is an event so singular, 
that the words in which Gregory himself describes 
it merit a place here, and convey a striking picture 
of the arrogance of that pontiff'. Per triduum, ante 
portam castri, deposito omni regio cultu, miserabi- 
liter, utpote discalceatus, et laneis indutus, per- 
sistens, non prius cum multo fletu apostolicae mi- 
serationis auxilium, et consolationein implorari 
destitit, quam omnes qui ibi aderant, et ad quos 
rumor ille pervenit, ad tantam pietatem, et com- 
passionis misericordiam movit, ut pro eo multis 
precibus et lacrymis intercedentes, omnes quidem 
insolitam nostrae mentis duritiam mirarentur ; non- 
nulli vero in nobis non apostolicae sedis gravitatem, 
sed quasi tyrannicae feritatis crudelitatem esse 
clamarunt. Epist. Gregor, ap. Memorie della Con- 
tessa Matilda da Fran. Mar. Fiorentini. Lucca, 
1756, vol. i. p. 174. 

Note XLII. Sect. III. p. 364. 

As I have endeavoured in the history to trace the 
various steps in the progress of the constitution of 


the empire, and to explain the peculiarities in its 
policy very fully, it is not necessary to add much 
by way of illustration. What appears to be of 
any importance, I shall range under distinct heads. 

1 . With respect to the power, jurisdiction, and 
revenue of the emperors. A very just idea of these 
may be formed by attending to the view which 
Pfelfel gives of the rights of the emperors at two 
different periods. The first at the close of the Saxon 
race, A. D. 1024. These according to his enumeration, 
were the right of conferring all the great ecclesias¬ 
tical benefices in Germany; of receiving the revenues 
of them during a vacancy ; of mortmain, or of suc¬ 
ceeding to the effects of ecclesiastics who died intes¬ 
tate. The right of confirming or of annulling the 
elections of the popes. The right of assembling 
councils, and of appointing them to decide concern¬ 
ing the affairs of the church. The right of confer¬ 
ring the title of king upon their vassals. The right 
of granting vacant fiefs. The right of receiving the 
revenues of the empire, whether arising from the 
imperial domains, from imposts and tolls, from gold 
or silver mines, from the taxes paid by the Jews, or 
from forfeitures. The right of governing Italy as 
its proper sovereigns. The right of erecting free 
cities, and of establishing fairs in them. The right 
of assembling the diets of the empire, and of 
fixing the time of their duration. The right of 
coining money, and of conferring that privilege on 
the states of the empire. The right of administer¬ 
ing both high and low justice within the territories 
of the different states. Abrege, p. 160. The other 
period is at the extinction of the emperors of the 
families of Luxemburg and Bavaria, A. D. 1437. 
According to the same author, the imperial preroga¬ 
tives at that time were the right of conferring all 
dignities and titles, except the privilege of being a 
state of the empire. The right of Pi eces primaries, 
or of appointing once during their reign a dignitary 
in each chapter or religious house. The right of 
granting dispensations with respect to the age of 
majority. The right of erecting cities, and of con¬ 
ferring the privilege of coining money. The right 
of calling the meetings of the diet, and of presiding 
in them. Abrege, &c. p. 507. It were easy to show 
that Mr. Pfeflel is well founded in all these asser¬ 
tions, and to confirm them by the testimony of the 
most respectable authors. In the one period the 
emperors appear as mighty sovereigns with exten¬ 
sive prerogatives ; in the other, as the heads of a 
confederacy with very limited powers. 

The revenues of the emperors decreased still more 
than their authority. The early emperors, and par¬ 
ticularly those of the Saxon line, besides their great 
patrimonial or hereditary territories, possessed an 
extensive domain both in Italy and Germany, which 
belonged to them as emperors. Italy belonged to 
the emperors as their proper kingdom, and the re¬ 
venues which they drew from it were very consider¬ 
able. The first alienations of the imperial revenue 
were made in that country. The Italian cities hav. 



A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


424 

ing acquired wealth, and aspiring at independence, 
purchased their liberty from different emperors, as 
I have observed Note XY. The sums which they 
paid, and the emperors with whom they concluded 
these bargains, are mentioned by Casp. Klockius de 
^Erario Norimb. 1671, p. 85, &c. Charles IV. and 
his son Wenceslaus, dissipated all that remained of 
the Italian branch of the domain. The German do¬ 
main lay chiefly upon the banks of the Rhine, and 
was under the government of the counts palatine. It 
is not easy to mark out the boundaries, or to estimate 
the value of this ancient domain, which has been 
so long incorporated with the territories of different 
princes. Some hints with respect to it may be found 
in the glossary of Speidelius, which he has entitled 
Speculum Juridico Philologicopolitico Historicum 
Observationem, &c. Norimb. 1673. vol. i. p. 679, 
1045. A more full account of it is given by Kloc¬ 
kius de iErario, p. 84. Besides this the emperors 
possessed considerable districts of land lying inter¬ 
mixed with the estates of the dukes and barons. 
They were accustomed to visit these frequently, and 
drew from their vassals in each what was sufficient 
to support their court during the time of their resi¬ 
dence among them. Annalistae, ap. Struv. tom. i. 
p. 611. A great part of these detached possessions 
were seized by the nobles during the long interreg¬ 
num, or during the wars occasioned by the contests 
between the emperors and the court of Rome. At 
the same time that such encroachments were made 
on the fixed or territorial property of the emperors, 
they were robbed almost entirely of their casual re¬ 
venues, the princes and barons appropriating to 
themselves taxes and duties of every kind which had 
usually been paid to them. Pfeffel Abrege, p. 374. 
The profuse and inconsiderate ambition of Charles 
IV. squandered whatever remained of the imperial 
revenues after so many defalcations. He, in the 
year 1376, in order to prevail with the electors to 
choose his son Wenceslaus king of the Romans, 
promised each of them a hundred thousand crowns. 
But being unable to pay so large a sum, and eager 
to secure the election to his son, he alienated to the 
three ecclesiastical electors, and to the Count Pala¬ 
tine, such countries as still belonged to the Imperial 
domain on the banks of the Rhine, and likewise 
made over to them all the taxes and tolls then levied 
by the emperors in that district. Trithemius, and 
the author of the Chronicle of Magdeburgh, enume¬ 
rate the territories and taxes which were thus alien¬ 
ated, and represent this as the last and fatal blow 
to the imperial authority. Struv. Corp. vol. i. p. 
437. From that period the shreds of the ancient 
revenues possessed by the emperors have been so in¬ 
considerable, that, in the opinion of Speidelius, all 
that they yield would be so far from defraying the 
expense of supporting their household, that they 
would not pay the charge of maintaining the posts 
established in the empire. Speidelii Speculum, &c. 
vol. i. p. 680. These funds, inconsiderable as they 
were, continued to decrease. Granvelle, the mi¬ 


nister of Charles V., asserted in the year 1546, in 
presence of several of the German princes, that his 
master drew no money at all from the empire. 
Sleid. History of the Reformation, Lond. 1689, p. 
372. The same is the case at present. Traite de 
droite publique de l’Empire, par. M. le Coq. de 
Villeray, p. 55. From the reign of Charles IV., 
w hom Maximilian called the pest of the empire, the 
emperors have depended entirely on their heredi¬ 
tary dominions as the chief and almost the only 
source of their power, and even of their subsistence. 

2 . The ancient mode of electing the emperors, 
and the various changes which it underwent, require 
some illustration. The imperial crown was ori¬ 
ginally attained by election, as well as those ot 
most monarchies in Europe. An opinion long pre¬ 
vailed among the antiquaries and public lawyers of 
Germany, that the right of choosing the emperors 
w as vested in the archbishops of Mentz, Cologne, 
and Treves, the king of Bohemia, the duke of Sax¬ 
ony, the marquis of Brandenburg, and the count 
palatine of the Rhine, by an edict of Otho III. con¬ 
firmed by Gregory V. about the year 996. But the 
whole tenor of history contradicts this opinion. It 
appears, that from the earliest period in the history 
of Germany, the person who was to reign over all 
was elected by the suffrage of all. Thus Conrad I. 
was elected by all the people of the Franks, say 
some annalists ; by all the princes and chief men, 
say others ; by all the nation, say others. See their 
words. Struv. Corp. 211. Conringius de German. 
Imper. Repub. Acroamata Sex. Ebroduni, 1654, p. 
103. In the year 1024, posterior to the supposed 
regulations of Otho III., Conrad II. was elected by 
all the chief men, and his election was approved 
and confirmed by the people. Struv. Corp. 284. 
At the election of Lotharius II. A. D. 1125, sixty 
thousand persons of all ranks were present. He 
was named by the chief men, and their nomination 
was approved by the people. Struv. ibid. p. 357. 
The first author w ho mentions the seven electors is 
Martinus Polonus, who flourished in the reign of 
Frederic II. which ended A. D. 1250. We find that 
in all the ancient elections to which I have referred, 
the princes of the greatest power and authority were 
allowed by their countrymen to name the person 
whom they wished to appoint emperor, and the 
people approved or disapproved of their nomination. 
This privilege of voting first is called by the German 
lawyers the right of Prataxation. Pfeffel Abrege 
p. 316. This was the first origin of the exclusive 
right which the electors acquired. The electors 
possessed the most extensive territories of any 
princes in the empire ; all the great offices of the 
state were in their hands by hereditary right; as 
soon as they obtained or engrossed so much influ¬ 
ence in the election as to be allowed the right of 
pretaxation, it was vain to oppose their will, and it 
even became unnecessary for the inferior ecclesias¬ 
tics and barons to attend, when they had no other 
function but that of confirming the deed of these 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


425 


more powerful princes by their assent. During 
times of turbulence, the subordinate members of the 
Germanic body could not resort to the place of elec¬ 
tion without a retinue of armed vassals, the expense 
of which they were obliged to defray out of their 
own revenues ; and finding their attendance to be 
unnecessary, they were unwilling to waste them to 
no purpose. The rights of the seven electors were 
supported by all the descendants and allies of their 
powerful families, who shared in the splendour and 
influence which they enjoyed by this distinguishing 
privilege. Pfeffel Abrege,p. 376. The seven electors 
were considered as the representatives of all the or¬ 
ders which composed the highest class of German 
nobility. There were three archbishops, chancel¬ 
lors of the three great districts into which the em¬ 
pire was anciently divided ; one king, one duke, 
one marquis, and one count. All these circum¬ 
stances contributed to render the introduction of this 
considerable innovation into the constitution of the 
Germanic body extremely easy. Every thing of 
importance relating to this branch of the political 
state of the empire is well illustrated by Onuphrius 
Panvinius, an Augustinian monk of Verona, who 
lived in the reign of Charles V. His treatise, if we 
make some allowance for that partiality which he 
expresses in favour of the powers which the popes 
claimed in the empire, has the merit of being one of 
the first works in which a controverted point in his¬ 
tory is examined with critical precision, and with a 
proper attention to that evidence which is derived 
from records, or the testimony of contemporary his¬ 
torians. It is inserted by Goldastus in his Politica 
Imperialia, p. 2. 

As the electors have engrossed the sole right of 
choosing the emperors, they have assumed likewise 
that of deposing them. This high power the elect¬ 
ors have not only presumed to claim, but have ven¬ 
tured in more than one instance to exercise. In 
the year 1298 a part of the electors deposed Adol¬ 
phus of Nassau, and substituted Albert of Austria 
in his place. The reasons on which they found 
their sentence show that this deed flowed from fac¬ 
tious not from public-spirited motives. Struv. Corp. 
vol. i. 540. In the first year of the fifteenth century, 
the electors deposed Wenceslaus, and placed the 
imperial crown on the head of Rupert, elector pa¬ 
latine. The act of deposition is still extant. Gol- 
dasti Constit. vol. i. p. 379. It is pronounced in 
the name and by the authority of the electors, and 
confirmed by several prelates and barons of the em¬ 
pire, who were present. These exertions of the 
electoral power demonstrate that the imperial au¬ 
thority was sunk very low. 

The other privileges of the electors, and the rights 
of the electoral college, are explained by the writers 
on the public law in Germany. 

3 . With respect to the diets or general assemblies 
of the empire, it would be necessary, if my object 
were to write a particular history of Germany, to 
enter into a minute detail concerning the forms of 


assembling them, the persons who have right to 
be present, their division into several colleges or 
benches, the objects of their deliberation, the mode 
in which they carry on their debates or give their 
suffrages, and the authority of their decrees or re¬ 
cesses. But as my only object is to give the out¬ 
lines of the constitution of the German empire, it 
will be sufficient to observe, that originally the diets 
of the empire were exactly the same with the as¬ 
semblies of March and of May, held by the kings of 
France. They met at least once a-year. Every 
freeman had a right to be present. They were as¬ 
semblies in which a monarch deliberated with his 
subjects concerning their common interest. Aru- 
maeus de Comitiis Rom. German. Imperii, 4to. Jenae, 
1660, cap. 7. No. 20, &c. But when the princes, 
dignified ecclesiastics, and barons, acquired territo¬ 
rial and independent jurisdiction, the diet became 
an assembly of the separate states, which formed 
the confederacy of which the emperor was head. 
While the constitution of the empire remained in its 
primitive form, attendance on the diets was a duty, 
like the other services due from feudal subjects to 
their sovereign, which the members were bound to 
perform in person; and if any member who had a 
right to be present in the diet neglected to attend in 
person, he not only lost his vote, but was liable to 
a heavy penalty. Arumaeus de Comit. c. 5. No. 40. 
Whereas, from the time that the members of the 
diet became independent states, the right of suffrage 
was annexed to the territory or dignity, not to the 
person. The members, if they could not or would 
not attend in person, might send their deputies, as 
princes send ambassadors, and they were entitled 
to exercise all the rights belonging to their consti¬ 
tuents. Ibid. No. 42, 46, 49. By degrees, and 
upon the same principle of considering the diet as 
an assembly of independent states, in which each 
confederate had the right of suffrage, if any member 
possessed more than one of those states or charac¬ 
ters which entitle to a seat in the diet, he was al¬ 
lowed a proportional number of suffrages. Pfeffel 
Abrege, 622. From the same cause the imperial 
cities, as soon as they became free, and acquired 
supreme and independent jurisdiction within their 
own territories, were received as members of the 
diet. The powers of the diet extend to every thing 
relative to the common concern of the Germanic 
body, or that can interest or affect it as a confede¬ 
racy. The diet takes no cognizance of the interior 
administration in the different states, unless that 
happens to disturb or threaten the general safety. 

4. With respect to the imperial chamber, the ju¬ 
risdiction of which has been the great source of 
order and tranquillity in Germany, it is necessary 
to observe that this court was instituted in order to 
put an end to the calamities occasioned by private 
wars in Germany. I have already traced the rise and 
progress of this practice, and pointed out its perni¬ 
cious effects as fully as their extensive influence 
during the middle ages required. In Germany pri- 



426 


A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


vate wars seem to have been more frequent, and 
productive of worse consequences, than in the other 
countries of Europe. There are obvious reasons 
for this. The nobility of Germany were extremely 
numerous, and the causes of their dissension mul¬ 
tiplied in proportion. The territorial jurisdiction 
which the German nobles acquired was more com¬ 
plete than that possessed by their order in other 
nations. They became, in reality, independent 
powers, and they claimed all the privileges of that 
character. The long interregnum from A. I). 1256 
to A. D. 1273, accustomed them to an uncontrolled 
license, and led them to forget that subordination 
which is necessary in order to maintain public tran¬ 
quillity. At the time when the other monarchs of 
Europe began to acquire such an increase of power 
and revenues as added new vigour to their govern¬ 
ment, the authority and revenues of the emperors 
continued gradually to decline. The diets of the 
empire, which alone had authority to judge be¬ 
tween such mighty barons, and power to enforce its 
decisions, met very seldom. Conring. Acroamata, 
p. 234. The diets, when they did assemble, were 
often composed of several thousand members, 
Chronic. Constat, ap. Struv. Corp. i. p. 546 ; and 
were tumultuary assemblies, ill qualified to decide 
concerning any question of right. The session of 
the diets continued only two or three days, Pfeffel 
Abrege, p. 244: so that they had no time to hear or 
discuss any cause that was in the smallest degree 
intricate. Thus Germany was left, in some measure, 
without any court of judicature capable of deciding 
the contests between its more powerfu 1 members, or of 
repressing the evils occasioned by their private wars. 

All the expedients which were employed in other 
countries of Europe in order to restrain this prac¬ 
tice, and which I have described Note XXI., were 
tried in Germany with little effect. The confedera¬ 
cies of the nobles and of the cities, and the division 
of Germany into various circles, which I mentioned 
in that Note, were found likewise insufficient. As 
a last remedy, the Germans had recourse to arbiters 
whom they called Austregce. The barons and states 
in different parts of Germany joined in conventions, 
by which they bound themselves to refer all contro¬ 
versies that might arise between them to the deter¬ 
mination of Austregce , and to submit to their sen¬ 
tences as final. These arbiters are named sometimes 
in the treaty of convention, an instance of which 
occurs in Ludewig Reliquae Manuscr. omnis aevi, 
vol. ii. p. 212 ; sometimes they were chosen by mu¬ 
tual consent upon occasion of any contest that arose; 
sometimes they were appointed by neutral persons; 
and sometimes the choice was left to be decided by 
lot. Datt. de Pace publica Imperii, lib. i. cap. 27. 
No. 60, &c. Speidelius Speculum, See. voc. Austrag. 
p. 95. Upon the introduction of this practice, the 
public tribunals of justice became in a great mea¬ 
sure useless, and were almost entirely deserted. 

In order to re-establish the authority of govern¬ 
ment, Maximilian I. instituted the imperial cham¬ 


ber at the period which I have mentioned. f l his 
tribunal consisted originally of a president, who 
was always a nobleman of the first order, and of 
sixteen judges. The president was appointed by 
the emperor, and the judges partly by him and partly 
by the states, according to forms which it is unne¬ 
cessary to describe. A sum was imposed, with their 
own consent, on the states of the empire, for paying 
the salaries of the judges and officers in this court. 
The imperial chamber was established first at Franc- 
fort on the Maine. During the reign of Charles \. 
it was removed to Spires, and continued in that city 
above a century and a half. It is now fixed at Wetz- 
lar. This court takes cognizance of all questions 
concerning civil right between the states of the em¬ 
pire, and passes judgment in the last resort, and 
without appeal. To it belongs likewise the privilege 
of judging in criminal causes whicli may be con¬ 
sidered as connected with the preservation of the 
public peace. Pfeffel Abrege, 560. 

All causes relating to points of feudal right or 
jurisdiction, together with such as respect the terri¬ 
tories which hold of the empire in Italy, belong pro¬ 
perly to the jurisdiction of the Aulic council. This 
tribunal was formed upon the model of the ancient 
court of the palace instituted by the emperors of 
Germany. It depended not upon the states of the 
empire, but upon the emperor; he having the right 
of appointing at pleasure all the judges of whom it 
is composed. Maximilian, in order to procure some 
compensation for the diminution of his authority by 
the powers vested in the imperial chamber, prevail¬ 
ed on the diet, A. D. 1512, to give its consent to the 
establishment of the Aulic council. Since that time 
it has been a great object of policy in the court of 
Vienna to extend the jurisdiction and support the 
authority of the Aulic council, and to circumscribe 
and weaken those of the imperial chamber. The 
tedious forms and dilatory proceedings of the im¬ 
perial chamber have furnished the emperors with 
pretexts for doing so. Lites Spirm, according to the 
witticism of a German lawyer, spirant, sed nunquam 
expirant. Such delays are unavoidable in a court 
composed of members named by many different 
states, jealous of each other. Whereas the judges 
of the Aulic council, depending upon one master, 
and being responsible to him alone, are more vigor¬ 
ous and decisive. Puffendorf. de Statu Imper. 
German, cap. v. § 20. Pfeffel Abrege, p. 581. 

Note XLIII. Sect. III. p. 365. 

The description which I have given of the Turk¬ 
ish government is conformable to the accounts of 
the most intelligent travellers who have visited that 
empire. The count de Marsigli, in his treatise con¬ 
cerning the military state of the Turkish empire, cli. 
vi. and the author of Observations on the religion, 
laws, government, and manners of the Turks, pub¬ 
lished at London 1768, vol. i. p. 8i, differ from 
other writers who have described the political con¬ 
stitution of that powerful monarchy. As they had 



427 


PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


opportunity, during their long residence in Turkey, 
to observe the order and justice conspicuous in se¬ 
veral departments of administration, they seem un¬ 
willing to admit that it should be denominated a 
despotism. But when the form of government in 
any country is represented to be despotic, this does 
not suppose that the power of the monarch is con¬ 
tinually exerted in acts of violence, injustice, and 
cruelty. Under political constitutions of every spe¬ 
cies, unless when some frantic tyrant happens to 
hold the sceptre, the ordinary administration of 
government must be conformable to the principles 
of justice, and if not active in promoting the welfare 
of the people, cannot certainly have their destruction 
for its object. A state in which the sovereign pos¬ 
sesses the absolute command of a vast military force, 
together with the disposal of an extensive revenue ; 
in which the people have no privileges, and no part 
either immediate or remote in legislation ; in which 
.there is no body of hereditary nobility, jealous of 
their own rights and distinctions, to stand as an in¬ 
termediate order between the prince and the people, 
cannot be distinguished by any name but that of a 
despotism. The restraints, however, which I have 
mentioned, arising from the Capicula and from reli¬ 
gion, are powerful. But they are not such as change 
the nature or denomination of the government. 
When a despotic prince employs an armed force to 
support his authority, he commits the supreme power 
to their hands. The Praetorian bands in Rome de¬ 
throned, murdered, and exalted their princes, in the 
same wanton manner with the soldiery of the Porte 
at Constantinople. But notwithstanding this, the 
Roman emperors have been considered by all poli¬ 
tical writers as possessing despotic power. 

The author of Observations on the religion, laws, 
government, and manners of the Turks, in a preface 
to the second edition of his work, hath made some 
remarks on what is contained in this Note, and in 
that part of the text to which it refers. It is with 
diffidence I set my opinion in opposition to that of a 
person who has observed the government of the 
Turks with attention, and has described it with 
abilities. But after a careful review of the subject, 
to me the Turkish government still appears of such 
a species as can be ranged in no class but that to 
which political writers have given the name of des¬ 
potism. There is not in Turkey any constitutional 
restraint upon the will of the sovereign, or any bar¬ 
rier to circumscribe the exercise of his power, but 
the two which I have mentioned; one afforded by 
religion, the principle upon which the authority of 
the Sultan is founded, the other by the army, the 
instrument which he must employ to maintain his 
power. The author represents the Uleme , or body 
of the law, as an intermediate order between the 
monarch and the people. Pref. p. 30. But what¬ 
ever restraint the authority of the Ulema may im¬ 
pose upon the sovereign, is derived from religion. 
The Moulahs , out of whom the Mufti and other 
chief officers of the law must be chosen, are eccle¬ 


siastics. It is as interpreters of the Koran or Di¬ 
vine will that they are objects of veneration. The 
check, then, which they give to the exercise of arbi¬ 
trary power is not different from one of those of 
which I took notice. Indeed this restraint cannot 
be very considerable. The Mufti, who is the head 
of the order, as well as every inferior officer of law, 
is named by the sultan, and is removable at his 
pleasure. The strange means employed by the Ulema, 
in 1746, to obtain the dismission of a minister whom 
they hated, is a manifest proof that they possess but 
little constitutional authority which can serve as a 
restraint upon the will of the sovereign. Observat. 
p. 92 of 2d edit. If the author’s idea be just, it is 
astonishing that the body of the late should have no 
method of remonstrating against the errors of ad¬ 
ministration but by setting fire to the capital. 

The author seems to consider the Capiculy or 
soldiery of the Porte, neither as formidable instru¬ 
ments of the sultan’s power, nor as any restraint 
upon the exercise of it. His reasons for this opinion 
are, tnat the number of the Capiculy is small in 
proportion to the other trpops which compose the 
Turkish armies, and that in time of peace they are 
undisciplined. Pref. 2d edit. p. 23, &c. But the 
troops stationed in a capital, though their number 
be not great, are always masters of the sovereign’s 
person and power. The Praetorian bands bore no 
proportion to the legionary troops in the frontier 
provinces. The soldiery of the Porte are more nu¬ 
merous, and must possess power of the same kind, 
and be equally formidable, sometimes to the sove¬ 
reign, and oftener to the people. However much the 
discipline of the Janizaries may be neglected at 
present, it certainly was not so in that age to which 
alone my description of the Turkish government 
applies. The author observes, Pref. p. 29, that the 
janizaries never deposed any sultan of themselves, 
but that some form of law, true or false, has been 
observed, and that either the Mufti, or some other 
minister of religion, has announced to the unhappy 
prince the law which renders him unworthy of the 
throne. Observ. p. 102. This will always happen. 
In every revolution, though brought about by mili¬ 
tary power, the deeds of the soldiery must be con¬ 
firmed and carried into execution with the civil and 
religious formalities peculiar to the constitution. 

This addition to the Note may serve as a further 
illustration of my own sentiments, but is not made 
with an intention of entering into any controversy 
with the author of Observations, &c. to whom I am 
indebted for the obliging terms in which he has ex¬ 
pressed his remarks upon what I had advanced. 
Happy were it for such as venture to communicate 
their opinions to the world, if every animadversion 
upon them were conveyed with the same candid and 
liberal spirit. In one particular, however, he seems 
to have misapprehended what I meant. Pref. p. 17. 
I certainly did not mention his or count Marsigli’s 
long residence in Turkey as a circumstance which 
should detract from the weight of their authority. I 



A VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 


took notice of it in justice to my readers, that they 
might receive my opinion with distrust, as it diflered 
from that of persons whose means of information 
were so far superior to mine. 

Note XLIV. Sect. III. p. 365. 

The institution, the discipline, and privileges of 
the janizaries, are described by all the authors who 
give any account of the Turkish government. The 
manner in which enthusiasm was employed in 
order to inspire them with courage, is thus related 
by prince Cantemir : “ When Amurath I. had form¬ 
ed them into a body, he sent them to Haji Bektash, 
a Turkish saint famous for his miracles and prophe¬ 
cies, desiring him to bestow on them a banner, to 
pray to God for their success, and to give them a 
name. The saint, when they appeared in his pre¬ 
sence, put the sleeve of his gown upon one of their 
heads, and said, Let them be called Yenyiclieri. Let 
their countenance be ever bright, their hands victo¬ 
rious, their sword keen ; let their spear always hang 
over the heads of their enemies ; and wherever they 
go, may they return with a shining face.’' History 
of the Ottoman Empire, p. 38. The number of ja¬ 
nizaries, at the first institution of the body, was not 
considerable. Under Solyman, in the year 1521, 
they amounted to twelve thousand. Since that 
time their number has greatly increased. Marsigli 
Etat, &c. ch. xvi. p. 68. Though Solyman possessed 
such abilities and authority as to restrain this for¬ 
midable body within the bounds of obedience, yet 
its tendency to limit the power of the sultans was, 
even in that age, foreseen by sagacious observers. 
Nicolas Daulphinois, who accompanied M. D’Ara- 
mon, ambassador from Henry II. of France to Soly¬ 
man, published an account of his travels, in which 
he describes and celebrates the discipline of the 
janizaries, but at the same time predicts that they 
would one day become formidable to their masters, 
and act the same part at Constantinople as the 
praetorian bands had done at Rome. Collection of 
Voyages from the earl of Oxford’s library, vol. i. 
p. 599. 

Note XLV. Sect. III. p. 366. 

Solyman the Magnificent, to whom the Turkish 
historians have given the surname of Canuni, or in- 
stitutor of rules, first brought the finances and mi¬ 
litary establishment of the Turkish empire into a 
regular form. He divided the military force into 
the Capiculy or soldiery of the Porte, which was 
properly the standing army, and Serrataculy or 
soldiers appointed to guard the frontiers. The 
chief strength of the latter consisted of those who 
held Timariots and Ziams. These were portions of 
land granted to certain persons for life, in much the 
same manner as the military fiefs among the nations 
of Europe, in return for which military service was 
performed. Solyman, in his Canutt-Nam or book 
of regulations, fixed with great accuracy the extent 
of these lands in each province of his empire, ap¬ 


pointed the precise number of soldiers each person 
who held a Timariot or a Ziam should bring into 
the field, and established the pay which they should 
receive while engaged in service. Count Marsigli 
and sir Paul Rycaut have given extracts from this 
book of regulations, and it appears that the ordinary 
establishment of the Turkish army exceeded an 
hundred and fifty thousand men. When these were 
added to the soldiery of the Porte, they formed a 
military power greatly superior to what any Chris¬ 
tian state could command in the sixteenth century. 
Marsigli Etat Militaire, &c. p. 136. Rycaut’s State 
of the Ottoman empire, book iii. ch. ii. As Soly¬ 
man, during his active reign, was engaged so con¬ 
stantly in war that his troops were always in the 
field, the Serrataculy became almost equal to the 
janizaries themselves in discipline and valour. 

It is not surprising, then, that the authors of the 
sixteenth century should represent the Turks as far 
superior to the Christians, both in the knowledge 
and in the practice of the art of war. Guicciardini 
informs us that the Italians learned the art of forti¬ 
fying towns from the Turks. Histor. lib. xv. p. 
266. Busbequius, who was ambassador from the 
emperor Ferdinand to Solyman, and who had op¬ 
portunity to observe the state both of the Christian 
and Turkish armies, published a discourse concern¬ 
ing the best manner of carrying on war against the 
Turks, in which he points out at great length the 
immense advantage which the infidels possessed 
with respect to discipline and military improve¬ 
ments of every kind. Busbequii Opera, edit. Elze¬ 
vir, p. 393, &cc. The testimony of other authors 
might be added, if the matter were in any degree 
doubtful. 

Before I conclude these Proofs and Illustrations, 
I ought to explain the reason of two omissions in 
them; one of which it is necessary to mention on 
my own account, the other to obviate an objection 
to this part of the work. 

In all my inquiries and disquisitions concerning 
the progress of government, manners, literature, 
and commerce during the middle ages, as well as 
in my delineations of the political constitution of 
the different states of Europe at the opening of the 
sixteenth century, I have not once mentioned M. de 
Voltaire, who, in his Essay sur VHistoire generate, 
has reviewed the same period, and has treated of 
all these subjects. This does not proceed from in¬ 
attention to the words of that extraordinary man, 
whose genius, no less enterprising than universal, 
has attempted almost every different species of lite¬ 
rary composition. In many of these he excels. In 
all, if he had left religion untouched, he is instruc¬ 
tive and agreeable. But as he seldom imitates the 
example of modern historians in citing the authors 
from whom they derived their information, I could 
not with propriety appeal to his authority in con¬ 
firmation of any doubtful or unknown fact. I have 
often, however, followed him as my guide in these 
researches ; and he has not only pointed out the 



PROOFS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


429 


facts with respect to which it was of importance to 
inquire, but the conclusions which it was proper to 
draw from them. If he had, at the same time, men¬ 
tioned the books which relate these particulars, a 
great part of my labour would have been unneces¬ 
sary, and many of his readers who now consider 
him only as an entertaining and lively writer, would 
find that he is a learned and well informed his¬ 
torian. 

As to the other omission, every intelligent reader 
must have observed that I have not entered, either 
in the historical part of this volume, or in the Proofs 
and Illustrations, into the same detail with respect 
to the ancient laws and customs of the British king' 
doms as concerning those of the other European 
nations. As the capital facts with regard to the 
progress of government and manners in their own 
country are known to most of my readers, such a 
detail appeared to me to be less essential. Such 
facts and observations, however, as were neces¬ 
sary towards completing my design in this part 
of the work, I have mentioned under the different 


articles which are the subjects of my disquisitions. 
The state of government in all the nations of 
Europe having been nearly the same during seve¬ 
ral ages, nothing can tend more to illustrate the 
progress of the English constitution than a careful 
inquiry into the laws and customs of the kingdoms 
on the Continent. This source of information has 
been too much neglected by the English antiquaries 
and lawyers. Filled with admiration of that happy 
constitution now established in Great Britain, they 
have been more attentive to its forms and principles 
than to the condition and ideas of remote times, 
which in almost every particular differ from the 
present. While engaged in perusing the laws, 
charters, and early historians of the continental 
kingdoms, I have often been led to think that an 
attempt to illustrate the progress of English juris¬ 
prudence and policy, by a comparison with those 
of other kingdoms in a similar situation, would be 
of great utility, and might throw much light on some 
points which are now obscure, and decide others 
which have been long controverted. 



THE 


HISTORY 


OF THE 

REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK I. 


Ruth ot Charles Y. was born at Ghent on the 
Charles v. twenty-fourth day of February, in the 
year one thousand five hundred. His father, Philip 
the Handsome, archduke of Austria, was the son of 
the emperor Maximilian, and of Mary, the only 
child of Charles the Bold, the last prince of the 
house of Burgundy. His mother, Joanna, was the 
second daughter of Ferdinand, king of Aragon, and 
of Isabella, queen of Castile. 

His dominions, A long train of fortunate events had 
by whfch'hTac- opened the way for this young prince 
quired them. to ^h e inheritance of more extensive 

dominions than any European monarch, since 
Charlemagne, had possessed. Each of his ancestors 
had acquired kingdoms or provinces towards which 
their prospect of succession was extremely remote. 
The rich possessions of Mary of Burgundy had been 
destined for another family, she having been con¬ 
tracted by her father to the only son of Louis XI. 
of France ; but that capricious monarch, indulging 
his hatred to her family, chose rather to strip her of 
part of her territories by force, than to secure the 
whole by marriage; and by this misconduct, fatal 
to his posterity, he threw all the Netherlands and 
Franche Comte into the hands of a rival. Isabella, 
the daughter of John II. of Castile, far from having 
any prospect of that noble inheritance which she 
transmitted to her grandson, passed the early part 
of her life in obscurity and indigence. But the 
Castilians, exasperated against her brother Henry 
IV., an ill-advised and vicious prince, publicly 
charged him with impotence, and his queen with 
adultery. Upon his demise, rejecting Joanna, whom 
Henry had uniformly, and even on his death-bed, 
owned to be his lawful daughter, and whom an 
assembly of the States had acknowledged to be the 
heir of his kingdom, they obliged her to retire into 


Portugal, and placed Isabella on the throne of Cas¬ 
tile. Ferdinand owed the crown of Aragon to the 
unexpected death of his elder brother, and acquired 
the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily by violating the 
faith of treaties, and disregarding the ties of blood. 
To all these kingdoms Christopher Columbus, by 
an effort of genius and of intrepidity the boldest and 
most successful that is recorded in the annals of 
mankind, added a new world, the wealth of which 
became one considerable source of the power and 
grandeur of the Spanish monarchs. 

Don John, the only son of Ferdi- Philip and Joan _ 
nand and Isabella, and their eldest anci nfotherfvisit 
daughter, the queen of Portugal, being Spam - 
cut off, without issue, in the flower of youth, all 
their hopes centred in Joanna and her posterity. 
But as her husband, the archduke, was a stranger 
to the Spaniards, it was thought expedient to invite 
him into Spain, that, by residing among them, he 
might accustom himself to their laws and manners ; 
and it was expected that the Cortes, or assembly of 
States, whose authority was then so great in Spain 
that no title to the crown was reckoned valid unless 
it received their sanction, would acknowledge his 
right of succession, together with that of the Infanta 
his wife. Philip and Joanna passing through 
France in their way to Spain, were entertained in 
that kingdom with the utmost mag- 

~ ° 1502 , 

nificence. The archduke did homage 
to Louis XII. for the earldom of Flanders, and took 
his seat as a peer of the realm in the parliament of 
Paris. They were received in Spain with every 
mark of honour that the parental affection of Fer¬ 
dinand and Isabella, or the respect of their subjects, 
could devise ; and their title to the crown was soon 
after acknowledged by the Cortes of both king¬ 
doms. 

But amidst these outward appear- Ferdinand ea 
ances of satisfaction and joy, some i°us of Philip’s 
secret uneasiness preyed upon the 
mind of each of these princes. The stately and 




KOOK I. 


THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


4.‘K 


reserved ceremonial of the Spanish court was so 
burdensome to Philip, a prince young, gay, affable, 
fond of society and of pleasure, that he soon began 
to express a desire of returning to his native coun¬ 
try, the manners of which were more suited to his 
temper. Ferdinand, observing the declining health 
of his queen, with whose life he knew that his right 
to the government of Castile must cease, easily 
foresaw that a prince of Philip's disposition, and 
who already discovered an extreme impatience to 
reign, would never consent to his retaining any 
degree of authority in that kingdom ; and the pros¬ 
pect of this diminution of his power awakened the 
jealousy of that ambitious monarch. 

Isabellas solid- Isabella beheld, with the sentiments 
to'blnTand re he P r ect natural to a mother, the indifference 

and neglect with which the archduke 
treated her daughter, who was destitute of those 
beauties of person, as well as those accomplish¬ 
ments of mind, which fix the affections of an hus¬ 
band. Her understanding, always weak, was often 
disordered. She doated on Philip with such an 
excess of childish and indiscreet fondness, as excited 
disgust rather than affection. Her jealousy, for 
which her husband’s behaviour gave her too much 
cause, was proportioned to her love, and often broke 
out in the most extravagant actions. Isabella, 
though sensible of her defects, could not help pity¬ 
ing her condition, which was soon rendered alto¬ 
gether deplorable by the archduke’s abrupt resolu¬ 
tion of setting out in the middle of winter for Flan¬ 
ders, and of leaving her in Spain. Isabella entreated 
him not to abandon his wife to grief and melancholy, 
which might prove fatal to her, as she was near the 
time of her delivery. Joanna conjured him to put 
off his journey for three days only, that she might 
have the pleasure of celebrating the festival of 
Christmas in his company. Ferdinand, after re¬ 
presenting the imprudence of his leaving Spain 
before he had time to become acquainted with the 
genius or to gain the affections of the people who 
were one day to be his subjects, besought him, at 
least, not to pass through France, with which king¬ 
dom he was then at open war. Philip, without re¬ 
garding either the dictates of humanity or the max¬ 
ims of prudence, persisted in his purpose ; and, on 
the twenty-second of December, set out for the Low 
Countries by the way of France. 

From the moment of his departure 

Disorder of Joan- T ... . ... 

na's mind. Birth Joanna sunk into a deep and sullen 

of Ferdinand, , , . ...... 

afterwards em- melancholy, 0 and while she was in 

that situation bore Ferdinand, her 
second son, for whom the power of his brother 
Charles afterwards procured the kingdoms of Hun¬ 
gary and Bohemia, and to whom he at last trans¬ 
mitted the imperial sceptre. Joanna was the only 
person in Spain who discovered no joy at the birth 
of this prince. Insensible to that as well as to 
every other pleasure, she was wholly occupied with 

a Petri Martyris Angielii Epistolae, 250, 253. b Id. Epist. 255. 

c Mariana, lib. 27. c. 11, 14. Flechier Vie de Ximen. i. 191. 

d P. Mart. Kp. 279. 


the thoughts of returning to her husband ; nor did 
she in any degree recover tranquillity 
of mind, until she arrived at Brussels 
next year. c 

Philip, in passing through France, had an inter¬ 
view with Louis XII., and signed a treaty with him, 
by which he hoped that all the differences between 
France and Spain would have been finally termi¬ 
nated. But Ferdinand, whose affairs at that time 
were extremely prosperous in Italy, where the su¬ 
perior genius of Gonsalvo de Cordova, the great 
captain, triumphed on every occasion over the arms 
of France, did not pay the least regard to what his 
son-in-law had concluded, and carried on hostilities 
with greater ardour than ever. 

From this time Philip seems not to Death of Isa _ 
have taken any part in the affairs of bella - 
Spain, waiting in quiet till the death either of Fer¬ 
dinand or of Isabella should open the way to one 
of their thrones. The latter of these events was not 
far distant. The untimely death of her son and 
eldest daughter had made a deep impression on the 
mind of Isabella; and as she could derive but little 
consolation for the losses which she had sustained 
either from her daughter Joanna, whose infirmities 
daily increased, or from her son-in-law, who no 
longer preserved even the appearance of a decent 
respect towards that unhappy princess, her spirits 
and health began gradually to decline, and, after 
languishing some months, she died at Medina del 
Campo, on the twenty-sixth of November, one 
thousand five hundred and four. She was no less 
eminent for virtue than for wisdom ; and whether 
we consider her behaviour as a queen, as a wife, or 
as a mother, she is justly entitled to the high enco¬ 
miums bestowed upon her by the Spanish histo¬ 
rians. d 

A few weeks before her death, she Her wil] ap . 
made her last will; and being con- nand*regent d oi' 
vinced of Joanna’s incapacity to as- Castlle - 
sume the reins of government into her own hands, 
and having no inclination to commit them to Philip, 
with whose conduct she was extremely dissatisfied, 
she appointed Ferdinand regent or administrator of 
the affairs of Castile, until her grandson Charles 
should attain the age of twenty. She bequeathed 
to Ferdinand likewise one-lialf of the revenues 
which should arise from the Indies, together with 
the grand-mastersliips of the three military orders ; 
dignities which rendered the person who possessed 
them almost independent, and which Isabella had, 
for that reason, annexed to the crown. e But before 
she signed a deed so favourable to Ferdinand, she 
obliged him to swear that he would not, by a second 
marriage, or by any other means, endeavour to de¬ 
prive Joanna or her posterity of their right of suc¬ 
cession to any of his kingdoms/ 

Immediately upon the queen’s death, Ferdinand 
resigned the title of king of Castile, and issued 

e P. Martyr. Ep. 277- Mar. Hist. lib. 28. c. 11. Ferreras llist. Gener. 
d’ Espagne, tom. viii. 263. 

f Mar. Hist. lib. 28. c. 14. 



43 f 2 


THE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK I. 


orders to proclaim Joanna and Philip the sovereigns 
of that kingdom. Rut at the same time he assumed 

Ferdinand ac- the ch aracter °f regent, in consequence 
luiowiedpd as re- Q f Isabella’s testament; and not long 

gent by the Cortes, ° 

The Castilians a ^ ter » he prevailed on the Cortes of 
dissatisfied. Castile to acknowledge his right to 

that office. This, however, he did not procure with- 
outdifficulty,norwithoutdiscovering such symptoms 
of alienation and disgust among the Castilians as 
filled him with great uneasiness. The union of 
Castile and Aragon for almost thirty years, had not 
so entirely extirpated the ancient and hereditary 
enmity which subsisted between the natives of these 
kingdoms, that the Castilian pride could submit, 
without murmuring, to the government of a king 
of Aragon. Ferdinand’s own character, with which 
the Castilians were well acquainted, was far from 
rendering his authority desirable. Suspicious, dis¬ 
cerning, severe, and parsimonious, he was accustom¬ 
ed to observe the most minute actions of his subjects 
with a jealous attention, and to reward their highest 
services with little liberality ; and they were now 
deprived of Isabella, whose gentle qualities, and 
partiality to her Castilian subjects, often tempered 
his austerity, or rendered it tolerable. The maxims 
of his government were especially odious to the 
grandees; for that artful prince, sensible of the 
dangerous privileges conferred upon them by the 
feudal institutions, had endeavoured to curb their 
exorbitant power 8 by extending the royal jurisdic¬ 
tion, by protecting their injured vassals, by increas¬ 
ing the immunities of cities, and by other measures 
equally prudent. From all these causes a formi¬ 
dable party among the Castilians united against 
Ferdinand ; and though the persons who composed 
it had not hitherto taken any public step in oppo¬ 
sition to him, he plainly saw, that upon the least 
encouragement from their new king they would 
proceed to the most violent extremities. 

Philip endea- There was no less agitation in the 
^government Netherlands upon receiving the ac- 
of Castile. counts of Isabella’s death, and of Fer¬ 
dinand’s having assumed the government of Castile. 
Philip was not of a temper tamely to suffer himself 
to be supplanted by the ambition of his father-in- 
law. If Joanna’s infirmities and the nonage of 
Charles rendered them incapable of government, 
he, as a husband, was the proper guardian of his 
wife, and, as a father, the natural tutor of his son. 
Nor was it sufficient to oppose to these just rights, 
and to the inclination of the people of Castile, the 
authority of a testament, the genuineness of which 
was perhaps doubtful, and its contents to him 
appeared certainly to be iniquitous. A keener edge 
was added to Philip’s resentment, and new vigour 
infused into his councils, by the arrival of Hon John 
Manuel. He was Ferdinand’s ambassador at the 
imperial court; but upon the first notice of Isabel¬ 
la’s death, repaired to Brussels, flattering himself 
that under a young and liberal prince he might 


attain to power and honours which he could never 
have expected in the service of an old and frugal 
master. He had early paid court to Philip during 
his residence in Spain, with such assiduity as 
entirely gained his confidence; and having been 
trained to business under Ferdinand, could oppose 
his schemes with equal abilities, and with arts not 
inferior to those for which that monarch was dis¬ 
tinguished. h 

By the advice of Manuel, ambassa- He requires Fer- 
_ « • T-t dinancf to resign 

dors were despatched to require ber- the regency, 
dinand to retire into Aragon, and to resign the 
government of Castile to those persons whom Philip 
should intrust with it until his own arrival in that 
kingdom. Such of the Castilian nobles as had dis¬ 
covered any satisfaction with Ferdinand’s adminis¬ 
tration, were encouraged by every method to oppose 
it. At the same time a treaty was concluded with 
Louis XII. by which Philip flattered himself that 
he had secured the friendship and assistance of that 
monarch. 

Meanwhile Ferdinand employed all the arts of 
address and policy in order to retain the power of 
which he had got possession. By means of Con- 
chillos, an Aragonian gentleman, he entered into a 
private negociation with Joanna, and prevailed on 
that weak princess to confirm, by her authority, his 
right to the regency. But this intrigue did not 
escape the penetrating eye of Don John Manuel: 
Joanna’s letter of consent was intercepted; Con- 
chillos was thrown into a dungeon; she herself 
confined to an apartment in the palace, and all her 
Spanish domestics secluded from her presence. 1 

The mortification Which the disCO- Ferdinand aban- 
. . doned by the Cas- 

very of this intrigue occasioned to tiiian nobles. 

Ferdinand, was much increased by his observing 
the progress which Philip’s emissaries made in 
Castile. Some of the nobles retired to their castles; 
others to the towns in which they had influence; 
they formed themselves into confederacies, and 
began to assemble their vassals. Ferdinand’s court 
was almost totally deserted ; not a person of dis¬ 
tinction but Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, the 
duke of Alva, and the marquis of Denia, remaining 
there; while the houses of Philip’s ambassadors 
were daily crowded with noblemen of the highest 
rank. 

Exasperated at this universal defec- Ferdinand re- 
tion, and mortified perhaps with see- f^orde^t^ex^’ 
ing all his schemes defeated by a ter'irom is the augh " 
younger politician, Ferdinand resolv- throne - 
ed, in defiance of the law of nature and of decency, 
to deprive his daughter and her posterity of the 
crown of Castile, rather than renounce the regency 
of that kingdom. His plan for accomplishing this 
was no less bold than the intention itself was 
wicked. He demanded in marriage Joanna, the 
supposed daughter of Henry IV., on the belief of 
whose illegitimacy Isabella’s right to the crown of 
Castile was founded ; and by reviving the claim of 


g Marian, lib. 28. c. 12. h Zurita Annales de Aragon, tom. vi. p. 12. 


i P. Mart F.p. 287- Zurita Annales, vi. p. 14. 



BOOK I. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


433 


this princess, in opposition to which he himself had 
formerly led armies and fought battles, he hoped 
once more to get possession of the throne of that 
kingdom. But Emanuel, king of Portugal, in 
whose dominions Joanna resided, at that time hav¬ 
ing married one of Ferdinand’s daughters by Isa¬ 
bella, refused his consent to that unnatural match ; 
and the unhappy princess herself, having lost all 
relish for the objects of ambition by being long 
immured in a convent, discovered no less aversion 
to it. k 


Marri e s a niece The resources, however, of Ferdi- 

of the French ... 

kin s- nand’s ambition were not exhausted. 

Upon meeting w ith a repulse in Portugal, he turned 
towards France, and sought in marriage German de 
Foix, a daughter of the viscount of Narbonne, and 
of Mary, the sister of Louis XII. The war which 
that monarch had carried on against Ferdinand in 
Naples had been so unfortunate, that he listened 
with joy to a .proposal which furnished him with 
an honourable pretence for concluding peace: and 
though no prince was ever more remarkable than 
Ferdinand for making all his passions bend to the 
maxims of interest, or become subservient to the 
purposes of ambition, yet so vehement was his re¬ 
sentment against his son-in-law, that the desire of 
gratifying it rendered him regardless of every other 
consideration. In order to be revenged of Philip 
by detaching Louis from his interest, and in order 
to gain a chance of excluding him from his heredi¬ 
tary throne of Aragon, and the dominions annexed 
to it, he was ready once more to divide Spain into 
separate kingdoms, though the union of these was 
the great glory of his reign, and had been the chief 
object of his ambition ; he consented to restore the 
Neapolitan nobles of the French faction to their 
possessions and honours; and submitted to the 
ridicule of marrying, in an advanced age, a princess 
of eighteen. 1 


The conclusion of this match, which deprived 
Philip of his only ally, and threatened him with the 
loss of so many kingdoms, gave him a dreadful 
alarm, and convinced Don John Manuel that there 
was now a necessity of taking other measures with 
regard to the affairs of Spain." 1 He accordingly 
instructed the Flemish ambassadors in the court of 
Spain, to testify the strong desire which their master 
had of terminating all differences between him and 
Ferdinand in an amicable manner, and his willing¬ 
ness to consent to any conditions that would re¬ 
establish the friendship which ought to subsist be- 

a treaty between tween a father and a son-in-law. Fer- 
Ferdinand aud .. , , . . , , 

Philip. dinand, though he had made and 

broken more treaties than any prince of any age, 
was apt to confide so far in the sincerity of other 
men, or to depend so much upon his own address 
and their weakness, as to be always extremely fond 
of a negociation. He listened with 
eagerness to the declarations, and 


soon concluded a treaty at Salamanca; in which it 
was stipulated, that the government of Castile 
should be carried on in the joint names of Joanna, 
of Ferdinand, and of Philip ; and that the revenues 
of the crown, as well as the right of conferring 
offices, should be shared between Ferdinand and 
Philip by an equal division." 

Nothing, how ever, was further from 15( C 
Philip’s thoughts than to observe this na'set saif for* 11 " 
treaty. His sole intention in propos- Spaln * 
ing it was to amuse Ferdinand, and to prevent him 
from taking any measures for obstructing his voyage 
into Spain. It had that effect. Ferdinand, saga¬ 
cious as he was, did not for some time suspect his 
design ; and though, when he perceived it, he pre¬ 
vailed on the king of France not only to remonstrate 
against the archduke’s journey, but to threaten hos¬ 
tilities if he should undertake it; though he solicited 
the duke of Gueldres to attack his son-in-law’s 
dominions in the Low Countries, Philip and his 
consort nevertheless set sail with a numerous fleet 
and a good body of land forces. They w ere obliged 
by a violent tempest to take shelter in England, 
where Henry VII., in compliance with Ferdinand’s 
solicitations, detained them upwards of three 
monthsat last they were permitted to depart, and 
after a more prosperous voyage, they 

... c \ ; „ -nr April 28. 

arrived in safety at Corunna in Gali¬ 
cia ; nor durst Ferdinand attempt, as he once in¬ 
tended, to oppose their landing by force of arms. 

The Castilian nobles, who had been The nobility of 

Castile declare 

obliged hitherto to conceal or to dis- for Philip, 
semble their sentiments, now declared openly in 
favour of Philip. From every corner of the king¬ 
dom persons of the highest rank, with numerous 
retinues of their vassals, repaired to their new sove¬ 
reign. The treaty of Salamanca was universally 
condemned, and all agreed to exclude from the 
government of Castile a prince who, by consenting 
to disjoin Aragon and Naples from that crown, dis¬ 
covered so little concern for its true interests. Fer¬ 
dinand meanwhile, abandoned by almost all the 
Castilians, disconcerted by their revolt, and un¬ 
certain whether he should peaceably relinquish his 
power, or take arms in order to maintain it, ear¬ 
nestly solicited an interview with his son-in-law, 
who, by the advice of Manuel, studiously avoided 
it. Convinced at last, by seeing the number and 
zeal of Philip’s adherents daily increase, that it 
was vain to think of resisting such a torrent, Fer¬ 
dinand consented by treaty to resign June 27 . 

... Ferdinand resigns 

the regency of Castile into the hands the regency of 

vw , c a stile &rid T0 _ 

of Philip, to retire into his hereditary tires to Aragon, 
dominions of Aragon, and to rest satisfied with the 
masterships of the military orders, and that share 
of the revenue of the Indies which Isabella had 
bequeathed to him. Though an interview between 
the princes was no longer necessary, it was agreed 
to on both sides from motives of decency. Philip 


k Sandov. Hist, of Civil W r ars in Castile. Lon. 1655, p. 5. Zurita An- 
miles de Aragon, tom. vi. p. 213. 

1 P. Mart. Ep. 290,292. Mariana, lib. 28. c. 16, 17. 

2 F 


m P. Mart. F,p. 293. 

n Zurita Annales de Aragon, vi. 19. P. Mart. F.p. 293, 294. 
o Ferrer. Hist. viii. 285. 



434 


THE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK I. 


repaired to the place appointed with a splendid 
retinue of Castilian nobles, and a considerable 
body of armed men. Ferdinand appeared without 
any pomp, attended by a few followers mounted on 
mules, and unarmed. On that occasion Don John 
Manuel had the pleasure of displaying before the 
monarch whom he had deserted the extensive influ¬ 
ence which he had acquired over his new r master. 
While Ferdinand suffered, in presence of his former 
subjects, the two most cruel mortifications which an 
artful and ambitious prince can feel; being at once 
overreached in conduct and stripped of power.? 

Not long after he retired into Ara¬ 
gon ; and hoping that some favourable 
accident would soon open the way to his return 
into Castile, he took care to protest, though with 
great secrecy, that the treaty concluded with his 
son-in-law, being extorted by force, ought to be 
deemed void of all obligation .' 1 

Philip and Joanna Philip took possession of his new 
kingan^queenby authority with a youthful joy. The 
the Cortes. unhappy Joanna, from whom he de¬ 

rived it, remained, during all these contests, under 
the dominion of a deep melancholy ; she was seldom 
allowed to appear in public ; her father, though he 
had often desired it, was refused access to her; 
and Philip’s chief object was to prevail on the 
Cortes to declare her incapable of government, that 
an undivided power might be lodged in his hands 
until his son should attain to full age. But such 
was the partial attachment of the Castilians to their 
native princess, that though Manuel had the address 
to gain some members of the Cortes assembled at 
Valladolid, and others were willing to gratify their 
new sovereign in his first request, the great body of 
the representatives refused their consent to a decla¬ 
ration which they thought so injurious to the blood 
of their monarchs. r They were unanimous, how¬ 
ever, in acknowledging Joanna and Philip queen 
and king of Castile, and their son Charles prince 
of Asturias. 


Death of Philip, Thiswas almost the only memorable 
Sept. 25,1506. event during Philip’s administration. 

A fever put an end to his life in the twenty-eighth 
year of his age, when he had not enjoyed the regal 
dignity, which he had been so eager to obtain, full 
three months. s 


„ The whole royal authority in Castile 

The disorder of 

Joanna’s mind ought of course to have devolved upon 
increases. ° . r 

Joanna. But the shock occasioned by 
a disaster so unexpected as the death of her hus¬ 
band, completed the disorder of her understanding, 
and her incapacity for government. During all the 
time of Philip’s sickness, no entreaty could prevail 
on her, though in the sixth month of her pregnancy, 
to leave him for a moment. When he expired, 
however, she did not shed one tear, or utter a single 
groan. Her grief was silent and settled. She con¬ 
tinued to watch the dead body with the same ten- 


p Zurita Annates de Arag. vi. 64. Mar. lib. 28. c. 19,20. P. Mart. P.p. 
304, 305, &c. 

q Zurita Annales de Arag. vi. 68 . Ferrer. Hist. viii. 290. 


derness and attention as if it had been alive ; 1 and 
though at last she permitted it to be buried, she soon 
removed it from the tomb to her own apartment. 
There it was laid upon a bed of state, in a splendid 
dress: and having heard from some monk a legendary 
tale of a king who revived after he had been dead 
fourteen years, she kept her eyes almost constantly 
fixed on the body, waiting for the happy moment 
of its return to life. Nor was this capricious affec¬ 
tion for her dead husband less tinctured with jealousy 
than that which she had borne to him while alive. 
She did not permit any of her female attendants to 
approach the bed on which his corpse was laid; she 
w ould not suffer any woman who did not belong to 
her family to enter the apartment; and rather than 
grant that privilege to a midwife, though a very 
aged one had been chosen on purpose, she bore the 
princess Catharine without any other assistance 
than that of her own domestics.“ 

A woman in such a state of mind She is j ncapfl bie 
was little capable of governing a great of s° vernment - 
kingdom ; and Joanna, who made it her sole em¬ 
ployment to bewail the loss and to pray for the soul 
of her husband, would have thought her attention 
to public affairs an impious neglect of those duties 
which she owed to him. But though she declined 
assumingthe administration herself, yet, by a strange 
caprice of jealousy, she refused to commit it to any 
other person ; and no entreaty of her subjects could 
persuade her to name a regent, or even to sign such 
papers as were necessary for the execution of justice 
and the security of the kingdom. 

The death of Philip threw the Cas- 

.... • . , , , Maximilian the 

tilians into the greatest perplexity, emperor and Fer- 

x . , . , , dinand competi- 

It was necessary to appoint a regent tors for the re- 

gency, 

both on account of Joanna’s frenzy 
and the infancy of her son ; and as there was not 
among the nobles any person so eminently distin¬ 
guished either by superiority in rank or abilities as 
to be called by the public voice to that high office, 
all naturally turned their eyes either towards Fer¬ 
dinand, or towards the emperor Maximilian. The 
former claimed that dignity as administrator for his 
daughter, and by virtue of the testament of Isabella ; 
the latter thought himself the legal guardian of his 
grandson, whom, on account of his mother’s infir¬ 
mity, he already considered as king of Castile. 
Such of the nobility as had lately been most active 
in compelling Ferdinand to resign the government 
of the kingdom, trembled at the thoughts of his 
being restored so soon to his former dignity. They 
dreaded the return of a monarch not apt to forgive, 
and who, to those defects with which they were 
already acquainted, added that resentment which 
the remembrance of their behaviour, and reflection 
upon his ow n disgrace, must naturally have excited. 
Though none of these objections lay against Maxi¬ 
milian, he w as a stranger to the laws and manners 
of Castile; he had not either troops or money to 


r Zurita Annales de Arag. vi. p. 75 . 

s ¥, aria ?;. lib - 28 - c - 23 * a t P. Mart. F.p. 316. 

u Mar. Hist. lib. 29. c. 3 & 5. P. Mart. Ep. 318, 324, 328, 332. 



BOOK I. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


435 


support his pretensions ; nor could his claim be 
admitted without a public declaration of Joanna's 
incapacity for government, an indignity to which, 
notwithstanding the notoriety of her distemper, the 
delicacy of the Castilians could not bear the 
thoughts of subjecting her. 

Don John Manuel, however, and a few of the 
nobles who considered themselves as most obnoxious 
to Ferdinand's displeasure, declared for Maximilian, 
and offered to support his claim with all their in¬ 
terest. Maximilian, always enterprising and deci¬ 
sive in council, though feeble and dilatory in exe¬ 
cution, eagerly embraced the offer. But a series of 
ineffectual negociations was the only consequence 
of this transaction. The emperor, as usual, asserted 
his rights in a high strain, promised a great deal, 
and performed nothing. x 

Ferdinand absent A few da y s before the death ° f Phi ' 

kLgdomof hls lip* Ferdinand had set out for Naples, 
.N apies. that, by his own presence, he might 

put an end, with greater decency, to the viceroyalty 
of the great captain, whose important services and 
cautious conduct did not screen him from the sus¬ 
picions of his jealous master. Though an account 
of his son-in-law's death reached him at Porto-fino, 
in the territories of Genoa, he was so solicitous to 
discover the secret intrigues which he supposed the 
great captain to have been carrying on, and to 
establish his own authority on a firm foundation in 
the Neapolitan dominions, by removing him from 
the supreme command there, that, rather than dis¬ 
continue his voyage, he chose to leave Castile in a 
state of anarchy, and even to risk, by this delay, his 
obtaining possession of the government of that 
kingdom.* 

Acquires the re- Nothing but the great abilities and 
chie3y°through e * prudent conduct of his adherents could 
carchnafxF °* have prevented the bad effects of this 
menes * absence. At the head of these was 

Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, who, though he 
had been raised to that dignity by Isabella, contrary 
to the inclination of Ferdinand, and though he could 
have no expectation of enjoying much power under 
the administration of a master little disposed to 
distinguish him by extraordinary marks of attention, 
was nevertheless so disinterested as to prefer the 
welfare of his country before his own grandeur, and 
to declare that Castile could never be so happily 
governed as by a prince whom long experience had 
rendered thoroughly acquainted with its true inter¬ 
est. The zeal of Ximenes to bring over his coun¬ 
trymen to this opinion, induced him to lay aside 
somewhat of his usual austerity and haughtiness. 

He condescended, on this occasion, to 
court the disaffected nobles, and em¬ 
ployed address as well as arguments to persuade 
them. Ferdinand seconded his endeavours with 
great art; and by concessions to some of the gran¬ 
dees, by promises to others, and by letters full of 

X Mariana, lib. 29. c. 7- Zurita Annales de Aray. vi. 93. 

y Zurita Annales de A ray. vi. p. 85. 

2 f 2 


1507. 


1509. 


complaisance to all, he gained many of his most 
violent opponents . 2 Though many cabals were 
formed, and some commotions were 
excited, yet when Ferdinand, after FerdinancPre- 
having settled the affairs of Naples, turns t0 s P a,n * 
arrived in Castile, he entered upon the administra¬ 
tion without opposition. The prudence with which 
he exercised his authority in that kingdom, equalled 
the good fortune by which he had recovered it. By 
a moderate but steady administration, His prudent ad- 
free from partiality and from resent- ininistratlon - 
ment, he entirely reconciled the Castilians to his 
person, and secured to them, during the remainder 
of his life, as much domestic tranquillity as was 
consistent with the genius of the feudal government, 
which still subsisted among them in full vigour . 51 

Nor was the preservation of tranquillity in his 
hereditary kingdoms the only obligation which the 
Archduke Charles owed to the wise regency of his 
grandfather; it was his good fortune, during that 
period, to have very important additions made to 
the dominions over which he was to reign. On the 
coast of Barbary, Oran, and other con- conquest of 
quests of no small value, were annex- ■ ran - 
ed to the crown of Castile by cardinal Ximenes, 
who, with a spirit very uncommon in a monk, led 
in person a numerous army against 
the Moors of that country; and, with 
a generosity and magnificence still more singular, 
defrayed the whole expense of the expedition out 
of his own revenues . 5 In Europe, Ferdinand, un¬ 
der pretences no less frivolous than unjust, as well 
as by artifices the most shameful and treacher¬ 
ous, expelled John d'Albert, the lawful sovereign, 

from the throne of Navarre ; and seiz- Acquisition of 
ing on that kingdom, extended the Navarre. 

limits of the Spanish monarchy from the Pyrenees 
on the one hand to the frontiers of Portugal on the 
other . 0 

It was not, however, the desire of 

... , .... Ferdinand jea- 

aggrandizing the archduke which in- lous of Ms grand- 

fluenced Ferdinand in this or in any 
other of his actions. He was more apt to consider 
that young prince as a rival, who might one day 
wrest out of his hands the government of Castile, 
than as a grandson, for whose interest he was in¬ 
trusted with the administration. This jealousy 
soon begot aversion and even hatred, the symptoms 
of which he was at no pains to conceal. Hence 
proceeded his immoderate joy when his young 
queen was delivered of a son, whose life would 
have deprived Charles of the crowns of Ara¬ 
gon, Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia; and upon the 
untimely death of that prince, he discovered, for 
the same reason, an excessive solicitude to have 
other children. This impatience hastened, in all 
probability, the accession of Charles to the crown 
of Spain. Ferdinand, in order to procure a bless¬ 
ing of which, from his advanced age and the in- 

z Zurita Annales de Ar«g. vi. p. 87, 94, 100. a Mariana, lib. 29. c. 10. 

b Ibid. lib. 29. c. 18. c Ibid. lib. 30. c. 11, 12, 18, 24. 



43G 


THE REIGN OF THE 


1513. 


temperance of his youth, he could have little pros¬ 
pect, had recourse to his physicians, and by their 
prescription took one of those potions which are 
supposed to add vigour to the constitution, though 
they more frequently prove fatal to it. 
This was its effect on a frame so feeble 
and exhausted as that of Ferdinand ; for though he 
survived a violent disorder which it at first occa¬ 
sioned, it brought on such an habitual languor and 
dejection of mind as rendered him averse from any 
serious attention to public affairs, and fond of fri¬ 
volous amusements, on which he had not hitherto 
bestowed much time. d Though he now despaired 
of having any son of his own, his jealousy of the 
archduke did not abate, nor could he help viewing 
1515 him with that aversion which princes 
dimm a ish U h S is t0 often bear to their successors. In order 
mfavour y ofFer- to g^iatify this unnatural passion, he 
dmand. made a will appointing prince Ferdi¬ 

nand, who having been born and educated in Spain 
was much beloved by the Spaniards, to be regent 
of all his kingdoms, until the arrival of the arch¬ 
duke his brother; and by the same deed he settled 
upon him the grandmastership of the three military 
orders. The former of these grants might have put 
it in the power of the young prince to have disputed 
the throne with his brother ; the latter would, in 
any event, have rendered him almost independent 
of him. 

Ferdinand retained to the last that jealous love of 
power which was so remarkable through his whole 
life. Unwilling even at the approach of death to 
admit a thought of relinquishing any portion of his 
authority, he removed continually from place to 
place, in order to fly from his distemper, or to forget 
it. Though his strength declined every day, none of 
his attendants durst mention his condition; nor 
would he admit his father confessor, who thought 
such silence criminal and unchristian, into his pre¬ 
sence. At last the danger became so imminent that 
it could be no longer concealed. Ferdinand re¬ 
ceived the intimation with a decent fortitude ; and 
touched perhaps with compunction at the injustice 
which he had done his grandson, or influenced by 
the honest remonstrances of Carvajal, Zapara, and 
Vargas, his most ancient and faithful counsellors, 
who represented to him, that by investing prince 
Ferdinand with the regency he would infallibly en¬ 
tail a civil war on the two brothers, and by bestow- 

d Zurita Annales de Arag. vi. p. 347. P. Mart. Ep. 531. Argensola 
Annales de Aragon, lib. i. p. 4. 

e Mar. Hist. lib. 30. c. ult. Zurita Annales de Arag. vi. 401. P. 
Mart. Ep. 505, 566. Argensola Annales de Arag. lib. i. pT II. 

f Pontius lleuterus, Iterum Austriaearum, lib. xv. Lov. 1649. lib. vii. 
c. 2. p. 155. 

g The French historians, upon the authority of M. de Eellay, Mem. p. 
11. have unanimously asserted that Philip, by his last will, having ap¬ 
pointed the king of France to have the direction of his son’s education, 
Louis X 11., with a disinterestedness suitable to the confidence reposed in 
him, named Chievres for that office. Even the president Henaut has adopted 
this opinion. Abrege Chron. A. D. 1507. Varillas, in his usual manner, 
pretends to have seen Philip’s testament. Pract. de 1’Education des 
Princes, p. 16. But the Spanish, German, and Flemish historians concur 
in contradicting this assertion of the French authors. It appears from 
lleuterus, a contemporary Flemish historian of great authority, that 
Louis XII., by consenting to the marriage of Germanie de Foix with 
Ferdinand, had lost much of that confidence which Philip once placed in 
him ; that his disgust was increased by the French king's giving in mar¬ 
riage to the count of Angoulfeme his eldest daughter, whom he had for¬ 
merly betrothed to Charles. Heuter. Rer. Austr. lib. v. 151. That the 
French, a short time before Philip’s death, had violated the peace which 


[A. D. 1516. BOOK I. 

ing on him the grandmastership of the military or¬ 
ders, would strip the crown of its noblest ornament 
and chief strength, he consented to alter his will 
with respect to both these particulars. 

By a new deed he left Charles the sole is persuaded to 
heir of all his dominions, and allotted 
to prince Ferdinand, instead of that throne of which 
he thought himself almost secure, an inconsiderable 
establishment of fifty thousand ducats 

47 and dies. 

a-year. e He died a few hours after 
signing this will, on the twenty-third day of Janu¬ 
ary, one thousand five hundred and sixteen. 

Charles, to whom such a noble in- Education of 
heritance descended by his death, was 
near the full age of sixteen. He had hitherto re¬ 
sided in the Low Countries, his paternal dominions. 
Margaret of Austria, his aunt, and Margaret of 
York, the sister of Edward IV. of England, and 
widow of Charles the Bold, two princesses of great 
virtue and abilities, had the care of forming his 
early youth. Upon the death of his father, the 
Flemings committed the government of the Low 
Countries to his grandfather the emperor Maximi¬ 
lian, with the name rather than the authority of 
regent. f Maximilian made choice of William de 
Croy, lord of Chievres, to superintend the education 
of the young prince his grandson.? That nobleman 
possessed in an eminent degree the talents which 
fitted him for such an important office, and dis¬ 
charged the duties of it with great fidelity. Under 
Chievres, Adrian of Utrecht acted as preceptor. 
This preferment, which opened his way to the high¬ 
est dignities an ecclesiastic can attain, he owed not 
to his birth, for that was extremely mean ; nor to 
his interest, for he was a stranger to the arts of a 
court; but to the opinion which his countrymen en¬ 
tertained of his learning. He was indeed no in¬ 
considerable proficient in those frivolous sciences 
which, during several centuries, assumed the name 
of philosophy, and had published a commentary, 
which was highly esteemed, upon The Booh of Sen¬ 
tences, a famous treatise of Petrus Lombardus, con¬ 
sidered at that time as the standard system of 
metaphysical theology. But whatever admiration 
these procured him in an illiterate age, it was soon 
found that a man accustomed to the retirement of a 
college, unacquainted with the world, and without 
any tincture of taste or elegance, was by no means 
qualified for rendering science agreeable to a young 

subsisted between them and the Flemings, and Philip had complained of 
this injury, and was ready to resent it N Heuter. Ibid. All these circum¬ 
stances render it improbable that Philip, who made his will a few days 
before he died, Heuter. p. 152. should commit the education of his son to 
Louis XII. In confirmation of these plausible conjectures, positive 
testimony can be produced. It appears from lleuterus, that Philip 
when he set out for Spain, had intrusted Chievres both with the care 
of his son s education and with the government of his dominions in the 
J.ow Countries. Heuter. lib. vii. p. 153. That an attempt was made, 
soon after Philips death, to have the emperor Maximilian appointed re¬ 
gent during the minority of his grandson ; but this being opposed, Chie¬ 
vres seems to have continued to discharge both the offices which Philip had 
committed to him. Heater, ibid. 153, 155. That in the beginning of the 
1508, the r lemings invited Maximilian to accept of the regency, to 
which he consented, and appointed his daughter Margaret, together with a 
council of Flemings, to exercise the supreme authority when he himself 
should at any time be absent. He likewise named Chievres as governor. 
™ Adrian of Utrecht as preceptor, to his son. Heut. ibid. 155, 157 
What Heuterus relates with respect to this matter is confirmed by Mo 
ringus in \ ita Adriani apud Analecta Casp. Burmanni de Adriano, cap. 
10 . by Barlandus,Chronic. Brabant, ibid. p. 25. and by Haraeus, Annal 
Brab. vol. n. 52d, &c 



BOOK I. A. 1). 1516.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. 467 


prince. Charles, accordingly, discovered an early 
aversion to learning, and an excessive fondness for 
those violent and martial exercises to excel in which 
was the chief pride, and almost the only study, of 
persons of rank in that age. Chievres encouraged 
this taste, either from a desire of gaining his pupil 
by indulgence, or from too slight an opinion of the 
advantages of literary accomplishments. 11 He in¬ 
structed him, however, with great care in the arts of 
government; he made him study the history not 
only of his own kingdoms, but of those with which 
they were connected ; he accustomed him, from the 
time of his assuming the government of Flanders in 
the year one thousand five hundred and fifteen, to 
attend to business ; he persuaded him to peruse all 
papers relating to public affairs ; to be present at 
the deliberations of his privy-counsellors, and to 
propose to them himself those matters concerning 

The first o.en ^ ie rec l u i re d their opinion. 1 From 

ings of his iha- such an education Charles contracted 

racter. 

habits of gravity and recollection 
which scarcely suited his time of life. The first 
openings of his genius did not indicate that superi¬ 
ority which its maturer age displayed. k He did 
not discover in his youth the impetuosity of spirit 
which commonly ushers in an active and enterpris¬ 
ing manhood. Nor did his early obsequiousness to 
Chievres, and his other favourites, promise that ca¬ 
pacious and decisive judgment which afterwards 
directed the affairs of one half of Europe. But his 
subjects, dazzled with the external accomplish¬ 
ments of a graceful figure and manly address, and 
viewing his character with that partiality which is 
always shown to princes during their youth, enter¬ 
tained sanguine hopes of his adding lustre to those 
crowns which descended to him by the death of 
Ferdinand. 

The kingdoms of Spain, as is evident 

quires a vigorous from the view which I have given of their 

administration. .... ... , 

political constitution, were at that time 
in a situation which required an administration no 
less vigorous than prudent. The feudal institutions, 
which had been introduced into all its different 
provinces by the Goths, the Suevi, and the Vandals, 
subsisted in great force. The nobles, who were 
powerful and warlike, had long possessed all the 
exorbitant privileges which these institutions in¬ 
vested in their order. The cities in Spain were 
more numerous and more considerable than the 
genius of feudal government, naturally unfavour¬ 
able to commerce and to regular police, seemed to 
admit. The personal rights and political influence 
which the inhabitants of these cities had acquired 
were extensive. The royal prerogative, circum¬ 
scribed by the privileges of the nobility, and by the 
pretensions of the people, was confined within very 
narrow limits. Under such a form of government 
the principles of discord were many ; the bond of 
union was extremely feeble ; and Spain felt not 

h .Tovii Vita Adriani, p. 91. Struvii Corpus Hist. Germ. li. 907- P. 
Ileuter. Her. Austr. lib. vii. c, 3. p. 157. 


only all the inconveniences occasioned by the defects 
in the feudal system, but was exposed to disorders 
arising from the peculiarities in its own constitution. 

During the long administration of Ferdinand, 
no internal commotion, it is true, had arisen in 
Spain. His superior abilities had enabled him to 
restrain the turbulence of the nobles, and to mode¬ 
rate the jealousy of the commons. By the wisdom 
of his domestic government, by the sagacity with 
which he conducted his foreign operations, and by 
the high opinion that his subjects entertained of 
both, he had preserved among them a degree of 
tranquillity greater than was natural to a constitu¬ 
tion in which the seeds of discord and disorder were 
so copiously mingled. But by the death of Ferdi¬ 
nand these restraints were at once withdrawn ; and 
faction and discontent, from being long repressed, 
were ready to break out with fiercer animosity. 

In order to prevent these evils, Fer- Fer dmand had 
dinand had in his last will taken a most dmai'ximenes 
prudent precaution, by appointing car- regent- 
dinal Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, to be sole 
regent of Castile, until the arrival of his grandson 
in Spain. The singular character of this man, and 
the extraordinary qualities which marked him out 
for that office at such a juncture, merit a particular 

description. He was descended of an His rise and cha- 
honourable, not of a wealthy, family ; racter. 

and the circumstances of his parents, as well as his 
own inclinations, having determined him to enter 
into the church, he early obtained benefices of great 
value, and which placed him in the way of the 
highest preferment. All these, however, he re¬ 
nounced at once; and after undergoing a very se¬ 
vere noviciate, assumed the habit of St. Francis in 
a monastery of Observantine Friars, one of the most 
rigid orders in the Romish church. There he soon 
became eminent for his uncommon austerity of 
manners, and for those excesses of superstitious de¬ 
votion which are the proper characteristics of the 
monastic life. But notwithstanding these extrava¬ 
gances, to which weak and enthusiastic minds alone 
are usually prone, his understanding, naturally pe¬ 
netrating and decisive, retained its full vigour, and 
acquired him such great authority in his own order 
as raised him to be their provincial. His reputation 
for sanctity soon procured him the office of father 
confessor to queen Isabella, which he accepted with 
the utmost reluctance. He preserved in a court the 
same austerity of manners which had distinguished 
him in the cloister. He continued to make all his 
journeys on foot; he subsisted only upon alms ; his 
acts of mortification were as severe as ever, and his 
penances as rigorous. Isabella, pleased with her 
choice, conferred on him, not long after, the arch¬ 
bishopric of Toledo, which, next to the papacy, is 
the richest dignity in the church of Rome. This 
honour he declined with a firmness which nothing 
but the authoritative injunction of the pope was 

i Memoires de Bellay, 8vo. Bar. 1573 p. 11. P. Hcuter. Iii>. viii. c. 

1 p. 184. k P. Martyr. Ep. 559, 655. 



438 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1516. BOOK I. 


able to overcome. Nor did this height of promotion 
change his manners. Though obliged to display in 
public that magnilicence which became his station, 
he himself retained his monastic severity. Under 
his pontifical robes he constantly wore the coarse 
frock of St. Francis, the rents in which he used to 
patch with his own hands. He at no time used 
linen, but was commonly clad in hair-cloth. He 
slept constantly in his habit, most frequently on the 
ground or on boards, rarely in a bed. He did not 
taste any of the delicacies which appeared at his 
table, but satisfied himself with that simple diet 
which the rule of his order prescribed . 1 Notwith¬ 
standing these peculiarities, so opposite to the man¬ 
ners of the world, he possessed a thorough know¬ 
ledge of its affairs ; and no sooner was he called by 
his station, and by the high opinion which Ferdinand 
and Isabella entertained of him, to take a principal 
share in the administration, than he displayed talents 
for business which rendered the fame of his wisdom 
equal to that of his sanctity. His political conduct, 
remarkable for the boldness and originality of all his 
plans, flowed from his real character, and partook 
both of its virtues and its defects. His extensive ge¬ 
nius suggested to him schemes vast and magnificent. 
Conscious of the integrity of his intentions, he pur¬ 
sued these with unremitting and undaunted firm¬ 
ness. Accustomed from his early youth to mortify 
his own passions, he showed little indulgence toward 
those of other men. Taught by his system of reli¬ 
gion to check even his most innocent desires, he 
was the enemy of every thing to which he could 
affix the name of elegance or pleasure. Though 
free from any suspicion of cruelty, he discovered 
in all his commerce with the world a severe inflexi¬ 
bility of mind and austerity of character, peculiar 
to the monastic profession, and which can hardly 
be conceived in a country where that is unknown. 

Such was the man to whom Ferdi- 

Cardinal Adrian . 

appointed regent nand committed the regency of Castile; 
by Charles. , , . , 

and though Ximenes was then near 
fourscore, and perfectly acquainted with the la¬ 
bour and difficulty of the office, his natural intre¬ 
pidity of mind, and zeal for the public good, prompt¬ 
ed him to accept of it without hesitation. Adrian 
of Utrecht, who had been sent into Spain a few 
months before the death of Ferdinand, produced 
full powers from the archduke to assume the name 
and authority of regent upon the demise of his grand¬ 
father; but such was the aversion of the Spaniards 
to the government of a stranger, and so unequal the 
abilities of the two competitors, that A drian’s claim 
would at once have been rejected, if Ximenes him¬ 
self, from complaisance to his new master, had not 
consented to acknowledge him as regent, and to 
carry on the government in conjunction with him. 
By this, however, Adrian acquired a dignity merely 

Ximenes obtains nominal. Ximenes, though he treat- 

thesole diiection , , • . al , . 

of affairs. ed him with great decency and even 

1 Histoire de l’Administration du Card. Ximen. par Midi. Baudier, 
4to, Iff35, p. 13. 

m Gometius de Reb. gest, Ximenii, p. 150. fol. Compl. 1569. 


respect, retained the whole power in his own 
hands ." 1 

The cardinal’s first care was to ob- JIisprecauti „ ns 
serve the motions of the infant Don 
Ferdinand, who, having been flattered 
with so near a prospect of supreme power, bore 
the disappointment of his hopes with greater im¬ 
patience than a prince at a period of life so early 
could have been supposed to feel. Ximenes, under 
pretence of providing more effectually for his safety, 
removed him from Guadaloupe, the place in which 
he had been educated, to Madrid, where he fixed 
the residence of the court. There he was under 
the cardinal’s own eye, and his conduct, with that 
of his domestics, was watched with the utmost at¬ 
tention." 

The first intelligence he received from the Low 
Countries gave greater disquiet to the cardinal, and 
convinced him how difficult a task it would be to 
conduct the affairs of an unexperienced prince, 
under the influence of counsellors unacquainted 
with the laws and manners of Spain. No sooner 
did the account of Ferdinand’s death Charles assumes 
reach Brussels, than Charles, by the the tltle ot kln ®* 
advice of his Flemish ministers, resolved to assume 
the title of king. By the laws of Spain, the sole 
right to the crowns both of Castile and of Aragon be¬ 
longed to Joanna; and though her infirmities dis¬ 
qualified her from governing, this incapacity had 
not been declared by any public act of the Cortes 
in either kingdom; so that the Spaniards con¬ 
sidered this resolution not only as a direct violation 
of their privileges, but as an unnatural usurpation 
in a son on the prerogatives of a mother, towards 
whom, in her present unhappy situation, he mani¬ 
fested a less delicate regard than her subjects had 
always expressed . 0 The Flemish court, however, 
having prevailed both on the pope and on the 
emperor to address letters to Charles as king of 
Castile, (the former of whom, it was pretended, had 
a right as head of the church, and the latter as 
head of the empire, to confer this title,) instructions 
were sent to Ximenes, to prevail on the Spaniards’ 
to acknowledge it. Ximenes, though he had earn¬ 
estly remonstrated against the measure as no less 
unpopular than unnecessary, resolved to exert all 
his authority and credit in carrying it into execu¬ 
tion, and immediately assembled such of the nobles 
as were then at court. What Charles required was 
laid before them ; and when, instead of complying 
with his demands, they began to murmur against 
such an unprecedented encroachment on their privi¬ 
leges, and to talk high of the rights of Joanna, and 
their oath of allegiance to her, Ximenes K ecogn i se( i 
hastily interposed, and, with that firm tluenceot'xime- 
and decisive tone which w as natural nes> Apnl 13, 
to him, told them that they were not called now to 
deliberate, but to obey ; that their sovereign did not 
apply to them for advice, but expected submission; 

n Miniana Contin. Marianas, lib. i. c. C. Baudier Ilist. de Ximenes. 
p. 118. 

o P. Mart. Bp, 508. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


439 


BOOK I. A. D. 1516.] 


and “ this day,” added he, “ Charles shall be pro¬ 
claimed king of Castile in Madrid ; and the rest of 
the cities, I doubt not, will follow his example.” 
On the spot he gave orders for that purpose ;P and 
notwithstanding the novelty of the practice, and 
the secret discontents of many persons of distinc¬ 
tion, Charles's title was universally recognised. In 
Aragon, where the privileges of the subject were 
more extensive, and the abilities as well as authority 
of the archbishop of Saragossa, whom Ferdinand 
had appointed regent, were far inferior to those of 
Ximenes, the same obsequiousness to the will of 
Charles did not appear, nor was he acknowledged 
there under any other character but that of prince, 


until his arrival in Spaing 

nis schemes for Ximenes, though possessed only of 
extending the . , 

prerogative: delegated power, which, from his ad¬ 

vanced age, he could not expect to enjoy long, as¬ 
sumed, together with the character of regent, all 
the ideas natural to a monarch, and adopted schemes 
for extending the regal authority, which he pursued 
with as much intrepidity and ardour as if he him¬ 
self had been to reap the advantages resulting from 
their success. The exorbitant privileges of the 
Castilian nobles circumscribed the prerogative of 
the prince within very narrow limits. These privi¬ 
leges the cardinal considered as so many unjust ex¬ 
tortions from the crown, and determined to abridge 
them. Dangerous as the attempt was, there were 
circumstances in his situation which promised him 
greater success than any king of Castile could have 
expected. The strict and prudent economy of his 
archiepiscopal revenues furnished him with more 
ready money than the crown could at any time com¬ 
mand ; the sanctity of his manners, his charity and 
munificence, rendered him the idol of the people; 
and the nobles themselves, not suspecting any dan¬ 
ger from him, did not observe his motions with the 
same jealous attention as they would have watched 
those of one of their monarchs. 

by depressing Immediately upon his accession ti 
the nobility: ^he re g enC y^ several of the nobles, 

fancying that the reins of government would of 
consequence be somewhat relaxed, began to assem¬ 
ble their vassals, and to prosecute, by force of arms, 
private quarrels and pretensions which the authority 
of Ferdinand had obliged them to dissemble or to 
relinquish. But Ximenes, who had taken into pay a 
good body of troops, opposed and defeated all their 
designs with unexpected vigour and facility; and 
though he did not treat the authors of these dis¬ 
orders with any cruelty, he forced them to acts of 
submission extremely mortifying to the haughty 
spirit of Castilian grandees. 

by forming a But while the cardinal’s attacks 

depend f ingonthe were confined to individuals, and every 
crown: act 0 f rigour was justified by the ap¬ 

pearance of necessity, founded on the forms of jus¬ 
tice, and tempered with a mixture of lenity, there 


was scarcely room for jealousy or complaint. It 
was not so with his next measure, which, by striking 
at a privilege essential to the nobility, gave a gene¬ 
ral alarm to the whole order. By the feudal con¬ 
stitution the military power was lodged in the hands 
of the nobles, and men of an inferior condition were 
called into the field only as their vassals, and to 
follow their banners. A king with scanty revenues 
and a limited prerogative depended on those potent 
barons in all his operations. It was with their 
forces he attacked his enemies, and with them he 
defended his kingdom. While at the head of troops 
attached warmly to their own immediate lords, and 
accustomed to obey no other commands, his autho¬ 
rity was precarious and his efforts feeble. From 
this state Ximenes resolved to deliver the crown ; 
and as mercenary standing armies were unknown 
under the feudal government, and would have been 
odious to a martial and generous people, he issued 
a proclamation, commanding every city in Castile 
to enrol a certain number of its burgesses, in order 
that they might be trained to the use of arms on 
Sundays and holidays ; he engaged to provide 
officers to command them at the public expense ; 
and, as an encouragement to the private men, pro¬ 
mised them an exemption from all taxes and impo¬ 
sitions. The frequent incursions of the Moors from 
Africa, and the necessity of having some force 
always ready to oppose them, furnished a plausible 
pretence for this innovation. The object really in 
view was to secure the king a body of troops inde¬ 
pendent of his barons, and which might serve to 
counterbalance their power/ The nobles were not 
slow in perceiving what was his intention, and saw 
how effectually the scheme which he had adopted 
would accomplish his end ; but as a measure which 
had the pious appearance of resisting the progress 
of the infidels was extremely popular, and as any 
opposition to it arising from their order alone would 
have been imputed wholly to interested motives, 
they endeavoured to excite the cities themselves to 
refuse obedience, and to inveigh against the pro¬ 
clamation as inconsistent with their charters and 
privileges. In consequence of their instigations, 
Burgos, Valladolid, and several other cities, rose 
in open mutiny. Some of the grandees declared 
themselves their protectors. Violent remonstrances 
were presented to the king. His Flemish counsel¬ 
lors were alarmed. Ximenes alone continued 
firm and undaunted, and partly by terror, partly 
by entreaty, by force in some instances, and 
by forbearance in others, he prevailed on all the 
refractory cities to comply. 8 During his ad¬ 
ministration he continued to execute his plan 
with vigour; but soon after his death it was en¬ 
tirely dropped. 

His success in this scheme for re- By recalling the 
ducing the exorbitant power of the mon^disCollie 
nobility encouraged him to attempt a 


p Gometius, p. 152, fcc. Baudier, Hist, de Ximen, p. 121. 
q P. Mal t. lip. 572. 


r Minianae Continuatio Mariana?, fol. Ilae:. 1733. p. 3. 
s P. Mart. Ep. 556, &c. Gometius, p. 160, &c. 



440 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1516. BOOK 1. 


diminution of their possessions, which were no less 
exorbitant. During the contests and disorders in¬ 
separable from the feudal government, the nobles, 
ever attentive to their own interest, and taking ad¬ 
vantage of the weakness or distress of their mo- 
narchs, had seized some parts of the royal demesnes, 
obtained grants of others, and having gradually 
wrested almost the whole out of the hands of the 
prince, had annexed them to their own estates. 
The titles by which most of the grandees held these 
lands were extremely defective ; it was from some 
successful usurpation which the crown had been 
too feeble to dispute, that many derived their only 
claim to possession. An inquiry carried back to 
the origin of these encroachments, which were 
almost coeval with the feudal system, was imprac¬ 
ticable ; and as it would have stripped every noble¬ 
man in Spain of great part of his lands, it must have 
excited a general revolt. Such a step was too bold 
even for the enterprising genius of Ximenes. He 
confined himself to the reign of Ferdinand ; and 
beginning with the pensions granted during that 
time, refused to make any further payment, because 
all right to them expired with his life. He then 
called to account such as had acquired crown lands 
under the administration of that monarch, and at 
once resumed whatever he had alienated. The 
effects of these revocations extended to many per¬ 
sons of high rank ; for though Ferdinand was a 
prince of little generosity, yet he and Isabella hav¬ 
ing been raised to the throne of Castile by a power¬ 
ful faction of the nobles, they were obliged to reward 
the zeal of their adherents with great liberality, and 
the royal demesnes were their only fund for that 
purpose. The addition made to the revenue of the 
crown by these revocations, together with his own 
frugal economy, enabled Ximenes not only to dis¬ 
charge all the debts which Ferdinand had left, and 
to remit considerable sums to Flanders, but to pay 
the officers of his new militia, and to establish maga¬ 
zines not only more numerous, but better furnished 
with artillery, arms, and warlike stores, than Spain 
had ever possessed in any former age. 1 The pru¬ 
dent and disinterested application of these sums 
was a full apology to the people for the rigour with 
which they were exacted. 

The nobles oppose The nobles, alarmed at these repeated 
his measures; attacks, began to think of precautions 

for the safety of their order. Many cabals were 
formed, loud complaints were uttered, and despe¬ 
rate resolutions taken ; but before they proceeded 
to extremities, they appointed some of their number 
to examine the powers in consequence of which the 
cardinal exercised acts of such high authority. The 
admiral of Castile, the duke de Tnfantado, and the 
Conde de Benevento, grandees of the first rank, 
were intrusted with this commission. Ximenes re¬ 
ceived them with cold civility; and in answer to 
their demand, produced the testament of Ferdinand 
by which he was appointed regent, together with 

t Flechier Vie de Ximen. ii. 600 . 


the ratification of that deed by Charles. To both 
these they objected ; and he endeavoured to esta¬ 
blish their validity. As the conversation grew 
warm, he led them insensibly towards but without suc- 
a balcony, from which they had a view cess * 
of a large body of troops under arms, and of a for¬ 
midable train of artillery. “ Behold,” says he, 
pointing to these and raising his voice, “ the powers 
which 1 have received from his catholic majesty. 
With these I govern Castile ; and with these I will 
govern it until the king, your master and mine, 
takes possession of his kingdom.” 11 A declaration so 
bold and haughty silenced them and astonished 
their associates. To take arms against a man aware 
of his danger, and prepared for his defence, was 
what despair alone would dictate. All thoughts of 
a general confederacy against the cardinal’s admi¬ 
nistration were laid aside ; and, except from some 
slight commotions excited by the private resentment 
of particular noblemen, the tranquillity of Castile 
suffered no interruption. 

It was not only from the opposition Thwarted by 

Of the Spanish nobility that Obstacles Charles's Flemish 
- r ^ . ministers. 

arose to the execution of the cardinal s 
schemes; he had a constant struggle to maintain 
with the Flemish ministers, who, presuming upon 
their favour with the young king, aimed at directing 
the affairs of Spain as well as those of their own 
country. Jealous of the great abilities and inde¬ 
pendent spirit of Ximenes, they considered him 
rather as a rival who might circumscribe their 
power, than as a minister who by his prudence and 
vigour was adding to the grandeur and authority of 
their master. Every complaint against his admi¬ 
nistration was listened to with pleasure by the 
courtiers in the Low Countries. Unnecessary ob¬ 
structions were thrown by their means in the way 
of all his measures; and though they could not 
either with deoency or safety deprive him of the 
office of regent, they endeavoured to lessen his 
authority by dividing it. They soon discovered that 
Adrian of Utrecht, already joined with him in office, 
had neither genius nor spirit sufficient to give the 

least check to his proceedings; and An additional 
< i n i | i , i • i • number of regents 

therefore Charles, by their advice, appointed. 

added to the commission of regency La Chau, a 

gentleman, and afterwards Amerstorf, a nobleman 

of Holland ; the former distinguished for his address, 

the latter for his firmness. Ximenes, though no 

stranger to the malevolent intention of the Flemish 

courtiers, received these new associates with all the 

external marks of distinction due to the office with 

which they were invested ; but when they came to 

enter upon business, he abated nothing of that air 

of superiority with which he had treated Adrian, 

and still retained the sole direction of affairs. The 

Spaniards, more averse, perhaps, than 

any other people to the government of the direction of 

strangers, approved of all his efforts 

to preserve his own authority. Even the nobles, 

u Flech. ii. 551. Ferreras Hist. viii. 433. 



BOOK I. A. I). 1516.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 

influenced by this national passion, and forgetting 
their jealousies and discontents, chose rather to see 
the supreme power in the hands of one of thei 


44 1 


II is successful war 
in N avarre: 


countrymen whom they feared, than in those of 
foreigners, whom they hated. 

Ximenes, though engaged in such 
great schemes of domestic policy, and 
embarrassed by the artifices and intrigues of the 
Flemish ministers, had the burden of two foreign 
wars to support. The one was in Navarre, which 
was invaded by its unfortunate monarch, John 
d’Albert. The death of Ferdinand, the absence of 
Charles, the discord and disaffection which reigned 
among the Spanish nobles, seemed to present him 
with a favourable opportunity of recovering his 
dominions. The cardinal’s vigilance, however, de¬ 
feated a measure so well concerted. As he foresaw 
the danger to which that kingdom might be exposed, 
one of his first acts of administration was to order 
thither a considerable body of troops. While the 
king was employed with one part of his army in the 
siege of St. Jean Pied en Port, Villalva, an officer 
of great experience and courage, attacked the other 
by surprise, and cut it to pieces. The king instantly 
retreated with precipitation, and an end was put to 
the war. x But as Navarre was filled at that time 
with towns and castles slightly fortified and weakly 
garrisoned, which, being unable to resist an enemy, 
served only to furnish him with places of retreat, 
Ximenes, always bold and decisive in his measures, 
ordered every one of these to be dismantled except 
Pampeluna, the fortifications of which he proposed 
to render very strong. To this uncommon precaution 
Spain owes the possession of Navarre. The French, 
since that period, have often entered, and have as 
often overrun, the open country ; while they were 
exposed to all the inconveniences attending an in¬ 
vading army, the Spaniards have easily drawn troops 
from the neighbouring provinces to oppose them ; 
and the French having no place of any strength to 
which they could retire, have been obliged re¬ 
peatedly to abandon their conquest with as much 
rapidity as they gained it. 

The other war, which he carried on 

IIis operations m . . . . , , 

Africa less fortu- m Africa against the famous adven¬ 
turer Horuc Barbarossa, who, from a 
private corsair, raised himself, by his singular valour 
and address, to be king of Algiers and Tunis, was 
far from being equally successful. The ill conduct 
of the Spanish general, and the rash valour of his 
troops, presented Barbarossa with an easy victory. 
Many perished in the battle, more in the retreat, and 
the remainder returned into Spain covered with in¬ 
famy. The magnanimity, however, with which the 
cardinal bore this disgrace, the only one he expe¬ 
rienced during his administration, added new lustre 
to his character.^ Great composure of temper under 
a disappointment was not expected from a man so 
remarkable for the eagerness and impatience with 
which he urged on the execution of all his schemes. 

x P. Mart. Ep. 570. y Gometius, lib. vi. p. 179. 


Corruption of the 
Flemish minis¬ 
ters, particularly 
of Chievres. 


This disaster was soon forgotten ; 
while the conduct of the Flemish 
court proved the cause of constant un¬ 
easiness, not only to the cardinal, but to the whole 
Spanish nation. All the great qualities of Chievres, 
the prime minister and favourite of the young king, 
were sullied with an ignoble and sordid avarice. 
The accession of his master to the crown of Spain 
opened a new and copious source for the gratifica¬ 
tion of this passion. During the time of Charles’s 
residence in Flanders, the whole tribe of pretenders 
to offices or to favour resorted thither. They soon 
discovered that without the patronage of Chievres 
it was vain to hope for preferment; nor did they 
want sagacity to find out the proper method of secur¬ 
ing his protection. Great sums of money were drawn 
out of Spain. Every thing was venal, and disposed 
of to the highest bidder. After the example of 
Chievres, the inferior Flemish ministers engaged 
in this traftic, which became as general and avowed 
as it was infamous. 2 The Spaniards were filled with 
rage when they beheld offices of great importance 
to the welfare of their country set to sale by stran¬ 
gers unconcerned for its honour or its happiness. 
Ximenes, disinterested in his whole administration, 
and a stranger, from his native grandeur of mind, 
to the passion of avarice, inveighed with the utmost 
boldness against the venality of the Flemings. He 
represented to the king, in strong terms, the mur¬ 
murs and indignation which their behaviour excited 
among a free and high-spirited people, and besought 
him to set out without loss of time for Spain, that, 
by his presence, he might dissipate the clouds 
which were gathering all over the kingdom. 3 

Charles was fully sensible that he 

, , , , , . , Charles persuad- 

had delayed too long to take posses- ed by ximenes 

„, . , . . • c • n t0 Vlslt s P ain * 

sion of his dominions m Spain. Power¬ 
ful obstacles, however, stood in his way, and de¬ 
tained him in the Low Countries. The war which 
the league of Cambray had kindled in Italy still 
subsisted ; though, during its course, the armies of 
all the parties engaged in it had changed their des¬ 
tination and their objects. France was now in 
alliance with Venice, which it had at first combined 
to destroy : Maximilian and Ferdinand had for 
some years carried on hostilities against France, 
their original ally, to the valour of whose troops the 
confederacy had been indebted in a great measure 
for its success. Together with his kingdoms Fer¬ 
dinand transmitted this war to his grandson; and 
there was reason to expect that Maximilian, alwaj>s 
fond of new enterprises, would persuade the young 
monarch to enter into it with ardour. But the Fle¬ 
mings, who had long possessed an extensive com¬ 
merce, which, during the league of Cambray, had 
grown to a great height upon the ruins of the Vene¬ 
tian trade, dreaded a rupture with France; and 
Chievres, sagacious to discern the true interest of 
his country, and not warped on this occasion by his 
love of wealth, warmly declared for maintaining 

z Miniana, Contin. 1. i. c. 2. a P. Mart. Ep. 576, 



442 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1516. BOOK I. 


peace with the French nation. Francis I. destitute 
of allies, and solicitous to secure his late conquests 
in Italy by a treaty, listened with joy to the first 
overtures of accommodation. Chievres himself con¬ 
ducted the negociation in the name of Charles: 
Gou(her appeared as plenipotentiary for Francis. 
Each of them had presided over the education of the 
prince whom he represented. They had both 
adopted the same pacific system, and were equally 
persuaded that the union of the two monarchs was 
the happiest event for themselves as well as for their 
kingdoms. In such hands the negociation did not 
languish. A few days after opening 

A peace conclud- . r ° 

e<^ with 3 France, their conferences at Noyon, they con¬ 
cluded a treaty of confederacy and 
mutual defence between the two monarchs ; the 
chief articles in which were, that Francis should 
give in marriage to Charles his eldest daughter the 
princess Louise, an infant of a year old, and as her 
dowry, should make over to him all his claims and 
pretensions upon the kingdom of Naples; that, in 
consideration of Charles’s being already in posses¬ 
sion of Naples, he should, until the accomplishment 
of the marriage, pay an hundred thousand crowns 
a-year to the French king, and the half of that sum 
annually, as long as the princess had no children ; 
that when Charles shall arrive in Spain, the heirs 
of the king of Navarre may represent to him their 
right to that kingdom ; and if, after examining their 
claim, he does not give them satisfaction, Francis 
shall be at liberty to assist them with all his forces. b 
This alliance not only united Charles and Francis, 
but obliged Maximilian, who was unable alone to 
cope with the French and Venetians, to enter into a 
treaty with those powers ; which put a final period 
to the bloody and tedious war that the league of 
Cambray had occasioned. Europe enjoyed a few 
years of universal tranquillity, and was indebted for 
that blessing to two princes whose rivalship and 
ambition kept it in perpetual discord and agitation 
during the remainder of their reigns. 

The Flemings By the treaty of Noyon Charles se- 
clfairies’s 0 visit cured a safe passage into Spain. It 

to spam. was not, however, the interest of his 

Flemish ministers that he should visit that kingdom 
soon. While he resided in Flanders, the revenues 
of the Spanish crown were spent there, and they en¬ 
grossed, without any competitors, all the effects of 
their monarch’s generosity; their country became the 
seat of government, and all favours were dispensed 
by them. Of all these advantages they ran the risk 
of seeing themselves deprived, from the moment 
that their sovereign entered Spain. The Spaniards 
would naturally assume the direction of their own 
affairs; the Low Countries would be considered 
only as a province of that mighty monarchy; and 
they who now distributed the favours of the prince 
to others, must then be content to receive them from 
Afraid of the hands of strangers. But what 
Ximenes. Chievres chiefly wished to avoid was 

b Leonard Recueil des Trader, tom. ii. 69 . 


an interview between the king and Ximenes. On 
the one hand, the wisdom, the integrity, and the 
magnanimity of that prelate gave him a wonderful 
ascendant over the minds of men ; and it was ex¬ 
tremely probable that these great qualities, added 
to the reverence due to his age and office, would 
command the respect of a young prince, who, capa¬ 
ble of noble and generous sentiments himself, would, 
in proportion to his admiration of the cardinal’s 
virtues, lessen his deference towards persons of 
another character. Or, on the other hand, if 
Charles should allow his Flemish favourites to re¬ 
tain all the influence over his councils which they 
at present possessed, it was easy to foresee that the 
cardinal would remonstrate loudly against such 
an indignity to the Spanish nation, and vindicate 
the rights of his country with the same intrepidity 
and success with which he had asserted the preroga¬ 
tives of the crown. For these reasons all his Fle¬ 
mish counsellors combined to retard his departure ; 
and Charles, unsuspicious from want of experience, 
and fond of his native country, suffered himself to 
be unnecessarily detained in the Netherlands a 
whole year after signing the treaty of Noyon. 

The repeated entreaties of Ximenes, 
the advice of his grandfather Maximi- Charles embarks 
Iian, and the impatient murmurs of 
his Spanish subjects, prevailed on him at last to 
embark. He was attended not only by Chievres, 
his prime minister, but by a numerous and splendid 
train of the Flemish nobles, fond of beholding the 
grandeur or of sharing in the bounty 
of their prince. After a dangerous Sept ' 13 ' 
voyage he landed at Villa Viciosa, in the province 
of Asturias, and was received with such loud ac¬ 
clamations of joy as a new monarch whose arrival 
was so ardently desired had reason to expect. 
The Spanish nobility resorted to their sovereign 
from all parts of the kingdom, and displayed a 
magnificence which the Flemings were unable to 
emulate. 0 

Ximenes, who considered the pre- „ is Flemish mj . 
sence of the king as the greatest ? lsters endeavour 
blessing to his dominions, w as ad- £^' e e s w with Xi - 
vancing towards the coast as fast as 
the infirm state of his health would permit, in order 
to receive him. During his regency, and notwith¬ 
standing his extreme old age, he had abated in no 
degree the rigour or frequency of his mortifications ; 
and to these he added such laborious assiduity in 
business as would have worn out the most youthful 
and vigorous constitution. Every day he employed 
several hours in devotion ; he celebrated mass in 
person ; he even allotted some space for study. 
Notwithstanding these occupations, he regularly 
attended the council; he received and read all 
papers presented to him ; he dictated letters and 
instructions ; and took under his inspection all bu¬ 
siness, civil, ecclesiastical, or military. Every 
moment of his time was filled up with some serious 

c P. Mart. Ep. 599, 601 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


443 


BOOK I. A. D. 1517.J 


employment. The only amusement in which lie 
indulged himself, by way of relaxation after busi¬ 
ness, was to canvass, with a few friars and other 
divines, some intricate article in scholastic theology. 
Wasted by such a course of life the infirmities of 
age daily grew upon him. On his journey a violent 
disorder seized him at Bos Equillos, attended with 
uncommon symptoms; which his followers con¬ 
sidered as the effects of poison, d but could not 
agree whether the crime ought to be imputed to 
the hatred of the Spanish nobles, or to the ma¬ 
lice of the Flemish courtiers. This accident oblig- 

, ing him to stop short, he wrote to 

Charles's in- *. . . , . . . . . . 

gratitude to xi- Charles, and with his usual boldness 
menes. . 

advised him to dismiss all the strangers 
in his train, whose numbers and credit gave offence 
already to the Spaniards, and would ere long 
alienate the affections of the whole people. At the 
same time he earnestly desired to have an interview 
with the king, that he might inform him of the state 
of the nation and the temper of his subjects. To pre¬ 
vent this, not only the Flemings, but the Spanish 
grandees, employed all their address, and indus¬ 
triously kept Charles at a distance from Aranda, 
the place to which the cardinal had removed. 
Through their suggestions every measure that he 
recommended was rejected ; the utmost care was 
taken to make him feel, and to point out to the 
whole nation, that his power was on the decline ; 
even in things purely trivial, such a choice was 
always made as was deemed most disagreeable to 
him. Ximenes did not bear this treatment with his 
usual fortitude of spirit. Conscious of his own 
integrity and merit, he expected a more grateful 
return from a prince to whom he delivered a king¬ 
dom more flourishing than it had been in any for¬ 
mer age, together with authority more extensive 
and better established than the most illustrious of 
his ancestors had ever possessed. He could not 
therefore, on many occasions, refrain from giving 
vent to his indignation and complaints. He la¬ 
mented the fate of his country, and foretold the 
calamities which it would suffer from the insolence, 
the rapaciousness, and ignorance of strangers. 
While his mind was agitated by these passions, he 
received a letter fiom the king, in which, after a 
few cold and form»al expressions of regard, he was 
allowed to retire to his diocese, that after a life of 
such continued labour he might end his days in 
tranquillity. This message proved fatal 
to Ximenes. His haughty mind, it is 
probable, could not survive disgrace ; perhaps his 
generous heart could not bear the prospect of the 
misfortunes ready to fall on his country. Which¬ 
soever of these opinions we embrace, certain it is 
that he expired a few hours after 
reading the letter. e The variety, the 
grandeur, and the success of his schemes, during 
a regency of only twenty months, leave it doubtful 

d Miniana, Contin. lib. i. c. 3. ..... 

v Marsollier Vie de Ximenes, p. 447. Gometius, lib. vn. p. 206, &e. 
Baudicr Hist, de Ximen. ii. p. 208. 


His death. 


Nov. 8. 


whether his sagacity in council, his prudence in 
conduct, or his boldness in execution, deserve the 
greatest praise. His reputation is still high in 
Spain, not only for wisdom, but for sanctity ; and 
he is the only prime minister mentioned in history 
whom his contemporaries reverenced as a saint/ and 
to whom the people under his government ascribed 
the power of working miracles. 

Soon after the death of Ximenes, 

' 1518 

Charles made his public entry with Cortes held at 
great pomp into Valladolid, whither 
he had summoned the Cortes of Castile. Though he 
assumed on all occasions the name of king, that 
title had never been acknowledged in the Cortes. 
The Spaniards considering Joanna as possessed of 
the sole right to the crown, and no example of a 
son’s having enjoyed the title of king during the 
life of his parents occurring in their history, the 
Cortes discovered all that scrupulous respect for 
ancient forms, and that aversion to innovation, 
which are conspicuous in popular assemblies. The 
presence, however, of their prince, the address, the 
artifices, and the threats of his ministers, prevailed 
on them at last to proclaim him king, Declare Charles 
in conjunction with his mother, whose king - 
name they appointed to be placed before that of her 
son in all public acts. But when they made this 
concession, they declared that if at any future pe¬ 
riod Joanna should recover the exercise of reason, 
the whole authority should return into her hands. 
At the same time they voted a free gift of six hun¬ 
dred thousand ducats to be paid in three years, a 
sum more considerable than had ever been granted 
to any former monarch.* 

Notwithstanding this obsequious- 

„ , ... . ^ Discontent of the 

ness of the Cortes to the will ot the Castilians, and 
, , , , . , . ~ the causes of it. 

king, the most violent symptoms of 
dissatisfaction with his government began to break 
out in the kingdom. Chievres had acquired over 
the mind of the young monarch the ascendant not 
only of a tutor but of a parent. Charles seemed to 
have no sentiments but those which his minister in¬ 
spired, and scarcely uttered a word but what he put 
into his mouth. He was constantly surrounded by 
Flemings ; no person got access to him without 
their permission, nor was any admitted to audi¬ 
ence but in their presence. As he spoke the Spa¬ 
nish language very imperfectly, his answers were 
always extremely short, and often delivered with 
hesitation. From all these circumstances many 
of the Spaniards were led to believe that he was a 
prince of a slow and narrow genius. Some pre¬ 
tended to discover a strong resemblance between 
him and his mother, and began to whisper that his 
capacity for government would never be far supe¬ 
rior to hers ; and though they who had the best 
opportunity of judging concerning his character 
maintained that, notwithstanding such unpromis¬ 
ing appearances, he possessed a large fund of know- 

f Flechier Viede Ximen. ii. p. 746. 

S Miniana, Contin. lib. i. c. 3» P. Mart. Ep. 608. Sandov. p. 12. 



444 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ledge as well as of sagacity, h yet all agreed in con¬ 
demning his partiality towards the Flemings, and 
his attachment to his favourites, as unreasonable 
and immoderate. Unfortunately for Charles these 
favourites were unworthy of his confidence. To 
amass wealth seems to have been their only aim ; 
and as they had reason to fear that either their 
master’s good sense or the indignation of the Spa¬ 
niards might soon abridge their power, they has¬ 
tened to improve the present opportunity, and their 
avarice was the more rapacious because they ex¬ 
pected their authority to be of no long duration. 
All honours, offices, and benefices were either en¬ 
grossed by the Flemings, or publicly sold by them. 
Chievres, his wife, and Sauvage, whom Charles, on 
the death of Ximenes, had imprudently raised to 
be chancellor of Castile, vied with each other in all 
the refinements of extortion and venality. Not only 
the Spanish historians, who, from resentment, may 
be suspected of exaggeration, but Peter Martyr 
Angleria, an Italian, who resided at that time in the 
court of Spain, and who was under no temptation 
to deceive the persons to whom his letters are ad¬ 
dressed, gives a description which is almost incre¬ 
dible, of the insatiable and shameless covetousness 
of the Flemings. According to Angleria’s calcula¬ 
tion, which he asserts to be extremely moderate, 
they remitted into the Low Countries in the space 
of ten months no less a sum than a million and one 
hundred thousand ducats. The nomination of Wil¬ 
liam de Croy, Chievres’ nephew, a young man not 
of canonical age, to the archbishopric of Toledo, 
exasperated the Spaniards more than all these ex¬ 
actions. They considered the elevation of a stran¬ 
ger to the head of their church, and to the richest 
benefice in the kingdom, not only as an injury, but 
as an insult to the whole nation ; both clergy and 
laity, the former from interest, the latter from in¬ 
dignation, joined in exclaiming against it.’ 

„, . . ,, .. Charles, leaving Castile thus dis¬ 
charges holds (he . 

Cortes of Ara- gusted with his administration, set out 

gon. 7 

for Saragossa, the capital of Aragon, 
that he might be present in the Cortes of that king¬ 
dom. On his way thither he took leave of his bro¬ 
ther Ferdinand, whom he sent into Germany on the 
pretence of visiting their grandfather Maximilian in 
his old age. To this prudent precaution Charles 
owed the preservation of his Spanish dominions. 
During the violent commotions which arose there 
soon after this period, the Spaniards would infallibly 
have offered the crown to a prince who was the dar¬ 
ling of the whole nation ; nor did Ferdinand want 
ambition, or counsellors, that might have prompted 
him to accept of the offer. k 

The Aragonese The Aragonese had not hitherto ac- 
than the Casti- knowledged Charles as king, nor would 

they allow the Cortes to be assembled 
in his name, but in that of the Justiza, to whom, 
during an interregnum, this privilege belonged. 1 

h Sandoval, p. 81. P. Mart. Ep. 655. 

i Sandoval, 28—31. P. Mart. Ep. 606, 611, 613, 614, 622, 623, 639. Mi- 
njana, Contm. lib. i. c. 3. p. 8. 


[A. D. 1518. BOOK I. 


The opposition Charles had to struggle with in the 
Cortes of Aragon was more violent and obstinate 
than that which he had overcome in Castile; after 
long delays, however, and with much difficulty, he 
persuaded the members to confer on him the title 
of king, in conjunction with his mother. At the 
same time he bound himself by that solemn oath 
M inch the Aragonese exacted of their kings, never 
to violate any of their rights or liberties. When a 
donative was demanded, the members were still more 
intractable; many months elapsed before they M ould 
agree to grant Charles two hundred thousand ducats, 
and that sum they appropriated so strictly for pay¬ 
ing debts of the crown which had long been forgotten, 
that a very small part of it came into the king’s 
hands. What had happened in Castile taught them 
caution, and determined them rather to satisfy the 
claims of their fellow-citizens, how obsolete soever, 
than to furnish strangers the means of enriching 
themselves M'itli the spoils of their country. m 

During these proceedings of the Cortes, ambas¬ 
sadors arrived at Saragossa from Francis I. and the 
young king of Navarre, demanding the restitution 
of that kingdom, in terms of the treaty of Noyon. 
But neither Charles nor the Castilian nobles, whom 
he consulted on this occasion, discovered any in¬ 
clination to part with this acquisition. A confer¬ 
ence held soon after at Montpelier, in order to 
bring this matter to an amicable issue, M as altoge¬ 
ther fruitless ; while the French urged the injustice 
of the usurpation, the Spaniards were attentive only 
to its importance." 

From Aragon Charles proceeded to 
Catalonia, Mhere he M asted as much 
time, encountered more difficulties, and gained less 
money. The Flemings Mere now become so odious 
in every province of Spain by their exactions, that 
the desire of mortifying them, and of disappointing 
their avarice, augmented the jealousy with which a 
free people usually conduct their deliberations. 

The Castilians, who had felt most Combinati<>n of 
sensibly the weight and rigour of the the Castilians 

, ° against the He- 

oppressive schemes carried on by the mish ministers. 
Flemings, resolved no longer to submit with a tame¬ 
ness fatal to themselves, and which rendered them 
the objects of scorn to their felloM'-subjects in the 
other kingdoms of which the Spanish monarchy was 
composed. Segovia, Toledo, Seville, and several 
other cities of the first rank, entered into a confe¬ 
deracy for the defence of their rights and privileges ; 
and notwithstanding the silence of the nobility, who, 
on this occasion, discovered neither the public spirit 
nor the resolution which became their order, the 
confederates laid before the king a full view of the 
state of the kingdom, and of the maladministration 
of his favourites. The preferment of strangers, the 
exportation of the current coin, the increase of taxes, 
M ere the grievances of which they chiefly complain¬ 
ed ; and of these they demanded redress with that 


l' • JV art y ’ Ep* 619. Ferreras, viii. 460. 
1 P. Martyr, Ed. 605. 
n Ibid. Ep. 605, 633, 640. 


m Ibid. Ep, 615—634. 




EMPEROIt CHARLES V. 


445 


ROOK I. A. D. 1519.J 

boldness which is natural to a free people. These re¬ 
monstrances, presented at first at Saragossa, and re¬ 
newed afterwards at Barcelona, Charles treated with 
great neglect. The confederacy, however, of these 
cities at this juncture, was the beginning of that 
famous union among the commons of Castile, which 
not long after threw the kingdom into such violent 
convulsions as shook the throne, and almost over¬ 
turned the constitution. 0 

Death of the em Soon after Charles’s arrival at Bar- 
peror Maximilian, celona, he received the account of an 

event which interested him much more 
than the murmurs of the Castilians or the scruples 
ot the Cortes of Catalonia. This was the death of 
the emperor Maximilian; an occurrence of small 
importance in itself, for he was a prince conspicu¬ 
ous neither for his virtues, nor his power, nor his 
abilities; but rendered by its consequences more 
memorable than any that had happened during se¬ 
veral ages. It broke that profound and universal 
peace which then reigned in the Christian world ; it 
excited a rivalship between two princes, which 
threw all Europe into agitation, and kindled wars 
more general and of longer duration than had hither¬ 
to been known in modern times. 

The revolutions occasioned by the expedition of 
the French king Charles VIII. into Italy, had in¬ 
spired the European princes with new ideas con¬ 
cerning the importance of the imperial dignity. The 
claims of the empire upon some of the Italian states 
were numerous ; its jurisdiction over others was 
extensive ; and though the former had been almost 
abandoned, and the latter seldom exercised under 
princes of slender abilities and of little influence, 
it was obvious that in the hands of an emperor pos¬ 
sessed of power or of genius, they might be employ¬ 
ed as engines for stretching his dominion over the 
greater part of that country. Even Maximilian, 
feeble and unsteady as his conduct always was, 
had availed himself of the infinite pretensions of 
the empire, and had reaped advantage from every 
war and every negociation in Italy during his reign. 
These considerations, added to the dignity of the 
station, confessedly the first among Christian princes, 
and to the rights inherent in the office, which, if ex¬ 
erted with vigour, were far from being inconsider¬ 
able, rendered the imperial erown more than ever 
an object of ambition. 

Not long before his death, Maximi- 

Maximilian had , , . , .... 

endeavoured to Ban had discovered great solicitude to 

secure the impe- ......... ... 

rial crown to ins preserve this dignity in the Austrian 

family, and to procure the king of 
Spain to be chosen his successor. But he himself 
having never been crowned by the pope, a ceremony 
deemed essential in that age, was considered only 
as emperor elect. Though historians have not at¬ 
tended to that distinction, neither the Italian nor 
German chancery bestowed any other title upon 
him than that of king of the Romans ; and no ex¬ 


o P. Martyr, F.p. 630.. Ferreras, 
p Guicciardini, lib. xiii. p, 15. 


viii. 464. 

Hist. Gener. d’Allemagne, par P. 


ample occurring in history of any person's being 
chosen a successor to a king of the Romans, the 
Germans, always tenacious of their forms, and un¬ 
willing to confer upon Charles an office for which 
their constitution knew no name, obstinately refused 
to gratify Maximilian in that point.p 

By his death this difficulty was at C i )ar i es antl 
once removed, and Charles openly as- p e r t ^I f or C th n e 
pired to that dignity which his grand- empire ' 
father had attempted without success to secure for 
him. At the same time Francis I., a powerful rival, 
entered the lists against him ; and the attention of 
all Europe was fixed upon this competition, no less 
illustrious from the high rank of the candidates 
than from the importance of the prize for which 
they contended. Each of them urged his pretensions 
with sanguine expectations, and with no unpromis¬ 
ing prospect of success. Charles con- p re t e ndons and 
sidered the imperial crown as belong- hopes of Varies, 
ing to him of right, from its long continuance in 
the Austrian line; he knew that none of the Ger¬ 
man princes possessed power or influence enough 
to appear as his antagonist; he flattered himself 
that no consideration would induce the natives of 
Germany to exalt any foreign prince to a dignity 
which, during so many ages, had been deemed pe¬ 
culiar to their own nation ; and least of all, that 
they would confer this honour upon Francis I., the 
sovereign of a people whose genius and laws and 
manners differed so widely from those of the Ger¬ 
mans, that it was hardly possible to establish any 
cordial union between them ; he trusted not a little 
to the effect of Maximilian’s negociations, which, 
though they did not attain their end, had prepared 
the minds of the Germans for his elevation to the 
imperial throne ; but what he relied on as a chief 
recommendation, was the fortunate situation of his 
hereditary dominions in Germany, which served as 
a natural barrier to the empire against the en¬ 
croachments of the Turkish power. The conquests, 
the abilities, and the ambition of sultan Selim II. 
had spread over Europe, at that time, a general 
and well founded alarm. By his victories over the 
Mamelukes, and the extirpation of that gallant 
body of men, he had not only added Egypt and 
Syria to his empire, but had secured to it such a 
degree of internal tranquillity, that he was ready to 
turn against Christendom the whole force of his 
arms, which nothing hitherto had been able to re¬ 
sist. The most effectual expedient for stopping the 
progress of this torrent, seemed to be the election 
of an emperor possessed of extensive territories in 
that country where its first impression would be 
felt, and who, besides, could combat this formidable 
enemy with all the forces of a powerful monarchy, 
and with all the wealth furnished by the mines of 
the new world or the commerce of the Low Coun¬ 
tries. These were the arguments by which Charles 
publicly supported his claim ; and to men of inte- 


Rarre, tom. viii. part 1. p. 1067. P. Heuter. Rer. Austr. lib. vii. c. 17 , 
179. lib. viii. c. 2. p. 183. 



446 


THE REIGN OF THE 


grity and reflection they appear to be not only plau¬ 
sible but convincing. He did not, however, trust 
the success of his cause to these alone. Great 
sums of money were remitted from Spain ; all the 
refinements and artifice of negociation were em¬ 
ployed ; and a considerable body of troops kept on 
foot at that time, by the states of the Circle of 
Suabia, was secretly taken into his pay. The venal 
were gained by presents ; the objections of the more 
scrupulous were answered or eluded ; some feeble 
princes were threatened and overawed.* 1 

On the other hand, Francis sup- 

Of France. 

ported his claim with equal eagerness, 
and no less confidence of its being well founded. 
His emissaries contended that it was now high time 
to convince the princes of the house of Austria, 
that the imperial crown was elective and not here¬ 
ditary ; that other persons might aspire to an ho¬ 
nour which their arrogance had accustomed them 
to regard as the property of their family ; that it 
required a sovereign of mature judgment, and of 
approved abilities, to hold the reins of government 
in a country where such unknown opinions con¬ 
cerning religion had been published, as had thrown 
the minds of men into an uncommon agitation, 
which threatened the most violent effects ; that a 
young prince, without experience, and who had 
hitherto given no specimens of his genius for com¬ 
mand, was no fit match for Selim, a monarch grown 
old in the art of war and in the course of victory ; 
whereas a king who in his early youth had 
triumphed over the valour and discipline of the 
Swiss, till then reckoned invincible, would be an 
antagonist not unworthy the conqueror of the east; 
that the fire and impetuosity of the French cavalry, 
added to the discipline and stability of the German 
infantry, would form an army so irresistible, that 
instead of waiting the approach of the Ottoman 
forces, it might carry hostilities into the heart of 
their dominions ; that the election of Charles would 
be inconsistent with a fundamental constitution, by 
which the person who holds the crown of Naples is 
excluded from aspiring to the imperial dignity ; 
that his elevation to that honour would soon kindle 
a war in Italy, on account of his pretensions to the 
duchy of Milan, the effects of which could not 
fail of reaching the empire, and might prove fatal 
to it. r But while the French ambassadors enlarged 
upon these and other topics of the same kind in all 
the courts of Germany, Francis, sensible of the 
prejudices entertained against him as a foreigner, 
unacquainted with the German language or man¬ 
ners, endeavoured to overcome these, and to gain 
the favour of the princes by immense gifts and by 
infinite promises. As the expeditious method of 
transmitting money, and the decent mode of con¬ 
veying a bribe, by bills of exchange, were then 
little known, the French ambassadors travelled 
with a train of horses loaded with treasure, an 

q Guicc. lib. xiii. 159. Sleidan, Hist, of the Reformat. 14. Struvii 
Corp. Hist. German, ii. 976. Mot. 20. 


[A. D. 1519. BOOK I. 

equipage not very honourable for that prince by 
whom they were employed, and infamous for those 
to whom they were sent. 8 

The other European princes could views and inter- 
* est of other 

not remain indifferent spectators of a states: 
contest the decision of which so nearly affected 
every one of them. Their common interest ought 
naturally to have formed a general combination in 
order to disappoint both competitors, and to prevent 
either of them from obtaining such a pre-eminence 
in power and dignity as might prove dangerous to 
the liberties of Europe. But the ideas with respect 
to a proper distribution and balance of power were 
so lately introduced into the system of European 
policy, that they were not hitherto objects of suf¬ 
ficient attention. The passions of some princes, 
the want of foresight in others, and the fear of 
giving offence to the candidates, hindered such a 
salutary union of the powers of Europe, and ren¬ 
dered them either totally negligent of the public 
safety, or kept them from exerting themselves with 
vigour in its behalf. 

The Swiss Cantons, though they g 
dreaded the elevation of either of the 
contending monarchs, and though they wished to 
have seen some prince whose dominions were less 
extensive, and whose power was more moderate, 
seated on the imperial throne, were prompted, how¬ 
ever, by their hatred of the French nation, to give 
an open preference to the pretensions of Charles, 
while they used their utmost influence to frustrate 
those of Francis. 1 

The Venetians easily discerned that 
it was the interest of their republic to 
have both the rivals set aside ; but their jealousy of 
the house of Austria, whose ambition and neigh¬ 
bourhood had been fatal to their grandeur, would 
not permit them to act up to their own ideas, and 
led them hastily to give the sanction of their appro¬ 
bation to the claim of the French king. 

It was equally the interest and more 
in the power of Henry VIII. of Eng¬ 
land, to prevent either Francis or Charles from ac¬ 
quiring a dignity which would raise them so far 
above other monarchs. But though Henry often 
boasted that he held the balance of Europe in his 
hand, he had neither the steady attention, the accu¬ 
rate discernment, nor the dispassionate temper, 
which that delicate function required. On this oc¬ 
casion it mortified his vanity so much to think that 
he had not entered early into that noble competition 
which reflected such honour upon the two antago¬ 
nists, that he took a resolution of sending an am¬ 
bassador into Germany, and of declaring himself a 
candidate for the imperial throne. The ambassador, 
though loaded with caresses by the German princes 
and the pope’s nuncio, informed his master that he 
could hope for no success in a claim which he had 
been so late in preferring. Henry, imputing his 

r Guicc. lib. xiii. 160. Sleid. p. 16. Geor. Sabini de Elect. Zar. V. 
Historia apud Scardii Script. Her. German, vol. ii. p. 4. 

s Memoires de Marech. de Pleuranges, p. 291. t Sabinus, p. 6. 


of the Venetians: 


of Henry VIII. 



BOOK I. A. D. 1519.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


447 


disappointment to that circumstance alone, and 
soothed with this ostentatious display of his own 
importance, seems to have taken no further part in 
the matter, either by contributing to thwart both his 
rivals, or to promote one of them." 

of Leo \ Leo a P ont *ff n0 l ess renowned 
for his political abilities than for his 
love of the arts, was the only prince of the age who 
observed the motions of the two contending monarchs 
with a prudent attention, or who discovered a proper 
solicitude for the public safety. The imperial and 
papal jurisdiction interfered in so many instances, 
the complaints of usurpation were so numerous on 
both sides, and the territories of the church owed 
their security so little to their own force, and so 
much to the weakness of the powers around them, 
that nothing was so formidable to the court of Rome 
as an emperor with extensive dominions or of 
enterprising genius. Leo trembled at the prospect 
of beholding the imperial crown placed on the 
head of the king of Spain and of Naples, and the 
master of the new world ; nor was he less afraid of 
seeing a king of France who was duke of Milan 
and lord of Genoa, exalted to that dignity. He 
foretold that the election of either of them would 
be fatal to the independence of the Holy See, to the 
peace of Italy, and perhaps to the liberties of 
Europe. But to oppose them with any prospect of 
success required address and caution in proportion 
to the greatness of their power, and their opportu¬ 
nities of taking revenge. Leo was defective in 
neither. He secretly exhorted the German princes 
to place one of their ow n number on the imperial 
throne, which many of them were capable of filling 
with honour. He put them in mind of the consti¬ 
tution by which the kings of Naples were for ever 
excluded from that dignity. 55 He w armly exhorted 
the French king to persist in his claim, not from any 
desire that he should gain his end, but as he fore¬ 
saw that the Germans would be more disposed to 
favour the king of Spain, he hoped that Francis 
himself, when he discovered his own chance of 
success to be desperate, would be stimulated by 
resentment and the spirit of rivalship to concur 
with all his interest in raising some third person 
to the head of the empire; or, on the other hand, if 
Francis should make an unexpected progress, he 
did not doubt but that Charles would be induced 
by similar motives to act the same part; and thus, 
by a prudent attention, the mutual jealousy of the 
two rivals might be so dexterously managed as to 
disappoint both. But this scheme, the only one 
which a prince in Leo's situation could adopt, 
though concerted with great wisdom, was executed 
with little discretion. The French ambassadors in 
Germany fed their master with vain hopes; the 
pope’s nuncio being gained by them, altogether 
forgot the instructions which he had received ; and 
Francis persevered so long and with such obstinacy 


Views of the 
electors. 


in urging his own pretensions, as rendered all Leo’s 
measures abortive.* 

Such were the hopes of the candi- 

. The diet assem- 

dates, and the views of the different bies. 

. ’ , June 17th. 

princes, when the diet was opened ac¬ 
cording to form at Frankfort. The right of choosing 
an emperor had long been vested in seven great 
princes distinguished by the name of electors, the 
origin of w hose office, as well as the nature and ex¬ 
tent of their powers, have already been explained. 
These were at that time Albert of Brandenburg, 
archbishop of Mentz ; Herman count de Wied, 
archbishop of Cologne; Richard de Greiffenklau, 
archbishop of Triers ; Lewis, king of Bohemia; 
Lewis, count Palatine of the Rhine; Frederic, 
duke of Saxony; and Joachim I. 
marquis of Brandenburg. Notwith¬ 
standing the artful arguments produced by the am¬ 
bassadors of the two kings in favour of their respect¬ 
ive masters, and in spite of all their solicitations, 
intrigues, and presents, the electors did not forget 
that maxim on which the liberty of the German 
constitution was thought to be founded. Among 
the members of the Germanic body, which is a great 
republic composed of states almost independent, 
the first principle of patriotism is to depress and 
limit the power of the emperor ; and of this idea, 
so natural under such a form of government, a 
German politician seldom loses sight. No prince 
of considerable power or extensive dominions had 
for some ages been raised to the imperial throne. 
To this prudent precaution many of the great families 
in Germany owed the splendour and independence 
which they had acquired during that period. To 
elect either of the contending monarchs would have 
been a gross violation of that salutary maxim; would 
have given to the empire a master instead of a head; 
and would have reduced themselves from the rank 
of being almost his equals to the condition of his 
subjects. 

Full of these ideas, all the electors „ , . 

. Offer the imperial 

turned their eyes towards Frederic, crown to Frederic 

of Saxony, 

duke of Saxony, a prince of such 
eminent virtue and abilities as to be distinguished 
by the name of the Sage, and with one voice they 
offered him the imperial crown. He was not daz¬ 
zled with that object which monarchs so far superior 
to him in power courted with such eagerness ; and 
after deliberating upon the matter a 
short time, he rejected it with a mag¬ 
nanimity and disinterestedness no less singular than 
admirable. “ Nothing,” he observed, “ could be 
more impolitic than an obstinate adherence to a 
maxim which, though sound and just in many cases, 
was not applicable to all. In times of tranquillity, 
said he, w e wish for an emperor who has not pow er 
to invade our liberties ; times of danger demand 
one who is able to secure our safety. The Turkish 
armies, led by a gallant and victorious monarch, are 


who rejects it, 


u Mernoiresde Fleuranges, 314. Herbert Hist, of Henry VIII. 
x Goldasti Constitutiones Imperiales. Francof. 1673, vol. >• 439. 


y Guicciar. lib. xiii. 161. 



448 

now assembling. They are ready to pour in upon 
Germany with a violence unknown in former ages. 
New conjunctures call for new expedients. The 
imperial sceptre must be committed to some hand 
more powerful than mine, or that of any other Ger¬ 
man prince. We possess neither dominions, nor 
revenues, nor authority, which enable us to encounter 
such a formidable enemy. Recourse must be had 
in this exigency to one of the rival monarchs. Each 
of them can bring into the field forces sufficient for 
our defence. But as the king of Spain is of German 
extraction ; as he is a member and prince of the 
empire by the territories which descend to him from 
his grandfather; as his dominions stretch along 
that frontier which lies most exposed to the enemy 
—his claim is preferable, in my opinion, to that of 
a stranger to our language, to our blood, and to our 
country; and therefore I give my vote to confer on 
him the imperial crown." 

This opinion, dictated by such uncommon gene¬ 
rosity and supported by arguments so plausible, made 
a deep impression on the electors. The king of 
Spain’s ambassadors, sensible of the important 
service which Frederic had done their master, sent 
him a considerable sum of money, as the first token 
and refuses any °f ^ iat prince’s gratitude. But he 
claries’s^ambas- who had greatness of mind to refuse 
sadors. a crown, disdained to receive a bribe; 

and upon their entreating that at least he would 
permit them to distribute part of that sum among 
his attendants, he replied, That he could not pre¬ 
vent them from accepting what should be offered, 
but whoever took a single florin should be dismissed 
next morning from his service. 2 

No prince in Germany could now 

Further delibera- . . . . . , ^ , , 

tions of the elec- aspire to a dignity which b redenc had 

declined for reasons applicable to them 
all. It remained to make a choice between the two 
great competitors. But besides the prejudice in 
Charles’s favour arising from his birth as well as 
the situation of his German dominions, he owed not 
a little to the abilities of the cardinal de Gurk, and 
the zeal of Erard de la Mark, bishop of Liege, two 
of his ambassadors, who had conducted their nego- 
ciations with more prudence and address than those 
intrusted by the French king. The former, who had 
long been the minister and favourite of Maximilian, 
was well acquainted with the art of managing the 
Germans ; and the latter having been disappointed 
of a cardinal’s hat by Francis, employed all the 
malicious ingenuity with which the desire of revenge 
inspires an ambitious mind, in thwarting the mea¬ 
sures of that monarch. The Spanish party among 
the electors daily gained ground ; and even the 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1519. BOOK I. 

pope’s nuncio, being convinced that it was vain to 
make any further opposition, endeavoured to acquire 
some merit with the future emperor, by offering 
voluntarily, in the name of his master,a dispensation 
to hold the imperial crown in conjunction with that 
of Naples.* 

On the twenty-eighth of June, five months and 
ten days after the death of Maximilian, this im¬ 
portant contest, which had held all Europe in sus¬ 
pense, was decided. Six of the elect- They choose 
ors had already declared for the king of charles emperor. 
Spain ; and the archbishop of Triers, the only firm 
adherent to the French interest, having at last joined 
his brethren, Charles was, by the unanimous voice of 
the electoral college, raised to the imperial throne. b 
But though the electors consented, They are appre . 

from various motives, to promote power 6 and take 
Charles to that high station, they dis- Precaution 5 

covered at the same time great jealousy 
of his extraordinary power, and endeavoured, with 
the utmost solicitude, to provide against his en¬ 
croaching on the privileges of the Germanic body. 
It had long been the custom to demand of every 
new emperor a confirmation of these privileges, and 
to require a promise that he never would violate 
them in any instance. While princes who were 
formidable neither from extent of territory nor of 
genius possessed the imperial throne, a general aud 
verbal engagement to this purpose was deemed 
sufficient security. But under an emperor so power¬ 
ful as Charles, other precautions seemed necessary. 
A Capitulation or claim of right was formed, in 
which the privileges and immunities of the electors, 
of the princes of the empire, of the cities, and of 
every other member of the Germanic body, are 
enumerated. This capitulation was immediately 
signed by Charles’s ambassadors in the name of 
their master, and he himself, at his coronation, con¬ 
firmed it in the most solemn manner. Since that 
period the electors have continued to prescribe the 
same conditions to all his successors; and the 
capitulation, or mutual contract between the empe¬ 
ror and his subjects, is considered in Germany as a 
strong barrier against the progress of the imperial 
power, and as the great charter of their liberties, to 
which they often appeal. 0 

The important intelligence of his T heelectionnoti- 
election was conveyed in nine days fied t0 charles - 
from Frankfort to Barcelona, where Charles was 
still detained by the obstinacy of the Catalonian 
Cortes, which had not hitherto brought to an issue 
any of the affairs which came before it. He received 
the account with the joy natural to a young and 
aspiring mind, on an accession of power and dig- 


z P. Daniel, an historian of considerable name, seems to call in question 
the truth of this account of Frederic’s behaviour in refusing the imperial 
crown, because it is not mentioned by Georgius Sabinus in his history of 
the election and coronation of Charles V. tom. iii. p. 63. But no great 
stress ought to be laid on an omission in a superficial author, whose trea¬ 
tise, though dignified with the name of history, contains only such an ac¬ 
count of the ceremonial of Charles’s election as is usually published in 
Germany on like occasions. Scard. Her. Germ. Script, vol. li. p. 1. The 
testimony of Erasmus, lib. xiii. epist. 4. and that of Sleidan. p. } 8 , are 
express. Seckendorf, in his Commentarius ilistoricus et Apologeticus de 
Lutheranismo, p. 121 . has examined this fact with his usual industry, and 


has established its truth by the most undoubted evidence. To these testi¬ 
monies which he has collected, 1 may add the decisive one of cardinal 
( ajetan, the pope's legate at Erankfort, in his letter, July 5, 1519. Epis- 
tms des Princes, &c. recueilles par ltuscelli, traduicts par Belforest. Par. 
1572, p. 60 . 

, a l re J) < ? ri Rer - German. Scriptores, vol. iii. 172 . cur. Struvii. Argent. 
1717. Giannone Hist, of Naples, ii. 498. 
b , J 3 c ;^ u ^-. lhuan - Hist - sui Temporis, edit. Bulkley, lib. i. c. 9. 
c Pfeffel Abrege de l’Hist. de Droit Publique d/Ulemagne, 590. 
Limnei Capitulat. Imper. Epistres des Princes par Ruscelli, p. 60 . 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK I. A. D. 1519.J 


449 


nity which raised him so far above the other princes 
of Europe. Then it was that those vast prospects 
which allured him during his whole administration 
began to open, and from this era we may date the 
formation, and are able to trace the gradual pro¬ 
gress, of a grand system of enterprising ambition, 
which renders the history of his reign so worthy of 
attention. 

its effect upon A trivial circumstance first discover- 
him ‘ ed the effects of this great elevation 
upon the mind of Charles. In all the public writs 
which he now issued as King of Spain, he assumed 
the title of majesty , and required it from his sub¬ 
jects as a mark of their respect. Before that time 
all the monarclis of Europe were satisfied with the 
appellation of Highness or Grace ; but the vanity 
of other courts soon led them to imitate the example 
of the Spanish. The epithet of majesty is no longer 
a mark of pre-eminence. The most inconsiderable 
monarchs in Europe enjoy it, and the arrogance of 
the greater potentates has invented no higher de¬ 
nomination. 11 


The Spaniards T'lie Spaniards were far from view- 

thfs evlnt d with in & ^ ie P rom otion of their king to the 
imperial throne with the same satis¬ 
faction which he himself felt. To be deprived of 
the presence of their sovereign, and to be subjected 
to the government of a viceroy and his council, a 
species of administration often oppressive and 
alw ays disagreeable, were the immediate and neces¬ 
sary consequences of this new dignity. To see the 
blood of their countrymen shed in quarrels wherein 
the nation had no concern ; to behold its treasures 
wasted in supporting the splendour of a foreign 
title ; to be plunged in the chaos of Italian and 
German politics, were effects of this event almost 
as unavoidable. From all these considerations, they 
concluded that nothing could have happened more 
pernicious to the Spanish nation ; and the fortitude 
and public spirit of their ancestors, who, in the 
Cortes of Castile, prohibited Alfonso the Wise from 
leaving the kingdom in order to receive the imperial 
crown, were often mentioned with the highest praise, 
and pronounced to be extremely worthy of imitation 
at this juncture. 6 

But Charles, without regarding the sentiments 
or murmurs of his Spanish subjects, accepted of the 
imperial dignity, which the count palatine, at the 
head of a solemn embassy, offered him in the name 
of the electors ; and declared his in¬ 
tention of setting out soon for Ger¬ 
many, in order to take possession of it. This was 
the more necessary, because, according to the forms 
of the German constitution, he could not, before 
the ceremony of a public coronation, exercise any 
act of jurisdiction or authority/ 

Their discontent Their certain knowledge of this re- 

increases. solution augmented so much the dis¬ 
gust of the Spaniards, that a sullen and refractory 


November. 


d Minianae Con tin. Mar. p. 13. Ferreras, viii, 471. Memoires Hist, 
de la Houssaie. tom. i. p. 53, &c. 

2 G 


spirit prevailed among persons of all ranks. The 
pope having granted the king the tenths of all ec¬ 
clesiastical benefices in Castile, to assist him in 
carrying on war with greater vigour against the 
Turks, a convocation of the clergy unanimously re¬ 
fused to levy that sum, upon pretence that it ought 
never to be exacted but at those times when Chris¬ 
tendom was actually invaded by the infidels ; and 
though Leo, in order to support his authority, laid 
the kingdom under an interdict, so little regard was 
paid to a censure which was universally deemed 
unjust, that Charles himself applied to have it taken 
off. Thus the Spanish clergy, besides their merit 
in opposing the usurpations of the pope, and disre¬ 
garding the influence of the crown, gained the ex¬ 
emption which they claimed.s 

The commotions which arose in the An j nsurrec ti 0 n 
kingdom of Valencia, annexed to the m Valencia - 
crown of Aragon, were more formidable, and pro¬ 
duced more dangerous and lasting effects. A sedi¬ 
tious monk having by his sermons excited the citi¬ 
zens of Valencia, the capital city, to take arms, and 
to punish certain criminals in a tumultuary manner, 
the people, pleased with this exercise of power, 
and with such a discovery of their own importance, 
not only refused to lay down their arms, but formed 
themselves into troops and companies, that they 
might be regularly trained to martial exercises. To 
obtain some security against the oppression of the 
grandees was the motive of this association, and 
proved a powerful bond of union ; for as the aris- 
tocratical privileges and independence were more 
complete in Valencia than in any other of the Span¬ 
ish kingdoms, the nobles, being scarcely account¬ 
able for their conduct to any superior, treated the 
people not only as vassals but as slaves. They were 
alarmed, however, at the progress of this unexpected 
insurrection, as it might encourage the people to 
attempt shaking off the yoke altogether ; but as they 
could not repress them without taking arms, it be¬ 
came necessary to have recourse to the emperor, 
and to desire his permission to attack 1520 
them. At the same time the people lts P ro « ress ’ 
made choice of deputies to represent their griev¬ 
ances, and to implore the protection of their sove¬ 
reign. Happily for the latter they arrived at court 
when Charles was exasperated to a high degree 
against the nobility. As he was eager to visit Ger¬ 
many, where his presence became every day more 
necessary, and as his Flemish courtiers were still 
more impatient to return into their native country, 
that they might carry thither the spoils which they 
had amassed in Castile, it was impossible for him 
to hold the Cortes of Valencia in person. He had 
for that reason empowered the cardinal Adrian to 
represent him in that assembly, and in his name to 
receive their oath of allegiance, to confirm their 
privileges with the usual solemnities, and to demand 
of them a free gift. But the Valencian nobles, who 


e Sand. i. p. 32. Minianae Con. p. 14. f Sab, P. Barre, viii. 1083, 
g P. Martyr. Ep. 462, Ferreras, viii. 473, 




450 


THE REIGN OF THE 


considered this measure as an indignity to their 
country, which was no less entitled than his other 
kingdoms to the honour of their sovereign’s presence, 
declared that by the fundamental laws of the con¬ 
stitution they could neither acknowledge as king a 
person who was absent, nor grant him any subsidy ; 
and to this declaration they adhered with a haughty 
and inflexible obstinacy. Charles, piqued by their 
behaviour, decided in favour of the people, and 
rashly authorized them to continue in arms. Their 
deputies returned in triumph, and were received by 
their fellow-citizens as the deliverers of their coun¬ 
try. The insolence of the multitude increasing with 
their success, they expelled all the nobles out of the 
city, committed the government to magistrates of 
their own election, and entered into an association 
distinguished by the name of Germanada or Brother¬ 
hood , which proved the source not only of the wild¬ 
est disorders but of the most fatal calamities in that 
kingdom. 1 * 

The Cortes of Meanwhile the kingdom of Castile 
edt^meetlS 011 " was agitated with no less violence. 
Galicia. No sooner was the emperor’s intention 

to leave Spain made known, than several cities of 
the first rank resolved to remonstrate against it, and 
to crave redress once more of those grievances which 
they had formerly laid before him. Charles artfully 
avoided admitting their deputies to audience ; and 
as he saw from this circumstance how difficult it 
would be, at this juncture, to restrain the mutinous 
spirit of the greater cities, he summoned the Cortes 
of Castile to meet at Compostella, a town in Galicia. 
His only reason for calling that assembly, was the 
hope of obtaining another donative ; for as his trea¬ 
sury had been exhausted in the same proportion 
that the riches of his ministers increased, he could 
not, without some additional aid, appear in Ger¬ 
many with splendour suited to the imperial dignity. 
To appoint a meeting of the Cortes in so remote a 
province, and to demand a new subsidy before the 
time for paying the former was expired, were inno¬ 
vations of a most dangerous tendency ; and among 
a people not only jealous of their liberties, but ac¬ 
customed to supply the wants of their sovereigns 
with a very frugal hand, excited an universal alarm. 
The magistrates of Toledo remonstrated against 
both these measures in a very high tone; the inha¬ 
bitants of Valladolid, who expected that the Cortes 
should have been held in that city, were so enraged 
that they took arms in a tumultuary manner ; and 
if Charles, with his foreign counsellors, had not 
fortunately made their escape during a violent tem¬ 
pest, they would have massacred all the Flemings, 
and have prevented him from continuing his jour¬ 
ney towards Compostella. 

T i 1H Every city through which he passed 

Of that assembly, petitioned against holding a Cortes in 

Galicia, a point with regard to which Charles was 
inflexible. Rut though the utmost influence had 
been exerted by the ministers in order to procure 

h P. Martyr Ep. 651. Ferreras, viii. -176, 485. 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK I. 

a choice of representatives favourable to their de¬ 
signs, such was the temper of the nation, that at the 
opening of the assembly there appeared among 
many of the members unusual symptoms of ill- 
humour, which threatened a fierce op- April 1 
position to all the measures of the 
court. No representatives were sent by Toledo ; 
for the lot according to which, by ancient custom, 
the election was determined in that city, having 
fallen upon two persons devoted to the Flemish 
ministers, their fellow-citizens refused to grant them 
a commission in the usual form, and in their stead 
made choice of two deputies, whom they empowered 
to repair to Compostella, and to protest against the 
lawfulness of the Cortes assembled 

. The disaffection 

there. The representatives of Sala- of the Castilians 

increases. 

manca refused to take the usual oath 
of fidelity unless Charles consented to change the 
place of meeting. Those of Toro, Madrid, Cordova, 
and several other places, declared the demand of 
another donative to be unprecedented, unconstitu¬ 
tional, and unnecessary. All the arts, however, 
which influence popular assemblies, bribes, pro¬ 
mises, threats, and even force, were employed in 
order to gain members. The nobles, soothed by the 
respectful assiduity with which Chievres and the 
other Flemings paid court to them, or instigated by 
a mean jealousy of that spirit of independence which 
they saw rising among the commons, openly favour¬ 
ed the pretensions of the court, or at the utmost did 
not oppose them ; and at last, in contempt not only 
of the sentiments of the nation but of the ancient 
forms of the constitution, a majority voted to grant 
the donative for which the emperor had applied.* 
Together with this grant the Cortes laid before 
Charles a representation of those grievances where¬ 
of his people complained, and in their name craved 
redress ; but he, having obtained from them all that 
he could expect, paid no attention to this ill-timed 
petition, which it was no longer dangerous to disre- 
gard. k 

As nothing now retarded his em- , 

° . . Charles appoints 

barkation, he disclosed his intention regents during 

' me HilSPnCP 

with regard to the regency of Castile 
during his absence, which he had hitherto kept se¬ 
cret, and nominated cardinal Adrian to that office. 
The viceroyalty of Aragon he conferred on Don 
John de Lanuza; that of Valencia on Don Diego 
de Mendoza Conde de Melito. The choice of the 
two latter was universally acceptable; but the ad¬ 
vancement of Adrian, though the only Fleming who 
had preserved any reputation among the Spaniards, 
animated the Castilians with new hatred against 
foreigners ; and even the nobles, who bad so tamely 
suffered other inroads upon the constitution, felt 
the indignity offered to their own order by his pro¬ 
motion, and remonstrated against it as illegal. But 
Charles’s first desire of visiting Germany, as well as 
the impatience of his ministers to leave Spain, were 
now so much increased, that without attending to 

i P. Martyr. Ep. 603. Sandoval, p. 32, &c. 


k Sandoval, 84. 





EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK II. A. D. 1520.] 


451 


the murmurs of the Castilians, or even taking time 
to provide any remedy against an insurrection in 
Toledo, which at that time threatened and after¬ 
wards produced most formidable effects, he sailed 

and embarks for fr ° m Corunna on twenty-second of 
May ; and by setting out so abruptly 
in quest of a new crown, he endanger¬ 
ed a more important one of which he was already 
in possession.' 


the Low Coun 
tries. 


BOOK II. 


. . Many concurring circumstances not 

Charles s pre- 0 

sence m Ger- only called Charles’s thoughts towards 
many necessary. J 

the affairs of Germany, but rendered 
his presence in that country necessary. The electors 
grew impatient of so long an interregnum ; his 
hereditary dominions were disturbed by intestine 
commotions ; and the new opinions concerning re¬ 
ligion made such rapid progress as required the 
most serious consideration. But above all, the mo¬ 
tions of the French king drew his attention, and 
convinced him that it was necessary to take mea¬ 
sures for his own defence with no less speed than 
vigour. 


When Charles and Francis entered 

gressof thedval- the lists as candidates for the imperial 

Charles and dignity, they conducted their rivalship 
Francis 1. . , /. • r 

with many professions of regard for 
each other, and with repeated declarations that they 
would not suffer any tincture of enmity to mingle 
itself with this honourable emulation. “ We both 
court the same mistress,” said Francis, with his 
usual vivacity; “ each ought to urge his suit with 
all the address of which he is master; the most for¬ 
tunate will prevail, and the other must rest con¬ 
tented.” 4 But though two young and high-spirited 
princes, and each of them animated w r ith the hope 
of success, might be capable of forming such a ge¬ 
nerous resolution, it was soon found that they pre¬ 
sumed upon a moderation too refined and disinterest¬ 
ed for human nature. The preference given to 
Charles in the sight of all Europe mortified Francis 
extremely, and inspired him with all the passions 
natural to disappointed ambition. To this was ow¬ 
ing the personal jealousy and rivalship which sub¬ 
sisted between the two monarchs during their whole 
reign ; and the rancour of these, augmented by a 
real opposition of interest, which gave rise to many 
unavoidable causes of discord, involved them in 
almost perpetual hostilities. Charles had paid no re¬ 
gard to the principal article in the treaty of Noyon, by 
refusingoftener than once to do justice to John d’Al- 
bert, the excluded monarch of Navarre, whom Fran¬ 
cis was bound in honour, and prompted by interest, 
to restore to his throne. The French king had pre¬ 
tensions to the crown of Naples, of which Ferdinand 
had deprived his predecessor by a most unjustifiable 


J P Martyr. Ep. 670. Sandov. 86. 

2 g 2 


breach of faith. The emperor might reclaim the 
duchy of Milan as a fief of the empire, which Fran¬ 
cis had seized, and still kept in possession, without 
having received investiture of it from the emperor. 
Charles considered the duchy of Burgundy as the 
patrimonial domain of his ancestors, wrested from 
them by the unjust policy of Louis XI.; and ob¬ 
served with the greatest jealousy the strict con¬ 
nexions which Francis had formed with the duke 
of Gueldres, the hereditary enemy of his family. 

When the sources of discord were 

. 1 ,, Their delibera- 

so many and various, peace could be tions previous to 

the commence- 

ot no long continuance, even between mentof hostiii- 
princes the most exempt from ambition 
or emulation. But as the shock betw een two such 
mighty antagonists could not fail of being extremely 
violent, they both discovered no small solicitude 
about its consequences, and took time not only to 
collect and to ponder their own strength, and to 
compare it with that of their adversary, but to se¬ 
cure the friendship or assistance of the other Eu¬ 
ropean powers. 

The pope had equal reason to dread Xh negociate 
the tw r o rivals, and saw r that he who Wlth the P°P e > 
prevailed would become absolute master in Italy. 
If it had been in his power to engage them in hos¬ 
tilities without rendering Lombardy the theatre of 
war, nothing would have been more agreeable to 
him than to see them waste each other’s strength in 
endless quarrels. But this was impossible. Leo 
foresaw that on the first rupture between the two 
monarchs, the armies of France and Spain would 
take the field in the Milanese; and while the scene 
of their operations was so near, and the subject for 
w hich they contended so interesting to him, he could 
not long remain neuter. He was obliged, there¬ 
fore, to adapt his plan of conduct to his political 
situation. He courted and soothed the emperor and 
king of France with equal industry and address. 
Though warmly solicited by each of them to espouse 
his cause, he assumed all the appearances of entire 
impartiality, and attempted to conceal his real sen¬ 
timents under that profound dissimulation which 
seems to have been affected by most of the Italian 
politicians in that age. 

The views and interest of the Vene- with the Vene 
tians were not different from those of tians; 
the pope ; nor were they less solicitous to prevent 
Italy from becoming the seat of war, and their own 
republic from being involved in the quarrel. But 
through all Leo’s artifices, and notwithstanding his 
high pretensions to a perfect neutrality, it was visi¬ 
ble that he leaned towards the emperor, from whom 
he had both more to fear and more to hope than 
from Francis; and it was equally manifest, that if 
it became necessary to take a side, the Venetians 
would, from motives of the same nature, declare for 
the king of France. No considerable assistance, 
however, was to be expected from the Italian 
States, who were jealous to an extreme degree of 

a Guic. lib. xiii. p. 159. 




452 


THE REIGN OF THE 


with Henry 
VIU. 


the Transalpine powers, and careful to preserve the 
balance even between them, unless when they were 
seduced to violate this favourite maxim of their 
policy by the certain prospect of some great ad¬ 
vantage to themselves. 

But the chief attention both of 
Charles and of Francis was employed 
in order to gain the king of England, from whom 
each of them expected assistance more effectual, 
and afforded with less political caution. Henry 
VIII. had ascended the throne of that kingdom in 
the year one thousand five hundred and nine, with 
such circumstances of advantage as promised a 
reign of distinguished felicity and splendour. The 

The great power un i° n in his person of the two contend- 
ot that monarch. j n g titles of York and Lancaster, the 

alacrity and emulation with which both factions 
obeyed his commands, not only enabled him to 
exert a degree of vigour and authority in his 
domestic government which none of his predeces¬ 
sors could have safely assumed, but permitted him 
to take a share in the affairs of the Continent, from 
which the attention of the English had long been 
diverted by their unhappy intestine divisions. The 
great sums of money which his father had amassed, 
rendered him the most wealthy prince in Europe. 
The peace which had subsisted under the cautious 
administration of that monarch, had been of suffi¬ 
cient length to recruit the population of the king¬ 
dom after the desolation of the civil wars, but not 
so long as to enervate its spirit; and the English, 
ashamed of having rendered their own country so 
long a scene of discord and bloodshed, were eager to 
display their valour in some foreign war, and to 
revive the memory of the victories gained on the 
continent by their ancestors. Henry’s 
own temper perfectly suited the state 
of his kingdom and the disposition of his subjects. 
Ambitious, active, enterprising, and accomplished 
in all the martial exercises which in that age 
formed a chief part in the education of persons of 
noble birth, and inspired them with an early love of 
war, he longed to engage in action, and to signalize 
the beginning of his reign by some remarkable ex¬ 
ploit. An opportunity soon presented 
itself; and the victory at Guinegate, 
together with the successful sieges of Teroiienne 
and Tournay, though of little utility to England, re¬ 
flected great lustre on its monarch, and confirmed 
the idea which foreign princes entertained of his 
power and consequence. So many concurring 
causes, added to the happy situation of his own 
dominions, which secured them from foreign inva¬ 
sion, and to the fortunate circumstance of his being 
in possession of Calais, w hich served not only as a 
key to France, but opened an easy passage into the 
Netherlands, rendered the king of England the na¬ 
tural guardian of the liberties of Europe, and the 
arbiter between the emperor and French monarch. 
Henry himself was sensible of this singular ad¬ 
vantage, and convinced that, in order to preserve 


Character ot 
Henry, 


1513. 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK II. 

the balance even, it was his office to prevent either 
of the rivals from acquiring such superiority of 
power as might be fatal to the other, or formidable 
to the rest of Christendom. But he was destitute 
of the penetration, and still more of the temper, 
which such a delicate function required. Influ¬ 
enced by caprice, by vanity, by resentment, by 
affection, he was incapable of forming any regular 
and extensive system of policy, or of adhering to it 
with steadiness. His measures seldom resulted 
from attention to the general welfare, or from a de¬ 
liberate regard to his own interest, but were dictated 
by passions which rendered him blind to both, and 
prevented his gaining that ascendant in the affairs 
of Europe, or from reaping such advantage to him¬ 
self, as a prince of greater art, though with inferior 
talents, might have easily secured. 

All the impolitic steps in Henry’s andofMjm .. 
administration must not, however, be mster cardinal 

Vv olsey. 

imputed to defects in his own cha¬ 
racter; many of them were owing to the violent 
passions and insatiable ambition of his prime mi¬ 
nister and favourite, cardinal Wolsey. This man, 
from one of the lowest ranks in life, had risen to an 
height of power and dignity to which no English 
subject ever arrived ; and governed the haughty, 
presumptuous, and intractable spirit of Henry with 
absolute authority. Great talents, and of very 
different kinds, fitted him for the two opposite sta¬ 
tions of minister and of favourite. His profound 
judgment, his unwearied industry, his thorough ac¬ 
quaintance with the state of the kingdom, his ex¬ 
tensive knowledge of the views and interests of 
foreign courts, qualified him for that uncontrolled 
direction of affairs with which he was intrusted. 
The elegance of his manners, the gaiety of his con¬ 
versation, his insinuating address, his love of mag¬ 
nificence, and his proficiency in those parts of lite¬ 
rature of which Henry was fond, gained him the 
affection and confidence of the young monarch. 
Wolsey was far from employing this vast and almost 
royal power to promote either the true interest of 
the nation or the real grandeur of his master. Ra¬ 
pacious at the same time and profuse, he was insa¬ 
tiable in desiring wealth. Of boundless ambition, 
he aspired after new honours with an eagerness un¬ 
abated by his former success; and being rendered 
presumptuous by his uncommon elevation, as well 
as by the ascendant which he had gained over a 
prince who scarcely brooked advice from any other 
person, he discovered in his whole demeanour the 
most overbearing haughtiness and pride. To these 
passions he himself sacrificed every consideration ; 
and whoever endeavoured to obtain his favour or 
that of his master, found it necessary to soothe and 
to gratify them. 

As all the states of Europe sought 
Henry’s friendship at that time, all ?o he vvoisey Pa hv 
courted his minister with incredible 
attention and obsequiousness, and strove by pre¬ 
sents, by promises, or by flattery, to work upon his 





EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


453 


BOOK II. A. D. 1620.] 

avarice, his ambition, or his pride. b Francis had, in 
the year one thousand live hundred and eighteen, 
employed Bonnivet, admiral of France, one of his 
most accomplished and artful courtiers, to gain this 
haughty prelate. He himself bestowed on him every 
mark of respect and confidence. He consulted him 
with regard to his most important affairs, and re¬ 
ceived his responses with implicit deference. By 
these arts, together with the grant of a large pension, 
Francis attached the cardinal to his interest, who 
persuaded his master to surrender Tournay to 
France, to conclude a treaty of marriage between 
his daughter the princess Mary and the dauphin, 
and to consent to a personal interview with the 
French king. c From that time the most familiar 
intercourse subsisted between the two courts; 
Francis, sensible of the great value of Wolsey’s 
friendship, laboured to secure the continuance of it 
by every possible expression of regard, bestowing 
on him, in all his letters, the honourable appella¬ 
tions of father, tutor, and governor. 

Charles observed the progress of 

and by Charles. . . ... , , . , 

this union with the utmost jealousy 
and concern. His near affinity to the king of Eng¬ 
land gave him some title to his friendship ; and soon 
after his accession to the throne of Castile, he had 
Attempted to ingratiate himself with Wolsey, by 
settling on him a pension of three thousand livres. 
His chief solicitude at present was to prevent the 
intended interview with Francis, the effects of 
which upon two young princes whose hearts were 
no less susceptible of friendship than their man¬ 
ners were capable of inspiring it, he extremely 
dreaded. But after many delays, occasioned by 
difficulties with respect to the ceremonial, and by 
the anxious precautions of both courts for the 
safety of their respective sovereigns, the time and 
place of meeting were at last fixed. Messengers 
had been sent to different courts, inviting all comers 
who were gentlemen, to enter the lists, at tilt and 
tournament, against the two monarchs and their 
knights. Both Francis and Henry loved the splen¬ 
dour of these spectacles too well, and were too 
much delighted with the graceful figure which they 
made on such occasions, to forego the pleasure or 
glory which they expected from such a singular 
and brilliant assembly. Nor was the cardinal less 
fond of displaying his own magnificence in the pre¬ 
sence of two courts, and of discovering to the two 
nations the extent of his influence over both their 
monarchs. Charles, finding it impossible to pre¬ 
vent the interview, endeavoured to disappoint its 
effects, and to pre-occupy the favour of the English 
monarch and his minister by an act of complaisance 
still more flattering and more uncommon. Having 
sailed from Corunna, as has already been related. 


b Fiddes’ Life of Wolsey, 166. Tlymer’s Fosdera, xiii. 718. 
c Herbert’s Hist, of Henry VIII. 30. Rymer, xiii. 624. 
d Hymer, xiii. 714. . 

e The French and English historians describe the pomp of this interview, 
and the various spectacles, with great minuteness. One circumstance 
mentioned by the Mareschal de Pleuranges, who was present, and which 
must appear singular in the present age, is commonly omitted. “ After 
the tournament/’ says he, “the French and English wrestlers made their 


he steered his course directly towards charles visits 
England, and relying wholly on Hen- aiay^’ 
ry's generosity for his own safety, 
landed at Dover. This unexpected visit surprised 
the nation. Wolsey, however, was well acquainted 
with the emperor's intention. A negociation, un¬ 
known to the historians of that age, had been car¬ 
ried on between him and the court of Spain; this 
visit had been concerted ; and Charles granted the 
cardinal, whom he calls his most dear friend , an 
additional pension of seven thousand ducats. d 
Henry, who was then at Canterbury in his way to 
France, immediately despatched Wolsey to Dover 
in order to welcome the emperor ; and being highly 
pleased with an event so soothing to his vanity, 
hastened to receive with suitable respect a guest 
who had placed in him such unbounded confidence. 
Charles, to whom time was precious, insinuates him- 
staid only four days in England; but bothwhhtiSng 
during that short space he had the ad- and Wolsey - 
dress not only to give Henry favourable impres¬ 
sions of his character and intentions, but to detach 
Wolsey entirely from the interest of the French 
king. All the grandeur, the wealth, and the 
power which the cardinal possessed did not 
satisfy his ambitious mind, while there was 
one step higher to which an ecclesiastic could 
ascend. The papal dignity had for some time been 
the object of his wishes, and Francis, as the most 
effectual method of securing his friendship, had 
promised to favour his pretensions, on the first 
vacancy, with all his interest. But as the emperor's 
influence in the college of cardinals was greatly 
superior to that of the French king, Wolsey 
grasped eagerly at the offer which that artful prince 
had made him, of exerting it vigorously in his 
behalf; and allured by this prospect, which, under 
the pontificate of Leo, still in the prime of his life, 
was a very distant one, he entered with warmth 
into all the emperor’s schemes. No treaty, however, 
was concluded at that time between the two mo¬ 
narchs ; but Henry, in return for the honour which 
Charles had done him, promised to visit him in 
some place of the Low Countries, immediately after 
taking leave of the French king. 

His interview with that prince was 
in an open plain between Guisnes 
and Ardres, where the two kings 
and their attendants displayed their magnificence 
with such emulation and profuse expense, as pro¬ 
cured it the name of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. 
Feats of chivalry, parties of gallantry, together with 
such exercises and pastimes as were in that age 
reckoned manly or elegant, rather than serious busi¬ 
ness, occupied both courts during eighteen days 
that they continued together. 6 Whatever impres- 


June 7- 
Interview be¬ 
tween Henry anil 
Francis. 


appearance, and wrestled in presence of the kings and the ladies ; and as 
there were many stout wrestlers there, it afforded excellent pastime : but 
as the king of France had neglected to bring any wrestlers out of Bretagne, 
the English gained the prize.—After this the kings of France and Eng¬ 
land retired to a tent, where they drank together, and the king of England, 
seizing the king of France by the collar, said, ‘ My brother , 1 must wres¬ 
tle with you' and endeavoured once or twice to trip up his heels ; but the 
king of France, who is a dexterous wyestler, twisted him round, and threw 



THE REIGN OF THE 


<154 


[A. D. 1520. ROOK II. 


.July 10. 


sion the engaging; manners of Francis, or the liberal 
and unsuspicious confidence with which he treated 
Henry, made on the mind of that monarch, was 
soon effaced by Wolsey's artifices, or by an in¬ 
terview he had with the emperor at 
Gravelines ; which was conducted 
with less pomp than that near Guisnes, but with 
greater attention to what might be of political 
utility. 

This assiduity with which the two 

Henry’s ideas of 

his own import- greatest monarchs in Europe paid 

anee. ... 

court to Henry, appeared to him a 
plain acknowledgment that he held the balance in 
his hands, and convinced him of the justness of the 
motto which he had chosen, “That whoever he fa¬ 
voured would prevail.” In this opinion he was 
confirmed by an offer which Charles made, of sub¬ 
mitting any difference that might arise between him 
and Francis to his sole arbitration. Nothing could 
have the appearance of greater candour and mode¬ 
ration than the choice of a judge who was reckoned 
the common friend of both. But as the emperor had 
now attached Wolsey entirely to his interest, no 
proposal could be more insidious, nor, as appeared 
by the sequel, more fatal to the French king/ 

Coronation of the Charles, notwithstanding his partial 

emperor. fondness for the Netherlands, the 
place of his nativity, made no long stay there ; and 
after receiving the homage and congratulations of 
his countrymen, hastened to Aix-la-Chapelle, the 
place appointed by the golden bull for the coro¬ 
nation of the emperor. There, in pre¬ 
sence of an assembly more numerous 
and splendid than had appeared on any former oc¬ 
casion, the crown of Charlemagne was placed on 
his head, with all the pompous solemnity which the 
Germans affect in their public ceremonies, and 
which they deem essential to the dignity of their 
empire.s 

Soiyman the Almost at the same time Solyman 
Ss lfi th e e nt otto- ^ ie Magnificent, one of the most ac- 
man throne. complished, enterprising, and victori¬ 
ous of the Turkish sultans, a constant and formida¬ 
ble rival to the emperor, ascended the Ottoman 
throne. It was the peculiar glory of that period to 
produce the most illustrious monarchs who have at 
any one time appeared in Europe. Leo, Charles, 
Francis, Henry, and Solyman, were each of them 
possessed of talents which might have rendered any 
age wherein they happened to flourish conspicuous. 
But such a constellation of great princes shed un¬ 
common lustre on the sixteenth century. In every 
contest, great power as well as great abilities were 
set in opposition ; the efforts of valour and conduct 
on one side, counterbalanced by an equal exertion 
of the same qualities on the other, not only occa¬ 
sioned such a variety of events as renders the history 
of that period interesting, but served to check the 
exorbitant progress of any of those princes, and to 

him on the earth with prodigious violence. The king of England wanted 
to renew the combat, but was prevented.” Memoires de Fleuranees. 
lCmo. Paris, 1753, p. 329. 


October 23. 


prevent their attaining such pre-eminence in power 
as would have been fatal to the liberty and happi¬ 
ness of mankind. 

The first act of the emperor's admi- Diet cal]ed (Q 
nistration was to appoint a diet of the Ineet at Worms - 
empire to be held at Worms on the sixth of Janu¬ 
ary, one thousand five hundred and twenty-one. In 
his circular letters to the different princes, he in¬ 
formed them that he had called this assembly in 
order to concert with them the most proper measures 
for checking the progress of those new and danger¬ 
ous opinions which threatened to disturb the peace 
of Germany, and to overturn the religion of their 
ancestors. 

Charles had in view the opinions Rise of the Re 
which had been propagated by Luther formation; 
and his disciples since the year one thousand five 
hundred and seventeen. As these led to that happy 
reformation in religion which rescued one part of 
Europe from the papal yoke, mitigated its rigour in 
the other, and produced a revolution in the senti¬ 
ments of mankind, the greatest as well as the most 
beneficial that has happened since the publication 
of Christianity, not only the events which at first 
gave birth to such opinions, but the causes which 
rendered their progress so rapid and successful, de¬ 
serve to be considered with minute attention. 

To overturn a system of religious belief founded 
on ancient and deep-rooted prejudices, supported 
by power, and defended with no less art than indus¬ 
try ; to establish in its room doctrines of the most 
contrary genius and tendency ; and to accomplish 
all this not by external violence or the force of arms, 
are operations which historians the least prone to 
credulity and superstition ascribe to that Divine 
Providence which, with infinite ease, can brin°- 
about events which to human sagacity appear 
impossible. The interposition of Heaven in favour 
of the Christian religion at its first publication, was 
manifested by miracles and prophecies wrought and 
uttered in confirmation of it. Though none of the 
reformers possessed, or pretended to possess, these 
supernatural gifts, yet that wonderful preparation 
of circumstances which disposed the minds of men 
for receiving their doctrines, that singular combina¬ 
tion of causes which secured their success, and en¬ 
abled men destitute of power and of policy to tri¬ 
umph over those who employed against them extra¬ 
ordinary efforts of both, may be considered as no 
slight proof that the same hand which planted the 
Christian religion protected the reformed faith, and 
reared it from beginnings extremely feeble to an 
amazing degree of vigour and maturity. 

It Mas from causes seemingly for- f 

. ° J from mconsider- 

tuitous, and from a source very incon- ab fo beginnings. 

siderable, that all the mighty effects of the reforma¬ 
tion flowed. Leo X. M’hen raised to the papal throne 
found the revenues of the church exhausted by the 
vast piojects of his two ambitious predecessors, 


f Herbert, 37. 

rifl?. e 264° C ° r ° nat ' ^ V< aP Goldast ' Polit - Im P e ’ 




BOOK II. A. D. 1520.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


455 


Alexander VI. and Julius II. His own temper, 
naturally liberal and enterprising, rendered him in¬ 
capable of that severe and patient economy which 
the situation of his finances required. On the con- 
trary, his schemes for aggrandizing the family of 
Medici, his love of splendour, his taste for pleasure, 
and his magnificence in rewarding men of genius, 
involved him daily in new expenses; in order to 
provide a fund for which, he tried every device that 
the fertile invention of priests had fallen upon to 
drain the credulous multitude of their wealth. 
Among others, he had recourse to a sale of indul- 
A sale of indul- 9 ^ces. According to the doctrine 
^y n Leo P x blished ^ ie Romish church, all the good 
works of the saints, over and above 
those which were necessary towards their own justi¬ 
fication, are deposited, together with the infinite 
merits of Jesus Christ, in one inexhaustible trea¬ 
sury. The keys of this were committed to St. Peter, 
and to his successors the popes, who may open it at 
pleasure, and by transferring a portion of this su¬ 
perabundant merit to any particular person for a 
sum of money, may convey to him either the pardon 
of his own sins, or a release for any one in whose 
happiness he is interested, from the pains of pur¬ 
gatory. Such indulgences w ere first invented in the 
eleventh century by Urban II., as a recompence for 
those who went in person upon the meritorious en¬ 
terprise of conquering the Holy Land. They were 
afterwards granted to those who hired a soldier for 
that purpose ; and in process of time were bestowed 
on such as gave money for accomplishing any pious 
work enjoined by the pope. h Julius II. had be¬ 
stowed indulgences on all who contributed towards 
building the church of St. Peter at Rome ; and as 
Leo was carrying on that magnificent and expen¬ 
sive fabric, his grant was founded on the same pre¬ 
tence.* 

The right of promulgating these in- 

so conducted as ° ° 

to give general, dulgences in Germany, together with 
a share in the profits arising from the 
sale of them, was granted to Albert, elector of Metz 
and archbishop of Magdeburg, who, as his chief 
agent for retaining them in Saxony, employed Tet- 
zel, a Dominican friar, of licentious morals, but of 
an active spirit, and remarkable for his noisy and 
popular eloquence. He, assisted by the monks of 
his order, executed the commission with great zeal 
and success, but with little discretion or decency ; 


and though, by magnifying excessively the benefit 
of their indulgences, 14 and by disposing of them at 
a very low price, they carried on for some time an 
extensive and lucrative traffic among the credulous 
and the ignorant, the extravagance of their asser¬ 
tions, as well as the irregularities in their conduct, 
came at last to give general olfenee. The princes 
and nobles were irritated at seeing their vassals 
drained of so much w ealth, in order to replenish the 
treasury of a profuse pontiff. Men of piety regretted 
the delusion of the people, who being taught to rely 
for the pardon of their sins on the indulgences which 
they purchased, did not think it incumbent on them 
either to study the doctrines taught by genuine 
Christianity, or to practise the duties which it en¬ 
joins. Even the most unthinking were shocked at 
the scandalous behaviour of Tetzel and his asso¬ 
ciates, who often squandered in drunkenness, gam¬ 
ing, and low debauchery, those sums which were 
piously bestowed in hopes of obtaining eternal hap¬ 
piness ; and all began to wish that some check were 
given to this commerce, no less detrimental to society 
than destructive to religion. 

Such was the favourable juncture, 

. First appearance 

and so disposed were the minds ot his pf Luther, and 

^ his character 

countrymen to listen to his discourses, 
when Martin Luther first began to call in question 
the efficacy of indulgences, and to declaim against 
the vicious lives and false doctrines of the persons 
employed in promulgating them. Luther was a 
native of Eisleben in Saxony, and though born of 
poor parents, had received a learned education, 
during the progress of which he gave many in¬ 
dications of uncommon vigour and acuteness of 
genius. His mind was naturally susceptible of 
serious sentiments, and tinctured with somewhat 
of that religious melancholy which delights in 
the solitude and devotion of a monastic life. The 
death of a companion killed by lightning at his 
side in a violent thunder-storm, made such an 
impression on his mind as co-operated with his 
natural temper in inducing him to retire into a 
convent of Augustinian friars, where, without suf¬ 
fering the entreaties of his parents to divert him 
from what he thought his duty to God, he assumed 
the habit of that order. He soon acquired great re¬ 
putation, not only for piety, but for his love of know¬ 
ledge and his unwearied application to study. He 
had been taught the scholastic philosophy and the- 


h History of the Council of Trent, by F. Paul, p. 4. 

i Palavic. Hist. Cone. Trident, p. 4. 

k As the form of these indulgences, and the benefits which they were 
supposed to convey, are unknown in protestant countries, and little un¬ 
derstood, at present, in several places where the Homan Catholic religion 
is established, 1 have, for the information of my readers, translated the 
form of absolution used by Tetzel: “ Way our Lord Jesus Christ have 
mercy upon thee, and absolve thee by the merits ot Ins most holy passion. 
And I, bv his authority, that of his blessed apostles Peter and Paul, and 
of the most holy pope, granted and committed to me in these parts, do 
absolve thee, first from all ecclesiastical censures in whatever manner 
they have been incurred, and then from all thy sms, transgressions, and 
excesses, how enormous soever they may be, even from such as are reserved 
for the cognisance of the holy see ; and as tar as the keys ot the holy 
church extend, 1 remit to you all punishment which you deserve in pur- 
gatory on their account; and I restore you to the holy sacraments or the 
church to the unity of the faithful, and to that innocence and purity 
which you possessed at baptism; so that when, you die, the gates ot 
punishment shall be shut, and the gates of the paradise ot delight shall be 
opened; and if you shall not die at present, this grace shall remain in 
full force when you are at the point ot death. In the name of the l ather, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.’ Seckend. Comment, lib. i. 
p. 14. 


The terms in which Tetzel and his associates described the benefits of 
indulgences, and the necessity of purchasing them, are so extravagant, 
that they appear to be almost incredible. If any man (said they) purchase 
letters o'f indulgence, his soul may rest secure with respect to its salvation. 
'The souls confined in purgatory for whose redemption indulgences are 
purchased, as soon as the money tinkles in the chest, instantly escape from 
that place of torment and ascend into heaven. That the efficacy of in¬ 
dulgences was so great, that the most heinous sins, even if one should 
violate (which was impossible) the mother of God, would be remitted 
and expiated by them, and the person be freed both from punishment 
and guilt: that this was the unspeakable gift of God, in order to recon¬ 
cile men to himself: that the cross erected by the preachers of indulgences 
was as efficacious as the cross of Christ itself. Lo! the heavens are open • 
if you enter not now, when will you enter ? For twelve pence you may 
redeem the soul of your father out of purgatory ; and are you so ungrate- 
ful, that you will not rescue your parent from torment ? If you had but 
one coat you ought to strip yourself instantly, and sell it in order to 
purchase such benefits, &c. 1 hese, and many such extravagant expres¬ 

sions, are selected out of Luther’s works by Chemnitius, in his Examen 
Conciln Tndentim. apud Herm. Vonder Hardt. Hist. Liter. Reform, 
pars iv. p. 6. 'The same author has published several of Tetzel’s discourses, 
which prove that these expressions were neither singular nor exaggerated. 
Ibid p. 14. 



450 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ology which were then in vogue by very able mas¬ 
ters, and wanted not penetration to comprehend all 
the niceties and distinctions with which they abound; 
but his understanding, naturally sound, and supe¬ 
rior to every thing frivolous, soon became disgusted 
with those subtile and uninstructive sciences, and 
sought for some more solid foundation of knowledge 
and of piety in the Holy Scriptures. Having found 
a copy of the Bible which lay neglected in the li¬ 
brary of his monastery, he abandoned all other pur¬ 
suits, and devoted himself to the study of it with 
such eagerness and assiduity as astonished the 
monks, who were little accustomed to derive their 
theological notions from that source. The great 
progress which he made in this uncommon course 
of study augmented so much the fame both of his 
sanctity and of his learning, that Frederic, elector 
of Saxony, having founded an university at Wit- 
temberg on the Elbe, the place of his residence, 
Luther was chosen first to teach philosophy and 
afterwards theology there, and discharged both of¬ 
fices in such a manner that he was deemed the chief 
ornament of that society. 

While Luther was at the height of 
sale o/indul- his reputation and authority, Tetzel 
began to publish indulgences in the 
neighbourhood of Wittemberg, and to ascribe to 
them the same imaginary virtues which had in other 
places imposed on the credulity of the people. As 
Saxony was not more enlightened than the other 
provinces of Germany, Tetzel met with prodigious 
success there. It was with the utmost concern that 
Luther beheld the artifices of those who sold and 
the simplicity of those who bought indulgences. 
The opinions of Thomas Aquinas and the other 
schoolmen, on which the doctrine of indulgences 
was founded, had already lost much of their autho¬ 
rity with him ; and the Scriptures, which he began 
to consider as the great standard of theological 
truth, afforded no countenance to a practice equally 
subversive of faith and of morals. His warm and 
impetuous temper did not suffer him long to con¬ 
ceal such important discoveries, or to continue a 
silent spectator of the delusion of his countrymen. 
From the pulpit, in the great church of Wittemberg, 
he inveighed bitterly against the irregularities and 
vices of the monks who published indulgences ; he 
ventured to examine the doctrines which they 
taught, and pointed out to the people the danger of 
relying for salvation upon any other means than 
those appointed by God in his word. The boldness 
and novelty of these opinions drew great attention, 
and being recommended by the authority of Lu¬ 
ther's personal character, and delivered with a 
popular and persuasive eloquence, they made a 
deep impression on his hearers. Encouraged by 
the favourable reception of his doctrines among the 
people, he wrote to Albert, elector of Metz and 
archbishop of Magdeburg, to whose jurisdiction 
that part of Saxony was subject, and remonstrated 

t Lutheri Opera, Jen*, 1612, vol. i. pra-fat. 3. p. 2. 66. Hist, of 


[A. D. 1620. BOOK II. 

warmly against the false opinions as well as wicked 
lives of the preachers of indulgences ; but he found 
that prelate too deeply interested in their success to 
correct their abuses. His next attempt was to gain 
the suffrage of men of learning. For 

, • . n He publishes his 

this purpose he published ninety-five theses against 
theses, containing his sentiments with 
regard to indulgences. These he proposed not as 
points fully established, or of undoubted certainty, 
but as subjects of inquiry and disputation ; he ap¬ 
pointed a day on which the learned were invited to 
impugn them, either in person or by writing; to the 
whole he subjoined solemn protestations of his high 
respect for the apostolic see, and of his implicit 
submission to its authority. No opponent appeared 
at the time prefixed; the theses spread over Ger¬ 
many with astonishing rapidity; they were read 
with the greatest eagerness ; and all admired the 
boldness of the man who had ventured not only to 
call in question the plenitude of papal power, but 
to attack the Dominicans, armed with all the terrors 
of inquisitorial authority. 1 

The friars of St. Augustin, Luther's supported by his 
own order, though addicted with no «=. byb ” 
less obsequiousness than the other monastic frater¬ 
nities to the papal see, gave no check to the publi¬ 
cation of these uncommon opinions. Luther had, 
by his piety and learning, acquired extraordinary 
authority among his brethren; he professed the 
highest regard for the authority of the pope; his 
professions were at that time sincere; and as a 
secret enmity, excited by interest or emulation, sub¬ 
sists among all the monastic orders in the Romish 
church, the Augustinians were highly pleased with 
his invectives against the Dominicans, and hoped to 
see them exposed to the hatred and scorn of the 
people. Nor was his sovereign, the elector of 
Saxony, the wisest prince at that time in Germany, 
dissatisfied with this obstruction which Luther 
threw in the way of the publication of indulgences. 
He secretly encouraged the attempt, and flattered 
himself that this dispute among the ecclesiastics 
themselves might give some check to the exactions 
of the court of Rome, which the secular princes had 
long, though without success, been endeavouring 
to oppose. 

Many zealous champions immedi- Many endeaV( 
ately arose to defend opinions on which t0 contute him - 
the wealth and power of the church were founded, 
against Luther’s attacks. In opposition to his 
theses, Tetzel published counter-theses at Francfort 
on the Oder ; Eccius, a celebrated divine of Augs¬ 
burg, endeavoured to refute Luther's notions ; and 
Prierias, a Dominican friar, master of the sacred 
palace and Inquisitor-general, wrote against him 
with all the virulence of a scholastic disputant. 
But the manner in which they conducted the con¬ 
troversy did little service to their cause. Luther 
attempted to combat indulgences by arguments 
founded in reason or derived from Scripture ; they 

Counc. of Trent, by F. Paul, p. 4. Seckend. Com. Apol. p. 16. 


our 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


457 


BOOK II. A. D. 1520.] 

produced nothing in support of them but the senti¬ 
ments of schoolmen, the conclusions of the canon 
law, and the decrees of popes." 1 The decision of 
judges so partial and interested did not satisfy the 
people, who began to call in question the authority 
even of these venerable guides, when they found 
them standing in direct opposition to the dictates of 
reason and the determinations of the divine law." 0 
r ,„ Meanwhile, these novelties in Lu- 

I he court of 

Komeut firstdis- tlier’s doctrines which interested all 
regarded Luther. . , , 

Germany, excited little attention and 

no alarm in the court of Rome. Leo, fond of ele¬ 
gant and refined pleasures, intent upon great 
schemes of policy, a stranger to theological contro¬ 
versies, and apt to despise them, regarded with the 
utmost indifference the operations of an obscure 
friar, who, in the heart of Germany, carried on a 
scholastic disputation in a barbarous style. Little 
did he apprehend, or Luther himself dream, that the 
effects of this quarrel would be so fatal to the papal 
see. Leo imputed the whole to monastic enmity 
and emulation, and seemed inclined not to inter¬ 
pose in the contest, but to allow the Augustinians 
and Dominicans to wrangle about the matter with 
their usual animosity. 

The solicitations, however, of Lu- 

The progress of ,, , , . . 

Luther’s opi- ther s adversaries, who were exas¬ 
perated to an high degree by the 
boldness and severity with which he animadverted 
on their writings, together with the surprising pro¬ 
gress which his opinions made in different parts of 
Germany, roused at last the attention of the court 
of Rome, and obliged Leo to take measures for the 
security of the church against an attack that now 
He is summoned appeared too serious to be despised. 

For this end he summoned Luther to 
appear at Rome within sixty days, be¬ 
fore the auditor of the chamber, and the inquisitor- 
general Prierias, who had written against him, whom 
he empowered jointly to examine his doctrines, and 
to decide concerning them. He wrote, at the same 
time, to the elector of Saxony, beseeching him not 
to protect a man whose heretical and profane tenets 
were so shocking to pious ears ; and enjoined the 
provincial of the Augustinians to check, by his au¬ 
thority, the rashness of an arrogant monk, which 


to appear at 
Rome, 

July, 1518. 


brought disgrace upon the order of St. Augustin, 
and gave offence and disturbance to the whole 
church. 

From the strain of these letters, as The pope em- 
well as from the nomination of a f 0 0w t ®y h hfm e *n te 
judge so prejudiced and partial as German > r - 
Prierias, Luther easily saw what sentence he might 
expect at Rome. He discovered, for that reason, 
the utmost solicitude to have his cause tried in 
Germany, and before a less suspected tribunal. 
The professors in the university of Wittemberg, 
anxious for the safety of a man who did so much 
honour to their society, wrote to the pope; and after 
employing several pretexts to excuse Luther from 
appearing at Rome, entreated Leo to commit the 
examination of his doctrines to some persons of 
learning and authority in Germany. The elector 
requested the same thing of the pope’s legate at the 
diet of Augsburg; and as Luther himself, who at 
that time was so far from having any intention to 
disclaim the papal authority, that he did not even 
entertain the smallest suspicion concerning its di¬ 
vine original, had written to Leo a most submis¬ 
sive letter, promising an unreserved compliance 
with his will, the pope gratified them so far as to 
empower his legate in Germany, cardinal Cajetan, 
a Dominican eminent for scholastic learning, and 
passionately devoted to the Roman see, to hear and 
determine the cause. 

Luther, though he had good reason Luther appears 
to decline a judge chosen among his before the legate, 
avowed adversaries, did not hesitate about appear¬ 
ing before Cajetan ; and having obtained the em¬ 
peror’s safe conduct, immediately repaired to Augs¬ 
burg. The cardinal received him with decent 
respect, and endeavoured at first to gain upon him 
by gentle treatment. The cardinal, relying on the 
superiority of his own talents as a theologian, 
entered into a formal dispute with Luther con¬ 
cerning the doctrines contained in his theses. p But 
the weapons which they employed were so dif¬ 
ferent, Cajetan appealing to papal decrees and the 
opinions of schoolmen, and Luther resting entirely 
on the authority of Scripture, that the contest was 
altogether fruitless. The cardinal relinquished the 
character of a disputant, and assuming that of 


m F. Paul. p. 6. Seckend. p. 40. Palavic. p. 8. 

n Seckend p. 30. 

o Guicciardini has asserted two things with regard to the first promul¬ 
gation of indulgences ; 1. t hat Leo bestowed a gift of the profits arising 
from the sale of indulgences in Saxony, and the adjacent provinces of 
Germany, upon his sister Magdalen, the wife of Francescetto Cibo. Guic. 
lib. xiii. 168. 2. That Arcemboldo, a Genoese ecclesiastic, who had been 
bred a merchant, and still retained all the activity and address of that 
profession, was appointed by her to collect the money which should be 
raised. F. Paul has followed him in both these particulars, and adds, 
that the Augustinians in Saxony had been immemorially employed in 
preaching indulgences ; but that Arcemboldo and his deputies, hoping to 
gain more by committing this trust to the Dominicans, had made their 
bargain with Tetzel, and that Luther was prompted at first to oppose 
Tetzel and his associates, by a desire of taking revenge for this injury 
offered to his order. F. Paul, p. 5. Almost all historians since their time, 
popish as well as protestant, have, without examination, admitted these 
assertions to be true upon their authority. But notwithstanding the con¬ 
curring testimony of two authors so eminent both for exactness and vera¬ 
city. we may observe, , , , , . . .. 

I. That helix Contolori, who searched the pontifical archives for the 
purpose, could not find this pretended grant to Leo's sister in any of those 
registers where it must necessarily have been recorded. Palav. p. 5.—2. 
That, the profits arising from indulgences in Saxony and the adjacent 
countries, had been granted not to Magdalen, but to Albert, archbishop 
of Mentz who had the right of nominating those who published them. 
Seek p. 12. Luth. Oper. i. pref. p. i. Palav. p. 6.-3. 4hat Arcem¬ 
boldo never had concern in the publication of indulgences in Saxony; 


his district was Flanders and the Upper and Lower Rhine. Seek. p. 14. 
Palav. p. 6.—4. That Luther and his adherents never mentioned this grant 
of Leo’s to his sister, though a circumstance of which they could hardly 
have been ignorant, and which they would have been careful not to sup¬ 
press.—5. The publication of indulgences in Germany was not usually- 
committed to the Augustinians. The promulgation of them at three dif¬ 
ferent periods under Julius II. was granted to the Franciscans ; the Do¬ 
minicans had been employed in the same office a short time before the 
present period. Palav. p. 46.—6. The promulgation of those indulgences 
which first excited Luther's indignation was intrusted to the arch¬ 
bishop of Mentz, in conjunction with the guardian of the Franciscans ; but 
the latter having declined accepting of that trust, the sole right became 
vested in the archbishop. Palav. 6. Seek. 16, 17.—7. Luther was not 
instigated by his superiors among the Augustinians to attack the Domini¬ 
cans their rivals, or to depreciate indulgences because they were promul¬ 
gated by them ; his opposition to their opinions and vices proceeded from 
more laudable motives. Seek. p. 15, 32. Lutheri Opera, i. p. 64. 6. 8. 
A diploma of indulgences is published by Herm. Yonder llardt, from 
which it appears that the name of the guardian of the Franciscans it re¬ 
tained, together with that of the archbishop, although the former did not 
act. The limits of the country to which their commissions extended, viz. 
the diocese of Mentz, Magdeburg, Halberstadt, and the territories of the 
marquis of Brandenburg, are mentioned in that diploma. Hist. Literaria 
Reformat, pars iv. p. 14. 

p In the former editions I asserted, upon the authority of Father Paul, 
that Cajetan thought it beneath his dignity to enter into any dispute with 
Luther ; but M. Beausobre, in his 11istoire de la Reformation, vol. i. p. 
121, <Scc. has satisfied me that I was mistaken. See also Seek. lib. i. p. 46,<xc. 



458 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1520. ROOK II. 


judge, enjoined Luther, by virtue of the apostolic 
powers with which he was clothed, to retiact the 
errors which he had uttered with regard to indul¬ 
gences and the nature of faith, and to abstain for 
the future from the publication of new and dan¬ 
gerous opinions. Luther, fully persuaded of the 
truth of his own tenets, and confirmed in the belief 
of them by the approbation which they had met 
with among persons conspicuous both for learning 
and piety, was surprised at this abrupt mention of 
a recantation before any endeavours were used to 
convince him that he was mistaken. He had flat¬ 
tered himself, that in a conference concerning the 
points in dispute with a prelate of such distin¬ 
guished abilities, he should be able to remove many 
of those imputations with which the ignorance or 
malice of his antagonists had loaded him ; but the 
high tone of authority that the cardinal assumed ex¬ 
tinguished at once all hopes of this kind, and cut off' 
every prospect of advantage from the interview. His 
His intrepid native intrepidity of mind, however, did 
behaviour. not desert him. He declared with the ut¬ 
most firmness thathe could not with a safe conscience 
renounce opinions which he believed to be true ; nor 
should any consideration ever induce him to do what 
would be so base in itself, and so offensive to God. 
At the same time he continued to express no less re¬ 
verence than formerly for the authority of the apos¬ 
tolic see ; q he signified his willingness to submit the 
whole controversy to certain universities which he 
named, and promised neither to write nor to preach 
concerning indulgences for the future, provided his 
adversaries were likewise enjoined to be silent with 
respecttothem/ A11 these offers Cajetan disregarded 
or rejected, and still insisted peremptorily on a sim¬ 
ple recantation, threatening him with ecclesiastical 
censures, and forbidding him to appear again in his 
presence, unless he resolved instantly to comply with 
what he had required. This haughty and violent 
manner of proceeding, as well as other circumstances, 
gave Luther’s friends such strong reasons to suspect 
that even the imperial safe-conduct would not be 
able to protect him from the legate’s power and re¬ 
sentment, that they prevailed on him to withdraw 
secretly from Augsburg, and to return to his own 
country. But before his departure, according to a 
form of which there had been some 
examples, he prepared a solemn ap¬ 
peal from the pope ill-informed at that time con¬ 
cerning his cause, to the pope when he should re¬ 
ceive more full information with respect to it. s 

. Caietan, enraged at Luther’s abrupt 

He is supported J \ 

by the elector of retreat, and at the publication of his 
Saxony. * 

appeal, wrote to the elector of Saxony 
complaining of both, and requiring him, as he re¬ 
garded the peace of the church or the authority of 
its head, either to send that seditious monk a pri¬ 
soner to Rome, or to banish him out of his territories. 
It was not from theological considerations that Fre¬ 


nis appeal, 
Oct. 18. 


deric had hitherto countenanced Luther; he seems 
to have been much a stranger to controversies of 
that kind, and to have been little interested in them. 
His protection flowed almost entirely, as hath been 
already observed, from political motives, and was 
afforded with great secrecy and caution. He had 
neither heard any of Luther’s discourses nor read 
any of his books; and though all Germany re¬ 
sounded with his fame, he had never once admitted 
him into his presence.* But upon this demand 
which the cardinal made, it became necessary to 
throw off somewhat of his former reserve. He had 
been at great expense, and had bestowed much at¬ 
tention on founding a new university, an object of 
considerable importance to every German prince ; 
and foreseeing how fatal a blow the removal of 
Luther would be to its reputation, u he, under various 
pretexts, and with many professions of esteem for 
the cardinal as well as of reverence for the pope, 
not only declined complying with either of his re¬ 
quests, but openly discovered great concern for 
Luther’s safety. x 

The inflexible rigour with which Motives ofthe 
Cajetan insisted on a simple recanta- gate’s conduct, 
tion, gave great offence to Luther’s followers in 
that age, and hath since been censured as imprudent 
by several popish writers. But it was impossible 
for the legate to act another part. The judges be¬ 
fore whom Luther had been required to appear at 
Rome, were so eager to display their zeal against 
his errors, that, without waiting for the expiration 
of sixty days allowed him in the citation, they had 
already condemned him as an heretic.* Leo had, 
in several of his briefs and letters, stigmatized him 
as a child of iniquity, and a man given up to a re¬ 
probate sense. Nothing less, therefore, than a 
recantation could save the honour of the church, 
whose maxim it is never to abandon the smallest 
point that it has established, and which is even 
precluded, by its pretensions to infallibility, from 
having it in its power to do so. 

Luther’s situation, at this time, was Luthei , s perilous 
such as would have filled any other situation, 
person with the most disquieting apprehensions. 
He could not expect that a prince so prudent and 
cautious as Frederic would, on his account, set at 
defiance the thunders of the church, and brave the 
papal power, which had crushed some of the most 
powerful of the German emperors. He knew what 
veneration was paid in that age to ecclesiastical 
decisions, what terrors ecclesiastical censures carried 
along with them, and how easily these might in¬ 
timidate and shake a prince who was rather his 
protector from policy than his disciple from convic¬ 
tion. If he should be obliged to quit Saxony, he 
had no prospect of any other asylum, and must stand 
exposed to whatever punishment the rage or bigotry 
of his enemies could inflict. Though sensible of 
his danger, he discovered no symptoms of timidity 


q Luth. Oper. vol. i. p. 164. r Ibid. p. 160. 

s Sleid. Hist, of Reform, p. 7. Seckend. p. 45. Luth. Oper. i. 164. 


t Seckend. p. 27. Sleid. Hist. p. 12. 
x Sleid. Hist. p. 10. Luth. Oper. i. 172. 


u Seckend. p. 59. 
y Luther. Oper. l. 161. 




BOOK IT. A. D. 1520.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


459 


or remissness, but continued to vindicate bis own 
conduct and opinions, and to inveigh against those 
oi his adversaries, with more vehemence than ever/ 

He appeals to a But as every step taken by the court 
general council. 0 f R ome> particularly the irregular 

sentence by which he had been so precipitately 
declared a heretic, convinced Luther that Leo would 
soon proceed to the most violent measures against 
him, he had recourse to the only expedient in his 
power in order to prevent the effect of the papal 
censures. He appealed to a general council, which 
he affirmed to be the representative of the catholic 
church, and superior in power to the pope, who 
being a fallible man might err, as St. Peter, the 
most perfect of his predecessors, had erred/ 

Anew bull in It soon appeared that Luther had 
gences. not formed rash conjectures concerning 

the intentions of the Romish church. A bull of a 
date prior to his appeal was issued by the pope, in 
which he magnifies the virtue and efficacy of in¬ 
dulgences in terms as extravagant as any of his 
predecessors had ventured to use in the darkest 
ages; and without applying such palliatives or 
mentioning such concessions as a more enlightened 
period, and the disposition in the minds of many 
men at that juncture, seemed to call for, he required 
all Christians to assent to what he delivered as the 
doctrine of the catholic church, and subjected those 
who should hold or teach any contrary opinion to 
the heaviest ecclesiastical censures. 

Among Luther’s followers, this bull, 

Maximilian’s . 

deadi of advantage which they considered as an unjusti¬ 
fiable effort of the pope in order to 
preserve that rich branch of his revenue which 
arose from indulgences, produced little effect. But 
among the rest of his countrymen, such a clear de¬ 
cision of the sovereign pontiff against him, and en¬ 
forced by such dreadful penalties, must have been 
attended with consequences very fatal to his cause, 
if these had not been prevented in a 
great measure by the death of the 
emperor Maximilian, whom both his principles and 
his interest prompted to support the authority of the 
holy see. In consequence of this event, the vica- 
riat of that part of Germany which is governed by 
the Saxon laws, devolved to the elector of Saxony; 
and under the shelter of his friendly administration, 
Luther not only enjoyed tranquillity, but his opinions 
were suffered, during the interregnum which pre¬ 
ceded Charles’s election, to take root in different 
places, and to grow up to some degree of strength 
and firmness. At the same time, as the election of 
an emperor was a point more interesting to Leo than 
a theological controversy which he did not under¬ 
stand, and of which he could not foresee the conse¬ 
quences, he was so extremely solicitous not to 
irritate a prince of such considerable influence in 
the electoral college as Frederic, that he discovered 
a great unwillingness to pronounce the sentence of 
excommunication against Luther, which his adver- 


Jan. 17, 1519. 


saries continually demanded with the most clamor¬ 
ous importunity. 

To these political views of the pope, 
as well as to his natural aversion from proceediugs° f 
severe measures, was owing the sus- a « ainst Luther - 
pension of any further proceedings against Luther 
for eighteen months. Perpetual negociations, how¬ 
ever, in order to bring the matter to some amicable 
issue, w ere carried on during that space. The man¬ 
ner in which these were conducted having given 
Luther many opportunities of observing the corrup¬ 
tion of the court of Rome, its obstinacy in adhering 
to established errors, arid its indifference about 
truth, however clearly proposed, or strongly proved, 
he began to utter some doubts with 
regard to the divine original of the S e questio S nthe a11 
papal authority. A public disputation papal authont y- 
was held upon this important question at Leipsic, 
between Luther and Eccius, one of his most learned 
and formidable antagonists ; but it was as fruitless 
and indecisive as such scholastic combats usually 
prove. Both parties boasted of having obtained 
the victory ; both were confirmed in their own opi¬ 
nions ; and no progress was made towards deciding 
the point in controversy.b 

Nor did this spirit of opposition to Reformation in 
the doctrines and usurpations of the Switzerland. 

Romish church break out in Saxony alone ; an 
attack no less violent, and occasioned by the same 
causes, was made upon them about this time in 
Switzerland. The Franciscans being intrusted with 
the promulgation of indulgences in that country, 
executed their commission with the same indiscre¬ 
tion and rapaciousness which had rendered the 
Dominicans so odious in Germany. They proceed¬ 
ed, nevertheless, with uninterrupted success till 
they arrived at Zurich. There Zuinglius, a man 
not inferior to Luther himself in zeal and intre¬ 
pidity, ventured to oppose them ; and being ani¬ 
mated with a republican boldness, and free from 
those restraints which subjection to the will of a 
prince imposed on the German reformer, he ad¬ 
vanced with more daring and rapid steps to overturn 
the whole fabric of the established religion/ The 
appearance of such a vigorous auxiliary, and the 
progress which he made, was, at first, matter of 
great joy to Luther. On the other hand, the decrees 
of the universities of Cologne and Louvain, which 
pronounced his opinions to be erroneous, afforded 
great cause of triumph to his adversaries. 

But the undaunted spirit of Luther Luther’s boldness 
acquired additional fortitude from and progress. 

every instance of opposition, and pushing on his 
inquiries and attacks from one doctrine to another, 
he began to shake the firmest foundations on which 
the wealth or power of the church was established. 
Leo came at last to be convinced that all hopes of 
reclaiming him by forbearance were vain ; several 
prelates of great wisdom exclaimed no less than 
Luther’s personal adversaries against the pope’s 

b Lutli. Oper. i. 199 


z Scckend. p. 59. 


a Sleid. Hist. 12. Luth. Oper. i. 179. 


c Sleid. Ilist. 22. Seckend. 59. 



4G0 


THE REIGN OF THE 


unprecedented lenity in permitting an incorrigible 
heretic, who during three years had been endea¬ 
vouring to subvert every thing sacred and venera¬ 
ble, still to remain within the bosom of the church ; 
the dignity of the papal see rendered the most vigor¬ 
ous proceedings necessary; the new emperor, it 
was hoped, would support its authority ; nor did it 
seem probable that the elector of Saxony would so 
far forget his usual caution as to set himself in 
opposition to their united power. The college of 
cardinals was often assembled, in order to prepare 
the sentence with due deliberation, and the ablest 
canonists were consulted how it might be expressed 
with unexceptionable formality. At last, on the 
fifteenth of June, one thousand five hundred and 
Bull of excom twenty, the bull so fatal to the church 
i?shedagafnst ub °f Rome was issued. Forty-one pro- 
him - positions extracted out of Luther's 

works are therein condemned as heretical, scandal¬ 
ous, and offensive to pious ears ; all persons are for¬ 
bidden to read his writings upon pain of excom¬ 
munication ; such as had any of them in their cus¬ 
tody were commanded to commit them to the flames; 
he himself, if he did not, within sixty days, pub¬ 
licly recant his errors, and burn his books, is pro¬ 
nounced an obstinate heretic ; is excommunicated, 
and delivered unto Satan for the destruction of his 
flesh ; and all secular princes are required, under 
pain of incurring the same censure, to seize his 
person, that he might be punished as his crimes 
deserved. d 

The effects of this The publication of this bull in Ger- 
m Germany, many excited various passions in dif¬ 
ferent places. Luther's adversaries exulted as if 
his party and opinions had been crushed at once 
by such a decisive blow. His followers, whose 
reverence for the papal authority daily diminished, 
read Leo's anathemas with more indignation than 
terror. In some cities the people violently obstruct¬ 
ed the promulgation of the bull; in others, the per¬ 
sons who attempted to publish it were insulted, 
and the bull itself was torn in pieces and trodden 
under foot. e 

and upon Lather, This sentence, which he had for some 

Kov. 17 . time expected, did not disconcert or 
intimidate Luther. After renewing his appeal to 
the general council, he published remarks upon the 
bull of excommunication ; and being now persuaded 
that Leo had been guilty both of impiety and injus¬ 
tice in his proceedings against him, he boldly de¬ 
clared the pope to be that man of sin, or Antichrist, 
whose appearance is foretold in the New Testament; 
he declaimed against his tyranny and usurpations 
with greater violence than ever; he exhorted all 
Christian princes to shake off such an ignominious 
yoke ; and boasted of his own happiness in being 
marked out as the object of ecclesiastical indigna¬ 
tion, because he had ventured to assert the liberty 
of mankind. Nor did he confine his expressions 
of contempt for the papal power to words alone : 

d Palavic. 27 . Lulh. Oper. i. 423. e Seckend. p. 116. 


[A. D. 1620 . BOOK II. 

Leo having, in execution of the bull, appointed 
Luther’s books to be burnt at Rome, he, by way of 
retaliation, assembled all the professors and stu¬ 
dents in the university of Wittemberg, and with 
great pomp, in presence of a vast multitude ot 
spectators, cast the volumes of the canon law, toge¬ 
ther with the bull of excommunication, into the 
flames; and his example was imitated in several 
cities of Germany. The manner in which he justi¬ 
fied this action was still more offensive than the 
action itself. Having collected from the canon law 
some of the most extravagant propositions with re¬ 
gard to the plenitude and omnipotence of the papal 
power, as well as the subordination of all secular 
jurisdiction to the authority of the holy see, he pub¬ 
lished these with a commentary pointing out the 
impiety of such tenets, and their evident tendency 
to subvert all civil government/ 

Such was the progress wdiich Luther state of the Refor- 
had made, and such the state of his chides arrived 
party, when Charles arrived in Ger- in German y- 
many. No secular prince had hitherto embraced 
Luther's opinions; no change in the established 
forms of worship had been introduced ; and no en¬ 
croachments had been made upon the possessions 
or jurisdiction of the clergy: neither party had yet 
proceeded to action ; and the controversy, though 
conducted with great heat and passion on both 
sides, was still carried on with its proper weapons, 
with theses, disputations, and replies. A deep im¬ 
pression, however, was made upon the minds of the 
people ; their reverence for ancient institutions and 
doctrines was shaken; and the materials were 
already scattered which kindled into the combustion 
that soon spread over all Germany. Students 
crowded from every province of the empire to Wit¬ 
temberg ; and under Luther himself, Melancthon, 
Carlostadius, and other masters then reckoned emi¬ 
nent, imbibed opinions, which, on their return, they 
propagated among their countrymen, who listened 
to them with that fond attention which truth, when 
accompanied with novelty, naturally commands.? 

During the course of these transac- Reflections upon 
. • , o i i the conduct of 

tions, the court ot Rome, though under Rome: 

the direction of one of its ablest pontiffs, neither 
formed its schemes with that profound sagacity, nor 
executed them with that steady perseverance, which 
had long rendered it the most perfect model of 
political wisdom to the rest of Europe. When 
Luther began to declaim against indulgences, two 
different methods of treating him lay before the 
pope; by adopting one of which, the attempt, it is 
probable, might have been crushed, and by the other 
it might have been rendered innocent. If Luther’s 
first departure from the doctrines of the church had 
instantly drawn upon him the weight of its cen¬ 
sures, the dread of these might have restrained the 
elector of Saxony from protecting him, might have 
deterred the people from listening to his discourses, 
or even might have overawed Luther himself; and 

f Lutli. Oper. ii. 316. 


e Seckend. p. 116. 


g Seckend. 59. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


4GI 


BOOK H. A. D. 1520.1 


his name, like that of many good men before his 
time, would now have been known to the world only 
for his honest but ill-timed elfort to correct the cor¬ 
ruptions of the Romish church. On the other hand, 
if the pope had early testified some displeasure with 
the vices and excesses of the friars who had been 
employed in publishing indulgences ; if he had for¬ 
bidden the mentioning of controverted points in 
discourses addressed to the people; if he had en¬ 
joined the disputants on both sides to be silent; if 
he had been careful not to risk the credit of the 
church by defining articles which had hitherto been 
left undetermined,—Luther would, probably, have 
stopt short at his first discoveries ; he would not 
have been forced, in self-defence, to venture upon 
new ground, and the whole controversy might possi¬ 
bly have died away insensibly ; or being confined 
entirely to the schools, might have been carried on 
with as little detriment to the peace and unity of 
the Romish church as that which the Franciscans 
maintained with the Dominicans concerning the 
immaculate conception, or that between the Janse- 
nists and Jesuits concerning the operations of grace. 
But Leo, by fluctuating between these opposite 
systems, and by embracing them alternately, defeat¬ 
ed the effects of both. By an improper exertion of 
authority, Luther was exasperated but not restrain¬ 
ed. By a mistaken exercise of lenity, time was 
given for his opinions to spread, but no progress 
was made towards reconciling him to the church ; 
and even the sentence of excommunication, which 
at another juncture might have been decisive, was 
delayed so long, that it became at last scarcely an 
object of terror. 

and upon the Such a series of errors in the mea- 

conduct of Lu- , , . . , . 

ther. sures of a court seldom chargeable 

with mistaking its own true interest, is not more 
astonishing than the wisdom which appeared in 
Luther’s conduct. Though a perfect stranger to the 
maxims of worldly wisdom, and incapable, from the 
impetuosity of his temper, of observing them, he 
was led naturally, by the method in which he made 
his discoveries, to carry on his operations in a man¬ 
ner which contributed more to their success than if 
every step he took had been prescribed by the most 
artful policy. At the time when he set himself to 
oppose Tetzel, he was far from intending that refor¬ 
mation which he afterwards effected ; and would 
have trembled with horror at the thoughts of what 
at last he gloried in accomplishing. The knowledge 
of truth was not poured into his mind all at once 
by any special revelation; he acquired it by industry 
and meditation, and his progress, of consequence, 
was gradual. The doctrines of popery are so closely 
connected, that the exposing of one error conducted 
him naturally to the detection of others; and all the 
parts of that artificial fabric were so united together, 
that the pulling down of one loosened the foundation 
of the rest, and rendered it more easy to overturn 
them. In confuting the extravagant tenets concern¬ 
ing indulgences, he was obliged to inquire into the 


true cause of our justification and acceptance w ith 
God. The knowledge of that discovered to him, by 
degrees, the inutility of pilgrimages and penances ; 
the vanity of relying on the intercession of saints ; 
the impiety of w orshipping them ; the abuses of au¬ 
ricular confession ; and the imaginary existence of 
purgatory. The detection of so many errors led him, 
of course, to consider the character of the clergy who 
taught them : and their exorbitant wealth, the se¬ 
vere injunction of celibacy, together with the intol¬ 
erable rigour of monastic vows, appeared to him the 
great sources of their corruption. From thence it 
was but one step to call in question the divine ori¬ 
ginal of the papal power, which authorized and 
supported such a system of errors. As the unavoid¬ 
able result of the whole, he disclaimed the infalli¬ 
bility of the pope, the decisions of schoolmen, or any 
other human authority, and appealed to the word 
of God as the only standard of theological truth. 
To this gradual progress Luther owed his success. 
His hearers were not shocked at first by any propo¬ 
sition too repugnant to their ancient prejudices, or 
too remote from established opinions. They were 
conducted insensibly from one doctrine to another. 
Their faith and conviction were able to keep pace 
with his discoveries. To the same cause was owing 
the inattention, and even indifference, with which 
Leo viewed Luther’s first proceedings. A direct or 
violent attack upon the authority of the church 
would at once have drawn upon Luther the whole 
weight of its vengeance ; but as this was far from 
his thoughts, as he continued long to profess great 
respect for the pope, and made repeated offers of 
submission to his decisions, there seemed to be no 
reason for apprehending that he would prove the 
author of any desperate revolt; and he was suffered 
to proceed step by step in undermining the consti¬ 
tution of the church, until the remedy applied at last 
came too late to produce any effect. 

But whatever advantages Luther’s 

. . . An inquiry into 

cause derived either from the mistakes the causes which 
. . contributed to the 

of his adversaries or from his own good progress of the 

reformation. 

conduct, the sudden progress and firm 
establishment of his doctrines must not be ascribed 
to these alone. The same corruptions in the church 
of Rome which he condemned, had been attacked 
long before his time. The same opinions which he 
now propagated, had been published in different 
places, and were supported by the same arguments. 
Waldus in the twelfth century, Wickliff in the 
fourteenth, and Huss in the fifteenth, had inveighed 
against the errors of popery with great boldness, 
and confuted them w ith more ingenuity and learn¬ 
ing than could have been expected in those illite¬ 
rate ages in which they flourished. But all these 
premature attempts towards a reformation proved 
abortive. Such feeble lights, incapable of dispel¬ 
ling the darkness which then covered the church, 
were soon extinguished ; and though the doc¬ 
trines of these pious men produced some effects, 
and left some traces in the countries where they 



462 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK II. 


taught, they were neither extensive nor consider¬ 
able. Many powerful causes contributed to facili¬ 
tate Luther’s progress, which either did not exist or 
did not operate with full force in their days; and 
at that critical and mature juncture when he appear¬ 
ed, circumstances of every kind concurred in ren¬ 
dering each step that he took successful. 

The long and scandalous schism 
in the fourteenth which divided the church during the 

latter part of the fourteenth and the 
beginning of the fifteenth centuries, had a great 
effect in diminishing the veneration with w hich the 
world had been accustomed to view the papal dig¬ 
nity. Two or three contending pontiffs roaming 
about Europe at a time; fawning on the princes 
whom they wanted to gain : extorting large sums of 
money from the countries which acknowledged their 
authority ; excommunicating their rivals, and curs¬ 
ing those who adhered to them, discredited their 
pretensions to infallibility, and exposed both their 
persons and their office to contempt. The laity, to 
whom all parties appealed, came to learn that some 
right of private judgment belonged to them, and 
acquired the exercise of it so far as to choose, 
among these infallible guides, whom they would 
please to follow. The proceedings of the councils 
of Constance and Basil spread this disrespect for 
the Romish see still wider, and by their bold exer¬ 
tion of authority in deposing and electing popes, 
taught men that there was in the church a jurisdic¬ 
tion superior even to the papal power, which they 
had long believed to be supreme. 

The wound given on that occasion 

The pontificates . 

of Alexander vi. to the papal authority was scarcely 
and of Julius II. ... . „ 

healed up when the pontificates of 
Alexander VI. and Julius II., both able princes, 
but detestable ecclesiastics, raised new scandal in 
Christendom. The profligate morals of the former 
in private life; the fraud, the injustice, and cruelty 
of his public administration, place him on a level 
with those tyrants whose deeds are the greatest re¬ 
proach to human nature. The latter, though a 
stranger to the odious passions which prompted his 
predecessor to commit so many unnatural crimes, 
was under the dominion of a restless and ungovern¬ 
able ambition, that scorned all considerations of 
gratitude, of decency, or of justice, when they ob¬ 
structed the execution of his schemes. It was 
hardly possible to be firmly persuaded, that the in¬ 
fallible knowledge of a religion, whose chief pre¬ 
cepts are purity and humility, was deposited in the 
breast of the profligate Alexander or the overbear- 

h The corrupt state of the church prior to the Reformation is acknow¬ 
ledged by an author who was both abundantly able to judge concerning 
this matter, and who was not over-forward to confess it. “ For some years 
(Bays Bellarmine) before the Lutheran and Calvinistic heresies were pub¬ 
lished, there was not (as contemporary authors testify) any severity in 
ecclesiastical judicatories, any discipline with regard to morals, any know¬ 
ledge ot sacred literature, any reverence for divine things ; there was al¬ 
most not any religion remaining.” Bellarminus Concio xxviii. Oper. tom. 
vi. col. 296. edit. Colon. 1617, apud Gerdesii Hist. Evan. Renovati, vol. 

l. p. ‘25. 

i Centum Gravamina Nation. German, in Fascicule, Rer. expetend. et 
fugiendarum, per Ortuinum Gratium, vol. i. 361. See innumerable pas¬ 
sages to the same purpose in the appendix or second volume, published 
by Edw. Brown. See also Ilerm. Vonder Hardt. Hist. Lit. Reform, pars 

m. and the vast collections of Walehius in his lour volumes of Monu- 
menta Medii jLvi. Gotting. 1757. 

i he authors 1 have quoted enumerate the vices of the clergy. When 


ing Julius. The opinion of those who exalted the 
authority of a council above that of the pope, 
spread wonderfully under their pontificates; and 
as the emperor and French kings, who were alter¬ 
nately engaged in hostilities with those active pon¬ 
tiffs, permitted and even encouraged their subjects 
to expose their vices w ith all the violence of invec¬ 
tive and all the petulance of ridicule, men’s ears 
being accustomed to these, were not shocked with 
the bold or ludicrous discourses of Luther and his 
followers concerning the papal dignity. 

Nor were such excesses confined The j mmora i 
to the head of the church alone. Ilvesof theclergy ’ 
Many of the dignified clergy, secular as well as re¬ 
gular, being the younger sons of noble families, 
who had assumed the ecclesiastical character for 
no other reason but that they found in the church 
stations of great dignity and affluence, were accus¬ 
tomed totally to neglect the duties of their office, 
and indulged themselves without reserve in all the 
vices to which great wealth and idleness naturally 
give birth. Though the inferior clergy were pre¬ 
vented by their poverty from imitating the expen¬ 
sive luxury of their superiors, yet gross ignorance 
and low debauchery rendered them as contemptible 
as the others were odious. h The severe and un¬ 
natural law of celibacy, to which both were equally 
subject, occasioned such irregularities, that in seve¬ 
ral parts of Europe the concubinage of priests was 
not only permitted but enjoined. The employing of 
a remedy so contrary to the precepts of the Chris¬ 
tian religion, is the strongest proof that the crimes 
it was intended to prevent were both numerous and 
flagrant. Long before the sixteenth century, many 
authors of great name and authority give such de¬ 
scriptions of the dissolute morals of the clergy as 
seem almost incredible in the present age.’ The 
voluptuous lives of ecclesiastics occasioned great 
scandal, not only because their manners were incon¬ 
sistent with their sacred character, but the laity 
being accustomed to see several of them raised from 
the lowest stations to the greatest affluence, did not 
show the same indulgence to their excesses as to 
those of persons possessed of hereditary wealth or 
grandeur; and viewing their condition with more 
envy, they censured their crimes with greater seve¬ 
rity. Nothing, therefore, could be more acceptable 
to Luther’s hearers than the violence with which he 
exclaimed against the immoralities of churchmen, 
and every person in his audience could, from his 
own observation, confirm the truth of his invec¬ 
tives. 

they ventured upon actions manifestly criminal, we may conclude that 
they would be less scrupulous with respect to the decorum of behaviour. 
Accordingly their neglect of the decent conduct suitable to their profes¬ 
sion seems to have given great offence. In order to illustrate this, 1 shall 
transcribe one passage, because it is not taken from any author whose pro- 
tessed purpose it was to describe the improper conduct of theclergy, and 
who, from prejudice or artifice, may be supposed to aggravate the charge 
against them. 1 he emperor Charles IV., in a letter to the archbishop of 
JVlentz, A. U. 1359, exhorting him to reform the disorders of the clergy, 
thus expresses himself: “ De Christ! patrimonio, ludos, hastiludia et tor- 
neamenta exercent; habitum militarem cum prastextis aureis et argenteis 
gestant, et calceos militares ; comarn et barbam nutriunt et nihil quod ad 
yifam et ordinem ecclesiasticum spectat, ostendunt. Militaribus se dun- 
taxat et secularibus actibus, vita et moribus, in sua* salutis dispendium et 
generate populi scandalum, immiscent.” Codex Diplomaticus Anecdo- 
torum, per Val. Ferd. Gudenum, 4to. vol. iii. p. 438. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


463 


BOOK II. A. D. 1520.] 


The facility with The scandal of these crimes was 
morai.fies S wera greatly increased by the facility with 
paidoned. which such as committed them obtain¬ 
ed pardon. In all the European kingdoms, the im¬ 
portance of the civil magistrate, under forms of 
government extremely irregular and turbulent, 
made it necessary to relax the rigour of justice, and 
upon payment of a certain fine or composition pre¬ 
scribed by law, judges were accustomed to remit 
further punishment even of the most atrocious 
crimes. The court of Rome, always attentive to the 
means of augmenting its revenues, imitated this 
practice ; and by a preposterous accommodation of 
it to religious concerns, granted its pardons to such 
transgressors as gave a sum of money in order to 
purchase them. As the idea of a composition for 
crimes was then familiar, this strange traffic was so far 
from shocking mankind, that it soon became gene¬ 
ral ; and in order to prevent any imposition in car¬ 
rying it on, the officers of the Roman chancery pub¬ 
lished a book containing the precise sum to be 
exacted for the pardon of every particular sin. A 
deacon guilty of murder was absolved for twenty 
crowns: a bishop or abbot might assassinate for 
three hundred livres: any ecclesiastic might violate 
his vows of chastity, even with the most aggravating 
circumstances, for the third part of that sum. Even 
such shocking crimes as occur seldom in human 


life, and perhaps exist only in the impure imagina¬ 
tion of a casuist, were taxed at a very moderate rate. 
When a more regular and perfect mode of dispens ¬ 
ing justice came to be introduced into civil courts, 
the practice of paying a composition for crimes went 
gradually into disuse; and mankind having ac¬ 
quired more accurate notions concerning religion 
and morality, the conditions on which the court of 
Rome bestowed its pardons appeared impious, and 
were considered as one great source of ecclesiastical 
corruption. 1 * 


This degeneracy of manners among 

The exorbitant . n 

wealth of the the clergy might have been tolerated, 

church, bj o ... 

perhaps, with greater indulgence, if 
their exorbitant riches and power had not enabled 
them, at the same time, to encroach on the rights of 
every other order of men. It is the genius of super¬ 
stition, fond of whatever is pompous or grand, to set 
no bounds to its liberality towards persons whom it 
esteems sacred, and to think its expressions of re¬ 
gard defective, unless it hath raised them to the 
height of wealth and authority. Hence flowed the 
extensive revenues and jurisdiction possessed by 
the church in every country in Europe, and which 
were become intolerable to the laity, from whose 
undiscerning bounty they were at first derived. 

particularly in The burthen, however, of ecclesias- 
Germany, tical oppression had fallen with such 

peculiar weight on the Germans, as rendered them, 
though naturally exempt from levity, and tenacious 


of their ancient customs, more inclinable than any 

k Fascicul. Her. expet. et fug. i. 355. J. G. Schelhornii Amoenit. 
Literar. Francof. 1725, vol. ii. 369. Diction, de Bayle, Artie. Banck et 
Tuppius. Taxa Cancellar. Romans:, edit. Francof. 1651, passim. 


people in Europe to listen to those who called on 
them to assert their liberty. During the long con¬ 
tests between the popes and emperors concerning 
the right of investiture, and the wars which these 
occasioned, most of the considerable German eccle¬ 
siastics joined the papal faction ; and while engaged 
in rebellion against the head of the empire, they 
seized the imperial domains and revenues, and 
usurped the imperial jurisdiction within their own 
dioceses. Upon the re-establishment of tranquillity, 
they still retained these usurpations, as if by the 
length of an unjust possession they had acquired a 
legal right to them. The emperors, too feeble to 
wrest them out of their hands, were obliged to grant 
the clergy fiefs of those ample territories, and they 
enjoyed all the immunities as well as honours which 
belonged to feudal barons. By means of these, many 
bishops and abbots in Germany were not only eccle¬ 
siastics but princes, and their character and man¬ 
ners partook more of the licence too frequent among 
the latter than of the sanctity which became the 
former. 1 

The unsettled state of government where the clerg 
in Germany, and the frequent wars to partofThep^ro- 1 
which that country was exposed, con- perty - 
tributed in another manner towards aggrandizing 
ecclesiastics. The only property, during those times 
of anarchy, which enjoyed security from the op¬ 
pression of the great or the ravages of war, was that 
which belonged to the church. This was owing not 
only to the great reverence for the sacred character 
prevalent in those ages, but to a superstitious dread 
of the sentence of excommunication, which the 
clergy were ready to denounce against all who in¬ 
vaded their possessions. Many, observing this, made 
a surrender of their lands to ecclesiastics, and con¬ 
senting to hold them in fee of the church, obtained 
as its vassals a degree of safety which without this 
device they were unable to procure. By such an 
increase of the number of their vassals, the power 
of ecclesiastics received a real and permanent aug¬ 
mentation ; and as lands held in fee by the limited 
tenures common in those ages often returned to the 
persons on whom the fief depended, considerable 
additions were made in this way to the property of 
the clergy." 1 

The solicitude of the clergy in pro- 

1 1 he jrreat per- 

viding for the safety of their own per- somdimmunities 
° u 1 # or ecclesiastics. 

sons, was still greater than that which 
they displayed in securing their possessions ; and 
their efforts to attain it were still more successful. 
As they were consecrated to the priestly office with 
much outward solemnity ; were distinguished from 
the rest of mankind by a peculiar garb and manner 
of life ; and arrogated to their order many privileges 
which do not belong to other Christians, they natu¬ 
rally became the objects of excessive veneration. 
As a superstitious spirit spread, they were regarded 
as beings of a superior species to the profane laity, 

1 F. Paul, History of Ecclesiast. Benefices, p. 107. 

ru F. Paul, Hist, of Fccles. Benef. p. 66. Boulainvillers Etatde France, 
tom, i. 169. Lond. 1737. 



464 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A D. 1520. BbOK II. 


whom it would be impious to try by the same laws 
or to subject to the same punishments. This ex¬ 
emption from civil jurisdiction, granted at first to 
ecclesiastics as a mark of respect, they soon claimed 
as a point of right. This valuable immunity of the 
priesthood is asserted not only in the decrees of 
popes and councils, but was confirmed in the most 
ample form by many of the greatest emperors." As 
long as the clerical character remained, the person 
of an ecclesiastic was in some degree sacred ; and 
unless he were degraded from his office, the unhal¬ 
lowed hand of the civil judge durst not touch 
him. But as the power of degradation was lodged 
in the spiritual courts, the difficulty and expense of 
obtaining such a sentence too often secured abso¬ 
lute impunity to offenders. Many assumed the cle¬ 
rical character for no other reason than that it might 
screen them from the punishment which their ac¬ 
tions deserved." The German nobles complained 
loudly that these anointed malefactors, as they 
called them,? seldom suffered capitally, even for 
the most atrocious crimes ; and their independence 
of the civil magistrate is often mentioned in the 
remonstrances of the diets as a privilege equally 
pernicious to society and to the morals of the 
clergy. 

Their encroach- While the clergy asserted the pri- 
dsdictionof t j he' alleges of their own order with so much 
laity * zeal, they made continual encroach¬ 

ments upon those of the laity. All causes rela¬ 
tive to matrimony, to testaments, to usury, to le¬ 
gitimacy of birth, as well as those which concerned 
ecclesiastical revenues, were thought to be so con¬ 
nected with religion, that they could be tried only 
in the spiritual courts. Not satisfied with this 
ample jurisdiction, which extended to one half of 
the subjects that give rise to litigation among men, 
the clergy, with wonderful industry, and by a thou¬ 
sand inventions, endeavoured to draw all other 
causes into their own courts.' 1 As they had en¬ 
grossed almost the whole learning known in the 
dark ages, the spiritual judges were commonly so 
far superior in knowledge and abilities to those em¬ 
ployed in the secular courts, that the people at first 
favoured any stretch that w'as made to bring their 
affairs under the cognizance of a judicature, on the 
decisions of which they could rely with more per¬ 
fect confidence than on those of the civil courts. 
Thus the interest of the church and the inclination 
of the people concurring to elude the jurisdiction of 
the lay-magistrate, soon reduced it almost to no¬ 
thing/ By means of this, vast power accrued to 
ecclesiastics, and no inconsiderable addition was 
made to their revenue by the sums paid in those 
ages to the persons who administered justice. 

„ , „ , , The penalty by which the spiritual 

The dreadful ef- „ , , . 

fects of spiritual courts enforced their sentences added 

censures. . 

great weight and terror to their juris- 

n Goldasti Constitut. Imperial. Francof. 16*3, vol. ii, 92, 10*. 
o Kymer s Foedera, vol. xiii. 532. 
p Centum Gravam. $ 31. 
q Giannone Ilist. of Naples, book xix. § 3. 


diction. The censure of excommunication was 
instituted originally for preserving the purity of 
the church, that obstinate offenders, whose impious 
tenets or profane lives were a reproach to Chris¬ 
tianity, might be cut off from the society of the 
faithful; this ecclesiastics did not scruple to con¬ 
vert into an engine for promoting their own power, 
and they inflicted it on the most frivolous occa¬ 
sions. Whoever despised any of their decisions, 
even concerning civil matters, immediately incur¬ 
red this dreadful censure, which not only excluded 
them from the privileges of a Christian, but deprived 
them of their rights as men and citizens; 8 and 
the dread of this rendered even the most fierce and 
turbulent spirits obsequious to the authority of the 
church. 

Nor did the clergy neglect the pro- The devices of 
per methods of preserving the wealth secure Uieirusur- 
and power which they had acquired patl0ns - 
with such industry and address. The possessions 
of the church being consecrated to God, were de¬ 
clared to be unalienable; so that the funds of a 
society which was daily gaining, and could never 
lose, grew to be immense. In Germany it was com¬ 
puted that the ecclesiastics had got into their hands 
more than one-half the national property. 1 In other 
countries the proportion varied ; but the share be¬ 
longing to the church was everywhere prodigious. 
These vast possessions were not subject to the bur¬ 
dens imposed on the lands of the laity. The Ger¬ 
man clergy were exempted by law from all taxes ; u 
and if, on any extraordinary emergency, ecclesias¬ 
tics were pleased to grant some aid towards sup¬ 
plying the public exigences, this was considered as 
a free gift flowing from their own generosity, which 
the civil magistrate had no title to demand, far less 
to exact. In consequence of this strange solecism 
in government, the laity in Germany had the mor¬ 
tification to find themselves loaded with excessive 
impositions, because such as possessed the greatest 
property were freed from any obligation to support 
or to defend the state. 

Grievous, however, as the exorbi- 
tant wealth and numerous privileges ctesiastics mostly 
of the clerical order were to the other foreigners - 
members of the Germanic body, they would have 
reckoned it some mitigation of the evil if these had 
been possessed only by ecclesiastics residing among 
themselves, who would have been less apt to make 
an improper use of their riches, or to exercise their 
rights with unbecoming rigour. But the bishops of 
Rome having early put in a claim, the boldest that 
ever human ambition suggested, of being supreme 
and infallible heads of the Christian church ; they, 
by their profound policy and unwearied perse¬ 
verance, by their address in availing themselves of 
every circumstance which occurred, by taking ad¬ 
vantage of the superstition of some princes, of the 

r Centum Gravam. $ 9, 56, 64. 

s Ibid. § 34. t Ibid. § 28. 

u Centum Gravam. <$ 28. TIoldasti Const. Imuer. ii. 79, 168. Pfeffel 
Hist, du Droit Publ. 350, 374. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK II. A. I). 1520.] 

necessities of others, and of the credulity of the 
people, at length established their pretensions in 
opposition both to the interest and common sense 
ot mankind. Germany was the country which these 
ecclesiastical sovereigns governed with most abso¬ 
lute authority. They excommunicated and deposed 
some of its most illustrious emperors, and excited 
their subjects, their ministers, and even their chil¬ 
dren, to take arms against them. Amidst these 
contests the popes continually extended their own 
immunities, spoiling the secular princes gradually 
of their most valuable prerogatives, and the Ger¬ 
man church felt all the rigour of that oppression 
which flows from subjection to foreign dominion 
and foreign exactions. 

Nominated by The right of conferring benefices, 
the pope. w hich the popes usurped during that 
period of confusion, was an acquisition of great 
importance, and exalted the ecclesiastical power 
upon the ruins of the temporal. The emperors and 
other princes of Germany had long been in pos¬ 
session of this right, which served to increase both 
their authority and their revenue. But by wresting 
it out of their hands, the popes were enabled to fill 
the empire with their own creatures ; they accus¬ 
tomed a great body of every prince’s subjects to 
depend not upon him but upon the Roman see ; 
they bestowed upon strangers the richest benefices 
in every country, and drained their wealth to sup¬ 
ply the luxury of a foreign court. Even the patience 
of the most superstitious ages could no longer bear 
such oppression ; and so loud and frequent were 
the complaints and murmurs of the Germans, that 
the popes, afraid of irritating them too far, consented, 
contrary to their usual practice, to abate somewhat of 
their pretensions, and to rest satisfied with the right 
of nomination to such benefices as happened to fall 
vacant during six months in the year, leaving the 
disposal of the remainder to the princes and other 
legal patrons.* 

The expedients But tlie C0Urt ° f Rome easil y found 

this^ow^oTthe expedients for eluding an agreement 
popes ineffectual, which put such restraints on its power. 

The practice of reserving certain benefices in every 
country to the pope’s immediate nomination, which 
had been long known and often complained of, was 
extended far beyond its ancient bounds. All the 
benefices possessed by cardinals or any of the nu¬ 
merous officers in the Roman court; those held by 
persons who happened to die at Rome, or within 
forty miles of that city on their journey to or from 
it; such as became vacant by translation, with 
many others, were included in the number of re¬ 
served benefices : Julius II. and Leo X. stretching 
the matter to the utmost, often collated to benefices 
where the right of reservation had not been declar¬ 
ed, on pretence of having mentally reserved this 
privilege to themselves. The right of reservation, 
however, even with this extension, had certain 


465 


limits, as it could be exercised only where the be¬ 
nefice was actually vacant; and therefore, in order 
to render the exertion of papal power unbounded, 
expectative graces , or mandates nominating a person 
to succeed to a benefice upon the first vacancy that 
should happen, were brought into use. By means 
of these Germany was filled with persons who were 
servilely dependent on the court of Rome, from 
which they had received such reversionary grants; 
princes were defrauded, in a great degree, of their 
prerogatives; the rights of lay-patrons were pre¬ 
occupied, and rendered almost entirely vain. y 

The manner in which these extra- venality of the 
ordinary powers were exercised ren- court ot Rome - 
dered them still more odious and intolerable. The 
avarice and extortion of the court of Rome were 
become excessive almost to a proverb. The practice 
of selling benefices was so notorious, that no pains 
were taken to conceal or to disguise it. Companies 
of merchants openly purchased the benefices of dif¬ 
ferent districts in Germany from the pope’s minis¬ 
ters, and retailed them at an advanced price. 2 
Pious men beheld with deep regret these simoniacal 
transactions, so unworthy the ministers of a Chris¬ 
tian church ; while politicians complained of the 
loss sustained by the exportation of so much wealth 
in that irreligious traffic. 

The sums, indeed, which the court , 

. It drained other 

or Rome drew by its stated and legal countries of their 
impositions from all the countries ac¬ 
knowledging its authority, were so considerable, 
that it is not strange that princes as well as their 
subjects murmured at the smallest addition made 
to them by unnecessary or illicit means. Every 
ecclesiastical person, upon his admission to his be¬ 
nefice, paid annatSy or one year’s produce of his 
living, to the pope; and as that tax was exacted 
with great rigour, its amount was very great. To 
this must be added the frequent demands made by 
the popes of free gifts from the clergy, together with 
the extraordinary levies of tenths upon ecclesiasti¬ 
cal benefices, on pretence of expeditions against the 
Turks, seldom intended or carried into execution ; 
and from the whole, the vast proportion of the re¬ 
venues of the church which flowed continually to 
Rome may be estimated. 

Such were the dissolute manners, The united effect 
the exorbitant wealth, the enormous otallthese causes, 
power and privileges of the clergy, before the re¬ 
formation ; such the oppressive rigour of that do¬ 
minion which the popes had established over the 
Christian world ; and such the sentiments concern¬ 
ing them that prevailed in Germany at the begin¬ 
ning of the sixteenth century. Nor has this sketch 
been copied from the controversial writers of that 
age, who, in the heat of disputation, may be sus¬ 
pected of having exaggerated the errors or of having 
misrepresented the conduct of that church which 
they laboured to overturn ; it is formed upon more 


X F Paul Hist, of F.ccles. Benef. 204. Gold. Constit. Imper. i. 40«. 
y Centum Gravam. §21. Fascic. Rer. expet. &c. 334. Gold. Const. 

2 H 


Imperial, i. 391, 404, 405. F. Paul History of Eccles. Benef. 107. 
199. z Fascic. Rer. expet. i. 359. 




THE REIGN OF THE 


-idt> 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK II. 


authentic evidence, upon the memorials and remon¬ 
strances of the imperial diets, enumerating the 
grievances under which the empire groaned, in 
order to obtain the redress of them. Dissatisfaction 
must have arisen to a great height among the people, 
when these grave assemblies expressed themselves 
with that degree of acrimony which abounds in 
their remonstrances; and if they demanded the 
abolition of these enormities with so much vehe¬ 
mence, the people, we may be assured, uttered their 
sentiments and desires in bolder and more virulent 
language. 


To men thus prepared for shaking 

embrace Luther's off the yoke, Luther addressed himself 
ophoipos, . . , „ . ,, 

with certainty ot success. As they 
had long felt its weight, and had borne it with im¬ 
patience, they listened with joy to the first offer of 
procuring them deliverance. Hence proceeded the 
food and eager reception that his doctrines met 
w ith, and the rapidity with which they spread over 

and to tolerate all the provinces of Germany. Even 
his detects. the impetuosity and fierceness of Lu¬ 
ther’s spirit, his confidence in asserting his own 
opinions, and the arrogance as well as contempt 
wherewith he treated all who differed from him, 
which, in ages of greater moderation and refinement, 
have been reckoned defects in the character of that 
reformer, did not appear excessive to his contem¬ 
poraries, whose minds were strongly agitated by 
those interesting controversies which he carried on, 
and who had themselves endured the rigour of pa¬ 
pal tyranny, and seen the corruptions in the church 
against which he exclaimed. 

Nor were they offended at that gross scurrility 
with which his polemical writings are filled, or at 
the low buffoonery which he sometimes introduces 
into his gravest discourses. No dispute was 
managed in those rude times without a large portion 
of the former; and the latter was common even on 
the most solemn occasions, and in treating the most 
sacred subjects. So far were either of these from 
doing hurt to his cause, that invective and ridicule 
had some effect, as well as more laudable arguments, 
in exposing the errors of popery, and in determining 
mankind to abandon them. 

Besides all these causes of Luther’s 
rapid progress, arising from the nature 
of his enterprise, and the juncture at 
which he undertook it, he reaped ad¬ 
vantage from some foreign and adventitious cir¬ 
cumstances, the beneficial influence of which none 
of his forerunners in the same course had enjoyed. 
Among these may be reckoned the invention of the 
art of printing, about half a century before his time. 
By this fortunate discovery the facility of acquiring 
and of propagating knowledge was wonderfully in¬ 
creased, and Luther’s books, which must otherwise 
have made their way slowly and with uncertainty 
into distant countries, spread at once all over 
Europe. Nor were they read only by the rich and 
the learned, who alone had access to books before 


The effect of the 
invention of 
printing on the 
progress of the 
Reformation: 


that invention ; they got into the hands of the peo¬ 
ple, who, upon this appeal to them as judges, ven¬ 
tured to examine and to reject many doctrines which 
they had formerly been required to believe, without 
being taught to understand them. 

The revival of learning at the same and of the re . 
period was a circumstance extremely vlval ot learmllg - 
friendly to the Reformation. The study of the an¬ 
cient Greek and Roman authors, by enlightening the 
human mind with liberal and sound knowledge, 
roused it from that profound lethargy in which it 
had been sunk during several centuries. Mankind 
seem at that period to have recovered the powders of 
inquiring and of thinking for themselves, faculties 
of which they had long lost the use; and fond of 
the acquisition, they exercised them with great 
boldness upon all subjects. They were not now 
afraid of entering an uncommon path or of em¬ 
bracing a new opinion. Novelty appears rather to 
have been a recommendation of a doctrine ; and in¬ 
stead of being startled when the daring hand of 
Luther drew aside or tore the veil which covered 
and established errors, the genius of the age ap¬ 
plauded and aided the attempt. Luther, though a 
stranger to elegance in taste or composition, zeal¬ 
ously promoted the cultivation of ancient literature; 
and sensible of its being necessary to the right 
understanding of the Scriptures, he himself had 
acquired considerable knowledge both in the He¬ 
brew and Greek tongues. Melancthon and some 
other of his disciples were eminent proficients in 
the polite arts ; and as the same ignorant monks 
who opposed the introduction of learning into Ger¬ 
many set themselves with equal fierceness against 
Luther’s opinions, and declared the good reception 
of the latter to be the effect of the progress w hich 
the former had made, the cause of learning and of 
the Reformation came to be considered as closely 
connected with each other, and, in every country, 
had the same friends and the same enemies. This 
enabled the reformers to carry on the contest at first 
with great superiority. Erudition, industry, accu¬ 
racy of sentiment, purity of composition, even wit 
and raillery, were almost wholly on their side, and 
triumphed with ease over illiterate monks, whose 
rude arguments, expressed in a perplexed and bar¬ 
barous style, were found insufficient for the defence 
of a system, the errors of which all the art and inge¬ 
nuity of its later and more learned advocates have 
not been able to palliate. 

That bold spirit of inquiry which Luther aide d by 

the revival of learning excited in not S wish^Iis sllc- 
Europe, was so favourable to the Re- cess; 
formation, that Luther was aided in his progress, 
and mankind were prepared to embrace his doc¬ 
trines, by persons who did not wish success to his 
undertaking. The greater part of the ingenious 
men who applied to the study of ancient literature 
towards the close of the fifteenth century and the 
beginning of the sixteenth, though they had no in¬ 
tention, and perhaps no wish, to overturn the esta 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK II. A. D. 1520.] 


■107 


blished system of religion, had discovered the ab¬ 
surdity ot many tenets and practices authorized by 
the church, and perceived the futility of those argu¬ 
ments by which illiterate monks endeavoured to 
defend them. Their contempt of these advocates 
for the received errors led them frequently to ex¬ 
pose the opinions which they supported, and to 
ridicule their ignorance with great freedom and 
severity. By this men were prepared for the more 
serious attacks made upon them by Luther, and 
their reverence both for the doctrines and persons 
against whom he inveighed was considerably abated. 
This was particularly the case in Germany. When 
the first attempts were made to revive a taste for 
ancient learning in that country, the ecclesiastics 
there, who were still more ignorant than their bre¬ 
thren on the other side of the Alps, set themselves 
to oppose its progress with more active zeal ; and 
the patrons of the new studies in return attacked 
them with greater violence. In the writings of 
Reuchlin, Hutten, and the other revivers of learning 
in Germany, the corruptions of the church of Rome 
are censured with an acrimony of style little inferior 
to that of Luther himself.a 

From the same cause proceeded the frequent 

particularly strictures of Erasmus upon the errors 

Erasmus. 0 f t ] )e as we H as U p011 the 

ignorance and vices of the clergy. His reputa¬ 
tion and authority were so high in Europe at the 
beginning of the sixteenth century, and his works 
were read with such universal admiration, that 
the effect of these deserves to be mentioned as 
one of the circumstances which contributed con¬ 
siderably towards Luther’s success. Erasmus hav¬ 
ing been destined for the church, and trained 
up in the knowledge of ecclesiastical literature, 
applied himself more to theological inquiries 
than any of the revivers of learning in that age. 
His acute judgment and extensive erudition enabled 
him to discover many errors both in the doctrine and 
worship of the Romish church. Some of these he 
confuted with great solidity of reasoning and force 
of eloquence. Others he treated as objects of ridi¬ 
cule, and turned against them that irresistible torrent 
of popular and satirical wit of which he had the 
command. There was hardly any opinion or prac¬ 
tice of the Romish church which Luther endeavoured 
to reform, but what had been previously animad¬ 
verted upon by Erasmus, and had afforded him 
subject either of censure or of raillery. Accordingly, 
when Luther first began his attack upon the church, 
Erasmus seemed to applaud his conduct; he courted 
the friendship of several of his disciples and patrons, 
and condemned the behaviour and spirit of his 
adversaries. b He concurred openly with him in 
inveighing against the school divines as the teachers 


of a system equally unedifying and obscure. He 
joined him in endeavouring to turn the attention of 
men to the study of the Holy Scriptures, as the only 
standard of religious truth. c 

Various circumstances, however, prevented Eras¬ 
mus from holding the same course with Luther. The 
natural timidity of his temper; his want of that 
strength of mind which alone can prompt a man to 
assume the character of a reformer ; d his excessive 
deference for persons in high station ; his dread of 
losing the pensions and other emoluments which 
their liberality had conferred upon him; his extreme 
love of peace, and hopes of reforming abuses gra¬ 
dually and by gentle methods, all concurred in 
determining him not only to repress and to moderate 
the zeal with which he had once been animated 
against the errors of the church, e but to assume the 
character of a mediator between Luther and his 
opponents. But though Erasmus soon began to 
censure Luther as too daring and impetuous, and 
was at last prevailed upon to write against him, he 
must nevertheless be considered as his forerunner 
and auxiliary in this war upon the church. He first 
scattered the seeds which Luther cherished and 
brought to maturity. His raillery and oblique cen¬ 
sures prepared the way for Luther’s invectives and 
more direct attacks. In this light Erasmus appeared 
to the zealous defenders of the Romish church in his 
own times : f in this light he must be considered by 
every person conversant in the history of that period. 

In this long enumeration of the circumstances 
which combined in favouringthe progress of Luther’s 
opinions, or in weakening the resistance of his 
adversaries, I have avoided entering into any dis¬ 
cussion of the theological doctrines of popery, and 
have not attempted to show how repugnant they are 
to the spirit of Christianity, and how destitute of 
any foundation in reason, in the word of God, or in 
the practice of the primitive church, leaving those 
topics entirely to ecclesiastical historians, to whose 
province they peculiarly belong. But when we add 
the effect of these religious considerations to the 
influence of political causes, it is obvious that the 
united operation of both on the human mind must 
have been sudden and irresistible. Though to 
Luther’s contemporaries, who were too near perhaps 
to the scene, or too deeply interested in it, to trace 
causes with accuracy or to examine them with 
coolness, the rapidity with which his opinions 
spread appeared to be so unaccountable, that some 
of them imputed it to a certain uncommon and 
malignant position of the stars, which scattered the 
spirit of giddiness and innovation over the world ; s 
it is evident that the success of the Reformation was 
the natural effect of many powerful causes prepared 
by peculiar providence, and happily conspiring to 


a Gerdesius Hist. Evang. Renov. vol. i. p. 141, 157. Seckend. lib. i. 
p. 103. Vonder llardt Hist. Literar. Reform, pars ii. 
b Seckend. lib. i. p. 40, 96. 

c Vonder llardt, Histor. Literar. Reform, parsi. Gerde3. Hist. Evang. 

Renov. i. 147- . , . , , , , ... « T ^ „ 

d Erasmus himself is candid enough to acknowledge this: Luther, 

says lie “ has given us many a wholesome doctrine and many a good 
counsel. 1 wish he had not defeated the effect of them by intolerable 

2 H 2 


faults. But if he had written every thing in the most unexceptionable 
manner, I had no inclination to die for the sake of truth. Every man hath 
not the courage requisite to make a martyr ; and 1 am afraid that if 1 were 
put to the trial, 1 should imitate St. Peter.” Epist. Erasmi, in Jortin’s 
Life of Erasm. vol. i. p. 273. 
e Jortin’s Life of Erasmus, vol. i. p. 258. 
f Vonder llardt, Hist. Literar. Reform, pars i. p. 2. 
g Jovii Historia, Lut. 1553, fol. p. 134. 



4(j8 


THE REIGN OF THE 


that end. This attempt to investigate these causes, 
and to throw light on an event so singular and im¬ 
portant, will not, perhaps, be deemed an unneces¬ 
sary digression.-1 return from it to the course of 

the history. 

„ ,. f The diet at Worms conducted its de- 

Proceedings or 

wonm Ht liberations with that slow formality 
1521 - peculiar to such assemblies. Much 
time was spent in establishing some regulations 
with regard to the police of the empire. The juris¬ 
diction of the imperial chamber was confirmed, and 
the forms of its proceeding rendered more fixed 
and regular. A council of regency was appointed 
to assist Ferdinand in the government of the empire 
during any occasional absence of the emperor; 
which, from the extent of the emperor’s dominions, 
as well as the multiplicity of his affairs, was an event 
that might be frequently expected. 11 The state of 
religion was then taken into consideration. There 
The emperor’s were not wanting some plausible reasons 
toTuther! re&drd which might have induced Charles to 
have declared himself the protector of Luther’s 
cause, or at least to have connived at its progress. 
If he had possessed no other dominions but those 
which belonged to him in Germany, and no other 
crow n besides the imperial, he might have been dis¬ 
posed, perhaps, to favour a man who asserted so 
boldly the privileges and immunities for which the 
empire had struggled so long with the popes. But 
the vast and dangerous schemes which Francis I. 
was forming against Charles, made it necessary for 
him to regulate his conduct by views more extensive 
than those which would have suited a German 
prince; and it being of the utmost importance to 
secure the pope’s friendship, this determined him 
to treat Luther with great severity, as the most 
effectual method of soothing Leo into a concurrence 
with his measures. His eagerness to accomplish 
this rendered him not unwilling to gratify the papal 
legates in Germany, who insisted that, without any 
delay or formal deliberation, the diet ought to con¬ 
demn a man whom the pope had already excom- 

He is summoned municated as an incorrigible heretic, 
to appear. Such an abrupt manner of proceeding, 

however, being deemed unprecedented and unjust 
by the members of the diet, they made a point of 
Luther’s appearing in person, and declaring whether 
he adhered or not to those opinions which had 
drawn upon him the censures of the church. 1 Not 
only the emperor, but all the princes through whose 
territories he had to pass, granted him 
a safe-conduct; and Charles wrote to 
him at the same time, requiring his immediate at¬ 
tendance on the diet, and renewing his promises 
of protection from any injury or violence. 14 Luther 
did not hesitate one moment about yielding obe¬ 
dience, and set out for Worms, attended by the 
herald who had brought the emperor’s letter and 
safe-conduct. While on his journey, many of his 

h Pont. Heuter. Rer. Austr. lib. viii. cap. 11. p. 195. Pfeffel Abregti 
Chronol. p. 598. 

i P. Mart. £p. 722. k Luth. Oper. ii. 411. 1 Ibid. 412. 


March 6. 


His undaunted 
spirit. 


[A. D. 1521. BOOK II. 

friends, whom the fate of Huss under similar cir¬ 
cumstances, and notwithstanding the same security 
of an imperial safe-conduct, filled with solicitude, 
advised and entreated him not to rush wantonly into 
the midst of danger. But Luther, su¬ 
perior to such terrors, silenced them 
with this reply: “lam lawfully called,” said he, 
“ to appear in that city, and thither will I go in the 
name of the Lord, though as many devils as there 
are tiles on the houses w ere there combined against 
me.” 1 

The reception which he met with at His recep tion at 
Worms was such as he might have 
reckoned a full reward of all his labours, if vanity 
and the love of applause had been the principles 
by which he w ; as influenced. Greater crowds as¬ 
sembled to behold him than had appeared at the 
emperor’s public entry ; his apartments were daily 
filled with princes and personages of the highest 
rank, m and he was treated with all the respect paid 
to those who possess the power of directing the 
understanding and sentiments of other men ; an 
homage more sincere as w ell as more flattering than 
any which pre-eminence in birth or condition can 
command. At his appearance before The manner 0 f 
the diet he behaved with great decency hlsa PP e < 1, * tnce - 
and with equal firmness. He readily acknow ledged 
an excess of vehemence and acrimony in his con¬ 
troversial writings, but refused to retract his opinions 
unless he were convinced of their falsehood, or to 
consent to their being tried by any other rule than 
the word of God. When neither threats nor en¬ 
treaties could prevail on him to depart from this 
resolution, some of the ecclesiastics proposed to 
imitate the example of the council of Constance, 
and by punishing the author of this pestilent heresy, 
who was now in their power, to deliver the church 
at once from such an evil. But the members of the 
diet refusing to expose the German integrity to fresh 
reproach by a second violation of public faith, and 
Charles being no less unwilling to bring a stain upon 
the beginning of his administration by such an 
ignominious action, Luther was permitted to depart 
in safety." A few days after he left April 26 . 
the city, a severe edict was published Edlct against him. 
in the emperor’s name, and by authority of the diet, 
depriving him, as an obstinate and excommunicated 
criminal, of all the privileges which he enjoyed as 
a subject of the empire, forbidding any prince to 
harbour or protect him, and requiring all to concur 
in seizing his person as soon as the term specified 
in his safe-conduct was expired.® 

But this rigorous decree had no con- 

.... „ . . He is seized and 

siderable effect, the execution of it concealed at 

being prevented partly by the multi- NVdltbuIb ‘ 

plicity of occupations which the commotions in 

Spain, together with the wars in Italy and the Low 

Countries, created to the emperor, and partly by a 

prudent precaution employed by the elector of 

m Seckend. 151. Luth. Oper. ii. 414. 

n Paul Hist, of Counc. p. 13. Seckend. 160. 

o Gold. Const. Imperial, ii. 401. 


» 





BOOK II. A. D. 1521.] 

Saxony, Luther’s faithful and discerning patron. 
As Luther, on his return from Worms, was passing 
near Altenstein in Thuringia, a number of horse¬ 
men in masks rushed suddenly out of a wood, where 
the elector had appointed them to lie in wait for 
him, and surrounding his company, carried him, 
after dismissing all his attendants, to Wartburg, a 
strong castle not far distant. There the elector 
ordered him to be supplied with every thing neces¬ 
sary or agreeable ; but the place of his retreat was 
carefully concealed, until the fury of the present 
storm against him began to abate, upon a change 
in the political situation of Europe. In this soli¬ 
tude, where he remained nine months, and which 
he frequently called his Patmos, after the name of 
that island to which the apostle John was banished, 
he exerted his usual vigour and industry in defence 
of his doctrines or in confutation of his adversaries, 
publishing several treatises, which revived the spirit 
of his followers, astonished to a great degree, and 
disheartened, at the sudden disappearance of their 
leader. 

Progress of his During his confinement, his opinions 
opinions. continued to gain ground, acquiring 
the ascendant in almost every city in Saxony. At 
this time the Augustinians of Wittemberg, with the 
approbation of the university and the connivance of 
the elector, ventured upon the first step towards an 
alteration in the established forms of public wor¬ 
ship, by abolishing the celebration of private 
masses, and by giving the cup as well as the bread 
to the laity, in administering the sacrament of the 
Lord’s Supper. 

Decree of the Whatever consolation the courage 

Paris*coiKiemn- an d success of his disciples, or the 
mg them. progress of his doctrines in his own 

country, afforded Luther in his retreat, he there re¬ 
ceived information of two events which consider¬ 
ably damped his joy, as they seemed to lay insu¬ 
perable obstacles in the way of propagating his 
principles in the two most powerful kingdoms of 
Europe. One was a solemn decree condemning his 
opinions, published by the university of Paris, the 
most ancient, and, at that time, the most respect¬ 
able of the learned societies in Europe. The other 
was the answer written to his book 

write?against concerning the Babylonish captivity 
by Henry VIII. of England. That 
monarch having been educated under the eye of a 
suspicious father, who, in order to prevent his at¬ 
tending to business, kept him occupied in the study 
of literature, still retained a greater love of learning, 
and stronger habits of application to it, than are 
common among princes of so active a disposition 
and such violent passions. Being ambitious of ac¬ 
quiring glory of every kind, as well as zealously 
attached to the Romish church, and highly exaspe¬ 
rated against Luther, who had treated Thomas 
Aquinas, his favourite author, with great contempt, 
Henry did not think it enough to exert his royal au¬ 
thority in opposing the opinions of the reformer, 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


469 


but resolved likewise to combat them with scho¬ 
lastic weapons. With this view he published his 
treatise on the seven sacraments, which, though 
forgotten at present, as books of controversy always 
are when the occasion that produced them is past, 
is not destitute of polemical ingenuity and acute¬ 
ness, and was represented by the flattery of his 
courtiers to be a work of such wonderful science 
and learning, as exalted him no less above other 
authors in merit than he was distinguished among 
them by his rank. The pope, to whom it was pre¬ 
sented with the greatest formality in full consistory, 
spoke of it in such terms as if it had been dictated 
by immediate inspiration ; and, as a testimony of 
the gratitude of the church for his extraordinary 
zeal, conferred on him the title of Defender of the 
Faith , an appellation which Henry soon forfeited in 
the opinion of those from whom he derived it, and 
which is still retained by his successors, though the 
avowed enemies of those opinions by contending 
for which he merited that honourable distinction. 
Luther, who was not overawed either Luther s reply to 
by the authority of the university or both - 
the dignity of the monarch, soon published his ani¬ 
madversions on both, in a style no less vehement 
and severe than he would have used in confuting 
his meanest antagonist. This indecent boldness, 
instead of shocking his contemporaries, was con¬ 
sidered by them as a new proof of his undaunted 
spirit. A controversy managed by disputants so 
illustrious drew universal attention; and such was 
the contagion of the spirit of innovation diffused 
through Europe in that age, and so powerful the 
evidence which accompanied the doctrines of the 
reformers on their first publication, that in spite 
both of the civil and ecclesiastical powers combined 
against them, they daily gained converts both in 
France and in England. 

How desirous soever the emperor 

* of cifitiirs 

might be to put a stop to Luther’s pro- between Charles 
, c , 11 . i j . and Francis. 

gress, he was often obliged, during 
the diet at Worms, to turn his thought^ to matters 
still more interesting, and which demanded more 
immediate attention. A war was ready to break 
out between him and the French king in Navarre, 
in the Low Countries, and in Italy; and it required 
either great address to avert the danger, or timely 
and wise precautions to resist it. Every circum¬ 
stance, at that juncture, inclined Charles to prefer 
the former measure. Spain was torn with intestine 
commotions. In Italy he had not hitherto secured 
the assistance of any one ally. In the Low Coun¬ 
tries his subjects trembled at the thoughts of a rup¬ 
ture with France, the fatal effects of which on their 
commerce they had often experienced. From these 
considerations, as well as from the solicitude of 
Chievres, during his whole administration, to main¬ 
tain peace between the two monarchs, proceeded 
the emperor’s backwardness to commence hostilities. 
But Francis and his ministers did not breathe 
the same pacific spirit. He easily foresaw that 



470 


THE REIGN OF THE 


concord could not long subsist where interest, emu¬ 
lation, and ambition conspired to dissolve it; and 
be possessed several advantages which flattered him 
with the hopes of surprising his rival, and of over¬ 
powering him before he could put himself in a pos¬ 
ture of defence. The French king’s dominions, 
from their compact situation, from their subjection 
to the royal authority, from the genius of the people, 
fond of war, and attached to their sovereign by 
every tie of duty and affection, were more capable 
of a great or sudden effort than the larger but dis¬ 
united territories of the emperor, in one part of 
which the people were in arms against his ministers, 
and in all his prerogative was more limited than 
that of his rival. 

Henry vin. fa- The only princes in whose power it 
vours the emperor. was h ave kept down or to have ex¬ 
tinguished this flame on its first appearance, either 
neglected to exert themselves, or were active in 
kindling and spreading it. Henry VIII., though 
he affected to assume the name of mediator, and 
both parties made frequent appeals to him, had laid 
aside the impartiality which suited that character. 
Wolsey, by his artifices, had estranged him so 
entirely from the French king, that he secretly fo¬ 
mented the discord which he ought to have com¬ 
posed, and waited only for some decent pretext to 
join his arms to those of the emperor. p 

Leo hesitates be- Leo’s endeavours to excite discord 
tween the rivals, between the emperor and Francis were 

more avowed and had greater influence. Not only 
his duty as the common father of Christendom, but 
his interest as an Italian potentate, called upon the 
pope to act as the guardian of the public tran¬ 
quillity, and to avoid any measure that might over¬ 
turn the system which, after much bloodshed and 
many negociations, was now established in Italy. 
Accordingly Leo, who instantly discerned the pro¬ 
priety of this conduct, had formed a scheme, upon 
Charles’s promotion to the imperial dignity, of ren¬ 
dering himself the umpire between the rivals, by 
soothing them alternately, while he entered into no 
close confederacy with either; and a pontiff less 
ambitious and enterprising might have saved Eu¬ 
rope from many calamities by adhering to this plan. 
But this high-spirited prelate, who was still in the 
prime of life, longed passionately to distinguish his 
pontificate by some splendid action. He was im¬ 
patient to wash away the infamy of having lost 
Parma and Placentia, the acquisition of which re¬ 
flected so much lustre on the administration of his 
predecessor Julius. He beheld with the indigna¬ 
tion natural to Italians in that age, the dominion 
which the Transalpine, or, as they in imitation of 
the Roman arrogance denominated them, the bar¬ 
barous nations, had attained in Italy. He flattered 
himself that, after assisting the one monarch to strip 
the other of his possessions in that country, he might 
find means of driving out the victor in his turn, and 

p Herbert. Fiddes’s Life of Wolsey, 258. q Guic. lib. xiv. p. 173. 

r Guic. lib. xiv. p. 175. Mem. de Bellay, Par. 1573, p. 21. 


[A. D. 1521. BOOK II. 

acquire the glory of restoring Italy to the liberty 
and happiness which it had enjoyed before the in¬ 
vasion of Charles VIII., when every state was go¬ 
verned by its native princes or its own laws, and 
unacquainted with a foreign yoke. Extravagant 
and chimerical as this project may seem, it was the 
favourite object of almost every Italian eminent for 
genius or enterprise during great part of the six¬ 
teenth century. They vainly hoped that, by supe¬ 
rior skill in the artifices and refinements of negoci- 
ation, they should be able to baffle the efforts of 
nations less polished indeed than themselves, but 
much more powerful and warlike. So alluring was 
the prospect of this to Leo, that notwithstanding the 
gentleness of his disposition, and his fondness for 
the pleasures of a refined and luxurious ease, he 
hastened to disturb the peace of Europe, and to 
plunge himself into a dangerous war, with an impe¬ 
tuosity scarcely inferior to that of the turbulent and 
martial Julius.' 1 

It was in Leo’s power, however, to choose which 
of the monarchs he would take for his confederate 
against the other. Both of them courted his friend¬ 
ship : he wavered for some time between them, and 
at first concluded an alliance with Francis. The 
object of this treaty was the conquest of Naples, 
which the confederates agreed to divide between 
them. The pope, it is probable, flattered himself 
that the brisk and active spirit of Francis, seconded 
by the same qualities in his subjects, would get the 
start of the slow and wary councils of the emperor, 
and that they might overrun with ease this detached 
portion of his dominions, ill provided for defence, 
and always the prey of every invader. But whe¬ 
ther the French king, by discovering too openly his 
suspicion of Leo’s sincerity, disappointed these 
hopes ; whether the treaty was only an artifice of 
the pope’s to cover the more serious negociations 
which he was carrying on with Charles ; whether 
lie was enticed by the prospect of reaping greater 
advantages from a union with that prince ; or whe¬ 
ther he was soothed by the zeal which Charles had 
manifested for the honour of the church in con¬ 
demning Luther, certain it is that 
he soon deserted his new ally, and treaty with 
made overtures of friendship, though Charles> 
with great secrecy, to the emperor/ Don John 
Manuel, the same man who had been the favourite 
of Philip, and whose address had disconcerted all 
Ferdinand’s schemes, having been delivered, upon 
the death of that monarch, from the prison to 
which he had been confined, was now the imperial 
ambassador at Rome, and fully capable of improv¬ 
ing this favourable disposition in the pope to his 
master’s advantage. To him the conduct of this 
negociation was entirely committed; and being 
carefully concealed from Chievres, whose aversion 
to a war with France would have prompted him to 
retard or to defeat it, an alliance between the pope 


s Jovii Vita Leonis, lib. iv. p. 89, 




May 8. 


BOOK II. A. D. 1521.] 

and emperor was quickly concluded. 1 
The chief articles in this treaty, which 
proved the foundation of Charles’s grandeur in 
Italy, were, that the pope and emperor should join 
their forces to expel the French out of the Milanese, 
the possession of which should be granted to 
Francis Sforza, a son of Ludovico the Moor, who 
had resided at Trent since the time that his brother 
Maximilian had been dispossessed of his dominions 
by the French king ; that Parma and Placentia 
should be restored to the church ; that the emperor 
should assist the pope in conquering Ferrara ; that 
the annual tribute paid by the kingdom of Naples 
to the holy see should be increased ; that the em¬ 
peror should take the family of Medici under his 
protection ; that he should grant to the cardinal of 
that name a pension of ten thousand ducats upon 
the archbishopric of Toledo; and should settle 
lands in the kingdom of Naples to the same value 
upon Alexander the natural son of Lorenzo de 
Medici. 

Death of chie- The transacting an affair of such 
or’Tfavourite and moment without his participation, ap- 
mmister. peared to Chievres so decisive a proof 

of his having lost the ascendant which he had 
hitherto maintained over the mind of his pupil, 
that his chagrin on this account, added to the me¬ 
lancholy with which he was overwhelmed on taking 
a view of the many and unavoidable calamities 
attending a war against France, is said to have 
shortened his days. 1 ' But though this, perhaps, 
may be only the conjecture of historians, fond of 
attributing every thing that befalls illustrious per¬ 
sonages to extraordinary causes, and of ascribing 
even their diseases and death to the effect of politi¬ 
cal passions, which are more apt to disturb the en¬ 
joyment than to abridge the period of life, it is 
certain that his death, at this critical juncture, ex¬ 
tinguished all hopes of avoiding a rupture with 
France.* This event, too, delivered Charles from 
a minister to whose authority he had been accus¬ 
tomed from his infancy to submit with such implicit 
deference as checked and depressed his genius, and 
retained him in a state of pupilage unbecoming his 
years as well as his rank. But this restraint being 
removed, the native powers of his mind were per¬ 
mitted to unfold themselves, and he began to dis 
play such great talents, both in council and in 
action, as exceeded the hopes of his contemporaries/ 
and command the admiration of posterity. 

While the pope and emperor were 

Commencement . . » . 

of hostilities in preparing, in consequence of their 
secret alliance, to attack Milan, hos¬ 
tilities commenced in another quarter. The chil¬ 
dren of John d’Albert, king of Navarre, having 
often demanded the restitution of their hereditary 
dominions, in terms of the treaty of Noyon, and 
Charles having as often eluded their requests upon 
very frivolous pretexts, Francis thought himself 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


471 


authorized by that treaty to assist the exiled family. 
The juncture appeared extremely favourable for 
such an enterprise. Charles was at a distance from 
that part of his dominions ; the troops usually sta¬ 
tioned there had been called away to quell the 
commotions in Spain; the Spanish malcontents 
warmly solicited him to invade Navarre, 2 in which 
a considerable faction was ready to declare for 
the decendants of their ancient monarchs. But in 
order to avoid, as much as possible, giving offence 
to the emperor or king of England, Francis di¬ 
rected forces to be levied, and the war to be car¬ 
ried on, not in his own name, but in that of Henry 
d’Albert. The conduct of these troops was com¬ 
mitted to Andrew de Foix de l’Esparre, a young 
nobleman, whom his near alliance to the unfortunate 
king whose battles he was to fight, and what was 
still more pow erful, the interest of his sister, Madame 
de Chateaubriand, Francis’s favourite mistress, re¬ 
commended to that important trust, for which he 
had neither talents nor experience. p rog ress of the 
But as there was no army in the field t rench, 
to oppose him, he became master in a few days of 
the whole kingdom of Navarre, without meeting 
w ith any obstruction but from the citadel of Pam- 
peluna. The additional works to this fortress, be¬ 
gun by Ximenes, were still unfinished ; nor would 
its slight resistance have deserved notice, if Igna- 
tio Loyola, a Biscayan gentleman, had not been 
dangerously wounded in its defence. During the 
progress of a lingering cure, Loyola happened to 
have no other amusement than what he found in 
reading the lives of the saints ; the effect of this on 
his mind, naturally enthusiastic, but ambitious and 
daring, was to inspire him with such a desire of emu¬ 
lating the glory of these fabulous worthies of the 
Roman church, as led him into the wildest and 
most extravagant adventures, which terminated at 
last in instituting the society of Jesuits, the most 
political and best regulated of all the monastic or¬ 
ders, and from which mankind have derived more 
advantages, and received greater injury, than from 
any other of those religious fraternities. 

If, upon the reduction of Pampe- They enter Cas 
luna, L’Esparre had been satisfied tlle - 
with taking proper precautions for securing his 
conquest, the kingdom of Navarre might still have 
remained annexed to the crown of France, in re¬ 
ality as well as in title. But, pushed on by jumthful 
ardour, and encouraged by Francis, who was too apt 
to be dazzled with success, he ventured to pass the 
confines of Navarre, and to lay siege to Logrogno, a 
small town in Castile. This roused the Castilians, 
who had hitherto beheld the rapid progress of his 
arms with great unconcern, and the dissensions in 
that kingdom (of which a full account shall be 
given) being almost composed, both parties exerted 
themselves with emulation in defence of their coun¬ 
try ; the one, that it might efface the memory of 


t Guic. 1. xiv. 181. Mem. de Bellay, p. 24. Du Mont. Corp. Diplom. 
tom. iv. suppl. p. 96. u Belcarii Comment, de Reb. Gallic. 483. 


x P. TIeuter. Rer. Austr. lib. viii. c. 11. p. 197. 
y P. Mart. Ep. 735. 2 Ibid. 721. 




172 


THE REIGN OF THE 


past misconduct by its present zeal; the other, that 
it might add to the merit of having subdued the 
emperor’s rebellious subjects, that of repulsing his 
foreign enemies. The sudden advance 
ind^rivenoutof of their troops, together with the gal¬ 
lant defence made by the inhabitants 
of Logrogno, obliged the French general to abandon 
his rash enterprise. The Spanish army, which in¬ 
creased every day, harassing him during his retreat, 
he, instead of taking shelter under the cannon of 
Pampeluna, or waiting the arrival of some troops 
which were marching to join him, attacked the Spa¬ 
niards, though far superior to him in number, with 
great impetuosity, but with so little conduct, that 
his forces were totally routed, he himself, together 
with his principal officers, was taken prisoner, and 
Spain recovered possession of Navarre in still 
shorter time than the French had spent in the con¬ 
quest of it. b 

While Francis endeavoured to jus- 

Hostihties begun . 

ui the Low coun- tity his invasion ol Navarre, by car- 

tries. J J 

rying it on in the name of Henry 
d’Albert, he had recourse to an artifice much of 
the same kind, in attacking another part of the em¬ 
peror’s territories. Robert de la Mark, lord of the 
small but independent territory of Bouillon, situ¬ 
ated on the frontiers of Luxembourg and Cham¬ 
pagne, having abandoned Charles’s service on ac¬ 
count of an encroachment which the Aulic council 
had made on his jurisdiction, and having thrown 
himself upon France for protection, was easily per¬ 
suaded, in the heat of his resentment, to send a 
herald to Worms, and to declare war against the 
emperor in form. Such extravagant insolence in a 
petty prince surprised Charles, and appeared to 


him a certain proof of his having received promises 
of powerful support from the French king. The 
justness of this conclusion soon became evident. 
Robert entered the duchy of Luxembourg with 
troops levied in France by the king’s connivance, 
though seemingly in contradiction to his orders, 
and, after ravaging the open country, laid siege to 
Vireton. Of this Charles complained loudly, as a 
direct violation of the peace subsisting between the 
two crowns ; and summoned Henry VIII., in terms 
of the treaty concluded at London in the year one 
thousand five hundred and eighteen, to turn his 
arms against Francis as the first aggressor. Francis 
pretended that he was not answerable for Robert’s 
conduct, whose army fought under his own stand¬ 
ards and in his own quarrel; and affirmed that, 
contrary to an express prohibition, he had seduced 
some subjects of France into his service ; but Hen¬ 
ry paid so little regard to this evasion, that the 
French king, rather than irritate a prince whom he 
still hoped to gain, commanded De la Mark to dis¬ 
band his troops . 0 

The emperor, meanwhile, was assembling an army 
to chastise Robert s insolence. Twenty thousand 


h Mem. de Bel lay, p. 21. P. Mart. F.p. 726. 
c Mem. de Bel lay, p. 22, &c. Mem. de 1 leuranges, p. 335, &c. 


[A. D. 1521. BOOK II. 

men, under the count of Nassau, invaded his little 
territories, and in a few days became masters of 
every place in them but Sedan. After making him 
feel so sensibly the weight of his master’s indig¬ 
nation, Nassau advanced towards the frontiers of 
France, and Charles, knowing that he might presume 
so far on Henry’s partiality in his favour as not to 
be overawed by the same fears which had restrained 
Francis, ordered his general to besiege Mouson. 
The cowardice of the garrison having obliged the 
governor to surrender almost without resistance, 
Nassau invested Mezieres, a place at 

. Siege of Mezieres 

that time ot no considerable strength, by the imperial- 

ists i 

but so advantageously situated, that 
by getting possession of it the imperial army might 
have penetrated into the heart of Champagne, in 
which there was hardly any other town capable 
of obstructing its progress. Happily for France, 
its monarch, sensible of the importance of this for¬ 
tress, and of the danger to which it was exposed, 
committed the defence of it to the chevalier Bayard, 
distinguished among his contemporaries by the ap¬ 
pellation of The knight ivitliout fear and without re¬ 
proach . d This man, whose prowess in combat, whose 
punctilious honour and formal gallantry, bear a 
nearer resemblance than any thing recorded in his¬ 
tory to the character ascribed to the heroes of chi¬ 
valry, possessed all the talents which form a great 
general. These he had many occasions of exerting 
in the defence of Mezieres ; partly by his valour, 
partly by his conduct, he protracted the siege to a 
great length, and in the end obliged 
the imperialists to raise it with dis¬ 
grace and loss. e Francis, at the head of a numer¬ 
ous army, soon retook Mouson, and entering the 
Low Countries, made several conquests of small 
importance. In the neighbourhood of Valenciennes, 
through an excess of caution, an error with which 
he cannot be often charged, he lost an opportunity 
of cutting off the whole imperial army ; f and what 
was still more unfortunate, he disgusted Charles, 
duke of Bourbon, high constable of France, by giv¬ 
ing the command of the van to the duke d’Alencon, 
though this post of honour belonged to Bourbon, as 
a prerogative of his office. 

During these operations in the 
field, a congress was held at Calais Congress at Ca- 
under the mediation of Henry VIII., mediation of 
in order to bring all differences to Eng andl 
an amicable issue ; and if the intentions of the 
mediator had corresponded in any degree to his 
professions, it could hardly have failed of produc¬ 
ing some good effect. But Henry committed the 
sole management of the negociation, with unlimited 
powers, to Wolsey ; and this choice alone was suffi¬ 
cient to have rendered it abortive. That prelate, 
bent on attaining the papal crown, the great object 
of his ambition, and ready to sacrifice every thing 
in order to gain the emperor’s interest, was so little 

? « e M ' m ' de BeUay ’ 


raised. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


473 


BOOK II. A. D. 1521.] 

able to conceal his partiality, that if Francis had 
not been well acquainted with his haughty and vin¬ 
dictive temper, he would have declined his media¬ 
tion. Much time was spent in inquiring who had 
begun hostilities, which Wolsey affected to repre¬ 
sent as the principal point; and by throwing the 
blame ot that on Francis, he hoped to justify, by 
Ihe treaty of London, any alliance into which his 
without any master should enter with Charles. The 
conditions on which hostilities might 
be terminated came next to be considered ; but 
with regard to these the emperor’s proposals were 
such as discovered either that he was utterly averse 
to peace, or that he knew Wolsey would approve of 
whatever terms should be offered in his name. He 
demanded the restitution of the duchy of Burgundy, 
a province the possession of which would have 
given him access into the heart of France ; and re¬ 
quired to be released from the homage due to the 
crown of France for the counties of Flanders and 
Artois, which none of his ancestors had ever refused, 
and which he had bound himself by the treaty of 
Noyon to renew. These terms, to which an high- 
spirited prince would scarcely have listened, after 
the disasters of an unfortunate war Francis rejected 
with great disdain; and Charles showing no incli¬ 
nation to comply with the more equal and moderate 
propositions of the French monarch, that he should 
restore Navarre to its lawful prince, and withdraw 
his troops from the siege of Tournay, the congress 
broke up without any other effect than that which 
attends unsuccessful negociations, the exasperating 
of the parties whom it was intended to reconcile.^ 
League against During the continuance of the con- 
Semperwand S ress > Wolsey, on pretence that the 
Henry v in. emperor himself would be more willing 

to make more reasonable concessions than his minis¬ 
ters, made an excursion to Bruges, to meet that 
monarch. He was received by Charles, who knew 
his vanity, with as much respect and magnificence 
as if he had been king of England. But instead of 
advancing the treaty of peace by this interview, 
Wolsey, in his master’s name, concluded a league 
with the emperor against Francis; in which it was 
stipulated, that Charles should invade France on 
the side of Spain, and Henry in Picardy, each with 
an army of forty thousand men ; and that, in order 
to strengthen their union, Charles should espouse 
the princess Mary, Henry’s only child, and the ap¬ 
parent heir of his dominions. b Henry produced no 
better reasons for this measure, equally unjust and 
impolitic, than the article in the treaty of London, 
by which he pretended that he was bound to take 
arms against the French king as the first aggressor ; 
and the injury which he alleged Francis had done 
him, in permitting the duke of Albany, the head of 
a faction in Scotland which opposed the interest of 
England, to return into that kingdom. He was 
influenced, however, by other considerations. The 
advantages which accrued to his subjects from main¬ 


taining an exact neutrality, or the honour that re¬ 
sulted to himself from acting as the arbiter between 
the contending princes, appeared to his youthful 
imagination so inconsiderable when compared with 
the glory which might be reaped from leading ar¬ 
mies or conquering provinces, that he determined 
to remain no longer in a state of inactivity. Having 
once taken this resolution, his inducements to prefer 
an alliance with Charles were obvious. He had no 
claim upon any part of that prince’s dominions, 
most of which were so situated that he could not 
attack them without great difficulty and disadvan¬ 
tage; whereas several maritime provinces of France 
had been long in the hands of the English monarchs, 
whose pretensions even to the crown of that king¬ 
dom were not as yet altogether forgotten ; and the 
possession of Calais not only gave him easy access 
into some of those provinces, but, in case of any 
disaster, afforded him a secure retreat. While 
Charles attacked France on one frontier, Henry 
flattered himself that he should find little resistance 
on the other, and that the glory of reannexing to 
the crown of England the ancient inheritance of its 
monarchs on the continent was reserved for his 
reign. Wolsey artfully encouraged these vain hopes, 
which led his master into such measures as were 
most subservient to his own secret schemes ; and 
the English, whose hereditary animosity against the 
French was apt to rekindle on every occasion, did 
not disapprove of the martial spirit of their sove¬ 
reign. 

Meanwhile the league between the Hostilities in 
pope and the emperor produced great ltaly- 
effects in Italy, and rendered Lombardy the chief 
theatre of war. There was at that time such con¬ 
trariety between the character of the French and 
the Italians, that the latter submitted to the govern¬ 
ment of the former with greater impatience than 
they expressed under the dominion of other foreign¬ 
ers. The phlegm of the Germans and gravity of 
the Spaniards suited their jealous temper and cere¬ 
monious manners better than the French gaiety, 
too prone to gallantry, and too little attentive to 
decorum. Lewis XII., however, by the equity and 
gentleness of his administration, and by granting 
the Milanese more extensive privileges than those 
they had enjoyed under their native princes, had 
overcome, in a great measure, their prejudices, and 
reconciled them to the French government. Francis, 
on recovering that duchy, did not imitate the ex¬ 
ample of his predecessor. Though too generous 
himself to oppress his people, his boundless con¬ 
fidence in his favourites, and his negligence in 
examining into the conduct of those whom he 
intrusted with power, imboldened them to ven¬ 
ture upon any acts of oppression. The govern¬ 
ment of Milan was committed by him to Odet 
de Foix, Mareschal de Lautrec, another brother 
of Madame de Chateaubriand, an officer of great 
experience and reputation, but haughty, imperious, 


g P. Mart. Ep. 739. Herbert. 


h Tlymer Feeder, xiii. Herbert. 



474 


THE REIGN OF THE 


rapacious, and incapable either of listening to ad- 
The Milanese vice or °* bearing contradiction. His 
tiie 8 FrenciTgo- insolence and exactions totally alien- 
vernment. ated affections of the Milanese 

from France, drove many of the considerable citi¬ 
zens into banishment, and forced others to retire for 
their own safety. Among the last was Jerome 
Morone, vice-chancellor of Milan, a man whose 
genius for intrigue and enterprise distinguished him 
in an age and country where violent factions as well 
as frequent revolutions affording great scope for 
such talents, produced or called them forth in great 
abundance. He repaired to Francis Sforza, whose 
brother Maximilian he had betrayed ; and suspect¬ 
ing the pope’s intention of attacking the Milanese, 
although his treaty with the emperor was not yet 
made public, he proposed to Leo, in the name of 
Sforza, a scheme for surprising several places in 
that duchy by means of the exiles, who, from hatred 
to the French, and from attachment to their former 


masters, were ready for any desperate enterprise. 
Leo not only encouraged the attempt, but advanced 
a considerable sum towards the execution of it ; 
and when, through unforeseen accidents, it failed 
of success in every part, he allowed the exiles, who 
had assembled in a body, to retire to Reggio, which 
belonged at that time to the church. The Mareschal 
de Foix, who commanded at Milan in absence of 
his brother Lautrec, who was then in France, 
tempted with the hopes of catching at once, as in a 
snare, all the avowed enemies of his master’s go- 
June 24. vern ment in that country, ventured to 
march into the ecclesiastical territories, 
and to invest Reggio. But the vigilance and good 
conduct of Guicciardini the historian, governor of 
that place, obliged the French general to abandon the 


The pope de- enter P rise with disgrace.* Leo, on re- 
Francisf a ' nst ceivin S this intelligence, with which he 
was highly pleased, as it furnished 
him a decent pretence for a rupture with France, 
immediately assembled the consistory of cardinals. 
After complaining bitterly of the hostile intentions 
of the French king, and magnifying the emperor’s 
zeal for the church, of which he had given a recent 
proof by his proceedings against Luther, he declar¬ 
ed that he was constrained in self-defence, and as 
the only expedient for the security of the ecclesias¬ 
tical state, to join his arms to those of that prince. 
For this purpose he now pretended to conclude a 
treaty with Don John Manuel, although it had 
really been signed some months before this time ; 
and he publicly excommunicated de Foix, as an im¬ 
pious invader of St. Peter’s patrimony. 

War in the Leo had already begun preparations 
Milanese. f or war ^ taking into pay a consider¬ 
able body of Swiss; but the imperial troops ad¬ 
vanced so slowly from Naples and Germany, that it 
was the middle of autumn before the army took 
the field under the command of Prosper Colonna, 
the most eminent of the Italian generals, M'liose 


i Guic. lib. xiv. 183. Mem. de Bellay, p, 38, &c. 


[A. D. 1521. BOOK II. 

extreme caution, the elfect of long experience in the 
art of war, was opposed with great propriety to the 
impetuosity of the French. In the mean time De 
Foix despatched courier after courier to inform the 
king of the danger which was approaching. Fran¬ 
cis, whose forces were either employed in the Low 
Countries or assembling on the frontiers of Spain, 
and who did not expect so sudden an attack in that 
quarter, sent ambassadors to his allies the Swiss, to 
procure from them the immediate levy of an addi¬ 
tional body of troops; and commanded Lautrec to 
repair forthwith to his government. That general, 
who was well acquainted with the great neglect of 
economy in the administration of the king’s finances, 
and who knew how much the troops in the Milanese 
had already suffered from the want of their pay, 
refused to set out unless the sum of three hundred 
thousand crowns was immediately put into his 
hands. But the king, Louise of'Savoy his mother, 
and Semblancy the superintendant of finances, 
having promised, even with an oath, that on his 
arrival at Milan he should find remittances for the 
sum which he demanded, upon the faith of this he 
departed. Unhappily for France, Louise, a woman 
deceitful, vindictive, rapacious;, and capable of sa¬ 
crificing any thing to the gratification of her passions, 
but who had acquired an absolute ascendant over 
her son by her maternal tenderness, her care of his 
education, and her great abilities, was resolved not 
to perform this promise. Lautrec having incurred 
her displeasure by his haughtiness in neglecting to 
pay court to her, and by the freedom with which he 
had talked concerning some of her adventures in 
gallantry, she, in order to deprive him of the honour 
which he might have gained by a successful defence 
of the Milanese, seized the three hundred thousand 
crowns destined for that service, and detained them 
for her own use. 

Lautrec, notwithstanding this cruel Progress of the 
disappointment, found means to as- imperialists, 
semble a considerable army, though far inferior in 
number to that of the confederates. He adopted 
the plan of defence most suitable to his situation, 
avoiding a pitched battle with the greatest care, 
while he harassed the enemy continually with his 
light troops, beat up their quarters, intercepted their 
convoys, and covered or relieved every place which 
they attempted to attack. By this prudent conduct 
he not only retarded their progress, but would have 
soon wearied out the pope, who had hitherto de¬ 
frayed almost the whole expense of the war, as the 
emperor, whose revenues in Spain were dissipated 
during the commotions in that country, and who 
was obliged to support a numerous army in the 
Netherlands, could not make any considerable re¬ 
mittances into Italy. But an unforeseen accident 
disconcerted all his measures, and occasioned a 
fatal reverse in the French affairs. A body of 
twelve thousand Swiss served in Lautrec’s army 
under the banners of the republic, with which France 




BOOK II. A. I). 1521.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. 475 


was in alliance. In consequence of a law, no less 
political than humane, established among the can¬ 
tons, their troops were never hired out by public 
authority to both the contending parties in any war. 
This law, however, the love of gain had sometimes 
eluded, and private persons had been allowed to 
enlist in what service they pleased, though not un¬ 
der the public banners, but under those of their par¬ 
ticular officers. The cardinal of Sion, who still pre¬ 
served his interest among his countrymen and his 
enmity to Fiance, having prevailed on them to 
connive at a levy of this kind, twelve thousand Swiss, 
instigated by him, joined the army of the confede¬ 
rates. But the leaders in the cantons, when they 
saw so many of their countrymen marching under 
the hostile standards, and ready to turn their arms 
against each other, became so sensible of the in¬ 
famy to which they would be exposed by permitting 
this, as well as the loss they might suffer, that they 
despatched couriers commanding their people to 
leave both armies, and to return forthwith into their 
own country. The cardinal of Sion, however, had 
the address, by corrupting the messengers appoint¬ 
ed to carry this order, to prevent it from being de¬ 
livered to the Swiss in the service of the confeder¬ 
ates ; but being intimated in due form to those in 
the French army, they, fatigued with the length of 
the campaign, and murmuring for want of pay, in¬ 
stantly yielded obedience in spite of Lautrec’s re¬ 
monstrances and entreaties. 

After the desertion of a body which formed the 
strength of his army, Lautrec durst no longer face 
the confederates. He retired towards Milan, en¬ 
camped on the banks of the Adda, and placed his 
chief hopes of safety in preventing the enemy from 
passing that river ; an expedient for defending a 
country so precarious, that there are few instances 
of its being employed with success against any ge- 

Eecome masters nera l of experience or abilities. Ac- 
ot Milan. cordingly Colonna, notwithstanding 

Lautrec’s vigilance and activity, passed the Adda 
with little loss, and obliged him to shut himself up 
within the walls of Milan, which the confederates 
were preparing to besiege, when an unknown person, 
who never afterwards appeared either to boast of 
this service or to claim a reward for it, came from 
the city, and acquainted Morone, that if the army 
would advance that night, the Ghibelline or impe¬ 
rial faction would put them in possession of one of 
the gates. Colonna, though no friend to rash enter¬ 
prises, allowed the marquis de Pescara to advance 
with the Spanish infantry, and he himself followed 
with the rest of his troops. About the beginning 
of night, Pescara arriving at the Roman gate in the 
suburbs, surprised the soldiers whom he found there; 
those posted in the fortifications adjoining to it 
immediately fled ; the marquis, seizing the w orks 
which they abandoned, and pushing forw ard inces¬ 
santly, though with no less caution than vigour, 

k Guic. 1. xiv. 190, &c. Mem. de Bellay,42,&c. Galeacii Capella, de reb. 
pest, pro restitut. 1'ran. Sforitae Comment, ap. Scardium, vol. ii. ISO, ike. 


became master of the city with little bloodshed, and 
almost without resistance; the victors being as 
much astonished as the vanquished at the facility 
and success of the attempt. Lautrec retired pre¬ 
cipitately towards the Venetian territories with the 
remains of his shattered army ; the cities of the Mi¬ 
lanese, follow ing the fate of the capital, surrendered 
to the confederates ; Parma and Placentia were 
united to the ecclesiastical state ; and of all their 
conquests in Lombardy, only the town of Cremona, 
the castle of Milan, and a few inconsiderable forts, 
remained in the hands of the French. k 

Leo received the accounts of this ^ 

Death of Leo X. 

rapid succession of prosperous events 
with such transports of joy, as brought on (if we may 
believe the French historians) a slight fever, which 
being neglected, occasioned his death on the second 
of December, while he was still of a vigorous age 
and at the height of his glory. By this unexpected 
accident the spirit of the confederacy was broken 
and its operation suspended. The cardinals of 
Sion and Medici left the army that they might be 
present in the conclave ; the Swiss w ere recalled by 
their superiors ; some other mercenaries disbanded 
for want of pay ; and only the Spaniards and a few 
Germans in the emperor’s service remained to de¬ 
fend the Milanese. But Lautrec, destitute both of 
men and of money, was unable to improve this 
favourable opportunity in the manner 
which he would have wished. The 
vigilance of Morone, and the good conduct of 
Colonna, disappointed his feeble attempts on the 
Milanese. Guicciardini, by his address and valour, 
repulsed a bolder and more dangerous attack which 
he made on Parma. 1 

Great discord prevailed in the con- Adrian elected 
clave which followed upon Leo’s death, pope> 
and all the arts natural to men grown old in intrigue, 
when contending for the highest prize an ecclesias¬ 
tic can obtain, were practised. Wolsey’s name, 
notwithstanding all the emperor’s magnificent pro¬ 
mises to favour his pretensions, of which that pre¬ 
late did not fail to remind him, was hardly 
mentioned in the conclave. Julio, cardinal de 
Medici, Leo’s nephew, who was more eminent than 
any other member of the sacred college for his 
abilities, his wealth, and his experience in trans¬ 
acting great affairs, had already secured fifteen 
voices, a number sufficient, according to the forms 
of the conclave, to exclude any other candidate, 
though not to carry his own election. As he was 
still in the prime of life, all the aged cardinals 
combined against him, without being united in 
favour of any other person. While these factions 
were endeavouring to gain, to corrupt, or to weary 
out each other, Medici and his adherents voted one 
morning at the scrutiny, which, according to form, 
was made every day, for cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, 
who at that time governed Spain in the emperor’s 

1 Guic. 1. xiv. 214. 




47 (i 


THE REIGN OF THE 


January 9. 


name. This they did merely to protract time. Rut 
the adverse party instantly closing with them, to 
their own amazement and that of all Europe, a 
stranger to Italy, unknown to the persons who gave 
their suffrages in his favour, and unacquainted with 
the manners of the people or the interest of the 
state the government of which they conferred upon 
him, was unanimously raised to the 
papal throne, at a juncture so delicate 
and critical, as would have demanded all the saga¬ 
city and experience of one of the most able prelates 
in the sacred college. The cardinals themselves, 
unable to give a reason for this strange choice, 
on account of which, as they marched in procession 
from the conclave, they were loaded with insults 
and curses by the Roman people, ascribed it to an 
immediate impulse of the Holy Ghost. It may be 
imputed with greater certainty to the influence of 
Don John Manuel, the imperial ambassador, who 
by his address and intrigues facilitated the election 
of a person devoted to his master’s service, from 
gratitude, from interest, and from inclination. 1 " 

War renewed in Beside the influence which Charles 

the Milanese, acquired by Adrian’s promotion, it 

threw great lustre on his administration. To be¬ 
stow on his preceptor such a noble recompence, 
and to place on the papal throne one whom he had 
raised from obscurity, were acts of uncommon mag¬ 
nificence and power. Francis observed, with the 
sensibility of a rival, the pre-eminence which the 
emperor was gaining, and resolved to exert himself 
with fresh vigour, in order to wrest from him his 
late conquests in Italy. The Swiss, that they 
might make some reparation to the French king 
for having w ithdrawn their troops from his army so 
unseasonably as to occasion the loss of the Milan¬ 
ese, permitted him to levy ten thousand men in 
the republic. Together with this reinforcement, 
Lautrec received from the king a small sum of 
money, which enabled him once more to take the 
field ; and, after seizing by surprise or force several 
places in the Milanese, to advance within a few 
miles of the capital. The confederate army was in 
no condition to obstruct his progress ; for though 
the inhabitants of Milan, by the artifices of Morone, 
and by the popular declamations of a monk whom 
he employed, were inflamed with such enthusiastic 
zeal against the French government that they con¬ 
sented to raise extraordinary contributions, Colonna 
must soon have abandoned the advantageous camp 
which he had chosen at Bicocca, and have dismissed 
his troops for want of pay, if the Swiss in the 
French service had not once more extricated him 
out of his difficulties. 

The insolence or caprice of those 

The French de- . . „ A , 

feated in the hat- mercenaries was often no less fatal 
tieot bicocca. ^ their friends, than their valour and 

discipline were formidable to their enemies. Hav¬ 
ing now served some months w ithout pay, of which 
(hey complained loudly, a sum destined for their 

m Germ. Moringi Vita Iiadriani, ap. Casp. Burman. in Analect. de 


[A. D. 1522. BOOK II. 

use was sent from France under a convoy of horse ; 
but Morone, whose vigilant eye nothing escaped, 
posted a body of troops in their way, so that the 
party which escorted the money durst not advance. 
On receiving intelligence of this, the Swiss lost all 
patience, and officers as well as soldiers crowding 
around Lautrec, threatened with one voice instantly 
to retire, if he did not either advance the pay which 
was due, or promise to lead them next morning to 
battle. In vain did Lautrec remonstrate against 
these demands, representing to them the impossibi¬ 
lity of the former and the rashness of the latter, 
which must be attended with certain destruction, 
as the enemy occupied a camp naturally of great 
strength, and which by art they had rendered al¬ 
most inaccessible. The Swiss, deaf to reason, and 
persuaded that their valour was capable of sur¬ 
mounting every obstacle, renewed their demand 
with great fierceness, offering themselves to form 
the vanguard and to begin the attack. Lautrec, 
unable to overcome their obstinacy, complied with 
their request, hoping, perhaps, that some of those 
unforeseen accidents which so often determine the 
fate of battles might crown this rash enterprise with 
undeserved success, and convinced that the effects 
of a defeat could not be more fatal than those which 
would certainly follow upon the retreat of a body 
which composed one-half of his army. 

Next morning the Swiss were early 
in the field, and marched with the greatest intre¬ 
pidity against an enemy deeply intrenched on 
every side, surrounded with artillery, and prepared 
to receive them. As they advanced they sustained 
a furious canonnade with great firmness ; and, with¬ 
out waiting for their own artillery, rushed impetu¬ 
ously upon the intrenchments. But after incredible 
efforts of valour, which were seconded with great 
spirit by the French, having lost their bravest offi¬ 
cers and best soldiers, and finding that they could 
make no impression on the enemy’s works, they 
sounded a retreat; leaving the field of battle, how¬ 
ever, like men repulsed but not vanquished, in close 
array, and without receiving any molestation from 
the enemy. 

Next day such as survived set out driven out of 
for their own country ; and Lautrec, the Mllanese: 
despairing of being able to make any further re¬ 
sistance, retired into France, after throwing garri¬ 
sons into Cremona and a few other places; all which, 
except the citadel of Cremona, Colonna soon oblig¬ 
ed to surrender. 

Genoa, however, and its territories, 
remaining subject to France, still gave 
Francis considerable footing in Italy, and made 
it easy for him to execute any scheme for the re¬ 
covery of the Milanese. But Colonna, rendered en¬ 
terprising by continual success, and excited by the 
solicitations of the faction of the Adorni, the heredi¬ 
tary enemies of the Fregosi, who, under the protection 
of France, possessed the chief authority in Genoa, 

Hadr. p. 52. Conclave Hadr. Ibid. p. 144, &c. 



BOOK II. A. D. 1522.] 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


477 


determined to attempt the reduction of that state ; 
and accomplished it with amazing facility. He 
became master of Genoa by an accident as unex¬ 
pected as that which had given him possession of 
Milan ; and, almost without opposition or blood¬ 
shed, the power of the Adorni, and the authority of 
the emperor, were established in Genoa." 
Henryvin.de- Such a cruel succession of misfor- 
l'rance/ 1 ' af,ainst tunes alfectcd Francis with deep con¬ 
cern, which was not a little augmented 
by the unexpected arrival of an English herald, 
who, in the name of his sovereign, declared war in 
form against France. This step was taken in con¬ 
sequence of the treaty which Wolsey had concluded 
with the emperor at Bruges, and which had hitherto 
been kept secret. Francis, though he had reason 
to be surprised with this denunciation, after having 
been at such pains to soothe Henry and to gain his 
minister, received the herald with great composure 
and dignity ;° and, without abandoning any of the 
schemes which he was forming against the emperor, 
began vigorous preparations for resisting this new 
enemy. His treasury, however, being exhausted 
by the efforts which he had already made, as well 
as by the sums he expended on his pleasures, he 
had recourse to extraordinary expedients for sup¬ 
plying it. Several new offices were created and 
exposed to sale; the royal demesnes were alienated; 
unusual taxes were imposed ; and the tomb of St. 
Martin was stripped of a rail of massive silver, with 
which Louis XI., in one of his fits of devotion, had 
encircled it. By means of these expedients he was 
enabled to levy a considerable army, and to put the 
frontier towns in a good posture of defence. 

Charles visits The emperor, meanwhile, was no 
England. less so ii c itous to draw as much advan¬ 
tage as possible from the accession of such a power¬ 
ful ally ; and the prosperous situation of his affairs 
at this time permitting him to set out for Spain, 
where his presence was extremely necessary, he 
visited the court of England in his way to that coun¬ 
try. He proposed by this interview not only to 
strengthen the bonds of friendship which united 
him w ith Henry, and to excite him to push the war 
against France with vigour, but hoped to remove 
any disgust or resentment that Wolsey might have 
conceived on account of the mortifying disappoint¬ 
ment which he had met with in the late conclave. 
His success exceeded his most sanguine expecta¬ 
tions ; and, by his artful address, during a residence 
of six weeks in England, he gained not only the 
king and the minister, but the nation itself. Henry, 
whose vanity was sensibly flattered by such a visit, 
as well as by the studied respect with which the 
emperor treated him on every occasion, entered 
warmly into all his schemes. The cardinal fore¬ 
seeing, from Adrian’s age and infirmities, a sudden 
vacancy in the papal see, dissembled or forgot his 
resentment; and as Charles, besides augmenting 
the pensions w hich he had already settled on him, 

n Jovii Vita Ferdin. Davali, p.344. Guic. 1. xiv. 233. 


renewed his promise of favouring his pretensions to 
the papacy with all his interest, he endeavoured to 
merit the former, and to secure the accomplishment 
of the latter by fresh services. The nation, sharing 
in the glory of its monarch, and pleased with the 
confidence which the emperor placed in the English 
by creating the earl of Surrey his high-admiral, dis¬ 
covered no less inclination to commence hostilities 
than Henry himself. 

In order to give Charles, before he The English in¬ 
left England, a proof of this general Vitde * rance 
ardour, Surrey sailed with such forces as were 
ready, and ravaged the coasts of Normandy. He 
then made a descent on Bretagne, where he plun¬ 
dered and burnt Morlaix, and some other places of 
less consequence. After these slight excursions, 
attended with greater dishonour than damage to 
France, he repaired to Calais, and took the com¬ 
mand of the principal army, consisting of sixteen 
thousand men ; with which, having joined the Fle¬ 
mish troops under the count de Buren, he advanced 
into Picardy. The army which Francis .. ..... 
had assembled was far inferior in num¬ 
ber to these united bodies. But during the long 
wars between the two nations, the French had dis¬ 
covered the proper method of defending their coun¬ 
try against the English. They had been taught by 
their misfortunes to avoid a pitched battle with the 
utmost care, and to endeavour, by throwing garrisons 
into every place capable of resistance, by watching 
all the enemy’s motions, by intercepting their con¬ 
voys, attacking their advanced posts, and harassing 
them continually with their numerous cavalry, to 
ruin them with the length of the war, or to beat 
them by piece-meal. This plan the duke of Yen- 
dome, the French general in Picardy, pursued with 
no less prudence than success; and not only pre¬ 
vented Surrey from taking any town of importance, 
but obliged him to retire with his army greatly re¬ 
duced by fatigue, by want of provisions, and by the 
loss which it had sustained in several unsuccessful 
skirmishes. 

Thus ended the second campaign, in a war the 
most general that had hitherto been kindled in Eu¬ 
rope ; and though Francis, by his mother’s ill-timed 
resentment, by the disgusting insolence of his gene¬ 
ral, and the caprice of the mercenary troops which he 
employed, had lost his conquests in Italy, yet all the 
powers combined against him had not been able to 
make any impression on his hereditary dominions; 
and wherever they either intended or attempted an 
attack, he was well prepared to receive them. 

While the Christian princes were Solyman . s con . 
thus wasting each other’s strength, <i ues t of Rhodes. 
Solyman the magnificent entered Hungary with a 
numerous army, and investing Belgrade, which was 
deemed the chief barrier of that kingdom against 
the Turkish arms, soon forced it to surrender. En¬ 
couraged by this success, he turned his victorious 
arms against the island of Rhodes, the seat, at that 

o Journal de Louise de Savoie, p. 119. 




478 


THE REIGN OF THE 


time, of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem. This 
small state he attacked with such a numerous army 
as the lords of Asia have been accustomed, in every 
age, to bring into the field. Two hundred thousand 
men, and a fleet of four hundred sail, appeared 
against a town defended by a garrison consisting 
of five thousand soldiers and six hundred knights, 
under the command of Yilliers de LTsle Adam, the 
grand master, whose wisdom and valour rendered 
him worthy of that station at such a dangerous 
juncture. No sooner did he begin to suspect the 
destination of Solyman's vast armaments, than he 
despatched messengers to all the Christian courts, 
imploring their aid against the common enemy. 
But though every prince, in that age, acknowledged 
Rhodes to be the great bulwark of Christendom in 
the east, and trusted to the gallantry of its knights 
as the best security against the progress of the Ot¬ 
toman arms ; though Adrian, with a zeal which be¬ 
came the head and father of the church, exhorted 
the contending powers to forget their private quar¬ 
rels, and, by uniting their arms, to prevent the infi¬ 
dels from destroying a society which did honour 
to the Christian name ; yet so violent and implaca¬ 
ble was the animosity of both parties, that, regard¬ 
less of the danger to which they exposed all Europe, 
and unmoved by the entreaties of the grand master, 
or the admonitions of the pope, they suffered Soly- 
man to carry on his operations against Rhodes 
without disturbance. The grand master, after in¬ 
credible efforts of courage, of patience, and of mi¬ 
litary conduct, during a siege of six months; after 
sustaining many assaults, and disputing every post 
with amazing obstinacy, was obliged at last to yield 
to numbers ; and having obtained an honourable 
capitulation from the sultan, who admired and re¬ 
spected his virtue, he surrendered the town, which 
was reduced to a heap of rubbish, and destitute of 
every resource.? Charles and Francis, ashamed of 
having occasioned such a loss to Christendom by 
their ambitious contests, endeavoured to throw the 
blame of it on each other, while all Europe, with 
greater justice, imputed it equally to both. The 
emperor, by way of reparation, granted the knights 
of St. John the small island of Malta, in which 
they fixed their residence, retaining, though with 
less power and splendour, their ancient spirit, and 
implacable enmity to the infidels. 


BOOK III. 

civil war in Charles having had the satisfaction 
of seeing hostilities begun between 
France and England, took leave of Henry, and ar¬ 
rived in Spain on the seventeenth of June. He 
found that country just beginning to recover order 
and strength after the miseries of a civil war, to 

p Fontanus de Bello Rhodio, ap. Scard. Script. Rer. German, vol. ii. 
p. 88 . P. Barre Hist. d’Allem. tom. viii. 57 . 


[A. T). 1522. BOOK III. 

which it had been exposed during his absence ; an 
account of the rise and progress of which, as it was 
but little connected with other events which hap¬ 
pened in Europe, hath been reserved to this place. 

No sooner was it known that the 

. ~ , , Insurrection or 

Cortes assembled in Galicia had voted Toledo; 

jyJay 1520. 

the emperor a free gift , without ob¬ 
taining the redress of any one grievance, than it 
excited universal indignation. The citizens of To¬ 
ledo, who considered themselves, on account of the 
great privileges which they enjoyed, as guardians 
of the liberties of the Castilian commons, finding 
that no regard was paid to the remonstrances of 
their deputies against that unconstitutional grant, 
took arms with tumultuary violence, and seizing 
the gates of the city, which were fortified, attacked 
the Al-cazar, or castle, which they soon obliged the 
governor to surrender. Imboldened by this suc¬ 
cess, they deprived of all authority every person 
whom they suspected of any attachment to the court, 
established a popular form of government, composed 
of deputies from the several parishes in the city, 
and levied troops in their own defence. The chief 
leader of the people, in these insurrections, was Don 
John de Padilla, the eldest son of the commendator 
of Castile, a young nobleman of a generous temper, 
of undaunted courage, and possessed of the talents, 
as well as of the ambition, which, in times of civil 
discord, raise men to power and eminence. 3 

The resentment of the citizens of 
Segovia produced effects still more 
fatal. Tordesillas, one of their representatives in 
the late Cortes, had voted for the donative, and 
being a bold and haughty man, ventured, upon his 
return, to call together his fellow-citizens in the 
great church, that he might give them, according to 
custom, an account of his conduct in that assembly. 
But the multitude, unable to bear his insolence in 
attempting to justify what they thought inexcusable, 
burst open the gates of the church with the utmost 
fury, and seizing the unhappy Tordesillas, dragged 
him through the streets, with a thousand curses and 
insults, towards the place of public execution. In 
vain did the dean and canons come forth in proces¬ 
sion with the holy sacrament in order to appease 
their rage. In vain did the monks of those monas¬ 
teries by which they passed conjure them on their 
knees to spare his life, or at least to allow him time to 
confess, and to receive absolution of his sins. With¬ 
out listening to the dictates either of humanity or 
religion, they cried out, “ That the hangman alone 
could absolve such a traitor to his countrythey 
then hurried him along with greater violence ; and 
perceiving that he had expired under their hands, 
they hung him up, with his head downwards, on 
the common gibbet. b The same spirit seized the 
inhabitants of Burgos, Zamora, and several other 
cities; and though their representatives, taking 
warning from the fate of Tordesillas, had been so 


a Sandov. p. 77 . 


b P. Martyr. Ep.G71. 






BOOK III. A. D. 1522.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. 471 ) 


wise as to save themselves by a timely flight, they 
were burnt in efligy, their houses razed to the ground, 
and their effects consumed with fire ; and such was 
the horror which the people had conceived against 
them as betrayers of the public liberty, that not one 
in those licentious multitudes would touch anything, 
however valuable, which had belonged to them. c 
Measures of Adrian, at that time regent of Spain, 

to punisi' n them* r had scarcely fixed the seat of his go- 

June 5, SB' vemment J Va „ adolid , when he „ S as 

alarmed with an account of these insurrections. 
He immediately assembled the privy council to de¬ 
liberate concerning the proper method of suppressing 
them. The counsellors differed in opinion; some 
insisting that it was necessary to check this auda¬ 
cious spirit in its infancy by a severe execution of 
justice; others advising to treat with lenity a people 
who had some reason to be incensed, and not to 
drive them beyond all the bounds of duty by an 
ill-timed rigour. The sentiments of the former, being 
warmly supported by the archbishop of Grenada, 
president of the council, a person of great authority, 
but choleric and impetuous, were approved by 
Adrian, whose zeal to support his master’s authority 
hurried him into a measure to which, from his natu¬ 
ral caution and timidity, he would otherwise have 
been averse. He commanded Ronquillo, one of 
the king’s judges, to repair instantly to Segovia, 
which had set the first example of mutiny, and to 
proceed against the delinquents according to law ; 
and lest the people should be so outrageous as to 
resist his authority, a considerable body of troops 
was appointed to attend him. The Segovians, fore¬ 
seeing what they might expect from a judge so well 
known for his austere and unforgiving temper, took 
arms with one consent, and having 

IIis troops re- 

pulsed to se- mustered twelve thousand men, shut 
their gates against him. Ronquillo, 
enraged at this insult, denounced them rebels and 
outlaws, and his troops seizing all the avenues to the 
town, hoped that it would soon be obliged to surren¬ 
der for want of provisions. The inhabitants, how¬ 
ever, defended themselves with vigour, and having 
received a considerable reinforcement from Toledo, 
under the command of Padilla, attacked Ronquillo, 
and forced him to retire with the loss of his baggage 
and military chest. d 

and at Medina Upon this, Adrian ordered Antonio 
del Campo. Fonseca, whom the emperor had 

appointed commander-in-chief of the forces in Cas¬ 
tile, to assemble an army, and to besiege Segovia 
in form. But the inhabitants of Medina del Campo, 
where cardinal Ximenes had established a vast 
magazine of military stores, would not suffer him 
to draw from it a train of battering cannon, or to 
destroy their countrymen with those arms which had 
been prepared against the enemies of the kingdom. 
Fonseca, who could not execute his orders without 
artillery, determined to seize the magazine by force; 
and the citizens standing on their defence, he as¬ 


saulted the town with great briskness; but his troops 
were so warmly received, that, despair- 
ing of carrying the place, he set fire 
to some of the houses, in hopes that the citizens 
would abandon the walls, in order to save their 
families and effects. Instead of that, the expedient 
to which he had recourse served only to increase 
their fury, and he was repulsed with great disgrace, 
while the flames, spreading from street to street, 
reduced to ashes almost the whole town, one of the 
most considerable at that time in Spain, and the 
great mart for the manufactories of Segovia and 
several other cities. As the warehouses were then 
filled with goods for the approaching fair, the loss 
was immense, and was felt universally. This, added 
to the impression which such a cruel action made 
on a people long unaccustomed to the horrors of 
civil war, enraged the Castilians almost to madness. 
Fonseca became the object of general hatred, and 
was branded with the name of incendiary and enemy 
to his country. Even the citizens of Valladolid, 
whom the presence of the cardinal had hitherto 
restrained, declared that they could no longer remain 
inactive spectators of the sufferings of their country¬ 
men. Taking arms with no less fury than the other 
cities, they burnt Fonseca’s house to the ground, 
elected new magistrates, raised soldiers, appointed 
officers to command them, and guarded their walls 
with as much diligence as if an enemy had been 
ready to attack them. 

The cardinal, though virtuous and Adr|an disbands 
disinterested, and capable of governing hls tro °P s - 
the kingdom with honour in times of tranquillity, 
possessed neither the courage nor the sagacity ne¬ 
cessary at such a dangerous juncture. Finding 
himself unable to check these outrages committed 
under his own eye, he attempted to appease the 
people, by protesting that Fonseca had exceeded 
his orders, and had by his rash conduct offended 
him as much as he had injured them. This conde¬ 
scension, the effect of irresolution and timidity, 
rendered the malcontents bolder and more insolent, 
and the cardinal having soon after recalled Fonseca, 
and dismissed his troops, which he could no longer 
afford to pay, as the treasury, drained by the rapa¬ 
ciousness of the Flemish ministers, had received no 
supply from the great cities, which were all in 
arms, the people were left at full liberty to act with¬ 
out control, and scarcely any shadow of power re¬ 
mained in his hands. 

Nor were the proceedings of the The views and 
commons the effect merely of popular theoomnufnsof 
and tumultuary rage; they aimed at Castlle - 
obtaining redress of their political grievances, and 
an establishment of public liberty on a secure basis, 
objects worthy of all the zeal which they discovered 
in contending for them. The feudal government in 
Spain was at that time in a state more favourable 
to liberty than in any other of the great European 
kingdoms. This was owing chiefly to the number 


c Sandov. 103. P. Mart. Ep. 674. 


d Sandov. 112. P. Mart. Ep. 679. Miniana, Contin. p. 15. 



480 


THE REIGN OF THE 


of great cities in that country, a circumstance I 
have already taken notice of, and which contributes 
more than any other to mitigate the rigour of the 
feudal institutions, and to introduce a more liberal 
and equal form of government. The inhabitants of 
every city formed a great corporation, with valuable 
immunities and privileges; they were delivered 
from a state of subjection and vassalage ; they were 
admitted to a considerable share in the legislature ; 
they had acquired the arts of industry, without 
which cities cannot subsist; they had accumulated 
wealth by engaging in commerce; and being free 
and independent themselves, were ever ready to act 
as the guardians of the public freedom and inde¬ 
pendence. The genius of the internal government 
established among the inhabitants of cities, which, 
even in countries where despotic power prevails 
most, is democratical and republican, rendered the 
idea of liberty familiar and dear to them. Their 
representatives in the Cortes were accustomed, with 
equal spirit, to check the encroachments of the king 
and the oppression of the nobles. They endeavoured 
to extend the privileges of their own order; they 
laboured to shake off the remaining encumbrances 
with which the spirit of feudal policy, favourable 
only to the nobles, had burdened them; and con¬ 
scious of being one of the most considerable orders 
in the state, were ambitious of becoming the most 
powerful. 


Their confede- The present juncture appeared fa- 
of C the >J Fioiy Iiarne vourable for pushing any new claim. 
Junta. Their sovereign was absent from his 

dominions; by the ill conduct of his ministers he 
had lost the esteem and affection of his subjects ; 
the people, exasperated by many injuries, had taken 
arms, though without concert, almost by general 
consent; they were animated with rage capable of 
carrying them to the most violent extremes ; the 
royal treasury was exhausted ; the kingdom desti¬ 
tute of troops ; and the government committed to a 
stranger, of great virtue indeed, but of abilities 
unequal to such a trust. The first care of Padilla 
and the other popular leaders, who observed and 
determined to improve these circumstances, was to 
establish some form of union or association among 
the malcontents, that they might act with greater 
regularity, and pursue one common end ; and as 
the different cities had been prompted to take arms 
by the same motives, and were accustomed to con¬ 
sider themselves a distinct body from the rest of the 
subjects, they did not find this difficult. A general 
convention was appointed to be held at Avila. De¬ 
puties appeared there in name of almost all the cities 
entitled to have representatives in the Cortes. They 
all bound themselves by solemn oath to live and die 
in the service of the king, and in defence of the 
privileges of their order; and assuming the name 
of the Holy Junta , or Association, proceeded to 
deliberate concerning the state of the nation, and 


e P. Mart. F.p. 691. 
dell’ Alf. Ulloa. Ven. 1509, p.67. 


f Vita dell’ Imper. Carl. V. 
Miniana, Contin. p. 17 . 


[A. D. 1522. BOOK III. 

the proper method of redressing its grievances. The 

first that naturally presented itself was 

* They disclaim 

the nomination of a foreigner to lie Adrian’s autho- 

rity * 

regent; this they declared with one 
voice to be a violation of the fundamental laws of 
the kingdom, and resolved to send a deputation of 
their members to Adrian, requiring him in their 
name to lay aside all the ensigns of his office, and 
to abstain for the future from the exercise of a juris¬ 
diction which they had pronounced illegal. e 

While they were preparing to exe¬ 
cute this bold resolution, Padilla ac- JueenToaTna;^ 
complished an enterprise of the great¬ 
est advantage to the cause. After relieving Sego¬ 
via, he marched suddenly to Tordesillas, the place 
where the unhappy queen Joanna had resided since 
the death of her husband, and being favoured by 
the inhabitants, was admitted into the town, and 
became master of her person, for the security of 
which Adrian had neglected to take proper precau¬ 
tions/ Padilla waited immediately upon the queen, 
and accosting her with that profound respect which 
she exacted from the few persons whom she deigned 
to admit into her presence, acquainted her at large 
with the miserable condition of her Castilian sub¬ 
jects under the government of her son, who being 
destitute of experience himself, permitted his foreign 
ministers to treat them with such rigour as had 
obliged them to take arms in defence of the liberties 
of their country. The queen, as if .she had been 
awakened out of a lethargy, expressed great asto¬ 
nishment at what he said, and told him, that as she 
had never heard, until that moment, of the death of 
her father, or known the sufferings of her people, 
no blame could be imputed to her, but that now she 
would take care to provide a sufficient remedy; and 
in the mean time, added she, let it be your concern 
to do what is necessary for the public welfare. 
Padilla, too eager in forming a conclusion agree¬ 
able to his wishes, mistook this lucid interval of 
reason for a perfect return of that faculty ; and ac¬ 
quainting the Junta with what had happened, ad¬ 
vised them to remove to Tordesillas, and to hold 
their meetings in that place. This was instantly 
done; but though Joanna received very graciously 
an address of the Junta, beseeching her to take 
upon herself the government of the kingdom, and, 
in token of her compliance, admitted all the depu¬ 
ties to kiss her hand ; though she was present at a 
tournament held on that occasion, and seemed 
highly satisfied with both these ceremonies, which 
were conducted with great magnificence in order to 
please her, she soon relapsed into her former melan¬ 
choly and sullenness, and could never be brought, 
by any arguments or entreaties, to sign any one 
paper necessary for the despatch of business.^ 

The Junta, concealing as much as 
possible this last circumstance, carried mem inher Ven ‘' 
on all their deliberations in the name name ’ 


S Sandov. 164. P. Mart. Ep. 685, 686. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


4S1 


BOOK III. A. D. 1522.] 

of Joanna ; and as the Castilians, who idolized the 
memory of Isabella, retained a wonderful attach¬ 
ment to her daughter, no sooner was it known that 
she had consented to assume the reins of govern¬ 
ment than the people expressed the most universal 
and immoderate joy ; and believing her recovery to 
be complete, ascribed it to a miraculous interposi¬ 
tion of Heaven, in order to rescue their country 

and deprive Adri- f rom the oppression of foreigners. The 
an ot all power, j un ^ a? conscious of the reputation and 

power which they had acquired by seeming to act 
under the royal authority, were no longer satisfied 
with requiring Adrian to resign the office of regent; 
they detached Padilla to Valladolid with a con¬ 
siderable body of troops, ordering him to seize such 
members of the council as were still in that city, 
to conduct them to Tordesillas, and to bring away 
the seals of the kingdom, the public archives and 
treasury books. Padilla, who was received by the 
citizens as the deliverer of his country, executed 
his commission with great exactness ; permitting 
Adrian, however, still to reside in Valladolid, 
though only as a private person, and without any 
shadow of power. h 

The emperor The emperor, to whom frequent ac- 
ai armed. counts of these transactions were 

transmitted while he was still in Flanders, was sen¬ 
sible of his own imprudence and that of his minis¬ 
ters, in having despised too long the murmurs and 
remonstrances of the Castilians. He beheld with 
deep concern a kingdom, the most valuable of any 
he possessed, and in which lay the strength and 
sinews of his power, just ready to disown his autho¬ 
rity, and on the point of being plunged in all the 
miseries of civil war. But though his presence 
might have averted this calamity, he could not, at 
that time, visit Spain without endangering the im¬ 
perial crown, and allowing the French king full 

'leisure to execute his ambitious 
with respect to schemes. Ihe only point now to be 

the malcontents. , ... , , , ,, •, 

deliberated upon was, whether he 
should attempt to gain the malcontents by indulg¬ 
ence and concessions, or prepare directly to sup¬ 
press them by force; and he resolved to make trial 
of the former, while, at the same time, if that 
should fail of success, he prepared for the latter. 
For this purpose he issued circular letters to all the 
cities of Castile, exhorting them in most gentle 
terms, and with assurances of full pardon, to lay 
down their arms; he promised such cities as had 
continued faithful, not to exact from them the sub¬ 
sidy granted in the late Cortes ; and offered the 
same favour to such as returned to their duty ; he 
engaged that no office should be conferred for the 
future upon any but native Castilians. On the 
other hand, he wrote to the nobles, exciting them to 
appear with vigour in defence of their own rights, 
and those of the crown, against the exorbitant claims 
of the commons ; he appointed the high admiral, 
Don Fadrique Enriquez, and the high constable of 

h Sandov. 174. P. Mart. Ep. 791. 

2 i 


Castile, Don Inigo de Valasco, two noblemen of 
great abilities as well as influence, regents of the 
kingdom in conjunction with Adrian ; and he gave 
them full power and instructions, if the obstinacy of 
the malcontents should render it necessary, to vin¬ 
dicate the royal authority by force of arms.* 

These Concessions, Which, at the The large remon- 
time of his leaving Spain, would have SfVncS-ning 
fully satisfied the people, came now their grievances. 

too late to produce any effect. The Junta, relying 
on the unanimity with which the nation submitted 
to their authority, elated with the success which 
hitherto had accompanied all their undertakings, 
and seeing no military force collected to defeat or 
obstruct their designs, aimed at a more thorough 
reformation of political abuses. They had been 
employed for some time in preparing a remonstrance 
containing a large enumeration, not only of the 
grievances of which they craved redress, but of such 
new regulations as they thought necessary for the 
security of their liberties. This remonstrance, 
which is divided into many articles, relating to all 
the different members of which the constitution 
was composed, as well as the various departments 
in the administration of government, furnishes us 
with more authentic evidence concerning the inten¬ 
tions of the Junta than can be drawn from the testi¬ 
mony of the later Spanish historians, who lived 
in times when it became fashionable, and even 
necessary, to represent the conduct of the malcon¬ 
tents in the worst light, and as flowing from the 
worst motives. After a long preamble concerning 
the various calamities under which the nation groan¬ 
ed, and the errors and corruption in government to 
which these were to be imputed, they take notice 
of the exemplary patience wherewith the people 
had endured them, until self-preservation, and the 
duty which they owed to their country, had obliged 
them to assemble, in order to provide in a legal 
manner for their own safety and that of the consti¬ 
tution : for this purpose they demanded that the 
king would be pleased to return to his Spanish do¬ 
minions and reside there, as all their former monarchs 
had done ; that he would not marry but with con¬ 
sent of the Cortes; that if he should be obliged at 
any time to leave the kingdom, it shall not be law¬ 
ful to appoint any foreigner to be regent; that the 
present nomination of cardinal Adrian to that office 
shall instantly be declared void ; that he would not 
at his return bring along with him any Flemings or 
other strangers ; that no foreign troops shall, on any 
pretence whatever, be introduced into the kingdom ; 
that none but natives shall be capable of holding 
any office or benefice either in church or state ; that 
no foreigner shall be naturalized ; that free quarters 
shall not be granted to soldiers, nor to the members 
of the king’s household, for any longer time than six 
days, and that only when the court is in a progress ; 
that all the taxes shall be reduced to the same state 
they were in at the death of queen Isabella ; that 

i P. Heuter. Rer, Austr. lib. viii. c. 6. p. 188 



482 


THE REIGN OF THE 


all alienations of the royal demesnes or revenues 
since the queen's death shall be resumed; that all 
new offices created since that period shall be abo¬ 
lished ; that the subsidy granted by the late Cortes 
in Galicia shall not be exacted ; that in all future 
Cortes each city shall send one representative of the 
clergy, one of the gentry, and one of the commons, 
each to be elected by his own order; that the crown 
shall not influence or direct any city with regard to 
the choice of its representatives; that no member 
of the Cortes shall receive an office or pension from 
the king, either for himself or for any of his family, 
under pain of death and confiscation of his goods; 
that each city or community shall pay a competent 
salary to its representative for his maintenance 
during his attendance on the Cortes ; that the Cortes 
shall assemble once in three years at least, whether 
summoned by the king or not, and shall then in¬ 
quire into the observation of the articles now agreed 
upon, and deliberate concerning public affairs; 
that the rewards which have been given or promised 
to any of the members of the Cortes held in Galicia, 
shall be revoked ; that it shall be declared a capi¬ 
tal crime to send gold, silver, or jewels out of the 
kingdom; that judges shall have fixed salaries 
assigned them, and shall not receive any share of the 
fines and forfeitures of persons condemned by them ; 
that no grant of the goods of persons accused shall be 
valid, if given before sentence was pronounced 
against them; that all privileges which the nobles 
have at any time obtained to the prejudice of the 
commons, shall be revoked ; that the government of 
cities or towns shall not be put into the hands of 
noblemen ; that the possessions of the nobility shall 
be subject to all public taxes in the same manner 
as those of the commons; that an inquiry be made 
into the conduct of such as have been intrusted 
with the management of the royal patrimony since 
the accession of Ferdinand, and if the king do not, 
within thirty days, appoint persons properly quali¬ 
fied for that service, it shall be lawful for the Cortes 
to nominate them ; that indulgences shall not be 
preached or dispersed in the kingdom until the 
cause of publishing them be examined and approv¬ 
ed of by the Cortes ; that all the money arising from 
the sale of indulgences shall be faithfully employed 
in carrying on war against the infidels; that such 
prelates as do not reside in their dioceses six 
months in the year, shall forfeit their revenues dur¬ 
ing the time they are absent; that the ecclesiastical 
judges and their officers shall not exact greater fees 
than those which are paid in the secular courts ; 
that the present archbishop of Toledo, being a 
foreigner, be compelled to resign that dignity, which 
shall be conferred upon a Castilian ; that the king 
shall ratify and hold, as good service done to him 
and to the kingdom, all the proceedings of the Junta, 
and pardon any irregularities which the cities may 
have committed from an excess of zeal in a good 
cause : that he shall promise and swear in the most 

k Saridov. 206. P. Mart. Ep. 686. 


[A. D. 1522. BOOK III. 

solemn manner to observe all these articles, and on 
no occasion attempt either to elude or to repeal 
them ; and that he shall never solicit the pope or 
any other prelate to grant him a dispensation or 
absolution from this oath and promise. 14 

Such were the chief articles pre- . 

I he spirit of 

sented by the Junta to their sovereign, jjtert^whidi it 
As the feudal institutions in the seve¬ 
ral kingdoms of Europe were originally the same, 
the genius of those governments which arose from 
them bore a strong resemblance to each other, and 
the regulations which the Castilians attempted to 
establish on this occasion differ little from those 
which other nations have laboured to procure in 
their struggles with their monarchs for liberty. The 
grievances complained of and the remedies proposed 
by the English commons in their contests with the 
princes of the house of Stuart, particularly resem¬ 
ble those upon which the Junta now insisted. But 
the principles of liberty seem to have been better 
understood, at this period, by the Castilians, than 
by any other people in Europe ; they had acquired 
more liberal ideas with respect to their own rights 
and privileges; they had formed more bold and 
generous sentiments concerning government; and 
discovered an extent of political knowledge to which 
the English themselves did not attain until more 
than a century afterwards. 

It is not improbable, however, that the spirit of 
reformation among the Castilians, hitherto unre¬ 
strained by authority, and imboldened by success, 
became too impetuous, and prompted the Junta to 
propose innovations which, by alarming the other 
members of the constitution, proved fatal to their 
cause. The nobles, who instead of obstructing had 
favoured or connived at their proceedings, while 
they confined their demands of redress to such 
grievances as had been occasioned by the king's 
want of experience, and by the imprudence and ra¬ 
paciousness of his foreign ministers, were filled with 
indignation when the Junta began to i rr i ta tes the no- 
touch the privileges of the order, and bles * 
plainly saw that the measures of the commons tend¬ 
ed no less to break the power of the aristocracy than 
to limit the prerogatives of the crown. The re¬ 
sentment which they had conceived on account of 
Adrian's promotion to the regency abated consider¬ 
ably upon the emperor's raising the constable and 
admiral to joint power with him in that office ; and 
as their pride and dignity were less hurt by suffer¬ 
ing the prince to possess an extensive prerogative 
than by admitting the high pretensions of the people, 
they determined to give their sovereign the assist¬ 
ance which he had demanded of them, and began 
to assemble their vassals for that purpose. 

The Junta, meanwhile, expected with , 

. . 7 7 r The deputies of 

impatience the emperor s answer to the Junta dare 

r not present their 

their remonstrance, which they had ap- remonstrances. 

pointed some of their number to pre¬ 
sent. The members intrusted with this commission 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


483 


BOOK III. A. D. 1522.] 

set out immediately for Germany ; but having re¬ 
ceived at different places certain intelligence from 
court, that they could not venture to appear there 
without endangering their lives, they stopped short 
in their journey, and acquainted the Junta of the 
information which had been given them. 1 This ex¬ 
cited such violent passions as transported the whole 
party beyond all bounds of prudence or of modera¬ 
tion. That a king of Castile should deny his sub¬ 
jects access into his presence, or refuse to listen to 
their humble petitions, was represented as an act of 
tyranny so unprecedented and intolerable, that no¬ 
thing now remained but with arms in their hands to 
drive away that ravenous band of foreigners which 
encompassed the throne, who, after having devoured 
the wealth of the kingdom, found it necessary to 
prevent the cries of an injured people from reaching 
_ _. , , the ears of their sovereign. Many in- 

\ lolcnt propo- , ^ 

s^ons of the sisted warmly on approving a motion 

which had formerly been made, for 
depriving Charles, during the life of his mother, 
of the regal titles and authority, which had been 
too rashly conferred upon him, from a false suppo¬ 
sition of her total inability for government. Some 
proposed to provide a proper person to assist her in 
the administration of public affairs, by marrying 
the queen to the prince of Calabria, the heir of the 
Aragonese kings of Naples, who had been detained 
in prison since the time that Ferdinand had dispos¬ 
sessed his ancestors of their crown. All agreed, that 
as the hopes of obtaining redress and security, 
merely by presenting their requests to their sove¬ 
reign, had kept them too long in a state of inaction, 
and prevented them from taking advantage of the 
unanimity with which the nation declared in their 
favour, it was now necessary to collect their whole 
force, and to exert themselves with vigour in op¬ 
posing this fatal combination of the king and the 
nobility against their liberties." 1 

They take the They soon took the field with twenty 
field - thousand men. Violent disputes arose 
concerning the command of this army. Padilla, 
the darling of the people and soldiers, was the only 
person whom they thought worthy of this honour. 
But Don Pedro de Giron, the eldest son of the conde 
de Uruena, a young nobleman of the first order, 
having lately joined the commons out of private 
resentment against the emperor, the respect due to 
his birth, together with a secret desire of disap¬ 
pointing Padilla, of whose popularity many members 
of the Junta had become jealous, pro¬ 
cured him the office of general; though 
he soon gave them a fatal proof that he possessed 
neither the experience, the abilities, nor the steadi¬ 
ness which that important station required. 

The regents and The re S ents > meanwhile, appointed 
nobles arm. Rj oseco as the place of rendezvous for 

their troops, which, though far inferior to those of 
the commons in number, excelled them greatly in 
discipline and in valour. They had drawn a con- 


Nov. 23. 


Sandov. 143. 


2 I 2 


m P. Mart. Ep. 688. 


siderable body of regular and veteran infantry out 
of Navarre. Their cavalry, which formed the chief 
strength of their army, consisted mostly of gentlemen 
accustomed to the military life, and animated with 
the martial spirit peculiar to their order in that age. 
The infantry of the Junta was formed almost en¬ 
tirely of citizens and mechanics, little acquainted 
with the use of arms. The small body of cavalry 
which they had been able to raise was composed of 
persons of ignoble birth, and perfect strangers to 
the service into which they entered. The character 
of the generals differed no less than that of their 
troops. The royalists were commanded by the conde 
de Haro, the constable’s eldest son, an officer of 
great experience and of distinguished abilities. 

Giron marched with his army di- ?mprudence and 
rectly to Rioseco, and seizing the vil- generai eS of 0 the ie 
lages and passes around it hoped that Junta - 
the royalists would be obliged either to surrender 
for want of provisions, or to fight with disadvan¬ 
tage before all their troops were assembled. But 
he had not the abilities, nor his troops the patience 
and discipline necessary, for the execution of such 
a scheme. The conde de Haro found little difficulty 
in conducting a considerable reinforcement through 
all his posts into the town ; and Giron, despairing 
of being able to reduce it, advanced suddenly to 
Villapanda, a place belonging to the constable, in 
which the enemy had their chief magazine of pro¬ 
visions. By this ill-judged motion he left Tor- 
desillas open to the royalists, whom the conde de 
Haro led thither in the night with the utmost 
secrecy and despatch ; and attacking 

December 5 

the town, in which Giron had left no 
other garrison than a regiment of priests, raised by 
the bishop of Zamora, he, by break of day, forced 
his way into it after a desperate resistance, became 
master of the queen’s person, took prisoners many 
members of the Junta, and recovered the great seal, 
with the other ensigns of government. 

By this fatal blow the Junta lost all the reputation 
and authority which they had derived from seeming 
to act by the queen’s commands ; such of the no¬ 
bles as had hitherto been wavering or undetermined 
in their choice, now joined the regents with all 
their forces ; and an universal consternation seized 
the partisans of the commons. This was much in¬ 
creased by the suspicions they began to entertain 
of Giron, whom they loudly accused of having be¬ 
trayed Tordesillas to the enemy; and though that 
charge seems to have been destitute of foundation, 
the success of the royalists being owing to Giron’s 
ill conduct rather than to his treachery, he so entirely 
lost his credit with his party, that he resigned his 
commission and retired to one of his castles." 

Such members of the Junta as had T he Junta adhere 
escaped the enemies’ hands at Torde- t0 their system - 
sillas, fled to Valladolid; and as it would have 
required a long time to supply the places of those 
who were prisoners by a new election, they made 

n Miscellaneous Tracts by Dr. Mich. Geddes, vol. - p. 278. 



484 


THE REIGN OF THE 


f A. D. 1522. BOOK III. 


choice among themselves of a small number of per¬ 
sons, to whom they committed the supreme direction 
of affairs. Their army, which grew stronger every 
day by the arrival of troops from different parts of 
the kingdom, marched likewise to Valladolid; and 
Padilla being appointed commander in chief, the 
spirits of the soldiery revived, and the whole party, 
forgetting the late misfortune, continued to ex¬ 
press the same ardent zeal for the liberties of their 
country, and the same implacable animosity against 
their oppressors. 

What they stood most in need of 
ints’for raising was money to pay their troops. A 
money ‘ great part of the current coin had 

been carried out of the kingdom by the Flemings ; 
the stated taxes levied in times of peace were in¬ 
considerable ; commerce of every kind being in¬ 
terrupted by the war, the sum which it yielded 
decreased daily: and the junta were afraid of 
disgusting the people by burdening them with new 
impositions, to whieli, in that age, they were little 
accustomed. But from this difficulty they were 
extricated by Donna Maria Pacheco, Padilla’s wife, 
a woman of noble birth, of great abilities, of bound¬ 
less ambition, and animated with the most ardent 
zeal in support of the cause of the Junta. She, with 
a boldness superior to those superstitious fears 
which often influence her sex, proposed to seize all 
the rich and magnificent ornaments in the cathedral 
of Toledo ; but lest that action, by its appearance 
of impiety, might offend the people, she and her 
retinue marched to the church in solemn procession 
in mourning habits, with tears in their eyes, beating 
their breasts, and falling on their knees, implored 
the pardon of the saints whose shrines she was 
about to violate. By this artifice, which screened 
her from the imputation of sacrilege, and persuaded 
the people that necessity and zeal fora good cause 
had constrained her, though with reluctance, to 
venture upon this action, she stripped the cathedral 
of whatever was valuable, and procured a con¬ 
siderable sum of money for the Junta.° The regents, 
no less at a loss how to maintain their troops, the 
revenues of the crown having either been dissipated 
by the Flemings or seized by the commons, were 
obliged to take the queen’s jewels, together with 
the plate belonging to the nobility, and apply them 
to that purpose; and when those failed, they ob¬ 
tained a small sum by way of loan from the king 
of Portugal .p 

The nobility discovered great unvvill- 

Lose time in ne- . . , 

gociations with ingness to proceed to extremities with 

the Junta. They were animated with 
no less hatred than the commons against the Flem¬ 
ings ; they approved much of several articles in the 
remonstrance ; they thought the juncture favour¬ 
able not only for redressing past grievances, but for 
rendering the constitution more perfect and secure 
by new regulations; they were afraid, that while 
the two orders of which the legislature was com- 

o Sandov. 308. Diet, de Bayle, art. Padilla. p P. Mart. Ep. 718. 


posed wasted each other’s strength by mutual hos¬ 
tilities, the crown would rise to power on the ruin 
or weakness of both, and encroach no less on the 
independence of the nobles than on the privileges 
of the commons. To this disposition were owing 
the frequent overtures of peace which the regents 
made to the Junta, and the continual negociations 
they carried on during the progress of their military 
operations. Nor were the terms which they offered 
unreasonable; for, on condition that the Junta 
would pass from a few articles most subversive of 
the royal authority, or inconsistent with the rights 
of the nobility, they engaged to procure the emper¬ 
or’s consent to their other demands, which if he, 
through the influence of evil counsellors, should 
refuse, several of the nobles promised to join with 
the commons in their endeavours to extort it. q 
Such divisions, however, prevailed among the 
members of the Junta, as prevented their deliber¬ 
ating calmly, or judging with prudence. Some of 
the cities which had entered into the confederacy 
were filled with that mean jealousy and distrust of 
each other which rivalship in commerce or in gran¬ 
deur is apt to inspire ; the constable, by his influ¬ 
ence and promises, had prevailed on the inhabit¬ 
ants of Burgos to abandon the Junta, and other 
noblemen had shaken the fidelity of some of the 
lesser cities ; no person had arisen among the com¬ 
mons of such superior abilities or elevation of mind 
as to acquire the direction of their affairs ; Padilla, 
their general, was a man of popular qualities, but 
distrusted for that reason by those of highest 
rank who adhered to the Junta ; the conduct of Gi¬ 
ron led the people to view with suspicion every 
person of noble birth who joined their party ; so 
that the strongest marks of irresolution, mutual 
distrust, and mediocrity of genius, appeared in all 
their proceedings at this time. After many consul¬ 
tations held concerning the terras proposed by the 
regents, they suffered themselves to be so carried 
away by resentment against the nobility, that, re¬ 
jecting all thoughts of accommodation, they threat¬ 
ened to strip them of the crown lands, which they 
or their ancestors had usurped, and to reannex 
these to the royal domain. Upon this preposterous 
scheme, which would at once have annihilated all 
the liberties for which they had been struggling, by 
rendering the kings of Castile absolute and inde¬ 
pendent on their subjects, they were so intent, that 
they now exclaimed with less vehemence against 
the exactions of the foreign ministers than against 
the exorbitant power and wealth of the nobles, and 
seemed to hope that they might make peace with 
Charles by offering to enrich him with their spoils. 

The success which Padilla had met ,,, . , _ . 

lblated with their 

with in several small rencounters, and succ . e , ss m some 

# # t # 7 small rencoun- 

in reducing some inconsiderable towns, ters - 
helped to precipitate the members of the Junta into 
this measure, filling them with such confidence in 
the valour of their troops, that they hoped for an 

q P. Mart. F.p. 605, 713. Geddes’s Tracts, i. £01. 



BOOK III. A. D. 1522.] 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


485 


March 1. 1531. 


easy victory over the royalists. Padilla, that his 
army might not remain inactive while (lushed with 
good fortune, laid siege to Torrelobaton, a place of 
greater strength and importance than any that he 
had hitherto ventured to attack, and which was 
defended by a sufficient garrison ; and though the 
besieged made a desperate resistance, and the ad¬ 
miral attempted to relieve them, he 
took the town by storm, and gave it 
up to be plundered by his soldiers. If he had 
marched instantly with his victorious army to Tor- 
desillas, the head-quarters of the royalists, he could 
hardly have failed of making an effectual impres¬ 
sion on their troops, whom he would have found in 
astonishment at the briskness of his operations, 
and far from being of sufficient strength to give him 

imprudence of battle. But the fickleness and impru- 
their conduct, dence of the Junta prevented his tak¬ 
ing this step. Incapable, like all popular associa¬ 
tions, either of carrying on war or of making peace, 
they listened again to overtures of accommodation, 
and even agreed to a short suspension of arms. This 
negociation terminated in nothing ; but while it was 
carrying on, many of Padilla’s soldiers, unacquaint¬ 
ed with the restraints of discipline, went off with 
the booty which they had got at Torrelobaton ; and 
others, wearied out by the unusual length of the 
campaign, deserted/ The constable, too, had lei¬ 
sure to assemble his forces at Burgos, and to pre¬ 
pare every thing for taking the field ; and as soon 
as the truce expired, he effected a junction with the 
conde de Haro, in spite of all Padilla’s efforts to 
prevent it. They advanced immediately towards 
Torrelobaton ; and Padilla, finding the number of 
his troops so diminished that he durst not risk a 
battle, attempted to retreat to Toro, which, if he 
could have accomplished, the invasion of Navarre 
at that juncture by the French, and the necessity 
which the regents must have been under of detach¬ 
ing men to that kingdom, might have saved him 
The nobles at- from d an £ er - But Haro, sensible how 
theVunta™ 7 ° f f ata l the consequences would be of suf- 
Aprii 23. fering him to escape, marched with 

such rapidity at the head of his cavalry, that he 
came up with him near Villalar, and, without wait¬ 
ing for his infantry, advanced to the attack. Pa¬ 
dilla’s army, fatigued and disheartened by their 

r Sandov. 336. . _ . 

s Sandov. 315, &c. P. Mart. Ep. 720. Miniana, Contin. p. 26. Epi¬ 
tome de la Vide y Hechos del Emper. Carlos V. por D. Juan Anton, de 
Vera y Zuniga. 4to Madr. 1627. p. 19. .... . .. , , u . T u 

t The strain of these letters is so eloquent and high-spirited, that I have 
translated them for the entertainment of my readers : 

The letter of Don John Padilla to his zvife. 

“ Senora 

“ If your grief did not afflict me more than my own death, I 
should deem myself perfectly happy. For the end of life being certain to 
all men, the Almighty confers a mark of distinguishing favour upon that 
person for whom he appoints a death such as mine, which, though la 
mented by many, is nevertheless acceptable unto him. It would require 
more time than 1 now have to write any thing that could afford you con¬ 
solation. I hat my enemies will not grant me, nor do 1 wish to delay the 
reception of that crown which 1 hope to enjoy. You may bewail your 
own loss, but not my death, which, being so honourable, ought not to be 
lamented by any. My soul, for nothing else is left to me, 1 bequeath to 
you. You will receive it as the thing in this world which you value most. 
1 do not write to my father Pero Lopez, because l dare not; tor though 
1 have shewn myself to be his son in daring to lose my lite, 1 have not 
been the heir of his good fortune. 1 will not attempt to say any thing 
more, that 1 may not tire the executioner, who waits tor me; and that L 
may not excite a suspicion, that, in order to prolong inv life, 1 lengthen 
out my letter. My servant Sosia, an eye-witness, and to whom l have 


precipitant retreat, which they eould not distin¬ 
guish from a flight, happened at that time to be 
passing over a ploughed field, on which such a vio¬ 
lent rain had fallen, that the soldiers sunk almost 
to the knees at every step, and remained exposed 
to the fire of some field-pieces which the royalists 
had brought along with them. All these circum¬ 
stances so disconcerted and intimidated raw soldiers, 
that without facing the enemy, or mak- and defeat 
ing any resistance, they fled in the ut¬ 
most confusion. Padilla exerted himself with ex¬ 
traordinary courage and activity in order to rally 
them, though in vain ; fear rendering them deaf 
both to his threats and entreaties: upon which, 
finding matters irretrievable, and resolving not to 
survive the disgrace of that day and the ruin of his 
party, he rushed into the thickest of the enemy ; 
but being wounded and dismounted, he was taken 
prisoner. His principal officers shared the same 
fate; the common soldiers were allowed to depart 
unhurt, the nobles being too generous to kill men 
who threw down their arms/ 

The resentment of his enemies did not suffer Pa¬ 
dilla to linger long in expectation of what should 
befall him. Next day he was condemned to lose his 
head, though without any regular trial, the notoriety 
of the crime being supposed sufficient to supersede 
the formality of a legal process. He „ , . 

, . J of Padilla, their ge- 

was led instantly to execution, toge- nerai, put to 
ther with Don John Bravo and Don 
Francis Maldonada, the former commander of the 
Segovians, and the Latter of the troops of Salamanca. 
Padilla viewed the approach of death with calm 
but undaunted fortitude ; and when Bravo, his 
fellow-sufferer, expressed some indignation at hear¬ 
ing himself proclaimed a traitor, he checked him, 
by observing, “ That yesterday was the time to have 
displayed the spirit of gentlemen, this day to die 
with the meekness of Christians.” Being permitted 
to write to his wife and to the community of Toledo, 
the place of his nativity, he addressed the former 
with a manly and virtuous tenderness, and the latter 
with the exultation natural to one who considered 
himseff as a martyr for the liberties of his country/ 
After this lie submitted quietly to his fate. Most of 
the Spanish historians, accustomed to ideas of go¬ 
vernment and of regal power very different from 

communicated my most secret thoughts, will inform you of what I cannot 
now write ; and thus 1 rest, expecting the instrument of your grief and of 
my deliverance.” 

His letter to the city of Toledo. 

“ To thee, the crown of Spain, and the light of the whole world, free 
from the time of the mighty Goths: to thee, who by shedding the blood ot 
strangers as well as thy own blood, hast recovered liberty for thyself and 
thy neighbouring cities, thy legitimate son, Juan de Padilla, gives infor¬ 
mation how by the blood of his body thy ancient victories are to be 
refreshed. If fate hath not permitted my actions to be placed among your 
successful and celebrated exploits, the fault hath been in my ill fortune, 
not in my good will, lhis 1 request of thee as of a mother to accept, 
since God hath given me nothing more to lose for thy sake than that which I 
am now to relinquish. 1 am more solicitous about thy good opinion than 
about my own lite. 'l'heshiftings of fortune, which never stands still, are 
many. Rut these I see with infinite consolation, that 1, the least ot thy 
children, suffer death for thee ; and that thou hast nursed at thy breast3 
such as may take vengeance for my wrongs. Many tongues will relate 
the manner of my death, of which 1 am stifi ignorant, though 1 know it to 
be near. My end will testify what was my desire. My soul 1 recom¬ 
mend to thee as to the patroness of Christianity. Of my body L say 
nothing, for it is not mine. I can write nothing more, for at this very 
moment I feel the knife at my throat, with greater dread of thy displeasure 
than apprehension of my own pain. ’ Sandov. Hist. vol. i. p. 478. 



486 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1522. BOOK III. 


those upon which lie acted, have been so eager to 
testify their disapprobation of the cause in which 
he was engaged, that they have neglected or have 
been afraid to do justice to his virtues ; and by 
blackening his memory, have endeavoured to de¬ 
prive him of that pity which is seldom denied to 
illustrious sufferers. 

Ruin of the The victory at Villalar proved as 
party. decisive as it was complete. Vallado¬ 
lid, the most zealous of all the associated cities, 
opened its gates immediately to the conquerors, and 
being treated with great clemency by the regents, 
Medina del Campo, Segovia, and many other towns, 
followed its example. This sudden dissolution of a 
confederacy formed not upon slight disgusts or upon 
trifling motives, into which the whole body of the 
people had entered, and which had been allowed 
time to acquire a considerable degree of order and 
consistence by establishing a regular plan of govern¬ 
ment, is the strongest proof either of the inability of 
its leaders, or of some secret discord reigning among 
its members. Though part of that army by which 
they had been subdued was obliged, a few days 
after the battle, to march towards Navarre, in order 
to check the progress of the French in that kingdom, 
nothing could prevail on the dejected commons of 
Castile to take arms again, and to embrace such a 
favourable opportunity of acquiring those rights 
and privileges for which they appeared 

Padilla’s wife 

defends Toledo so zealous. The city of Toledo alone, 
with great spa it. an j ma ^ e( j j> onna Maria Pacheco, 

Padilla's widow, who, instead of bewailing her hus¬ 
band with a womanish sorrow, prepared to revenge 
his death, and to prosecute that cause in defence of 
which he had suffered, must be excepted. Respect 
for her sex, or admiration for her courage and abi¬ 
lities, as well as sympathy with her misfortunes and 
veneration for the memory of her husband, secured 
her the same ascendant over the people which he 
had possessed. The prudence and vigour with which 
she acted, justified that confidence they placed in 
her. She wrote to the French general in Navarre, 
encouraging him to invade Castile by the offer of 
powerful assistance : she endeavoured by her 
letters and emissaries to revive the spirit and hopes 
of the other cities : she raised soldiers, and exacted 
a great sum from the clergy belonging to the cathe¬ 
dral, in order to defray the expense of keeping them 
on foot. u She employed every artifice that could 
interest or inflame the populace. For this purpose 
she ordered crucifixes to be used by her troops in¬ 
stead of colours, as if they had been at war with the 
infidels and enemies of religion; she marched 
through the streets of Toledo with her son, a young 
child, clad in deep mourning, seated on a mule, 
having a standard carried before him repiesenting 
the manner of his father's execution.* By all these 
means she kept the minds of the people in such 
perpetual agitation as prevented their passions from 


subsiding, and rendered them insensible of the dan¬ 
gers to which they were exposed by standing alone 
in opposition to the royal authority. While the 
army was employed in Navarre, the regents were 
unable to attempt the reduction of Toledo by force ; 
and all their endeavours, either to diminish Donna 
Maria's credit with the people, or to gain her by 
large promises and the solicitations of her brother 
the Marquis de Mondeiar, proved ineffectual. 
Upon the expulsion of the French out of Navarre, 
part of the army returned into Castile, and invest¬ 
ed Toledo. Even this made no impression on the 
intrepid and obstinate courage of Donna Maria. 
She defended the town with vigour, her troops in 
several sallies beat the royalists, and no progress 
was made towards reducing the place, until the 
clergy, whom she had highly offended by invading 
their property, ceased to support her. As soon as 
they received information of the death of William 
de Croy, archbishop of Toledo, whose possession of 
that see was their chief grievance, and that the em¬ 
peror had named a Castilian to succeed him, they 
openly turned against her, and persuaded the peo¬ 
ple that she had acquired such influence over them 
by the force of enchantments, that she was assisted 
by a familiar demon, which attended her in the 
form of a negro-maid, and that by its suggestions 
she regulated every part of her conduct.^ The cre¬ 
dulous multitude, whom their impatience of a long 
blockade, and despair of obtaining succours either 
from the cities formerly in confederacy with them, 
or from the French, rendered desirous of peace, took 
arms against her, and driving her out of the city, 
surrendered it to the royalists. She Qct oQ 
retired to the citadel, which she de¬ 
fended with amazing fortitude four months longer; 
and when reduced to the last extre- F b 
mities, she made her escape in dis¬ 
guise, and fled to Portugal, where she had many 
relations. 2 

Upon her flight the citadel surren- Fa(al e ff ects of 
dered. Tranquillity was re-established the civil war. 
in Castile ; and this bold attempt of the commons, 
like all unsuccessful insurrections, contributed to 
confirm and extend the power of the crown, which 
it was intended to moderate and abridge. The 
Cortes still continued to make a part of the Cas¬ 
tilian constitution, and was summoned to meet 
whenever the king stood in need of money ; but in¬ 
stead of adhering to their ancient and cautious form 
of examining and redressing public grievances be¬ 
fore they proceeded to grant any supply, the more 
courtly custom of voting a donative in the first place 
was introduced, and the sovereign having obtained 
all that he wanted, never allowed them to enter into 
any inquiry or to attempt any reformation injuri¬ 
ous to his authority. The privileges which the 
cities had enjoyed were gradually circumscribed or 
abolished ; their commerce began from this period 


u P. Mart. Ep. 727. 


y P. Mart. Ep. 727. 


x Sandov. 375. 


z Sandov. 375. P. Mart. Ep. 754. Ferrer, viii. 563. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


487 


BOOK III. A. D. 1522.] 

to decline ; and becoming less wealthy and less 
populous, they lost that power and influence which 
they had acquired in the Cortes. 

„ While Castile was exposed to the 

i he progress of r 

the insurrections calamities of civil war, the kingdom 

in Valencia. . ° 

of Yalencia was torn by intestine com¬ 
motions still more violent. The association which 
had been formed in the city of Valencia in the year 
one thousand five hundred and twenty, and which 
was distinguished by the name of the Germanada, 
continued to subsist after the emperor's departure 
from Spain. The members of it, upon pretext of 
defending the coasts against the descents of the 
corsairs of Barbary, and under sanction of that 
permission which Charles had rashly granted them, 
refused to lay down their arms. But as the griev¬ 
ances which the Valencians aimed at redressing 
proceeded from the arrogance and exactions of the 
nobility rather than from any unwarrantable exercise 
of the royal prerogative, their resentment turned 
chiefly against the former. As soon as they were 
allowed the use of arms, and became conscious of 
their own strength, they grew impatient to take 
vengeance of their oppressors. They drove the no¬ 
bles out of most of the cities, plundered their 
houses, wasted their lands, and assaulted their cas¬ 
tles. They then proceeded to elect thirteen persons, 
one from each company of tradesmen established at 
Valencia, and committed the administration of go¬ 
vernment to them, under pretext that they would 
reform the laws, establish one uniform mode of 
dispensing justice, without partiality or regard to 
the distinction of ranks, and thus restore men to 
some degree of their original equality. 

The nobles were obliged to take arms in self- 
defence. Hostilities began, and were carried on 
with all the rancour with which resentment at op¬ 
pression inspired the one party, and the idea of in¬ 
sulted dignity animated the other. As no person 
of honourable birth or of liberal education joined 
the Germanada, the councils as well as troops of 
the confederacy were conducted by low mechanics, 
who acquired the confidence of an enraged multi¬ 
tude chiefly by the fierceness of their zeal and the 
extravagance of their proceedings. Among such 
men, the laws introduced in civilized nations in 
order to restrain or moderate the violence of war, 
were unknown or despised ; and they ran into the 
wildest excesses of cruelty and outrage. 

The emperor, occupied with suppressing the in¬ 
surrection in Castile, which more immediately 
threatened the subversion of his power and prero¬ 
gative, was unable to give much attention to the 
tumults of Valencia, and left the nobility of that 
kingdom to fight their own battles. His viceroy, 
the conde de Melito, had the supreme command of 
the forces which the nobles raised among the vas¬ 
sals. The Germanada carried on the war during 
the years one thousand five hundred and twenty 

a Argensola Annales de Aragon, cap, 75, 90, 99, 118. Sayas Annales 
de Aragon, cap. 5, 12, &c. P. Mart. Ep. lib. xxxiii. & xxxiv. passim. 
Ferrer. Hist. d’Espagne, viii. 542, 564, &c. 


and twenty-one, w ith a more persevering courage 
than could have been expected from a body so tu¬ 
multuary, under the conduct of such leaders. They 
defeated the nobility in several actions, which, 
though not considerable, were extremely sharp. 
They repulsed them in their attempts to reduce 
different towns. But the nobles, by their superior 
skill in war, and at the head of troops more accus¬ 
tomed to service, gained the advantage in most of 
the rencounters. At length they were joined by a 
body of Castilian cavalry, which the regents des¬ 
patched towards Valencia soon after their victory 
over Padilla at Villalar, and by their assistance the 
Valencian nobles acquired such superiority that 
they entirely broke and ruined the Germanada. 
The leaders of the party were put to death, almost 
without any formality of legal trial, and suffered 
such cruel punishments as the sense of recent inju¬ 
ries prompted their adversaries to inflict. The go¬ 
vernment of Valencia was re-established in its 
ancient form. 3 

In Aragon, violent symptoms of the 
same spirit of disaffection and sedition disaffection in 
which reigned in the other kingdoms Arttson> 
of Spain began to appear ; but by the prudent con¬ 
duct of the viceroy, Don John de Lanusa, they 
were so far composed as to prevent their breaking 
out into any open insurrection. But 
111 the island ot Majorca, annexed to sumption in 
the crown of Aragon, the same causes Jolca ” 
which had excited the commotions in Valencia 
produced effects no less violent. The people, im¬ 
patient of the hardships which they had endured 
under the rigid jurisdiction of the nobility, took 
arms in a tumultuary manner ; depos¬ 
ed their viceroy ; drove him out of the 
island: and massacred every gentleman wdio was 
so unfortunate as to fall into their hands. The ob¬ 
stinacy with which the people of Majorca persisted 
in their rebellion, was equal to the rage with which 
they began it. Many and vigorous efforts were re¬ 
quisite in order to reduce them to obedience ; and 
tranquillity was re-established in every part of 
Spain, before the Majorcans could he brought to 
submit to their sovereign. b 

While the spirit of disaffection was causes which 
so general among the Spaniards, and un!on nt of the 
so many causes concurred in precipi- malconte nts. 
tating them into such violent measures in order to 
obtain the redress of their grievances, it may appear 
strange that the malcontents in the different king¬ 
doms should have carried on their operations with¬ 
out any mutual concert, or even any intercourse 
with each other. By uniting their councils and 
arms, they might have acted both with greater force 
and with more effect. The appearance of a na¬ 
tional confederacy would have rendered it no less 
respectable among the people than formidable to 
the crown ; and the emperor, unable to resist such 

b Argensola Annales de Aragon, c. 113. Ferrer. Hist. viii. 542. Say as 
Annales de Aragon, cap. 7, 11, 14,76,81. Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne,. 
viii. 579,&c.609. 


March 19, 1521. 



488 


THE REIGN OF THE 


a combination, must have complied with any terms 
which the members of it should have thought fit to 
prescribe. Many things, however, prevented the 
Spaniards from forming themselves into one body' 
and pursuing common measures. The people of the 
different kingdoms in Spain, though they were be¬ 
come the subjects of the same sovereign, retained 
in full force their national antipathy to each other. 
The remembrance of their ancient rivalship and 
hostilities was still lively, and the sense of recipro¬ 
cal injuries so strong as to prevent them from acting 
with confidence and concert. Each nation chose 
rather to depend on its own efforts, and to maintain 
the struggle alone, than to implore the aid of neigh¬ 
bours whom they distrusted and hated. At the same 
time, the forms of government in the several king¬ 
doms of Spain were so different, and the grievances 
of which they complained, as well as the alterations 
and amendments in policy which they attempted to 
introduce, so various, that it was not easy to bring 
them to unite in any common plan. To this dis¬ 
union Charles w as indebted for the preservation of 
the Spanish crowms; and while each of the king¬ 
doms followed separate measures, they were all 
obliged at last to conform to the will of their sove¬ 
reign. 

_ , The arrival of the emperor in Spain 

The emperor s # * 1 

prudent and ge- filled his subjects who had been in 

nerous behavioui # m 

contents the mal ’ arms against him with deep apprehen¬ 
sions, from which he soon delivered 
them by an act of clemency no less prudent than 
generous. After a rebellion so general, scarcely 
twenty persons, among so many criminals obnoxious 
to the law, had been punished capitally in Castile. 
Though strongly solicited by his council, Charles 
refused to shed any more blood by the hands of the 
o t executioner ; and published a general 

pardon, extending to all crimes com¬ 
mitted since the commencement of the insurrections, 
from which only fourscore persons were excepted. 
Even these he seems to have named rather with an 
intention to intimidate others than from any incli¬ 
nation to seize them ; for when an officious courtier 
offered to inform him where one of the most con¬ 
siderable among them was concealed, he avoided it 
by a good-natured pleasantry :—“ Go,” says he, “ I 
have now no reason to be afraid of that man, but he 
has some cause to keep at a distance from me, and 
you would be better employed in telling him that I 
am here, than in acquainting me with the place of 
his retreat.” c By this appearance of magnanimity, 
as well as by his care to avoid every thing which 
had disgusted the Castilians during his former re¬ 
sidence among them ; by his address in assuming 
their manners, in speaking their language, and in 
complying with all their humours and customs, he 
acquired an ascendant over them which hardly any 
of their native monarchs had ever attained, and 

c Sandov. 377. &c. Vida del Emper. Carlos, por Don Juan Anton, 
de Vera y Zuniga, p. 30. d Ulloa Vita de Carlo V. p. 85. 

e Guic. 1. xv. 238. Jovii Vita Adriani, 117. Bellefor. Epitr. des 
Princ. 84. 


[A. 1). 1522. BOOK III- 

brought them to support him in all his enterprises 
with a zeal and valour to which he ow'ed much ot 
his success and grandeur/ 1 

About the time that Charles landed Adriansets out 
in Spain, Adrian set out for Italy to [f s -nTecepudn 
take possession of his new dignity. there - 
But though the Roman people longed extremely 
for his arrival, they could not on his first appear¬ 
ance conceal their surprise and disappointment. 
After being accustomed to the princely magnificence 
of Julius and the elegant splendour of Leo, they 
beheld with contempt an old man of an humble de¬ 
portment, of austere manners, an enemy to pomp, 
destitute of taste in the arts, and unadorned with 
any of the external accomplishments which the 
vulgar expect in those raised to eminent stations/ 
Nor did his political views and maxims seem less 
strange and astonishing to the pontifical ministers. 
He acknowledged and bewailed the corruptions 
which abounded in the church as well as in the 
court of Rome, and prepared to reform both ; he 
discovered no intention of aggrandizing his family ; 
he even scrupled at retaining such territories as 
some of his predecessors had acquired by violence 
or fraud rather than by any legal title; and for that 
reason he invested Francesco Maria de Rovere anew 
in the duchy of Urbino, of which Leo had stripped 
him, and surrendered to the duke of Ferrara seve¬ 
ral places wrested from him by the church/ To 
men little habituated to see princes regulate their 
conduct by the maxims of morality and the prin¬ 
ciples of justice, these actions of the new pope ap¬ 
peared incontestable proofs of his weakness or inex¬ 
perience. Adrian, who was a perfect stranger to 
the complex and intricate system of Italian politics, 
and who could place no confidence in persons whose 
subtle refinements in business suited so ill with the 
natural simplicity and candour of his own character, 
being often embarrassed and irresolute in his de¬ 
liberations, the opinion of his incapacity daily in¬ 
creased, until both his person and government be¬ 
came objects of ridicule among his subjects. 8 

Adrian, though devoted to the em- 

° He endeavours 

peror, endeavoured to assume the im- to restore peace 
A in Europe. 

partiality which became the common 
father of Christendom, and laboured to reconcile the 
contending princes, in order that they might unite 
in a league against Solyman, whose conquest of 
Rhodes rendered him more formidable than ever to 
Europe/ But this was an undertaking far beyond his 
abilities. To examine such a variety of pretensions, 
to adjust such a number of interfering interests, to 
extinguish the passions which ambition, emulation, 
and mutual injuries had kindled, to bring so many 
hostile powers to pursue the same scheme with una¬ 
nimity and vigour, required not only uprightness 
of intention, but great superiority both of under¬ 
standing and address. 

f Guic. lib. xv. 240. 

S Jov. Vita Adr. 118. P. Mart. Ep. 774. Ruscelli Lettres de Princ. 
voi. i. 87, 96, 101. 

h Bellefor. Epitr. p. 86. 



BOOK III. A. D. 1522.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


489 


The Italian States were no less desirous of peace 
than the pope. The imperial army under Colonna 
was still kept on foot; but as the emperor’s reve¬ 
nues in Spain, in Naples, and in the Low Countries, 
were either exhausted or applied to some other 
purpose, it depended entirely for pay and subsist¬ 
ence on the Italians. A great part of it was quar¬ 
tered in the ecclesiastical state, and monthly con¬ 
tributions were levied upon the Florentines, the 
Milanese, the Genoese, and Lucchese, by the vice¬ 
roy of Naples ; and though all exclaimed against 
such oppression, and were impatient to be delivered 
from it, the dread of worse consequences from the 
rage of the army or the resentment of the emperor, 
obliged them to submit.i 

1523 So much regard, however, was paid 

Gainst the Kue *° B ie pope’s exhortations, and to a 
trench king. b u n which lie issued requiring all 

Christian princes to consent to a truce for three 
years, that the imperial, the French, and English 
ambassadors at Rome were empowered by their 
respective courts to treat of that matter ; but while 
they wasted their time in fruitless negociation, their 
masters continued their preparations for war. The 
Venetians, who had hitherto adhered with great 
firmness to their alliance with Francis, being now 
convinced that his affairs in Italy were in a despe¬ 
rate situation, entered into a league 

June 28. . , . ° 

against him with the emperor ; to 
which Adrian, at the instigation of his countryman 
and friend Charles de Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, 
who persuaded him that the only obstacles to peace 
arose from the ambition of the French king, soon 
after acceded. The other Italian States followed 
their example ; and Francis was left without a sin¬ 
gle ally to resist the efforts of so many enemies, 
M’hose armies threatened and whose territories en¬ 
compassed his dominions on every side. k 

. The dread of this powerful confede- 

ous measures in racy, it was thought, would have 

opposition to it. . . , ... ^ 

obliged Jbrancis to keep wholly on the 
defensive, or at least have prevented his entertain¬ 
ing any thoughts of marching into Italy. But it 
was the character of that prince, too apt to become 
remiss and even negligent on ordinary occasions, 
to rouse at the approach of danger, and not only to 
encounter it with spirit and intrepidity, qualities 
which never forsook him, but to provide against it 
with diligence and industry. Before his enemies 
were ready to execute any of their schemes, Francis 
had assembled a numerous army. His authority 
over his own subjects was far greater than that 
which Charles or Henry possessed over theirs. They 
depended on their diets, their cortes, and their 
parliaments for money, which was usually granted 
them in small sums, very slowly, and with much 
reluctance. The taxes he could impose were more 
considerable, and levied with greater despatch ; so 
that on this as well as on other occasions, he brought 
his armies into the field while they were only de¬ 


nis character. 


vising ways and means for raising theirs. Sensible 
of this advantage, Francis hoped to disconcert all 
the emperor’s schemes by marching in person into 
the Milanese; and this bold measure, 

,, „ . , , . . Suspended upon 

the more formidable because unex- the discovery of 

pected, could scarcely have failed of Bourbon’s con- 
producing that effect. But when the spilac> ' 
vanguard of his army had already reached Lyons, 
and he himself was hastening after it with a second 
division of his troops, the discovery of a domestic 
conspiracy which threatened the ruin of the king¬ 
dom, obliged him to stop short, and to alter his 
measures. 

The author of this dangerous plot 
was Charles, duke of Bourbon, lord 
high constable, whose noble birth, vast fortune, and 
high office, raised him to be the most powerful sub¬ 
ject in France, as his great talents, equally suited 
to the field or the council, and his signal services 
to the crown, rendered him the most illustrious and 
deserving. The near resemblance between the king 
and him in many of their qualities, both being fond 
of war and ambitious to excel in manly exercises, 
as well as their equality in age and their proximity 
of blood, ought naturally to have secured to him a 

considerable share in that monarch’s The causes of his 
favour. But unhappily Louise, the disaffection. 

king’s mother, had contracted a violent aversion to 
the house of Bourbon, for no better reason than be¬ 
cause Anne of Bretagne, the queen of Louis the 
twelfth, with whom she lived in perpetual enmity, 
had discovered a peculiar attachment to that branch 
of the royal family ; and had taught her son, who 
was too susceptible of any impression which his 
mother gave him, to view all the constable’s actions 
with a mean and unbecoming jealousy. His dis¬ 
tinguished merit at the battle of Marignano had not 
been sufficiently rewarded ; he had been recalled 
from the government of Milan upon very frivolous 
pretences, and had met with a cold reception, which 
his prudent conduct in that difficult station did not 
deserve ; the payment of his pensions had been 
suspended without any good cause ; and during the 
campaign of one thousand five hundred and twenty- 
one, the king, as has already been related, had 
affronted him in presence of the whole army, by 
giving the command of the van to the duke of Alen- 
Qon. The constable at first bore these indignities 
with greater moderation than could have been ex¬ 
pected from a high-spirited prince, conscious of 
what was due to his rank and to his services. Such 
a multiplicity of injuries, however, exhausted his 
patience; and inspiring him with thoughts of re¬ 
venge, he retired from court, and began to hold a 
secret correspondence with some of the emperor’s 
ministers. 

About that time the duchess of Bourbon happened 
to die without leaving any children. Louise, of a 
disposition no less amorous than vindictive, and 
still susceptible of the tender passions at the age 

k Guic. 1. xv. 241, 248. 


i Guic. J. xv. 238. 



490 

of forty-six, began to view the constable, a prince 
as amiable as he was accomplished, with other eyes; 
and notwithstanding the great disparity of their 
years, she formed the scheme of marrying him. 
Bourbon, who might have expected every thing to 
which an ambitious mind can aspire, from the doting 
fondness of a woman who governed her son and the 
kingdom, being incapable either of imitating the 
queen in her sudden transition from hatred to love, 
or of dissembling so meanly as to pretend affection 
for one who had persecuted him so long with un¬ 
provoked malice, not only rejected the match, but 
imbittered his refusal by some severe raillery on 
Louise’s person and character. She finding herself 
not only contemned but insulted, her disappointed 
love turned into hatred, and since she could not 
marry she resolved to ruin Bourbon. 

For this purpose she consulted with the chancellor 
Du Prat, a man who, by a base prostitution of great 
talents and of superior skill in his profession, had 
risen to that high office. By his advice a lawsuit 
was commenced against the constable, for the whole 
estate belonging to the house of Bourbon. Part of 
it was claimed in the king’s name, as having fallen 
to the crown ; part in that of Louise, as the nearest 
heir in blood of the deceased duchess. Both these 
claims were equally destitute of any foundation in 
justice ; but Louise, by her solicitations and au¬ 
thority, and Du Prat, by employing all the artifices 
and chicanery of law, prevailed on the judges to 
order the estate to be sequestered. This unjust de¬ 
cision drove the constable to despair, and to mea¬ 
sures which despair alone could have dictated. He 
renewed his intrigues in the imperial 

His secret nego- . 

ciations with the court, and flattering himself that the 
injuries which he had suffered would 
justify his having recourse to any means in order to 
obtain revenge, he offered to transfer his allegiance 
from his natural sovereign to the emperor, and to 
assist him in the conquest of France. Charles, as 
well as the king of England, to whom the secret 
was communicated, 1 expecting prodigious advan¬ 
tages from his revolt, were ready to receive him with 
open arms, and spared neither promises nor allure¬ 
ments which might help to confirm him in his reso¬ 
lution. The emperor offered him in marriage his 
sister Eleanor, the widow of the king of Portugal, 
with an ample portion. He was included as a 
principal in the treaty between Charles and Henry. 
The counties of Provence and Dauphine were to be 
settled on him, with the title of king. The emperor 
engaged to enter France by the Pyrenees, and Henry, 
supported by the Flemings, to invade Picardy; 
while twelve thousand Germans, levied at their 
common charge, were to penetrate into Burgundy, 
and to act in concert with Bourbon, who undertook 
to raise six thousand men among his friends and 
vassals in the heart of the kingdom. The execution 
of this deep-laid and dangerous plot was suspended 


THE REIGN OF THE L A - D 1523 - B00K IIL 

until the king should cross the Alps with the only 
army capable of defending his dominions : and as 
he was far advanced in his march for that purpose, 
France was on the brink of destruction. m 

Happily for that kingdom, a nego- discovered 
ciation which had now been carrying 
on for several months, though conducted with the 
most profound secrecy, and communicated only 
to a few chosen confidants, could not altogether 
escape the observation of the rest of the constable’s 
numerous retainers, rendered more inquisitive by 
finding that they were distrusted. Two of these 
gave the king some intimation of a mysterious cor¬ 
respondence between their master and the count 
de Roeux, a Flemish nobleman of great confidence 
with the emperor. Francis, who could not bring 
himself to suspect that the first prince of the blood 
would be so base as to betray the kingdom to its 
enemies, immediately repaired to Moulins, where 
the constable was in bed, feigning indisposition, that 
he might not be obliged to accompany the king into 
Italy, and acquainted him of the intelligence which 
he had received. Bourbon with great solemnity, 
and the most imposing affectation of ingenuity and 
candour, asserted his own innocence; and as his 
health, he said, was now more confirmed, he pro¬ 
mised to join the army within a few days. Francis, 
open and candid himself, and too apt to be deceived 
by the appearance of those virtues in others, gave 
such credit to what he said, that he refused to arrest 
him, although advised to take that precaution by 
his wisest counsellors ; and as if the danger had 
been over, he continued his march towards Lyons. 
The constable set out soon after, seem- ^ ^ 
ingly with an intention to follow him ; 
but turning suddenly to the left he crossed the 
Rhone, and after infinite fatigue and 
peril escaped all the parties which the Fhes t0 ltal> ' 
king, who became sensible too late of his own cre¬ 
dulity, sent out to intercept him, and reached Italy 
in safety." 

Francis took every possible precaution to prevent 
the bad effects of the irreparable error which he had 
committed. He put garrisons in all the places of 
strength in the constable’s territories. He seized 
all the gentlemen whom he could suspect of being 
his associates; and as he had not hitherto discovered 
the whole extent of the conspirator’s schemes, nor 
knew how far the infection had spread among his 
subjects, he was afraid that his absence might en¬ 
courage them to make some desperate attempt, and 
for that reason relinquished his intention of leading 
his army in person into Italy. 

He did not, however, abandon his 


1 Rymer’s Feeder, xiii. 794. 
m Thuani Hist. lib. i. c. 10. 


Ileuter. Iter. Austr. lib. viii. c. 18. p. 207. 


French invade 

design on the Milanese; but appointed the Mllanese * 
Admiral Bonnivet to take the supreme command in 
his stead, and to march into that country with an 
army thirty thousand strong. Bonnivet did not 
owe this preferment to his abilities as a general; 

n Mem. de Bellay, p. 64, &c. Pasquier Recherches de la France, p, 
481. 



BOOK III. A. D. 1523.] EMPEROR 

tor of all the talents requisite to form a great com¬ 
mander, he possessed only personal courage, the 
lowest and the most common. But he was the most 
accomplished gentleman in the French court, of 
agreeable manners and insinuating address, and a 
sprightly conversation ; and Francis, who lived in 
great familiarity with his courtiers, was so charmed 
with these qualities, that he honoured him on all 
occasions with the most partial and distinguished 
marks ot his favour. He was, besides, the impla¬ 
cable enemy of Bourbon; and as the king hardly 
knew whom to trust at that juncture, he thought the 
chiet command could be lodged no where so safely 
as in his hands. 

Their ill con- Colonna, who was intrusted with 
the defence of the Milanese, his own 
conquest, was in no condition to resist such a for¬ 
midable army. He was destitute of money sufficient 
to pay his troops, which were reduced to a small 
number by sickness or desertion, and had for that 
reason been obliged to neglect every precaution 
necessary for the security of the country. The only 
plan which he formed was to defend the passage of 
the river Tessino against the French ; and as if he 
had forgotten how easily he himself had discon¬ 
certed a similar scheme formed by Lautrec, he pro¬ 
mised with great confidence on its being effectual. 
But in spite of all his caution, it succeeded no bet¬ 
ter with him than with Lautrec. Bonnivet passed 
the river without loss, at a ford which had been 
neglected, and the imperialists retired to Milan, 
preparing to abandon the town, as soon as the 
French should appear before it. By an unaccount¬ 
able negligence, which Guicciardini imputes to in¬ 
fatuation, 0 Bonnivet did not advance for three or 
four days, and lost the opportunity with which his 
good fortune presented him. The citizens recovered 
from their consternation ; Colonna, still active at 
the age of fourscore, and Morone, whose enmity to 
France rendered him indefatigable, were employed 
night and day in repairing the fortifications, in 
amassing provisions, in collecting troops from every 
quarter; and by the time the French approached, 
had put the city in a condition to stand a siege. 
Bonnivet, after some fruitless attempts on the town, 
which harassed his own troops more than the enemy, 
was obliged, by the inclemency of the season, to 
retire into winter-quarters. 

Death Of Adrian During these transactions pope 
Vl - Adrian died ; an event so much to the 

satisfaction of the Roman people, whose hatred or 
contempt of him augmented every day, that the 
night after his decease they adorned the door of his 
chief physician's house with garlands, adding this 
inscription: TO THE DELIVERER OF HIS 
COUNTRY.p The cardinal de Medici instantly 
renewed his pretensions to the papal dignity, and 
entered the conclave with high expectations on his 
own part, and a general opinion of the people, that 
they would be successful. But though supported 

p Jovii Vit. Adr. 127. 


CHARLES V. 491 

by the imperial faction, possessed of great personal 
interest, and capable of all the artifices, refinements, 
and corruption which reign in those assemblies, the 
obstinacy and intrigues of his rivals protracted the 
conclave to the unusual length of fifty 

j mi i i i Election of Cle- 

aays. 1 he address and perseverance rnentvn. 

„ il .. . , , Nov. 28. 

ot the cardinal at last surmounted 
every obstacle. He was raised to the head of the 
church, and resumed the government of it by the 
name of Clement VII. The choice was universally 
approved of. High expectations were conceived 
of a pope whose great talents and long experience 
in business seemed to qualify him no less for de¬ 
fending the spiritual interests of the church, exposed 
to imminent danger by the progress of Luther’s 
opinions, than for conducting its political operations 
with the prudence requisite at such a difficult 
juncture ; and who, besides these advantages, 
rendered the ecclesiastical state more respectable, 
by having in his hands the government of Flo¬ 
rence, together with the wealth of the family of 
Medici.'* 

Cardinal Wolsey, not disheartened woisey disap- 
by the disappointment of his ambitious ed’wkh’resenl 11 
views at the former election, had en- ment - 
tertained more sanguine hopes of success on this 
occasion. Henry wrote to the emperor, reminding 
him of his engagements to second the pretensions 
of his minister. Wolsey bestirred himself with 
activity suitable to the importance of the prize for 
which he contended, and instructed his agents at 
Rome to spare neither promises nor bribes in order 
to gain his end. But Charles had either amused 
him with vain hopes which he never intended to 
gratify, or he judged it impolitic to oppose a can¬ 
didate who had such a prospect of succeeding as 
Medici; or perhaps the cardinals durst not venture 
to provoke the people of Rome, while their indig¬ 
nation against Adrian's memory was still fresh, by 
placing another Ultra-montane on the papal throne. 
Wolsey, after all his expectations and endeavours, 
had the mortification to see a pope elected of such 
an age, and of so vigorous a constitution, that he 
could not derive much comfort to himself from the 
chance of surviving him. This second proof fully 
convinced Wolsey of the emperor’s insincerity, and 
it excited in him all the resentment which a haughty 
mind feels on being at once disappointed and de¬ 
ceived ; and though Clement endeavoured to soothe 
his vindictive nature by granting him a commission 
to be legate in England during life, with such ample 
powers as vested in him almost the whole papal 
jurisdiction in that kingdom, the injury he had now 
received made such an impression as entirely dis¬ 
solved the tie which had united him to Charles, and 
from that moment he meditated revenge. It was 
necessary, however, to conceal his intention from 
his master, and to suspend the execution of it until, 
by a dexterous improvement of the incidents which 
might occur, he should be able gradually to alien- 


o Guic. lib. xv. 254. 


q Guic. 1. xv. 263. 





492 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1523. BOOK III. 


ate the king’s affections from the emperor. For this 
reason he was so far from expressing any uneasi¬ 
ness on account of the repulse which lie had met 
with, that he abounded on every occasion, private 
as well as public, in declarations of his high satis¬ 
faction with Clement’s promotion. r 

Henry's opera- Henry had during the campaign 
tions in France, fulfilled, with great sincerity, whatever 

he was bound to perform by the league against 
France, though more slowly than he could have 
wished. His thoughtless profusion, and total neg¬ 
lect of economy, reduced him often to great straits 
for money. The operations of war were now carried 
on in Europe in a manner very different from that 
which had long prevailed. Instead of armies sud¬ 
denly assembled, which under distinct chieftains 
follow ed their prince into the field for a short space 
and served at their own cost, troops were now levied 
at great charge, and received regularly considerable 
pay. Instead of impatience on both sides to bring 
every quarrel to the issue of a battle, which com¬ 
monly decided the fate of open countries, and 
allowed the barons, together with their vassals, to 
return to their ordinary occupations, towns were 
fortified with great art and defended with much 
obstinacy ; war from a very simple became a very 
intricate science; and campaigns grew of course to 
be more tedious and less decisive. The expense 
which these alterations in the military system ne¬ 
cessarily created, appeared intolerable to nations 
hitherto unaccustomed to the burden of heavy taxes. 
Hence proceeded the frugal and even parsimonious 
spirit of the English parliaments in that age, which 
Henry, with all his authority, w as seldom able to 
overcome. The commons having refused at this 
time to grant him the supplies which he demanded, 
he had recourse to the ample and almost unlimited 
prerogative which the kings of England then pos¬ 
sessed, and by a violent and unusual exertion of it, 
raised the money he wanted. This, 
however, wasted so much time, that it 
was late in the season before his army, under the 
duke of Suffolk, could take the field. Being joined 
by aconsiderablebody of Flemings, Suffolk marched 
into Picardy; and Francis, from his extravagant 
eagerness to recover the Milanese, having left that 
frontier almost unguarded, he penetrated as far as 
the banks of the river Oyse, within eleven leagues 
of Paris, filling that capital with consternation. 
But the arrival of some troops detached by the king, 
who was still at Lyons ; the active gallantry of the 
French officers, who allowed the allies no respite 
night or day ; the rigour of a most unnatural season, 
together with scarcity of provisions, compelled 
Suffolk to retire ; and La Tramouille, 
who commanded in those parts, had 
the glory not only of having checked the progress 
of a formidable army with an handful of men, but 
of driving them with ignominy out of the French 
territories. 8 

r Fiddes’s Life of Wolsey, 294, &c. Herbert. 


Sept. 20. 


November. 


and those of the 
Germans and 
Spaniards. 


Fontara- s «2SF$ 1 £< l “ 
cowardice nr teb. 27 . 


The emperor’s attempts upon Bur¬ 
gundy and Guienne were not more 
fortunate, though in both these pro¬ 
vinces Francis was equally ill prepared to resist 
them. The conduct and valour of his generals 
supplied his want of foresight; the Germans, who 
had made an irruption into one of these provinces, 
and the Spaniards, who attacked the other, were 
repulsed with great disgrace. 

Thus ended the year 1523, during End of the 
which Francis’s good fortune and campaign, 
success had been such as gave all Europe an high 
idea of his power and resources. He had discovered 
and disconcerted a dangerous conspiracy, the author 
of which he had driven into exile almost without 
an attendant; he had rendered abortive all the 
schemes of the pow erful confederacy formed against 
him ; he had protected his dominions when attacked 
on three different sides ; and though his army in the 
Milanese had not made such progress as might have 
been expected from its superiority to the enemy in 
number, he had recovered, and still kept possession 
of, one-half of that duchy. 

The ensuing year opened w ith events 1524 
more disastrous to France, 
bia was lost by the cowardice or 
treachery of its governor. In Italy the allies 
resolved on an early and vigorous effort in order 
to dispossess Bonnivet of that part of the Mi¬ 
lanese which lies beyond the Tessino. Clement, 
who under the pontificates Leo and Adrian had 
discovered an implacable enmity to France, began 
now to view the power which the emperor was 
daily acquiring in Italy with so much jealousy, 
that he refused to accede, as his predecessors had 
done, to the league against Francis, and, forgetting 
private passions and animosities, laboured with the 
zeal which became his character, to bring about a 
reconciliation among the contending parties. But 
all his endeavours were ineffectual; a numerous 
army, to which each of the allies furnished their 
contingent of troops, was assembled at Milan by the 
beginning of March. Lannoy, viceroy 
of Naples, took the command of it reaSy n to take’tL 
upon Colonna’s death, though the field early * 
chief direction of military operations was com¬ 
mitted to Bourbon and the marquis de Pescara,— 
the latter the ablest and most enterprising of the 
imperial generals; the former inspired by his re¬ 
sentment with new activity and invention, and ac¬ 
quainted so thoroughly with the characters of the 
French commanders, the genius of their troops, and 
the strength as well as w eakness of their armies, as 
to be of infinite service to the party which he had 
joined. But all these advantages were nearly lost 
through the emperor’s inability to raise money suffi¬ 
cient for executing the various and extensive plans 
which he had formed. When his troops 
were commanded to march, they muti- mutiny of the 
nied against their leaders, demanding troops ' 

s Herbert. Mem. de Bellay, 73, 6cc. 



BOOK III. 


A. D. 1524.] 

the pay which was due to them for some months ; 
and disregarding both the menaces and entreaties 
of their officers, threatened to pillage the city of 
Milan, if they did not instantly receive satisfaction. 
Out of this difficulty the generals of the allies were 
extricated by Morone, who prevailing on his coun¬ 
trymen, over whom his influence was prodigious, to 
advance the sum that was requisite, the army took 
the field. 1 

„„ „ Bonnivet was destitute of troops to 

1 he French obli- , . , v 

ped to abandon oppose this army, and still more of 

the Milanese. , , 

the talents which could render him an 
equal match for its leaders. After various move¬ 
ments and encounters, described with great accu¬ 
racy by the contemporary historians, a detail of 
which would now be equally uninteresting and un- 
instructive, he was forced to abandon the strong 
camp in which he had entrenched himself at Bia- 
grassa. Soon after, partly by his own misconduct, 
partly by the activity of the enemy, who harassed 
and ruined his army by continual skirmishes, while 
they carefully declined a battle, which he often 
offered them ; and partly by the caprice of 6000 
Swiss, who refused to join his army, though within 
a day’s march of it, he was reduced to the necessity 
of attempting a retreat into France through the 
valley of Aost. Just as he arrived on the banks of 
the Sessia, and began to pass that river, Bourbon 
and Pescara appeared with the vanguard of the 
allies, and attacked his rear with great fury. At 
the beginning of the charge, Bonnivet, while ex¬ 
erting himself with much valour, was wounded so 
dangerously that he was obliged to quit the field ; 
and the conduct of the rear was committed to the 
chevalier Bayard, who, though so much a stranger 
to the arts of a court that he never rose to the chief 
command, w as always called in times of real danger 
to the post of greatest difficulty and importance. He 
put himself at the head of the men at arms, and ani¬ 
mating them by his presence and example to sustain 
the whole shock of the enemy’s troops, he gained 

Death of the che- t ' me f° r ^ ie rest °f his countrymen to 
make good their retreat. But in this 
service he received a wound which he 
immediately perceived to be mortal, and being unable 
to continue any longer on horseback, he ordered one 
of his attendants to place him under a tree, with his 
face towards the enemy ; then fixing his eyes on the 
guard of his sword, which he held up instead of a 
cross, he addressed his prayers to God, and in this 
posture, which became his character both as a sol¬ 
dier and as a Christian, he calmly awaited the ap¬ 
proach of death. Bourbon, who led the foremost 
of the enemy’s troops, found him in this situation, 
and expressed regret and pity at the sight. “ Pity 
not me,” cried the high-spirited chevalier, “I die 
as a man of honour ought, in the discharge of my 
duty: they, indeed, are objects of pity who fight 
against their king, their country, and their oath.” 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


493 


valier Bayard, 
and ruin of the 
French army. 


t Guic. 1. xv. 267. Capella, 
u Bellifor. Epitr. p. 73. M. de Bellay, to. 
106, &c. Pasquier Recherches, p. 526. 


(Euv. de Brant, tom. vi. 


The marquis de Pescara, passing soon after, mani¬ 
fested his admiration of Bayard’s virtues, as well as 
his sorrow for his fate, w ith the generosity of a gal¬ 
lant enemy ; and finding that he could not be re¬ 
moved with safety from that spot, ordered a tent to 
be pitched there, and appointed proper persons to 
attend him. He died, notw ithstanding their care, 
as his ancestors for several generations had done, in 
the field of battle. Pescara ordered his body to be 
embalmed and sent to his relations ; and such was 
the respect paid to military merit in that age, that 
the duke of Savoy commanded it to be received with 
royal honours in all the cities of his dominions; 
in Dauphine, Bayard’s native country, the people 
of all ranks came out in a solemn procession to 
meet it. u 

Bonnivet led back the shattered remains of his 
army into France; and in one short campaign 
Francis was stripped of all he had possessed in 
Italy, and left without one ally in that country. 

While the war kindled by the emu- 

. Progress of the 

lation of Charles and Francis spread Reformation in 

L . ,, Germany. 

over so many countries of Europe, Ger¬ 
many enjoyed a profound tranquillity, extremely fa¬ 
vourable to the Reformation, which continued to 
make progress daily. During Luther’s confinement 
in his retreat at Wartburg, Carlostadius, one of his 
disciples, animated with the same zeal, but pos¬ 
sessed of less prudence and moderation than his 
master, began to propagate wild and dangerous 
opinions, chiefly among the lower people. Encou¬ 
raged by his exhortations, they rose in several 
villages of Saxony, broke into the churches with 
tumultuary violence, and threw down and destroyed 
the images with which they were adorned. Those 
irregular and outrageous proceedings were so re¬ 
pugnant to all the elector’s cautious maxims, that 
if they had not received a timely check, they could 
hardly have failed of alienating from the reformers 
a prince no less jealous of his own authority than 
afraid of giving offence to the emperor and other 
patrons of the ancient opinions. Luther, sensible 
of the danger, immediately quitted his retreat w ith¬ 
out waiting for Frederic’s permission, and returned 
to Wittemberg. Happily for the Reformation, the 
veneration for his person and authority 
was still so great, that his appearance 
alone suppressed that spirit of extravagance which 
began to seize his party. Carlostadius and his fana¬ 
tical followers, struck dumb by his rebukes, sub¬ 
mitted at once, and declared that they heard the 
voice of an angel, not of a man. x 

Before Luther left his retreat he had 
begun to translate the Bible into the 
German tongue, an undertaking of no less difficulty 
than importance, of which he was extremely fond, 
and for which he was well qualified. He had a 
competent knowledge of the original languages ; 
a thorough acquaintance with the style and senti- 

x Sleid. Ilist. 51. Seckend. 195. 


March 6,1522. 


Luther translates 
the Bible. 



494 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ments of the inspired writers; and though his 
compositions in Latin were rude and barbarous, he 
was reckoned a great master of the purity of his 
mother tongue, and could express himself with all 
the elegance of which it is capable. By his own 
assiduous application, together with the assistance 
of Melancthon and several other of his disciples, 
he finished part of the New Testament in the year 
1522 ; and the publication of it proved more fatal 
to the church of Rome than that of all his own 
works. It was read with wonderful avidity and at¬ 
tention by persons of every rank. They were asto¬ 
nished at discovering how contrary the precepts of 
the Author of our religion are to the inventions of 
those priests who pretended to be his vicegerents ; 
and having now in their hand the rule of faith, they 
thought themselves qualified, by applying it, to 
judge of the established opinions, and to pronounce 
when they were conformable to the standard or 
when they departed from it. The great advantages 
arising from Luther's translation of the Bible en¬ 
couraged the advocates for reformation in the other 
countries of Europe to imitate his example, and to 
publish versions of the Scriptures in their respective 
languages. 


several cities About this time Nuremberg, Franc- 
of°the popish 8 f° r L Hamburgh, and several other 
church. free c jtj es j n Germany, of the first 

rank, openly embraced the reformed religion, and 
by the authority of their magistrates abolished the 
mass and the other superstitious rites of popery. y 
The elector of Brandenburgh, the dukes of Bruns¬ 
wick and Lunenburgh, and prince of Anhalt, became 
avowed patrons of Luther’s opinions, and counte¬ 
nanced the preaching of them among their subjects. 
Measures em- The court of Rome beheld this grow- 
^drian morder * n o defection with great concern ; and 
Kres^of the P Re- Adrian’s first care, after his arrival in 
formation. Italy, had been to deliberate with the 
cardinals concerning the proper means of putting a 
stop to it. He was profoundly skilled in scholastic 
theology, and having been early celebrated on that 
account, he still retained such an excessive admi¬ 
ration of the science to which he was first indebted 
for his reputation and success in life, that he con¬ 
sidered Luther’s invectives against the schoolmen, 
particularly Thomas Aquinas, as little less than 
blasphemy. All the tenets of that doctor appeared 
to him so clear and irrefragable, that he supposed 
every person who called in question or contradicted 
them, to be either blinded by ignorance, or to be 
acting in opposition to the conviction of his own 
mind : of course no pope was ever more bigoted or 
inflexible with regard to points of doctrine than 
Adrian ; he not only maintained them, as Leo had 
done, because they were ancient, or because it was 
dangerous to allow of innovations, but he adhered 
to them with the zeal of a theologian and with the 
tenaciousness of a disputant. At the same time 


Nov. 1522. 


[A. D. 1524. BOOK III. 

his own manners being extremely simple, and un¬ 
infected with any of the vices which reigned in the 
court of Rome, he was as sensible of its corrup¬ 
tions as the reformers themselves, and viewed them 
with no less indignation. The brief 
which he addressed to the diet of the 
empire assembled at Nuremberg, and the instruc¬ 
tions which he gave Cheregato, the nuncio whom 
he sent thither, were framed agreeably to these 
views. On the one hand, he condemned Luther’s 
opinions with more asperity and rancour of expres¬ 
sion than Leo had ever used ; he severely censured 
the princes of Germany for suffering him to spread 
his pernicious tenets, by their neglecting to execute 
the edict of the diet at Worms ; and required them, 
if Luther did not instantly retract his errors, to 
destroy him with fire as a gangrened and incurable 
member, in like manner as Dathan and Abiram 
had been cut off by Moses, Ananias and Sapphira 
by the apostles, and John Huss and Jerome of 
Prague by their ancestors. 1 On the other hand he, 
with great candour, and in the most explicit terms, 
acknowledged the corruptions of the Roman court 
to be the source from which had flowed most of the 
evils that the church now felt or dreaded ; he pro¬ 
mised to exert all his authority towards reforming 
these abuses, with as much despatch as the nature 
and inveteracy of the disorders would admit; and 
he requested of them to give him their advice with 
regard to the most effectual means of suppressing 
that new heresy which had sprung up among them.* 
The members of the diet, after prais- 

. , , . Diet of Nurem- 

ing the pope s pious and laudable in- berg propose a 

general council 

tentions, excused themselves tor not as the proper 

. „ „ r , remedy. 

executing the edict of Worms, by al¬ 
leging that the prodigious increase of Luther’s fol¬ 
lowers, as well as the aversion to the court of Rome 
among their other subjects on account of its innu¬ 
merable exactions, rendered such an attempt not 
only dangerous but impossible. They affirmed that 
the grievances of Germany, which did not arise 
from imaginary injuries, but from impositions no 
less real than intolerable, as his holiness would 
learn from a catalogue of them which they intended 
to lay before him, called now for some new and ef¬ 
ficacious remedy ; and in their opinion, the only 
remedy adequate to the disease, or which afforded 
them any hopes of seeing the church restored to 
soundness and vigour, was a general council. Such 
a council, therefore, they advised him, after obtain¬ 
ing the emperor’s consent, to assemble, without de¬ 
lay, in one of the great cities of Germany, that all 
who had right to be present might deliberate with 
freedom, and propose their opinions with such bold¬ 
ness as the dangerous situation of religion at this 
juncture required. 1 * 

The nuncio, more artful than his 
master, and better acquainted with nuncio to elude 
the political views and interests of the >t# 


y Seckend. 241. Chytrasi Contin. Krantzii, 20.3. 
z Fascic, Rer. expet. et fugiend. 342. a Ibid. p. 345. 


b Fascic. Rer. expet. et fugiend. p. 346. 




COOK III. A. D. 1524.] 

Roman court, was startled at the proposition of a 
council, and easily foresaw how dangerous such an 
assembly might prove, at a time when many openly 
denied the papal authority, and the reverence and 
submission yielded to it visibly declined among all. 
For that reason he employed his utmost address in 
order to prevail on the members of the diet to pro¬ 
ceed themselves with greater severity against the 
Lutheran heresy, and to relinquish their proposal 
concerning a general council to be held in Ger¬ 
many. They, perceiving the nuncio to be more so¬ 
licitous about the interests of the Roman court than 
the tranquillity of the empire or purity of the church, 
remained inflexible, and continued to prepare the 
catalogue of their grievances to be presented to the 
pope. 0 The nuncio, that he might not be the bearer of 
a remonstrance so disagreeable to his court, left Nu¬ 
remberg abruptly, without taking leave of the diet. d 
The diet present The secular princes accordingly, (for 
drerf^de vances ^ ie ecclesiastics, although they gave 
to the pope. 110 opposition, did not think it decent 
to join with them,) drew up the list (so famous in 
the German annals) of a hundred grievances which 
the empire imputed to the iniquitous dominion of 
the papal see. This list contained grievances much 
of the same nature with that prepared under the 
reign of Maximilian. It would be tedious to enu¬ 
merate each of them : they complained of the sums 
exacted for dispensations, absolutions, and indul¬ 
gences ; of the expense arising from the law-suits 
carried by appeal to Rome ; of the innumerable 
abuses occasioned by reservations, commendams, 
and annates ; of the exemption from civil jurisdic¬ 
tion which the clergy had obtained ; of the arts by 
which they brought all secular causes under the 
cognizance of the ecclesiastical judges ; of the in¬ 
decent and profligate lives which not a few of the 
clergy led ; and of various other particulars, many 
of which have already been mentioned among the 
circumstances that contributed to the favourable 
reception or to the quick progress of Luther’s doc¬ 
trines. In the end they concluded, that if the holy 
see did not speedily deliver them from those into¬ 
lerable burdens, they had determined to endure them 
no longer, and would employ the power and autho¬ 
rity with which God had intrusted them, in order 
to procure relief/ 

Instead of such severities against 

Thp rpcc&s of the 

diet, March 6, Luther and his followers as the nun- 

1523 

cio had recommended, the recess or 
edict of the diet contained only a general injunction 
to all ranks of men to wait with patience for the 
determinations of the council which was to be as¬ 
sembled, and in the mean time not to publish any 
new opinions contrary to the established doctrines 
of the church ; together with an admonition to all 
preachers to abstain from matters of controversy in 
their discourses to the people, and to confine them¬ 
selves to the plain and instructive truths of religion/ 

c Fascic. Ker. expet. et fugiend. 349. d Ibid. 376. 

.. Ibid. 354. f Ibid. 348. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


495 


The reformers derived great advan- 

, o ,, , ,. This diet of great 

tage from the transactions of this diet, benefit to the u e - 

,. _ , , , . , formation. 

as they afforded them the fullest and 
most authentic evidence that gross corruptions pre¬ 
vailed in the court of Rome, and that the empire 
was loaded by the clergy with insupportable bur¬ 
dens. With regard to the former, they had now the 
testimony of the pope himself that their invectives 
and accusations were not malicious or ill-founded. 
As to the latter, the representatives of the Germanic 
body, in an assembly where the patrons of the new 
opinions were far from being the most numerous or 
powerful, had pointed out as the chief grievances 
of the empire, those very practices of the Romish 
church against which Luther and his disciples were 
accustomed to declaim. Accordingly, in all their 
controversial writings after this period, they often 
appealed to Adrian’s declaration, and to the hun¬ 
dred grievances, in confirmation of whatever they 
advanced concerning the dissolute manners or insa¬ 
tiable ambition and rapaciousness of the papal court. 

At Rome Adrian’s conduct was con- Adrian’s conduct 
sidered as a proof of the most childish censured at Rome. 

simplicity and imprudence. Men trained up amidst 
the artifices and corruptions of the papal court, and 
accustomed to judge of actions not by what was 
just but by what was useful, were astonished at a 
pontiff who, departing from the wise maxims of his 
predecessors, acknowledged disorders which he 
ought to have concealed ; and forgetting his own 
dignity, asked advice of those to whom he was en¬ 
titled to prescribe. By such an excess of impolitic 
sincerity, they were afraid that instead of reclaim¬ 
ing the enemies of the church, he would render 
them more presumptuous, and instead of extin¬ 
guishing heresy, would weaken the foundations of 
the papal power, or stop the chief sources from 
which wealth flowed into the church/ For this 
reason the cardinals and other ecclesiastics of great¬ 
est eminence in the papal court industriously op¬ 
posed all his schemes of reformation, and by throw¬ 
ing objections and difficulties in his way, endea¬ 
voured to retard or to defeat the execution of them. 
Adrian, amazed, on the one hand, at the obstinacy 
of the Lutherans, disgusted, on the other, with the 
manners and maxims of the Italians, and finding 
himself unable to correct either the one or the other, 
often lamented his own situation, and often looked 
back with pleasure on that period of his life when 
he was only dean of Louvain, a more humble but 
happier station, in which little was expected from 
him, and there was nothing to frustrate his good 
intentions. 11 

Clement VII., his successor, excel- 

..... , . ~ Clement’s mea¬ 

led Adrian as much in the arts ot go- sures against Lu- 
, • r • . . . ther, and his 

vernment as he was inferior to him in dread of a gene- 

. , , c . , ral council. 

purity ot life or uprightness of inten¬ 
tion. He was animated not only with the aversion 
which all popes naturally bear to a council, but 


§ 


F. Paul, Hist, of Counc. p. 28. Pallavic. Hist. 58. 
i .lovii Vit. Adr. p. 118. 



496 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1524. BOOK IV. 


having gained his own election by means very un- 
canonical, he was afraid of an assembly that might 
subject it to a scrutiny which it could not stand. 
He determined, therefore, by every possible means 
to elude the demands of the Germans, both with 
respect to the calling of a council, and reforming 
abuses in the papal court, which the rashness and 
incapacity of his predecessor had brought upon him. 
For this purpose he made choice of cardinal Cam- 
peggio, an artful man, often intrusted by his prede¬ 
cessors with negociations of importance, as his 
nuncio to the diet of the empire assembled again at 
Nuremberg. 


Campeggio, without taking any no- 

The negocfaiftons tice of what had passed in the last 
of his nuncio in a ,. . . , .. .... , 

second diet at meeting, exhorted the diet, in along 

discourse,to execute the edict of Worms 
with vigour, as the only effectual means of suppress¬ 
ing Luther’s doctrines. The diet in return desired 
to know the pope’s intentions concerning the coun¬ 
cil, and the redress of the hundred grievances. The 
former the nuncio endeavoured to elude by gene¬ 
ral and unmeaning declarations of the pope’s reso¬ 
lution to pursue such measures as would be for the 
greatest good of the church. With regard to the 
latter, as Adrian was dead before the catalogue of 
grievances reached Rome, and of consequence it had 
not been regularly laid before the present pope, Cam¬ 
peggio took advantageof this circumstance todecline 
making any definitive answer to them in Clement’s 
name; though at the same time he observed, that 
their catalogue of grievances contained many par¬ 
ticulars extremely indecent and undutiful, and that 
the publishing it by their own authority was highly 
disrespectful to the Roman see. In the end he re¬ 
newed his demand of their proceeding with vigour 

attended with against Luther and his adherents. But 
little effect, though an ambassador from the em¬ 
peror, who was at that time very solicitous to gain 
the pope, warmly seconded the nuncio, with many 
professions of his master’s zeal for the honour and 
dignity of the papal see, the recess of the diet was 
conceived in terms of almost the same import with 
the former, without enjoining any additional seve¬ 
rity against Luther and his party.' 

Before he left Germany, Campeggio, in order to 
amuse and soothe the people, published certain ar¬ 
ticles for the amendment of some disorders and 
abuses which prevailed among the inferior clergy ; 
but this partial reformation, which fell so far short 
of the expectations of the Lutherans and of the de¬ 
mands of the diet, gave no satisfaction, and pro¬ 
duced little effect. The nuncio, with a cautious 
hand, tenderly lopped a few branches ; the Germans 
aimed a deeper blow, and by striking at the root 
wished to exterminate the evil. k 


i Seckend. 286. Sleid. Hist. 66. 


BOOK IV. 

The expulsion of the French both out 
of the Milanese and the republic of paries and 
Genoa, was considered by the Italians Irancis - 
as the termination of the war between Charles and 
Francis ; and as they began immediately to be ap¬ 
prehensive of the emperor, when they saw no power 
remaining in Italy capable either to control or op¬ 
pose him, they longed ardently for the re-establish¬ 
ment of peace. Having procured the restoration of 
Sforza to his paternal dominions, which had been 
their chief motive for entering into confederacy with 
Charles, they plainly discovered their intention to 
contribute no longer towards increasing the empe¬ 
ror’s superiority over his rival, which was already 
become the object of their jealousy. The pope 
especially, whose natural timidity increased his 
suspicions of Charles’s designs, endeavoured by his 
remonstrances to inspire him with moderation and 
incline him to peace. 

But the emperor, intoxicated with Charles resolves 
success, and urged on by his own am- to invade France. 

bition no less than by Bourbon’s desire of revenge, 
contemned Clement’s admonitions, and declared his 
resolution of ordering his army to pass the Alps 
and to invade Provence, a part of his rival’s domi¬ 
nions where, as he least dreaded an attack, he M as 
least prepared to resist it. His most experienced 
ministers dissuaded him from undertaking such an 
enterprise with a feeble army and an exhausted 
treasury ; but he relied so much on having obtained 
the concurrence of the king of England, and on the 
hopes which Bourbon, with the confidence and cre¬ 
dulity natural to exiles, entertained of being joined 
by a numerous body of his partisans as soon as the 
imperial troops should enter France, that he per¬ 
sisted obstinately in the measure. Henry undertook 
to furnish a hundred thousand ducats towards 
defraying the expense of the expedition during the 
first month, and had it in his choice either to con¬ 
tinue the payment of that sum monthly, or to invade 
Picardy before the end of July with an army capa¬ 
ble of acting with vigour. The emperor engaged 
to attack Guienne at the same time with a consider¬ 
able body of men ; and if these enterprises proved 
successful, they agreed that Bourbon, besides the 
territories which he had lost, should be put in pos¬ 
session of Provence, with the title of king, and 
should do homage to Henry, as the lawful king of 
France, for his new dominions. Of all the parts of 
this extensive but extravagant project, the invasion 
of Provence was the only one which was executed. 
For although Bourbon, with a scrupulous delicacy 
altogether unexpected after the part which he had 
acted, positively refused to acknowledge Henry’s 
title to the crown of France, and thereby absolved 
him from any obligation to promote the enterprise. 


k Seckend. 292. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


497 


BOOK IV. A. D. 1524.J 


Charles’s eagerness to carry iris own plan into exe¬ 
cution did not in any degree abate. The army 
which he employed for that purpose amounted only 
to eighteen thousand men, the command of which 
was given to the marquis de Pescara, with instruc¬ 
tions to pay the greatest deference to Bourbon’s 

advice in all his operations. Pescara 

The imperialists , . . , . . 

enter Provence, passed the Alps without opposition, 

Aug. 19. , . _T . . f . 

and entering Provence, laid siege to 
Marseilles. Bourbon had advised him rather to 
march towards Lyons, in the neighbourhood of 
which city his territories were situated, and where 
of course his influence was most extensive ; but the 
emperor was so desirous to get possession of a port 
which would at all times secure him an easy en¬ 
trance into France, that by his authority he over¬ 
ruled the constable’s opinion, and directed Pescara 
to make the reduction of Marseilles his chief object. 3 

Prudent mea- Francis, who foresaw but was un- 
sures of irancis. a bi e to p reven t this attempt, took the 

most proper precautions to defeat it. He laid waste 
the adjacent country, in order to render it more dif¬ 
ficult for the enemy to subsist their army ; he raised 
the suburbs of the city, strengthened its fortifications, 
and threw into it a numerous garrison under the 
command of brave and experienced officers. To 
these, nine thousand of the citizens, whom their 
dread of the Spanish yoke inspired w ith contempt 
of danger, joined themselves ; by their united cou¬ 
rage and industry, all the efforts of Pescara’s mili¬ 
tary skill, and of Bourbon’s activity and revenge, 
were rendered abortive. Francis, meanwhile, had 
leisure to assemble a powerful army under the walls 
of Avignon, and no sooner began to advance towards 
Marseilles than the imperial troops, exhausted by 
the fatigues of a siege which had lasted forty days, 
weakened by diseases, and almost destitute of pro¬ 
visions, retired with precipitation towards Italy. b 

If, during these operations of the 

Imperialists . „ . . , 

forced to retreat, army in Provence, either Charles or 

Henry had attacked France in the 
manner which they had projected, that kingdom 
must have been exposed to the most imminent dan¬ 
ger. But on this as well as on many other occa¬ 
sions, the emperor found that the extent of his re¬ 
venues was not adequate to the greatness of his 
schemes or the ardour of his ambition, and the w ant 
of money obliged him, though with much reluctance, 
to circumscribe his plan, and to leave part of it un¬ 
executed. Henry, disgusted at Bourbon’s refusing 
to recognise his right to the crown of France; 
alarmed at the motions of the Scots, whom the soli¬ 
citations of the French king had persuaded to march 
towards the borders of England ; and no longer in¬ 
cited by his minister, who was become extremely 
cool with regard to all the emperor’s interests, took 
no measures to support an enterprise of which, as 
of all new undertakings, he had been at first exces- 
sively fond. c 


a Guic. 1. xv. 273, Arc. Mem. de Bellay, p. 80. 

0 ( jU ic. 1. xv. 277. Ulloa Vita dell’ Carlo V. p. 93. 

2 K 


If the king of France had been sa- Francis c i ated 
tisfied with having delivered his sub- Wlth hls success, 
jects from this formidable invasion, if he had 
thought it enough to show all Europe the facility 
with which the internal strength of his dominions 
enabled him to resist the invasion of a foreign ene¬ 
my, even when seconded by the abilities and power¬ 
ful efforts of a rebellious subject, the campaign, 
notwithstanding the loss of the Milanese, would 
have been far from ending ingloriously. But 
Francis, animated with courage more becoming a 
soldier than a general; pushed on by ambition ; 
enterprising rather than considerate; and too apt to 
be elated with success; was fond of every under¬ 
taking that seemed bold and adventurous. Such an 
undertaking the situation of his affairs at that junc¬ 
ture naturally presented to his view. He had under 
his command one of the most powerful and best 
appointed armies France had ever brought into the 
field, which he could not think of disbanding with¬ 
out having employed it in any active resolves to in- 
service. The imperial troops had been vade the Mllanese * 
obliged to retire, almost ruined by hard duty, and 
disheartened with ill success ; the Milanese had 
been left altogether without defence ; it was not 
impossible to reach that country before Pescara, 
with his shattered forces, could arrive there; or if 
fear should add speed to their retreat, they were in 
no condition to make head against his fresh and 
numerous troops ; and Milan would now, as in 
former instances, submit without resistance to a 
bold invader. These considerations, which were 
not destitute of plausibility, appeared to his san¬ 
guine temper to be of the utmost weight. In vain 
did his wisest ministers and generals represent to 
him the danger of taking the field at a season so far 
advanced, with an army composed chiefly of Swiss 
and Germans, to whose caprices he would be subject 
in all his operations, and on whose fidelity his 
safety must absolutely depend. In vain did Louise 
of Savoy advance by hasty journeys towards Pro¬ 
vence, that she might exert all her authority in dis¬ 
suading her son from such a rash enterprise. Fran¬ 
cis disregarded the remonstrances of his subjects ; 
and that he might save himself the pain of an in¬ 
terview with his mother, w hose counsels he had de¬ 
termined to reject, he began his march before her 
arrival; appointing her, however, by Appoints his 
way of atonement for that neglect, to ™ u ° rdl e g r hts&b- 
be regent of the kingdom during his sence - 
absence. Bonnivet, by his persuasions, contributed 
not a little to confirm Francis in this resolution. 
That favourite, who strongly resembled his master 
in all the defective parts of his character, was led, 
by his natural impetuosity, warmly to approve of 
such an enterprise ; and being prompted, besides, 
by his impatience to revisit a Milanese lady, of 
whom he had been deeply enamoured during his 
late expedition, he is said, by his flattering descrip- 

c Fiddes’s Life of Wolsey, Append. Nos. 70, 71, 72. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


498 

lions of her beauty and accomplishments, to have 
inspired Francis, who was extremely susceptible ol 
such passions, with an equal desire of seeing her. d 

*. • «,* The French passed the Alps at 

Milanese. mount Cenis ; and as their success 
depended on despatch, they advanced with the 
greatest diligence. Pescara, who had been obliged 
to take a longer and more difficult route by Monaco 
and Final, was soon informed of their intention ; 
and being sensible that nothing but the presence of 
his troops could save the Milanese, marched with 
such rapidity, that he reached Alva on the same day 
that the French army arrived at Vercelli. Francis, 
instructed by Bonnivet’s error in the former cam¬ 
paign, advanced directly towards Milan, where the 
unexpected approach of an enemy so powerful 
occasioned such consternation and disorder, that 
although Pescara entered the city with some of his 
best troops, he found that the defence of it could 
not be undertaken with any probability of success ; 
and having thrown a garrison into the citadel, re¬ 
tired through one gate, while the French were ad¬ 
mitted at another.* 5 

„ , These brisk motions of the French 

Embarrassing 

state of tiie impe- monarch disconcerted all the schemes 
rialists. 

of defence which the imperialists had 
formed. Never, indeed, did generals attempt to 
oppose a formidable invasion under such circum¬ 
stances of disadvantage. Though Charles possessed 
dominions more extensive than any other prince in 
Europe, and had, at this time, no other army but 
that which was employed in Lombardy, which did 
not amount to sixteen thousand men, his prerogative 
in all his different states was so limited, and his 
subjects, without whose consent he could raise no 
taxes, discovered such unwillingness to burden 
themselves with new or extraordinary impositions, 
that even this small body of troops was in want of 
pay, of ammunition, of provisions, and of clothing. 
In such a situation it required all the wisdom of 
Lannoy, the intrepidity of Pescara, and the impla¬ 
cable resentment of Bourbon, to preserve them from 
sinking under despair, and to inspire them with re¬ 
solution to attempt or sagacity to discover what was 
essential to their safety. To the efforts of their 
genius, and the activity of their zeal, the emperor 
was more indebted for the preservation of his Italian 
dominions than to his own power. Lannoy, by 
mortgaging the revenues of Naples, procured some 
money, which was immediately applied towards pro¬ 
viding the army with whatever was most necessary/ 
Pescara, who was beloved and almost adored by the 
Spanish troops, exhorted them to show the world, 
by their engaging to serve the emperor in that dan¬ 
gerous exigency without making any immediate 
demand of pay, that they were animated with sen 
timents of honour very different from those of mer 
cenary soldiers; to which proposition that gallant 


d (Euv. de Brant, tom. vi. 253. 
e Mem. de Bellay, p. 81. Guic. 1. xv. 278. 
f Guic. 1. xv. 280. 

g Jovii Vit. Davali, lib. xv. p. 386. Sandov. 


vol, i. 621. Ulloa Vita 


[A. D. 1524. BOOK IV. 

body of men, with an unexampled generosity, gave 
their consent. 8 Bourbon, having raised a consider¬ 
able sum by pawning his jewels, set out for Ger¬ 
many, where his influence was great, that by his 
presence he might hasten the levying of troops for 
the imperial service. 11 

brands, by a fatal eiroi, allowed j’rancis besieges 
the emperor’s generals time to derive 
advantage from all these operations. Instead of 
pursuing the enemy, who retired to Lodi on the 
Adda, an untenable post, which Pescara had re¬ 
solved to abandon on the approach of the French, he, 
in compliance with the opinion of Bonnivet, though 
contrary to that of his other generals, 

• OCT. *o. 

laid siege to Pavia on the Tessmo ; 
a town, indeed, of great importance, the possession 
of which would have opened to him all the fertile 
country lying on the banks of that river. But the 
fortifications of the place were strong ; it was dan¬ 
gerous to undertake a difficult siege at so late a 
season ; and the imperial generals, sensible of its 
consequence, had thrown into the town a garrison 
composed of six thousand veterans, under the com¬ 
mand of Antonio de Leyva, an officer of high rank ; 
of great experience ; of a patient but enterprising 
courage; fertile in resources; ambitious of distin¬ 
guishing himself; and capable, for that reason, as 
well as from his having been long accustomed both 
to obey and to command, of suffering or performing 
anything in order to procure success. 

Francis prosecuted the siege with His vigorous 
obstinacy equal to the rashness with efforts, 
which he had undertaken it. During three months, 
every thing known to the engineers of that age, or 
that could be effected by the valour of his troops, 
was attempted, in order to reduce the place ; while 
Lannoy and Pescara, unable to obstruct his opera¬ 
tions, were obliged to remain in such an ignomini¬ 
ous state of inaction, that a pasquinade was pub¬ 
lished at Rome, offering a reward to any person 
w ho could find the imperial army, lost in the month 
of October in the mountains betw een France and 
Lombardy, and which had not been heard of since 
that time/ 

Leyva, well acquainted with the The town Ral . 
difficulties under which his country- lantly defended * 
men laboured, and the impossibility of their facing, 
in the field, such a powerful army as formed the 
siege of Pavia, placed his only hopes of safety in 
his own vigilance and valour. The efforts of both 
were extraordinary, and in proportion to the im¬ 
portance of the place with the defence of which he 
was intrusted. He interrupted the approaches of 
the French by frequent and furious sallies. Behind 
the breaches made by their artillery he erected new 
works, which appeared to be scarcely inferior in 
strength to the original fortifications. He repulsed 
the besiegers in all their assaults ; and by his own 

dell’Carlo V. p. 94, &c. Vitadell’ Emperor Carlo V. per Veray Zuniga. 
P* 

h Mem. de Bellay, p. &3. 

i Sandov. i. 608. 



BOOK IV. A. D. 1524.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


499 


example brought not only the garrison, but the in¬ 
habitants, to bear the most severe fatigues and to 
encounter the greatest dangers without murmuring. 
The rigour of the season conspired with his endea¬ 
vours in retarding the progress of the French. 
Francis attempting to become master of the town by 
diverting the course of the Tesino, which is its 
chief defence on one side, a sudden inundation of 
the river destroyed, in one day, the labour of many 
weeks, and swept away all the mounds which his 
army had raised with infinite toil, as well as at 
great expense.* 

Notwithstanding the slow progress 

I he pope con- ^ 

eludes a treaty of of the besiegers, and the glorv which 

of neutrality. T . ’ , . „ , „ 

Leyva acquired by his gallant defence, 
it was not doubted but that the town would at last 
be obliged to surrender. The pope, who already 
considered the French arms as superior in Italy, 
became impatient to disengage himself from his 
connexions with the emperor, of whose designs he 
was extremely jealous, and to enter into terms of 
friendship with Francis. As Clement’s timid and 
cautious temper rendered him incapable of follow¬ 
ing the bold plan which Leo had formed, of deliver¬ 
ing Italy from the yoke of both the rivals, he return¬ 
ed to the more obvious and practicable scheme of 
employing the power of the one to balance and to 
restrain that of the other. For this reason he did 
not dissemble his satisfaction at seeing the French 
king recover Milan, as he hoped that the dread of 
such a neighbour would be some check upon the 
emperor’s ambition, which no power in Italy was 
now able to control. He laboured hard to bring 
about a peace that would secure Francis in the pos¬ 
session of his new conquests ; and as Charles, who 
was always inflexible in the prosecution of his 
schemes, rejected the proposition with disdain, and 
with bitter exclamations against the pope, by whose 
persuasions, while cardinal de Medici, he had been 
induced to invade the Milanese, Clement immedi¬ 
ately concluded a treaty of neutrality with the king 
of France, in which the republic of Florence was 
included. 1 

Francis invades Francis having by this transaction 
Naples. deprived the emperor of his two most 
powerful allies, and at the same time having secured 
a passage for his own troops through their territories, 
formed a scheme of attacking the kingdom of Na¬ 
ples, hoping either to overrun that country, which 
was left altogether without defence, or that at least 
such an unexpected invasion would oblige the 
viceroy to recall part of the imperial army out of the 
Milanese. For this purpose he ordered six thou¬ 
sand men to march under the command of John 
Stuart, duke of Albany. But Pescara, foreseeing 
that the effect of this diversion would depend en¬ 
tirely upon the operations of the armies in the Mi¬ 
lanese, persuaded Lannoy to disregard Albany’s 
motions, m and to bend his whole force against the 

k Guic. 1. xv. 280. Ulloa Vita dell’ Carlo V. p. 95. 

1 Guic. 1. xv. 282. 285. 

m Ibid. 1. xv. 285. 


1525. 


king himself; so that Francis not only weakened 
his army very unseasonably by this great detach¬ 
ment, but incurred the reproach of engaging too 
rashly in chimerical and extravagant projects. 

By this time the garrison of Pavia Efforts 0 f Pesca . 
was reduced to extremity; their ammu- ra anci Bourbon - 
nition and provisions began to fail; the Germans, of 
whom it was chiefly composed, having received no 
pay for seven months, 11 threatened to deliver the town 
into the enemy’s hands, and could hardly be restrain¬ 
ed from mutiny by all Leyva’s address and authority. 
The imperial generals, who were no strangers to his 
situation, saw the necessity of marching without loss 
of time to his relief. This they had 
now in their power : twelve thousand 
Germans, whom the zeal and activity of Bourbon 
taught to move with unusual rapidity, had entered 
Lombardy under his command, and rendered the 
imperial army nearly equal to that of the French, 
greatly diminished by the absence of the body under 
Albany, as well as by the fatigues of the siege and 
the rigour of the season. But the more their troops 
increased in number, the more sensibly did the im¬ 
perialists feel the distress arising from want of 
money. Far from having funds for paying a power¬ 
ful army , they had scarcely what was sufficient for 
defraying the charges of conducting their artillery 
and of carrying their ammunition and provisions. 
The abilities of the generals, however, supplied 
every defect. By their own example, as well as by 
magnificent promises in the name of the emperor, 
they prevailed on the troops of all the different na¬ 
tions which composed their army, to take the field 
without pay; they engaged to lead them directly 
towards the enemy; and flattered them with the 
certain prospect of victory, which would at once 
enrich them with such royal spoils as would be an 
ample reward for all their services. The soldiers, 
sensible that by quitting the army they would forfeit 
the great arrears due to them, and eager to get pos¬ 
session of the promised treasures, demanded a 
battle with all the impatience of adventurers who 
fight only for plunder. 0 

The imperial generals, without suf- They march t(J 
fering the ardour of their troops to flench, the 
cool, advanced immediately towards Feb - 3 * 
the French camp. On the first intelligence of their 
approach, Francis called a council of war to de¬ 
liberate what course he ought to take. All his 
officers of greatest experience were unanimous in 
advising him to retire, and to decline a battle with 
an enemy who courted it from despair. The im¬ 
perialists, they observed, would either be obliged 
in a few weeks to disband an army which they were 
unable to pay, and which they kept together only 
by the hope of plunder ; or the soldiers, enraged at 
the non-performance of the promises to which they 
had trusted, would rise in some furious mutiny, 
which would allow their generals to think of no- 

n Gold. Polit. Imperial^ 875. 

o Eryci Peul 
p. 1170, 1179. 


npe 

o Ervci Peuteani Hist. Cisalpina, ap. Graevii Thes. Antiquit. Ital. ii. 


2 K 2 



500 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. I>. 1525. ROOK IV. 


thins; but their own safety ; that meanwhile he 
might encamp in some strong post; anil waiting in 
safety the arrival of fresh troops from France and 
Switzerland, might before the end of spring take 
possession of all the Milanese without danger or 
bloodshed. But in opposition to them Bonnivet, 
whose destiny it was to give counsels fatal to France 
during the whole campaign, represented the igno¬ 
miny that it would reflect on their sovereign if he 
should abandon a siege which he had prosecuted so 
long, or turn his back before an enemy to whom he 
was still superior in number; and insisted on the 
necessity of fighting the imperialists rather than 
relinquish an undertaking on the success of which 
the king’s future fame depended. Unfortunately 
Francis’s notions of honour were delicate to an ex¬ 
cess that bordered on what was romantic. Having 
often said that he would take Pavia or perish in 
the attempt, he thought himself bound not to de¬ 
part from that resolution ; and rather than expose 
himself to the slightest imputation, he chose to 
forego all the advantages which were the certain 
consequences of a retreat, and determined to w r ait 
for the imperialists before the walls of Pavia. p 

The imperial generals found the 

Battle of Pavia, i < i • . 1 j .1 

French so strongly intrenched, that 
notwithstanding the powerful motives which urged 
them on, they hesitated long before they ventured 
to attack them; but at last the necessities of the 
besieged and the murmurs of their own soldiers 
obliged them to put every thing to 
hazard. Never did armies engage 
with greater ardour, or with an higher opinion of 
the importance of the battle which they were going 
to fight; never were troops more strongly animated 
w'ith emulation, national antipathy, mutual resent¬ 
ment, and all the passions which inspire obstinate 
bravery. On the one hand a gallant young mo¬ 
narch, seconded by a generous nobility, and followed 
by subjects to whose natural impetuosity indignation 
at the opposition which they had encountered added 
new force, contended for victory and honour. On 
the other side, troops more completely disciplined, 
and conducted by generals of greater abilities, 
fought from necessity, with courage heightened by 
despair. The imperialists, however, were unable 
to resist the first efforts of the French valour, and 
their firmest battalions began to give way. But 
the fortune of the day was quickly changed. The 
Swiss in the service of France, unmindful of the 
reputation of their country for fidelity and martial 
glory, abandoned their post in a cowardly manner. 
Leyva, with his garrison, sallied out and attacked 
the rear of the French, during the heat of the 
action, with such fury as threw it into confusion; 
and Pescara falling on their cavalry with the impe¬ 
rial horse, among whom he had prudently inter¬ 
mingled a considerable number of Spanish foot, 
armed with the heavy muskets then in use, broke 


this formidable body by an unusual method of at¬ 
tack, against which they were wholly unprovided. 
The rout became universal; and resist- The French army 
ance ceased in almost every part but 
where the king was in person, who fought now, not 
for fame or victory, but for safety. Though w ounded 
in several places, and thrown from his horse, which 
was killed under him, Francis defended himself on 
foot with an heroic courage. Many of his bravest 
officers gathering round him, and endeavouring to 
save his life at the expense of their own, fell at his 
feet. Among these was Bonnivet, the author of 
this great calamity, who alone died unlamented. 
The king, exhausted with fatigue, and scarcely ca¬ 
pable of further resistance, w as left almost alone, 
exposed to the fury of some Spanish soldiers, 
strangers to his rank, and enraged at his obstinacy. 
At that moment came up Pomperant, a French gen¬ 
tleman, who had entered together with Bourbon 
into the emperor’s service, and placing himself by 
the side of the monarch against whom he had re¬ 
belled, assisted in protecting him from the violence 
of the soldiers ; at the same time beseeching him 
to surrender to Bourbon, who was not far distant. 
Imminent as the danger was which now surrounded 
Francis, he rejected wdth indignation the thoughts 
of an action which would have afforded such mat¬ 
ter of triumph to his traitorous subject; and calling 
for Lannoy, wdio happened likewise to be near at 
hand, gave up his sword to him , which Francis is (aken 
he, kneeling to kiss the king’s hand, pnsoner - 
received with profound respect; and taking his 
own sword from bis side, presented it to him, say¬ 
ing that it did not become so great a monarch to 
remain disarmed in the presence of one of the em¬ 
peror’s subjects. q 

Ten thousand men fell on this day, one of the 
most fatal France had ever seen. Among these 
were many noblemen of the highest distinction, 
who chose rather to perish than to turn their backs 
wdth dishonour. Not a few were taken prisoners, 
of whom the most illustrious was Henry D’Albert, 
the unfortunate king of Navarre. A small body of 
the rear-guard made its escape under the command 
of the duke of Alen^on ; the feeble garrison of 
Milan, on the first news of the defeat, retired with¬ 
out being pursued, by another road ; and in two 
weeks after the battle not a Frenchman remained 
in Italy. 

Lannoy, though he treated Francis with all the 
outward marks of honour due to his rank and cha¬ 
racter, guarded him with the utmost attention. He 
was solicitous not only to prevent any possibility 
of his escaping, but afraid that his own troops 
might seize his person, and detain it as the best se¬ 
curity for the payment of their arrears. In order to 
provide against both these dangers, he conducted 
Francis, the day after the battle, to the strong cas¬ 
tle of Pizzichitone, near Cremona, committing him 


Hist. i. 6.38, &c. P. Mart. Ep. 805, 810. 
ii. p. 70. Ulloa Vita dell Carlo V. p. 98. 


Euscelli Lettere de Principi, 


p Guic. 1. xv. 291. 

q Ibid. 292. CF.uv. de Brant, vi. 355. Mem. de Bellay, p. 90. Sandov. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


601 


BOOK IV. A. D. 1525.] 

to the custody of Don Ferdinand Alarcon, general of 
the Spanish infantry, an ollicer of great bravery and 
of strict honour, but remarkable for that severe and 
scrupulous vigilance which such a trust required. 

Francis, who formed a judgment of the emperor’s 
disposition by his own, was extremely desirous 
that Charles should be informed of his situation, 
fondly hoping that from his generosity or sympathy 
he should obtain speedy relief. The imperial ge¬ 
nerals were no less impatient to give their sovereign 
an early account of the decisive victory which they 
had gained, and to receive his instructions with re¬ 
gard to their future conduct. As the most certain 
and expeditious method of conveying intelligence 
to Spain at that season of the year was by land, 
Francis gave the commendador Pennalosa, who was 
charged with Lannoy's despatches, a passport to 
travel through France. 

Effects of this Charles received the account of this 

Charfes UP ° n signal and unexpected success thatliad 
March 10. crowned his arms, with a moderation 
which, if it had been real, would have done him 
more honour than the greatest victory. Without 
uttering one word expressive of exultation or of in¬ 
temperate joy, he retired immediately into his cha¬ 
pel, and having spent an hour in offering up his 
thanksgivings to Heaven, returned to the presence- 
chamber, which by that time was filled with gran¬ 
dees and foreign ambassadors, assembled in order 
to congratulate him. He accepted of their compli¬ 
ments with a modest deportment; he lamented the 
misfortune of the captive king, as a striking exam¬ 
ple of the sad reverse of fortune to which the most 
powerful monarchs are subject; he forbad any public 
rejoicings, as indecent in a war carried on among 
Christians, reserving them until he should obtain a 
victory equally illustrious over the infidels; and 
seemed to take pleasure in the advantage which he 
had gained, only as it would prove the occasion of 
restoring peace to Christendom/ 

The schemes be Charles, however, had already be- 
begun to form. g un t0 f orm schemes in his own mind 

which little suited such external appearances. Am¬ 
bition, not generosity, was the ruling passion in his 
mind ; and the victory at Pavia opened such new 
and unbounded prospects of gratifying it, as allur¬ 
ed him with irresistible force : but it being no easy 
matter to execute the vast designs which he medi¬ 
tated, he thought it necessary, whilst proper measures 
were taking for that purpose, to affect the greatest 
moderation, hoping under that veil to conceal his 
real intentions from the other princes of Europe. 

Meanwhile France was filled with 
st«n ih tkmln°° n consternation. The king himself had 
early transmitted an account of the 
rout at Pavia, in a letter to his mother, delivered 
by Pennalosa, which contained only these words : 

_“ Madam, all is lost except our honour.” The 

officers who made their escape, when they arrived 
from Italy, brought such a melancholy detail of 

r Sandov. Hist. i. 641. Ulloa Vita dell Carlo V. p. 110. 


particulars as made all ranks of men sensibly feel 
the greatness and extent of the calamity. France, 
without its sovereign, without money in her trea¬ 
sury, without an army, without generals to com¬ 
mand it, and encompassed on all sides by a victo¬ 
rious and active enemy, seemed to be on the very 
brink of destruction. But on that oc- „„ 

1 lie prudent con- 

casion the great abilities of Louise the tiuct the re- 

° gent. 

regent saved the kingdom, which the 
violence of her passions had more than once ex¬ 
posed to the greatest danger. Instead of giving 
herself up to such lamentations as were natural to a 
woman so remarkable for her maternal tenderness, 
she discovered all the foresight and exerted all the 
activity of a consummate politician. She assembled 
the nobles at Lyons, and animated them by her ex¬ 
ample no less than by her words, with such zeal in 
defence of their country as its present situation re¬ 
quired. She collected the remains of the army w hich 
had served in Italy, ransomed the prisoners, paid 
the arrears, and put them in a condition to take the 
field. She levied new troops, provided for the se¬ 
curity of the frontiers, and raised sums sufficient for 
defraying these extraordinary expenses. Her chief 
care, however, was to appease the resentment or to 
gain the friendship of the king of England; and 
from that quarter the first ray of comfort broke in 
upon the French. 

Though Henry, in entering into alii- 

® ° Effects of the vic- 

ances w ith Charles or Francis, seldom tory at Pavia on 

Henry ViII. 

followed any regular or concerted plan 
of policy, but was influenced chiefly by the caprice 
of temporary passions, such occurrences often hap¬ 
pened as recalled his attention towards that equal 
balance of power which it was necessary to keep 
between the two contending potentates, the preser¬ 
vation of which he always boasted to be his peculiar 
office. He had expected that his union with the 
emperor might afford him an opportunity of recover¬ 
ing some part of those territories in France which 
had belonged to his ancestors, and for the sake of 
such an acquisition he did not scruple to give his 
assistance towards raising Charles to a considerable 
pre-eminence above Francis. He had never dreamt, 
however, of any event so decisive and so fatal as 
the victory at Pavia, which seemed not only to have 
broken but to have annihilated the pow er of one of 
the rivals; so that the prospect of the sudden and 
entire revolution which this would occasion in the 
political system, filled him with the most disquiet¬ 
ing apprehensions. He saw all Europe in danger 
of being overrun by an ambitious prince, to whose 
power there now remained no counterpoise; and 
though he himself might at first be admitted, in 
quality of an ally, to some share in the spoils of 
the captive monarch, it was easy to discern, that 
with regard to the manner of making the partition, 
as well as his security for keeping possession of 
what should be allotted him, he must absolutely de¬ 
pend upon the will of a confederate, to whose forces 



502 


THE REIGN OF THE 


bis own bore no proportion. He was sensible that 
if Charles were permitted to add any considerable 
part of France to the vast dominions of which he 
was already master, his neighbourhood would be 
much more formidable to England than that of the 
ancient French kings ; while at the same time, the 
proper balance on the continent, to which England 
owed both its safety and importance, would be en¬ 
tirely lost. Concern for the situation of the unhappy 
monarch co-operated with these political consider¬ 
ations ; his gallant behaviour in the battle of Pavia 
had excited an high degree of admiration, which 
never fails of augmenting sympathy; and Henry, 
naturally susceptible of generous sentiments, was 
fond of appearing as the deliverer of a vanquished 
enemy from a state of captivity. The passions of 
the English minister seconded the inclinations of 
the monarch. Wolsey, who had not forgotten the 
disappointment of his hopes in two successive con¬ 
claves, which he imputed chiefly to the emperor, 
thought this a proper opportunity of taking revenge ; 
and Louise, courting the friendship of England 
with such flattering submissions as were no less 
agreeable to the king than to the cardinal, Henry 
gave her secret assurances that he would not lend 
his aid towards oppressing France in its present 
helpless state, and obliged her to promise that she 
would not consent to dismember the kingdom even 
in order to procure her son’s liberty.® 

But as Henry’s connexions with the emperor 
made it necessary to act in such a manner as to save 
appearances, he ordered public rejoicings to be 
made in his dominions for the success of the impe¬ 
rial arms ; and as if he had been eager to seize the 
present opportunity of ruining the French monarchy, 
he sent ambassadors to Madrid to congratulate with 
Charles upon his victory; to put him in mind that 
he, as his ally, engaged in one common cause, was 
entitled to partake in the fruits of it; and to require 
that, in compliance with the terms of their confe¬ 
deracy, he would invade Guienne with a powerful 
army, in order to give him possession of that pro¬ 
vince. At the same time he offered to send the 
princess Mary into Spain or the Low Countries, that 
she might be educated under the emperor’s direc¬ 
tion, until the conclusion of the marriage agreed on 
between them ; and in return for that mark of his 
confidence, he insisted that Francis should be de¬ 
livered to him, in consequence of that article in the 
treaty of Bruges, whereby each of the contracting 
parties was bound to surrender all usurpers to him 
whose rights they had invaded. It was impossible 
that Henry could expect that the emperor would 
listen to these extravagant demands, which it was 
neither his interest nor in his power to grant. They 
appear evidently to have been made with no other 
intention than to furnish him with a decent pretext 
for entering into such engagements with France as 
the juncture required. 1 

s Mem. de Bellay, 94. Guic. 1. xvi. 318. Ilerb. t Herb. p. 64. 

« Guic.,1. xvi. 300. Ruscelli Lettre de Princ. ii. 74, 76, &c. Thuani 
Hist. lib. l. c. 11. 


[A. D. 1525. BOOK IV 

It was among the Italian states, 0n the ltalian 
however, that the victory at Pavia oc- powers, 
casioned the greatest alarm and terror. That ba¬ 
lance of power on which they relied for their secu¬ 
rity, and which it had been the constant object of 
all their negociations and refinements to maintain, 
was destroyed in a moment. They were exposed by 
their situation to feel the first effects of the uncon¬ 
trolled authority which Charles had acquired. They 
observed many symptoms of a boundless ambition 
in that young prince, and were sensible that, as 
emperor or king of Naples, he might not only form 
dangerous pretensions upon each of their territories, 
but might invade them with great advantage. They 
deliberated, therefore, with much solicitude con¬ 
cerning the means of raising such a force as might 
obstruct his progress. 0 But their consultations, con¬ 
ducted w ith little union and executed with less vi¬ 
gour, had no effect. Clement, instead of pursuing 
the measures which he had concerted with the Ve¬ 
netians for securing the liberty of Italy, was so 
intimidated by Lannoy’s threats, or overcome by 
his promises, that he entered into a se- A ^ j 
parate treaty, binding himself to ad¬ 
vance a considerable sum to the emperor, in return 
for certain emoluments which he was to receive from 
him. The money was instantly paid ; but Charles 
afterwards refused to ratify the treaty ; and the pope 
remained exposed at once to infamy and to ridicule : 
to the former, because he had deserted the public 
cause for his private interest; to the latter, because 
he had been a loser by that unworthy action.* 

How dishonourable soever the arti- . .. 

Mutiny in the 

fice might be which was employed in im P erial army, 
order to defraud the pope of this sum, it came very 
seasonably into the viceroy’s hands, and put it in 
his power to extricate himself out of an imminent 
danger. Soon after the defeat of the French army, 
the German troops, which had defended Pavia with 
such meritorious courage and perseverance, grow¬ 
ing insolent upon the fame that they had acquired, 
and impatient of relying any longer on fruitless 
promises, with which they had been so often amused, 
rendered themselves masters of the town, with a re¬ 
solution to keep possession of it as a security for 
the payment of their arrears; and the rest of the 
army discovered a much stronger inclination to as¬ 
sist than to punish the mutineers. By dividing 
among them the money exacted from the pope, 
Lannoy quieted the tumultuous Germans ; but 
though this satisfied their present demands, he had 
so little prospect of being able to pay them or his 
other forces regularly for the future, and was under 
such continual apprehensions of their seizing the 
person of the captive king, that, not long after, he 
was obliged to dismiss all the Germans and Italians 
in the imperial service.* Thus, from a circumstance 
that now appears very singular, but arising natu¬ 
rally from the constitution of most European go- 

Venez U 'v Maurocen > Histor. Venet. ap. Istorichi dell cose 

y Guic. 1. xvi. p. 302 . 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


503 


BOOK IV. A. 1). 1525.] 

vernments in the sixteenth century, while Charles 
was suspected by all his neighbours of aiming at 
universal monarchy, and while he was really form¬ 
ing vast projects of this kind, his revenues were so 
limited, that he could not keep on foot his victori¬ 
ous army, though it did not exceed twenty-four 
thousand men. 

_ , During these transactions, Charles, 

The emperor s . 

deliberations con- whose pretensions to moderation and 

cermn^ the man- . . 

ner of improving disinterestedness were soon forgotten. 

Ins victory. # ° ’ 

deliberated, with the utmost solicitude, 
how he might derive the greatest advantages from 
the misfortunes of his adversary. Some of his 
counsellors advised him to treat Francis with the 
magnanimity that became a victorious prince, and, 
instead of taking advantage of his situation to 
impose rigorous conditions, to dismiss him on such 
equal terms as would bind him for ever to his in¬ 
terest by the ties of gratitude and affection, more 
forcible as well as more permanent than any which 
could be formed by extorted oaths and involuntary 
stipulations. Such an exertion of generosity is not 
perhaps to be expected in the conduct of political 
affairs, and it was far too refined for that prince to 
whom it was proposed. The more obvious but less 
splendid scheme of endeavouring to make the ut¬ 
most of Francis’s calamity, had a greater number 
in the council to recommend it, and suited better 
with the emperor’s genius. But though Charles 
adopted this plan, he seems not to have executed it 
in the most proper manner. Instead of making one 
great effort to penetrate into France with all the 
forces of Spain and the Low Countries ; instead of 
crushing the Italian states before they recovered 
from the consternation w hich the success of his arms 
had occasioned, he had recourse to the artifices of 
intrigue and negociation. This proceeded partly 
from necessity, partly from the natural disposition 
of his mind. The situation of his finances at that 
time rendered it extremely difficult to carry on any 
extraordinary armament; and he himself having 
never appeared at the head of his armies, the com¬ 
mand of which he had hitherto committed to his 
generals, was averse to bold and martial counsels, 
and trusted more to the arts with which he was ac¬ 
quainted. He laid, besides, too much stress upon 
the victory of Pavia, as if by that event the strength 
of France had been annihilated, its resources ex¬ 
hausted, and the kingdom itself, no less than the 
person of its monarch, had been subjected to his 
power. 

Full of this opinion, he determined 
terms r he°proposes to set the highest price upon Francis’s 

freedom; and having ordered the 
count de Roeux to visit the captive king in his 
name, he instructed him to propose the following 
articles as the conditions on which he would grant 
him his liberty: That he should restore Burgundy 
to the emperor, from whose ancestors it had been 
unjustly wrested; that heshould surrender Provence 

z Mem. de Bellay, 94. Ferreras Hist. ix. 43. 


and Dauphine, that they might be erected into an 
independent kingdom for the constable Bourbon ; 
that he should make full satisfaction to the king of 
England for all his claims, and finally renounce the 
pretensions of France to Naples, Milan, or any 
other territory in Italy. When Francis, who had 
hitherto flattered himself that he should be treated 
by the emperor with the generosity becoming one 
great prince towards another, heard these rigorous 
conditions, he was so transported with indignation, 
that drawing his dagger hastily, he cried out. 
“’Twere better that a king should die thus.” Alar¬ 
con, alarmed at his vehemence, laid hold on his 
hand ; but though he soon recovered greater com¬ 
posure, he still declared, in the most solemn man¬ 
ner, that he would rather remain a prisoner during 
life than purchase liberty by such ignominious 
concessions.* 

This mortifying discovery of the Francis carried 
emperor’s intentions greatly augment- Puerto Spain, 
ed Francis’s chagrin and impatience under his 
confinement, and must have driven him to absolute 
despair, if he had not laid hold of the only thing 
which could still administer any comfort to him. 
He persuaded himself that the conditions which 
Roeux had proposed did not flow originally from 
Charles himself, but were dictated by the rigorous 
policy of his Spanish council; and that therefore 
he might hope, in one personal interview' with him, 
to do more towards hastening his own deliverance 
than could be effected by long negociations passiug 
through the subordinate hands of his ministers. 
Relying on this supposition, which proceeded from 
too favourable an opinion of the emperor’s charac¬ 
ter, he offered to visit him in Spain, and was willing 
to be carried thither as a spectacle to that haughty 
nation. Lannoy employed all his address to confirm 
him in these sentiments, and concerted with him in 
secret the manner of executing this resolution. 
Francis was so eager on a scheme which seemed to 
open some prospect of liberty, that he furnished the 
galleys necessary for conveying him to Spain, 
Charles being at this time unable to fit out a squa¬ 
dron for that purpose. The viceroy, without 
communicating his intentions either to Bourbon or 
Pescara, conducted his prisoner towards Genoa, 
under pretence of transporting him by sea to Naples; 
though, soon after they set sail, he ordered the pilots 
to steer directly for Spain: but the w ind happening 
to carry them near the French coast, the unfortunate 
monarch had a full prospect of his own dominions, 
towards which he cast many a sorrowful and desiring 
look. They landed, however, in a few' days at Bar¬ 
celona, and soon after Francis was 

Aug. 24. 

lodged, by the emperor’s command, 
in the Alcazar of Madrid, under the care of the 
vigilant Alarcon, who guarded him with as much 
circumspection as ever, a 

A few days after Francis’s arrival at Madrid, and 
when he began to be sensible of his having relied 

a Mem. de Bellay, 95. P. Mart. Ep. ult. Guic. lib. xvi. 323> 



604 


Hen. VIII. con¬ 
cludes a treaty 
with France, in 
order to procure 
his release. 


without foundation on the emperor’s 
generosity, Henry VIII. coneluded a 
treaty with the regent of Franee, which 
afforded him some hope of liberty from 
another quarter. Henry’s extravagant demands had 
been received at Madrid with that neglect which 
they deserved, and which he probably expected. 
Charles, intoxicated with prosperity, no longer 
courted him in that respectful and submissive man¬ 
ner w hich pleased his haughty temper. Wolsey, no 
less haughty than his master, was highly irritated at 
the emperor’s discontinuing his wonted caresses and 
professions of friendship to himself. These slight 
offences, added to the weighty considerations for¬ 
merly mentioned, induced Henry to enter into a 
defensive alliance with Louise, in which all the 
differences between him and her son were adjusted; 
at the same time he engaged that he would employ 
his best offices in order to procure the deliverance 
of his new ally from a state of captivity. b 

While the open defection of such a 
powerful confederate affected Charles 


Morone's in¬ 
trigues in order 
to overturn the 

hr’naiy s power deep concern, a secret conspiracy 
was carrying on in Italy, w hich threat¬ 
ened him with consequences still more fatal. The 
restless and intriguing genius of Morone, chancellor 
of Milan, gave rise to this. His revenge had been 
amply gratified by the expulsion of the French out 
of Italy, and his vanity no less soothed by the re¬ 
establishment of Sforza, to whose interest he had 
attached himself, in the duchy of Milan. The de¬ 
lays, however, and evasions of the imperial court 
in granting Sforza the investiture of his new-ac¬ 
quired territories, had long alarmed Morone ; these 
were repeated so often, and with such apparent 
artifice, as became a full proof to his suspicious 
mind that the emperor intended to strip his master 
of that rich country which he had conquered in his 
name. Though Charles, in order to quiet the pope 
and Venetians, no less jealous of his designs than 
Morone, gave Sforza, at last, the investiture which 
had been so long desired, the charter was clogged 
with so many reservations, and subjected him to 
such grievous burdens, as rendered the duke of 
Milan a dependant on the emperor rather than a 
vassal of the empire, and afforded him hardly any 
other security for his possessions than the good 
pleasure of an ambitious superior. Such an acces¬ 
sion of power as would have accrued from the ad¬ 
dition of the Milanese to the kingdom of Naples, 
was considered by Morone as fatal to the liberties 
of Italy, no less than to his own importance. Full 
of this idea, he began to revolve in his mind the 
possibility of rescuing Italy from the yoke of foreign¬ 
ers ; the darling scheme, as has been already ob¬ 
served, of the Italian politicians in that age, and 
which it was the great object of their ambition to 
accomplish. If to the glory of having been the chief 
instrument of driving the French out of Milan, he 
could add that of delivering Naples from the domi- 

b Herbert. Fiddes’s Life of Wolsey, 337. 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1525. BOOK IV. 

nion of the Spaniards, he thought that nothing 
would be wanting to complete his fame. His fertile 
genius soon suggested to him a project for that 
purpose ; a difficult, indeed, and daring one, but 
for that very reason more agreeable to his bold and 
enterprising temper. 

Bourbon and Pescara were equally His ne^ociations 
enraged at Lannoy’s carrying the Wlth Pescara ’ 
French king into Spain without their knowledge. 
The former being afraid that the two monarchs 
might, in his absence, conclude some treaty in which 
his interests would be entirely sacrificed, hastened 
to Madrid, in order to guard against that danger 
The latter, on whom the command of the army now 
devolved, was obliged to remain in Italy; but in 
every company he gave vent to his indignation 
against the viceroy, in expressions full of rancour 
and contempt; he accused him, in a letter to the 
emperor, of cow ardice in the time of danger, and of 
insolence after a victory towards the obtaining of 
which he had contributed nothing either by his 
valour or his conduct; nor did he abstain from bit¬ 
ter complaints against the emperor himself, who 
had not discovered, as he imagined, a sufficient 
sense of his merit, nor bestowed any adequate re¬ 
ward on his services. It was on this disgust of 
Pescara that Morone founded his whole system. 
He knew the boundless ambition of his nature, the 
great extent of his abilities in peace as well as w ar, 
and the intrepidity of his mind, capable alike of 
undertaking and of executing the most desperate 
designs. The cantonment of the Spanish troops on 
the frontier of the Milanese gave occasion to many 
interviews between him and Morone, in which the 
latter took care frequently to turn the conversation 
to the transactions subsequent to the battle of Pavia, 
a subject upon which the marquis always entered 
willingly and with passion ; and Morone, observing 
his resentment to be uniformly violent, artfully 
pointed out and aggravated every circumstance that 
could increase its fury. He painted, in the strong¬ 
est colours, the emperor’s want of discernment as 
w r ell as of gratitude, in preferring Lannoy to him, 
and in allowing that presumptuous Fleming to dis¬ 
pose of the captive king, without consulting the man 
to whose bravery and w isdom Charles was indebted 
for the glory of having a formidable rival in his 
power. Having warmed him by such discourses, 
he then began to insinuate that now was the time 
to be avenged for these insults, and to acquire 
immortal renown as the deliverer of his country 
from the oppression of strangers; that the States 
of Italy, weary of the ignominious and intolerable 
dominion of barbarians, were at last ready to com¬ 
bine in order to vindicate their own independence ; 
that their eyes were fixed on him as the only leader 
whose genius and good fortune could insure the 
happy success of that noble enterprise; that the 
attempt was no less practicable than glorious, it 
being in his power so to disperse the Spanish in- 



EMPEROR CHARLES Y. 


505 


BOOK IV. A. D. 1525.] 

fantry, the only body of the emperor’s troops that 
remained in Italy, through the villages of the Mi¬ 
lanese, that in one night they might be destroyed 
by the people, who, having suffered much from their 
exactions and insolence, would gladly undertake 
this service; that he might then, without opposition, 
take possession of the throne of Naples, the station 
destined for him, and a reward not unworthy the 
restorer of liberty to Italy ; that the pope, of whom 
that kingdom held, and whose predecessors had 
disposed of it on many former occasions, would 
willingly grant him the right of investiture; that 
the Venetians, the Florentines, the duke of Milan, 
to w hom he had communicated the scheme, toge¬ 
ther with the French, would be the guarantees of 
his right; that the Neapolitans would naturally pre¬ 
fer the government of one of their countrymen whom 
they loved and admired, to that odious dominion of 
strangers, to which they had been so long subjected ; 
and that the emperor, astonished at a blow so un¬ 
expected, would find that he had neither troops nor 
money to resist such a powerful confederacy. 0 

Pescara, amazed at the boldness 

Betrayed and „ . . ,. , , 

taken prisoner ot the scheme, listened attentively to 
by Pescara. , , . , , 

Morone, but with the countenance of 
a man lost in profound and anxious thought. On 
the one hand, the infamy of betraying his sovereign, 
under whom he bore such high command, deterred 
him from the attempt; on the other, the prospect 
of obtaining a crown allured him to venture upon 
it. After continuing a short space in suspense, the 
least commendable motives, as is usual after such 
deliberations, prevailed, and ambition triumphed 
over honour. In order, however, to throw a colour 
of decency on his conduct, he insisted that some 
learned casuists should give their opinion, “Whe¬ 
ther it was lawful for a subject to take arms against 
his immediate sovereign, in obedience to the lord 
paramount of whom the kingdom itself was held?” 
Such a resolution of the case as he expected was 
soon obtained from the divines and civilians both 
of Rome and Milan ; the negociation went forward; 
and measures seemed to be taking w ith great spirit 
for the speedy execution of the design. 

During this interval, Pescara, either shocked at 
the treachery of the action that he was going to 
commit, or despairing of its success, began to en¬ 
tertain thoughts of abandoning the engagements 
which he had come under. The indisposition of 
Sforza, who happened at that time to be taken ill 
of a distemper which was thought mortal, confirmed 
his resolution, and determined him to make known 
the whole conspiracy to the emperor, deeming it 
more prudent to expect the duchy of Milan from 
him as the reward of this discovery, than to aim 
at a kingdom to be purchased by a series of crimes. 
This resolution, however, proved the source of ac¬ 
tions hardly less criminal and ignominious. The 
emperor, who had already received full informa- 

c Guic. 1. XV. 325. Jovii Vita Davali, p. 417.. CEuv. de Brantome, iv. 
171. Ruscelli Lettre de Princ. ii. 91. L liuani Hist. lib. i. c. 11. P. 
lieuter. Her. Austr. lib. ix.c. 3. p. 207. 


tion concerning the conspiracy from other hands, 
seemed to be highly pleased with Pescara’s fidelity, 
and commanded him to continue his intrigues for 
some time with the pope and Sforza, both that he 
might discover their intentions more fully, and 
be able to convict them of the crime with greater 
certainty. Pescara, conscious of guilt, as well as 
sensible how suspicious his long silence must have 
appeared at Madrid, durst not decline that dis¬ 
honourable office ; and was obliged to act the 
meanest and most disgraceful of all parts, that of 
seducing with a purpose to betray. Considering 
the abilities of the persons with whom he had to 
deal, the part was scarcely less difficult than base ; 
but he acted it with such address as to deceive even 
the penetrating eye of Morone, who relying with 
full confidence on his sincerity, visited him at 
Novara, in order to put the last hand to their 
machinations. Pescara received him in an apart¬ 
ment where Antonio de Leyva was placed behind the 
tapestry, that he might overhear and bear witness 
to their conversation ; as Morone was about to take 
leave, that officer suddenly appeared, and to his 
astonishment arrested him prisoner in the emperor’s 
name. He was conducted to the castle of Pavia ; 
and Pescara, who had so lately been his accomplice, 
had now the assurance to interrogate him as his 
judge. At the same time the emperor declared 
Sforza to have forfeited all right to the duchy of 
Milan by his engaging in a conspiracy against the 
sovereign of whom he held; Pescara, by his com¬ 
mand, seized on everyplace in the Milanese except 
the castles of Cremona and Milan, which the un¬ 
fortunate duke attempting to defend, were closely 
blockaded by the imperial troops. d 

But though this unsuccessful con- The ris?orous 
spiracy, instead of stripping the era- Francis 11 in ot 
peror of what he already possessed in Spain ’ 

Italy, contributed to extend his dominions in that 
country, it showed him the necessity of coming to 
some agreement with the French king, unless he 
chose to draw on himself a confederacy of all 
Europe, which the progress of his arms and his am¬ 
bition, now as undisguised as it was boundless, filled 
with general alarm. He had not hitherto treated 
Francis with the generosity which that monarch 
expected, and hardly with the decency due to his sta¬ 
tion. Instead of displaying the sentiments becoming 
a great prince, Charles, by his mode of treating of 
Francis, seems to have acted with the mercenary 
art of a corsair, who, by the rigorous usage of his 
prisoners, endeavours to draw from them a higher 
price for their ransom. The captive king was con¬ 
fined in an old castle, under a keeper whose formal 
austerity of manners rendered his vigilance still 
more disgusting. He was allowed no exercise but 
that of riding on a mule, surrounded w ith armed 
guards on horseback. Charles, on pretence of its 
being necessary to attend the Cortes assembled in 

d Guic. 1. xvi. 329. Jovii Hist. 319. Capella, lib. v. p. 200. 



506 


THE REIGN OF THE 


endangers his life. 


Toledo, had gone to reside in that city, and suffered 
several weeks to elapse without visiting Francis, 
though he solicited an interview with the most 
pressing and submissive importunity. 
So many indignities made a deep im¬ 
pression on a high-spirited prince ; he began to lose 
all relish for his usual amusements; his natural 
gaiety of temper forsook him ; and after languishing 
for some time he was seized with a dangerous fever, 
during the violence of which he complained con¬ 
stantly of the unexpected and unprincely rigour 
with which he had been treated, often exclaiming, 
that now the emperor would have the satisfaction 
of his dying a prisoner in his hands, without having 
once deigned to see his face. The physicians at 
last despaired of his life, and informed the em¬ 
peror that they saw no hope of his recovery, unless 
he were gratified with regard to that point on which 
he seemed to be so strongly bent. Charles, solicit¬ 
ous to preserve a life with which all his prospects 
of further advantage from the victory of Pavia 
must have terminated, immediately consulted his 
ministers concerning the course to be taken. In 
vain did the chancellor Gattinara, the most able 
among them, represent to him the indecency of his 
visiting Francis, if he did not intend to set him at 
liberty immediately upon equal terms; in vain did 
he point out the infamy to which he would be ex¬ 
posed, if avarice or ambition should prevail on him 
to give the captive monarch this mark of attention 
and sympathy, for which humanity and generosity 
Sept C8 had pleaded so long without effect. 
visfts e him ror The emperor, less delicate or less so¬ 
licitous about reputation than his 
minister, set out for Madrid to visit his prisoner. 
The interview was short; Francis being too weak 
to bear a long conversation. Charles accosted him 
in terms full of affection and respect, and gave him 
such promises of speedy deliverance and princely 
treatment, as would have reflected the greatest ho¬ 
nour upon him if they had flowed from another 
source. Francis grasped at them with the eagerness 
natural in his situation; and cheered with this 
gleam of hope, began to revive from that moment, 
recovering rapidly his wonted health. 6 

He had soon the mortification to 

The constable _ , , , . _ . . , 

Bourbon arrives find that his confidence in the emperor 
was not better founded than formerly. 
Charles returned instantly to Toledo; all negocia- 
tions were carried on by his ministers ; and Francis 
was kept in as strict custody as ever. A new in¬ 
dignity, and that very galling, was added to all those 
he had already suffered. Bourbon arriving in 
Spain about this time, Charles, who had so long re¬ 
fused to visit the king of France, re¬ 
ceived his rebellious subject with the 
most studied respect. He met him without the 
gates of Toledo, embraced him with the greatest 
affection, and placing him on his left hand conduct¬ 
ed him to his apartment. These marks of honour 

e Guic. 1. xvi. 3.39. Sandov. Hist. i. 665. f Guic. 1. xyi. 335 . 


Nov. 15. 


[A. D. 1525. BOOK IV. 

to him were so many insults to the unfortunate 
monarch, which he felt in a very sensible manner. 
It afforded him some consolation, however, to ob¬ 
serve that the sentiments of the Spaniards differed 
widely from those of their sovereign. That gene¬ 
rous people detested Bourbon’s crime. Notwith¬ 
standing his great talents and important services, 
they shunned all intercourse with him, to such a 
degree, that Charles having desired the marquis de 
Villena to permit Bourbon to reside in his palace 
while the court remained at Toledo, he politely re¬ 
plied, “That he could not refuse gratifying his 
sovereign in that requestbut added, with a Cas¬ 
tilian dignity of mind, that the emperor must not be 
surprised if, the moment the constable departed, he 
should burn to the ground a house which, having 
been polluted by the presence of a traitor, became 
an unfit habitation for a man of honour/ 

Charles himself, nevertheless, seem- A „ po j nted gene . 
ed to.have it much at heart to reward [-“l°army in Pe 
Bourbon’s services in a signal manner. Jtaly - 
But as he insisted, in the first place, on the accom¬ 
plishment of the emperor’s promise of givinghim in 
marriage his sister Eleanora, queen dowager of 
Portugal, the honour of which alliance had been 
one of his chief inducements to rebel against his 
lawful sovereign ; as Francis, in order to prevent 
such a dangerous union, had offered, before he left 
Italy, to marry that princess ; and as Eleanora her¬ 
self discovered an inclination rather to match with 
a powerful monarch than with his exiled subject, all 
these interfering circumstances created great em¬ 
barrassment to Charles, and left him 
hardly any hope of extricating himself 
with decency. But the death of Pescara, who, at 
the age of thirty-six, left behind him the reputa¬ 
tion of being one of the greatest generals and ablest 
politicians of that century, happened opportunely 
at this juncture for his relief. By that event the 
command of the army in Italy became vacant, and 
Charles, always fertile in resources, persuaded 
Bourbon, who was in no condition to dispute his 
will, to accept the office of general in chief there, 
together with a grant of the duchy of Milan, for¬ 
feited by Sforza; and in return for these to relin¬ 
quish all hopes of marrying the queen of Portugal.? 

The chief obstacle that stood in the 

way of Francis’s liberty, was the em- procuring Fran- 
„„ > cis’s liberty. 

peror s continuing to insist so peremp¬ 
torily on the restitution of Burgundy as a prelimi¬ 
nary to that event. Francis often declared that he 
would never consent to dismember his kingdom ; 
and that, even if he should so far forget the duties 
of a monarch as to come to such a resolution, the 
fundamental laws of the nation would prevent its 
taking effect. On his part he was willing to make 
an absolute cession to the emperor of all his preten¬ 
sions in Italy and the Low Countries ; he promised 
to restore to Bourbon all his lands which had been 
confiscated ; he renewed his proposal of marrying 

g Sandov. Hist. i. 676. GJuv. de Brant, iv. 249. 


December. 




BOOK IV. A. D. 1525.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


507 


the emperor’s sister, the queen dowager of Portugal; 
and engaged to pay a great sum by way of ransom 
for his own person. But all mutual esteem and con¬ 
fidence between the two monarchs were now entirely 
lost; there appeared, on the one hand, a rapacious 
ambition, labouring to avail itself of every favour¬ 
able circumstance ; on the other, suspicion and re¬ 
sentment, standing perpetually on their guard ; so 
that the prospect of bringing their negociations to 
an issue seemed to be far distant. The duchess of 
Alen^on, the French king’s sister, whom Charles 
permitted to visit her brother in his confinement, 
employed all her address in order to procure his 
liberty on more reasonable terms. Henry of Eng¬ 
land interposed his good offices to the same pur¬ 
pose ; but both with so little success, 

Francis in de- ... 

span- resolves to that b rancis in despair took suddenly 

rp^ion hie rrown ** 

the resolution of resigning his crown, 
with all its rights and prerogatives, to his son the 
dauphin, determining rather to end his days in 
prison than to purchase his freedom by concessions 
unworthy of a king. The deed for this purpose he 
signed with legal formality in Madrid, empowering 
his sister to carry it into France, that it might be 
registered in all the parliaments of the kingdom; 
and at the same time intimating his intention to the 
emperor, he desired him to name the place of his 
confinement, and to assign him a proper number of 
attendants during the remainder of his days. h 

This resolution of the French king 

Charles alarmed. . , . , , 

had great effect; Charles began to 
be sensible that by pushing rigour to excess he 
might defeat his own measures ; and instead of the 
vast advantages which he hoped to draw from ran¬ 
soming a powerful monarch, he might at last find 
in his hands a prince without dominions or re¬ 
venues. About the same time, one of the king of 
Navarre’s domestics happened, by an extraordinary 
exertion of fidelity, courage, and address, to procure 
his master an opportunity of escaping from the 
prison in which he had been confined ever since the 
battle of Pavia. This convinced the emperor that 
the most vigilant attention of his officers might be 
eluded by the ingenuity or boldness of Francis or 
his attendants, and one unlucky hour might deprive 
him of all the advantages which he had been so so¬ 
licitous to obtain. By these considerations he was 
induced to abate somewhat of his former demands. 
On the other hand, Francis’s impatience under con¬ 
finement daily increased ; and having received cer¬ 
tain intelligence of a powerful league forming against 
his rival in Italy, he grew more compliant with re¬ 
gard to his concessions, trusting that, if he could 
once obtain his liberty, he would soon be in a con¬ 
dition to resume whatever he had yielded. 

]5C6 Such being the views and sentiments 
Treaty of Madrid. 0 f t} ie t wo monarchs, the treaty which 
procured Francis his liberty was signed at Madrid, 
on the fourteenth of January, one thousand five hun¬ 


dred and twenty-six. The article with regard to 
Burgundy, which had hitherto created the greatest 
difficulty, was compromised, Francis engaging to 
restore that duchy with all its dependences in full 
sovereignty to the emperor, and Charles consenting 
that this restitution should not be made until the 
king was set at liberty : in order to secure the per¬ 
formance of this as well as the other conditions in 
the treaty, Francis agreed that, at the same instant 
when he himself should be released, he would de¬ 
liver as hostages to the emperor his eldest son the 
dauphin, his second son the duke of Orleans, or, in 
lieu of the latter twelve of his principal nobility, to 
be named by Charles. The other articles swelled 
to a great number, and though not of such import¬ 
ance, were extremely rigorous. Among these the 
most remarkable were, that Francis should renounce 
all his pretensions in Italy ; that he should disclaim 
any title which he had to the sovereignty of Flan¬ 
ders and Artois ; that within six weeks after his re¬ 
lease, he should restore to Bourbon and his adhe¬ 
rents all their goods, movable and immovable, 
and make them full reparation for the damages 
which they had sustained by the confiscation of 
them ; that he should use his interest with Henry 
D’Albert to relinquish his pretensions to the crown 
of Navarre, and should not for the future assist him 
in any attempt to recover it; that there should be 
established between the emperor and Francis a 
league of perpetual friendship and confederacy, 
with a promise of mutual assistance in every case 
of necessity ; that in corroboration of this union, 
Francis should marry the emperor’s sister, the queen 
dowager of Portugal ; that Francis should cause 
all the articles of this treaty to be ratified by the 
states, and registered in the parliaments of his king¬ 
dom ; that upon the emperor’s receiving this ratifi¬ 
cation, the hostages should be set at liberty ; but in 
their place the duke of Angouleme, the king’s third 
son, should be delivered to Charles ; that in order 
to manifest as well as to strengthen the amity be¬ 
tween the two monarchs, he might be educated at 
the imperial court; and that if Francis did not 
within the time limited fulfil the stipulations in the 
treaty, he should promise upon his honour and oath 
to return to Spain, and to surrender himself again 
a prisoner to the emperor.* 

By this treaty Charles flattered him- 

.... ... . m Sentiments of 

sell that he had not only effectually that age with re¬ 
humbled his rival, but that he had siectt01t ' 
taken such precautions as would for ever prevent 
his re-attaining any formidable degree of power. 
The opinions which the wisest politicians formed 
concerning it was very different; they could not 
persuade themselves that Francis, after obtaining 
his liberty, would execute articles against which he 
had struggled so long, and to which, notwithstand¬ 
ing all that he felt during a long and rigorous con¬ 
finement, he had consented with the utmost reluc- 


h This paper is published in Memoires Historiques, &c. par M. l’Abbe 
Uaynal, tom. ii. p. 151. 


i Ilecueil des Trait, tom. ii. 112. Ulloa Vita del Carlo V. p. 102, &c. 



608 


THE REIGN OF THE 


tance. Ambition and resentment, they knew, would 
conspire in prompting him to violate the hard con¬ 
ditions to which he had been constrained to submit; 
nor would arguments and casuistry be wanting to 
represent that which was so manifestly advantage¬ 
ous, to be necessary and just. If one part of Fran¬ 
cis’s conduct had been known at that time, this opi¬ 
nion might have been founded not in conjecture 
, but in certainty. A few hours before 

I ranc«s secretly 

protests aaainst he signed the treaty, he assembled 
such of his counsellors as were then 
at Madrid, and having exacted from them a solemn 
oath of secrecy, he made a long enumeration, in 
their presence, of the dishonourable arts, as well as 
unprincely rigour, which the emperor had employ¬ 
ed in order to insnare or intimidate him. For that 
reason he took a formal protest in the hands of no¬ 
taries, that his consent to the treaty should be con¬ 
sidered as an involuntary deed, and be deemed null 
and void. k By this disingenuous artifice, for which 
even the treatment that he had met with was 
no apology, Francis endeavoured to satisfy his 
honour and conscience in signing the treaty, and to 
provide, at the same time, a pretext on which to 
break it. 

Great, meanwhile, were the outward demonstra¬ 
tions of love and confidence between the two mo- 
narchs ; they appeared often together in public ; 
they frequently had long conferences in private ; 
they travelled in the same litter, and joined in the 
same amusements. But amidst these signs of peace 
and friendship, the emperor still harboured suspi¬ 
cion in his mind. Though the ceremonies of the 
marriage between Francis and the queen of Portu¬ 
gal were performed soon after the conclusion of the 
treaty, Charles would not permit him to consum¬ 
mate it until the return of the ratification from 
France. Even then Francis was not allowed to be 
at full liberty ; his guards were still continued ; 
though caressed as a brother-in-law, he was still 
watched like a prisoner ; and it was obvious to at¬ 
tentive observers, that an union in the very begin¬ 
ning of which there might be discerned such symp¬ 
toms of jealousy and distrust could not be cordial 
or of long continuance. 


Ratified in 
France. 


About a month after the signing of 
the treaty, the regent’s ratification of 
it was brought from France ; and that wise prin¬ 
cess, preferring, on this occasion, the public good 
to domestic affection, informed her son, that instead 
of the twelve noblemen named in the treaty, she 
had sent the duke of Orleans, along with his bro¬ 
ther the dauphin, to the frontier, as the kingdom 
could suffer nothing by the absence of a child, but 
must be left almost incapable of defence if deprived 
of its ablest statesmen and most experienced gene¬ 
rals, whom Charles had artfully included in his 
Francis set at nomination. At last Francis took leave 
of the emperor, whose suspicion of the 


liberty. 


[A. D. 1526. BOOK IV. 

king’s sincerity increasing as the time of putting it 
to the proof approached, he endeavoured to bind 
him still faster by exacting new promises, which, 
after those he had already made, the French mo¬ 
narch was not slow to grant. He set out from Ma¬ 
drid, a place which the remembrance of many af¬ 
flicting circumstances rendered peculiarly odious 
to him, with the joy natural on such an occasion, 
and began the long-wished-for journey towards his 
own dominions. He was escorted by a body of 
horse under the command of Alarcon, who, as the 
king drew near the frontiers of France, guarded 
him with more scrupulous exactness than ever. 
When he arrived at the river Andaye, which sepa¬ 
rates the two kingdoms, Lautrec appeared on the 
opposite bank with a guard of horse equal in num¬ 
ber to Alarcon’s. An empty bark was moored in 
the middle of the stream ; the attendants drew up 
in order on the opposite banks ; at the same instant 
Lannoy, with eight gentlemen, put off from the 
Spanish, and Lautrec with the same number from 
the French, side of the river; the former had the 
king in his boat; the latter, the dauphin and duke 
of Orleans ; they met in the empty vessel ; the ex¬ 
change was made in a moment: Francis, after a 
short embrace of his children, leaped into Lautrec’s 
boat and reached the French shore. He mounted 
at that instant a Turkish horse, waved his hand 
over his head, and with a joyful voice crying aloud 
several times, “ I am yet a king,” galloped full 
speed to St. John de Luz, and from thence to Bay¬ 
onne. This event, no less impatiently desired by 
the French nation than by their monarch, happened 
on the eighteenth of March, a year and twenty-two 
days after the fatal battle of Pavia.™ 

Soon after the emperor had taken The emperor ’ s 
leave of Francis, and permitted him yinbeTi^oT Por¬ 
to begin his journey towards his own tuga1, 
dominions, he set out for Seville, in order to so¬ 
lemnize his marriage with Isabella, the daughter of 
Emanuel the late king of Portugal, and the sister 
of John III. who had succeeded him in the throne 
of that kingdom. Isabella was a princess of un¬ 
common beauty and accomplishments; and as the 
Cortes, both in Castile and Aragon, had warmly 
solicited their sovereign to marry, the choice of a 
wife so nearly allied to the royal blood of both 
kingdoms was extremely acceptable to his subjects. 
The Portuguese, fond of this new connexion with 
the first monarch in Christendom, granted him an 
extraordinary dowry with Isabella, amounting to 
nine hundred thousand crowns, a sum which, from 
the situation of his affairs at that juncture, was of 
no small consequence to the emperor. 

The marriage was celebrated with that arc ‘ 12 ' 
splendour and gaiety which became a great and 
youthful prince. Charles lived with Isabella in 
perfect harmony, and treated her on all occasions 
with much distinction and regard." 


k Recueil des Trait, tom. ii.p. 107 . 
m Sandov. liist. i. 735. Guic. 1. xvi. 355. 


1 Guic. 1. xvi. 353. 


n Ujloa Vita di Carlo V. p 106. Belcarius Com. Rer. Gallic, p. 565 
Spalatinus ap. Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ. ii. 1081. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


509 


BOOK IV. A. D. 1526.] 

Affairs of Ger- During these transactions, Charles 
nmn>. could hardly give any attention to the 
aflairs of Germany, though it was torn in pieces by 
commotions which threatened the most dangerous 
consequences. By the feudal institutions, which 
still subsisted almost unimpaired in the empire, the 
property of lands was vested in the princes and free 

Grievances of the barons. Their vassals held of them by 
peasants. the s t r i c t e st an( j mos t limited tenures ; 

while the great body of the people was kept in a 
state but little removed from absolute servitude. In 
some places of Germany, people of the lowest class 
M ere so entirely in the power of their masters, as to 
be subject to personal and domestic slavery, the 
most rigorous form of that wretched state. In other 
provinces, particularly in Bohemia and Lusatia, the 
peasants were bound to remain on the lands to 
which they belonged, and making part of the estate, 
M ere transferred, like any other property, from one 
hand to another. Even in Suabia, and the countries 
on the banks of the Rhine, where their condition 
was most tolerable, the peasants not only paid the 
full rent of their farms to the landlord, but if they 
chose either to change the place of their abode or to 
follow a new profession, before they could accom¬ 
plish what they desired, they were obliged to pur¬ 
chase this privilege at a certain price. Besides this, 
all grants of lands to peasants expired at their 
death, without descending to their posterity. Upon 
that event the landlord had a right to the best of 
their cattle as well as of their furniture; and their 
heirs, in order to obtain a renewal of the grant, 
were obliged to pay large sums by May of fine. 
These exactions, though grievous, were borne with 
patience, because they were customary and ancient; 
but when the progress of elegance and luxury, as 
well as the changes introduced into the art of Mar, 
came to increase the expense of government, and 
made it necessary for princes to levy occasional or 
stated taxes on their subjects, such impositions, 
being new, appeared intolerable ; and in Germany, 
these duties being laid chiefly upon beer, wine, and 
other necessaries of life, affected the common people 
in the most sensible manner. The addition of such 
a load to their former burdens drove them to despair. 
It was to the valour inspired by resentment against 
impositions of this kind that the Swiss owed the 
acquisition of their liberty in the fourteenth century. 
The same cause had excited the peasants in several 
other provinces of Germany to rebel against their 
superiors towards the end of the fifteenth and be¬ 
ginning of the sixteenth centuries; and though these 
insurrections were not attended with like success, 
they could not, however, be quelled without much 
difficulty and bloodshed. 0 

Their insurrec- B Y theSe checks the s P irit of the 
tion in Suabia, peasants w as overawed rather than 

subdued ; and their grievances multiplying con¬ 
tinually, they ran to arms, in the year one thousand 

o Seckend. lib. ii. p. 2, 6. 

p Petr. Crinitus de Bello Rusticano, ap. Freher. Script, ller. Germ. 
Ardent. 1717. vol iii. p. 243. 


five hundred and twenty-six, with the most frantic 
rage. Their first appearance was near Ulm in 
Suabia. The peasants in the adjacent country 
flocked to their standard with the ardour and im¬ 
patience natural to men who, having groaned long 
under oppression, beheld at last some prospect of 
deliverance; and the contagion spreading from 
province to province, reached almost every part of 
Germany. Wherever they came they plundered the 
monasteries, wasted the lands of their superiors, 
rased their castles, and massacred without mercy 
all persons of noble birth who were so unhappy as 
to fall into their hands. p Having intimidated their 
oppressors, as they imagined, by the violence of these 
proceedings, they began to consider what would be 
the most proper and effectual method of securing 
themselves for the future from their tyrannical ex¬ 
actions. With this view they drew up and pub¬ 
lished a memorial containing all their demands, 
and declared, that while arms were in their hands 
they would either persuade or oblige the nobles to 
give them full satisfaction with regard to these. 
The chief articles were, that they might have liberty 
to choose their own pastors ; that they might be 
freed from the payment of all tithes except those of 
corn ; that they might no longer be considered as 
the slaves or bondmen of their superiors ; that the 
liberty of hunting and fishing might be common; 
that the great forests might not be regarded as pri¬ 
vate property, but be open for the use of all; that 
they might be delivered from the unusual burden of 
taxes under which they laboured ; that the adminis¬ 
tration of justice might be rendered less rigorous 
and more impartial ; that the encroachments of the 
nobles upon meadows and commons might be re¬ 
strained.^ 

Many of these demands were ex- „ , 

J . quelled. 

tremely reasonable ; and being urged 
by such formidable numbers, should have met with 
some redress. But those unwieldy bodies, assem¬ 
bled in different places, had neither union, nor con¬ 
duct, nor vigour. Being led by persons of the 
lowest rank, without skill in war or knowledge of 
what was necessary for accomplishing their designs, 
all their exploits w r ere distinguished only by a brutal 
and unmeaning fury. To oppose this the princes 
and nobles of Suabia and the Low'er Rhine raised 
such of their vassals as still continued faithful, and 
attacking some of the mutineers with open force, 
and others by surprise, cut to pieces or dispersed all 
who infested those provinces ; so that the peasants, 
after ruining the open country, and losing upwards 
of twenty thousand of their associates in the field, 
were obliged to return to their habitations with less 
hope than ever of relief from their grievances/ 

These commotions happened at first 
in provinces ot Germany where Lu- tions in Thurin- 
ther’s opinions had made little pro- b ' a ’ 
gress ; and being excited wholly by political causes, 

q Sleid. Mist. p. 90. 

r Seckend. lib. ii. p. 10. Petr. Gnodalius de R.usticanorum Tumultu 
in Germania, ap. Scard. Script, vol. ii. p. 131, &c. 



510 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1526. BOOK IV. 


had no connexion with the disputed points in 
religion. But the phrensy reached at last those 
countries in which the Reformation was established, 
derived new strength from circumstances peculiar 
to them, and rose to a still greater pitch of extra¬ 
vagance. The Reformation, wherever it was re- 
ceived, increased that bold and innovating spirit 
to which it owed its birth. Men who had the cou¬ 
rage to overturn a system supported by every thing 
which can command respect or reverence, were not 
to be overawed by any authority, how great or 
venerable soever. After having been accustomed 
to consider themselves as judges of the most impor¬ 
tant doctrines in religion, to examine these freely, 
and to reject, without scruple, what appeared to 
them erroneous, it was natural for them to turn the 
same daring and inquisitive eye towards govern¬ 
ment, and to think of rectifying whatever disorders 
or imperfections were discovered there. As reli¬ 
gious abuses had been reformed in several places 
without the permission of the magistrate, it was an 
easy transition to attempt the redress of political 
grievances in the same manner. 

No sooner, then, did the spirit of re- 

more formidable. . , , ■ . 

volt break out in Thuringia, a province 
subject to the elector of Saxony, the inhabitants of 
which were mostly converts to Lutheranism, than 
it assumed a new and more dangerous form. Thomas 
Muncer, one of Luther’s disciples, having esta¬ 
blished himself in that country, had acquired a 
wonderful ascendant over the minds of the people. 
He propagated among them the wildest and most 
enthusiastic notions, but such as tended manifestly 
to inspire them with boldness and lead them to se- 

Their fanatical dition. “ Luther,” he told them, “ had 
spirit. done more hurt than service to reli¬ 
gion. He had, indeed, rescued the church from the 
yoke of popery, but his doctrines encouraged and his 
life set an example of the utmost licentiousness of 
manners. In order to avoid vice, (says he,) men must 
practise perpetual mortification. They must put on 
a grave countenance, speak little, wear a plain garb, 
and be serious in their whole deportment. Such as 
prepare their hearts in this manner may expect that 
the Supreme Being will direct all their steps, and 
by some visible sign discover his will to them ; if 
that illumination be at any time withheld, we may 
expostulate with the Almighty, who deals with us 
so harshly, and remind him of his promises. This 
expostulation and anger will be highly acceptable 
to God, and will at last prevail on him to guide us 
with the same unerring hand which conducted the 
patriarchs of old. Let us beware, however, of of¬ 
fending him by our arrogance ; but as all men are 
equal in his eye, let them return to that condition 
of equality in which he formed them, and having 
all things in common, let them live together like 
brethren, without any marks of subordination or 
pre-eminence/ ,s 

Extravagant as these tenets were, they flattered 

s Seckend. lib. ii. p. 13. Sleid. Hist. p. 83. 


so many passions in the human heart as to make a 
deep impression. To aim at nothing more than 
abridging the power of the nobility, was now con¬ 
sidered as a trifling and partial reformation, not 
worth the contending for ; it was proposed to level 
every distinction among mankind, and by abolish¬ 
ing property, to reduce them to their natural state 
of equality, in which all should receive their sub¬ 
sistence from one common stock. Muncer assured 
them that the design was approved of by Heaven, 
and that the Almighty had in a dream ascertained 
him of its success. The peasants set about the exe¬ 
cution of it, not only with the rage which animated 
those of their order in other parts of Germany, 
but with the ardour which enthusiasm inspires. 
They deposed the magistrates in all the cities of 
which they were masters; seized the lands of the 
nobles, and obliged such of them as they got into 
their hands to put on the dress commonly worn by 
peasants, and instead of their former titles, to be 
satisfied with the appellation given to people in 
the lowest class of life. Great numbers engaged 
in this wild undertaking; but Muncer, their 
leader and their prophet, was destitute of the 
abilities necessary for conducting it. He had all 
the extravagance but not the courage which enthu¬ 
siasts usually possess. It was with difficulty he 
could be persuaded to take the field; and though 
he soon drew together eight thousand men, he suf¬ 
fered himself to be surrounded by a body of cavalry 
under the command of the elector of Saxony, the 
landgrave of Hesse, and the duke of Brunswick. 
These princes, unwilling to shed the blood of 
their deluded subjects, sent a young nobleman to 
their camp, with the offer of a general pardon, if 
they would immediately lay down their arms and 
deliver up the authors of the sedition. Muncer, 
alarmed at this, began to harangue his followers 
with his usual vehemence, exhorting them not to 
trust these deceitful promises of their oppressors, 
nor to desert the cause of God and of Christian 
liberty. 

But the sense of present danger 

Peasants defeated. 

making a deeper impression on the 
peasants than his eloquence, confusion and terror 
were visible in every face, when a rainbow, which 
was the emblem that the mutineers had painted on 
their colours, happening to appear in the clouds, 
Muncer, with admirable presence of mind, laid hold 
of that incident, and suddenly raising his eyes and 
hands towards heaven,—“ Behold,” cries he with an 
elevated voice, “ the sign which God has given. 
There is the pledge of your safety, and a token that 
the wicked shall be destroyed.” The fanatical multi¬ 
tude set up instantly a great shout, as if victory had 
been certain ; and passing in a moment from one ex¬ 
treme to another, massacred the unfortunate noble¬ 
man who had come with the offer of pardon, and 
demanded to be led towards the enemy. The 
princes, enraged at this shocking violation of the 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


511 


BOOK IV. A. D. 1523.] 


May 15. 


His marriage. 


laws of war, advanced with no less 
impetuosity, and began the attack; 
but the behaviour of the peasants in the combat was 
not such as might have been expected either from 
their ferocity or confidence of success; an undis¬ 
ciplined rabble was no equal match for well-trained 
troops ; about five thousand were slain in the field, 
almost without making resistance; the rest tied, 
and among the foremost Muncer their general. He 
was taken next day, and being condemned to such 
punishments as his crimes had deserved, he suf¬ 
fered them with a poor and dastardly spirit. His 
death put an end to the insurrections of the pea¬ 
sants, which had filled Germany with such terror;* 
but the enthusiastic notions which he had scattered 
were not extirpated, and produced, not long after, 
effects more memorable as well as more extravagant. 
Luther's mode- During these commotions, Luther 
conduct prudfent acted with exemplary prudence and 
moderation ; like a common parent, 
solicitous about the welfare of both parties, without 
sparing the faults or errors of either. On the one 
hand, he addressed a monitory discourse to the no¬ 
bles, exhorting them to treat their dependants with 
greater humanity and indulgence. On the other, he 
severely censured the seditious spirit of the peasants, 
advising them not to murmur at hardships insepara¬ 
ble from their condition, nor to seek for redress by 
any but legal means. u 

Luther's famous marriage with Ca¬ 
therine a Boria, a nun of a noble fa¬ 
mily, who, having thrown off the veil, had fled from 
the cloister, happened this year, and was far from 
meeting with the same approbation. Even his most 
devoted followers thought this step indecent at a 
time when his country was involved in so many 
calamities; while his enemies never mentioned it 
with any softer appellation than that of incestuous 
or profane. Luther himself was sensible of the im¬ 
pression which it had made to his disadvantage ; 
but being satisfied with his own conduct, he bore 
the censure of his friends and the reproaches of his 
adversaries with his usual fortitude.* 

This year the Reformation lost its 
first protector, Frederic, elector of Sax¬ 
ony ; but the blow was the less sensibly felt, as he 
was succeeded by his brother John, a more avowed 
and zealous though less able patron of Luther and 
his doctrines. 

Another event happened about the 

Prussia wrested . . 

trom the teuto- same time, which, as it occasioned a 
nic order. . 

considerable change in the state of 
Germany, must be traced back to its source. While 
the phrensy of the Crusades possessed all Europe 
during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, several 
orders of religious knighthood were founded in de¬ 
fence of the Christian faith against heathens and 
infidels. Among these the Teutonic order in Ger¬ 
many was one of the most illustrious, the knights 

t Sleid. Hist. p. 84. Seckend. lib. ii. p. 1C. Gnodalius Tumult. Rus- 
tican. 155. 
u Sleid. Hist. p. 87- 


May 5. 


of which distinguished themselves greatly in all the 
enterprises carried on in the Holy Land. Being 
driven at last from their settlements in the east, they 
were obliged to return to their native country. Their 
zeal and valour were too impetuous to remain long 
inactive. They invaded, on very slight pretences, the 
province of Prussia, the inhabitants of which were 
still idolaters; and having completed the conquest of 
it about the middle of the thirteenth century, held it 
many years as a fief depending on the crown of Po¬ 
land. Fierce contests arose, during this period, be¬ 
tween the grand-masters of the order and the kings 
of Poland ; the former struggling for independence, 
while the latter asserted their right of sovereignty 
with great firmness. Albert, a prince of the house of 
Brandenburg, who was elected grand-master in the 
year one thousand five hundred and eleven, engag¬ 
ing keenly in this quarrel, maintained a long war 
with Sigismund, king of Poland ; but having be¬ 
come an early convert to Luther’s doctrines, this 
gradually lessened his zeal for the interests of his 
fraternity, so that he took the opportunity of the 
confusions in the empire, and the absence of the 
emperor, to conclude a treaty with Sigismund, 
greatly to his own private emolument. By it that 
part of Prussia which belonged to the Teutonic 
order was erected into a secular and hereditary 
duchy, and the investiture of it granted to Albert, 
who, in return, bound himself to do homage for it 
to the kings of Poland as their vassal. Immediately 
after this, he made public profession of the reformed 
religion, and married a princess of Denmark. The 
Teutonic knights exclaimed so loudly against the 
treachery of their grand-master, that he was put 
under the ban of the empire ; but he still kept pos¬ 
session of the province which he had usurped, and 
transmitted it to his posterity. In process of time 
this rich inheritance fell to the electoral branch of the 
family, all dependence on the crown of Poland was 
shaken off, and the margraves of Brandenburg, 
having assumed the title of kings of Prussia, have 
not only risen to an equality with the first princes 
in Germany, but take their rank among the great 
monarchs of Europe.* 

Upon the return of the French king to First measures of 
his dominions, the eyes of all the powers 
in Europe were fixed upon him, that, by t0 l rance - 
observing his first motions, they might form a judg¬ 
ment concerning his subsequent conduct. They were 
not long in suspense. Francis, as soon as he arrived 
at Bayonne, wrote to the king of England, thanking 
him for the zeal and affection wherewith he had 
interposed in his favour, to which he acknowledged 
that he owed the recovery of his liberty. Next day 
the emperor’s ambassadors demanded audience, and, 
in their master’s name, required him to issue such 
orders as were necessary for carrying the treaty of 
Madrid into immediate and full execution; he 
coldly answered, that though, for his own part, he 

x Seckend. lib. ii. p. 15. 

y Sleid. Mist. p. 98. Pfeffel Abrege de l’Hist. de Droit. Public, p. 
605, Arc. 



512 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1526. BOOK IV. 


determined religiously to perform all that he had 
promised, the treaty contained so many articles re¬ 
lative not to himself alone, but affecting the inter¬ 
ests of the French monarchy, that he could not 
take any further step without consulting the states 
of his kingdom, and that some time would be ne¬ 
cessary in order to reconcile their minds to the hard 
conditions which he had consented to ratify/ This 
reply was considered as no obscure discovery of his 
being resolved to elude the treaty; and the com¬ 
pliment paid to Henry appeared a very proper step 
towards securing the assistance of that monarch in 
the war with the emperor to which such a resolu¬ 
tion would certainly give rise. These circumstances, 
added to the explicit declarations which Francis 
made in secret to the ambassadors from several of 
the Italian powers, fully satisfied them that their 
conjectures with regard to his conduct had been 
just; and that instead of intending to execute an 
unreasonable treaty, he was eager to seize the first 
opportunity of revenging those injuries which had 
compelled him to feign an approbation of it. Even 
the doubts, and fears, and scruples, which used, on 
other occasions, to hold Clement in a state of un¬ 
certainty, were dissipated by Francis’s seeming im¬ 
patience to break through all his engagements with 
the emperor. The situation, indeed, of affairs in 
Italy at that time did not allow the pope to hesitate 
long. Sforza was still besieged by the imperialists 
in the castle of Milan. That feeble prince, deprived 
now of Morone’s advice, and unprovided with every 
thing necessary for defence, found means to inform 
Clement and the Venetians, that he must soon sur¬ 
render if they did not come to his relief. The im¬ 
perial troops, as they had received no pay since the 
battle of Pavia, lived at discretion in the Milanese, 
levying such exorbitant contributions in that duchy, 
as amounted, if we may rely on Guicciardini’s cal¬ 
culation, to no less a sum than five thousand ducats 
a-day ; a nor w as it to be doubted but that the sol¬ 
diers, as soon as the castle should subnuit, would 
choose to leave a ruined country which hardly af¬ 
forded them subsistence, that they might take pos¬ 
session of more comfortable quarters in the fertile 
and untouched territories of the pope and Vene¬ 
tians. The assistance of the French king was the 
only thing which could either save Sforza or enable 
them to protect their own dominions from the insults 
of the imperial troops. 

, For these reasons the pope, the Ve- 

A league formed , , , ,, 

against the em- netians, and duke of Milan, were 

peror. 

equally impatient to come to an agree¬ 
ment with Francis, w ho, on his part, was no less 
desirous of acquiring such a considerable accession 
both of strength and reputation as such a confede¬ 
racy would bring along with it. The chief objects 
of this alliance, which was concluded at Cognac on 
the twenty-second of May, though kept secret for 
some time, were to oblige the emperor to set at 

z Mem. de Bellay, p. 97- . a Guic. 1. xvii. 360. 

b P. JJeut. Her. Austr. lib. ix. c. 3. p. 217 . Uecueil des Trait, ii. 124. 


liberty the French king’s sons, upon payment of a 
reasonable ransom, and to re-establish Sforza in the 
quiet possession of the Milanese. If Charles should 
refuse either of these, the contracting parties bound 
themselves to bring into the field an army of thirty- 
five thousand men, with which, after driving the 
Spaniards out of the Milanese, they would attack 
the kingdom of Naples. The king of England was 
declared protector of this league, which they digni¬ 
fied with the name of Holy , because the pope was 
at the head of it; and in order to allure Henry more 
effectually, a principality in the kingdom of Naples, 
of thirty thousand ducats yearly revenue, was to be 
settled on him, and lands to the value of ten thou¬ 
sand ducats on Wolsey his favourite/ 

No sooner was this league con- 

, . The pope ab- 

cluded, than Clement, by the pleni- solves Frauds 

, from his oath to 

tude of his papal power, absolved observe the treaty 
_ . , . , of Madrid. 

Francis from the oath which he had 
taken to observe the treaty of Madrid.' This right, 
how pernicious soever in its effects, and destructive 
of that integrity which is the basis of all transac¬ 
tions among men, was the natural consequence of 
the powers which the popes arrogated as the infalli¬ 
ble vicegerents of Christ upon earth. But as, in 
virtue of this pretended prerogative, they had often 
dispensed with obligations which were held sacred, 
the interests of some men, and the credulity of 
others, led them to imagine that the decisions of a 
sovereign pontiff authorized or justified actions 
which would otherwise have been criminal and 
impious. 

The discovery of Francis’s intention The emperor 
to elude the treaty of Madrid, filled alarmed, 
the emperor with a variety of disquieting thoughts. 
He had treated an unfortunate prince in the most 
ungenerous manner; he had displayed an insatia¬ 
ble ambition in all his negociations w ith his prisoner; 
he knew what censures the former had drawn upon 
him, and what apprehensions the latter had excited 
in every court of Europe ; nor had he reaped from 
the measures which he pursued any of those advan¬ 
tages which politicians are apt to consider as an 
excuse for the most criminal conduct, and a com¬ 
pensation for the severest reproaches. Francis w as 
now out of his hands, and not one of all the mighty 
consequences w hich he had expected from the treaty 
that set him at liberty was likely to take place. His 
rashness in relying so far on his own judgment as 
to trust to the sincerity of the French king, in oppo¬ 
sition to the sentiments of his wisest ministers, was 
now apparent; and he easily conjectured, that the 
same confederacy the dread of which had induced 
him to set Francis at liberty, would now be formed 
against him w ith that gallant and incensed monarch 
at its head. Self-condemnation and shame on ac¬ 
count of what was past, with anxious apprehensions 
concerning what might happen, were the necessary 
result of these reflections on his own conduct and 

c Goldast. Polit. Imperial, p. 1002. Palav. Hist. p. 70. 




BOOK IV. A. D. 1526.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


5J3 


situation. Charles, however, was naturally firm 
and inflexible in all his measures. To have re¬ 
ceded suddenly from any article in the treaty of 
Madrid, would have been a plain confession of 
imprudence and a palpable symptom of fear; he 
determined, therefore, that it was most suitable to 
his dignity to insist, whatever might be the conse¬ 
quences, on the strict execution of the treaty, and 
particularly not to accept of any thing which might 
be offered as an equivalent for the restitution of 
Burgundy.* 1 

it .quires Francis In “"sequence »f this resolution, 
he i«wistipulated 1 lie a PP ointed Lannoy and Alarcon to 
repair, as his ambassadors, to the 
court of France, and formally to summon the king, 
either to execute the treaty with the sincerity that 
became him, or to return, according to his oath, a 
prisoner to Madrid. Instead of giving them an im¬ 
mediate answer, Francis admitted the deputies of 
the States of Burgundy to an audience in their 
presence. They humbly represented to him, that he 
had exceeded the powers vested in a king of France 
when he consented to alienate their country from the 
crown, the domains of which he was bound by his 
coronation-oath to preserve entire and unimpaired. 
Francis, in return, thanked them for their attach¬ 
ment to his crown, and entreated them, though very 
faintly, to remember the obligations which he lay 
under to fulfil his engagements with the emperor. 
The deputies, assuming a higher tone, declared that 
they would not obey commands which they con¬ 
sidered as illegal; and if he should abandon them 
to the enemies of France, they had resolved to de¬ 
fend themselves to the best of their power, with a 
firm purpose rather to perish than submit to a 
foreign dominion. Upon which Francis, turning 
T1 . towards the imperial ambassadors, 

His answer. r # 7 

represented to them the impossibility 
of performing what he had undertaken, and offered, 
in lieu of Burgundy, to pay the emperor two mil¬ 
lions of crowns. The viceroy and Alarcon, who 
easily perceived that the scene to which they had 
been witnesses was concerted between the king 
and his subjects in order to impose upon them, sig¬ 
nified to him their master’s fixed resolution not to 
depart in the smallest point from the terms of the 
treaty, and withdrew. 6 Before they left the king¬ 
dom, they had the mortification to hear 
the holy league against the emperor 
published with great solemnity. 

Charles no sooner received an ac- 
preparation tor count oi this confederacy, than he ex¬ 
claimed, in the most public manner, 
and in the harshest terms, against Francis, as a 
prince void of faith and of honour. He complained 
no less of Clement, whom he solicited in vain to 
abandon his new allies; he accused him of ingra¬ 
titude ; he taxed him with an ambition unbecom¬ 
ing his character ; he threatened him not only with 

d Guic. 1. xvii. 368. 

e Belcar. Comment, de Reb. Gal. 573. Mem. de BeJIay p. 97. 

2 L 


June 11. 


all the vengeance which the power of an emperor 
can inllict, but, by appealing to a general council, 
called up before his eyes all the terrors arising from 
the authority of those assemblies, so formidable to 
the papal see. It was necessary, however, to op¬ 
pose something else than reproaches and threats to 
the powerful combination formed against him; and 
the emperor, prompted by so many passions, did not 
fail to exert himself with unusual vigour in order to 
send supplies, not only of men, but of money, which 
was still more needed, into Italy. 

On the other hand, the efforts of the Feeble operations 
P i . , of the confede- 

confederates bore no proportion to rates, 
that animosity against the emperor with which they 
seemed to enter into the holy league. Francis, it 
was thought, would have infused spirit and vigour 
into the whole body. He had his lost honour to re¬ 
pair, many injuries to revenge, and the station 
among the princes of Europe from which he had 
fallen to recover. From all these powerful incite¬ 
ments, added to the natural impetuosity of his tem¬ 
per, a war more fierce and bloody than any that he 
had hitherto made upon his rival was expected. 
But Francis had gone through such a scene of dis¬ 
tress, and the impression it had made was still so 
fresh in his memory, that he w as become diffident of 
himself, distrustful of fortune, and desirous of tran¬ 
quillity. To procure the release of his sons, and to 
avoid the restitution of Burgundy by paying some 
reasonable equivalent, were his chief objects ; and 
for the sake of these he w ould willingly have sacri¬ 
ficed Sforza, and the liberties of Italy, to the emperor. 
He flattered himself, that the dread of the confederacy 
which he had formed would of himself induce Charles 
to listen to what was equitable ; and was afraid of 
employing any considerable force for the relief of the 
Milanese, lest his allies, whom he had often found 
to be more attentive to their own interest than punc¬ 
tual in fulfilling their engagements, should abandon 
him as soon as the imperialists were driven out of 
that country, and deprive his negociations with the 
emperor of that weight which they derived from his 
being at the head of a powerful league. In the 
mean time the castle of Milan was pressed more 
closely than ever, and Sforza was now reduced to 
the last extremity. The pope and Venetians, trust - 
ing to Francis’s concurrence, commanded their 
troops to take the field in order to relieve him ; 
and an army more than sufficient for that service 
was soon formed. The Milanese, passionately at¬ 
tached to their unfortunate duke, and no less exas¬ 
perated against the imperialists, who had oppressed 
them so cruelly, were ready to aid the confederates 
in all their enterprises. But the duke d’Urbino 
their general, naturally slow and indecisive, and 
restrained, besides, by his ancient enmity to the 
family of Medici, from taking any step that might 
aggrandize or add reputation to the pope/ lost some 
opportunities of attacking the imperialists and rais- 


f Guic. 1. xvii. 382. 



514 


TIIE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK IV. 


July 24. 


ing the siege, and refused to improve others. These 
delays gave Bourbon time to bring up a reinforce¬ 
ment of fresh troops, and a supply of money. He 
immediately took the command of the 
army, and pushed on the siege with 
such vigour as quickly obliged Sforza to surrender, 
who retiring to Lodi, which the confederates had 
surprised, left Bourbon in full possession of the rest 
of the duchy, the investiture of which the emperor 
had promised to grant him.* 

Dismiiptiidp ofthp The Italians began now to perceive 
Italian powers. the game which F ran cis had played, 

and to be sensible, that notwithstanding all their 
address and refinements in negociation, which they 
boasted of as talents peculiarly their own, they had 
for once been overreached in those very arts by a 
tramontane prince. He had hitherto thrown almost 
the whole burden of the war upon them, taking ad¬ 
vantage of their efforts in order to enforce the pro¬ 
posals which he often renewed at the court of Ma¬ 
drid for obtaining the liberty of his sons. The pope 
and Venetians expostulated and complained ; h but 
as they were not able to rouse Francis from his in¬ 
activity, their own zeal and vigour gradually abat¬ 
ed ; and Clement, having already gone further than 
his timidity usually permitted him, began to accuse 
himself of rashness, and to relapse into his natural 
state of doubt and uncertainty. 

Measures of the All the emperor’s motions, depending 

imperialists. on hi mse if alone, were more brisk and 

better concerted. The narrowness of his revenues, 
indeed, did not allow him to make any sudden or great 
effort in the field, but he abundantly supplied that 
defect by his intrigues and negociations. The fa¬ 
mily of Colonna, the most powerful of all the Roman 
barons, had adhered uniformly to the Ghibelline or 
imperial faction, during those fierce contentions 
between the popes and emperors which for several 
ages filled Italy and Germahy with discord and 
bloodshed. Though the causes which at first gave 
birth to these destructive factions existed no longer, 
and the rage with which they had been animated 
was in a great measure spent, the Colonnas still re¬ 
tained their attachment to the imperial interest, and 
by placing themselves under the protection of the 
emperors, secured the quiet possession of their own 
territories and privileges. The cardinal Pompeo 
Colonna, a man of a turbulent and ambitious tem¬ 
per, at that time the head of the family, had long 
been Clement's rival, to whose influence in the last 
conclave he imputed the disappointment of all his 
schemes for attaining the papal dignity, of which, 
from his known connexion with the emperor, he 
thought himself secure. To an aspiring mind this 
was an injury too great to be forgiven ; and though 
ne had dissembled his resentment so far as to vote 
for Clement at his election, and to accept of great 
offices in his court, he waited with the utmost im¬ 
patience for an opportunity of being revenged. Don 


[A. D. 1526*. 

H ugo de Moncada, the imperial ambassador at 
Rome, who was no stranger to these sentiments, 
easily persuaded him that now was the time, while 
all the papal troops were employed in Lombardy, 
to attempt something which would at once avenge 
his own wrongs and be of essential service to the 
emperor his patron. The pope, however, whose 
timidity rendered him quick-sighted, was so atten¬ 
tive to their operations, and began to be alarmed so 
early, that he might have drawn together troops 
sufficient to have disconcerted all Colonna’s mea¬ 
sures. But Moncada amused him so artfully with 
negociations, promises, and false intelligence, that 
he lulled asleep all his suspicions, and prevented his 
taking any of the precautions necessary for his safe¬ 
ty ; and to the disgrace of a prince possessed of great 
power, as well as renowned for political wisdom, 
Colonna, at the head of three thousand Sept „ g 
men, seized one of the gates of his ca- bJcome°masters 
pital, while he, imagining himself to ot Kome - 
be in perfect security, was altogether unprepared 
for resisting such a feeble enemy. The inhabitants 
of Rome permitted Colonna’s troops, from whom 
they apprehended no injury, to advance without op¬ 
position ; the pope's guards were dispersed in a 
moment; and Clement himself, terrified at the dan¬ 
ger, ashamed of his own credulity, and deserted by 
almost every person, fled w ith precipitation into the 
castle of St. Angelo, which was immediately in¬ 
vested. The palace of the Vatican, the church of 
St. Peter, and the houses of the pope's ministers 
and servants, were plundered in the most licentious 
manner. The rest of the city w as left unmolested. 
Clement, destitute of every thing necessary either 
for subsistence or defence, was soon obliged to de¬ 
mand a capitulation ; and Moncada being admitted 
into the castle, prescribed to him, with 

. . f. Accommodation 

all the haughtiness ot a conqueror, between the pope 
,... , . , .. . . . . and emperor. 

conditions which it was not in his 
power to reject. The chief of these was, That Cle¬ 
ment should not only grant a full pardon to the 
Colonnas, but receive them into favour, and imme¬ 
diately w ithdraw all the troops in his pay from the 
army of the confederates in Lombardy. 1 

The Colonnas, who talked of nothing less than of 
deposing Clement, and of placing Pompeo, their 
kinsman, in the vacant chair of St. Peter, exclaimed 
loudly against a treaty which left them at the mercy 
of a pontiff justly incensed against them. But Mon¬ 
cada, attentive only to his master’s interest, paid 
little regard to their complaints, and by this for¬ 
tunate measure broke entirely the power of the 
confederates. 

While the army of the confederates T he imperial 
suffered such a considerable diminu- army enforced. 

tion, the imperialists received two great reinforce¬ 
ments ; one from Spain, under the command of 
Lannoy and Alarcon, which amounted to six thou¬ 
sand men ; the other w r as raised in the empire by 


£ Guic. 1. xvii. 376, &c. 

b Ruscelli Lettre de Principi, ii. 157, &c. 159, 160—166. 


i Jovii Vita Pomp. Colon. Guic. 1. xvii. 407- Ruscelli Lettre de 
Principi, l. p, 104. 




BOOK IV. A. D. 1526.] 

George Fronsperg, a German nobleman, who, having 
served in Italy with great reputation, had acquired 
such influence and popularity, that multitudes of 
his countrymen, fond on every occasion of engaging 
in military enterprises, and impatient at that junc¬ 
ture to escape from the oppression which they felt 
in religious as well as civil matters, crowded to his 
standard ; so that, without any other gratuity than 
the payment of a crown to each man, fourteen thou¬ 
sand enlisted in his service. To these the archduke 
Ferdinand added two thousand horse, levied in the 
Austrian dominions. But although the emperor 
had raised troops, he could not remit the sums 
necessary for their support. His ordinary revenues 
were exhausted ; the credit of princes, during the 
infancy of commerce, was not extensive ; and the 
Cortes of Castile, though every art had been tried 
to gain them, and some innovations had been made 
in the constitution in order to secure their concur¬ 
rence, peremptorily refused to grant Charles any 
extraordinary supply ; k so that the more his army 
increased in number, the more were his generals 
embarrassed and distressed. Bourbon, in particu¬ 
lar, was involved in such difficulties, that he stood 
in need of all his address and courage in order to 

The emperor’s extricate himself. Large sums were 
finances deficient, due t0 t j ie Spanish troops already in 

the Milanese, when Fronsperg arrived with sixteen 
thousand hungry Germans destitute of every thing. 
Both made their demands with equal fierceness; 
the former claiming their arrears, and the latter, the 
pay which had been promised them on their entering 
Lombardy. Bourbon was altogether incapable of 
giving satisfaction to either. In this situation he 
was constrained to commit acts of violence ex¬ 
tremely shocking to his own nature, which was 
generous and humane. He seized the principal 
citizens of Milan, and by threats, and even by tor¬ 
ture, forced from them a considerable sum ; he rilled 
the churches of all their plate and ornaments ; the 
inadequate supply which these afforded he distri¬ 
buted among the soldiers, with so many soothing 
expressions of his sympathy and affection, that 
though it fell far short of the sums due to them, it 
appeased their present murmurs. 1 

Among other expedients for raising 
viorone at money, Bourbon granted his life and 
liberty to Morone, who, having been 
kept in prison since his intrigue with Pescara, had 
been condemned to die by the Spanish judges em¬ 
powered to try him. For this remission he paid 
twenty thousand ducats ; and such were his singular 
talents, and the wonderful ascendant which he 
always acquired over the minds of those to whom 
he had access, that in a few days from being Bour¬ 
bon’s prisoner he became his prime confidant, with 
whom he consulted in all affairs of importance. To 
his insinuations must be imputed the suspicions 
which Bourbon began to entertain, that the emperor 
had never intended to grant him the investiture of 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


515 


k Sandov. i. 814 


1 Itjpainond. Hist. Mcdiol. lib. ix. p. 717 . 

2 L 2 


Milan, but had appointed Leyva and the other 
Spanish generals rather to be spies on his conduct 
than to co-operate heartily towards the execution of 
his schemes. To him likewise, as he still retained, 
at the age of fourscore, all the enterprising spirit of 
youth, may be attributed the bold and unexpected 
measure on which Bourbon soon after ventured." 1 

Such, indeed, were the exigences of 

. . , . . His deliberations 

tne imperial troops in the Milanese, with respect to 
,1 . , , his motions. 

that it became indispensably necessary 
to take some immediate step for their relief. The 
arrears of the soldiers increased daily ; the emperor 
made no remittances to his generals ; and the 
utmost rigour of military extortion could draw 
nothing more from a country entirely drained and 
ruined. In this situation there was no choice left, 
but either to disband the army or to march for sub¬ 
sistence into the enemy’s country. The territories 
of the Venetians lay nearest at hand ; but they, with 
their usual foresight and prudence, had taken such 
precautions as secured them from any insult. No¬ 
thing, therefore, remained but to invade the domi¬ 
nions of the church or of the Florentines ; and Cle¬ 
ment had of late acted such a part as merited the 
severest vengeance from the emperor. No sooner 
did the papal troops return to Rome after the in¬ 
surrection of the Colonnas, than, without paying 
any regard to the treaty with Moncada, he degraded 
the cardinal Colonna, excommunicated the rest of 
the family, seized their places of strength, and 
wasted their lands with all the cruelty which the 
smart of a recent injury naturally excites. After 
this he turned his arms against Naples, and as his 
operations were seconded by the French fleet, he 
made some progress towards the conquest of that 
kingdom; the viceroy being no less destitute than 
the other imperial generals of the money requisite 
for a vigorous defence." 

These proceedings of the pope jus- 1527 
tiffed, in appearance, the measures vldefthepope°s 
which Bourbon’s situation rendered temtones - 
necessary ; and he set about executing them under 
such disadvantages as furnish the strongest proof 
both of the despair to which he was reduced and of 
the greatness of his abilities, which were able to 
surmount so many obstacles. Having committed 
the government of Milan to Leyva, whom he was 
not unwilling to leave behind, he began his march 
in the depth of winter, at the head of . 
twenty-five thousand men, composed 
of nations differing from each other in language 
and manners; without money, without magazines, 
without artillery, without carriages ; in short, with¬ 
out any of those things which are necessary to the 
smallest party, and which seem essential to the ex¬ 
istence and motions of a great army. His route lay 
through a country cut by rivers and mountains, in 
which the roads were almost impracticable; as an 
addition to his difficulties, the enemy’s army, supe¬ 
rior to his own in number, was at hand to watch all 

m Guic. 1. xvii. 419. n JoviiVita Pomp. Colon. Guic. 1. xviii. 424. 


Jan. 30. 



516 THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1527. BOOK IV. 


his motions, and to improve every advantage. But 
his troops, impatient of their present hardships, and 
allured by the hopes of immense booty, without 
considering how ill provided they were for a march, 
followed him with great cheerfulness. His first 
scheme was to have made himself master of Placen¬ 
tia, and to have gratified his soldiers by the plunder 
of that city ; but the vigilance of the confederate 
generals rendered the design abortive ; nor had he 
better success in his project for the reduction of 
Bologna, which was seasonably supplied with as 
many troops as secured it from the insults of an 
army which had neither artillery nor ammunition. 
Having failed in both these attempts to become 
master of some great city, he was under a necessity 
of advancing. But he had now been two months in 
the field ; his troops had suffered every calamity 
that a long march, together with the uncommon 
rigour of the season, could bring upon men destitute 
of all necessary accommodations in an enemy’s 
country; the magnificent promises to which they 
trusted, had hitherto proved altogether vain ; they 
saw no prospect of relief; their patience, tried to 
the utmost, failed at last, and they broke out into 
Mutiny of his °P en mutiny Some officers who rashly 
troops. attempted to restrain them, fell victims 
to their fury ; Bourbon himself, not daring to ap¬ 
pear during the first transports of their rage, was 
obliged to fly secretly from his quarters. 0 But this 
sudden ebullition of wrath began at last to subside; 
when Bourbon, who possessed, in a wonderful de¬ 
gree, the art of governing the minds of soldiers, re¬ 
newed his promises with more confidence than 
formerly, and assured them that they would be soon 
accomplished. He endeavoured to render their 
hardships more tolerable, by partaking of them 
himself; he fared no better than the meanest sen¬ 
tinel ; he marched along with them on foot; he 
joined them in singing their camp ballads, in which, 
with high praises of his valour, they mingled many 
strokes of military raillery on his poverty; and 
wherever they came, he allowed them, as a foretaste 
of what he had promised, to plunder the adjacent 
villages at discretion. Encouraged by all these 
soothing arts, they entirely forgot tlieir sufferings 
and complaints, and followed him with the same 
implicit confidence as formerly. p 

Bourbon, meanwhile, carefully con- 
soiuUonand'im- cealed his intentions. Rome and Flo¬ 
rence, not knowing on which the blow 
would fall, were held in the most disquieting state 
of suspense. Clement, equally solicitous for the 
safety of both, fluctuated in more than his usual 
uncertainty ; and while the rapid approach of dan¬ 
ger called for prompt and decisive measures, he 
spent the time in deliberations which came to no 
issue, or in taking resolutions which next day his 
restless mind, more sagacious in discerning than in 
obviating difficulties, overturned, without being able 


to fix on what should be substituted in their place. 
At one time he determined to unite himself more 
closely than ever with his allies, and to push on the 
war with vigour; at another, he inclined to bring 
all differences to a final accommodation by a treaty 
with Lannoy, who, knowing his passion for nego- 
ciation, solicited him incessantly with proposals foi 
that purpose. His timidity at length March 15 
prevailed, and led him to conclude an ^"tywitiuhe 
agreement with Lannoy, of which the Naples; of 
following were the chief articles : That 
a suspension of arms should take place between the 
pontifical and imperial troops for eight months : 
that Clement should advance sixty thousand crowns 
towards satisfying the demands of the imperial 
army : that the Colonnas should be absolved from 
censure, and their former dignities and possessions 
be restored to them : that the viceroy should come 
to Rome, and prevent Bourbon from approaching 
nearer to that city or to Florence.' 1 On this hasty 
treaty, which deprived him of all hopes of assist¬ 
ance from his allies, without affording him any 
solid foundation of security, Clement relied so 
firmly, that, like a man extricated at once out of all 
difficulties, he was at perfect ease, and in the ful¬ 
ness of his confidence disbanded all his troops ex¬ 
cept as many as were sufficient to guard his own 
person. This amazing confidence of- Clement, 
who, on every other occasion, was fearful and sus¬ 
picious to excess, appeared so unaccountable to 
Guicciardini, who being at that time the pontifical 
commissary-general and resident in the confederate 
army, had great opportunities, as well as great 
abilities, for observing how chimerical all his hopes 
were, that he imputes the pope’s conduct at this 
juncture wholly to infatuation, which those who are 
doomed to ruin cannot avoid/ 

Lannoy, it would seem, intended to which Bourbon 
have executed the treaty with great disregards, 
sincerity ; and having detached Clement from the 
confederacy, wished to turn Bourbon’s arms against 
the Venetians, who, of all the powers at war with 
the emperor, had exerted the greatest vigour. With 
this view he despatched a courier to Bourbon, in¬ 
forming him of the suspension of arms which, in 
the name of their common master, he had concluded 
with the pope. Bourbon had other schemes, and 
he had prosecuted them now too far to think of re¬ 
treating. To have mentioned a retreat to his sol¬ 
diers would have been dangerous ; his commanc 
was independent of Lannoy; he was fond of mor¬ 
tifying a man whom he had many reasons to hate 
for these reasons, without paying the least regard 
to the message, he continued to ravage the eccle¬ 
siastical territories, and to advance towards Flo¬ 
rence. Upon this, all Clement’s terror and anxiety 
returning with new force, he had recourse to Lan¬ 
noy, and entreated and conjured him to put a stop 
to Bourbon’s progress. Lannoy accordingly set out 


o Guic. I. xviii. 434. Jovii Vit. Colon. 163, 
p Qiuvres de Brant, vol. iv p. 246, &c. 


q Guic. I. xvii. 436. 


r Id. Ibid. 446. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


617 


BOOK IV. A. D. 15*27.] 

for his camp, but durst not approach it: Bourbon’s 
soldiers having got notice of the truce, raged and 
threatened, demanding the accomplishment of the 
promises to which they had trusted; their general 
himself could hardly restrain them ; every person 
in Rome perceived that nothing remained but to 
prepare for resisting a storm which it was now im¬ 
possible to dispel. Clement alone, relying on some 
ambiguous and deceitful professions which Bour¬ 
bon made of his inclination towards peace, sunk 
back into his former security. 5 

Advances to- Bourbon, on his part, was far from 

wards Home, bein^ free from solicitude. All his at¬ 
tempts on any place of importance had hitherto mis¬ 
carried ; and Florence, towards which he had been 
approaching for some time, was, hy the arrival of 
the duke d’Urbino’s army, put in a condition to set 
his power at defiance. As it now became necessary 
to change his route and to take instantly some new 
resolution, he fixed, without hesitation, on one which 
was no less daring in itself than it was impious ac¬ 
cording to the opinion of that age. This was to 
assault and plunder Rome. Many reasons, however, 
prompted him to it. He was fond of thwarting Lan- 
noy, who had undertaken for the safety of that city ; 
he imagined that the emperor would be highly 
pleased to see Clement, the chief author of the 
league against him, humbled ; he flattered himself, 
that by gratifying the rapacity of his soldiers with 
such immense booty, he would attach them for ever to 
his interest; or (which is still more probable than 
any of these) he hoped that by means of the power 
and fame which he would acquire from the conquest 
of the first city in Christendom, he might lay the 
foundation of an independent power; and that, 
after shaking off all connexion with the emperor, 
he might take possession of Naples, or of some of 
the Italian states, in his own name. 1 

Whatever his motives were, he exe- 

I he pope s pre¬ 
parations for de- cuted his resolution with a rapidity 
fence, # / J 

equal to the boldness with which he 
had formed it. His soldiers, now that they had 
their prey full in view, complained neither of fa¬ 
tigue, nor famine, nor want of pay. No sooner did 
they begin to move from Tuscany towards Rome, 
than the pope, sensible at last how fallacious the 
hopes had been on which he reposed, started from 
his security. But no time now remained, even for 
a bold and decisive pontiff, to have taken proper 
measures, or to have formed any effectual plan of 
defence. Under Clement’s feeble conduct, all was 
consternation, disorder, and irresolution. He col¬ 
lected, however, such of his disbanded soldiers as 
still remained in the city ; he armed the artificers of 
Rome, and the footmen and train-bearers of the 
cardinals ; he repaired the breaches in the walls ; 
he began to erect new works ; he excommunicated 
Bourbon and all his troops, branding the Germans 
with the name of Lutherans, and the Spaniards with 

s Guic. I. xviii. 437 t &c. Mem. de Bellay, p. 100. 

t Brant, iv. 271. vi. 189. Belcarii Comment. 594. 


that of Moors. u Trusting to these ineffectual mili¬ 
tary preparations, or to his spiritual arms, which 
were still more despised by rapacious soldiers, he 
seems to have laid aside his natural timidity, and, 
contrary to the advice of all his counsellors, deter¬ 
mined to wait the approach of an enemy whom he 
might easily have avoided by a timely retreat. 

Bourbon, who saw the necessity of 

. Assault of Itonie. 

despatch now that his intentions were 
known, advanced with such speed, that he gained 
several marches on the duke d’Urbino’s army, and 
encamped in the plains of Rome on the evening of 
the fifth of May. From thence he showed his sol¬ 
diers the palaces and churches of that city, into 
which, as the capital of the Christian commonwealth, 
the riches of all Europe had flowed during many 
centuries, without having been once violated by 
any hostile hand ; and commanding them to refresh 
themselves that night, as a preparation for the as.- 
sault next day, promised them, in reward of their 
toils and valour, the possession of all the treasures 
accumulated there. 

Early in the morning Bourbon, who had deter¬ 
mined to distinguish that day either by his death 
or the success of the enterprise, appeared at the 
head of his troops clad in complete armour, above 
which he wore a vest of white tissue, that he might 
be more conspicuous both to his friends and to his 
enemies ; and as all depended on one bold impres¬ 
sion, he led them instantly to scale the walls. Three 
distinct bodies, one of Germans, another of Span¬ 
iards, and the last of Italians, the three different 
nations of whom the army was composed, were ap¬ 
pointed to this service ; a separate attack was as¬ 
signed to each ; and the whole army advanced to 
support them, as occasion should require. A thick 
mist concealed their approach until they reached 
almost the brink of the ditch which surrounded the 
suburbs : having planted their ladders in a moment, 
each brigade rushed to the assault with an impetu¬ 
osity heightened by national emulation. They were 
received at first with fortitude equal to their own ; 
the Swiss in the pope’s guards, and the veteran 
soldiers who had been assembled, fought with a 
courage becoming men to whom the defence of the 
noblest city in the world was intrusted. Bourbon’s 
troops, notwithstanding all their valour, gained no 
ground, and even began to give way : when their 
leader, perceiving that on this critical moment the 
fate of the day depended, leaped from his horse, 
pressed to the front, snatched a scaling-ladder from 
a soldier, planted it against the wall, and began to 
mount it, encouraging his men with his voice and 
hand to follow him. But at that verv „ . 

* Bourbon slain. 

instant a musket-bullet from the ram¬ 
parts pierced his groin with a wound which he im¬ 
mediately felt to be mortal ; but he retained so much 
presence of mind as to desire those who were near 
him to cover his body with a cloak, that his death 

u Seckend. lib. ii. 68 . 



518 


THE REIGN OF THE 


might not dishearten his troops ; and soon after he 
expired with a courage worthy of a better cause, 
and which would have entitled him to the highest 
praise, if he had thus fallen in defence of his coun¬ 
try, and not at the head of its enemies.* 

, This fatal event could not be con- 

The city taken. 

cealed trom the army ; the soldiers 
soon missed their general, whom they were accus¬ 
tomed to see in every time of danger; but instead 
of being disheartened by their loss, it animated them 
with new valour; the name of Bourbon resounded 
along the line, accompanied with the cry of blood 
and revenge. The veterans who defended the walls 
w ere soon overpowered by numbers ; the untrained 
body of city-recruits fled at the sight of danger, and 
the enemy, with irresistible violence, rushed into 
the town. 

During the combat, Clement was employed at the 
high altar of St. Peter’s church in offering up to 
heaven unavailing prayers for victory. No sooner 
w as he informed that his troops began to give way, 
than he fled with precipitation: and with an infa¬ 
tuation still more amazing than any thing already 
mentioned, instead of making his escape by the op¬ 
posite gate, where there was no enemy to oppose it, 
he shut himself up, together w ith thirteen cardinals, 
the foreign ambassadors, and many persons of dis¬ 
tinction, in the castle of St. Angelo, which, from 
his late misfortune, he might have known to be an 
insecure retreat. In his way from the Vatican to 
that fortress, he saw his troops flying before an 
enemy, who pursued without giving quarter; he 
heard the cries and lamentations of the Roman citi¬ 
zens, and beheld the beginning of those calamities 
which his own credulity and ill-conduct had brought 
upon his subjects.* 

It is impossible to describe, or even 

Plundered. . . , . , . 

to imagine, the misery and horror of 
that scene which followed. Whatever a city taken 
by storm can dread from military rage, unrestrained 
by discipline ; whatever excesses the ferocity of the 
Germans, the avarice of the Spaniards, or the li¬ 
centiousness of the Italians, could commit, these 
the wretched inhabitants were obliged to suffer. 
Churches, palaces, and the houses of private per¬ 
sons, were plundered without distinction. No age, 
or character, or sex, was exempt from injury. Car¬ 
dinals, nobles, priests, matrons, virgins, were all 
the prey of soldiers, and at the mercy of men deaf 
to the voice of humanity. Nor did these oiitrages 
cease, as is usual in towns which are carried by as¬ 
sault, when the first fury of the storm was over; the 
imperialists kept possession of Rome several months; 
and during all that time, the insolence and brutal¬ 
ity of the soldiers hardly abated. Their booty in 
ready money amounted to a million of ducats ; 
what they raised by ransoms and exactions far ex¬ 
ceeded that sum. Rome, though taken several dif- 

X Mem. de Bellay, 101. Guic. 1. xviii. p. 445, &c. CEuv. de Brant, 
iv Arr 

y Jov, Vit. Colon, 165. 

z Jov. Vit. Colon. 166. Guic. 1. xviii. 440, &c. Comment de Capta Urbe 


[A. D. 1527. BOOK IV. 

ferent times by the northern nations, w ho overran 
the empire in the fifth and sixth centuries, was 
never treated with so much cruelty by the barba¬ 
rous and heathen Huns, Vandals, or Goths, as now 
by the bigoted subjects of a catholic monarch. 2 

After Bourbon’s death, the command 

. I he pope be- 

of the imperial army devolved on Jr hi- sieged in the cas- 
r J tie ot St. Angelo. 

libert de Chalons, prince of Orange, 
who with difficulty prevailed on as many of his 
soldiers to desist from the pillage as were necessary 
to invest the castle of St. Angelo. Clement was 
immediately sensible of his error in having retired 
into that ill-provided and untenable fort. But as 
the imperialists, scorning discipline, and intent only 
on plunder, pushed the siege with little vigour, he 
did not despair of holding out until the duke 
D’Urbino could come to his relief. That general 
advanced at the head of an army composed of Vene¬ 
tians, Florentines, and Swiss, in the pay of France, 
of sufficient strength to have delivered Clement 
from the present danger. But D’Urbino, preferring 
the indulgence of his hatred against the family of 
Medici to the glory of delivering the capital of 
Christendom, and the head of the church, pro¬ 
nounced the enterprise to be too hazardous ; and, 
from an exquisite refinement in revenge, having 
marched forward so far, that his army being seen 
from the ramparts of St. Angelo flattered the 
pope with the prospect of certain relief, he immedi¬ 
ately wheeled about and retired.® Clement depriv¬ 
ed of every resource, and reduced to such extrem¬ 
ity of famine as to feed on asses’ flesh, 6 was obliged 
to capitulate on such conditions as the conquerors 
were pleased to prescribe. He agreed 
to pay four hundred thousand ducats Surrenderfinm- 
to the army ; to surrender to the em- sel * a P nsoner * 
peror all the places of strength belonging to the 
church ; and, besides giving hostages, to remain a 
prisoner himself until the chief articles were per¬ 
formed. He was committed to the care of Alarcon, 
who, by his severe vigilance in guarding Francis, 
had given full proof of his being qualified for that 
office ; and thus, by a singular accident, the same 
man had the custody of the two most illustrious 
personages who had been made prisoners in Europe 
during several ages. 

The account of this extraordinary 
and unexpected event was no less tehavbSur^t this 
surprising than agreeable to the em- Juncture - 
peror. But in order to conceal his joy from his 
subjects, who were filled with horror at the success 
and crimes of their countrymen, and to lessen the 
indignation of the rest of Europe, he declared that 
Rome had been assaulted without any order from 
him. He wrote to all the princes with whom lie 
was in alliance, disclaiming his having had any 
know ledge of Bourbon’s intention. 0 He put him¬ 
self and court into mourning ; commanded the re- 


Romas, ap.Scandium, ii. 230. Ulloa Vita del Carlo V. p. no. &c 
Giannone Hist, of Nap. B. xxxi. c. 3. p. 5u*. 
a Guic. 1 xviii. 450. . b Jov. Vit. Colon. 167. 

c Ruscelli Lettre di Principi, ii. 234. 



HOOK IV. A. D. 1527.] EMPEROR 

joicings which had been ordered for the birth of his 
son Philip to be stopped ; and employing an arti¬ 
fice no less hypocritical than gross, he appointed 
prayers and processions throughout all Spain for 
the recovery of the pope’s liberty, which, by an 
order to his generals, he could have immediately 
granted him.<> 

Solyman invades The good fortune of the house of Aus- 
ungary. tria wag n0 j ess conS pj cuous j n another 

part of Europe. Solyman having invaded Hungary 
with an army of three hundred thousand men, Lewis 
II. king of that country and of Bohemia, a weak and 
inexperienced prince, advanced rashly to meet him 
with a body of men which did not amount to thirty 
thousand. With an imprudence still more unpar¬ 
donable, he gave the command of these troops to 
Paul Tomorri, a Franciscan monk, archbishop of 
Golocza. This awkward general, in the dress of 
his order, girt with its cord, marched at the head of 
the troops; and, hurried on by his own presump¬ 
tion, as well as by the impetuosity of nobles who 
despised danger, but were impatient of long service, 

. „ he fought the fatal battle of Mohacz, 

Aug. 29, 1526. ... 

Defeat of the m which the king, the flower of the 

Hungarians, and . . . 

king’ of their Hungarian nobility, and upwards of 
twenty thousand men, fell the victims 
of his folly and ill-conduct. Solyman, after his 
victory, seized and kept possession of several towns 
of the greatest strength in the southern provinces 
of Hungary, and, overrunning the rest of the coun¬ 
try, carried near two hundred thousand persons 
into captivity. As Lewis was the last male of the 
royal family of Jagellon, the archduke Ferdinand 
claimed both his crowns. This claim was founded 
on a double title ; the one derived from the ancient 
pretensions of the house of Austria to both king¬ 
doms ; the other from the right of his wife, the only 
sister of the deceased monarch. The feudal insti¬ 
tutions, however, subsisted both in Hungary and 
Bohemia in such vigour, and the nobles possessed 
such extensive power, that the crowns were still 
elective, and Ferdinand’s rights, if they had not 
been powerfully supported, would have met with 
little regard. But his own personal merit; the re¬ 
spect due to the brother of the greatest monarch in 
Christendom ; the necessity of choosing a prince 
able to afford his subjects some additional protec¬ 
tion against the Turkish arms, which, as they had 
recently felt their power, they greatly dreaded ; to¬ 
gether with the intrigues of his sister, who had been 
Ferdinand elect- married to the late king; overcame the 
ed king. prejudices which the Hungarians had 
conceived against the archduke as a foreigner ; and 
though a considerable party voted for the Vaywode 
of Transylvania, at length secured Ferdinand the 
throne of that kingdom. The states of Bohemia 
imitated the example of their neighbour kingdom ; 
but in order to ascertain and secure their own pri- 

d Sleid. 109. Sandov. i. 822. Mauroc. Hist. Veneta, lit), iii. 220. 
e Steph. Broderick Procancelarii Hungar. Clades in Campo Mohacz, 


CHARLES V. 


.19 


vileges, they obliged Ferdinand, before his corona¬ 
tion, to subscribe a deed which they term a Reverse , 
declaring that he held that crown not by any pre¬ 
vious right, but by their gratuitous and voluntary 
election. By such a vast accession of territories, 
the hereditary possession of which they secured in 
process of time to their family, the princes of the 
house of Austria attained that pre-eminence in 
power w hich hath rendered them so formidable to 
the rest of Germany. e 

The dissensions between the pope p ess of the 
and emperor proved extremely favour- 
able to the progress of Lutheranism. Charles, ex¬ 
asperated by Clement’s conduct, and fully employed 
in opposing the league which he had formed against 
him, had little inclination, and less leisure, to take 
any measures for suppressing the new opinions in 
Germany. In a diet of the empire 
held at Spires, the state of religion June e5, 1526 ‘ 
came to be considered, and all that the emperor re ¬ 
quired of the princes was, that they would wait 
patiently, and without encouraging innovations, for 
the meeting of a general council which he had 
demanded of the pope. They, in return, acknow¬ 
ledged the convocation of a council to be the proper 
and regular step towards reforming abuses in the 
church ; but contended, that a national council 
held in Germany would be more effectual for that 
purpose than what he had proposed. To his advice 
concerning the discouragement of innovations, they 
paid so little regard, that even during the meeting 
of the diet at Spires, the divines who attended 
the elector of Saxony and landgrave of Hesse- 
Cassel thither, preached publicly and administered 
the sacraments according to the rites of the reformed 
church. f The emperor’s own example imboldened 
the Germans to treat the papal authority with lit¬ 
tle reverence. During the heat of his resentment 
against Clement, he had published a long reply to 
an angry brief which the pope had intended as an 
apology for his own conduct. In this manifesto, 
the emperor, after having enumerated many in¬ 
stances of that pontiff’s ingratitude, deceit, and 
ambition, all which he painted in the strongest and 
most aggravated colours, appealed from him to a 
general council. At the same time he wrote to the 
college of cardinals, complaining of Clement’s par¬ 
tiality and injustice ; and requiring them, if he re¬ 
fused or delayed to call a council, to show their 
concern for the peace of the Christian church, so 
shamefully neglected by its chief pastor, by sum¬ 
moning that assembly in their own name.® This 
manifesto, little inferior in virulence to the in¬ 
vectives of Luther himself, was dispersed over 
Germany with great industry, and being eagerly 
read by persons of every rank, did much more than 
counterbalance the effect of all Charles’s declara¬ 
tions against the new r opinions. 

ap. Scardium, ii. 218. P. Pjarre Hist. d’Allemagnc. tom. viii. part i. 
P. 198, f Sleid. 103. g Goldhast. Polit. imper. p. 981. 



520 


BOOK V. 


The account of the cruel manner in 
which the pope had been treated, filled 
all Europe with astonishment or horror. 
To see a Christian emperor, who, by possessing that 
dignity, ought to have been the protector and ad- 


General indigna¬ 
tion excited 
against the em¬ 
peror. 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1527. BOOK V. 

cardinal appeared and was received with royal 
magnificence. A marriage between the duke of 
Orleans and the princess Mary was agreed to as the 
basis of the confederacy; it was resolved that Italy 
should be the theatre of war ; the strength of the 
army which should take the field, as well as the 
contingent of troops or of money which each prince 
should furnish, were settled; and if the emperor 
did not accept of the proposals which they were 


vocate of the holy see, lay violent hands on him jointly to make him, they bound themselves imme- 
who represented Christ on earth, and detain his sa- diately to declare war and to begin 18 

cred person in a rigorous captivity, was considered hostilities. Henry, who took every 
as an impiety that merited the severest vengeance, resolution with impetuosity, entered so eagerly into 

this new alliance, that in order to give Francis the 
strongest proof of his friendship and respect, he 
Henry, alarmed at the progress of the imperial arms I formally renounced the ancient claim of the English 
in Italy, had, even before the taking of Rome, monarchs to the crown of France, which had long 
entered into a closer alliance ; and in order to give been the pride and ruin of the nation ; as a full 
some check to the emperor’s ambition, had agreed to compensation for which he accepted a pension of 


and which called for the immediate interposition of 
every dutiful son of the church. Francis and 


make a vigorous diversion in the Low Countries. 
The force of every motive which had influenced 
them at that time was now increased ; and to these 


fifty thousand crowns, to be paid annually to himself 
and his successors. 3 

The pope being unable to fulfil the 


The Florentines 

was added the desire of rescuing the pope out of conditions of his capitulation, still recover their 

I freedom 

the emperor’s hands, a measure no less politic than remained a prisoner under the severe 
it appeared to be pious. This, however, rendered custody of Alarcon. The Florentines no sooner 
it necessary to abandon their hostile intentions heard of what had happened at Rome, than they ran 
against the Low Countries, and to make Italy the to arms in a tumultuous manner, expelled the car- 
seat of war, as it was by vigorous operations there dinal di Cortona, who governed their city in the 
they might contribute most effectually towards pope’s name; defaced the arms of the Medici; broke 
delivering Rome and setting Clement at liberty, in pieces the statues of Leo and Clement; and de- 
Francis being now sensible that, in his system with daring themselves a free state, re-established their 
regard to the affairs of Italy, the spirit of refine- ancient popular government. The Venetians, taking 
ment had carried him too far; and that, by an ex- advantage of the calamity of their ally the pope, 
cess of remissness, he had allowed Charles to attain seized Ravenna and other places belonging to the 
advantages which he might easily have prevented, church, under pretext of keeping them in deposit, 
was eager to make reparation for an error of which The dukes of Urbino and Ferrara laid hold likewise 
he was not often guilty, by an activity more suitable on part of the spoils of the unfortunate pontiff, whom 
to his temper. Henry thought his interposition they considered as irretrievably ruined. 5 
necessary in order to hinder the emperor from be- Lannoy, on the other hand, laboured The } mperia j 
coming master of all Italy, and acquiring by that to derive some solid benefit from that troops inactive, 
means such superiority of power as would enable unforeseen event which gave such splendour and 
him, for the future, to dictate without control to the superiority to his master’s arms. For this purpose 
other princes of Europe. Wolsey, whom Francis he marched to Rome, together with Moncada and 
had taken care to secure by flattery and presents, the marquis del Guasto, at the head of all the troops 
the certain methods of gaining his favour, neglected which they could assemble in the kingdom of Naples, 
nothing that could incense his master against the The arrival of this reinforcement brought new ca- 
emperor. Besides all these public considerations, lamities on the unhappy citizens of Rome; for the 
Henry was influenced by one of a more private soldiers, envying the wealth of their companions, 
nature : having begun, about this time, to form imitated their licence, and with the utmost rapacity 
his great scheme of divorcing Catharine of Aragon, gathered the gleanings which had escaped the ava- 
towards the execution of which he knew that the rice of the Spaniards and Germans. There was not 
sanction of papal authority would be necessary, he now any army in Italy capable of making head 
was desirous to acquire as much merit as possible against the imperialists ; and nothing more was re- 
with Clement, by appearing to be the chief instru- | quisite to reduce Bologna, and the other towns in the 
ment of his deliverance. 

The negociation between 


Confederacy 
against him. 
July 11. 


princes 


ecclesiastical state, than to have appeared before 
them. But the soldiers having been so long accus- 


thus disposed was not tedious. Wol- tomed, under Bourbon, to an entire relaxation of 
sey himself conducted it, on the part discipline, and having tasted the sweets of living at 
of his sovereign, with unbounded powers. Francis discretion in a great city, almost without the control 
treated with him in person at Amiens, where the of a superior, were become so impatient of military 


a Herbert, 83, &c. Rym. Fred. xiv. 203. 


b Guic. 1. xviii. 453. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


521 


BOOK V. A. D. 1527.] 

subordination, and so averse to service, that they 
refused to leave Rome unless all arrears were paid ; 
a condition which they knew' to be impossible. At 
the same time they declared that they would not 
obey any other person than the prince of Orange, 
whom the army had chosen general. Lannoy, find¬ 
ing that it was no longer safe for him to remain 
among licentious troops who despised his dignity 
and hated his person, returned to Naples ; soon 
after the marquis del Guasto and Moncada thought 
it prudent to quit Rome for the same reason. The 
prince of Orange, a general only in name, and by 
the most precarious of all tenures, the good-will of 
soldiers whom success and licence had rendered 
capricious, was obliged to pay more attention to 
their humours than they did to his commands. Thus 
the emperor, instead of reaping any of the advan¬ 
tages which he might have expected from the reduc¬ 
tion of Rome, had the mortification to see the most 
formidable body of troops that he had ever brought 
into the field continue in a state of inactivity from 
w hich it was impossible to rouse them. 0 

The French army This gave the kingof France and the 
marches into Italy. y ene tians leisure to form newschemes 

and to enter into new r engagements for delivering 
the pope and preserving the liberties of Italy. The 
newly-restored republic of Florence very impru¬ 
dently joined with them, and Lautrec, of whose abi¬ 
lities the Italians entertained a much more favour¬ 
able opinion than his own master, was, in order to 
gratify them, appointed generalissimo of the league. 
It was with the utmost reluctance he undertook that 
office, being unwilling to expose himself a second 
time to the difficulties and disgraces which the neg¬ 
ligence of the king or the malice of his favourites 
might bring upon him. The best troops in France 
marched under his command ; and the king of Eng¬ 
land, though he had not yet declared war against 
the emperor, advanced a considerable sum towards 
carrying on the expedition. Lautrec’s 
first operations were prudent, vigorous, 
and successful. By the assistance of Andrew 
Doria, the ablest sea-officer of that age, he rendered 
himself master of Genoa, and re-established in that 
republic the faction of the Fregosi, together with 
the dominion of France. He obliged Alexandria to 
surrender after a short siege, and reduced all the 
country on that side of the Tesino. He took Pavia, 
which had so long resisted the arms of his sove¬ 
reign, by assault, and plundered it with that 
cruelty which the memory of the fatal disaster 
that had befallen the French nation before its 
walls naturally inspired. All the Milanese, w hich 
Antonio de Leyva defended with a small body 
of troops kept together and supported by his own 
address and industry, must have soon submitted 
to his power, if he had continued to bend the force 
of his arms against that country. But Lautrec 
durst not complete a conquest which would have 


His operations. 


c Guic. I. xviii. 454. 
d Guic. I. xviii. 461. Bellay, 107 , &c. 


Mauroc. Hist. Venet.lib. iii.C38. 


been so honourable to himself and of such ad¬ 
vantage to the league. Francis knew his confede¬ 
rates to be more desirous of circumscribing the 
imperial power in Italy than of acquiring new 
territories for him; and was afraid that if Sforza 
were once re-established in Milan, they would 
second but coldly the attack which he intended to 
make on the kingdom of Naples. For this reason 
he instructed Lautrec not to push his operations 
with too much vigour in Lombardy ; and happily 
the importunities of the pope and the solicitations 
of the Florentines, the one for relief and the other 
for protection, were so urgent as to furnish him with 
a decent pretext for marching forward, without 
yielding to the entreaties of the Venetians and 
Sforza, who insisted on his laying siege to Milan.* 1 

While Lautrec advanced slowly to- The emperor sets 
wards Rome, the emperor had time to the p°pe at liberty. 

deliberate concerning the disposal of the pope’s 
person, who still remained a prisoner in the castle 
of St. Angelo. Notwithstanding the specious veil 
of religion with which he usually endeavoured to 
cover his actions, Charles in many instances appears 
to have been but little under the influence of reli¬ 
gious considerations, and had frequently on this 
occasion expressed an inclination to transport the 
pope into Spain, that he might indulge his ambition 
with the spectacle of the two most illustrious per¬ 
sonages in Europe successively prisoners in his 
court. But the fear of giving new offence to all 
Christendom, and of filling his own subjects with 
horror, obliged him to forego that satisfaction.® The 
progress of the confederates made it now necessary 
either to set the pope at liberty, or to remove him to 
some place of confinement more secure than the 
castle of St. Angelo. Many considerations induced 
him to prefer the former, particularly his want of 
the money requisite as w r ell for recruiting his army 
as for paying off the vast arrears due to it. In 
order to obtain this, he had assembled _ . 
the Cortes of Castile at Valladolid 
about the beginning of the year, and having laid 
before them the state of his affairs, and represented 
the necessity of making great preparations to re¬ 
sist the enemies whom envy at the success which 
had crowned his arms would unite against him, 
he demanded a large supply in the most pressing 
terms ; but the Cortes, as the nation was already 
exhausted by extraordinary donatives, refused to 
load it with any new burden, and in spite of all his 
endeavours to gain or to intimidate the members, 
persisted in this resolution/ No resource therefore 
remained but the extorting from Clement, by way 
of ransom, a sum sufficient for discharging what 
was due to his troops, without which it w as vain 
to mention to them their leaving Rome. 

Nor was the pope inactive on his part, or his in¬ 
trigues unsuccessful towards hastening such a 
treaty. By flattery and the appearance of unbound- 


e Guic. 1. xviii. 467- 


t Sandov. i. p. 814, 



522 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1527. BOOK V 


ed confidence, he disarmed the resentment of cardi¬ 
nal Colonna, and wrought upon his vanity, which 
made him desirous of showing the world, that as 
his power had at first depressed the pope, it could 
now raise him to his former dignity. By favours 
and promises he gained Morone, who, by one of 
those whimsical revolutions which occur so often in 
his life, and which so strongly display his character, 
had now recovered his credit and authority with the 
imperialists. The address and influence of two such 
men easily removed all the obstacles which retard¬ 
ed an accommodation, and brought the treaty for 
Clement’s liberty to a conclusion, upon conditions 
hard indeed, but not more severe than a prince in 
his situation had reason to expect. He was obliged 
to advance in ready money an hundred thousand 
crowns for the use of the army; to pay the same 
sum at the distance of a fortnight; and at the end 
of three months an hundred and fifty thousand 
more. He engaged not to take part in the war 
against Charles either in Lombardy or in Naples ; 
he granted him a bull of crusado, and the tenth of 
ecclesiastical revenues in Spain ; and he not only 
gave hostages, but put the emperor in possession of 
several towns, as a security for the performance 
of these articles.? Having raised the first moiety 
by a sale of ecclesiastical dignities and benefices, 
and other expedients equally uncanonical, a day 
^ „ was fixed for delivering him from im- 

prisonment. But Clement, impatient 
to be free after a tedious confinement of six months, 
as well as full of the suspicion and distrust natural 
to the unfortunate, was so much afraid that the im¬ 
perialists might still throw in obstacles to put off 
his deliverance, that he disguised himself, on the 
night preceding the day when he was to be set free, 
in the habit of a merchant, and Alarcon having re¬ 
mitted somewhat of his vigilance upon the conclu¬ 
sion of the treaty, he made his escape undiscovered. 
He arrived before next morning at Orvietto, with¬ 
out any attendants but a single officer; and from 
thence wrote a letter of thanks to Lautrec, as the 
chief instrument of procuring him liberty. 11 
^ „ , During these transactions the am- 

Overtures of the ° 

emperor to Fran- bassadors of France and England re- 

cis and Henry. # ^ 

paired to Spain, in consequence of the 
treaty which Wolsey had concluded with the French 
king. The emperor, unwilling to draw on himself 
the united forces of the two monarchs, discovered 
an inclination to relax somewhat the rigour of the 
treaty of Madrid, to which, hitherto, he had adhered 
inflexibly. He offered to accept of the two millions 
of crowns which Francis had proposed to pay as an 
equivalent for the duchy of Burgundy, and to set 
his sons at liberty, on condition that he would recall 
his army out of Italy, and restore Genoa, together 
with the other conquests which he had made in that 
country. With regard to Sforza, he insisted that 
his fate should be determined by the judges ap- 

g Guic. 1. xviii. 467, &c. 

h Guic. I. xviii. 467, &c. Jov. Vit. Colon. 169. Mauroc. Hist. Venet. 
lib. iii. 252. 


pointed to inquire into his crimes. These proposi¬ 
tions being made to Henry, he transmitted them to 
his ally the French king, whom it more nearly con¬ 
cerned to examine and to answer them; and if 
Francis had been sincerely solicitous either to con¬ 
clude peace or preserve consistency in his own con¬ 
duct, he ought instantly to have closed with over¬ 
tures which differed but little from the propositions 
which he himself had formerly made. 1 But his 
views were now much changed ; his alliance with 
Henry, Lautrec’s progress in Italy, and the supe¬ 
riority of his army there above that of the emperor, 
hardly left him room to doubt of the success of his 
enterprise against Naples. Full of those sanguine 
hopes, he was at no loss to find pretexts for reject¬ 
ing or evading what the emperor had proposed. 
Under the appearance of sympathy with Sforza, for 
whose interests he had not hitherto discovered much 
solicitude, he again demanded the full and uncon¬ 
ditional re-establishment of that unfortunate prince 
in his dominions. Under colour of its being im¬ 
prudent to rely on the emperor’s sincerity, he insisted 
that his sons should be set at liberty before the 
French troops left Italy or surrendered Genoa. The 
unreasonableness of these demands, as well as the 
reproachful insinuation with which they were ac¬ 
companied, irritated Charles to such a degree, that 
he could hardly listen to them with patience; and 
repenting of his moderation, which had made so 
little impression on his enemies, declared that he 
would not depart in the smallest article from the 
conditions which he had now offered. Upon this 
the French and English ambassadors (for Henry 
had been drawn unaccountably to concur with 
Francis in these strange propositions) demanded 
and obtained their audience of leave. k 

Next day two heralds, who had ac- 1528 
companied the ambassadors on pur- Jan - 22 - 
pose, though they had hitherto concealed their cha¬ 
racter, having assumed the ensigns of their office, 
appeared in the emperor’s court, and being admitted 
into his presence, they, in the name of their respec¬ 
tive masters, and with all the solemnities customary 
on such occasions, denounced war against him. 

Charles received both with a dignity , , 

. * They declare war 

suitable to his own rank, but spoke to against the em- 
. 1 peror. 

each in a tone adapted to the senti¬ 
ments which he entertained of their sovereigns. He 
accepted the defiance of the English monarch with 
a firmness tempered by some degree of decency and 
respect. His reply to the French king abounded 
with that acrimony of expression which personal 
rivalship, exasperated by the memory of many in¬ 
juries inflicted as well as suffered, naturally sug¬ 
gests. He desired the French herald to acquaint 
his sovereign that he would henceforth consider 
him not only as a base violator of public faith, but 
as a stranger to the honour and integrity becoming 
a gentleman. Francis, too high-spirited to bear 

i Recueil des Traitez, ii. 249. 

k Rym. xiv. 200. Herbert, 85. Guic. 1. xviii. 471. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1528.] 

such an imputation, had recourse to an uncommon 
expedient in order to vindicate his character. He 
Francis chai- instantly sent back the herald with a 
peior S to'singie cartel of defiance, in which he gave the 
combdt ‘ emperor the lie in form, challenged 

him to single combat, requiring him to name the 
time and place of the encounter, and the weapons 
with which he chose to fight. Charles, as he was 
not inferior to his rival in spirit or bravery, readily 
accepted the challenge ; but after several messages 
concerning the arrangement of all the circumstances 
relative to the combat, accompanied with mutual 
reproaches bordering on the most indecent scurrility, 
all thoughts of this duel, more becoming the heroes 
of romance than the two greatest monarchs of their 
age, were entirely laid aside. 1 

The effect of this The example of two personages so 
rntomof duel- 8 illustrious drew such general atten¬ 
tion, and carried with it so much au¬ 
thority, that it had considerable influence in pro¬ 
ducing an important change in manners all over 
Europe. Duels, as has already been observed, had 
long been permitted by the laws of all the European 
nations, and forming a part of their jurisprudence, 
were authorized by the magistrate on many occa¬ 
sions as the most proper method of terminating 
questions with regard to property, or of deciding 
those which respected crimes. But single combats 
being considered as solemn appeals to the omni¬ 
science and justice of the Supreme Being, they 
were allowed only in public causes, according to 
the prescription of law, and carried on in a judicial 
form. Men accustomed to this manner of decisions 
in courts of justice, were naturally led to apply it 
to personal and private quarrels. Duels, which at 
first could be appointed by the civil judge alone, 
M'ere fought without the interposition of his autho¬ 
rity, and in cases to which the laws did not extend. 
The transaction between Charles and Francis strong¬ 
ly countenanced this practice. Upon every affront 
or injury which seemed to touch his honour, a gen¬ 
tleman thought himself entitled to draw his sword, 
and to call on his adversary to give him satisfaction. 
Such an opinion becoming prevalent among men of 
fierce courage, of high spirit, and of rude manners, 
when offence was often given and revenge was 
always prompt, produced most fatal consequences. 
Much of the best blood in Christendom was shed ; 
many useful lives were sacrificed ; and, at some 
periods, war itself hath hardly been more destruct¬ 
ive than these private contests of honour. So power¬ 
ful, however, is the dominion of fashion, that neither 
the terror of penal laws nor reverence for religion 
have been able entirely to abolish a practice un¬ 
known among the ancients, and not justifiable by 
any principle of reason ; though at the same time it 
must be admitted, that to this absurd custom we 
must ascribe, in some degree, the extraordinary 
gentleness and complaisance of modern manners, 

1 Recueil des Traitcz, 2. Mem. de Bellay, 103, &c. Sandov. Hist. i. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


523 


and that respectful attention of one man to another, 
which at present render the social intercourses of 
life far more agreeable and decent than among the 
most civilized nations of antiquity. 

While the two monarchs seemed so Retreat 0 f t h e 
eager to terminate their quarrel by a i^>me! Hllsts fr ° m 
personal combat, Lautrec continued February - 
his operations, which promised to be more decisive. 
His army, which was now increased to thirty-five 
thousand men, advanced by great marches towards 
Naples. The terror of their approach, as well as the 
remonstrances and the entreaties of the prince of 
Orange, prevailed at last on the imperial troops, 
though with difficulty, to quit Rome, of which they 
had kept possession during ten months. But of 
that flourishing army which had entered the city, 
scarcely one-half remained ; the rest, cut off* by the 
plague or wasted by disease, the effects of their 
inactivity, intemperance, and debauchery, fell vic¬ 
tims to their own crimes." 1 Lautrec made the 
greatest efforts to attack them in their retreat to¬ 
wards the Neapolitan territories, which would have 
finished the war at one blow. But the prudence of 
their leaders disappointed all his measures, and con¬ 
ducted them with little loss to Naples. The people 
of that kingdom, extremely impatient to shake off 
the Spanish yoke, received the French with open 
arms wherever they appeared to take possession ; 
and, Gaeta and Naples excepted, hardly any place 
of importance remained in the hands of the impe¬ 
rialists. The preservation of the former was owing to 
the strength of its fortifications, that of the latter to 
the presence of the imperial army. French besiege 
Lautrec, however, sat down before Naples. 
Naples; but finding it vain to think of reducing a 
city by force while defended by a whole army, he was 
obliged to employ the slower but less dangerous 
method of blockade ; and having taken measures 
which appeared to him effectual, he confidently as¬ 
sured his master, that famine would soon compel the 
besieged to capitulate. These hopes were strongly 
confirmed by the defeat of a vigorous attempt made 
by the enemy in order to recover the command of 
the sea. The galleys of Andrew Doria under the 
command of his nephew Philippino, guarded the 
mouth of the harbour. Moncada, who had suc¬ 
ceeded Lannoy in the viceroyalty, rigged out a 
number of galleys superior to Doria’s, manned them 
with a chosen body of Spanish veterans, and going 
on board himself, together with the marquis del 
Guasto, attacked Philippino before the arrival of 
the Venetian and French fleets. But the Genoese 
admiral, by his superior skill in naval operations, 
easily triumphed over the valour and number of 
the Spaniards. The viceroy was killed, most of 
his fleet destroyed, and Guasto, with many officers 
of distinction, being taken prisoners, were put on 
board the captive galleys, and sent by Philippino as 
trophies of his victory to his uncle." 


m Guic. 1. xviii. 478. 

n Guic. 1. xix. 487. P. Ileuter. lib. x. c. 2. p. 231. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


621 


[A. D. 1628. BOOK V. 


Notwithstanding this flattering pros- 

Circumstances • 

which retard the pect of success, many circumstances 
progress of it. concurre d to frustrate Lautrec’s ex¬ 
pectations. Clement, though he always acknow¬ 
ledged his being indebted to Francis for the recovery 
of his liberty, and often complained of the cruel 
treatment which he had met with from the emperor, 
was not influenced at this juncture by principles of 
gratitude, nor, which is more extraordinary, was he 
swayed by the desire of revenge. His past misfor¬ 
tunes rendered him more cautious than ever, and 
his recollection of the errors which he had com¬ 
mitted, increased the natural irresolution of his 
mind. While he amused Francis with promises, he 
secretly negoeiated with Charles; and being soli¬ 
citous, above all things, to re-establish his family 
in Florence Math their ancient authority, which he 
could not expect from Francis, who had entered 
into strict alliance with the new republic, he leaned 
rather to the side of his enemy than to that of his 
benefactor, and gave Lautrec no assistance towards 
carrying on his operations. The Venetians, view¬ 
ing with jealousy the progress of the French arms, 
Mere intent only upon recovering such maritime 
towns in the Neapolitan dominions as M ere to be 
possessed by their republic, while they were alto¬ 
gether careless about the reduction of Naples, on 
which the success of the common cause depended. 0 
The king of England, instead of being able, as had 
been projected, to embarrass the emperor by attack¬ 
ing his territories in the Low Countries, found his 
subjects so averse to an unnecessary war, which 
would have ruined the trade of the nation, that in 
order to silence their clamours, and put a stop to 
the insurrections ready to break out among them, 
he M'as compelled to conclude a truce for eight 
months with the governess of the Netherlands .p 
F rancis himself, with the same unpardonable inat¬ 
tention of which he had formerly been guilty, and 
for which he had suffered so severely, neglected to 
make proper remittances to Lautrec for the support 
of his army.s 

These unexpected events retarded 

Revolt of An- ,, ^ 

drew Doriafrom the progress of the brench, discourag¬ 
ing both the general and his troops; 
but the revolt of Andrew Doria proved a fatal blow 
to all their measures. That gallant officer, the 
citizen of a republic, and trained up from his in¬ 
fancy in the sea service, retained the spirit of in¬ 
dependence natural to the former, together with the 
plain liberal manners peculiar to the latter. A 
stranger to the arts of submission or flattery neces¬ 
sary in courts, but conscious at the same time of 
his own merit and importance, he always offered 
his advice with freedom, and often preferred his 
complaints and remonstrances with boldness. The 
French ministers, unaccustomed to such liberties, 
determined to ruin a man who treated them with 
so little deference ; and though Francis himself had 
a just sense of Doria’s services, as well as an high 

o Gujc. 1. xix. 491. p Herbert, 90. Rymer, 14, C58. 


esteem for his character, the courtiers, by con¬ 
tinually representing him as a man haughty, in¬ 
tractable, and more solicitous to aggrandize himself 
than to promote the interest of France, gradually 
undermined the foundations of his credit, and filled 
the king’s mind with suspicion and distrust. From 
thence proceeded several affronts and indignities 
put upon Doria. His appointments were not regu¬ 
larly paid ; his advice, even in naval affairs, was 
often slighted ; an attempt was made to seize the 
prisoners taken by his nephew in the sea-fight off 
Naples: all which he bore with abundance of ill- 
liumour. But an injury offered to his country 
transported him beyond all bounds of patience. 
The French began to fortify Savona, to clear its 
harbour, and removing thither some branches of 
trade carried on at Genoa, plainly showed that they 
intended to render that town, which had been long 
the object of jealousy and hatred to the Genoese, 
their rival in wealth and commerce. Doria, ani¬ 
mated with a patriotic zeal for the honour and 
interest of his country, remonstrated against this in 
the highest tone, not without threats, if the measure 
were not instantly abandoned. This bold action, 
aggravated by the malice of the courtiers, and 
placed in the most odious light, irritated Francis to 
such a degree, that he commanded Barbesieux, 
whom he appointed admiral of the Levant, to sail 
directly to Genoa with the French fleet, to arrest 
Doria, and to seize his galleys. This rash order, 
the execution of which could have been secured 
only by the most profound secrecy, was concealed 
with so little care, that Doria got timely intelligence 
of it, and retired with all his galleys to a place of 
safety. Guasto, his prisoner, who had long ob¬ 
served and fomented his growing discontent, and 
had often allured him by magnificent promises to 
enter into the emperor’s service, laid hold on this 
favourable opportunity. While his indignation 
and resentment were at their height, he prevailed 
on him to despatch one of his officers to the impe¬ 
rial court with his overtures and demands. The 
negociation was not long: Charles, fully sensible of 
the importance of such an acquisition, granted him 
whatever terms he required. Doria sent back his 
commission, together with the collar of St. Michael, 
to Francis, and hoisting the imperial colours, sailed 
with all his galleys towards Naples, not to block up 
the harbour of that unhappy city, as he had for¬ 
merly engaged, but to bring them protection and 
deliverance. 

His arrival opened the communica- wretched situa¬ 
tion with the sea, and restored plenty tl0n of the French 

. 7 r j aimy belore Na- 

in Naples, which w as now reduced to ples - 
the last extremity ; and the French, having lost 
their superiority at sea, were soon reduced to great 
straits for want of provisions. The prince of Orange, 
who succeeded the viceroy in the command of the 
imperial army, showed himself by his prudent con¬ 
duct Morthy of that honour which his good fortune 

q Guic. I. xviii. 478. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


525 


BOOK Y. A. D. 1528.] 


and the death of his generals had twice acquired 
him. Beloved by the troops, who remembering the 
prosperity which they had enjoyed under his com¬ 
mand served him with the utmost alacrity, he let 
slip no opportunity of harassing the enemy, and by 
continual alarms or sallies fatigued and weakened 
them/ As an addition to all these misfortunes, the 
diseases common in that country during the sultry 
months began to break out among the French troops. 
The prisoners communicated to them the pestilence 
which the imperial army had brought to Naples 
from Rome, and it raged with such violence, that 
few, either officers or soldiers, escaped the infection. 
Of the whole army, not four thousand men, a num¬ 
ber hardly sufficient to defend the camp, were ca¬ 
pable of doing duty; 8 and being now besieged in 
their turn, they suffered all the miseries from which 
the imperialists were delivered. Lautrec, after 
struggling long with so many disappointments and 
calamities, which preyed on his mind at the same 
^ ^ time that the pestilence wasted his 

body, died, lamenting the negligence 
of his sovereign and the infidelity of his allies, to 
which so many brave men had fallen victims/ By 
his death, and the indisposition of the other gene¬ 
rals, the command devolved on the marquis de Sa- 
luces, an officer altogether unequal to such a trust. 
„ . He, with troops no less dispirited 

Raises the siege. ., . , . . . 

than reduced, retreated in disorder to 
Aversa; which town being invested by the prince 
of Orange, Saluces was under the necessity of con¬ 
senting that he himself should remain a prisoner of 
war, that his troops should lay down their arms and 
colours, give up their baggage, and march under a 
guard to the frontiers of France. By this ignomi¬ 
nious capitulation the wretched remains of the 
French army were saved ; and the emperor, by his 
own perseverance, and the good conduct of his 
generals, acquired once more the superiority in 
Italy." 


Genoa recovers The loss of Genoa followed imme¬ 
diately upon the ruin of the army in 
Naples. To deliver his country from the dominion 
of foreigners was Doria’s highest ambition, and had 
been his principal inducement to quit the service 
of France and enter into that of the emperor. A 
most favourable opportunity for executing this ho¬ 
nourable enterprise now presented itself. The city 
of Genoa, afflicted by the pestilence, was almost 
deserted by its inhabitants ; the French garrison, 
being neither regularly paid nor recruited, was re¬ 
duced to an inconsiderable number; Doria’s emis¬ 
saries found that such of the citizens as remained, 
being w eary alike of the French and imperial yoke, 
the rigour of which they had alternately felt, were 
ready to welcome him as their deliverer, and to se¬ 
cond all his measures. Things wearing this pro¬ 
mising aspect, he sailed towards the coast of Ge¬ 
noa; on his approach the French galleys retired ; a 


r Tovii Hist. lib. xxxvi. p. 31, fee. Sigonii Vita Donas, p. 1139. Bel- 
lay, 114, tat. s Bellay, 117, fee. 

t P. lleuter. Reriun Austr. lib. x. c. 2. p. 231. 


small body of men which he landed, surprised one 
of the gates of Genoa in the night-time ; Trivulci, 
the French governor, with his feeble garrison, shut 
himself up in the citadel, and Doria 

1 ’ Sept. 12. 

took possession of the town without 
bloodshed or resistance. Want of provisions quickly 
obliged Trivulci to capitulate ; the people, eager to 
abolish such an odious monument of their servitude, 
ran together with a tumultuous violence, and level¬ 
led the citadel with the ground. 

It was now in Doria’s power to have Disinterested 
rendered himself the sovereign of his conduct of Dona. 

country, which he had so happily delivered from 
oppression. The fame of his former actions, the 
success of his present attempt, the attachment of 
his friends, the gratitude of his countrymen, toge¬ 
ther with the support of the emperor, all conspired 
to facilitate his attaining the supreme authority, 
and invited him to lay hold of it. But with a mag¬ 
nanimity of which there are few examples, he sacri¬ 
ficed all thoughts of aggrandizing himself to the 
virtuous satisfaction of establishing liberty in his 
country, the highest object at which ambition can 
aim. Having assembled the w hole body of the people 
in the court before his palace, he assured them that 
the happiness of seeing them once more in possession 
of freedom was to him a full reward for all his ser¬ 
vices ; that, more delighted with the name of citizen 
than of sovereign, he claimed no pre-eminence or 
power above his equals ; but remitted entirely to 
them the right of settling what form of government 
they would now choose to be established among 
them. The people listened to him with tears of ad¬ 
miration and of joy. Twelve persons were elected 
to new-model the constitution of the republic. The 
influence of Doria’s virtue and example communi¬ 
cated itself to his countrymen ; the factions whieh 
had long torn and ruined the state seemed to be 
forgotten ; prudent precautions were taken to pre¬ 
vent their reviving ; and the same form of govern¬ 
ment which has subsisted with little variation since 
that time in Genoa, was established with universal 
applause. Doria lived to a great age, beloved, re¬ 
spected, and honoured by his countrymen ; and ad¬ 
hering uniformly to his professions of moderation, 
without arrogating any thing unbecoming a private 
citizen, he preserved a great ascendant over the 
councils of the republic, which owed its being to 
his generosity. The authority which he possessed 
was more flattering, as well as more satisfactory, 
than that derived from sovereignty ; a dominion 
founded in love and in gratitude, and upheld by 
veneration for his virtues, not by the dread of his 
power. His memory is still reverenced by the Ge¬ 
noese, and he is distinguished in their public mo¬ 
numents, and celebrated in the works of their his¬ 
torians, by the most honourable of all appellations, 
THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY, AND THE 
RESTORER OF ITS LIBERTY/ 

u Bellay, 117, fee. Tovii Hist. lib. xxv. xxvi. 

x Guic. 1. xix. p. 498. Sigonii Vita Dorias, p. 1146 Jovii Hist. lib. 
xxvi. p. 36, &c. 



526 


THE REIGN OF THE 


Francis, in order to recover the repu- 

Operatkms in the tation of his arms, discredited by so 

Milanese. man y losses, made new efforts in the 

Milanese. But the count of St. Pol, a rash and 
unexperienced officer, to whom he gave the com¬ 
mand, was no match for Antonio de Leyva, the 
ablest of the imperial generals. He, by his supe¬ 
rior skill in war, checked with a handful of men the 
brisk but ill-concerted motions of the French ; and 
though so infirm himself that he was carried con¬ 
stantly in a litter, he surpassed them, when occasion 
required, no less in activity than in prudence. By 
an unexpected march he surprised, defeated, and 
took prisoner the count of St. Pol, ruining the 
French army in the Milanese as entirely as the 
prince of Orange had ruined that which besieged 
Naples. y 

Amidst these vigorous operations in 

tween Charles the field, each party discovered an inl¬ 
and Francis. . , 

patient desire of peace, and continual 
negociations were carried on for that purpose. The 
French king, discouraged and almost exhausted by 
so many unsuccessful enterprises, was reduced now 
to think of obtaining the release of his sons by con¬ 
cessions, not by the terror of his arms. The pope 
hoped to recover by a treaty whatever he had lost 
in the war. The emperor, notwithstanding the ad¬ 
vantages which he had gained, had many reasons to 
make him wish for an accommodation. Solyman, 
having overrun Hungary, was ready to break in 
upon the Austrian territories with the whole force 
of the east. The Reformation gaining ground daily 
in Germany, the princes who favoured it had entered 
into a confederacy which Charles thought dangerous 
to the tranquillity of the empire. The Spaniards 
murmured at a war of such unusual length, the 
weight of which rested chiefly on them. The va¬ 
riety and extent of the emperor’s operations far ex¬ 
ceeded wliat his revenues could support: his success 
hitherto had been owing chiefly to his own good 
fortune and to the abilities of his generals ; nor 
could he flatter himself that they, with troops desti¬ 
tute of every thing necessary, would always triumph 
over enemies still in a condition to renew their 
attacks. All parties, how'ever, were at equal pains 
to conceal or to dissemble their real sentiments. The 
emperor, that his inability to carry on the war might 
not be suspected, insisted on high terms in the tone 
of a conqueror. The pope, solicitous not to lose his 
present allies before he came to any agreement with 
Charles, continued to make a thousand protesta¬ 
tions of fidelity to the former, while he privately 
negociated with the latter. Francis, afraid that his 
confederates might prevent him by treating for 
themselves with the emperor, had recourse to many 
dishonourable artifices in order to turn their atten¬ 
tion from the measures which he was taking to 
adjust all differences with his rival. 

In this situation of affairs, when all the contending 

y Guic. 1. xix. 520. P. Heuter. Rer. Austr. lib x. c. 3. p. 233. Mem. 
de Bellay, p. 121. 


[A. D. 1529. BOOK V. 


May. 


between the pope 
and Charles. 

J une 20. 


powers wished for peace, but durst not venture too 
hastily on the steps necessary for attaining it, two 
ladies undertook to procure this bless¬ 
ing so much desired by all Europe. 

These w ere Margaret of Austria, duchess dowager 
of Savoy, the emperor’s aunt, and Louise, Francis’s 
mother. They agreed on an interview at Cambray ; 
and being lodged in two adjoining houses between 
which a communication was opened, met together 
without ceremony or observation, and held daily 
conferences, to which no person whatever was ad¬ 
mitted. As both were profoundly skilled in busi¬ 
ness, thoroughly acquainted with the secrets of their 
respective courts, and possessed with perfect confi¬ 
dence in each other, they soon made great progress 
towards a final accommodation ; and the ambas¬ 
sadors of all the confederates waited in anxious 
suspense to know their fate, the determination of 
which w as entirely in the hands of those illustrious 
negociators. 2 

But whatever diligence they used to separate treaty 
hasten forward a general peace, the 
pope had the address and industry to 
get the start of his allies, by concluding at Barcelona 
a particular treaty for himself. The emperor, im¬ 
patient to visit Italy in his way to Germany, and 
desirous of re-establishing tranquillity in the one 
country before he attempted to compose the dis¬ 
orders which abounded in the other, found it ne¬ 
cessary to secure at least one alliance among the 
Italian states, on which he might depend. That w ith 
Clement, who courted it with unwearied importu¬ 
nity, seemed more proper than any other. Charles 
being extremely solicitous to make some reparation 
for the insults which he had offered to the sacred 
character of the pope, and to redeem past offences 
by new merit, granted Clement, notwithstanding all 
his misfortunes, terms more favourable than he 
could have expected after a continued series of suc¬ 
cess. Among other articles he engaged to restore 
all the territories belonging to the ecclesiastical 
state ; to re-establish the dominion of the Medici in 
Florence ; to give his natural daughter in marriage 
to Alexander the head of that family ; and to put it 
in the pope’s power to decide concerning the fate of 
Sforza and the possession of the Milanese. In re¬ 
turn for these ample concessions, Clement gave the 
emperor the investiture of Naples, without the re¬ 
serve of any tribute but the present of a white steed, 
in acknowledgment of his sovereignty; absolved all 
who had been concerned in assaulting and plunder¬ 
ing Rome, and permitted Charles and his brother 
Ferdinand to levy the fourth of the ecclesiastical 
revenues throughout their dominions. a 

The account of this transaction 
quickened the negociations at Cam¬ 
bray, and brought Margaret and 
Louise to an immediate agreement. 

The treaty of Madrid served as the basis of that 


August 5. 
Peace of Cam¬ 
bray between 
Charles and 
Francis: 


z P. ITeuter. Rer. Austr. lib. x. c.3. p.'l33. Mem. de Bella}-, p. 122. 
a Guic. 1. xix. p. 522. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1529.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. 527 


which they concluded, the latter being intended to 
mitigate the rigour of the former. The chief arti¬ 
cles were, That the emperor should not, for the pre¬ 
sent, demand the restitution of Burgundy, reserving 
however, in full force, his rights and pretensions to 
that duchy : That Francis should pay two millions 
ot crowns as the ransom of his sons, and before they 
were set at liberty, should restore such towns as he 
still held in the Milanese: That he should resign 
his pretensions to the sovereignty of Flanders and 
Artois : That he should renounce all his pretensions 
to Naples, Milan, Genoa, and every other place be¬ 
yond the Alps : That he should immediately con¬ 
summate the marriage concluded between him and 
the emperor’s sister Eleanora. 6 

advantageous for Thus Francis, chiefly from his impa- 
the emperor ; tience to procure liberty to his sons, 

sacrificed every thing which had at first prompted 
him to take arms, or which had induced him, by 
continuing hostilities during nine successive cam¬ 
paigns, to protract the war to a length hardly known 
in Europe before the establishment of standing 
armies and the imposition of exorbitant taxes be¬ 
came universal. The emperor, by this treaty, was 
rendered sole arbiter of the fate of Italy ; he de¬ 
livered his territories in the Netherlands from an 
unpleasant badge of subjection ; and after having 
baflled his rival in the field, he prescribed to him 
the conditions of peace. The different conduct and 
spirit with which the two monarchs carried on the 
operations of war, led naturally to such an issue of 
it. Charles, inclined by temper, as well as obliged 
by his situation, concerted all his schemes with 
caution, pursued them with perseverance, and ob¬ 
serving circumstances and events with attention, 
let none escape that could be improved to advan¬ 
tage. Francis, more enterprising than steady, un¬ 
dertook great designs with warmth, but often exe¬ 
cuted them with remissness ; and diverted by his 
pleasures, or deceived by his favourites, he lost on 
several occasions the most promising opportunities 
of success. Nor had the character of the two rivals 
themselves greater influence on the operations of 
war, than the opposite qualities of the generals 
whom they employed. Among the imperialists, 
valour tempered with prudence; fertility of inven¬ 
tion aided by experience ; discernment to penetrate 
the designs of their enemies ; a provident sagacity 
in conducting their own measures ; in a word, all 
the talents which form great commanders and en¬ 
sure victory, were conspicuous. Among the French, 
these qualities were either wanting, or the very re¬ 
verse of them abounded ; nor could they boast of 
any one man (unless we except Lautrec, who was 
always unfortunate) that equalled the merit of 
Pescara, Leyva, Guasto, the prince of Orange, and 
other leaders whom Charles had to set in opposition 
to them. Bourbon, Morone, Doria, who by their 
abilities and conduct might have been capable of 

b P. Ileuter. Rer. Aiistr. lib. x. c. 3. p. 234. Sandov. Ilist. del Em- 
per. Car. V. ii. 2b. 


balancing the superiority which the imperialists 
had acquired, were induced to abandon the service 
of France, by the carelessness of the king and the 
malice or injustice of his counsellors ; and the 
most fatal blows given to France during the pro¬ 
gress of the war, proceeded from the despair and 
resentment of these three persons. 

The hard conditions to which Fran- dish onourabie to 
cis was obliged to submit were not the lrancis - 
most afflicting circumstances to him in the treaty of 
Cambray. He lost his reputation and the confidence 
of all Europe, by abandoning his allies to his rival. 
Unwilling to enter into the details necessary for ad¬ 
justing their interests, or afraid that whatever he 
claimed for them must have been purchased by 
further concessions on his own part, he gave them 
up in a body ; and without the least provision in 
their behalf, left the Venetians, the Florentines, the 
duke of Ferrara, together with such of the Neapo¬ 
litan barons as had joined his army, to the mercy of 
the emperor. They exclaimed loudly against tins 
base and perfidious action, of which Francis him¬ 
self w as so much ashamed, that in order to avoid 
the pain of hearing from their ambassadors the re¬ 
proaches which he justly merited, it was some 
time before he would consent to allow them an 
audience. Charles, on the other hand, was atten¬ 
tive to the interest of every person who had ad¬ 
hered to him: the rights of some of his Flemish 
subjects who had estates or pretensions in France 
were secured ; one article was inserted, obliging 
Francis to restore the blood and memory of the con¬ 
stable Bourbon, and to grant his heirs the possession 
of his lands which had been forfeited ; another, by 
which indemnification was stipulated for those 
French gentlemen who had accompanied Bourbon 
in his exile. c This conduct, laudable in itself, and 
placed in the most striking light by a comparison 
with that of Francis, gained Charles as much esteem 
as the success of his arms had acquired him glory. 

Francis did not treat the king of IIenrx acquiesces 

England with the same neglect as his m lt- 

other allies. He communicated to him all the steps 

of his negociation at Cambray, and luckily found 

that monarch in a situation which left him no choice 

but to approve implicitly of his measures, and to 

concur with them. Henry had been , 

. His scheme of be- 

soliciti ng the pope for some time, in mg divorced from 
° his queen. 

order to obtain a divorce from Cathe¬ 
rine of Aragon his queen. Several motives com¬ 
bined in prompting the king to urge his suit. As 
he was powerfully influenced at some seasons by 
religious considerations, he entertained many scru¬ 
ples concerning the legitimacy of his marriage w ith 
his brother’s widow ; his affections had long been 
estranged from the queen, who was older than him¬ 
self, and had lost all the charms which she possessed 
in the earlier part of her life ; he was passionately 
desirous of having male issue; Wolsey artfully 

c Guic. I. xix. p. 525. P. Ileuter. Iter. Austr. lib. x. c. 4. p. 235, 



5‘28 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1529. BOOK V. 


fortified his scruples, and encouraged his hopes, 
that he might widen the breach between him and 
the emperor, Catherine’s nephew ; and what was 
more forcible perhaps in its operation than all these 
united, the king had conceived a violent love for 
the celebrated Anne Boleyn, a young lady of great 
beauty and of greater accomplishments, whom, as 
he found it impossible to gain her on other terms, he 
determined to raise to the throne. The papal au¬ 
thority had often been interposed to grant divorces 
for reasons less specious than those which Henry 
produced. When the matter was first proposed to 
Clement, during his imprisonment in the castle of 
St. Angelo, as his hopes of recovering liberty de¬ 
pended entirely on the king of England and his 
ally of France, he expressed the warmest incli¬ 
nation to gratify him. But no sooner was he set 
free than he discovered other sentiments. Charles, 
who espoused the protection of his aunt with zeal 
inflamed by resentment, alarmed the pope on the 
one hand with threats which made a deep impres¬ 
sion on his timid mind ; and allured him on the 
other with those promises in favour of his family 
which he afterwards accomplished. Upon the pros¬ 
pect of these, Clement not only forgot all his obli¬ 
gations to Henry, but ventured to endanger the in¬ 
terest of the Romish religion in England, and to 
run the risk of alienating the kingdom for ever from 
the obedience of the papal see. After amusing 
Henry, during two years, with all the subtilties 
and chicane which the court of Rome can so dex¬ 
terously employ to protract or defeat any cause ; 
after displaying the whole extent of his ambiguous 
and deceitful policy, the intricacies of which the 
English historians, to whom it properly belongs, 
have found it no easy matter to trace and unravel; 
he, at last, recalled the powers of the delegates 
whom he had appointed to judge in the point, 
avocated the cause to Rome, leaving the king no 
other hope of obtaining a divorce, but from the per¬ 
sonal decision of the pope himself. As Clement 
was now in strict alliance with the emperor, who 
had purchased his friendship by the exorbitant 
concessions which have been mentioned, Henry de¬ 
spaired of procuring any sentence from the former 
but what was dictated by the latter. His honour, 
however, and passions concurred in preventing him 
from relinquishing his scheme of a divorce, which 
he determined to accomplish by other means, and at 
any rate; and the continuance of Francis’s friend¬ 
ship being necessary to counterbalance the em¬ 
peror’s power, he, in order to secure that, not only 
offered no remonstrances against the total neglect 
of their allies in the treaty of Cambray, but made 
Francis the present of a large sum, as a brotherly 
contribution towards the payment of the ransom 
for his sons. d 

a Soon after the treaty of peace was 

Aug. 12. ill. 

The emperor concluded, the emperor landed in 

visits Italy. T , . . r 

Italy with a numerous tram of the 

d Herbert. Mem. de Bellay, 122. e Sandov. ii. p. 50. Ferrer, ix. 116. 


Spanish nobility, and a considerable body of troops. 
He left the government of Spain, during his absence, 
to the empress Isabella. By his long residence in 
that country he had acquired such thorough know¬ 
ledge of the character of the people, that he could 
perfectly accommodate the maxims of his govern¬ 
ment to their genius. He could even assume, upon 
some occasions, such popular manners as gained 
wonderfully upon the Spaniards. A striking in¬ 
stance of his disposition to gratify them had oc¬ 
curred a few days before he embarked for Italy ; he 
was to make his public entry into the city of Bar¬ 
celona ; and some doubts having arisen among the 
inhabitants, whether they should receive him as 
emperor or as count of Barcelona, Charles instantly 
decided in favour of the latter, declaring that he 
was more proud of that ancient title than of his 
imperial crown. Soothed with this flattering ex¬ 
pression of his regard, the citizens welcomed him 
with acclamations of joy, and the states of the pro¬ 
vince swore allegiance to his son Philip, as heir 
of the county of Barcelona. A similar oath had 
been taken in all the kingdoms of Spain with equal 
satisfaction. 6 

The emperor appeared in Italy with the pomp and 
power of a conqueror. Ambassadors from all the 
princes and states of that country attended his 
court, waiting to receive his decision with regard to 
their fate. At Genoa, where he first landed, he was 
received with the acclamations due to the protector 
of their liberties. Having honoured Doria with 
many marks of distinction, and bestowed on the 
republic several new privileges, he proceeded to 
Bologna, the place fixed upon for his interview with 
the pope. He affected to unite, in his 
public entry into that city, the state 
and majesty that suited an emperor with the hu¬ 
mility becoming an obedient son of the church ; 
and while at the head of twenty thousand veteran 
soldiers able to give law to all Italy, he kneeled 
down to kiss the feet of that very pope whom he 
had so lately detained a prisoner. The Italians, 
after suffering so much from the ferocity and licen¬ 
tiousness of his armies, and after having been long 
accustomed to form in their imagination a picture 
of Charles which bore some resemblance to that of 
the barbarous monarchs of the Goths or Huns, 
who had formerly afflicted their country with like 
calamities, were surprised to see a prince of a 
graceful appearance, affable and courteous in his 
deportment, of regular manners, and of exemplary 
attention to all the offices of religion/ They were 
still more astonished when he settled all the concerns 
of the princes and states which now depended on 
him, with a degree of moderation and equity much 
beyond what they had expected. 

Charles himself, when he set out 
from Spain, far from intending to give and t™ d mo& 
any such extraordinary proof of his ° f 1 
self-denial, seems to have been resolved to avail 

f Sandov. Hist, del Emp. Carl. V. ii. 50, 53, &c. 


Nov. 5. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V 


Sept. 13. 


Oct. 16. 


BOOK Y. A. D. 1529.] 

himself to the utmost of the superiority which he 
had acquired in Italy. But various circumstances 
concurred in pointing out the necessity of pursuing 
a very different course. The progress of the Turk¬ 
ish sultan, who, after overrunning Hungary, had 
penetrated into Austria and laid siege 
to Vienna, with an army of an hundred 
and fifty thousand men, loudly called upon him to 
collect his whole force to oppose that torrent; and 
though the valour of the Germans, the prudent 
conduct of Ferdinand, together with 
the treachery of the vizier, soon 
obliged Solyman to abandon that enterprise with 
disgrace and loss, the religious disorders still grow¬ 
ing in Germany rendered the presence of the emperor 
highly necessary there. 6 The Florentines, instead 
of giving their consent to the re-establishment of 
the Medici, which, by the treaty of Barcelona, the 
emperor had bound himself to procure, were pre¬ 
paring to defend their liberty by force of arms; the 
preparations for his journey had involved him in 
unusual expenses ; and on this as well as many 
other occasions, the multiplicity of his affairs, to¬ 
gether with the narrowness of his revenues, obliged 
him to contract the schemes which his boundless 
ambition was apt to form, and to forego present and 
certain advantages, that he might guard against 
more remote but unavoidable dangers. Charles, 
from all these considerations, finding it necessary 
to assume an air of moderation, acted his part with 
a good grace. He admitted Sforza into his presence, 
and not only gave him a full pardon of all past of¬ 
fences, but granted him the investiture of the duchy, 
together with his niece, the king of Denmark’s 
daughter, in marriage. He allowed the duke of 
Ferrara to keep possession of all his dominions, 
adjusting the points in dispute between him and the 
pope with an impartiality not very agreeable to the 
latter. He came to a final accommodation with the 
Venetians, upon the reasonable condition of their 
restoring whatever they had usurped during the 
late war, either in the Neapolitan or papal territories. 
In return for so many concessions, he exacted con¬ 
siderable sums from each of the powers with whom 
he treated, which they paid without reluctance, and 
which afforded him the means of proceeding on his 
journey towards Germany with a magnificence suit¬ 
able to his dignity. 11 

1530. These treaties, which restored tran- 

authority of the quillity to Italy alter a tedious war, 
rence? 1 m 1 * the calamities of which had chiefly af¬ 
fected that country, were published at Bologna with 
great solemnity, on the first day of the year one 
thousand five hundred and thirty, amidst the uni¬ 
versal acclamations of the people, applauding the 
emperor, to whose moderation and generosity they 
ascribed the blessings of peace, which they had so 
long desired. The Florentines alone did not partake 
of this general joy. Animated with a zeal for liberty 

s Sleidan, 121. Guic, 1. xx. 550. h Sandov, ii. 55, &c. 

i Guic. I. xx. p. 341, &c. P. Heuter. Rer. Austr. lib. ii. c. 4. p. 236. 

2 M 


529 


more laudable than prudent, they determined to 
oppose the restoration of the Medici. The imperial 
army had already entered their territories, and form¬ 
ed the siege of their capital. But though deserted 
by all their allies, and left without any hope of 
succour, they defended themselves many months 
with an obstinate valour worthy of better success ; 
and even when they surrendered, they obtained a 
capitulation which gave them hopes of securingsome 
remains of their liberty. But the emperor, from his 
desire to gratify the pope, frustrated all their ex¬ 
pectations, and abolishing their ancient form of go¬ 
vernment, raised Alexander di Medici to the same 
absolute dominion over that state which his family 
have retained to the presenttimes. Philibert de Cha ¬ 
lons, prince of Orange, the imperial general, was 
killed during this siege. His estate and titles de¬ 
scended to his sister Claude de Chalons, who was mar¬ 
ried to Rene, count of Nassau, and she transmitted 
to her posterity of the house of Nassau the title of 
princess of Orange, which, by their superior talents 
and valour, they have rendered so illustrious. 1 

After the publication of the peace at c , , , „ . 

Bologna, and the ceremony of his ousSToer 1 ' 81 
coronation as king of Lombardy and y*b y 2 ° and o 4 
emperor of the Romans, which the 
pope performed with the accustomed formalities, 
nothing detained Charles in Italy, k and he began 
to prepare for his journey to Germany. His presence 
became every day more necessary in that country, 
and was solicited with equal importunity by the 
catholics and by the favourers of the new doctrines. 
During that long interval of tranquillity which the 
absence of the emperor, the contests between him 
and the pope, and his attention to the war with 
France, afforded them, the latter gained much 
ground. Most of the princes who had embraced 
Luther’s opinions, had not only established in their 
territories that form of worship which he approved, 
but had entirely suppressed the rites of the Romish 
church. Many of the free cities had imitated their 
conduct. Almost one half the Germanic body had 
revolted from the papal see, and its authority, even 
in those provinces which had not hitherto shaken 
off the yoke, was considerably weakened, partly by 
the example of revolt in the neighbouring states, 
partly by the secret progress of the reformed doc¬ 
trine even in those countries where it was not open¬ 
ly embraced. Whatever satisfaction the emperor, 
while he was at open enmity with the see of Rome, 
might have felt in those events which tended to 
mortify and embarrass the pope, he could not help 
perceiving now, that the religious divisions in Ger¬ 
many would, in the end, prove extremely hurtful to 
the imperial authority. The weakness of former 
emperors had suffered the great vassals of the 
empire to make such successful encroachments upon 
their power and prerogative, that during the whole 
course of a war which had often required the exer- 

k II. Cornel. Agrippa de duplici oronatione Car. V. up. Scard. ii. 
266. 



530 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1530. BOOK V. 


tion of his utmost strength, Charles hardly drew any 
effectual aid from Germany, and found that mag¬ 
nificent titles or obsolete pretensions were almost 
the only advantages which he had gained by sway¬ 
ing the imperial sceptre. He became fully sensible, 
that if he did not recover in some degree the pre¬ 
rogatives which his predecessors had lost, and ac¬ 
quire the authority as well as possess the name of 
head of the empire, his high dignity would contri¬ 
bute more to obstruct than to promote his ambitious 
schemes. Nothing, he saw, was more essential 
towards attaining this, than to suppress opinions 
which might form new bonds of confederacy among 
the princes of the empire, and unite them by ties 
stronger and more sacred than any political con¬ 
nexion. Nothing seemed to lead more certainly to 
the accomplishment of his design, than to employ 
zeal for the established religion, of which he was 
the natural protector, as the instrument of extending 
his civil authority. 

Proceedings of Accordingly, a prospect no sooner 
Spires, e March is, 0 P ene <l of coming to an accommodation 
1529. -with the pope, than, by the emperor’s 
appointment, a diet of the empire was held at 
Spires, in order to take into consideration the state 
of religion. The decree of the diet assembled there 
in the year one thousand five hundred and twenty- 
six, which was almost equivalent to a toleration of 
Luther’s opinions, had given great offence to the 
rest of Christendom. The greatest delicacy of ad¬ 
dress, however, was requisite in proceeding to any 
decision more rigorous. The minds of men, kept 
in perpetual agitation by a controversy carried on, 
during twelve years, without intermission of debate 
or abatement of zeal, were now inflamed to a high 
degree. They were accustomed to innovations, and 
saw the boldest of them successful. Having not 
only abolished old rites, but substituted new forms 
in their place, they were influenced as much by 
attachment to the system which they had embraced, 
as by aversion to that which they had abandoned. 
Luther himself, of a spirit not to be w orn out by the 
length and obstinacy of the combat, or to become 
remiss upon success, continued the attack with as 
much vigour as he had begun it. His disciples, of 
whom many equalled him in zeal, and some sur¬ 
passed him in learning, were no less capable than 
their master to conduct the controversy in the pro- 
perest manner. Many of the laity, some even of 
the princes, trained up amidst these incessant dis¬ 
putations, and in the habit of listening to the argu¬ 
ments of the contending parties, who alternately 
appealed to them as judges, came to be profoundly 
skilled in all the questions which were agitated, 
and, upon occasion, could show themselves not in¬ 
expert in any of the arts with which these theological 
encounters were managed. It was obvious from 
all these circumstances, that any violent decision of 
the diet must have immediately precipitated matters 

1 Sleid. Hist. 117- 

m The fourteen cities were, Strasburg, N uremburg, Ulm, Constance, 


into confusion, and have kindled in Germany the 
flames of a religious war. All, therefore, that the 
archduke, and the other commissioners appointed 
by the emperor, demanded of the diet, was, to enjoin 
those states of the empire which had hitherto obeyed 
the decree issued against Luther at Worms, in the 
year one thousand five hundred and twenty-four, to 
persevere in the observation of it, and to prohibit 
the other states from attempting any further inno¬ 
vation in religion, particularly from abolishing the 
mass, before the meeting of a general council. After 
much dispute, a decree to that effect was approved 
of by a majority of voices. 1 

The elector of Saxony, the marquis The f 0 n 0Wers of 
of Brandenburg, the landgrave of ^Idnst them, st 
Hesse, the dukes of Lunenburg, the Apnl 19, 
prince of Anhalt, together with the deputies of four¬ 
teen imperial or free cities," 1 entered a solemn pro¬ 
test against this decree, as unjust and impious. On 
that account they were distinguished by the name 
of PROTESTANTS," an appellation which hath 
since become better known, and more honourable, by 
its being applied indiscriminately to all the sects, 
of w hatever denomination, which have revolted from 
the Roman see. Not satisfied with this declaration 
of their dissent from the decree of the diet, the pro- 
testants sent ambassadors into Italy to lay their 
grievances before the emperor, from whom they met 
with the most discouraging reception. Charles -was 
at that time in close union with the ^ 

Deliberations of 

pope, and solicitous to attach him in- the pope and em- 

. . peror. 

violably to his interest. During their 
long residence at Bologna, they held many con¬ 
sultations concerning the most effectual means of 
extirpating the heresies which had sprung up in 
Germany. Clement, whose cautious and timid 
mind the proposal of a general council filled with 
horror, even beyond what popes, the constant ene¬ 
mies of such assemblies, usually feel, employed 
every argument to dissuade the emperor from 
consenting to that measure. He represented ge¬ 
neral councils as factious, ungovernable, presump¬ 
tuous, formidable to civil authority, and too slow 
in their operations to remedy disorders which re¬ 
quired an immediate cure. Experience, he said, 
had now taught both the emperor and himself, that 
forbearance and lenity, instead of soothing the spirit 
of innovation, had rendered it more enterprising and 
presumptuous ; it was necessary, therefore, to have 
recourse to the rigorous methods which such a des¬ 
perate case required : Leo’s sentence of excommu¬ 
nication, together with the decree of the diet at 
Worms, should be carried into execution, and it 
was incumbent on the emperor to employ his whole 
power in order to overawe those oil whom the rever¬ 
ence due either to ecclesiastical or civil authority 
had no longer any influence. Charles, whose views 
were very different from the pope’s, and who became 
daily more sensible how obstinate and deep-rooted 

Reutlingen, Windsheim, Meinenaen, Lindaw, Kempten, Hailbron, Isna. 
Weissemburg, ^Nordfingen, and *St. Gal. 

n Sleid. Hist. 119. F. Paul. Hist. p. 45, Seckend. ii. 127. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1530.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


531 


the evil was, thought of reconciling the protestants 
by means less violent, and considered the convoca¬ 
tion of a council as no improper expedient for that 
purpose ; but promised, if gentler arts failed of suc¬ 
cess, that then he would exert himself with rigour 
to reduce to the obedience of the holy see those 
stubborn enemies of the catholic faith. 0 
Emperor present Such were the sentiments with which 

Augsburg, 0 * the emperor set out for Germany, hav- 
March 22,1530. j n g already appointed a diet of the 

empire to be held at Augsburg. In his journey to¬ 
wards that city, he had many opportunities of ob¬ 
serving the disposition of the Germans with regard 
to the points in controversy, and found their minds 
every where so much irritated and inflamed, as con¬ 
vinced him that nothing tending to severity or ri¬ 
gour ought to be attempted until all other measures 
lune 15 proved ineffectual. He made his public 
entry into Augsburg with extraordinary 
pomp ; and found there such a full assembly of the 
members of the diet,as was suitable both to the import¬ 
ance of the affairs which were to come under their 
consideration, and to the honour of an emperor, who, 
after a long absence, returned to them crowned w ith 
reputation and success. His presence seems to have 
communicated to all parties an unusual spirit of 
moderation and desire of peace. The elector of 
Saxony would not permit Luther to accompany 
him to the diet, lest he should offend the emperor 
by bringing into his presence a person excommu¬ 
nicated by the pope, and who had been the author 
of all those dissensions which it now appeared so 
difficult to compose. At the emperor’s desire, all the 
protestant princes forbade the divines who accom¬ 
panied them to preach in public during their resi¬ 
dence at Augsburg. For the same reason they em¬ 
ployed Melancthon, the man of the greatest learning, 
as well as of the most pacific and gentle spirit 
among the reformers, to draw up a confession of 

The confession Of their expressed in terms as little 

Augsburg. offensive to the Roman catholics as a 

regard for truth would permit. Melancthon, who 
seldom suffered the rancour of controversy to en¬ 
venom his style, even in writings purely polemical, 
executed a task so agreeable to his natural dispo¬ 
sition with great moderation and address. The 
Creed which he composed, known by the name of 
the Confession of Avgsburg, from the place where it 
was presented, was read publicly in the diet. Some 
popish divines were appointed to examine it; they 
brought in their animadversions ; a dispute ensued 
between them and Melancthon, seconded by some 
of his brethren: but though Melancthon softened 
some articles, made concessions with regard to 
others, and put the least exceptionable sense upon 
all; though the emperor himself laboured with great 
earnestness to reconcile the contending parties,—so 
many marks of distinction were now established, 
and such insuperable barriers placed between the 

o F. Paul, xlvii. Seek. 1. ii. 142. Hist, de Confess. d’Auxburg, par 
D. Cliytreus, 4to. Antw. 1572, p. 6. 


two churches, that all hopes of bringing about a 
coalition seemed utterly desperate. p 

From the divines, among whom his endeavours 
had been so unsuccessful, Charles turned to the 
princes their patrons. Nor did he find them, how 
desirous soever of accommodation, or willing to 
oblige the emperor, more disposed than the former 
to renounce their opinions. At that time zeal for 
religion took possession of the minds of men to a 
degree which can scarcely be conceived by those 
who live in an age when the passions excited by 
the first manifestation of truth and the first recovery 
of liberty have in a great measure ceased to operate. 
This zeal was then of such strength as to overcome 
attachment to their political interests, which is com¬ 
monly the predominant motive among princes. The 
elector of Saxony, the landgrave of Hesse, and 
other chiefs of the protestants, though solicited se¬ 
parately by the emperor, and allured by the pro¬ 
mise or prospect of those advantages which it was 
known they were more solicitous to attain, refused, 
with a fortitude highly worthy of imitation, to aban¬ 
don what they deemed the cause of God, for the 
sake of any earthly acquisition. q 

Every scheme in order to gain or 
disunite the protestant party proving against th^pro- 
abortive, nothing now remained for the testants ’ 
emperor but to take some vigorous measures towards 
asserting the doctrines and authority of the establish¬ 
ed church. These Campeggio, the papal nuncio, 
had always recommended as the only proper and 
effectual course of dealing with such obstinate here¬ 
tics. In compliance with his opinions 
and remonstrances, the diet issued a 
decree condemning most of the peculiar tenets held 
by the protestants ; forbidding any person to pro¬ 
tect or tolerate such as taught them; enjoining a 
strict observance of the established rites ; and pro¬ 
hibiting any further innovation under severe penal¬ 
ties. All orders of men were required to assist with 
their persons and fortunes in carrying this decree 
into execution ; and such as refused to obey it were 
declared incapable of acting as judges or of appear¬ 
ing as parties in the imperial chamber, the supreme 
court of judicature in the empire. To all which was 
subjoined a promise, that an application should be 
made to the pope, requiring him to call a general 
council within six months, in order to terminate all 
controversies by its sovereign decisions/ 

The severity of this decree, which 
was considered as a prelude to the a league at Smai- 
most violent persecution, alarmed the a e ‘ 
protestants, and convinced them that the emperor 
was resolved on their destruction. The dread of 
those calamities which were ready to fall on the 
church oppressed the feeble spirit of Melancthon ; 
and, as if the cause had already been desperate, he 
gave himself up to melancholy and lamentation. 
But Luther, who during the meeting of the diet had 

p Seckend. lib. ii. 159, &c. Abr. Sculteti Annales Evangelici ap. 
Herm. Vonder Hard. Hist. Liter. Reform. Lips. 1717, fol. p. 159. 

q Sleid. 132. Scultet. Annal. 158. r Sleia. 139. 


Nov. 19. 


2 m 2 



THE REIGN OF THE 


532 

endeavoured to confirm and animate his party by 
several treatises which he addressed to them, was 
not disconcerted or dismayed at the prospect of this 
new danger. He comforted Melancthon and his 
other desponding disciples, and exhorted the princes 
not to abandon those truths which they had lately 
asserted with such laudable boldness. 8 His exhor¬ 
tations made the deeper impression upon them, as 
they were greatly alarmed at that time by the ac¬ 
count of a combination among the popish princes 
cf the empire for the maintenance of the established 
religion, to which Charles himself had acceded. 1 
This convinced them that it was necessary to stand 
on their guard ; and that their own safety, as well 
as the success of their cause, depended on union. 
Filled with this dread of the adverse party, and w ith 
these sentiments concerning the conduct proper for 
themselves, they assembled at Smalkalde. There 

they concluded a league of mutual 

Dec. 22. J ° 

defence against all aggressors," by 
which they formed the protestant states of the em¬ 
pire into one regular body, and beginning already 
to consider themselves as such, they resolved to 
apply to the kings of France and England, and to 
implore them to patronize and assist their new 
confederacy. 

An affair not connected with reli- 

Tlie emperor pro- . „ . , , . . 

poses to have his gion furnished them with a pretence 

brother elected . 

king of the Ko- for courting the aid of foreign princes. 

Charles, whose ambitious views en¬ 
larged in proportion to the increase of his power 
and grandeur, had formed a scheme of continuing 
the imperial crown in his family, by procuring his 
brother Ferdinand to be elected king of the Romans. 
The present juncture was favourable for the execu¬ 
tion of that design. The emperor’s arms had been 
every where victorious; he had given law to all 
Europe at the late peace; no rival now remained 
in a condition to balance or to control him ; and the 
electors, dazzled with the splendour of his success, 
or overawed by the greatness of his power, durst 
scarcely dispute the will of a prince whose solici¬ 
tations carried with them the authority of commands. 
Nor did he want plausible reasons to enforce the 
measure. The affairs of his other kingdoms, he 
said, obliged him to be often absent from Germany ; 
the growing disorders occasioned by the controver¬ 
sies about religion, as well as the formidable neigh¬ 
bourhood of the Turks, who continually threatened 
to break in with their desolating armies into the 
heart of the empire, required the constant presence 
of a prince endow ed with prudence capable of com¬ 
posing the former, and with power as well as valour 
sufficient to repel the latter. His brother Ferdinand 
possessed these qualities in an eminent degree: by 
residing long in Germany, he had acquired a 
thorough knowledge of its constitution and man¬ 
ners ; having been present almost from the first rise 
ol the religious dissensions, he knew what remedies 

s Seek. ii. ISO. Sleid. 140. t Seek. ii. 200. iii. 11. 

«i Sleid. 11ist. 142. 


1531. 

January 5. 


[A. D. 1530. ROOK V. 

were most proper, what the Germans could bear, 
and how to apply them ; as his own dominions lay 
on the Turkish frontier, he was the natural defender 
of Germany against the invasions of the infidels, 
being prompted by interest no less than he would 
be bound in duty to oppose them. 

These arguments made little impres- The protes t Hnts 
sion on the protestants. Experience averse to it. 
taught them, that nothing had contributed more to 
the undisturbed progress of their opinions than the 
interregnum after Maximilian’s death, the long ab¬ 
sence of Charles, and the slackness of the reins of 
government which these occasioned. Conscious 
of the advantages which their cause had derived 
from this relaxation of government, they were un¬ 
willing to render it more vigorous by giving them¬ 
selves a new and a fixed master. They perceived 
clearly the extent of Charles’s ambition, that he 
aimed at rendering the imperial crown hereditary 
in his family, and would of course establish in the 
empire an absolute dominion, to which elective 
princes could not have aspired with equal facility. 
They determined therefore to oppose the election of 
Ferdinand with the utmost vigour, and to rouse 
their countrymen, by their example and exhortation, 
to withstand this encroachment on their liberties. 
The elector of Saxony, accordingly, 
not only refused to be present at the 
electoral college, which the emperor summoned to 
meet at Cologne, but instructed his eldest son to 
appear there, and to protest against the election 
as informal, illegal, contrary to the articles of 
the golden bull, and subversive of the liberties of 
the empire. But the other electors, 
whom Charles had been at great pains 
to gain, without regarding either his absence or 
protest, chose Ferdinand king of the Romans; 
who, a few days after, was crowned at Aix-la- 
Chapelle.* 

When the protestants, who were 

... i .. , , Negotiations of 

assembled a second time at Smal- the protestants 
iii *i A ~ . with France; 

kalde, received an account of this 
transaction, and heard, at the same time, that prose¬ 
cutions were commenced, in the imperial chamber, 
against some of their number, on account of their 
religious principles, they thought it necessary not 
only to renew their former confederacy, but imme¬ 
diately to despatch their ambassadors 
into France and England. Francis 
had observed, with all the jealousy of a rival, the 
reputation which the emperor had acquired by his 
seeming disinterestedness and moderation in set¬ 
tling the affairs in Italy ; and beheld w ith great 
concern the successful step which he had taken 
tow ards perpetuating and extending his authority 
in Germany by tire election of a king of the Romans. 
Nothing, however, would have been more impolitic 
than to precipitate his kingdom into a new war, 
when exhausted by extraordinary efforts and dis- 


He is chosen. 


Feb. 2. 


x Sleid. 142. Seek. iii. 1. P. lleuter. Rer. Austr. lib. x. c. 6. p. 240. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


with England. 


BOOK V. A. D. 1531.] 

couraged by ill success, before it had got time to 
recruit its strength or to forget past misfortunes. 
As no provocation had been given by the emperor, 
and hardly a pretext for a rupture had been afford¬ 
ed him, he could not violate a treaty of peace which 
he himself had so lately solicited, without forfeiting 
the esteem of all Europe, and being detested as a 
prince void of probity and honour. He observed 
with great joy powerful factions beginning to form 
in the empire; he listened with the utmost eager¬ 
ness to the complaints of the protestant princes; and 
without seeming to countenance their religious 
opinions, determined secretly to cherish those sparks 
of political discord which might be afterwards 
kindled into a flame. For this purpose he sent 
William de Bellay, one of the ablest negociators in 
France, into Germany, who visiting the courts of 
the malcontent princes, and heightening their ill 
humour by various arts, concluded an alliance be¬ 
tween them and his master/ which, though conceal¬ 
ed at that time, and productive of no immediate 
effects, laid the foundation of an union fatal on many 
occasions to Charles’s ambitious projects; and 
showed the discontented princes of Germany where 
for the future they might find a protector, no less 
able than willing to undertake their defence against 
the encroachments of the emperor. 

The king of England, highly incens¬ 
ed against Charles, in complaisance 
to whom the pope had long retarded and now openly 
opposed his divorce, was no less disposed than 
Francis to strengthen a league which might be ren¬ 
dered so formidable to the emperor. But his fa¬ 
vourite project of the divorce led him into such a 
labyrinth of schemes and negociations, and he was, 
at the same time, so intent on abolishing the papal 
jurisdiction in England, that he had no leisure for 
foreign affairs. This obliged him to rest satisfied 
with giving general promises, together with a small 
supply of money, to the confederates of Smalkalde.* 

Charles courts Meanwhile, many circumstances 

tiie protestants. convinced Charles that this was not a 

juncture when the extirpation of heresy was to be 
attempted by violence and rigour; that, in compli¬ 
ance with the pope’s inclinations, he had already 
proceeded with imprudent precipitation ; and that 
it was more his interest to consolidate Germany into 
one united and vigorous body, than to divide and 
enfeeble it by a civil war. The protestants, who 
were considerable as well by their numbers as by 
their zeal, had acquired additional weight and im¬ 
portance by their joining in that confederacy into 
which the rash steps taken at Augsburg had forced 
them. Having now discovered their own strength, 
they despised the decisions of the imperial cham¬ 
ber ; and being secure of foreign protection, were 
ready to set the head of the empire at defiance. At 
the same time the peace with France was precari¬ 
ous ; the friendship of an irresolute and interested 


y Eellay, 129, a ; 130, b. Sec. iii. 14. 
z Herbert, 152, 151. 


533 

pontiff was not to be relied on ; and Solyman, in 
order to repair the discredit and loss which his arms 
had sustained in the former campaign, was prepar¬ 
ing to enter Austria with more numerous forces. 
On all these accounts, especially the last, a speedy 
accommodation with the malcontent princes became 
necessary, not only for the accomplishment of his 
future schemes, but for insuring his present safety. 
Negociations were accordingly carried on by his 
direction with the elector of Saxony and his asso¬ 
ciates ; after many delays, occasioned by their jea¬ 
lousy of the emperor and of each other ; after innu¬ 
merable difficulties arising from the inflexible nature 
of religious tenets, which cannot admit of being 
altered, modified, or relinquished in the same man¬ 
ner as points of political interest, terms of pacifica¬ 
tion were agreed upon at Nuremberg, Grants them fa- 
and ratified solemnly in the diet at vour july 23 . ms ‘ 
Ratisbon. In this treaty it was stipu- Augusts, 
lated, That universal peace be established in Ger¬ 
many until the meeting of a general council, the 
convocation of which within six months the emperor 
shall endeavour to procure ; that no person shall be 
molested on account of religion ; that a stop shall 
be put to all processes begun by the imperial cham¬ 
ber against protestants, and the sentences already 
passed to their detriment shall be declared void. 
On their part the protestants engaged to assist the 
emperor with all their forces in resisting the inva¬ 
sion of the Turks.* Thus, by their firmness in ad¬ 
hering to their principles, by the unanimity with 
which they urged all their claims, and by their dex¬ 
terity in availing themselves of the emperor’s situ¬ 
ation, the protestants obtained terms which amount¬ 
ed almost to a toleration of their religion ; all the 
concessions were made by Charles, none by them ; 
even the favourite point of their approving his bro¬ 
ther’s election was not mentioned ; and the protest¬ 
ants of Germany, who had hitherto been viewed 
only as a religious sect, came henceforth to be con¬ 
sidered as a political body of no small consequence/ 
The intelligence which Charles re¬ 
ceived of Solyman’s having entered Campaign in 
Hungary at the head of three hundred 
thousand men, brought the deliberations of the diet 
at Ratisbon to a period ; the contingent both of 
troops and money which each prince was to furnish 
towards the defence of the empire having been al¬ 
ready settled. The protestants, as a testimony of 
their gratitude to the emperor, exerted themselves 
with extraordinary zeal, and brought into the field 
forces which exceeded in number the quota impos¬ 
ed on them ; the catholics imitating their example, 
one of the greatest and best-appointed armies that 
had ever been levied in Germany assembled near 
Vienna. Being joined by a body of Spanish and 
Italian veterans under the Marquis del Guasto ; by 
some heavy-armed cavalry from the Low Countries ; 
and by the troops which Ferdinand had raised in 

a Du Mont Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part ii. 87, 89. 

b Sleid. 149, &c. Seek. iii. 19. 



534 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1532. BOOK V. 


August 16. 


Bohemia, Austria, and his other territories, it 
amounted in all to ninety thousand disciplined foot 
and thirty thousand horse, besides a prodigious 
swarm of irregulars. Of this vast army, worthy the 
first prince in Christendom, the emperor took the 
command in person ; and mankind waited in sus¬ 
pense the issue of a decisive battle between the two 
greatest monarchs in the world. But each of them 
dreading the other's power and good fortune, they 
both conducted their operations with such excessive 
caution, that a campaign for which such immense 
preparations had been made, ended without any 
memorable event. Solyman finding it impossible 

September and to g ain ground upon an enemy always 
October. attentive and on his guard, marched 

back to Constantinople towards the end of autumn. 0 
It is remarkable, that in such a martial age, when 
every gentleman was a soldier and every prince a 
general, this was the first time that Charles, who 
had already carried on such extensive wars and 
gained so many victories, appeared at the head of 
his troops. In this first essay of his arms, to have 
opposed such a leader as Solyman was no small 
honour; to have obliged him to retreat, merited 
very considerable praise. 

About the beginning of this campaign 
the elector of Saxony died, and was 
succeeded by his son John Frederic. The Reforma¬ 
tion rather gained than lost by that event; the new 
elector, no less attached than his predecessors to the 
opinions of Luther, occupied the station which they 
had held at the head of the protestant party, and 
defended, with the boldness and zeal of youth, that 
cause which they had fostered and reared with the 
caution of more advanced age. 

The emperor’s Immediately after the retreat of the 
the 6 poplin'his Turks, Charles, impatient to revisit 
way to spam. gp a j nj se t 0 ut, on hi s wa y thither, for 

Italy. As he was extremely desirous of an inter¬ 
view with the pope, they met a second time at Bo¬ 
logna, with the same external demonstrations of 
respect and friendship, but w ith little of that confi¬ 
dence which had subsisted between them during 
their late negociations there. Clement was much 
dissatisfied with the emperor’s proceedings at Augs¬ 
burg : his concessions with regard to the speedy 
convocation of a council having more than cancel¬ 
led all the merit of the severe decree against the 
doctrines of the reformers. The toleration granted 
to the protestants at Ratisbon, and the more ex¬ 
plicit promise concerning a council with which it 
was accompanied, had irritated him still further. 

Charles, however, partly from convic- 

Negociations . . 

concerning a ge- tion that the meeting ot a council 

neral council, 

would be attended with salutary ef¬ 
fects, and partly from his desire to please the Ger¬ 
mans, having solicited the pope by his ambassadors 
to call that assembly without delay, and now urg¬ 
ing the same thing in person, Clement was greatly 
embarrassed what reply he should make to a re¬ 


quest which it was indecent to refuse and danger¬ 
ous to grant. He endeavoured at first to divert 
Charles from the measure ; but finding him index¬ 
ible, he had recourse to artifices which he knew 
would delay if not entirely defeat the calling of that 
assembly. Under the plausible pretext of its being 
previously necessary to settle with all parties con¬ 
cerned the place of the council’s meeting ; the man¬ 
ner of its proceedings ; the right of the persons who 
should be admitted to vote, and the authority of 
their decisions,—he despatched a nuncio, accom¬ 
panied by an ambassador from the emperor, to the 
elector of Saxony, as head of the protestants. With 
regard to each of these articles, inextricable diffi¬ 
culties and contests arose. The protestants de¬ 
manded a council to be held in Germany ; the pope 
insisted that it should meet in Italy: they contended 
that all points in dispute should be determined by 
the words of Holy Scripture alone; he considered 
not only the decrees of the church, but the opinions 
of fathers and doctors, as of equal authority : they 
required a free council, in which the divines com¬ 
missioned by different churches should be allowed a 
voice ; he aimed at modelling the council in such a 
manner as would render it entirely dependent on 
his pleasure. Above all, the protestants thought it 
unreasonable that they should bind themselves to 
submit to the decrees of a council before they knew 
on what principles these decrees w ere to be founded, 
by what persons they were to be pronounced, and 
what forms of proceeding they would observe. The 
pope maintained it to be altogether unnecessary to 
call a council, if those who demanded it did not 
previously declare their resolution to acquiesce in its 
decrees. In order to adjust such a variety of points 
many expedients were proposed, and the negocia¬ 
tions spun out to such a length as effectually answer¬ 
ed Clement’s purpose of putting off the meeting 
of a council, without drawing on himself the whole 
infamy of obstructing a measure which all Europe 
deemed so essential to the good of the church. d 

Together with this negociation about . , 

° ° and for preserv- 

calling a council, the emperor carried j- 1 t | t o f e 1 t t r ^, qui1 ' 
on another, which he had still more at 
heart, for securing the peace established in Italy. 
As Francis had renounced his pretensions in that 
country with great reluctance, Charles made no 
doubt but that he would lay hold on the first pretext 
afforded him, or embrace the first opportunity which 
presented itself, of recovering what he had lost. It 
became necessary on this account to take measures 
for assembling an army able to oppose him. As his 
treasury, drained by a long war, could not supply 
the sums requisite for keeping such a body con¬ 
stantly on foot, he attempted to throw that burden 
on his allies, and to provide for the safety of his 
own dominions at their expense, by proposing that 
the Italian states should enter into a league of de¬ 
fence against all invaders ; that, on the first appear¬ 
ance of danger, an army should be raised and main- 


c Jovii Hist. lib. xkx. p. 100, fee. Barre Hist, de l’Empire, i. 8, 347. 


d F. Paul. Hist. 61. Seckend. iii. 73. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1533.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


535 


1533. 


April 22 


Designs and 
negociations of 
the French king 
against the empe¬ 
ror : 


tained at the common charge; and that Antonio de 
Leyva should be appointed the generalissimo. Nor 
was the proposal unacceptable to Clement, though 
for a reason very different from that which induced 
the emperor to make it. He hoped by this expe¬ 
dient to deliver Italy from the German 
and Spanish veterans, which had so 
long filled all the powers in that country with terror, 
and still kept them in subjection to the imperial 
Feb 24 y°^e. A league was accordingly con¬ 

cluded ; all the Italian States, the 
Venetians excepted, acceded to it; the sum which 
each of the contracting parties should furnish 
towards maintaining the army was fixed ; the em¬ 
peror agreed to withdraw the troops which gave so 
much umbrage to his allies, and which he was 
unable any longer to support. Having disbanded 
part of them, and removed the rest to Sicily and 
Spain, he embarked on board Doria’s 
galleys, and arrived at Barcelona. 6 

Notwithstanding all his precautions 
for securing the peace of Germany, 
and maintaining that system which he 
had established in Italy, the emperor 
became every day more and more apprehensive that 
both would be soon disturbed by the intrigues or 
arms of the French king. His apprehensions were 
well founded, as nothing but the desperate situation 
of his affairs could have brought Francis to give 
his consent to a treaty so dishonourable and disad¬ 
vantageous as that of Cambray ; he, at the very time 
of ratifying it, had formed a resolution to observe 
it no longer than necessity compelled him, and took 
a solemn protest, though with the most profound 
secrecy, against several articles in the treaty, par¬ 
ticularly that whereby he renounced all pretensions 
to the duchy of Milan, as unjust, injurious to his 
heirs, and invalid. One of the crown lawyers, by 
his command, entered a protest to the same purpose, 
and with the like secrecy, when the ratification of 
the treaty was registered in the parliament of Paris/ 
Francis seems to have thought, that by employing 
an artifice unworthy of a king, destructive of public 
faith, and of the mutual confidence on which all 
transactions between nations are founded, he was 
released from any obligation to perform the most 
solemn promises or to adhere to the most sacred 
engagements. From the moment he concluded the 
peace of Cambray, he wished and watched for an 
opportunity of violating it with safety. He endea¬ 
voured for that reason to strengthen his alliance 
with the king of England, whose friendship he 
cultivated with the greatest assiduity. He put the 
military force of his own kingdom on a better and 
more respectable footing than ever. He artfully 
fomented the jealousy and discontent of the German 
princes. 


particularly with 


But above all, Francis laboured to 


the pope. break the strict confederacy which 


subsisted between Charles and Clement; and he 
had soon the satisfaction to observe appearances of 
disgust and alienation arising in the mind of that 
suspicious and interested pontiff, which gave him 
hopes that their union would not be lasting. As 
the emperor’s decision in favour of the duke of 
Ferrara had greatly irritated the pope, Francis ag¬ 
gravated the injustice of that proceeding, and bat¬ 
tered Clement that the papal see would find in him 
a more impartial and no less powerful protector- 
As the importunity with which Charles demanded 
a council was extremely offensive to the pope, Fran¬ 
cis artfully created obstacles to prevent it, and at¬ 
tempted to divert the German princes, his allies, 
from insisting so obstinately on that point.® As the 
emperor had gained such an ascendant over Clement 
by contributing to aggrandize his family, Francis 
endeavoured to allure him by the same irresistible 
bait, proposing a marriage between his second son, 
Henry,duke of Orlecins,and Catharine, the daughter 
of the pope’s cousin, Laurence di Medici. On the 
first overture of this match, the emperor could not 
persuade himself that Francis really intended to 
debase the royal blood of France by an alliance 
with Catharine, whose ancestors had been so lately 
private citizens and merchants in Florence, and 
believed that he meant only to flatter or amuse the 
ambitious pontiff. He thought it necessary, how¬ 
ever, to efface the impression which such a dazzling 
offer might have made, by promising to break off 
the marriage which had been agreed on between his 
own niece the king of Denmark’s daughter and the 
duke of Milan, and to substitute Catharine in her 
place. But the French ambassador producing, un¬ 
expectedly, full powers to conclude the marriage- 
treaty with the duke of Orleans, this expedient had 
no effect. Clement was so highly pleased with an 
honour which added such lustre and dignity to the 
house of Medici, that he offered to grant Catharine 
the investiture of considerable territories in Italy 
by way of portion ; he seemed ready to support 
Francis in prosecuting his ancient claims in that 
country, and consented to a personal interview with 
that monarch. 11 

Charles was at the utmost pains to . 

. ... . Interview be- 

prevent a meeting in which nothing tween the pope 
1 ill and irancis. 

was likely to pass but what would be 
of detriment to him; nor could he bear, after he 
had twice condescended to visit the pope in his own 
territories, that Clement should bestow such a mark 
of distinction on his rival, as to venture on a voyage 
by sea, at an unfavourable season, in order to pay 
court to Francis in the French dominions. But the 
pope’s eagerness to accomplish the match overcame 
all the scruples of pride, or fear, or jealousy, which 
would probably have influenced him on any other 
occasion. The interview, notwith¬ 
standing several artifices of the em¬ 
peror to prevent it, took place at Marseilles with 


e Guic. 1. xx. 551. Ferreras, ix. 149. 

Du Mont Corps Diplom. tom. iv. part ii. p. 52. 


g Bellay, 141, &c. Seek. iii. 48. F. Paul, 63. 
h Guic. 1. xx. 551, 553. Bellay, 138. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


63G 

extraordinary pomp and demonstrations of confi¬ 
dence on both sides ; and the marriage, which the 
ambition and abilities of Catharine rendered in the 
sequel as pernicious to France as it was then 
thought dishonourable, was consummated. But 
whatever schemes may have been secretly concerted 
by the pope and Francis in favour of the duke of 
Orleans, to whom his father proposed to make over 
all his rights in Italy, so careful were they to avoid 
giving any cause of offence to the emperor, that no 
treaty was concluded between them p and even 
in the marriage-articles, Catharine renounced all 
claims and pretensions in Italy, except to the duchy 
of Urbino. k 

Pope’s conduct at tbe Vei 7 time when he WaS 

idn?of S EnRiand’s carrying on these negociations and 
divorce. forming this connexion with Francis, 

which gave so great umbrage to the emperor, such 
was the artifice and duplicity of Clement’s charac¬ 
ter, that he suffered the latter to direct all his pro¬ 
ceedings with regard to the king of England, and 
was no less attentive to gratify him in that par¬ 
ticular, than if the most cordial union had subsisted 
between them. Henry’s suit for a divorce had now 
continued near six years, during all which period 
the pope negociated, promised, retracted, and con¬ 
cluded nothing. After bearing repeated delays and 
disappointments longer than could have been ex¬ 
pected from a prince of such a choleric and impetu¬ 
ous temper, the patience of Henry was at last so 
much exhausted, that he applied to another tribu¬ 
nal for that decree which he had solicited in vain 
at Rome. Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, by 
a sentence founded on the authority of the univer¬ 
sities, doctors, and Rabbies, who had been consult¬ 
ed with respect to the point, annulled the king’s 
marriage with Catharine; her daughter was declared 
illegitimate ; and Anne Boleyne acknowledged as 
queen of England. At the same time Henry began 
not only to neglect and to threaten the pope, whom 
lie had hitherto courted, but to make innovations in 
the church, of which he had formerly been such a 
zealous defender. Clement, who had already seen 
so many provinces and kingdoms revolt from the 
holy see, became apprehensive at last that England 
might imitate their example; and partly from his 
solicitude to prevent that fatal blow, partly in com¬ 
pliance with the French king’s solicitations,-deter- 
mined to give Henry such satisfac- 
March 23. tion as m jght retain him within the 
bosom of the church. But the violence of the car¬ 
dinals, devoted to the emperor, did not allow the 
pope leisure for executing this prudent resolution, 
and hurried him, with a precipitation fatal to the 
Roman see, to issue a bull rescinding Cranmer’s 
sentence, confirming Henry’s marriage with Ca¬ 
tharine, and declaring him excommunicated, if, 
within a time specified, he did not abandon the wife 
he had taken and return to her whom he had de¬ 


[A. I>. 1534. BOOK V. 

serted. Enraged at this unexpected decree, Henry 
kept no longer any measures with the court of Rome; 
his subjects seconded his resentment papa] authority 
and indignation ; an act of parliament aboUshed m Eng- 
was passed abolishing the papal power 
and jurisdiction in England ; by another the king 
was declared supreme head of the church, and all 
the authority of which the popes were deprived 
was vested in him. That vast fabric of ecclesias¬ 
tical dominion which had been raised with such 
art, and of which the foundations seemed to have 
been laid so deep, being no longer supported by the 
veneration of the people, was overturned in a mo¬ 
ment. Henry himself, with the caprice peculiar to 
his character, continued to defend the doctrines of 
the Romish church as fiercely as he attacked its 
jurisdiction. He alternately persecuted the pro- 
testants for rejecting the former, and the catholics 
for acknowledging the latter. But his subjects being 
once permitted to enter into new paths, did not 
choose to stop short at the precise point prescribed 
by him. Having been encouraged by his example to 
break some of their fetters, they were so impatient 
to shake olf what still remained, 1 that in the follow¬ 
ing reign, with the applause of the greater part of 
the nation, a total separation was made from the 
church of Rome in articles of doctrine as well as in 
matters of discipline and jurisdiction. 

A short delay might have saved the Death of Cle . 
see of Rome from all the unhappy con- ment vn - 
sequences of Clement’s rashness. Soon after his 
sentence against Henry, he fell into a languishing 
distemper, which gradually wasting 
his constitution, put an end to his pon¬ 
tificate, the most unfortunate, both during its con¬ 
tinuance and by its effects, that the church had 

known for many ages. The very day . 

t , , , Election of Paul 

on which the cardinals entered the con- m. 

. October 13. 

clave, they raised to the papal throne 
Alexander Farnese, dean of the sacred college, and 
the oldest member of that body, who assumed the 
name of Paul III. The account of his promotion 
was received with extraordinary acclamations of 
joy by the people of Rome, highly pleased, after an 
interval of more than a hundred years, to see the 
crown of St. Peter placed on the head of a Roman 
citizen. Persons more capable of judging, formed 
a favourable presage of his administration from the 
experience which he had acquired under four pon¬ 
tificates, as well as the character of prudence and 
moderation which he had uniformly maintained in 
a station of great eminence, and during an active 
period that required both talents and address.™ 

Europe, it is probable, owed the continuance of 
its peace to the death of Clement; for although no 
traces remain in history of any league concluded 
between him and Francis, it is scarcely to be doubt¬ 
ed but that he would have seconded the operations 
of the French arms in Italy, that he might have 


Sept. 25. 


i Guic. 1. xx. 555. 

k Du Mont Corps Diplom. iv. part ii. 101. 




1 Herbert. Burn. History of Reform, 
m Guic. 1. xx. 556. F. Paul, 64. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1534.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


537 


gratified his ambition by seeing one of his family 
possessed of the supreme power in Florence and 
another in Milan. But upon the election of Paul 
III., who had hitherto adhered uniformly to the 
imperial interest, Francis found it necessary to sus¬ 
pend his operations for some time, and to put off 
the commencement of hostilities against the emperor, 
on which, before the death of Clement, he had been 
fully determined. 


insurrection of WMIe Franc is waited for an op- 
ln e Gemnuiy tists P°i'tunity to renew a war which had 
hitherto proved so fatal to himself and 
his subjects, a transaction of a very singular nature 
was carried on in Germany. Among many bene¬ 
ficial and salutary effects of which the Reformation 
was the immediate cause, it was attended, as must 
be the case in all actions and events wherein men 
are concerned, with some consequences of an 
opposite nature. When the human mind is roused 
by grand objects and agitated by strong passions, 
its operations acquire such force, that they are apt 
to become irregular and extravagant. Upon any 
great revolution in religion, such irregularities 
abound most at that particular period when men, 
having thrown off the authority of their ancient 
principles, do not yet fully comprehend the nature 
or feel the obligation of those new tenets which 
they have embraced. The mind, in that situ¬ 
ation, pushing forward with the boldness which 
prompted it to reject established opinions, and not 
guided by a clear knowledge of the system substi¬ 
tuted in their place, disdains all restraint, and runs 
into wild notions, which often lead to scandalous 
or immoral conduct. Thus, in the first ages of the 
Christian church, many of the new converts, having 
renounced their ancient systems of religious faith, 
and being but imperfectly acquainted with the doc¬ 
trines and precepts of Christianity, broached the 
most extravagant opinions, equally subversive of 
piety and virtue; all which errors disappeared or 
were exploded when the knowledge of religion in¬ 
creased, and came to be more generally diffused. 
In like manner, soon after Luther's appearance, the 
rashness or ignorance of some of his disciples led 
them to publish tenets no less absurd than perni 
cious, which being proposed to men extremely illi¬ 
terate, but fond of novelty, and at a time when their 
minds were occupied chiefly with religious specu¬ 
lations, gained too easy credit and authority among 
them. To these causes must be imputed the extra¬ 
vagances of Muncer, in the year one thousand five 
hundred and twenty-five, as well as the rapid pro¬ 
gress which his opinions made among the peasants ; 
but though the insurrection excited by that fanatic 
was soon suppressed, several of his followers lurked 
in different places, and endeavoured privately to 
propagate his opinions. 

origin and tenets Ia those provinces of Upper Ger- 

ot that sect. many which had already been so cru¬ 
elly wasted by their enthusiastic rage, the magis¬ 
trates watched their motions with such severe atten¬ 


tion, that many of them found it necessary to retire 
into other countries : some w ere punished, others 
driven into exile, and their errors were entirely 
rooted out. But in the Netherlands and Westpha¬ 
lia, where the pernicious tendency of their opinions 
was more unknown, and guarded against with less 
care, they got admittance into several towns, and 
spread the infection of their principles. The most 
remarkable of their religious tenets related to the 
sacrament of baptism, which, as they contended, 
ought to be administered only to persons grown up 
to years of understanding, and should be performed, 
not by sprinkling them with water, but by dipping 
them in it: for this reason they condemned the 
baptism of infants ; and rebaptizing all whom they 
admitted into their society, the sect came to be 
distinguished by the name of Anabaptists. To this 
peculiar notion concerning baptism, which has the 
appearance of being founded on the practice of the 
church in the apostolic age, and contains nothing 
inconsistent with the peace and order of human so¬ 
ciety, they added other principles of a most enthu¬ 
siastic as well as dangerous nature. They main¬ 
tained, that among Christians, who had the precepts 
of the gospel to direct and the Spirit of God to 
guide them, the office of magistracy was not only 
unnecessary, but an unlawful encroachment on their 
spiritual liberty ; that the distinctions occasioned 
by birth, or rank, or wealth, being contrary to the 
spirit of the gospel which considers all men as 
equal, should be entirely abolished ; that all Chris¬ 
tians, throw ing their possessions into one common 
stock, should live together in that state of equality 
which becomes members of the same family ; that 
as neither the laws of nature nor the precepts of the 
New Testament had imposed any restraints upon 
men with regard to the number of wives which they 
might marry, they should use that liberty which 
God himself had granted to the patriarchs. 

Such opinions, propagated and main- SettIe in Mun _ 
tained w ith enthusiastic zeal and bold- ster - 
ness, were not long without producing the violent 
effects natural to them. Two anabaptist prophets, 
John Matthias, a baker of Haerlem, and John Boc- 
cold, or Beiikels, a journeyman tailor of Leyden, 
possessed with the rage of making proselytes, fixed 
their residence at Munster, an imperial city in 
Westphalia, of the first rank, under the sovereignty 
of its bishop, but governed by its own senate and 
consuls. As neither of these fanatics wanted the 
talents requisite in desperate enterprises—great re¬ 
solution, the appearance of sanctity, bold preten¬ 
sions to inspiration, and a confident and plausible 
manner of discoursing,—they soon gained many 
converts. Among these were Rothman, who had 
first preached the protestant doctrine in Munster, 
and Cnipperdoling, a citizen of good birth and con¬ 
siderable eminence. Imboldened by the counte¬ 
nance of such disciples, they openly taught their 
opinions ; and not satisfied with that liberty, they 
made several attempts, though without success, to 



538 


THE REIGN OF THE 


February. 


become masters of the town, in order to get their 
tenets established by public authority. At last, 
having secretly called in their associates from the 

Become masters neighbouring country, they suddenly 
of that city. took possession of the arsenal and 

senate-house in the night-time, and running through 
the streets with drawn swords and horrible bowl¬ 
ings, cried out alternately, “ Repent and be baptiz¬ 
ed,” and, “ Depart, ye ungodly.” The senators, the 
canons, the nobility, together with the more sober ci¬ 
tizens, whether papists or protestants, 
terrified at their threats and outcries, 
fled in confusion, and left the city under the domi¬ 
nion of a frantic multitude, consisting chiefly of 
strangers. Nothing now remaining to overawe or 
control them, they set about modelling the govern¬ 
ment according to their own wild ideas ; and though 
at first they showed so much reverence for the ancient 
constitution as to elect senators of their own sect, 
and to appoint Cnipperdoling and an- 

Establish a new , & 

form of govern- other proselyte consuls, this was no¬ 
thing more than form ; for all their 
proceedings were directed by Matthias, who in the 
style and with the authority of a prophet, uttered 
his commands, which it was instant death to dis¬ 
obey. Having begun with encouraging the multi¬ 
tude to pillage the churches and deface their orna¬ 
ments, he enjoined them to destroy all books except 
the Bible, as useless or impious ; he ordered the 
estates of such as fled to be confiscated, and sold to 
the inhabitants of the adjacent country ; he com¬ 
manded every man to bring forth his gold, silver, 
and precious effects, and to lay them at his feet; 
the wealth amassed by these means he deposited in 
a public treasury, and named deacons to dispense 
it for the common use of all. The members of this 
commonwealth being thus brought to a perfect 
equality, he commanded all of them to eat at tables 
prepared in public, and even prescribed the dishes 
which were to be served up each day. Having 
finished his plan of reformation, his next care was 
to provide for the defence of the city ; and he took 
measures for that purpose with a prudence which 
savoured nothing of fanaticism. He collected large 
magazines of every kind ; he repaired and extend¬ 
ed the fortifications, obliging every person without 
distinction to work in his turn ; he formed such as 
were capable of bearing arms into regular bodies, 
and endeavoured to add the stability of discipline 
to the impetuosity of enthusiasm. He sent emissa- 
lies to the anabaptists in the Low Countries, invit¬ 
ing them to assemble at Munster, which he dignified 
with the name of mount Sion, that from thence they 
might set out to reduce all the nations of the earth 
under their dominion. He himself was unwearied 
in attending to every thing necessary for the secu¬ 
rity or increase of the sect; animating his disciples 
by his own example to decline no labour, as well 
as to submit to every hardship : and their enthusi¬ 
astic passions being kept from subsiding by a per¬ 
petual succession of exhortations, revelations, and 


May. 


[A. D. 1534. BOOK V. 

prophecies, they seemed ready to undertake or to 
suffer any thing in maintenance of their opinions. 

While they were thus employed, the The bishop of 
bishop of Munster having assembled 
a considerable army, advanced to be- thern * 
siege the town. On his approach, Matthias sallied 
out at the head of some chosen troops, attacked one 
quarter of his camp, forced it, and after great 
slaughter returned to the city loaded with glory and 
spoil. Intoxicated with this success, he appeared 
next day brandishing a spear, and declared, that in 
imitation of Gideon, he would go forth with a hand¬ 
ful of men and smite the host of the un¬ 
godly. Thirty persons whom he named 
followed him without hesitation in this wild enter¬ 
prise, and rushing on the enemy with a frantic 
courage, were cut ofl’ to a man. The death of their 
prophet occasioned at first great consternation among 
his disciples ; but Boccold, by the same gifts and 
pretensions which had gained Matthias John of Leyden 
credit, soon revived their spirits and authorit y g among 
hopes to such a degree, that he sue- the anaba P tlsts - 
ceeded the deceased prophet in the same absolute 
direction of all their affairs. As he did not pos¬ 
sess that enterprising courage which distinguished 
his predecessor, he satisfied himself with carrying 
on a defensive war; and without attempting to 
annoy the enemies by sallies, he waited for the suc¬ 
cours he expected from the Low Countries, the 
arrival of which was often foretold and promised 
by their prophets. But though less daring in action 
than Matthias, he was a wilder enthusiast, and of 
more unbounded ambition. Soon after the death 
of his predecessor, having by obscure visions and 
prophecies prepared the multitude for some extra¬ 
ordinary event, he stripped himself naked, and 
marching through the streets, proclaimed with a 
loud voice, “ That the kingdom of Sion was at 
hand ; that whatever was highest on earth should 
be brought low, and whatever was lowest should be 
exalted.” In order to fulfil this, he commanded the 
churches, as the most lofty buildings in the city, 
to be levelled w ith the ground; he degraded 
the senators chosen by Matthias, and depriving 
Cnipperdoling of the consulship, the highest office 
in the commonwealth, appointed him to execute the 
lowest and most infamous, that of common hang¬ 
man, to which strange transition the other agreed, 
not only without murmuring, but with the utmost 
joy ; and such was the despotic rigour of Boccold’s 
administration, that he was called almost every day 
to perform some duty or other of his wretched func¬ 
tion. In place of the deposed senator, he named 
twelve judges, according to the number of tribes 
in Israel, to preside in all affairs ; retaining to 
himself the same authority which Moses anciently 
possessed as legislator of that people. 

Not satisfied, however, with power or 
titles which w ere not supreme, a pro- Elected kinR - 
phet, whom he had gained and tutored, having called 
the multitude together, declared it to be the will of 





June 24. 


BOOK Y. A. D. 1534.] 

God that John Boccold should be king 
of Sion, and sit on the throne of David. 
John, kneeling down, accepted of the heavenly call, 
which he solemnly protested had been revealed like¬ 
wise to himself, and was immediately acknowledged 
as monarch by the deluded multitude. From that 
moment he assumed all the state and pomp of roy¬ 
alty. He wore a crown of gold, and was clad in 
the richest and most sumptuous garments. A Bible 
was carried on his one hand, a naked sword on the 
other. A great body of guards accompanied him 
when he appeared in public. He coined money 
stamped with his own image, and appointed the 
great officers of his household and kingdom, among 
whom Cnipperdoling was nominated governor of 
the city, as a reward for his former submission. 

Having now attained the height of 

tenets and con- power, Boccold began to discover pas¬ 
sions which he had hitherto restrained 
or indulged only in secret. As the excesses of en¬ 
thusiasm have been observed in every age to lead to 
sensual gratifications, the same constitution that is 
susceptible of the former being remarkably prone 
to the latter, he instructed the prophets and teachers 
to harangue the people for several days concerning 
the lawfulness and even necessity of taking more 
wives than one, which they asserted to be one of 
the privileges granted by God to the saints. When 
their ears were once accustomed to this licentious 
doctrine, and their passions inflamed with the pros¬ 
pect of such unbounded indulgence, he himself set 
them an example of using what he called their 
Christian liberty, by marrying at once three wives, 
among which the widow of Matthias, a woman of 
singular beauty, was one. As he was allured by 
beauty or the love of variety, he gradually added 
to the number of his wives, until they amounted to 
fourteen, though the widow of Matthias was the only 
one dignified with the title of queen, or who shared 
with him the splendour and ornaments of royalty. 
After the example of their prophet, the multitude 
gave themselves up to the most licentious and un¬ 
controlled gratification of their desires. No man 
remained satisfied with a single wife. Not to use 
their Christian liberty was deemed a crime. Per¬ 
sons were appointed to search the houses for young 
women grown up to maturity, whom they instantly 
compelled to marry. Together with polygamy, 
freedom of divorce, its inseparable attendant, was 
introduced, and became a new source of corruption. 
Every excess was committed of which the passions 
of men are capable when restrained neither by the 
authority of laws nor the sense of decency;" and 
by a monstrous and almost incredible conjunction, 
voluptuousness was ingrafted on religion, and dis¬ 
solute riot accompanied the austerities of fanatical 
devotion. 

n Prophetas et concionatorum auctoritate juxta et exemplo, tot<\ urbe ad 
rapiendas pulcherrimas quasque foeminas discursum est. Nec mtra pau- 
cos dies, in tanta hominum turb& fere ulla reperta est supra annum deci- 
mum quartum qum stuprum passa non tuent. Lamb. Hortens, p. 303. 
— Vulgo viris quinas esse uxores, pluribus senas, nonnullis septenas et 
octonas. Puellas supra duodecimum astatis annum statim amare. Id. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


539 


Meanwhile the German princes were r , 

* A confederacy 

highly offended at the insult offered to against the ana- 

baptists. 

their dignity by Boccold s presumptu¬ 
ous usurpation of royal honours; and the profligate 
manners of his followers, which were a reproach to 
the Christian name, filled men of all professions 
with horror. Luther, who had testified against this 
fanatical spirit on its first appearance, now deeply 
lamented its progress, and having exposed the de¬ 
lusion with great strength of argument as well as 
acrimony of style, called loudly on all the states of 
Germany to put a stop to a phrenzy no less pernicious 
to society than fatal to religion. The emperor, oc¬ 
cupied with other cares and projects, had not leisure 
to attend to such a distant object; but the princes 
of the empire, assembled by the king of the Romans, 
voted a supply of men and money to the bishop of 
Munster, who being unable to keep a sufficient army 
on foot, had converted the siege of the town into a 
blockade. The forces raised in con- 1535 
sequence of this resolution were put Besie g ethe town, 
under the command of an officer of experience, who 
approaching the town tow ards the end of spring, in 
the year one thousand five hundred and thirty-five, 
pressed it more closely than formerly; but found 
the fortifications so strong and so diligently guard¬ 
ed, that he durst not attempt an assault. It was now 
above fifteen months since the anabaptists had estab¬ 
lished their dominion in Munster ; they had during 
that time undergone prodigious fatigue in working 
on the fortifications and performing military duty. 
Notwithstanding the prudent attention May 
of their king to provide for their subsist- natjSsm oflhe 
ence, and his frugal as well as regular besie s ed - 
economy in their public meals, they began to feel the 
approach of famine. Several small bodies of their 
brethren who were advancing to their assistance 
from the Low Countries, had been intercepted and 
cut to pieces ; and while all Germany was ready to 
combine against them, they had no prospect of suc¬ 
cour. But such was the ascendant which Boccold 
had acquired over the multitude, and so powerful 
the fascination of enthusiasm, that their hopes were 
as sanguine as ever, and they hearkened with im¬ 
plicit credulity to the visions and predictions of 
their prophets, who assured them that the Almighty 
would speedily interpose in order to deliver the 
city. The faith, however, of some few, shaken by 
the violence and length of their sufferings, began 
to fail; but being suspected of an inclination to 
surrender to the enemy, they were punished with 
immediate death, as guilty of impiety in distrusting 
the power of God. One of the king’s wives having 
uttered certain words which implied some doubt 
concerning his divine mission, he instantly called 
the whole number together, and commanding the 
blasphemer, as he called her, to kneel down, cut off 

305. Nemo unft contentus fait, neque cuiquam extra effoetas et viris im- 
maturas continenti esse licuit. Id. 307.— l'acebo htc, ut sit suus honor 
auribus, quanta barbaric et malitifi usi sunt in puellis vitiandis nondum 
aptis matrimonio, id quod mihi neque ex vano, neque ex vulgi sertnoni- 
bus haustum est, sed ex eft vetula, cui cura sic vitiatarum demandata fuit, 
auditum. Joh. Corvinus, 316. 



5 tO 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1535. ROOK V. 


her head with his own hands; and so far were 
the rest from expressing any horror at this cruel 
deed, that they joined him in dancing with a 
frantic joy around the bleeding body of their com¬ 
panion. 

The city taken, By this time the besieged endured 
jmie i. the utmost rigour of famine ; but they 
chose rather to suffer hardships the recital of which 
is shocking to humanity, than to listen to the terms 
of capitulation offered them by the bishop. At last 
a deserter whom they had taken into their service, 
being either less intoxicated with the fumes of en¬ 
thusiasm, or unable any longer to bear such distress, 
made his escape to the enemy. He informed their 
general of a weak part in the fortifications which 
he had observed, and assuring him that the besieg¬ 
ed, exhausted w ith hunger and fatigue, kept watch 
there with little care, he offered to lead a party 
thither in the night. The proposal w r as accepted, 
and a chosen body of troops appointed for the ser¬ 
vice ; who scaling the walls unperceived, seized one 
of the gates, and admitted the rest of the army. The 
anabaptists, though surprised, defended themselves 
in the market-place with valour heightened by de¬ 
spair ; but being overpowered by numbers and sur¬ 
rounded on every hand, most of them were slain, 
and the remainder taken prisoners. Among the last 

were the king and Cnipperdoling. The 

Punishment of , 

the king and his king, loaded with chains, was carried 

associates. 

from city to city as a spectacle to gra¬ 
tify the curiosity of the people, and was exposed to 
all their insults. His spirit, liow r ever, was not 
broken or humbled by this sad reverse of his con¬ 
dition, and he adhered with unshaken firmness to 
the distinguishing tenets of his sect. After this he 
was brought back to Munster, the scene of his 
royalty and crimes, and put to death with the most 
exquisite as well as lingering tortures, all which he 
bore with astonishing fortitude. This extraordinary 
man, who had been able to acquire such amazing 
dominion over the minds of his followers, and to ex¬ 
cite commotions so dangerous to society, w^as only 
twenty-six years of age.° 

Together with its monarch, the king:- 

C'hsrftctGi* of tho ^ 

sect since that dom of the anabaptists came to an end. 

Their principles having taken deep 
root in the Low Countries, the party still subsists 
there under the name of Mennonites ; but by a very 
singular revolution, this sect, so mutinous and san¬ 
guinary at its first origin, hath become altogether 
innocent and pacific. Holding it unlawful to wage 
war or to accept of civil offices, they devote them¬ 
selves entirely to the duties of private citizens, and 
by their industry and charity endeavour to make re¬ 
paration to human society for the violence commit¬ 
ted by their founders. p A small number of this sect 
which is settled in England, retain its peculiar 
tenets concerning baptism, but without any danger¬ 
ous mixture of enthusiasm. 

o Sleid. 190, &c. Tumultuum Anabaptistarum Liber unus. Ant. Lam- 
berfo Hortensio auctore ap. Scardium, vol. ii. p. 29!S, &c. De Miseratnli 
Monasteriensium Obsidione, &c. Libellus Antonii Corvinii ap. Scar 313 


The mutiny of the anabaptists, p roce edinKs and 
though it drew general attention, did smS* 

not so entirely engross the princes of kal(ie - 
Germany as not to allow leisure for other transac¬ 
tions. The alliance between the French king and 
the confederates at Smalkalde, began about this 
time to produce great effects. Ulric, duke of Wur- 
temberg, having been expelled his dominions in the 
year one thousand five hundred and nineteen, on 
account of his violent and oppressive administra¬ 
tion, the house of Austria had got possession of his 
duchy. That prince, having now by a long exile 
atoned for the errors in his conduct, w hich were the 
effect rather of inexperience than of a tyrannical 
disposition, was become the object of general com¬ 
passion. The landgrave of Hesse in particular, his 
near relation, warmly espoused his interest, and 
used many efforts to recover for him his ancient in¬ 
heritance. But the king of the Romans obstinately 
refused to relinquish a valuable acquisition which 
his family had made with so much ease. The land¬ 
grave, unable to compel him, applied to the king of 
France, his new ally. Francis, eager to embrace 
any opportunity of distressing the house of Austria, 
and desirous of wresting from it a territory w hich 
gave it footing and influence in a part of Germany 
at a distance from its other dominions, encouraged 
the landgrave to take arms, and secretly supplied 
him with a large sum of money. This he employed 
to raise troops ; and marching with great expedition 
tow ards Wurtemberg, attacked, defeated, and dis¬ 
persed a considerable body of Austrians intrusted 
with the defence of the country. All the duke’s sub¬ 
jects hastened, with emulation, to receive their 
native prince, and reinvested him with that autho¬ 
rity which is still enjoyed by his descendants. At 
the same time the exercise of the protestant religion 
was established in his dominions. q 

Ferdinand, how sensible soever of 
this unexpected blow, not daring to Romans^courts’ 6 
attack a prince whom all the protes- them ‘ 
tant powers in Germany were ready to support, 
judged it expedient to conclude a treaty with him, 
by which, in the most ample form, he recognised his 
title to the duchy. The success of the landgrave’s 
operations in behalf of the duke of Wurtemberg 
having convinced Ferdinand that a rupture with a 
league so formidable as that of Smalkalde was to 
be avoided with the utmost care, he entered like¬ 
wise into a negociation w ith the elector of Saxony, 
the head of that union; and by some concessions 
in favour of the protestant religion, and others of 
advantage to the elector himself, he prevailed on 
him, together w ith his confederates, to acknowledge 
his title as king of the Romans. At the same time, 
in order to prevent any such precipitate or irregu¬ 
lar election in times to come, it was agreed that no 
person should hereafter be promoted to that dig¬ 
nity without the unanimous consent of the electors ; 

Annales Anabaptistici a Job. Henrico Ottio, 4to. Basilefe, 1672. Cor 
lleersbachius Hist. Anab. edit. 1637. p. 140. 
p Bayle Diction, art. Anabaptistes. q Sleid. 172. Bellay, 159 &rc 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


A41 


BOOK V. A. D. 1535.] 


and the emperor soon after confirmed this stipula¬ 
tion/ 


Paul m These acts of indulgence towards 

general council to the protestants, and the close union 

meet at Mantua. . . 

into which the king of the Romans 
seemed to be entering with the princes of that party, 
gave great offence at Rome. Paul III., though he 
had departed from a resolution of his predecessor, 


never to consent to the calling of a general council, 
and had promised in the first consistory held after 
his election, that he would convoke that assembly 
so much desired by all Christendom, was no less en¬ 
raged than Clement at the innovations in Germany, 
and no less averse to any scheme for reforming 
either the doctrines of the church or the abuses in 
the court of Rome. But having been a witness of 
the universal censure which Clement had incurred 
by his obstinacy with regard to these points, he 
hoped to avoid the same reproach by the seeming 
alacrity with which he proposed a council ; flatter¬ 
ing himself, however, that such difficulties would 
arise concerning the time and place of meeting, the 
persons who had a right to be present, and the 
order of their proceedings, as would effectually de¬ 
feat the intention of those who demanded that assem¬ 
bly, without exposing himself to any imputation for 
refusing to call it. With this view he despatched 
nuncios to the several courts, in order to make 
known his intention, and that he had fixed on 
Mantua as a proper place in which to hold the coun¬ 
cil. Such difficulties as the pope had foreseen 
immediately presented themselves in great number. 
The French king did not approve of the place which 
Paul had chosen, as the papal and imperial influ¬ 
ence Mould necessarily be too great in a town. 
The king of England not only concurred with 
Francis in urging that objection, but refused, be¬ 
sides, to acknowledge any council called in the 

name and by the authority of the pope. 

J^cC* 1 v. 

The German protestants having met 
together at Smalkalde, insisted on their original de¬ 
mand of a council to be held in Germany, and 
pleading the emperor's promise, as well as the 
agreement at Ratisbon to that effect, declared that 
they would not consider an assembly held at Mantua 
as a legal or free representative of the church. By 
this diversity of sentiments and views, such a field 
for intrigue and negociation opened as made it easy 
for the pope to assume the merit of being eager to 
assemble a council, while at the same time he could 
put ofT its meeting at pleasure. The protestants, 
on the other hand, suspecting his designs, and 
sensible of the importance which they derived 
from their union, renewed for ten years the league 
of Smalkalde, which now became stronger and 
more formidable by the accession of several new 
members/ 


r Sleid. 17.“?. Corps.Diplom. tom. iv. p. 159. 

s I his league was concluded December one thousand five hundred and 
thirty five, but not extended or signed in form till September in the follow¬ 
ing year. I he princes who acceded to it were,—John, elector of Saxony ; 
l.rnest, duke of Brunswick ; Philip, landgrave of Hesse ; Ulric, duke of 
Wurtemberg; Parr.im and Philip, dukes of Pomerania; John, George, 


During these transactions in Ger- The emperor’s 
many, the emperor undertook his g^anAate 
famous enterprise against the piratical ot tliat countr >'- 
states in Africa. That part of the African conti¬ 
nent lying along the coast of the Mediterranean 
sea, which anciently formed the kingdoms of Mau¬ 
ritania and Massylia, together with the republic of 
Carthage, and which is now known by the general 
name of Barbary, had undergone many revolutions. 
Subdued by the Romans, it became a province of 
their empire. When it was conquered afterwards 
by the Vandals, they erected a kingdom there. 
That being overturned by Belisarius, the country 
became subject to the Greek emperors, and continu¬ 
ed to be so, until it was overrun, towards the end of 
the seventh century, by the rapid and irresistible 
arms of the Arabians. It remained for some time a 
part of that vast empire which the caliphs governed 
with absolute authority. Its immense distance, 
however, from the seat of government, encouraged 
the descendants of those leaders who had subdued 
the country, or the chiefs of the Moors, its ancient 
inhabitants, to throw off the yoke, and to assert their 
independence. The caliphs, who derived their au¬ 
thority from a spirit of enthusiasm more fitted for 
making conquests than for preserving them, were 
obliged to connive at acts of rebellion which they 
could not prevent; and Barbary was divided into 
several kingdoms, of M'hicli Morocco, Algiers, and 
Tunis were the most considerable. The inhabitants 
of these kingdoms M ere a mixed race, Arabs, Ne¬ 
groes from the southern provinces, and Moors, 
either natives of Africa, or who had been expelled 
out of Spain; all zealous professors of the Maho¬ 
metan religion, and inflamed against Christianity 
with a bigoted hatred proportional to their igno¬ 
rance and barbarous manners. 

Among these people, no less daring, Ris? of the pira _ 
inconstant, and treacherous than the tical states, 
ancient inhabitants of the same country described 
by the Roman historians, frequent seditions broke 
out, and many changes in government took place. 
These, as they affected only the internal state of a 
country extremely barbarous, are but little known, 
and deserve to be so: But about the beginning of 
the sixteenth century a sudden revolution happened, 
which, by rendering the states of Barbary formida¬ 
ble to the Europeans, hath made their history wor¬ 
thy of more attention. This revolution was brought 
about by persons born in a rank of life which entitled 
them to act no such illustrious part. Home and 
Hayradin, the sons of a potter in the fintl of the Bar- 
isle of Lesbos, prompted by a restless fiarossas. 
and enterprising spirit, forsook their father’s trade, 
ran to sea, and joined a crew of pirates. They soon 
distinguished themselves by their valour and acti¬ 
vity, and becoming masters of a small brigantine, 


and Joachim, princes of Anhalt; Gebhard and Albert, counts of Mans¬ 
field ; William, count of Nassau. The cities,—Strasburg, Nuremberg, 
Constance, Ulm, Magdeburg, Bremen, Ruetlingen, Hailbron, Mem- 
mengen, T.indau, Catnpen, Isna, Bibrac, Windsheim, Augsburg, Franc- 
fort, Esling, Brunswick, Goslar, Hanover, Gottingen, Eimbeck, Ham¬ 
burg, Minden. 



542 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1535. BOOK V. 


carried on their infamous trade with such conduct 
and success, that they assembled a fleet of twelve 
galleys, besides many vessels of smaller force. Of 
this fleet Horuc the elder brother, called Barbarossa 
from the red colour of his beard, was admiral, and 
Hayradin second in command, but with almost equal 
authority. They called themselves the friends of 
the sea and the enemies of all who sail upon it; and 
their names soon became terrible from the Straits of 
the Dardanelles to those of Gibraltar. Together 
with their fame and power their ambitious views 
extended, and while acting as corsairs, they adopt¬ 
ed the ideas and acquired the talents of conquerors. 
They often carried the prizes which they took on 
the coasts of Spain and Italy into the ports of Bar¬ 
bary ; and enriching the inhabitants by the sale of 
their booty and the thoughtless prodigality of their 
crewa, were welcome guests in every place at which 
they touched. The convenient situation of these 
harbours, lying so near the greatest commercial 
states at that time in Christendom, made the bro¬ 
thers wish for an establishment in that country. An 
opportunity of accomplishing this quickly present¬ 
ed itself, which they did not suffer to pass unim¬ 
proved. Eutemi, king of Algiers, having attempted 
several times without success to take a fort which 
the Spanish governors of Oran had built not far 
from his capital, was so ill advised as to apply for 
aid to Barbarossa, whose valour the Africans con¬ 
sidered as irresistible. The active cor¬ 
sair gladly accepted of the invitation, 
and leaving his brother Hayradin with the fleet, 
marched at the head of five thousand men to Al¬ 
giers, where he was received as their deliverer. 
Such a force gave him the command of the town; 
and as he perceived that the Moors neither suspected 
him of any bad intention, nor were capable with 
their light-armed troops of opposing his disciplined 
Home, the elder veterans, he secretly murdered the 
master^of e a£ les monarch whom he had come to assist, 
g,ers - and proclaimed himself king of Al¬ 

giers in his stead. The authority which he had thus 
boldly usurped he endeavoured to establish by arts 
suited to the genius of the people whom he had to 
govern ; by liberality without bounds to those who 
favoured his promotion, and by cruelty no less un¬ 
bounded towards all whom he had any reason to 
distrust. Not satisfied with the throne which he 
had acquired, he attacked the neighbouring king 
of Tremecen, and having vanquished him in battle, 
added his dominions to those of Algiers. At the 
same time he continued to infest the coasts of Spain 
and Italy with fleets which resembled the arma¬ 
ments of a great monarch rather than the light 
i5j8 squadrons of a corsair. Their frequent 
and cruel devastations obliged Charles, 
about the beginning of his reign, to furnish the mar¬ 
quis de Comares, governor of Oran, with troops 
sufficient to attack him. That officer, assisted by 
the dethroned king of Tremecen, executed the 
commission with such spirit, that Barbarossa's 


troops being beat in several encounters, he himself 
was shut up in Tremecen. After defending it to the 
last extremity, he w'as overtaken in attempting to 
make his escape, and slain while he fought with an 
obstinate valour worthy of his former fame and 
exploits. 

His brother Hayradin, known like- 

The progress of 

wise by the name ot Barbarossa, as- Hayradin the se- 
J , c °nd brother. 

sumed the sceptre of Algiers w ith the 
same ambition and abilities, but with better fortune. 
His reign being undisturbed by the arms of the 
Spaniards, which had full occupation in the wars 
among the European powers, he regulated with ad¬ 
mirable prudence the interior police of his kingdom, 
carried on his naval operations with great vigour, 
and extended his conquests on the continent of 
Africa. But perceiving that the Moors and Arabs 
submitted to his government with the utmost reluct¬ 
ance, and being afraid that Jiis continual depreda¬ 
tions would, one day, draw upon him the arms of 
the Christians, he put his dominions Puts his domini . 
under the protection of the grand seig- protection o'f the 
nior, and received from him a body of sultan - 
Turkish soldiers sufficient for his security against 
his domestic as well as his foreign enemies. At 
last the fame of his exploits daily increasing, Soly- 
man offered him the command of the Turkish fleet, 
as the only person whose valour and skill in naval 
affairs entitled him to command against Andrew 
Doria, the greatest sea-officer of that age. Proud 
of this distinction, Barbarossa repaired to Constan¬ 
tinople ; and with a wonderful versatility of mind, 
mingling the arts of a courtier with the boldness of 
a corsair, gained the entire confidence both of the 
sultan and his vizier. To them he communicated a 
scheme which he had formed of making himself 
master of Tunis, the most flourishing kingdom at 
that time on the coast of Africa; and this being 
approved of by them, he obtained whatever he de¬ 
manded for carrying it into execution. 

His hopes of success in this under- H is scheme for 
taking were founded on the intestine conc i uerin s Tunis, 
divisions in the kingdom of Tunis. Mahmed, the 
last king of that country, having thirty-four sons 
by different wives, appointed Muley-Hascen, one 
of the youngest among them, to be his successor. 
That weak prince, who owed this preference, not to 
his own merit, but to the ascendant which his mo¬ 
ther had acquired over a monarch doting with age, 
first poisoned Mahmed his father, in order to pre¬ 
vent him from altering his destination with respect 
to the succession; and then, with the barbarous 
policy which prevails wherever polygamy is per¬ 
mitted and the right of succession is not precisely 
fixed, he put to death all his brothers whom he 
could get into his power. Alraschid, one of the 
eldest, was so fortunate as to escape his rage ; and 
finding a retreat among the wandering Arabs, made 
several attempts, by the assistance of some of their 
chiefs, to recover the throne which of right belonged 
to him. But these proving unsuccessful, and the 



BOOK V. A. D. 1535.J EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


543 


Arabs, from their natural levity, being ready to de¬ 
liver him up to his merciless brother, he fled to Al¬ 
giers, the only place of refuge remaining, and im¬ 
plored the protection of Barbarossa; who, discern¬ 
ing at once all the advantages which might be 
gained by supporting his title, received him with 
every possible demonstration of friendship and re¬ 
spect. Being ready at that time to set sail for 
Constantinople, he easily persuaded Alrascliid, 
whose eagerness to obtain a crown disposed him to 
believe or undertake any thing, to accompany him 
thither, promising him effectual assistance from 
Solyman, whom he represented to be the most ge¬ 
nerous as well as most powerful monarch in the 
world. But no sooner were they arrived at Con¬ 
stantinople, than the treacherous corsair, regardless 
of all his promises to him, opened to the sultan a 
plan for conquering Tunis and annexing it to the 
Turkish empire, by making use of the name of this 
exiled prince, and co-operating with the party in 
the kingdom which was ready to declare in his fa¬ 
vour. Solyman approved, with too much facility, 
of this perfidious proposal, extremely suitable to 
the character of its author, but altogether unworthy 
of a great prince. A powerful fleet and numerous 
army were soon assembled ; at the sight of which 
the credulous Alraschid flattered himself that he 
should soon enter his capital in triumph. 

But just as this unhappy prince was 

Its success. " r i j r 

going to embark, he was arrested by 
order of the sultan, shut up in the seraglio, and 
was never heard of more. Barbarossa sailed with a 
fleet of two hundred and fifty vessels towards Africa. 
After ravaging the coasts of Italy, and spreading 
terror through every part of that country, he ap¬ 
peared before Tunis ; and landing his men, gave 
out that he came to assert the right of Alraschid, 
whom he pretended to have left sick aboard the 
admiral’s galley. The fort of Goletta, which 
commands the bay, soon fell into his hands, partly 
by his own address, partly by the treachery of its 
commander ; and the inhabitants of Tunis, weary 
of Muley Hascen’s government, took arms and de¬ 
clared for Alraschid with such zeal and unanimity, 
as obliged the former to fly so precipitately that he 
left all his treasures behind him. The gates were 
immediately set open to Barbarossa, as the restorer 
of their lawful sovereign. But when Alraschid 
himself did not appear, and when, instead of his 
name, that of Solyman alone was heard among the 
acclamations of the Turkish soldiers marching into 
the town, the people of Tunis began to suspect the 
corsair’s treachery. Their suspicions being soon 
converted into certainty, they ran to arms with the 
utmost fury, and surrounded the citadel, into which 
Barbarossa had led his troops. But having foreseen 
such a revolution, he was not unprepared for it; he 
immediately turned against them the artillery on the 
ramparts, and by one brisk discharge dispersed the 
numerous but undirected assailants, and forced 


them to acknowledge Solyman as their sovereign, 
and to submit to himself as his viceroy. 

His first care was to put the kingdom, B ar b ar0 ssa’s for- 
of which he had thus got possession, midable power, 
in a proper posture of defence. He strengthened 
the citadel which commands the town; and fortify¬ 
ing the Goletta in a regular manner, at vast expense, 
made it the principal station for his fleet, and his 
great arsenal for military as well as naval stores. 
Being now possessed of such extensive territories, 
he carried on his depredations against the Christian 
states to a greater extent and with more destructive 
violence than ever. Daily complaints of the out¬ 
rages committed by his cruizers were brought to the 
emperor by his subjects, both in Spain and Italy. 
All Christendom seemed to expect from him, as its 
greatest and most fortunate prince, that he would 
put an end to this new and odious species of oppres¬ 
sion. At the same time Muley Hascen, 
the exiled king of Tunis, finding none of’iunhlmpiores 

it n/r i x • • . c • the emperor’s as- 

ot the Mahometan princes in Atnca sistance, 
willing or able to assist him in recover- Apnl ~ 1,153 °' 
ing his throne, applied to Charles as the only person 
who could assert his rights in opposition to such a 
formidable usurper. The emperor, equally desirous 
of delivering his dominions from the dangerous 
neighbourhood of Barbarossa; of appearing as the 
protector of an unfortunate prince ; and of acquir¬ 
ing the glory annexed, in that age, to every expedi¬ 
tion against the Mahometans, readily concluded a 
treaty with Muley Hascen, and began to prepare for 
invading Tunis. Having made trial of his own 
abilities for war in the late campaign in Hungary, 
he was now become so fond of the military charac¬ 
ter, that he determined to command, on this occasion, 
in person. The united strength of his His preparation 
dominions was called out upon an en- for the expedition. 

terprise in which the emperor was about to hazard 
his glory, and which drew the attention of all Europe. 
A Flemish fleet carried, from the ports of the Low 
Country, a body of German infantry ; l the galleys 
of Naples and Sicily took on board the veteran 
bands of Italians and Spaniards which had distin¬ 
guished themselves by so many victories over the 
French; the emperor himself embarked at Barcelona 
with the flower of the Spanish nobility, and was 
joined by a considerable squadron from Portugal, 
under the command of the infant Don Lewis, the 
empress’s brother; Andrew Doria conducted his own 
galleys, the best appointed at that time in Europe, 
and commanded by the most skilful officers; the pope 
furnished all the assistance in his power towards 
such a pious enterprise ; and the order of Malta, the 
perpetual enemies of the infidels, equipped a squad¬ 
ron which, though small, was formidable by the 
valour of the knights who served on board it. The 
port of Cagliari, in Sardinia, was the general place 
of rendezvous. Doria was appointed high admiral 
of the fleet; the command of the land-forces under 
the emperor was given to the marquis de Guasto. 


t Harasi Annales Brabant, i. 599. 




544 


THE REIGN OF THE 


On the sixteenth of July, the fleet, 

Lands in Africa. . . ,, ~ , , ■. , 

consisting of near five hundred vessels, 
having on board above thirty thousand regular 
troops, set sail from Cagliari, and after a prosperous 
navigation landed within sight of Tunis. Barba- 
rossa, having received early intelligence of the 
emperor’s immense armament, and suspecting its 
destination, prepared with equal prudence and 
vigour for the defence of his new conquest. He 
called in all his corsairs from their different stations; 
he drew from Algiers what forces could be spared ; 
he despatched messengers to all the African princes, 
Moors as well as Arabs ; and representing Muley 
Hascen as an infamous apostate, prompted by am¬ 
bition and revenge, not only to become the vassal 
of a Christian prince, but to conspire with him to 
extirpate the Mahometan faith, he inflamed those 
ignorant and bigoted chiefs to such a degree, that 
they took arms as in a common cause. Twenty 
thousand horse, together with a great body of foot, 
soon assembled at Tunis ; and by a proper distribu¬ 
tion of presents among them from time to time, 
Barbarossa kept the ardour which had brought 
them together from subsiding. But as he was too 
well acquainted with the enemy whom he had to 
oppose, to think that these light troops could resist 
the heavy-armed cavalry and veteran infantry which 
composed the imperial army, his chief confidence 
was in the strength of the Goletta, and in his body 
of Turkish soldiers, who were armed and disciplined 
after the European fashion. Six thousand of these, 


under the command of Sinan, a renegado Jew, the 
bravest and most experienced of all his corsairs, he 
threw into that fort, which the emperor immediately 
Lays siege to invested. As Charles had the com- 
Goietta. m and of the sea, his camp was so 

plentifully supplied, not only with the necessaries 
but with all the luxuries of life, that Muley Hascen, 
who had not been accustomed to see war carried on 
with such order and magnificence, was filled with 
admiration of the emperor’s power. His troops, 
animated by his presence, and considering it as 
meritorious to shed their blood in such a pious 
cause, contended with each other for the posts of 
honour and danger. Three separate attacks were 
concerted, and the Germans, Spaniards, and Italians, 
having one of these committed to each of them, 
pushed them forward with the eager courage which 
national emulation inspires. Sinan displayed reso¬ 
lution and skill becoming th) confidence which his 
master had put in him; the garrison performed the 
hard service on which they were ordered with great 
fortitude. But though he interrupted the besiegers 
by frequent sallies, though the Moors and Arabs 
alarmed the camp with their continual incursions, 
the breaches soon became so considerable towards 
the land, while the fleet battered those parts of the 
fortifications which it could approach with no less 
fury and success, that an assault being given on all 
sides at once, the place was taken by storm. Sinan, 


u Epistres des Princes, par Ruscelli, p. lip, &c. 


[A. D. 1535. BOOK V. 

with the remains of his gairison, le- 'j' a ( tes by storm, 
tired, after an obstinate resistance, over July 25 - 
a shallow part of the bay towards the city. By the 
reduction of the Goletta, the emperor became master 
of Barbarossa’s fleet, consisting of eighty-seven 
galleys and galliots, together with his arsenal, and 
three hundred cannon, mostly brass, which were 
planted on the ramparts ; a prodigious number in 
that age, and a remarkable proof of the strength of 
the fort, as well as of the greatness of the corsair’s 
power. The emperor marched into the Goletta 
through the breach, and turning to Muley Hascen, 
who attended him, “ Here,” says he, “ is a gate 
open to you, by which you shall return to take pos¬ 
session of your dominions.” 

Barbarossa, though he felt the full weight of the 
blow which he had received, did not, however, lose 
courage, or abandon the defence of Tunis. But as 
the walls were of great extent and extremely weak ; 
as he could not depend on the fidelity of the in¬ 
habitants, nor hope that the Moors and Arabs would 
sustain the hardships of a siege, he boldly deter¬ 
mined to advance with his army, which amounted 
to fifty thousand men, 11 towards the imperial camp, 
and to decide the fate of his kingdom by the issue 
of a battle. This resolution he communicated to his 
principal officers, and representing to them the fatal 
consequences which might follow if ten thousand 
Christian slaves, whom he had shut up in the citadel, 
should attempt to mutiny during the absence of the 
army, he proposed, as a necessary precaution for 
the public security, to massacre them without mercy 
before he began his march. They all approved 
warmly of his intention to fight; but inured as they 
were, in their piratical depredations, to scenes of 
bloodshed and cruelty, the barbarity of his proposal 
concerning the slaves filled them with horror; and 
Barbarossa, rather from the dread of irritating them 
than swayed by motives of humanity, consented to 
spare the lives of the slaves. 

By this time the emperor had begun Defeafs Barba 
to advance towards Tunis ; and though rossa ’ s army - 
his troops suffered inconceivable hardships in their 
march, over burning sands, destitute of water, and 
exposed to the intolerable beat of the sun, they soon 
came up with the enemy. The Moors and Arabs, 
imboldened by their vast superiority in number, 
immediately rushed on to the attack with loud 
shouts ; but their undisciplined courage could not 
long stand the shock of regular battalions; and 
though Barbarossa, with admirable presence of 
mind, and by exposing bis own person to the great¬ 
est dangers, endeavoured to rally them, the rout 
became so general, that he himself was hurried along 
with them in their flight back to the city. There he 
found every thing in the utmost confusion ; some of 
the inhabitants flying with their families and effects; 
others ready to set open their gates to the conqueror ; 
the Turkish soldiers preparing to retreat; and the 
citadel, which in such circumstances might have 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


545 


BOOK V. A. D. 1535.] 

afforded him some refuge, already in the possession 
of the Christian captives. These unhappy men, 
rendered desperate by their situation, had laid hold 
on the opportunity which Barbarossa dreaded. As 
soon as his army was at some distance from the 
town, they gained two of their keepers, by whose 
assistance, knocking off their fetters and bursting 
open their prisons, they overpowered the Turkish 
garrison, and turned the artillery of the fort against 
their former masters. Barbarossa, disappointed and 
enraged, exclaiming sometimes against the false 
compassion of his officers, and sometimes con¬ 
demning his ow n imprudent compliance with their 
opinion, fled precipitately to Bona. 

. Meanwhile Charles, satisfied with 

ums surrenders. eag y an( J almost bloodless victory 

which he had gained, and advancing slowly with 
the precaution necessary in an enemy's country, did 
not yet know the whole extent of his own good for¬ 
tune. But at last a messenger despatched by the 
slaves acquainted him with the success of their 
noble effort for the recovery of their liberty; and 
at the same time deputies arrived from the town, 
in order to present him the keys of their gates, and 
to implore his protection from military violence. 
While he was deliberating concerning the proper 
measures for this purpose, the soldiers, fearing that 
they should be deprived of the booty which they 
had expected, rushed suddenly and without orders 
into the town, and began to kill and plunder with¬ 
out distinction. It was then too late to restrain 
their cruelty, their avarice, or licentiousness. All 
the outrages of which soldiers are capable in the 
fury of a storm, all the excesses of which men can 
be guilty when their passions are heightened by the 
contempt and hatred which difference in manners 
and religion inspires, were committed. Above thirty 
thousand of the innocent inhabitants perished on 
that unhappy day, and ten thousand were carried 
away as slaves. Muley Hascen took possession of 
a throne surrounded with carnage, abhorred by his 
subjects, on whom he had brought such calamities, 
and pitied even by those whose rashness had been 
the occasion of them. The emperor lamented the 
fatal accident which had stained the lustre of his 
victory ; and amidst such a scene of horror there 
was but one speetacle that afforded him any satis¬ 
faction. Ten thousand Christian slaves, among 
whom were several persons of distinction, met him 
as he entered the town ; and falling on their knees, 
thanked and blessed him as their deliverer. 

At the same time that Charles ac- 
Sed^VtohU complished his promise to the Moorish 
throne. king, of re-establishing him in his do¬ 

minions, he did not neglect what was necessary for 
bridling the power of the African corsairs, for the 

X Du Mont Corps Diplomat, ii. 12B. Summonte Hist, di Napoli, 
iv. 89. 

y Joh. Etropii Diarium Expedition. Tunetanas, aj>. Scard. v. ii. p. 
320, Arc. Jovii Histor. lib. xxxiv. 153, &c. Sandov. ii. 154, Sic. Vertot 


security of nis own subjects, and for the interest of 
the Spanish crown. In order to gain these ends, he 
concluded a treaty with Muley Hascen on the fol¬ 
lowing conditions :—That he should hold the king¬ 
dom of Tunis in fee of the crown of Spain, and do 
homage to the emperor as his liege lord ; that all 
the Christian slaves now within his dominions, of 
whatever nation, should be set at liberty without 
ransom ; that no subject of the emperor’s should 
for the future be detained in servitude ; that no 
Turkish corsair should be admitted into the ports 
of his dominions ; that free trade, together with the 
public exercise of the Christian religion, should be 
allowed to all the emperor’s subjects ; that the em¬ 
peror should not only retain the Goletta, but that 
all the other sea-ports in the kingdom which were 
fortified should be put into his hands ; that Muley 
Hascen should pay annually twelve thousand crowns 
for the subsistence of the Spanish garrison in the 
Goletta ; that he should enter into no alliance with 
any of the emperor’s enemies, and should present 
to him every year, as an acknowledgment of his 
vassalage, six Moorish horses and as many hawks. x 
Having thus settled the affairs of Africa; chastised 
the insolence of the corsairs ; secured a safe retreat 
for the ships of his subjects, and a proper station 
to his own fleets, on that coast from which he was 
most infested by piratical depreda- a 
tions, Charles embarked again for Eu¬ 
rope, the tempestuous weather and sickness among 
his troops not permitting him to pursue Barba- 
rossa. y 

By this expedition, the merit of 
which seems to have been estimated, the 6 efn°p?ror h ac- 
in that age, rather by the apparent quired ' 
generosity of the undertaking, the magnificence 
wherewith it was conducted, and the success which 
crowned it, than by the importance of the conse¬ 
quences that attended it, the emperor attained a 
greater height of glory than at any other period of 
his reign. Twenty thousand slaves whom he freed 
from bondage, either by his arms or by his treaty 
with Muley Hascen, 2 each of whom he clothed and 
furnished with the means of returning to their re¬ 
spective countries, spread all over Europe the fame 
of their benefactor’s munificence, extolling his 
power and abilities with the exaggeration flowing 
from gratitude and admiration. In comparison 
with him the other monarchs of Europe made an 
inconsiderable figure. They seemed to be solicit¬ 
ous about nothing but their private and particular 
interests ; while Charles, with an elevation of sen¬ 
timent which became the chief prince in Christen¬ 
dom, appeared to be concerned for the honour of 
the Christian name, and attentive to the public 
security and welfare. 

Hist, de Cheval. de Maltlie. Epistres des Princes, pai Ruscelli, tradu- 
ites par Belleforest, p. 119, 120, <fcc. Anton. Pontii Consentini Hist. 
Belli adv. Barbar. ap. Matthrei Analecta. 

z Summonte Hist, de Nap. vol. iv. p. 103. 



54G 


THE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK VI. 

™ , „ Unfortunately for the reputation of 

The causes of a r 

"he W eTnperorand Francis I. a mo tig his contemporaries, 
Francis. Hi s conduct at this juncture appeared 

a perfect contrast to that of his rival, as he laid 
hold on the opportunity afforded him by the em¬ 
peror’s having turned his whole force against the 
common enemy of Christendom, to revive his pre¬ 
tensions in Italy, and to plunge Europe into a new 
war. The treaty of Cambray, as has been ob¬ 
served, did not remove the causes of enmity be¬ 
tween the two contending princes ; it covered up 
but did not extinguish the flames of discord. Fran¬ 
cis in particular, who waited with impatience for a 
proper occasion of recovering the reputation as 
well as the territories which he had lost, continued 
to carry on his negociations in different courts 
against the emperor, taking the utmost pains to 
heighten the jealousy which many princes enter¬ 
tained of his power or designs, and to inspire the 
rest with the same suspicion and fear: among others 
he applied to Francis Sforza, who, though indebted 
to Charles for the possession of the duchy of Milan, 
had received it on such hard conditions as rendered 
him not only a vassal of the empire, but a tributary 
dependant upon the emperor. The honour of hav¬ 
ing married the emperor’s niece did not reconcile 
him to this ignominious state of subjection, which 
became so intolerable even to Sforza, though a 
weak and poor-spirited prince, that he listened 
with eagerness to the first proposals Francis made 
of rescuing him from the yoke. These proposals 
were conveyed to him by Maraviglia, or Merveille 
as he is called by the French historians, a Milanese 
gentlemen residing at Paris : and soon after, in or¬ 
der to carry on the negociation with greater advan¬ 
tage, Merveille was sent to Milan, on pretence of 
visiting his relations, but with secret credentials 
from Francis as his envoy. In this character he 
was received by Sforza. But notwithstanding his 
care to keep that circumstance concealed, Charles 
suspecting or having received information of it, 
remonstrated and threatened in such a high tone, 
that the duke and his ministers, equally intimi¬ 
dated, gave the world immediately a most infa¬ 
mous proof of their servile fear of offending the 
emperor. As Merveille had neither the prudence 
nor the temper which the function wherein he was 
employed required, they artfully decoyed him into 
a quarrel, in which he happened to kill his antago¬ 
nist, one of the duke’s domestics, and 

December. 

having instantly seized him, they or¬ 
dered him to be tried for that crime and to be be¬ 
headed. Francis, no less astonished at this viola¬ 
tion of a character held sacred among the most 
uncivilized nations than enraged at the insult of- 

a Freheri Script. Rer. German, iii. 354, &c. Sleid. Hist. 178, 183. 
Seckend. lib. iii. 103. 


[A. D. 1535 BOOK VI. 

fered to the dignity of his crown, threatened Sforza 
with the effects of his indignation, and complained 
to the emperor, whom he considered as the real 
author of that unexampled outrage. But receiving 
no satisfaction from either, he appealed to all the 
princes of Europe, and thought himself now entitled 
to take vengeance for an injury which it would 
have been indecent and pusillanimous to let pass 
with impunity. 

Being thus furnished with a pretext Fran , is destitute 
for beginning a war on which he had or allies - 
already resolved, he multiplied his efforts in order 
to draw in other princes to take part in the quarrel. 
But all his measures for this purpose were discon¬ 
certed by unforeseen events. After having sacrificed 
the honour of the royal family of France by the 
marriage of his son with Catharine of Medici in 
order to gain Clement, the death of that pontiff' had 
deprived him of all the advantages which he ex¬ 
pected to derive from his friendship. Paul, his suc¬ 
cessor, though attached by inclination to the impe¬ 
rial interest, seemed determined to maintain the 
neutrality suitable to his character as the common 
father of the contending princes. The king of Eng¬ 
land, occupied with domestic cares and projects, 
declined for once engaging in the affairs of the con¬ 
tinent, and refused to assist Francis unless he would 
imitate his example in throwing off' the papal su¬ 
premacy. These disappointments led 
. .. His negociations 

him to solicit with greater earnestness with the German 

the aid of the protestant princes asso¬ 
ciated by the league of Smalkalde. That he might 
the more easily acquire their confidence, he en¬ 
deavoured to accommodate himself to their predo¬ 
minant passion—zeal for their religious tenets. He 
affected a wonderful moderation with regard to the 
points in dispute; he permitted Bellay, his envoy 
in Germany, to explain his sentiments concerning 
some of the most important articles in terms not far 
different from those used by the protestants ; a he 
even condescended to invite Melancthon, whose 
gentle manners and pacific spirit distinguished him 
among the reformers, to visit Paris, that by his assist¬ 
ance he might concert the most proper measures for 
reconciling the contending sects which so unhappily 
divided the church . b These concessions must be con¬ 
sidered rather as arts of policy than the result of con¬ 
viction ; for whatever impression the new opinions 
in religion had made on his sisters, the queen of Na¬ 
varre and duchess of Ferrara, the gaiety of Francis’s 
own temper, and his love of pleasure, allowed him 
little leisure to examine theological controversies. 

But soon after he lost all the fruits 
of this disingenuous artifice, by a step 
very inconsistent with his declarations to the Ger¬ 
man princes. This step, however, the prejudices of 
the age, and the religious sentiments of his own 
subjects, rendered it necessary for him to take. His 
close union with the king of England, an excom- 

b Camerarii Vita Ph. Melancthonis, 12mo. Hag. 1685, p. 12. 


Irritates them. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1535.] 

municated heretic; his frequent negociations with 
the German protestants ; but above all, his giving 
public audience to an envoy from sultan Solyman, 
had excited violent suspicions concerning the sin¬ 
cerity of his attachment to religion. To have at¬ 
tacked the emperor, who, on all occasions, made 
high pretensions to zeal in defence of the catholic 
faith, and at the very juncture when he was prepar¬ 
ing for his expedition against Barbarossa, which 
was then considered as a pious enterprise, could 
not have failed to confirm such unfavourable sen¬ 
timents with regard to Francis, and called on him 
to vindicate himself by some extraordinary demon¬ 
stration of his reverence for the established doc¬ 
trines of the church. The indiscreet zeal of some 
of his subjects who had imbibed the protestant 
opinions, furnished him with such an occasion as 
he desired. They had affixed to the gates of the 
Louvre and other public places, papers containing 
indecent reflections on the doctrines and rites of the 
popish church. Six of the persons concerned in 
this rash action were discovered and seized. The 
king, in order to avert the judgments which it was 
supposed their blasphemies might draw down upon 
the nation, appointed a solemn procession. The 
holy sacrament was carried through the city in 
great pomp; Francis walked uncovered before it, 
bearing a torch in his hand ; the princes of the blood 
supported the canopy over it; the nobles marched 
in order behind. In the presence of this numerous 
assembly, the king, accustomed to express himself 
on every subject in strong and animated language, 
declared that if one of his hands were infected with 
heresy, he would cut it off with the other, and would 
not spare even his own children, if found guilty of 
that crime. As a dreadful proof of his being in 
earnest, the six unhappy persons were publicly 
burnt before the procession was finished, with cir¬ 
cumstances of the most shocking barbarity attend¬ 
ing their execution. 0 

They refuse to The P rinces of the league of Smal- 
join him. kalde, filled with resentment and in¬ 
dignation at the cruelty with which their brethren 
were treated, could not conceive Francis to be sin¬ 
cere, when he offered to protect in Germany those 
very tenets which he persecuted with such rigour 
in his own dominions; so that all Bellay’s art and 
eloquence in vindicating his master or apologizing 
for his conduct, made but little impression upon 
them. They considered likewise, that the emperor, 
who hitherto had never employed violence against 
the doctrines of the reformers, nor even given them 
much molestation in their progress, was now bound 
by the agreement at Ratisbon not to disturb such as 
had embraced the new opinions ; and the protest¬ 
ants wisely regarded this as a more certain and 
immediate security than the precarious and distant 
hopes with which Francis endeavoured to allure 
them. Besides, the manner in which he had be¬ 
haved to his allies at the peace of Cambray was too 

c Balcarii Comment Her. Gallic. 646. Sleid. Hist. 175, &c. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


547 


recent to be forgotten, and did not encourage others 
to rely much on his friendship or generosity. Upon 
all these accounts the protestant princes refused to 
assist the French king in any hostile attempt against 
the emperor. The elector of Saxony, the most zeal¬ 
ous among them, in order to avoid giving any um¬ 
brage to Charles, would not permit Melancthon to 
visit the court of France, although that reformer, 
flattered perhaps by the invitation of so great a 
monarch, or hoping that his presence there might be 
of signal advantage to the protestant cause, disco¬ 
vered a strong inclination to undertake the journey.* 1 
But though none of the many princes 
who envied or dreaded the power of IdvanclsS^ds 
Charles would second Francis’s efforts ltaly ‘ 
in order to reduce and circumscribe it, he never¬ 
theless commanded his army to advance towards 
the frontiers of Italy. As his sole pretext for taking 
arms was that he might chastise the duke of Milan 
for his insolent and cruel breach of the law of na¬ 
tions, it might have been expected that the whole 
weight of his vengeance was to have fallen on his 
territories. But on a sudden, and at their very com¬ 
mencement, the operations of war took another 
direction. Charles, duke of Savoy, one of the least 
active and able princes of the line from which he 
descended, had married Beatrix of Portugal, the 
sister of the empress. By her great talents she soon 
acquired an absolute ascendant over her husband: 
and proud of her affinity to the emperor, or allured 
by the magnificent promises with which he flattered 
her ambition, she formed an union between the duke 
and the imperial court, extremely inconsistent with 
that neutrality which wise policy as well as the 
situation of his dominions had hitherto induced him 
to observe in all the quarrels between the contend¬ 
ing monarchs. Francis was abundantly sensible of 
the distress to which he might be exposed, if, when 
he entered Italy, he should leave behind him the 
territories of a prince devoted so obsequiously to the 
emperor, that he had sent his eldest son to be edu¬ 
cated in the court of Spain, as a kind of hostage 
for his fidelity. Clement the seventh, who had 
represented this danger in a strong light during his 
interview with Francis at Marseilles, suggested to 
him, at the same time, the proper method of guard¬ 
ing against it, having advised him to begin his opera¬ 
tions against the Milanese by taking 

. (, c j j . Takes possession 

possession of Savoy and Piedmont, as of the duke of sa- 
, , , . c . voy’s dominions. 

the only certain way of securing a 
communication with his own dominions. Francis, 
highly irritated with the duke on many accounts, par¬ 
ticularly for having supplied the constable Bourbon 
with the money that enabled him to levy the body of 
troops which ruined the French army in the fatal 
battle of Pavia, was not unwilling to let him now 
feel both how deeply he resented and how severely 
he could punish these injuries. Nor did he want 
several pretexts which gave some colour of equity 
to the violence that he intended. The territories of 


d Cawierarii Vita Melan. 142, &c. 415. 

2 N 2 


Seckend. lib. iii. 107. 



648 


THE REIGN OF THE 


France and Savoy lying contiguous to each other, 
and intermingled in many places, various disputes 
unavoidable in such a situation subsisted between 
the two sovereigns concerning the limits of their 
respective property; and besides, Francis, in right 
of his mother Louise of Savoy, had large claims 
upon the duke her brother, for her share in their 
father's succession. Being unwilling, however, to 
begin hostilities without some cause of quarrel more 
specious than these pretensions, many of which 
were obsolete and others dubious, he demanded 
permission to march through Piedmont in his way 
to the Milanese, hoping that the duke, from an ex¬ 
cess of attachment to the imperial interest, might 
refuse this request, and thus give a greater appear¬ 
ance of justice to all his operations against him. 
But if we may believe the historians of Savoy, who 
appear to be better informed with regard to this 
particular than those of France, the duke readily, 
and with a good grace, granted what it was not in 
his power to deny, promising free passage to the 
French troops as was desired ; so that Francis, as 
the only method now left of justifying the measures 
which he determined to take, was obliged to insist 
for full satisfaction with regard to every thing that 
either the crown of France or his mother Louise 
could demand of the house of Savoy. e Such an 
evasive answer as might have been expected being 
made to this requisition, the French army, under the 
admiral Brion, poured at once into the duke’s terri¬ 
tories at different places. The countries of Bresse 
and Bugey, united at that time to Savoy, were over¬ 
run in a moment. Most of the towns in the duchy 
of Savoy opened their gates at the approach of the 
enemy ; a few which attempted to make resistance 
were easily taken; and before the end of the cam¬ 
paign, the duke saw himself stripped of all his do¬ 
minions but the province of Piedmont, in which there 
were not many places in a condition to be defended. 

To complete the duke’s misfortunes, 
neva recovers its the city of Geneva, the sovereignty 
of which he claimed and in some 
degree possessed, threw off his yoke, and its revolt 
drew along with it the loss of the adjacent territo¬ 
ries. Geneva was at that time an imperial city ; 
and though under the direct dominion of its own 
bishops and the remote sovereignty of the dukes of 
Savoy, the form of its internal constitution was 
purely republican, being governed by syndics and 
a council chosen by the citizens. From these 
distinct and often clashing jurisdictions two oppo¬ 
site parties took their rise, and had long subsisted 
in the state ; the one, composed of the advocates for 
the privileges of the community, assumed the name 
of Eignotz, or confederates in defence of liberty; 
and branded the other, which supported the epis¬ 
copal or ducal prerogatives, wdth the name of Mam- 
rncluhes or slaves. At length the pro- 
testant opinions, beginning to spread 

fol. Lyon. 


15S2. 


e Histoire Geriealogique de Savoye, par Guichenon. 2 tom 
1660, i. 6SD, &c. 


1534. 


[A. D. 1535. BOOK VI. 

among the citizens, inspired such as embraced them 
with that bold enterprising spirit which always 
accompanied or w'as naturally produced by them in 
their first operations. As both the duke and bishop 
were from interest, from prejudice, and from politi¬ 
cal considerations, violent enemies of the Reforma¬ 
tion, all the new converts joined with warmth the 
party of the Eignotz ; and zeal for religion mingling 
with the love of liberty, added strength to that 
generous passion. The rage and animosity of two 
factions shut up within the same walls, occasioned 
frequent insurrections, which terminating mostly to 
the advantage of the friends of liberty, they daily 
became more powerful. 

The duke and bishop, forgetting their ancient 
contests about jurisdiction, had united against their 
common enemies, and each attacked them with his 
proper weapons. The bishop excommunicated the 
people of Geneva as guilty of a double crime; of 
impiety in apostatizing from the established religion, 
and of sacrilege, in invading the rights of his see. 
The duke attacked them as rebels against their law¬ 
ful prince, and attempted to render himself master 
of the city, first by surprise, and then by open force. 
The citizens, despising the thunder of 
the bishop’s censures, boldly asserted 
their independence against the duke ; and partly by 
their own valour, partly by the powerful assistance 
which they received from the canton of Berne, to¬ 
gether with some small supplies both of men and 
money secretly furnished by the king of France, 
they defeated all his attempts. Not satisfied with 
having repulsed him, or with remaining always 
upon the defensive themselves, they now took ad¬ 
vantage of the duke’s inability to resist them, while 
overwhelmed by the armies of France, and seized 
several castles and places of strength which he pos¬ 
sessed in the neighbourhood of Geneva; thus de¬ 
livering the city from those odious monuments of its 
former subjection, and rendering the public liberty 
more secure for the future. At the same time the 
canton of Berne invaded and conquered the Pays de 
Vaud, to which it had some pretensions. The canton 
of Friburg, though zealously attached to the catho¬ 
lic religion, and having no subject of contest with 
the duke, laid hold on part of the spoils of that un¬ 
fortunate prince. A great portion of these conquests 
or usurpations being still retained by the two can¬ 
tons, add considerably to their power, and have 
become the most valuable part of their territories. 
Geneva, notwithstanding many schemes and enter¬ 
prises of the dukes of Savoy to re-establish their 
dominion over it, still keeps possession of its inde¬ 
pendence ; and in consequence of that blessing, has 
attained a degree of consideration, w ealth, and ele¬ 
gance, which it could not otherw ise have reached/ 

Amidst such a succession of dis¬ 
astrous events the duke Of Savoy had able bassist the 
no other resource but the emperor’s dukeotSa ' oy - 

, la de °eneve, par Spon, 12mo. Utr. 1685. p. 99. Hist, 

de la Reformation de Suisse par Rouchat. Gen. 1728, tom. iv n 004 <Vr 
tom. v. p. 216, «.Vo. Mein, de Rellav, 181. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


549 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1535.] 

protection, which, upon his return from Tunis, 
he demanded with the most earnest importunity; 
and as his misfortunes were occasioned chiefly by 
his attachment to the imperial interest, he had a 
just title to immediate assistance. Charles, how¬ 
ever, was not in a condition to support him with 
that vigour and despatch which the exigency of his 
aflairs called for. Most of the troops employed in 
the African expedition, having been raised for that 
service alone, were disbanded as soon as it was 
finished ; the veteran forces under Antonio de Leyva 
were hardly sufficient for the defence of the Milan¬ 
ese ; and the emperor’s treasury was entirely drained 
by his extraordinary efforts against the infidels. 

Qct 0{ But the death of Francis Sforza, 

Death of storza, occasioned, according to some liisto- 
rians, by the terror of a French inva¬ 
sion, which had twice been fatal to his family, 
afforded the emperor full leisure to prepare for 
action. By this unexpected event the nature of the 
war and the causes of discord were totally changed. 
Francis’s first pretext for taking arms, in order to 
chastise Sforza for the insult offered to the dignity 

Francis’s preten- °f bis CrOWD, Was at Once CUt off; but 
Sions to that duchy. ag t j mt p r j nce dj ec j without issue, all 

Francis’s rights to the duchy of Milan, which he 
had yielded only to Sforza and his posterity, re¬ 
turned back to him in full force. As the recovery 
of the Milanese was the favourite object of that 
monarch, he instantly renewed his claim to it; and 
if he had supported his pretensions by ordering the 
powerful army quartered in Savoy to advance with¬ 
out losing a moment towards Milan, he could hardly 
have failed to secure the important point of posses¬ 
sion. But Francis, who became less enterprising 
as he advanced in years, and who was overawed at 
some times into an excess of caution by the remem¬ 
brance of his past misfortunes, endeavoured to 
establish his rights by negociation, not by arms ; 
and from a timid moderation, fatal in all great 
affairs, neglected to improve the favourable oppor¬ 
tunity which presented itself. Charles was more 
decisive in his operations, and in quality of sove¬ 
reign, took possession of the duchy, as a vacant fief 
of the empire. While Francis endeavoured to ex¬ 
plain and assert his title to it by arguments and 
memorials, or employed various arts in order to 
reconcile the Italian powers to the thoughts of his 
regaining footing in Italy, his rival was silently 
taking effectual steps to prevent it. The emperor* 
however was very careful not to discover too early 
an intention of this kind ; but seeming to admit the 
equity of Francis’s claim, he appeared solicitous 
only about giving him possession in such a manner 
as might not disturb the peace of Europe or overturn 
the balance of power in Italy, which the politicians 
of that country were so desirous of preserving. By 
this artifice he deceived Francis, and gained so 
much confidence with the rest of Europe, that, 
almost without incurring any suspicion, he involved 


the affair in new difficulties, and protracted the 
negociations at pleasure. Sometimes he proposed 
to grant the investiture of Milan to the duke of 
Orleans, Francis’s second son, sometimes to the 
duke of Angouleme, his third son : as the views and 
inclinations of the French court varied, he trans¬ 
ferred his choice alternately from the one to the 
other, with such profound and well-conducted dis¬ 
simulation, that neither Francis nor his ministers 
seem to have penetrated his real intention ; and all 
military operations were entirely suspended, as if 
nothing had remained but to enter quietly into pos¬ 
session of what they demanded. 

During the interval of leisure gained 

in this manner, Charles on his return Charles’s prepa- 
„ „ it.. ii rations for war. 

from 1 unis assembled the states both 
of Sicily and Naples; and as they thought themselves 
greatly honoured by the presence of their sovereign, 
and were no less pleased with the apparent disin¬ 
terestedness of his expedition into Africa than 
dazzled by the success which had attended his arms, 
he prevailed on them to vote him such liberal sub¬ 
sidies as were seldom granted in that age. This 
enabled him to recruit his veteran troops, to levy a 
body of Germans, and to take every other proper 
precaution for executing or supporting the measures 
on which he had determined. Bellay, the French 
envoy in Germany, having discovered the intention 
of raising troops in that country, notwithstanding 
all the pretexts employed in order to conceal it, first 
alarmed his master with this evident proof of the 
emperor’s insincerity. 6 But Francis was so pos¬ 
sessed at that time with the rage of negociation, in 
all the artifices and refinements of which his rival 
far surpassed him, that instead of beginning his 
military operations and pushing them with vigour, 
or seizing the Milanese before the imperial army 
was assembled, he satisfied himself with making 
new offers to the emperor, in order to procure the 
investiture by his voluntary deed. His offers were 
indeed so liberal and advantageous, that if ever 
Charles had intended to grant his demand, he could 
not have rejected them with decency. He dexterously 
eluded them by declaring, that until he consulted 
the pope in person he could not take his final reso¬ 
lution with regard to a point which so nearly con¬ 
cerned the peace of Italy. By this evasion he gained 
some further time for ripening the schemes which 
he had in view. 

The emperor at last advanced to- 

... The emperor 

wards Rome, and made his public enters Home. 

. . . April 6. 

entry into that city with extraordinary 

pomp ; but it being found necessary to remove the 

ruins of an ancient temple of peace, in order to 

widen one of the streets through which the cavalcade 

had to pass, all the historians take notice of this 

trivial circumstance, and they are fond to interpret 

it as an omen of the bloody war that followed. 

Charles, it is certain, had by this time banished all 

thoughts of peace, and at last threw off the mask. 


g Mem de Bellay, 192. 



550 


THE REIGN OR THE 


with which he had so long covered his designs from 
the court of France, by a declaration of his senti¬ 
ments no less singular than explicit. The French 
ambassadors having in their master’s name demand¬ 
ed a definitive reply to his propositions concerning 
the investiture of Milan, Charles promised to give 
it next day in presence of the pope and cardinals 
assembled in full consistory. These 
vectiveagainst being accordingly met, and all the 
foreign ambassadors invited to attend, 
the emperor stood up, and addressing himself to 
the pope, expatiated for some time on the sincerity 
of his own wishes for the peace of Christendom, as 
well as his abhorrence of war, the miseries of which 
he enumerated at great length, with studied and 
elaborate oratory; he complained that all his en¬ 
deavours to preserve the tranquillity of Europe had 
hitherto been defeated by the restless and unjust 
ambition of the French king; that even during his 
minority he had proofs of the unfriendly and hos¬ 
tile intentions of that monarch; that afterwards he 
had openly attempted to wrest from him the imperial 
crown, which belonged to him by a title no less just 
than natural; that he had next invaded his kingdom 
of Navarre; that, not satisfied with this, he had 
attacked his territories as well as those of his allies 
both in Italy and the Low Countries; that when the 
valour of the imperial troops, rendered irresistible 
by the protection of the Almighty, had checked his 
progress, ruined his armies, and seized his person, 
he continued to pursue by deceit what he had un¬ 
dertaken with injustice ; that he had violated every 
article in the treaty of Madrid, to which he owed 
his liberty, and as soon as he returned to his do¬ 
minions took measures for rekindling the war which 
that pacification had happily extinguished ; that 
when new misfortunes compelled him to sue again 
for peace at Cambray, he concluded and observed 
it with equal insincerity ; that soon after he had 
formed dangerous connexions with the heretical 
princes in Germany, and incited them to disturb 
the tranquillity of the empire ; that now he had 
driven the duke of Savoy, a prince married to a 
sister of the empress, and joined in close alliance 
with Spain, out of the greater part of his territories; 
that after injuries so often repeated, and amidst so 
many sources of discord, all hope of amity or con¬ 
cord became desperate; and though he himself was 
still willing to grant the investiture of Milan to one 


of the princes of France, there was little probability 
of that event taking place, as Francis, on the one 
hand, would not consent to what was necessary for 
securing the tranquillity of Europe, nor, on the 
other, could he think it reasonable or safe to give 
a rival the unconditional possession of all that he 
demanded. “ Let us not, however,” added he, “ con- 

chaiienges him to tinue wantonly to shed the blood of 
single combat. our i nnocent subjects; let us decide 

the quarrel man to man, with what arms he pleases 
to choose, in our shirts, on an island, a bridge, or 


h Bellay, 199. Sandov. Hist, del Emper. ii. 226. 


[A. D. 153G. BOOK VI. 

aboard a galley moored in a river; let the duchy of 
Burgundy be put in deposit on his part, and that of 
Milan on mine ; these shall be the prize of the con¬ 
queror: and after that, let the united forces of 
Germany, Spain, and France be employed to hum¬ 
ble the power of the Turk, and to extirpate heresy 
out of Christendom. But if he, by declining this 
method of terminating our differences, renders war 
inevitable, nothing shall divert me from prosecuting 
it to such extremity as shall reduce one of us to be 
the poorest gentleman in his own dominions. Nor 
do I fear that it will be on me this misfortune shall 
fall: I enter upon action with the fairest prospect 
of success; the justice of my cause, the union of 
my subjects, the number and valour of my troops, 
the experience and fidelity of my generals, all com¬ 
bine to ensure it. Of all these advantages the king 
of France is destitute ; and were my resources no 
more certain and my hopes of victory no better 
founded than his, I would instantly throw myself 
at his feet, and with folded hands and a rope about 
my neck implore his mercy.” h 

This long harangue the emperor delivered with 
an elevated voice, a haughty tone, and the greatest 
vehemence of expression and gesture. The French 
ambassadors, who did not fully comprehend his 
meaning, as he spoke in the Spanish tongue, were 
totally disconcerted and at a loss how they should 
answer such an unexpected invective: when one 
of them began to vindicate his master’s conduct, 
Charles interposed abruptly, and would not permit 
him to proceed. The pope, without entering into 
any particular detail, satisfied himself with a short 
but pathetic recommendation of peace, together with 
an offer of employing his sincere endeavours in 
order to procure that blessing to Christendom ; and 
the assembly broke up in the greatest astonishment 
at the extraordinary scene which had been exhibit¬ 
ed. In no part of his conduct, indeed, did Charles 
ever deviate so widely from his general character. 

Instead of that prudent recollection, The motives of 
that composed and regular deportment ^isrash measure. 

so strictly attentive to decorum, and so admirably 
adapted to conceal his own passions, for which he 
was at all other times conspicuous, he appears on 
this occasion, before one of the most august assem¬ 
blies in Europe, boasting of his own power and 
exploits with insolence; inveighing against his 
enemy with indecency; and challenging him to 
combat with an ostentatious valour, more becoming 
a champion in romance than the first monarch in 
Christendom. But the well-known and powerful 
operation of continued prosperity, as well as of ex- 
aggerated praise, even upon the firmest minds, suffi¬ 
ciently accounts for this seeming inconsistency. 
After having compelled Solyman to retreat, and 
having stripped Barbarossa of a kingdom, Charles 
began to consider his arms as invincible. He had 
been entertained, ever since his return from Africa, 
with repeated scenes of triumph and public rejoic- 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


551 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1536.] 

ings; the orators and poets of Italy, the most ele¬ 
gant at that time in Europe, had exhausted their 
genius in panegyric on his conduct and merit, to 
which the astrologers added magnificent promises 
of a more splendid fortune still in store. Intoxi¬ 
cated with all these, he forgot his usual reserve and 
moderation, and was unable to restrain this extra¬ 
vagant sally of vanity, which became the more re¬ 
markable by being both so uncommon and so public. 

He himself seems to have been immediately sen¬ 
sible of the impropriety of his behaviour ; and when 
the French ambassadors demanded next day a more 
clear explanation of what he had said concerning 
the combat, he told them that they were not to con¬ 
sider his proposal as a formal challenge to their 
master, but as an expedient for preventing blood¬ 
shed ; he endeavoured to soften several expres¬ 
sions in his discourse; and spoke in terms full of 
respect towards Francis. But though this slight 
apology was far from being sufficient to remove the 
offence which had been given, Francis, by an unac¬ 
countable infatuation, continued to negociate, as if 
it had still been possible to bring their differences 
to a period by an amicable composition. Charles, 
finding him so eager to run into the snare, favoured 
the deception, and by seeming to listen to his pro¬ 
posals, gained further time to prepare for the exe¬ 
cution of his own designs.* 

Charles invades At last the imperial army assembled 
France. on the frontiers of the Milanese, to the 
amount of forty thousand foot and ten thousand 
horse, while that of France encamped near Vercelli 
in Piedmont, being greatly inferior in number, and 
weakened by the departure of a body of Swiss whom 
Charles artfully persuaded the popish cantons tore- 
call, that they might not serve against the duke of 
Savoy, their ancient ally. The French general, not 
daring to risk a battle, retired as soon as the imperial- 
M 6 ists advanced. The emperor put him¬ 
self at the head of his forces, which the 
marquis del Guasto, the duke of Alva, and Ferdi¬ 
nand de Gonzago, commanded under him, though 
the supreme direction of the whole was committed 
to Antonio de Leyva, whose abilities and experience 
justly entitled him to that distinction. Charles 
soon discovered his intention not to confine his 
operations to the recovery of Piedmont and Savoy, 
but to push forward and invade the southern pro¬ 
vinces of France. This scheme he had long medi¬ 
tated, and had long been taking measures for exe¬ 
cuting it with such vigour as might ensure success. 
He had remitted large sums to his sister, the go¬ 
verness of the Low Countries, and to his brother, 
the king of the Romans, instructing them to levy 
all the forces in their power, in order to form two 
S' parate bodies, the one to enter France on the 
side of Picardy, the other on the side of Champagne ; 
while he, with the main army, fell upon the oppo¬ 
site frontier of the kingdom. Trusting to these vast 
preparations, he thought it impossible that Francis 

i Mem. de Beilay, 205, &c. 


could resist so many unexpected attacks on such 
different quarters; and began his enterprise with 
such confidence of its happy issue, that he desired 
Jovius the historian to make a large provision of 
paper sufficient to record the victories which he was 
going to obtain. 

His ministers and generals, instead of entertain¬ 
ing the same sanguine hopes, represented to him in 
the strongest terms the danger of leading his troops 
so far from his own territories, to such a distance 
from his magazines, and into provinces which did 
not yield sufficient subsistence for their own inha¬ 
bitants. They entreated him to consider the inex¬ 
haustible resources of France in maintaining a defen¬ 
sive war, and the active zeal with which a gallant 
nobility would serve a prince whom they loved, in 
repelling the enemies of their country; they recalled 
to his remembrance the fatal miscarriage of Bour¬ 
bon and Pescara, when they ventured upon the same 
enterprise under circumstances which seemed as 
certain to promise success ; the marquis del Guasto, 
in particular, fell on his knees and conjured him to 
abandon the undertaking as desperate. But many 
circumstances combined in leading Charles to dis¬ 
regard all their remonstrances. He could seldom 
be brought, on any occasion, to depart from a reso¬ 
lution which he had once taken ; he was too apt to 
underrate and despise the talents of his rival the 
king of France, because they differed so widely from 
his own ; he was blinded by the presumption which 
accompanies prosperity, and relied, perhaps, in 
some degree on the prophecies which predicted the 
increase of his own grandeur. He not only adhered 
obstinately to his own plan, but determined to 
advance towards France without waiting for the 
reduction of any part of Piedmont, except such 
towns as were absolutely necessary for preserving 
his communication with the Milanese. 

The marquis de Saluces, to whom r 
F rancis had intrusted the command of the C duke S oFsa-° 
a small body of troops left for the de- ^ s domimons - 
fence of Piedmont, rendered this more easy than 
Charles had any reason to expect. That nobleman, 
educated in the court of France, distinguished by 
continual marks of the king's favour, and honoured 
so lately with a charge of such importance, suddenly, 
and without any provocation or pretext of disgust, 
revolted from his benefactor. His motives to this 
treacherous action were as childish as the deed it¬ 
self was base. Being strongly possessed with a 
superstitious faith in divination and astrology, he 
believed with full assurance that the fatal period of 
the French nation was at hand ; that on its ruins 
the emperor would establish an universal monarchy; 
that therefore he ought to follow the dictates of 
prudence in attaching himself to his rising fortune, 
and could incur no blame for deserting a prince 
whom Heaven had devoted to destruction. k His 
treason became still more odious, by his employing 
that very authority with which Francis had invested 

k Beilay, 222, a ; 246, b. 




552 


him, in order to open the kingdom to his enemies. 
Whatever measures were proposed or undertaken 
by the officers under his command for the defence 
of their conquests, he rejected or defeated. What¬ 
ever properly belonged to himself, as commander- 
in-chief, to provide or perform for that purpose, he 
totally neglected. In this manner he rendered 
towns even of the greatest consequence untenable, 
by leaving them destitute either of provisions, or 
ammunition, or artillery, or a sufficient garrison ; 
and the imperialists must have reduced Piedmont 
in as short a time as was necessary to march through 
it, if Montpezat, the governor of Fossano, had not, 
by an extraordinary effort of courage and military 
conduct, detained them almost a month before that 
inconsiderable place. 

By this meritorious and seasonable 

Francis’s plan for . , .... . ~ . 

the defence of his service he gained his master sufficient 

time for assembling his forces, and for 
concerting a system of defence against a danger 
which he now saw to be inevitable. Francis fixed 
upon the only proper and effectual plan for defeat¬ 
ing the invasion of a powerful enemy ; and his pru¬ 
dence in choosing this plan, as well as his perse¬ 
verance in executing it, deserves the greater praise, 
as it was equally contrary to his own natural tem¬ 
per and to the genius of the French nation. He 
determined to remain altogether upon the defensive; 
never to hazard a battle, or even a great skirmish, 
without certainty of success ; to fortify his camps 
in a regular manner; to throw garrisons only into 
towns of great strength ; to deprive the enemy of 
subsistence by laying waste the country before them; 
and to save the whole kingdom by sacrificing one 
of its provinces. The execution of this 


Intrusts Mont- . . 

morency with the plan he committed entirely to the 
execution of it. , 

Mareschal Montmorency, who was the 
author of it; a man wonderfully fitted by nature 
for such a trust. Haughty, severe, confident in his 
own abilities, and despising those of other men ; 
incapable of being diverted from any resolution by 
remonstrances or entreaties ; and in prosecuting 
any scheme, regardless alike of love or of pity. 

He encamps at Montmorency made choice of a 
Avignon, strong camp under the walls of Avig¬ 
non, at the confluence of the Rhone and the Du¬ 
rance, one of which plentifully supplied his troops 
with all necessaries from the inland provinces, and 
the other covered his camp on that side where it 
was most probable the enemy would approach. He 
laboured with unwearied industry to render the for¬ 
tifications of this camp impregnable, and assembled 
there a considerable army, though greatly inferior 
to that of the enemy ; while the king with another 
body of troops encamped at Valence, higher up the 
Rhone. Marseilles and Arles were the only towns 
he thought it necessary to defend ; the former in 
order to retain the command of the sea; the latter, 
as the barrier of the province of Languedoc ; and 
each of these he furnished with numerous garrisons 

1 Rellay, 266, a. 


THE REIGN OF THE [A D. 1536. BOOK VI. 

of his best troops, commanded by officers on whose 
fidelity and valour he could rely. The inhabitants 
of the other towns, as well as of the open country, 
were compelled to abandon their houses, and were 
conducted to the mountains, to the camp at Avig¬ 
non, or to the inland provinces. The fortifications 
of such places as might have afforded shelter or 
defence to the enemy were thrown down. Corn, 
forage, and provisions of every kind, were carried 
away or destroyed ; all the mills and ovens were 
ruined, and the wells filled up or rendered useless. 
The devastation extended from the Alps to Mar¬ 
seilles, and from the sea to the confines of Dau- 
phine ; nor does history afford any instance among 
civilized nations in which this cruel expedient for 
the public safety was employed with the same rigour. 

At length the emperor arrived with Charles enters 
the van of his army on the frontiers of Provence. 
Provence, and was still so possessed w ith confidence 
of success, that during a few days when he was 
obliged to halt until the rest of his troops came up, 
he began to divide his future conquests among his 
officers ; and as a new incitement to serve him with 
zeal, gave them liberal promises of offices, lands, 
and honours in France. 1 The face of desolation, 
however, which presented itself to him when he en¬ 
tered the country, began to damp his hopes ; and 
convinced him that a monarch who, in order to dis¬ 
tress an enemy, had voluntarily ruined one of his 
richest provinces, would defend the rest with des¬ 
perate obstinacy. Nor was it long before he became 
sensible that Francis’s plan of defence was as pru¬ 
dent as it appeared to be extraordinary. His fleet, 
on which Charles chiefly depended for subsistence, 
was prevented for some time, by contrary winds 
and other accidents to which naval operations are 
subject, from approaching the French coast; even 
after its arrival, it afforded at best a precarious and 
scanty supply to such a numerous body of troops ; m 
nothing was to be found in the country itself for 
their support; nor could they draw any consider¬ 
able aid from the dominions of the duke of Savoy, 
exhausted already by maintaining two great armies. 
The emperor was no less embarrassed how to em¬ 
ploy than how to subsist his forces ; for though he 
was now in possession of almost an entire province, 
he could not be said to have the command of it 
while he held only defenceless towns, and while the 
French, besides their camp at Avignon, continued 
masters of Marseilles and Arles. At first he thought 
of attacking the camp, and of terminating the war 
by one decisive blow; but skilful officers who were ap¬ 
pointed to view it, declared the attempt to be utterly 
impracticable. He then gave orders 
to invest Marseilles and Arles, hoping 
that the French would quit their advantageous post 
in order to relieve them ; but Montmorency, adhering 
firmly to his plan, remained immovable at Avignon, 
and the imperialists met with such a warm recep¬ 
tion from the garrisons of both towns, that they re¬ 


Besieges 

Marseilles. 


m Sandov. ii. 231. 



BOOK VI. 


A. D. 1536.] 

linqwished their enterprises with loss and disgrace. 
As a last effort the emperor advanced once more 
towards Avignon, though with an army harassed 
by the perpetual incursions of small parties of the 
French light troops, weakened by diseases and 
dispirited by disasters, which seemed the more in¬ 
tolerable because they were unexpected. 

Montmorency’s During these operations Montmo- 
heringtohbphm renc y found himself exposed to greater 
danger from his own troops than from 
the enemy; and their inconsiderate valour went 
near to have precipitated the kingdom into those 
calamities which he with such industry and cau¬ 
tion had endeavoured to avoid. Unaccustomed to 
behold an enemy ravaging their country almost 
without control; impatient of such long inaction ; 
unacquainted with the slow and remote but certain 
effects of Montmorency’s system of defence, the 
French wished for battle with no less ardour than 
the imperialists. They considered the conduct of 
their general as a disgrace to their country. His 
caution they imputed to timidity; his circumspec¬ 
tion to want of spirit; and the constancy with 
which he pursued his plan, to obstinacy or pride. 
These reflections, whispered at first among the sol¬ 
diers and subalterns, were adopted, by degrees, by 
officers of higher rank ; and as many of them en¬ 
vied Montmorency’s favour with the king, and more 
were dissatisfied with his harsh disgusting manner, 
the discontent soon became great in his camp, 
which was filled with general murmurings and al¬ 
most open complaints against his measures. Mont¬ 
morency, on whom the sentiments of his own troops 
made as little impression as the insults of the enemy, 
adhered steadily to his system ; though, in order to 
reconcile the army to his maxims, no less contrary 
to the genius of the nation than to the ideas of war 
among undisciplined troops, he assumed an unusual 
affability in his deportment, and often explained, 
with great condescension, the motives of his con¬ 
duct, the advantages which had already resulted 
from it, and the certain success with which it would 
be attended. At last Francis joined his army at 
Avignon, which having received several reinforce¬ 
ments, he now considered as of strength sufficient to 
face the enemy. As he had put no small constraint 
upon himself in consenting that his troops should 
remain so long upon the defensive, it can hardly be 
doubted but that his fondness for what was daring 
and splendid, added to the impatience both of 
officers and soldiers, would at last have overruled 
Montmorency’s salutary caution." 

The retreat and Happily the retreat of the enemy 
delivered the kingdom from the dan¬ 
ger which any rash resolution might 
have occasioned. The emperor, after spending two 
inglorious months in Provence, without having per¬ 
formed any thing suitable to his vast preparations, 
or that could justify the confidence with which he 

n Mem. de Bellay, 269, &c. 312, &c. .. 

o Mem. de Bellay, 316. Sandov. Hist. del. Emper. it. 232. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


553 


wretched condi¬ 
tion of the impe¬ 
rial army. 


had boasted of his own power, found that, besides 
Antonio de Leyva and other officers of distinction, 
lie had lost one-half of his troops by diseases or by 
famine, and that the rest were in no condition to 
struggle any longer with calamities by which so 
many of their companions had perished. Neces¬ 
sity, therefore, extorted from him orders to retire; 
and though he was some time in motion before the 
French suspected his intention, a body of light 
troops, assisted by crowds of peasants, eager to be 
revenged on those who had brought such desolation 
on their country, hung upon the rear of the impe¬ 
rialists, and by seizing every favourable opportunity 
of attacking them, threw them often into confusion. 
The road by which they fled, for they pursued their 
march with such disorder and precipitation that it 
scarcely deserves the name of a retreat, was strewed 
with arms or baggage, which in their hurry and 
trepidation they had abandoned, and covered with 
the sick, the wounded, and the dead ; insomuch that 
Martin Bellay, an eye-witness of their calamities, 
endeavours to give them some idea of them, by 
comparing their miseries to those which the Jews 
suffered from the victorious and destructive arms of 
the Romans. 0 If Montmorency, at this critical mo¬ 
ment, had advanced with all his forces, nothing 
could have saved the whole imperial army from 
utter ruin. But that general, by standing so long 
and so obstinately on the defensive, had become 
cautious to excess ; his mind, tenacious of any 
bent it had once taken, could not assume a con¬ 
trary one as suddenly as the change of circum¬ 
stances required ; and he still continued to repeat 
his favourite maxims, that it was more prudent to 
allow the lion to escape than to drive him to de¬ 
spair, and that a bridge of gold should be made for 
a retreating enemy. 

The emperor having conducted the shattered re¬ 
mains of his troops to the frontiers of Milan, and 
appointed the marquis del Guasto to succeed Leyva 
in the government of that duchy, set out for Genoa. 
As he could not bear to expose himself to the scorn 
of the Italians after such a sad reverse of fortune, 
and did not choose under his present circumstances 
to revisit those cities through which he had so lately 
passed in triumph for one conquest and in certain 
expectation of another, he embarked 
directly for Spain. p 

Nor was the progress of his arms on operations in 
the opposite frontier of France such as Plcard y. 
to alleviate in any degree the losses which he had 
sustained in Provence. Bellay, by his address and 
intrigues, had prevailed on so many of the German 
princes to withdraw the contingent of troops which 
they had furnished to the king of the Romans, that 
he was obliged to lay aside all thoughts of his in¬ 
tended irruption into Champagne. Though a power¬ 
ful army levied in the Low Countries entered Pi¬ 
cardy, which they found but feebly guarded while 

p Jovii Histor. lib. xxxv. p. 174, &c. 


N ovember. 



554 

the strength of the kingdom was drawn towards the 
south, yet the nobility, taking arms with their usual 
alacrity, supplied by their spirit the defects of the 
king’s preparations, and defended Peronne, and 
other towns which were attacked, with such vigour 
as obliged the enemy to retire without making any 
conquest of importances 

Thus Francis, by the prudence of his own mea¬ 
sures, and by the union and valour of his subjects, 
rendered abortive those vast efforts in which his 
rival had almost exhausted his whole force. As 
this humbled the emperor’s arrogance no less than 
it checked his power, he was mortified more sen¬ 
sibly on this occasion than on any other during the 
course of the long contests between him and the 
French monarch. 

One circumstance alone imbittered 
the joy with which the success of the 
campaign inspired Francis. That was the death of 
the dauphin, his eldest son, a prince of great hopes, 
and extremely beloved by the people on account of 
his resemblance to his father. This 


pa 

Paris against the 
emperor. 


Death of the 
dauphin. 


Imputed to 

poison. happening suddenly, was imputed to 
poison, not only by the vulgar, fond of ascribing 
the death of illustrious personages to extraordinary 
causes, but by the king and his ministers. The 
count de Montecuculi, an Italian nobleman, cup¬ 
bearer to the dauphin, being seized on suspicion 
and put to the torture, openly charged the imperial 
generals Gonzaga and Leyva with having instigated 
him to the commission of that crime : he even threw 
out some indirect and obscure accusations against 
the emperor himself. At a time when all France 
was exasperated to the utmost against Charles, this 
uncertain and extorted charge was considered as 
an incontestable proof of guilt; while the con¬ 
fidence with which both he and his officers asserted 
their own innocence, together with the indignation 
as well as horror which they expressed on their be¬ 
ing supposed capable of such a detestable action, 
were little attended to, and less regarded/ It is 
evident, however, that the emperor could have no 
inducement to perpetrate such a crime, as Francis 
was still in the vigour of life himself, and had two 
sons beside the dauphin grown up almost to the 
age of manhood. That single consideration, without 
mentioning the emperor’s general character, un¬ 
blemished by the imputation of any deed resem¬ 
bling this in atrocity, is more than sufficient to coun¬ 
terbalance the weight of a dubious testimony uttered 
during the anguish of torture/ According to the 
most unprejudiced historians, the dauphin’s death 
was occasioned by his having drank too freely of 
cold water after overheating himself at tennis ; and 
this account, as it is the most simple, is likewise 
the most credible. But if his days were cut short 
by poison, it is not improbable that the emperor 
conjectured rightly when he affirmed that it had 
been administered by the direction of Catharine of 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1536. BOOK VI. 

Medici, in order to secure the crown to the duke of 
Orleans her husband/ The advantages resulting 
to her by the dauphin’s death were obvious as well 
as great 5 nor did her boundless and daiing am¬ 
bition ever recoil from any action necessary towards 
attaining the objects which she had in view. 

Next year opened with a transac- 153? 
tion very uncommon, but so incapable Decre^of^the 
of producing any effect, that it would 
not deserve to be mentioned, if it w ere 
not a striking proof of the personal animosity which 
mingled itself in all the hostilities between Charles 
and Francis, and which often betrayed them into 
such indecencies towards each other as lessened 
the dignity of both. Francis, accompanied by the 
peers and princes of the blood, having taken his 
seat in the parliament of Paris with the usual so¬ 
lemnities, the advocate-general appeared, and after 
accusing Charles of Austria (for so he affected to 
call the emperor) of having violated the treaty of 
Cambray, by which he was absolved from the ho¬ 
mage due to the crown of France for the counties 
of Artois and Flanders, insisted that this treaty 
being now void, he was still to be considered as a 
vassal of the crowm, and by consequence had been 
guilty of rebellion in taking arms against his sove¬ 
reign ; and therefore he demanded that Charles 
should be summoned to appear in person, or by his 
counsel, before the parliament of Paris, his legal 
judges, to answer for this crime. The request was 
granted ; a herald repaired to the frontiers of Pi¬ 
cardy, and summoned him with the accustomed 
formalities to appear against a day prefixed. That 
term being expired and no person appearing in his 
name, the parliament gave judgment, “ That Charles 
of Austria had forfeited by rebellion and contumacy 
those fiefs ; declared Flanders and Artois to be re¬ 
united to the crown of France and ordered their 
decree for this purpose to be published by sound of 
trumpet on the frontiers of these provinces/ 

Soon after this vain display of his 


Campaign opens 

resentment rather than of his pow r er, in the Low Coun¬ 
tries. March. 

Francis marched towards the Low 
Countries, as if he had intended to execute the sen¬ 
tence which his parliament had pronounced, and to 
seize those territories which it had awarded to him. 
As the queen of Hungary, to whom her brother the 
emperor had committed the government of that part 
of his dominions, was not prepared for so early a 
campaign, he at first made some progress, and took 
several towns of importance. But being obliged 
soon to leave his army in order to superintend the 
other operations of war, the Flemings having as¬ 
sembled a numerous army, not only recovered most 
of the places which they had lost, but began to 
make conquests in their turn. At last they invested 
Terouenne ; and the duke of Orleans, now dauphin 
by the death of his brother, and Montmorency, 
whom Francis had honoured with the constable’s 


q Mem. de Bellay, 318, &.c. 
r Ibid. 289. 

s Sandov. Hist, del Emper. ii. 231. 


t Vera y Zuniga Vida de Carlo V. p. 75. 

u Lettres et Memoires d’Etat, par liibier, 2 tom. Blois, 1606. tom. 
i. p. 1. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1537.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


555 


A suspension of 
arms there; 


July 30. 


sword, as the reward of his great services during the 
former campaign, determined to hazard a battle in 
order to relieve it. While they were 
advancing for this purpose, and within 
a few miles of the enemy, they were stopped short 
by the arrival of a herald from the queen of Hun¬ 
gary, acquainting him that a suspension of arms was 
now r agreed upon. 

This unexpected event was owing to the zealous 
endeavours of the two sisters, the queens of France 
and ot Hungary, who had long laboured to recon¬ 
cile the contending monarchs. The war in the 
Netherlands had laid waste the frontier provinces of 
both countries, without any real advantage to either. 
The French and Flemings equally regretted the 
interruption of their commerce, which was beneficial 
to both. Charles as well as Francis, who had each 
strained to the utmost in order to support the vast 
operations of the former campaign, found that they 
eou Id not now keep armies on foot in this quarter with¬ 
out weakening their operations in Piedmont, w here 
both wished to push the war with the greatest vigour. 

All these circumstances facilitated the 
negociations of the two queens; a truce 
was concluded, to continue in force for ten months, 
but it extended no further than the Low Countries. 14 

In Piedmont the war was still pro- 

and in Piedmont. . , 

secuted with great animosity; and 
though neither Charles nor Francis could make the 
powerful efforts to which this animosity prompted 
them, they continued to exert themselves like com¬ 
batants whose rancour remains after their strength 
is exhausted. Towns were alternately lost and 
retaken ; skirmishes were fought every day ; and 
much blood was shed, w ithout any action that gave 
a decided superiority to either side. At last the two 
queens, determining not to leave unfinished the 
good work which they had begun, prevailed by their 
importunate solicitations, the one on her brother, the 
other on her husband, to consent also to a truce in 
Piedmont for three months. The conditions of it 
were, That each should keep possession of what was 
in his hands, and after leaving garrisons in the towns, 
should withdraw his army out of the province ; and 
that plenipotentiaries should be appointed to ad¬ 
just all matters in dispute by a final treaty^. 

The pow erful motives which inclined 

Motives of it; , 

both princes to this accommodation 
have been often mentioned. The expenses of the 
war had far exceeded the sums which their revenues 
were capable of supplying, nor durst they venture 
upon any great addition to the impositions then 
established, as subjects had not yet learned to bear 
with patience the immense burdens to which they 
have become accustomed in modern times. The em¬ 
peror in particular, though he had contracted debts 
which in that age appeared prodigious, 2 had it not 
in his power to pay the large arrears long due to his 
army. At the same time he had no prospect of 


deriving any aid, in money or men, either from the 
pope or Venetians, though he had employed promises 
and threats alternately in order to procure it. But he 
found the former not only fixed in his resolution of 
adhering steadily to the neutrality which he had 
always declared to be suitable to his character, but 
passionately desirous of bringing about a peace. 
He perceived that the latter were still intent on their 
ancient object of holding the balance even between 
the rivals, and solicitous not to throw too great a 
weight into their scale. 

What made a deeper impression on 

°f which Fran- 

Charles than on all these, was the cis’s alliance with 

. the Turkish em- 

dread ot the lurkish arms, w hich, by perorthe most 

... . . considerable. 

his league with Solyman, Francis had 
drawm upon him. Though Francis, without the 
assistance of a single ally, had a war to maintain 
against an enemy greatly superior in power to him¬ 
self, yet so great was the horror of Christians in 
that age at any union with infidels, which they con¬ 
sidered not only as dishonourable but profane, that 
it was long before he could be brought to avail him¬ 
self of the obvious advantages resulting from such 
a confederacy. Necessity at last surmounted his 
delicacy and scruples. Towards the close of the 
preceding year, La Forest, a secret agent at the 
Ottoman Porte, had concluded a treaty with the 
sultan, whereby Solyman engaged to invade the 
kingdom of Naples during the next campaign, and 
to attack the king of the Romans in Hungary with 
a powerful army, while Francis undertook to enter 
the Milanese at the same time with a proper force. 
Solyman had punctually performed what was in¬ 
cumbent on him. Barbarossa with a great fleet 
appeared on the coast of Naples ; filled that king¬ 
dom, from which all the troops had been drawn 
towards Piedmont, with consternation; landed with¬ 
out resistance near Taranto ; obliged Castro, a place 
of some strength, to surrender; plundered the ad¬ 
jacent country ; and was taking measures for se¬ 
curing and extending his conquests; when the 
unexpected arrival of Doria, together with the 
pope’s galleys and a squadron of the Venetian fleet, 
made it prudent for him to retire. In Hungary the 
progress of the Turks was more formidable. Mahmet 
their general, after gaining several small advan¬ 
tages, defeated the Germans in a great battle at 
Essek on the Drave. a Happily for Christendom it 
was not in Francis’s power to execute with equal 
exactness what he had stipulated; nor could he 
assemble at this juncture an army strong enough to 
penetrate into the Milanese. By this he failed in 
recovering possession of that duchy ; and Italy w as 
not only saved from the calamities of a new war, 
but from feeling the desolating rage of the Turkish 
arms as an addition to all that it had suffered. b As 
the emperor knew that he could not long resist the 
efforts of two such powerful confederates, nor could 
expect that the same fortunate accidents would con- 


x Memoires de Ribier, 56. 
z Ribier, i. 294. 


y Ibid. 02. 


n Tstuanhefti Hist. Hung. lib. xiii. p. 139. 
b Jovii Hist. lib. xxxv. p. 183. 




556 


THE REIGN OF THE 


cur a second time to deliver Naples and to preserve 
the Milanese ; as lie foresaw that the Italian states 
would not only tax him loudly with insatiable am¬ 
bition, but might even turn their arms against him, 
if he should be so regardless of their danger as 
obstinately to protract the war, he thought it neces¬ 
sary, both for his safety and reputation, to give his 
consent to a truce. Nor was Francis willing to 
sustain all the blame of obstructing the re-establish¬ 
ment of tranquillity, or to expose himself on that 
account to the danger of being deserted by the 
Swiss and other foreigners in his service. He even 
began to apprehend that his own subjects would 
serve him coldly, if, by contributing to aggrandize 
the power of the infidels, which it was his duty and 
had been the ambition of his ancestors to depress, 
he continued to act in direct opposition to all the 
principles which ought to influence a monarch dis¬ 
tinguished by the title of most Christian king. He 
chose, for all these reasons, rather to run the risk 
of disobliging his new ally the sultan, than, by an 
unseasonable adherence to the treaty with him, to 
forfeit what was of greater consequence. 

Negotiations of a But though both parties consented 
chades^nd 611 to a truce, the plenipotentiaries found 
irancis. insuperable difficulties in settling the 

articles of a definitive treaty. Each of the monarchs, 
with the arrogance of a conqueror, aimed at giving 
law to the other; and neither would so far acknow¬ 
ledge his inferiority as to sacrifice any point of 
honour, or to relinquish any matter of right; so that 
the plenipotentiaries spent the time in long and 
fruitless negociations, and separated after agreeing 
to prolong the truce for a few months. 

The pope, however, did not despair 
The pope conducts of accomplishing a point in which the 

these in person. # .. 

plenipotentiaries had failed, and took 
upon himself the sole burden of negociating a peace. 
To form a confederacy capable of defending Chris¬ 
tendom from the formidable inroads of the Turkish 
arms, and to concert effectual measures for the ex¬ 
tirpation of the Lutheran heresy, were two great 
objects which Paul had much at heart, and he con¬ 
sidered the union of the emperor with the king of 
France as an essential preliminary to both. To 
be the instrument of reconciling these contending 
monarchs, whom his predecessors, by their inte¬ 
rested and indecent intrigues, had so often em¬ 
broiled, was a circumstance which could not fail of 
throwing distinguished lustre on his character and 
administration. Nor was he without hopes that, 
while he pursued this laudable end, he might secure 
advantages to his own family, the aggrandizing of 
which he did not neglect, though he aimed at it with 
a less audacious ambition than was common among 
the popes of that century. Influenced by these 
considerations, he proposed an interview between 
the two monarchs at Nice, and offered to repair 
thither in person, that he might act as mediator in 
composing all their differences. When a pontiff of 

c Recueil ties Traitez, ii. 210 . Relatione del Nicolo Tiepolo de l’Abo- 


[A. D. 1538. BOOK VI. 

a venerable character, and of a very advanced age, 
was willing, from his zeal for peace, to undergo the 
fatigues of so long a journey, neither Charles nor 
Francis could with decency decline the interview. 
But though both came to the place of rendezvous, 
so great was the difficulty of adjusting the ceremo¬ 
nial, or such the remains of distrust and rancour on 
each side, that they refused to see one another, and 
every thing was transacted by the intervention of 
the pope, who visited them alternately. With all 
his zeal and ingenuity he could not find out a 
method of removing the obstacles which prevented 
a final accommodation, particularly those arising 
from the possession of the Milanese ; nor was all 
the weight of his authority sufficient to overcome 
the obstinate perseverance of either monarch in 
asserting his own claims. At last, that A truce for ten 
he might not seem to have laboured ffjjfc£ ncludcd 
altogether without effect, he prevailed 
on them to sign a truce for ten years, upon the same 
condition with the former, that each should retain 
what was now in his possession, and in the mean 
time should send ambassadors to Rome, to discuss 
their pretensions at leisure. 0 

Thus ended a war of no long continuance, but 
very extensive in its operations, and in which both 
parties exerted their utmost strength. Though 
Francis failed in the object that he had principally 
in view—the recovery of the Milanese, he acquired, 
nevertheless, great reputation by the wisdom of his 
measures, as well as the success of his arms, in re¬ 
pelling a formidable invasion ; and by keeping 
possession of one-half of the duke of Savoy's do¬ 
minions, he added no inconsiderable accession of 
strength to his kingdom. Whereas Charles, repuls¬ 
ed and baffled, after having boasted so arrogantly 
of victory, purchased an inglorious truce by sacri¬ 
ficing an ally who had rashly confided too much in 
his friendship and power. The unfortunate duke 
murmured, complained, and remonstrated against 
a treaty so much to his disadvantage, but in vain ; 
he had no means of redress, and was obliged to 
submit. Of all his dominions, Nice, w ith its de¬ 
pendences, was the only corner of which he him¬ 
self kept possession. He saw the rest divided be¬ 
tween a powerful invader and the ally to whose 
protection he had trusted, while he remained a sad 
monument of the imprudence of weak princes, who, 
by taking part in the quarrel of mighty neighbours 
between whom they happen to be situated, are 
crushed and overwhelmed in the shock. 

A few days after signing the treaty Interview be _ 
of truce, the emperor set sail for Bar- cha . rles i 

7 1 _ and 1-rancis at 

celona, but was driven by contrary Ai gues-mortes. 

winds to the island St. Margaret, on the coast of 
Provence. When Francis, who happened to be not 
far distant, heard of this, he considered it as an of¬ 
fice of civility to invite him to take shelter in his 
dominions, and proposed a personal interview with 
him at Aigues-mortes. The emperor, who would 

camento di Nizza, chez Du Mont Corps Diplomat, par. ii. p. 174 . 




BOOK VI. A. D. 1538.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


not be outdone by liis rival in complaisance, in¬ 
stantly repaired thither. As soon as he cast anchor 
in the road, Francis, without waiting to settle any 
point of ceremony, but relying implicitly on the 
emperor’s honour for his security, visited him on 
board his galley, and was received and entertained 
with the warmest demonstrations of esteem and af¬ 
fection. Next day the emperor repaid the confi¬ 
dence which the king had placed in him. He land¬ 
ed at Aigues-mortes with as little precaution, and 
met with a reception equally cordial. He remained 
on shore during the night, and in both visits the two 
monarchs vied with each other in expressions of 
respect and friendship. d After twenty years of 
open hostilities or of secret enmity ; after so many 
injuries reciprocally inflicted or endured ; after 
having formally given the lie and challenged one 
another to single combat ; after the emperor had 
inveighed so publicly against Francis as a prince 
void of honour or integrity ; and after Francis had 
accused him of being accessary to the murder of his 
eldest son, such an interview appears altogether 
singular, and even unnatural. But the history of 
these monarchs abounds with such surprising tran¬ 
sitions. From implacable hatred they appeared to 
pass in a moment to the most cordial reconcilement; 
from suspicion and distrust to perfect confidence ; 
and from practising all the dark arts of a deceitful 
policy, they could assume, of a sudden, the liberal 
and open manners of two gallant gentlemen. 

The pope, besides the glory of having restored 
peace to Europe, gained, according to his expecta¬ 
tion, a point of great consequence to his family, by 
prevailing on the emperor to betroth Margaret of 
Austria, his natural daughter, formerly the wife of 
Alexander di Medici, to his grandson Octavio Far- 
nese, and in consideration of this marriage, to be¬ 
stow several honours and territories u,pon his future 

son-in-law. A very tragical event, 

'I he assassination . 

of Alexander di which happened about the beginning 

of the year one thousand five hundred 
and thirty-seven, had deprived Margaret of her first 
husband. That young prince, whom the emperor’s 
partiality had raised to the supreme power in Flo¬ 
rence upon the ruins of the public liberty, neglected 
entirely the cares of government, and abandoned 
himself to the most dissolute debauchery. Lorenzo 
di Medici, his nearest kinsman, was not only the 
companion but director of his pleasures, and em¬ 
ploying all the powers of a cultivated and inventive 
genius in this dishonourable ministry, added such 
elegance as well as variety to vice as gained him 
an absolute ascendant over the mind of Alexander. 
But while Lorenzo seemed to be sunk in luxury, 
and affected such an appearance of indolence and 
effeminacy that he would not wear a sword, and 
trembled at the sight of blood, he concealed under 
that disguise a dark, designing, audacious spirit. 
Prompted either by the love of liberty, or allured 

d Sandov. Hist. vol. ii. 238. Relation de l’Entrevue de Chari. V. et 
Fran. I. par M. de la Kivoire. Hist, de Langued. par D. D. De Vic 
et Vaisette, tom. v. Preuves, p. 93. 


by the hope of attaining the supreme power, he de¬ 
termined to assassinate Alexander his benefactor 
and friend. Though he long revolved this design 
in his mind, his reserved and suspicious temper 
prevented him from communicating it to any person 
whatever ; and continuing to live with Alexander 
in their usual familiarity, he one night, under pre¬ 
tence of having secured him an assignation with a 
lady of high rank whom he had often solicited, drew 
that unwary prince into a secret apartment of his 
house, and there stabbed him while he lay carelessly 
on a couch expecting the arrival of the lady whose 
company he had been promised. But no sooner 
was the deed done, than standing astonished and 
struck with horror at its atrocity, he forgot in a 
moment all the motives which had induced him to 
commit it. Instead of rousing the people to recover 
their liberty by publishing the death of the tyrant, 
instead of taking any step towards opening his own 
way to the dignity now vacant, he locked the door 
of the apartment, and, like a man bereaved of rea¬ 
son and presence of mind, fled with the utmost 
precipitation out of the Florentine territories. It 
uas late next morning before the fate of the un¬ 
fortunate prince was known, as his attendants, 
accustomed to his irregularities, never entered his 
apartment early. Immediately the chief persons in 
the state assembled. Being induced partly by the 
zeal of cardinal Cibo for the house of Medici, to 
which he was nearly related, partly by the authority 
of Francis Guicciardini, who recalled to their me¬ 
mory and represented in striking colours the caprice 
as well as turbulence of their ancient popular go¬ 
vernment, they agreed to place Cosmo Cosmo di Medici 
di Medici, a youth of eighteen, the fea^ofth^Fio- 
only male heir of that illustrious house, rent,ne state - 
at the head of the government; though at the same 
time such was their love of liberty, that they estab¬ 
lished several regulations in order to circumscribe 
and moderate his power. 

Meanwhile Lorenzo having reached 
a place of safety, made known what opposed 6 ™" 1 the 
he had done to Philip Strozzi and the 1 lorentine exlles - 
other Florentines who had been driven into exile, 
or who had voluntarily retired when the republican 
form of government was abolished in order to make 
way for the dominion of the Medici. By them the 
deed was extolled with extravagant praises, and the 
virtue of Lorenzo was compared with that of the 
elder Brutus, who disregarded the ties of blood, or 
with that of the younger, who forgot the friendship 
and favours of the tyrant, that they might preserve or 
recover the liberty of their country. e Nor did they 
rest satisfied with empty panegyrics; they imme¬ 
diately quitted their different places of retreat, 
assembled forces, animated their vassals and par¬ 
tisans to take arms, and to seize this opportunity 
of re-establishing the public liberty on its ancient 
foundation. Being openly assisted by the French 

e Lettre di Principi, tom. iii. p. 52. 



558 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ambassador at Rome, and secretly encouraged by 
the pope, who bore no good will to the house of 
Medici, they entered the Florentine dominions with 
a considerable body of men. But the persons who 
elected Cosmo possessed not only the means of sup¬ 
porting his government, but abilities to employ 
them in the most proper manner. They levied with 
the greatest expedition a good number of troops ; 
they endeavoured by every art to gain the citizens 
of greatest authority, and to render the administra¬ 
tion of the young prince agreeable to the people. 
Above all, they courted the emperor’s protection, as 
the only firm foundation of Cosmo’s dignity and 
power. Charles, knowing the propensity of the 
Florentines to the friendship of France, and how 
much all the partisans of a republican government 
detested him as the oppressor of their liberties, saw 
it to be greatly for his interest to prevent the re¬ 
establishment of the ancient constitution in Flo¬ 
rence. For this reason he not only acknowledged 
Cosmo as head of the Florentine state, and con¬ 
ferred on him all the titles of honour with which 
Alexander had been dignified, but engaged to de¬ 
fend him to the utmost; and as a pledge of this 
ordered the commanders of such of his troops as 
w^ere stationed on the frontiers of Tuscany, to sup¬ 
port him against all aggressors. By their aid Cosmo 
obtained an easy victory over the exiles, whose 
troops he surprised in the night-time, and took 
most of the chiefs prisoners ; an event which broke 
all their measures, and fully established his own 
authority. But though he was extremely desirous 
of the additional honour of marrying the emperor’s 
daughter, the widow of his predecessor, Charles, 
secure already of his attachment, chose rather to 
gratify the pope by bestowing her on his nephew/ 
The friendship During the war between the em- 
andHenryvni. P eror and Francis, an event had hap- 
begms to abate. p enec i which abated in some degree 

the warmth and cordiality of friendship which had 
long subsisted between the latter and the king of 
England. James the fifth of Scotland, an enter¬ 
prising young prince, having heard of the emperor’s 
intention to invade Provence, was so fond of show¬ 
ing that he did not yield to any of his ancestors in 
the sincerity of his attachment to the French crown, 
and so eager to distinguish himself by some military 
exploit, that he levied a body of troops with an in¬ 
tention of leading them in person to the assistance 
of the king of France. Though some unfortunate 
accident prevented his carrying any troops into 
France, nothing could divert him from going thither 
in person. Immediately upon his landing he hasten¬ 
ed to Provence, but had been detained so long in 
his voyage, that he came too late to have any share 
in the military operations, and met the king on his 
return after the retreat of the imperialists. But 
Francis was so greatly pleased with his zeal, and no 
less with his manners and conversation, that he could 

f Jovii Hist. c. xcviii. p. 218, &c. Belcarii Comment. 1. xxii. p 69f. 
Istoria de sui Tempi di Giov. Bat. Adriani. Ven. 1587, P. 10. 


Jan. 1. 
1537- 


[A. D 1538. BOOK VI. 

not refuse him his daughter Magdalen, 
whom he demanded in marriage. It 
mortified Henry extremely to see a prince of whom 
he was immoderately jealous, form an alliance from 
which he derived such an accession of reputation as 
well as security.s He could not, however, with de¬ 
cency oppose Francis’s bestowing his daughter upon 
a monarch descended from a race of princes the most 
ancient and faithful allies of the French crown. 
But when James, upon the sudden death of Mag¬ 
dalen, demanded as his second wife Mary of Guise, 
he warmly solicited Francis to deny his suit, and, 
in order to disappoint him, asked that lady in mar¬ 
riage for himself. When Francis preferred the 
Scottish king’s sincere courtship to his artful and 
malevolent proposal, he discovered much dissatis¬ 
faction. The pacification agreed upon at Nice, and 
the familiar interview of the two rivals at Aigues- 
mortes, filled Henry’s mind with new suspicions, as 
if Francis had altogether renounced his friendship 
for the sake of new connexions with the emperor. 
Charles, thoroughly acquainted with The emperor 
the temper of the English king, and courts Henry, 
watchful to observe all the shiftings and caprices of 
his passions, thought this a favourable opportunity 
of renewing his negociations with him, which had 
been long broken off. By the death of queen Ca¬ 
tharine, whose interest the emperor could not with 
decency have abandoned, the chief cause of their 
discord was removed ; so that without touching 
upon the delicate question of her divorce, he might 
now take what measures he thought most effectual 
for regaining Henry’s good will. For this purpose 
he began with proposing several marriage-treaties 
to the king. He offered his niece, a daughter of 
the king of Denmark, to Henry himself; he de¬ 
manded the princess Mary for one of the princes of 
Portugal, and w r as even willing to receive her as 
the king’s illegitimate daughter. 1 ' Though none of 
these projected alliances ever took place, or per¬ 
haps were ever seriously intended, they occasioned 
such frequent intercourse between the courts, and 
so many reciprocal professions of civility and es¬ 
teem, as considerably abated the edge of Henry’s 
rancour against the emperor, and paved the way 
for that union between them which afterwards 
proved so disadvantageous to the French king. 

The ambitious schemes in which the p reS softhe 
emperor had been engaged, and the ■ Retormatlon - 
wars he had been carrying on for some years, proved, 
as usual, extremely favourable to the progress of the 
Reformation in Germany. While Charles was ab¬ 
sent upon his African expedition, or intent on his 
projects against France, his chief object in Germany 
was to prevent the dissensions about religion from 
disturbing the public tranquillity, by granting such 
indulgence to the protestant princes as might in¬ 
duce them to concur with his measures, or at least 
hinder them from taking part with his rival. For 


g History of Scotland, P- 22. 
li Mein, de Ribier, tom. i. 496. 



EMPEROR CHARLES Y. 


559 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1538.] 

this reason he was careful to secure to the protest- 
ants the possession of all the advantages which they 
had gained by the articles of pacification at Nurem¬ 
berg, in the year one thousand live hundred and thirty- 
two and except some slight trouble from the pro¬ 
ceedings of the imperial chamber, they met with 
nothing to disturb them in the exercise of their re¬ 
ligion, or to interrupt the successful zeal with which 
Negotiations and they propagated their opinions. Mean- 
spect to a general while the pope continued his negocia- 
couucii. tions for convoking a general council; 

and though the protestants had expressed great dis¬ 
satisfaction with his intention to fix upon Mantua 
as the place of meeting, he adhered obstinately to his 
choice, and issued a bull on the second of June one 
thousand five hundred and thirty-six, appointing it 
to assemble in that city on the twenty-third of May 
the year following ; he nominated three cardinals 
to preside in his name; enjoined all Christian princes 
to countenance it by their authority, and invited 
the prelates of every nation to attend in person. 
This summons of a council, an assembly which from 
its nature and intention demanded quiet times as 
well as pacific dispositions, at the very juncture 
when the emperor was on his march towards France, 
and ready to involve a great part of Europe in the 
confusions of war, appeared to every person ex¬ 
tremely unseasonable. It was intimated, however, 
to all the different courts by nuncios despatched on 
purpose. 1 * With an intention to gratify the Germans, 
the emperor, during his residence in Rome, had 
warmly solicited the pope to call a council; but 
being at the same time willing to try every art in 
order to persuade Paul to depart from the neutrality 
which he preserved between him and Francis, he 
sent Heldo his vice-chancellor into Germany, along 
with a nuncio despatched thither, instructing him to 
second all the nuncio’s representations, and to en¬ 
force them with the whole weight of the imperial 
authority. The protestants gave them 
audience at Smalkalde, where they had 
assembled in a body in order to receive them. But 
after weighing all their arguments, they unanimously 
refused to acknowledge a council summoned in the 
name and by the authority of the pope alone; in 
which he assumed the sole right of presiding ; which 
was to be held in a city not only far distant from 
Germany, but subject to a prince who was a stranger 
to them, and closely connected with the court of 
Rome; and to which their divines could not repair 
with safety especially after their doctrines had been 
stigmatized in the very bull of convocation with 
the name of heresy. These and many other objections 
against the council, which appeared to them unan¬ 
swerable, they enumerated in a large manifesto which 
they published in vindication of their conduct. 1 

Against this the court of Rome exclaimed as a 
flagrant proof of their obstinacy and presumption, 
and the pope still persisted in his resolution to hold 

i Du Mont Corps Diplom. tom. iv. part ii. p. 138. 

k Pallavic. Hist. Cone. Trid. 113. ... 

1 Sleidan, 1. xii. 123, &c. Seckend. Com. lib. in. p. 143, &c. 


Feb. 25. 
1537- 


the council at the time and in the place appointed. 
But some unexpected difficulties being started by 
the duke of Mantua, both about the right of juris¬ 
diction over the persons who resorted to the council, 
and the security of his capital amidst such a con¬ 
course of strangers, the pope, after Octobers, 
fruitless endeavours to adjust these, 133a> 
first prorogued the council for some months, and 
afterwards transferring the place of meeting to 
Vicenza, in the Venetian territories, appointed it to 
assemble on the first of May in the following year. 
As neither the emperor nor the French king, who 
had not then come to any accommodation, would 
permit their subjects to repair thither, not a single 
prelate appeared on the day prefixed ; and the pope, 
that his authority might not become altogether con¬ 
temptible by so many ineffectual efforts to convoke 
that assembly, put off the meeting by an indefinite 
prorogation. m 

But that he might not seem to have 

° . A partial re for- 

turned his whole attention towards a mation of abuses 

by the pope. 

reformation which he was not able to 
accomplish, while he neglected that which was in 
his power, he deputed a certain number of cardinals 
and bishops, with full authority to inquire into the 
abuses and corruptions of the Roman court, and to 
propose the most effectual method of removing them. 
This scrutiny, undertaken with reluctance, was 
carried on slowly and with remissness. All defects 
were touched with a gentle hand, afraid of probing 
too deep or of discovering too much. But even by 
this partial examination many irregularities were 
detected and many enormities exposed to light, 
while the remedies which they suggested as most 
proper were either inadequate or were never ap¬ 
plied. The report and resolution of these deputies, 
though intended to be kept secret, were transmitted 
by some accident into Germany, and being imme¬ 
diately made public, afforded ample matter for re¬ 
flection and triumph to the protestants. 0 On the 
one hand they demonstrated the necessity of refor¬ 
mation in the head as well as the members of the 
church, and even pointed out many of the corrup¬ 
tions against which Luther and his followers had 
remonstrated with the greatest vehemence : they 
showed, on the other hand, that it was vain to ex¬ 
pect this reformation from ecclesiastics themselves, 
who, as Luther strongly expressed it, piddled at 
curing warts, while they overlooked or confirmed 
ulcers. 0 

The earnestness with which the ^ 

emperor seemed at first to press their a league formed 
.... , . _ in opposition to 

acquiescing in the pope s scheme ot that of smai- 

holding a council in Italy, alarmed the 

protestant princes so much, that they thought it 

prudent to strengthen the confederacy by admitting 

several new members who solicited that privilege, 

particularly the king of Denmark. Heldo, who 

during his residence in Germany had observed all 

m F. Paul. 117. Pallavic. 117. n Sleidan, 233. 

o Seek. 1. lii. 164. 



560 


THE REIGN OF THE 


April 19. 


the advantages which they derived from that union, 
endeavoured to counterbalance its eflects by an 
alliance among the catholic powers of the empire. 
This league, distinguished by the name of Holy , 
was merely defensive ; and though concluded by 
Heldo in the emperor's name, was afterwards dis¬ 
owned by him, and subscribed by very few princes.P 

alarms the pro- The protestants soon got intern- 
testants. g C nce of this association, notwith¬ 
standing all the endeavours of the contracting 
parties to conceal it; and their zeal, always apt to 
suspect and to dread, even to excess, every thing 
that seemed to threaten religion, instantly took the 
alarm, as if the emperor had been just ready to enter 
upon the execution of some formidable plan for the 
extirpation of their opinions. In order to disap¬ 
point this, they held frequent consultations, they 
courted the kings of France and England with great 
assiduity, and even began to think of raising the 
respective contingents, both in men and money, 
which they were obliged to furnish by the treaty of 
Smalkalde. But it was not long before they were 
convinced that these apprehensions were without 
foundation, and that the emperor, to whom repose 
was absolutely necessary after efforts so much be¬ 
yond his strength in the war with France, had no 
thoughts of disturbing the tranquillity of Germany. 

As a proof of this, at an interview with 
the protestant princes in Francfort, 
his ambassadors agreed that all concessions in 
their favour, particularly those contained in the 
pacification of Nuremberg, should continue in force 
for fifteen months ; that during this period all pro¬ 
ceedings of the imperial chamber against them 
should be suspended; that a conference should be 
held by a few divines of each party, in order to dis¬ 
cuss the points in controversy, and to propose 
articles of accommodation which should be laid 
before the next diet. Though the emperor, that 
he might not irritate the pope, who remonstrated 
against the first part of this agreement as impolitic, 
and against the latter as an impious encroachment 
upon his prerogative, never formally ratified this 
convention, it was observed with considerable ex¬ 
actness, and greatly strengthened the basis of that 
ecclesiastical liberty for which the protestants con¬ 
tended.‘i 

April 24 . A few days after the convention 
wfshe<T^n°every at Francfort, George, duke of Saxony, 
part of saxony. di e( j, and his death was an event of 

great advantage to the Reformation. That prince, 
the head of the Albertine or younger branch of the 
Saxon family, possessed, as marquis of Misnia and 
Thuringia, extensive territories, comprehending 
Dresden, Leipsic, and other cities now the most con¬ 
siderable in the electorate. From the first dawn of 
the Reformation he had been its enemy as avowedly 
as the electoral princes were its protectors, and had 
carried on his opposition, not only with all the zeal 
flowing from religious prejudices, but with a viru- 

p Seek. 1. iii. 171 . Recuel de Traitez. 


[A. D. 1539. BOOK VI. 


lence inspired by personal antipathy to Luther, and 
imbittered by the domestic animosity subsisting be¬ 
tween him and the other branch of his family. By 
his death without issue, his succession fell to his 
brother Henry, whose attachment to the protestant 
religion surpassed, if possible, that of his predeces¬ 
sor to popery. Henry no sooner took possession of 
his new dominions, than disregarding a clause in 
George’s will, dictated by his bigotry, whereby he 
bequeathed all his territories to the emperor, and 
king of the Romans, if his brother should attempt 
to make any innovation in religion, he invited some 
protestant divines, and among them Luther himself, 
to Leipsic. By their advice and assistance he over¬ 
turned in a few weeks the whole system of ancient 
rites, establishing the full exercise of the reformed 
religion, with the universal applause of his subjects, 
who had long wished for this change, which the au¬ 
thority of their duke alone had hitherto prevented. 1. 
This revolution delivered the protestants from the 
danger to which they were exposed by having an 
inveterate enemy situated in the middle of their 
territories; and they had now the satisfaction of 
seeing that the possessions of the princes and cities 
attached to their cause extended in one great and 
almost unbroken line from the shore of the Baltic 
to the banks of the Rhine. 

Soon after the conclusion of ihe a mutiny of the 
truce at Nice, an event happened im P enal troops, 
which satisfied all Europe that Charles had prose¬ 
cuted the war to the utmost extremity that the state 
of his affairs would permit. Vast arrears were due 
to his troops, whom he had long amused with vain 
hopes and promises. As they now foresaw what 
little attention would be paid to their demands when 
by the re-establishment of peace their services be¬ 
came of less importance, they lost all patience, broke 
out into an open mutiny, and declared that they 
thought themselves entitled to seize by violence 
what was detained from them contrary to all justice. 
Nor was this spirit of sedition confined to one part 
of the emperor’s dominions ; the mutiny was almost 
as general as the grievance which gave rise to it. 
The soldiers in the Milanese plundered the open 
country without control, and filled the capital itself 
with consternation. Those in garrison at Goletta 
threatened to give up that important fortress to Bar- 
barossa. In Sicily the troops proceeded to still 
greater excesses ; having driven away their officers, 
they elected others in their stead, defeated a body 
of men whom the viceroy sent against them, took 
and pillaged several cities, conducting themselves 
all the while in such a manner that their operations 
resembled rather the regular proceedings of a con¬ 
certed rebellion than the rashness and violence of 
military mutiny. But by the address and prudence 
of the generals, who, partly by borrowing money in 
their own name or in that of their master, partly by 
extorting large sums from the cities in their respec¬ 
tive provinces, raised what was sufficient to dis- 


q F. Paul, 82. Sleid. 247- Seek. 1. iii. 200. 


r Sleidan, 249. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1539.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


501 


Cortes of Castile 
held at Toledo. 


charge the arrears of the soldiers, these insurrec¬ 
tions were quelled. The greater part of the troops 
were disbanded, such a number only being kept in 
pay as was necessary for garrisoning the principal 
towns, and protecting the sea-coasts from the insults 
of the Turks. 8 

It was happy for the emperor that 
the abilities of his generals extricated 
him out of these difficulties, which it exceeded his 
own power to have removed. He had depended as 
his chief resource for discharging the arrears due to 
his soldiers, upon the subsidies which he expected 
from his Castilian subjects. For this purpose he 
assembled the Cortes of Castile at Toledo, and hav¬ 
ing represented to them the extraordinary expense 
of his military operations, together with the great 
debts in which these had necessarily involved him, 
he proposed to levy such supplies as the present 
exigency of his affairs demanded, by a general excise 
The complaints on commodities. But the Spaniards 
tion o'Ahafas- already felt themselves oppressed with 
sembiy. a load of taxes unknown to their an¬ 

cestors. They had often complained that their 
country was drained not only of their wealth but 
of its inhabitants, in order to prosecute quarrels in 
which it was not interested, and to fight battles from 
which it could reap no benefit; and they deter¬ 
mined not to add voluntarily to their own burdens, 
or to furnish the emperor with the means of engag¬ 
ing in new enterprises, no less ruinous to the king¬ 
dom than most of those which he had hitherto car¬ 
ried on. The nobles, in particular, inveighed with 
great vehemence against the imposition proposed, 
as an encroachment upon the valuable and distin¬ 
guishing privilege of their order, that of being ex¬ 
empted from the payment of any tax. They de¬ 
manded a conference with the representatives of the 
cities concerning the state of the nation. They con¬ 
tended that if Charles would imitate the example 
of his predecessors, who had resided constantly in 
Spain, and would avoid entangling himself in a 
multiplicity of transactions foreign to the concerns 
of his Spanish dominions, the stated revenues of 
the crown would be fully sufficient to defray the 
necessary expenses of government. They repre- 
sentedHo him, that it would be unjust to lay new 
burdens upon the people, while this prudent and 
effectual method of re-establishing public credit 
and securing national opulence was totally neg¬ 
lected. 1 Charles, after employing arguments, en¬ 
treaties, and promises, but without success, in order 
to overcome their obstinacy, dismissed the assembly 
with great indignation. From that 

stitutionoftiw” period neither the nobles nor the pre- 
cortessubverted. ] a ^ eg }, ave b een called to these assem¬ 
blies, on pretence that such as pay no part of the 
public taxes should not claim any vote in laying 
them on. None have been admitted to the Cortes 
but the procurators or representatives of eighteen 


cities. These, to the number of thirty-six, being 
two from each community, form an assembly which 
bears no resemblance either in power or dignity or 
independence to the ancient Cortes, and are abso¬ 
lutely at the devotion of the court in all their deter¬ 
minations." Thus the imprudent zeal with which 
the Castilian nobles had supported the regal prero¬ 
gative in opposition to the claims of the commons, 
during the commotions in the year one thousand 
five hundred and twenty-one, proved at last fatal to 
their own body. By enabling Charles to depress 
one of the orders in the state, they destroyed that 
balance to which the constitution owed its security, 
and put it in his power, or in that of his successors, 
to humble the other, and to strip it gradually of its 
most valuable privileges. 

At that time, however, the Spanish The s ish 
grandees still possessed extraordinary po^essed^i-h 
power as well as privileges, w hich they P rmle s es - 
exercised and defended with a haughtiness pecu¬ 
liar to themselves. Of this the emperor himself had 
a mortifying proof during the meeting of the Cortes 
at Toledo. As he was returning one day from a 
tournament accompanied by most of the nobility, 
one of the serjeants of the court, out of officious zeal 
to clear the way for the emperor, struck the duke 
of Infantado's horse with his baton, which that 
haughty grandee resenting, drew his sword, beat 
and wounded the officer. Charles, provoked at such 
an insolent deed in his presence, immediately or¬ 
dered Ronquillo the judge of the court to arrest the 
duke: Ronquillo advanced to execute his charge, 
when the constable of Castile interposing, checked 
him, claimed the right of jurisdiction over a grandee 
as a privilege of his office, and conducted Infan- 
tado to his own apartment. All the nobles present 
were so pleased with the boldness of the constable 
in asserting the rights of their order, that deserting 
the emperor, they attended him to his house with 
infinite applauses, and Charles returned to the pa¬ 
lace unaccompanied by any person but the cardinal 
Tavera. The emperor, how sensible soever of the 
affront, saw the danger of irritating a jealous and 
high-spirited order of men, whom the slightest ap¬ 
pearance of offence might drive to the most unwar¬ 
rantable extremities. For that reasoii, instead of 
straining at any ill-timed exertion of his preroga¬ 
tive, he prudently connived at the arrogance of a 
body too potent for him to control, and sent next 
morning to the duke of Infantado, offering to inflict 
what punishment he pleased on the person who had 
affronted him. The duke, considering this as a full 
reparation to his honour, instantly forgave the offi¬ 
cer ; bestowing on him, besides, a considerable 
present as a compensation for his wound. Thus 
the affair was entirely forgotten;' nor would it 
have deserved to be mentioned, if it were not a 
striking example of the high and independent spirit 
of the Spanish nobles in that age, as well as an in- 


s Jovii Histor. 1. xxxvii, 203, c. Sandov. Ferreras, ix. 209. 
t Saudov. Hist. vol. ii. 269. 

2 o 


u Sandov. ibid. Le Science du Governement, par M. de Real, tom. 
ii. p. 102. x Sandov. ii. 274. Ferreras, ix, 212, Miniana, 113. 



6G2 


THE REIGN OF THE 


stance of the emperor’s dexterity in accommodating 
his conduct to the circumstances in which he was 
placed. 

Insurrection Charles was far from discovering the 

at Ghent. same condescension or lenity towards 
the citizens of Ghent, who not long after broke out 
into open rebellion against his government. An 
event which happened in the year one thousand 
live hundred and thirty-six, gave occasion to this 
rash insurrection, so fatal to that flourishing city. 
At that time the queen dowager of Hungary, go¬ 
verness of the Netherlands, having received orders 
from her brother to invade France with all the forces 
which she could raise, she assembled the states of 
the United Provinces, and obtained from them a 
subsidy of twelve hundred thousand florins to defray 
the expense of that undertaking. Of this sum the 
county of Flanders was obliged to pay a third part 

Pretensions of as its proportion. But the citizens of 

the citizens. Ghent, the most considerable city in 

that country, averse to a war with France, with 
which they carried on an extensive and gainful 
commerce, refused to pay their quota, and contend¬ 
ed, that in consequence of stipulations between 
them and the ancestors of their present sovereign 
the emperor, no tax could be levied upon them 
unless they had given their express consent to the 
imposition of it. The governess, on the other hand, 
maintained, that as the subsidy of twelve hundred 
thousand florins had been granted by the states of 
Flanders, of which their representatives were mem¬ 
bers, they were bound, of course, to conform to what 
was enacted by them, as it is the first principle in 
society, on which the tranquillity and order of go¬ 
vernment depend, that the inclinations of the 
minority must be overruled by the judgment and 
decision of the superior number. 

Proceedings The citizens of Ghent, however, were 

against them. not w iuj n g to relinquish a privilege of 

such high importance as that which they claimed. 
Having been accustomed under the government of 
the house of Burgundy to enjoy extensive immuni¬ 
ties, and to be treated with much indulgence, they 
disdained to sacrifice to the delegated power of a 
regent those rights and liberties which they had 
often and successfully asserted against their greatest 
princes. The queen, though she endeavoured at 
first to soothe them, and to reconcile them to 
their duty by various concessions, was at last so 
much irritated by the obstinacy with which they 
adhered to their claim, that she ordered all the 
citizens of Ghent on whom she could lay hold in 
any part of the Netherlands, to be arrested. But 
this rash action made an impression very different 
trom what she expected on men whose minds were 
agitated with all the violent passions which indig¬ 
nation at oppression and zeal for liberty inspire. 
Less affected with the danger of their friends and 
companions than irritated at the governess, they 

v Descrittione di tutti Paesi Bassi di Lud. Guicciardini, Ant 1571 
fo). p. 53. 

z Memoirs sur !a Revolte de Gantois on 1539, par Jean d’Hollander 


[A. 1). 1639. BOOK VI. 

openly despised her authority, and sent deputies to 
the other towns of Flanders, conjuring them not to 
abandon their country at such a juncture, but to 
concur with them in vindicating its rights against 
the encroachments of a woman who either did not 
know or did not regard their immunities. All but a 
few inconsiderable towns declined entering into 
any confederacy against the governess: they joined, 
however, in petitioning her to put off the term for 
payment of the tax so long, that they might have it 
in their power to send some of their number into 
Spain, in order to lay their title to exemption before 
their sovereign. This she granted with some diffi¬ 
culty. But Charles received their commissioners 
with a haughtiness to which they were not accus¬ 
tomed from their ancient princes, and enjoining 
them to yield the same respectful obedience to his 
sister which they owed to him in person, remitted 
the examination of their claim to the council of 
Malines. This court, which is properly a standing 
committee of the parliament or states of the country, 
and which possesses the supreme jurisdiction in all 
matters civil as well as criminal,? pronounced the 
claim of the citizens of Ghent to be ill-founded, and 
appointed them forthwith to pay their proportion of 
the tax. 

Enraged at this decision, which they They take arms, 

, . . and offer to sub- 

considered as notoriously unjust, and nut to France, 
rendered desperate on seeing their rights betray ed 
by that very court which was bound to protect them, 
the people of Ghent ran to arms in a tumultuary 
manner; drove such of the nobility as resided among 
them out of the city; secured several of the empe¬ 
ror’s officers; put one of them to the torture, whom 
they accused of having stolen or destroyed the re¬ 
cord that contained a ratification of the privilege 
of exemption from taxes which they pleaded; chose 
a council, to which they committed the direction of 
their affairs ; gave orders for repairing and adding 
to their fortifications; and openly erected the 
standard of rebellion against their sovereign. 2 Sen¬ 
sible, however, of their inability to support what 
their zeal had prompted them to undertake, and 
desirous of securing a protector against the formid¬ 
able forces by which they might expect soon to be 
attacked, they sent some of their number to Francis, 
offering not only to acknowledge him as their sove¬ 
reign, and to put him in immediate possession of 
Ghent, but to assist him with all their forces in 
recovering those provinces in the Netherlands which 
had anciently belonged to the crown of France, and 
had been so lately reunited to it by the decree of the 
parliament of Paris. This unexpected proposition 
coming from persons who had it in their power to 
have performed instantly one part of what they 
undertook, and who could contribute so effectually 
towards the execution of the whole, opened great as 
well as alluring prospects to Francis’s ambition. 
The counties of Flanders and Artois were of greater 

ecrits en 1547. A la Tlaye, 1747. P. IJeuter. Her. Austr. lib. xi. p. 252. 
Sandov. Ilistor. tom. ii. p. 282 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1539.] EMPEROR 

value than the duchy of Milan, which he had so 
long laboured to acquire with passionate but fruit¬ 
less desire ; their situation with respect to France 
rendered it more easy to conquer or to defend them ; 
and they might be formed into a separate princi¬ 
pality for the duke of Orleans, no less suitable to 
his dignity than that which his father aimed at 
obtaining. To this the Flemings, who were ac¬ 
quainted with the French manners and government, 
would not have been averse ; and his own subjects, 
weary of their destructive expeditions into Italy, 
would have turned their arms towards this quarter 
with more good-will and with greater vigour. Se- 
Francis declines ve ral considerations, nevertheless, pre¬ 
vented Francis from laying hold of this 
opportunity, the most favourable in appearance 
which had ever presented itself, of extending his 
own dominions or distressing the emperor. From the 
time of their interview at Aigues-mortes, Charles 
had continued to court the king of France with 
wonderful attention ; and often flattered him with 
hopes of gratifying, at last, his wishes concerning 
the Milanese, by granting the investiture of it either 
to him or to one of his sons. But though these hopes 
and promises were thrown out with no other inten¬ 
tion than to detach him from his confederacy with 
the grand seignior, or to raise suspicions in Soly- 
man’s mind by the appearance of a cordial and 
familiar intercourse subsisting between the courts 
of Paris and Madrid, Francis was w eak enough to 
catch at the shadow by which he had been so often 
amused, and from eagerness to seize it relinquished 
what must have proved a more substantial acquisi¬ 
tion. Besides this, the dauphin, jealous to excess 
of his brother, and unwilling that a prince who 
seemed to be of a restless and enterprising nature 
should obtain an establishment which from its situ¬ 
ation might be considered almost as a domestic one, 
made use of Montmorency, who, by a singular piece 
of good fortune, w as at the same time the favourite 
of the father and of the son, to defeat the applica¬ 
tion of the Flemings, and to divert the king from 
espousing their cause. Montmorency, accordingly, 
represented in strong terms the reputation and 
power which Francis would acquire by recovering 
that footing which he had formerly in Italy, and that 
nothing could be so efficacious to overcome the 
emperor’s aversion to this as a sacred adherence to 
the truce, and refusing on an occasion so inviting to 
countenance the rebellious subjects of his rival. 
Francis, apt of himself to overrate the value of the 
Milanese, because he estimated it from the length of 
lime as well as from the great efforts which he had 
employed in order to reconquer it, and fond of every 
action which had the appearance of generosity, as¬ 
sented without difficulty to sentiments so agreeable 
to his own, rejected the propositions of the citizens 
of Ghent, and dismissed their deputies with a harsh 
answer.® 

Not satisfied with this, by a further refinement 

a Mem. de Bellay, p. 263. P. Heuter. Rer. Austr. lib. xi. 263. 

2 o 2 


CHARLES V. 563 

in generosity he communicated to 

- . Communicates 

the emperor his w hole negociation their intentions to 

.. i the emperor. 

with the malcontents, and all that he 
knew of their schemes and intentions. b This con¬ 
vincing proof of Francis’s disinterestedness relieved 
Charles from the most disquieting apprehensions, 
and opened a way to extricate himself out of all his 
difficulties. He had already received full informa¬ 
tion of all the transactions in the Netherlands, and 
of the rage with which the people of Ghent had 
taken arms against his government. He was 
thoroughly acquainted with the genius and quali¬ 
ties of his subjects in that country ; with their love 
of liberty ; their attachment to their ancient privi¬ 
leges and customs; as well as the invincible ob¬ 
stinacy with which their minds, slow, but firm and 
persevering, adhered to any measure on which they 
had deliberately resolved. He easily saw what 
encouragement and support they might have de¬ 
rived from the assistance of France ; and though 
now free from any danger in that quarter, he was 
still sensible that some immediate as well as vigor¬ 
ous interposition was necessary in order to prevent 
the spirit of disaffection from spreading in a country 
where the number of cities, the multitude of people, 
together with the great wealth diffused among them 
by commerce, rendered it peculiarly formidable, 
and would supply it with inexhaustible resources. 
No expedient, after long deliberation, Charles’s deiibenu 
appeared to him so effectual as his hSTourney to n tL 
going in person to the Netherlands ; lsletherlancls - 
and the governess his sister, being of the same 
opinion, warmly solicited him to undertake the 
journey. There were only two routes which he 
could take; one by land through Italy and Ger¬ 
many, the other entirely by sea, from some port in 
Spain to one in the Low Countries. But the former 
was more tedious than suited the present exigency 
of his affairs; nor could he in consistency with his 
dignity, or even his safety, pass through Germany 
without such a train both of attendants and of troops 
as would have added greatly to the time that he 
must have consumed in his journey ; the latter was 
dangerous at this season, and while he remained 
uncertain with respect to the friendship of the king 
of England, was not to be ventured upon unless 
under the convoy of a powerful fleet. This per¬ 
plexing situation, in which he w as under the neces¬ 
sity of choosing, and did not know what to choose, 
inspired him at last with the singular and seemingly 
extravagant thought of passing through France, as 
the most expeditious way of reaching Proposes t0 pass 
the Netherlands. He proposed in his through France 
council to demand Francis’s permission for that 
purpose. All his counsellors joined with one voice 
in condemning the measure as no less rash than 
unprecedented, and which must infallibly expose 
him to disgrace or danger : to disgrace, if the de¬ 
mand were rejected in the manner that he had 
reason to expect; to danger, if he put his person in 


b Sandov. llistor. tom. ii. 284. 



564 

the power of an enemy whom he had often offended, 
who had ancient injuries to revenge, as well as 
subjects of present contest still remaining unde- 
eided. But Charles, who had studied the character 
of his rival with greater care and more profound 
discernment than any of his ministers, persisted in 
his plan, and flattered himself that it might be ac¬ 
complished not only without danger to his own 
person, but even without the expense of any con¬ 
cession detrimental to his crown. 

to which Francis with this view he communicated the 

consents. matter to the French ambassador at his 


court, and sent Granville his chief minister to Paris, 
in order to obtain from Francis permission to pass 
through his dominions, and to promise that he would 
soon settle the affair of the Milanese to his satisfac¬ 
tion. But at the same time he entreated that Francis 
would not exact any new promise, or even insist on 
former engagements, at this juncture, lest whatever 
he should grant under his present circumstances 
might seem rather to be extorted by necessity than 
to flow from friendship or the love of justice. 
Francis, instead of attending to the snare which 
such a slight artifice scarcely concealed, was so 
dazzled with the splendour of overcoming an enemy 
by acts of generosity, and so pleased with the air of 
superiority which the rectitude and disinterestedness 
of his proceedings gave him on this occasion, that 
he at once assented to all that was demanded. Judg¬ 
ing of the emperor’s heart by his own, he imagined 
that the sentiments of gratitude, arising from the 
remembrance of good offices and liberal treatment, 
would determine him more forcibly to fulfil what he 
had so often promised, than the most precise stipu¬ 
lations that could be inserted in any treaty. 

His reception in Upon this Charles, to whom every 
that kingdom. mo ment was precious, set out, not¬ 
withstanding the fears and suspicions of his Spanish 
subjects, with a small but splendid train of about a 
hundred persons. At Bayonne, on the frontiers of 
France, he was received by the dauphin and the 
duke of Orleans, attended by the constable Mont¬ 
morency. The two princes offered to go into Spain, 
and to remain there as hostages for the emperor’s 
safety ; but this he rejected, declaring that he relied 
with implicit confidence on the king’s honour, and 
had never demanded nor would accept of any other 
pledge for his security. In all the towns through 
which he passed, the greatest possible magnificence 
was displayed ; the magistrates presented him the 
keys of the gates ; the prison-doors were set open ; 
and by the royal honours paid to him, he appeared 
more like the sovereign of the country than a foreign 
prince. The king advanced as far as Chatelherault 
to meet him ; their interview w as dis¬ 
tinguished by the warmest expressions 
of friendship and regard. They proceeded together 
towards Paris, and presented to the inhabitants of 
that city the extraordinary spectacle of two rival 
monarchs whose enmity had disturbed and laid 

c Thuan. Hist. lib. i. c. 14. Mem. de Bellay. 264. 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1540. BOOK VI. 

waste Europe during twenty years, making their 
solemn entry together with all the symptoms of a 
confidential harmony, as if they had forgotten for 
ever past injuries, and would not revive hostilities 
for the future. c 

Charles remained six days at Paris, 'j^ emperor’s 
but amidst the perpetual caresses of solicitude, 
the French court, and the various entertainments 
contrived to amuse or to do him honour, he dis¬ 
covered an extreme impatience to continue his 
journey, arising as much from an apprehension of 
danger, which constantly haunted him, as from the 
necessity of his presence in the Low Countries. 
Conscious of the disingenuity of his own intentions, 
he trembled when he reflected that some fatal acci¬ 
dent might betray them to his rival or lead him to 
suspect them; and though his artifices to conceal 
them should be successful, he could not help fearing 
that motives of interest might at last triumph over 
the scruples of honour, and tempt Francis to avail 


15-10. 


himself of the advantage now r in his hands. Nor 
were there wanting persons among the French 
ministers who advised the king to turn his own arts 
against the emperor, and as the retribution due for 
so many instances of fraud or falsehood, to seize 
and detain his person until he granted him full 
satisfaction with regard to all the just claims of 
the French crown. But no consideration could 
induce Francis to violate the faith which he had 
pledged, nor could any argument convince him 
that Charles, after all the promises that he had 
given and all the favours which he had received, 
might still be capable of deceiving him. Full of 
this false confidence, he accompanied him to St. 
Quintin ; and the two princes, who had met him 
on the borders of Spain, did not take leave of 
him until he entered his dominions in the Low 
Countries. 

As soon as the emperor reached his 
own territories, the French ambassa¬ 
dors demanded the accomplishment of what he had 
promised concerning the investiture 
of Milan ; but Charles, under the 
plausible pretext that his whole attention was then 
engrossed by the consultations necessary towards 
suppressing the rebellion in Ghent, put oft' the 
matter for some time. But in order to prevent 
Francis from suspecting his sincerity, he still con¬ 
tinued to talk of his resolutions with respect to that 
matter in the same strain as when he entered France, 
and even wrote to the king much to the same pur¬ 
pose, though in general terms and with equivocal 
expressions, which he might afterwards explain 
away or interpret at pleasure. 11 

Meanwhile the unfortunate citizens 
of Ghent, destitute of leaders capable 
either of directing their councils or conducting their 
troops; abandoned by the French king, and un¬ 
supported by their countrymen, were unable to re¬ 
sist their offended sovereign, who was ready to 

d Memoires dc Ribier, i. 504. 


and disingenuity. 


Jan. 24. 


Reduction of 
Ghent; 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


5G5 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1540.] 

advance against them with one body of troops which 
he had raised in the Netherlands, with another 
drawn out of Germany, and a third which had ar¬ 
rived from Spain by sea. The near approach of 
danger made them, at last, so sensible of their own 
folly, that they sent ambassadors to the emperor, 
imploring his mercy, and offering to set open their 
gates at his approach. Charles, without vouch¬ 
safing them any other answer than that he would 
appear among them as their sovereign, with the 
sceptre and the sword in his hand, began his march 
at the head of his troops. Though he chose to enter 
the city on the twenty-fourth of February, his birth¬ 
day, he was touched with nothing of that tenderness 
or indulgence which was natural towards the place 
of his nativity. Twenty-six of the principal citizens 
, .. w ere put to death ; a greater number 

of the citizens, was sent into banishment; the city 
April 20. ’ J 

was declared to have forfeited all its 
privileges and immunities ; the revenues belonging 
to it were confiscated ; its ancient form of govern¬ 
ment was abolished ; the nomination of its magis¬ 
trates was vested for the future in the emperor and 
his successors ; a new system of laws and political 
administration was prescribed; 6 and in order to 
bridle the seditious spirit of the citizens, orders were 
given to erect a strong citadel, for defraying the 
expense of which, a fine of an hundred and fifty 
thousand florins was imposed on the inhabitants, 
together with an annual tax of six thousand florins 
for the support of the garrison/ By these rigorous 
proceedings Charles not only punished the citizens 
of Ghent, but set an awful example of severity be¬ 
fore his other subjects in the Netherlands, whose 
immunities and privileges, partly the effect partly 
the cause of their extensive commerce, circumscrib¬ 
ed the prerogative of their sovereign within very 
narrow bounds, and often stood in the way of mea¬ 
sures which he w ished to undertake, or fettered and 
retarded him in his operations. 

Charles refuses Charles having thus vindicated and 

Ka»emen h ts S to n re-established his authority in the Low r 

Francis. Countries, and being now under no 

necessity of continuing the same scene of falsehood 
and dissimulation with which he had long amused 
Francis, began gradually to throw aside the veil 
under which he had concealed his intentions with 
respect to the Milanese. At first he eluded the de¬ 
mands of the French ambassadors when they again 
reminded him of his promises; then he proposed, by 
way of equivalent for the duchy of Milan, to grant 
the duke of Orleans the investiture of Flanders, 
clogging the offer, however, with impracticable con¬ 
ditions, or such as he knew would be rejected. 5 At 
last, being driven from all his evasions and subter¬ 
fuges by their insisting for a categorical answer, he 
peremptorily refused to give up a territory of such 
value, or voluntarily to make such a liberal addition 
to the strength of an enemy by diminishing his own 

e Les Coutumes ct Loix du Compte de Flandre, par Alex, le Grand, 
3 tom. fol. Cambray, 1719, tom. i. p. 169. 

f llaraei Annales Brabanti<e. vol, 616. 


power/ He denied, at the same time, that he had 
ever made any promise which could bind him to 
an action so foolish, and so contrary to his own 
interest/ 

Of all the transactions in the emperor’s life, this, 
without doubt, reflects the greatest dishonour on 
his reputation/ Though Charles was not extremely 
scrupulous at other times about the means which 
he employed for accomplishing his ends, and was 
not always observant of the strict precepts of vera- 
citjr and honour, he had hitherto maintained some 
regard for the maxims of that less precise and rigid 
morality by which monarchs think themselves en¬ 
titled to regulate their conduct. But on this occa¬ 
sion the scheme that he formed of deceiving a ge¬ 
nerous and open-hearted prince; the illiberal and 
mean artifices by which he carried it on ; the insen¬ 
sibility with which he received all the marks of his 
friendship, as well as the ingratitude with which 
he requited them,—are all equally unbecoming the 
dignity of his character, and inconsistent with the 
grandeur of his views. 

This transaction exposed Francis to as much scorn 
as it did the emperor to censure. After the expe¬ 
rience of a long reign, after so many opportunities 
of discovering the duplicity and artifices of his 
rival, the credulous simplicity with which he trusted 
him at this juncture seemed to merit no other return 
than what it actually met with. Francis, however, 
remonstrated and exclaimed as if this had been the 
first instance in which the emperor had deceived 
him. Feeling, as is usual, the insult which was 
offered to his understanding still more sensibly than 
the injury done to his interest, he discovered such 
resentment as made it obvious that he would lav 
hold on the first opportunity of being revenged, 
and that a war no less rancorous than that which 
had so lately raged would soon break out anew in 
Europe. 

Butsingularasthetransaction which The pope autho 

has been related may appear, this year tio^of theorder 
is rendered still more memorable by of Jesuits, 
the establishment of the order of Jesuits, a body 
whose influence on ecclesiastical as well as civil 
affairs hath been so considerable, that an account of 
the genius of its laws and government justly merits 
a place in history. When men take a view of the 
rapid progress of this society towards wealth and 
power; when they contemplate the admirable pru¬ 
dence with which it has been governed ; when they 
attend to the persevering and systematic spirit with 
which its schemes have been carried on, they are 
apt to ascribe such a singular institution to the 
superior wisdom of its founder, and to suppose that 
he had formed and digested his plan with profound 
policy. But the Jesuits as well as the other mo¬ 
nastic orders are indebted for the existence of their 
order, not to the wisdom of their founder, but to 
his enthusiasm. Ignatio Loyola, whom I have 

K Mem. de Ribier, i. 509, 514. 

h Ribier, i. 519. i Btllay, 365, 366. 

k Jovii Hist. lib. xxxix. p. 238, n. 



THE IlEIGN OF THE 


5G() 

already mentioned on occasion of the wound which 
lie received in defendingPampeluna, 1 was a fanatic 
distinguished by extravagances in sentiment and 
conduct, no less incompatible with the maxims of 
sober reason than repugnant to the spirit of true re¬ 
ligion. The wild adventures and visionary schemes 
in which his enthusiasm engaged him equal any 
thing recorded in the legends of the Roman saints, 
but are unworthy of notice in history. 

Prompted by this fanatical spirit, or 
Loyola* iS 0t incited by the love of power and dis- 
founder. tinction, from which such pretenders to 
superior sanctity are not exempt, Loyola was ambi¬ 
tious of becoming the founder of a religious order. 
The plan which he formed of its constitution and 
laws was suggested, as he gave out, and as his fol¬ 
lowers still teach, by the immediate inspiration of 
Heaven." 1 But notwithstanding this high preten¬ 
sion, his design met at first with violent opposition. 
The pope, to whom Loyola had applied for the 
sanction of his authority to confirm the institution, 
referred his petition to a committee of cardinals. 
They represented the establishment to be unneces¬ 
sary as well as dangerous, and Paul refused to 
grant his approbation of it. At last Loyola re¬ 
moved all his scruples by an offer which it was im¬ 
possible for any pope to resist. He 

fives for con- proposed, that besides three vows of 
firming the order. , „ , .. -i e 

poverty, of chastity, and of monastic 
obedience, which are common to all the orders of 
regulars, the members of his society should take a 
fourth vow of obedience to the pope, binding them¬ 
selves to go whithersoever he should command for 
the service of religion, and without requiring any 
thing from the holy see for their support. At a time 
when the papal authority had received such a shock 
by the revolt of so many nations from the Romish 
church ; at a time when every part of the popish 
system was attacked with so much violence and 
success, the acquisition of a body of men thus pe¬ 
culiarly devoted to the see of Rome, and whom it 
might set in opposition to all its enemies, was an 
object of the highest consequence. 
Paul instantly perceiving this, con¬ 
firmed the institution of the Jesuits by his bull; 
granted the most ample privileges to the members 
of the society ; and appointed Loyola to be the first 
general of the order. The event hath fully justified 
Paul’s discernment, in expecting such beneficial 
consequences to the see of Rome from this institu¬ 
tion. In less than half a century the society ob¬ 
tained establishments in every country that adhered 
to the Roman catholic church ; its power and wealth 
increased amazingly ; the number of its members 
became great; their character as well as accom¬ 
plishments were still greater ; and the Jesuits were 
celebrated by the friends and dreaded by the ene¬ 
mies of the Romish faith, as the most able and en¬ 
terprising order in the church. 

1 Book ii. p. 471. 

in Compte rendu des Constitutions des Jesuites, an Parlement de Pro¬ 
vence, parM. de Monciar, p. 2«5. 


Sept. 27. 


[A. D. 1540. BOOK VI. 

The constitution and laws of the Its constitution 
society were perfected by Laynez and partfcuYar atten- 
Aquaviva, the two generals who sue- t,on - 
ceeded Loyola, men far superior to their master in 
abilities and in the science of government. They 
framed that system of profound and artful policy 
which distinguishes the order. The large infusion 
of fanaticism mingled with its regulations, should 
be imputed to Loyola its founder. Many circum¬ 
stances concurred in giving a peculiarity of cha¬ 
racter to the order of Jesuits, and in forming the 
members of it not only to take a greater part in the 
affairs of the world than any other body of monks, 
but to acquire superior influence in the conduct 
of them. 

The primary object of almost all the The object of the 
monastic orders is to separate men order sin * ular - 
from the world, and from any concern in its affairs. 
In the solitude and silence of the cloister, the 
monk is called to work out his own salvation by 
extraordinary acts of mortification and piety. He 
is dead to the world, and ought not to mingle in its 
transactions. He can be of no benefit to mankind 
but by his examples and by his prayers. On the 
contrary, the Jesuits are taught to consider them¬ 
selves as formed for action. They are chosen 
soldiers, bound to exert themselves continually in 
the service of God, and of the pope his vicar on 
earth. Whatever tends to instruct the ignorant, 
whatever can be of use to reclaim or to oppose the 
enemies of the holy see, is their proper object. 
That they may have full leisure for this active ser¬ 
vice, they are totally exempted from those func¬ 
tions the performance of which is the chief business 
of other monks. They appear in no processions; 
they practise no rigorous austerities ; they do not 
consume one-half of their time in the repetition of 
tedious offices." But they are required to attend to 
all the transactions of the world, on account of 
the influence which these may have upon religion ; 
they are directed to study the dispositions of per¬ 
sons in high rank, and to cultivate their friend¬ 
ship ;° and by the very constitution as well as 
genius of the order, a spirit of action and intrigue 
is infused into all its members. 

As the object of the society of Jesuits Peculiarities in 
differed from that of the other monastic poiicv n parficu S 
orders, the diversity was no less in the [o't^e'power o? ct 
form of its government. The other the general, 
orders are to be considered as voluntary associa¬ 
tions, in which whatever affects the whole body is 
regulated by the common suffrage of all its mem¬ 
bers. The executive power is vested in the persons 
placed at the head of each convent or of the whole 
society; the legislative authority resides in the 
community. Affairs of moment relating to parti¬ 
cular convents, are determined in conventual chap¬ 
ters ; such as respect the whole order are considered 
in general congregations. But Loyola, full of the 

n Compte rendu, par M. de Monciar, p. xiii. 290. Sur la Destruct 
des Jesuites, par M. 1) Alembert, p. 42. 

o Compte par M. de Monciar, p. 12. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1540.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


ideas of implicit obedience which he had derived 
trom his military profession, appointed that the 
government of his order should be purely monarch¬ 
ical. A general, chosen for life by deputies from 
the several provinces, possessed power that was 
supreme and independent, extending to every per¬ 
son and to. every case. He, by his sole authority, 
nominated provincials, rectors, and every other offi¬ 
cer employed in the government of the society, and 
could remove them at pleasure. In him was vested 
the sovereign administration of the revenues and 
funds of the order. Every member belonging to it 
was at his disposal ; and by his uncontrollable 
mandate he could impose on them any task, or em¬ 
ploy them in what service soever he pleased. To 
his commands they were required not only to yield 
outward obedience, but to resign up to him the in¬ 
clinations of their own wills and the sentiments of 
their own understandings. They were to listen to 
his injunctions, as if they had been uttered by Christ 
himself. Under his direction they were to be mere 
passive instruments, like clay in the hands of the 
potter, or like dead carcases incapable of resistance .p 
S uch a singular form of policy could not fail to 
impress its character on all the members of the or¬ 
der, and to give a peculiar force to all its operations. 
There is not in the annals of mankind any example 
of such a perfect despotism, exercised not over 
monks shut up in the cells of a convent, but over 
men dispersed among all the nations of the earth. 

As the constitutions of the order vest 

Circumstances . . . , . , . . . 

which enable him in the general such absolute dominion 

to exercise it with 

the greatest ad- over all its members, they carefully 
provide for his being perfectly informed 
with respect to the character and abilities of his 
subjects. Every novice who offers himself as a 
candidate for entering into the order, is obliged to 
manifest his conscience to the superior, or to a person 
appointed by bim ; and in doing this is required to 
confess not only his sins and defects, but to discover 
the inclinations, the passions, and the bent of his 
soul. This manifestation must be renewed every 
six months. 1 * The society, not satisfied with pene¬ 
trating in this manner into the innermost recesses 
of the heart, directs each member to observe the 
words and actions of the novices ; they are consti¬ 
tuted spies upon their conduct; and are bound to 
disclose every thing of importance concerning them 
to the superior. In order that this scrutiny into 
their character may be as complete as possible, a 
long noviciate must expire, during which they pass 
through the several gradations of ranks in the so¬ 
ciety ; and they must have attained the full age of 
thirty-three years before they can be admitted to 


take the final vows, by which they become professed 
members/ By these various methods, the superiors, 
under whose immediate inspection the novices are 
placed, acquire a thorough knowledge of their dis¬ 
positions and talents. In order that the general, 
who is the soul that animates and moves the whole 
society, may have under his eye every thing neces¬ 
sary to inform or direct him, the provincials and 
heads of the several houses are obliged to transmit 
to him regular and frequent reports concerning the 
members under their inspection. In these they de¬ 
scend into minute details with respect to the cha¬ 
racter of each person, his abilities natural or ac¬ 
quired, his temper, his experience in affairs, and 
the particular department for which he is best fitted/ 
These reports, when digested and arranged, are en¬ 
tered into registers kept on purpose, that the gene¬ 
ral may, at one comprehensive view, survey the 
state of the society in every corner of the earth ; 
observe the qualifications and talents of its mem¬ 
bers ; and thus choose with perfect information, 
the instruments which his absolute power can em¬ 
ploy in any service for which he thinks meet to 
destine them/ 

As it was the professed intention of 

the order of Jesuits to labour with un- power and infiu- 
. . , . ... i , ence of the order. 

weaned zeal in promoting the salva¬ 
tion of men, this engaged them, of course, in many 
active functions. From their first institution they 
considered the education of youth as their peculiar 
province ; they aimed at being spiritual guides and 
confessors ; they preached frequently in order to 
instruct the people ; they set out as missionaries to 
convert unbelieving nations. The novelty of the 
institution, as well as the singularity of its objects, 
procured the order many admirers and patrons. 
The governors of the society had the address to 
avail themselves of every circumstance in its favour, 
and in a short time the number as well as influence 
of its members increased wonderfully. Before the 
expiration of the sixteenth century, the Jesuits 
had obtained the chief direction of the education of 
youth in every catholic country in Europe. They 
had become the confessors of almost all its monarchs. 
a function of no small importance in any reign, 
but under a weak prince, superior even to that of 
minister. They were the spiritual guides of almost, 
every person for rank or power. They possessed 
the highest degree of confidence and interest w ith 
the papal court, as the most zealous and able cham¬ 
pions for its authority. The advantages which an 
active and enterprising body of men might derive 
from all these circumstances are obvious. They 
formed the minds of men in their youth. They re- 


p Compte rendu an Parlem. de Bretagne, par M. de Chalotais, p. 41, 
&c. Compte par M. de Monclar, 83, 185, 43. 
n Compte par M. de Monclar, p. 121, &c. 

r Compte par M. de Monel. 215. 241. Sur la Destr. des Jes. par. 
M. d’AIemb. p. 39. 

s M. de Chalotais has made a calculation of the number ot these reports 
which the general of the Jesuits must annually receive, according to the 
regulations of the society. 1 hese amount in all to 65114. It this sum be 
divided by 37, the number of. provinces in the order, it will appear that 
177 reports concerning the state of each province are transmitted to Home 
annually Compte, p. 52. Besides this there may tie extraordinary 
letters, or such as are sent by the monitors or spies whom the general and 
provincials entertain in each house. Compte par M. de Monel, p. 431. 


Hist, des Jesuites, Amst. 1761, tom. iv. p. 56. The provincials and heads 
of houses not only report concerning the members of the society, but are 
bound to give the general an account of the civil affairs in the country 
wherein they are settled, as far as their knowledge of these may be of be¬ 
nefit to religion. This condition may extend to every particular; so that 
the general is furnished with full information concerning the transactions 
of every prince and state in the world. Compte par M. de Monel. 44.3. 
Hist, des Jesuit, ibid. p. 58. When the affairs with respect to which the 
provincials or rectors write are of importance, they are directed to use 
ciphers; and each of them has a particular cipher from the general. 
Compte par M. Chalotais, p. 54. 

t Compte par M. de Monel, p. 285, 139. Compte par M. de Chalotais, 
p 52, 222. 




568 THE REIGN OF THE 

tained an ascendant over them in their advanced 
years. They possessed, at different periods, the di¬ 
rection of the most considerable courts in Europe. 

They mingled in all affairs. They took part in 
every intrigue and revolution. The general, by 
means of the extensive intelligence which he re¬ 
ceived, could regulate the operations of the order 
with the most perfect discernment, and by means of 
his absolute power, could carry them on with the 
utmost vigour and effect." 

Progress of its Together with the power of the order 
we,lth - its wealth continued to increase. Va¬ 
rious expedients were devised for eluding the obli¬ 
gation of the vow of poverty. The order acquired 
ample possessions in every catholic country ; and 
by the number as well as magnificence of its public 
buildings, together with the value of its property, 
movable or real, it vied with the most opulent of 
the monastic fraternities. Besides the sources of 
wealth common to all the regular clergy, the Jesuits 
possessed one which was peculiar to themselves. 

Under pretext of promoting the success of their 
missions and of facilitating the support of their 
missionaries, they obtained a special licence from 
the court of Rome, to trade with the nations which 
they laboured to convert. In consequence of this 
they engaged in an extensive and lucrative com¬ 
merce, both in the East and West Indies. They 
opened warehouses in different parts of Europe, in 
which they vended their commodities. Not satisfied 
with trade alone, they imitated the example of 
other commercial societies, and aimed at obtaining 
settlements. They acquired possession, accordingly, 
of a large and fertile province in the southern con¬ 
tinent of America, and reigned as sovereigns over 
some hundred thousand subjects/ 

Unhappily for mankind, the vast 
influence which the order of Jesuits 
society. acquired by all these different means 

has been often exerted with the most pernicious 
effect. Such was the tendency of that discipline 
observed by the society in forming its members, and 
such the fundamental maxims in its constitution, 
that every Jesuit was taught to regard the interest 
of the order as the capital object, to which every 
consideration was to be sacrificed. This spirit of 
attachment to their order, the most ardent, perhaps, 
that ever influenced any body of men, y is the cha¬ 
racteristic principle of the Jesuits, and serves as a 
key to the genius of their policy, as well as to the 
peculiarities in their sentiments and conduct. 

As it was for the honour and advantage of the 
society that its members should possess an ascend¬ 
ant over persons in high rank or of great power, 
the desire of acquiring and preserving such a di¬ 
rection of their conduct with greater facility, has 
led the Jesuits to propagate a system of relaxed 

u When Tx>yola, in the year 1540, petitioned the pope to authorize the 
institution of the order, he had only ten disciples. But in the year 1608, 
sixty-eight years atter their first institution, the number of Jesuits had in¬ 
creased to ten thousand five hundred and eighty-one. In the year 1710 
the order possessed twenty-four professed houses; fifty-nine houses of' 
probation ; three hundred and forty residences; six hundred and twelve 


BOOK VI. 


[A. D. 1540. 

and pliant morality, which accommodates itself to 
the passions of men, which justifies their vices, 
which tolerates their imperfections, which autho¬ 
rizes almost every action that the most audacious or 
crafty politician would wish to perpetrate. 

As the prosperity of the order was intimately 
connected with the preservation of the papal au¬ 
thority, the Jesuits, influenced by the same prin¬ 
ciple of attachment to the interests of their society, 
have been the most zealous patrons of those doc¬ 
trines which tend to exalt ecclesiastical power on 
the ruins of civil government. They have attributed 
to the court of Rome a jurisdiction as extensive 
and absolute as was claimed by the most presump¬ 
tuous pontiffs in the dark ages: they have con¬ 
tended for the entire independence of ecclesiastics 
on the civil magistrate: they have published such 
tenets concerning the duty of opposing princes who 
were enemies of the catholic faith, as countenanced 
the most atrocious crimes, and tended to dissolve 
all the ties which connect subjects with their rulers. 

As the order derived both reputation and autho¬ 
rity from the zeal with which it stood forth in de¬ 
fence of the Romish church against the attacks of 
the reformers, its members, proud of this distinction, 
have considered it as their peculiar iunction to 
combat the opinions and to check the progress of 
the protestants. They have made use of every art 
and have employed every weapon against them : 
they have set themselves in opposition to every 
gentle or tolerating measure in their favour: they 
have incessantly stirred up against them all the 
rage of ecclesiastical and civil persecution. 

Monks of other denominations have, indeed, ven¬ 
tured to teach the same pernicious doctrines, and 
have held opinions equally inconsistent with the 
order and happiness of civil society : but they, from 
reasons which are obvious, have either delivered 
such opinions with greater reserve, or have propa¬ 
gated them with less success. Whoever recollects 
the events which have happened in Europe during 
two centuries, will find that the Jesuits may justly 
be considered as responsible for most of the perni¬ 
cious effects arising from that corrupt and dangerous 
casuistry, from those extravagant tenets concerning 
ecclesiastical power, and from that intolerant spirit, 
which have been the disgrace of the church of 
Rome throughout that period, and which have 
brought so many calamities upon civil society/ 

But amidst many bad consequences some .advantages 
flowing from the institution of this inltitutwi^of'this 
order, mankind, it must be acknow- order; 
ledged, have derived from it some considerable 
advantages. As the Jesuits made the education of 
youth one of their capital objects, and as their first 
attempts to establish colleges for the reception of 
students were violently opposed by the universities 

colleges ; two hundred missions ; one hundred and fifty seminaries and 
boarding-schools; and aonsisted of 19,998 Jesuits. Hist, des Jesuites, 
tom. i. p. 20. 

x Hist, des Jes iv. 168—196, &c. 

y Compte par M. de Monel, p. 285. 

z Encyclopedic, art. Jesuites, tom. viii. 515. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


509 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1540.] 

in different countries, it became necessary for them, 
as the most effectual method of acquiring the public 
favour, to surpass their rivals in science and indus- 

particuiariy to tr y* This prompted them to cultivate 
iiteiature: th e s t u( jy G f anc ient literature with 

extraordinary ardour: this put them upon various 
methods for facilitating the instruction of youth ; 
and by the improvements which they made in it, 
they have contributed so much towards the progress 
ot polite learning, that on this account they have 
merited well of society. Nor has the order of Jesuits 
been successful only in teaching the elements of 
literature ; it has produced likewise eminent mas¬ 
ters in many branches of science, and can alone 
boast of a greater number of ingenious authors than 
all the other religious fraternities taken together.* 
more especially But B in ^ ie New World that the 
ment ofthf Jesu- Jesuits have exhibited the most won- 
its m Paraguay, display of their abilities, and 

have contributed most effectually to the benefit of 
the human species. The conquerors of that unfor¬ 
tunate quarter of the globe acted at first as if they 
had nothing in view but to plunder, to enslave, and 
to exterminate its inhabitants. The Jesuits alone 
made humanity the object of their settling there. 
About the beginning of the last century they ob¬ 
tained admission into the fertile province of Para¬ 
guay, which stretches across the southern continent 
of America, from the east side of the immense ridge 
of the Andes to the confines of the Spanish and 
Portuguese settlements on the banks of the river de 
la Plata. They found the inhabitants in a state 
little different from that which takes place among 
men when they first begin to unite together: 
strangers to the arts ; subsisting precariously by 
hunting or fishing; and hardly acquainted with the 
first principles of subordination and government. 
The Jesuits set themselves to instruct and to civilize 
the savages. They taught them to cultivate the 
ground, to rear tame animals, and to build houses. 
They brought them to live together in villages. 
They trained them to arts and manufactures. They 
made them taste the sweets of society ; and accus¬ 
tomed them to the blessings of security and order. 
These people became the subjects of their benefac¬ 
tors ; who have governed them with a tender atten¬ 
tion, resembling that with which a father directs his 
children. Respected and beloved almost to adora¬ 
tion, a few Jesuits presided over some hundred 
thousand Indians. They maintained a perfect 
equality among all the members of the community. 
Each of them was obliged to labour, not for himself 
alone, but for the public. The produce of their 
fields, together with the fruits of their industry of 
every species, were deposited in common store- 

a M. d’Alembert has observed, that thougli the Jesuits have made ex¬ 
traordinary progress in erudition of every species ; though they can reckon 
up many of their brethren who have been eminent mathematicians, anti¬ 
quaries, and critics: though they have even formed some orators ot repu¬ 
tation,—yet the order has never produced one man whose mind was so 
much enlightened with sound knowledge as to merit the name of a philoso¬ 
pher. Hut it seems to be the unavoidable effect of a monastic education 
to contract and fetter the human mind. I lie partial attachment of a monk 
to the interest of his order, which is often incompatible with that of other 
citizens ; the habit of implicit obedience to the will of a superior, together 
with the frequent return of the wearisome and frivolous duties of the 


houses, from which each individual received every 
thing necessary for the supply of his wants. By this 
institution almost all the passions which disturb the 
peace of society and render the members of it un- 
happy were extinguished. A few magistrates, 
chosen from among their countrymen by the Indians 
themselves, watched over the public tranquillity 
and secured obedience to the laws. The sanguinary 
punishments frequent under other governments 
were unknown. An admonition from a Jesuit; a 
slight mark of infamy ; or, on some singular occa¬ 
sion, a few lashes with a whip, were sufficient to 
maintain good order among these innocent and 
happy peopled 

But even in this meritorious effort Even here the 
of the Jesuits for the good of mankind, p™iicy l0 0 n f th^or- 
the genius and spiritof their order have der discernible, 
mingled and are discernible. They plainly aimed 
at establishing in Paraguay an independent empire, 
subject to the society alone, and which, by the 
superior excellence of its constitution and police, 
could scarcely have failed to extend its dominion 
over all the southern continent of America. With 
this view, in order to prevent the Spaniards or Por¬ 
tuguese in the adjacent settlements from acquiring 
any dangerous influence over the people within the 
limits of the province subject to the society, the 
Jesuits endeavoured to inspire the Indians with 
hatred and contempt of these nations. They cut 
off all intercourse between their subjects and the 
Spanish or Portuguese settlements. They prohibit¬ 
ed any private trader of either nation from entering 
their territories. When they were obliged to admit 
any person in a public character from the neigh¬ 
bouring governments, they did not permit him to 
have any conversation with their subjects; and no 
Indian was allowed even to enter the house where 
these strangers resided, unless in the presence of a 
Jesuit. In order to render any communication 
betw een them as difficult as possible, they industri¬ 
ously avoided giving the Indians any knowledge of 
the Spanish or of any other European language ; 
but encouraged the different tribes which they had 
civilized to acquire a certain dialect of the Indian 
tongue, and laboured to make that the universal 
language throughout their dominions. As all these 
precautions, without military force, would have 
been insufficient to have rendered their empire 
secure and permanent, they instructed their subjects 
in the European arts of war. They formed them into 
bodies of cavalry and infantry, completely armed 
and regularly disciplined. They provided a great 
train of artillery, as well as magazines stored with 
all the implements of war. Thus they established 
an army so numerous and well-appointed, as to be 

cloister, debase his faculties, and extinguish that generosity of sentiment 
and spirit which qualities men for thinking or feeling justly with respect 
to what is proper in life and conduct. Father Paul of Venice is, perhaps, 
the only person educated in a cloister that ever was altogether superior to 
its prejudices, or who viewed the transactions of men, and reasoned con¬ 
cerning the interests of society, with the enlarged sentiments of a philoso¬ 
pher, with the discernment ot a man conversant in affairs, and with the 
liberality of a gentleman. 

b Hist, du Paraguay par. Pere de Charlevoix, tom. ii. 42, Arc. Voyage 
au Perou par Don U. Juan et D. Ant. de Ulloa, tom. i. 540, &c. Par. 
4 to, 1752. 



570 

formidable in a country where a few* sickly and ill- 
disciplined battalions composed all the military 
force kept on foot by the Spaniards or Portuguese. 0 

The Jesuits gained no considerable 
IVfuuV'view' degree of power during the reign of 
and^ogrel^of- Charles V., who, with his usual saga¬ 
city, discerned the dangerous tendency 
of the institution, and checked its progress.* 1 But 
as the order was founded in the period of which I 
write the history, and as the age to which I address 
this work hath seen its fall, the view which I have 
exhibited of the laws and genius of this formidable 
body will not, I hope, be unacceptable to my readers, 
especially as one circumstance has enabled me to 
enter into this detail with particular advantage. 
Europe had observed, for two centuries, the ambi¬ 
tion and power of the order. But while it felt many 
fatal effects of these, it could not fully discern the 
causes to which they were to be imputed. It was 
unacquainted with many of the singular regulations 
in the political constitution or government of the 
Jesuits, which formed the enterprising spirit of in¬ 
trigue that distinguished its members, and elevated 
the body itself to such a height of power. It was a 
fundamental maxim with the Jesuits, from their first 
institution, not to publish the rules of their order. 
These they kept concealed as an impenetrable mys¬ 
tery. They never communicated them to strangers, 
nor even to the greater part of their own members. 
They refused to produce them when required by 
courts of justice;® and by a strange solecism in 
policy, the civil power in different countries au¬ 
thorized or connived at the establishment of an order 
of men whose constitution and laws were concealed 
with a solicitude which alone was a good reason for 
excluding them. During the prosecutions lately 
carried on against them in Portugal and France, 
the Jesuits have been so inconsiderate as to produce 
the mysterious volumes of their institute. By the 
aid of these authentic records the principles of their 
government may be delineated, and the sources of 
their power investigated, with a degree of certainty 
and precision which, previous to that event, it was 
impossible to attain/ But as I have pointed out 
the dangerous tendency of the constitution and spirit 
of the order with the freedom becoming an historian, 
the candour and impartiality no less requisite in 
that character call on me to add one observation, 
That no class of regular clergy in the Romish church 
has been more eminent for decency and even purity 
of manners than the major part of the order of 
Jesuits.^ The maxims of an intriguing, ambitious, 
interested policy might influence those who govern¬ 
ed the society, and might even corrupt the heart and 
pervert the conduct of some individuals, w hile the 
greater number, engaged in literary pursuits, or 
employed in the functions of religion, was left to 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1540. BOOK VI. 

the guidance of those common principles which 
restrain men from viec, and excite them to what is 
becoming and laudable. The causes which occa¬ 
sioned the ruin of this mighty body, as w ell as the 
circumstances and effects with which it has been 
attended in the different countries of Europe, though 
objects extremely worthy the attention of every in¬ 
telligent observer of human affairs, do not fall w ithin 
the period of this history. 

No sooner had Charles re-establish- Affairs of 
ed order in the Low Countries than he Germany, 
was obliged to turn his attention to the affairs in 
Germany. The protestants pressed him earnestly 
to appoint that conference betw een a select number 
of the divines of each party which had been stipu¬ 
lated in the convention at Francfort. The pope 
considered such an attempt to examine into the 
points in dispute, or to decide concerning them, as 
derogatory to his right of being the supreme judge 
in controversy; and being convinced that such a 
conference would either be ineffectual by deter¬ 
mining nothing, or prove dangerous by determining 
too much, he employed every art to prevent it. The 
emperor, however, finding it more for A con f erence be . 
his interest to soothe the Germans 
than to gratify Paul, paid little regard 
to his remonstrances. In a diet held at Huguenaw r , 
matters were ripened for the confer- 

Dec. 6« 

ence. In another diet assembled at 
Worms, the conference was begun, Melancthon on 
the one side, and Eekius on the other, sustaining the 
principal part in the dispute ; but after they had 
made some progress, though without concluding 
any thing, it was suspended by the emperor’s com¬ 
mand, that it might be renew ed with greater solem¬ 
nity in his own presence in a diet summoned to meet 
at Ratisbon. This assembly w as open¬ 
ed with great pomp, and w ith a gene¬ 
ral expectation that its proceedings would be 
vigorous and decisive. By the consent of both 
parties the emperor was intrusted with the power of 
nominating the persons who should manage the 
conference, which it was agreed should be con¬ 
ducted not in the form of a public disputation, but 
as a friendly scrutiny or examination into the arti¬ 
cles which had given rise to the present controver¬ 
sies. He appointed Eekius, Gropper, and Pfiugon 
the part of the catholics; Melancthon, Bucer, and 
Pistorius on that of the protestants : all men of 
distinguished reputation among their own adhe¬ 
rents, and, except Eekius, all eminent for modera¬ 
tion as well as desirous of peace. As they were 
about to begin their consultations, the emperor put 
into their hands a book, composed, as he said, by a 
learned divine in the Low Countries, with such 
extraordinary perspicuity and temper, as, in his 
opinion, might go far to unite and comprehend the 


c Voyage de Juan et de Ulloa, tom. i. 549. ltecueil des toutes les 
Pieces qui ont paru sur les Affaires des Jesuifes en Portugal, tom. i. p. 
7, &c. d Compte par M. de Monel, p. 312. 

e Hist, des Jes. tom. ni. 235, &c. Compte par M. de Clialot. p. 38. 
f The greater part ot my information concerning the government and 
laws of the order of Jesuits, 1 have derived from the reports of M. de 
Chalotais and M. de Monclar. 1 rest not my narrative, nowever, upon 


tween the popish 
and protestant 
divines, June 25, 


1541. 


the authority even of these respectable magistrates and elegant writers, 
but upon innumerable passages which they have extracted from the con¬ 
stitutions of the order deposited in their hands. Hospinian, a protestant 
divine of Zurich, in his Histories Jesuit tea, printed A. D. 1619, published 
a small part of the constitutions of the Jesuit^, of which by some accident 
he had got a copy ; p. 13—54. 
g Sur la Destruct. des Jes. par M. d’Alembert, p. 55. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


571 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1541.] 


two contending parties. Gropper, a canon of 
Cologne, whom he had named among the managers 
of the conference, a man of address as well as of 
erudition, was afterwards suspected to be the author 
of this short treatise. It contained positions with 
regard to twenty-two of the chief articles in theolo¬ 
gy, which included most of the questions then 
agitated in the controversy between the Lutherans 
and the church of Rome. By ranging his sentiments 
in a natural order, and expressing them with great 
simplicity ; by employing often the very words of 
Scripture or of the primitiv e fathers; by softening the 
rigour of some opinions and explaining away what 
was absurd in others ; by concessions, sometimes on 
one side and sometimes on the other; and especi¬ 
ally by banishing as much as possible scholastic 
phrases, those words and terms of art in controversy 
which serve as badges of distinction to different 
sects, and for which theologians often contend more 
fiercely than for opinions themselves,—he at last 
framed his work in such a manner as promised 
fairer than any thing that had hitherto been at¬ 
tempted, to compose and to terminate religious dis¬ 
sensions. 11 

But the attention of the age was 
turned with such acute observation 
towards theological controversies, that it was not 
easy to impose on it by any gloss, how artful or 
specious soever. The length and eagerness of the 
dispute had separated the contending parties so 
completely, and had set their minds at such vari¬ 
ance, that they were not to be reconciled by partial 
concessions. All the zealous catholics, particularly 
the ecclesiastics who had a seat in the diet, joined 
in condemning Gropper’s treatise as too favourable 
to the Lutheran opinion, the poison of which heresy 
it conveyed, as they pretended, with greater danger, 
because it was in some degree disguised. The rigid 
protestants, especially Luther himself and his patron 
the elector of Saxony, were for rejecting it as an 
impious compound of error and truth, craftily pre¬ 
pared that it might impose on the weak, the timid, 
and the unthinking. But the divines to whom the 
examination of it was committed, entered upon that 
business with greater deliberation and temper. As 
it was more easy in itself, as well as more consistent 
with the dignity of the church, to make concessions 
and even alterations with regard to speculative 
opinions, the discussion whereof is confined chiefly 
to schools, and which present nothing to the people 
that either strikes their imagination or affects their 
senses, they came to an accommodation about these 
without much labour, and even defined the great 
article concerning justification to their mutual satis¬ 
faction. But when they proceeded to points of 
jurisdiction, where the interest and authority of the 
Roman see were concerned, or to the rites and forms 
of external worship, where every change that could 
be made must be public and draw the observation 


h Goldast. Constit. Imper. ii. p. .182. 
i Sleidan, 267, tec. Pallav. 1. iv. c. 11. p. 130. 
Seckend. I. iii. 2.56. 


F. Paul, p. 86. 


of the people, there the catholics were altogether 
intractable ; nor could the church either with safety 
or with honour abolish its ancient institutions. All 
the articles relative to the power of the pope, the 
authority of councils, the administration of the 
sacraments, the worship of saints, and many other 
particulars, did not in their nature admit of any 
temperament; so that, after labouring long to bring 
about an accommodation with respect to these, the 
emperor found all his endeavours ineffectual. Being 
impatient, however, to close the diet, he at last pre¬ 
vailed on a majority of the members to approve of 
the following recess: “ That the arti- „ , 

u J\ ecess of the oiGt 

cles concerning which the divines had of Ratishon in 

# favour of a general 

agreed in the conference should be council^ 
held as points decided, and be ob¬ 
served inviolably by all ; that the other articles 
about which they had differed should be referred to 
the determination of a general council, or if that 
could not be obtained, to a national synod of Ger¬ 
many ; and if it should prove impracticable, like¬ 
wise, to assemble a synod, that a general diet of 
the empire should be called within eighteen months, 
in order to give some final judgment upon the whole 
controversy ; that the emperor should use all his 
interest and authority with the pope, to procure the 
meeting either of a general council or synod ; that, 
in the mean time, no innovations should be at¬ 
tempted, no endeavours should be employed to 
gain proselytes, and neither the revenues of the 
church nor the rights of monasteries should be 
invaded/’' 

All the proceedings of this diet, as 

p'jvpQ nffpnrp hnth 

well as the recess in which they ter- to papists and 

. , . . protestants. 

nunated, gave great oflence to the pope. 

The power which the Germans had assumed of ap¬ 
pointing their own divines to examine and determine 
matters of controversy, he considered as a very 
dangerous invasion of his rights; the renewing of 
their ancient proposal concerning a national synod, 
which had been so often rejected by him and his 
predecessors, appeared extremely undutiful: but 
the bare mention of allowing a diet, composed 
chiefly of laymen, to pass judgment with respect to 
articles of faith, was deemed no less criminal and 
profane than the worst of those heresies which they 
seemed zealous to suppress. On the other hand, 
the protestants were no less dissatisfied with a re¬ 
cess that considerably abridged the liberty which 

they enjoyed at that time. As they ch ar i es courts the 
murmured loudly against it, Charles, protestants. 

unwilling to leave any seeds of discontent in the 
empire, granted them a private declaration in the 
most ample terms, exempting them from whatever 
they thought oppressive or injurious in the recess, 
and ascertaining to them the full possession of all 
the privileges which they had ever enjoyed. k 

Extraordinary as these concessions Affairs of Hun- 
may appear, the situation of the em- gary> 

k Sleid. 283. Seckend. 366. Du Mont Corps Diplom. iv. part ii. p. 
210 . 



572 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1541. BOOK VI. 


peror’s affairs at this juncture made it necessary for 
him to grant them. He foresaw a rupture with 
France to be not only unavoidable but near at hand, 
and durst not give any such cause of disgust or fear 
to the protestants as might force them, in self-de¬ 
fence, to court the protection of the French king, 
from whom at present they were much alienated. 
The rapid progress of the Turks in Hungary was a 
more powerful and urgent motive to that modera¬ 
tion which Charles discovered. A great revolution 
had happened in that kingdom: John Zapol Scaepus 
having chosen, as has been related, rather to possess 
a tributary kingdom than to renounce the royal 
dignity to which he had been accustomed, had, by 
the assistance of his mighty protector Solyman, 
wrested from Ferdinand a great part of the country, 
and left him only the precarious possession of the 
rest. But being a prince of pacific qualities, the 
frequent attempts of Ferdinand, or of his partisans 
among the Hungarians, to recover what they had 
lost, greatly disquieted him; and the necessity on 
these occasions of calling in the Turks, whom he 
considered and felt to be his masters rather than 
auxiliaries, was hardly less mortifying. In order, 
therefore, to avoid these distresses, as well as to 
secure quiet and leisure for cultivating the arts and 
enjoying amusements in which he delighted, he 
_ secretly came to an agreement with his 

A. D. lo3o. 1 t t 

competitor, on this condition :—That 
Ferdinand should acknowledge him as king of 
Hungary, and leave him, during life, the unmolest¬ 
ed possession of that part of the kingdom now in 
his power; but that upon his demise the sole right 
of the whole should devolve upon Ferdinand. 1 As 
John had never been married, and was then far ad¬ 
vanced in life, the terms of the contract seemed very 
favourable to Ferdinand. But soon after, some of 
the Hungarian nobles, solicitous to prevent a fo¬ 
reigner from ascending their throne, prevailed on 
John to put an end to a long celibacy by marrying 
Isabella, the daughter of Sigismond, king of Poland. 

Death of the king J°l m had the satisfaction before his 
of Hungary, death, which happened within less 
than a year after his marriage, to see a son born to 
inherit his kingdom. To him, without regarding 
his treaty with Ferdinand, which he considered, no 
doubt, as void upon an event not foreseen when it 
was concluded, he bequeathed his crown ; appointing 
the queen and George Martinuzzi, bishop of War- 
adin, guardians of his son and regents of the king¬ 
dom. The greater part of the Hungarians imme¬ 
diately acknowledged the young prince as king, to 
whom, in memory of the founder of their monarchy, 
they gave the name of Stephen. m 

Ferdinand’s ef. Ferdinand, though extremely dis- 
forts to obtain the concerted by this unexpected event, 

crown. J 1 ’ 

resolved not to abandon the kingdom, 
which he flattered himself with having acquired by 
his compact with John. He sent ambassadors to 


1 Istuanhaffii Hist. Hung. lib. xii. p. 135 , 
m Jo%'ii. Hist. lib. xxxix. p. 23y, a, &c. 


the queen to claim possession, and to offer the pro¬ 
vince of Transylvania as a settlement for her son, 
preparing, at the same time, to assert his right by 
force of arms. But John had committed the care 
of his son to persons who had too much spirit to 
give up the crown tamely, and who possessed abili¬ 
ties sufficient to defend it. The queen, to all the 
address peculiar to her own sex, added a masculine 
courage, ambition, and magnanimity. Martinuzzi, 
who had raised himself from the lowest . , 

Character and 

rank in life to his present dignity, was Mar ‘ 

one of those extraordinary men who, 
by the extent as well as variety of their talents, are 
fitted to act a superior partin bustling and factious 
times. In discharging the functions of his ecclesi¬ 
astical office, he put on the semblance of an humble 
and austere sanctity. In civil transactions he dis¬ 
covered industry, dexterity, and boldness. During 
war he laid aside the cassock, and appeared on 
horseback with his scimitar and buckler, as active, 
as ostentatious, and as gallant, as any of his coun¬ 
trymen. Amidst all these different and contradic¬ 
tory forms which he could assume, an insatiable 
desire of dominion and authority was conspicuous. 
From such persons it was obvious what answer Fer¬ 
dinand had to expect. He soon perceived that he 
must depend on arms alone for recovering Hungary. 
Having levied, for this purpose, a considerable body 
of Germans, whom his partisans among the Hunga¬ 
rians joined with their vassals, he ordered them to 
march into that part of the kingdom which adhered 
to Stephen. Martinuzzi, unable to make head 
against such a powerful army in the field, satisfied 
himself with holding out the towns, all of which, 
especially Buda, the place of greatest consequence, 
he provided with every thing necessary for defence; 
and in the mean time he sent ambassa¬ 
dors to Solyman, beseeching him to 
extend towards the son the same imperial protec¬ 
tion which had so long maintained the father on his 
throne. The sultan, though Ferdinand used his 
utmost endeavours to thwart this negociation, and 
even offered to accept of the Hungarian crown on 
the same ignominious condition, of paying tribute 
to the Ottoman Porte, by which John had held it, 
saw such prospects of advantage from espousing 
the interest of the young king, that he instantly 
promised him his protection ; and commanding one 
army to advance forthwith towards Hungary, he 
himself followed with another. Meanwhile the Ger¬ 
mans, hoping to terminate the war by the reduction 
of a city in which the king and his mother were 
shut up, had formed the siege of Buda. Martinuzzi, 
having drawn thither the strength of the Hungarian 
nobility, defended the town with such courage and 
skill as allowed the Turkish forces time to come up 
to its relief. They instantly attacked the Germans, 
weakened by fatigue, diseases, and desertion, and 
defeated them with great slaughter." 

n Istuanhaffu Hist. Hung. lib. xiv. p. 150. 


Calls in the 
Turks. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


573 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1541.] 


Solyman’s unge- Solyman soon after joined his victo- 
nerous conduct. • , , . c 

nous troops, and being weary of so 
many expensive expeditions undertaken in defence 
ot dominions which were not his own, or being un¬ 
able to resist this alluring opportunity of seizing a 
kingdom while possessed by an infant under the 
guardianship of a woman and a priest, he allowed 
interested considerations to triumph with too much 
facility over the principles of honour and the senti¬ 
ments of humanity. What he planned ungene- 
rously, he obtained by fraud. Having prevailed on 
the queen to send her son, whom he pretended to 
be desirous of seeing, into his camp, and having, at 
the same time, invited the chief of the nobility to 
an entertainment there, while they, suspecting no 
treachery, gave themselves up to the mirth and jol¬ 
lity of the feast, a select band of troops, by the sul¬ 
tan’s orders, seized one of the gates of Buda. Being 
thus master of the capital, of the king’s person, and 
of the leading men among the nobles, he gave or¬ 
ders to conduct the queen, together with her son, to 
Transylvania, which province he allotted to them, 
and appointing a Basha to preside in Buda with a 
large body of soldiers, annexed Hungary to the 
Ottoman empire. The tears and complaints of the 
unhappy queen had no influence to change his pur¬ 
pose, nor could Martinuzzi either resist his absolute 
and incontrollable command or prevail on him to 
recall it.° 


Ferdinand’s over- Before the account of this violent 
turestosoiyman. usur p a tion reached Ferdinand, he was 

so unlucky as to have despatched other ambassa¬ 
dors to Solyman with a fresh representation of his 
right to the crown of Hungary, as well as a renewal 
of his formal overture to hold the kingdom of the 
Ottoman Porte, and to pay for it an annual tribute. 
This ill-timed proposal was rejected with scorn. 
The sultan, elated with success, and thinking that 
he might prescribe what terms he pleased to a 
prince who voluntarily proffered conditions so un¬ 
becoming his own dignity, declared that he would 
not suspend the operations of war unless Ferdinand 
instantly evacuated all the towns which he still 
held in Hungary, and consented to the imposition 
of a tribute upon Austria, in order to reimburse the 
sums which his presumptuous invasion of Hungary 
had obliged the Ottoman Porte to expend in defence 
of that kingdom .p 

In this state were the affairs of Hungary. As 
the unfortunate events there had either happened 
before the dissolution of the diet of Ratisbon, or 
were dreaded at that time, Charles saw the danger 
of irritating and inflaming the minds of the Ger¬ 
mans while a formidable enemy was ready to break 
into the empire, and perceived that he could not 
expect any vigorous assistance, either towards the 
recovery of Hungary or the defence of the Austrian 
frontier, unless he courted and satisfied the protest- 
ants. By the concessions which have been men¬ 


tioned he gained this point, and such liberal sup¬ 
plies both of men and money were voted for carrying 
on the war against the Turks, as left him under 
little anxiety about the security of Germany during 
the next campaign/ 

Immediately upon the conclusion Emperor visits 
of the diet the emperor set out for ltaly - 
Italy. As he passed through Lucca he had a short 
interview with the pope ; but nothing could be con¬ 
cluded concerning the proper method of composing 
the religious disputes in Germany, between two 
princes whose views and interests with regard to 
that matter were at this juncture so opposite. The 
pope’s endeavours to remove the causes of discord 
between Charles and Francis, and to extinguish 
those mutual animosities which threatened to break 
out suddenly into open hostility, were not more 
successful. 

The emperor’s thoughts were bent so 
entirely, at that time, on the great en- alainst P A d i«i ? ere 
terprise which he had concerted against a ' ld mo ‘ ive ° sof 
Algiers, that he listened with little attention to the 
pope’s schemes or overtures, and hastened to join 
his army and fleet/ 

Algiers still continued in that state of dependence 
on the Turkish empire to which Barbarossa had 
subjected it. Ever since he, as captain basha, 
commanded the Ottoman fleet, Algiers had been 
governed by Hascen Aga, a renegado eunuch, who, 
by passing through every station in the corsair’s 
service, had acquired such experience in war, that 
he was well fitted for a station which required a 
man of tried and daring courage. Hascen, in order 
to show how well he deserved that dignity, carried 
on his piratical depredations against the Christian 
states with amazing activity, and outdid, if possible, 
Barbarossa himself in boldness and cruelty. The 
commerce of the Mediterranean was greatly inter¬ 
rupted by his cruisers, and such frequent alarms 
given to the coast of Spain, that there was a neces¬ 
sity of erecting watch-towers at proper distances, 
and of keeping guards constantly on foot, in order 
to descry the approach of his squadrons, and to 
protect the inhabitants from their descents/ Of 
this the emperor had received repeated and cla¬ 
morous complaints from his subjects, who repre¬ 
sented it as an enterprise corresponding to his 
power, and becoming his humanity, to reduce Al¬ 
giers, which, since the conquest of Tunis, was the 
common receptacle of all the freebooters ; and to 
exterminate that lawless race, the implacable ene¬ 
mies of the Christian name. Moved partly by their en¬ 
treaties, and partly allured by the hope of adding to 
the glory which he had acquired by his last expedi¬ 
tion into Africa, Charles, before he left Madrid in his 
way to the Low Countries, had issued orders both 
in Spain and Italy to prepare a fleet and army for 
this purpose. No change in circumstances since 
that time could divert him from this resolution, or 


o Istuanhaffii Hist. Hung. lib. xiv. p. 56. Jovii Histor. lib. xxxix. p. 
'2476, &c. 


q Sleid.283. 

s Jovii Hist. 1. xl. p. 266. 


p Tstuanhaffii Hist. Hung. lib. xiv. p. 158. 
r Sandov. Histor. tom. ii. 298. 




574 


THE REIGN OF THE 


prevail on him to turn his arms towards Hungary, 
though the success of the Turks in that country 
seemed more immediately to require his presence 
there; though many of his most faithful adherents 
in Germany urged that the defence of the empire 
ought to be his first and peculiar care ; though such 
as bore him no good will ridiculed his preposterous 
conduct in flying from an enemy almost at hand, 
that he might go in quest of a remote and more 
ignoble foe. But to attack the sultan in Hungary, 
how splendid soever that measure might appear, 
was an undertaking which exceeded his power, and 
w as not consistent with his interest. To draw troops 
out of Spain or Italy, to march them into a country 
so distant as Hungary ; to provide the vast appa¬ 
ratus necessary for transporting thither the artillery, 
ammunition, and baggage of a regular army, and to 
push the war in that quarter, where there w r as little 
prospect of bringing it to an issue during several 
campaigns, were undertakings so expensive and un¬ 
wieldy as did not correspond with the low condition 
of the emperor’s treasury. While his principal 
force vvas thus employed, his dominions in Italy 
and the Low Countries must have lain open to the 
French king, who would not have allowed such a 
favourable opportunity of attacking them to go 
unimproved. Whereas the African expedition, the 
preparations for which were already finished, and 
almost the whole expense of it defrayed, w ould de¬ 
pend upon a single effort; and besides the security 
and satisfaction which the success of it must give 
his subjects, would detain him during so short a 
space, that Francis could hardly take advantage of 
his absence to invade his dominions in Europe. 

On all these accounts Charles ad- 

IIis preparations. jjci-ed hj s fi rs t plan, and with such 
determined obstinacy, that he paid no regard to the 
pope, who advised, or to Andrew Doria, who con¬ 
jured, him not to expose his whole armament to 
almost unavoidable destruction by venturing to ap¬ 
proach the dangerous coast of Algiers at such an 
advanced season of the year, and when the autum¬ 
nal winds were so violent. Having embarked on 
board Doria’s galleys at Porto-Venere in the Genoese 
territories, he soon found that this experienced 
sailor had not judged wrong concerning the element 
with which he was so well acquainted; for such a 
storm arose that it was with the utmost difficulty 
and danger he reached Sardinia, the place of general 
rendezvous. But as his courage was undaunted 
and his temper often inflexible, neither the remon¬ 
strances of the pope and Doria, nor the danger to 
which he had already been exposed by disregarding 
their advice, had any other effect than to confirm him 
in his fatal resolution. The force, indeed, which 
he had collected was such as might have inspired a 
prince less adventurous and less confident in his ow n 
schemes with the most sanguine hopes of success. 
It consisted of twenty thousand foot and two thou¬ 
sand horse, Spaniards, Italians, and Germans, 
mostly veterans, together with three thousand vo¬ 


[A. D. 1541. BOOK VI. 

lunteers, the flower of the Spanish and Italian no¬ 
bility, fond of paying court to the emperor by 
attending him in his favourite expedition, and 
eager to share in the glory which they believed he 
was going to reap ; to these w ere added a thousand 
soldiers sent from Malta by the order of St. John, 
led by a hundred of its most gallant knights. 

The vovage from Majorca to the 

. ,. Lands in Africa. 

African coast was not less tedious or 

full of hazard than that which he had just finished. 
When he approached the land, the roll of the sea 
and vehemence of the winds would not permit the 
troops to disembark. But at last the emperor, seizing 
a favourable opportunity, landed them without op¬ 
position not far from Algiers, and immediately ad¬ 
vanced towards the town. To oppose this mighty 
army Hascen had only eight hundred Turks and five 
thousand Moors, partly natives of Africa and partly 
refugees from Granada. He returned, however, a 
fierce and haughty answer when summoned to sur¬ 
render. But w ith such a handful of soldiers, neither 
his desperate courage nor consummate skill in war 
could have long resisted forces superior to those 
which had defeated Barbarossa at the head of sixty 
thousand men, and which had reduced Tunis in 
spite of all his endeavours to save it. 

But how far soever the emperor 
might think himself beyond the reach which befell his 
of any danger from the enemy, he was army ’ 
suddenly exposed to a more dreadful calamity, and 
one against which human prudence and human ef¬ 
forts avail nothing. On the second day after his 
landing, and before he had time for any thing but 
to disperse some light-armed Arabs who molested 
his troops on their march, the clouds began to gather 
and the heavens to appear with a fierce and threaten¬ 
ing aspect. Towards evening rain began to fall, 
accompanied with violent wind ; and the rage of 
the tempest increasing during the night, the soldiers, 
who had brought nothing ashore but their arms, 
remained exposed to all its fury, without tents or 
shelter, or cover of any kind. The ground was soon 
so w et that they could not lie down on it; their 
camp, being in a low situation, was overflow ed with 
water, and they sunk at every step to the ancles in 
mud, while the wind blew with such impetuosity, 
that, to prevent their falling, they were obliged to 
thrust their spears into the ground, and to support 
themselves by taking hold of them. Hascen was 
too vigilant an officer to allow' an enemy in such 
distiess to remain unmolested. About the daw n of 
morning he sallied out wdth soldiers, who having 
been screened from the storm under their ow r n roofs, 
were fresh and vigorous. A body of Italians who 
were stationed nearest the city, dispirited and be¬ 
numbed with cold, fled at the approach of the Turks. 
The ti oops attlie post behind them discovered greater 
courage ; but as the rain had extinguished their 
matches and wet their powder, their muskets were 
useless, and having scarcely strength to handle their 
other arms, they were soon thrown into confusion. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


575 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1541.] 

Almost the whole army, with the emperor himself 
in person, w as obliged to advance before the enemy 
could be repulsed, who, after spreading such general 
consternation, and killing a considerable number of 
men, retired at last in good order. 

and tket deling or remembrance of 

this loss and danger were quickly ob¬ 
literated by a more dreadful as well as affecting 
spectacle. It was now broad day ; the hurricane had 
abated nothing of its violence, and the sea appeared 
agitated with all the rage of which that destructive 
element is capable ; all the ships, on which alone 
the whole army knew that their safety and sub¬ 
sistence depended, were seen driven from their 
anchors, some dashing against each other, some beat 
to pieces on the rocks, many forced ashore, and not 
a few sinking in the waves. In less than an hour 
fifteen ships of war, and a hundred and forty 
transports with eight thousand men, perished ; and 
such of the unhappy crews as escaped the fury of 
the sea, were murdered without mercy by the Arabs, 
as soon as they reached land. The emperor stood 
in silent anguish and astonishment beholding this 
fatal event, which at once blasted all his hopes of 
success, and buried in the depths the vast stores 
which he had provided, as well for annoying the 
enemy as for subsisting his own troops. He had it 
notin his power to afford them any other assistance 
or relief than by sending some troops to drive away 
the Arabs, and thus delivering a few who were so 
fortunate as to get ashore from the cruel fate which 
their companions had met with. At last the wind 
began to fall, and to give some hopes that as many 
ships might escape as would be sufficient to save the 
army from perishing by famine, and transport them 
back to Europe. But these were only hopes: the 
approach of evening covered the sea with darkness ; 
and it being impossible for the officers aboard the 
ships which had outlived the storm, to send any in¬ 
telligence to their companions who were ashore, they 
remained during the night in all the anguish of 
suspense and uncertainty. Next day a boat de¬ 
spatched by Doria made shift to reach land, with 
information, that having w eathered out the storm, 
to which, during fifty years’ knowledge of the sea, 
he had never seen any equal in fierceness and horror, 
he had found it necessary to bear away with his 
shattered ships to Cape Metafuz. He advised the 
emperor, as the face of the sky was still lowering 
and tempestuous, to march with all speed to that 
place, w here the troops could re-embark with greater 
ease. 

Whatever comfort this intelligence 

Obliged to retreat. , n, ■ c , • , 

afforded Charles, from being assured 
that part of his fleet had escaped, was balanced by 
the new cares and perplexity in which it involved 
him with regard to his army. Metafuz was at least 
three days’ march from his present camp; all the 
provisions which he had brought ashore at his first 
landing were now consumed ; his soldiers, worn out 
with fatigue, were hardly able for such a march, 


even in a friendly country ; and being dispirited by 
a succession of hardships, which victory itself would 
scarcely have rendered tolerable, they were in no 
condition to undergo new toils. But the situation 
of the army was such as allowed not one moment 
for deliberation, nor left it in the least doubtful 
what to choose. They were ordered instantly to 
march, the wounded, the sick, and the feeble being 
placed in the centre ; such as seemed most vigorous 
were stationed in the front and rear. Then the sad 
effects of what they had suffered began to appear 
more manifestly than ever, and new calamities were 
added to all those which they had already endured. 
Some could hardly bear the weight of their arms ; 
others, spent with the toil of forcing their way 
through deep and almost impassable roads, sunk 
down and died ; many perished by famine, as the 
whole army subsisted chiefly on roots and berries, 
or the flesh of horses, killed by the emperor’s order, 
and distributed among the several battalions ; many 
were drowned in brooks, which were swoln so much 
by the excessive rains, that in passing them they 
waded up to the chin ; not a few were killed by the 
enemy, who, during the greatest part of their retreat, 
alarmed, harassed, and annoyed them night and 
day. At last they arrived at Metafuz ; and the 
weather being now so calm as to restore their com¬ 


munication with the fleet, they were supplied with 
plenty of provisions, and cheered with the prospect 
of safety. 

During this dreadful series of ca- His fortitude of 
lamities the emperor discovered great rn,nd - 
qualities, many of which a long-continued flow of 
prosperity had scarcely afforded him an opportunity 
of displaying. He appeared conspicuous for firm¬ 
ness and constancy of spirit, for magnanimity, for¬ 
titude, humanity, and compassion. He endured 
as great hardships as the meanest soldier; he ex¬ 
posed his own person wherever danger threatened ; 
he encouraged the desponding, visited the sick and 
wounded, and animated all by his words and ex¬ 
ample. When the army embarked he was among 
the last who left the shore, although a body of Arabs 
hovered at no great distance, ready to fall on the 
rear. By these virtues Charles atoned, in some 
degree, for his obstinacy and presumption in un¬ 
dertaking an expedition so fatal to his subjects. 

The calamities which attended this Returns to 
unfortunate enterprise did not end Europe, 
here; for no sooner were the forces got on board 
than a new storm arising, though less furious than 
the former, scattered the fleet, and obliged them, 
separately, to make towards such ports in Spain or 
Italy as they could first reach ; thus spreading the 
account of their disasters, with all the circumstances 
of aggravation and horror which their imagination, 
still under the influence of fear, suggested. The 
emperor himself, after escaping great dangers, and 
being forced into the port of Bugia in 
Africa, where he was obliged by con¬ 
trary winds to remain several weeks, arrived at last 


Dec. 2. 



576 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1541. BOOK VII. 


in Spain, in a condition very different from that in 
which he had returned from his former expedition 
against the infidels. 1 


BOOK VII. 

Renewal of bos- The calamities which the emperor 
cis iti and b 'his Fran suffered in his unfortunate enterprise 
motives for it. against Algiers were great; and the 
account of these, which augmented in proportion as 
it spread at a greater distance from the scene of his 
disasters, encouraged Francis to begin hostilities, on 
which he had been for some time resolved. But he 
did not think it prudent to produce as the motives of 
this resolution, either his ancient pretensions to the 
duchy of Milan, or the emperor’s disingenuity in 
violating his repeated promises with regard to the 
restitution of that country. The former might have 
been a good reason against concluding the truce of 
Nice, but was none for breaking it; the latter could 
not be urged without exposing his own credulity as 
much as the emperor’s want of integrity. A violent 
and unwarrantable action of one of the imperial 
generals furnished him with a reason to justify his 
taking arms, which was of greater weight than 
either of these, and such as would have roused him, 
if he had been as desirous of peace as he was eager 
for war. Francis, by signing the treaty of truce at 
Nice without consulting Solyman, gave (as he fore¬ 
saw) great offence to that haughty monarch, who 
considered an alliance with him as an honour of 
which a Christian prince had cause to be proud. 
The friendly interview of the French king with the 
emperor in Provence, followed by such extraordi¬ 
nary appearances of union and confidence which 
distinguished the reception of Charles when he 
passed through the dominions of Francis to the Low 
Countries, induced the sultan to suspect that the 
two rivals had at last forgotten their ancient enmity, 
in order that they might form such a general con¬ 
federacy against the Ottoman power as had been 
long wished for in Christendom, and often attempted 
in vain. Charles, with his usual art, endeavoured 
to confirm and strengthen these suspicions, by in¬ 
structing his emissaries at Constantinople, as well 
as in those courts with which Solyman held any 
intelligence, to represent the concord between him 
and Francis to be so entire, that their sentiments, 
views, and pursuits would be the same for the 
future. 41 It was not without difficulty that Francis 
effaced these impressions ; but the address of Rin¬ 
con, the French ambassador at the Porte, together 
with the manifest advantage of carrying on hostili¬ 
ties against the house of Austria in concert with 
France, prevailed at length on the sultan not only 
to banish his suspicions, but to enter into a closer 

t Carol. V. Expeditio ad Argyriam, per Nicolaum Villagnonem Equi- 
tem Rhodium, ap. Scardium, v. ii. 365. Jovii Ilist. 1. xl. p. 1269, &c. 
Vera v Zuniga Vidade Carlos V. p. 83. Sandov. Ilistor. ii. 239, &c. 


conjunction with Francis than ever. Rincon re¬ 
turned into France, in order to communicate to his 
master a scheme of the sultan’s for gaining the 
concurrence of the Venetians in their operations 
against the common enemy. Solyman having lately 
concluded a peace with that republic, to which the 
mediation of Francis and the good offices of Rincon 
had greatly contributed, thought it not impossible 
to allure the senate by such advantages as, together 
with the example of the French monarch, might 
overbalance any scruples arising either from decency 
or caution that could operate on the other side. Fran¬ 
cis, warmly approving of this measure, despatch¬ 
ed Rincon back to Constantinople, and directing 
him to go by Venice along with Fregoso, a Genoese 
exile, whom he appointed his ambassador to that 
republic, empowered them to negociate the matter 
with the senate, to whom Solyman had sent an 
envoy for the same purpose. b The marquis del 
Guasto, governor of the Milanese, an officer of great 
abilities, but capable of attempting and executing 
the most atrocious actions, got intelligence of the 
motions and destination of these ambassadors. As 
he knew how much his master wished to discover 
the intentions of the French king, and of what con¬ 
sequence it was to retard the execution of his mea¬ 
sures, he employed some soldiers belonging to the 
garrison of Pavia to lie in wait for The murder of 
Rincon and Fregoso as they sailed h's ^etejft^for” 
down the Po, who murdered them and thls> 
most of their attendants, and seized their papers. 
Upon receiving an account of this barbarous out¬ 
rage, committed during the subsistence of a truce 
against persons held sacred by the most uncivilized 
nations, Francis’s grief for the unhappy fate of two 
servants whom he loved and trusted, his uneasiness 
at the interruption of his schemes by their death, 
and every other passion, were swallowed up and lost 
in the indignation which this insult on the honour 
of his crown excited. He exclaimed loudly against 
Guasto, who having drawn upon himself all the 
infamy of assassination without making any disco¬ 
very of importance, as the ambassadors had left their 
instructions and other papers of consequence behind 
them, now boldly denied his being accessary in any 
wise to the crime. He sent an ambassador to the 
emperor to demand suitable reparation for an in¬ 
dignity which no prince, how inconsiderable or 
pusillanimous soever, could tamely endure : and 
when Charles, impatient at that time to set out on 
his African expedition, endeavoured to put him off 
with an evasive answer, he appealed to all the 
courts in Europe, setting forth the heinousness of 
the injury, the spirit of moderation with which he 
had applied for redress, and the iniquity of the em¬ 
peror in disregarding this just request. 

Notwithstanding the confidence with which Guasto 
asserted his own innocence, the accusations of the 
French gained greater credit than all his protesta- 

a Mem. de Ribier, tom. i. p. 502. 

b Hist, de Venet. de Paruta, iv. 125. 






EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


577 


BOOK VII. A. D. 1541.] 

tions; and Bellay, the French commander in 
Piedmont, procured at length, by his industry and 
address, such a minute detail of the transaction, 
with the testimony of so many of the parties con¬ 
cerned, as amounted almost to a legal proof of the 
marquis’s guilt. In consequence of this opinion of 
the public, confirmed by such strong evidence, 
Francis’s complaints were universally allowed to be 
well founded, and the steps which he took towards 
renewing hostilities were ascribed, not merely to 
ambition or resentment, but to the unavoidable 
necessity of vindicating the honour of his crown.' 

However just Francis might esteem his own cause, 
he did not trust so much to that as to neglect the 
proper precautions for gaining other allies besides 
the sultan, by whose aid he might counterbalance 
the emperor’s superior power. But his negociations 
to this effect were attended with very little success. 
Henry VIII., eagerly bent at that time upon schemes 
against Scotland, which he knew would at once 
dissolve his union with France, was inclinable 
rather to take part with the emperor than to contri¬ 
bute in any degree towards favouring the operations 
against him. The pope adhered inviolably to his 
ancient system of neutrality. The Venetians, not¬ 
withstanding Solyman’s solicitations, imitated the 
pope’s example. The Germans, satisfied with the 
religious liberty which they enjoyed, found it more 
their interest to gratify than to irritate the emperor ; 
so that the kings of Denmark and Sweden, who on 
this occasion were first drawn in to interest them¬ 
selves in the quarrels of the more potent monarchs 
of the south, and the duke of Cleves, who had a 
dispute with the emperor about the possession of 
Gueldres, were the only confederates whom Francis 
secured. But the dominions of the two former lay 
at such a distance, and the power of the latter was 
so inconsiderable, that he gained little by their 
alliance. 

But Francis by vigorous efforts of 
dustry in P re- his own activity supplied every de- 
panng for ^var. Being afflicted at this time with 

a distemper which was the effect of his irregular 
pleasures, and which prevented his pursuing them 
with the same licentious indulgence, he applied to 
business with more than his usual industry. The 
same cause which occasioned this extraordinary 
attention to his affairs, rendered him morose and 
dissatisfied with the ministers whom he had hitherto 
employed. This accidental peevishness being sharp¬ 
ened by reflecting on the false steps into which he 
had lately been betrayed, as well as the insults to 
which he had been exposed, some of those in whom 
he had usually placed the greatest confidence felt 
the effects of this change in his temper, and were 
deprived of their offices. At last he disgraced 
Montmorency himself, who had long directed af¬ 
fairs, as well civil as military, with all the authority 
of a minister no less beloved than trusted by his 
master ; and Francis being fond of showing that the 

c Bellay, 367, &c. Jovii Hist. lib. xl. 268. 

2 P 


fall of such a powerful favourite did not^Ml^ct the 
vigour or prudence of his administration, this was a 
new motive to redouble his diligence in preparing 
to open the war by some splendid and extraordinary 
effort. 

He accordingly brought into the field ]542 
five armies. One to act in Luxem- ^miesTmo the 6 
bourg under the duke of Orleans, ac- ,ield - 
companied by the duke of Lorraine as his instruc¬ 
tor in the art of war; another, commanded by the 
dauphin, marched towards the frontiers of Spain : a 
third, led by Van Rossem the marshal of Gueldres, 
and composed chiefly of the troops of Cleves, had 
Brabant allotted for the theatre of its operations ; a 
fourth, of which the duke of Vendomewas general, 
hovered on the borders of Flanders : the last, con¬ 
sisting of the forces cantoned in Piedmont, was 
destined for the admiral Annebaut. The dauphin 
and his brother were appointed to command where 
the chief exertions were intended and the greatest 
honour to be reaped; the army of the former 
amounted to forty thousand, that of the latter to 
thirty thousand, men. Nothing appears more sur¬ 
prising than that Francis did not pour with these 
numerous and irresistible armies into the Milanese, 
which had so long been the object of his wishes as 
well as enterprises, and that he should choose rather 
to turn almost his whole strength into another direc¬ 
tion and towards new conquests. But the remem¬ 
brance of the disasters which he had met with in 
his former expeditions into Italy, together with the 
difficulty of supporting a war carried on at such a 
distance from his own dominions, had gradually 
abated his violent inclination to obtain footing in 
that country, and made him willing to try the fortune 
of his arms in another quarter. At the same time 
he expected to make such a powerful impression on 
the frontier of Spain, where there were few towns 
of any strength and no army assembled to oppose 
him, as might enable him to recover possession of 
the country of Rousillon, lately dismembered from 
the French crown, before Charles could bring into 
the field any force able to obstruct his progress. 
The necessity of supporting his ally the duke of 
Cleves, and the hope of drawing a considerable 
body of soldiers out of Germany by his means, 
determined him to act with vigour in the Low 
Countries. 

The dauphin and duke of Orleans June 
opened the campaign much about the 1 heir operations,, 
same time; the former laying siege to Perpignan 
the capital of Rousillon, and the latter entering 
Luxembourg. The duke of Orleans pushed his 
operations with the greatest rapidity and success, 
one town falling after another, until no place in 
that large duchy remained in the emperor’s hands 
but Thionville. Nor could he have failed of over¬ 
running the adjacent provinces with the same ease, 
if he had not voluntarily stopt short in this career of 
victory. But a report prevailing that the emperor 



578 


THE REIGN OF THE 


lmd determined to hazard a battle in order to save 
Perpignan, on a sudden the duke, prompted by 
youthful ardour, or moved, perhaps, by jealousy of 
his brother, whom lie both envied and hated, aban¬ 
doned his own conquest, and hastened towards Rou- 
sillon, in order to divide with him the glory of-the 
victory. 

On his departure some of his troops were dis¬ 
banded, others deserted their colours, and the rest, 
cantoned in the towns which he had taken, remained 
inactive. By this conduct, which leaves a disho¬ 
nourable imputation either on his understanding or 
his heart, or on both, he not only renounced what¬ 
ever he could have hoped from such a promising 
commencement of the campaign, but gave the enemy 
an opportunity of recovering, before the end of sum¬ 
mer, all the conquests which he had gained. On 
the Spanish frontier the emperor was not so incon¬ 
siderate as to venture on a battle, the loss of which 
might have endangered his kingdom. Perpignan, 
though poorly fortified and briskly attacked, having 
been largely supplied with ammunition and pro¬ 
visions by the vigilance of Doria, d was defended so 
long and so vigorously by the duke of Alva, the 
persevering obstinacy of whose temper fitted him 
admirably for such a service, that at last the French, 
after a siege of three months, w asted by diseases, 
repulsed in several assaults, and despairing of suc¬ 
cess, relinquished the undertaking and retired into 
their own country. e Thus all Francis’s mighty pre¬ 
parations, either from some defect in his own con¬ 
duct or from the superior power and prudence of 
his rival, produced no effects which bore any pro¬ 
portion to his expense and efforts, or such as gra¬ 
tified, in any degree, his own hopes, or answered 
the expectation of Europe. The only solid advan¬ 
tage of the campaign was the acquisition of a few 
towns in Piedmont, which Bellay gained rather by 
stratagem and address than by force of arms/ 

1543 TheemperorandFrancis,though both 

anofh a er a cam S f ° r considerably exhausted by such great 
paign - but indecisive efforts, discovering no 

abatement of their mutual animosity, employed all 
their attention, tried every expedient, and turned 
themselves towards every quarter, in order to ac¬ 
quire new allies, together with such a reinforcement 
of strength as would give them the superiority in 
the ensuing campaign. Charles, taking advantage 
of the terror and resentment of the Spaniards upon 
the sudden invasion of their country, prevailed on 
the Cortes of the several kingdoms to grant him 
subsidies with a more liberal hand than usual. At 
the same time he borrowed a large sum from John, 
king of Portugal, and, by way of security for his 
repayment, put him in possession of the Molucca 
Isles in the East Indies, with the gainful commerce 
of precious spices which that sequestered corner of 
the globe yields. Not satisfied with this, he nego¬ 
tiated a marriage between Philip his only son, now 

d Sigonii Vita A. Doriae, p. 1191. 

e Sandov. Hist. tom. ii. 315. 

f Ibid. ii. 318. bellay, 387, <Scc. Ferrer, ix. 237, 


[A. I). 1543. BOOK VII. 


in his sixteenth year, and Mary, daughter of that 
monarch, with whom her father, the most opulent 
prince in Europe, gave a large dower; and having 
likewise persuaded the Cortes of Aragon and Va- 
lentia to recognise Philip as the heir of these crowns, 
he obtained from them the donative usual on such 
occasions.* These extraordinary supplies enabled 
him to make such additions to his forces in Spain, 
that he could detach a great body into the Low 
Countries, and yet reserve as many as were suffi¬ 
cient for the defence of the kingdom. Having thus 
provided for the security of Spain, and committed 
the government of it to his son, he sailed for Italy, 
in his waj to Germany. But how at- M 
tentive soever to raise the funds for 
carrying on the w ; ar, or eager to grasp at any new ex¬ 
pedient for that purpose, he was not so inconsider¬ 
ate as to accept of an overture which Paul, know¬ 
ing his necessities, artfully threw out to him. That 
ambitious pontiff, no less sagacious to discern than 
watchful to seize opportunities of aggrandizing his 
family, solicited him to grant Octavio his grand¬ 
child, whom the emperor had admitted to the honour 
of being his son-in-law r , the investiture of the duchy 
of Milan, in return for which he promised such a 
sum of money as would have gone far tow ards sup¬ 
plying all his present exigences. But Charles, as 
well from unwillingness to alienate a province of 
so much value as from disgust at the pope, w ho had 
hitherto refused to join in the war against France, 
rejected the proposal. His dissatisfaction with Paul 
at that juncture was so great, that he even refused to 
approve his alienating Parma and Placentia from 
the patrimony of St. Peter, and settling them on his 
son and grandson as a fief to be held of the holy 
see. As no other expedient for raising money among 
the Italian states remained, he consented to with¬ 
draw the garrisons which he had hitherto kept in 
the citadels of Florence and Leghorn ; in considera¬ 
tion for which, he received a large present from 
Cosmo di Medici, who by this means secured his 
own independence, and got possession of two forts 
which were justly called the fetters of Tuscany. 1 ' 

But Charles, while he seemed to 
have turned his whole attention to- nelod^tPo^Ctth 
wards raising the sums necessary for Henry vul - 
defraying the expenses of the year, had not been 
negligent of objects more distant though no less 
important, and had concluded a league offensive 
and defensive with Henry VIII. from which he 
derived, in the end, greater advantage than from 
all his other preparations. Several slight circum¬ 
stances which have already been mentioned had 
begun to alienate the affections of that monarch 
from Francis, with whom he had been for some 
time in close alliance, and new incidents of greater 
moment had occurred to increase his 
disgust and animosity. Henry, de- wi^ ry France P S 
sirous of establishing an uniformity Scotland> 


g Fen-eras, ix. 238,241. Jovii Hist. lib. xlii. 298 b. 
r h / d (J aD , 1 . I s toii a il95. Sleid. 312. Jovii Hist. lib. xlii. p. 301. Vita 
di Cos Medici di Baldini, p. 34. t 



EXfPEIlOR CHARLES V. 


579 


BOOK VII. A. D. 1543.] 


in religion in both the British kingdoms, as well as 
fond of making proselytes to his own opinions, had 
formed a scheme of persuading his nephew the king 
of Scots to renounce the pope’s supremacy, and to 
adopt the same system of reformation which he had 
introduced into England. This measure he pursued 
with his usual eagerness and impetuosity, making 
such advantageous oilers to James, whom he con¬ 
sidered as not over-scrupulously attached to any 
religious tenets, that he hardly doubted of success. 
His propositions were accordingly received in such 
a manner that he flattered himself with having 
gained his point. But the Scottish ecclesiastics, 
foreseeing how fatal the union of their sovereign 
with England must prove both to their own power 
and to the established system of religion, and the 
partisans of France, no less convinced that it would 
put an end to the influence of that crown upon the 
public councils of Scotland, combined together, 
and by their insinuations defeated Henry’s scheme 
at the very moment w hen he expected it to have 
taken effect. 1 2 Too haughty to brook such a disap¬ 
pointment, which he imputed as much to the arts of 
the French as to the levity of the Scottish monarch, 
he took arms against Scotland, threatening to sub¬ 
due the kingdom, since he could not gain the 
friendship of its king. At the same time his resent¬ 
ment against Francis quickened his negociations 
with the emperor, an alliance with whom he was 
now as forward to accept as the other could be to 
offer it. During this war with Scotland, and be¬ 
fore the conclusion of his negociations w ith Charles, 
James V. died, leaving his crown to Mary his only 
daughter, an infant a few days old. Upon this 
event Henry altered at once his whole system with 
regard to Scotland, and abandoning all thoughts of 
conquering it, aimed at what was more advantage¬ 
ous as well as more practicable, an union with that 
kingdom by a marriage between Edward his only 
son and the young queen. But here, too, he appre¬ 
hended a vigorous opposition from the French fac¬ 
tion in Scotland, which began to bestir itself in 
order to thwart the measure. The necessity of 
crushing this party among the Scots, and of pre¬ 
venting Francis from furnishing them any effectual 
aid, confirmed Henry’s resolution of breaking with 
France, and pushed him on to put a finishing hand 
to the treaty of confederacy with the emperor. 

Feh n In this league were contained, first 

chides 6 ani ween a ^> articles for securing their future 
Henry. amity and mutual defence ; then were 

enumerated the demands which they were respect¬ 
ively to make upon Francis ; and the plan of their 
operations was fixed, if he should refuse to grant 
them satisfaction. They agreed to require that 
Francis should not only renounce his alliance with 
Solyman, which had been the source of infinite ca¬ 
lamities to Christendom, but also that he should 
make reparation for the damages which that unna¬ 

i Hist, of Scotland, book i. p. 21 ,svpra. 

k Kym. xiv. 768. Herb. 238. 

2 v 2 


tural union had occasioned ; that he should restore 
Burgundy to the emperor ; that he should desist 
immediately from hostilities, and leave Charles at 
leisure to oppose the common enemy of the Chris¬ 
tian faith ; and that he should immediately pay the 
sums due to Henry, or put some towns in his hands 
as security to that effect. If within forty days he 
did not comply with these demands, they then en¬ 
gaged to invade France each with twenty thousand 
foot and five thousand horse, and not to lay down 
their arms until they had recovered Burgundy, to¬ 
gether with the towns on the Somme, for the em¬ 
peror, and Normandy and Guienne, or even the 
whole realm of France, for Henry. k Their heralds 
accordingly set out w ith these haughty requisitions ; 
and though they were not permitted to enter France, 
the tw o monarchs held themselves fully entitled to 
execute whatever was stipulated in their treaty. 

Francis, on his part, was not less 

.... . . - , Francis’s negoci- 

diligent in preparing tor the approach- ation with soiy- 

ing campaign. Having early observed 
symptoms of Henry’s disgust and alienation, and 
finding all his endeavours to soothe and reconcile 
him ineffectual, he knew his temper too well not to 
expect that open hostilities would quickly follow 
upon this cessation of friendship. For this reason 
he redoubled his endeavours to obtain from Soly¬ 
man such aid as might counterbalance the great 
accession of strength which the emperor would re¬ 
ceive by his alliance with England. In order to 
supply the place of the two ambassadors who had 
been murdered by Guasto, he sent as his envoy, 
first to Venice and then to Constantinople, Paulin, 
who, though in no higher rank than a captain of 
foot, w as deemed w orthy of being raised to this im¬ 
portant station, to which he was recommended by 
Bellay, who had trained him to the arts of negoci- 
ation, and made trial of his talents and address on 
several occasions. Nor did he belie the opinion 
conceived of his courage and abilities. Hastening 
to Constantinople, without regarding the dangers to 
which he was exposed, he urged his master’s de¬ 
mands with such boldness, and availed himself of 
every circumstance with such dexterity, that he 
soon removed all the sultan’s difficulties. As some 
of the bashaws, swayed either by their own opinion 
or influenced by the emperor’s emissaries, who had 
made their way even into this court, had declared 
in the divan against acting in concert with France, 
he found means either to convince or silence them. 1 
At last he obtained orders for Barbarossa to sail 
with a pow erful fleet, and to regulate all his opera¬ 
tions by the directions of the French king. Francis 
was not equally successful in his attempts to gain 
the princes of the empire. The extraordinary ri¬ 
gour with which he thought it necessary to punish 
such of his subjects as had embraced the protestant 
opinions, in order to give some notable evidence of 
his own zeal for the catholic-faith, and to wipe off the 

I Sandov. llistor. tom. ii. 316. Jovii Ilist. lib. xli. 285, &c. 300, &;c 
Bran tome. 



580 


THE REIGN OF THE 


imputations to which he was liable from his confe¬ 
deracy with the Turks, placed an insuperable bar¬ 
rier between him and such of the Germans as inter¬ 
est or inclination would have prompted most readily 
to join him. 1 " His chief advantage, however, over 
the emperor he derived on this, as on other occasions, 
from the contiguity of his dominions, as well as from 
the extent of the royal authority in France, which 
exempted him from all the delays and disappoint¬ 
ments unavoidable wherever popular assemblies 
provide for the expenses of government by occa¬ 
sional and frugal subsidies. Hence his domestic 
preparations were always carried on with vigour 
and rapidity, while those of the emperor, unless 
when quickened by some foreign supply or some 
temporary expedient, were extremely slow and 
dilatory. 

Operations in the L '">S before any army was in readi- 
Low Countries. ness to 0 pp 0se him, Francis took the 

field in the Low Countries, against which he turned 

the whole weight of the war. He made himself 

master of Landrecy, which he determined to keep 

as the key to the whole province of Hainault, and 

ordered it to be fortified with great care. Turning 

from thence to the right, he entered the duchy of 

Luxembourg, and found it in the same defenceless 

state as in the former year. While he was thus 

employed, the emperor, having drawn together an 

army composed of all the different nations subject 

to his government, entered the territories of the 

duke of Cleves, on whom he had vowed to inflict 

exemplary vengeance. This prince, whose conduct 

and situation were similar to that of Robert de la 

Mark in the first war between Charles and Francis, 

resembled him likewise in his fate. Unable with 

his feeble army to face the emperor, who advanced 

at the head of forty-four thousand men, he retired at 

his approach ; and the imperialists being at liberty 

to act as they pleased, immediately invested Duren. 

The emperor be- That town, though gallantly defended, 

comes master of . 

the duchy of was taken by assault; all the mhabit- 

Cleves, 

August 24 . ants were put to the sword, and the 
place itself reduced to ashes. This dreadful exam¬ 
ple of severity struck the people of the country with 
such general terror, that all the other towns, even 
such as were capable of resistance, sent their keys 
to the emperor; and before a body of French 
detached to his assistance could come up, the duke 
himself was obliged to make his submission to 
Charles in the most abject manner. Being ad¬ 
mitted into the imperial presence, he kneeled, 
together with eight of his principal subjects, and 
implored mercy. The emperor allowed him to 
remain in that ignominious posture, and eyeing him 
with a haughty and severe look, without deigning 
to answer a single word, remitted him to his minis¬ 
ters. The conditions, however, which they pre¬ 
scribed were not so rigorous as he had reason to 
have expected after such a reception. He was 


[A. D. 1543. BOOK VII. 


Sept. 7* 


obliged to renounce his alliance with 
France and Denmark; to resign all his 
pretensions to the duchy of Gueldres ; to enter into 
perpetual amity with the emperor and king of the 
Romans. In return for which, all his hereditary 
dominions were restored except two towns, which 
the emperor kept as pledges of the duke’s fidelity 
during the continuance of the war; and he was 
reinstated in his privileges as a prince of the empire. 
Not long after, Charles, as a proof of the sincerity 
of his reconcilement, gave him in marriage one of 
the daughters of his brother Ferdinand." 

Having thus chastised the presump- Besieges 
tion of the duke of Cleves, detached Landrecy. 
one of his allies from Francis, and annexed to his 
own dominions in the Low Countries a considerable 
province which lay contiguous to them, Charles 
advanced towards Hainault, and laid siege to Land¬ 
recy. There, as the first-fruits of his alliance with 
Henry, he was joined by six thousand English 
under Sir John Wallop. The garrison, consisting 
of veteran troops commanded by De la Lande and 
Desse, two officers of reputation, made a vigorous 
resistance. Francis approached with all his forces 
to relieve that place; Charles covered the siege; 
both were determined to hazard an engagement; 
and all Europe expected to see this contest, which 
had continued so long, decided at last by a battle 
between two great armies, led by their respective 
monarchs in person. But the ground which sepa¬ 
rated their two camps was such as put the disad¬ 
vantage manifestly on his side who should venture 
to attack, and neither of them chose to run that 
risk. Amidst a variety of movements, in order to 
draw the enemy into the snare or to avoid it them¬ 
selves, Francis, with admirable conduct and equal 
good fortune, threw first a supply of fresh troops, 
and then a convoy of provisions, into the town ; so 
that the emperor, despairing of success, withdrew 
into winter-quarters, 0 in order to preserve his army 
from being entirely ruined by the rigour of the 
season. 

During this campaign Solyman ful- 

a , Solyman invades 

tilled his engagements to the French Hungary. 

, . . al . , „ , . ISovember. 

king with great punctuality. He him¬ 
self marched into Hungary with a numerous army ; 
and as the princes of the empire made no great 
effort to save a country which Charles, by employ¬ 
ing his own force against Francis, seemed willing 
to sacrifice, there was no appearance of any body of 
troops to oppose his progress. He besieged, one 
after another, Quinque Ecclesiae, Alba, and Gran, 
the three most considerable towns in the kingdom, 
of which Ferdinand had kept possession. The first 
was taken by storm; the other two surrendered ; 
and the whole kingdom, a small corner excepted, 
was subjected to the Turkish yoke.P About the 
same time Barbarossa sailed with a Barbarossa . s 
fleet of a hundred and ten galleys, descent on Italy. 


m Seek. lib. iii. 40.3. 

n Haraei Annal. Brabant, tom. i. 628. Recueil ties Traitez, tom. ii. 226. 


o Bellay, 405, &c. 

p Istuanhafft Hist. Hung. lib. xv. 167. 



BOOK VII. A. D. 1543.] EMPEROR 

and coasting along the shore of Calabria, made a 
descent at Rheggio, which he plundered and burnt; 
and advancing from thence to the mouth of the 
Tiber, he stopped there to water. The citizens of 
Rome, ignorant of his destination, and tilled with 
terror, began to fly with such general precipitation, 
that the city would hav^ been totally deserted if 
they had not resumed courage upon letters from 
Paulin the French envoy, assuring them that no 
violence or injury would be offered by the Turks to 
any state in alliance with the king his master.' 1 
From Ostia Barbarossa sailed to Marseilles, and 
being joined by the French fleet with a body of land 
forces on board under the count d’Enguien, a gal¬ 
lant young prince of the house of Bourbon, they 
directed their course towards Nice, the sole retreat 
of the unfortunate duke of Savoy. There, to the 
astonishment and scandal of all Chris¬ 
tendom, the lilies of France and cres¬ 
cent of Mahomet appeared in conjunction against a 
fortress on which the cross of Savoy was displayed. 
The town, however, was bravely defended against 
their combined force by Montfort a Savoyard gen¬ 
tleman, who stood a general assault, and repulsed 
the enemy with great loss, before he retired into the 
castle. That fort, situated upon a rock, on which 
the artillery made no impression, and which could 
not be undermined, he held out so long, that Doria 
had time to approach with his fleet, and the marquis 
del Guasto to march with a body of troops from 
Milan. Upon intelligence of this the 
French and Turks raised the siege/ 
and Francis had not even the consolation of success, 
to render the infamy which he drew on himself by 
calling in such an auxiliary more pardonable. 

Preparations for a Fr0m the Sma11 P™greSS of either 

new campaign. p ar ty during this campaign, it was 

obvious to what a length the war might be drawn 
out between two princes whose power was so equally 
balanced, and who, by their own talents or activity, 
could so vary and multiply their resources. The 
trial which they had now made of each other’s 
strength might have taught them the imprudence of 
persisting in a war wherein there was greater ap¬ 
pearance of their distressing their own dominions 
than of conquering those of their adversary, and 
should have disposed both to wish for peace. If 
Charles and Francis had been influenced by con¬ 
siderations of interest or prudence alone, this, with¬ 
out doubt, must have been the manner in which 
they would have reasoned. But the personal ani¬ 
mosity which mingled itself in all their quarrels 
had grown to be so violent and implacable, that, 
for the pleasure of gratifying it, they disregarded 
every thing else ; and were infinitely more solicitous 
how to hurt each other, than how to secure what 
would be of advantage to themselves. No sooner, 
then, did the season force them to suspend hostili¬ 
ties, than, without paying attention to the pope’s 

q Jovii Hist. lib. xliii. 304, &c. Pallavic. 160. 

r Guichenon Ilistoire de Savoye, torn. l. p. bol. Bellay, 4.5. &c. 


CHARLES V. 


581 


Affairs of 
Germany. 


repeated endeavours or paternal exhortations to 
re-establish peace, they began to provide for the 
operations of the next year with new vigour, and an 
activity increasing with their hatred. Charles turned 
his chief attention towards gaining the princes of 
the empire, and endeavoured to rouse the formidable 
but unwieldy strength of the Germanic body against 
Francis. In order to understand the 
propriety of the steps which he took 
for that purpose, it is necessary to review the chief 
transactions in that country since the diet of Ratis- 
bon in the year one thousand five hundred and 
forty-one. 

Much about the time that assembly „ . 

^ Maurice of 

broke up, Maurice succeeded his father saxony succeeds 
Henry in the government of that part 
of Saxony w hich belonged to the Albertine branch 
of the Saxon family. This young prince, then only 
in his twentieth year, had, even at that early period, 
begun to discover the great talents which qualified 
him for acting such a distinguished part in the 
affairs of Germany. As soon as he entered upon 
the administration, he struck out into such a new 
and singular path as showed that he aimed from 
the beginning at something great and uncommon. 
Though zealously attached to the pro- 

. J The views and 

testant opinions, both from education conduct of this 

r young prince. 

and principle, he refused to accede to 
the league of Smalkalde, being determined, as he 
said, to maintain the purity of religion, which was 
the original object of that confederacy, but not to 
entangle himself in the political interests or combi¬ 
nations to which it had given rise. At the same 
time foreseeing a rupture between Charles and the 
confederates of Smalkalde, and perceiving which of 
them was most likely to prevail in the contest, in¬ 
stead of that jealousy and distrust which the other 
protestants expressed of all the emperor’s designs, 
he affected to place in him an unbounded confi¬ 
dence, and courted his favour with the utmost 
assiduity. When the other protestants, in the year 
fifteen hundred and forty-two, either declined as¬ 
sisting Ferdinand in Hungary, or afforded him re¬ 
luctant and feeble aid, Maurice marched thither in 
person, and rendered himself conspicuous by his 
zeal and courage. From the same motive he had 
led to the emperor’s assistance, during the last 
campaign, a body of his own troops ; and the grace¬ 
fulness of his person, his dexterity in all military 
exercises, together with his intrepidity, which court¬ 
ed and delighted in danger, did not distinguish him 
more in the field than his great abilities and in¬ 
sinuating address won upon the emperor’s confi¬ 
dence and favour. 8 While by this conduct, which 
appeared extraordinary to those who held the same 
opinions with him concerning religion, Maurice 
endeavoured to pay court to the emperor, he began 
to discover some degree of jealousy of his cousin 
the elector of Saxony. This, which proved in the 


s Sleid. 317. Seek. 1. iii. 371, 386, 428. 




582 


THE REIGN OF THE 


March 3. 


sequel so fatal to the elector, had almost occasioned 
an open rupture between them; and soon after 
Maurice’s accession to the government, they both 
took arms with equal rage, upon account of a dis¬ 
pute about the right of jurisdiction over a paltry 
town situated on the Moldaw. They were pre¬ 
vented, however, from proceeding to action by the 
mediation of the landgrave of Hesse, whose daughter 
Maurice had married, as well as by the powerful 
and authoritative admonitions of Luther. 1 
.... Amidst these transactions, the pope, 

_l ne pope pro- 

general 0 council though extremely irritated at the em- 
at Trent. peror’s concessions to the protestants 

at the diet of Ratisbon, was so warmly solicited on 
all hands by such as were most devoutly attached 
to the see of Rome, no less than by those whose 
fidelity or designs he suspected, to summon a general 
council, that he found it impossible to avoid any 
longer calling that assembly. The impatience for 
its meeting, and the expectations of great effects 
from its decisions, seemed to grow in proportion to 
the difficulty of obtaining it. He still adhered, 
however, to his original resolution of holding it in 
some town of Italy, where, by the number of eccle¬ 
siastics, retainers to his court and depending on 
his favour, who could repair to it without difficulty 
or expense, he might influence and even direct all 
its proceedings. This proposition, though often re¬ 
jected by the Germans, he instructed his nuncio to 
the diet held at Spires, in the year one 
thousand five hundred and forty-two, 
to renew once more ; and if he found it gave no 
greater satisfaction than formerly, he empowered 
him, as a last concession, to propose for the place 
of meeting Trent, a city in the Tyrol, subject to the 
king of the Romans, and situated on the confines 
between Germany and Ttaly. The catholic princes 
in the diet, after giving it as their opinion that the 
council might have been held with greater advantage 
in Ratisbon, Cologne, or some of the great cities of 
the empire, were at length induced to approve of 
the place which the pope had named. The protes¬ 
tants unanimously expressed their dissatisfaction, 
and protested that they would pay no regard to a 
council held beyond the precincts of the empire, 
called by the pope’s authority, and in which he as¬ 
sumed the right of presiding." 

The pope, without taking any notice 
summons it to of their objections, published the bull 
of intimation, named three cardinals 
to preside as his legates, and appointed them to 
repair to Trent before the first of November, the day 
he had fixed for opening the council. But if Paul 
had desired the meeting of a council as sincerely 
as he pretended, he would not have pitched on such 
an improper time for calling it. Instead of that 
general union and tranquillity without which the 
deliberations of a council could neither be conducted 
with security nor attended with authority, such a 

t. Sleid. 292. Seek. 1. iii. 403. 
ti Sleid. 291. Seek. 1. iii. 283. 
x F. Paul, p. 97. Sleid. 296. 


[ A. D. 1643. BOOK VII. 

fierce war was just kindled between the emperor 
and Francis, as rendered it impossible for the ec¬ 
clesiastics from many parts of Europe to resort 
thither in safety. The legates, accordingly, re¬ 
mained several months in Trent; but as obliged to pro- 
no person appeared there except a few 
prelates from the ecclesiastical state, the pope, in 
order to avoid the ridicule and contempt which this 
drew upon him from the enemies of the church, re¬ 
called them and prorogued the council.'* 

Unhappily for the authority of the ^ emperor 
papal see, at the very time that the courts the protes 
German protestants took every occa¬ 
sion of pouring contempt upon it, the emperor and 
king of the Romans found it necessary not only to 
connive at their conduct, but to court their favour 
by repeated acts of indulgence. In the same diet 
of Spires in which they had protested in the most 
disrespectful terms against assembling a council at 
Trent, Ferdinand, who depended on their aid for 
the defence of Hungary, not only permitted that 
protestation to be inserted in the records of the diet, 
but renewed in their favour all the emperor’s con¬ 
cessions at Ratisbon, adding to them whatever they 
demanded for their further security. Among other 
particulars he granted a suspension of a decree of 
the imperial chamber against the city of Goslar, 
(one of those which had entered into the league of 
Smalkalde,) on account of its having seized the 
ecclesiastical revenues within its domains, and 
enjoined Henry, duke of Brunswick, to desist from 
his attempts to carry that decree into execution. 
But Henry, a furious bigot, and no less obstinate 
than rash in all his undertakings, continuing to 

disquiet the people of Goslar by his Their vigorous 
incursions, the elector of Saxony and proceedings. 

Landgrave of Hesse, that they might not suffer any 
member of the Smalkaldic body to be oppressed, 
assembled their forces, declared war in form against 
Henry, and in the space of a few weeks stripping 
him entirely of his dominions, drove him as a 
wretched exile to take refuge in the court of Bavaria. 
By this act of vengeance, no less severe than sudden, 
they filled all Germany with dread of their power, 
and the confederates of Smalkalde appeared by this 
first effort of their arms to be as ready as they were 
able to protect those who had joined the association.* 

Imboldened by so many concessions in their fa¬ 
vour, as well as by the progress which their opinions 
daily made, the princes of the league of Smalkalde 
took a solemn protest against the imperial chamber, 
and declined its jurisdiction for the future, because 
that court had not been visited or reformed accord¬ 
ing to the decree of Ratisbon, and continued to dis¬ 
cover a most indecent impartiality in all its pro¬ 
ceedings. Not long after this they ventured a step 
further; and protesting against the recess of a diet 
held at Nuremberg, which provided for Apri] C3 
the defence of Hungary, refused to 1543, 

y Sleid. 296. Commemoratio succincta Causarum Belli. &c. a Smal- 
kaldicis contra Henr. Brunsw. ab iisdem edita: ap. Scardium, tom. ii. 
307. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


58!) 


BOOK VII. A. D. 1544.] 

furnish their contingent for that purpose unless the 
imperial chamber were reformed, and full security 
were granted them in every point with regard to 


religion. 2 


Diet at Spires, 
1544. 


Such were the lengths to which the 
protestants had proceeded, and such 
their confidence in their own power, when the em¬ 
peror returned from the Low Countries to hold a 
diet which he had summoned to meet at Spires. The 
respect due to the emperor, as well as the import¬ 
ance of the affairs which were to be laid before it, 
rendered this assembly extremely full. All the 
electors, a great number of princes, ecclesiastical 
and secular, with the deputies of most of the cities, 
were present. Charles soon perceived that this was 
not a time to offend the jealous spirit of the protes¬ 
tants, by asserting in any high tone the authority 
and doctrines of the church, or by abridging in the 
smallest article the liberty which they now enjoyed ; 
but that, on the contrary, if he expected any sup¬ 
port from them, or wished to preserve Germany from 
intestine disorders while he was engaged in a foreign 
war, he must soothe them by new concessions and a 
more ample extension of their religious privileges. 
He began, accordingly, with courting the elector of 
Saxony and landgrave of Hesse, the heads of the 
protestant party; and by giving up some things in 
their favour, and granting liberal promises with re¬ 
gard to others, he secured himself from any danger 
of opposition on their part. Having 
soifcftTFts^d gained this capital point, he then ven- 
rtstUn: ’t il ‘ tnce ' tured to address the diet with greater 
freedom. He began by representing his own zeal 
and unwearied efforts with regard to two things 
most essential to Christendom, the procuring of a 
general council in order to compose the religious 
dissensions which had unhappily arisen in Ger¬ 
many, and the providing some proper means for 
checking the formidable progress of the Turkish 
arms. But he observed with deep regret that his 
pious endeavours had been entirely defeated by the 
unjustifiable ambition of the French king, who 
having wantonly kindled the flame of war in Eu¬ 
rope, which had been so lately extinguished by the 
truce of Nice, rendered it impossible for the fathers 
of the church to assemble in council or to deliberate 
with security; and obliged him to employ those 
forces in his own defence, which, with greater sa¬ 
tisfaction to himself as well as more honour to 
Christendom, he would have turned against the 
infidels: that Francis, not thinking it enough to 
have called him off from opposing the Mahometans, 
had, with unexampled impiety, invited them into 
the heart of Christendom, and joining his arms to 
theirs, had openly attacked the duke of Savoy, a 
member of the empire : that Barbarossa’s fleet was 
now in one of the ports of France, w aiting only the 
return of spring to carry terror and desolation to 
the coast of some Christian state: that in such a 
situation it was folly to think of distant expeditions 

z Sleid. 304, 307- Seek. 1. iii. 101, 416. 


against the Turk, or of marching to oppose his 
armies in Hungary, while such a powerful ally re¬ 
ceived him into the centre of Europe, and gave him 
footing there. It was a dictate of prudence, he 
added, to oppose the nearest and most imminent 
danger first of all, and by humbling the power of 
France, to deprive Solyman of the advantages which 
he derived from the unnatural confederacy formed 
between him and a monarch who still arrogated the 
name of Most Christian: that, in truth, a war against 
the French king and the sultan ought to be con¬ 
sidered as the same thing ; and that every advantage 
gained over the former was a severe and sensible 
blow to the latter. On all these accounts he con¬ 
cluded with demanding their aid against Francis, 
not merely as an enemy of the Germanic bodjq 
or of him who was its head, but as an avowed ally 
of the infidels and a public enemy to the Christian 
name. 

In order to give greater weight to this violent in¬ 
vective of the emperor, the king of the Romans stood 
up and related the rapid conquests of the sultan in 
Hungary, occasioned, as he said, by the fatal ne¬ 
cessity imposed on his brother of employing his 
arms against France. When he had finished, the 
ambassador of Savoy gave a detail of Barbarossa’s 
operations at Nice, and of the ravages which he had 
committed on that coast. All these, added to the 
general indignation which Francis’s unprecedented 
union with the Turks excited in Europe, made such 
an impression on the diet as the emperor w ished, 
and disposed most of the members to grant him such 
effectual aid as he had demanded. The ambassa¬ 
dors w hom Francis had sent to explain the motives 
of his conduct were not permitted to enter the 
bounds of the empire ; and the apology which they 
published for their master, vindicating his alliance 
with Solyman by examples drawn from Scripture 
and the practice of Christian princes, was little re¬ 
garded by men who were irritated already, or pre¬ 
judiced against him to such a degree as to be 
incapable of allowing their proper weight to any 
arguments in his own behalf. 

Such being the favourable disposition His vast conces . 
of the Germans, Charles perceived g a °in S th e ° r pro- to 
that nothing could now obstruct his testants - 
gaining all that he aimed at but the fears and jea¬ 
lousies of the protestants, which he determined to 
quiet by granting every thing that the utmost solici¬ 
tude of these passions could desire for the security 
of their religion. With this view he consented to 
a recess, whereby all the rigorous edicts hitherto 
issued against the protestants w ere suspended ; a 
council either general or national to be assembled 
in Germany was declared necessary, in order to re¬ 
establish peace in the ehurch : until one of these 
should be held, (which the emperor undertook to 
bring about as soon as possible,) the free and public 
exercise of the protestant religion was authorized ; 
the imperial chamber was enjoined to give no mo- 



584 


THE REIGN OF THE L A - D - l544 - BOOK VIL 


Aid granted by 
the diet. 


lcstation to the protestants; and when the term for 
which the present judges in that court were elected 
should expire, persons duly qualified were then to 
be admitted as members, without any distinction on 
account of religion. In return for these extraordi¬ 
nary acts of indulgence, the protes¬ 
tants concurred with the other mem¬ 
bers of the diet in declaring war against Francis 
in name of the empire; in voting the emperor a 
body of twenty thousand foot and four thousand 
horse, to be maintained at the public expense for 
six months, to be employed against France ; and at 
the same time the diet proposed a poll-tax to be 
levied throughout all Germany, on every person 
without exception, for the support of the war 
against the Turks. 

Charles’s negoda- Charles, while he gave the greatest 
and Eng-’ attention to the minute and intricate 
land - detail of particulars necessary towards 

conducting the deliberations of a numerous and 
divided assembly to such a successful period, nego- 
ciated a separate peace with the king of Denmark, 
who, though he had hitherto performed nothing 
considerable in consequence of his alliance with 
Francis, had it in his power, however, to make a 
troublesome diversion in favour of that monarch. 3 
At the same time he did not neglect proper appli¬ 
cations to the king of England, in order to rouse 
him to more vigorous efforts against their common 
enemy. Little, indeed, was wanting to accomplish 
this ; for such events had happened in Scotland as 
inflamed Henry to the most violent pitch of resent¬ 
ment against Francis. Having concluded with the 
parliament of Scotland a treaty of marriage between 
his son and their young queen, by which he reckoned 
himself secure of effecting the union of the two 
kingdoms, which had been long desired, and often 
attempted without success by his predecessors, 
Mary of Guise the queen-mother, cardinal Beatoun, 
and other partisans of France, found means not 
only to break off the match, but to alienate the 
Scottish nation entirely from the friendship of Eng¬ 
land, and to strengthen its ancient attachment to 
France. Henry, however, did not abandon an ob¬ 
ject of so much importance ; and as the humbling 
of Francis, besides the pleasure of taking revenge 
upon an enemy who had disappointed a favourite 
measure, appeared the most effectual method of 
bringing the Scots to accept once more of the treaty 
which they had relinquished, he was so eager to 
accomplish this, that he was ready to second what¬ 
ever the emperor could propose to be attempted 
against the French king. The plan, accordingly, 
which they concerted, was such, if it had been 
punctually executed, as must have ruined France 
in the first place, and would have augmented so 
prodigiously the emperor’s power and territories as 
might in the end have proved fatal to the liberties 
of Europe. They agreed to invade France each 
with an army of twenty-five thousand men, and, 


without losing time in besieging the frontier towns, 
to advance directly towards the interior provinces, 
and to join their forces near Paris. b 

Francis stood alone in opposition to 

, . The French take 

all the enemies whom Charles was mus- the field in pied- 

tering against him. Solyman had been 
the only ally who did not desert him ; but the assist¬ 
ance which he had received from him rendered him 
so odious to all Christendom, that he resolved rather 
to forego all the advantages of his friendship than to 
become on that account the object of general detesta¬ 
tion. For this reason he dismissed Barbarossa as 
soon as winter was over, who, after ravaging the coast 
of Naples and Tuscany, returned to Constantinople. 
As Francis could not hope to equal the forces of so 
many powers combined against him, he endeavoured 
to supply that defect by despatch, which was more 
in his power, and to get the start of them in taking 
the field. Early in the spring, the lnvesl Carigna „. 
count d’Enguien invested Carignan, a 
town in Piedmont, which the marquis del Guasto, 
the imperial general, having surprised the former 
year, considered as of so much importance that 
he had fortified it at great expense. The count 
pushed the siege with such vigour, that Guasto, 
fond of his own conquest, and seeing no other way 
of saving it from falling into the hands of the 
French, resolved to hazard a battle in 

, .. . a xt i , . The imperialists 

order to relieve it. He began his march to relieve 

march from Milan for this purpose, 1 ' 
and as he was at no pains to conceal his intention, 
it was soon known in the French camp. Enguien, a 
gallant and enterprising young man, wished pas¬ 
sionately to try the fortune of a battle ; his troops 
desired it with no less ardour ; but the peremptory 
injunction of the king not to venture a general en¬ 
gagement, flowing from a prudent attention to the 
present situation of affairs, as well as from the re¬ 
membrance of former disasters, restrained him from 
venturing upon it. Unwilling, however, to abandon 
Carignan when it was just ready to yield, and eager 
to distinguish his command by some memorable ac¬ 
tion, he despatched Monluc to court, in order to lay 
before the king the advantages of fighting the 
enemy, and the hopes which he had of victory. 
The king referred the matter to his privy council; 
all the ministers declared, one after another, against 
fighting, and supported their sentiments by reasons 
extremely plausible. While they were delivering 
their opinions, Monluc, who was permitted to be 
present, discovered such visible and extravagant 
symptoms of impatience to speak, as well as such 
dissatisfaction with what he heard, that Francis, 
diverted with his appearance, called on him to de¬ 
clare what he could offer in reply to sentiments 
which seemed to be as just as they were general. 
Upon this Monluc, a plain but spirited soldier, and 
of known courage, represented the good condition 
of the troops, their eagerness to meet the enemy in 
the field, their confidence in their officers, together 


a Du Mont Corps Diplom. t. iv. p. ii. p. 274. 


b Herbert, 245. Bellay, 448. 



BOOK VII. A. D. 1544.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


585 


with the everlasting infamy which the declining of 
a battle would bring on the French arms ; and he 
urged his arguments with such lively impetuosity, 
and such a How of military eloquence, as gained 
over to his opinion not only the king, naturally 
fond of daring actions, but several of the council. 
Francis, catching the same enthusiasm which had 
animated his troops, suddenly started up, and hav¬ 
ing lifted his hands to heaven and implored the 
divine protection, he then addressed himself to 
Monluc, “ Go,” says he, “ return to Piedmont, and 
fight in the name of God.” c 

Battle of No sooner was it known that the 

Censoies. ki n g j ia( j given Enguien leave to fight 

the imperialists, than such was the martial ardour 
of the gallant and high-spirited gentlemen of that 
age, that the court was quite deserted, every person 
desirous of reputation or capable of service hurry¬ 
ing to Piedmont, in order to share as volunteers in 
the danger and glory of the action. Encouraged 
by the arrival of so many brave officers, Enguien 
immediately prepared for battle, nor did Guasto 
decline the combat. The number of cavalry was 
almost equal, but the imperial infantry exceeded 

. the French by at least ten thousand 

April 11. J 

men. They met near Cerisoles, in an 
open plain, which aff orded to neither any advantage 
of ground, and both had full time to form their army 
in proper order. The shock was such as might have 
been expected between veteran troops, violent and 
obstinate. The French cavalry, rushing forward to 
the charge with their usual vivacity, bore down 
every thing that opposed them ; but, on the other 
hand, the steady and disciplined valour of the 
Spanish infantry having forced the body which they 
encountered to give way, victory remained in sus¬ 
pense, ready to declare for whichever general could 
make the best use of that critical moment. Guasto, 
engaged in that part of his army which was thrown 
into disorder, and afraid of falling into the hands of 
the French, whose vengeance he dreaded on account 
of the murder of Rincon and Fregoso, lost his pre¬ 
sence of mind, and forgot to order a large body of 
reserve to advance; whereas Enguien, with admir¬ 
able courage and equal conduct, supported, at the 
head of his gens d’armes , such of his battalions as 
began to yield ; and at the same time he ordered 
the Swiss in his service, who had been victorious 
wherever they fought, to fall upon the Spaniards. 
This motion proved decisive. All that followed 
was confusion and slaughter. The marquis del 
Guasto, wounded in the thigh, escaped only by the 
swiftness of his horse. The victory of the French 
was complete, ten thousand of the imperialists being 
slain, and a considerable number, with all their 
tents, baggage, and artillery, taken. On the part 
of the conquerors their joy was without allay, a few 
only being killed, and among these no officer of 
distinction.* 1 


This splendid action, beside the rffects of it 
reputation with which it was attended, 
delivered France from an imminent, danger, as it 
ruined the army with which Guasto had intended 
to invade the country between the Rhone and Saone, 
where there were neither fortified towns nor regular 
forces to oppose his progress. But it was not in 
Francis’s power to pursue the victory with such 
vigour as to reap all the advantages which it might 
have yielded : for though the Milanese remained 
now almost defenceless; though the inhabitants, 
who had long murmured under the rigour of the 
imperial government, were ready to throw r off the 
yoke ; though Enguien, flushed w ith success, urged 
the king to seize this happy opportunity of recover¬ 
ing a country, the acquisition of which had been 
long his favourite object; yet as the emperor and 
king of England were preparing to break in upon 
the opposite frontier of France with numerous 
armies, it became necessary to sacrifice all thoughts 
of conquest to the public safety, and to recall tw elve 
thousand of Enguien’s best troops to be employed 
in defence of the kingdom. Enguien’s subsequent 
operations were of consequence so languid and in¬ 
considerable, that the reduction of Carignan and 
some other towns in Piedmont was all that he gain¬ 
ed by his great victory at Cerisoles. e 

The emperor, as usual, was late in operations in the 
taking the field ; but he appeared, to- Low Countries - 
wards the beginning of June, at the head of an 
army more numerous and better appointed than any 
which he had hitherto led against France. It 
amounted almost to fifty thousand men ; and part 
of it having reduced Luxembourg and some other 
towns in the Netherlands before he himself joined 
it, he now marched with the whole towards the fron¬ 
tiers of Champagne. Charles, accord¬ 
ing to his agreement with the king of 
England, ought to have advanced directly towards 
Paris ; and the dauphin, who commanded the only 
army to which Francis trusted for the security of 
his dominions in that quarter, was in no condition 
to oppose him. But the success with which the 
French had defended Provence in the year one 
thousand five hundred and thirty-six had taught 
them the most effectual method of distressing an in¬ 
vading enemy. Champagne, a country abounding 
more in vines than corn, was incapable of maintain¬ 
ing a great army ; and before the emperor’s ap¬ 
proach, whatever could be of any use to his troops 
had been carried off or destroyed. This rendered 
it necessary for him to be master of some places of 
strength in order to secure the convoys, on which 
alone he now peceived that he must depend for sub¬ 
sistence ; and he found the frontier tow ns so ill pro¬ 
vided for defence, that he hoped it would not be a 
work either of much time or difficulty to reduce 
them. Accordingly Ligny and Commercy, which 
he first attacked, surrendered after a short resistance. 


June. 


c Memoires de Monluc. ..... 

d Bellay, 429, <Scc. Memoires de Monluc. Jovii Hist. 1. xliv. p. 327• o. 


e Bellay. 438, &c. 



580 


THE REIGN OF THE 


July 14. 


He then invested St. Disier, which, 
vests e 'st Pe D°iIier n ,’ though it commanded an important 
July pass on the Marne, was destitute of 

every thing necessary for sustaining a siege. Rut 
the count de Sancerre and M. De la Lande, who had 
acquired such reputation by the defence of Land- 
recy, generously threw themselves into the town, 
and undertook to hold it out to the last extremity. 
The emperor soon found how capable they were of 
making good their promise, and that he could not 
expect to take the town without besieging it in 
form. This accordingly he undertook ; and as it 
was his nature never to abandon any enterprise in 
which he had once engaged, he persisted in it with 
an inconsiderate obstinacy. 

Henry viii. in- The king of England’s preparations 
vests Boulogne. f or t ] ie cam paign were complete long 

before the emperor’s ; but as he did not choose, on 
the one hand, to encounter alone the whole power 
of France, and was unwilling, on the other, that his 
troops should remain inactive, he took that oppor¬ 
tunity of chastising the Scots, by sending his fleet, 
together with a considerable part of his infantry, 
under the earl of Hertford, to invade their country. 
Hertford executed his commission with vigour, 
plundered and burned Edinburgh and Leith, laid 
waste the adjacent country, and reimbarked his men 
with such despatch, that they joined 
their sovereign soon after his landing 
in France. f When Henry arrived in that kingdom, 
he found the emperor engaged in the siege of St. 
Disier ; an ambassador, however, whom he sent to 
congratulate the English monarch on his safe ar¬ 
rival on the continent, solicited him to march, in 
terms of the treaty, directly to Paris. But Charles 
had set his ally such an ill example of fulfilling the 
conditions of their confederacy with exactness, that 
Henry, observing him employ his time and forces in 
taking towns for his own behoof, saw no reason why 
he should not attempt the reduction of some places 
that lay conveniently for himself. Without paying 
any regard to the emperor’s remonstrances, he im¬ 
mediately invested Boulogne, and commanded the 
duke of Norfolk to press the siege of Montreuil, 
which had been begun before his arrival by a body 
of Flemings, in conjunction with some English 
troops. While Charles and Henry showed such 
attention each to his own interest, they both neg¬ 
lected the common cause. Instead of the union 
and confidence requisite towards conducting the 
great plan that they had formed, they early discov¬ 
ered a mutual jealousy of each other, which by de¬ 
grees begot distrust and ended in open hatred.e 

Gallant defence By this time Francis had with un- 
of st Disier. wearied industry drawn together an 

army capable, as well from the number as from the 
valour of the troops, of making head against the 
enemy. But the dauphin, who still acted as gene¬ 
ral, prudently declining a battle, the loss of which 
would have endangered the kingdom, satisfied him- 

f Hist, of Scotland, book i. p. 31, supra. 


[A. I). 1544. BOOK VII. 

self with harassing the emperor with his light troops, 
cutting off his convoys, and laying waste the coun¬ 
try round him. Though extremely distressed by 
these operations, Charles still pressed the siege of 
St. Disier, which Sancerre defended with astonish¬ 
ing fortitude and conduct. He stood repeated 
assaults, repulsing the enemy in them all ; and un¬ 
dismayed even by the death of his brave associate 
De la Lande, who was killed by a cannon-ball, he 
continued to show the same bold countenance and 
obstinate resolution. At the end of five weeks he 
was still in a condition to hold out some time 
longer, when an artifice of Granville’s induced him 
to surrender. That crafty politician, having inter¬ 
cepted the key to the cipher which the duke of 
Guise used in communicating intelligence to San¬ 
cerre, forged a letter in his name, authorizing 
Sancerre to capitulate, as the king, though highly 
satisfied with his behaviour, thought it imprudent to 
hazard a battle for his relief. This letter he con¬ 
veyed into the town in a manner which could raise 
no suspicion, and the governor fell into the snare. 
Even then he obtained such honourable conditions 
as his gallant defence merited, and among others a 
cessation of hostilities for eight days, at the expira¬ 
tion of which he bound himself to open the gates, 
if Francis during that time did not attack the im¬ 
perial army and throw fresh troops into the town. 11 
Thus Sancerre, by detaining the emperor so long- 
before an inconsiderable place, afforded his sove¬ 
reign full time to assemble all his forces, and what 
rarely falls to the lot of an officer in such an inferior 
command, acquired the glory of having saved his 
country. 

As soon as St. Disier surrendered, Au<r 17 

the emperor advanced into the heart netratS'Tnto the 
of Champagne ; but Sancerre’s obsti- heart of trance. 

nate resistance had damped his sanguine hopes of 
penetrating to Paris, and led him seriously to re¬ 
flect on what he might expect, before towns of 
greater strength and defended by more numerous 
garrisons. At the same time the procuring subsist¬ 
ence lor his army was attended with great difficulty, 
which increased in proportion as he withdrew 
further from his own frontier. He had lost a great 
number of his best troops in the siege of St. Disier, 
and many fell daily in skirmishes which it was 
not in his power to avoid, though they wasted his 
army insensibly, without leading to any decisive 
action. The season advanced apace, and he had 
not yet the command either of a sufficient extent of 
territory, or of any such considerable town as ren¬ 
dered it safe to winter in the enemy’s country. 
Great arrears, too, were now due to his soldiers, 
who were upon the point of mutinying for their pay, 
while he knew not from what funds to satisfy them. 
All these considerations induced him to listen to the 
overtures of peace which a Spanish Dominican, the 
confessor of his sister the queen of France, had se¬ 
cretly made to his confessor, a monk of the same 


g Herbert. 


ii Brantome, tom. vi. 4b9 




BOOK VII. A. D. 1544.J EMPEROR 

order. In consequence of this, plenipotentiaries 
were named on both sides, and began their confer¬ 
ences in Chausse, a small village near Chalons. 
At the same time Charles, either from a desire of 
making one great final eifort against France, or 
merely to gain a pretext for deserting his ally and 
concluding a separate peace, sent an ambassador 
formally to require Henry, according to the stipu¬ 
lation in their treaty, to advance towards Paris. 
While he expected a return from him, and waited 
the issue of the conferences at Chausse, he conti¬ 
nued to march forward, though in the utmost dis¬ 
tress from scarcity of provisions. But at last, by a 
fortunate motion on his part, or through some neg¬ 
lect or treachery on that of the French, he surprised 
first Esperney and then Chateau Thierry, in both 
which were considerable magazines. No sooner 
was it known that these towns, the latter of which 
is not two days’ march from Paris, were in the hands 
of the enemy, than that great capital, defenceless, 
and susceptible of any violent alarm in proportion 
to its greatness, was filled with consternation. The 
inhabitants, as if the emperor had been already at 
their gates, fled in the wildest confusion and despair, 
many sending their wives and children down the 
Seine to Rouen, others to Orleans and the towns 
upon the Loire. Francis himself, more afflicted 
with this than with any other event during his reign, 
and sensible as well of the triumph that his rival 
would enjoy in insulting his capital as of the dan¬ 
ger to which the kingdom was exposed, could not 
refrain from crying out in the first emotion of his 
surprise and sorrow, “ How dear, O my God, do I 
pay for this crown, which I thought thou hadst 
granted me freely !”' But recovering in a moment 
from this sudden sally of peevishness and impa¬ 
tience, he devoutly added, “ Thy will, however, be 
done ;” and proceeded to issue the necessary or¬ 
ders for opposing the enemy with his usual activity 
and presence of mind. The dauphin detached 
eight thousand men to Paris, which revived the 
courage of the affrighted citizens; he threw a 
strong garrison into Meaux, and by a forced march 
got into Ferte, between the imperialists and the 
capital. 

Upon this the emperor, who began 

Obliged to retire. . . c , . , c . . 

again to feel the want of provisions, 
perceiving that the dauphin still prudently declined 
a battle, and not daring to attack his camp with 
forces so much shattered and reduced by hard ser¬ 
vice, turned suddenly to the right, and began to fall 
back towards Soissons. Having about this time 
received Henry’s answer, whereby he refused to 
abandon the sieges of Boulogne and Montreuil, of 
both which he expected every moment to get pos¬ 
session, he thought himself absolved from all obli¬ 
gations of adhering to the treaty with him, and at 
full liberty to consult his own interest in what 
manner soever he pleased. He consented, tliere- 

i Brantome, tom. vi. 381. 


CHARLES V. 587 

fore, to renew the conference, which the surprise of 
Esperney had broken off. To conclude Peace between 
a peace between tw o princes, one of conchlded aT ltls 
whom greatly desired and the other Crespy * 
greatly needed it, did not require a long negociation. 
It was signed at Crespy, a small town near Meaux, 
on the eighteenth of September. The chief articles 
of it were : That all the conquests which either 
party had made since the truce of Nice shall be 
restored ; that the emperor shall give in marriage to 
the duke of Orleans, either his own eldest daughter 
or the second daughter of his brother Ferdinand ; 
that if he choose to bestow on him his own daughter, 
he shall settle on her all the provinces of the Low 
Countries, to be erected into an independent state, 
which shall descend to the male issue of the mar¬ 
riage ; that if he determined to give him his niece, 
he shall w ith her grant him the investiture of Milan 
and its dependences; that he shall within four 
months declare w hich of these two princesses he had 
pitched upon, and fulfil the respective conditions 
upon the consummation of the marriage, which shall 
take place within a year from the date of the treaty; 
that as soon as the duke of Orleans is put in pos¬ 
session either of the Low Countries or of Milan, 
Francis shall restore to the duke of Savoy all that 
he now possesses of his territories except Pignerol 
and Montmilian; that Francis shall renounce all 
pretensions to the kingdom of Naples or to the 
sovereignty of Flanders and Artois, and Charles 
shall give up his claim to the duchy of Burgundy 
and country of Charolois; that Francis shall give 
no aid to the exiled king of Navarre; that both 
monarchs shall join in making war upon the Turk, 
towards which the king shall furnish, when required 
by the emperor and empire, six hundred men at 
arms and ten thousand foot. k 

Besides the immediate motives to Motives of 
this peace, arising from the distress of concluding it. 

his army through want of provisions, from the diffi¬ 
culty of retreating out of France, and the impossi¬ 
bility of securing winter quarters there, the emperor 
w as influenced by other considerations, more distant 
indeed, but not less w eighty. The pope was offended 
to a great degree, as well at his concessions to the 
protestants in the late diet as at his consenting to 
call a council, and to admit of public disputations 
in Germany with a view of determining the doctrines 
in controversy. Paul, considering both these steps 
as sacrilegious encroachments on the jurisdiction as 
well as privileges of the holy see, had addressed to 
the emperor a remonstrance rather than a letter on 
this subject, w ritten w ith such acrimony of language, 
and in a style of such high authority, as discovered 
more of an intention to draw on a quarrel than of a 
desire to reclaim him. This ill humour was not a 
little inflamed by the emperor’s league with Henry 
of England, which being contracted with an heretic 
excommunicated by the apostolic see, appeared to 

k Becueil des Traitez, tom. i. 227. Belius de Causis Pacis Crepiac. in 
Actis Erudit. Lips. 1763. 



588 


THE REIGN OF THE 


the pope a profane alliance, and was not less dreaded 
by him than that of Francis with Solyman. Paul's 
son and grandson, highly incensed at the emperor 
for having refused to gratify them with regard to the 
alienation of Parma and Placentia, contributed by 
their suggestions to sour and disgust him still more. 
To all which was added the powerful operation of 
the flattery and promises which Francis incessantly 
employed to gain him. Though, from his desire of 
maintaining a neutrality, the pope had hitherto 
suppressed his own resentment, had eluded the 
artifices of his own family, and resisted the solicita¬ 
tions of the French king, it was not safe to rely 
much on the steadiness of a man whom his passions, 
his friends, and his interest combined to shake. 
The union of the pope with France, Charles well 
knew, would instantly expose his dominions in 
Italy to be attacked. The Venetians, he foresaw, 
would probably follow the example of a pontiff who 
was considered as a model of political wisdom 
among the Italians; and thus, at a juncture when 
he felt himself hardly equal to the burden of the 
present war, he would be overwhelmed with the 
weight of a new confederacy against him. 1 At the 
same time the Turks, almost unresisted, made such 
progress in Hungary, reducing town after town, 
that they approached near to the confines of the 
Austrian provinces." 1 Above all these, the extraor¬ 
dinary progress of the protestant doctrines in Ger¬ 
many, and the dangerous combination into which the 
princes of that profession had entered, called for his 
immediate attention. Almost one half of Germany 
had revolted from the established church; the fidelity 
of the rest was much shaken; the nobility of Austria 
had demanded of Ferdinand the free exercise of 
religion ; n the Bohemians, among whom some seeds 
of the doctrines of Huss still remained, openly 
favoured the new opinions ; the archbishop of 
Cologne, with a zeal which is seldom found among 
ecclesiastics, had begun the reformation of his 
diocese; nor was it possible, unless some timely 
and effectual check were given to the spirit of 
innovation, to foresee where it would end. He 
himself had been a witness, in the late diet, to the 
peremptory and decisive tone which the protestants 
had now assumed. He had seen how, from confi¬ 
dence in their number and union, they had forgotten 
the humble style of their first petitions, and had 
grown to such boldness as openly to despise the 
pope, and to show no great reverence for the impe¬ 
rial dignity itself. If, therefore, he wished to main¬ 
tain either the ancient religion or his own authority, 
and would not choose to dwindle into a mere nomi¬ 
nal head of the empire, some vigorous and speedy 
effort was requisite on his part, which could not be 
made during a war that required the greatest exer¬ 
tion of his strength against a foreign and powerful 
enemy. 

Such being the emperor’s inducements to peace, 


[A. D. 1544. BOOK VII. 

he had the address to frame the treaty of Crespy so 
as to promote all the ends which he had in view. 
By coming to an agreement with Francis, he took 
from the pope all prospects of advantage in courting 
the friendship of that monarch in preference to his. 
By the proviso with regard to a war with the Turks, 
he not only deprived Solyman of a powerful ally, 
but turned the arms of that ally against him. By a 
private article, not inserted in the treaty, that it 
might not raise any unseasonable alarm, he agreed 
with Francis that both should exert all their influ¬ 
ence and power in order to procure a general coun¬ 
cil, to assert his authority, and to exterminate the 
protestant heresy out of their dominions. This cut 
off all chance of assistance which the confederates 
of Smalkalde might expect from the French king ; a 
and lest their solicitations or his jealousy of an an¬ 
cient rival should hereafter tempt Francis to forget 
this engagement, he left him embarrassed with a 
war against England, which would put it out of his 
power to take any considerable part in the affairs of 
Germany. 

Henry, possessed at all times with 

War continues 

an high idea of his own power and bet^en i ranee 
importance, felt, in the most sensible 
manner, the neglect with which the emperor had 
treated him in concluding a separate peace. But 
the situation of his affairs was such as somewhat 
alleviated the mortification which this occasioned. 
For though he was obliged to recall 
the duke of Norfolk from the siege of 
Montreuil, because the Flemish troops received 
orders to retire, Boulogne had surrendered before 
the negociations at Crespy were brought to an issue. 
While elated with vanity on account of this con¬ 
quest, and inflamed with indignation against the 
emperor, the ambassadors whom Francis sent to 
make overtures of peace found him too arrogant to 
grant what was moderate or equitable. His de¬ 
mands were indeed extravagant, and made in the 
tone of a conqueror : That Francis should renounce 
his alliance with Scotland, and not only pay up the 
arrears of former debts, but reimburse the money 
which Henry had expended in the present war. 
Francis, though sincerely desirous of peace, and 
willing to yield a great deal in order to attain it, 
being now free from the pressure of the imperial 
arms, rejected these ignominious propositions with 
disdain ; and Henry departing for England, hos¬ 
tilities continued between the two nations. p 

The treaty of peace, how acceptable 
soever to the people of France, whom satisfied with the 
it delivered from the dread of an enemy pedte ot Cle!,py ' 
who had penetrated into the heart of the kingdom, 
was loudly complained of by the dauphin. He 
considered it as a manifest proof of the king his 
father’s extraordinary partiality towards his younger 
brother, now duke of Orleans, and complained that, 
from his eagerness to gain an establishment for a 


Sept. 14. 


I F. Paul, 100. Pallavic. 163. 
ni Istuanhaflii Hist. Hung. 177. 


n Sleid. 285. 


o Seek. lib. iii. 496. 

p Mem. de Ribier, tom. i. p. 572. Herbert, 244. 



BOOK VII. A. D. 1544.] EMPEROR 

favourite son, lie had sacrificed the honour of the 
kingdom, and renounced the most ancient as w ell as 
valuable rights of the crown. But as he durst not 
venture to oflend the king by refusing to ratify it, 
though extremely desirous at the same time of se¬ 
curing to himself the privilege of reclaiming what 
was now alienated so much to his detriment, he 
secretly protested, in presence of some of his ad¬ 
herents, against the whole transaction ; and declared 
whatever he should be obliged to do in order to con¬ 
firm it, null in itself and void of all obligation. The 
parliament of Thoulouse, probably by the instigation 
of his partisans, did the same. q But Francis, highly 
pleased as well with having delivered his subjects 
from the miseries of an invasion as with the prospect 
of acquiring an independent settlement for his son 
at no greater price than that of renouncing con¬ 
quests to which he had no just claim,—titles which 
had brought so much expense and so many disasters 
upon the nation, and rights grown obsolete and of 
no value, ratified the treaty with great joy. Charles, 
within the time prescribed by the treaty, declared 
his intention of giving Ferdinand’s daughter in 
marriage to the duke of Orleans, together with the 
duchy of Milan as her dowry . r Every circumstance 
seemed to promise the continuance of peace. The 
emperor, cruelly afflicted with the gout, appeared 
to be in no condition to undertake any enterprise 
where great activity was requisite or much fatigue 
to be endured. He himself felt this, or wished at 
least that it should be believed ; and being so much 
disabled by this excruciating distemper, when a 
French ambassador followed him to Brussels in 
order to be present at his ratification of the treaty of 
peace, that it was with the utmost difficulty that he 
signed his name, he observed that there was no 
great danger of his violating these articles, as a 
hand that could hardly hold a pen was little able 
to brandish a lance. 

The emperor’s The violence of his disease confined 
spect*to Ger h ™ ^ ie emperor several months in Brus¬ 
sels, and was the apparent cause of 
putting off the execution of the great scheme which 
he had formed in order to humble the protestant 
party in Germany. But there were other reasons for 
this delay. For however prevalent the motives were 
which determined him to undertake this enterprise, 
the nature of that great body which he was about 
to attack, as well as the situation of his own affairs, 
made it necessary to deliberate long, to proceed 
with caution, and not too suddenly to throw aside 
the veil under which he had hitherto concealed his 
real sentiments and schemes. He was sensible that 
the protestants, conscious of their own strength, but 
under continual apprehensions of his designs, had 
all the boldness of a powerful confederacy joined 
to the jealousy of a feeble faction ; and were no less 
quick-sighted to discern the first appearance of 
danger than ready to take arms in order to repel it. 
At the same time he still continued involved in a 

q Recucil des Traitez, tom. ii. 235, 238. 


CHARLES V. 


589 


Turkish war ; and though, in order to deliver him¬ 
self from this encumbrance, he had determined 
to send an envoy to the Porte with most advan¬ 
tageous and even submissive overtures of peace, 
the resolutions of that haughty court were so un¬ 
certain, that before these were known it would have 
been highly imprudent to have kindled the llames 
of civil war in his own dominions. 

Upon this account he appeared dis- ^ 
satisfied with a bull issued by the pope mon^a P genemi 
immediately after the peace of Crespy, at irent. 

, Nov. 19. 

summoning the council to assemble at 
Trent early next spring, and exhorting all Christian 
princes to embrace the opportunity that the present 
happy interval of tranquillity afforded them, of 
suppressing those heresies which threatened to sub¬ 
vert whatever was sacred or venerable among Chris¬ 
tians. But after such a slight expression of dislike 
as was necessary in order to cover his designs, he 
determined to countenance the council, which might 
become no inconsiderable instrument towards ac¬ 
complishing his projects, and therefore not only 
appointed ambassadors to appear there in his name, 
but ordered the ecclesiastics in his dominions to 
attend at the time prefixed. 8 

Such were the emperor’s views when ^ 
the imperial diet, after several proro- Diet at worms. 

. r v March 24. 

gations, was opened at Worms. The 
protestants, who enjoyed the free exercise of their 
religion by a very precarious tenure, having no 
other security for it than the recess of the last diet, 
which was to continue in force only until the meet¬ 
ing of a council, wished earnestly to establish that 
important privilege upon some firmer basis, and to 
hold it by a perpetual not a temporary title. But 
instead of offering them any additional security, 
Ferdinand opened the diet with observing that there 
were two points which chiefly required considera¬ 
tion, the prosecution of the war against the Turks, 
and the state of religion; that the former was the most 
urgent, as Solyman, after conquering the greatest 
part of Hungary, was now ready to fall upon the 
Austrian provinces ; that the emperor, who from the 
beginning of his reign had neglected no opportunity 
of annoying this formidable enemy, and with the 
hazard of his own person had resisted his attacks, 
being animated still with the same zeal, had now 
consented to stop short in the career of his success 
against France, that, in conjunction with his an¬ 
cient rival, he might turn his arms with greater vi¬ 
gour against the common adversary of the Christian 
faith ; that it became all the members of the empire 
to second those pious endeavours of its head ; that 
therefore they ought, without delay, to vote him 
such effectual aid as not only their duty but their 
interest called upon them to furnish ; that the con¬ 
troversies about religion were so intricate, and of 
such difficult discussion, as to give no hope of its 
being possible to bring them at present to any final 
issue ; that by perseverance and repeated solicit- 

r Recueil des Traitez, tom. ii. 238. * F. Paul, 104. 



590 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ROOK VII 


Ferdinand re¬ 
quires the Ger¬ 
mans to acknow¬ 
ledge the council. 


ations the emperor had at length pre¬ 
vailed on the pope to call a council, 
for which they had so often wished and 
petitioned ; that the time appointed for its meeting 
was now come, and both parties ought to wait for 
its decrees, and submit to them as the decisions of 
the universal church. 

The popish members of the diet received this de¬ 
claration with great applause, and signified their 
entire acquiescence in every particular which it 
contained. The protestants expressed great surprise 
at propositions which were so manifestly repugnant 
to the recess of the former diet; they insisted that 
the questions with regard to religion, as first in 
dignity and importance, ought to come first under 
deliberation ; that alarming as the progress of the 
Turks was to all Germany, the securing the free 
exercise of their religion touched them still more 
nearly, nor could they prosecuie a foreign war with 
spirit while solicitous and uncertain about their 
domestic tranquillity; that if the latter were once 
rendered firm and permanent, they would concur 
with their countrymen in pushing the former, and 
yield to none of them in activity or zeal. But if 
the danger from the Turkish arms was indeed so 
imminent as not to admit of such a delay as would 
be occasioned by an immediate examination of the 
controverted points in religion, they required that 
a diet should be instantly appointed, to which the 
final settlement of their religious disputes should 
be referred ; and that in the mean time the decree 
of the former diet concerning religion should be 
explained in a point which they deemed essential. 
By the recess of Spires it was provided that they 
should enjoy unmolested the public exercise of their 
religion until the meeting of a legal council; but 
as the pope had now called a council to which Fer¬ 
dinand had required them to submit, they began to 
suspect that their adversaries might take advantage 
of an ambiguity in the terms of the recess, and pre¬ 
tending that the event therein mentioned had now 
taken place, might pronounce them to be no longer 
entitled to the same indulgence. In order to guard 
against this interpretation, they renewed their for¬ 
mer remonstrances against a council called to meet 
without the bounds of the empire, summoned by 
the pope’s authority, and in which he assumed the 
right of presiding; and declared that, notwith¬ 
standing the convocation of any such illegal assem¬ 
bly, they still held the recess of the late diet to be 
in full force. 

At other junctures, when the em¬ 
peror thought it of advantage to soothe 
and gain the protestants, he had devised expedients 
for giving them satisfaction with regard to demands 
seemingly more extravagant; but his views at pre¬ 
sent being very different, Ferdinand, by his com¬ 
mand, adhered inflexibly to his first propositions, 
and would make no concessions which had the most 
remote tendency to throw discredit on the council 

t Sleid. 343, &c. Seek. iii. 543, &c. Tliuan. Ilistor. lib. ii. p. 56. 


Emperor arrives 
at Worms. 


[A. i). 1545. 

or to weaken its authority. The protestants on their 
part were no less indexible ; and after much time 
spent in fruitless endeavours to convince each other, 
they came to no agreement. Nor did the presence 
of the emperor, who upon his recovery 
arrived at Worms, contribute in any May lj * 
degree to render the protestants more compliant. 
Fully convinced thatthey were maintaining the cause 
of God and of truth, they showed themselves supe¬ 
rior to the allurements of interest or the suggestions 
of fear ; and in proportion as the emperor redoubled 
his solicitations or discovered his designs, their 
boldness seems to have increased. At last they 
openly declared that they would not The p ro testants 
even deign to vindicate their tenets in nexion" 1 with C the 
presence of a council assembled not cou,lcl1 ot J rent - 
to examine but to condemn them ; and that they 
would pay no regard to an assembly held under the 
influence of a pope who had already precluded 
himself from all title to act as a judge, by his hav¬ 
ing stigmatized their opinions by the name of heresy, 
and denounced against them the heaviest censures 
which, in the plenitude of his usurped power, he 
could inflict. 1 

While the protestants, with such 
union as well as firmness, rejected all dee of C Sa 0 xonyin 
intercourse with the council, and re- tlus dlet ' 
fused their assent to the imperial demands in respect 
to the Turkish war, Maurice of Saxony alone 
showed an inclination to gratify the emperor with 
regard to both. Though he professed an inviolable 
regard for the protestant religion, he assumed an 
appearance of moderation peculiar to himself, by 
which he confirmed the favourable sentiments which 
the emperor already entertained of him, and gra¬ 
dually paved the way for executing the ambitious 
designs which always occupied his active and en¬ 
terprising mind." His example, however, had little 
influence upon such as agreed with him in their re¬ 
ligious opinions; and Charles perceived that he 
could not hope either to procure present aid from 
the protestants against the Turks, or to quiet their 
fears and jealousies on account of their religion. 
But as his schemes were not yet ripe for execution, 
nor his preparations so far advanced that he could 
force the compliance of the protestants or punish 
their obstinacy, he artfully concealed his own inten¬ 
tions. That he might augment their 
security, he appointed a diet to be 
held at Ratisbon early next year, in order to adjust 
what was now left undetermined ; and previous to 
it he agreed that a certain number of divines of 
each party should meet, in order to confer upon the 
points in dispute.* 

But how far soever this appearance 

of a desire to maintain the present belln'tolu^pect 
tranquillity might have imposed upon the em P eror - 
the protestants, the emperor was incapable of such 
uniform and thorough dissimulation as to hide 
altogether from their view the dangerous designs 

u Seek. iii. 571. 


x Sleid. 351. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


591 


ROOK VII. A. 1). 1545.1 


which he was meditating against them. Herman, 
Count de Wied, archbishop and elector of Cologne, 
a prelate conspicuous for his virtue and primitive 
simplicity of manners, though not more distinguished 
for learning than the other descendants of noble 
families, who in that age possessed most of the 
great benefices in Germany, having become a pro¬ 
selyte to the doctrines of the reformers, had begun 
in the year one thousand five hundred and forty- 
three, with the assistance of Melancthon and Bucer, 
to abolish the ancient superstition in his diocese, 
and to introduce in its place the rites established 
among the protestants. But the canons of his ca¬ 
thedral, who were not possessed with the same spirit 
of innovation, and who foresaw how fatal the level¬ 
ling genius of the new sect would prove to their 
dignity and wealth, opposed, from the beginning, 
this unprecedented enterprise of their archbishop 
with all the zeal flowing from reverence for old in¬ 
stitutions, heightened by concern for their own 
interest. This opposition, which the archbishop 
considered only as a new argument to demonstrate 
the necessity of a reformation, neither shook his 
resolution nor slackened his ardour in prosecuting 
his plan. The canons, perceiving all their endeav¬ 
ours to check his career to be ineffectual, solemnly 
protested against his proceedings, and appealed for 
redress to the pope and emperor, the former as his 
ecclesiastical, the latter as his civil, superior. This 
appeal being laid before the emperor during his re¬ 
sidence in Worms, he took the canons of Cologne 
under his immediate protection ; enjoined them to 
proceed with rigour against all who revolted from 
the established church ; prohibited the archbishop 
to make any innovation in his diocese ; and sum¬ 
moned him to appear at Brussels within thirty days, 
to answer the accusations which should be preferred 
against him. y 

To this clear evidence of his hostile intentions 
against the protestant party, Charles added other 
proofs still more explicit. In his hereditary do¬ 
minions of the Low Countries he persecuted all 
who were suspected of Lutheranism with unrelent¬ 
ing rigour. As soon as he arrived at Worms he 
silenced the protestant preachers in that city. He 
allowed an Italian monk to inveigh against the Lu¬ 
therans from the pulpit of his chapel, and to call 
upon him, as he regarded the favour of God, to ex¬ 
terminate that pestilent heresy. He despatched the 
embassy which has been already mentioned to Con¬ 
stantinople with overtures of peace, that he might 
be free from any apprehensions of danger or inter¬ 
ruption from that quarter. Nor did any of these 
steps, or their dangerous tendency, escape the 
jealous observation of the protestants, or fail to 
alarm their fears and to excite their solicitude for 
the safety of their sect. 

Death of the Meanwhile Charles's good fortune, 
duke of Orleans. w } 1 j 0 ] 1 predominated on all occasions 

over that of his rival Francis, extricated him out of 

y Sleid. 310, 310, 351. Seek. iii. 413, 553. 


a difficulty from which, with all his sagacity and 
address, he would have found it no easy matter to 
have disentangled himself. Just about 

oGpL o. 

the time when the duke of Orleans 
should have received Ferdinand’s daughter in 
marriage, and together with her the possession of 
the Milanese, he died of a malignant fever. By 
this event the emperor was freed from the necessity 
of giving up a valuable province into the hands of 
an enemy, or from the indecency of violating a re¬ 
cent and solemn engagement, which must have 
occasioned an immediate rupture with France. He 
affected, however, to express great sorrow for the 
untimely death of a young prince who was to have 
been so nearly allied to him, but he carefully avoid¬ 
ed entering into any fresh discussions concerning 
the Milanese, and would not listen to a proposal 
that came from Francis, of new-modelling the treaty 
of Crespy, so as to make him some reparation for 
the advantages which he had lost by the demise of 
his son. In the more active and vigorous part of 
Francis’s reign, a declaration of war would have 
been the certain and instantaneous consequence of 
such a flat refusal to comply with a demand seem¬ 
ingly so equitable ; but the declining state of his 
own health, the exhausted condition of his kingdom, 
together with the burden of the war against Eng¬ 
land, obliged him, at present, to dissemble his 
resentment, and to put off thoughts of revenge to 
some other juncture. In consequence of this event 
the unfortunate duke of Savoy lost all hope of ob¬ 
taining the restitution of his territories ; and the 
rights or claims relinquished by the treaty of Crespy 
returned in full force to the crown of France, to 
serve as pretexts for future wars. 2 

Upon the first intelligence of the ^ graqts 
duke of Orleans’s death, the confede- p^rmaand 3 pin 
rates of Smalkalde flattered themselves centla t0 his son - 
that the essential alterations which appeared to be 
unavoidable consequences of it could hardly fail of 
producing a rupture which would prove the means 
of their safety. But they were not more disappoint¬ 
ed with regard to this, than in their expectations 
from an event which seemed to be the certain pre¬ 
lude of a quarrel between the emperor and the pope. 
When Paul, whose passion for aggrandizing his 
family increased as he advanced in years, and as 
he saw the dignity and power which they derived 
immediately from him becoming more precarious, 
found that he could not bring Charles to approve of 
his ambitious schemes, he ventured to grant his son 
Peter Lewis the investiture of Parma and Placen¬ 
tia, though at the risk of incurring the displeasure 
of the emperor. At a time when a great part of 
Europe inveighed openly against the corrupt man¬ 
ners and exorbitant power of ecclesiastics, and when 
a council was summoned to reform the disorders in 
the church, this indecent grant of such a principa¬ 
lity to a son of whose illegitimate birth the pope 
ought to have been ashamed, and whose licentious 

K Belcarii Comment. 769. Paruta, Hist. Venet. iv. p. ]"7. 



592 


THE REIGN OF THE 


morals all good men detested, gave general offence. 
Some cardinals in the imperial interest remonstrated 
against such an unbecoming alienation of the pa¬ 
trimony of the church ; the Spanish ambassador 
would not be present at the solemnity of his infeoff¬ 
ment ; and upon pretext that these cities were part 
of the Milanese state, the emperor peremptorily re¬ 
fused to confirm the deed of investiture. But both 
the emperor and pope being intent upon one com¬ 
mon object in Germany, they sacrificed their parti¬ 
cular passions to that public cause, and suppressed 
the emotions of jealousy or resentment which were 
rising on this occasion, that they might jointly pursue 
what each deemed to be of greater importance.» 

About this time the peace of Ger- 
wick kindles a many was disturbed by a violent but 

war m Geimanv. , . • . 

short irruption of Henry, duke ot 
Brunswick. This prince, though still stripped of 
his dominions, which the emperor held in seques¬ 
tration until his differences with the confederates of 
Smalkalde should be adjusted, possessed, however, 
so much credit in Germany, that he undertook to 
raise for the French king a considerable body of 
troops to be employed in the war against England. 
The money stipulated for this purpose was duly 
advanced by Francis; the troops were levied ; but 
Henry, instead of leading them towards France, 
suddenly entered his own dominions at their head, 
in hopes of recovering possession of them before 
any army could be assembled to oppose him. The 
confederates were not more surprised at this unex¬ 
pected attack than the king of France was astonish¬ 
ed at a mean thievish fraud so unbecoming the 
character of a prince. But the landgrave of Hesse, 
with incredible expedition, collected as many men as 
put a stop to the progress of Henry’s undisciplined 
forces, and being joined by his son-in-law Maurice, 
and by some troops belonging to the elector of Sax¬ 
ony, he gained such advantages over Henry, who 
was rash and bold in forming his schemes, but feeble 
and undetermined in executing them, as obliged 
him to disband his army, and to surrender himself, 
together with his eldest son, prisoners at discretion. 
He was kept in close confinement until a newreverse 
of affairs procured him liberty. b 

The reformation As this defeat of Henry’s wild en- 
of the palatinate, terprise added new reputation to the 

arms of the protestants, the establishment of the 
protestant religion in the palatinate brought a great 
accession of strength to their party. Frederic, who 
succeeded his brother Lewis in that electorate, had 
long been suspected of a secret propensity to the 
doctrines of the reformers, which, upon his acces¬ 
sion to the principality, he openly manifested. But 
as he expected that something effectual towards a 
general and legal establishment of religion would 
be the fruit of so many diets, conferences, and ne- 
goeiations, he did not at first attempt any public 
154C innovation in his dominions. Finding 
jun. 10 . a u tj iese i SSU e in nothing, he thought 

a Paruta, Hist. Tenet, iv. 178 . Pallavic. 180. 


[A. D. 1546. BOOK VII. 

himself called at length to countenance by his 
authority the system which he approved of, and to 
gratify the wishes of his subjects, who, by their 
intercourse with the protestant states, had almost 
universally imbibed their opinions. As the warmth 
and impetuosity which accompanied the spirit of 
reformation in its first efforts had somewhat abated, 
this change was made with great order and regula¬ 
rity ; the ancient rites were abolished and new forms 
introduced, without any acts of violence or symptom 
of discontent. Though Frederic adopted the reli¬ 
gious system of the protestants, he imitated the ex¬ 
ample of Maurice, and did not accede to the league 
of Smalkalde. c 

A few weeks before this revolution council as- 
in the palatinate, the general council sembies at irent. 

was opened with the accustomed solemnities at 
Trent. The eyes of the catholic states were turned 
with much expectation towards an assembly which 
all had considered as capable of applying an effec¬ 
tual remedy for the disorders of the church when 
they first broke out, though many were afraid that 
it was now too late to hope for great benefit from it, 
when the malady, by being suffered to increase 
during twenty-eight years, had become inveterate 
and grown to such extreme violence. The pope, 
by his last bull of convocation, had appointed the 
first meeting to be held in March. But his views 
and those of the emperor were so different, that 
almost the whole year was spent in negociations. 
Charles, who foresaw that the rigorous decrees of 
the council against the protestants would soon drive 
them, in self-defence as well as from resentment, 
to some desperate extreme, laboured to put off its 
meeting until his warlike preparations were so far 
advanced that he might be in a condition to second 
its decisions by the force of his arms. The pope, 
who had early sent to Trent the legates who were to 
preside in his name, knowing to what contempt it 
would expose his authority, and what suspicions it 
would beget of his intentions, if the fathers of the 
council should remain in a state of inactivity when 
the church was in such danger as to require their 
immediate and vigorous interposition, insisted either 
upon translating the council to some city in Italy, 
or upon suspending altogether its proceedings at 
that juncture, or upon authorizing it to begin its 
deliberations immediately. The emperor rejected 
the two former expedients as equally offensive to 
the Germans of every denomination ; but finding it 
impossible to elude the latter, he proposed that the 
council should begin with reforming the disorders 
in the church before it proceeded to examine or de¬ 
fine articles of faith. This was the very thing which 
the court of Rome dreaded most, and which had 
prompted it to employ so many artifices in order to 
prevent the meeting of such a dangerous judicatory. 
Paul, though more compliant than some of his pre¬ 
decessors with regard to calling a council, was no 
less jealous than they had been of its jurisdiction, 

b Sleid. 352. Seek. iii. 567. 


c Sleid. 356. Seek. 1. iii. 616. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


593 


BOOK VIE A. D. 1546.] 

and saw what matter of triumph sucii a method of 
proceeding would afford the heretics. He appre¬ 
hended consequences not only humbling but fatal 
to the papal see, if the council came to consider an 
inquest into abuses as their only business, or if in¬ 
ferior prelates were allowed to gratify their own 
envy and peevishness by prescribing rules to those 
who were exalted above them in dignity and power. 
Without listening, therefore, to this insidious pro¬ 
posal of the emperor, he instructed his legates to 
open the council. 

Jan. is. The first session w as spent in matters 

its proceedings. f orm> In a subsequent one it was 

agreed that the framing a confession of faith, 
wherein should be contained all the articles which 
the church required its members to believe, ought 
to be the first and principal business of the council; 
but that, at the same time, due attention should be 
given to what was necessary towards the reforma¬ 
tion of manners and discipline. From this first 
symptom of the spirit with which the council was 
animated, from the high tone of authority which 
the legates who presided in it assumed, and from 
the implicit deference with which most of the mem¬ 
bers followed their directions, the protestants con¬ 
jectured with ease w hat decisions they might expect. 
It astonished them, however, to see forty prelates 
(for no greater number were yet assembled) assume 
authority as representatives of the universal church, 
and proceed to determine the most important points 
of doctrine in its name. Sensible of this indecency, 
as w r ell as of the ridicule with which it might be 
attended, the council advanced slowly in its deli¬ 
berations, and all its proceedings were for some time 
languishing and feeble. d As soon as the confede¬ 
rates of Smalkalde received information of the 
opening of the council, they published a long ma¬ 
nifesto, containing a renew al of their protest against 
its meeting, together w ith the reasons which induced 
them to decline its jurisdictions. 6 The pope and 
emperor, on their part, were so little solicitous to 
quicken or add vigour to its operations, as plainly 
discovered that some object of greater importance 
occupied and interested them. 

a P prehensions of The protestants were not inattentive 
the protestants. or unconcerned spectators of the mo¬ 
tions of the sovereign pontiff and of Charles, and 
they entertained every day more violent suspicions 
of their intentions, in consequence of intelligence 
received from different quarters of the machinations 
carrying on against them. The king of England 
informed them, that the emperor, having long re¬ 
solved to exterminate their opinions, would not fail 
to employ this interval of tranquillity which he now 
enjoyed as the most favourable juncture for carrying 
his design into execution. The merchants of Augs¬ 
burg, which was at that time a city of extensive 
trade, received advice, by means of their corres¬ 
pondents in Italy, among whom were some who se¬ 
cretly favoured the protestant cause/ that a danger- 

d F. Paul, 120, &c. Pallavic. p. 180, &c. 

2 Q 


ous confederacy against it was forming between 
the pope and emperor. In confirmation of this they 
heard from the Low Countries that Charles had 
issued orders, though with every precaution which 
could keep the measure concealed, for raising troops 
both there and in other parts of his dominions. 
Such a variety of information, corroborating all 
that their own jealousy or observation led them to 
apprehend, left the protestants little reason to doubt 
of the emperor’s hostile intentions. Their deiibera- 
Under this impression the deputies of tl0ns - 
the confederates of Smalkalde assembled at Franc- 
fort, and by communicating their intelligence and 
sentiments to each other, reciprocally heightened 
their sense of the impending danger. But their 
union was not such as their situation required or 
the preparations of their enemies rendered neces¬ 
sary. Their league had now subsisted ten years. 
Among so many members w r hose territories were in¬ 
termingled with each other, and w ho, according to 
the custom of Germany, had created an infinite va¬ 
riety of mutual rights and claims by intermarriages, 
alliances, and contracts of different kinds, subjects 
of jealousy and discord had unavoidably arisen. 
Some of the confederates, being connected with the 
duke of Brunswick, were highly disgusted with the 
landgrave, on account of the rigour w ith which he 
had treated that rash and unfortunate prince. 
Others taxed the elector of Saxony and landgrave, 
the heads of the league, w ith having involved the 
members in unnecessary and exorbitant expenses 
by their profuseness or want of economy. The 
views, likewise, and temper of those two princes, 
who by their superior power and authority influ¬ 
enced and directed the whole body, being extremely 
different, rendered all its motions languid, at a time 
when the utmost vigour and despatch were requisite. 
The landgrave, of a violent and enterprising tem¬ 
per, but not forgetful, amidst his zeal for religion, 
of the usual maxims of human policy, insisted that, 
as the danger which threatened them was manifest 
and unavoidable, they should have recourse to the 
most effectual expedient for securing their own 
safety, by courting the protection of the kings of 
France arid England, or by joining an alliance with 
the protestant cantons of Switzerland, from whom 
they might expect such powerful and present as¬ 
sistance as their situation demanded. The elector, 
on the other hand, with the most upright intentions 
of any prince in that age, and with talents which 
might have qualified him abundantly for the admi¬ 
nistration of government in any tranquil period, 
was possessed with such superstitious veneration 
for all the parts of the Lutheran system, and such 
bigoted attachment to all its tenets, as made him 
averse to an union with those who differed from him 
in any article of faith, and rendered him very inca¬ 
pable of undertaking its defence in times of diffi¬ 
culty and danger. He seemed to think that the 
concerns of religion were to be regulated by princi- 


e Seek. 1. iii. 602, &c. 


f Seek. 1. iii. 579. 



r>94 


THE REIGN OF THE 


pies and maxims totally different from those which 
apply to the common affairs of life ; and being 
swayed too much by the opinions of Luther, who 
was not only a stranger to the rules of political 
conduct but despised them, he often discovered an 
uncomplying spirit, that proved of the greatest de¬ 
triment to the cause which he wished to support. 
Influenced on this occasion by the severe and rigid 
notions of that reformer, he refused to enter into 
anj r confederacy with Francis, because he was a 
persecutor of the truth ; or to solicit the friendship 
of Henry, because he was no less impious and pro¬ 
fane than the pope himself; or even to join in alli¬ 
ance with the Swiss, because they differed from the 
Germans in several essential articles of faith. This 
dissension about a point of such consequence pro¬ 
duced its natural effects. Each secretly censured 
and reproached the other. The landgrave con¬ 
sidered the elector as fettered by narrow prejudices 
unworthy of a prince called to act a chief part in a 
scene of such importance. The elector suspected 
the landgrave of loose principles and ambitious 
views, which corresponded ill with the sacred cause 
wherein they were engaged. But though the elect¬ 
or’s scruples prevented their timely application for 
foreign aid, and the jealousy or discontent of the 
other princes defeated a proposal for renewing their 
original confederacy, the term during which it was 
to continue in force being on the point of expiring ; 
yet the sense of their common danger induced them 
to agree with regard to other points, particularly 
that they would never acknowledge the assembly 
of Trent as a lawful council, nor suffer the arch¬ 
bishop of Cologne to be oppressed on account of the 
steps w hich he had taken towards the reformation 
of his diocese.^ 

Their negotiations The landgrave about this time, de- 
Wlth the emperor. s j rous 0 f penetrating to the bottom of 

the emperor’s intentions, wrote to Granvelle, whom 
he knew to be thoroughly acquainted with all his 
master’s schemes, informing him of the several par¬ 
ticulars which raised the suspicions of the protest- 
ants, and begging an explicit declaration of what 
they had to fear or to hope. Granvelle, in return, 
assured them that the intelligence which they had 
received of the emperor’s military preparations was 
exaggerated, and all their suspicions destitute of 
foundation ; that though, in order to guard his fron¬ 
tiers against any insult of the French or English, he 
had commanded a small body of men to be raised in 
the Low Countries, he w r as as solicitous as ever to 
maintain tranquillity in Germany. h 

But the emperor’s actions did not correspond with 
these professions of his minister. For instead of 
appointing men of known moderation and a pacific 
temper to appear in defence of the catholic doctrines 
at the conference which had been agreed on, he 
made choice of fierce bigots, attached to their own 
system with a blind obstinacy that rendered all hope 
of a reconcilement desperate. Malvenda, a Spanish 

g Seek. 1. iii. 506, 570, 613. Sleid. 355. h Sleid. 356. 


[A. D. 154G. BOOK VIII. 

divine, who took upon him the conduct of a debate 
on the part of the catholics, managed it with all the 
subtle dexterity of a scholastic metaphysician, more 
studious to perplex his adversaries than to convince 
them, and more intent on palliating error than on 
discovering truth. The protestants, filled with in¬ 
dignation as well at his sophistry as at some regula¬ 
tions which the emperor endeavoured to impose on 
the disputants, broke off the conference abruptly, 
being now fully convinced that in all his late mea¬ 
sures the emperor could have no other view than to 
amuse them, and to gain time for ripening his own 
schemes. 1 


BOOK VIII. 


While appearances of danger daily 

, , „ Death of Luther. 

increased, and the tempest which had 
been so long a gathering was ready to break forth 
in all its violence against the protestant church, 
Luther was saved, by a seasonable death, from feel¬ 
ing or beholding its destructive rage. Having gone, 
though in a declining state of health and during a 
rigorous season, to his native city of Eysleben, in 
order to compose, by his authority, a dissension 
among the counts of Mansfield, he was 
seized with a violent inflammation in 
his stomach, which in a few days put an end to his 
life, in the sixty-third year of his age. As he was 
raised up by Providence to be the author of one of 
the greatest and most interesting revolutions re¬ 
corded in history, there is not any person, perhaps, 
whose character has been drawn with such opposite 
colours. In his own age, one party, struck with 
horror and inflamed with rage when they saw with 
w hat a daring hand he overturned every thing which 
they held to be sacred or valued as beneficial, im¬ 
puted to him not only all the defects and vices of a 
man, but the qualities of a demon. The other, 
w armed with the admiration and gratitude which 
they thought he merited as the restorer of light and 


liberty to the Christian church, ascribed to him per¬ 
fections above the condition of humanity, and 
view ed all his actions with a veneration bordering 
on that which should be paid only to those who are 
guided by the immediate inspiration of Heaven. It 
is his own conduct, not the undistin¬ 
guishing censure or the exaggerated Hls c,1 ' ir<icter - 


praise of his contemporaries, that ought to regulate 
the opinions of the present age concerning him. 
Zeal lor what he regarded as truth, undaunted in¬ 
trepidity to maintain his own system, abilities, both 
natural and acquired, to defend his principles, and 
unw earied industry in propagating them, are virtues 
which shine so conspicuously in every part of his 
behaviour, that even his enemies must allow him to 
have possessed them in an eminent degree. To these 


i Sleid. 358. Seek. 1. iii. 6C0. 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


595 


BOOK VIII. A. D. 15*0.1 


may be added with equal justice, such purity and 
even austerity of manners as became one who as¬ 
sumed the character of a reformer; such sanctity of 
life as suited the doctrine which he delivered ; and 
such perfect disinterestedness as affords no slight 
presumption of his sincerity. Superior to all selfish 
considerations, a stranger to the elegances of life, 
and despising its pleasures, he left the honours and 
emoluments of the church to his disciples, remain¬ 
ing satisfied himself in his original state of professor 
in the university and pastor of the town of Wittem- 
berg, with the moderate appointments annexed to 
these offices. His extraordinary qualities were 
allayed with no inconsiderable mixture of human 
frailty and human passions. These, however, were 
of such a nature, that they cannot be imputed to 
malevolence or corruption of heart, but seem to 
have taken their rise from the same source with 
many of his virtues. His mind, forcible and vehe¬ 
ment in all its operations, roused by great objects 
or agitated by violent passions, broke out, on many 
occasions, with an impetuosity which astonishes 
men of feebler spirits, or such as are placed in a more 
tranquil situation. By carrying some praiseworthy 
dispositions to excess, he bordered sometimes on 
what was culpable, and was often betrayed into 
actions which exposed him to censure. His con¬ 
fidence that his own opinions were well founded 
approached to arrogance ; his courage in assert¬ 
ing them to rashness; his firmness in adhering to 
them to obstinacy; and his zeal in confuting his 
adversaries to rage and scurrility. Accustomed 
himself to consider every thing as subordinate to 
truth, he expected the same deference for it from 
other men ; and without making any allowances for 
their timidity or prejudices, he poured forth against 
such as disappointed him in this particular, a torrent 
of invective mingled with contempt. Regardless of 
any distinction of rank or character when his doc¬ 
trines were attacked, he chastised all his adversaries 
indiscriminately with the same rough hand ; neither 
the royal dignity of Henry VIII. nor the eminent 
learning and abilities of Erasmus, screened them 
from the same gross abuse with which he treated 
Tetzel or Eecius. 

But these indecencies of which Luther was guilty 
must not be imputed wholly to the violence of his 
temper. They ought to be charged in part on the 
manners of the age. Among a rude people, unac¬ 
quainted with those maxims which, by putting con¬ 
tinual restraint on the passions of individuals, have 
polished society and rendered it agreeable, disputes 
of every kind were managed with heat, and strong 
emotions were uttered in their natural language, 
without reserve or delicacy. At the same time the 
works of learned men were all composed in Latin, 

a A remarkable instance of this, as well as of a certain singularity and 
elevation of sentiment, is found in his last will. Though the effects which 
he had to bequeath were very inconsiderable, he thought it necessary to 
make a testament, but scorned to frame it with the usual legal formalities. 
“ N otus sum,” says he, “ in coelo, in terra, et inferno, et auctoritatem ad hoc 
suflicientem liabeo, ut mihi soli credatur, cum Deus mihi, homini licet 
damnabili, et miserabili peccatori, ex paterna misericordia evangelium filii 
sui crediderit, dederitque ut in eo verax et fidelis fuerim, ita ut multi in 

2 Q 2 


and they were not only authorized by the example 
of eminent writers in that language to use their 
antagonists with the most illiberal scurrility, but in 
a dead tongue indecencies of every kind appear less 
shocking than in a living language, whose idioms 
and phrases seem gross because they are familiar. 

In passing judgment upon the characters of men, 
we ought to try them by the principles and maxims 
of their own age, not by those of another. For 
although virtue and vice are at all times the same, 
manners and customs vary continually. Some parts 
of Luther's behaviour which to us appear most 
culpable, gave no disgust to his contemporaries. It 
was even by some of those qualities which we are 
now apt to blame that he was fitted for accomplish¬ 
ing the great work which he undertook. To rouse 
mankind when sunk in ignorance or superstition, 
and to encounter the rage of bigotry armed with 
power, required the utmost vehemence of zeal, as 
well as a temper daring to excess. A gentle call 
would neither have reached nor have excited those 
to whom it was addressed. A spirit more amiable 
but less vigorous than Luther’s would have shrunk 
back from the dangers which he braved and sur¬ 
mounted. Towards the close of Luther’s life, though 
without any perceptible diminution of his zeal or 
abilities, the infirmities of his temper increased 
upon him, so that he grew daily more peevish, more 
irascible, and more impatient of contradiction. 
Having lived to be a witness of his own amazing 
success, to see a great part of Europe embrace his 
doctrines, and to shake the foundation of the papal 
throne, before which the mightiest monarchs had 
trembled, he discovered on some occasions symptoms 
of vanity and self-applause. He must have been, 
indeed, more than man, if, upon contemplating all 
that he actually accomplished, he had never felt 
any sentiment of this kind rising in his breast. 3 

Some time before his death he felt his strength 
declining, his constitution being worn out by a pro¬ 
digious multiplicity of business, added to the labour 
of discharging his ministerial function with unre¬ 
mitting diligence, to the fatigue of constant study, 
besides the composition of works as voluminous as 
if he had enjoyed uninterrupted leisure and retire¬ 
ment. His natural intrepidity did not forsake him 
at the approach of death ; his last conversation with 
his friends was concerning the happiness reserved 
for good men in a future life, of which he spoke 
with the fervour and delight natural to one who ex¬ 
pected and wished to enter soon upon the enjoyment 
of it. b The account of his death filled the Roman 
catholic party with excessive as well as indecent 
joy, and damped the spirits of all his followers ; 
neither party sufficiently considering that his doc¬ 
trines were now so firmly rooted as to be in a con- 

mundo illud per me acceperint, et me pro Doctore veritatis agnoverint, 
spreto banno papae, Caesaris, regum,' principum, et sacerdotum, imo om¬ 
nium daemonum odio. Quidni, lgitur, ad dispositionetn hanc, in re exigua, 
suttidat, si adsit manus meae testimonium, et did possit, Hasc scripsit D. 
Marfinus Luther, notarius Dei, et testis Lvangelii ejus.” Seek. 1. iii. 
p. 051. 

b Sleid. 302. Seek. lib. iii. 632, &e. 



59G 


THE REIGN OF THE 


amuse and de¬ 
ceive the pro- 
testants. 


March 28. 


clition to flourish independent of the hand which had 
first planted them. His funeral was celebrated by 
order of the elector of Saxony with extraordinary 
pomp. He left several children by his wife Catha¬ 
rine a Boria, who survived him. Towards the end 
of the last century there were in Saxony some of his 
descendants in decent and honourable stations. 0 

The emperor, meanwhile, pursued 
endeavours to the plan of dissimulation with which 
he had set out, employing every art to 
amuse the protestants and to quiet 
their fears and jealousies. For this purpose he 
contrived to have an interview with the landgrave 
of Hesse, the most active of all the confederates, 
and the most suspicious of his designs. To him he 
made such warm professions of his 
concern for the happiness of Germany 
and of his aversion to all violent measures ; he 
denied in such express terms his having entered 
into any league or having begun any military pre¬ 
parations which should give any just cause of alarm 
to the protestants, as seem to have dispelled all the 
landgrave’s doubts and apprehensions, and sent him 
away fully satisfied of his pacific intentions. This 
artifice was of great advantage, and effectually 
answered the purpose for which it was employed. 
The landgrave upon his leaving Spires, where he 
had been admitted to this interview, went to Worms, 
where the Smalkaldic confederates were assembled, 
and gave them such a flattering representation of 
the emperor’s favourable disposition towards them, 
that they, who were too apt, as well from the temper 
of the German nation as from the genius of all great 
associations or bodies of men, to be slow and dilatory, 
and indecisive in their deliberations, thought there 
was no necessity of taking any immediate measures 
against danger which appeared to be distant or 
imaginary . d 

Proceedings of Such events > however, soon occurred 
against'the pro- as staggered the credit which the pro¬ 
testants. testants had given to the emperor’s de¬ 

clarations. The council of Trent, though still com¬ 
posed of a small number of Italian and Spanish 
prelates, without a single deputy from many of the 
kingdoms which it assumed a right of binding by 
its decrees, being ashamed of its long inactivity, pro¬ 
ceeded now to settle articles of the greatest import¬ 
ance. Having begun with examining the first and 
chief point in controversy between the church of 
Rome and the reformers, concerning the rule which 
should be held as supreme and decisive in matters 
of faith, the council, by its infallible authority, de¬ 
termined, “ That the books to which the designa¬ 
tion of Apocryphal hath been given are 
of equal authority with those which 
were received by the Jews and primitive Christians 
into the sacred canon; that the traditions handed 
down from the apostolic age, and preserved in the 
church, are entitled to as much regard as the doc- 


April 8. 


c Seek. 1. iii. 651. 
e F. Paul, 141. Pallav. 206. 


d Sleid. Ilist. 367 , 373. 


[A. D. 1516. BOOK VIIL 

trines and precepts which the inspired authors have 
committed to writing ; that the Latin translation of 
the Scriptures made or revised by St. Jerome, and 
known by the name of the Vulgate translation, 
should be read in churches, and appealed to in the 
schools as authentic and canonical.” Against all 
who disclaimed the truth of these tenets, anathemas 
were denounced in the name and by the authority 
of the Holy Ghost. The decision of these points, 
which undermined the main foundation of the Lu¬ 
theran system, was a plain warning to the protest¬ 
ants what judgment they might expect when the 
council should have leisure to take into considera¬ 
tion the particular and subordinate articles of their 
creed. e 

This discovery of the council’s readiness to con¬ 
demn the opinions of the protestants w^as soon fol¬ 
lowed by a striking instance of the pope’s resolution 
to punish such as embraced them. The appeal of 
the canons of Cologne against their archbishop 
having been carried to Rome, Paul eagerly seized 
on that opportunity, both of displaying the extent 
of his own authority and of teaching the German 
ecclesiastics the danger of revolting from the estab¬ 
lished church. As no person appeared in behalf of 
the archbishop, he was held to be convicted of the 
crime of heresy, and a papal bull was ApriJ 
issued, depriving him of his ecclesias¬ 
tical dignity, inflicting on him the sentence of excom¬ 
munication, and absolving his subjects from the oath 
of allegiance which they had taken to him as their 
civil superior. The countenance which he had given 
to the Lutheran heresy was the only crime imputed 
to him, as well as the only reason assigned to j ustify 
the extraordinary severity of this decree. The pro¬ 
testants could hardly believe that Paul, how zealous 
soever he might be to defend the established system, 
or to humble those who invaded it, would have 
ventured to proceed to such extremities against a 
prince and elector of the empire, without having 
previously secured such powerful protection as 
would render his censure something more than an 
impotent and despicable sally of resentment. They 
were of course deeply alarmed at this sentence 
against the archbishop, considering it as a sure in¬ 
dication of the malevolent intentions, not only of the 
pope but of the emperor, against the whole party. f 

Upon this fresh revival of their fears, Charles about to 
with such violence as is natural to men h^es a^ainsuhe 
roused from a false security and con- P rotestiints > 
scious of their having been deceived, Charles saw 
that now it became necessary to throw aside the 
mask, and to declare openly what parthe determined 
to act. By a long series of artifice and fallacy he 
had gained so much time, that his measures, though 
not altogether ripe for execution, were in great for¬ 
wardness. The pope, by his proceedings against 
the elector of Cologne, as well as by the decree of 
the council, had precipitated matters into such a 

f Sleid. 354. F. Paul, 155. Pallavic. 224. 




BOOK VIII. A. I). 1546.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


697 


situation as rendered a breach between the emperor 
and the protestants almost unavoidable. Charles 
had therefore no choice left him but either to take 
part with them in overturning what the see of Rome 
had determined, or to support the authority of the 
Negotiates with church openly by force of arms. Nor 

the pope. did t | ie p 0pe j t to have 

brought the emperor under a necessity of acting ; 
he pressed him to begin his operations immediately, 
and to carry them with such vigour as could not 
fail of securing success. Transported by his zeal 
against heresy, Paul forgot all the prudent and 
cautious maxims of the papal see with regard to the 
danger of extending the imperial authority beyond 
due bounds; and in order to crush the Lutherans, 
he was willing to contribute towards raising up a 
master that might one day prove formidable to him¬ 
self as well as to the rest of Italy. 

Concludes a truce But besides the certain expectation 
with Soiyman. 0 f ass i s tance from the pope, Charles 

was now secure from any danger of interruption to 
his designs by the Turkish arms. His negociations 
at the Porte, which he had carried on with great 
assiduity since the peace at Crespy, were on the 
point of being terminated in such a manner as he 
desired. Solyman, partly in compliance with the 
French king, who, in order to avoid the disagree¬ 
able obligation of joining the emperor against his 
ancient ally, laboured with great zeal to bring about 
an accommodation between them, and partly from 
its being necessary to turn his arms towards the 
east, where the Persians threatened to invade his 
dominions, consented without difficulty to a truce 
for live years. The chief article of it was, That 
each should retain possession of what he now held 
in Hungary; and Ferdinand, as a sacrifice to the 
pride of the sultan, submitted to pay an annual 
tribute of fifty thousand crowns.® 

But it was upon the aid and concur- 

Ciains Maurice „ , ^ , 

and other princes rence oi the Germans themselves that 

the emperor relied with the greatest 
confidence. The Germanic body, he knew, was of 
such vast strength as to be invincible if it were 
united, and that it was only by employing its own 
force that he could hope to subdue it. Happily for 
him, the union of the several members in this great 
system was so feeble, the whole frame M as so loosely 
compacted, and its different parts tended so vio¬ 
lently toM ards separation from each other, that it 
was almost impossible for it, on any important 
emergence, to join in a general or vigorous effort. 
Jn the present juncture the sources of discord Mere 
as many and as various as had been known on any 
occasion. The Roman catholics, animated M’ith 
zeal in defence of their religion proportional to the 
fierceness with which it had been attacked, were 
eager to second any attempt to humble those inno¬ 
vators who had overturned it in many provinces 
and endangered it in more. John and Albert of Bran¬ 
denburg, as well as several other princes, incensed 

g lstuanhaffii Hist. Hun. 180. Mem. de Ribier.tom. i. 582. 


at the haughtiness and rigour with which the duke 
of Brunswick had been treated by the confederates 
of Smalkalde, were impatient to rescue him and to 
be revenged on them. Charles observed with satis¬ 
faction the working of those passions in their minds, 
and counting on them as sure auxiliaries whenever 
he should think it proper to act, he found it, in the 
mean time, more necessary to moderate than to in¬ 
flame their rage. 

Such was the situation of affairs, u 0 Msadietat 
such the discernment M’ith which the Ratisbon. 

emperor foresaw and provided for every event, when 
the diet of the empire met at Ratisbon. Many of 
the Roman catholic members appeared there in per¬ 
son, but most of the confederates of Smalkalde, 
under pretence of being unable to bear the expense 
occasioned by the late unnecessary frequency of 
such assemblies, sent only deputies. Their jea¬ 
lousy of the emperor, together with an apprehen¬ 
sion that violence might, perhaps, be employed in 
order to force their approbation of what he should 
propose in the diet, was the true cause of their 
absence. The speech with which the emperor 
opened the diet Mas extremely artful. After pro¬ 
fessing, in common form, his regard for the prospe¬ 
rity of the Germanic body, and declaring that, in 
order to bestow his M'hole attention upon the re¬ 
establishment of its order and tranquillity, he had 
at present abandoned all other cares, rejected the 
most pressing solicitations of his other subjects to 
reside among them, and postponed affairs of the 
greatest importance ; he took notice, with some dis¬ 
approbation, that his disinterested example had not 
been imitated, many members of chief consideration 
having neglected to attend an assembly to which he 
had repaired with such manifest inconvenience to 
himself. He then mentioned their unhappy dissen¬ 
sions about religion ; lamented the ill success of his 
past endeavours to compose them ; complained of 
the abrupt dissolution of the late conference, and 
craved their advice with regard to the best and most 
effectual method of restoring union to the churches 
of Germany, together with that happy agreement in 
articles of faith which their ancestors had found to 
be of no less advantage to their civil interest than 
becoming their Christian profession. 

By this gracious and popular method of consult¬ 
ing the members of the diet rather than of obtruding 
upon them any opinion of his own, besides the ap¬ 
pearance of great moderation, and the merit of pay¬ 
ing much respect to their judgment, the emperor 
dexterously avoided discovering his own sentiments, 
and reserved to himself, as his only part, that of 
carrying into execution M'hat they should recom¬ 
mend. Nor was he less secure of such a decision 
as he wished to obtain by referring it M'holly to 
themselves. The Roman catholic members, prompt¬ 
ed by their own zeal, or prepared by his intrigues, 
joined immediately in representing that the autho¬ 
rity of the council now met at Trent ought to be 




598 


THE REIGN OF THE 


June 9. 


supreme in all matters of controversy ; that all 
Christians should submit to its decrees as the infal¬ 
lible rule of their faith ; and therefore they besought 
him to exert the power with which he was invested 
by the Almighty, in protecting that assembly, and 
in compelling the protestants to acquiesce in its 
determinations. The protestants, on the other hand, 
presented a memorial, in which, after repeating their 
objections to the council of Trent, they proposed, 
as the only effectual method of deciding the points 
in dispute, that either a free general council should 
be assembled in Germany, or a national council of 
the empire should be called, or a select number of 
divines should be appointed out of each party to 
examine and define articles of faith. They men¬ 
tioned the recesses of several diets favourable to 
this proposition, and which had afforded them the 
prospect of terminating all their differences in this 
amicable manner; they now conjured the emperor 
not to depart from his former plan, and, by offering 
violence to their consciences, to bring calamities 
upon Germany the very thought of which must fill 
every lover of his country with horror. The em¬ 
peror, receiving this paper with a contemptuous 
smile, paid no further regard to it. Having already 
taken his final resolution, and perceiving that no¬ 
thing but force could compel them to 
acquiesce in it, he despatched the car¬ 
dinal of Trent to Rome, in order to conclude an 
alliance with the pope, the terms of which were 
already agreed on ; he commanded a body of troops 
levied on purpose in the Low Countries, to advance 
towards Germany ; he gave commissions to several 
officers for raising men in different parts of the em¬ 
pire ; he warned John and Albert of Brandenburg, 
that now was the proper time of exerting themselves 
in order to rescue their ally, Henry of Brunswick, 
from captivity. h 

The protestants All these things could not be trans- 
alarmed. acted without the observation and 

knowledge of the protestants. The secret was now 
in many hands ; under whatever veil the emperor 
still affected to conceal his designs, his officers kept 
no such mysterious reserve, and his allies and sub¬ 
jects spoke out his intentions plainly. Alarmed 
with reports of this kind from every quarter, as 
well as with the preparations for war which they 
could not but observe, the deputies of the confede¬ 
rates demanded audience of the emperor, and, in 
the name of their masters, required to know whether 
these military preparations were carried on by his 
command, and for what end and against what ene¬ 
my? To a question put in such a tone, and at a time 
when facts were become too notorious to be denied, 
it was necessary to give an explicit answer. Charles 
owned the orders which he had issued ; and pro¬ 
fessing his purpose not to molest, on account of 
religion, those who should act as dutiful subjects, 
declared that he had nothing in view but to maintain 
the rights and prerogatives of the imperial dignity; 

h Sleid. 374. Seek. iii. 058. 1 Sleid. 3?6. 


[A. D. 1546. BOOK VIII. 

and, by punishing some factious members, to pre¬ 
serve the ancient constitution of the empire from 
being impaired or dissolved by their irregular and 
licentious conduct. Though the emperor did not 
name the persons whom he charged with such high 
crimes, and destined to be the object of his ven¬ 
geance, it was obvious that he had the elector of 
Saxony and landgrave of Hesse in view. Their 
deputies, considering what he had said as a plain 
declaration of his hostile intentions, immediately 
retired from Ratisbon. 1 

The cardinal of Trent found it no The emperor’s 

treaty with the 

difficult matter to treat with the pope, pope. 

who having at length brought the emperor to adopt 

that plan which he had long recom- 

1 . July 26. 

mended, assented with eagerness to 
every article that he proposed. The league was sign¬ 
ed a few days after the cardinal's arrival at Rome. 
The pernicious heresies which abounded in Germany, 
the obstinacy of the protestants in rejecting the holy 
council assembled at Trent, and the necessity of 
maintaining sound doctrine, together with good 
order, in the church, are mentioned as the motives 
of this union between the contracting parties. In 
order to check the growth of these evils, and to 
punish such as had impiously contributed to spread 
them, the emperor having long and without success 
made trial of gentler remedies, engaged instantly to 
take the field with a sufficient army, that he might 
compel all who disowned the council or had apos¬ 
tatized from the religion of their forefathers to return 
into the bosom of the church, and submit with due 
obedience to the holy see. He likewise bound 
himself not to conclude a peace with them during 
six months without the pope's consent, nor without 
assigning him his share in any conquests which 
should be made upon them ; and that, even after 
this period, he should not agree to any accommo¬ 
dation which might be detrimental to the church 
or to the interest of religion. On his part the 
pope stipulated to deposit a large sum in the 
bank of Venice towards defraying the expense of 
the war; to maintain, at his own charge, during the 
space of six months, twelve thousand foot and five 
hundred horse ; to grant the emperor, for one year, 
half of the ecclesiastical revenues throughout 
Spain ; to authorize him, by a bull, to alienate as 
much of the lands belonging to religious houses in 
that country as would amount to the sum of five 
hundred thousand crowns ; and to employ not only 
spiritual censures but military force against any 
prince who should attempt to interrupt or defeat the 
execution of this treaty. k 

Notwithstanding the explicit terms Endeav0ljrs still 

in which the extirpation of heresy Intentions from 
was declared to be the object of the th e protestants.. 

war which was to follow upon this treaty, Charles 
still endeavoured to persuade the Germans that he 
had no design to abridge their religious liberty, but 
that he aimed only at vindicating his own authority, 

k Sleid. 381. Pal lav. 255. Du Mont Corps Diplom. 11. 



BOOK VIII. A. D. 1546.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


599 


and repressing the insolence of such as had en¬ 
croached upon it. With this view he wrote circular 
letters in the same strain with his answer to the de¬ 
puties at Ratisbon, to most of the free cities, and to 
several of the princes who had embraced the protest- 
ant doctrines. In these he complained loudly, but 
in general terms, of the contempt into which the 
imperial dignity had fallen, and of the presumptuous 
as well as disorderly behaviour of some members of 
the empire. He declared that he now took arms 
not in a religious but in a civil quarrel ; not to 
oppress any who continued to behave as quiet and 
dutiful subjects, but to humble the arrogance of 
such as had thrown off all sense of that subordina¬ 
tion in which they were placed under him as head 
of the Germanic body. Gross as this deception 
was, and manifest as it might have appeared to all 
who considered the emperor’s conduct with atten¬ 
tion, it became necessary for him to make trial of 
its effect; and such was the confidence and dex¬ 
terity with which he employed it, that lie derived 
the most solid advantages from this artifice. If he 
had avowed at once an intention of overturning the 


protestant church, and of reducing all Germany 
under its former state of subjection to the papal 
see, none of the cities or princes who had embraced 
the new opinions could have remained neutral after 
such a declaration, far less could they have ven¬ 
tured to assist the emperor in such an enterprise. 
Whereas, by concealing and even disclaiming any 
intention of that kind, lie not only saved himself 
from the danger of being overwhelmed by a general 
confederacy of all the protestant states, but he fur¬ 
nished the timid with an excuse for continuing 
inactive, and the designing or interested with a 
pretext for joining him without exposing themselves 
to the infamy of abandoning their own principles, 
or taking part openly in suppressing them. At the 
same time the emperor well knew that if, by their 
assistance, he were enabled to break the power of 
the elector of Saxony and the landgrave, he might 
afterwards prescribe what terms he pleased to the 
feeble remains of a party without union and des¬ 
titute of leaders, who would then regret, too late, 
their mistaken confidence in him and their incon¬ 
siderate desertion of their associates. 

The popediseon- Tlic P°P e < b y a sudden and unfore- 
certs ins plan. seen display of his zeal, had well nigh 

disconcerted this plan, which the emperor had 
formed with so much care and art. Proud of hav¬ 
ing been the author of such a formidable league 
against the Lutheran heresy, and happy in thinking 
that the glory of extirpating it was reserved for his 
pontificate, he published the articles of his treaty 
with the emperor, in order to demonstrate the pious 
intention of their confederacy as well as to display 
his own zeal, which prompted him to make such 
extraordinary efforts for maintaining the faith in its 
purity. Not satisfied with this, he soon after issued 
a bull containing most liberal promises of indul¬ 


1 Du Mont Corps Diplom. 


gence to all who should engage in this holy enter¬ 
prise, together with warm exhortations to such as 
could not bear a part in it themselves, to increase 
the fervour of their prayers and the severity of their 
mortifications, that they might draw down the bless¬ 
ing of Heaven upon those who undertook it. 1 Nor 
was it zeal alone which pushed the pope to make 
declarations so inconsistent with the account which 
the emperor himself gave of his motives for taking 
arms. He was much scandalized at Charles’s dis¬ 
simulation in such a cause ; at his seeming to be 
ashamed of owning his zeal for the church, and at 
his endeavours to make that pass for a political 
contest which he ought to have gloried in as a war 
that had no other object than the defence of religion. 
With as much solicitude, therefore, as the emperor 
laboured to disguise the purpose of the confederacy, 
did the pope endeavour to publish their real plan, 
in order that they might come at once to an open 
rupture with the protestants, that all hopes of re¬ 
concilement might be cut off, and that Charles 
might be under fewer temptations, and have it less 
in .his power than at present, to betray the interests 
of the church by any accommodation beneficial to 
himself." 1 

The emperor, though not a little offended at the 
pope’s indiscretion or malice in making this dis¬ 
covery, continued boldly to pursue his own plan, 
and to assert his intentions to be no other than what 
he had originally avowed. Several of the protest¬ 
ant states whom he had previously gained thought 
themselves justified, in some measure, by his de¬ 
clarations, for abandoning their associates, and 
even for giving assistance to him. 

But these artifices did not impose The preparation 
on the greater and sounder part of fo/the^r'ownde- 
the protestant confederates. They tence - 
clearly perceived it to be against the reformed 
religion that the emperor had taken arms, and 
that not only the suppression of it, but the ex¬ 
tinction of the German liberties, would be the 
certain consequence of his obtaining such an en¬ 
tire superiority as would enable him to execute his 
schemes in their full extent. They determined, 
therefore, to prepare for their own defence, and 
neither to renounce those religious truths to the 
knowledge of which they had attained by means so 
wonderful, nor to abandon those civil rights which 
had been transmitted to them by their ancestors. 
In order to give the necessary directions for this 
purpose, their deputies met at Ulm soon after their 
abrupt departure from Ratisbon. Their delibera¬ 
tions were now conducted with such vigour and 
unanimity as the imminent danger which threatened 
them required. The contingent of troops which 
each of the confederates was to furnish having been 
lixed by the original treaty of union, orders were 
given for bringing them immediately into the field. 
Being sensible at last, that, through the narrow 
prejudices of some of their members, and the im- 


m F. Paul. 188. Thuan. Hist. i. 61. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


GOO 

prudent security of others, they had neglected too 
long to strengthen themselves by foreign alliances, 
they now applied with great earnestness to the Ve¬ 
netians and Swiss. 

To the Venetians they represented 
ailfofUievVne 6 - the emperor’s intention of overturning 
tlans; the present system of Germany, and 

of raising himself to absolute power in that country 
by means of foreign force furnished by the pope ; 
they warned them how fatal this event would prove 
to the liberties of Italy, and that by suffering 
Charles to acquire unlimited authority in the one 
country, they would soon feel his dominion to be 
no less despotic in the other; they besought them, 
therefore, not to grant a passage through their ter¬ 
ritories to those troops, which ought to be treated 
as common enemies, because by subduing Germany 
they prepared chains for the rest of Europe. These 
reflections had not escaped the sagacity of those 
wise republicans. They had communicated their 
sentiments to the pope, and had endeavoured to 
divert him from an alliance which tended to render 
irresistible the power of a potentate whose ambition 
he already knew to be boundless. But they had 
found Paul so eager in the prosecution of his own 
plan, that he disregarded all their remonstrances." 
This attempt to alarm the pope having proved un¬ 
successful, they declined doing any thing more to¬ 
wards preventing the dangers which they foresaw; 
and in return to the application from the confede¬ 
rates of Smalkalde, they informed them that they 
could not obstruct the march of the pope’s troops 
through an open country but by levying an army 
strong enough to face them in the field, and that 
this would draw upon themselves the whole weight 
of his as well as of the emperor’s indignation. For 
the same reason they declined lending a sum of 
money which the elector of Saxony and landgrave 
proposed to borrow of them towards carrying on 
the war. 0 

„ , The demands of the confederates 

of the Swiss ; ^ 

upon the Swiss were not confined to 
the obstructing of the entrance of foreigners into 
Germany ; they required of them, as the nearest 
neighbours and closest allies of the empire, to in¬ 
terpose with their wonted vigour for the preserva¬ 
tion of its liberties, and not to stand as inactive 
spectators while their brethren were oppressed and 
enslaved. But with whatever zeal some of the 
cantons might have been disposed to act when the 
cause of the Reformation was in danger, the Helvetic 
body was so divided with regard to religion as to 
render it unsafe for the protestants to take any step 
w ithout consulting their catholic associates; and 
among them the emissaries of the pope and em¬ 
peror had such influence, that a resolution of main¬ 
taining an exact neutrality between the contending 
parties was the utmost which could be procured .p 

Being disappointed in both these applications, 

n Adriani Istoria di suoi Tempi, liv. v. p. 3.32. 

o Sleid. 381. Paruta istor. Venet. tom. iv, 180. Lambertus Ilortensius 
de Bello Germanico, apud Scardium, vol. ii. p. 547. 


[A. D. 154G. BOOK VIII. 

the protestants, not long after, had or Francis T. and 
recourse to the kings of France and llenry VU1 - 
England ; the approach of danger either overcoming 
the elector of Saxony’s scruples, or obliging him to 
yield to the importunities of his associates. The 
situation of the two monarchs flattered them with 
hopes of success. Though hostilities between them 
had continued for some time after the peace of 
Crespy, they became weary at last of a w ar attend¬ 
ed with no glory or advantage to either, and had 
lately terminated all their differences by a peace 
concluded at Campre near Andres. Francis having 
with great difficulty procured his allies the Scots to 
be included in the treaty, in return for that conces¬ 
sion he engaged to pay a great sum, which Henry 
demanded as due to him on several accounts, and 
he left Boulogne in the hands of the English, as a 
pledge for his faithful performance of that article. 
But though the re-establishment of peace seemed 
to leave the two monarchs at liberty to turn their 
attention towards Germany, so unfortunate were the 
protestants that they derived no immediate advan¬ 
tage from this circumstance. Henry appeared un¬ 
willing to enter into any alliance with them but on 
such conditions as would render him not only the 
head but the supreme director of their league ; a 
pre-eminence which, as the bonds of union or in¬ 
terest between them were but feeble, and as he 
differed from them so widely in his religious senti¬ 
ments, they had no inclination to admit.'* Francis, 
more powerfully inclined by political considera¬ 
tions to afford them assistance, found his kingdom 
so much exhausted by a long war, and was so 
much afraid of irritating the pope by entering into 
close union with excommunicated heretics, that he 
durst not undertake the protection of the Smalkal- 
dic league. By this ill-timed caution, or by a su¬ 
perstitious deference to scruples, to w hich at other 
times he was not much addicted, he lost the most 
promising opportunity of mortifying and distressing 
his rival which presented itself during his w hole 
reign. 

But notwithstanding their ill sue- 
cess in their negociations with foreign the field with a 
courts, the confederates found no gre<tt ‘ llmy - 
difficulty at home in bringing a sufficient force into 
the field. Germany abounded at that time in in¬ 
habitants ; the feudal institutions, which subsisted 
in full force, enabled the nobles to call out their 
numerous vassals, and to put them in motion on 
the shortest w arning ; the martial spirit of the Ger¬ 
mans, not broken or enervated by the introduction 
of commerce and arts, had acquired additional 
vigour during the continual wars in which they had 
been employed for half a century, either in the pay 
of the emperors or the kings of France. Upon 
every opportunity of entering into service they were 
accustomed to run eagerly to arms ; and to every 
standard that w as erected, volunteers flocked from 

p Sleid. 392. 

q Rymer, xv. 9-3. Herbert, 258. 



BOOK VIII. A. D. 154G.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


601 


all quarters/ Zeal seconded on this occasion their 
native ardour. Men on whom the doctrines of the 
Reformation had made that deep impression which 
accompanies truth when first discovered, prepared 
to maintain it with proportional vigour ; and among 
a warlike people it appeared infamous to remain 
inactive when the defence of religion was the motive 
lor taking arms. Accident combined with all these 
circumstances in facilitating the levy of soldiers 
among the confederates. A considerable number 
of Germans in the pay of France being dismissed 
by the king on the prospect of peace with England, 
joined in a body the standard of ihe protestants. 8 
By such a concurrence of causes they were enabled 
to assemble in a few weeks an army composed of 
seventy thousand foot, and fifteen thousand horse, 
provided with a train of an hundred and twenty 
cannon, eight hundred ammunition waggons, eight 
thousand beasts of burden, and six thousand pion¬ 
eers/ This army, one of the most numerous, and 
undoubtedly the best appointed, of any which had 
been levied in Europe during that century, did not 
require the united effort of the whole protestant 
body to raise it. The elector of Saxony, the land¬ 
grave of Hesse, the duke of Wurtemberg, the princes 
of Anhalt, and the imperial cities of Augsburg, 
Ulm, and Strasburg, were the only powers which 
contributed towards this great armament; the elec¬ 
tors of Cologne, of Brandenburg, and the count 
Palatine, overawed by the emperor’s threats or de¬ 
ceived by his professions, remained neuter. John, 
marquis of Brandenburg Bareith, and Albert of 
Brandenburg-Anspach, though both early converts 
to Lutheranism, entered openly into the emperor’s 
service, under pretext of having obtained his pro¬ 
mise for the security of the protestant religion ; 
and Maurice of Saxony soon followed their ex¬ 
ample. 

The number of their troops, as well 

The inequality of . . 

the emperor's as the amazing rapidity wherewith 

forces to theirs. . . 

they had assembled them, astonished 
the emperor, and filled him with the most disquiet¬ 
ing apprehensions. He was, indeed, in no condi¬ 
tion to resist such a mighty force. Shut up in 
Ratisbon, a town of no great strength, whose inha¬ 
bitants being mostly Lutherans would have been 
more ready to betray than to assist him, with only 
three thousand Spanish foot who had served in 
Hungary, and about five thousand Germans who 
had joined him from different parts of the empire, 
he must have been overwhelmed by the approach of 
such a formidable army, which he could not fight, 
nor could he even hope to retreat from it in safety. 
The pope’s troops, though in full march to his 
relief, had hardly reached the frontiers of Germany ; 
the forces which he expected from the Low Coun¬ 
tries had not yet begun to move, and were even far 
from being complete. 11 His situation, however, 
called for more immediate succour, nor did it seem 

r Seek. I. iii. 161. s Thuan. 1. i. 68. 

t 1 bid. 1. i. 601. Ludovici ah Avila et Zuniga Commentanorum de 
EeJ. Germ. liD. duo. Antw. 1550. lCmo. p. 13, a. 


practicable for him to wait for such distant auxili¬ 
aries, w ith whom his junction was so precarious. 

But it happened fortunately for 

They imprudent- 

Gharles that the confederates did not iy negociate in- 
avail themselves of the advantage ste<ld ot <tct,ng - 
which lay so full in their view. In civil wars the 
first steps are commonly taken with much timidity 
and hesitation. Men are solicitous at that time to 
put on the semblance of moderation and equity ; 
they strive to gain partisans by seeming to adhere 
strictly to know n forms ; nor can they be brought at 
once to violate those established institutions which 
in times of tranquillity they have been accustomed 
to reverence; hence their proceedings are often 
feeble or dilatory when they ought to be most vigor¬ 
ous and decisive. Influenced by those consider¬ 
ations, which, happily for the peace of society, 
operate powerfully on the human mind, the confe¬ 
derates could not think of throw ing off that allegi¬ 
ance which they owed to the head of the empire, or 
of turning their arms against him, without one 
solemn appeal more to his candour, and to the im¬ 
partial judgment of their fellow-subjects. For this 
purpose they addressed a letter to the emperor, and 
a manifesto to all the inhabitants of Germany. The 
tenor of both was the same. They represented their 
own conduct with regard to civil affairs as dutiful 
and submissive; they mentioned the inviolable 
union in which they had lived with the emperor, as 
well as the many and recent marks of his goodwill 
and gratitude wherewithal they had been honoured ; 
they asserted religion to be the sole cause of the 
violence which the emperor now meditated against 
them ; and in proof of this produced many argu¬ 
ments to convince those who were so weak as to be 
deceived by the artifices with wdiich he endeavoured 
to cover his real intentions; they declared their own 
resolution to risk every thing in maintenance of their 
religious rights, and foretold the dissolution of the 
German constitution if the emperor should finally 
prevail against them.* 

Charles, though in such a perilous The emperor puts 
situation as might have inspired him banot/heempfre. 
with moderate sentiments, appeared as July 20 * 
inflexible and haughty as if his affairs had been in 
the most prosperous state. His only reply to the 
address and manifesto of the protestants was to 
publish the ban of the empire against the elector of 
Saxony and landgrave of Hesse, their leaders, and 
against all who should dare to assist them. By 
this sentence, the ultimate and most rigorous one 
which the German jurisprudence has provided for 
the punishment of traitors or enemies to their 
country, they were declared rebels and outlaws, and 
deprived of every privilege which they enjoyed as 
members of the Germanic body ; their goods were 
confiscated ; their subjects absolved from their oath 
of allegiance ; and it became not only lawful but 
meritorious to invade their territories. The nobles 

u Sleid. 389. Avila, 8, a. 

x Sleid. 384. 



602 


THE REIGN OF THE 


and free cities who framed or perfected the consti¬ 
tution of the German government had not been so 
negligent of their own safety and privileges as to 
trust the emperor with this formidable jurisdiction. 
The authority of a diet of the empire ought to have 
been interposed before any of its members could be 
put under the ban. But Charles overlooked that 
formality, well knowing that if his arms were 
crowned with success there would remain none who 
would have either power or courage to call in 
question what he had done.y The emperor, how¬ 
ever, did not found his sentence against the elector 
and landgrave on their revolt from the established 
church, or their conduct with regard to religion ; he 
affected to assign for it reasons purely civil, and 
those too expressed in such general and ambiguous 
terms, without specifying the nature or circum¬ 
stances of their guilt, as rendered it more like an 
act of despotic power than of a legal and limited 
jurisdiction. Nor was it altogether from choice or 
to conceal his intentions that Charles had recourse 
to the ambiguity of general expressions; but he durst 
not mention too particularly the causes of his sen¬ 
tence, as every action which he could have charged 
upon the elector and landgrave as a crime might 
have been employed with equal justice to condemn 
many of the protestants whom he still pretended to 
consider as faithful subjects, and whom it would 
have been extremely imprudent to alarm or disgust. 

They declare war The confederates now perceiving all 
against Charles. ] 10 p es 0 f accommodation to be at an 

end, had only to choose whether they would submit 
without reserve to the emperor’s will or proceed to 
open hostilities. They were not destitute either of 
public spirit or of resolution to make the proper 
choice. A few days after the ban of the empire was 
published, they, according to the custom of that 
age, sent a herald to the imperial camp, with a 
solemn declaration of war against Charles, to whom 
they no longer gave any other title than that of 
pretended emperor, and renounced all allegiance, 
homage, or duty which he might claim, or which 
they had hitherto yielded to him. But previous to 
this formality, part of their troops had begun to act. 
Their first The command of a considerable body 
operations, 0 f m en, raised by the city of Augsburg, 

having been given to Sebastian Schertel, a soldier 
of fortune, who by the booty that he got when the 
imperialists plundered Rome, together with the 
merit of long service, had acquired wealth and 
authority which placed him on a level with the chief 
of the German nobles, that gallant veteran resolved, 
before he joined the main body of the confederates, 
to attempt something suitable to his former fame 
and to the expectation of his countrymen. As the 
pope’s forces were hastening towards Tyrol, in order 

y Sleid. 386. Du Mont Corps Diplom. iv. p. 11, 314. Pfeffel. Hist. 
A tn 6pti ciu Droit Publ. 168, *736, 158. 

z Seckend. lib. ii. 70. Adriani Istoriadi suoi Tempi, lib. 335. 

a Seckendorf, the industrious author of the “ Commentarius A pologeti- 
rus de Lutheranismo,” whom I have so long and safely followed as my 
guide in German affairs, was a descendant from Schertel. With the care 
and solicitude of a German who was himself of noble birth, Seckendorf has 
published a long digression concerning Ins ancestor, calculated chiefiy to 


[A. D. 1546. BOOK VIII. 

to penetrate into Germany by the narrow passes 
through the mountains which run across that coun¬ 
try, he advanced thither with the utmost rapidity, 
and seized Ehrenberg and Cufl'stein, two strong 
castles which commanded the principal deliles. 
Without stopping a moment he continued his march 
towards Inspruck, by getting possession of which he 
would have obliged the Italians to stop short, and 
with a small body of men could have resisted all the 
efforts of the greatest armies. Castlealto, the go¬ 
vernor of Trent, knowing what a fatal blow this 
would be to the emperor, all whose designs must 
have proved abortive if his Italian auxiliaries had 
been intercepted, raised a few troops with the ut¬ 
most despatch, and threw himself into the town. 
Schertel, however, did not abandon the enterprise, 
and was preparing to attack the place when the 
intelligence of the approach of the Italians, and an 
order from the elector and landgrave, obliged 
him to desist. By his retreat the passes Avere left 
open, and the Italians entered Germany without any 
opposition but from the garrisons which Schertel 
had placed in Ehrenberg and Cuffstein ; and these 
having no hopes of being relieved, surrendered after 
a short resistance. 2 a 

Nor was the recalling of Schertel .... 
the only error of which the confederates 
were guilty. As the supreme command of their 
army was committed, in terms of the league of 
Smalkalde, to the elector of Saxony and landgrave 
of Hesse with equal power, all the inconveniences 
arising from a divided and co-ordinate authority, 
which is always of fatal consequence in the opera¬ 
tions of war, were immediately felt. The elector, 
though intrepid in his own person to excess, and 
most ardently zealous in the cause, was slow in 
deliberating, uncertain as well as irresolute in his 
determinations, and constantly preferred measures 
which were cautious and safe to such as were bold 
or decisive. The landgrave, of a more active and 
enterprising nature, formed all his resolutions with 
promptitude, wished to execute them with spirit, 
and uniformly preferred such measures as tended 
to bring the contest to a speedy issue. Thus their 
maxims w ith regard to the conduct of the Avar dif¬ 
fered as Avidely as those by which they were inllu- 
enced in preparing for it. Such perpetual contrariety 
in their sentiments gave rise, imperceptibly, to 
jealousy and the spirit of contention. These mul¬ 
tiplied the dissensions flowing from the incompati¬ 
bility of their natural tempers, and rendered them 
more violent. The other members of the league 
considering themselves as independent, and subject 
to the elector and landgrave only in consequence of 
the articles of a voluntary confederacy, did not long 
retain a proper veneration for commanders who pro¬ 
show how Schertel was ennobled, and his posterity allied to many of the 
most ancient families in the empire. Among other curious particulars he 
gives us an account of his wealth, the chief source of which was the plun¬ 
der he got at Home. His landed estate alone was sold by his grandsons 
tor six hundred thousand florins. By this we may form some idea of the 
riches amassed by the Condottieri or commanders of mercenary bands in 
that age. At the taking of Home Schertel was only a captain. Seckend. 
lib. ii. 73. 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


6*03 


BOOK VIII. A. D. 1546.] 

eeeded with so little concord; and the numerous 
army of the protestants, like a vast machine whose 
parts are ill compacted, and which is destitute of 
any power sufficient to move and regulate the whole, 
acted with no consistency, vigour, or effect. 

The pope’s troops The emperor, w ho was afraid that 
join the emperor, py remaining at Ratisbon he might 

render it impossible for the pope’s forces to join 
him, having boldly advanced to Landshut on the 
Iser, the confederates lost some days in deliberating 
w hether it was proper to follow him into the territo¬ 
ries of the duke of Bavaria, a neutral prince. When 
at last they surmounted that scruple, and began to 
move towards his camp, they suddenly abandoned 
the design, and hastened to attack Ratisbon, in 
which town Charles could leave only a small garri¬ 
son. By this time the papal troops, amounting 
fully to that number which Paul had stipulated to 
furnish, had reached Landshut, and were soon fol¬ 
lowed by six thousand Spaniards of the veteran 
bands stationed in Naples. The confederates, after 
Schertel’s spirited but fruitless expedition, seem to 
have permitted these forces to advance unmolested 
to the place of rendezvous, without any attempt to 
attack either them or the emperor separately, or to 
prevent their junction. 6 The imperial army amount¬ 
ed now to thirty-six thousand men, and was still 
more formidable by the discipline and valour of the 
troops than by their number. Avila, commendador 
of Alcantara, who had been present in all the wars 
carried on by Charles, and had served in the armies 
which gained the memorable victory at Pavia, which 
conquered Tunis and invaded France, gives this 
the preference to any military force he had ever 
seen assembled. 0 Octavio Farnese, the pope’s 
grandson, assisted by the ablest officers formed in 
the long wars between Charles and Francis, com¬ 
manded the Italian auxiliaries. His brother, the 
cardinal Farnese, accompanied him as papal legate ; 
and in order to give the war the appearance of a 
religious enterprise, he proposed to march at the 
head of the army with a cross carried before him, 
and to publish indulgences wherever he came to all 
who should give them any assistance, as had an¬ 
ciently been the practice in the Crusades against 
the infidels. But this the emperor strictly pro¬ 
hibited, as inconsistent with all the declarations 
which he had made to the Germans of his own party ; 
and the legate perceiving, to his astonishment, that 
the exercise of the protestant religion, the extirpa¬ 
tion of which he considered as the sole object of the 
war, was publicly permitted in the imperial camp, 
soon returned in disgust to Italy. d 

The arrival of these troops enabled the emperor 
to send such a reinforcement to the garrison at Ra¬ 
tisbon, that the confederates, relinquishing all hopes 
of reducing that town, marched towards Ingoldstadt 
on the Danube, near to which Charles was now en¬ 
camped. They exclaimed loudly against the em¬ 
peror’s notorious violation of the laws and constitu- 

b Adriani Istoria di suoi Tempi, lib. v. 340. c Avila, 18. 


tion of the empire, in having called in foreigners 
to lay waste Germany and to oppress its liberties. 
As in that age the dominion of the Roman see was 
so odious to the protestants, that the name of the 
pope alone was sufficient to inspire them with horror 
at any enterprise which he countenanced, and to raise 
in their minds the blackest suspicions, it came to be 
universally believed among them, that Paul, not 
satisfied with attacking them openly by force of 
arms, had dispersed his emissaries all over Ger¬ 
many, to set on fire their towns and magazines, and 
to poison the wells and fountains of water. Nor 
did this rumour, which was extravagant and fright¬ 
ful enough to make a deep impression on the cre¬ 
dulity of the vulgar, spread among them only ; even 
the leaders of the party, blinded by their prejudices, 
published a declaration, in which they accused the 
pope of having employed such antichristian and 
diabolical arts against thein. e These sentiments of 
the confederates were confirmed, in some measure, 
by the behaviour of the papal troops, who thinking 
nothing too rigorous towards heretics anathematized 
by the church, were guilty of great excesses in the 
territories of the Lutheran states, and aggravated 
the calamities of war by mingling with it all the 
cruelty of bigoted zeal. 

The first operations in the field, how- The confederates 
ever, did not correspond with the vio- 
lence of those passions which animated army * 
individuals. The emperor had prudently taken the 
resolution of avoiding an action with an enemy so 
far superior in number/ especially as he foresaw 
that nothing could keep a body composed of so 
many and such dissimilar members from falling to 
pieces but the pressing to attack it with an incon¬ 
siderate precipitancy. The confederates, though it 
was no less evident that to them every moment’s 
delay was pernicious, were still prevented by the 
weakness or division of their leaders from exerting 
that vigour with which their situation as well as the 
ardour of their soldiers ought to have inspired them. 

On their arrival at Ingoldstadt they 

D Aug. 29. 

found the emperor in a camp not re¬ 
markable for strength, and surrounded only by a 
slight entrenchment. Before the camp lay a plain 
of such extent as afforded sufficient space for draw¬ 
ing out their whole army, and bringing it to act at 
once. Every consideration should have determined 
them to have seized this opportunity of attacking 
the emperor ; and their great superiority in num¬ 
bers, the eagerness of their troops, together with the 
stability of the German infantry in pitched battles, 
afforded them the most probable expectation of vic¬ 
tory. The landgrave urged this with great warmth, 
declaring that if the sole command were vested in 
him, he would terminate the war on that occasion, 
and decide by one general action the fate of the 
two parties. But the elector, reflecting on the va¬ 
lour and discipline of the enemy’s forces, animated 
by the presence of the emperor and conducted by 

d F. Paul, 191. e Sleid. 399. f Avila, 78, a. 



604 


THE REIGN OF THE 


the best officers of the age, would not venture upon 
an action which he thought to be so doubtful as the 
attacking such a body of veterans on ground which 
they themselves had chosen, and while covered with 
fortifications which, though imperfect, would afford 
them no small advantage in the combat. Notwith¬ 
standing his hesitation and remonstrances, it was 
agreed to advance towards the enemy’s camp in 
battle-array, in order to make a trial whether by 
that insult, and by a furious cannonade which they 
began, they could draw the imperialists out of their 

The emperor de- works. But the emperor had too much 
dines a battle, sagacity to fall into this snare. He 

adhered to his own system with inflexible con¬ 
stancy ; and drawing up his soldiers behind their 
trenches, that they might be ready to receive the 
confederates if they should venture upon an assault, 
calmly waited their approach, and carefully re¬ 
strained his own men from any excursions or skir¬ 
mishes which might bring on a general engagement. 
He rode along the lines, and addressing the troops 
of the different nations in their own language, en¬ 
couraged them not only by his words, but by the 
cheerfulness of his voice and countenance; he ex¬ 
posed himself in places of greatest danger, and 
amidst the warmest fire of the enemy’s artillery, the 
most numerous that had hitherto been brought into 
the field by any army. Roused by his example, not 
a man quitted his ranks ; it was thought infamous 
to discover any symptom of fear when the emperor 
appeared so intrepid; and the meanest soldier plainly 
perceived that their declining the combat at present 
was not the effect of timidity in their general, but 
the result of a well-grounded caution. The con¬ 
federates, after firing several hours on the impe¬ 
rialists, with more noise and terror than execution, 
seeing no prospect of alluring them to fight on equal 
terms, retired to their own camp. The emperor em¬ 
ployed the night with such diligence in strengthen¬ 
ing his works, that the confederates, returning to 
the cannonade next day, found that though they 
had now been willing to venture upon such a bold 
experiment, the opportunity of making an attack 
with advantage was lost.? 

After such a discovery of the feeble- 

The Flemish . . . 

troops join the ness or irresolution of their leaders, 

and the prudence as well as firmness 
of the emperor’s conduct, the confederates turned 
their whole attention towards preventing the arrival 
of a powerful reinforcement of ten thousand foot 
and four thousand horse, which the count de 
Buren was bringing to the emperor from the Low 
Countries. But though that general had to traverse 
such an extent of country; though his route lay 
through the territories of several states warmly dis¬ 
posed to favour the confederates ; though they were 
apprised of his approach, and by their superiority 
in numbers might easily have detached a force suffi¬ 
cient to overpower him, he advanced with such 


[A. D. 1546. BOOK VIII. 

rapidity, and by such well-concerted movements, 
while they opposed him with such re- 10 

missness and so little military skill, 
that he conducted this body to the imperial camp 
without any loss. b 

Upon the arrival of the Flemings, in whom he 
placed great confidence, the emperor altered in 
some degree his plan of operations, and began fo 
act more upon the offensive, though he still avoided 
a battle with the utmost industry. He made him¬ 
self master of Neuburg, Dillingen, and Donawert 
on the Danube ; of Nordlingen, and several other 
towns situated on the most considerable streams 
which fall into that mighty river. By this he got 
the command of a great extent of country, though 
not without being obliged to engage in several sharp 
encounters, of which the success was various, nor 
without being exposed, oftener than once, to the 
danger of being drawn into a battle. sta(e of both 
In this manner the whole autumn was armies, 
spent; neither party gained any remarkable supe¬ 
riority over the other, and nothing was yet done 
towards bringing the war to a period. The emperor 
had often foretold with confidence, that discord and 
the want of money would compel the confederates 
to disperse that unwieldy body, which they had 
neither abilities to guide nor funds to support. 1 
Though he waited with impatience for the accom¬ 
plishment of his prediction, there was no prospect 
of that event being at hand. But he himself began 
to suffer from the want of forage and provisions, 
even the catholic provinces being so much incensed 
at the introduction of foreigners into the empire 
that they furnished them with reluctance, while the 
camp of the confederates abounded with a profusion 
of all necessaries, w hich the zeal of their friends in 
the adjacent countries poured in with the utmost 
liberality and good-will. Great numbers of the 
Italians and Spaniards, unaccustomed to the climate 
or food of Germany, were become unfit for service 
through sickness. k Considerable arrears were now 
due to the troops, who had scarcely received any 
money from the beginning of the campaign ; the 
emperor experiencing on this as well as on former 
occasions, that his jurisdiction was more exten¬ 
sive than his revenues, and that the former enabled 
him to assemble a greater number of soldiers than 
the latter were sufficient to support. Upon all 
these accounts he found it difficult to keep his army 
in the field ; some of his ablest generals, and even 
the duke of Alva himself, persevering and obsti¬ 
nate as he usually was in the prosecution of every 
measure, advising him to disperse his troops into 
winter-quarters. But as the arguments urged 
against any plan which he had adopted rarely made 
much impression upon the emperor, he paid no re¬ 
gard to their opinion, and determined to continue 
his efforts in order to weary out the confederates ; 
being well assured that if he could once oblige them 


g Slefd. .195, 397. Avila, 27, a. Lamb. Ilortens. ap. Scard. ii. 
n Sleid. 40S. 


i Belli Smalkaldici Commentarius Graeco sermone scriptus a Joach. 
Camerar. ap. Freherum, vol. iii. p. 479. k (Jamerar. ap. Freher 483. 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G05 


BOOK VIII. A. D. 1546.] 

to separate, there was little probability of their 
uniting again in a body. 1 Still, however, it remain¬ 
ed a doubtful point whether his steadiness was most 
likely to fail or their zeal to be exhausted. It was 
still uncertain which party, by first dividing its 
forces, would give the superiority to the other; 
w hen an unexpected event decided the contest, and 
occasioned a fatal reverse in the affairs of the con¬ 
federates. 

Schemes of Mau- Maurice of Saxony, having insinu- 
nce of saxony. a f e( j j n { 0 tj ie emperor’s confi¬ 

dence by the arts which have already been described, 
no sooner saw r hostilities ready to break out between 
the confederates of Smalkalde and that monarch, 
than vast prospects of ambition began to open upon 
him. That portion of Saxony which descended to 
him from his ancestors was far from satisfying his 
aspiring mind ; and he perceived with pleasure the 
approach of civil war, as, amidst the revolutions 
and convulsions occasioned by it, opportunities of 
acquiring additional power or dignity, which at 
other times are sought in vain, present themselves 
to an enterprising spirit. As he was thoroughly 
acquainted with the state of the two contending 
parties, and the qualities of their leaders, he did not 
hesitate long in determining on which side the 
greatest advantages were to be expected. Having 
revolved all these things in his own breast, and 
having taken his final resolution of joining the em¬ 
peror, he prudently determined to declare early in 
his favour, that by the merit of this he might ac¬ 
quire a title to a proportional recompence. With 
this view he had repaired to Ratisbon in the month 

His league with of May, under pretext of attending the 

the emperor, diet; and after many conferences with 

Charles or his ministers, he, with the most myste¬ 
rious secresy, concluded a treaty in which he en¬ 
gaged to concur in assisting the emperor as a faith¬ 
ful subject, and Charles in return stipulated to 
bestow' on him all the spoils of the elector of Saxony, 
his dignities as well as territories." 1 History hardly 
records any treaty that can be considered as a more 
manifest violation of the most powerful principles 
which ought to influence human actions. Maurice, 
a professed protestant, at a time when the belief of 
religion as well as zeal for its interests took strong 
possession of every mind, binds himself to contri¬ 
bute his assistance towards carrying on a war which 
had manifestly no other object than the extirpation 
of the protestant doctrines : he engages to take arms 
against his father-in-law, and to strip his nearest 
relation of his honours and dominions : he joins a 
dubious friend against a known benefactor, to 
whom his obligations were both great and recent. 
Nor was the prince who ventured upon all this one 
of those audacious politicians who, provided they 
can accomplish their ends and secure their interest, 
avowedly disregard the most sacred obligations, and 
glory in contemning whatever is honourable or 

1 Thuan. 83. .. 

m Maraei Annal. Brabant, vol. i.638. Struvu (.orp. 1048. lhuan. 84. 


decent. Maurice’s conduct, if the whole must be 
ascribed to policy, was more artful and masterly ; 
he executed his plan in all its parts, and yet endea¬ 
voured to preserve, in every step w hich he took, the 
appearance of what was fair and virtuous and lauda¬ 
ble. It is probable from his subsequent behaviour, 
that, with regard to the protestant religion at least, 
his intentions were upright; that he fondly trusted 
to the emperor’s promises for its security ; but that, 
according to the fate of all who refine too much in 
policy, and who tread in dark and crooked paths, 
in attempting to deceive others he himself was, in 
some degree, deceived. 

His first care, however, w as to keep 

... His artifices in 

the engagements into which he had order to conceal 

, .,, , , , his intentions 

entered with the emperor closely con¬ 
cealed : and so perfect a master w as he in the art 
of dissimulation, that the confederates, notwith¬ 
standing his declining all connexions with them, 
and his remarkable assiduity in paying court to the 
emperor, seemed to have entertained no suspicion 
of his designs. Even the elector of Saxony, when 
he marched at the beginning of the campaign to join 
his associates, committed his dominions to Maurice’s 
protection, which he, with an insidious appearance 
of friendship, readily undertook." But scarcely had 
the elector taken the field when Maurice began to 
consult privately with the king of the Romans how 
to invade those very territories with the defence of 
which he w r as intrusted. Soon after, the emperor 
sent him a copy of the imperial ban denounced 
against the elector and landgrave. As he w as next 
heir to the former, and particularly interested in 
preventing strangers from getting his dominions 
into their possession, Charles required him, not 
only for his own sake, but upon the allegiance and 
duty which he owed to the head of the empire, in¬ 
stantly to seize and detain in his hands the forfeit¬ 
ed estates of the elector ; warning him at the same 
time, that if he neglected to obey these commands, 
he should be held as accessory to the crimes of his 
kinsman, and be liable to the same punishment. 0 

This artifice, which it is probable Maurice him¬ 
self suggested, was employed by him in order that 
his conduct towards the elector might seem a matter 
of necessity but not of choice, an act of obedience 
to his superior rather than a voluntary invasion of 
the rights of his kinsman and ally. But in order to 
give some more specious appearance to this thin 
veil with which he endeavoured to cover his ambi¬ 
tion, he, soon after his return from Ratisbon, had 
called together the states of his country, and repre¬ 
senting to them that a civil war between the em¬ 
peror and confederates of Smalkalde was now be¬ 
come unavoidable, desired their advice with regard 
to the part which he should act in that event. They 
having been prepared no doubt, and tutored before¬ 
hand, and being desirous of gratifying their prince, 
whom they esteemed as well as loved, gave such 


n Struvii Corp. 1046. 


o Sleid. 391. Thuan. 84. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


GOG 

counsel as they knew would be most agreeable, ad¬ 
vising him to oiler his mediation towards reconcil¬ 
ing the contending parties ; but if that were rejected, 
and he could obtain proper security for the pro- 
testant religion, they delivered it as their opinion, 
that in all other points he ought to yield obedience 
to the emperor. Upon receiving the imperial re¬ 
script, together with the ban against the elector and 
landgrave, Maurice summoned the states of his 
country a second time ; he laid before them the 
orders which he had received, and mentioned the 
punishment with which he was threatened in case 
of disobedience ; he acquainted them that the con¬ 
federates had refused to admit of his mediation, 
and that the emperor had given him the most satis 
factory declarations with regard to religion ; he 
pointed out his own interest in securing possession 
of the electoral dominions, as well as the danger of 
allowing strangers to obtain an establishment in 
Saxony; and upon the whole, as the point under 
deliberation respected his subjects no less than 
himself, he desired to know their sentiments how 
he should steer in that difficult and arduous con¬ 
juncture. The states, no less obsequious and com¬ 
plaisant than formerly, professing their own reli¬ 
ance on the emperor's promises as a perfect security 
for their religion, proposed that, before he had re¬ 
course to more violent methods, they would write 
to the elector, exhorting him, as the best means not 
only of appeasing the emperor, but of preventing 
his dominions from being seized by foreign or hos¬ 
tile powers, to give his consent that Maurice should 
take possession of them quietly and without oppo¬ 
sition. Maurice himself seconded their arguments 
in a letter to the landgrave, his father-in-law. Such 
an extravagant proposition was rejected with the 
scorn and indignation which it deserved. The 
landgrave, in return to Maurice, taxed him with his 
treachery and ingratitude towards a kinsman to whom 
he was so deeply indebted : he treated with con¬ 
tempt his affectation of executing the imperial ban, 
which he could not but know to be altogether void 
by the unconstitutional and arbitrary manner in 
which it had been issued ; he besought him not to 
suffer himself to be so far blinded by ambition as 
to forget the obligations of honour and friendship, 
or to betray the protestant religion, the extirpation 
of which out of Germany, even by the acknowledg¬ 
ment of the pope himself, was the great object of 
the present war.r 

„ . , , But Maurice had proceeded too far 

He liwades the * 

territories of the to be diverted from pursuing his plan 
elector of Saxony. 101 

by reproaches or arguments. Nothing 
now remained but to execute with vigour what he had 
hitherto carried on by artifice and dissimulation. Nor 
was his boldness in action inferior to his subtilty in 
contrivance. Having assembled about 
twelve thousand men, he suddenly in¬ 
vaded one part of the electoral provinces, while Ferdi¬ 
nand, with an army composed of Bohemians and Hun- 

p Sleid. 405, &c. Thuan. 85. Camerar. 484. 


N ovember. 


[A. D. 154G. BOOK VIII. 

garians, overran the other. Maurice, in two sharp 
encounters, defeated the troops which the elector 
had left to guard his country ; and improving these 
advantages to the utmost, made himself master of 
all the electorate except Wittemberg, Gotha, and 
Eisenach, which being places of considerable 
strength, and defended by sufficient garrisons, re¬ 
fused to open their gates. The news of these rapid 
conquests soon reached the imperial and confede¬ 
rate camps. In the former, satisfaction with an 
event which it was foreseen would be productive of 
the most important consequences, was expressed by 
every possible demonstration of joy. The latter 
was filled with astonishment and terror. The name 
of Maurice was mentioned with execration, as an 
apostate from religion, a betrayer of the German 
liberty, and a contemner of the most sacred and 
natural ties. Every thing that the rage or inven¬ 
tion of the party could suggest in order to blacken 
and render him odious ; invectives, satires, and lam¬ 
poons, the furious declamations of their preachers, 
together with the rude wit of their authors, were all 
employed against him. While he, confiding in the 
arts which he had so long practised, as if his actions 
could have admitted of any serious justification, 
published a manifesto, containing the same frivo¬ 
lous reasons for his conduct which he had formerly 
alleged in the meeting of his states and in his letter 
to the landgrave/ 1 

The elector, upon the first .intelli- The confederate, 
gence of Maurice’s motions, proposed ™ C comrno[i t at r ion° f 
to return home with his troops for the t0 the emperor. 

defence of Saxony. But the deputies of the league, 
assembled at Ulm, prevailed on him at that time to 
remain with the army, and to prefer the success of 
the common cause before the security of his own 
dominions. At length the sufferings and complaints 
of his subjects increased so much, that he discov¬ 
ered the utmost impatience to set out, in order to 
rescue them from the oppression of Maurice and 
from the cruelty of the Hungarians, who having 
been accustomed to that licentious and merciless 
species of war which was thought lawful against 
the Turks, committed, wherever they came, the 
wildest acts of rapine and violence. This desire of 
the elector was so natural and so warmly urged, 
that the deputies at Ulm, though fully sensible of 
the unhappy consequences of dividing their army, 
durst not refuse their consent, how unwilling so¬ 
ever to grant it. In this perplexity they repaired 
to the camp of the confederates at Giengen on the 
Brenz, in order to consult their constituents. Nor 
were they less at a loss what to determine in this 
pressing emergence. But after having considered 
seriously the open desertion of some of their allies; 
the scandalous lukewarmness of others, who had 
hitherto contiibuted nothing towards the war; the 
intolerable load which had fallen of consequence 
upon such members as were most zealous for the 
cause or most faithful to their engagements ; the ill 

q Sleid. 409, 410 . 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


007 


BOOK VIH. A. D. 1540.] 

success of all their endeavours to obtain foreign aid ; 
the unusual length of the campaign; the rigour of 
the season ; together with the great number of sol¬ 
diers, and even officers, who had quitted the service 
on that account;—they concluded that nothing could 
save them, but either the bringing the contest to the 
immediate decision of a battle, by attacking the 
imperial army, or an accommodation of all their 
differences with Charles by a treaty. Such was the 
despondency and dejection which now oppressed 
the party, that of these two they chose what was 
most feeble and unmanly, empowering a minister 
of the elector of Brandenburg to propound over¬ 
tures of peace in their name to the emperor. 

, . No sooner did Charles perceive this 

which he rejects. 

haughty confederacy, which had so 
lately threatened to drive him out of Germany, 
condescending to make the first advances towards 
an agreement, than concluding their spirit to be 
gone or their union to be broken, he immediately 
assumed the tone of a conqueror; and as if they 
had been already at his mercy, would not hear of a 
negociation but upon condition that the elector of 
Saxony should previously give up himself and his 
dominions absolutely to his disposal. r As nothing 
more intolerable or ignominious could have been 
prescribed even in the w orst situation of their affairs, 
it is no wonder that this proposition should be re¬ 
jected by a party which was rather humbled and 
disconcerted than subdued. But though they re¬ 
fused to submit tamely to the emperor’s will, they 
wanted spirit to pursue the only plan which could 
have preserved their independence ; and forgetting 
that it was the union of their troops in one body 
which had hitherto rendered the confederacy for¬ 
midable, and had more than once obliged the im¬ 
perialists to think of quitting the field, they incon¬ 
siderately abandoned this advantage, which in spite 
of the diversion in Saxony would still have kept the 
„ , emperor in awe, and yielding to the 

The troops of the x J ° 

confederacyse- electors entreaties, consented to his 

parate. 

proposal of dividing the army. Nine 
thousand men were left in the duchy of Wurtem- 
burg, in order to protect that province as well as 
the free cities of Upper Germany; a considerable 
body marched with the elector towards Saxony; 
but the greater part returned with their respective 
leaders into their own countries, and were dispersed 
there. 9 

Almost ail the The mom ent that the troops sepa- 
^bmit r3 to 0f the ratef l> the confederacy ceased to be the 
emperor. object of terror; and the members of 
it, who, while they composed part of a great body, 
had felt but little anxiety about their own security, 
began to tremble when they reflected that they now 
stood exposed singly to the whole w eight of the 
emperor’s vengeance. Charles did not allow them 
leisure to recover from their consternation, or to 
form any new schemes of union. As soon as the 
confederates began to retire he put his army in mo¬ 


tion, and though it was now the depth of winter, he 
resolved to keep the field, in order to make the most 
of that favourable juncture for which he had waited 
so long. Some small towns in which the protestants 
had left garrisons immediately opened their gates. 
Norlingen, Rotenberg, and Hall, imperial cities, 
submitted soon after. Though Charles could not 
prevent the elector from levying, as he retreated, 
large contributions upon the archbishop of Mentz, 
the abbot of Fulda, and other ecclesiastics, 1 this was 
more than balanced by the submission of Ulm, one 
of the chief cities of Suabia, highly distinguished 
by its zeal for the Smalkaldic league. As soon as 
an example was set of deserting the common cause, 
the rest of the members became instantly impatient 
to follow it, and seemed afraid lest others, by get¬ 
ting the start of them in returning to their duty, 
should on that account obtain more favourable 
terms. The elector palatine, a weak prince, who, 
notwithstanding his professions of neutrality, had 
very preposterously sent to the confederates four 
hundred horse, a body so inconsiderable as to be 
scarcely any addition to their strength, but great 
enough to render him guilty in the eyes of the em¬ 
peror, made his acknowledgments in the most abject 
manner. The inhabitants of Augsburg, shaken by 
so many instances of apostasy, expelled the brave 
Schertel out of their city, and accepted such condi¬ 
tions as the emperor was pleased to grant them. 

The duke of Wurtemburg, though among the first 
who had offered to submit, was obliged to sue for 
pardon on his knees ; and even after this mortifying 

humiliation obtained it with difficulty." 

. 1547. 

Memmingen and other free cities in 
the circle of Suabia being now abandoned by all 
their former associates, found it necessary to pro¬ 
vide for their own safety by throwing themselves on 
the emperor’s mercy. Strasburg and Francfort on 
the Maine, cities far removed from the seat of danger, 
discovered no greater steadiness than those which 
lay more exposed. Thus a confederacy, lately so 
powerful as to shake the imperial throne, fell to 
pieces and was dissolved in the space of a few 
weeks ; hardly any member of that formidable com¬ 
bination now remaining in arms but the elector and 
landgrave, to w hom the emperor, having from the 
beginning marked them out as victims of his ven¬ 
geance, was at no pains to offer terms Tbe r i g0)0us 
of reconciliation. Nor did he grant p^aTy the' 
those who submitted to him a generous emperor - 
and unconditional pardon. Conscious of his own 
superiority, he treated them both with haughtiness 
and rigour. All the princes in person, and the 
cities by their deputies, w'ere compelled to implore 
mercy in the humble posture of supplicants. As 
the emperor laboured under great difficulties from 
the want of money, he imposed heavy fines upon 
them, which he levied with most rapacious ex¬ 
actness. The duke of Wurtemburg paid three hun¬ 
dred thousand crowns ; the city of Augsburg an 


r Hortensius, ap. Scard. ii. 485. 


8 Sleid. 411. 


tTbuan. 88. 


u Mem. de Ribier, tom. i. 589. 




G08 


THE REIGN OF THE 


hundred and fifty thousand ; Ulm an hundred thou¬ 
sand ; Francfort eighty thousand ; Memmingen fifty 
thousand ; and the rest in proportion to their abili¬ 
ties or their different degrees of guilt. They were 
obliged, besides, to renounce the league of Smal- 
kalde ; to furnish assistance, if required, towards 
executing the imperial ban against the elector and 
landgrave; to give up their artillery and warlike 
stores to the emperor ; to admit garrisons into their 
principal cities and places of strength ; and in this 
disarmed and dependent situation to expect the 
final award which the emperor should think proper 
to pronounce when the war came to an issue. x But 
amidst the great variety of articles dictated by 
Charles on this occasion, he, in conformity to his 
original plan, took care that nothing relating to re¬ 
ligion should be inserted ; and to such a degree 
were the confederates humbled or overawed, that for¬ 
getting the zeal which had so long animated them, 
they were solicitous only about their own safety, 
without venturing to insist on a point the mention 
of which they saw the emperor avoiding with so 
much industry. The inhabitants of Memmingen 
alone made some feeble efforts to procure a promise 
of protection in the exercise of their religion, but 
were checked so severely by the imperial ministers, 
that they instantly fell from their demand. 

The elector of Cologne, whom, notwithstanding 
the sentence of excommunication issued against him 
by the pope, Charles had hitherto allowed to remain 
in possession of the archiepiscopal see, being now 
required by the emperor to submit to the censures 
of the church, this virtuous and disinterested pre¬ 
late, unwilling to expose his subjects to the mise¬ 
ries of war on his own account, voluntarily resigned 
that high dignity. With a moderation 
becoming his age and character, he 
chose to enjoy truth, together with the exercise of his 
religion, in the retirement of a private life, rather 
than to disturb society by engaging in a doubtful 
and violent struggle in order to retain his office.y 
The elector re- During these transactions the elector 
ind re t cofers° ny °f Saxony reached the frontiers of his 
possession of it. country unmolested. AsMaurice could 

assemble no force equal to the army which accom¬ 
panied him, he in a short time not only recovered 
possession of his own territories, but overran Misnia, 
and stripped his rival of all that belonged to him 
except Dresden and Leipsic, which being towns of 
some strength, could not be suddenly reduced. 
Maurice, obliged to quit the field and to shut him¬ 
self up in his capital, despatched courier after 
courier to the emperor, representing his dangerous 
situation, and soliciting him with the most earnest 
importunity to march immediately to his relief. But 
Charles, busy at that time in prescribing terms to 
such members of the league as were daily returning 
to their allegiance, thought it sufficient to detach 
Albert, marquis of Brandenburg-Anspacb, with 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK VIII. 

three thousand men, to his assistance. Albert, 
though an enterprising and active officer, was unex¬ 
pectedly surprised by the elector, who killed many 
of his troops, dispersed the remainder, and took him 
prisoner. 2 Maurice continued as much exposed as 
formerly ; and if his enemy had known how to 
improve the opportunity which presented itself, his 
ruin must have been immediate and unavoidable. 
But tbe elector, no less slow and dilatory when in¬ 
vested with the sole command than he had been 
formerly when joined in authority with a partner, 
never gave any proof of military activity but in this 
enterprise against Albert. Instead of marching 
directly towards Maurice, whom the defeat of his 
ally had greatly alarmed, he inconsiderately listened 
to overtures of accommodation, which his artful 
antagonist proposed with no other intention than to 
amuse him and to slacken the vigour of his opera¬ 
tions. 

Such, indeed, was the posture of the 

The emperor 

emperor’s affairs, that he could not prevented from 

attacking the 

march instantly to the relief of his elector and land- 

. grave. 

ally. Soon after the separation of the 
confederate army, he, in order to ease himself of the 
burden of maintaining a superfluous number of 
troops, had dismissed the count of Buren with his 
Flemings, a imagining that the Spaniards and Ger¬ 
mans, together with the papal forces, w ould be fully 
sufficient to crush any degree of vigour that yet 
remained among the members of the league. But 
Paul, growing wise too late, began now to discern 
the imprudence of that measure from which the 
more sagacious Venetians had endeavoured in vain 
to dissuade him. The rapid progress of the imperial 
arms, and the ease with which they had broken a 
combination that appeared no less firm than power¬ 
ful, opened his eyes at length, and made him not 
only forget all the advantages which he had ex¬ 
pected from such a complete triumph over heresy, 
but placed in the strongest light his own impolitic 
conduct, in having contributed towards acquiring 
for Charles such an immense increase of power as 
would enable him, after oppressing the liberties of 
Germany, to give law with absolute authority to all 
the states of Italy. The moment that he perceived 
his error he endeavoured to correct it. Without 
giving the emperor any warning of his The pope recalls 
intention, he ordered Farnese, his his troops, 
grandson, to return to Italy with all the troops under 
his command, and at the same time recalled the 
licence which he had granted Charles, of appro¬ 
priating to his ow n use a large share of the church 
lands in Spain. He was not destitute of pretences 
to justify this abrupt desertion of his ally. The 
term of six months during which the stipulations in 
their treaty w r ere to continue in force was now 
expired; the league in opposition to wdiich their 
alliance had been framed, seemed to be entirely 
dissipated ; Charles, in all his negociations w ith the 


X Sleid. 411, &c. Thuan. lib. iv. p. 125 . Mem. de Ribier, tom. i. 606. 
y Sleid. 418. Thuan. lib. iv. 128. 


z Avila, 99. 6. Mem. de Ribier, tom. i. 620 
a Ibid. 83. 6. Jd, ibid. 592. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


009 


BOOK VIII. A. D. 1547.] 

princes and cities which had submitted to his will, 
had neither consulted the pope, nor had allotted him 
any part of the conquests which he had made, nor 
had allowed him any share in the vast contributions 
which he had raised. He had not even made any 
provision for the suppression of heresy or the re¬ 
establishment of the catholic religion, which were 
Paul’s chief inducements to bestow the treasures of 
the church so liberally in carrying on the war. 
These colours, however specious, did not conceal 
from the emperor that secret jealousy which was the 
true motive of the pope’s conduct. But as Paul’s 
orders with regard to the march of his troops were 
no less peremptory than unexpected, it was impos¬ 
sible to prevent their retreat. Charles exclaimed 
loudly against his treachery, in abandoning him so 
unseasonably, while he was prosecuting a war un¬ 
dertaken in obedience to the papal injunctions, and 
from which, if successful, so much honour and 
advantage would redound to the church. To com¬ 
plaints he added threats and expostulations. But 
Paul remained inflexible; his troops continued 
their march towards the ecclesiastical state ; and in 
an elaborate memorial, intended as an apology for 
his conduct, he discovered new and more manifest 
symptoms of alienation from the emperor, together 
with a deep-rooted dread of his power. b Charles, 
weakened by the withdrawing of so great a body 
from his army, which was already much diminished 
by the number of garrisons that he had been obliged 
to throw into the towns which had capitulated, 
found it necessary to recruit his forces by new 
levies, before he could venture to march in person 
towards Saxony. 

A conspiracy to Tlie famC and Splendour of his SUC- 

vernment^of 8 ° cess c0ldd not have failed of attracting 
Ge noa. such multitudes of soldiers into his 

service from all the extensive territories now sub¬ 
ject to his authority, as must have soon put him in 
a condition of taking the field against the elector; 
but the sudden and violent irruption of a conspiracy 
at Genoa, as well as the great revolutions which that 
event, extremely mysterious in its first appearances, 
seemed to portend, obliged him to avoid entangling 
himself in new operations in Germany until he 
had fully discovered its source and tendency. The 
form of government which had been established 
in Genoa at the time when Andrew Doria restored 
liberty to his country, though calculated to obliter¬ 
ate the memory of former dissensions, and received 
at first with eager approbation, did not, after atrial 
of near twenty years, give universal satisfaction to 
those turbulent and factious republicans. As the 
on. entire administration of affairs was 

The object of the 

conspirators. novv lodged in a certain number of 
noble families, many envying them that pre-emi¬ 
nence, wished for the restitution of a popular 
government, to which they had been accustomed ; 
and though all reverenced the disinterested virtue 
of Doria, and admired his talents, not a few were 

b F. Paul, 208. Palluvic. par. ii. p. 5. Thuan. 126. 

2 R 


jealous of that ascendant which he had acquired in 
the councils of the commonwealth. His age, how¬ 
ever, his moderation, and his love of liberty, afforded 
ample security to his countrymen that he would not 
abuse his power, nor stain the close of his days by 
attempting to overturn that fabric which it had been 
the labour and pride of his life to erect. But the 
authority and influence which in his hands were 
innocent, they easily saw would prove destructive if 
usurped by any citizen of greater ambition or less 
virtue. A citizen of this dangerous character had 
actually formed such pretensions, and with some 
prospect of success. Giannetino Doria, whom his 
granduncle Andrew destined to be the heir of his 
private fortune, aimed likewise at being his succes¬ 
sor in power. His temper, haughty, insolent, and 
overbearing to such a degree as would hardly have 
been tolerated in one born to reign, was altogether 
insupportable in the citizen of a free state. The 
more sagacious among the Genoese already feared 
and hated him as the enemy of those liberties for 
which they w ere indebted to his uncle: while 
Andrew himself, blinded by that violent and undis¬ 
cerning affection which persons in advanced age 
often contract for the younger members of their 
family, set no bounds to the indulgence with which 
he treated him ; seeming less solicitous to secure 
and perpetuate the freedom of the commonwealth 
than to aggrandize that undeserving kinsman. 

But whatever suspicion of Doria’s designs, or 
whatever dissatisfaction with the system of adminis¬ 
tration in the commonwealth, these circumstances 
might have occasioned, they would have ended, it is 
probable, in nothing more than murmurings and 
complaints, if John Lewis Fiesco, count of Lavagna, 
observing this growing disgust, had not been en¬ 
couraged by it to attempt one of the boldest actions 
recorded in history. That young noble- Fiesc0t count of 
man, the richest and most illustrious fcadof a the th <»n- 
subject in the republic, possessed in an sp " HCy- 
eminent degree all the qualities which win upon the 
human heart, which command respect or secure 
attachment. He was graceful and majestic in his 
person ; magnificent even to profusion ; of a gene¬ 
rosity that anticipated the wishes of his friends, and 
exceeded the expectations of strangers ; of an insi¬ 
nuating address, gentle manners, and a flowing 
affability. But under the appearance of these vir¬ 
tues, which seemed to form him for enjoying and 
adorning social life, he concealed all the disposi¬ 
tions which mark men out for taking the lead in the 
most dangerous and dark conspiracies—an insati¬ 
able and restless ambition, a courage unacquainted 
w ith fear, and a mind that disdained subordination. 
Such a temper could ill brook that station of inferi¬ 
ority wherein he was placed in the republic; and 
as he envied the power which the elder Doria had 
acquired, he was filled with indignation at the 
thoughts of its descending, like an hereditary pos¬ 
session, to Giannetino. These various passions 




1310 


THE REIGN OF THE 


preying with violence on his turbulent and aspiring 
mind, determined him to attempt overturning that 
domination to which he could not submit. 

As the most effectual method of ac- 
preparat!on” d of complishing this, he thought at first 

the conspirators. „ „ . -r, 

of forming a connexion with hrancis, 
and even proposed it to the French ambassador at 
Rome ; and after expelling Doria, together with 
the imperial faction, by his assistance, he offered 
to put the republic once more under the protection 
of that monarch, hoping in return for that service 
to be intrusted with the principal share in the ad¬ 
ministration of government. But having commu¬ 
nicated his scheme to a few chosen confidants, from 
whom he kept nothing secret, Verrina, the chief 
of them, a man of desperate fortune, capable alike 
of advising and executing the most audacious deeds, 
remonstrated with earnestness against the folly of 
exposing himself to the most imminent danger, 
while he allowed another to reap all the fruits of 
his success ; and exhorted him warmly to aim him¬ 
self at that pre-eminence in his country to which 
he was destined by his illustrious birth, was called 
by the voice of his fellow-citizens, and would be 
raised by the zeal of his friends. This discourse 
opened such great prospects to Fiesco, and so suit¬ 
able to his genius, that, abandoning his own plan, 
he eagerly adopted that of Verrina. The other per¬ 
sons present, though sensible of the hazardous na¬ 
ture of the undertaking, did not choose to condemn 
what their patron had so warmly approved. It 
was instantly resolved in this dark cabal, to assas¬ 
sinate the two Dorias as well as the principal per¬ 
sons of their party, to overturn the established sys¬ 
tem of government, and to place Fiesco on the ducal 
throne of Genoa. Time, however, and preparations 
were requisite to ripen such a design for execution ; 
and while he was employed in carrying on these, 
Fiesco made it his chief care to guard against every 
thingthat might betray his secret or create suspicion. 
The disguise he assumed was of all others the most 
impenetrable. He seemed to be abandoned entirely 
to pleasure and dissipation. A perpetual gaiety, 
diversified by the pursuit of all the amusements in 
which persons of his age and rank are apt to de¬ 
light, engrossed in appearance the whole of his 
time and thoughts. But amidst this hurry of dis¬ 
sipation he prosecuted his plan with the most cool 
attention, neither retarding the design by a timid 
hesitation, nor precipitating the execution by an 
excess of impatience. He continued his corre¬ 
spondence with the French ambassador at Rome, 
though without communicating to him his real in¬ 
tentions, that by his means he might secure the 
protection of the French arms, if hereafter he should 
find it necessary to call them in to his aid. He en¬ 
tered into a close confederacy with Farnese, duke 
of Parma, who, being disgusted with the emperor for 
refusing to grant him the investiture of that duchy, 
was eager to promote any measure that tended to 
diminish his influence in Italy, or to ruin a family so 


[A. D. 1647. BOOK VIII. 

implicitly devoted to him as that of Doria. Being 
sensible that in a maritime state the acquisition of 
naval power was what he ought chiefly to aim at, he 
purchased four galleys from the pope, who probably 
was not unacquainted with the design which he had 
formed, and did not disapprove of it. Under colourof 
fitting out one of these galleys to sail on a cruise 
against the Turks, he not only assembled a good 
number of his own vassals, but engaged in his ser¬ 
vice many bold adventurers whom the truce between 
the emperor and Solyman had deprived of their 
usual occupation and subsistence. 

While Fiesco was taking these important steps, 
he preserved so admirably his usual appearance of 
being devoted entirely to pleasure and amusement, 
and paid court with such artful address to the two 
Dorias, as imposed not only on the generous and 
unsuspicious mind of Andrew, but deceived Gian- 
netino, who, conscious of his own criminal inten¬ 
tions, was more apt to distrust the designs of others. 
So many instruments being now prepared, nothing 
remained but to strike the blow. Various consul¬ 
tations were held by Fiesco with his confidants, in 
order to settle the manner of doing it with the 
greatest certainty and effect. At first they proposed 
to murder the Dorias and their chief adherents 
during the celebration of high mass in the principal 
church ; but as Andrew was often absent from re¬ 
ligious solemnities on account of his great age, that 
design was laid aside. It was then concerted that 
Fiesco should invite the uncle and nephew, with all 
their friends whom he had marked out as victims, 
to his house, where it would be easy to cut them off 
at once without danger or resistance ; but as Gian- 
netino was obliged to leave the town on the day 
which they had chosen, it became necessary likewise 
to alter this plan. They at last determined to at¬ 
tempt by open force what they found difficult to 
effect by stratagem, and fixed on the night between 
the second and third of January for the execution 
of their enterprise. The time was chosen with great 
propriety ; for as the doge of the former year was 
to quit his office, according to custom, on the first 
of the month, and his successor could not be elected 
sooner than the fourth, the republic remained dur¬ 
ing that interval in a sort of anarchy, and Fiesco 
might with less violence take possession of the va¬ 
cant dignity. 

The morning of that day Fiesco em¬ 
ployed in visiting his friends, passing assemble *to exe- 
some hours among them with a spirit cute their plan - 
as gay and unembarrassed as at other times. To¬ 
wards evening he paid court to the Dorias with his 
usual marks of respect, and surveying their counte¬ 
nance and behaviour with the attention natural in 
his situation, was happy to observe the perfect se¬ 
curity in which they remained, without the least 
foresight or dread of that storm which had been so 
long a-gathering, and was now ready to burst over 
their heads. From their palace he hastened to his 
own, which stood by itself in the middle of a large 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


611 


BOOK VIII. A. D. 1547.J 

court, surrounded by a high wall. The gates had 
been set open in the morning, and all persons with¬ 
out distinction were allowed to enter; but strong 
guards posted within the court suffered no one to 
return. Verrina, meanwhile, and a few persons 
trusted with the secret of the conspiracy, after con¬ 
ducting Fiesco’s vassals, as well as the crews of his 
galleys, into the palace in small bodies, with as 
little noise as possible dispersed themselves through 
the city, and in the name of their patron invited to 
an entertainment the principal citizens whom they 
knew to be disgusted with the administration of the 
Dorias, and to have inclination as well as courage 
to attempt a change in the government. Of the vast 
number of persons who now filled the palace, a 
few only knew for what purpose they were assem¬ 
bled ; the rest, astonished at finding, instead of the 
preparations for a feast, a court crowded with armed 
men and apartments filled with the instruments of 
war, gazed on each other with a mixture of curiosity, 
impatience, and terror. 

Fiesco’s exhorta- While their minds were in this state 
tions to them. 0 f sus p ense an( j agitation, Fiesco ap¬ 
peared. With a look full of alacrity and confidence 
he addressed himself to the persons of chief distinc¬ 
tion, telling them that they were not now called to 
partake of the pleasure of an entertainment, but to 
join in a deed of valour which would lead them to 
liberty and immortal renown. He set before their 
eyes the exorbitant as well as intolerable authority 
of the elder Doria, which the ambition of Gian- 
netino, and the partiality of the emperor to a family 
more devoted to him than to their country, was about 
to enlarge and to render perpetual. “ This un¬ 
righteous dominion/' continued he, “you have it 
now in your power to subvert, and to establish the 
freedom of your country on a firm basis. The ty¬ 
rants must he cut off. I have taken the most effec¬ 
tual measures for this purpose. My associates are 
numerous. I can depend on allies and protectors, 
if necessary. Happily the tyrants are as secure as 
T have been provident. Their insolent contempt of 
their countrymen has banished the suspicion and 
timidity which usually render the guilty quick- 
sighted to discern, as well as sagacious to guard 
against, the vengeance which they deserve. They 
will now feel the blow before they suspect any hos¬ 
tile hand to be nigh. Let us then sally forth, that 
we may deliver our country by one generous effort, 
almost unaccompanied with danger, and certain of 
success." These words, uttered with that irresisti¬ 
ble fervour which animates the mind when roused 
by great objects, made the desired impression on 
the audience. Fiesco’s vassals, ready to execute 
whatever their master should command, received 
his discourse with a murmur of applause. To many 
whose fortunes were desperate, the licence and 
confusion of an insurrection afforded an agreeable 
prospect. Those of higher rank and more virtuous 
sentiments durst not discover the surprise or horror 

with which they were struck at the proposal of an 

2 H 2 


enterprise no less unexpected than atrocious ; as 
each of them imagined the other to be in the secret 
of the conspiracy, and saw himself surrounded by 
persons who waited only a signal from their leader 
to perpetrate the greatest crime. With one voice, 
then, all applauded, or feigned to applaud, the un¬ 
dertaking. 

Fiesco having thus fixed and encou- ni3 j nterview 
raged his associates, before he gave Wlth hls Wlfe - 
them his last orders he hastened for a moment to 
the apartment of his wife, a lady of the noble house 
of Cibo, whom he loved with tender affection, and 
whose beauty and virtue rendered her worthy of his 
love. The noise of the armed men who crowded 
the court and palace having long before this reached 
her ears, she concluded some hazardous enterprise 
to be in hand, and she trembled for her husband. 
He found her in all the anguish of uncertainty and 
fear; and as it was now impossible to keep his de¬ 
sign concealed, he informed her of what he had 
undertaken. The prospect of a scene so full of 
horror as well as danger completed her agony ; and 
foreboding immediately in her mind the fatal issue 
of it, she endeavoured by her tears, her entreaties, 
and her despair, to divert him from his purpose. 
Fiesco, after trying in vain to soothe and to inspire 
her with hope, broke from a situation into which 
an excess of tenderness had unwarily seduced him, 
though it could not shake his resolution. “ Farewell!’’ 
he cried as he quitted the apartment; “you shall 
either never see me more, or you shall behold, to¬ 
morrow, every thing in Genoa subject to your power." 

As soon as he rejoined his compa- They attack the 
nions, he allotted each his proper sta- Clty - 
tion ; some were appointed to assault and seize the 
different gates of the city ; some to make themselves 
masters of the principal streets or places of strength : 
Fiesco reserved for himself the attack of the har¬ 
bour, where Doria’s galleys were laid up, as the 
post of chief importance and of greatest danger. 
It was now midnight, and the citizens slept in the 
security of peace, when this band of conspirators, 
numerous, desperate, and well armed, rushed out 
to execute their plan. They surprised some of the 
gates without meeting w ith any resistance. They got 
possession of others after a sharp conflict with the 
soldiers on guard. Verrina, with the galley which 
had been fitted out against the Turks, blocked up 
the mouth of the Darsena or little harbour, where 
Doria’s fleet lay. All possibility of escape being 
cut off by this precaution, when Fiesco attempted 
to enter the galleys from the shore, to which they 
were made fast, they were in no condition to make 
resistance, as they were not only unrigged and dis¬ 
armed, but had no crew on board except the slaves 
chained to the oar. Every quarter of the city was 
now filled with noise and tumult, all the streets re¬ 
sounding with the cry of Fiesco and Liberty ! At 
that name so popular and beloved, many of the 
lower rank took arms and joined the conspirators. 
The nobles and partisans of the aristocracy, aston- 



GV2 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. I). 1547. ROOK VIII. 


ished or affrighted, shut the gates of their houses, 


a childish vanity, “ I am now the only person to 


and thought of nothing but of securing them from 
pillage. At last the noise excited by this scene of 
violence and confusion reached the palace of Doria: 
Giannetino started immediately from his bed, and 
imagining that it was occasioned by some mutiny 
among the sailors, rushed out with a few attendants, 
and hurried towards the harbour. The gate of St. 
Thomas, through which he had to pass, was already 
in possession of the conspirators, who, the moment 
he appeared, fell upon him with the utmost fury, 
and murdered him on the spot. The same must 
have been the fate of the elder Doria, if Jerome de 
Fiesco had executed his brother’s plan, and had 
proceeded immediately to attack him in his palace; 
but he, from the sordid consideration of preventing 
its being plundered amidst the confusion, having 
forbid his followers to advance, Andrew got intel¬ 
ligence of his nephew’s death as well as of his own 
danger, and mounting on horseback saved himself 
by flight. Amidst this general consternation a few 
senators had the courage to assemble in the palace 
of the republic. 0 At first some of the most daring 
among them attempted to rally the scattered soldiers 
and to attack a body of the conspirators ; but being 
repulsed with loss, all agreed that nothing now re¬ 
mained but to treat with the party which seemed to 
be irresistible. Deputies were accordingly sent to 
learn of Fiesco what were the concessions with 
which lie would be satisfied, or rather to submit to 
whatever terms he should please to prescribe. 

Cause of their But by this time Fiesco, with whom 
miscarriage, they were empowered to negociate, 

was no more. Just as he was about to leave the 
harbour, where every thing succeeded to his wish, 
that he might join his victorious companions, he 
heard some extraordinary uproar on board the ad¬ 
miral’s galley. Alarmed at the noise, and fearing 
that the slaves might break their chains and over¬ 
power his associates, he ran thither; but the plank 
which reached from the shore to the vessel happen¬ 
ing to overturn, he fell into the sea, whilst he hur¬ 
ried forward too precipitately. Being loaded with 
heavy armour, he sunk to the bottom, and perished 
in the very moment when he must have taken full 
possession of every thing that his ambitious heart 
could desire. Verrina was the first who discovered 
this fatal accident, and foreseeing at once all its 
consequences, concealed it with the utmost indus¬ 
try from every one but a few leaders of the conspi¬ 
racy. Nor was it difficult, amidst the darkness and 
confusion of the night, to have kept it secret until 
a treaty with the senators should have put the city 
in the power of the conspirators. All their hopes of 
this were disconcerted by the imprudence of Jerome 
Fiesco, who, when the deputies of the senate in¬ 
quired for his brother the count of Lavagna, that 
they might make their proposal to him, replied with 

c II palazzo della Signoria. 

d Thuan. 93. Sigonii Vita Andreae Dorias, 1196. La Conjuration du 
Comte de I’iesque, par Cardin, de Retz. Adriani Istoria, lib. vi. 309. 
Folietaj Conjuratio Jo. Lud. Fiesci. ap. Graev. Thes. ltal. i. 883. 

e It is remarkable that cardinal de Retz, at the age of eighteen, com. 


whom that title belongs, and with me you must 
treat.” These words discovered as well to his 
friends as to his enemies what had happened, and 
made the impression which might have been ex¬ 
pected upon both. The deputies, encouraged by 
this event, the only one which could occasion such 
a sudden revolution as might turn to their advantage, 
assumed instantly, with admirable presence of mind, 
a new tone, suitable to the change in their circum¬ 
stances, and made high demands. While they en¬ 
deavoured to gain time by protracting the negoci- 
ation, the rest of the senators were busy in assem¬ 
bling their partisans, and in forming a body capable 
of defending the palace of the republic. On the 
other hand, the conspirators, astonished at the 
death of a man whom they adored and trusted, and 
placing no confidence in Jerome, a giddy youth, 
felt their courage die away and their arms fall from 
their hands. That profound and amazing secrecy 
with which the conspiracy had been concerted, and 
which had contributed hitherto so much to its suc¬ 
cess, proved now the chief cause of its miscarriage. 
The leader was gone ; the greater part of those who 
acted under him knew not his confidants, and were 
strangers to the object at which he aimed. There 
was no person among them whose authority cr abili¬ 
ties entitled him to assume Fiesco’s place or to finish 
his plan ; after having lost the spirit which animated 
it, life and activity deserted the whole body. Many 
of the conspirators withdrew to their houses, hoping 
that amidst the darkness of the night they had pass¬ 
ed unobserved and might remain unknown. Others 
sought for safety by a timely retreat; and before 
break of day, most of them fled with precipitation 
from a city, which, but a few hours before, was 
ready to acknowledge them as masters. 

Next morning every thing was quiet 

. ~ , Tranquillity re¬ 

in Genoa; not an enemy was to be seen, established in 

few marks of the violence of the for¬ 
mer night appeared, the conspirators having con¬ 
ducted their enterprise with more noise than blood¬ 
shed, and gained all their advantages by surprise 
rather than by force of arms. Towards evening An¬ 
drew Doria returned to the city, being met by all the 
inhabitants, who received him with acclamations of 
joy. Though the disgrace as well as danger of the 
preceding night were fresh in his mind, and the 
mangled body of his kinsmen still before his eyes, 
such was his moderation as well as magnanimity, 
that the decree issued by the senate against the con¬ 
spirators did not exceed that just measure of seve¬ 
rity which was requisite for the support of govern¬ 
ment, and was dictated neither by the violence of 
resentment nor the rancour of revenge. d e 

After taking the necessary precau¬ 
tions for preventing the flame which alarmed at this 

. .. • i , conspiracy; 

was now so happily extinguished 

posed a history of this conspiracy, containing such a discovery of his 
admiration of Fiesco and his enterprise, as renders it not surprising that 
a minister so .jealous and discerning as Richelieu should be led by the 
perusal of it to predict the turbulent and dangerous spirit of that young 
ecclesiastic. Mem. de Retz, tom. i. p. 13. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


613 


BOOK IX. A. D. 1547.] 

from breaking out anew, the first care of the senate 
was to send an ambassador to the emperor, to give 
him a particular detail of what had happened, and 
to beg his assistance towards the reduction of Mon- 
tobbio, a strong fort on the hereditary estate of the 
Fiesci, in which Jerome had shut himself up. 
Charles was no less alarmed than astonished at an 
event so strange and unexpected. He could not be¬ 
lieve that Fiesco, how bold or adventurous soever, 
durst have attempted such an enterprise but on 
foreign suggestion and from the hope of foreign aid. 
Being informed that the duke of Parma was well 
acquainted with the plan of the conspirators, he 
immediately supposed that the pope could not be 
ignorant of a measure which his son had counte¬ 
nanced. Proceeding from this to a further conjec¬ 
ture, which Paul’s cautious maxims of policy in 
other instances rendered extremely probable, he 
concluded that the French king must have known 
and approved of the design; and he began to ap¬ 
prehend that this spark might again kindle the llame 


suspends his 
operations iu 
Germany. 


of war which had raged so long in 


Italy. As he had drained his Italian 
territories of troops on account of the 
German war, he was altogether unprovided for re¬ 
sisting any hostile attack in that country ; and on 
the first appearance of danger, he must have de- 
tached thither the greatest part of his forces for its 
defence. In this situation of affairs it would have 
been altogether imprudent in the emperor to have 
advanced in person against the elector, until he 
should learn with some degree of certainty whether 
such a scene were not about to open in Italy as 
might put it out of his power to keep the field with 
an army sufficient to oppose him. 


BOOK IX. 


Francis jealous The emperor’s dread of the hostile in- 
power and e suc- S tentions of the pope and French king 
cess * did not proceed from any imaginary 

or ill-grounded suspicion. Paul had already given 
the strongest proofs both of his jealousy and enmity. 
Charles could not hope that Francis, after a rival- 
ship of so long continuance, would behold the great 
advantages which he had gained over the confede¬ 
rate protestants without feeling his ancient emula¬ 
tion revive. He was not deceived in this conjecture. 
Francis had observed the rapid progress of his arms 
with deep concern, and though hitherto prevented, 
by circumstances which have been mentioned, from 
interposing in order to check them, he was now 
convinced that if he did not make some extraor¬ 
dinary and timely effort, Charles must acquire such 
a degree of power as would enable him to give law 
to the rest of Europe. This apprehension, which 
did not take its rise from the jealousy of rivalship 

a Mem. de Ribier, i. 600,606. 


alone, but was entertained by the wisest politicians 
of the age, suggested various expedients which 
might serve to retard the course of the emperor’s 
victories, and to form by degrees such a combina¬ 
tion against him as might put a stop to his danger¬ 
ous career. 

With this view Francis instructed negotiates with 
his emissaries in Germany to employ the P rotestants - 
all their address in order to revive the courage of 
the confederates, and to prevent them from submit¬ 
ting to the emperor. He made liberal offers of his 
assistance to the elector and landgrave, whom he 
knew to be the most zealous as well as the most 
powerful of the whole body ; he used every argu¬ 
ment and proposed every advantage which could 
either confirm their dread of the emperor’s designs, 
or determine them not to imitate the inconsiderate 
credulity of their associates, in giving up their re¬ 
ligion and liberties to his disposal. While he took 
this step towards continuing the civil war which 
raged in Germany, he endeavoured likewise to stir 

up foreign enemies against the em- 

„ .. .. , c , , . with Solyman;. 

peror. He solicited Solyman to seize 

this favourable opportunity of invading Hungary* 
which had been drained of all the troops necessary 
for its defence, in order to form the army against 
the confederates of Smalkalde. He exhorted the 
pope to repair, by a vigorous and sea- with the pope 
sonable effort, the error of which he and Venetians 
had been guilty, in contributing to raise the empe¬ 
ror to such a formidable height of power. Finding 
Paul, both from the consciousness of his own mis¬ 
take and his dread of its consequences, abundantly 
disposed to listen to what he suggested, he availed 
himself of this favourable disposition which the 
pontiff began to discover, as an argument to gain 
the Venetians. He endeavoured to convince them 
that nothing could save Italy, and even Europe, 
from oppression and servitude, but their joining 
with the pope and him in giving the first beginning 
to a general confederacy in order to humble that 
ambitious potentate, whom they had all equal rea¬ 
son to dread. 

Having set on foot these negocia- 
tions in the southern courts, he turned of^DenmaVklnd 
his attention next towards those in the En§land - 
north of Europe. As the king of Denmark had 
particular reasons to be offended with the emperor, 
Francis imagined that the object of the league 

which he had projected would be highly acceptable 

« 

to him ; and lest considerations of caution or pru¬ 
dence should restrain him from joining in it, he 
attempted to overcome these by offering him the 
young queen of Scots in marriage to his son. a As 
the ministers who governed England in the name of 
Edward VI. had openly declared themselves con¬ 
verts to the opinions of the reformers, as soon as it 
became safe upon Henry’s death to lay aside that 
disguise which his intolerant bigotry had forced 
them to assume, Francis flattered himself that their 





G!4 


THE REIGN OF THE 


zeal would notallow them to remain inactive spec¬ 
tators of the overthrow and destruction of those 
who professed the same faith with themselves. He 
hoped that, notwithstanding the struggles of faction 
incident to a minority, and the prospect of an ap¬ 
proaching rupture with the Scots, he might prevail 
on them likewise to take part in the common cause. ,J 

While Francis employed such a variety of expe¬ 
dients, and exerted himself with such extraordinary 
activity, to rouse the different states of Europe 
against his rival, he did not neglect what depended 
on himself alone. He levied troops in all parts of 
his dominions; he collected military stores ; he 
contracted with the Swiss cantons for a consider¬ 
able body of men ; he put his finances in admirable 
order ; he remitted considerable sums to the elector 
and landgrave; and took all the other steps neces¬ 
sary towards commencing hostilities on the shortest 
warning and with the greatest vigour.' 

The emperor Operations so complicated, and 
greatly alarmed, required the putting so many 

instruments in motion, did not escape the emperor’s 
observation. He was early informed of Francis’s 
intrigues in the several courts of Europe, as well as 
of his domestic preparations; and sensible how 
fatal an interruption a foreign war would prove to 
his designs in Germany, he trembled at the prospect 
of that event. The danger, however, appeared to 
him as unavoidable as it was great. He knew the 
insatiable and well-directed ambition of Solyman, 
and that he always chose the season for beginning 
his military enterprises with prudence equal to the 
valour with which he conducted them. The pope, 
as he had good reason to believe, wanted not pre¬ 
texts to justify a rupture, nor inclination to begin 
hostilities. He had already made some discovery 
of his sentiments, by expressing a joy altogether 
unbecoming the head of the church, upon receiving 
an account of the advantage which the elector of 
Saxony had gained over Albert of Brandenburg; 
and as he was now secure of finding in the French 
king an ally of sufficient power to support him, he 
was at no pains to conceal the violence and extent 
of his enmity. d The Venetians, Charles was well 
assured, had long observed the growth of his power 
with jealousy, which, added to the solicitations and 
promises of France, might at last quicken their slow 
councils and overcome their natural caution. The 
Hanes and English, it was evident, had both pecu¬ 
liar reason to be disgusted, as well as strong motives 
to act against him. But above all, he dreaded the 
active emulation of Francis himself, whom he con¬ 
sidered as the soul and mover of any confederacy 
that could be formed against him ; and as that mo¬ 
narch had afforded protection to Verrina, who sailed 
directly to Marseilles upon the miscarriage of 
Fiesco’s conspiracy, Charles expected every mo¬ 
ment to see the commencement of those hostile 
operations in Italy of which he conceived the insur¬ 
rection in Genoa to have been only the prelude. 

b Mem. de Ribier, 635. c Ibid. 595. 


March. 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK IX. 

But while he remained in this state E nter tains hope 
of suspense and solicitude, there was instateo^Fr'an- 
one circumstance which afforded him Clb s hedlth - 
some prospect of escaping the danger. The French 
king’s health began to decline. A disease which 
was the effect of his inconsiderate pursuit of plea¬ 
sure preyed gradually on his constitution. The 
preparations for war, as well as the negociations in 
the different courts, began to languish together with 
the monarch who gave spirit to both. 

The Genoese, during that interval, re¬ 
duced Montobbio, took Jerome Fiesco prisoner, and 
putting him to death, together with his chief ad¬ 
herents, extinguished all remains of the conspiracy. 
Several of the imperial cities in Germany, despair¬ 
ing of timely assistance from France, submitted to 
the emperor. Even the landgrave seemed disposed 
to abandon the elector, and to bring matters to a 
speedy accommodation on such terms as he could 
obtain. In the mean time, Charles waited with im¬ 
patience the issue of a distemper which was to de¬ 
cide whether he must relinquish all other schemes 
in order to prepare for resisting a combination of 
the greater part of Europe against him, or whether 
he might proceed to invade Saxony without inter¬ 
ruption or fear of danger. 

The good fortune so remarkably propitious to his 

family, that some historians have called it the Star 

of the House of Austria, did not desert him on this 

occasion. Francis died at Rambouil- Death of Francis; 

. and reflections on 

let on the last day of March, in the his character and 

fifty-third year of his age and the Charles!’ wlth 
thirty-third of his reign. During twenty-eight years 
of that time an avowed rivalship subsisted between 
him and the emperor, which involved not only their 
own dominions but the greater part of Europe in 
wars, which were prosecuted with more violent 
animosity, and drawn out to a greater length, than 
had been known in any former period. Many cir¬ 
cumstances contributed to this. Their animosity 
was founded in opposition of interest, heightened 
by personal emulation, and exasperated not only by 
mutual injuries but by reciprocal insults. At the 
same time, whatever advantage one seemed to pos¬ 
sess towards gaining the ascendant was wonderfully 
balanced by some favourable circumstance peculiar 
to the other.' The emperor’s dominions were of 
greater extent, the French king’s lay more compact; 
Francis governed his kingdom with absolute power, 
that of Charles was limited, but he supplied the 
want of authority by address; the troops of the 
former were more impetuous and enterprising, those 
of the latter better disciplined and more patient of 
fatigue. The talents and abilities of the two mo- 
narchs were as different as the advantages which 
they possessed, and contributed no less to prolong 
the contest between them. Francis took his reso¬ 
lutions suddenly, prosecuted them at first with 
warmth, and pushed them into execution with a 
most adventurous courage; but being destitute of 

d Mem. de Ribier, tom. i. 637. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


615 


BOOK IX. A. L>. 1547.1 

the perseverance necessary to surmount difficulties, 
he often abandoned his designs, or relaxed the 
vigour of pursuit, from impatience, and sometimes 
trom levity. Charles deliberated long and deter¬ 
mined with coolness; but having once fixed his 
plan, he adhered to it with inflexible obstinacy, and 
neither danger nor discouragement could turn him 
aside from the execution of it. The success of their 
enterprises was suitable to the diversity of their 
characters, and was uniformly influenced by it. 
Francis, by his impetuous activity, often discon¬ 
certed the emperor’s best-laid schemes ; Charles, by 
a more calm but steady prosecution of his designs, 
checked the rapidity of his rival’s career, and balfled 
or repulsed his most vigorous efforts. The former, 
at the opening of a war or of a campaign, broke in 
upon his enemy with the violence of a torrent, and 
carried all before him ; the latter, waiting until he 
saw the force of his rival begin to abate, recovered 
in the end not only all that he had lost, but made 
new acquisitions. Few of the French monarch’s 
attempts towards conquest, whatever promising 
aspect they might wear at first, were conducted to 
a happy issue; many of the emperor’s enterprises, 
even after they appeared desperate and impractica¬ 
ble, terminated in the most prosperous manner. 
Francis was dazzled with the splendour of an 
undertaking ; Charles was allured by the prospect 
of its turning to his advantage. 

The degree, however, of their comparative merit 
and reputation has not been fixed either by a strict 
scrutiny into their abilities for government or by an 
impartial consideration of the greatness and success 
of their undertakings ; and Francis is one of those 
monarchs who occupies a higher rank in the temple 
of Fame than either his talents or performances 
entitle him to hold. This pre-eminence he owed to 
many different circumstances. The superiority 
which Charles acquired by the victory of Pavia, and 
which from that period he preserved through the 
remainder of his reign, was so manifest, that Fran¬ 
cis’s struggle against his exorbitant and growing 
dominion was viewed by most of the other powers 
not only with the partiality which naturally arises 
for those who gallantly maintain an unequal contest, 
but with the favour due to one who was resisting a 
common enemy, and endeavouring to set bounds to 
a monarch equally formidable to them all. The 
characters of princes, too, especially among their 
contemporaries, depend not only upon their talents 
for government but upon their qualities as men. 
Francis, notwithstanding the many errors conspicu¬ 
ous in his foreign policy and domestic administra¬ 
tion, was nevertheless humane, beneficent, generous. 
He possessed dignity without pride ; affability free 
from meanness ; and courtesy exempt from deceit. 
All who had access to him, and no man of merit 
was ever denied that privilege, respected and loved 
him. Captivated with his personal qualities, his 
subjects forgot his defects as a monarch; and 
admiring him as the most accomplished and amiable 


gentleman in his dominions, they hardly murmured 
at acts of mal-administration which in a prince of 
less engaging dispositions would have been deemed 
unpardonable. This admiration, however, must 
have been temporary only, and would have died 
away with the courtiers who bestowed it; the illu¬ 
sion arising from his private virtues must have 
ceased, and posterity would have judged of his 
public conduct with its usual impartiality; but 
another circumstance prevented this, and his name 
hath been transmitted to posterity with increasing 
reputation. Science and the arts had at that time 
made little progress in France. They were just 
beginning to advance beyond the limits of Italy, 
where they had revived, and which had hitherto 
been their only seat. Francis took them immedi¬ 
ately under his protection, and vied with Leo him¬ 
self in the zeal and munificence with which he 
encouraged them. He invited learned men to his 
court, he conversed with them familiarly, he em¬ 
ployed them in business, he raised them to offices of 
dignity, and honoured them with his confidence. 
That order of men, not more prone to complain w hen 
denied the respect to which they conceive them¬ 
selves entitled, than apt to be pleased when treated 
with the distinction which they consider as their 
due, thought they could not exceed in gratitude to 
such a benefactor, and strained their invention and 
employed all their ingenuity in panegyric. Suc¬ 
ceeding authors, warmed with their descriptions of 
Francis’s bounty, adopted their encomiums, and 
even added to them. The appellation of Father of 
Letters bestowed upon Francis, hath rendered his 
memory sacred among historians, and they seem to 
have regarded it as a sort of impiety to uncover his 
infirmities or to point out his defects. Thus Francis, 
notwithstanding his inferior abilities and want of 
success, hath more than equalled the fame of 
Charles. The good qualities which he possessed as 
a man have entitled him to greater admiration and 
praise than have been bestowed upon the extensive 
genius and fortunate arts of a more capable but less 
amiable rival. 

By his death a considerable change Effects of 
was made in the state of Europe. Fra ncis’s death. 
Charles, grown old in the arts of government and 
command, had now to contend only with younger 
monarchs, who could not be regarded as worthy to 
enter the lists with him, who had stood so many 
encounters with Henry VIII. and Francis I. and 
come off with honour in all those different struggles. 
By this event he was eased of all disquietude, and 
was happy to find that he might begin with safety 
those operations against the elector of Saxony 
which he had hitherto been obliged to suspend. He 
knew the abilities of Henry II., who had just 
mounted the throne of France, to be greatly inferior 
to those of his father, and foresaw that he would be 
so much occupied for some time in displacing the 
late king’s ministers, whom he hated, and in grati¬ 
fying the ambitious demands of his own favourites* 





616 


THE REIGN OF THE 


that he had nothing to dread either from his personal 
efforts or from any confederacy which this inexpe¬ 
rienced prince could form. 

, , But as it was uncertain how long 

Charles marches # ° 

against the elector suc j 1 an interval of security might 

ot Saxony. J ° 

April 13 . continue, Charles determined instantly 
to improve it; and as soon as he heard of Francis’s 
demise, he began his march from Egra on the bor¬ 
ders of Bohemia. But the departure of the papal 
troops, together with the retreat of the Flemings, 
had so much diminished his army, that sixteen 
thousand men were all he could assemble. With 
this inconsiderable body he set out on an expedition 
the event of which was to decide what degree of 
authority he should possess from that period in 
Germany: but as this little army consisted chiefly 
of the veteran Spanish and Italian bands, he did 
not, in trusting to them, commit much to the deci¬ 
sion of chance; and even with so small a force he 
had reason to entertain the most sanguine hopes of 
success. The elector had levied an army greatly 
superior in number; but neither the experience and 
discipline of his troops, nor the abilities of his 
officers, were to be compared with those of the em¬ 
peror. The elector, besides, had already been guilty 
of an error which deprived him of all the advantage 
which he might have derived from his superiority in 
number, and was alone sufficient to have occasioned 
his ruin. Instead of keeping his forces united, he 
detached one great body towards the frontiers of 
Bohemia, in order to facilitate his junction with the 
malcontents of that kingdom, and cantoned a con¬ 
siderable part of what remained in different places 
of Saxony, where he expected the emperor would 
make the first impression, vainly imagining that 
open towns with small garrisons might be rendered 
tenable against an enemy. 

The emperor entered the southern 
frontier of Saxony, and attacked Altorf 
upon the Elster. The impropriety of the measure 
which the elector had taken was immediately seen, 
the troops posted in that town surrendering without 
resistance ; and those in all the other places between 
that and the Elbe either imitated their example or 
fled as the imperialists approached. Charles, that 
they might not recover from the panic with which 
they seemed to be struck, advanced without losing 
a moment. The elector, who had fixed his head¬ 
quarters at Meissen, continued in his wonted state 
of fluctuation and uncertainty. He even became 
more undetermined in proportion as the danger 
drew near and called for prompt and decisive reso¬ 
lutions. Sometimes he acted as if he had resolved to 
defend the banks of the Elbe, and to hazard a battle 
with the enemy as soon as the detachments which 
he had called in were able to join him. At other 
times he abandoned this as rash and perilous, seem¬ 
ing to adopt the more prudent counsels of those who 
advised him to endeavour at protracting the war, 
and for that end to retire under the fortifications of 
Wittemberg, where the imperialists could not at¬ 


Progress of 
his arms. 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK IX. 

tack him without manifest disadvantage, and where 
he might wait in safety for the succours which he 
expected from Mecklenburg, Pomerania, and the 
protestant cities on the Baltic. Without fixing 
upon either of these plans, he broke down the 
bridge at Meissen, and marched along the east 
bank of the Elbe to Muhlberg. There he deliberated 
anew ; and after much hesitation, adopted one of 
those middle schemes which arc always acceptable 
to feeble minds incapable of deciding He left a 
detachment at Muhlberg to oppose the imperialists 
if they should attempt to pass at that place; and 
advancing a few miles with his main body, en¬ 
camped there in expectation of the event, according 
to which he proposed to regulate his subsequent 
motions. 

Charles, meanwhile, pushing for- 

1 Passes the Elbe* 

ward incessantly, arrived the evening 
of the twenty-third of April on the banks of the 
Elbe, opposite to Muhlberg. The river, at that 
place, was three hundred paces in breadth, above 
four feet in depth, its current rapid, and the bank 
possessed by the Saxons was higher than that which 
he occupied. Undismayed, however, by all these 
obstacles, he called together his general officers, 
and, without asking their opinions, communicated 
to them his intention of attempting next morning to 
force his passage over the river, and to attack the 
enemy wherever he could come up with them. They 
all expressed their astonishment at such a bold 
resolution; and even the duke of Alva, though 
naturally daring and impetuous, and Maurice of 
Saxony, notwithstanding his impatience to crush 
his rival the elector, remonstrated earnestly against 
it. But the emperor, confiding in his own judg¬ 
ment or good fortune, paid no regard to their argu¬ 
ments, and gave the orders necessary for executing 
his design. 

Early in the morning a body of Spanish and 
Italian foot marched towards the river, and began 
an incessant fire upon the enemy. The long heavy 
muskets used in that age did execution on the op¬ 
posite bank, and many of the soldiers, hurried on 
by a martial ardour, in order to get nearer the 
enemy, rushed into the stream, and advancing 
breast-high, fired with a more certain arm and 
with greater effect. Under cover of their fire a 
bridge of boats was begun to be laid for the in¬ 
fantry ; and a peasant having undertaken to conduct 
the cavalry through the river by a ford with which 
he was well acquainted, they also were put in mo¬ 
tion. The Saxons posted in Muhlberg endeavoured 
to obstruct these operations by a brisk fire from a 
battery which they had erected ; but as a thick fog 
covered all the low grounds upon the river, they 
could not take aim with any certainty, and the 
imperialists suffered very little; at the same time 
the Saxons being much galled by the Spaniards 
and Italians, they set on fire some boats which had 
been collected near the village, and prepared to 
retire. The imperialists perceiving this, ten Spanish 



BOOK IX. A. D. 1547.] 

soldiers instantly stripped themselves, and holding 
their swords with their teeth, swam across the river, 
put to flight such of the Saxons as ventured to 
oppose them, saved from the flames as many boats as 
were sufficient to complete their own bridge, and by 
this spirited and successful action, encouraged their 
companions no less than they intimidated the enemy. 

By this time the cavalry, each trooper having a 
foot-soldier behind him, began to enter the river, 
the light horse marching in the front, followed by 
the men at arms, whom the emperor led in person, 
mounted on a Spanish horse, dressed in a sumptuous 
habit, and carrying a javelin in his hand. Such a 
numerous body struggling through a great river, in 
which, according to the directions of their guide, 
they were obliged to make several turns, sometimes 
treading on a firm bottom, sometimes swimming, 
presented to their companions, whom they left be¬ 
hind, a spectacle equally magnificent and interest¬ 
ing.® Their courage at last surmounted every 
obstacle, no man betraying any symptom of fear 
when the emperor shared in the danger no less than 
the meanest soldier. The moment that they reached 
the opposite side, Charles, without waiting the 
arrival of the rest of the infantry, advanced towards 
the Saxons with the troops which had passed along 
with him, who, flushed with their good fortune, and 
despising an enemy who had neglected to oppose 
them when it might have been done with such ad¬ 
vantage, made no account of their superior numbers, 
and marched on as to a certain victory. 

in conduct of the During all these operations, which 

elector. necessarily consumed much time, the 
elector remained inactive in his camp ; and from an 
infatuation which appears to be so amazing that the 
best informed historians impute it to the treacherous 
arts of his generals, who deceived him by false in¬ 
telligence, he would not believe that the emperor 
had passed the river or could be so near at hand.f 
Being convinced at last of his fatal mistake by the 
concurring testimony of eye-witnesses, he gave 
orders for retreating towards Wittemberg. But a 
German army, encumbered, as usual, with baggage 
and artillery, could not be put suddenly in motion. 
They had just begun to march when the light troops 
of the enemy came in view, and the elector saw an 

Battle of Mui- engagement to be unavoidable. As 
hausen. ], e was n0 j ess bold j n action than 

irresolute in council, he made the disposition for 
battle with the greatest presence of mind, and in 
the most proper manner: taking advantage of a 
great forest to cover his wings, so as to prevent his 
being surrounded by the enemy's cavalry, which 
were far more numerous than his own. The em¬ 
peror likewise ranged his men in order as they came 
up, and riding along the ranks, exhorted them with 
few but efficacious words to do their duty. It was 
with a very different spirit that the two armies ad¬ 
vanced to the charge. As the day, which had 

e Avila, 115. a. 

f Camerar. ap. Freher. iii. 493. Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ. 1047, 1049. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G17 


hitherto been dark and cloudy, happened to clear 
up at that moment, this accidental circumstance 
made an impression on the different parties cor¬ 
responding to the tone of their minds; the Saxons, 
surprised and disheartened, felt pain at being ex¬ 
posed fully to the view of the enemy; the impe¬ 
rialists, being now secure that the protestant forces 
could not escape from them, rejoiced at the return 
of sunshine as a certain presage of victory. The 
shock of battle would not have been long doubtful, 
if the personal courage which the elector displayed, 
together with the activity which he exerted from the 
moment that the approach of the enemy rendered an 
engagement certain, and cut off all possibility of 
hesitation, had not revived in some degree the spirit 
of his troops. They repulsed the Hungarian light- 
horse who began the attack, and received with firm¬ 
ness the men at arms who next advanced to the 
charge ; but as these were the flower of the imperial 
army, were commanded by experienced officers, and 
fought under the emperor’s eye, the Saxons soon 
began to give way; and the light troops rallying at 
the same time and falling on their flanks, the flight 
became general. A small body of , 

° J The elector de- 

chosen soldiers, among whom the feated and taken 

prisoner. 

elector had fought in person, still con¬ 
tinued to defend themselves, and endeavoured to 
save their master by retiring into the forest; but 
being surrounded on every side, the elector wounded 
in the face, exhausted with fatigue, and perceiving 
all resistance to be vain, surrendered himself a 
prisoner. He was conducted immediately towards 
the emperor, whom he found just returned from the 
pursuit, standing on the field of battle in the full ex¬ 
ultation of success, and receiving the congratula¬ 
tions of his officers upon this complete victory 
obtained by his valour and conduct. Even in such 
an unfortunate and humbling situation the elector’s 
behaviour was equally magnanimous and decent. 
Sensible of his condition, he approached his con¬ 
queror without any of the sullenness or pride which 
would have been improper in a captive ; and con¬ 
scious of his own dignity, he descended to no mean 
submission unbecoming the high station which he 
held among the German princes. “ The fortune of 
war,” said he, “ has made me your prisoner, most 
gracious emperor, and I hope to be treated-” 

Here Charles harshly interrupted him: 

, . , ... , ,, , His harsh recep- 

“ And am I then at last acknowledged tion by the cm- 

peror. 

to be emperor? Charles of Ghent was 
the only title you lately allowed me. You shall be 
treated as you deserve.” At these words he turned 
from him abruptly with a haughty air. To this 
cruel repulse the king of the Romans added re¬ 
proaches in his own name, using expressions still 
more ungenerous and insulting. The elector made no 
reply; but with an unaltered countenance, which dis¬ 
covered neither astonishment nor dejection, accom¬ 
panied the Spanish soldiers appointed to guard him.g 

g Sleid. Hist. 426. Thuan. 1.36. ITortensius tie Bello German, ap. 
Scard. vol. ii. 498. Descript. Pugnae Muhlberg, ibid. p. 509. P. Heuter. 
tier. Austr. lib. xii. c. 13. p. 298. 




THE REIGN OF THE 


Gl« 

This decisive victory cost the im- 
gress'after this perialists only fifty men. Twelve hun- 
victoiy. ^red 0 f the Saxons were killed, chiefly 

in the pursuit, and a greater number taken prisoners. 
About four hundred kept in a body and escaped to 
Wittemberg, together with the electoral prince, 
who had likewise been wounded in the action. After 
resting two days in the field of battle, partly to re¬ 
fresh his army and partly to receive the deputies of 
the adjacent towns, which were impatient to secure 
his protection by submitting to his will, the emperor 
began to move towards Wittemberg, that he might 
terminate the war at once by the reduction of that 
city. The unfortunate elector was carried along in 
a sort of triumph, and exposed everywhere, as a 
captive, to his own subjects ; a spectacle extremely 
afflicting to them, who both honoured and loved 
him; though the insult was so far from subduing his 
firm spirit that it did not even ruffle the wonted 
tranquillity and composure of his mind. 

Invests Wittem- As Wittemberg, the residence, in 
berg - that age, of the electoral branch of the 
Saxon family, was one of the strongest cities in 
Germany, and could not be taken, if properly de¬ 
fended, without great difficulty, the emperor march¬ 
ed thither with the utmost despatch, hoping that 
while the consternation occasioned by his victory 
was still recent, the inhabitants might imitate the 
example of their countrymen, and submit to his 
power as soon as lie appeared before their walls. 
But Sybilla of Cleves, the elector’s wife, a woman 
no less distinguished by her abilities than her virtue, 
instead of abandoning herself to tears and lamenta¬ 
tions upon her husband’s misfortune, endeavoured, 
by her example as well as exhortations, to animate 
the citizens. She inspired them with such resolu¬ 
tion, that when summoned to surrender, they re¬ 
turned a vigorous answer, warning the emperor to 
behave towards their sovereign w ith the respect due 
to his rank, as they were determined to treat Albert 
of Brandenburg, who was still a prisoner, precisely 
in the same manner that he treated the elector. The 
spirit of the inhabitants, no less than the strength 
of the city, seemed now to render a siege in form 
necessary. After such a signal victory it would 
have been disgraceful not to have undertaken it, 
though at the same time the emperor was destitute 
of every thing requisite for carrying it on. But 
Maurice removed all difficulties by engaging to fur¬ 
nish provisions, artillery, ammunition, pioneers, 
and whatever else should be needed. Trusting to 
this, Charles gave orders to open the trenches before 
the town. It quickly appeared that Maurice’s eager¬ 
ness to reduce the capital of those dominions which 
he expected as his reward for taking arms against 
his kinsman and deserting the protestant cause, had 
led him to promise what exceeded his power to 
perform. A battering-train was, indeed, carried 
safely down the Elbe from Dresden to Wittemberg; 
but as Maurice had not sufficient force to preserve 

h Thuan. i. 142. 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK IX. 

a secure communication between his own territories 
and the camp of the besiegers, count Mansfeldt, 
who commanded a body of electoral troops, inter¬ 
cepted and destroyed a convoy of provisions and 
military stores, and dispersed a band of pioneers 
destined for the service of the imperialists. This 
put a stop to the progress of the siege, and con¬ 
vinced the emperor, that as he could not rely on 
Maurice’s promises, recourse ought to be had to 
some more expeditious as well as more certain me¬ 
thod of getting possession of the town. 

The unfortunate elector was in his The emperor’s 
hands, and Charles was ungenerous men^of the elec* 
and hard-hearted enough to take ad- tor ’ 
vantage of this, in order to make an experiment 
whether he might not bring about his design by 
working upon the tenderness of a wife for her hus¬ 
band, or upon the piety of children towards their 
parent. With this view he summoned Sybilla a 
second time to open the gates, letting her know that 
if she again refused to comply, the elector should 
answer with his head for her obstinacy. To con¬ 
vince her that this was not an empty threat, he 
brought his prisoner to an immediate trial. The 
proceedings against him were as irregular as the 
stratagem was barbarous. Instead of consulting the 
states of the empire, or remitting the cause to any 
court which, according to the German constitution, 
might have legally taken cognizance of the elector’s 
crime, he subjected the greatest prince in the em¬ 
pire to the jurisdiction of a court-martial composed 
of Spanish and Italian officers, and in which the 
unrelenting duke of Alva, a fit instrument for any 
act of violence, presided. This strange 
tribunal founded its charge upon the 
ban of the empire, which had been issued against 
the prisoner by the sole authority of the emperor, 
and was destitute of every legal formality which 
could render it valid. But the court-martial, pre¬ 
suming the elector to be thereby manifestly con¬ 
victed of treason and rebellion, condemned him to 
suirer death by being beheaded. This decree was 
intimated to the elector while he was amusing him¬ 
self in playing at chess with Ernest of Brunswick, 
his fellow-prisoner. He paused for a moment, 
though without discovering any symptom either of 
surprise or terror; and after taking notice of the 
irregularity, as well as injustice, of the emperor’s 
proceedings—“ It is easy,” continued The eiecto 
he, “ to comprehend his scheme. I ma e nanimi ty- 
must die because Wittemberg will not surrender; 
and I shall lay down my life with pleasure, if, by 
that sacrifice, I can preserve the dignity of my 
house, and transmit to my posterity the inheritance 
which belongs to them. Would to God that this 
sentence may not affect my wife and children more 
than it intimidates me ; and that they, for the sake 
of adding a few days to a life already too long, may 
not renounce honours and territories which they 
were born to possess!” 11 He then turned to his 


May 10. 



BOOK IX. 


A. D. 1547.J 

antagonist, whom he challenged to continue the 
game. He played with his usual attention and 
ingenuity, and having heat Ernest, expressed all 
the satisfaction which is commonly felt on gaining 
such victories. After this he withdrew to his own 
apartment, that he might employ the rest of his 
time in such religious exercises as were proper in 
his situation.i 

The distress of It was ncff with the same indifference 
his family. or c0ni p 0sure that the account of the 

elector’s danger was received in Wittemberg. Sy- 
billa, who had supported with such undaunted for¬ 
titude her husband’s misfortunes while she imagined 
that they could reach no further than to diminish 
his power or territories, felt all her resolution fail 
as soon as his life was threatened. Solicitous to 
save that, she despised every other consideration, 
and was willing to make any sacrifice in order to 
appease an incensed conqueror. At the same time 
the duke of Cleves, the elector of Brandenburg, and 
Maurice, to none of whom Charles had commu¬ 
nicated the true motives of his violent proceedings 
against the elector, interceded warmly with him to 
spare his life. The first was prompted to do so 
merely by compassion for his sister and regard for 
his brother-in-law. The two others dreaded the 
universal reproach that they would incur, if, after 
having boasted so often of the ample security which 
the emperor had promised them with respect to 
their religion, the first effect of their union with him 
should be the public execution of a prince who was 
justly held in reverence as the most zealous protector 
of the protestant cause. Maurice, in particular, fore¬ 
saw that he must become the object of detestation 
to the Saxons, and could never hope to govern them 
with tranquillity, if he were considered by them as 
accessory to the death of his nearest kinsman in order 
that he might obtain possession of his dominions. 

His treaty with WIlile the y* from such various mo- 
^surre’nde^'the ti ves > solicited Charles with the most 
electorate ; earnest importunity not to execute the 
sentence, Sybilla and his children conjured the 
elector, by letters as well as messengers, to scruple 
at no concession that would extricate him out of the 
present danger, and deliver them from their fears 
and anguish on his account. The emperor, perceiv¬ 
ing that the expedient which he had tried began to 
produce the effect that he intended, fell by degrees 
from his former rigour, and allowed himself to soften 
into promises of clemency and forgiveness, if the 
elector would show himself worthy of his favour 
by submitting to reasonable terms. The elector, on 
whom the consideration of what he might suffer 
himself had made no impression, was melted by the 
tears of a wife whom he loved, and could not resist 
the entreaties of his family. In com¬ 
pliance with their repeated solicita¬ 
tions, he agreed to articles of accommodation which 
he would otherwise have rejected with disdain. The 
chief of them were, that he should resign the elec- 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G19 


remains a 
prisoner. 


toral dignity, as well for himself as for his posterity, 
into the emperor’s hands, to be disposed of entirely 
at his pleasure ; that he should instantly put the 
imperial troops in possession of the cities of Wit¬ 
temberg and Gotha; that he should set Albert of 
Brandenburg at liberty without ransom; that he 
should submit to the decrees of the imperial chamber, 
and acquiesce in whatever reformation the emperor 
should make in the constitution of that court; that 
he should renounce all league against the emperor 
or king of the Romans, and enter into no alliance 
for the future in which they were not comprehended. 
In return for these important concessions, the em¬ 
peror not only promised to spare his life, but to 
settle on him and his posterity the city of Gotha and 
its territories, together with an annual pension of 
fifty thousand florins, payable out of the revenues 
of the electorate, and likewise to grant him a sum 
in ready money to be applied towards the discharge 
of his debts. Even these articles of grace were 
clogged with the mortifying condition and 
of his remaining the emperor’s prisoner 
during the rest of his life. k To the whole Charles 
had subjoined, that he should submit to the decrees 
of the pope and council with regard to the contro¬ 
verted points in religion ; but the elector, though he 
had been persuaded to sacrifice all the objects which 
men commonly hold to be the dearest and most 
valuable, was inflexible with regard to this point; 
and neither threats nor entreaties could prevail to 
make him renounce what he deemed to be truth, or 
persuade him to act in opposition to the dictates of 
his conscience. 

As soon as the Saxon garrison Maurice put in 
marched out of Wittemberg, the cm- Korardom^ 
peror fulfilled his engagements to lons - 
Maurice; and in reward for his merit in having 
deserted the protestant cause, and having contri¬ 
buted with such success towards the dissolution of 
the Smalkaldic league, he gave him possession of 
that city, together with all the other towns in the 
electorate. It was not without reluctance, how¬ 
ever, that he made such a sacrifice ; the extraordi¬ 
nary success of his arms had begun to operate in its 
usual manner upon his ambitious mind, suggesting 
new and vast projects for the aggrandisement of his 
family, towards the accomplishment of which the 
retaining of Saxony would have been of the utmost 
consequence. But as this scheme was not then ripe 
for execution, he durst not yet venture to disclose 
it; nor would it have been either safe or prudent to 
offend Maurice at that juncture by such a manifest 
violation of all the promises which had seduced 
him to abandon his natural allies. 

The landgrave, Maurice’s father-in- 

. . i . Negotiations 

law, was still in arms ; and though with the land- 

now left alone to maintain the protest- gld ' e- 
ant cause, was neither a feeble nor contemptible 
enemy. His dominions were of considerable ex¬ 
tent ; his subjects animated with zeal for the Refor- 

k Sleid. 427. Thuan. i. 142. Du Mont. Corps. Diplom. iv. p. 11, 332. 


Struvii Corpus, 1050. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


G20 

mation ; and if lie could have held the imperialists 
at bay for a short time, he had much to hope from a 
party whose strength was still unbroken, whose 
union as well as vigour might return, and which 
had reason to depend with certainty on being effec¬ 
tually supported by the king of France. The land¬ 
grave thought not of any thing so bold or adventur¬ 
ous ; but being seized with the same consternation 
which had taken possession of his associates, he 
was intent only on the means of procuring favour¬ 
able terms from the emperor, w hom he viewed as a 
conqueror to whose will there was a necessity of sub¬ 
mitting. Maurice encouraged this tame and pacific 
spirit by magnifying, on the one hand, the emper¬ 
or’s power; by boasting, on the other, of his own 
interest with his victorious ally ; and by represent¬ 
ing the advantageous conditions which he could not 
fail of obtaining by his intercession for a friend 
whom he was so solicitous to save. Sometimes the 
landgrave was induced to place such unbounded 
confidence in his promises, that he was impatient to 
bring matters to a final accommodation. On other 
occasions, the emperor’s exorbitant ambition, re¬ 
strained neither by the scruples of decency nor the 
maxims of justice, together with the recent and 
shocking proof which he had given of this in his 
treatment of the elector of Saxony, came so full into 
his thoughts, and made such a lively impression on 
them, that he broke off abruptly the negociations 
which he had begun, seeming to be convinced that 
it was more prudent to depend for safety on his own 
arms than to confide in Charles’s generosity. But 
this bold resolution, which despair had suggested 
to an impatient spirit fretted by disappointments, 
was not of long continuance. Upon a more delibe¬ 
rate survey of the enemy’s power as well as his own 
weakness, his doubts and fears returned upon him, 
and together with them the spirit of negociating and 
the desire of accommodation. 

Maurice and the elector of Branden- 

The conditions , J . ,. . , , . 

prescribed by the burg acted as mediators between him 

and the emperor ; and after all that 
the former had vaunted of his influence, the con¬ 
ditions prescribed to the landgrave were extremely 
rigorous. The articles with regard to his renounc¬ 
ing the league of Smalkalde, acknowledging the 
emperor’s authority, and submitting to the decrees 
of the imperial chamber, were the same which had 
been imposed on the elector of Saxony. Besides 
these, he was required to surrender his person and 
territories to the emperor ; to implore for pardon on 
his knees ; to pay an hundred and fifty thousand 
crowns towards defraying the expenses of the war ; 
to demolish the fortifications of all the towns in his 
dominions except one ; to oblige the garrison which 
he placed in it to take an oath of fidelity to the em¬ 
peror ; to allow a free passage through his territo¬ 
ries to the imperial troops as often as it shall be 
demanded; to deliver up all his artillery and am¬ 
munition to the emperor; to set at liberty, with- 

1 Sleid. 430. Thuan. 1. iv. 146. 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK IX. 

out ransom, Henry of Brunswick, together with the 
other prisoners whom he had taken during the war ; 
and neither to take arms himself nor to permit any 
of his subjects to serve against the emperor or his 
allies for the future. 1 

The landgrave ratified these articles, sub- 

though with the utmost reluctance, as mits - 
they contained no stipulation with regard to the 
manner in which he was to* be treated, and left him 
entirely at the emperor’s mercy. Necessity, how¬ 
ever, compelled him to give his assent to them. 
Charles, who had assumed the haughty and impe¬ 
rious tone of a conqueror ever since the reduction 
of Saxony, insisted on unconditional submission, 
and would permit nothing to he added to the terms 
which he had prescribed that could in any degree 
limit the fulness of his power, or restrain him from 
behaving as he saw meet towards a prince whom he 
regarded as absolutely at his disposal. But though 
he would not vouchsafe to negociate with the land¬ 
grave on such a footing of equality, as to suffer any 
article to be inserted among those which he had 
dictated to him, that could be considered as a formal 
stipulation for the security and freedom of his per¬ 
son, he, or his ministers in his name, gave the elec¬ 
tor of Brandenburg and Maurice such full satisfac¬ 
tion with regard to this point, that they assured the 
landgrave that Charles would behave to him in the 
same w ay as he had done to the duke of Wurtemburg, 
and would allow him, whenever he had made his 
submission, to return to his own territories. Upon 
finding the landgrave to be still possessed with his 
former suspicions of the emperor’s intentions, and 
unwilling to trust verbal or ambiguous declarations 
in a matter of such essential concern as his ow n 
liberty, they sent him a bond signed by them both, 
containing the most solemn obligations, that if any 
violence whatsoever was offered to his person during 
his interview with the emperor, they would instantly 
surrender themselves to his sons, and remain in their 
hands to be treated by them in the same manner as 
the emperor should treat him." 1 

This, together with the indispensa- i Te repairs to the 
ble obligation of performing what was imperial court * 
contained in the articles of w hich he had accepted, 
removed his doubts and scruples, or made it neces¬ 
sary to get over them. He repaired for that purpose 
to the imperial camp at Halle in Saxony, where a 
circumstance occurred which revived his suspicions 
and increased his fears. Just as he was about to 
enter the chamber of presence in order to make his 
public submission to the emperor, a copy of the ar¬ 
ticles which he had approved of was put into his 
hands, in order that he might ratify them anew. 
Upon perusing them he perceived that the imperial 
ministers had added two new articles ; one import¬ 
ing, that if any dispute should arise concerning the 
meaning of the former conditions, the emperor 
should have the right of putting wiiat interpretation 
upon them he thought most reasonable ; the other, 

m Du Mont Corps Diplom. iv. p. 11, 336. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


621 


BOOK IX. A. I). 1547.1 


that the landgrave was bound to submit implicitly 
to the decisions of the council of Trent. This un¬ 
worthy artifice, calculated to surprise him into an 
approbation of articles to which he had not the most 
distant idea of assenting, by proposing them to him 
at a time when his mind was engrossed and disqui¬ 
eted with the thoughts of that humiliating ceremony 
which he had to perform, filled the landgrave with 
indignation, and made him break out into all 
those violent expressions of rage to which his tem¬ 
per was prone. With some difficulty the elector of 
Brandenburg and Maurice prevailed at length on 
the emperor’s ministers to drop the former article as 
unjust, and to explain the latter in such a manner 
that he could agree to it without openly renouncing 
the protestant religion. 

The manner in This obstacle being surmounted, the 

peror received landgrave was impatient to finish a 
ceremony which, how mortifying so¬ 
ever, had been declared necessary towards his ob¬ 
taining pardon. The emperor was seated on a 
magnificent throne, with all the ensigns of his dig¬ 
nity, surrounded by a numerous train of the princes 
of the empire, among whom was Henry of Bruns¬ 
wick, lately the landgrave’s prisoner, and now, by 
a sudden reverse of fortune, a spectator of his hu¬ 
miliation. The landgrave was introduced with 
great solemnity, and advancing towards the throne, 
fell upon his knees. His chancellor, who walked 
behind him, immediately read, by his master’s com¬ 
mand, a paper which contained an humble confes¬ 
sion of the crime whereof he had been guilty; an 
acknowledgment that he had merited on that ac¬ 
count the most severe punishment; an absolute re¬ 
signation of himself and his dominions to be dis¬ 
posed of at the emperor’s pleasure ; a submissive 
petition for pardon, his hopes of which were founded 
entirely on the emperor’s clemency ; and it con¬ 
cluded with promises of behaving for the future 
like a subject whose principles of loyalty and obe¬ 
dience would be confirmed and would even derive 
new force from the sentiments of gratitude which 
must hereafter fill and animate his heart. While 
the chancellor was reading this abject declaration, 
the eyes of all the spectators were fixed on the un¬ 
fortunate landgrave ; few could behold a prince so 
powerful as well as high-spirited suing for mercy 
in the posture of a supplicant, without being touched 
with commiseration, and perceiving serious reflec- 
tions arise in their minds upon the instability and 
emptiness of human grandeur. The emperor viewed 
the whole transaction with a haughty unfeeling 
composure ; and preserving a profound silence 
himself, made a sign to one of his secretaries to 
read his answer ; the tenor of which was, That 
though he might have justly inflicted on him the 
grievous punishment which his crimes deserved, 
yet, prompted by his own generosity, moved by the 
solicitations of several princes in behalf of the land¬ 
grave, and influenced by his penitential acknow¬ 
ledgments, he would not deal with him according 


to the rigour of justice, and would subject him to 
no penalty that was not specified in the articles 
which he had already subscribed. The moment the 
secretary had finished, Charles turned away ab¬ 
ruptly, without deigning to give the unhappy sup¬ 
pliant any sign of compassion or reconcilement. 
He did not even desire him to rise from his knees ; 
which the landgrave having ventured to do unbid¬ 
den, advanced towards the emperor with an inten¬ 
tion to kiss his hand, flattering himself that his 
guilt being now fully expiated, he might presume 
to take that liberty. But the elector of Branden¬ 
burg, perceiving that this familiarity would be offen¬ 
sive to the emperor, interposed, and desired the 
landgrave to go along with him and Maurice to the 
duke of Alva’s apartments in the castle. 

He was received and entertained by He is detained a 
that nobleman with the respect and prisoner, 
courtesy due to such a guest. But after supper, 
while he was engaged in play, the duke took the 
elector and Maurice aside, and communicated to 
them the emperor’s orders, that the landgrave must 
remain a prisoner in that place under the custody 
of a Spanish guard. As they had not hitherto en¬ 
tertained the most distant suspicion of the emperor’s 
sincerity or rectitude of intention, their surprise 
was excessive, and their indignation not inferior to 
it, on discovering how greatly they had been de¬ 
ceived themselves, and how infamously abused, in 
having been made the instruments of deceiving and 
ruining their friend. They had recourse to com¬ 
plaints, to arguments, and to entreaties, in order to 
save themselves from that disgrace, and to extricate 
him out of the wretched situation into which he had 
been betrayed by too great confidence in them. But 
the duke of Alva remained inflexible, and pleaded 
the necessity of executing the emperor’s commands. 
By this time it grew late ; and the landgrave, who 
knew nothing of what had passed, nor dreaded the 
snare in which he was entangled, prepared for de¬ 
parting, when the fatal orders were intimated to 
him. He was struck dumb at first with astonish¬ 
ment ; but after being silent a few moments, he 
broke out into all the violent expressions which 
horror at injustice accompanied with fraud natu¬ 
rally suggests. He complained, he expostulated, 
he exclaimed ; sometimes inveighing against the 
emperor’s artifices as unworthy of a great and gene¬ 
rous prince ; sometimes censuring the credulity of 
his friends in trusting to Charles’s insidious pro¬ 
mises ; sometimes charging them with meanness in 
stooping to lend their assistance towards the execu¬ 
tion of such a perfidious and dishonourable scheme ; 
and in the end he required them to remember their 
engagements to his children, and instantly to fulfil 
them. They, after giving way for a little to the tor¬ 
rent of his passion, solemnly asserted their own in¬ 
nocence and upright intention in the whole trans¬ 
action, and encouraged him to hope that, as soon as 
they saw the emperor, they would obtain redress of 
an injury which affected their own honour no less 



G22 


THE REIGN OF THE 


than it did his liberty. At the same time, in order 
to soothe his rage and impatience, Maurice remain¬ 
ed with him during the night, in the apartment 
where he was confined." 

Next morning the elector and Mau- 

The elector ot . . 

Brandenburg and r i ce applied lointly to the emperor, 

Maurice solicit m J J 

vain jor his representing the infamy to which they 

would be exposed throughout Germany 
if the landgrave were detained in custody; that 
they would not have advised nor would he himself 
have consented to an interview, if they had sus¬ 
pected that the loss of his liberty was to be the 
consequence of his submission ; that they were 
bound to procure his release, having plighted their 
faith to that effect, and engaged their own persons 
as sureties for his. Charles listened to their earnest 
remonstrances with the utmost coolness. As he 
now stood no longer in need of their services, they 
had the mortification to find that their former obse¬ 
quiousness was forgotten, and little regard paid to 
their intercession. He was ignorant, he told them, 
of their particular or private transactions with the 
landgrave, nor was his conduct to be regulated by 
any engagements into which they had thought fit to 
enter; though he knew well what he himself had 
promised, which was not that the landgrave should 
be exempt from all restraint, but that he should not 
be kept a prisoner during life. 0 Having said this 
with a peremptory and decisive tone, he put an end 
to the conference ; and they seeing no probability, at 
that time, of making any impression upon the em¬ 
peror, who seemed to have taken this resolution de¬ 
liberately, and to be obstinately bent on adhering 
to it, were obliged to acquaint the unfortunate pri¬ 
soner with the ill success of their endeavours in his 
behalf. The disappointment threw him into a new 
and more violent transport of rage ; so that, to pre¬ 
vent his proceeding to some desperate extremity, 
the elector and Maurice promised that they would 
not quit the emperor until, by the frequency and 
fervour of their intercessions, they had extorted his 
consent to set him free. They accordingly renewed 
their solicitations a few days afterwards, but found 
Charles more haughty and intractable than before, 
and were warned that if they touched! again upon 
a subject so disagreeable, and with regard to which 
he had determined to hear nothing further, he would 
instantly give orders to convey the prisoner into 
Spain. Afraid of hurting the landgrave by an 
officious or ill-timed zeal to serve him, they not 
only desisted but left the court; and as they did 
not choose to meet the first sallies of the landgrave’s 
rage upon his learning the cause of their departure, 
they informed him of it by a letter, wherein they 
exhorted him to fulfil all that he had promised to 

n Sleid. 433. lhuan. 1. iv. 147. Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ. ii. 1052. 

o According to several historians of great name, the emperor, in his 
treaty with the landgrave, stipulated that he would not detain him in 
any prison. But in executing the deed, which was written in the German 
tongue, the imperial ministers fraudulently substituted the word ewiger 
instead ot eintger , and thus the treaty, in place of a promise that he should 
not be detained m any prison, contained only an engagement that he should 
not be detained m perpetual imprisonment. But authors eminent for his¬ 
torical knowledge and critical accuracy have called in question the truth 
of this common story. The silence of Sleidan with regard to it, as well as 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK IX. 

the emperor as the most certain means of procuring 
a speedy release. 

Whatever violent emotions their His i mpa tience 
abandoning his cause in this manner under restraint ‘ 
occasioned, the landgrave’s impatience to recover 
liberty made him follow their advice. He paid the 
sum which had been imposed on him, ordered his 
fortresses to be rased, and renounced all alliances 
which could give offence. This prompt compliance 
with the will of the conqueror produced no effect. 
He w as still guarded with the same vigilant severity; 
and being carried about, together with the degraded 
elector of Saxony, wherever the emperor went, their 
disgrace and his triumph were each day renewed. 
The fortitude as w r ell as equanimity with which the 
elector bore these repeated insults were not more 
remarkable than the landgrave’s fretfulness and 
impatience. His active impetuous mind could ill 
brook restraint; and reflection upon the shameful 
artifices by which he had been decoyed into that 
situation, as well as indignation at the injustice 
with which he was still detained in it, drove him 
often to the wildest excesses of passion. 

The people of the different cities to The rigour of the 
whom Charles thus wantonly exposed tiom r ia S Ge™' 
those illustrious prisoners as a public many - 
spectacle, were sensibly touched with such an insult 
offered to the Germanic body, and murmured loudly 
at this indecent treatment of two of its greatest 
princes. They had soon other causes of complaint, 
and such as affected them more nearly. Charles 
proceeded to add oppression to insult, and arrogat¬ 
ing to himself all the rights of a conqueror, exer¬ 
cised them with the utmost rigour. He ordered his 
troops to seize the artillery and military stores be¬ 
longing to such as had been members of the Smal- 
kaldic league ; and having collected upwards of five 
hundred pieces of cannon, a great number in that 
age, he sent part of them into the Low Countries, 
part into Italy, and part into Spain, in order to 
spread by this means the fame of his success, and 
that they might serve as monuments of his having 
subdued a nation hitherto deemed invincible. He 
then levied by his sole authority large sums of 
money, as well upon those who had served him 
with fidelity during the war as upon such as had 
been in arms against him ; upon the former as their 
contingent towards a war which, having been un¬ 
dertaken, as he pretended, for the common benefit, 
ought to be carried on at the common charge ; upon 
the latter as a fine by way of punishment for their 
rebellion. By these exactions he amassed above 
one million six hundred thousand crowns, a sum 
which appeared prodigious in the sixteenth century. 
But so general was the consternation which had 


its not being mentioned in the various memorials which he lias published 
concerning the landgrave’s imprisonment, greatly favour this opinion. 
But as several books which contain the information necessary towards 
discussing this point with accuracy are written in the German language 
which I do not understand, 1 cannot pretend to inquire into this matter 
witn the same precision wherewith I have endeavoured to settle *ome 
other controverted facts which have occurred in the course of this history 
See Struv. Corp. 1052. Mosheim’s Eccles. Hist. vol. ii. p. 1O1 igo" 
Eng. edition. r * 



BOOK IX. A. D. 1547.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


623 


seized the Germans upon his rapid success, and 
such their dread of his victorious troops, that all 
implicitly obeyed his commands; though, at the 
same time, these extraordinary stretches of power 
greatly alarmed a people jealous of their privileges, 
and habituated during several ages to consider the 
imperial authority as neither extensive nor formi¬ 
dable. This discontent and resentment, how in¬ 
dustriously soever they concealed them, became 
universal ; and the more these passions were re¬ 
strained and kept down for the present, the more 
likely were they to burst out soon with additional 
violence. 


r While Charles gave law to the Ger- 

theTii'ertiesofhis mans ^e a conquered people, Fer- 
Bohermau sub- dinand treated his subjects in Bohemia 

with still greater rigour. That kingdom 
possessed privileges and immunities as extensive 


as those of any nation in which the feudal institu¬ 
tions were established. The prerogative of their 
kings was extremely limited, and the crown itself 
elective. Ferdinand, when raised to the throne, 
had confirmed their liberties with every solemnity 
prescribed by their excessive solicitude for the se¬ 


curity of a constitution of government to which 
they were extremely attached. He soon began, 
however, to be weary of a jurisdiction so much 
circumscribed, and to despise a sceptre which he 
could not transmit to his posterity ; and notwith¬ 
standing all his former engagements, he attempted 
to overturn the constitution from its foundations, 
that, instead of an elective kingdom, he might ren¬ 
der it hereditary. But the Bohemians were too 
high-spirited tamely to relinquish privileges which 
they had long enjoyed. At the same time, many of 
them having embraced the doctrines of the reform¬ 
ers, the seeds of which John Huss and Jerome of 
Prague had planted in their country about the be¬ 
ginning of the preceding century, the desire of 
acquiring religious liberty mingled itself with their 
zeal for their civil rights ; and these two kindred 
passions heightening, as usual, each other’s force, 
precipitated them immediately into violent mea¬ 
sures. They had not only refused to serve their 
sovereign against the confederates at Smalkalde, 
but having entered into a close alliance with the 
elector of Saxony, they had bound themselves by a 
solemn association to defend their ancient constitu¬ 
tion, and to persist until they should obtain such 
additional privileges as they thought necessary to¬ 
wards perfecting the present model of their govern¬ 
ment or rendering it more permanent. They chose 
Caspar Phlug, a nobleman of distinction, to be their 
general, and raised an army of thirty thousand men 
to enforce their petitions. But either from the 
weakness of their leader, or from the dissensions in 
a great unwieldy body, which having united hastily 
was not thoroughly compacted, or from some other 
unknown cause, the subsequent operations of the 
Bohemians bore no proportion to the zeal and ar¬ 


p Sleid. 408, 419, 434. Thuan. 1. iv. 129, 150. Struv. Corp. ii. 


dour with which they took their first resolutions. 
They suffered themselves to be amused so long with 
negociations and overtures of different kinds, that 
before they could enter Saxony, the battle of Muhl- 
berg was fought, the elector deprived of his dignity 
and territories, the landgrave confined to close 
custody, and the league of Smalkalde entirely dis¬ 
sipated. The same dread of the emperor’s power 
which had seized the rest of the Germans reached 
them. As soon as their sovereign approached with 
a body of imperial troops, they instantly dispersed, 
thinking of nothing but how to atone for their past 
guilt, and to acquire some hope of forgiveness by a 
prompt submission. But Ferdinand, who entered 
his dominions full of that implacable resentment 
which inflames monarchs whose authority has been 
despised, was not to be mollified by the late repent¬ 
ance and involuntary return of rebellious subjects 
to their duty. He even heard unmoved the en¬ 
treaties and tears of the citizens of Prague, who 
appeared before him in the posture of suppliants, 
and implored for mercy. The sentence which he 
pronounced against them was rigorous to extremity ; 
he abolished many of their privileges, he abridged 
others, and new-modelled the constitution accord¬ 
ing to his pleasure. He condemned to death many 
of those who had been most active in forming the 
late association against him, and punished a still 
greater number with confiscation of their goods or 
perpetual banishment. He obliged all his subjects 
of every condition to give up their arms, to be de¬ 
posited in forts where he planted garrisons ; and 
after disarming his people, he loaded them with 
new and exorbitant taxes. Thus by an ill-con¬ 
ducted and unsuccessful effort to extend their pri¬ 
vileges, the Bohemians not only enlarged the sphere 
of the royal prerogative when they intended to have 
circumscribed it, but they almost annihilated those 
liberties which they aimed at establishing on a 
broader and more secure foundations 

The emperor having now humbled, Diet held at 
and, as he imagined, subdued, the in- Augsburg, 
dependent and stubborn spirit of the Germans by the 
terror of arms and the rigour of punishment, held a 
diet at Augsburg, in order to compose finally the 
controversies with regard to religion, which had so 
long disturbed the empire. He durst not, however, 
trust the determination of a matter so interesting to 
the free suffrage of the Germans, broken as their 
minds now were to subjection. He entered the city 
at the head of his Spanish troops, and assigned 
them quarters there. The rest of his soldiers he 
cantoned in the adjacent villages; so that the mem¬ 
bers of the diet, while they carried on their deliber¬ 
ations, were surrounded by the same army which 
had overcome their countrymen. Immediately after 
his public entry, Charles gave a proof of the violence 
with which he intended to proceed. He took pos¬ 
session by force of the cathedral, together with one 
of the principal churches ; and his priests having 




THE REIGN OF THE 


(J24 

by various ceremonies purified them from the pollu¬ 
tion with which they supposed the unhallowed 
ministrations of the protestants to have defiled them, 
they re-established with great pomp the rites of the 
Romish worship.** 

_. The concourse of members to this 

The emperor ex- 

submiuo'the 0 diet was extraordinary ; the import- 
general council. ance 0 f the affairs concerning which 

it was to deliberate, added to the fear of giving 
offence to the emperor by an absence which lay open 
to misconstruction, brought together almost all the 
princes, nobles, and representatives of cities who 
had a right to sit in that assembly. The emperor, 
in the speech with which he opened the meeting, 
called their attention immediately to that point 
which seemed chiefly to merit it. Having mentioned 
the fatal effects of the religious dissensions which 
had arisen in Germany, and taken notice of his own 
unwearied endeavours to procure a general council, 
which alone could provide a remedy adequate to 
those evils, he exhorted them to recognise its au¬ 
thority, and to acquiesce in the decisions of an 
assembly to which they had originally appealed as 
having the sole right of judgment in the case. 

. f But the council to which Charles 

tions in the coun- wished them to refer all their controver- 
cil* a « 

sies had by this time undergone a vio¬ 
lent change. The fear and jealousy with which the 
emperor's first successes against the confederates of 
Smalkalde had inspired the pope continued to in¬ 
crease. Not satisfied with attempting to retard the 
progress of the imperial arms by the sudden recall 
of his troops, Paul began to consider the emperor as 
an enemy the weight of whose power he must soon 
feel, and against whom he could not be too hasty in 
taking precautions. He foresaw that the immediate 
effect of the emperor's acquiring absolute power in 
Germany would be to render him entirely master of 
all the decisions of the council, if it should continue 
to meet in Trent. It was dangerous to allow a 
monarch so ambitious to get the command of this 
formidable engine, which he might employ at plea¬ 
sure to limit or overturn the papal authority. As 
the only method of preventing this, he determined to 
remove the council to some city more immediately 
under his own jurisdiction, and at a greater distance 
from the terror of the emperor's arms or the reach of 
his influence. An incident fortunately occurred 
which gave this measure the appearance of being 
necessary. One or two of the fathers of the coun¬ 
cil, together with some of their domestics, happen¬ 
ing to die suddenly, the physicians, deceived by the 
symptoms, or suborned by the pope's legates, pro¬ 
nounced the distemper to be infectious and pestilen¬ 
tial. Some of the prelates, struck with a panic, 
retired ; others were impatient to be gone; and after 

a short consultation, the council was 

March 11. 

Translated from translated to Bologna, a city subject 

Trent to Bologna. ° J J 

to the pope. All the bishops in the 
imperial interest warmly opposed this resolution 


[A. I). 1547. BOOK IX. 

as taken without necessity, and founded on false 
or frivolous pretexts. All the Spanish prelates, 
and most of the Neapolitan, by the emperor’s 
express command, remained at Trent; the rest, to 
the number of thirty-four, accompanying the le¬ 
gates to Bologna. Thus a schism commenced in 
that very assembly which had been called to 
heal the divisions of Christendom ; the fathers of 
Bologna inveighed against those who staid at Trent 
as contumacious and regardless of the pope’s au¬ 
thority ; while the other accused them of being so 
far intimidated by the fears of imaginary danger as 
to remove to a place where their consultations could 
prove of no service towards re-establishing peace 
and order in Germany. r 

The emperor, at the same time, em- Svmptomsofdis 
ployed all his interest to procure the - ust between the 

1 J 1 pope and emperor. 

return of the council to Trent. But 
Paul, who highly applauded his own sagacity in 
having taken a step which put it out of Charles’s 
power to acquire the direction of that assembly, 
paid no regard to a request the object of which was 
so extremely obvious. The summer w as consumed 
in fruitless negociations with respect to this point, 
the importunity of the one and obstinacy of the 
other daily increasing. At last an event happened 
which widened the breach irreparably, and rendered 
the pope utterly averse from listening to any pro¬ 
posal that came from the emperor. Charles, as has 
been already observed, had so violently exasperated 
Peter Lewis Farnese, the pope’s son, by refusing to 
grant him the investiture of Parma and Placentia, 
that he had watched ever since that time with all 
the vigilance of resentment for an opportunity of 
revenging that injury. He had endeavoured to pre¬ 
cipitate the pope into open hostilities against the 
emperor, and had earnestly solicited the king of 
France to invade Italy. His hatred and resentment 
extended to all those whom he knew that the em¬ 
peror favoured ; he did every ill office in his power 
to Gonzaga, governor of Milan, and had encouraged 
Fiesco in his attempt upon the life of Andrew 
Doria, because both Gonzaga and Doria possessed 
a great degree of the emperor’s esteem and confi¬ 
dence. His malevolence and secret intrigues were 
not unknow n to the emperor, who could not be more 
desirous to take vengeance on him than Gonzaga 
and Doria were to be employed as his instruments 
in inflicting it. Farnese, by the profligacy of his 
life, and by enormities of every kind equal to those 
committed by the worst tyrants who have disgraced 
human nature, had rendered himself so odious, that 
it was thought any violence whatever might be 
lawfully attempted against him. Gonzaga and 
Doria soon found among his own subjects persons 
who were eager, and even deemed it meritorious, to 
lend their hands in such a service. As Farnese, 
animated with the jealousy which usually possesses 
petty sovereigns, had employed all the cruelty and 
fraud whereby they endeavour to supply their defect 

r F. Paul, 248, &c. 


q Sleid. 435, 437. 



BOOK IX. A. D. 1547.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


6*25 


of power, in order to humble and extirpate the no¬ 
bility subject to his government, five noblemen of 
the greatest distinction in Placentia combined to 
avenge the injuries which they themselves had suf¬ 
fered, as well as those which he had offered to their 
order. They formed their plan in conjunction 
with Gonzaga; but it remains uncertain whether he 
originally suggested the scheme to them, or only 
approved of what they proposed, and co-operated in 
carrying it on. They concerted all the previous 
steps with such foresight, conducted their intrigues 
with such secrecy, and displayed such courage in 
the execution of their design, that it may be ranked 
among the most audacious deeds of that nature 
Sep jo mentioned in history. One body of 

ofdifpopSin 11 tlie cons pi rators surprised, at mid-day, 
the gates of the citadel of Placentia, 
where Farnese resided, overpowered his guards, and 
murdered him. Another party of them made them¬ 
selves masters of the town, and called upon their 
fellow-citizens to take arms in order to recover their 
liberty. The multitude ran towards the citadel, 
from which three great guns, a signal concerted 
with Gonzaga, had been fired; and before they 
could guess the cause or the authors of the tumult, 
they saw the lifeless body of the tyrant hanging by 
the heels from one of the windows of the citadel. 
But so universally detestable had he become, that 
not one expressed any sentiment of concern at such 
a sad reverse of fortune, or discovered the least 
indignation at this ignominious treatment of a sove¬ 
reign prince. The exultation at the success of the 
conspiracy was general, and all applauded the actors 
in it as the deliverers of their country. The body 
was tumbled into the ditch that surrounded the 
citadel, and exposed to the insults of the rabble; 
the rest of the citizens returned to their usual occu¬ 
pations, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. 
The imperial Before next morning a body of troops 
session*01'pfa- s ’ arriving from the frontiers of the Mi- 
centia. lanese, where they had been posted in 

expectation of the event, took possession of the 
city in the emperor’s name, and reinstated the in¬ 
habitants in the possession of their ancient privi¬ 
leges. Parma, which the imperialists attempted 
likewise to surprise, was saved by the vigilance and 
fidelity of the officers whom Farnese had intrusted 
with the command of the garrison. The death of a 
son whom, notwithstanding his infamous vices, 
Paul loved with an excess of parental tenderness, 
overwhelmed him with the deepest affliction, and 
the loss of a city of such consequence as Placentia 
greatly imbittered his sorrow. He accused Gonzaga, 
in open consistory, of having committed a cruel 
murder in order to prepare the way for an unjust 
usurpation, and immediately demanded of the em¬ 
peror satisfaction for both; for the former by the 
punishment of Gonzaga; for the latter by the resti¬ 
tution of Placentia to his grandson Octavia, its 


rightful owner. But Charles, who, rather than quit 
a prize of such value, was willing not only to ex¬ 
pose himself to the imputation of being accessory 
to the crime which had given an opportunity of 
seizing it, but to bear the infamy of defrauding his 
own son-in-law of the inheritance which belonged 
to him, eluded all his solicitations, and determined 
to keep possession of the city, together with its 
territories. 

This resolution, flowing from an am- The p, urto 
bition so rapacious as to be restrained Frenchking f and 
by no consideration either of decency the Venetlans - 
or justice, transported the pope so far beyond his 
usual moderation and prudence, that he was eager 
to take arms against the emperor, in order to be 
avenged on the murderers of his son, and to recover 
the inheritance wrested from his family. Conscious, 
however, of his own inability to contend with such 
an enemy, he warmly solicited the French king and 
the republic of Venice to join in an offensive league 
against Charles. But Henry was intent at that time 
on other objects. His ancient allies the Scots, 
having been defeated by the English in one of the 
greatest battles ever fought between these two rival 
nations, he was about to send a numerous body of 
veteran troops into that country, as well to preserve 
it from being conquered as to gain the acquisition 
of a new kingdom to the French monarchy by 
marrying his son the dauphin to the young queen 
of Scotland. An undertaking accompanied with 
such manifest advantages, the success of which ap¬ 
peared to be so certain, was not to be relinquished 
for the remote prospect of benefit from an alliance 
depending upon the precarious life of a pope of 
fourscore, who had nothing at heart but the gratifi¬ 
cation of his own private resentment. Instead, 
therefore, of rushing headlong into the alliance 
proposed, Henry amused the pope with such general 
professions and promises as might keep him from 
any thoughts of endeavouring to accommodate his 
differences with the emperor, but at the same time 
he avoided any such engagement as might occasion 
an immediate rupture with Charles, or precipitate 
him into a war for which he was not prepared. The 
Venetians, though much alarmed at seeing Placentia 
in the hands of the imperialists, imitated the wary 
conduct of the French king, as it nearly resembled 
the spirit which usually regulated their own con¬ 


duct. 1 

But though the pope found that it was not in his 
power to kindle immediately the flames of war, he 
did not forget the injuries which he was obliged for 
the present to endure ; resentment settled deeper in 
his mind, and became more rancorous in proportion 
as he felt the difficulty of gratifying it. It was 
while these sentiments of enmity were 
in full force, and the desire of ven- bur/pet?t f ions 8 ^ 
geance at its height, that the diet of the council to 

> _ rent. 

Augsburg, by the emperor s command, 


s F. Paul, 257. Pallavic. 41, 42. Thuan. iv. 156. Mem. de Ribier, 59, 
67. Natalis Comitis Histor. lib. iii. p. 64. 

2 S 


t Mem. de Ribier, ii. 63, 71, 78, 85, 95. Paruta Istor. di Venez. 199, 
203. Thuan. iv. 160. 



G2 6 


THE REIGN OF TIIE 


petitioned the pope, in the name of the whole Ger¬ 
manic body, to enjoin the prelates who had retired 
to Bologna to return again to Trent, and to renew 
their deliberations in that place. Charles had been 
at great pains in bringing the members to join in 
this request. Having observed a considerable va¬ 
riety of sentiments among the protestants with re¬ 
spect to the submission which he had required to 
the decrees of the council, some of them being al¬ 
together intractable, while others were ready to 
acknowledge its right of jurisdiction upon certain 
conditions, he employed all his address in order to 
gain or to divide them. He threatened and overawed 
the elector palatine, a weak prince, and afraid that 
the emperor might inflict on him the punishment 
to which he had made himself liable by the assist 
ance that he had given to the confederates of Smal- 
kalde. The hope of procuring liberty for the 
landgrave, together with the formal confirmation of 
his own electoral dignity, overcame Maurice’s 
scruples, or prevented him from opposing what he 
knew would be agreeable to the emperor. The 
elector of Brandenburg, less influenced by religious 
zeal than any prince of that age, was easily induced 
to imitate their example, in assenting to all that the 
emperor required. The deputies of the cities re¬ 
mained still to be brought over. They were more 
tenacious of their principles; and though every 
thing that could operate either on their hopes or 
fears was tried, the utmost that they would promise 
was to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the council, 
if effectual provision were made for securing to the 
divines of all parties free access to that assembly, 
with entire liberty of debate ; and if all points in 
controversy were decided according to Scripture 
and the usage of the primitive church. But when 
the memorial containing this declaration was pre¬ 
sented to the emperor, he ventured to put in practice 
a very extraordinary artifice. Without reading the 
paper, or taking any notice of the conditions on 
which they had insisted, he seemed to take it for 
granted that they had complied with his demand, 
and gave thanks to the deputies for 
their full and unreserved submission 
to the decrees of the council. The deputies, though 
astonished «tt what they had heard, did not attempt 
to set him right, both parties being better pleased 
that the matter should remain under this state of 
ambiguity than to push for an explanation, which 
must have occasioned a dispute, and would have 
led, perhaps, to a rupture." 

Having obtained this seeming submission from 
the members of the diet to the authority of the 
council, Charles employed that as an argument to 

The pope eludes enforce their petition for its return to 

the demand. Trent. But the pope, from the satis¬ 
faction which he felt in mortifying the emperor, as 
well as from his own aversion to what was demand¬ 
ed, resolved without hesitation that his petition 

u F. Paul, 259. Sleid. 440. Thuan. tom. i. 155. 

x F. Paul, 250. Pallav. ii. 49. 


[A. D. 1547. BOOK IX. 

should not be granted, though, in order to avoid the 
imputation of being influenced wholly by resent¬ 
ment, he had the address to throw it upon the fa¬ 
thers at Bologna to put a direct negative upon the 
request. With this view he referred to their con¬ 
sideration the petition of the diet, and they, ready 
to confirm by their assent whatever the legates were 
pleased to dictate, declared that the Dec 
council could not consistently with its 
dignity return to Trent, unless the prelates who, 
by remaining there, had discovered a schismatic 
spirit, would first repair to Bologna and join their 
brethren ; and that, even after their junction, the 
council could not renew its consultations with any 
prospect of benefit to the church, if the Germans 
did not prove their intention of obeying its future 
decrees to be sincere, by yielding immediate obedi¬ 
ence to those which it had already passed/ 

This answer was communicated to The emperor pro- 
the emperor by the pope, who at the co S uncU ga ©f St Ac> e 
same time exhorted him to comply logna- 
with demands which appeared to be so reasonable. 
But Charles was better acquainted with the dupli¬ 
city of the pope’s character than to be deceived by 
such a gross artifice ; he knew that the prelates ot 
Bologna durst utter no sentiment but what Paul in¬ 
spired ; and therefore, overlooking them as mere 
tools in the hands of another, he considered their 
reply as a full discovery of the pope’s intentions. 
As he could no longer hope to acquire such an as¬ 
cendant in the council as to render it subservient to 
his own plan, he saw it to be necessary that Paul 
should not have it in his power to turn against him 
the authority of so venerable an as- 1518 
sembly. In order to prevent this, he Jan - l6 - 
sent two Spanish lawyers to Bologna, who, in the 
presence of the legate, protested, That the transla¬ 
tion of the council to that place had been unneces¬ 
sary, and founded on false or frivolous pretexts; 
that w hile it continued to meet there, it ought to be 
deemed an unlawful and schismatical conventicle ; 
that all its decisions ought of course to be held as 
null and invalid; and that since the pope, together 
w ith the corrupt ecclesiastics who depended on him, 
had abandoned the care of the church, the emperor, 
as its protector, would employ all the power which 
God had committed to him in order to preserve it 
from those calamities with which it was threatened. 
A few days after, the imperial ambas- 

r Jan. 23. 

sador at Rome demanded an audience 
of the pope, and, in presence of all the cardinals as 
well as foreign ministers, protested against the pro¬ 
ceedings of the prelates at Bologna in terms equally 
harsh and disrespectful/ 

It was not long before Charles pro- _ 

ceeded to carry these threats, which f*™* a S s aru? e ’ of 
greatly alarmed both the pope and faithinGerma ny- 
council of Bologna, into execution. He let the 
diet know the ill success of his endeavours to pro- 

y F. Paul, 264. Pallav. 51. Sleid. 446. Goldasti Constit. Impe¬ 
rial. l. 561. ^ 



BOOK IX. A. 1). 1548.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


cure a favourable answer to their petition ; and that 
the pope, equally regardless of their entreaties and 
ot his services to the church, had refused to gratify 
them by allowing the council to meet again at Trent; 
that though all hope of holding this assembly in a 
place where they might look, for freedom of debate 
and judgment was not to be given up, the prospect 
of it was at present distant and uncertain; that, in the 
mean time, Germany was torn in pieces by religious 
dissensions, the purity of the faith corrupted, and 
the minds of the people disquieted with a multipli¬ 
city ot new opinions and controversies formerly un¬ 
known among Christians; that, moved by the duty 
which he owed to them as their sovereign, and to 
the church as its protector, he had employed some 
divines of known abilities and learning to prepare 
a system of doctrine, to which all should conform, 
until a council such as they wished for could be 
convocated. This system was compiled by Pllug, 
Helding, and Agricola, of whom the two former 
were dignitaries in the Romish church, but remark¬ 
able for their pacific and healing spirit; the last 
was a protestant divine, suspected, not without 
reason, of having been gained by bribes and pro¬ 
mises to betray or mislead his party on this occa¬ 
sion. The articles presented to the diet of Ratisbon 
in the year one thousand five hundred and forty- 
one, in order to reconcile the contending parties, 
served as a model for the present work. But as 
the emperor’s situation was much changed since 
that time, and he found it no longer necessary to 
manage the protestants with the same delicacy as 
at that juncture, the concessions in their favour 
were not now so numerous, nor did they extend to 
points of so much consequence. The treatise con¬ 
tained a complete system of theology, conformable 
in almost every article to the tenets of the Romish 
church, though expressed, for the most part, in the 
softest words, or in Scriptural phrases, or in terms 
of studied ambiguity. Every doctrine, however, 
peculiar to popery was retained, and the observation 
of all the rites which the protestants condemned as 
inventions of men introduced into the worship of 
God was enjoined. With regard to two points only, 
some relaxation in the rigour of opinion as well as 
some latitude in practice was admitted. Such ec¬ 
clesiastics as had married and would not put away 
their wives, were allowed, nevertheless, to perform 
all the functions of their sacred office; and those 
provinces which had been accustomed to partake of 
the cup as w r ell as of the bread in the sacrament of 
the Lord’s supper, were still indulged in the privi¬ 
lege of receiving both. Even these were declared 
to be concessions for the sake of peace, and granted 
only for a season, in compliance with the weakness 
or prejudices of their countrymen. 2 
This, which was This system of doctrine, known 
rfmjhe'iays^be- afterwards by the name of the Inte- 
* ore Aiay d £' rim, because it contained temporary 

z F. Paul, C70. Pallav. ii. 60. Sleid. 453, 457- Struv. Corp. 1054. 
Ooldast. Constit. Imper. i. 518. 

2 s2 


regulations, which were to continue no longer 
in force than until a free general council could be 
held, the emperor presented to the diet, with a 
pompous declaration of his sincere intention to re¬ 
establish tranquillity and order in the church, as 
well as of his hopes that their adopting these regu¬ 
lations would contribute greatly to bring about that 
desirable event. It was read in presence of the diet, 
according to form. As soon as it was finished, the 
archbishop of Mentz, president of the electoral col¬ 
lege, rose up hastily, and having thanked the em¬ 
peror for his unwearied and pious endeavours in 
order to restore peace to the church, he, in the name 
of the diet, signified their approbation of the system 
of doctrine which had been read, together w ith their 
resolution of conforming to it in every particular. 
The whole assembly w as amazed at a declaration 
so unprecedented and unconstitutional, as well as 
at the elector’s presumption in pretending to deliver 
the sense of the diet upon a point which had not 
hitherto been the subject of consultation or debate. 
But not one member had the courage to contradict 
w hat the elector had said ; some being overawed by 
fear, others remaining silent through complaisance. 
The emperor held the archbishop’s de- ^ exht>rts fteir 
claration to be a full constitutional a PP robatlon ° f st¬ 
ratification of the Interim, and prepared to enforce 
the observance of it as a decree of the empire. a 

During this diet the w ife and chil- New and. fruit- 
dren of the landgrave, warmly second- [of the^iand- 1011 * 
ed by Maurice of Saxony, endeavoured grave’s liberty. 

to interest the members in behalf of that unhappy 
prince, who still languished in confinement. But 
Charles, who did not choose to be brought under 
the necessity of rejecting any request that came 
from such a respectable body, in order to prevent 
their representations, laid before the diet an account 
of his transactions with the landgrave, together with 
the motives which had at first induced him to detain 
that prince in custody, and which rendered it pru¬ 
dent, as he alleged, to keep him still under restraint. 
It w r as no easy matter to give any good reason for an 
action incapable of being justified. But he thought 
the most frivolous pretexts might be produced in 
an assembly the members of which were willing to 
be deceived, and afraid of nothing so much as of 
discovering that they saw r his conduct in its true 
colours. His account of his ow n conduct was ac¬ 
cordingly admitted to be fully satisfactory, and 
after some feeble entreaties that he would extend 
his clemency to his unfortunate prisoner, the land¬ 
grave’s concerns were no more mentioned. b 

In order to counterbalance the unfavourable im¬ 
pression which this intlexible rigour might make, 
Charles, as a proof that his gratitude w as no less 
permanent and unchangeable than his resentment, 
invested Maurice in the electoral dignity, with all 
the legal formalities. The ceremony was performed 
with extraordinary pomp in an open court, so near 

a Sleid. ‘160. F. Paul, 273. Pallav. 63. b Sleid. 44b 



THE REIGN OF THE |_ A * 1548 ’ B00K IX * 


the apartment in which the degraded elector w r as 
kept a prisoner, that he could view it from his win¬ 
dows. Even this insult did not ruille his usual tran¬ 
quillity ; and turning his eyes that way, he beheld 
a prosperous rival receiving those ensigns of dignity 
of which he had been stripped, without uttering 
one sentiment unbecoming the fortitude that he had 
preserved amidst all his calamities/ 

Immediately after the dissolution of 

The Interim . _ 

equally disap- the diet the emperor ordered the lnte- 

proved of by pro- . 

testants and pa- yini to be published in the German as 

pists* * • 

well as Latin language. It met with 
the usual reception of conciliating schemes when 
proposed to men heated with disputation ; both 
parties declaimed against it with equal violence. 
The protestants condemned it as a system contain¬ 
ing the grossest errors of popery, disguised with so 
little art that it could impose only on the most ig¬ 
norant, or on those who, by wilfully shutting their 
eyes, favoured the deception. The papists inveighed 
against it as a work in which some doctrines of the 
church were impiously given up, others meanly con¬ 
cealed, and all of them delivered in terms calcu¬ 
lated rather to deceive the unwary than to instruct 
the ignorant, or to reclaim such as were enemies to 
the truth. While the Lutheran divines fiercely at¬ 
tacked it on one hand, the general of the Dominicans 
with no less vehemence impugned it on the other. 
But at Rome, as soon as the contents of the Interim 
came to be known, the indignation of the courtiers 
and ecclesiastics rose to the greatest height. They 
exclaimed against the emperor’s profane encroach¬ 
ment on the sacerdotal function, in presuming, 
with the concurrence of an assembly of laymen, to 
define articles of faith and to regulate modes of 
worship. They compared this rash deed to that of 
Uzzah, who, with an unhallowed hand, had touched 
the ark of God ; or to the bold attempts of those 
emperors who had rendered their memory detest¬ 
able by endeavouring to model the Christian church 
according to their pleasure. They even affected to 
find out a resemblance between the emperor’s con¬ 
duct and that of Henry VIII., and expressed their 
fear of his imitating the example of that apostate, 
by usurping the title as well as jurisdiction belong¬ 
ing to the head of the church. All therefore con ¬ 
tended with one voice, that as the foundations of 
ecclesiastical authority were now shaken, and the 
whole fabric ready to be overturned by a new enemy, 
some powerful method of defence must be provided, 
and a vigorous resistance must be made, in the 
beginning, before he grew too formidable to be 
opposed. 

The pope, whose judgment was im- 

The sentiments , , , . 

of the pope with proved by longer experience in great 

regard to it. f J ,, , 

transactions, as well as by a raore ex¬ 
tensive observation of human affairs, viewed the 
matter with more acute discernment, and derived 
comfort from the very circumstance which filled 

« 

c Thuan. Hist. lib. v. 176. Struv. Corp. 1054. Investitura Mauritii,a 
Maminerano Lucembergo descripta, ap. Scardium, ii. 506. 


them with apprehension. He was astonished that 
a prince of such superior sagacity as the emperor 
should be so intoxicated with a single victory as to 
imagine that he might give law to mankind, and 
decide even in those matters with regard to which 
they are most impatient of dominion. He saw that 
by joining any one of the contending parties in 
Germany, Charles might have had it in his power 
to have oppressed the other, but that the presump¬ 
tion of success had now inspired him with the vain 
thought of his being able to domineer over both. 
He foretold that a system which all attacked and 
none defended, could not be of long duration; 
and that, for this reason, there was no need of his 
interposing in order to hasten its fall ; for as soon 
as the powerful hand which now upheld it was 
withdrawn, it would sink of its own accord, and be 
forgotten for ever. d 

The emperor, fond of his own plan, 

1 . . The emperor en- 

adhered to his resolution of carrying forces compliance 

. with the interim. 

it into full execution. But though 
the elector Palatine, the elector of Brandenburg, 
and Maurice, influenced by the same considerations 
as formerly, seemed ready to yield implicit obedi¬ 
ence to whatever he should enjoin, he met not every 
where with a like obsequious submission. John, 
marquis of Brandenburg-Anspach, although he had 
taken part with great zeal in the war against the 
confederates of Smalkalde, refused to renounce 
doctrines which he held to be sacred ; and remind¬ 
ing the emperor of the repeated promises which he 
had given his protestant allies of allow ing them the 
free exercise of their religion, he claimed, in con¬ 
sequence of these, to be exempted from receiving 
the Interim. Some other princes also ventured to 
mention the same scruples and to plead the same 
indulgence. But on this as on other trying occa¬ 
sions the firmness of the elector of Saxony was most 
distinguished, and merited the highest praise. 
Charles, well knowing the authority of his example 
with all the protestant party, laboured with the ut¬ 
most earnestness to gain his approbation of the In¬ 
terim, and by employing sometimes promises of set¬ 
ting him at liberty, sometimes threats of treating 
him with greater harshness, attempted alternately 
to work upon his hopes and his fears. But he was 
alike regardless of both. After having declared his 
fixed belief in the doctrines of the Reformation, “ I 
cannot now,” said he, “ in my old age abandon the 
principles for which I early contended ; nor, in 
order to procure freedom during a few declining 
years, will I betray that good cause on account of 
which 1 have suffered so much, and am still willing 
to suffer. Better for me to enjoy in this solitude 
the esteem of virtuous men, together with the ap¬ 
probation of my own conscience, than to return 
into the world with the imputation and guilt of 
apostasy to disgrace and imbitter the remainder of 
my days.” By this magnanimous resolution he set 

d Sleid 468. F. Paul, 271, 277- Pallav. ii. 64. 





EMPEROll CHARLES V. 


62 y 


BOOK IX. A. D. 1548.] 


his countrymen a pattern of conduct so very differ¬ 
ent from that which the emperor wished him to have 
exhibited to them, that it drew upon him fresh 
marks ot displeasure. The rigour of his confine¬ 
ment was increased ; the number of his servants 
abridged ; the Lutheran clergymen who had hitherto 
been permitted to attend him were dismissed ; and 
even the books of devotion which had been his 
chief consolation during a tedious imprisonment 
were taken from him. e The landgrave of Hesse, 
his companion in misfortune, did not maintain the 
same constancy. His patience and fortitude were 
both so much exhausted by the length of his con¬ 
finement, that, willing to purchase freedom at any 
price, he wrote to the emperor offering not only to 
approve of the Interim, but to yield an unreserved 
submission to his will in every other particular. 
But Charles, who knew that whatever course the 
landgrave might hold, neither his example nor au¬ 
thority would prevail on his children or subjects to 
receive the Interim, paid no regard to his offers. 
He was kept confined as strictly as ever; and 
while he suffered the cruel mortification of having 
his conduct set in contrast to that of the elector, 
he derived not the smallest benefit from the mean 
step which exposed him to much deserved cen¬ 
sure/ 


The free cities But ^ was i n ^ ie imperial cities that 
receiving the nst Charles met with the most violent 
interim. opposition to the Interim. These small 
commonwealths, the citizens of which were accus¬ 
tomed to liberty and independence, had embraced 
the doctrines of the Reformation, when they were 
first published, with remarkable eagerness; the bold 
spirit of innovation being peculiarly suited to the 
genius of free government. Among them the pro- 
testant teachers had made the greatest number of 
proselytes. The most eminent divines of the party 
were settled in them as pastors. By having the 
direction of the schools and other seminaries of 
learning, they had trained up disciples who were as 
well instructed in the articles of their faith as they 
were zealous to defend them. Such persons w ere 
not to be guided by example or swayed by authority ; 
but having been taught to employ their own under¬ 
standing in examining and deciding with respect to 
the points in controversy, they thought that they were 
both qualified and entitled to judge for themselves. 
As soon as the contents of the Interim were known, 
they, with one voice, joined in refusing to admit it. 
Augsburg, Ulm, Strasburg, Constance, Bremen, 
Magdeburg, together with many other towns of less 
note, presented remonstrances to the emperor, setting 
forth the irregular and unconstitutional manner in 
which the Interim had been enacted, and beseeching 
him not to offer such violence to their consciences 
as to require their assent to a form of doctrine and 
worship which appeared to them repugnant to the 
express precepts of the divine law. But Charles, 
having prevailed on so many princes of the empire 


e Sleid. 462. 


f Id. ibid. 


to approve of his new model, was not much moved 
by the representations of those cities, which, how r 
formidable soever they might have proved if they 
could have been formed into one body, lay so re¬ 
mote from each other, that it was easy to oppress 
them separately before it was possible for them to 
unite. 

In order to accomplish this, the em¬ 
peror saw' it to be requisite that his violence to 
measures should be vigorous, and ex¬ 
ecuted with such rapidity as to allow no time for 
concerting any common plan of opposition. Having 
laid down this maxim as the rule of his proceedings, 
his first attempt was upon the city of Augsburg, 
which, though overawed with the presence of the 
Spanish troops, he knew to be as much dissatisfied 
with the Interim as any in the empire. He ordered 
one body of these troops to seize the gates; he posted 
the rest in different quarters of the city; 
and assembling all the burgesses in the 
town-hall, he, by his sole absolute authority, publish¬ 
ed a decree abolishing their present form of govern¬ 
ment, dissolving all their corporations and fraterni¬ 
ties, and nominating a small number of persons in 
whom he vested for the future all the powers of 
government. Each of the persons thus chosen took 
an oath to observe the Interim. An act of power so 
unprecedented as well as arbitrary, which excluded 
the body of the inhabitants from any share in the 
government of their own community, and subjected 
them to men who had no other merit than their ser¬ 
vile devotion to the emperor’s will, gave general 
disgust; but as they durst not venture upon resist¬ 
ance, they were obliged to submit in silence. From 
Augsburg, in which he left a garrison, he proceeded 
to Ulm, and new-modelling its government with 
the same violent hand, he seized such of their pastors 
as refused to subscribe the Interim, committed them 
to prison, and at his departure carried them along 
with him in chains/ By this severity he not only 
secured the reception of the Interim in two of the 
most powerful cities, but gave warning to the rest 
what such as continued refractory had to expect. 
The effect of the example was as great as he could 
have wished ; and many towns, in order to save 
themselves from the like treatment, found it neces¬ 
sary to comply with what he enjoined. This obedi¬ 
ence, extorted by the rigour of authority, produced 
no change in the sentiments of the Germans, and 
extended no further than to make them conform so 
far to what he required as was barely sufficient to 
screen them from punishment. The protestant 
preachers accompanied those religious rites the 
observation of which the Interim prescribed, with 
such an explication of their tendency as served 
rather to confirm than to remove the scruples of their 
hearers with regard to them. The people, many of 
whom had grown up to mature years since the 
establishment of the reformed religion, and had 
never known any other form of public worship. 


g Sleid. 469. 


h Ibid. 472. 



630 


THE REIGN OF THE 


beheld the pompous pageantry of the popish service 
with contempt or horror; and in most places the 
Romish ecclesiastics who returned to take possession 
of their churches could hardly be protected from 
insult or their ministrations from interruption. 
Thus, notwithstanding the apparent compliance of 
so many cities, the inhabitants, being accustomed to 
freedom, submitted with reluctance to the power 
which now oppressed them. Their understanding 
as well as inclination revolted against the doctrines 
and ceremonies imposed on them; and though for 
the present they concealed their disgust and resent¬ 
ment, it was evident that these passions could not 
always be kept under restraint, but would break out 
at last in elfeets proportional to their violence. 1 
The pope dis- Charles, however, highly pleased 
di 1S assembied U at with having bent the stubborn spirit of 
Uoiogna. the Q ermails to such general submis¬ 

sion, departed for the Low Countries, fully deter¬ 
mined to compel the cities which still stood out 
to receive the Interim. He carried his two prison¬ 
ers, the elector of Saxony and the landgrave of 
Hesse, along with him, either because he durst not 
leave them behind him in Germany, or because he 
wished to give his countrymen the Flemings this 
illustrious proof of the success of his arms and the 
extent of his power. Before Charles arrived at 
Brussels he was informed that the pope’s legates at 
Bologna had dismissed the council by an indefinite 
prorogation, and that the prelates assembled there 
had returned to their respective countries. Neces¬ 
sity had driven the pope into this measure. By the 
secession of those who had voted against the trans¬ 
lation, together with the departure of others who 
grew weary of continuing in a place where they 
were not suffered to proceed to business, so few and 
such inconsiderable members remained, that the 
pompous appellation of a general council could not 
with decency be bestowed any longer upon them. 
Paul had no choice but to dissolve an assembly 
which was become the object of contempt, and ex¬ 
hibited to all Christendom a most glaring proof of 
the impotence of the Romish see. But unavoidable 
as the measure was, it lay open to be unfavourably 
interpreted, and had the appearance of withdrawing 
the remedy at the very time when those for whose 
recovery it was provided w ere prevailed on to ac¬ 
knowledge its virtue and to make trial of its efficacy. 
Charles did not fail to put this construction on the 
conduct of the pope ; and by an artful comparison 
of his own efforts to suppress heresy with Paul’s 
scandalous inattention to a point so essential, he 
endeavoured to render the pontiff odious to all 
zealous catholics. At the same time he commanded 
the prelates of his faction to remain at Trent, that 
the council might still appear to have a being, and 
might be ready, whenever it was thought expedient, 
to resume its deliberations for the good of the 
church. k 

j Mem. de Ribier, ii. 213. Sleid. 491. 

k Paiiav. p. 11, 72. 1 Ochoa, Carolea, 362. 


[A. D. 1549. BOOK IX. 

The motive of Charles’s journey to The emperor re- 
the Low Countries, beside gratifying pjlihp in the 1 
his favourite passion of travelling from Low Countnes - 
one part of his dominions to another, was to receive 
Philip his only son, who was now in the twenty-first 
year of his age, and whom he had called thither, 
not only that he might be recognised by the states 
of the Netherlands as heir-apparent, but in order to 
facilitate the execution of a vast scheme, the object 
of which, and the reception it met with, shall be 
hereafter explained. Philip having left the govern¬ 
ment of Spain to Maximilian, Ferdinand’s eldest 
son, to whom the emperor had given the princess 
Mary his daughter in marriage, embarked for Italy, 
attended by a numerous retinue of Spanish nobles. 1 
The squadron which escorted him was commanded 
by Andrew' Doria, who, notwithstanding his ad¬ 
vanced age, insisted on the honour of performing 
in person the same duty to the son w hich he had 
often discharged towards the father. He landed 
safely at Genoa ; from thence he w ent Nov. 25 . 
to Milan, and proceeding through Ger- 1549 
many, arrived at the imperial court in A P nl 
Brussels. The states of Brabant in the first place, 
and those of the other provinces in their order, 
acknowledged his right of succession in common 
form, and he took the customary oath to preserve 
all the privileges inviolate. ,n In all the towns of the 
Low r Countries through which Philip passed, he 
was received with extraordinary pomp. Nothing 
that could either express the respect of the people 
or contribute to his amusement w'as neglected; 
pageants, tournaments, and public spectacles of 
every kind, were exhibited with that expensive 
magnificence which commercial nations are fond of 
displaying when on any occasion they depart from 
their usual maxims of frugality. But amidst these 
scenes of festivity and pleasure, Philip’s natural 
severity of temper was discernible. Youth itself 
could not render him agreeable, nor his being a 
candidate for power form him to courtesy. He 
maintained a haughty reserve in his behaviour, and 
discovered such manifest partiality towards his 
Spanish attendants, together with such an avowed 
preference to the manners of their country, as highly 
disgusted the Flemings, and gave rise to that an¬ 
tipathy which afterwards occasioned a revolution 
fatal to him in that part of his dominions. 11 

Charles was long detained in the Netherlands by 
a violent attack of the gout, which returned upon 
him so frequently, and with such increasing violence, 
that it had broken to a great degree the vigour of 
his constitution. He nevertheless did not slacken 
his endeavours to enforce the Interim. The inhabit¬ 
ants ot Strasburg, after a long struggle, found it 
necessary to yield obedience; those of Constance, 
who had taken arms in their own defence, were 
compelled not only to conform to the Interim, but to 
renounce their privileges as a free city, to do homage 

m TTarasi Annal. Brabant. 652. 

n Mem. de Ribier, ii. 29. L’Evesque Mem. de Card. Granville, i. 21. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


631 


BOOK X. A. D. 1549.] 


to Ferdinand as archduke of Austria, and, as bis 
vassals, to admit an Austrian governor and garri¬ 
son. 0 Magdeburg, Bremen, Hamburg, and Lubec, 
were the only imperial cities of note that still con¬ 
tinued refractory. 


BOOK X. 


While Charles laboured with such 
echlnfes against unwearied industry to persuade or to 
the empeior. force the protestants to adopt his re¬ 
gulations with respect to religion, the effects of his 
steadiness in the execution of his plan were ren¬ 
dered less considerable by his rupture with the 
pope, which daily increased. The firm resolution 
which the emperor seemed to have taken against 
restoring Placentia, together with his repeated en¬ 
croachments on the ecclesiastical jurisdiction, not 
only by the regulations contained in the Interim, 
but by his attempt to reassemble the council of Trent, 
exasperated Paul to the utmost, who with the weak¬ 
ness incident to old age, grew more attached to 
his family and more jealous of his authority as he 
advanced in years. Pushed on by these passions, 
he made new ell'orts to draw the French king into 
an alliance against the emperor : a but finding that 
monarch, notwithstanding the hereditary enmity be¬ 
tween him and Charles, and the jealousy with which 
he viewed the successful progress of the imperial 
arms, as unwilling as formerly to involve himself 
in immediate hostilities, he was obliged to contract 
his views, and to think of preventing future en¬ 
croachments, since it was not in his power to inflict 
vengeance on account of those which were past. 
For this purpose he determined to recall his grant 
of Parma and Placentia, and after declaring them 
to be reannexed to the holy see, to indemnify his 
grandson Octavio by a new establishment in the 
ecclesiastical state. By this expedient he hoped to 
gain two points of no small consequence. He first 
of all rendered his possession of Parma more se¬ 
cure ; as the emperor would be cautious of invading 
the patrimony of the church, though lie might seize 
without scruple a town belonging to the Imuse of 
Farnese. In the next place he would acquire a 


o Sleid. 474, 491. a Mem. de Ribier, ii. 2.30. 

b Among many instances of the credulity or weakness of historians in 
attributing the death of illustrious personages to extraordinary causes, 
this is one. Almost all the historians of the sixteenth century affirm that 
tiie death of Paul III. was occasioned by the violent passions which the 
behaviour of his grandson excited : that being informed, while he was re¬ 
freshing himself in one of his gardens near Rome, of Octavio’s attempt 
on Parma, as well as of his negociations with the emperor by means of 
Gonzasa, he fainted away, continued some hours in a swoon, then be¬ 
came feverish, and died within three days. This is the account given of 
it by Ihuanus, lib. vi. 211. Adriani lstor. di suoi 'lempi, lib. vii. 480. 
and by father Paul, 220. Even cardinal Pallavicini, better informed than 
any writer with regard to the events which happened in the papal court, 
and, when not warped by prejudice or system, more accurate in relating 
them, agrees with their narrative in its chief circumstances. Pallav. b. ii. 
74 paruta, who wrote his history by command of the senate or Venice, 
relates it in the same manner. Historici Venez. vol. iv. 212. Rut there 
•was no occasion to search for any extraordinary cause to account for the 
death of an old man of eighty-two. There remains an authentic account of 
this even*, in which we find none of those marvellous circumstances of which 
the historians are so fond. I he cardinal of Ferrara, who was intrusted 
with the affairs of France at the court of Rome, and M. d’Urfe, Henry’s 
ambassador in ordinary there, wrote an account to that monarch of the 
affair of Parma, and of the pope’s death. By these it appears that Octa- 


bettcr chance of recovering Placentia, as his so¬ 
licitations to that ellect might decently be urged 
with greater importunity, and would infallibly be 
attended with greater effect, when he was considered 
not as pleading the cause of his own family but as 
an advocate for the interest of the holy see. But 
while Paul was priding himself on this device as a 
happy refinement in policy, Octavio, an ambitious 
and high-spirited young man, who could not bear 
with patience to be spoiled of one-half of his ter¬ 
ritories by the rapaciousness of his father-in-law, and 
to be deprived of the other by the artifices of his 
grandfather, took measures in order to prevent the 
execution of a plan fatal to his interest. He set 
out secretly from Rome, and having first endea¬ 
voured to surprise Parma, which attempt was frus¬ 
trated by the fidelity of the governor to whom the 
pope had intrusted the defence of the town, he 
made overtures to the emperor, of renouncing all 
connexion with the pope, and of depending entirely 
on him for his future fortune. This unexpected 
defection of one of the pope’s own family to an 
enemy whom he hated, irritated, almost to madness, 
a mind peevish with old age; and there was no de¬ 
gree of severity to which Paul might not have 
proceeded against a grandson whom he reproached 
as an unnatural apostate. But happily for Octavio, 
death prevented his carrying into execution the 
harsh resolutions which he had taken with respect 
to him, and put an end to his pontificate in the 
sixteenth year of his administration and the eighty- 
second of his age. b 

As this event had been long expected, there was 
an extraordinary concourse of cardinals at Rome; 
and the various competitors having had time to 
form their parties and to concert their measures, 
their ambition and intrigues protracted the conclave 
to a great length. The imperial and French factions 
strove with emulation to promote one of their own 
number, and had by turns the prospect of success. 
But as Paul, during a long pontificate, had raised 
many to the purple, and those chiefly persons of 
eminent abilities as well as zealously devoted to his 
family, cardinal Farnese had the command of a 
powerful and united squadron, by whose address 
and firmness he exalted to the papal 1550 

throne the cardinal di Monte, whom xhe^iectmn of 
Paul had employed as his principal Julius ill. 

vio’s attempt to surprise Parma was made on the twentieth of October; 
that next day, in the evening, and not while he was airing himself in the 
gardens of Monte-Cavallo, the pope received intelligence of what he had 
done ; that he was seized with such a transport of passion, and cried so 
bitterly, that his voice wa3 heard in several apartments of the palace; 
that next day, however, he was so well as to give an audience to the car¬ 
dinal of Ferrara, and to go through business of different kinds ; that Oc¬ 
tavio wrote a letter *0 the pope, not to cardinal Farnese his brother, in¬ 
timating his resolution of throwing himself into the arms of the emperor; 
that the pope received this on the twenty-first without any new symptoms 
of emotion, and returned an answer to it; that on the twenty-second of 
October, the day on which the cardinal of Ferrara's letter is dated, the 
pope was in his usual state of health. Mem. de Hibitr, ii. 247. By a 
letter of M. d’Urfe, Nov. 5, it appears that the pope was in such good 
health, that on the third of that mouth he had celebrated the anniversary 
of his coronation with the usual solemnities. Ibidem. 251. By another 
letter from the same person, we learn that on the sixth of 'November a 
catarrh or defluxion fell down on the pope’s lungs, with such dangerous 
symptoms that his life was immediately despaired of. Ibid.252. And by a 
third letter we are informed that he died November the tenth. In none of 
these letters is his death imputed to any extraordinary cause. It appears 
that more than twenty days elapsed between Octavio’s attempt on Par 
ma and the death of his grandfather, and that the disease was the natural 
ellect of old age, not one of those occasioned by violence of passion. 




632 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1550. BOOK X. 


legate in the council of Trent, and trusted with 
his most secret intentions. He assumed the name 
of Julius III.; and in order to express his gratitude 
towards his benefactor, the first act of his adminis¬ 
tration was to put Octavio Farnese in possession 
of Parma. When the injury which he did to the 
holy see, by alienating a territory of such value, 
was mentioned by some of the cardinals, he briskly 
replied, “ That he would rather be a poor pope with 
the reputation of a gentleman, than a rich one with 
the infamy of having forgotten the obligations con¬ 
ferred upon him and the promises which he had 
made.” c But all the lustre of this candour or gene¬ 
rosity he quickly effaced by an action most shock- 

Iiis charater and in gly indecent. According to an an- 
conduct. cient and established practice, every 

pope upon his election considers it as his privilege 
to bestow on whom he pleases the cardinal’s hat 
which falls to be disposed of by his being invested 
with the triple crown. Julius, to the astonishment 
of the sacred college, conferred this mark of dis¬ 
tinction, together with ample ecclesiastical revenues, 
and the right of bearing his name and arms, upon 
one Innocent, a youth of sixteen, born of obscure pa¬ 
rents, and known by the name of the Ape, from his 
having been trusted with the care of an animal of 
that species in the cardinal di Monte’s family. 
Such a prostitution of the highest dignity in the 
church would have given offence even in those dark 
periods when the credulous superstition of the peo¬ 
ple imboldened ecclesiastics to venture on the most 
flagrant violations of decorum. But in an en¬ 
lightened age, when, by the progress of knowledge 
and philosophy, the obligations of duty and decency 
were better understood, when a blind veneration 
for the pontifical character was every where abated, 
and one-half of Christendom in open rebellion 
against the papal see. this action was viewed with 
horror. Rome was immediately filled with libels 
and pasquinades, which imputed the pope’s extra¬ 
vagant regard for such an unworthy object to the 
most criminal passions. The protestants exclaimed 
against the absurdity of supposing that the infallible 
spirit of divine truth could dwell in a breast so im¬ 
pure, and called more loudly than ever, and with 
greater appearance of justice, for the immediate 
and thorough reformation of a church the head of 
which was a disgrace to the Christian name. d The 
rest of the pope’s conduct was of a piece with this 
first specimen of his dispositions. Having now 
reached the summit of ecclesiastical ambition, he 
seemed eager to indemnify himself, by an un¬ 
restrained indulgence of his desires, for the self- 
denial or dissimulation which he had thought it 
prudent to practise while in a subordinate station. 
He became careless to so great a degree of all se¬ 
rious business, that he could seldom be brought to 
attend to it but in cases of extreme necessity ; and 
giving up himself to amusements and dissipation of 


every kind, he imitated the luxurious elegance of 
Leo rather than the severe virtue of Adrian, the lat¬ 
ter of which it was necessary to display in contend¬ 
ing with a sect which derived great credit from the 
rigid and austere manners of its teachers. e 

The pope, however ready to fulfil Hisviewsand 
his engagements to the family of Far- ^XresS to 
nese, discovered no inclination to ob- ^undP™ 1 
serve the oath which each cardinal had 
taken when he entered the conclave, that if the 
choice should fall on him, he would immediately 
call the council to reassume its deliberations. Ju¬ 
lius knew' by experience how difficult it was to con¬ 
fine such a body of men within the narrow limits 
which it was the interest of the see of Rome to pre¬ 
scribe, and how easily the zeal of some members, 
the rashness of others, or the suggestions of the 
princes on whom they depended, might precipitate 
a popular and ungovernable assembly into forbid¬ 
den inquiries as well as dangerous decisions. He 
wished, for these reasons, to have eluded the ob¬ 
ligation of his oath, and gave an ambiguous an¬ 
swer to the first proposals which were made to him 
by the emperor with regard to that matter. But 
Charles, either from his natural obstinacy in ad¬ 
hering to the measures which he had once adopted, 
or from the mere pride of accomplishing what was 
held to be almost impossible, persisted in his reso¬ 
lution of forcing the protestants to return into the 
bosom of the church. Having persuaded himself 
that the authoritative decisions of the council might 
be employed with efficacy in combating their pre¬ 
judices, he, in consequence of that persuasion, con¬ 
tinued to solicit earnestly that a new bull of con¬ 
vocation might be issued ; and the pope could not 
with decency reject that request. When Julius 
found that he could not prevent the calling of a 
council, he endeavoured to take to himself all the 
merit of having procured the meeting of an assem¬ 
bly which w'as the object of such general desire and 
expectation. A congregation of cardinals to whom 
he referred the consideration of what was necessary 
for restoring peace to the church, recommended, by 
his direction, the speedy convocation of a council, 
as the most effectual expedient for that purpose ; 
and as the new heresies raged with the greatest 
violence in Germany, they proposed Trent as the 
place of its meeting, that, by a near inspection of 
the evil, the remedy might be applied with greater 
discernment and certainty of success. The pope 
warmly approved of this advice, which he himself 
had dictated, and sent nuncios to the imperial and 
French courts, in order to make known his inten- 
tions. f 

About this time the emperor had 
summoned a new diet to meet at Augs- bur g to enforce 
burg, in order to enforce the observa- lntenm * 
tion of the Interim, and to procure a more authen¬ 
tic act of the supreme court in the empire, acknow 

e F. Paul, 281. 

f Ibid. Pallav. ii. 77. 


c Mem. de Ribier. 

d Sleid. 492. F. Paul, 281. Pallavic. ii. 76. Thuan. lib. vi. 215. 



BOOK X. A. D. 1550.] 

lodging the jurisdiction of the council, as well as 
an explicit promise of conforming to its decrees. He 
Tune c5 appeared there in person, together with 

his son the prince of Spain. Few elec¬ 
tors were present, but all sent deputies in their 
name. Charles, notwithstanding the despotic autho¬ 
rity with which he had given law in the empire 
during two years, knew that the spirit of indepen¬ 
dence among the Germans was not entirely subdued, 
and for that reason took care to overawe the diet 
by a considerable body of Spanish troops which 
escorted him thither. The first point submitted to 
the consideration of the diet was the necessity of 
holding a council. All the popish members agreed 
without difficulty, that the meeting of that assembly 
should be renewed at Trent, and promised an im¬ 
plicit acquiescence in its decrees. The protestants, 
intimidated and disunited, must have followed their 
example, and the resolution of the diet would have 
proved unanimous, if Maurice of Saxony had not 
begun at this time to disclose new intentions, and 
to act a part very different from that which he had 
so long assumed. 

Maurice begins By an artful dissimulation of his 
againstthefem- own sentiments, by address in paying 
peror. court to the emperor, and by the seem¬ 

ing zeal with which he forwarded all his ambitious 
schemes, Maurice had raised himself to the electo¬ 
ral dignity ; and having added the dominions of the 
elder branch of the Saxon family to his own, he 
was become the most powerful prince in Germany. 
But his long and intimate union with the emperor 
had afforded him many opportunities of observing 
narrowly the dangerous tendency of that monarch’s 
schemes. He saw the yoke that was preparing for 
his country; and from the rapid as well as formida¬ 
ble progress of the imperial power, was convinced 
that but a few steps more remained to be taken in 
order to render Charles as absolute a monarch in 
Germany as he had become in Spain. The more 
eminent the condition was to which he himself had 
been exalted, the more solicitous did Maurice na¬ 
turally become to maintain all its rights and privi¬ 
leges, and the more did he dread the thoughts of 
descending from the rank of a prince almost inde¬ 
pendent to that of a vassal subject to the commands 
of a master. At the same time he perceived that 
Charles was bent on exacting a rigid conformity to 
the doctrines and rites of the Romish church, in¬ 
stead of allowing liberty of conscience, the promise 
of which had allured several protestant princes to 
assist him in the war against the confederates of 
Smalkalde. As he himself, notwithstanding all the 
compliances which he had made from motives of in¬ 
terest or an excess of confidence in the emperor, was 
sincerely attached to the Lutheran tenets, he deter¬ 
mined not to be a tame spectator of the overthrow of 
a system which he believed to be founded in truth. 

This resolution, flowing from the 
tives which in- love of liberty or zeal tor religion, was 

fluenced him. , , .... , , . 

strengthened by political and interest¬ 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


633 


ed considerations. In that elevated station in which 
Maurice was now placed, new and more extensive 
prospects opened to his view. His rank and power 
entitled him to be the head of the protestants in the 
empire. His predecessor, the degraded elector, with 
inferior abilities and territories less considerable, 
had acquired such an ascendant over the councils 
of the party ; and Maurice neither wanted discern¬ 
ment to seethe advantage of this pre-eminence, nor 
ambition to aim at attaining it. But he found him¬ 
self in a situation which rendered the attempt no 
less difficult than the object of it was important. 
On the one hand, the connexion which he had form¬ 
ed with the emperor was so intimate, that he could 
scarcely hope to take any step which tended to dis¬ 
solve it, without alarming his jealousy, and draw¬ 
ing on himself the whole weight of that power 
which had crushed the greatest confederacy ever 
formed in Germany. On the other hand, the cala¬ 
mities which he had brought on the protestant 
party were so recent as well as great, that it seemed 
almost impossible to regain their confidence, or to 
rally and reanimate a body, after he himself had 
been the chief instrument in breaking its union 
and vigour. These considerations were sufficient 
to have discouraged any person of a spirit less 
adventurous than Maurice’s. But to him the gran¬ 
deur and difficulty of the enterprise were allure¬ 
ments ; and he boldly resolved on measures the 
idea of which a genius of an inferior order could 
not have conceived, or would have trembled at 
the thoughts of the danger that attended the exe¬ 
cution of them. 

His passions concurred with his in- 

, . c . , .. The passions 

terest in confirming this resolution ; which co-operat- 

. . ed with these. 

and the resentment excited by an in¬ 
jury which he sensibly felt, added new force to the 
motives for opposing the emperor, which sound 
policy suggested. Maurice, by his authority, had 
prevailed on the landgrave of Hesse to put his per¬ 
son in the emperor’s power, and had obtained a 
promise from the imperial ministers that he should 
not be detained a prisoner. This had been violated 
in the manner already related. The unhappy land¬ 
grave exclaimed as loudly against his son-in-law as 
against Charles. The princes of Hesse required 
Maurice to fulfil his engagements to their father, 
who had lost his liberty by trusting to him ; and all 
Germany suspected him of having betrayed to an 
implacable enemy the friend whom he was most 
bound to protect. Roused by these solicitations or 
reproaches, as well as prompted by duty and affec¬ 
tion to his father-in-law, Maurice had employed not 
only entreaties but remonstrances in order to pro¬ 
cure his release. All these Charles had disregarded ; 
and the shame of having been first deceived and 
then slighted by a prince whom he had served with 
zeal as well as success, which merited a very 
different return, made such a deep impression on 
Maurice, that he waited with impatience for an op¬ 
portunity of being revenged. 



G34 


THE REIGN OF THE 


, The utmost caution as well as the 

The caution and 

address with most delicate address were requisite 

which lie carries * » 

on his schemes. j n taking every step toward this end ; 

as he had to guard, on the one hand, against giving 
a premature alarm to the emperor ; while, on the 
other, something considerable and explicit was ne¬ 
cessary to be done, in order to regain the confidence 
of the protestant party. Maurice had accordingly 
applied all his powers of art and dissimulation to 
attain both these points. As he knew Charles to 
be inflexible with regard to the submission which 
he required to the Interim, he did not hesitate one 
moment whether he should establish that form of 
doctrine and worship in his dominions; but being 
sensible how odious it was to his subjects, instead 
of violently imposing it on them by the mere terror 
of authority, as had been done in other parts of 
Germany, he endeavoured to render their obedience 
a voluntary deed of their own. For this 
irfterim 0 in'Sax’- 6 purpose he had assembled the clergy of 
his country at Leipsic, and had laid the 
Interim before them, together with the reasons which 
made it necessary to conform to it. He had gained 
some of them by promises, others he had wrought 
upon by threats, and all were intimidated by the 
rigour with which obedience to the Interim was 
extorted in the neighbouring provinces. Even 
Melancthon, whose merit of every kind entitled him 
to the first place among the protestant divines, 
being now deprived of the manly counsels of Luther, 
which were wont to inspire him with fortitude, and 
to preserve him steady amidst the storms and dan¬ 
gers that threatened the church, was seduced into 
unwarrantable concessions by the timidity of his 
temper, his fond desire of peace, and his exces¬ 
sive complaisance towards persons of high rank. 
By his arguments and authority, no less than by 
Maurice’s address, the assembly was prevailed on 
to declare, “ that in points which were purely in¬ 
different, obedience was due to the commands of a 
lawful superior.” Founding upon this maxim, no 
less incontrovertible in theory than dangerous when 
carried into practice, especially in religious matters, 
many of the protestant ecclesiastics whom Maurice 
consulted proceeded to class among the number of 
things indifferent several doctrines which Luther 
had pointed out as gross and pernicious errors in 
the Romish creed ; and placing in the same rank 
many of those rites which distinguished the reform¬ 
ed from the popish worship, they exhorted their 
people to comply with the emperor’s injunctions 
concerning these particulars.* 

Makes profes- By this dexterous conduct the in¬ 
i' he*proteltalitTe- troduction of the Interim excited 
lglon ' none of those violent convulsions in 

Saxony which it occasioned in other provinces. But 
though the Saxons submitted, the more zealous 
Lutherans exclaimed against Melancthon and his 
associates as false brethren, who were either so 


[A. D. 1550. BOOK X. 

wicked as to apostatize from the truth altogether, or 
so crafty as to betray it by subtle distinctions, or so 
feeble-spirited as to give it up, from pusillanimity 
and criminal complaisance, to a prince capable of 
sacrificing to his political interest that which he 
himself regarded as most sacred. Maurice being 
conscious what a colour of probability his past con¬ 
duct gave to those accusations, as well as afraid of 
losing entirely the confidence of the protestants, 
issued a declaration containing professions of his 
zealous attachment to the reformed religion, and 
of his resolution to guard against all the errors or 
encroachments of the papal see. h 

Having gone so far in order to re- 

... i-i • At the same time 

move the fears and jealousies ot the courts the em- 

protestants, he found it necessary to pe,ors ' 
efface the impression which such a declaration might 
make upon the emperor. For that purpose he not 
only renewed his professions of an inviolable ad¬ 
herence to his alliance with him, but as the city of 
Magdeburg still persisted in rejecting the Interim, 
he undertook to reduce it to obedience, and instantly 
set about levying troops to be employed in that ser¬ 
vice. This damped all the hopes which the protes- 
tants began to conceive of Maurice in consequence 
of his declaration, and left them more than ever at 
a loss to guess at his real intentions. Their former 
suspicion and distrust of him revived, and the di¬ 
vines of Magdeburg filled Germany with writings in 
which they represented him as the most formidable 
enemy of the protestant religion, who treacherously 
assumed an appearance of zeal for its interest that 
he might more effectually execute his schemes for 
its destruction. 

This charge, supported by the evi- PlotesM a?ai „ st 
dence of recent facts as well as by his cced?n d in°the r °" 
present dubious conduct, gained such councip 
universal credit, that Maurice was obliged to take a 
vigorous step in his ow n vindication. As soon as the 
re-assembling of the council of Trent was propos¬ 
ed in the diet, his ambassadors protested that their 
master would not acknowledge its authority unless 
all the points which had been already decided there 
were reviewed, and considered as still undetermined; 
unless the protestant divines had a full hearing 
granted them, and were allowed a decisive voice in 
the council; and unless the pope renounced his 
pretensions to preside in the council, engaged to 
submit to its decrees, and to absolve the bishops 
from their oath of obedience, that they might deliver 
their sentiments w ith greater freedom. These de¬ 
mands, which were higher than any that the reform¬ 
ers had ventured to make, even w hen the zeal of 
their party was warmest or their affairs most pros¬ 
perous, counterbalanced in some degree the impres¬ 
sion which Maurice’s preparations against Magde¬ 
burg had made upon the minds of the protestants, 
and kept them in suspense with regard to his designs. 
At the same time he had dexterity enough to re- 


g Sleid. 481, 485. Jo. Laur. Moshemii Institutionem Hist. Ecclesias¬ 
tics, lib. iv. lielmst. 1755, 4to. p. 748. Jo. And. Schmidii Ilistoria ln- 


terimistica, p. 70, &c. lielmst. 1730. 


h Sleid. 485. 



BOOK X. A. D. 1550.J 

present this part of his conduct in such a light to 
the emperor, that it gave him no offence, and occa¬ 
sioned no interruption of the strict confidence which 
subsisted between them. What the pretexts were 
which he employed in order to give such a bold 
declaration an innocent appearance, the contempo¬ 
rary historians have not explained ; that they im¬ 
posed upon Charles is certain, for he still continued 
not only to prosecute his plan, as well concerning 
the Interim as the council, with the same ardour, 
hut to place the same confidence in Maurice with 
regard to the execution of both. 

The diet resolve The pope’s resolution concerning the 
the'city 6 of^iag- council not being yet known at'Augs- 
burg, the chief business of the diet 
was to enforce the observation of the Interim. As 
the senate of Magdeburg, notwithstanding various 
endeavours to frighten or to soothe them into com¬ 
pliance, not only persevered obstinately in their 
opposition to the Interim, but began to strengthen 
the fortifications of their city and to levy troops in 
their own defence, Charles required the diet to assist 
him in quelling this audacious rebellion against a 
decree of the empire. Had the members of the diet 
been left to act agreeably to their own inclination, 
this demand would have been rejected without he¬ 
sitation. All the Germans who favoured in any 
degree the new opinions in religion, and many who 
were influenced by no other consideration than jea¬ 
lousy of the emperor’s growing power, regarded this 
effort of the citizens of Magdeburg as a noble stand 
for the liberties of their country. Even such as had 
not resolution to exert the same spirit, admired the 
gallantry of their enterprise, and wished it success. 
But the presence of the Spanish troops, together 
with the dread of the emperor’s displeasure, over¬ 
awed the members of the diet to such a degree, that 
without venturing to utter their own sentiments, 
they tamely ratified, by their votes, whatever the 
emperor was pleased to prescribe. The rigorous 
decrees which Charles had issued by his own au¬ 
thority against the Magdeburgers were confirmed ; 
a resolution was taken to raise troops in order to 
besiege the city in form; and persons were named 
to fix the contingent in men or money to be furnished 

Appoint Maurice by eac b state. At the same time the 
general. diet petitioned that Maurice might be 
intrusted with the command of that army : to which 
Charles gave his consent with great alacrity, and 
with high encomiums upon the wisdom of the 
choice which they had made.* As Maurice con¬ 
ducted all his schemes with profound and impene¬ 
trable secrecy, it is probable that he took no step 
avowedly in order to obtain this charge. The re¬ 
commendation of his countrymen was either purely 
accidental, or flowed from the opinion generally en¬ 
tertained of his great abilities; and neither the 
diet had any foresight, nor the emperor any dread, 
of the consequences which followed upon this 
nomination. Maurice accepted without hesitation 

i Sleitl. 5o3, 51C. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


635 


1551. 
Feb. 13. 


the command to which he was recommended, 
instantly discerning the important advantages 
which he might derive from having it committed 
to him. 

Meanwhile Julius, in preparing the The council sum- 
bull for the convocation of the council, f at'Trent, 

observed all those tedious forms which December, 
the court of Rome can artfully employ to retard any 
disagreeable measure. At last, however, it was 
published, and the council was summoned to meet 
at Trent on the first day of the ensuing month of 
May. As he knew that many of the Germans re¬ 
jected or disputed the authority and jurisdiction 
w hich the papal see claims with respect to general 
councils, he took care, in the preamble of the bull, 
to assert in the strongest terms his own right, not 
only to call and preside in that assembly, but to 
direct its proceedings ; nor would he soften these 
expressions in any degree, in compliance with the 
repeated solicitations of the emperor, wdio foresaw 
what offence they would give, and what construc¬ 
tion might be put on them. They were censured 
accordingly with great severity by several members 
of the diet; but whatever disgust or suspicion they 
excited, such complete influence over all their deli¬ 
berations had the emperor acquired, 
that he procured a recess in which the 
authority of the council was recognised, and de¬ 
clared to be the proper remedy for the evils which 
at that time afllicted the church ; all the princes 
and states of the empire, such as had made innova¬ 
tions in religion, as well as those who adhered to 
the system of their forefathers, were required to 
send their representatives to the council; the em¬ 
peror engaged to grant a safe-conduct to such as 
demanded it, and to secure them an impartial hear¬ 
ing in the council ; he promised to fix his residence 
in some city of the empire in the neighbourhood of 
Trent, that he might protect the members of the 
council by his presence, and take care that, by con¬ 
ducting their deliberations agreeably to Scripture 
and the doctrine of the fathers, they might bring 
them to a desirable issue. In this recess the obser¬ 
vation of the Interim was more strongly enjoined 
than ever ; and the emperor threatened all who had 
hitherto neglected or refused to conform to it, with 
the severest effects of his vengeance, if they per¬ 
sisted in their disobedience. k 

During the meeting of this diet, a Another fruitleS3 
new attempt was made in order to pro- cureTfte und- 0 ~ 
cure liberty to the landgrave. That erave hberty - 
prince, nowise reconciled to his situation by time, 
grew every day more impatient of restraint. Hav¬ 
ing often applied to Maurice and the elector of 
Brandenburg, who took every occasion of solicit¬ 
ing the emperor in his behalf, though without any 
effect, he now commanded his sons to summon them, 
w ith legal formality, to perform what was contained 
in the bond which they had granted him, by surren¬ 
dering themselves into their hands to be treated 

k Sleid. 512. Thuan. lib. vi. 233. Goldasti Constit. Imperiales, vol. ii. 340. 



636 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1551. ROOK X 


with the same rigour as the emperor had used him. 
This furnished them with a fresh pretext for renew¬ 
ing their application to the emperor, together with 
an additional argument to enforce it. Charles 
firmly resolved not to grant their request; though 
at the same time, being extremely desirous to be 
delivered from their incessant importunity, he en¬ 
deavoured to prevail on the landgrave to give up 
the bond which he had received from the two elect¬ 
ors. But that prince refusing to part with a secu¬ 
rity which he deemed essential to his safety, the 
emperor boldly cut the knot which he could not 
untie ; and by a public deed annulled the bond 
which Maurice and the elector of Brandenburg had 
granted, absolving them from all their engagements 
to the landgrave. No pretension to a power so 
pernicious to society as that of abrogating at plea¬ 
sure the most sacred laws of honour and most formal 
obligations of public faith, had hitherto been formed 
by any but the Roman pontiffs, who, in consequence 
of their claim of supreme power on earth, arrogate 
the right of dispensing with precepts and duties of 
every kind. All Germany was filled with astonish¬ 
ment when Charles assumed the same prerogative. 
The state of subjection to which the empire was re¬ 
duced, appeared to be more rigorous as well as in¬ 
tolerable than that of the most wretched and enslaved 
nations, if the emperor, by an arbitrary decree, 
might cancel those solemn contracts which are the 
foundation of that mutual confidence whereby men 
are held together in social union. The landgrave 
himself now gave up all hopes of recovering his 
liberty by the emperor’s consent, and endeavoured 
to procure it by his own address. But the plan 
which he had formed to deceive his guards being 
discovered, such of his attendants as he had gained 
to favour his escape were put to death, and he was 
confined in the citadel of Mechlin more closely than 
ever.' 


Charles’s plan of Another transaction was carried on 
neriaTcrown for during this diet, with respect to an 
Ins son Philip. affair more nearly interesting to the 

emperor, and which occasioned likewise a general 
alarm among the princes of the empire. Charles, 
though formed with talents which fitted him for 
conceiving and conducting great designs, was not 
capable, as has been often observed, of bearing ex¬ 
traordinary success. Its operation on his mind was 
so violent and intoxicating, that it elevated him 
beyond what w as moderate or attainable, and turned 
his whole attention to the pursuit of vast but chi¬ 
merical objects. Such had been the effect of his 
victory over the confederates of Smalkalde. He 
did not long rest satisfied with the substantial and 
certain advantages which w r ere the result of that 
event, but despising these as poor or inconsiderable 
fruits of such great success, he aimed at nothing 
less than at bringing all Germany to an uniformity 
in religion, and at rendering the imperial power 
despotic. These were objects extremely splendid 

1 Sleid. 504. Thuan. 1. vi. 234, 235. 


indeed, and alluring to an ambitious mind ; the 
pursuit of them, however, was attended with mani¬ 
fest danger, and the hope of attaining them '\ciy 
uncertain. But the steps which he had already 
taken tow r ards them having been accompanied with 
such success, his imagination, warmed with con¬ 
templating this alluring object, overlooked or de¬ 
spised all remaining difficulties. Ashe conceived 
the execution of his plan to be certain, he began to 
be solicitous how he might render the possession of 
such an important acquisition perpetual in his fa¬ 
mily, by transmitting the German empire, together 
with the kingdoms of Spain and his dominions in 
Italy and the Low Countries, to his son. Having 
long revolved this flattering idea in his mind, with¬ 
out communicating it even to those ministers whom 
he most trusted, he had called Philip out of Spain, 
in hopes that his presence would facilitate the car¬ 
rying forward the scheme. 

Great obstacles, however, and such obstacles that 
as would have deterred any ambition stood m us way. 

less accustomed to overcome difficulties, were to be 
surmounted. He had, in the year one thousand 
five hundred and thirty, imprudently assisted in 
procuring his brother Ferdinand the dignity of king 
of the Romans ; and there w as no probability that 
this prince, who was still in the prime of life, and 
had a son grown up to the years of manhood, w ould 
relinquish in favour of his nephew the near pros¬ 
pect of the imperial throne, which Charles’s infir¬ 
mities and declining state of health opened to 
himself. This did not deter the emperor from 
venturing to make the proposition ; and when Fer¬ 
dinand, notwithstanding his profound reverence for 
his brother, and obsequious submission to his will 
in other instances, rejected it in a peremptory tone, 
he was not discouraged by one repulse. He re¬ 
newed his applications to him by his sister, Mary, 
queen of Hungary, to whom Ferdinand stood in¬ 
debted for the crowns both of Hungary and Bohe¬ 
mia, and who, by her great abilities, tempered with 
extreme gentleness of disposition, had acquired an 
extraordinary influence over both the brothers. She 
entered warmly into a measure which tended so 
manifestly to aggrandize the house of Austria; and 
flattering herself that she could tempt Ferdinand to 
renounce the reversionary possession of the imperial 
dignity for an immediate establishment, she assured 
him that the emperor, by w ay of compensation for 
his giving up his chance of succession, would in¬ 
stantly bestow upon him territories of very consider¬ 
able value, and pointed out in particular those of 
the duke of Wurtemburg, which might be confiscated 
upon different pretexts. But neither by her address 
nor entreaties could she induce Ferdinand to ap¬ 
prove of a plan which would not only have degraded 
him from the highest rank among the monarchs of 
Europe to that of a subordinate and dependent 
prince, but would have involved both him and his 
posterity in perpetual contests. He was, at the 






EMPEROR CHARLES Y. 


G37 


BOOK X. A. D. 1551.J 

same time, more attached to his children than by a 
rash concession to frustrate all the high hopes in 
prospect ol which they had been educated. 

His endeavours to Notwithstanding the immovable 
surmount these. f irmness w hich Ferdinand discovered, 

the emperor did not abandon his scheme. He flat¬ 
tered himself that he might attain the object in view 
by another channel, and that it was not impossible 
to prevail on the electors to cancel their former 
choice of Ferdinand, or at least to elect Philip a 
second king of the Romans, substituting him as 
next in succession to his uncle. With this view he 
took Philip along with him to the diet, that the 
Germans might have an opportunity to observe and 
become acquainted with the prince in behalf of 
whom he courted their interest ; and he himself 
employed all the arts of address or insinuation to 
gain the electors, and to prepare them for listening 
with a favourable ear to the proposal. But no 
sooner did he venture upon mentioning it to them, 
than they at once saw and trembled at the conse¬ 
quences with which it would be attended. They 
had long felt all the inconveniences of having placed 
at the head of the empire a prince whose power and 
dominions were so extensive ; if they should now 
repeat the folly, and continue the imperial crown, 
like an hereditary dignity, in the same family, they 
foresaw that they would give the son an opportunity 
of carrying on that system of oppression which the 
father had begun, and would put it in his power to 
overturn whatever was yet left entire in the ancient 
and venerable fabric of the German constitution. 

* The character of the prince in whose 

Philip’s character • • 

disagreeable to favour this extraordinary proposition 

the Germans. , , 

w as made, rendered it still less agree¬ 
able. Philip, though possessed with an insatiable 
desire of power, was a stranger to all the arts of a 
conciliating good-will. Haughty, reserved, and se¬ 
vere, he, instead of gaining new friends, disgusted 
the ancient and most devoted partisans of the 
Austrian interest. He scorned to take the trouble 
of acquiring the language of the country to the 
government of which he aspired; nor would he 
condescend to pay the Germans the compliment of 
accommodating himself, during his residence among 
them, to their manners and customs. He allowed 
the electors and most illustrious princes in Germany 
to remain in his presence uncovered, affecting a 
stately and distant demeanour, which the greatest of 
the German emperors, and even Charles himself, 
amidst the pride of power and victory, had never 
assumed. 1 On the other hand, Ferdinand, from the 
time of his arrival in Germany, had studied to ren¬ 
der himself acceptable to the people, by a confor¬ 
mity to their manners which seemed to flow from 
choice; and his son Maximilian, who w as born in 
Germany, possessed in an eminent degree such 
amiable qualities as rendered him the darling of his 
countrymen, and induced them to look forward to 

1 Frediman Andreae Zulich Dissertatio politico historica de Nasvis politi- 
cis Caroli V. Lips. 1706. 4to. p. 21. 


his election as a most desirable event. Their esteem 
and affection for him fortified the resolution which 
sound policy had suggested, and determined the 
Germans to prefer the popular virtues of Ferdinand 
and his son to the stubborn austerity of Philip, 
which interest could not soften, nor ambition teach 
him to disguise. All the electors, the 

, . . Charles obliged 

ecclesiastical as well as secular, con- to relinquish this 

• • • scheme 

curred in expressing such strong dis¬ 
approbation of the measure, that Charles, notwith¬ 
standing the reluctance with w hich he gave up any 
point, was obliged to drop the scheme as impracti¬ 
cable. By his unseasonable perseverance in pushing 
it, he had not only filled the Germans with new 
jealousy of his ambitious designs, but laid the 
foundation of rivalship and discord in the Austrian 
family, and forced his brother Ferdinand, in self- 
defence, to court the electors, particularly Maurice 
of Saxony, and to form such connexions with them 
as cut off all prospect of renewing the proposal with 
success. Philip, soured by his disappointment, was 
sent back to Spain, to be called thence when any 
new scheme of ambition should render his presence 
necessary." 1 

Having relinquished this plan of do- 

. ... ,. , , , 1 The pope and 

mestic ambition, which had long OC- emperor form a 
. , , , , . . design to recover 

cupied and engrossed him. Charles Parma and pia- 
. . centia. 

imagined that he would now have 
leisure to turn all his attention towards his grand 
scheme of establishing uniformity of religion in the 
empire, by forcing all the contending parties to 
acquiesce in the decisions of the council of Trent. 
But such was the extent of his dominions, the 
variety of connexions in which this entangled him, 
and the multiplicity of events to which these gave 
rise, as seldom allowed him to apply his whole 
force to any one object. The machine which he had 
to conduct w as so great and complicated, that an 
unforeseen irregularity or obstruction in one of the 
inferior wheels often disconcerted the motion of the 
whole, and prevented his deriving from them all the 
beneficial effects which he expected. Such an un- 
looked for occurrence happened at this juncture, 
and created new obstacles to the execution of his 
schemes with regard to religion. Julius III. though 
he had confirmed Octavio Farnese in the possession 
of the duchy of Parma during the first effusions of 
his joy and gratitude on his promotion to the papal 
throne, soon began to repent of his own generosity, 
and to be apprehensive of consequences which either 
he did not foresee or had disregarded while the sense 
of his obligations to the family of Farnese was 
recent. The emperor still retained Placentia in his 
hands, and had not relinquished his pretensions to 
Parma as a fief of the empire. Gonzaga, the go¬ 
vernor of Milan, having, by the part which he took 
in the murder of the late duke Peter Ludovico, 
offered an insult to the family of Farnese, which he 
knew could never be forgiven, had for that reason 

m Sleid. 505. Thuan. 180, 238. Memoir, de Ribier, ii. 219, 281, 314. 
Adriani Istor. lib. viii. 507,520. 



638 


THE REIGN OF THE 


vowed its destruction, and employed all the influ¬ 
ence which his great abilities as well as long services 
gave him with the emperor, in persuading him to 
seize Parma by force of arms. Charles, in com¬ 
pliance with his solicitations, and that he might 
gratify his own desire of annexing Parma to the 
Milanese, listened to the proposal ; and Gonzaga, 
ready to take encouragement from the slightest ap¬ 
pearance of approbation, began to assemble troops 
and to make other preparations for the execution of 
his scheme. 

Octavio, who saw the impending 

courts the assist- danger, found it necessary for his own 
ance of France. „ . ,, . c , . 

safety to increase the garrison ot his 
capital, and to levy soldiers for defending the rest 
of the country. But as the expense of such an effort 
far exceeded his scanty revenues, he represented 
his situation to the pope, and implored that pro¬ 
tection and assistance which was due to him as a 
vassal of the church. The imperial minister, how¬ 
ever, had already preoccupied the pope’s ear; and 
by discoursing continually concerning the danger of 
giving offence to the emperor, as well as the impru¬ 
dence of supporting Octavio in an usurpation so 
detrimental to the holy see, had totally alienated 
him from the family of Farnese. Octavio’s remon¬ 
strance and petition met, of consequence, with a 
cold reception ; and he, despairing of any assistance 
from Julius, began to look round for protection from 
some other quarter. Henry II. of France was the 
only prince powerful enough to afford him this pro¬ 
tection, and fortunately he was now in a situation 
which allowed him to grant it. He had brought his 
transactions with the two British kingdoms, which 
had hitherto diverted his attention from the affairs 
of the continent, to such an issue as he desired. 
This he had effected partly by the vigour of his arms, 
partly by his dexterity in taking advantage of the 
political factions which raged in both kingdoms to 
such a degree, as rendered the councils of the Scots 
violent and precipitate, and the operations of the 
English feeble and unsteady. He had procured 
from the English favourable conditions of peace for 
his allies the Scots ; he had prevailed on the nobles 
of Scotland not only to affiance their young queen 
to his son the dauphin, but even to send her into 
France, that she might be educated under his eye ; 
and had recovered Boulogne, together with its de¬ 
pendences, which had been conquered by Henry 
VIII. 


His league with 
Henry II.; 


The French king having gained 
points of so much consequence to his 
crow'n, and disengaged himself with such honour 
from the burden of supporting the Scots and main¬ 
taining a war against England, w'as now at full 
leisure to pursue the measures which his hereditary 
jealousy of the emperor’s power naturally suggested. 
He listened, accordingly, to the first overtures which 
Octavio Farnese made him ; and embracing eagerly 


[A. D. 1551. BOOK X. 

an opportunity of recovering footing in Italy, he 
instantly concluded a treaty in which he bound 
himself to espouse his cause, and to furnish him all 
the assistance which he desired. This transaction 
could not long be kept secret from the pope, who, 
foreseeing the calamities which must follow if war 
were rekindled so near the ecclesiastical state, 
immediately issued monitory letters, requiring Oc¬ 
tavio to relinquish his new alliance. Upon his 
refusal to comply with the requisition, he soon after 
pronounced his lief to be forfeited, and declared war 
against him as a disobedient and rebellious vassal. 
But as with his own forces alone he could not hope 
to subdue Octavio w hile supported by such a power¬ 
ful ally as the king of France, he had recourse to 
the emperor, who being extremely solicitous to pre¬ 
vent the establishment of the French in Parma, 
ordered Gonzaga to second Julius with all his 
troops. Thus the French took the field 

. . . occasions the 

as the allies of Octavio ; the imperial- renewal oi hos¬ 
tilities between 

ists as the protectors of the holy see ; Charles and 
and hostilities commenced between 
them, while Charles and Henry themselves still 
affected to give out that they would adhere in¬ 
violably to the peace of Crespy. The war of Parma 
was not distinguished by any memorable event. 
Many small rencounters happened with alternate 
success ; the French ravaged part of the ecclesias¬ 
tical territories ; the imperialists laid w aste the 
Parmesan; and the latter, after having begun to 
besiege Parma in form, were obliged to abandon the 
enterprise with disgrace. 11 

But the motions and alarm which* 

retards the 

this w ar or the preparations for it meeting of the 

, council. 

occasioned in Italy, prevented most of 
the Italian prelates from repairing to Trent on the 
first of May, the day appointed for re-assembling the 
council; and though the papal legate and nuncios 
resorted thither, they were obliged to adjourn the 
council to the first of September, hoping such a 
number of prelates might then assemble, that they 
might with decency begin their deliberations. At 
that time about sixty prelates, mostly from the 
ecclesiastical state or from Spain, together with a 
few Germans, convened. 0 The session 

Henry protests 

was opened with the accustomed form- against the coun- 
alities, and the fathers were about to 
proceed to business, when the abbot of Bellozane 
appeared, and presenting letters of credence as 
ambassador from the king of France, demanded 
audience. Having obtained it, he protested, in 
Henry’s name, against an assembly called at such 
an improper juncture, when a war wantonly kindled 
by the pope made it impossible for the deputies 
from the Gallican church to resort to Trent in safety, 
or to deliberate concerning articles of faith and dis¬ 
cipline with the requisite tranquillity ; he declared 
that his master did not acknowledge this to be a 
general oroecumenic council, but must consider and 


n Adriani Istor. lib. viii. 505, 514, 524. Sleid. 513. Paruta, p. 220. 
Lettere del Caro scritte al nome del Card. Farnese, tom. ii. p. n, &;c. 


o F. Paul, 2 CH. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


63a 


ROOK X. A. D. 1551.] 

would treat it as a particular and partial conven¬ 
tion. p The legate affeeted to despise this protest; 
and the prelates proceeded, notwithstanding, to 
examine and decide the great points in controversy, 
concerning the sacrament of the Lord’s supper, 
penance, and extreme unction. This measure of 
the French monarch, however, gave a deep wound 
to the credit of the council at the very commence¬ 
ment of its deliberations. The Germans could not 
pay much regard to an assembly the authority of 
which the second prince in Christendom had form¬ 
ally disclaimed, or feel any great reverence for the 
decisions of a few men who arrogated to themselves 
all the rights belonging to the representatives of the 
church universal, a title to which they had such poor 
pretensions. 

Violence of the The emperor, nevertheless, was 

reeSfnas against straining his authority to the utmost 
the Protestants. j n orc j er establish the reputation 

and jurisdiction of the council. He had prevailed 
on the three ecclesiastical electors, the prelates of 
greatest power and dignity in the church next to the 
pope, to repair thither in person. He had obliged 
several German bishops of inferior rank to go to 
Trent themselves, or to send their proxies. He 
granted an imperial safe-conduct to the ambassadors 
nominated by the elector of Brandenburg, the duke 
of Wurtemburg, and other protestants, to attend the 
council; and exhorted them to send their divines 
thither, in order to propound, explain, and defend 
their doctrine. At the same time his zeal antici¬ 
pated the decrees of the council ; and as if the 
opinions of the protestants had already been con¬ 
demned, he took large steps towards exterminating 
them. With this intention he called together the 
ministers of Augsburg; and after interrogating 
them concerning several controverted points, en¬ 
joined them to teach nothing, with respect to these, 
contrary to the tenets of the Romish church. Upon 
their declining to comply with a requisition so con¬ 
trary to the dictates of their consciences, he com¬ 
manded them to leave the town in three days, 
without revealing to any person the cause of their 
banishment; he prohibited them to preach for the 
future in any province of the empire; and obliged 
them to take an oath that they would punctually 
obey these injunctions. They were not the only 
victims to his zeal. The protestant clergy in most 
of the cities in the circle of Suabia were ejected 
with the same violence ; and in many places, such 
magistrates as had distinguished themselves by their 
attachment to the new opinions were dismissed with 
the most abrupt irregularity, and their offices filled, 
in consequence of the emperor’s arbitrary appoint¬ 
ment, with the most bigoted of their adversaries. 
The reformed worship was almost entirely sup¬ 
pressed throughout that extensive province. The 
ancient and fundamental privileges of the free cities 
were violated. The people were compelled to attend 
the ministration of priests whom they regarded with 

p Sleid. 518. Thuau. 282. F. Paul, 301. 


November. 


horror as idolaters, and to submit to the jurisdiction 
of magistrates whom they detested as usurpers.' 1 

The emperor, after this discovery, 

... His endeavours 

winch was more explicit than any that to support the 

... couucil. 

lie had hitherto made, of his intention 
to subvert the German constitution, as well as to ex¬ 
tirpate the protestant religion, set out 
for Inspruek in the Tyrol. He fixed his 
residence in that city, as, by his situation in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Trent and on the confines of Italy, it ap¬ 
peared a commodious station whence he might inspect 
the operations of the council and observe the progress 
of the war in the Parmesan, without losing sight of 
such occurrences as might happen in Germany/ 

During these transactions the siege Thesiegeof 
of Magdeburg was carried on with Magdeburg, 
various success. At the time when Charles pro¬ 
scribed the citizens of Magdeburg, and put them 
under the ban of the empire, he had exhorted and 
even enjoined all the neighbouring states to take 
arms against them as rebels and common enemies. 
Encouraged by his exhortations as well as promises, 
George of Mecklenburg, a younger brother of the 
reigning duke, an active and ambitious prince, col¬ 
lected a considerable number of those soldiers of 
fortune who had accompanied Henry of Brunswick 
in all his wild enterprises ; and though a zealous 
Lutheran himself, invaded the territories of the 
Magdeburgers, hoping that by the merit of this ser¬ 
vice he might procure some part of their domains to 
be allotted to him as an establishment. The citi¬ 
zens, unaccustomed as yet to endure patiently the 
calamities of war, could not be restrained from 
sallying out in order to save their lands from being 
laid waste. They attacked the duke of Mecklen¬ 
burg with more resolution than conduct, and were 
repulsed with great slaughter. But as they were 
animated with that unconquerable spirit which Hows 
from zeal for religion co-operating with the love of 
civil liberty, far from being disheartened by their 
misfortune, they prepared to defend themselves with 
vigour. Many of the veteran soldiers who had 
served in the long wars betw een the emperor and 
king of France, crow ding to their standards under 
able and experienced officers, the citizens acquired 
military skill by degrees, and added all the advan¬ 
tages of that to the efforts of undaunted courage. 
The duke of Mecklenburg, notwithstanding the 
severe blow r which he had given the Magdeburgers, 
not daring to invest a town strongly fortified, and 
defended by such a garrison, continued to ravage 
the open country. 

As the hopes of booty drew many 

Maurice takes 

adventurers to the camp of this young the command of 

c 0 . the army which 

prince, Maurice ot feaxony began to carried on the 

be jealous of the power which he pos- S '^ 

sessed by being at the head of such a numerous 

body, and marching towards Magdeburg with his 

own troops, assumed the supreme command of the 

whole army, an honour to which his high rank and 

q Sleid. 516, 528. Thuau. 276. r Sleid. 329. 



G40 


THE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK X. 


great abilities, as well as the nomination of the 
diet, gave him an indisputable title. With this 
united force he invested the town, and began the 
siege in form; claiming great merit with the emperor 
on that account, as, from his zeal to execute the 


[A. D. 1551. 

conferences with Albert, count Mansfeldt, who 
had the chief command in Magdeburg. He 
consulted likewise with count Heideck, an officer 
who had served with great reputation in the army 
of the league of Smalkalde, whom the emperor had 


imperial decree, he was exposing himself once more proscribed on account of his zeal for that cause, 


to the censures and maledictions of the party with 
which he agreed in religious sentiments. But the 
approaches to the town went on slowly; the garrison 
interrupted the besiegers by frequent sallies, in one 
of which George of Mecklenburg was taken pri- 


but whom Maurice had, notwithstanding, secretly 
engaged in his service, and admitted into the most 
intimate confidence. To them he communicated 
a scheme which he had long revolved in his mind, 
for procuring liberty to his father-in-law, the land- 


soner, levelled part of their works, and cutoff the grave, for vindicating the privileges of the Germanic 
soldiers in their advanced posts. While the citizens body, and setting bounds to the dangerous en- 
of Magdeburg, animated by the discourses of their croacliments of the imperial power. Having de¬ 
pastors, and the soldiers, encouraged by the example liberated with them concerning the measures which 
of their officers, endured all the hardships of a siege might be necessary for securing the success of such 
without murmuring, and defended themselves with an arduous enterprise, he gave Mansfeldt secret 
the same ardour which they had at first discovered, assurances that the fortifications of Magdeburg 
—the troops of the besiegers acted with extreme should not be destroyed, and that the inhabitants 
remissness, repining at every thing that they suf- should neither be disturbed in the exercise of their 
fered in a service which they disliked. They broke religion nor be deprived of any of their ancient 
out more than once into open mutiny, demanding immunities. In order to engage Maurice more 
the arrears of their pay, which, as the members of thoroughly from considerations of interest to fulfil 
the Germanic body sent in their contributions to- these engagements, the senate of Magdeburg elected 
wards defraying the expenses of the war sparingly him their Burgrave, a dignity which had formerly 
and with great reluctance, amounted to a consider- belonged to the electoral house of Saxony, and 
able sum.® Maurice, too, had particular motives, which entitled him to a very ample jurisdiction not 
though such as he durst not avow at that juncture, only in the city but in its dependences. 1 
which induced him not to push the siege with vigour, Thus the citizens of Magdeburg, The a(lvanta<res 
and made him choose rather to continue at the head afterenduringa siegeof twelvemonths, Jf s ne^ociltkms 
of an army exposed to all the imputations which and struggling for their liberties, reli- Magde- 

his dilatory proceedings drew upon him than to gious and civil, with an invincible for- 
precipitate a conquest that might have brought titude worthy of the cause in which it was exerted, 
him some accession of reputation, but would have had at last the good fortune to conclude a treaty 


rendered it necessary to disband his forces. 

At last the inhabitants of the town 
beginning to suffer distress from want 


The city surren¬ 
ders to Maurice. 


which left them in a better condition than the rest 
of their countrymen, whom their timidity or want 
of public spirit had betrayed into such mean sub- 


of provisions, and Maurice finding it impossible to missions to the emperor. But while a great part of 
protract matters any longer without filling the em- Germany applauded the gallant conduct of the Mag- 
peror with such suspicions as might have discon- deburgers, and rejoiced in their having escaped the 


Nov. 3. 


certed all his measures, he concluded 
a treaty of capitulation with the city 
upon the following conditions :—That the Magde- 
burgers should humbly implore pardon of the 
emperor; that they should not for the future take 
arms or enter into any alliance against the house of 


destruction with which they had been threatened, 
all admired Maurice’s address in the conduct of his 
negociation with them, as well as the dexterity with 
which he converted every event to his own advan¬ 
tage. They saw with amazement, that after having 
afflicted the Magdeburgers during many months 


Austria; that they should submit to the authority with all the calamities of war, he was at last, by 
of the imperial chamber ; that they should conform their voluntary election, advanced to the station of 
to the decree of the diet at Augsburg with respect highest authority in that city which he had so lately 
to religion ; that the new fortifications added to the besieged ; that after having been so long the object 
town should be demolished; that they should pay a of their satirical invective as an apostate and an 
fine of fifty thousand crowns, deliver up twelve enemy to the religion which he professed, they 
pieces of ordnance to the emperor, and set the duke seemed now to place unbounded confidence in his 
of Mecklenburg, together with their other prisoners, zeal and good-will. u At the same time the public 
at liberty without ransom. Next day their garrison articles in the treaty of capitulation were so per- 
marched out, and Maurice took possession of the fectly conformable to those which the emperor had 


town with great military pomp. 


granted to the other protestant cities, and Maurice 


Maurice’s views at Before the terms of capitulation took such care to magnify his merit in having re- 
this juncture, were settled, Maurice had held many duced a place which had defended itself with so 


s Thuan. 277. Sleid. 514. 
t Sleid. 528. Thuan. 276, Obsidionis Magdeburgici Descriptio per 
Sebast. Besselmeierum, ap. Scard. ii. 518. 


u A moldi Vita Maurit. apud Menken, ii. 1227. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK X. A. D. 1651.] 

much obstinacy, that Charles, far from suspecting 
any thing fraudulent or collusive in the terms of 
accommodation, ratified them without hesitation, 
and absolved the Magdeburgers from the sentence 
of ban which had been denounced against them. 

The only point that now remained 

His expedient for . . , , 

keeping an army to embarrass Maurice was how to keep 
on toot. . . 

together the veteran troops which had 
served under him, as well as those which had been em¬ 
ployed in the defence of the town. For this, too, he 
found an expedient with singular art and felicity. 
His schemes against the emperor were ,not yet so 
fully ripened that he durst venture to disclose them, 
and proceed openly to carry them into execution. 
The winter was approaching, which made it impos¬ 
sible to take the field immediately. He was afraid 
that it would give a premature alarm to the em¬ 
peror if he should retain such a considerable body 
in his pay until the season of action returned in the 
spring. As soon, then, as Magdeburg opened its 
gates, he sent home his Saxon subjects, whom he 
could command to take arms and re-assemble on the 
shortest warning ; and at the same time paying part 
of the arrears due to the mercenary troops who had 
followed his standard, as well as to the soldiers who 
had served in the garrison, he absolved them from 
their respective oaths of fidelity, and disbanded 
them. But the moment he gave them their dis¬ 
charge, George of Mecklenburg, who was now set 
at liberty, offered to take them into his service, and 
to become surety for the payment of what was still 
owing to them. As such adventurers were accus¬ 
tomed often to change masters, they instantly ac¬ 
cepted the offer. Thus these troops were kept united, 
and ready to march wherever Maurice should call 
them, while the emperor, deceived by this artifice, 
and imagining that George of Mecklenburg had 
hired them with an intention to assert his claim to 
a part of his brother’s territories by force of arms, 
suffered this transaction to pass without observation, 
as if it had been a matter of no consequence.* 

His address in Having ventured to take these steps, 
fntentions S from which were of so much consequence 
the emperor. towards the execution of his schemes, 

Maurice, that he might divert the emperor from ob¬ 
serving their tendency too narrowly, and prevent 
the suspicions which that must have excited, saw 
the necessity of employing some new artifice in 
order to engage his attention and to confirm him in 
his present security. As he knew that the chief ob¬ 
ject of the emperor’s solicitude at this juncture, was 
how he might prevail with the protestant states of 
Germany to recognise the authority of the council 
of Trent, and to send thither ambassadors in their 
ow n name, as well as deputies from their respective 
churches, he took hold of this predominating pas¬ 
sion in order to amuse and to deceive him. He 
affected a wonderful zeal to gratify Charles in what 
he desired with regard to this matter ; he nominated 

x Thuan. 2?8. Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ. 1061. Arnoldi vita Mauritii, 
apud Menken, ii. 1227. 

2 T 


041 

ambassadors whom he empowered to attend the coun¬ 
cil ; he made choice of Melancthon and some of the 
most eminent among his brethren to prepare a con¬ 
fession of faith, and to lay it before that assembly. 
After his example, and probably in consequence ol 
his solicitations, the duke of Wurtemburg, the city 
of Strasburg, and other protestant states, appointed 
ambassadors and divines to attend the council. They 
all applied to the emperor for his safe-conduct, which 
they obtained in the most ample form. This was 
deemed sufficient for the security of the ambassa¬ 
dors, and they proceeded accordingly on their jour¬ 
ney : but a separate safe-conduct from the council 
itself was demanded for the protestant divines. The 
fate of John Huss and Jerome of Prague, whom the 
council of Constance, in the preceding century, had 
condemned to the flames without regarding the im¬ 
perial safe-conduct which had been granted them, 
rendered this precaution prudent and necessary. 
But as the pope was no less unwilling that the pro- 
testants should be admitted to a hearing in the 
council than the emperor had been eager in bringing 
them to demand it, the legate, by promises and 
threats, prevailed on the fathers of the council to 
decline issuing a safe-conduct in the same form with 
that which the council of Basil had granted to the 
followers of Huss. The protestants, on their part, 
insisted upon the council’s copying the precise 
words of that instrument. The imperial ambassa¬ 
dors interposed, in order to obtain what would sa¬ 
tisfy them. Alterations in the form of the writ were 
proposed ; expedients w ere suggested ; protests and 
counter-protests w ere taken: the legate, together 
with his associates, laboured to gain their point by 
artifice and chicane ; the protestants adhered to 
theirs with firmness and obstinacy. An account of 
every thing that passed in Trent was transmitted 
to the emperor at Inspruck, who attempting, from 
an excess of zeal or of confidence in his own ad¬ 
dress, to reconcile the contending parties, was in¬ 
volved in a labyrinth of inextricable negociations. 
By means of this, however, Maurice gained all that 
he had in view ; the emperor’s time was wholly en¬ 
grossed and his attention diverted ; while he him¬ 
self had leisure to mature his schemes, to carry on 
his intrigues, and to finish his preparations, before 
he threw off the mask, and struck the blow which 
he had so long meditated.^ 

But previous to entering into any The affairs 0l 
further detail concerning Maurice’s Hungary, 
operations, some account must be given of a new 
revolution in Hungary, which contributed not a 
little towards their producing such extraordinary 
effects. When Solyman, in the year 1541, by a 
stratagem which suited the base and insidious policy 
of a petty usurper rather than the magnanimity of a 
mighty conqueror, deprived the young king of Hun¬ 
gary of the dominions which his father had left him, 
he had granted that unfortunate prince the country 

y Sleid. 526, 529. F. Paul, 323, 338. Thuau. 286. 



042 


THE REIGN OF THE 


of Transylvania, a province of his paternal kingdom. 
The government of this, together with the care of 
educating the young king, for he still allowed him 
to retain that empty title, though he had rendered 
it only an empty name, he committed to the queen 
and Martinuzzi, bishop of Waradin, whom the late 
king had appointed joint guardians of his son and 
regents of his dominions, at a time when those 
offices were of greater importance. This co-ordinate 
jurisdiction occasioned the same dissensions in a 
small principality as it would have excited in a 
great kingdom; an ambitious young queen, possess¬ 
ed with a high opinion of her own capacity for 
governing, and a high-spirited prelate, fond of 
power, contending who should engross the greatest 
share in the administration. Each had their parti¬ 
sans among the nobles ; but as Martinuzzi, by his 
great talents, began to acquire the ascendant, Isa¬ 
bella turned his own arts against him, and courted 
the protection of the Turks. 

Martinuzzi fa- The neighbouring bashaws, jealous 
prete S nsions n fn d ' s °f ^ ,e bishop’s power as well as abili- 
that kingdom. ties, r ea.<lily promised her the aid 

which she demanded, and would soon have obliged 
Martinuzzi to have given up to her the sole direction 
of affairs, if his ambition, fertile in expedients, had 
not suggested to him a new measure, and one that 
tended not only to preserve but to enlarge his au¬ 
thority. Having concluded an agreement with the 
queen by the mediation of some of the nobles, who 
were solicitous to save their country from the cala¬ 
mities of a civil war, he secretly despatched one of 
his confidants to Vienna, and entered into a nego- 
ciation with Ferdinand. As it was no difficult 
matter to persuade Ferdinand that the same man 
whose enmity and intrigues had driven him out of 
a great part of his Hungarian dominions, might, 
upon a reconciliation, become equally instrumental 
in recovering them, he listened eagerly to the first 
overtures of an union with that prelate. Marti¬ 
nuzzi allured him by such prospects of advantage, 
and engaged with so much confidence that he would 
prevail on the most powerful of the Hungarian 
nobles to take arms in his favour, that Ferdinand, 
notwithstanding his truce with Solyman, agreed to 
invade Transylvania. The command of the troops 
destined for that service, consisting of veteran Span¬ 
ish and German soldiers, was given to Castaldo, 
marquis de Piadena, an officer formed by the fa¬ 
mous marquis de Pescara, whom he strongly resem¬ 
bled, both in his enterprising genius for civil busi¬ 
ness and in his great knowledge in the art of war. 
This army, more formidable by the discipline of the 
soldiers and the abilities of the general than by its 
numbers, was powerfully seconded by Martinuzzi 
and his faction among the Hungarians. As the 
Turkish bashaws, the sultan himself being at the 
head of his army on the frontiers of Persia, could 
not afford the queen such immediate or effectual 
assistance as the exigency of her affairs required, 
she quickly lost all hopes of being able to retain 


[A. D. 1551. ROOK X. 

any longer the authority which she possessed as 
regent, and even began to despair of her son’s safety. 

Martinuzzi did not suffer this fa- Thp succes3 0 f 
vourable opportunity of accomplish- »>» measures, 
ing his own designs to pass unimproved ; and ven¬ 
tured, while she was in this state of dejection, to 
lay before her a proposal which at any other time 
she would have rejected with disdain. He repre¬ 
sented how impossible it was for her to resist Ferdi¬ 
nand’s victorious arms; that even if the Turks 
should enable her to make head against them, she 
would be far from changing her condition for the 
better, and could not consider them as deliverers, 
but as masters to whose commands she must submit; 
he conjured her, therefore, as she regarded her own 
dignity, the safety of her son, or the security of 
Christendom, rather to give up Transylvania to 
Ferdinand, and to make over to him her son’s title 
to the crown of Hungary, than to allow both to be 
usurped by the inveterate enemy of the Christian 
faith. At the same time he promised her, in Fer¬ 
dinand’s name, a compensation for herself as well 
as for her son, suitable to their rank, and propor¬ 
tional to the value of what they were to sacrifice. 
Isabella, deserted by some of her adherents, dis¬ 
trusting others, destitute of friends, and surrounded 
by Castaldo’s and Martinuzzi’s troops, subscribed 
these hard conditions, though with a reluctant hand. 
Upon this she surrendered such places of strength 
as were still in her possession ; she gave up all the 
ensigns of royalty, particularly a crown of gold 
which, as the Hungarians believed, had descended 
from heaven, and conferred on him who wore it an 
undoubted right to the throne. As she could not 
bear to remain a private person in a country where 
she had once enjoyed sovereign power, she instantly 
set out with her son for Silesia, in order to take 
possession of the principalities of Oppelen and 
Ratibor, the investiture of which Ferdinand had 
engaged to grant her son, and likewise to bestow 
one of his daughters upon him in marriage. 

Upon the resignation of the young 
king, Martinuzzi, and after his exam- iwro°ffiKTf 
pie the rest of the Transylvanian gran- w^^bjec^to 11 
dees, swore allegiance to Ferdinand, lerdlnand - 
who, in order to testify his grateful sense of the 
zeal as well success with which that prelate had 
served him, affected to distinguish him by every 
possible mark of favour and confidence. He ap¬ 
pointed him governor of Transylvania with almost 
unlimited authority; he publicly ordered Castaldo 
to pay the greatest deference to his opinion and 
commands; he increased his revenues, which were 
already very great, by new appointments ; he nomi¬ 
nated him archbishop of Gran, and prevailed on the 
pope to raise him to the dignity of a cardinal. All 
this ostentation of good-will, however, was void of 
sincerity, and calculated to conceal sentiments the 
most perfectly its reverse. Ferdinand dreaded 
Martinuzzi’s abilities ; distrusted his fidelity ; and 
foresaw that as his extensive authority enabled him 



BOOK X. A. D. 1551.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


643 


to check any attempt towards circumscribing or 
abolishing the extensive privileges which the Hun¬ 
garian nobility possessed, he would stand forth on 
every occasion the guardian of the liberties of his 
country, rather than act the part of a viceroy de¬ 
voted to the will of his sovereign. 

„ ,. . For this reason he secretly grave it 

to form designs in charge to Castaldo to watch his 
against him. . 

motions, to guard against his designs, 
and to thwart his measures. But Martinuzzi, either 
because he did not perceive that Castaldo was 
placed as a spy on his actions, or because he de¬ 
spised Ferdinand’s insidious arts, assumed the di¬ 
rection of the war against the Turks with his usual 
tone of authority, and conducted it with great mag¬ 
nanimity and no less success. He recovered some 
places of which the infidels had taken possession ; 
he rendered their attempts to reduce others abor¬ 
tive; and established Ferdinand’s authority not 
only in Transylvania, but in the Bannat of Temes- 
war and several of the countries adjacent. In car¬ 
rying on these operations he often differed in sen¬ 
timents from Castaldo and his officers, and treated 
the Turkish prisoners with a degree not only of 
humanity but even of generosity, which Castaldo 
loudly condemned. This was represented at Vi¬ 
enna as an artful method of courting the friendship 
of the infidels, that, by securing their protection, 
he might shake off all dependence upon the sove¬ 
reign whom he now acknowledged. Though Mar¬ 
tinuzzi, in justification of his own conduct, con¬ 
tended that it was impolitic by unnecessary severities 
to exasperate an enemy prone to revenge, Castaldo’s 
accusations gained credit with Ferdinand, prepos¬ 
sessed already against Martinuzzi, and jealous of 
every thing that could endanger his own authority 
in Hungary, in proportion as he knew it to be pre¬ 
carious and ill-established. These suspicions Cas¬ 
taldo confirmed and strengthened by the intelligence 
which he transmitted continually to his confidants 
at Vienna. By misrepresenting what was innocent, 
and putting the worst construction on what seemed 
dubious in Martinuzzi’s conduct; by imputing to 
him designs which he never formed, and charging 
him with actions of which he was not guilty,—he 
at last convinced Ferdinand, that in order to pre¬ 
serve his Hungarian crown, he must cut off that 
ambitious prelate. But Ferdinand, foreseeing that 
it would be dangerous to proceed in the regular 
course of law against a subject of such exorbitant 
power as might enable him to set his sovereign at 
defiance, determined to employ violence in order to 
obtain that satisfaction which the laws were too 
feeble to afford him. 

He issued his orders accordingly to 
nated byhfs" Castaldo, who willingly undertook 

that infamous service. Having com¬ 
municated the design to some Italian and Spanish 
officers whom he could trust, and concerted with 


them the plan of executing it, they entered Martin¬ 
uzzi’s apartment early one morning, 

A * r J 4 . . . . Dec. 18. 

under pretence of presenting to him 
some despatches which were to be sent off immedi¬ 
ately to Vienna; and while he perused a paper 
with attention, one of their number struck him with 
his poniard in the throat. The blow was not mor¬ 
tal. Martinuzzi started up with the intrepidity 
natural to him, and grappling the assassin, threw 
him to the ground. But the other conspirators 
rushing in, an old man unarmed and alone was un¬ 
able long to sustain such an unequal conflict, and 
sunk under the wounds which he received from so 
many hands. The Transylvanians were restrained 
by dread of the foreign troops stationed in their 
country, from rising in arms in order to take ven¬ 
geance on the murderers of a prelate who had long 
been the object of their love as well as veneration. 
They spoke of the deed, however, with The effect ofthat 
horror and execration ; and exclaimed vlolent action, 
against Ferdinand, whom neither gratitude for re¬ 
cent and important services, nor reverence for a 
character considered as sacred and inviolable 
among Christians, could restrain from shedding the 
blood of a man whose only crime was attachment 
to his native country. The nobles, detesting the 
jealous as well as cruel policy of a court which, 
upon uncertain and improbable surmises, had given 
up a person no less conspicuous for his merit than 
his rank to be butchered by assassins, either retired 
to their own estates, or if they continued with the 
Austrian army, grew cold to the service. The 
Turks, encouraged by the death of an enemy whose 
abilities they knew and dreaded, prepared to renew 
hostilities early in the spring; and instead of the 
security which Ferdinand had expected from the 
removal of Martinuzzi, it was evident that his ter¬ 
ritories in Hungary were about to be attacked with 
greater vigour and defended with less zeal than 
ever.* 

By this time Maurice, having almost 

... . Maurice courts 

finished lus intrigues and preparations, the protection ot 
. , . the French king. 

was on the point ot declaring his in¬ 
tentions openly, and of taking the field against the 
emperors. His first care, after he came to this reso¬ 
lution, was to disclaim that narrow and bigoted 
maxim of the confederates of Smalkalde, which had 
led them to shun all connexion with foreigners. 
He had observed how fatal this had been to their 
cause; and instructed by their error, he was as 
eager to court the protection of Henry II. as they 
had been solicitous to prevent the interposition of 
Francis I. Happily for him, he found Henry in a 
disposition to listen to the first overture on his part, 
and in a situation which enabled him to bring the 
whole force of the French monarchy into action. 
Henry had long observed the progress of the em¬ 
peror’s arms with jealousy, and wished to distin¬ 
guish himself by entering the lists against the same 


z Sleid. 535. Thuan. lib. ix. 309, lie. Istuanhafhi Hist. Regn. Hun- 

2 T 2 


garici, lib. xvi. 189, &c. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 871. Natalis Comitis His- 
toria, ib. iv. 84, &c. 



G44 


THE REIGN OF THE 


enemy whom it had been the glory of his father’s 
reign to oppose. He had laid hold on the first op¬ 
portunity in his power of thwarting the emperor’s 
designs, by taking the duke of Parma under his 
protection ; and hostilities were already begun, not 
only in that duchy but in Piedmont. Having ter¬ 
minated the war with England by a peace no less 
advantageous to himself than honourable for his 
allies the Scots, the restless and enterprising cou¬ 
rage of his nobles was impatient to display itself 
on some theatre of action more conspicuous than 
the petty operations in Parma or Piedmont afforded 
them. 

iiis treaty with John de Fienne, bishop of Bayonne, 
him. whom Henry had sent into Germany 

under pretence of hiring troops to be employed in 
Italy, was empowered to conclude a treaty in form 
with Maurice and his associates. As it would have 
been very indecent in a king of France to have un¬ 
dertaken the defence of the protestant church, the 
interests of religion, how much soever they might 
be affected by the treaty, were not once mentioned 
in any of the articles. Religious concerns they 
pretended to commit to the disposition of Divine 
Providence; the only motives assigned for their 
present confederacy against Charles were to pro¬ 
cure the landgrave liberty, and to prevent the sub¬ 
version of the ancient constitution and laws of the 
German empire. In order to accomplish these ends, 
it was agreed that all the contracting parties should 
at the same time declare war against the emperor ; 
that neither peace nor truce should be made but by 
common consent, nor without including each of the 
confederates ; that in order to guard against the in¬ 
conveniences of anarchy or of pretensions to joint 
command, Maurice should be acknowledged as 
head of the German confederates, with absolute 
authority in all military affairs; that Maurice and 
his associates should bring into the field seven thou¬ 
sand horse, with a proportional number of infantry ; 
that towards the subsistence of this armj% during 
the first three months of the war, Henry should 
contribute two hundred and forty thousand crowns, 
and afterwards sixty thousand crowns a month, as 
long as they continued in arms ; that Henry should 
attack the emperor on the side of Lorrain with a 
powerful army ; that if it were found requisite to 
elect a new emperor, such a person should be nomi¬ 
nated as shall be agreeable to the king of France. 9 
This treaty was concluded on the fifth of October, 
some time before Magdeburg surrendered, and 
the preparatory negociations were conducted with 
such profound secrecy, that of all the princes who 
afterwards acceded to it, Maurice communicated 
what he was carrying on to two only, John Albert, 
the reigning duke of Mecklenburg, and William 
of Hesse, the landgrave’s eldest son. The league 
itself was no less anxiously concealed, and with 
such fortunate care, that no rumour concerning it 


December. 


[A. D. 1551. BOOK X. 

reached the ears of the emperor or his ministers, 
nor do they seem to have conceived the most distant 
suspicion of such a transaction. 

At the same time, with a solicitude 
which was careful to draw some ac- f^iwaiV'vL'of^ 
cession of strength from every quarter, England ’ 
Maurice applied to Edward VI. of England, and 
requested a subsidy of four hundred thousand 
crowns for the support of a confederacy formed in 
defence of the protestant religion. But the factions 
which prevailed in the English court during the 
minority of that prince, and which deprived both 
the councils and arms of the nation of their wonted 
vigour, left the English ministers neither time nor 
inclination to attend to foreign affairs, and pre¬ 
vented Maurice’s obtaining that aid w f hich their 
zeal for the Reformation would have prompted them 
to grant him. b 

Maurice, however, having secured D ema ncts once 
the protection of such a powerful mo- l^ndgra^should 
narch as Henry II., proceeded with be set at llberty- 
great confidence, but with equal caution, to execute 
his plan. As he judged it necessary to make 
one effort more in order to obtain the emperor’s 
consent that the landgrave should be 
set at liberty, he sent a solemn em¬ 
bassy in his ow n name and in that of the elector of 
Brandenburg, to Inspruck. After resuming at great 
length all the facts and arguments upon which they 
founded their claim, and representing in the strong¬ 
est terms the peculiar engagements which bound 
them to be so assiduous in their solicitations, they 
renewed the request in behalf of the unfortunate 
prisoner, which they had so often preferred in vain. 
The elector palatine, the duke of Wurtemburg, the 
dukes of Mecklenburg, the duke of Deuxponts, 
the marquis of Brandenburg-Bareith, and the mar¬ 
quis of Baden, by their ambassadors, concurred 
with them in their suit. Letters were likewise 
delivered to the same effect from the king of Den¬ 
mark, the duke of Bavaria, and the dukes of Lu¬ 
nenburg. Even the king of the Romans joined in 
this application, being moved with compassion to¬ 
wards the landgrave in his wretched situation, or 
influenced, perhaps, by a secret jealousy of his 
brother’s power and designs, which, since his at¬ 
tempt to alter the order of succession in the empire, 
he had come to view with other eyes than formerly, 
and dreaded to a great degree. 

But Charles, constant to his own system with 
regard to the landgrave, eluded a demand urged by 
such powerful intercessors ; and having declared 
that he would communicate his resolution concern¬ 
ing the matter to Maurice as soon as he arrived at 
Inspruck, where he was every day expected, he did 
not deign to descend into any more particular ex¬ 
plication of his intentions. 0 This application, though 
of no benefit to the landgrave, was of great advan¬ 
tage to Maurice. It served to justify his subse- 


a Recueil des Traitez, tom. ii. 258. Thuan. lib. viii. 279. 
b Burnet’s Hist, of the Reform, vol. ii. Append. 37. 


c Sleid. 531. Thuan. lib. viii. 280. 



BOOK X. A. B. 1552.J EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


645 


quent proceedings, and to demonstrate the necessity 
ot employing arms in order to extort that equitable 
concession which his mediation or entreaty could 
not obtain. It was of use, too, to confirm the em¬ 
peror in his security, as both the solemnity of the 
application, and the solicitude with which so many 
princes were drawn in to enforce it, led him to 
conclude that they placed all their hopes of restor¬ 
ing the landgrave to liberty in gaining his consent 
to dismiss him. 

1552 . Maurice employed artifices still more 

nues r to e amuse refined to conceal his machinations, 
the empeior. to amuse the emperor, and to gain 

time. He affected to be more solicitous than ever 
to find out some expedient for removing the diffi¬ 
culties with regard to the safe-conduct for the pro- 
testant divines appointed to attend the council, so 
that they might repair thither without any appre¬ 
hension of danger. His ambassadors at Trent had 
frequent conferences concerning this matter with 
the imperial ambassadors in that city, and laid open 
their sentiments to them with the appearance of the 
most unreserved confidence. He was willing, at 
last, to have it believed that he thought all differ¬ 
ences with respect to this preliminary article were 
on the point of being adjusted; and in order to give 
credit to this opinion, he commanded Melancthon, 
together with his brethren, to set out on their jour¬ 
ney to Trent. At the same time he held a close 
correspondence with the imperial court at Inspruck, 
and renewed on every occasion his professions not 
only of fidelity but of attachment to the emperor. 
He talked continually of his intention of going to 
Inspruck in person; he gave orders to hire a house 
for him in that city, and to fit it up with the greatest 
despatch for his reception. d 

The emperor con- But profoundly skilled as Maurice 

piclon concern- 18 " waS arts deceit, and impene- 

mg his intentions. Arable as lie thought the veil to be 

under which he concealed his designs, there were 
several things in his conduct which alarmed the 
emperor amidst his security, and tempted him fre¬ 
quently to suspect that he was meditating something 
extraordinary. As these suspicions took their rise 
from circumstances inconsiderable in themselves, or 
of an ambiguous as well as uncertain nature, they 
were more than counterbalanced by Maurice’s ad¬ 
dress ; and the emperor would not lightly give up 
his confidence in a man whom he had once trusted 
and loaded with favours. One particular alone 
seemed to be of such consequence, that he thought 
it necessary to demand an explanation with regard 
to it. The troops which George of Mecklenburg 
had taken into pay after the capitulation of Magde¬ 
burg having fixed their quarters in Thuringia, lived 
at discretion on the lands of the rich ecclesiastics in 
their neighbourhood. Their licence and rapacious¬ 
ness were intolerable. Such as felt or dreaded their 
exactions complained loudly to the emperor, and 
represented them as a body of men kept in readiness 

d Arnoldi Vita Maurit. ap. Menken, ii. 1229. 


for some desperate enterprise. But Maurice, partly 
by extenuating the enormities of which they had 
been guilty, partly by representing the impossibility 
of disbanding these troops, or of keeping them to 
regular discipline, unless the arrears still due to 
them by the emperor were paid, either removed the 
apprehensions which this had occasioned, or, as 
Charles was not in a condition to satisfy the demands 
of these soldiers, obliged him to be silent with regard 
to the matter. e 

The time of action was now ap- Maurice prepares 
proaching. Maurice had privately tor action. 

despatched Albert of Brandenburg to Paris, in order 
to confirm his league with Henry, and to hasten the 
march of the French army. He had taken measures 
to bring his own subjects together on the first sum¬ 
mons ; he had provided for the security of Saxony 
while he should be absent with the army ; and he 
held the troops in Thuringia, on which he chiefly 
depended, ready to advance on a moment’s warning. 
All these complicated operations were carried on 
without being discovered by the court at Inspruck, 
and the emperor remained there in perfect tranquil¬ 
lity, busied entirely in counteracting the intrigues 
of the pope’s legate at Trent, and in settling the 
conditions on which the protestant divines should 
be admitted into the council, as if there had not 
been any transaction of greater moment in agi¬ 
tation. 

This credulous security in a prince circumstances 
who, by his sagacity in observing the to h deceive the Uted 
conduct of all around him, was corn- emperor; 
monly led to an excess of distrust, may seem un¬ 
accountable, and has been imputed to infatuation. 
But besides the exquisite address with which 
Maurice concealed his intentions, two circum¬ 
stances contributed to the delusion. The gout had 
returned upon Charles, soon after his arrival at 
Inspruck, with an increase of violence ; and his 
constitution being broken by such frequent attacks, 
he was seldom able to exert his natural vigour of 
mind, or to consider aff airs with his usual vigilance 
and penetration; and Granvelle, bishop of Arras, 
his prime minister, though one of the most subtle 
statesmen of that or perhaps of any age, was on 
this occasion the dupe of his own craft. He enter¬ 
tained such a high opinion of his own abilities, 
and held the political talents of the Germans in 
such contempt, that he despised all the intimations 

given him concerning Maurice’s secret L . . . 

° . and his ministers. 

machinations or the dangerous designs 
which he was carrying on. When the duke of 
Alva, whose dark suspicious mind harboured many 
doubts concerning the elector’s sincerity, proposed 
calling him immediately to court to answer for his 
conduct, Granvelle replied with great scorn, That 
these apprehensions were groundless, and that a 
drunken German head was too gross to form any 
scheme which he could not easily penetrate and 
baffle. Nor did he assume this peremptory tone 


e Sleid. 549. Thuan. 339. 



046 


THE REIGN OF THE 


merely from confidence in liis own discernment; he 
had bribed two of Maurice’s ministers, and received 
from them frequent and minute information con¬ 
cerning all their master’s motions. But through 
this very channel, by which he expected to gain 
access to all Maurice’s counsels, and even to his 
thoughts, such intelligence was conveyed to him as 
completed his deception. Maurice fortunately dis¬ 
covered the correspondence of the two traitors with 
Granvelle ; but instead of punishing them for their 
crime, he dexterously availed himself of their fraud, 
and turned his own arts against the bishop. He 
affected to treat these ministers with greater confi¬ 
dence than ever ; he admitted them to his consulta¬ 
tions ; he seemed to lay open his heart to them ; 
and taking care all the while to let them be ac¬ 
quainted with nothing but what it was his interest 
should be known, they transmitted to Inspruck such 
accounts as possessed Granvelle with a firm belief 
of his sincerity as well as good intentions. f The 
emperor himself, in the fullness of security, was so 
little moved by a memorial in the name of the 
ecclesiastical electors, admonishing him to be on 
his guard against Maurice, that he made light of 
this intelligence; and his answer to them abounds 
with declarations of his entire and confident re¬ 
liance on the fidelity as well as attachment of that 
prince. 8 


At last Maurice’s preparations were 

Maurice takes 

the field against completed, and he had the satisfaction 
to find that his intrigues and designs 
were still unknown. But though now ready to take 
the field, he did not lay aside the arts which he had 
hitherto employed ; and by one piece of craft more, 
he deceived his enemies a few days longer. He 
gave out that he was about to begin that journey to 
Inspruck of w hich he had so often talked, and he 
took one of the ministers whom Granvelle had 
bribed, to attend him thither. After travelling post 
a few stages, he pretended to be indisposed by the 
fatigue of the journey ; and despatching the sus¬ 
pected minister to make his apology to the emperor 
for this delay, and to assure him that he would be 
at Inspruck within a few days, he mounted on 
horseback as soon as this spy on his actions was 
gone, rode full speed towards Thuringia, joined his 
army, which amounted to twenty thou¬ 
sand foot and five thousand horse, and 
put it immediately in motion. 11 
„ .... At the same time he published a 

Publishes a mam- * . 

festo, justifying manifesto containing his reasons for 

his conduct. # ° 

taking arms. These were three in 
number: That he might secure the protestant re¬ 
ligion, which was threatened with immediate de¬ 
struction ; that he might maintain the constitution 
and laws of the empire, and save Germany from 
being subjected to the dominion of an absolute 
monarch ; that he might deliver the landgrave of 


March 18. 


f Melvil’s Memoirs, fol. edit. p. 12. g Sleid. 535. 

h Melv. Mem. p. 13. Ihese circumstances concerning the Saxon minis¬ 
ters whom Granvelle had bribed are not mentioned by the German histo¬ 
rians; but as sir James Melvil received his information from the elector 


[A. D. 1552. BOOK X. 

Hesse from the miseries of a long and unjust im¬ 
prisonment. By the first he roused all the favourers 
of the Reformation, a party formidable by their zeal 
as well as numbers, and rendered desperate by 
oppression. By the second he interested all the 
friends of liberty, catholics no less than protestants, 
and made it their interest to unite with him in 
asserting the rights and privileges common to both. 
The third, besides the glory which he acquired by 
his zeal to fulfil his engagements to the unhappy 
prisoner, was become a cause of general concern, 
not only from the compassion which the landgrave’s 
sufferings excited, but from indignation at the 
injustice and rigour of the emperor’s proceedings 
against him. Together with Maurice’s manifesto, 
another appeared in the name of Albert, marquis 
of Brandenburg-Culmbach, who had joined him 
with a body of adventurers whom he had drawn to¬ 
gether. The same grievances which Maurice had 
pointed out are mentioned in it, but with an excess 
of virulence and animosity suitable to the character 
of the prince in whose name it was published. 

The king of France added to these a 

. ~ . . , . , He is powerfully 

mamtesto in his own name ; in which, supported by the 
after taking notice of the ancient alii- French king ' 
arice between the French and German nations, both 
descended from the same ancestors, and after men¬ 
tioning the applications which, in consequence of 
this, some of the most illustrious among the German 
princes had made to him for his protection, he de¬ 
clared that he now took arms to re-establish the 
ancient constitution of the empire, to deliver some 
of its princes from captivity, and to secure the privi¬ 
leges and independence of all the members of the 
Germanic body. In this manifesto Henry assumed 
the extraordinary title of Protector of the Liberties 
of Germany and of its captive Princes ; and there was 
engraved on it a cap, the ancient symbol of freedom, 
placed between two daggers, in order to intimate to 
the Germans that this blessing was to be acquired 
and secured by force of arms. 1 

Maurice had now to act a part en- M aun C e' s en¬ 
tirely new, but his flexible genius was tlons 111 the held, 
capable of accommodating itself to every situ¬ 
ation. The moment he took arms he was as bold 
and enterprising in the field as he had been cautious 
and crafty in the cabinet. He advanced by rapid 
marches towards the Upper Germany. All the towns 
in his way opened their gates to him. He reinstated 
the magistrates whom the emperor had deposed, 
and gave possession of the churches to the protest¬ 
ant ministers whom he had ejected. He directed 
his march to Augsburg: and as the imperial gar¬ 
rison, which was too inconsiderable to think of de¬ 
fending it, retired immediately, he 
took possession of that great city, and 
made the same changes there as in the towns through 
which he had passed. k 

Palatine, and as they are perfectly agreeable to the rest of Maurice’s 
conduct, they may be considered as authentic 
1 SJetd. 549 Thuan. lib. x. 339. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 371. 
k Sleid. 555. Thuan. 342. 


April 1. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK X. A. D. 1552.] 


017 


, No words can express the emperor’s 

J he emperor s r r 

astonishment and astonishment and consternation at 

distress. 

events so unexpected. He saw a great 
number of the German princes in arms against him, 
and the rest either ready to join them or wishing 
success to their enterprise. He beheld a powerful 


monarch united with them in close league, second¬ 
ing their operations in person at the head of a for¬ 
midable army, while he, through negligence and 
credulity, which exposed him no less to scorn than 
to danger, had neither made nor was in condition 
to make any effectual provision, either for crushing 
his rebellious subjects or resisting the invasion of 
the foreign enemy. Part of his Spanish troops had 
been ordered into Hungary against the Turks ; the 
rest had marched back to Italy upon occasion of 
the war in the duchy of Parma. The bands of ve¬ 
teran Germans had been dismissed because he was 
not able to pay them, or had entered into Maurice’s 
service after the siege of Magdeburg; and he re¬ 
mained at Inspruck with a body of soldiers hardly 
strong enough to guard his own person. His trea¬ 
sury was as much exhausted as his army was re¬ 
duced. He had received no remittances for some 
time from the New World. He had forfeited all 
credit with the merchants of Genoa and Venice, 
w ho refused to lend him money, though tempted by 
the offer of exorbitant interest. Thus Charles, 
though undoubtedly the most considerable poten¬ 
tate in Christendom, and capable of exerting the 
greatest strength, (his power, notwithstanding the 
violent attack made upon it, being still unimpaired,) 
found himself in a situation which rendered him 
unable to make such a sudden and vigorous effort 
as the juncture required, and was necessary to have 
saved him from the present danger. 

In this situation the emperor placed 

Endeavours to . 

gain time by a all his hopes on negociation, the only 

negociation. „ , . 

resource ol such as are conscious of 
their own weakness. But thinking it inconsistent 
with his dignity to make the first advances to sub¬ 
jects who were in arms against him, he avoided that 
indecorum by employing the mediation of his bro¬ 
ther Ferdinand. Maurice, confiding in his own ta¬ 
lents to conduct any negociation in such a manner 
as to derive advantage from it, and hoping that, by 
the appearance of facility in hearkening to the first 
overture of accommodation, he might amuse the 
emperor, and tempt him to slacken the activity 
with which he was now preparing to defend himself, 
readily agreed to an interview with Ferdinand in the 
town of Lintz in Austria; and having left his army 
to proceed on its march under the command of 
the duke of Mecklenburg, he repaired thither. 

Progress of the Meanwhile the king of France punc- 

French army, tually fulfilled his engagements to his 

allies. He took the field early, with a numerous 
and well appointed army ; and marching directly 
into Lorrain, Toul and Verdun opened their gates 
at his approach. His forces appeared next before 


Metz, and that city, by a fraudulent stratagem of 
the constable Montmorency, who having obtained 
permission to pass through it with a small guard, 
introduced as many troops as w ere sufficient to over¬ 
power the garrison, was likewise seized without 
bloodshed. Henry made his entry into all these 
towns with great pomp ; he obliged the inhabitants 
to swear allegiance to him, and annexed those im¬ 
portant conquests to the French monarchy. He left 
a strong garrison in Metz. From thence he ad¬ 
vanced towards Alsace, in order to attempt new 
conquests, to which the success that had hitherto 
attended his arms invited him. 1 

The conference of Lintz did not pro- The negociati on 3 
duce any accommodation. Maurice perorand h iMau-" 
when he consented to it seems to have nce ot n0 eftect - 
had nothing in view but to amuse the emperor ; for 
he made such demands both in behalf of his con¬ 
federates and their ally the French king, as he 
knew would not be accepted by a prince too haughty 
to submit at once to conditions dictated by an enemy. 
But however firmly Maurice adhered during the 
negociation to the interests of his associates, or how 
steadily soever he kept in view the objects which 
had induced him to take arms, he often professed 
a strong inclination to terminate the differences 
with the emperor in an amicable manner. En¬ 
couraged by this appearance of a pacific disposition, 
Ferdinand proposed a second interview' at Passau 
on the twenty-sixth of May, and that a truce should 
commence on that day, and continue to the tenth of 
June, in order to give them leisure for adjusting all 
the points in dispute. 

Upon this Maurice rejoined his army Maurice advances 
on the ninth of May, which had now towards inspruck. 

advanced to Gundelfingen. He put his troops in 
motion next morning ; and as sixteen days yet re¬ 
mained for action before the commencement of the 
truce, he resolved during that period to venture 
upon an enterprise, the success of which would be 
so decisive as to render the negociations at Passau 
extremely short, and entitle him to treat upon his 
own terms. He foresaw that the prospect of a ces¬ 
sation of arms, which was to take place so soon, 
together with the opinion of his earnestness to re¬ 
establish peace, with which he had artfully amused 
Ferdinand, could hardly fail of inspiring the em¬ 
peror with such false hopes, that he would naturally 
become remiss, and relapse into some degree of that 
security which had already been so fatal to him. 
Relying on this conjecture, he marched directly at 
the head of his army towards Inspruck, and ad¬ 
vanced with the most rapid motion that could be 
given to so great a body of troops. On the 
eighteenth he arrived at Fiessen, a post of great con¬ 
sequence, at the entrance into the Tyrolese. There 
he found a body of eight hundred men whom the 
emperor had assembled, strongly intrenched, in 
order to oppose his progress. He attacked them 
instantly with such violence and impetuosity that 


I Thuan. 349. 



648 


THE REIGN OF THE 


they abandoned their lines precipitately, and fall¬ 
ing back on a second body posted nearRuten, com¬ 
municated the panic terror with which they them¬ 
selves had been seized to those troops ; so that they 
likewise took to flight after a feeble resistance. 

Takes the castle Elated with this success, which ex- 

i of Ehrenberg. ceec i ec i hi s most sanguine hopes, Mau¬ 
rice pressed forward to Ehrenberg, a castle situated 
on a high and steep precipice, which commanded the 
only pass through the mountains. As this fort had 
been surrendered to the protestants at the beginning 
of the Smalkaldic war, because the garrison was 
then too weak to defend it, the emperor, sensible of 
its importance, had taken care at this juncture to 
throw into it a body of troops sufficient to maintain 
it against the greatest army. But a shepherd, in 
pursuing a goat which had strayed from his flock, 
having discovered an unknown path by which it 
was possible to ascend to the top of the rock, came 
with this seasonable piece of intelligence to Mau¬ 
rice. A small band of chosen soldiers, under the 
command of George of Mecklenburg, was instantly 
ordered to follow this guide. They set out in the 
evening, and clambering up the rugged track with 
infinite fatigue as well as danger, they reached the 
summit unperceived, and at an hour which had 
been agreed on, when Maurice began the assault on 
the one side of the castle, they appeared on the 
other, ready to scale the walls, which were feeble 
in that place, because it had been hitherto deemed 
inaccessible. The garrison, struck with terror at 
the sight of an enemy on a quarter where they had 
thought themselves perfectly secure, immediately 
threw down their arms. Maurice, almost without 
bloodshed, and (which was of greater consequence 
to him) without loss of time, took possession of a 
place the reduction of which might have retarded 
him long, and have required the utmost efforts of 
his valour and skill." 1 

Maurice was now only two days 
troops^etards liis march from Inspruck, and without 
losing a moment he ordered his in¬ 
fantry to advance thither, having left his cavalry, 
which was unserviceable in that mountainous coun¬ 
try, at Fiessen, to guard the mouth of the pass. He 
proposed to advance with such rapidity as to an¬ 
ticipate any accounts of the loss of Ehrenberg, and 
to surprise the emperor, together with his attend¬ 
ants, in an open town incapable of defence. But just 
as his troops began to move, a battalion of mercena¬ 
ries mutinied, declaring that they would not stir until 
they had received the gratuity which, according to 
the custom of that age, they claimed as the recom- 
pence due to them for having taken a place by as¬ 
sault. It w as with great difficulty as well as danger, 
and not without some considerable loss of time, 
that Maurice quieted this insurrection, and pre¬ 
vailed on the soldiers to follow him to a place where 
he promised them such rich booty as would be an 
ample reward for all their services. 


[A. D. 1552. BOOK X. 


To the delay occasioned by this un¬ 
foreseen accident the emperor owed his flies in contusion 
safety. He was informed of the ap- trom lnspiutk ‘ 
proaching danger late in the evening, and knowing 
that nothing could save him but a speedy bight, 
he instantly left Inspruck, without regarding the 
darkness of the night or the violence of the rain 
which happened to fall at that time ; and notwith¬ 
standing the debility occasioned by the gout, which 
rendered him unable to bear any motion but that of 
a litter, he travelled by the light of torches, taking 
his way over the Alps, by roads almost impassable. 
His courtiers and attendants followed him with 
equal precipitation, some of them on such horses 
as they could hastily procure, many of them on foot, 
and all in the utmost confusion. In this miserable 
plight, very unlike the pomp with which Charles 
had appeared during the five preceding years as the 
conqueror of Germany, he arrived at length, with 
his dejected train, at Yillach in Carinthia, and 
scarcely thought himself secure even in that remote 
inaccessible corner. 

Maurice entered Inspruck a few Maur ice enters 
hours after the emperor and his at- tJ,at town - 
tendants had left it; and enraged that the prey 
should escape out of his hands w r hen he was just 
ready to seize it, he pursued them some miles ; but 
finding it impossible to overtake persons to whom 
their fear gave speed, he returned to the town and 
abandoned all the emperor’s baggage, together with 
that of his ministers, to be plundered by the sol¬ 
diers ; w hile he preserved untouched every thing 
belonging to the king of the Romans, either be¬ 
cause he had formed some friendly connexion with 
that prince, or because he wished to have it believed 
that such a connexion subsisted between them. As 
there now remained only three days to the com¬ 
mencement of the truce, (with such nicety had Mau¬ 
rice calculated his operations,) he set out for Passau, 
that he might meet Ferdinand on the day appointed. 

Before Charles left Inspruck, he 
withdrew the guards placed on the the elector of Sax- 
degraded elector of Saxony, whom, ° ny at llberty - 
during five years, he had carried about wdth him 
as a prisoner ; and set him entirely at liberty, either 
with an intention to embarrass Maurice by letting 
loose a rival w ho might dispute his title to his do¬ 
minions and dignity, or from a sense of the inde¬ 
cency of detaining him a prisoner while he himself 


ran the risk of being deprived of his own liberty. 
But that prince seeing no other way of escaping 
than that which the emperor took, and abhorring 
the thoughts of falling into the hands of a kinsman 
whom he justly considered as the author of all his 
misfortunes, chose rather to accompany Charles in 
his flight, and to expect the final decision of his 
fate from the treaty which was now approaching. 

These were not the only effects which j he council of 
Maurice's operations produced. It was • l n re „" t e b t ro c ^ t ,1 |? 
no sooner know n at Trent that he had nat * on - 


m Arnoldi vita Maurit. 123. 




BOOK X. A. D. 1552.] 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G-ID 


taken arms, than a general consternation seized the 
fathers of the council. The German prelates im¬ 
mediately returned home, that they might provide 
lor the safety of their respective territories. The 
rest were extremely impatient to be gone ; and the 
legate, who had hitherto disappointed all the en¬ 
deavours of the imperial ambassadors to procure an 
audience in the council for the protestant divines, 
laid hold with joy on such a plausible pretext for 
dismissing an assembly which he had found it so 
difficult to govern. In a congregation held on the 
twenty-eighth of April, a decree was issued, pro¬ 
roguing the council during two years, and appoint¬ 
ing it to meet at the expiration of that time, if peace 
were then re-established in Europe." This proro¬ 
gation, however, continued no less than ten years ; 
and the proceedings of the council, when re-assem¬ 
bled in the year one thousand five hundred and 
sixty-two, fall not within the period prescribed to 
this history. 

The effect of its The convocation of this assembly 
decrees. } ia d b een passionately desired by all 

the states and princes in Christendom, who, from 
the wisdom as well as piety of prelates representing 
the whole body of the faithful, expected some cha¬ 
ritable and efficacious endeavours towards compos¬ 
ing the dissensions which unhappily had arisen in 
the church. But the several popes by whose au¬ 
thority it was called had other objects in view. 
They exerted all their power or policy to attain 
these ; and by the abilities as well as address of 
their legates, by the ignorance of many of the pre¬ 
lates, and by the servility of the indigent Italian 
bishops, acquired such influence in the council, 
that they dictated all its decrees, and framed them, 
not with an intention to restore unity and concord 
to the church, but to establish their own dominion, 
or to confirm those tenets upon which they imagined 
that dominion to be founded. Doctrines which had 
hitherto been admitted upon the credit of tradition 
alone, and received with some latitude of interpre¬ 
tation, were defined with a scrupulous nicety, and 
confirmed by the sanction of authority. Rites which 
had formerly been observed only in deference to 
custom supposed to be ancient, were established by 
the decrees of the church, and declared to be essen¬ 
tial parts of its worship. The breach, instead of 
being closed, was widened and made irreparable. 
In place of any attempt to reconcile the contending 
parties, a line was drawn with such studied accu¬ 
racy as ascertained and marked out the distinction 
between them. This still serves to keep them at 
a distance ; and, without some signal interposition 
of Divine Providence, must render the separation 
perpetual. 

Our knowledge of the proceedings 
histone ns of u'us of this assembly is derived from three 
different authors. Father Paul of 
Venice wrote his history of the council of Trent 
while the memory of what had passed there was re- 

n F. Paul, 353. 


cent, and some who had been members of it were 
still alive. He has exposed the intrigues and arti¬ 
fices by which it was conducted with a freedom and 
severity which have given a deep wound to the cre¬ 
dit of the council. He has described its delibera¬ 
tions and explained its decrees with such perspi¬ 
cuity and depth of thought, with such various 
erudition and such force of reason, as have justly 
entitled his work to be placed among the most ad¬ 
mired historical compositions. About half a cen¬ 
tury thereafter, the Jesuit Pallavicini published 
his history of the council in opposition to that of 
father Paul, and by employing all the force of an 
acute and refining genius to invalidate the credit 
or to confute the reasonings of his antagonist, he 
labours to prove, by artful apologies for the pro¬ 
ceedings of the council, and subtle interpretations 
of its decrees, that it deliberated with impartiality, 
and decided with judgment as well as candour. 
Vargas, a Spanish doctor of laws, who was ap¬ 
pointed to attend the imperial ambassadors at Trent, 
sent the bishop of Arras a regular account of the 
transactions there, explaining all the arts which the 
legate employed to influence or overawe the council. 
His letters have been published, in which he in¬ 
veighs against the papal court with that asperity of 
censure which was natural to a man whose situation 
enabled him to observe its intrigues thoroughly, 
and who was obliged to exert all his attention and 
talents in order to disappoint them. But whichso¬ 
ever of these authors an intelligent person takes for 
his guide in forming a judgment concerning the 
spirit of the council, he must discover so much am¬ 
bition as well as artifice among some of the mem¬ 
bers, so much ignorance and corruption among 
others; he must observe such a large infusion of 
human policy and passions, mingled with such a 
scanty portion of that simplicity of heart, sanctity 
of manners, and love of truth, which alone qualify 
men to determine what doctrines are worthy of God 
and what worship is acceptable to him, that he will 
find it no easy matter to believe that any extraor¬ 
dinary influence of the Holy Ghost hovered over 
this assembly and dictated its decrees. 

While Maurice was employed in 

\ he French cn* 

negociating with the king of the deavour to sur- 

. . . prise Strasburg; 

Romans at Lintz, or in making war 
on the emperor in the Tyrol, the French king had 
advanced into Alsace as far as Strasburg; and hav¬ 
ing demanded leave of the senate to march through 
the city, he hoped that by repeating the same fraud 
which he had practised at Metz, he might render 
himself master of the place, and by that means 
secure a passage over the Rhine into the heart of 
Germany. But the Strasburgers, instructed and 
put on their guard by the credulity and misfortune 
of their neighbours, shut their gates ; and having 
assembled a garrison of five thousand soldiers, 
repaired their fortifications, rased the houses in their 
suburbs, and determined to defend themselves to the 



650 


THE REIGN OF THE 


utmost. At the same time they sent a deputation 
of their most respectable citizens to the king, in 
order to divert him from making any hostile attempt 
upon them. The electors of Treves and Cologne, 
the duke of Cleves, and other princes in the neigh¬ 
bourhood, interposed in their behalf, beseeching 
Henry that he would not forget so soon the title 
which he had generously assumed, and instead of 
being the Deliverer of Germany, become its Op¬ 
pressor. The Swiss cantons seconded them with 
zeal, soliciting Henry to spare a city which had 
long been connected with their community in 
friendship and alliance. 

but without Powerful as this united intercession 
success. was, it would not have prevailed on 
Henry to forego a prize of so much value, if he 
had been in a condition to have seized it. But in 
that age the method of subsisting numerous armies 
at a distance from the frontiers of their own country 
was imperfectly understood, and neither the revenues 
of princes nor their experience in the art of war 
were equal to the great and complicated efforts which 
such an undertaking required. The French, though 
not far removed from their own frontier, began al¬ 
ready to suffer from scarcity of provisions, and had 
no sufficient magazines collected to support them 
during a siege which must necessarily have been of 
great length. 0 At the same time, the queen of 
Hungary, governess of the Low Countries, had 
assembled a considerable body of troops, which, 
under the command of Martin de Rossem, laid 
waste Champagne, and threatened the adjacent pro¬ 
vinces of France. These concurring circumstances 
obliged the king, though with reluctance, to abandon 
the enterprise. But being willing to acquire some 
merit with his allies by this retreat which he could 
not avoid, he pretended to the Swiss that he had 
taken the resolution merely in compliance with 
their request ; p and then, after giving orders that 
all the horses in his army should be led to drink 
in the Rhine, as a proof of his having pushed his 
conquest so far, he marched back towards Cham¬ 
pagne. 

The operations While the French king and the main 
of Albert of 

Brandenburg. army of the confederates were thus 
employed, Albert of Brandenburg was intrusted 
with the command of a separate body of eight thou¬ 
sand men, consisting chiefly of mercenaries, who 
had resorted to his standard rather from the hope 
of plunder than the expectation of regular pay. 
That prince seeing himself at the head of such a 
number of desperate adventurers, ready to follow 
wherever he should lead them, soon began to dis¬ 
dain a state of subordination, and to form such ex¬ 
travagant schemes of aggrandizing himself as sel¬ 
dom occur, even to ambitious minds, unless when 
civil war or violent factions rouse them to bold ex¬ 
ertions, by alluring them with immediate hopes of 
success. Full of these aspiring thoughts, Albert 
made war in a manner very different from the other 


[A. D. 1552. BOOK X. 

confederates. He endeavoured to spread the terror 
of his arms by the rapidity of his motions as well 
as the extent and rigour of his devastations ; he 
exacted contributions wherever he came, in order 
to amass such a sum of money as would put it in his 
power to keep his army together; he laboured to get 
possession of Nuremberg, Ulm, or some other of the 
free cities in Upper Germany, in which, as a capital, 
he might fix the seat of his power. But finding these 
cities on their guard, and in a condition to resist 
his attacks, he turned all his rage against the 
popish ecclesiastics, whose territories he plundered 
with such wanton and merciless barbarity as gave 
them a very unfavourable impression of the spirit 
of that reformation in religion with zeal for which 
he pretended to be animated. The bishops of Bam¬ 
berg and Wurtzburg, by their situation, lay particu¬ 
larly exposed to his ravages ; he obliged the former 
to transfer to him in property almost one half of his 
extensive diocese, and compelled the latter to ad¬ 
vance a great sum of money in order to save his 
territories from ruin and desolation. During all 
those wild sallies Albert paid no regard either to 
Maurice's orders, whose commands as generalis¬ 
simo of the league he had engaged to obey, or to 
the remonstrances of the other confederates; and 
manifestly discovered that he attended only to his 
own private emolument, without any solicitude 
about the common cause or the general objects 
which had induced them to take arms.^ 

Maurice having ordered his army The ne . ociation3 
to march back into Bavaria, and hav- peaceatPassau - 
ing published a proclamation enjoining the Lu¬ 
theran clergy and instructors of youth to resume 
the exercise of their functions in all the cities, 
schools, and universities from which they had been 
ejected, met Ferdinand at Passau on the twenty- 
sixth day of May. As matters of the greatest con¬ 
sequence to the future peace and independence of 
the empire were to be settled in this congress, the 
eyes of all Germany were fixed upon it. Besides 
Ferdinand and the imperial ambassadors, the duke 
of Bavaria, the bishops of Saltzburg and Aichsladt 
the ministers of all the electors, together with de¬ 
puties from most of the considerable princes and 
free cities, resorted to Passau. Maurice in the 
name of his associates, and the king of the Romans 
as the emperor’s representative, opened the negoci- 
ation. The princes who were present, together with 
the deputies of such as were absent, acted as inter¬ 
cessors or mediators between them. 

Maurice, in a long discourse, ex- The .terns which 
plained the motives of his own con- Waurice proposed. 

duct. After having enumerated all the unconstitu¬ 
tional and oppressive acts of the emperor's admin¬ 
istration, he, agreeably to the manifesto which he 
had published when he took arms against him, 
limited his demands to three articles: That the 
landgrave of Hesse should be immediately set at 
liberty ; that the grievances in the civil government 

q Sleid. 561. Thuan. 357. 


o Thuan. 351, 352. 


p Sleid. 557. Brantome, tom. vii. 39. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G51 


ROOK X. A. D. 1552.] 


of the empire should be redressed ; and that the 
protestants should be allowed the public exercise 
of their religion without molestation. Ferdinand 
and the imperial ambassadors discovering their un¬ 
willingness to gratify him with regard to all these 
points, the mediators wrote a joint letter to the em¬ 
peror, beseeching him to deliver Germany from the 
calamities of a civil war, by giving such satisfaction 
to Maurice and his party as might induce them to 
lay dow n their arms; and at the same time they 
prevailed upon Maurice to grant a prolongation of 
the truce for a short time, during which they under¬ 
took to procure the emperor’s final answer to his 
demands. 


Powerfully sup- This request was presented to the 
princes o^f the emperor in the name of all the princes 
empiie * of the empire, popish as well as pro- 

testant, in the name of such as had lent a helping 
hand to forw ard his ambitious schemes, as well as 
of those who had viewed the progress of his power 
with jealousy and dread. The uncommon and cor¬ 
dial unanimity with which they concurred at this 
juncture in enforcing Maurice’s demands and in re¬ 
commending peace, flowed from different causes. 
Such as were most attached to the Roman catholic 
church could not help observing that the protes- 
tant confederates were at the head of a numerous 
army, while the emperor was but just beginning to 
provide for his own defence. They foresaw that 
great efforts would be required of them, and would 
be necessary on their part, in order to cope with 
enemies who had been allowed to get the start so 
far, and to attain such formidable power. Expe¬ 
rience had taught them that the fruit of all these 


efforts would be reaped by the emperor alone, and 
the more complete any victory proved which they 
should gain, the faster would they bind their own 
fetters, and render them the more intolerable. These 
reflections made them cautious how they contributed 
a second time, by their indiscreet zeal, to put the 
emperor in possession of power which would be 
fatal to the liberties of their country. Notwith¬ 
standing the intolerant spirit of bigotry in that age, 
they chose rather that the protestants should acquire 
that security for their religion which they demand¬ 
ed, than by assisting Charles to oppress them, to 
give such additional force to the imperial preroga¬ 
tive as would overturn the constitution of the em¬ 
pire. To all these considerations the dread of 
seeing Germany laid waste by a civil war added 
new force. Many states of the empire already felt 
the destructive rage of Albert’s arms, others dreaded 
it, and all wished for an accommodation between 
the emperor and Maurice, which they hoped would 
save them from that cruel scourge. 

The motives Such were the reasons that induced 
the i em i pMor l irt d s0 man y princes, notwithstanding the 
this juncture. variety of their political interests and 

the opposition in their religious sentiments, to 


unite in recommending to the emperor an accommo¬ 
dation with Maurice, not only as a salutary but as a 


necessary measure. The motives which prompted 
Charles to desire it were not fewer or of less weight. 
He was perfectly sensible of the superiority which 
the confederates had acquired through his ow n neg¬ 
ligence ; and he now felt the insufficiency of his 
own resources to oppose them. His Spanish sub¬ 
jects, disgusted at his long absence, and weary of 
endless wars which were of little benefit to their 
country, refused to furnish him any considerable 
supply either of men or money ; and although by 
his address or importunity he might have hoped to 
draw from them at last more effectual aid, that, he 
knew, was too distant to be of any service in the 
present exigency of his affairs. His treasury was 
drained ; his veteran forces w ere dispersed or dis¬ 
banded, and he could not depend much either on 
the fidelity or courage of the new-levied soldiers 
whom he was collecting. There was no hope of re¬ 
peating with success the same artifices which had 
weakened and ruined the Smalkaldic league. As 
the end at which he aimed was now known, he 
could no longer employ the specious pretexts w hich 
had formerly concealed his ambitious designs. 
Every prince in Germany was alarmed and on his 
guard ; and it was vain to think of blinding them a 
second time to such a degree as to make one part of 
them instruments to enslave the other. The spirit 
of a confederacy whereof Maurice was the head, 
experience had taught him to be very different from 
that of the league of Smalkalde; and from what he 
had already felt, he had no reason to flatter himself 
that its councils would be as irresolute or its efforts 
as timid and feeble. If he should resolve on con¬ 
tinuing the war, he might be assured that the most 
considerable states in Germany would take part in 
it against him ; and a dubious neutrality was the 
utmost he could expect from the rest. While the 
confederates found full employment for his arms in 
one quarter, the king of France would seize the 
favourable opportunity, and push on his operations 
in another with almost certain success. That mon¬ 
arch had already made conquests in the empire, 
which Charles was no less eager to recover than 
impatient to be revenged on him for aiding his mal¬ 
content subjects. Though Henry had now retired 
from the banks of the Rhine, he had only varied the 
scene of hostilities, havinginvaded the Low Countries 
with all his forces. The Turks, roused by the soli¬ 
citations of the French king, as well as stimulated 
by resentment against Ferdinand for having violated 
the truce in Hungary, had prepared a powerful fleet 
to ravage the coasts of Naples and Sicily, which he 
had left almost defenceless, by calling thence the 
greatest part of the regular troops to join the army 
which he was now assembling. 

Ferdinand, who went in person to p ert ij nan d zea i- 
Villach, in order to lay before the anVccmnmoda- 
emperor the result of the conferences tl0n * 
at Passau, had likewise reasons peculiar to himself 
for desiring an accommodation. These prompted 
him to second w ith the greatest earnestness the argu- 




652 


ments which the princes assembled there had em¬ 
ployed in recommending it. He had observed, not 
without secret satisfaction, the fatal blow that had 
been given to the despotic power which his brother 
had usurped in the empire. He was extremely 
solicitous to prevent Charles from recovering his 
former superiority, as he foresaw that ambitious 
prince would immediately resume, with increased 
eagerness, and with a better chance of success, his 
favourite scheme of transmitting that power to his 
son, by excluding his brother from the right of suc¬ 
cession to the imperial throne. On this account he 
was willing to contribute towards circumscribing 
the imperial authority, in order to render his own 
possession of it certain. Besides, Solyman, exas¬ 
perated at the loss of Transylvania, and still more at 
the fraudulent arts by which it had been seized, had 
ordered into the field an army of an hundred thou¬ 
sand men, which having defeated a great body of 
Ferdinand’s troops and taken several places of im¬ 
portance, threatened not only to complete the con¬ 
quest of the province, but to drive them out of that 
part of Hungary which was still subject to his juris¬ 
diction. He was unable to resist such a mighty 
enemy ; the emperor, while engaged in a domestic 
war, could afford him no aid; and he could not even 
hope to draw from Germany the contingent, either 
of troops or money, usually furnished to repel the 
invasions of the infidels. Maurice having observed 
Ferdinand’s perplexity with regard to this last 
point, had offered, if peace were re-established on a 
secure foundation, that he would march in person 
with his troops into Hungary against the Turks. 
Such was the effect of this well-timed proposal, that 
Ferdinand, destitute of every other prospect of 
relief, became the most zealous advocate whom the 
confederates could have employed to urge their 
claims, and there was hardly any thing that they 
could have demanded which he would not have 
chosen to grant, rather than have retarded a pacifi¬ 
cation to which he trusted as the only means of 
saving his Hungarian crown. 

Circumstances When so raan y causes conspired in 

which retard it. renc i er i n g an accommodation eligible, 

it might have been expected that it would have taken 
place immediately. But the inflexibility of the 
emperor’s temper, together with his unwillingness 
at once to relinquish objects which he had long 
pursued with such earnestness and assiduity, coun¬ 
terbalanced, for some time, the force of all the 
motives which disposed him to peace, and not only 
put that event at a distance, but seemed to render 
it uncertain. When Maurice’s demands, together 
with the letter of the mediators at Passau, were 
presented to him, he peremptorily refused to redress 
the grievances which were pointed out, nor would 
he agree to any stipulation for the immediate secu¬ 
rity of the protestant religion, but proposed referring 
both these to the determination of a future diet. On 
his part he required that instant reparation should 
be made to all who, during the present war, had 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. 1>. 1552. BOOK X. 

suffered either by the licentiousness of the confede¬ 
rate troops or the exactions of their leaders. 

Maurice, who was well acquainted ^ 

with the emperor’s arts, immediately ous operations 

r ... facilitate it. 

concluded that he had nothing in view 
by these overtures but to amuse and deceive; and 
therefore, without listening to Ferdinand’s entrea¬ 
ties, he left Passau abruptly, and joined his troops, 
which were encamped at Mergentheim, a city in 
Franconia, belonging to the knights of the Teutonic 
order, he put them in motion and renewed hostili¬ 
ties. As three thousand men in the emperor’s pay 
had thrown themselves into Francfort on the Maine, 
and might from thence invest the neighbouring 
country of Hesse, he marched towards that city, and 
laid siege to it in form. The briskness 
of this enterprise, and the vigour with 
which Maurice carried on his approaches against 
the town, gave such an alarm to the emperor, as 
disposed him to lend a more favourable ear to Fer¬ 
dinand’s arguments in behalf of an accommodation. 
Firm and haughty as his nature was, he found it 
necessary to bend, and signified his willingness to 
make concessions on his part, if Maurice, in return, 
would abate somewhat of the rigour of his demands. 
Ferdinand, as soon as he perceived that his brother 
began to yield, did not desist from his importunities 
until he prevailed on him to declare what was the 
utmost that he would grant for the security of the 
confederates. Having gained this difficult point, he 
instantly despatched a messenger to Maurice’s 


July 17. 


camp, and imparting to him the emperor’s final 
resolution, conjured him not to frustrate his endea¬ 
vours for the re-establishment of peace; or, by an 
unseasonable obstinacy on his side, to disappoint 
the wishes of all Germany for that salutary event. 

Maurice, notwithstanding the pros- 

.... r i • • Maurice desirous 

perous situation of his affairs, was of an accommoda- 

strongly inclined to listen to this ad- lon * 
vice. The emperor, though overreached and sur¬ 
prised, had now begun to assemble troops, and 
however slow his motions might be while the first 
effects of his consternation remained, he w as sensi¬ 
ble that Charles must at last act with vigour pro¬ 
portional to the extent of his power and territories, 
and lead into Germany an army formidable by its 
numbers, and still more by the terror of his name as 
well as the remembrance of his past victories. He 
could scarcely hope that a confederacy composed of 
so many members would continue to operate with 
union and perseverance sufficient to resist the con¬ 
sistent and w ell-directed efforts of an army at the 
absolute disposal of a leader accustomed to com¬ 
mand and to conquer. He felt already, although he 
had not hitherto experienced the shock of any 
adverse event, that he himself was the head of a 
disjointed body. He saw from the example of 
Albert of Brandenburg how difficult it would be, 
with all his address and credit, to prevent any par¬ 
ticular member from detaching himself from the 
whole, and how' impossible to recall him to his pro- 



BOOK X. A. D. 1552.] 

per rank and subordination. This filled him with 
apprehensions for the common cause. Another con¬ 
sideration gave him no less disquiet with regard to 
his own particular interests. By setting at liberty 
the degraded elector, and by repealing the act by 
which that prince was deprived of his hereditary ho¬ 
nours and dominions, the emperor had it in his 
power to wound him in the most tender part. The 
efforts of a prince beloved by his ancient subjects 
and revered by all the protestant party, in order to 
recover what had been unjustly taken from him, 
could hardly have failed of exciting commotions in 
Saxony, which would endanger all that he had 
acquired at the expense of so much dissimulation 
and artifice. It was no less in the emperor’s power 
to render vain all the solicitations of the confede¬ 
rates in behalf of the landgrave. He had only to 
add one act of violence more to the injustice and 
rigour with which he had already treated him ; and 
he had accordingly threatened the sons of that un¬ 
fortunate prince, that if they persisted in their 
present enterprise, instead of seeing their father 
restored to liberty, they should hear of his having 
suffered the punishment which his rebellion had 
merited. r 

Having deliberated upon all these 

'I'he peace of re- . .... . 

ligion concluded points with his associates, Maurice 

P&SS&U 

thought it more prudent to accept of 
the conditions offered, though less advantageous 
than those which he had proposed, than again to 
commit all to the doubtful issue of war. 8 He re¬ 
paired forthwith to Passau, and signed 
the treaty of peace ; of which the chief 
articles were,—That before the twelfth day of 
August, the confederates shall lay down their arms 
and disband their forces ; that on or before that day 
the landgrave shall be set at liberty, and conveyed 
in safety to his castle of Rheinfels; that a diet 
shall be held within six months, in order to de¬ 
liberate concerning the most proper and effectual 
method of preventing for the future all disputes and 
dissensions about religion ; that in the mean time, 
neither the emperor nor any other prince shall, upon 
any pretext whatever, offer any injury or violence 
to such as adhered to the confession of Augsburg, 
but allow them to enjoy the free and undisturbed 
exercise of their religion ; that in return the pro- 
testants shall not molest the catholics either in the 
exercise of their ecclesiastical jurisdiction or in per¬ 
forming their religious ceremonies; that the imperial 
chamber shall administer justice impartially to per¬ 
sons of both parties, and* protestants be admitted 
indiscriminately with the catholics to sit as judges 
in that court; that if the next diet should not be 
able to terminate the disputes with regard to re¬ 
ligion, the stipulations in the present treaty in be¬ 
half of the protestants shall continue for ever in full 
force and vigour; that none of the confederates 
shall be liable to any action on account of what had 
happened during the course of the war ; that the 

r Sleid. 5? 1. s Ibid. Ilist. 563, &c. Thuan. lib. x. 359, kc. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G53 


Aug. 2. 


consideration of those encroachments which had 
been made, as Maurice pretended, upon the consti¬ 
tution and liberties of the empire shall be remitted 
to the approaching diet; that Albert of Brandenburg 
shall be comprehended in the treaty, provided he 
shall accede to it, and disband his forces before the 
twelfth of August. 1 

Such was the memorable treaty of Reflec tions upon 
Passau, that overturned the vast fabric |]pon P the%uduct 
in erecting which Charles had em- 0 Maurice. 

ployed so many years, and had exerted the utmost 
efforts of his power and policy; that annulled all 
his regulations with regard to religion, defeated all 
his hopes of rendering the imperial authority abso¬ 
lute and hereditary in his family, and established 
the protestant church, which had hitherto subsisted 
precariously in Germany, through connivance or by 
expedients, upon a firm and secure basis. Maurice 
reaped all the glory of having concerted and com¬ 
pleted this unexpected revolution. It is a singular 
circumstance that the Reformation should be in¬ 
debted for its security and full establishment in 
Germany to the same hand which had brought it to 
the brink of destruction, and that both events should 
have been accomplished by the same arts of dis¬ 
simulation. The ends, however, which Maurice 
had in view at those different junctures, seem to 
have been more attended to than the means by which 
he attained them; and he was now as universally 
extolled for his zeal and public spirit as he had 
lately been condemned for his indifference and inte¬ 
rested policy. It is no less worthy of observation, 
that the French king, a monarch zealous for the 
catholic faith, should employ his power in order to 
protect and maintain the Reformation in the empire, 
at the very time when he was persecuting his own 
protestant subjects with all the fierceness of bigotry ; 
and that the league for this purpose, which proved 
so fatal to the Romish church, should be negociated 
and signed by a Roman catholic bishop. So won¬ 
derfully doth the wisdom of God superintend and 
regulate the caprice of human passions, and render 
them subservient towards the accomplishment of his 
own purposes. 

Little attention was paid to the in - Li?tle attention 
terests of the French king during the frenchVi'nl in 
negociations at Passau. Maurice and tll,streat y- 
his associates having gained what they had in view, 
discovered no great solicitude about an ally whom, 
perhaps, they reckoned to be overpaid for the assist¬ 
ance which he had given them, by his acquisitions 
in Lorrain. A short clause which they procured to 
be inserted in the treaty, importing that the king of 
France might communicate to the confederates his 
particular pretensions or causes of hostility, which 
they would lay before the emperor, was the only 
sign that they gave of their remembering how much 
they had been indebted to him for their success. 
Henry experienced the same treatment which every 
prince who lends his aid to the authors of a civil 

t Recueil des Traitcz, ii. 261. 



G54 


THE REIGN OF THE 


war may expect. As soon as the rage of taction 
began to subside, and any prospect of accommoda¬ 
tion to open, his services were forgotten, and his as¬ 
sociates made a merit with their sovereign of the 
ingratitude with which they abandoned their pro¬ 
tector. -But how much soever Henry might be en¬ 
raged at the perfidy of his allies, or at the impatience 
with which they hastened to make their peace with 
the emperor at his expense, he was perfectly sen¬ 
sible that it was more his interest to keep well with 
the Germanic body than to resent the indignities 
offered him by any particular members of it. For 
that reason he dismissed the hostages which he had 
received from Maurice and his associates, and af¬ 
fected to talk in the same strain as formerly con¬ 
cerning his zeal for maintaining the ancient consti¬ 
tution and liberties of the empire. 


BOOK XI. 

Aug . 3 As soon as the treaty of Passau was 

in to* i nfngaiy hes signed, Maurice, in consequence of his 
against the lurks, engagements with Ferdinand, marched 

into Hungary at the head of twenty thousand men. 
But the great superiority of the Turkish armies, the 
frequent mutinies both of the Spanish and German 
soldiers, occasioned by their want of pay, together 
with the dissensions between Maurice and Castaldo, 
who was piqued at being obliged to resign the chief 
command to him, prevented his performing any 
thing in that country suitable to his former fame, or 
of great benefit to the king of the Romans. 9 

When Maurice set out for Hungary, 

ii'es le recovers the prince of Hesse parted from him 
ins liberty. with the forces under his command, 

and marched back into his own country, that he 
might be ready to receive his father upon his return, 
and give up to him the reins of government, which 
he had held during his absence. But fortune was 
not yet weary of persecuting the landgrave. A bat¬ 
talion of mercenary troops which had been in the 
pay of Hesse, being seduced by Reifenberg their 
colonel, a soldier of fortune, ready to engage in 
any enterprise, secretly withdrew from the young 
prince as he was marching homewards, and joined 
Albert of Bradenburg, who still continued in arms 
against the emperor, refusing to be included in the 
treaty of Passau. Unhappily for the landgrave an 
account of this reached the Netherlands just as he 
was dismissed from the citadel of Mechlin where 
he had been confined, but before he had got beyond 
the frontiers of that country. The queen of Hun¬ 
gary, who governed there in her brother’s name, in¬ 
censed at such an open violation of the treaty to 
which he owed his liberty, issued orders to arrest 
him, and committed him again to the custody of the 
same Spanish captain who had guarded him for five 

a Istuanhaffii Hist. Hungar. 288. Thuan. lib. x. 371. 


[A. D. 1552. BOOK XI. 

years with the most severe vigilance. Philip be¬ 
held all the horrors of his imprisonment renewed ; 
and his spirits subsiding in the same proportion as 
they had risen during the short interval in which he 
had enjoyed liberty, he sunk into despair, and be¬ 
lieved himself to be doomed to perpetual captivity. 
But the matter being so explained to the emperor 
as fully satisfied him that the revolt of Reifenberg’s 
mercenaries could be imputed neither to the land¬ 
grave nor to his son, he gave orders for his release, 
and Philip at last obtained the liberty for which he 
had so long languished. b But though he recovered 
his freedom and was reinstated in his dominions, his 
sufferings seem to have broken the vigour and to have 
extinguished the activity of his mind : from being 
the boldest as well as most enterprising prince in 
the empire, he became the most timid and cautious, 
and passed the remainder of his days in a pacific 
indolence. 

The degraded elector of Saxony like¬ 
wise procured his liberty in conse- L or of S saxonyf Ct " 
quence of the treaty of Passau. The emperor hav¬ 
ing been obliged to relinquish all his schemes of 
extirpating the protestant religion, had no longer 
any motive for detaining him a prisoner; and being 
extremely solicitous, at that juncture, to recover 
the confidence and good-will of the Germans, whose 
assistance was essential to the success of the enter¬ 
prise which he meditated against the king of France, 
he, among other expedients for that purpose, thought 
of releasing from imprisonment a prince whose 
merit entitled him no less to esteem than his suffer¬ 
ings rendered him the object of compassion. John 
Frederic took possession accordingly of that part 
of his territories which had been reserved for 
him when Maurice was invested with the elec¬ 
toral dignity. As in this situation he continued 
to display the same virtuous magnanimity for 
which he had been conspicuous in a more pros¬ 
perous and splendid state, and which he had re¬ 
tained amidst all his sufferings, he maintained 
during the remainder of his life that high reputa¬ 
tion to which he had so just a title. 

The loss of Metz, Toul, and Verdun, 
had made a deep impression on the so'ives^omak/ 6 * 
emperor. Accustomed to terminate waru P° n irance * 
all his operations against France with advantage to 
himself, he thought that it nearly concerned his 
honour not to allow Henry the superiority in this 
war, or to suffer his own administration to be 
stained with the infamy of having permitted ter¬ 
ritories of such conseqjuence to be dismembered 
from the empire. This was no less a point of inter¬ 
est than of honour. As the frontier of Champagne 
was more naked and lay more exposed than that of 
any province in France, Charles had frequently, 
during his wars with that kingdom, made inroads 
upon that quarter with great success and effect; 
but if Henry were allowed to retain his late con¬ 
quests, France would gain such a formidable bar- 

b Sleid. 573. Celcarii Comment. 831. 





EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G55 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1552.] 


rier on that side as to be altogether secure where 
formerly she had been weakest. On the other hand, 
the empire had now lost as much in point of secu¬ 
rity as France had acquired ; and being stripped of 
the defence which ihose cities afforded it, lay open 
to be invaded on a quarter where all the towns hav¬ 
ing been hitherto considered as interior, and re¬ 
mote from any enemy, were but slightly fortified. 
These considerations determined Charles to attempt 
recovering the three towns of which Henry had 
made himself master ; and the preparations which 
he had made against Maurice and his associates 
enabled him to carry his resolution into immediate 
execution. 


His preparations 
till 


As soon, then, as the peace was con- 
tor tfns purpose. c i U( j e( j a t Passau, he left his inglori¬ 
ous retreat at Yillach, and advanced to Augsburg, 
at the head of a considerable body of Germans 
which he had levied, together with all the troops 
which he had drawn out of Italy and Spain. To 
these he added several battalions, which having 
been in the pay of the confederates, entered into his 
service when dismissed by them ; and he prevailed 
likewise on some princes of the empire to join him 
with their vassals. In order to conceal the destina¬ 
tion of this formidable army, and to guard against 
alarming the French king, so as to put him on pre¬ 
paring for the defence of his late conquests, he gave 
out that he was to march forthwith into Hungary, 
in order to second Maurice in his operations against 
the infidels. When he began to advance towards 
the Rhine, and could no longer employ that pretext, 
he tried a new artifice, and spread a report that he 
took this route in order to chastise Albert of Bran¬ 
denburg, whose cruel exactions in that part of the 
empire called loudly for his interposition to check 
them. 

The precautions But the French having grown ac- 
the t d e efence C of for quainted, at last, with arts by which 
Metz - they had been so often deceived, view¬ 

ed all Charles’s motions with distrust. Henry im¬ 
mediately discerned the true object of his vast pre¬ 
parations, and resolved to defend the important 
conquests which he had gained with vigour equal 
to that with which they were about to be attacked. 
As he foresaw that the whole weight of the war 
would be turned against Metz, by whose fate that 
of Toul and Verdun would be determined, he no- 
Thedukeof minated Francis of Lorrain, duke of 
govemoroTthe d Huise, to take the command in that 
town - city during the siege, the issue of 

which would equally affect the honour and interest 
of his country. His choice could not have fallen 
upon any person more worthy of that trust. The 
duke of Guise possessed in a high degree all the 
talents of courage, sagacity, and presence of mind, 
which render men eminent in military command. 
He was largely endowed with that magnanimity of 
soul which delights in bold enterprises, and aspires 
to fame by splendid and extraordinary actions. 
He repaired with joy to the dangerous station as¬ 


signed him, as to a theatre on which he might dis¬ 
play his great qualities under the immediate eye of 
his countrymen, all ready to applaud him. The 
martial genius of the French nobility in that age, 
which considered it as the greatest reproach to re¬ 
main inactive when there was any opportunity of 
signalizing their courage, prompted great numbers 
to follow a leader who was the darling as well as 
the pattern of every one that courted military fame. 
Several princes of the blood, many noblemen of the 
highest rank, and all the young officers who could 
obtain the king’s permission, entered Metz as vo¬ 
lunteers. By their presence they added spirit to 
the garrison, and enabled the duke of Guise to em¬ 
ploy on every emergency persons eager to distin¬ 
guish themselves and fit to conduct any service. 

But with whatever alacrity the duke p repares for a 
of Guise undertook the defence of vl g° rousdefenc e. 
Metz, he found every thing upon his arrival there 
in such a situation as might have induced any per¬ 
son of less intrepid courage to despair of defending 
it wdth success. The city w as of great extent, with 
large suburbs; the walls were in many places 
feeble and without ramparts ; the ditch narrow; and 
the old towers, which projected instead of bastions, 
were at too great distance from each other to defend 
the space between them. For all these defects he 
endeavoured to provide the best remedy which the 
time would permit. He ordered the suburbs, with¬ 
out sparing the monasteries or churches, not even 
that of St. Arnulph, in which several kings of 
France had been buried, to be levelled with the 
ground ; but in order to guard against the imputa¬ 
tion of impiety, to which such a violation of so 
many sacred edifices as well as of the ashes of the 
dead might expose him, he executed this with much 
religious ceremony. Having ordered all the holy 
vestments and utensils, together with the bones of the 
kings and other persons deposited in these churches, 
to be removed, they were carried in solemn proces¬ 
sion to a church within the walls, he himself walking 
before them bare-headed with a torch in his hand. 
He then pulled down such houses as stood near the 
walls, cleared and enlarged the ditch, repaired the 
ruinous fortifications, and erected new ones. As it 
was necessary that all these works should be finished 
with the utmost expedition, he laboured at them 
with his own hands : the officers and volunteers 
imitated his example, and the soldiers submitted 
with cheerfulness to the most severe and fatiguing 
service when they saw that their superiors did not 
decline to bear a part in it. At the same time he 
compelled all useless persons to leave the place ; 
he filled the magazines with provisions and military 
stores ; he burnt the mills and destroyed the corn 
and forage for several miles round the town. Such 
were his popular talents, as well as his arts of ac¬ 
quiring an ascendant over the minds of men, that 
the citizens seconded him with no less ardour than 
the soldiers ; and every other passion being swal¬ 
lowed up in the zeal to repulse the enemy with 



Charles advances 
towards Metz. 


C5G 

which he inspired them, they beheld the ruin of 
their estates, together with the havoc which he 
made among their public and private buildings, 
without any emotion of resentment. 0 

Meantime the emperor, having col¬ 
lected all his forces, continued his 
march towards Metz. As he passed through the 
cities on the Rhine, he saw the dismal effects of 
that licentious and wasteful war which Albert had 
carried on in these parts. Upon his approach, that 
prince, though at the head of twenty thousand men, 
withdrew into Lorrain, as if he had intended to join 
the French king, whose arms he had quartered with 
his own in all his standards and ensigns. Albert 
was not in a condition to cope with the imperial 
troops,* 1 which amounted at least to sixty thousand 
men, forming one of the most numerous and best- 
appointed armies which had been brought into the 
field during that age, in any of the wars among 
Christian princes. 

The chief command, under the em- 

Invests the town. . 

peror, was committed to the duke of 
Alva, assisted by the marquis de Marignano, toge¬ 
ther with the most experienced of the Italian and 
Spanish generals. As it was now towards the end 
of October, these intelligent officers represented the 
great danger of beginning at such an advanced sea¬ 
son a siege which could not fail to prove very tedi¬ 
ous. But Charles adhered to his own opinion with 
his usual obstinacy; and being confident that he 
had made such preparations and taken such pre¬ 
cautions as would insure success, he ordered the 
city to be invested. As soon as the duke of Alva 
appeared, a large body of the French 
sallied out and attacked his vanguard 
with great vigour, put it in confusion, and killed or 
took prisoners a considerable number of men. Bj r 
this early specimen which they gave of the con¬ 
duct of their officers as well as the valour of their 
troops, they showed the imperialists what an enemy 
they had to encounter, and how dear every advan¬ 
tage must cost them. The place, however, was 
completely invested, the trenches were opened, and 
the other works begun. 

Both parties en- The attention both of the besiegers 
Albert ofBran- an( l besieged was turned for some time 
denburg. towards Albert of Brandenburg, and 

they strove with emulation which should gain that 
prince, who still hovered in the neighbourhood, 
fluctuating in all the uncertainty of irresolution 
natural to a man who, being swayed by no prin¬ 
ciple, was allured different ways by contrary views 
of interest. The French tempted him with offers 
extremely beneficial ; the imperialists scrupled at 
no promise which they thought might allure him. 
After much hesitation he was gained by the emperor, 
from whom he expected to receive advantages which 
were both more immediate and more permanent. As 
the French king, who began to suspect his inten¬ 
tions, had appointed a body of troops under the 


Oct. 19. 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1552. BOOK XI 

duke of Aumale, brother to the duke of Guise, to 
watch his motions, Albert fell upon them unexpect¬ 
edly with such vigour, that he routed them entiiel^, 
killed many of the officers, wounded Aumale him¬ 
self, and took him prisoner. Imme- ^ 4 
diately after this victory he marched in 
triumph to Metz, and joined his army to that of 
the emperor. Charles, in reward for this service, 
and the great accession of strength which he brought 
him, granted Albert a formal pardon of all past 
offences, and confirmed him in the possession of the 
territories which he had violently usurped during 
the war. e 

The duke of Guise, though deeply The gallant be- 
affected witli his brother’s misfortune, duke°?f g uisl 
did not remit in any degree the vigour and his garrison. 

with which he defended the town. He harassed 
the besiegers by frequent sallies, in which his offi¬ 
cers were so eager to distinguish themselves, that 
his authority being hardly sufficient to restrain the 
impetuosity of their courage, he was obliged at dif¬ 
ferent times to shut the gates and to conceal the 
keys, in order to prevent the princes of the blood, 
and noblemen of the first rank, from exposing them¬ 
selves to danger in every sally. He repaired in the 
night what the enemy’s artillery had beat down dur¬ 
ing the day, or erected behind the ruined works new 
fortifications of almost equal strength. The impe¬ 
rialists, on their part, pushed on the attack with 
great spirit, and carried forward, at once, approaches 
against different parts of the town. But the art of 
attacking fortified places was not then arrived at 
that degree of perfection to which it was carried 
towards the close of the sixteenth century, during 
the long war in the Netherlands. The besiegers, 
after the unwearied labour of many weeks, found 
that they had made but little progress ; and although 
their batteries had made breaches in different places, 
they saw, to their astonishment, works suddenly 


c Thuan. xi. 387. 


d Natal. Comitis Hist. 127. 


Nov. 26 . 


appear in demolishing which their fatigues and 
dangers would be renewed. The emperor, enraged 
at the obstinate resistance which his army met with, 
left Thionville where he had been confined by a 
violent fit of the gout, and though still so infirm 
that he was obliged to be carried in a litter, he re¬ 
paired to the camp, that by his pre¬ 
sence he might animate the soldiers, 
and urge on the attack with greater spirit. Upon 
his arrival, new batteries were erected, and new 
efforts were made with redoubled ardour. 

But by this time winter had set in 

... , . The distress o e 

with great rigour; the camp was alter- the imperial 

nately deluged with rain or covered army ’ 
with snow ; at the same time provisions were be¬ 
come extremely scarce, as a body of French cavalry 
which hovered in the neighbourhood often inter¬ 
cepted the convoys, or rendered their arrival diffi¬ 
cult and uncertain. Diseases began to spread among 
the soldiers, especially among the Italians and 
Spaniards, unaccustomed to such inclement wea- 

e Sleid. 575. Thuan. lib. xi. 389, 392. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G57 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1552.] 


ther; great numbers were disabled from serving, 
and many died. At length such breaches were 
made as seemed practicable, and Charles resolved 
to hazard a general assault, in spite of all the re¬ 
monstrances of his generals against the imprudence 
ot attacking a numerous garrison conducted and 
animated by the most gallant of the French nobility, 
with an army weakened by diseases and dishearten¬ 
ed with ill success. The duke of Guise suspecting 
the emperor’s intentions from the extraordinary 
movements which he observed in the enemy’s 
camp, ordered all his troops to their respective 
posts. They appeared immediately on the walls 
and behind the breaches, with such a determined 
countenance, so eager for the combat, and so well 
prepared to give the assailants a warm reception, 
that the imperialists, instead of advancing to the 
charge when the word of command was given, 
stood motionless in a timid dejected silence. The 
emperor perceiving that he could not trust troops 
whose spirits were so much broken, retired abruptly 
to his quarters, complaining that he was now de¬ 
serted by his soldiers, w ho deserved no longer the 
name of men/ 


The emperor Deeply as this behaviour of his troops 
changes the me- mortified and affected Charles, he would 

thod ot attack. ’ 

not hear of abandoning the siege, though 
he saw the necessity of changing the method of at¬ 
tack. He suspended the fury of his batteries, and 
proposed to proceed by the more secure but tedious 
method of sapping. But as it still continued to 
rain or to snow almost incessantly, such as were 
employed in this service endured incredible hard¬ 
ships ; and the duke of Guise, whose industry was 
not inferior to his valour, discovering all their mines, 
counter-worked them, and prevented their effect. 
At last Charles finding it impossible to contend any 
longer with the severity of the season, and with 
enemies whom he could neither overpower by force 
nor subdue by art, while at the same time a con¬ 
tagious distemper raged among his troops, and cut 
off’ daily great numbers of the officers as well as 
soldiers, yielded to the solicitations of his generals, 
who conjured him to save the remains of his army 
by a timely retreat: “ Fortune,” says he, “ I now 
perceive, resembles other females, and chooses to 
confer her favours on young men, while she turns 
her back on those who are advanced in years.” 

Upon this he gave orders immedi- 
Obii^ecfto raise ately to raise the siege, and submitted 

to the disgrace of abandoning the en¬ 
terprise after having continued fifty-six days before 
the town, during which time he had lost upwards of 
thirty thousand men, who died of diseases or were 
killed by the enemy. The duke of Guise, as soon 
as he perceived the intention of the imperialists, 
sent out several bodies both of cavalry and infantry 
to infest their rear, to pick up stragglers, and to 
seize every opportunity of attacking them with ad- 


f Thuan. 397 
g Sleid. 575. 
tom. iii. 3y2. 


Thuan. lib. xi. 389, &c. Pere Daniel, Hist, de France, 
Pere Daniel’s account of this siege is taken from the 
2 U 


vantage. Such was the confusion with which they 
made their retreat, that the French might have 
harassed them in the most cruel manner. But when 
they sallied out, a spectacle presented Ruin of the im _ 
itself to their view which extinguished a the 

at once all hostile rage, and melted lrench - 
them into tenderness and compassion. The imperial 
camp was filled with the sick and wounded, with 
the dead and the dying. In all the different roads 
by which the army retired, numbers were found, 
who having made an effort to escape beyond their 
strength, were left, when they could go no further, 
to perish without assistance. This they received 
from their enemies, and were indebted to them for 
all the kind offices which their friends had not the 
power to perform. The duke of Guise immediately 
ordered proper refreshments for such as were dying 
of hunger; he appointed surgeons to attend the 
sick and wounded ; he removed such as could bear 
it into the adjacent villages ; and those who would 
have suffered by being carried so far, he admitted 
into the hospitals which he had fitted up in the city 
for his own soldiers. As soon as they recovered, he 
sent them home under an escort of soldiers, and 
with money to bear their charges. By these acts of 
humanity, which were uncommon in that age, when 
war was carried on with greater rancour and fero¬ 
city than at present, the duke of Guise completed 
the fame which he had acquired by his gallant and 
successful defence of Metz, and engaged those 
whom he had vanquished to vie with his own coun¬ 
trymen in extolling his name. g 

To these calamities in Germany were 

, , , , ~ , , . • X, 1 Bad situation of 

added such unfortunate events in Italy % emperor s 
as rendered this the most disastrous affairs m Itd ' 3 • 
year in the emperor’s life. During his residence 
at Villaeh, Charles had applied to Cosmo di Me¬ 
dici for the loan of two hundred thousand crowns. 
But his credit at that time was so low. that in order 
to obtain this inconsiderable sum, he was obliged to 
put him in possession of the principality of Piom- 
bino; and by giving up that, he lost the footing 
which he had hitherto maintained in Tuscany, and 
enabled Cosmo to assume, for the future, the tone 
and deportment of a prince altogether independent. 
Much about the time that his indigence constrained 
him to part with this valuable territory, he lost Siena, 
which was of still greater consequence, through the 
ill conduct of don Diego de Mendoza. h 

Siena, like most of the great cities The revolt of 
in Italy, had long enjoyed a republi- Sieua - 
can government under the protection of the empire ; 
but being torn in pieces by the dissensions between 
the nobility and the people which divided all the 
Italian commonwealths, the faction of the people, 
which gained the ascendant, besought the emperor 
to become the guardian of the administration which 
they had established, and admitted into their city a. 
small body of Spanish soldiers, whom he had sent 

journal of the Sieur tie Salignac, who was present. Natal. Comit. 
Hist. 129. 

h Thuan. lib. xi. 376. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


(>58 


[A. D. 1552. ROOK XI. 


to countenance the execution of the laws and to 
preserve tranquillity among them. The command 
of these troops was given to Mendoza, at that time 
ambassador for the emperor at Rome, who per¬ 
suaded the credulous multitude that it was neces¬ 
sary, for their security against any future attempt 
of the nobles, to allow him to build a citadel in 
Siena ; and as he flattered himself that by means of 
this fortress he might render the emperor master of 
the city, he pushed on the works with all possible 
despatch. Rut he threw olf the mask too soon. 
Refore the fortifications w r ere completed, he began 
to indulge his natural haughtiness and severity of 
temper, and to treat the citizens with great inso¬ 
lence. At the same time the soldiers in garrison 
being paid as irregularly as the emperor’s troops 
usually were, lived almost at discretion upon the 
inhabitants, and were guilty of many acts of licence 
and oppression. 

These injuries awakened the Sienese 

i np Qipnp^p poiirt 

the assistance of to a sense of their danger. As they 
saw 7 the necessity of exerting them¬ 
selves while the unfinished fortifications of the cita¬ 
del left them any hopes of success, they applied to 
the French ambassador at Rome, who readily pro¬ 
mised them his master’s protection and assistance. 
At the same time, forgetting their domestic animo¬ 
sities when such a mortal blow was aimed at the 
liberty and existence of the republic, they sent 
agents to the exiled nobles, and invited them to 
concur with them in saving their country from the 
servitude with which it was threatened As there 
was not a moment to lose, measures were concerted 
speedily but with great prudence, and were exe¬ 
cuted with equal vigour. The citizens rose sud¬ 
denly in arms; the exiles flocked into the town 
from different parts, with all their partisans and 
what troops they could draw together; and several 
bodies of mercenaries in the pay of France appeared 
to support them. The Spaniards, though surprised 
and much inferior in number, defended themselves 
with great courage ; but seeing no prospect of relief, 
and having no hopes of maintaining their station 
long in a half-finished fortress, they soon gave it up. 
The Sienese, with the utmost alacrity, levelled it 
with the ground, that no monument might remain of 
that odious structure which had been raised in order 
to enslave them. At the same time renouncing all 
connexion with the emperor, they sent ambassadors 
to thank the king of France as the restorer of their 
liberty, and to entreat that he would secure to them 
the perpetual enjoyment of that blessing, by con¬ 
tinuing his protection to their republic. 1 
Descent of the To these misfortunes one still more 
kingdom of Na- fatal had almost succeeded. The se¬ 
vere administration of Don Pedro de 
Toledo, viceroy of Naples, having filled that king¬ 
dom with murmuring and disaffection, the prince 
of Salerno, the head of the malcontents, had fled to 


the court of France, where all who bore ill-will to 
the emperor or his ministers were sure of finding 
protection and assistance. That nobleman, in the 
usual style of exiles, boasting much of the number 
and power of his partisans, and of his great in¬ 
fluence with them, prevailed on Henry to think of 
invading Naples, from an expectation of being- 
joined by all those with whom the prince of Salerno 
held correspondence, or who were dissatisfied with 
Toledo’s government. Rut though the first hint of 
this enterprise was suggested by the prince of Sa¬ 
lerno, Henry did not choose that its success should 
entirely depend upon his being able to fulfil the 
promises which he had made. He applied for aid 
to Solyman, whom he courted, after his father’s ex¬ 
ample, as his most vigorous auxiliary against the 
emperor, and solicited him to second his operations 
by sending a powerful fleet into the Mediterranean. 
It was not difficult to obtain w hat he requested of 
the sultan, who at this time was highly incensed 
against the house of Austria on account of the pro¬ 
ceedings in Hungary. He ordered an hundred and 
fifty ships to be equipped, that they might sail to¬ 
wards the coast of Naples at whatever time Henry 
should name, and might co-operate with the French 
troops in their attempts upon that kingdom. The 
command of this fleet was given to the corsair 
Dragut, an officer trained up under Rarbarossa, and 
scarcely inferior to his master in courage, in talents, 
or in good fortune. He appeared on the coast of 
Calabria at the time which had been agreed on, 
landed at several places, plundered and burnt 
several villages ; and at last casting anchor in the 
bay of Naples, filled that city with consternation. 
Rut as the French fleet, detained by some accident 
which the contemporary historians have not ex¬ 
plained, did not join the Turks according to con¬ 
cert, they, after w aiting twenty days w ithout hearing 
any tidings of it, set sail for Constantinoplfe, and 
thus delivered the viceroy of Naples from the terror 
of an invasion which he was not in a condition to 
have resisted. 15 

As the French had never given so 1553. 

, , _ . The emperor sen- 

Severe a check to the emperor in any sibiy affected 
r • , . with the state of 

former campaign, they expressed 1 m- his affairs. 

moderate joy at the success of their arms. Charles 
himself, accustomed to a long series of prosperity, 
felt the calamity most sensibly, and retired from 
Metz into the Low Countries, much dejected with 
the cruel reverse of fortune, which affected him in 
his declining age, when the violence of the gout 
had increased to such a pitch as entirely broke the 
vigour of his constitution, and rendered him peevish, 
difficult of access, and often incapable of applying 
to business. Rut whenever he enjoyed any interval 
of ease, all his thoughts were bent on revenge; and 
he deliberated with the greatest solicitude concern¬ 
ing the most proper means of annoying France, and 
of effacing the stain which had obscured the re- 


i Pecci Memorie de Siena, vol. iii. p. 230, 261. Thuan. 375, 377, &c. 
Paruta Hist. Venet. 207. Mem. de Ribier, 424, &rc. 


k Thuan. 375, 380. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 403. Giannone. 



BOOK XI. A. 1). 1563.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


659 


putation and glory of his arms. All the schemes 
concerning Germany, which had engrossed him 
so long, being disconcerted by the peace of Pas- 
sau, the ailairs of the empire became only se¬ 
condary objects of attention, and enmity to France 
was the predominant passion which chiefly occu¬ 
pied his mind. 

The violent p.o- Tlie turbulent ambition of Albert of 
berfoP b randen- Brandenburg excited 'violent commo¬ 
tions, which disturbed the empire 
during this year. That prince’s troops having 
shared in the calamities of the siege of Metz, were 
greatly reduced in number. But the emperor, 
prompted by gratitude for his distinguished services 
on that occasion, or perhaps with a secret view of 
fomenting divisions among the princes of the em¬ 
pire, having paid up all the money due to him, 
he was enabled, with that sum, to hire so many of 
the soldiers dismissed from the imperial army, that 
he was soon at the head of a body of men as numer¬ 
ous as ever. The bishops of Bamberg and Wurtz- 
burg having solicited the imperial chamber to annul, 
by its authority, the iniquitous conditions which 
Albert bad compelled them to sign, that court una¬ 
nimously found all their engagements with him to 
be void in their own nature, because they had been 
extorted by force ; enjoined Albert to renounce all 
claim to the performance of them ; and if he should 
persist in such an unjust demand, exhorted all the 
princes of the empire to take arms against him as a 
disturber of the public tranquillity. To this deci¬ 
sion Albert opposed the confirmation of his trans¬ 
actions with the two prelates, which the emperor 
had granted him as the reward of his having joined 
the imperial army at Metz ; and in order to intimi¬ 
date his antagonists, as well as to convince them 
of his resolution not to relinquish his pretensions, 
he put his troops in motion, that he might secure 
the territory in question. Various endeavours 
were employed, and many expedients proposed, in 
order to prevent the kindling of a new war in 
Germany. But the same warmth of temper which 
rendered Albert turbulent and enterprising, inspir¬ 
ing him with the most sanguine hopes of success 
even in his wildest undertakings, he disdainfully 
rejected all reasonable overtures of accommo¬ 
dation. 

Upon this the imperial chamber 

bytheTmperiaf 1 issued its decree against him, and 
chamber. required the elector of Saxony, toge¬ 

ther with several other princes mentioned by name, 
to take arms in order to carry it into execution. 
Maurice and those associated with him were not 
unwilling to undertake this service. They were 
extremely solicitous to maintain public order by 
supporting the authority of the imperial chamber, 
and saw the necessity of giving a timely check to 
the usurpations of an ambitious prince, who had 
no principle of action but regard to his own interest, 

1 Sleid. 585. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 442. Arnoldi Vita Maurit. ap. Men- 

kgn. ii. 1242* , .. 

m" Historia Pugnas infelicis inter Maurit. et Albert. Thom. Wintzero 

2 u 2 


and no motive to direct him but the impulse of un¬ 
governable passions. They had good reason to sus¬ 
pect that the emperor encouraged Albert in his 
extravagant and irregular proceedings, and secretly 
afforded him assistance, that, by raising him up to 
rival Maurice in power, he might in any future 
broil make use of his assistance to counterbalance 
and control the authority which the other had 
acquired in the empire. 1 

These considerations united the most 
powerful princes in Germany in a a confederacy 
league against Albert, of which Mau- him, of which 

• ji j ,. . Maurice was head. 

rice was declared generalissimo. This 
formidable confederacy, however, wrought no change 
in Albert’s sentiments ; but as he knew that he 
could not resist so many princes if he should allow 
them time to assemble their forces, he endeavoured, 
by his activity, to deprive them of all the advantages 
which they might derive from their united power 
and numbers; and, for that reason, marched directly 
against Maurice, the enemy whom he dreaded most. 
It was happy for the allies that the conduct of their 
affairs was committed to a prince of such abilities. 
He, by his authority and example, had inspired 
them with vigour; and having carried on their 
preparations with a degree of rapidity of which 
confederate bodies are seldom capable, he was in a 
condition to face Albert before he could make any 
considerable progress. 

Their armies, which were nearly He attacks 
equal in number, each consisting of Albert, 
twenty-four thousand men, met at Sieverliausen, in 
the duchy of Lunenburg; and the violent animosity 
against each other which possessed the two leaders, 
did not suffer them to continue long inactive. The 
troops, inflamed with the same hostile 
rage, marched fiercely to the combat; 
they fought with the greatest obstinacy: and as both 
generals were capable of availing themselves of 
every favourable occurrence, the battle remained 
long doubtful, each gaining ground upon the other 
alternately. At last victory declared an d defeats 
for Maurice, who was superior in his army: 
cavalry, and Albert’s army fled in confusion, leav¬ 
ing four thousand dead on the field, and their camp, 
baggage, and artillery in the hands of the con¬ 
querors. The allies bought their victory dear; their 
best troops suffered greatly,—two sons of the duke 
of Brunswick, a duke of Lunenburg, and many 
other persons of distinction, were among the num¬ 
ber of the slain. 01 But all these were butis kil]ed in 
soon forgotten ; for Maurice himself, the battle - 
as he led up to a second charge a body of horse which 
had been broken, received a wound with a pistol- 
bullet in the belly, of which he died two days after 
the battle, in the thirty-second year of his age, and 
in the sixth after his attaining the electoral dignity. 

Of all the personages who have ap- 

.... ... c ,, . ,. His character. 

peared in the history of this active 

auctore apud Scard. ii. 559. Sleid. 583. Ruscelli Epistres aux Prince*, 
154. Arnoldi Vita Maurit. 1245. 



GGO 


THE REIGN OF THE 


age, when great occurrences and sudden revolutions 
called forth extraordinary talents to view, and 
afforded them full opportunity to display them¬ 
selves, Maurice may justly be considered as the 
most remarkable. If his exorbitant ambition, his 
profound dissimulation, and his unwarrantable 
usurpation of his kinsman’s honours and dominions, 
exclude him from being praised as a virtuous man, 
—his prudence in concerting his measures, his 
vigour in executing them, and the uniform success 
with which they were attended, entitle him to the 
appellation of a great prince. At an age when 
impetuosity of spirit commonly predominates over 
political wisdom, when the highest effort even of a 
genius of the first order is to fix on a bold scheme 
and to execute it with promptitude and courage, he 
formed and conducted an intricate plan of policy 
which deceived the most artful monarch in Europe. 
At the very juncture when the emperor had attained 
to almost unlimited despotism, Maurice, with power 
seemingly inadequate to such an undertaking, com¬ 
pelled him to relinquish all his usurpations, and 
established not only the religious but civil liberties 
of Germany on such foundations as have hitherto 
remained unshaken. Although, at one period of 
his life, his conduct excited the jealousy of the 
protestants, and at another drew on him the resent¬ 
ment of the Roman catholics, such was his masterly 
address, that he was the only prince of the age w ho 
in any degree possessed the confidence of both, and 
whom both lamented as the most able as well as 
faithful guardian of the constitution and laws of his 
countrj r . 

Albert continues The consternation which Maurice’s 
the war. death occasioned among his troops 

prevented them from making the proper improve¬ 
ment of the victory which they had gained. Albert, 
whose active courage and profuse liberality ren¬ 
dered him the darling of such military adventurers 
as were little solicitous about the justice of his 
cause, soon re-assembled his broken forces, and 
made fresh levies with such success, that he was 
quickly at the head of fifteen thousand men, and 
renewed his depredations with additional fury. But 
Henry of Brunswick having taken the command of 
the allied troops, defeated him in a 
second battle, scarcely less bloody 
than the former. Even then his courage did not 
sink, nor were his resources exhausted. He made 
several efforts, and some of them very vigorous, to 
retrieve his affairs : but being laid under the ban of 
the empire by the imperial chamber; being driven 
by degrees out of all his hereditary territories as 
w ell as those w hich he had usurped ; being forsaken 
by many of his officers, and overpowered by the 
number of his enemies, he fled for refuge into 
He is driven out France. After having been for a con- 
ot Germany. siderable time the terror and scourge 
of Germany, he lingered out some years in an in¬ 
digent and dependent state of exile, the miseries of 

n Sleid. 592, .594, 599. Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ. 1075. 


Sept. 12. 


[A. I). 1553. BOOK XI. 

which his restless and arrogant spirit endured with 
the most indignant impatience. Upon j a n.i 2 , 

his death without issue, his terrrito- li57, 
ries, which had been seized by the princes who took 
arms against him, w ere restored, by a decree of the 
empire, to his collateral heirs of the house of Bran¬ 
denburg. 11 

Maurice having left only one daugh- Maurice’s brother 
ter, who was afterwards married to ^ed“l!i!nInd.e 
William, prince of Orange, by whom electoral dl = n,t ^ 
she had a son w ho bore his grandfather’s name, and 
inherited the great talents for which he was con¬ 
spicuous, a violent dispute arose concerning the 
succession to his honours and territories. John 
Frederic, the degraded elector, claimed the electoral 
dignity, and that part of his patrimonial estate of 
which he had been violently stripped after the 
Smalkaldic w ar. Augustus, Maurice’s only brother, 
pleaded his right not only to the hereditary pos¬ 
sessions of their family, but to the electoral dignity, 
and to the territories which Maurice had acquired. 
As Augustus was a prince of considerable abilities, 
as well as of great candour and gentleness of man¬ 
ners, the states of Saxony, forgetting the merits and 
sufferings of their former master, declared warmly 
in his favour. His pretensions were powerfully 
supported by the king of Denmark, whose daughter 
he had married, and zealously espoused by the 
king of the Romans, out of regard to Maurice’s 
memory. The degraded elector, though secretly 
favoured by his ancient enemy the emperor, was at 
last obliged to relinquish his claim upon obtaining 
a small addition to the territories w hich had been 
allotted to him, together with a stipulation, securing 
to his family the eventual succession upon a failure 
of male heirs in the Albertine line. That unfor¬ 
tunate but magnanimous prince died next year, 
soon after ratifying this treaty of agreement; and 
the electoral dignity is still possessed by the descend¬ 
ants of Augustus. 0 

During these transactions in Ger- Hostilities in the 
many, war was carried on in the Low ^ Couiltlies - 
Countries with considerable vigour. The emperor, 
impatient to efface the stain which his ignominious 
repulse at Metz left upon his military reputation, 
had an army early in the field, and laid siege to 
Terouane. Though the town was of such import¬ 
ance, that Francis used to call it one of the two 
pillows on which a king of France might sleep w ith 
security, the fortifications were in bad repair. 
Henry, trusting to what had happened at Metz, 
thought nothing more was necessary to render all 
the efforts of the enemy abortive than to reinforce 
the garrison with a considerable number of the 
young nobility. But D’Esse, a veteran officer who 
commanded them, being killed, and the imperialists 
pushing the siege with great vigour and persever¬ 
ance, the place was taken by assault. 

That it might not fall again into the Tune ~ 1 ' 
hands of the French, Charles ordered not only the 

o Sleid. 587. Thuan. 409. Struv. Corp. Hist. Germ. 



BOOK XI. A. D. 1563.J 

fortifications but the town itself to be razed, and the 
inhabitants to be dispersed in the adjacent cities. 
Elated with this success, the imperialists immedi¬ 
ately invested Hesden, which, though defended with 
great bravery, was likewise taken by assault, and 
such of the garrison as escaped the sword were 
made prisoners. The emperor intrusted the conduct 
of this siege to Emanuel Philibert of Savoy, prince 
of Piedmont, who on that occasion gave the first 
display of those great talents for military command 
which soon entitled him to be ranked among the 
first generals of the age, and facilitated his re-es¬ 
tablishment in his hereditary dominions, the greater 
part of which, having been overrun by Francis in 
his expeditions into Italy, were still retained by 
Henry .p 

The progress of The loss of these towns, together 
disquiets r the lsts with so many persons of distinction 
Fiendi king. either killed or taken by the enemy, 

Mas no inconsiderable calamity to France, and 
Henry felt it very sensibly ; but he was still more 
mortified at the emperor’s having recovered his 
wonted superiority in the field so soon after the blow 
at Metz, which the French had represented as fatal 
to his power. He was ashamed, too, of his own 
remissness and excessive security at the opening of 
the campaign ; and in order to repair that error, he 
assembled a numerous army, and led it into the Low 
Countries. 

Roused at the approach of such a formidable 
enemy, Charles left Brussels, where he had been 
shut up so closely during seven months, that it came 
to be believed in many parts of Europe that he w as 
dead ; and though he was so much debilitated by 
the gout that he could hardly bear the motion of a 
litter, he hastened to join his army. The eyes of all 
Europe were turned with expectation towards those 
mighty and exasperated rivals, between whom a 
decisive battle M as now thought unavoidable. But 
Charles having prudently declined to hazard a gene¬ 
ral engagement, and the violence of the autumnal 
rains rendering it impossible for the French to un¬ 
dertake any siege, they retired without having per¬ 
formed any thing suitable to the great preparations 
M r hich they had made. q 

The imperial arms were not attended 
unsuccessful in with the same success in Italy. 1 lie 
narrowness of the emperor’s finances 
seldom allowed him to act with vigour in two 
different places at the same time; and having 
exerted himself to the utmost in order to make a 
great effort in the Low Countries, his operations on 
the other side of the Alps were proportionally feeble. 
The viceroy of Naples, in conjunction with Cosmo 
di Medici, who was greatly alarmed at the intro¬ 
duction of French troops into Siena, endeavoured 
to become master of that city. But instead of re¬ 
ducing the Sienese, the imperialists were obliged to 
retire abruptly, in order to defend their own coun¬ 
try, upon the appearance of the Turkish fleet, which 

p Thuan. 411. Ilaraei Annales Brabant. 669. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


CGI 


and in Hungary. 


threatened the coast of Naples; and the French not 
only established themselves more firmly in Tuscany, 
but, by the assistance of the Turks, conquered a 
great part of the island of Corsica, subject at that 
time to the Genoese. 1 " 

The affairs of the house of Austria 
declined no less in Hungary during 
the course of this year. As the troops which Fer¬ 
dinand kept in Transylvania received their pay very 
irregularly, they lived almost at discretion upon the 
inhabitants ; and their insolence and rapaciousness 
greatly disgusted all ranks of men, and alienated 
them from their new sovereign, who, instead of pro¬ 
tecting, plundered his subjects. Their indignation 
at this, added to their desire of revenging Marti- 
nuzzi’s death, wrought so much upon a turbulent 
nobility impatient of injury, and upon a fierce 
people prone to change, that they were ripe for a 
revolt. At that very juncture their late queen 
Isabella, together with her son, appeared in Tran¬ 
sylvania. Her ambitious mind could not bear the 
solitude and inactivity of a private life ; and re¬ 
penting quickly of the cession which she had made 
of the crown in the year one thousand five hundred 
and fifty-one, she left the place of her retreat, hop¬ 
ing that the dissatisfaction of the Hungarians with 
the Austrian government would prompt them once 
more to recognise her son’s right to the crown. 
Some noblemen of great eminence declared imme¬ 
diately in his favour. The bashaw of Belgrade, by 
Solyman’s order, espoused his cause, in opposition 
to Ferdinand; the Spanish and German soldiers, 
instead of advancing against the enemy, mutinied 
for want of pay, declaring that they would march 
back to Vienna ; so that Castaldo, their general, 
was obliged to abandon Transylvania 

Ferdinand obliged 

to Isabella and the Turks, and to place to abandon Tran- 
himself at the head of the mutineers, 
that by his authority he might restrain them from 
plundering the Austrian territories through which 
they passed. s 

Ferdinand’s attention Mas turned so solyman’s do- 
entirely towards the affairs of Ger- mestlc distresses. 

many, and his treasures so much exhausted by his 
late efforts in Hungary, that he made no attempt to 
recover this valuable province, although a favour¬ 
able opportunity for that purpose presented itself, 
as Solyman was then engaged in a war with Persia, 
and involved besides in domestic calamities which 
engrossed and disturbed his mind. Solyman, though 
distinguished by many accomplishments from the 
other Ottoman princes, had all the passions peculiar 
to that violent and haughty race. He was jealous 
of his authority, sudden as well as furious in his 
anger, and susceptible of all that rage and love 
which reigns in the east, and often produces the 
wildest and most tragical effects. His favourite 
mistress was a Circassian slave of ex- _ . . ,. 

The tragical his- 

quisite beauty, who bore him a son tory of His son 

i J ’ Mustapha. 

called Mustapha, whom, both on ac- 

q Haraeus, 672. Thuan. 414. r Thuan. 417. s Ibid. 430. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


(KJ2 

count of his birth-right and his merit, he destined to 
be the heir of his crown. Roxalana, a Russian 
captive, soon supplanted the Circassian, and gained 
the sultan’s heart. Having the address to retain 
the conquest which she had made, she kept posses¬ 
sion of his love without any rival for many years, 
during which she brought him several sons and one 
daughter. All the happiness, however, which she 
derived from the unbounded sway that she had 
acquired over a monarch whom one half of the 
world revered or dreaded, was imbittered by per¬ 
petual reflections on Mustaplia’s accession to the 
throne, and the certain death of her sons, who, she 
foresaw, would be immediately sacrificed, according 
to the barbarous jealousy of Turkish policy, to the 
safety of the new emperor. By dwelling continually 
on this melancholy idea, she came gradually to view 
Mustapha as the enemy of her children, and to hate 
him with more than a stepmother’s ill-will. This 
prompted her to wish his destruction, in order to 
secure for one of her own sons the throne which was 
destined for him. Nor did she want either ambition 
to attempt such a high enterprise, or the arts re¬ 
quisite for carrying it into execution. Having pre¬ 
vailed on the sultan to give her only daughter in 
marriage to Rustan the grand visier, she disclosed 
her scheme to that crafty minister, who perceiving 
that it w as his own interest to co-operate with her, 
readily promised his assistance towards aggrandiz¬ 
ing that branch of the royal line to which he was so 
nearly allied. 

As soon as Roxalana had concerted her measures 
with this able confidant, she began to affect a 
wonderful zeal for the Mahometan religion, to 
which Solyman was superstitiously attached, and 
proposed to found and endow a royal mosque, a 
work of great expense, but deemed by the Turks 
meritorious in the highest degree. The mufti whom 
she consulted approved much of her pious intention ; 
but having been gained and instructed by Rustan, 
told her that she being a slave could derive no 
benefit herself from that holy deed, for all the merit 
of it would accrue to Solyman, the master whose 
property she was. Upon this she seemed to be 
overwhelmed with sorrow, and to sink into the 
deepest melancholy, as if she had been disgusted 
with life and all its enjoyments. Solyman, who 
was absent with the army, being informed of this 
dejection of mind, and of the cause from which it 
proceeded, discovered all the solicitude of a lover to 
remove it, and by a w riting under his hand declared 
her a free woman. Roxalana having gained this 
point, proceeded to build the mosque, and re¬ 
assumed her usual gaiety of spirit. But when 
Solyman, on his return to Constantinople, sent an 
eunuch, according to the custom of the seraglio, to 
bring her to partake of his bed, she, seemingly with 
deep regret, but in the most peremptory manner, 
declined to follow the eunuch, declaring that what 
had been an honour to her while a slave became a 
crime as she was now a free woman, and that she 


[A. D. 1553. BOOK XI. 

would not involve either the sultan or herself in the 
guilt that must be contracted by such an open 
violation of the law of their prophet. Solyman, 
whose passion this difficulty, as well as the affected 
delicacy which gave rise to it, heightened and in¬ 
flamed, had recourse immediately to the mufti for 
his direction. He replied, agreeably to the Koran, 
that Roxalana’s scruples were well founded ; but 
added artfully, in words which Rustan had taught 
him to use, that it was in the sultan’s power to 
remove these difficulties by espousing her as his 
lawful wife. The amorous monarch closed eagerly 
with the proposal, and solemnly married her ac¬ 
cording to the form of the Mahometan ritual; though 
by so doing he disregarded a maxim of policy which 
the pride of the Ottoman blood had taught all the 
sultans since Bajazet I. to consider as inviolable. 
From his time none of the Turkish monarchs had 
married, because when he was vanquished and 
taken prisoner by Tamerlane, his wife had been 
abused with barbarous insolence by the Tartars. 
That no similar calamity might again subject the 
Ottoman family to the same disgrace, the sultans 
admitted none to their beds but slaves, whose dis¬ 
honour could not bring any such stain upon their 
house. 

But the more uncommon the step was, the more 
it convinced Roxalana of the unbounded influence 
which she had acquired over the sultan’s heart, and 
imboldened her to prosecute, with greater hopes of 
success, the scheme that she had formed in order to 
destroy Mustapha. This young prince having been 
intrusted by his father, according to the practice of 
the sultans in that age, with the government of 
several different provinces, was at that time invested 
with the administration in Diarbequir, the ancient 
Mesopotamia, which Solyman had w rested from the 
Persians and added to his empire. In all these 
different commands Mustapha had conducted him¬ 
self with such cautious prudence as could give no 
offence to his father, though at the same time he 
governed with so much moderation as well as justice, 
and displayed such valour and generosity, as ren¬ 
dered him equally the favourite of the people and 
the darling of the soldiery. 

There was no room to lay any folly or vice to his 
charge that could impair the high opinion which his 
father entertained of him. Roxalana’s malevolence 
was more refined ; she turned his virtues against 
him, and made use of these as engines for his 
destruction. She often mentioned in Solyman’s 
presence the splendid qualities of his son; she 
celebrated his courage, his liberality, his popular 
arts, with malicious and exaggerated praise. As 
soon as she perceived that the sultan heard these 
encomiums, which were often repeated, with uneasi¬ 
ness ; that suspicion of his son began to mingle 
itself w ith his former esteem ; and that by degrees 
he came to view him with jealousy and fear,—she 
introduced, as by accident, some discourse concern¬ 
ing the rebellion of his father Selim against Bajazet 



BOOK XI. A. D. 1553.] EMPEROR 

his grandfather; she took notice of the bravery of 
the veteran troops under Mustapha’s command, and 
of the neighbourhood of Diarbequir to the territories 
ot the Persian sophi, Solyman’s mortal enemy. By 
these arts whatever remained of paternal tenderness 
was gradually extinguished, and such passions 
were kindled in the breast of the sultan as gave all 
Roxalana’s malignant suggestions the colour not 
only ot probability but of truth. His suspicions 
and fear of Mustapha settled into deep-rooted 
hatred. He appointed spies to observe and report 
all his words and actions ; he watched and stood on 
his guard against him as his most dangerous enemy. 

Having thus alienated the sultan’s heart from 
Mustapha, Roxalana ventured upon another step. 
She entreated Solyman to allow her own sons the 
liberty of appearing at court, hoping that, by gain¬ 
ing access to their father, they might, by their good 
qualities and dutiful deportment, insinuate them¬ 
selves into that place in his affections which Mus¬ 
tapha had formerly held ; and though what she de¬ 
manded was contrary to the practice of the Ottoman 
family in that age, the uxorious monarch granted 
her request. To all these female intrigues Ruslan 
added an artifice still more subtle, which completed 
the sultan’s delusion and heightened his jealousy 
and fear. He wrote to the bashaws of the provinces 
adjacent to Diarbequir, instructing them to send 
him regular intelligence of Mustapha’s proceedings 
in his government; and to each of them he gave a 
private hint, flowing in appearance from his zeal 
for their interest, that nothing would be more ac¬ 
ceptable to the sultan than to receive favourable 
accounts of a son whom he destined to sustain the 
glory of the Ottoman name. Thebashaw r s, ignorant 
of his fraudulent intention, and eager to pay court 
to their sovereign at such an easy price, filled 
their letters with studied but fatal panegyrics of 
Mustapha, representing him as a prince worthy to 
succeed such an illustrious father, and as endowed 
with talents which might enable him to emulate, 
perhaps to equal, his fame. These letters were in¬ 
dustriously shown to Solyman at the seasons when 
it was known that they would make the deepest 
impression. Every expression in recommendation 
of his son wounded him to the heart; he suspected 
his principal officers of being ready to favour the 
most desperate attempts of a prince whom they 
were so fond of praising ; and fancying that he saw 
them already assaulting his throne with rebellious 
arms, he determined, while it was yet in his power, 
to anticipate the blow, and to secure his own safety 
by his son’s death. 

For this purpose, though under pretence of renew¬ 
ing the war against Persia, he ordered Rustan to 
march towards Diarbequir at the head of a numer¬ 
ous army, and to rid him of a son whose life he 
deemed inconsistent with his own safety. But that 
crafty minister did not choose to be loaded with the 
odium of having executed this cruel order. As soon 
as he arrived in Syria, he wrote to Solyman that the 


CHARLES V. 063 

danger was so imminent as called for his immediate 
presence; that the camp was full of Mustapha’s 
emissaries; that many of the soldiers were cor¬ 
rupted ; that the affections of all leaned towards 
him ; that he had discovered a negociation which 
had been carried on with the sophi of Persia in or¬ 
der to marry Mustapha with one of his daughters ; 
that he already felt his own talents as well as au¬ 
thority to be inadequate to the exigencies of such 
an arduous conjuncture; that the sultan alone had 
sagacity to discern what resolution should be taken 
in those circumstances, and power to carry that re¬ 
solution into execution. 

This charge of courting the friendship of the 
sophi, Roxalana and Rustan had reserved as the 
last and most envenomed of all their calumnies. 
It operated with the violence which they expected 
from Solyman’s inveterate abhorrence of the Per¬ 
sians, and threw him into the wildest transports of 
rage. He set out instantly for Syria, and hastened 
thither with all the precipitation and impatience of 
fear and revenge. As soon as he joined his army 
near Aleppo, and had concerted measures with Rus¬ 
tan, he sent a chiaus or messenger of the court to 
his son, requiring him to repair immediately to his 
presence. Mustapha, though no stranger to his step¬ 
mother’s machinations, or to Rustan’s malice, or to 
his father’s violent temper, yet relying on his own 
innocence, and hoping to discredit the accusations 
of his enemies by the promptitude of his obedience, 
followed the messenger without delay to Aleppo. 
The moment he arrived in the camp he was intro¬ 
duced into the sultan’s tent. As he entered it he 
observed nothing that could give him any alarm ; 
no additional crowd of attendants, no body of armed 
guards, but the same order and silence which always 
reign in the sultan’s apartments. In a few minutes, 
however, several mutes appeared, at the sight of 
whom Mustapha, knowing what was his doom, cried 
with a loud voice, “ Lo, my death!” and attempted 
to fly. The mutes rushed forward to seize him ; he 
resisted and struggled, demanding with the utmost 
earnestness to see the sultan ; and despair, together 
with the hope of finding protection from the soldiers 
if he could escape out of the tent, animated him 
with such extraordinary strength, that for some 
time he baffled all the efforts of the executioners. 
Solyman was within hearing of his son’s cries, as 
well as of the noise which the struggle occasioned. 
Impatient of this delay of his revenge, and struck 
with terror at the thoughts of Mustapha’s escaping, 
he drew aside the curtain which divided the tent, 
and thrusting in his head, darted a fierce look to¬ 
wards the mutes, and, with wild and threatening 
gestures, seemed to condemn their sloth and timidity. 
At sight of his father’s furious and unrelenting 
countenance, Mustapha’s strength failed and his 
courage forsook him; the mutes fastened the bow¬ 
string about his neck, and in a moment put an end 
to his life. 

The dead body was exposed before the sultan’s 



THE REIGN OF THE 


GGl 


[A. L). 1553. BOOK XI. 


tent. The soldiers gathered round it, and contem¬ 
plating that mournful object with astonishment, 
and sorrow, and indignation, were ready, if a leader 
had not been wanting, to have broke out into the 
wildest excesses of rage. After giving vent to the 
first expressions of their grief, they retired each 
man to his tent, and shutting themselves up, be¬ 
wailed in secret the cruel fate of their favourite ; 
nor was there one of them who tasted food, or even 
water, during the remainder of that day. Next 
morning the same solitude and silence reigned in 
the camp; and Solyman being afraid that some 
dreadful storm would follow this sullen calm, in 
order to appease the enraged soldiers, deprived 
Rustan of the seals, ordered him to leave the camp, 
and raised Achmet, a gallant officer, much beloved 
in the army, to the dignity of visier. This change, 
however, was made in concert with Rustan himself; 
that crafty minister suggesting it as the only expe¬ 
dient which could save himself or his master. But 
within a few months, when the resentment of the 
soldiers began to subside and the name of Mustapha 
to be forgotten, Achmet was strangled by the sul¬ 
tan’s command, and Rustan reinstated in the office 
of visier. Together with his former power, he re¬ 
assumed the plan for exterminating the race of 
Mustapha which he had concerted with Roxalana; 
and as they were afraid that an only son whom 
Mustapha had left might grow up to avenge his 
death, they redoubled their activity, and by employ¬ 
ing the same arts against him which they had prac¬ 
tised against his father, they inspired Solyman with 
the same fears, and prevailed on him to issue orders 
for putting to death that young innocent prince. 
These orders were executed with barbarous zeal, by 
a eunuch, who was despatched to Burso, the place 
where the prince resided ; and no rival was left 
to dispute the Ottoman throne with the sons of 
Roxalana. 1 

Charles project a Such tragical scenes, productive of 
his^on^ncT m ary so deep distress, seldom occur but in 
or England. t j ie history 0 f the great monarchies of 
the east, where the warmth of the climate seems to 
give every emotion of the heart its greatest force, 
and the absolute power of sovereigns accustoms and 
enables them to gratify all their passions without 
control. While this interesting transaction in the 
court of Solyman engaged his whole attention, 
Charles was pursuing with the utmost ardour a new 
scheme for aggrandizing his family. About this 
time Edward YI. of England, after a short reign, in 
which he displayed such virtues as filled his sub¬ 
jects with sanguine hopes of being happy under his 
government, and made them bear with patience all 
that they suffered from the weakness, the dissen¬ 
sions, and the ambition of the ministers who assumed 
the administration during his minority, was seized 
with a lingering distemper which threatened his 
life. The emperor no sooner received an account 


of this, than his ambition, always attentive to seize 
every opportunity of acquiring an increase of power 
or of territories to his son, suggested the thought of 
adding England to his other kingdoms by the mar¬ 
riage of Philip with the princess Mary, the heir of 
Edward’s crown. Being apprehensive, however, 
that his son, who was then in Spain, might decline 
a match with a princess in her thirty-eighth year, 
and eleven years older than himself, 11 Charles de¬ 
termined, notwithstanding his own age and infirm¬ 
ities, to make offer of himself as a husband to his 
cousin. 

But though Mary was so far ad- To which Phi i ip 
vanced in years, and destitute of every glves hls consent - 
charm either of person or manners that could win 
affection or command esteem, Philip without hesi¬ 
tation gave his consent to the match proposed by 
his father, and was willing, according to the usual 
maxim of princes, to sacrifice his inclination to his 
ambition. In order to insure the success of his 
scheme, the emperor, even before Edward’s death, 
began to take such steps as might facilitate it. 
Upon Edward’s demise, Mary mounted the throne 
of England ; the pretensions of the lady Jane Grey 
proving as unfortunate as they were ill-founded. x 
Charles sent immediately a pompous embassy to 
London to congratulate Mary on her accession to 
the throne, and to propose the alliance with his son. 
The queen, dazzled with the prospect The sentiments of 
of marrying the heir of the greatest SjLh.with 
monarch in Europe ; fond of uniting s ^ d t0 lt- 
more closely with her mother’s family, to which she 
had been always warmly attached ; and eager to 
secure the powerful aid which she knew would be 
necessary towards carrying on her favourite scheme 
of re-establishing the Romish religion in England, 
listened in the most favourable manner to the pro¬ 
posal. Among her subjects it met with a very dif¬ 
ferent reception. Philip, it was well known, con¬ 
tended for all the tenets of the church of Rome 
with a sanguinary zeal which exceeded the measure 
even of Spanish bigotry : this alarmed all the 
numerous partisans of the Reformation. The Cas¬ 
tilian haughtiness and reserve were far from being 
acceptable to the English, who having several times 
seen their throne occupied by persons who were 
born subjects, had become accustomed to an unce¬ 
remonious and familiar intercourse with their sove¬ 
reigns. They could not think without the utmost 
uneasiness of admitting a foreign prince to that in¬ 
fluence in their councils which the husband of their 
queen would naturally possess. They dreaded, 
both from Philip’s overbearing temper and from the 
maxims of the Spanish monarchy which he had im¬ 
bibed, that he would infuse ideas into the queen’s 
mind dangerous to the liberties of the nation, and 
would introduce foreign troops and money into 
the kingdom, to assist her in any attempt against 
them. 


J Auderii Gislenii Busbequii Legationis Turcicae Epistolae iv 
in 1.5 p. 37. Thuan. lib. 12. p. 432. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 457. 
cem liistor. Veneta, lib. vn. p. 60. 


Franc. 

Mauro- 


u Palav. Hist. Concil. Trid. v. ii.c. 13. p. 150. 
x Carte’s Hist, ot' England, iii. 28?. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK XI. A. 1). 1553.] 


665 


The house of 


Full of these apprehensions, the 

commons remon- house of commons, though in that age 
strate against it. ~ 

extremely obsequious to the will of 
their monarchs, presented a warm address against 
the Spanish match ; many pamphlets were publish¬ 
ed, representing the dangerous consequences of the 
alliance with Spain, and describing Philip’s bigotry 
and arrogance in the most odious colours. But 
Mary, inflexible in all her resolutions, paid no re¬ 
gard to the remonstrances of her commons or to the 
sentiments of the people. The emperor having se¬ 
cured, by various arts, the ministers whom she 
trusted most, they approved warmly of the match, 
and large sums were remitted by him in order to 
gain the rest of the council. Cardinal Pole, whom 
the pope, immediately upon Mary’s accession, had 
despatched as his legate into England, in order to 
reconcile his native country to the see of Rome, was 
detained by the emperor’s command at Dillinghen 
in Germany, lest by his presence he should thwart 
Philip’s pretensions, and employ his interest in 
favour of his kinsman Courtenay, earl of Devon¬ 
shire, whom the English ardently wished their so¬ 
vereign to choose for a husband.^ 

The marriage- As ^ ie negociation did not admit of 
treaty concluded. f j e ] a y ? it was carried forward with the 

greatest rapidity, the emperor agreeing, without 
hesitation, to every article in favour of England 
which Mary’s ministers either represented as neces¬ 
sary to soothe the people and reconcile them to the 
match, or that was suggested by their own fears and 
jealousy of a foreign master. The chief 
articles were, That Philip during his 
marriage with the queen, should bear the title of 
king of England, but the entire administration of 
affairs, as well as the sole disposal of all revenues, 
offices, and benefices, should remain with the queen ; 
that the heirs of the marriage should, together with 
the crown of England, inherit the duchy of Bur¬ 
gundy and the Low Countries ; that if prince 
Charles, Philip’s only son by a former marriage, 
should die without issue, his children by the queen, 
whether male or female, should succeed to the 
crown of Spain and all the emperor’s hereditary 
dominions; that before the consummation of the mar¬ 
riage, Philip should swear solemnly that he would 
retain no domestic who was not a subject of the 
queen, and would bring no foreigners into the king¬ 
dom that might give umbrage to the English ; that 
he would make no alteration in the constitution or 
laws of England ; that he would not carry the 
queen, or any of the children born of this marriage, 
out of the kingdom; that if the queen should die 
before him without issue, he would immediately 
leave the crown to the lawful heir, without claiming 
any right of administration whatever ; that in con¬ 
sequence of this marriage, England should not be 
engaged in any w-ar subsisting between France and 
Spain ; and that the alliance between France and 
England should remain in full force. 2 

y Carte, iii. 288. 


1554. 
Jan. 12. 


But this treaty, though both the em- 

J ’ ° Discontent and 

peror and Mary’s ministers employed apprehensions of 

J r . the English. 

their utmost address in framing it so 
as to please the English, was far from quieting their 
fears and jealousies. They saw that words and 
promises were a feeble security against the encroach¬ 
ments of an ambitious prince, who, as soon as he 
got possession of the power and advantages which 
the queen’s husband must necessarily enjoy, could 
easily evade any of the articles which either limited 
his authority or obstructed his schemes. They were 
convinced that the more favourable the conditions 
of the present treaty were to England, the more 
Philip would be tempted hereafter to violate them. 
They dreaded that England, like Naples, Milan, 
and the other countries annexed to Spain, would 
soon feel the dominion of that crow n to be intole¬ 
rably oppressive, and be constrained, as they had 
been, to waste its wealth and vigour in wars wherein 
it had no interest, and from which it could derive no 
advantage. These sentiments prevailed so gene¬ 
rally, that every part of the kingdom was filled with 
discontent at the match, and with indignation 
against the advisers of it. Sir Thomas Wyat ’ s j nsul ._ 
Wyat, a gentleman of some note, and rectum, 
of good intentions towards the public, took advan¬ 
tage of this, and roused the inhabitants of Kent to 
arms, in order to save their country from a foreign 
yoke. Great numbers resorted in a short time to his 
standard ; he marched to London with such rapidity, 
and the queen was so utterly unprovided for de¬ 
fence, that the aspect of affairs was extremely 
threatening ; and if any nobleman of distinction 
had joined the malcontents, or had Wyat possessed 
talents equal in any degree to the boldness of his 
enterprise, the insurrection must have proved fatal 
to Mary’s power. But all Wyat’s measures were 
concerted with so little prudence, and executed with 
such irresolution, that many of his followers forsook 
him; the rest were dispersed by a handful of 
soldiers ; and he himself was taken prisoner, with¬ 
out having made any effort worthy of the cause that 
he had undertaken, or suitable to the ardour with 
which he engaged in it. He suffered the punishment 
due to his rashness and rebellion. The queen’s 
authority w'as confirmed and increased by her suc¬ 
cess in defeating this inconsiderable attempt to 
abridge it. The lady Jane Grey, whose title the 
ambition of her relations had set up in opposition 
to that of the queen, was, notwithstanding her youth 
and innocence, brought to the scaffold. The lady 
Elizabeth, the queen’s sister, was observed with the 
most jealous attention. The treaty of marriage was 
ratified by the parliament. 

Philip landed in England w ith a The marriage 
magnificent retinue, celebrated his celebrated, 
nuptials with great solemnity ; and though he could 
not lay aside his natural severity and pride, or as¬ 
sume gracious and popular manners, he endeavoured 
to conciliate the favour of the English nobility by 

z Rymer’s Feed. vol. xv. 377, 393. Mem. de Kibier, ii. 498. 



GGG 


THE REIGN OF THE L A - D. 1554 * B00K XL 

his extraordinary liberality. Lest that should fail I trusted with trying heretics multiplied continually, 
of acquiring him such influence in the government and appeared to be as endless as it was odious, 
of the kingdom as he aimed at obtaining, the empe- The queen’s ablest ministers became sensible how 
ror kept a body of twelve thousand men on the coast impolitic as well as dangerous it was to irritate the 

people by the frequent spectacle of public execu¬ 
tions, which they detested as no less unjust than 
cruel. Even Philip was so thoroughly convinced 


of Flanders, in readiness to embark for England, 
and to support his son in all his enterprises. 

, r , Imboldened by all these favour- 

Mary s measures J , „ . , 

to overturn the a | } j e circumstances, Mary pursued the of her having run to an excess ot rigour, that on 

gion in England. sc ] ieine 0 f extirpating the protestant this occasion he assumed a part to w hich he was 

religion out of her dominions with the most pre- little accustomed, becoming an advocate for mode- 


cipitate zeal. The laws of Edward the sixth in fa¬ 
vour of the Reformation were repealed ; the protest¬ 
ant clergy ejected ; all the forms and rites of the 
popish worship were re-established ; the nation was 
solemnly absolved from the guilt which it had con- 


ration and lenity. 1 

Rut notwithstanding this attempt to The English jeai- 
ingratiate himself with the English, ous of Philip. 

they discovered a constant jealousy and distrust of 
all his intentions ; and when some members who 


tracted during the period of its apostasy, and was had been gained by the court ventured to move in 


publicly reconciled to the church of Rome by car¬ 
dinal Pole, who, immediately after tin queen’s mar¬ 
riage, was permitted to continue his journey to Eng¬ 
land, and to exercise his legantine functions with 
the most ample power. Not satisfied with having 


the house of commons that the nation ought to 
assist the emperor, the queen’s father-in-law, in his 
war against France, the proposal was rejected with 
general dissatisfaction. A motion which w'as made, 
that the parliament should give its consent that 


overturned the protestant church, and re-establish- Philip might be publicly crowned as the queen’s 
ing the ancient system on its ruins, Mary insisted husband, met with such a cold reception, that it 


that all her subjects should conform to the same 
mode of worship which she preferred, should pro¬ 
fess their faith in the same creed which she had 
approved, and abjure every practice or opinion that 
was deemed repugnant to either of them. Powers 
altogether unknown in the English constitution were 


was instantly withdrawn. b 

The king of France had observed the The p rench k ing 
progress of the emperor’s negociation match e bp?ween 
in England with much uneasiness. The phl,1 P a™ 1 Mary, 
great accession of territories as well as reputation 
which his enemy would acquire by the marriage of 


vested in certain persons appointed to take cogni- his son with the queen of such a powerful kingdom, 


zance of heresy, and they proceeded to exercise 
them with more than inquisitorial severity. The 


was obvious and formidable. He easily foresaw 
that the English, notwithstanding all their fears 


prospect of danger, however, did not intimidate the and precautions, would be soon drawn in to take 
principal teachers of the protestant doctrines, who part in the quarrels on the continent, and be corn- 


believed that they were contending for truths of 
the utmost consequence to the happiness of man¬ 
kind. They boldly avowed their sentiments, and 
were condemned to that cruel death which the 
church of Rome reserves for its enemies. This shock- 


pelled to act in subserviency to the emperor’s am¬ 
bitious schemes. For this reason Henry had given it 
in charge to his ambassador at the court of London, 
to employ all his address in order to defeat or retard 
the treaty of marriage ; and as there was not, at that 


ing punishment was inflicted with that barbarity time, any prince of the blood in France whom he 
which the rancour of false zeal alone can inspire, could propose to the queen as a husband, he in- 
The English, who are inferior in humanity to no structed him to co-operate with such of the English 
people in Europe, and remarkable for the mildness as wished their sovereign to marry one of her own 
of their public executions, beheld with astonish- subjects. But the queen’s ardour and precipitation 
ment and horror persons who had filled the most in closing with the first overtures in favour of 
respectable stations in their church, and who were Philip having rendered all his endeavours inelfec- 
venerable on account of their age, their piety, and tual, Henry was so far from thinking it prudent to 
their literature, condemned to endure torments to give any aid to the English malcontents, though 
which their laws did not subject even the most atro- | earnestly solicited by Wyat and their other leaders, 
cious criminals. 


This extreme rigour did not accom- 


who tempted him to take them under his protection 
, , _____ . by offers of great advantage to France, that he com- 

T ||p obstH.clPS ^ 

■which she had to plish the end at which Mary aimed, manded his ambassador to congratulate the queen 

surmount. , I . . ° ‘ 

The patience and fortitude with which in the warmest terms upon the suppression of the 


these martyrs for the Reformation submitted to their 
sufferings, the heroic contempt of death expressed 
by persons of every rank, and age, and sex, con¬ 
firmed many more in the protestant faith than the 
threats of their enraged persecutors could frighten 
into apostasy. The business of such as were in¬ 


insurrection. 

Notwithstanding these external pro¬ 
fessions, Henry dreaded so much the £“ Tv^omus 115 
consequence of this alliance, which campaign - 
more than compensated for all the emperor had lost 
in Germany, that he determined to carry on his mi- 


a Godwin’s Annals of Q. Mary, ap. Kennet, v. ii. p. 329. Burnet’s 
Ilist. of .Reform. 11 . 2 ( J8, 3o5. 


b Carte’s Ilist. of England, iii. 314. 


The progress of 
his arms. 


June 28. 


The emperor 
little able to 
obstruct it. 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1554.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 

litary operations, both in the Low Countries and in 
Italy, with extraordinary vigour, in order that he 
might compel Charles to accept of an equitable peace 
before his daughter-in-law could surmount the aver¬ 
sion of her subjects to a war on the continent, and 
prevail on them to assist the emperor either with 
money or troops. For this purpose he exerted him¬ 
self to the utmost in order to have a numerous army 
early assembled on the frontiers of the Netherlands, 
and while one part of it laid waste the open country 
of Artois, the main body, under the constable Mont¬ 
morency, advanced towards the provinces of Liege 
and Hainault by the forest of Ardennes. 

The campaign was opened with the 
siege of Mariemburg, a town which 
the queen of Hungary, the governess of the Low 
Countries, had fortified at great expense ; but being 
destitute of a sufficient garrison, it surrendered in 
six days. Henry, elated with this suc¬ 
cess, put himself at the head of his 
army, and investing Bouvines, took it by assault, 
after a short resistance. With equal facility he 
became master of Dinant; and then turning to the 
left, bent his march towards the province of Artois. 

The large sums which the emperor 
had remitted into England had so ex¬ 
hausted his treasury, as to render his 
preparations, at this juncture, slower and more 
dilatory than usual. He had no body of troops to 
make head against the French at their first entrance 
into his territories ; and though he drew together 
all the forces-in the country in the utmost hurry, 
and gave the command of them to Emanuel Phili¬ 
bert of Savoy, they were in no condition to face an 
enemy so far superior in number. The prince of 
Savoy, however, by his activity and good conduct, 
made up for his want of troops. By watching all 
the motions of the French at a distance, and by 
choosing his own posts with skill, he put it out of 
their power either to form any siege of consequence 
or to attack him. Want of subsistence soon obliged 
them to fall back towards their own frontiers, after 
having burnt all the open towns, and having plun¬ 
dered the country through which they marched, 
with a cruelty and licence more becoming a body of 
lighttroops than a royal army led by a great monarch. 

The French in- But Henry, that he might not dis- 
vest Kenti. m j ss Lis army without attempting some 

conquest adequate to the great preparations as well 
as sanguine hopes with which he had opened the 
campaign, invested Renti, a place deemed in that 
age of great importance, as, by its situation on the 
confines of Artois and the Boulonnois, it covered 
the former province, and protected the parties which 
made incursions into the latter. The town, which 
was strongly fortified, and provided with a numerous 
garrison, made a gallant defence ; but being warmly 
pressed by a powerful army, it must soon have 
yielded. The emperor, who at that time enjoyed a 
short interval of ease from the gout, was so solicitous 

c Thuan. 460, &c. Haraei Ann. Brab. 674. 


667 

to save it, that although he could bear no other 
motion but that of a litter, he instantly put himself 
at the head of his army, which having received 
several reinforcements, was now strong enough to 
approach the enemy. The French were eager to 
decide the fate of Renti by a battle, and expected 
it from the emperor's arrival in his camp; but 
Charles avoided a general action with great in¬ 
dustry ; and as he had nothing in view but to save 
the town, he hoped to accomplish that without ex¬ 
posing himself to the consequences of such a danger¬ 
ous and doubtful event. 

Notwithstanding all his precautions, An action be 
a dispute about a post which both twe ® n the tw0 
armies endeavoured to seize, brought Aug - 13 - 
on an engagement which proved almost general. 
The duke of Guise, who commanded the wing of the 
French which stood the brunt of the combat, dis¬ 
played valour and conduct worthy of the defender 
of Metz; the imperialists, after an obstinate strug¬ 
gle, were repulsed ; the French remained masters 
of the post in dispute ; and if the constable, either 
from his natural caution and slowness, or from 
unwillingness to support a rival whom he hated, 
had not delayed bringing up the main body to 
second the impression which Guise had made, the 
rout of the enemy must have been complete. The 
emperor, notwithstanding the loss which he had 
sustained, continued in the same camp; and the 
French being straitened for provisions, and finding 
it impossible to carry on the siege in the face of an 
hostile army, quitted their entrenchments. They 
retired openly, courting the enemy to approach 
rather than shunning an engagement. 

But Charles having gained his end, suffered them 
to march off unmolested. As soon as his troops 
entered their own country, Henry threw garrisons 
into the frontier towns, and dismissed the rest of the 
army. This encouraged the imperial- Jhe imperialists 
ists to push forward with a consider- invade Plcard y- 
able body of troops into Picardy, and by laying 
waste the country with fire and sword, they en¬ 
deavoured to revenge themselves for the ravages 
which the French had committed in Hainault and 
Artois. 0 But as they were not able to reduce any 
place of importance, they gained nothing more than 
the enemy had done by this cruel and inglorious 
method of carrying on the war. 

The arms of France were still more 
unsuccessful in Italy. The footing 
which the French had acquired in Siena occasioned 
much uneasiness to Cosmo di Medici, the most 
sagacious and enterprising of all the Italian princes. 
He dreaded the neighbourhood of a powerful people, 
to whom all who favoured the ancient republican 
government in Florence would have recourse, as to 
their natural protectors, against that absolute au¬ 
thority which the emperor had enabled him to 
usurp ; he knew how odious he was to the French 
on account of his attachment to the imperial 


Affairs of Italy. 


I 



THE REIGN OF THE 


GG8 


[A. D. 1554. BOOK XI. 


party; and he foresaw that if they were 

Cosmo diMedi- ... •, , ,, , ,, • c,. 

ci’s schemes with permitted to gather strength in Siena, 

ie„aui to Siena. rp uscan y SO on feel the eifects of 

their resentment. For these reasons he wished with 
the utmost solicitude for the expulsion of the 
French out of the Sienese, before they had time to 
establish themselves thoroughly in the country, or 
to receive such reinforcements from France as would 
render it dangerous to attack them. As this, how¬ 
ever, was properly the emperor’s business, who was 
called by his interest as well as honour to dislodge 
those formidable intruders into the heart of his do¬ 
minions, Cosmo laboured to throw the whole burden 
of the enterprise on him ; and on that account had 
given no assistance during the former campaign, 
but by advancing some small sums of money towards 
the payment of the imperial troops. 

He negodates But as ^ ie defence of the Nether- 
with the emperor. i an( j s engrossed all the emperor’s at¬ 
tention, and his remittances into England had 
drained his treasury, it was obvious that his opera 
tions in Italy would be extremely feeble; and 
Cosmo plainly perceived that if he himself did not 
take part openly in the war and act with vigour, the 
French would scarcely meet with any annoyance. 
As his situation rendered this resolution necessary 
and unavoidable, his next care was to execute it in 
such a manner that he might derive from it some 
other advantage beside that of driving the French 
out of his neighbourhood. With this view he 
despatched an envoy to Charles, offering to declare 
war against France and to reduce Siena at his own 
charges, on condition that he should be repaid what¬ 
ever he might expend in the enterprise, and be 
permitted to retain all his conquests until his de¬ 
mands were fully satisfied. Charles, to whom at 
this juncture the war against Siena was an intoler¬ 
able burden, and who had neither expedient nor 
resource that could enable him to carry it on with 
proper vigour, closed gladly with this overture ; and 
Cosmo, well acquainted with the low state of the 
imperial finances, flattered himself that the emperor, 
finding it impossible to reimburse him, would suffer 
him to keep quiet possession of whatever places he 
should conquer/ 1 

Enters into war Full of these hopes, lie made great 
with i ranee. preparations for war; and as the 

French king had turned the strength of his arms 
against the Netherlands, he did not despair of as¬ 
sembling such a body of men as would prove more 
than a sufficient match for any force which Henry 
could bring into the field in Italy. He endeavoured, 
by giving one of his daughters to the pope’s nephew, 
to obtain assistance from the holy see, or at least to 
secure his remaining neutral. He attempted to 
detach the duke of Orsini, whose family had been 
long attached to the French party, from his ancient 
confederates, by bestowing on him another of his 
daughters ; and what was of greater consequence 

d Adriani Tstoria de suoi Tempi, vol. i. 662. 
e Adriani Istoria, vol. i. p. 663. 


than either of these, he engaged John 
James Medecino, marquis of Marig- maud of his army 
nano, to take the command of his toMedLLino- 
army. e This officer, from a very low condition in 
life, had raised himself through all the ranks of 
service to high command, and had displayed talents 
and acquired reputation in war which entitled him 
to be placed on a level with the greatest generals 
in that martial age. Having attained a station of 
eminence so disproportionate to his birth, he labour¬ 
ed with a fond solicitude to conceal his original 
obscurity, by giving out that he was descended of the 
family of Medici, to which honour the casual resem¬ 
blance of his name was his only pretension. Cosmo, 
happy that he could gratify him at such an easy 
rate, flattered his vanity in this point, acknowledged 
him as a relation, and permitted him to assume the 
arms of his family. Medecino, eager to serve the 
head of that family of which he now considered 
himself as a branch, applied with wonderful zeal 
and assiduity to raise troops ; and as, during his 
long service, he had acquired great credit with the 
leaders of those mercenary bands which formed the 
strength of Italian armies, he engaged the most 
eminent of them to follow Cosmo’s standard. 

To oppose this able general and the 
formidable army which he had assem- truste^witffthe 1 
bled, the king oi trance made choice French army in 
of Peter Strozzi, a Florentine noble- ltdly ‘ 
man who had resided long in France as an exile, 
and who had risen by his merit to high reputation 
as well as command in the army. He was the son 
of Philip Strozzi, who, in the year one thousand 
five hundred and thirty-seven, had concurred with 
such ardour in the attempt to expel the family of 
Medici out of Florence, in order to re-establish the 
ancient republican form of government, and who 
had perished in the undertaking. The son inherited 
the implacable aversion to the Medici, as well as 
the same enthusiastic zeal for the liberty of Florence, 
which had animated his father, whose death he was 
impatient to revenge. Henry flattered himself that 
his army would make rapid progress under a 
general whose zeal to promote his interest was 
roused and seconded by such powerful passions; 
especially as he had allotted him for the scene of 
action his native country, in which he had many 
powerful partisans, ready to facilitate all his ope¬ 
rations. 

But how specious soever the motives TI , e impludellce 
might appear which induced Henry to ot thls c,101ce - 
make this choice, it proved fatal to the interests of 
France in Italy. Cosmo, as soon as he heard that 
the mortal enemy of his family was appointed to 
take the command in Tuscany, concluded that the 
king of France aimed at something more than the 
protection of the Sienese, and saw the necessity of 
making extraordinary efforts, not merely to reduce 
Siena, but to save himself from destruction/ At 

t Pecci Memorie di Siena, vol. iv. p. 103, &c. 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


The battle of 
Marciano: 


August 3. 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1554.] 

the same time the cardinal of Ferrara, who had the 
entire direction of the French alfairs in Italy, con¬ 
sidered Strozzi as a formidable rival in power, and 
in order to prevent his acquiring any increase of 
authority from success, he was extremely remiss in 
supplying him either with money to pay his troops 
or with provisions to support them. » Strozzi him¬ 
self, blinded bj' his resentment against the Medici, 
pushed on his operations with the impetuosity of 
revenge rather than with the caution and prudence 
becoming a great general. 

At first, however, he attacked se¬ 
veral towns in the territory of Florence 
with such vigour as obliged Medecino, in order to 
check his progress, to withdraw the greater part of 
his army from Siena, which he had invested before 
Strozzi’s arrival in Italy. As Cosmo sustained the 
whole burden of military operations, the expense of 
which must soon have exhausted his revenues ; as 
neither the viceroy of Naples nor governor of Milan 
was in condition to afford him any effectual aid; and 
as the troops which Medecino had left in the camp 
before Siena could attempt nothing against it during 
his absence, it was Strozzi’s business to have pro¬ 
tracted the war, and to have transferred the seat of 
it into the territories of Florence; but the hope of 
ruining his enemy by one decisive blow 
precipitated him into a general en¬ 
gagement not far from Marciano. The armies were 
nearly equal in number; but a body of Italian 
cavalry, in which Strozzi placed great confidence, 
having fled without making any resistance, either 
through the treachery or cowardice of 
French are de- the officers who commanded it, his in¬ 
fantry remained exposed to the attacks 
of all Medecino’s troops. Encouraged, however, by 
Strozzi’s presence and example, who, after receiv¬ 
ing a dangerous wound in endeavouring to rally the 
cavalry, placed himself at the head of the infantry, 
and manifested an admirable presence of mind as 
well as extraordinary valour, they stood their ground 
with great firmness, and repulsed such of the enemy 
as ventured to approach them. But those gallant 
troops being surrounded at last on every side, and 
torn in pieces by a battery of cannon which Mede¬ 
cino brought to bear upon them, the Florentine 
cavalry broke in on their flanks, and a general rout 
ensued. Strozzi, faint with the loss of blood, and 
deeply affected with the fatal consequences of his 
own rashness, found the utmost difficulty in making 
his escape with a handful of men.& 

Medecino be- Medecino returned immediately to 
sieges Siena, th e siege of Siena with his victorious 

forces; and as Strozzi could not, after the greatest 
efforts of activity, collect as many men as to form 
the appearance of a regular army, he had leisure to 
carry on his approaches against the town without 
molestation. But the Sienese, instead of sinking 
into despair upon this cruel disappointment of their 
only hope of obtaining relief, prepared to defend 

g Pecci Memoire della Siena, vol. lr. p. 157* 


C(>9 

themselves to the utmost extremity, w hich is gallantly 
with that undaunted fortitude which cftizensand'Mon- 
the love of liberty alone can inspire. luc> 

This generous resolution was warmly seconded by 
Monluc, who commanded the French garrison in 
the town. The active and enterprising courage 
which he had displayed on many occasions had 
procured him this command ; and as he had ambi¬ 
tion which aspired at the highest military dignities, 
without any pretensions to attain them but what he 
could derive from merit, he determined to distin¬ 
guish his defence of Siena by extraordinary efforts 
of valour and perseverance. For this purpose he 
repaired and strengthened the fortifications with 
unwearied industry ; he trained the citizens to the 
use of arms, and accustomed them to go through the 
fatigues and dangers of service in common with the 
soldiers ; and as the enemy were extremely strict in 
guarding all the avenues to the city, he husbanded 
the provisions in the magazines with the most par¬ 
simonious economy, and prevailed on the soldiers 
as well as the citizens to restrict themselves to a 
very moderate daily allowance for their subsistence. 
Medecino, though his army was not numerous enough 
to storm the town by open force, ventured twice to 
assault it by surprise ; but he was received each 
time with so much spirit, and repulsed with such 
loss, as discouraged him from repeating the attempt, 
and left him no hopes of reducing the town but by 
famine. 

With this view he fortified his own , . 

. Medecino con- 

camp with great care, occupied all the verts the siege 

into a blockade. 

posts ot strength round the place, and 
having entirely cut off the besieged from any com¬ 
munication with the adjacent country, he waited 
patiently until necessity should compel them to 
open their gates. But their enthusiastic zeal for 
liberty made the citizens despise the distresses oc¬ 
casioned by the scarcity of provisions, and support¬ 
ed them long under all the miseries of famine : 
Monluc, by his example and exhortations, taught 
his soldiers to vie with them in patience and absti¬ 
nence ; and it was not until they had withstood a 
siege of ten months, until they had eaten up all the 
horses, dogs, and other animals in the place, and 
were reduced almost to their last morsel of bread, 
that they proposed a capitulation. 

Even then they demanded honourable 
terms ; and as Cosmo, though no stranger to the 
extremity of their condition, was afraid that despair 
might prompt them to venture upon some wild en¬ 
terprise, he immediately granted them conditions 
more favourable than they could have expected. 

The capitulation was made in the April 20 
emperor’s name, who engaged to take hy e famme° l to R ca- 
the republic of Siena under the pro- pitulate - 
tection of the empire ; he promised to maintain the 
ancient liberties of the city, to allow the magistrates 
the full exercise of their former authority, to secure 
the citizens in the undisturbed possession of their 


1555. 




670 


THE REIGN OF THE 


privileges and property; he granted an ample and 
unlimited pardon to all who had borne arms against 
him; he reserved to himself the right of placing a 
garrison in the town, but engaged not to rebuild the 
citadel without the consent of the citizens. Monluc 
and his French garrison were allowed to march out 
with all the honours of war. 

Medecino observed the articles of capitulation, as 
far as depended on him, with great exactness. No 
violence or insult whatever was offered to the in¬ 
habitants, and the French garrison was treated with 
all the respect due to their spirit and 

Many of the Si- 

enese retire to bravery. But many ot the citizens 
Monte-Alcino; J , ,. 

suspecting, from the extraordinary 

facility with which they had obtained such favour¬ 
able conditions, that the emperor as well as Cosmo 
would take the first opportunity of violating them, 
and disdaining to possess a precarious liberty which 
depended on the will of another, abandoned the 
place of their nativity, and accompanied the French 
to Monte-Alcino, Porto Ercole, and other small 
towns in the territory of the republic. 

and establish a 

free government They established in Monte-Alcino the 
there. J 

same model of government to which 
they had been accustomed at Siena, and, appointing 
magistrates with the same titles and jurisdiction, 
solaced themselves with this image of their ancient 
liberty. 

Hardships to The fears of the Sienese concerning 

zensof'siena' ^ ie fate of their country were not 

were subjected, imaginary, or their suspicion of the 

emperor and Cosmo ill-founded ; for no sooner had 
the imperial troops taken possession of the town, 
than Cosmo, without regarding the articles of capi¬ 
tulation, not only displaced the magistrates who 
were in office, and nominated new ones devoted to 
his own interest, but commanded all the citizens to 
deliver up their arms to persons whom he appointed 
to receive them. They submitted to the former 
from necessity, though with all the reluctance and 
regret which men accustomed to liberty feel in obey¬ 
ing the first commands of a master. They did not 
yield the same tame obedience to the latter; and 
many persons of distinction, rather than degrade 
themselves from the rank of freemen to the condi¬ 
tion of slaves by surrendering their arms, fled to 
their countrymen at Monte-Alcino, and chose to 
endure all the hardships and encounter all the dan¬ 
gers which they had reason to expect in that new 
station, where they had fixed the seat of their re¬ 
public. 

„ , Cosmo not reckoning himself secure 

Cosmo attacks . 

those who had while such numbers of implacable and 

retired. 

desperate enemies were settled in his 
neighbourhood, and retained any degree of power, 
solicited Medecino to attack them in their different 
places of retreat, before they had time to recruit 
their strength and spirits after the many calamities 
which they had suffered. He prevailed on him, 

h Sleid. 617- Thuan. lib. xv. 526, 537. Joan. Camerarii adnot. rer. 


[A. D. 1555. BOOK Xf. 


though his army was much weakened by hard duty 
during the siege of Siena, to invest Porto Ercole, 
and the fortifications being both slight and incom¬ 
plete, the besieged were soon compelled to open 
their gates. An unexpected order 

° c ,, June 13. 

which Medecino received from the 
emperor, to detach the greater part of his troops 
into Piedmont, prevented further operations, and 
permitted the Sienese exiles to reside for sometime 
undisturbed in Monte-Alcino. But their unhappy 
countrymen who remained at Siena were not yet at 
the end of their sufferings ; for the emperor, instead 
of adhering to the articles of capitulation, granted 
his son Philip the investiture of that city' and all its 
dependences; and Francis de Toledo, in the name 
of their new master, proceeded to settle the civil 
and military government, treated them like a con¬ 
quered people, and subjected them to the Spanish 
yoke, without paying any regard whatever to their 
privileges or ancient form of government. 11 

The imperial army in Piedmont had operations in 
been so feeble for some time, and its Piedmont. 

commander so inactive, that the emperor, in order 
to give vigour to his operations in that quarter, 
found it necessary not only to recall Medecino’s 
troops from Tuscany while in the career of con¬ 
quest, hut to employ in Piedmont a general of such 
reputation and abilities as might counterbalance 
the great military talents of the mareschal Brissac, 
who was at the head of the French forces in that 
country. 

He pitched on the duke of Alva for Charles appoints 
that purpose ; but that choice was as generalissimo lva 
much the effect of a court intrigue as there - 
of his opinion with respect to the duke’s merit. 
Alva had long made court to Philip with the ut¬ 
most assiduity, and had endeavoured to work him¬ 
self into his confidence by all the insinuating arts 
of which his haughty and inflexible nature was ca¬ 
pable. As he nearly resembled that prince in many 
features of his character, he began to gain much of 
his good-will. Ruy Gomez de Silva, Philip’s 
favourite, who dreaded the progress which this 
formidable rival made in his master’s affections, 
had the address to prevail with the emperor to name 
Alva to this command. The duke, though sensible 
that he owed this distinction to the malicious arts 
of an enemy who had no other aim than to remove 
him at a distance from court, was of such punctili¬ 
ous honour that he would not decline a command 
that appeared dangerous and difficult, but at the 
same time was so haughty that he would not accept 
of it but on his own terms, insisting on being ap¬ 
pointed the emperor’s vicar-general in Italy, with 
the supreme military command in all the imperial 
and Spanish territories in that country. Charles 
gianted all his demands ; and he took possession 
of his new dignity with almost unlimited au¬ 
thority. 


pra-cipuarum ab anno 1550 ad 1501 ap. Freherum, vol. iii. p. 564. Pecci 
Memone della Siena, iv. 54, &c. * 



BOOK XI. A. D. 1555.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G71 


iiis operations His first operations, however, were 
aL»Te e inconsider ' neither proportioned to his former re¬ 
putation and the extensive powers 
with which he was invested, not did they come up 
to the emperor’s expectations. Brissac had under 
his command an army which, though inferior in 
number to the imperialists, w as composed of chosen 
troops, which having grown old in service in that 
country, where every tow n w as fortified and every 
castle capable of being defended, were perfectly 
acquainted with the manner of carrying on war 
there. By their valour and his own good conduct, 
Brissac not only defeated all the attempts of the 
imperialists, but added new conquests to the terri¬ 
tories of which he was formerly master. Alva, after 
having boasted with his usual arrogance that he 
would drive the French out of Piedmont in a few 
weeks, was obliged to retire into winter-quarters, 
with the mortification of being unable to preserve 
entire that part of the country of which the emperor 
had hitherto kept possession. 1 

As the operations of this campaign 

A conspiracy to . . . . 

betray Metz to in Piedmont were indecisive, those in 

the imperialists. 

the Netherlands were inconsiderable, 
neither the emperor nor king of France being able 
to bring into the field an army strong enough to 
undertake any enterprise of moment. But what 
Charles wanted in force he endeavoured to supply 
by a bold stratagem, the success of which would 
have been equal to that of the most vigorous cam¬ 
paign. During the siege of Metz, Leonard, father 
guardian of a convent of Franciscans in that city, 
had insinuated himself far into the esteem and fa¬ 
vour of the duke of Guise, by his attachment to the 
French. Being a man of an active and intriguing 
spirit, he had been extremely useful both in animat¬ 
ing the inhabitants to sustain with patience all the 
hardships of the siege, and in procuring intelligence 
of the enemy’s designs and motions. The merit of 
those important services, together with the warm 
recommendations of the duke of Guise, secured him 
such high confidence with Vielleville, who was ap¬ 
pointed governor of Metz when Guise left the town, 
that he was permitted to converse or correspond 
with whatever persons he thought fit, and nothing 
that he did created any suspicion. This monk, 
from the levity natural to bold and projecting ad¬ 
venturers ; or from resentment against the French, 
who had not bestowed on him such rewards as he 
thought due to his own merit; or tempted, by the 
unlimited confidence which was placed in him, to 
imagine that he might carry on and accomplish any 
scheme with perfect security, formed a design of 
betraying Metz to the imperialists. 

He communicated his intentions to 

The plan of it. 

the queen-dowager ot Hungary, who 
governed the Low Countries in the name of her 
brother. She approving, without any scruple, any 
act of treachery from which the emperor might de¬ 
rive such signal advantage, assisted the father 


i Thuan. lib. xv. 529. Guichenon Hist, de Savoye, tom. i. 670. 


guardian in concerting the most proper plan for in¬ 
suring its success. They agreed that the father 
guardian should endeavour to gain his monks to 
concur in promoting the design ; that he should in¬ 
troduce into the convent a certain number of chosen 
soldiers, disguised in the habit of friars ; that when 
every thing was ripe for execution, the governor of 
Thionville should march towards Metz in the night 
with a considerable body of troops, and attempt to 
scale the ramparts ; that while the garrison was 
employed in resisting the assailants, the monks 
should set fire to the town in different places ; that 
the soldiers who lay concealed should sally out of 
the convent, and attack those who defended the 
ramparts in the rear. Amidst the universal terror 
and confusion which events so unexpected would 
occasion, it w as not doubted but that the imperialists 
might become masters of the town. As a recom- 
pence for this service, the father guardian stipulat¬ 
ed that he should be appointed bishop of Metz ; and 
ample rew ards were promised to such of his monks 
as should be most active in co-operating with him. 

The father guardian accomplished 
what he had undertaken to perform s i r °£ ress - 

with great secrecy and despatch. By his authority 
and arguments, as well as by the prospect of wealth 
and honours which he set before his monks, he pre¬ 
vailed on all of them to enter into the conspiracy. 
He introduced into the convent, without being sus¬ 
pected, as many soldiers as were thought sufficient. 
The governor of Thionville, apprised in due time of 
the design, had assembled a proper number of troops 
for executing it; and the moment approached which 
probably would have wrested from Henry the most 
important of all his conquests. 

But, happily for France, on the very 
day that was fixed for striking the Is dlscovered - 
blow, Vielleville, an able and vigilant officer, re¬ 
ceived information from a spy whom he entertained 
at Thionville, that certain Franciscan friars resorted 
frequently thither, and were admitted to many pri¬ 
vate conferences with the governor, who was carry¬ 
ing on preparations for some military enterprise 
with great despatch, but with a most mysterious 
secrecy. This was sufficient to awaken Vielleville’s 
suspicions. Without communicating these to any 
person, he instantly visited the convent of Fran¬ 
ciscans ; detected the soldiers who were concealed 
there ; and forced them to discover as much as they 
knew concerning the nature of the enterprise. The 
father guardian, who had gone to Thionville that he 
might put the last hand to his machinations, was 
seized at the gate as he returned ; and he, in order 
to save himself from the rack, revealed all the cir¬ 
cumstances of the conspiracy. 

Vielleville, not satisfied with having 
seized the traitors and having frustrat- perkUsts de™ 

feated 

ed their schemes, was solicitous to take 
advantage of the discoveries which he had made, 
so as to be revenged on the imperialists. For this 



THE REIGN OF THE 


672 

purpose he marched out with the best troops in his 
garrison, and placing these in ambush near the road 
by which the father guardian had informed him 
that the governor of Thionville would approach 
Metz, he fell upon the imperialists with great fury, 
as they advanced in perfect security, without sus¬ 
pecting any danger to be near. Confounded at this 
sudden attack by an enemy whom they expected to 
surprise, they made little resistance ; and a great 
part of the troops employed in this service, among 
whom were many persons of distinction, were killed 
or taken prisoners. Before next morning Vielleville 
returned to Metz in triumph. 

The conspirators No resolution was taken for some 
punished. time concerning the fate of the father 

guardian and his monks, the framers and conductors 
of this dangerous conspiracy. Regard for the honour 
of a body so numerous and respectable as the Fran¬ 
ciscans, and unwillingness to afford a subject of tri¬ 
umph to the enemies of the Romish church by their 
disgrace, seem to have occasioned this delay. But 
at length the necessity of inflicting exemplary pun¬ 
ishment upon them, in order to deter others from 
venturing to commit the same crime, became so 
evident, that orders were issued to proceed to their 
trial. The guilt was made apparent by the clear¬ 
est evidence ; and sentence of death was passed 
upon the father guardian, together with twenty 
monks. On the evening previous to the day fixed 
for their execution, the jailer took them out of the 
dungeons in which they had hitherto been confined 
separately, and shut them all up in one great room, 
that they might confess their sins one to another, 
and join together in preparing for a future state. 
But as soon as they were left alone, instead of em¬ 
ploying themselves in the religious exercises suit¬ 
able to their condition, they began to reproach the 
father guardian and four of the senior monks who 
had been most active in seducing them, for their 
inordinate ambition, which had brought such misery 
on them and such disgrace upon their order. From 
reproaches they proceeded to curses and execrations, 
and at last, in a phrensy of rage and despair, they 
fell upon them with such violence, that they mur¬ 
dered the father guardian on the spot, and so dis¬ 
abled the other four, that it became necessary to 
carry them next morning in a cart, together with the 
dead body of the father guardian, to the place of ex¬ 
ecution. Six of the youngest were pardoned, the rest 
suffered the punishment which their crime merited. k 

Though both parties, exhausted by 

dation\n S orderto the length of the war, carried it on in 
establish peace. ^bi S languishing manner, neither of 

them showed any disposition to listen to overtures 
of peace. Cardinal Pole, indeed, laboured with 
all the zeal becoming his piety and humanity to re¬ 
establish concord among the princes of Christen¬ 
dom. He had not only persuaded his mistress, the 
queen of England, to enter warmly into his senti- 

k Thuan. lib. xv. p. 522. Belcar. Com. Rer. Gal. 866. Memoires du 
Marech. Vielleville, par M. Charloix, tom. iii. p. 219, &c. p. 347. Pai. 1757. 


[A. D. 1555. BOOK XI. 

ments, and to offer her mediation to the contending 
powers, but had prevailed both on the emperor and 
king of France to send their plenipotentiaries to a 
village between Gravelines and Ardres. He him¬ 
self, together with Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, 
repaired thither in order to preside as mediators in 
the conferences which were to be held for adjusting 
all the points in difference. But though each of 
the monarchs committed this negociation to some 
of their ministers in whom they placed the greatest 
confidence, it was soon evident that they came toge¬ 
ther with no sincere desire of accommodation. Each 
proposed articles so extravagant, that ^ ^ 

they could have no hopes of their be¬ 
ing accepted. Pole, after exerting in vain all his 
zeal and address in order to persuade them to re¬ 
linquish such extravagant demands, and to consent 
to the substitution of more equal conditions, became 
sensible of the folly of wasting time in attempting 
to re-establish concord between those whom their 
obstinacy rendered irreconcilable, broke off the 
conference, and returned to England. 1 

During these transactions in other Affairs of 
parts of Europe, Germany enjoyed Germany. 

such profound tranquillity as afforded the diet full 
leisure to deliberate, and to establish proper regu¬ 
lations concerning a point of the greatest conse¬ 
quence to the internal peace of the empire. By 
the treaty of Passau, in one thousand five hundred 
and fifty-two, it had been referred to the next diet 
of the empire to confirm and perfect the plan of re¬ 
ligious pacification which was there agreed upon. 
The terror and confusion with which the violent 
commotions excited by Albert of Brandenburg had 
filled Germany, as well as the constant attention 
which Ferdinand was obliged to give to the affairs 
of Hungary, had hitherto prevented the holding a 
diet, though it had been summoned, soon after the 
conclusion of the treaty, to meet at Augsburg. 

But as a diet was now necessary on Dietheld at 
many accounts, Ferdinand about the Ferdinand’s™ 1 
beginning of this year had repaired to s P eech m 
Augsburg. Though few of the princes were pre¬ 
sent either in person or by their deputies, he opened 
the assembly by a speech, in which he proposed 
a termination of the dissensions to which the new 
tenets and controversies with regard to religion 
had given rise, not only as the first and great busi¬ 
ness of the diet, but as the point which both the 
emperor and he had most at heart. He repre¬ 
sented the innumerable obstacles which the empe¬ 
ror had to surmount before he could procure the 
convocation of a general council, as well as the fa¬ 
tal accidents which had for some time retarded and 
had at last suspended the consultations of that 
assembly. He observed, that experience had alrea <iy 
taught them how vain it was to expect any remedy 
for evils which demanded immediate redress from a 
general council, the assembling of which w r ould 

1 Ihuan. lib. xv. p. 523. Mem. de Ribier, tom. ii. p. 613. 



BOOK XI. A. D. 1555.] EMPEROR 

either be prevented, or its deliberations be inter¬ 
rupted by the dissensions and hostilities of the 
princes of Christendom : that a national council in 
Germany, which, as some imagined, might be called 
with greater ease, and deliberate with more perfect 
security, was an assembly of an unprecedented na¬ 
ture, the jurisdiction of which was uncertain in its 
extent, and the form of its proceedings undefined: 
that in his opinion there remained but one method 
for composing their unhappy dilferences, which 
though it had been often tried without success, 
might yet prove effectual, if it were attempted with 
a better and more pacific spirit than had appeared 
on former occasions ; and that was to choose a few 
men of learning, abilities, and moderation, who by 
discussing the disputed articles in an amicable con¬ 
ference, might explain them in such a manner as to 
bring the contending parties either to unite in sen¬ 
timent or to differ with charity. 

This speech being printed in com 
tears'of 'The and mon form and dispersed over the ein- 
protestants. pi re, revived the fears and jealousies 

of the protestants: Ferdinand, they observed with 
much surprise, had not once mentioned in his ad¬ 
dress to the diet the treaty of Passau, the stipula¬ 
tions of which they considered as the great security 
of their religious liberty. The suspicions to which 
this gave rise were confirmed by the accounts which 
they daily received of the extreme severity with 
which Ferdinand treated their protestant brethren 
in his hereditary dominions ; and as it was natural 
to consider his actions as the surest indication of 
his intentions, this diminished their confidence in 
those pompous professions of moderation and of 
zeal for the re-establishment of concord, to which 
his practice seemed to be so repugnant. 

The arrival of the cardinal Morone, 
by e the arrival of whom the pope had appointed to at- 
the n pope°to tr tiie tend the diet as his nuncio, completed 
their conviction, and left them no 
room to doubt that some dangerous machination 
was forming against the peace or safety of the pro¬ 
testant church. Julius, elated with the unexpected 
return of the English nation from apostasy, began 
to flatter himself that the spirit of mutiny and re¬ 
volt having now spent its force, the happy period 
was come when the church might resume its ancient 
authority, and be obeyed by the people with the 
same tame submission as formerly. Full of these 
hopes, he had sent Moron6 to Augsburg, with in¬ 
structions to employ his eloquence to excite the 
Germans to imitate the laudable example of the 
English, and his political address in order to pre¬ 
vent any decree of the diet to the detriment of the 
catholic faith. As Morone inherited from his father, 
the chancellor of Milan, uncommon talents for ne- 
gociation and intrigue, he could hardly have failed 
of embarrassing the measures of the protestants in 
the diet, or of defeating whatever they aimed at ob¬ 
taining in it for their further security, 
m Onuphr. Panvinius de Vitis Pontificum, p. 320. Ihuan. lib. xv. 517, 

2 x 


CHARLES V. 


G73 


March 23. 


But an unforeseen event delivered The death of 
them from all the danger which they Jullus liL 
had reason to apprehend from Morone’s presence. 
Julius, by abandoning himself to pleasures and 
amusements no less unbecoming his age than his 
character, having contracted such habits of dissi¬ 
pation, that any serious occupation, especially if 
attended with difficulty, became an intolerable bur¬ 
den to him, had long resisted the solicitations of his 
nephew to hold a consistory, because he expected 
there a violent opposition to his schemes in favour 
of that young man. But when all the pretexts which 
he could invent for eluding this request were ex¬ 
hausted, and at the same time his indolent aversion 
to business continued to grow upon him, he feigned 
indisposition rather than yield to his nephew's im¬ 
portunity ; and that he might give the deceit a 
greater colour of probability, he not only confined 
himself to his apartment, but changed his usual diet 
and manner of life. By persisting too long in acting 
this ridiculous part, he contracted a real disease, of 
which he died in a few days, leaving 
his infamous minion the cardinal de 
Monte to bear his name, and to disgrace the dignity 
which he had conferred upon him." 1 The nunrio sets 
As soon as Morone heard of his death, out tor Rome - 
he set out abruptly from Augsburg, where he had 
resided only a few days, that he might be present 
at the election of a new pontiff. 

One Cause Of their suspicions and Ferdinand’s rea- 
fears being thus removed, the protest- ?o satisfy the pro* 
ants soon became sensible that their testants - 
conjectures concerning Ferdinand’s intentions, how¬ 
ever specious, were ill-founded, and that he had no 
thoughts of violating the articles favourable to them 
in the treaty of Passau. Charles, from the time 
that Maurice had defeated all his schemes in the 
empire, and overturned the great system of religious 
and civil despotism which he had almost establish¬ 
ed there, gave little attention to the internal govern¬ 
ment of Germany, and permitted his brother to 
pursue whatever measures he judged most salutary 
and expedient. Ferdinand, less ambitious and en¬ 
terprising than the emperor, instead of resuming a 
plan which he, with power and resources so far su¬ 
perior, had failed of accomplishing, endeavoured to 
attach the princes of the empire to his family by an 
administration uniformly moderate and equitable. 
To this he gave, at present, particular attention, 
because his situation at this juncture rendered it 
necessary to court their favour and support with 
more than usual assiduity. 

Charles had again resumed his fa- 

• • • • Charles 

vourite project of acquiring the impe- sumed his plan 

rial crown tor his son Philip, the succession to the 

prosecution of which the reception it emplre ' 

had met with when first proposed had obliged him 

to suspend, but had not induced him to relinquish. 

This led him warmly to renew his request to his 

brother, that he would accept of some compensation 




THE REIGN OF THE 


074 

for his prior right of succession, and sacrifice that 
to the grandeur of the house of Austria. Ferdinand, 
who was as little disposed as formerly to give such 
an extraordinary proof of self-denial, being sensible 
that in order to defeat this scheme, not only the 
most inflexible firmness on bis part, but a vigorous 
declaration from the princes of the empire in behalf 
of his title, were requisite, was willing to purchase 
their favour by gratifying them in every point that 
they deemed interesting or essential. 

At the same time he stood in need of 

The Turks were . .. , c 

ready to invade immediate and extraordinary aid from 
the Germanic body, as the Turks, after 
having wrested from him great part of his Hunga¬ 
rian territories, were ready to attack the provinces 
still subject to his authority with a formidable army, 
against which he could bring no equal force into 
the field. For this aid from Germany he could not 
hope, if the internal peace of the empire were not 
established on a foundation solid in itself, and which 
should appear, even to the protestants, so secure and 
so permanent, as might not only allow them to 
engage in a distant war with safety, but might 
encourage them to act in it with vigour. 

He is alarmed at A step taken by the protestants them- 
by m the St protest ken selves, a short time after the opening 
ants * of the diet, rendered him still more 

cautious of giving them any new cause of offence. 
As soon as the publication of Ferdinand’s speech 
awakened the fears and suspicions which have been 
mentioned, the electors of Saxony and Branden¬ 
burg, together with the landgrave of Hesse, met at 
Naumburg; and confirming the ancient treaty of 
confraternity which had long united their families, 
they added to it a new article, by which the con¬ 
tracting parties bound themselves to adhere to the 
confession of Augsburg, and to maintain the doc¬ 
trine which it contained in their respective do¬ 
minions. 11 

Ferdinand zeal- Ferdinand, influenced by all these 
aifaccommoda- considerations, employed his utmost 
tl0n ' address in conducting the deliberations 

of the diet, so as not to excite the jealousy of a party 
on whose friendship he depended, and whose enmity, 
as they had not only taken the alarm, but had begun 
to prepare for their defence, he had so much reason 
to dread. The members of the diet readily agreed 
to Ferdinand’s proposal of taking the state of reli¬ 
gion into consideration previous to any other busi¬ 
ness. But as soon as they entered upon it, both 
parties discovered all the zeal and animosity which 
a subject so interesting naturally engenders, and 
which the rancour of controversy, together with the 
violence of civil war, had inflamed to the highest 
pitch. 

The protestants contended, that the 

The pretensions ... . . 

of the catholics security which they claimed in conse- 
and protestants. 

quence of the treaty of Passau should 
extend, without limitation, to all who had hitherto 
embraced the doctrine of Luther, or who should 

n Chytraei Saxonia, 460. 


[A. D. 1555. BOOK XI. 

hereafter embrace it. The catholics having first 
of all asserted the pope’s right as the supreme 
and final judge with respect to all articles of faith, 
declared, that though, on account of the present 
situation of the empire, and for the sake of peace, 
they were willing to confirm the toleration granted by 
the treaty of Passau to such as had already adopted 
the new opinions, they must insist that this indulg¬ 
ence should not be extended either to those cities 
which had conformed to the Interim, or to such 
ecclesiastics as should for the future apostatize from 
the church of Rome. It was no easy matter to 
reconcile such opposite pretensions, which w'ere 
supported on each side by the most elaborate argu¬ 
ments and the greatest acrimony of expression that 
the abilities or zeal of theologians long exercised in 
disputation could suggest. Ferdinand, however, by 
his address and perseverance ; by softening some 
things on each side ; by putting a favourable mean¬ 
ing upon others ; by representing incessantly the 
necessity as well as the advantages of concord ; and 
by threatening on some occasions, when all other 
considerations were disregarded, to dissolve the 
diet, brought them at length to a conclusion in which 
they all agreed. 

Conformably to this, a recess was 
framed, approved of, and published The peace of reli- 
with the usual formalities. The fol- gl0nestablished - 
lowing are the chief articles which it contained:— 
That such princes and cities as have declared their 
approbation of the confession of Augsburg, shall be 
permitted to profess the doctrine and exercise the 
worship which it authorizes, without interruption or 
molestation from the emperor, the king of the Ro¬ 
mans, or any power or person whatsoever ; that the 
protestants, on their part, shall give no disquiet to 
the princes and states who adhere to the tenets and 
rites of the church of Rome ; that, for the future, no 
attempt shall be made towards terminating religious 
differences but by the gentle and pacific methods of 
persuasion and conference; that the popish eccle¬ 
siastics shall claim no spiritual jurisdiction in such 
states as receive the confession of Augsburg; that 
such as had seized the benefices or revenues of the 
church previous to the treaty of Passau, shall retain 
possession of them, and be liable to no persecution 
in the imperial chamber on that account; that the 
supreme civil power in every state shall have right 
to establish what form of doctrine and worship it 
shall deem proper, and if any of its subjects refuse 
to conform to these, shall permit them to remove 
with all their effects whithersoever they shall please; 
that if any prelate or ecclesiastic shall hereafter 
abandon the Romish religion, he shall instantly 
relinquish his diocese or benefice, and it shall be 
lawful for those in whom the right of nomination is 
vested, to proceed immediately to an election, as if 
the office were vacant by death or translation, and 
to appoint a successor of undoubted attachment to 
the ancient system. 0 

o Sleid. 620. F. Paul, 368. Pallav. p. 11, 161. 




BOOK XI. A. D. 1555.] 

Reflections on the Such are the capital articles in this 
prmcUifes^t' 0 tamous recess, which is the basis of 
religious peace in Germany, and the 
bond of union among its various states, the senti¬ 
ments of which are so extremely different with 
respect to points the most interesting as well as 
important. In our age and nation, to which the 
idea of toleration is familiar, and its beneficial 
effects well known, it may seem strange that a 
method of terminating their dissensions so suitable 
to the mild and charitable spirit of the Christian 
religion, did not sooner occur to the contending 
parties. But this expedient, however salutary, was 
so repugnant to the sentiments and practice of 
Christians during many ages, that it did not lie 
obvious to discovery. Among the ancient heathens, 
all whose deities were local and tutelary, diversity 
ol sentiments concerning the object or rites of reli¬ 
gious worship seems to have been no source of 
animosity, because the acknowledging veneration 
to be due to any one god did not imply denial of 
the existence or the power of any other god; nor 
were the modes and rites of worship established in 
one country incompatible with those which other 
nations approved of and observed. Thus the errors 
in their system of theology were of such a nature as 
to be productive of concord ; and notwithstanding 
the amazing number of their deities, as well as the 
infinite variety of their ceremonies, a sociable and 
tolerating spirit subsisted almost universally in the 
pagan world. 

But when the Christian revelation declared one 
Supreme Being to be the sole object of religious 
veneration, and prescribed the form of worship 
most acceptable to him, whoever admitted the truth 
of it held, of consequence, every other system of re¬ 
ligion as a deviation from what was established by 
divine authority to be false and impious. Hence 
arose the zeal of the first converts to the Christian 
faith in propagating its doctrines, and the ardour 
with which they laboured to overturn every other 
form of worship. They employed, however, for this 
purpose, no methods but such as suited the nature 
of religion. By the force of powerful arguments 
they convinced the understandings of men; by the 
charms of superior virtue they allured and capti¬ 
vated their hearts. At length the civil power de¬ 
clared in favour of Christianity; and though numbers, 
imitating the example of their superiors, crowded 
into the church, many still adhered to their ancient 
superstitions. Enraged at their obstinacy, the minis¬ 
ters of religion, whose zeal was still unabated, 
though their sanctity and virtue were much di¬ 
minished, forgot so far the nature of their own 
mission, and of the arguments which they ought 
to have employed, that they armed the imperial 
power against these unhappy men, and as they 
could not persuade, they tried to compel them to 
believe. 

At the same time controversies concerning articles 
of faith multiplied, from various causes, among 

2x2 


G75 

Christians themselves, and the same unhallowed 
weapons which had first been used against the 
enemies of their religion, were turned against each 
other. Every zealous disputant endeavoured to 
interest the civil magistrate in his cause, and each 
in his turn employed the secular arm to crush or to 
exterminate his opponents. Not long after, the 
bishops of Rome put in their claim to infallibility 
in explaining articles of faith and deciding points 
in controversy ; and bold as the pretension was, 
they, by their artifices and perseverance, imposed 
on the credulity of mankind, and brought them to 
recognise it. To doubt or to deny any doctrine to 
which these unerring instructors had given the 
sanction of their approbation, was held to be not 
only a resisting of truth, but an act of rebellion 
against their sacred authority: and the secular 
power, of which, by various arts, they had acquired 
the absolute direction, was instantly employed to 
avenge both. 

Thus Europe had been accustomed, during many 
centuries, to see speculative opinions propagated or 
defended by force ; the charity and mutual forbear¬ 
ance which Christianity recommends with so much 
warmth were forgotten; the sacred rights of con¬ 
science and of private judgment were unheard of; 
and not only the idea of toleration, but even the 
word itself in the sense now affixed to it, was un¬ 
known. A right to extirpate error by force was 
universally allowed to be the prerogative of such as 
possessed the knowledge of truth; and as each 
party of Christians believed that they had got pos¬ 
session of this invaluable attainment, they all claim¬ 
ed and exercised, as far as they were able, the rights 
which it was supposed to convey. The Roman 
catholics, as their system rested on the decisions of 
an infallible judge, never doubted that truth w as on 
their side, and openly called on the civil power to 
repel the impious and heretical innovators who had 
risen up against it. The protestants, no less confi¬ 
dent that their doctrine was well founded, required, 
with equal ardour, the princes of their party to 
check such as presumed to impugn it. Luther, 
Calvin, Cranmer, Knox, the founders of the re¬ 
formed church in their respective countries, as far 
as they had power and opportunity, inflicted the 
same punishments upon such as called in question 
any article in their creeds which were denounced 
against their own disciples by the church of Rome. 
To their follow ers, and perhaps to their opponents, 
it would have appeared a symptom of diffidence in 
the goodness of their cause, or an acknowledgment 
that it was not well founded, if they had not em¬ 
ployed in its defence all those means which it w as 
supposed truth had a right to employ. 

It was towards the close of the seventeenth cen¬ 
tury before toleration, under its present form, was 
admitted first into the republic of the United Pro¬ 
vinces, and from thence introduced into England. 
Long experience of the calamities flowing from mu¬ 
tual persecution, the influence of free government, 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 



THE REIGN OF THE 


(>76 


[A. I). 1555. BOOK XL 


the light and humanity acquired by the progress of 
science, together with the prudence and authority of 
the civil magistrate, were all requisite in order to esta¬ 
blish a regulation so repugnanlto the ideas which all 
the different sects had adopted, from mistaken con¬ 
ceptions, concerning the nature of religion and the 
rights of truth, or which all of them had derived 
from the erroneous maxims established by the church 
of Rome. 

Advantages of The recess of Augsburg, it is evident, 

placebo th U e s Lu- was founded on no such liberal and 
therans ; enlarged sentiments concerning free¬ 

dom of religious inquiry, or the nature of toleration. 
It was nothing more than a scheme of pacification 
which political considerations alone had suggested 
to the contending parties, and regard for their mu¬ 
tual tranquillity and safety had rendered necessary. 
Of this there can be no stronger proof than an ar¬ 
ticle in the recess itself, by which the benefits of the 
pacification are declared to extend only to the ca¬ 
tholics on the one side, and to such as adhered to 
the confession of Augsburg on the other. The fol¬ 
lowers of Zuinglius and Calvin remained, in con¬ 
sequence of that exclusion, without any protection 
from the rigour of the laws denounced against here¬ 
tics. Nor did they obtain any legal security until 
the treaty of Westphalia, near a century after this 
period, provided that they should be admitted to 
enjoy, in as ample a manner as the Lutherans, all 
the advantages and protection which the recess of 
Augsburg affords. 

But if the followers of Luther were 
highly pleased with the security which 
they acquired by this recess, such as adhered to 
the ancient system had no less reason to be satis¬ 
fied with that article in it, which preserved entire to 
the Roman catholic church the benefices of such 
ecclesiastics as should hereafter renounce its doc¬ 
trines, This article, known in Germany by the 
name of the Ecclesiastical Reservation , was appa¬ 
rently so conformable to the idea and to the rights 
of an established church, and it seemed so equit 
able to prevent revenues which had been originally 
appropriated for the maintenance of persons attach¬ 
ed to a certain system from being alienated to any 
other purpose, that the protestants, though they 
foresaw its consequences, were obliged to relinquish 
their opposition to it. As the Roman catholic princes 
of the empire have taken care to see this article 
exactly observed in every case where there was an 
opportunity of putting it in execution, it has proved 
the great barrier of the Romish church in Germany 
against the Reformation ; and as, from this period, 
the same temptation of interest did not allure eccle¬ 
siastics to relinquish the established system, there 
have been few of that order who have loved truth 
with such disinterested and ardent affection, as for 
its sake to abandon the rich benefices which they 
had in possession. 

During the sitting of the diet, Marcellus Cervino, 

p Thuan. 520. F. Paul, .365. Onuph. Panvjn. 321, fee. 


and to the ca¬ 
tholics. 


ilis character. 


His death. 


cardinal of Santo Croce, was elected „ .. TT 

7 Marcellus II. 

pope in room of Julius. He, in imi- ele ^ il p ” pe » 
tation of Adrian, did not change his 
name on being exalted to the papal chair. As he 
equalled that pontiff in purity of in¬ 
tention, while he excelled him much 
in the arts of government, and still more in know¬ 
ledge of the state and genius of the papal court; as 
he had capacity to discern what reformation it 
needed, as well as what it could bear, such regula¬ 
tions were expected from his virtue and wisdom as 
would have removed many of its grossest and most 
flagrant corruptions, and have contributed towards 
reconciling to the church such as, from indignation 
at these enormities, had abandoned its communion. 
But this excellent pontiff was only shown to the 
church, and immediately snatched away. The con¬ 
finement in the conclave had impaired 
his health, and the fatigue of tedious 
ceremonies upon his accession, together with too 
intense and anxious application of mind to the 
schemes of improvement which he meditated, ex¬ 
hausted so entirely the vigour of his feeble con¬ 
stitution, that he sickened on the twelfth and died 
on the twentieth day after his election .p 

All the refinements in artifice and The election of 
intrigue peculiarto conclaves were dis- Paul Iv - 
played in that which was held for electing a suc¬ 
cessor to Marcellus; the cardinals of the imperial 
and French factions labouring, with equal ardour, to 
gain the necessary number of suffrages for one of 
their own party. But after a struggle of no long 
duration, though conducted with all the warmth and 
eagerness natural to men contending 
for so great an object, they united in 
choosing John Peter Caraffa, the eldest member of 
the sacred college, and the son of count Montorio, 
a nobleman of an illustrious family in the kingdom 
of Naples. The address and influence of cardinal 
Farnese, who favoured his pretensions, Caraffa's 
own merit, and perhaps his great age, which soothed 
all the disappointed candidates with the near pros¬ 
pect of a new vacancy, concurred in bringing about 
this speedy union of suffrages. In order to testify 
his respect for the memory of Paul III., by whom 
he had been created cardinal, as well as his grati¬ 
tude to the family of Farnese, he assumed the name 
of Paul IV. 

The choice of a prelate of such a sin- His nse and 
gular character, and who had long character, 
held a Course extremely different from that which 
usually led to the dignity now conferred upon him, 
filled the Italians, who had nearest access to observe 
his manners and deportment, with astonishment, 
and kept them in suspense and solicitude with re¬ 
gard to his future conduct. Paul, though born in 
a rank of life which, without any other merit, might 
have secured to him the highest ecclesiastical pre¬ 
ferments, had, from his early years, applied to study 
with all the assiduity of a man who had nothing 


May 23. 



BOOK XI. A. D. 1555.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G77 


but his personal attainments to render him conspi¬ 
cuous. By means of this he not only acquired pro¬ 
found skill in scholastic theology, but added to that 
a considerable knowledge of the learned languages 
and of polite literature, the study of which had been 
lately revived in Ttaly, and was pursued at this 
time with great ardour. His mind, however, natu- 
rally gloomy and severe, was more formed to im¬ 
bibe the sour spirit of the former than to receive 
any tincture of elegance or liberality of sentiment 
from the latter ; so that he acquired rather the qua¬ 
lities and passions of a recluse ecclesiastic than the 
talents necessary for the conduct of great affairs. 
Accordingly, when he entered into orders, although 
several rich benefices were bestowed upon him, and 
he was early employed as a nuncio in different 
courts, he soon became disgusted with that course 
of life, and languished to be in a situation more 
suited to his taste and temper. With this view he 
resigned at once all his ecclesiastical preferments, 
and having instituted an order of regular priests 
whom he denominated Theatines, from the name of 
the archbishopric which he had held, he associated 
himself as a member of their fraternity, conformed 
to all the rigorous rules to which he had subjected 
them, and preferred the solitude of a monastic life, 
with the honour of being the founder of a new order, 
to all the great objects which the court of Rome 
presented to his ambition. 

In this retreat he remained for many years, until 
Paul III., induced by the fame of his sanctity and 
knowledge, called him to Rome, in order to consult 
with him concerning the measures which might be 
most proper and effectual for suppressing heresy 
and re-establishing the ancient authority of the 
church. Having thus allured him from his solitude, 
the pope, partly by his entreaties and partly by his 
authority, prevailed on him to accept of a cardinal’s 
hat, to reassume the benefices which he had resigned, 
and to return again into the usual path of ecclesi¬ 
astical ambition, which he seemed to have relin¬ 
quished. But during two successive pontificates, 
under the first of which the court of Rome was the 
most artful and interested, and under the second the 
most dissolute, of any in Europe, Caraffa retained 
his monastic austerity. He was an avowed and 
bitter enemy not only of all innovation in opinion, 
but of every irregularity in practice; he was the 
chief instrument in establishing the formidable and 
odious tribunal of the inquisition in the papal ter¬ 
ritories ; he appeared a violent advocate on all oc¬ 
casions for the jurisdiction and discipline of the 
church, and a severe censurer of every measure 
which seemed to flow from motives of policy or in¬ 
terest rather than from zeal for the honour of the 
ecclesiastical order and the dignity of the holy see. 
Under a prelate of such a character, the Roman 
courtiers expected a severe and violent pontificate, 
during which the principles of sound policy would 
be sacrificed to the narrow prejudices of priestly 


zeal; while the people of Rome were apprehen¬ 
sive of seeing the sordid and forbidding rigour of 
monastic manners substituted in place of the mag¬ 
nificence to which they had long been accustomed 
in the papal court. These apprehensions Paul was 
extremely solicitous to remove. At 

. . . . The first steps of 

ins first entrance upon the admimstra- his administra¬ 
tion, he laid aside that austerity which 
had hitherto distinguished his person and family, 
and when the master of his household inquired 
in what manner he would choose to live, he haugh¬ 
tily replied, “ As becomes a great prince.” He 
ordered the ceremony of his coronation to be con¬ 
ducted with more than usual pomp ; and endea¬ 
voured to render himself popular by several acts of 
liberality and indulgence towards the inhabitants 
of Rome. q 

His natural severity of temper, how- 

, The excess of his 

ever, woyld have soon returned upon attachment to ins 

, nephews. 

him, and would have justified the con¬ 
jectures of the courtiers as well as the fears of the 
people, if he had not, immediately after his election, 
called to Rome two of his nephews, the sons of his 
brother the count of Montorio. The eldest he pro¬ 
moted to be governor of Rome. The youngest, who 
had hitherto served as a soldier of fortune in the 
armies of Spain or France, and whose disposition 
as well as manners were still more foreign from the 
clerical character than his profession, he created a 
cardinal, and appointed him legate of Bologna, the 
second office in power and dignity which a pope 
can bestow. These marks of favour, no less sudden 
than extravagant, he accompanied with the most 
unbounded confidence and attachment; and forget¬ 
ting all his former severe maxims, he seemed to 
have no other object than the aggrandizing of his 
nephews. Their ambition, unfortu- Their anibitious 
nately for Paul, was too aspiring to projects, 
be satisfied with any moderate acquisition. They 
had seen the family of Medici raised by the interest 
of the popes of that house to supreme power in 
Tuscany ; Paul IIT. had, by his abilities and ad¬ 
dress, secured the duchies of Parma and Placentia 
to the family of Farnese. They aimed at some 
establishment for themselves, no less considerable 
and independent; and as they could not expect 
that the pope would carry his indulgence towards 
them so far as to secularize any part of the patri¬ 
mony of the church, they had no prospect of attain¬ 
ing what they wished but by dismembering the im¬ 
perial dominions in Italy, in hopes of seizing some 
portion of them. This alone they would have 
deemed a sufficient reason for sowing the seeds of 
discord between their uncle and the emperor. 

But cardinal Caraffa had, besides, 
private reasons which filled him with disgust with the 
hatred and enmity to the emperor. emperor - 
While he served in the Spanish troops he had not 
received such marks of honour and distinction as 
he thought due to his birth and merit. Disgusted 


q Platina, p. 327. Castaldo Vita di Paolo IV. Rom. 1615. p. 70. 



67$ 


THE REIGN OF THE 


with this ill usage, he had abruptly quitted the im¬ 
perial service ; and entering into that of France, he 
had not only met with such a reception as soothed 
his vanity and attached him to the French interest, 
but by contracting an intimate friendship with 
Strozzi, who commanded the French army in Tus¬ 
cany, he had imbibed a mortal antipathy to the em¬ 
peror, as the great enemy to the liberty and inde¬ 
pendence of the Italian states. Nor was the pope 
himself indisposed to receive impressions unfavour¬ 
able to the emperor. The opposition given to his 
election by the cardinals of the imperial faction left 
in his mind deep resentment, which was heightened 
by the remembrance of ancient injuries from Charles 
or his ministers. 

They endeavour this nephews took advantage, 

i?ope h from e the 6 aT1 d employed various devices in order 
emperor. to exasperate him beyond a possibi¬ 

lity of reconciliation. They aggravated every cir¬ 
cumstance which could be deemed any indication 
of the emperor’s dissatisfaction with his promotion ; 
they read to him an intercepted letter, in which 
Charles taxed the cardinals of his party with negli¬ 
gence or incapacity in not having defeated Paul’s 
election ; they pretended, at one time, to have dis¬ 
covered a conspiracy formed by the imperial minis¬ 
ter and Cosmo di Medici against the pope’s life; 
they alarmed him, at another, with accounts of 
a plot for assassinating themselves. By these arti¬ 
fices they kept his mind, which was naturally vio¬ 
lent and become suspicious from old age, in such 
perpetual agitation as precipitated him into mea¬ 
sures which otherwise he would have been the first 
person to condemn/ He seized some of the cardi¬ 
nals who were most attached to the emperor, and 
confined them in the castle of St. Angelo: he per¬ 
secuted the Colonnas and other Roman barons, the 
ancient retainers to the imperial faction, with the 
utmost severity; and discovering on all occasions 
his distrust, fear, or hatred of the emperor, he began 
at last to court the friendship of the French king, 
and seemed willing to throw himself absolutely 
upon him for support and protection 

This was the very point to which 

Induce him to , . . 

court the king his nephews wished him as most fa¬ 
vourable to their ambitious schemes ; 
and as the accomplishment of these depended on 
their uncle’s life, whose advanced age did not admit 
of losing a moment unnecessarily in negociations, 
instead of treating at second-hand with the French 
ambassador at Rome, they prevailed on the pope to 
despatch a person of confidence directly to the court 
of France, with such overtures on his part as they 
hoped would not be rejected. He proposed an 
alliance offensive and defensive between Henry and 
the pope; that they should attack the duchy of 
Tuscany and the kingdom of Naples with their 
united forces; and if their arms should prove suc¬ 
cessful, that the ancient republican form of govern¬ 
ment should be re-established in the former, and the 

r Ripamontii Hist. Patriae, lib. iii. 1146. ap. Grav. Thes. vol. ii. 


[A. 1). 1555. BOOK XI. 

investiture of the latter should be granted to one of 
the French king’s sons, after reserving a certain ter¬ 
ritory which should be annexed to the patrimony of 
the church, together with an independent and princely 
establishment for each of the pope’s nephews. 

The king, allured by these specious constable Mont- 
projects, gave a most favourable audi- Se r SncewiS 
ence to the envoy. But when the mat- tlie pope ’ 
ter was proposed in council, the constable Mont¬ 
morency, whose natural caution and aversion to 
daring enterprises increased with age and experi¬ 
ence, remonstrated with great vehemence against 
the alliance. He put Henry in mind how fatal to 
France every expedition into Italy had been during 
three successive reigns ; and if such an enterprise 
had proved too great for the nation, even when its 
strength and finances were entire, there was no rea¬ 
son to hope for success, if it should be attempted 
now, when both were exhausted by extraordinary 
efforts during wars which had lasted with little inter¬ 
ruption almost half a century. He represented the 
manifest imprudence of entering into engagements 
with a pope of fourscore, as any system which 
rested on no better foundation than his life must be 
extremely precarious, and upon the event of his 
death, which could not be distant, the face of 
things, together with the inclination of the Italian 
states, must instantly change, and the whole weight 
of the war be left upon the king alone. To these 
considerations he added the near prospect which 
they now had of a final accommodation with the 
emperor, who having taken the resolution of retir¬ 
ing from the world, wished to transmit his king¬ 
doms in peace to his son; and he concluded with 
representing the absolute certainty of drawing the 
arms of England upon France, if it should appear 
that the re-establishment of tranquillity in Europe 
was prevented by the ambition of its monarch. 

These arguments, weighty in them- The duke of 
selves, and urged by a minister of Gulse favours it - 
great authority, would probably have determined 
the king to decline any connexion with the pope. 
But the duke of Guise, and his brother the cardinal 
of Lorrain, who delighted no less in bold and dan¬ 
gerous undertakings than Montmorency shunned 
them, declared warmly for an alliance with the 
pope. The cardinal expected to be intrusted with 
the conduct of the negociations in the court of Rome 
to which this alliance would give rise; the duke 
hoped to obtain the command of the army which 
would be appointed to invade Naples; and consider¬ 
ing themselves as already in these stations, vast 
projects opened to their aspiring and unbounded 
ambition. Their credit, together with the influence 
of the king’s mistress, the famous Diana of Poitiers, 
who was at that time entirely devoted to the inter¬ 
est ot the family of Guise, more than counterba¬ 
lanced all Montmorency’s prudent remonstrances, 
and prevailed on an inconsiderate prince to listen 
to the overtures of the pope’s envoy. 

Mem. de Ribier, ii. 616. Adriani Istor. i. 906. 




BOOK XI. A. D. 1555.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


679 


Cardinal of Lor- The cardinal of Lorrain, as he had 
cfate S with 0 the S °' expected, was immediately sent to 
Rome with full powers to conclude the 
treaty, and to concert measures for carrying it into 
execution. Before he could reach that cit} r , the 
pope, either from reflecting on the danger and uncer¬ 
tain issue of all military operations, or through the 
address of the imperial ambassador, who had been at 
great pains to soothe him, had not only begun to 
lose much of the ardour with which he had com¬ 
menced the negociation with France, but even dis¬ 
covered great unwillingness to continue it. In or¬ 
der to rouse him from this fit of despondency, and 
to rekindle his former rage, his nephews had re¬ 
course to the arts which they had already practised 
with so much success. They alarmed him with new 
representations of the emperor’s hostile intentions, 
with fresh accounts which they had received of 
threats uttered against him by the imperial minis¬ 
ters, and with new discoveries which they pretended 
to have made of conspiracies formed, and just ready 
to take effect, against his life. 

Paul enraged at But these artifices having been for- 
oF the° C dfet n of nierly tried would not have operated a 
Augsburg; second time with the same force, nor 
have made the impression which they wished, if 
Paul had not been excited by an offence of that 
kind which he was least able to bear. He received 
advice of the recess of the diet of Augsburg, and 
of the toleration which was thereby granted to the 
protestants ; and this threw him at once into such 
transports of passion against the emperor and king 
of the Romans, as carried him headlong into all 
the violent measures of his nephews. Full of high 
ideas with respect to the papal prerogative, and 
animated with the fiercest zeal against heresy, he 
considered the liberty of deciding concerning reli¬ 
gious matters, which had been assumed by an as¬ 
sembly composed chiefly of laymen, as a presump¬ 
tuous and unpardonable encroachment on that 
jurisdiction which belonged to him alone; and 
regarded the indulgence which had been given to 
the protestants as an impious act of that power 
which the diet had usurped. He complained loudly 
of both to the imperial ambassador. He insisted 
that the recess of the diet should immediately be 
declared illegal and void. He threatened the em¬ 
peror and king of the Romans, in case they should 
either refuse or delay to gratify him in this par¬ 
ticular, with the severest effects of bis vengeance. 
He talked in a tone of authority and command 
which might have suited a pontiff of the twelfth 
century, when a papal decree was sufficient to have 
shaken or to have overturned the throne of the 
greatest monarch in Europe; but which was alto¬ 
gether improper in that age, especially when ad¬ 
dressed to the minister of a prince who had so often 
made pontiffs more formidable than Paul feel the 
weight of his power. The ambassador, however, 
heard all his extravagant propositions and menaces 

s Pallay, lib. xiii. p. 163. F. Paul, 365. Thuan. lib. xv. 525. lib. xvi. 


with much patience, and endeavoured to soothe 
him, by putting him in mind of the extreme distress 
to which the emperor had been reduced at Inspruck, 
of the engagements which he had come under to 
the protestants in order to extricate himself, of the 
necessity of fulfilling these, and of accommodating 
his conduct to the situation of his affairs. But 
weighty as these considerations were, they made no 
impression on the mind of the haughty and bigoted 
pontiff, who instantly replied, that he would absolve 
him by his apostolic authority from those impious 
engagements, and even command him not to per¬ 
form them ; that in carrying on the cause of God 
and of the church, no regard ought to be had to the 
maxims of worldly prudence and policy; and that 
the ill success of the emperor’s schemes in Ger¬ 
many might justly be deemed a mark of the divine 
displeasure against him, on account of his having 
paid little attention to the former, while he regulated 
his conduct entirely by the latter. Having said 
this, he turned from the ambassador abruptly with¬ 
out waiting for a reply. 

His nephews took care to applaud and exasperated 
and cherish these sentiments, and by hls ne P hews - 
easily wrought up his arrogant mind, fraught with 
all the monkish ideas concerning the extent of the 
papal supremacy, to such a pitch of resentment 
against the house of Austria, and to such an high 
opinion of his own power, that he talked continually 
of his being the successor of those who had de¬ 
posed kings and emperors ; that he was exalted as 
head over them all, and would trample such as op¬ 
posed him under his feet. In this T)ec ]5 
disposition the cardinal of Lorrain £eaty U w!th a 
found the pope, and easily persuaded France - 
him to sign a treaty which had for its object the 
ruin of a prince against whom he was so highly 
exasperated. The stipulations in the treaty were 
much the same as had been proposed by the pope’s 
envoy at Paris; and it was agreed to keep the 
whole transaction secret, until their united forces 
should be ready to take the field. s 

During the negociation of this treaty The emperor re- 
at Rome and Paris, an event happen- ys V he S ieditarydo- 
ed which seemed to render the fears mimons - 
that had given rise to it vain, and the operations 
which were to follow upon it unnecessary. This was 
the emperor’s resignation of his hereditary dominions 
to his son Philip, together with his resolution to 
withdraw entirely from any concern in business or 
the affairs of this world, in order that he might 
spend the remainder of his days in retirement and 
solitude. Though it requires neither deep reflec¬ 
tion nor extraordinary discernment to discover that 
the state of royalty is not exempt from care and 
disappointment, though most of those who are ex¬ 
alted to a throne find solicitude, and satiety, and 
disgust to be their perpetual attendants in that en¬ 
vied pre-eminence ; yet to descend voluntarily from 
the supreme to a subordinate station, and to relin- 


540. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 609, &c. 




680 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1555. BOOK XI 


quisli the possession of power in order to attain the 
enjoyment of happiness, seems to be an effort too 
great for the human mind. Several instances, in¬ 
deed, occur in history, of monarchs whc- have 
quitted a throne, and have ended their days in re¬ 
tirement. But they were either weak princes, who 
took this resolution rashly, and repented of it as 
soon as it was taken ; or unfortunate princes, from 
whose hands some stronger rival had wrested their 
sceptre, and compelled them to descend with re¬ 
luctance into a private station. Dioclesian is per¬ 
haps the only prince capable of holding the reins 
of government who ever resigned them from de¬ 
liberate choice, and who continued during many 
years to enjoy the tranquillity of retirement with¬ 
out fetching one penitent sigh, or casting back 
one look of desire towards the power or dignity 
which he had abandoned. 

The motives of No wonder, then, that Charles’s re- 
this resignation. s jg na tion should fill all Europe with 

astonishment, and give rise, both among his con¬ 
temporaries and among the historians of that period, 
to various conjectures concerning the motives which 
determined a prince whose ruling passion had been 
uniformly the love of power, at the age of fifty-six, 
when objects of ambition continue to operate with 
full force on the mind, and are pursued w ith the 
greatest ardour, to take a resolution so singular and 
unexpected. But while many authors have imputed 
it to motives so frivolous and fantastical as can 
hardly be supposed to influence any reasonable 
mind; while others have imagined it to be the result 
of some profound scheme of policy,—historians 
more intelligent and better informed, neither ascribe 
it to caprice, nor search for mysterious secrets of 
state, where simple and obvious causes will fully 
account for the emperor’s conduct. Charles had 
been attacked early in life w ith the gout; and not¬ 
withstanding all the precautions of the most skilful 
physicians, the violence of the distemper increased 
as he advanced in age, and the fits became every 
year more frequent as well as more severe. Not 
only w as the vigour of his constitution broken, but 
the faculties of his mind were impaired by the ex¬ 
cruciating torments which he endured. During the 
continuance of the fits, he was altogether incapable 
of applying to business, and even when they began 
to abate, as it was only at intervals that he could 
attend to what was serious, he gave up a great part 
of his time to trifling and even childish occupations, 
which served to relieve or to amuse his mind, en¬ 
feebled and worn out with excess of pain. Under 
these circumstances, the conduct of such affairs as 
occurred of course in governing so many kingdoms, 

t Don Levesque, in his Memoirs of cardinal Granveile, gives a reason 
tor the emperor’s resignation, which, as far as 1 recollect, is not mention¬ 
ed by any other historian. He says, that the emperor having ceded the 
government of the kingdom of Naples and the duchy of Milan to his son 
upon his marriage with the queen of England; Philip, notwithstanding 
the advice and entreaties ot his father, removed most of the ministers and 
officers whom he had employed in those countries, and appointed crea¬ 
tures of his own to nil the places which they held. 1 hat he aspired openly, 
and with little delicacy, to obtain a share in the administration of affairs 
in the Low Countries, that he endeavoured to thwart the emperors 
measures and to limit his authority, behaving towards him sometimes with 
inattention, and sometimes with haughtiness. That Charles, finding that 


was a burden more than sufficient; but to push 
forward and complete the vast schemes which the 
ambition of his more active years had formed, or to 
keep in view and carry on the same great system of 
policy, extending to every nation in Europe, and 
connected with the operations of every different 
court, were functions which so far exceeded his 
strength that they oppressed and overwhelmed his 
mind. As he had been long accustomed to view the 
business of every department, whether civil or mili¬ 
tary or ecclesiastical, with his own eyes, and to de¬ 
cide concerning it according to his own ideas, it 
gave him the utmost pain when he felt his infirmities 
increase so fast upon him, that he was obliged to 
commit the conduct of all affairs to his ministers. 
He imputed every misfortune which befell him, and 
every miscarriage that happened, even when the 
former was unavoidable, or the latter accidental, 
to his inability to take the inspection of business 
himself. He complained of his hard fortune in 
being opposed, in his declining years, to a rival who 
was in the full vigour of life ; and that while Henry 
could take and execute all his resolutions in person, 
he should now be reduced, both in council and in 
action, to rely on the talents and exertions of other 
men. Having thus grown old before his time, he 
wisely judged it more decent to conceal his infir¬ 
mities in some solitude, than to expose them any 
longer to the public eye ; and prudently determined 
not to forfeit the fame or lose the acquisitions of his 
better years, by struggling with a vain obstinacy to 
retain the reins of government, when he was no 
longer able to hold them with steadiness or to guide 
them with address. 1 

But though Charles had revolved Circumstances 
... , . . . . , c , which had re- 

this scheme in his mind tor several tarded it. 
years, and had communicated it to his sisters the 
dowager queens of France and Hungary, who not 
only approved of his intention, but offered to ac¬ 
company him to whatever place of retreat he should 
choose, several things had hitherto prevented his 
carrying it into execution. He could not think of 
loading his son with the government of so many 
kingdoms, until he should attain such maturity of 
age and of abilities as would enable him to sustain 
that weighty burden. But as Philip had now 
reached his twenty-eighth year, and had been early 
accustomed to business, for which he discovered 
both inclination and capacity, it can hardly be im¬ 
puted to the partiality of paternal affection, that 
his scruples with regard to this point were entirely 
removed, and that he thought he might place his 
son, without further hesitation or delay, on the 
throne which he himself was about to abandon. 

he must either yield on every occasion to his son, or openly contend with 
him, in order to avoid either of these, which were both disagreeable and 
mortifying to a father, he took the resolution of resigning his crowns, and 
of retiring from the world, vol. i. p. 24, &c. Don Levesque derived his 
information concerning these curious facts, which he relates very briefly, 
from the original papers of cardinal Granveile. But as that vast collec¬ 
tion of papers, which has been preserved and arranged by M. l’Abbe 
Boizot of Besanyon, though one of the most valuable historical monu¬ 
ments ot the sixteenth century, and which cannot fail of throwing much 
light on the transactions of Charles V., is not published, 1 cannot deter¬ 
mine what degree ot credit should be given to this account of Charles’s 
resignation. 1 have therefore taken no notice of it in relating this event. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G81 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1555.1 


His mother’s situation had been another obstruction 
in his way. For although she had continued almost 
fifty years in confinement, and under the same dis¬ 
order of mind which concern for her husband’s death 
had brought upon her, yet the government of Spain 
was still vested in her jointly with the emperor; her 
name was inserted, together with his, in all the 
public instruments issued in that kingdom ; and 
such was the fond attachment of the Spaniards to 
her, that they would probably have scrupled to re¬ 
cognise Philip as their sovereign, unless she had 
consented to assume him as her partner on the 
throne. Her utter incapacity for business rendered 
it impossible to obtain her consent. But her death, 
which happened this year, removed this difficulty ; 
and as Charles, upon that event, became sole mon¬ 
arch of Spain, it left the succession open to his 
son. The war with France had likewise been a 
reason for retaining the administration of affairs in 
his own hand, as he was extremely solicitous to 
have terminated it, that he might have given up his 
kingdoms to his son at peace with all the world. 
But as Henry had discovered no disposition to 
close with any of his overtures, and had even re¬ 
jected proposals of peace which were equal and 
moderate, in a tone that seemed to indicate a 
fixed purpose of continuing hostilities, he saw that 
it was vain to wait longer in expectation of an 
event which, however desirable, was altogether un¬ 
certain. 

As this, then, appeared to be the 

The formalities . „ 

with which he proper juncture for executing the 

executed it. r J n 

scheme which he had long meditated, 
Charles resolved to resign his kingdoms to his son, 
with a solemnity suitable to the importance of the 
transaction, and to perform this last act of sove¬ 
reignty with such formal pomp as might leave a 
lasting impression on the minds not only of his sub¬ 
jects but of his successor. With this view he called 
Philip out of England, where the peevish temper of 
his queen, which increased with her despair of 
having issue, rendered him extremely unhappy; 
and the jealousy of the English left him no hopes 
of obtaining the direction of their affairs. Having 
assembled the states of the Low Countries at Brus¬ 
sels, on the twenty-fifth of October, Charles seated 
himself for the last time in the chair of state, on one 
side of which was placed his son, and on the other 
his sister the queen of Hungary, regent of the 
Netherlands, with a splendid retinue of the princes 
of the empire and grandees of Spain standing be¬ 
hind him. The president of the council of Flanders, 
by his command, explained in few words his 
intention in calling this extraordinary meeting of 
the states. He then read the instrument of resigna¬ 
tion, by which Charles surrendered to his son Philip 
all his territories, jurisdiction, and authority in the 
Low Countries, absolving his subjects there from 
the oath of allegiance to him, which he required 
them to transfer to Philip his lawful heir, and to 
serve him w ith the same loyalty and zeal which they 


had manifested, during so long a course of years, in 
support of his government. 

Charles then rose from his seat, and leaning on 
the shoulder of the prince of Orange, because he 
was unable to stand without support, he addressed 
himself to the audience, and from a paper w hich he 
held in his hand, in order to assist his memory, he 
recounted, with dignity, but without ostentation, all 
the great things which he had undertaken and per¬ 
formed since the commencement of his administra¬ 
tion. He observed, that, from the seventeenth year 
of his age, he had dedicated all his thoughts and 
attention to public objects, reserving no portion of 
his time for the indulgence of his ease, and very 
little for the enjoyment of private pleasure; that 
either in a pacific or hostile manner, he had visited 
Germany nine times, Spain six times, France four 
times, Italy seven times, the Low Countries ten 
times, England twice, Africa as often, and had 
made eleven voyages by sea; that while his health 
permitted him to discharge his duty, and the vigour 
of his constitution was equal, in any degree, to the 
arduous office of governing such extensive do¬ 
minions, he had never shunned labour, nor repined 
under fatigue; that now, when his health was 
broken, and his vigour exhausted by the rage of an 
incurable distemper, his growing infirmities ad¬ 
monished him to retire, nor was he so fond of reign¬ 
ing, as to retain the sceptre in an impotent hand, 
which was no longer able to protect his subjects, or 
to secure to them the happiness which he w ished 
they should enjoy ; that instead of a sovereign worn 
out with diseases, and scarcely half alive, he gave 
them one in the prime of life, accustomed already 
to govern, and who added to the vigour of youth all 
the attention and sagacity of maturer years ; that 
if, during the course of a long administration, he 
had committed any material error in government, or 
if, under the pressure of so many and great affairs, 
and amidst the attention which he had been obliged 
to give to them, he had either neglected or injured 
any of his subjects, he now implored their forgive¬ 
ness ; that, for his part, he should ever retain a 
grateful sense of their fidelity and attachment, and 
would carry the remembrance of it along with him 
to the place of his retreat, as his sw eetest consola¬ 
tion, as well as the best reward for all his services, 
and in his last prayers to Almighty God would pour 
forth his most earnest petitions for their welfare. 

Then turning towards Philip, who fell on his 
knees and kissed his father’s hand,—“ If,” says he, 
“ I had left you by my death this rich inheritance, 
to which I have made such large additions, some 
regard would have been justly due to my memory 
on that account; but now, when I voluntarily resign 
to you what I might have still retained, I may well 
expect the warmest expression of thanks on your 
part. With these, however, I dispense, and shall 
consider your concern for the welfare of your sub¬ 
jects, and your love of them, as the best and most 
acceptable testimony of your gratitude to me. It is 



G82 

in your power, by a wise and virtuous administra¬ 
tion, to justify the extraordinary proof which I, this 
day, give of my paternal ailection, and to demon¬ 
strate that you are worthy of the confidence which I 
repose in you. Preserve an inviolable regard for 
religion ; maintain the catholic faith in its purity ; 
let the laws of your country be sacred in your eyes; 
encroach not on the rights and privileges of your 
people ; and if the time should ever come, when 
you shall wish to enjoy the tranquillity of private 
life, may you have a son endowed with such quali¬ 
ties, that you can resign your sceptre to him with as 
much satisfaction as I give up mine to you/’ 

As soon as Charles had finished this long address 
to his subjects and to their new sovereign, he sunk 
into the chair, exhausted and ready to faint with 
the fatigue of such an extraordinary effort. During 
his discourse, the whole audience melted into tears, 
some from admiration of his magnanimity, others 
softened by the expressions of tenderness towards 
his son, and of love to his people ; and all were 
affected with the deepest sorrow at losing a sove¬ 
reign, who, during his administration, had distin¬ 
guished the Netherlands, his native country, with 
particular marks of his regard and attachment. 

Philip then arose from his knees, and after re¬ 
turning thanks to his father, with a low and sub¬ 
missive voiee, for the royal gift which his unexam¬ 
pled bounty had bestowed upon him, he addressed 
the assembly of the states, and regretting his in¬ 
ability to speak the Flemish language with such 
facility as to express what he felt on this interesting 
occasion, as well as what he owed to his good sub¬ 
jects in the Netherlands, he begged that they would 
permit Granvelle, bishop of Arras, to deliver what 
he had given him in charge to speak in his name. 
Granvelle, in a long discourse, expatiated on the 
zeal with which Philip was animated for the good 
of his subjects, on his resolution to devote all his 
time and talents to the promoting of their happiness, 
and on his intention to imitate his father’s example 
in distinguishing the Netherlands with peculiar 
marks of his regard. Maes, a lawyer of great elo¬ 
quence, replied, in the name of the states, with large 
professions of their fidelity and affection to their 
new sovereign. 

1556 Then Mary, queen dowager of Hun- 

january 6. gary, resigned the regency, with which 

she had been intrusted by her brother during the 
space of twenty-five years. Next day Philip, in 

u Godleveus Relatio Abdication^ Car. V. ap. Goldast. Polit. Imper. 
p. 377- Strada de Bello Belgico, lib. i. p. 5. 

x The emperor’s resignation is an event not only of such importance, but 
of such a nature, that the precise date of it, one would expect, should 
have been ascertained by historians with the greatest accuracy. There is, 
however, an amazing and unaccountable diversity among them with re¬ 
gard to this point. All agree that the deed by which Charles transferred 
to his son his dominions in the N etherlands, bears date at Brussels the 25th 
of October. Sandoval fixes on the 28th of October, as the day on which the 
ceremony of resignation happened, and he was present at the transaction, 
vol. ii. p. 592. Godleveus, who published a treatise De Abdicatione Ca- 
roli V. fixes the public ceremony, as well as the date of the instrument of 
resignation, on the 25th. Pere Barre, I know not on what authority, fixes 
it on the 24th of November, Hist. d’Alem. viii. 976 . Herrera agrees with 
Godleveus in his account of this matter, tom. i. 155. As likewise does 
Pallavicini, whose authority with respect to dates, and every thing where 
a minute accuracy is requisite, is of great weight, Hist. lib. xvi. p. 168. 
Historians differ no less with regard to the day on which Charles resigned 
the crown of Spain to his son. According to M. de Thou, it was a month 
after his having resigned his dominions in the Netherlands, i. e. about the 


[A. D. 1556. BOOK XI. 

presence of the states, took the usual oaths to main¬ 
tain the rights and privileges of his subjects; and 
all the members in their own name, and in that of 
their own constituents, swore allegiance to him. u 

A few weeks after this transaction, Charles, in an 
assembly no less splendid, and with a ceremonial 
equally pompous, resigned to his son the crowns of 
Spain, with all the territories depending on them, 
both in the old and in the new world. Of all these 
vast possessions he reserved nothing for himself but 
an annual pension of an hundred thousand crowns, 
to defray the charges of his family, and to afford 
him a small sum for acts of beneficence and charity.* 

As he had fixed on a place of retreat 

1 Resolves to fix 

in Spain, hoping that the dryness and ^residence in 
the warmth of the climate in that coun¬ 
try might mitigate the violence of his disease, which 
had been much increased by the moisture of the air 
and the rigour of the winters in the Netherlands ; 
he was extremely impatient to embark lor that king¬ 
dom, and to disengage himself entirely from busi¬ 
ness, which he found to he impossible while he 
remained in Brussels. But his physi- . 

. Obliged to remain 

cians remonstrated so strongly against for some time in 

. , the N etherlands. 

his venturing to sea at that cold and 
boisterous season of the year, that he consented, 
though with reluctance, to put olF his voyage for 
some months. 

By yielding to their entreaties, he promotes the nego- 
liad the satisfaction, before he left the cl<ttlon tor 1,eace - 
Low Countries, of taking a considerable step to¬ 
wards a peace with France, which he ardently 
wished for, not only on his son’s account, hut that he 
might have the merit, when quitting the world, of 
re-establishing that tranquillity in Europe which he 
had banished out of it almost from the time that he 
assumed the administration of affairs. Previous to 
his resignation, commissioners had been appointed 
by him and by the French king in order to treat of 
an exchange of prisoners. In their conferences at 
the abbey of Vaucelles, near Cambray, an expedient 
was accidentally proposed for terminating hostilities 
between the contending monarchs by a long truce, 
during the subsistence of which, and without dis¬ 
cussing their respective claims, each should retain 
what was now in his possession. Charles, sensible 
how much his kingdoms were exhausted by the 
expensive and almost continual wars in which his 
ambition had engaged him, and eager to gain for his 
son a short interval of peace, that he might estab- 

25th of November, Thuan. lib. xvi. p. 571. According to Sandoval, it was 
on the 16th of January 1556, Sand. ii. 603. Antonio de Vera agrees with 
him, Epitome del Vida del Car. V. p. 110. According to Pallavicini, it 
was on the 17th, Pal. lib. xvi. p. 168. and with him Herrera agrees, Vida 
del D. Felipe, tom. i. p. 233. But Ferreras fixes it on the 1st day of 
January, Hist. Gener. tom. ix. p. 371. M. de Beaucaire supposes the 
resignation of the crown of Spain to have been executed a few days after 
the resignation of the Netherlands, Com. de Reb. Gall. p. 879. It is re¬ 
markable, that in the treaty of truce at Vaucelles, though Charles had 
made over all his dominions to his son some weeks previous to the con¬ 
clusion of it, all the stipulations are in the emperor’s name, and Philip is 
only styled king of England and Naples. It is certain Philip was not 
proclaimed king of Castile, &c. at Valladolid sooner than the 24th of 
March, Sandov. ii. p. 606. and, previous to that ceremony, he did not 
choose, it should seem, to assume the title of king of any of his Spanish 
kingdoms, or to perform any act of royal jurisdiction. In a deed annexed 
to the treaty of truce, dated April 19. he assumes the title of king of Cas¬ 
tile, &c. in the usual style of the Spanish monarchs in that age. Corps 
Dipl. tom. iv. Append, p. 85. . 


THE REIGN OF THE 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


683 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1556.] 


lish himself firmly on his throne, declared warmly 
for closing with the overture, though manifestly 
dishonourable as well as disadvantageous; and such 
was the respect due to his wisdom and experience, 
that Philip, notwithstanding his unwillingness to 
purchase peace by such concessions, did not pre¬ 
sume to urge his opinion in opposition to that of his 
father. 


A truce 
concluded. 


Henry could not have hesitated one 
moment about giving his consent to a 
truce on such conditions as would leave him in 
quiet possession of the greater part of the duke of 
Savoy’s dominions, together with the important 
conquests which he had made on the German fron¬ 
tier. But it was no easy matter to reconcile such a 
step with the engagements which he had come 
under to the pope in his late treaty with him. The 
constable Montmorency, however, represented in 
such a striking light the imprudence of sacrificing 
the true interests of his kingdom to these rash obli¬ 
gations, and took such advantage of the absence of 
the cardinal of Lorrain, who had seduced the king 
into his alliance with the Caraffas, that Henry, who 
was naturally fluctuating and unsteady, and apt to 
be influenced by the advice last given him, autho¬ 
rized his ambassadors to sign a treaty 
of truce with the emperor for five years, 
on the terms which had been proposed. But that 
he might not seem to have altogether forgotten his 
ally the pope, who he foresaw would be highly ex¬ 
asperated, he, in order to soothe him, took care that 
he should be expressly included in the truceJ 

Ratified by The count of Lalain repaired to 
botb monarchs. and the admiral Coligny to 

Brussels ; the former to be present when the king of 
France, and the latter when the emperor and his 
son, ratified the treaty and bound themselves by 
oath to observe it. z When an account 


5th Feb. 


ishment P and St dU- of the conferences at Vaucelles, and of 

tress • • • 

the conditions of truce which had been 
proposed there, was first carried to Rome, it gave 
the pope no manner of disquiet. He trusted so 
much to the honour of the French monarch, that he 
would not allow himself to think that Henry could 
forget so soon, or violate so shamefully, all the 
stipulations in his league with him. He had such 
a high opinion of the emperor’s wisdom, that he 
made no doubt of his refusing his consent to a truce 
on such unequal terms ; and on both these accounts 
he confidently pronounced that this, like many pre¬ 
ceding negociations, would terminate in nothing. 
But later and more certain intelligence soon con¬ 
vinced him that no reasoning in political affairs is 
more fallacious than, because an event is impro¬ 
bable, to conclude that it will not happen. The 
sudden and unexpected conclusion of the truce 
filled Paul with astonishment and terror. The 
cardinal of Lorrain-durst not encounter that storm 


y Mem. de Ribier, ii. 626. Corps Diplom. tom. iv. App. 81. 
z One of admiral de Coligny’s attendants, who wrote to the court of 
France an account of what happened while they resided at Brussels, takes 
notice, as an instance of Philip’s unpoliteness, that he received the French 


of indignation to which he knew that he should be 
exposed from the haughty poutiflf, who had so good 
reason to be incensed ; but departing abruptly from 
Rome, he left to the cardinal Tournon the difficult 
task of attempting to soothe Paul and his nephews. 
They were fully sensible of the perilous situation 
in which they now stood. By their engagements 
with France, which were no longer secret, they had 
highly irritated Philip. They dreaded the violence 
of his implacable temper. The duke of Alva, a 
minister fitted, as well by his abilities as by the 
severity of his nature, for executing all Philip’s 
rigorous schemes, had advanced from Milan to 
Naples, and began to assemble troops on the fron¬ 
tiers of the ecclesiastical state; while they, if 
deserted by France, must not only relinquish all the 
hopes of dominion and sovereignty to which their 
ambition aspired, but remain exposed to the resent¬ 
ment of the Spanish monarch, without one ally to 
protect them against an enemy with whom they 
were so little able to contend. 

Under these circumstances Paul had He attempts t0 
recourse to the arts of negociation and rekindle the war * 
intrigue, of which the papal court knows well how 
to avail itself in order to ward off any calamity 
threatened by an enemy superior in power. He 
affected to approve highly of the truce as a happy 
expedient for putting a stop to the effusion of Chris¬ 
tian blood. He expressed his warmest wishes that 
it might prove the forerunner of a definitive peace. 
He exhorted the rival princes to embrace this 
favourable opportunity of setting on foot a negoci¬ 
ation for that purpose, and offered, as their common 
father, to be mediator between them. Under this 
pretext he appointed cardinal Rebiba his nuncio to 
the court of Brussels, and his nephew cardinal 
Caraffa to that of Paris. The public instructions 
given to both were the same; that they should use 
their utmost endeavours to prevail with the two 
monarchs to accept of the pope’s mediation, that, by 
means of it, peace might be re-established, and 
measures might be taken for assembling a general 
council. But under this specious appearance of 
zeal for attaining objects so desirable in themselves, 
and so becoming his sacred character to pursue, 
Paul concealed very different intentions. Caraffa, 
besides his public instructions, received a private 
commission to solicit the French king to renounce 
the treaty of truce, and to renew his engagements 
with the holy see; and he was empowered to spare 
neither entreaties, nor promises, nor bribes in order 
to gain that point. This both the uncle and the 
nephew considered as the real end of the embassy ; 
while the other served to amuse the vulgar or to 
deceive the emperor and his son. The 
cardinal accordingly set out instantly 
for Paris, and travelled with the greatest expedition 
while Rebiba was detained some weeks at Rome, 

ambassador in an apartment hung with tapestry, which represented the 
battle of Pavia, the manner in which Francis I. was taken prisoner, his 
voyage to Spain, with all the mortifying circumstances of his captivity 
and imprisonment at Madrid. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 634. 




684 


THE REIGN OF THE 


and when it became necessary for him to begin his 
journey, he received secret orders to protract it as 
much as possible, that the issue of Caraffa’s nego- 
ciation might be known before he should reach 
Brussels, and according to that, proper directions 
might be given to him with regard to the tone 
which he should assume in treating with the empe¬ 
ror and his son. a 

Hisnegociations CarafFa made his entry into Paris 
for that purpose. w j^h extraordinary pomp; and having 

presented a consecrated sword to Henry as the pro¬ 
tector on whose aid the pope relied in the present 
exigency, he besought him not to disregard the 
entreaties of a parent in distress, but to employ that 
weapon which he gave him in his defence. This he 
represented not only as a duty of filial piety, but as 
an act of justice. As the pope, from confidence in 
the assistance and support which his late treaty 
with France entitled him to expect, had taken such 
steps as had irritated the king of Spain, he con¬ 
jured Henry not to suffer Paul and his family to be 
crushed under the weight of that resentment, which 
they had drawn on themselves merely by their 
attachment to France. Together with this argument 
addressed to his generosity, he employed another 
which he hoped would work on his ambition. He 
affirmed that now was the time when, with the most 
eertain prospect of success, he might attack Philip’s 
dominions in Italy ; that the flower of the veteran 
Spanish bands had perished in the wars of Hungary, 
Germany, and the Low Countries; that the emperor 
had left his son an exhausted treasury, and king¬ 
doms drained of men ; that he had no longer to 
contend with the abilities, the experience, and good 
fortune of Charles, but with a monarch scarcely 
seated on his throne, unpractised in command, 
odious to many of the Italian states, and dreaded 
by all. He promised that the pope, who had already 
levied soldiers, would bring a considerable army 
into the field, which, when joined by a sufficient 
number of French troops, might by one brisk and 
sudden effort drive the Spaniards out of Naples, 
and add to the crown of France a kingdom the 
conquest of which had been the great object of all 
his predecessors during half a century, and the chief 
motive of all their expeditions into Italy. 

Their effect. Every word Caraffa spoke made a 
juiy si. deep impression on Henry ; conscious, 
on the one hand, that the pope had just cause to re¬ 
proach him with having violated the laws not only 
of generosity but of decency when he renounced his 
league with him, and had agreed to the truce of 
Vaucelles; and eager, on the other hand, not only 
to distinguish his reign by a conquest which three 
former monarchs had attempted without success, 
but likewise to acquire an establishment of such 
dignity and value for one of his sons. Reverence, 
however, for the oath by which he had so lately 
confirmed the truce of Vaucelles; the extreme old 
age of the pope, whose death might occasion an 

a Pallav. lib. xiii. p. 169. Burnet, Hist, of Reform, ii. App. 309. 


[A. D. 1556. BOOK XI. 

entire revolution in the political system of Italy ; 
together with the representations of Montmorency, 
who repeated all the arguments he had used against 
the first league with Paul, and pointed out the 
great and immediate advantages which France de¬ 
rived from the truce, kept Henry for some time in 
suspense, and might possibly have outweighed all 
Caraffa’s arguments. But the cardinal was not such 
a novice in the arts of intrigue and negociation as 
not to have expedients ready for removing or sur¬ 
mounting all these obstacles. To obviate the king’s 
scruple with regard to his oath, he produced powers 
from the pope to absolve him from the obligation of 
it. By way of security against any danger which 
he might apprehend from the pope’s death, he en¬ 
gaged that his uncle would make such a nomination 
of cardinals as should give Henry the absolute com¬ 
mand of the next election, and enable him to place 
in the papal chair a person entirely devoted to his 
interest. 

In order to counterbalance the effect of the con¬ 
stable’s opinion and influence, he employed not only 
the active talents of the duke of Guise, and the elo¬ 
quence of his brother the cardinal of Lorrain, but 
the address of the queen, aided by the more power¬ 
ful arts of Diana of Poitiers, who, unfortunately for 
France, co-operated with Catharine in this point, 
though she took pleasure, on almost every other 
occasion, to thwart and mortify her. They, by their 
united solicitations, easily swayed the king, who 
leaned, of his own accord, to that side tow ai ds which 
they wished him to incline. All Montmorency’s 
prudent remonstrances were disregarded ; the nun¬ 
cio absolved Henry from his oath ; and he signed a 
new league with the pope, which rekindled the 
flames of war both in Italy and in the Low Countries. 

As soon as Paul was informed by j u ] y 31 
his nephew that there was a fair pros- proceedi'n^s 
pect of his succeeding in this negocia- aga,nst Philip, 
tion, he despatched a messenger after the nuncio 
Rebiba, with orders to return to Rome without pro¬ 
ceeding to Brussels. As it was now no longer 
necessary to preserve that tone of moderation which 
suited the character of a mediator, and which he 
had affected to assume, or to put any further restraint 
upon his resentment against Philip, he boldly threw 
off the mask, and took such violent steps as ren¬ 
dered a rupture unavoidable. He seized and im¬ 
prisoned the Spanish envoy at his court. He 
excommunicated the Colonnas; and having de¬ 
prived Mark Antonio, the head of that family, of 
the dukedom of Paliano, he granted that dignity, 
together with the territory annexed to it, to his 
nephew the count of Montorio. He ordered a legal 
information to be presented in the consistory of 
cardinals against Philip, setting forth that he, not¬ 
withstanding the fidelity and allegiance due by him 
to the holy see, of which he held the kingdom of 
Naples, had not only afforded a retreat in his 
dominions to the Colonnas, whom the pope had 



July 27. 


BOOK XI. A. D. 1556.J EMPEROR CHARLES V. 

excommunicated and declared rebels, but had fur¬ 
nished them with arms, and was ready, in conjunc¬ 
tion with them, to invade the ecclesiastical state in 
a hostile manner; that such conduct in a vassal 
was to be deemed treason against his liege lord, the 
punishment of which was the forfeiture of his fief. 

Upon this, the consistorial advocate requested the 
pope to take cognizance of the cause, and to appoint 
a day for hearing of it, when he would make good 
every article of the charge, and expect from his 
justice that sentence which the heinousness of 
Philip’s crimes merited. Paul, whose pride was 
highly flattered with the idea of trying and passing 
judgment on so great a king, assented to his re¬ 
quest ; and as if it had been no less 
easy to execute than to pronounce such 
a sentence, declared that he would consult with the 
cardinals concerning the formalities requisite in 
conducting the trial. 6 

Philip’s supersti- But while Paul allowed his pride 
tious scruples. anc | re sentment to drive him on with 

such headlong impetuosity, Philip discovered an 
amazing moderation on his part. He had been 
taught by the Spanish ecclesiastics, who had the 
charge of his education, a profound veneration 
for the holy see. This sentiment, which had been 
early infused, grew up with him as he advanced in 
years, and took full possession of his mind, which 
was naturally thoughtful, serious, and prone to 
superstition. When he foresaw a rupture with the 
pope approaching, he had such violent scruples 
with respect to the lawfulness of taking arms 
against the vicegerent of Christ, and the common 
father of all Christians, that he consulted some 
Spanish divines upon that point. They, with the 
usual dexterity of casuists in accommodating their 
responses to the circumstances of those who apply 
to them for direction, assured him that, after employ¬ 
ing prayers and remonstrances in order to bring the 
pope to reason, he had full right, both by the laws 
of nature and of Christianity, not only to defend 
himself when attacked, but to begin hostilities, if 
that were judged the most proper expedient for 
preventing the effects of Paul’s violence and injus¬ 
tice. Philip nevertheless continued to deliberate 
and delay, considering it as a most cruel misfortune, 
that his administration should open with an attack 
upon a person whose sacred function and character 
he so highly respected. 6 


The duke of Alva At Iast tlie duke ° f AIva ’ wh °> in 

agalnst h the fi pope. compliance with his master’s scruples, 
sept. 5 . j ia( j continued to negociate long after 
he should have begun to act, finding Paul inexora¬ 
ble, and that every overture of peace, and every ap¬ 
pearance of hesitation on his part, increased the 
pontiff ’s natural arrogance, took the field and entered 
the ecclesiastical territories. His army did not ex¬ 
ceed twelve thousand men, but it was composed of 
veteran soldiers, and commanded chiefly by those 


b Pallav. lib. xiii. 171. 

c Ferrer. Hist, de Espagne, ix. 373. Herrera, i. 308. 


685 

Roman barons whom Paul’s violence had driven 
into exile. The valour of the troops, together 
with the animosity of their leaders, who fought in 
their own quarrel, and to recover their own estates, 
supplied the want of numbers. As none of the 
French forces were yet arrived, Alva soon became 
master of the Campagna Romana; some cities being 
surrendered through the cowardice of the garrisons, 
which consisted of raw soldiers, ill disciplined and 
worse commanded ; the gates of others being opened 
by the inhabitants, who were eager to receive back 
their ancient masters. Alva, that he might not be 
taxed with impiety in seizing the patrimony of the 
church, took possession of the towns which capitu¬ 
lated, in the name of the college of cardinals, to 
which, or to the pope that should be chosen to suc¬ 
ceed Paul, he declared that he would immediately 
restore them. 

The rapid progress of the Spaniards, 

A truce between 

whose light troops made excursions the pope and 
° ^ Philip, 

even to the gates of Rome, filled that 


city with consternation. Paul, though inflexible * 
and undaunted himself, was obliged to give way so 
far to the fears and solicitations of the cardinals, as 
to send deputies to Alva, in order to propose a ces¬ 
sation of arms. The pope yielded the more readily, 
as he was sensible of a double advantage which 
might be derived from obtaining that point. It 
would deliver the inhabitants of Rome from their 
present terror, and would afford time for the arrival 
of the succours which he expected from France. 
Nor was Alva unwilling to close with the overture, 
both as he knew how desirous his master was to ter¬ 
minate a war which he had undertaken with reluc¬ 
tance, and as his army was so much weakened by 
garrisoning the great number of towns which he 
had reduced, that it was hardly in a condition to 
keep the field without fresh recruits. 

r Nov. 19. 

A truce was accordingly concluded 
first for ten, and afterwards for forty days, during 
which, various schemes of peace were proposed, and 
perpetual negociations were carried on, but with no 
sincerity on the part of the pope. The return of his 
nephew the cardinal to Rome, the receipt of a 
considerable sum remitted by the king of France, 
the arrival of one body of French troops, together 
with the expectation of others which had begun 
their march, rendered him more arrogant than ever, 
and banished all thoughts from his mind but those 
of war and revenge/ 1 


BOOK XII. 

While these operations or intrigues Charles’s new at- 
kept the pope and Philip busy and S^ 0 nofem? 
attentive, the emperor disentangled pire * 
himself finally from all the affairs of this world, 

d Pallav. lib. xiii. 177. Tliuan. lib. xvii. 588. Mem. de. Ribier, ii. 
604 . 




G8G 


THE REIGN OF THE 


and set out for the place of his retreat. He had 
hitherto retained the imperial dignity, not from 
any unwillingness to relinquish it; for after hav¬ 
ing resigned the real and extensive authority that 
he enjoyed in his hereditary dominions, to part 
with the limited and often ideal jurisdiction which 
belongs to an elective crown, was no great sacrifice. 
His sole motive for delay was to gain a few months, 
for making one trial more, in order to accomplish 
his favourite scheme in behalf of his son. At the 
very time Charles seemed to be most sensible of the 
vanity of worldly grandeur, and when he appeared 
to be quitting it not only with indifference, but with 
contempt, the vast schemes of ambition which had 
so long occupied and engrossed his mind, still kept 
possession of it. He could not think of leaving his 
son in a rank inferior to that which he himself had 
held among the princes of Europe. As he had, 
some years before, made a fruitless attempt to secure 
ihe imperial crown to Philip, that by uniting it to 
the kingdoms of Spain, and the dominions of the 
house of Burgundy, he might put it in his power to 
prosecute, with a better prospect of success, those 
great plans which his own infirmities had obliged 
him to abandon, he was still unwilling to relinquish 
this flattering project as chimerical or unattainable. 

which proves Notwithstanding the repulse which 

unsuccessful. j ie j ia( j formerly met with from his 

brother Ferdinand, he renewed his solicitations with 
fresh importunity ; and during the summer, had 
tried every art, and employed every argument, 
which he thought could induce him to quit the im¬ 
perial throne to Philip, and to accept of the inves¬ 
titure of some province, either in Italy or in the 
Low Countries, as an equivalent/ But Ferdinand, 
who w as so firm and inflexible with regard to this 
point, that he had paid no regard to the solicitations 
of the emperor, even when they were enforced with 
all the weight of authority which accompanies su¬ 
preme power, received the overture that now came 
from him in the situation to which he had descend¬ 
ed, with great indifference, and would hardly deign 
to listen to it. Charles, ashamed of his own credu¬ 
lity in having imagined that he might accomplish 
that now which he had attempted formerly without 
success, desisted finally from his scheme. He then 
resigned the government of the empire, and having 
transferred all his claims of obedience and allegi- 
. ance from the Germanic body to his 

Aug. 27. . J 

brother the king of the Romans, he 
executed a deed to that effect, with all the formali¬ 
ties requisite in such an important transaction. 
The instrument of resignation he committed to 
William, prince of Orange, and empowered him to 
lay it before the college of electors/ 

Charles sets out Nothing now remained to detain 
for spam. Charles from that retreat for which he 
languished. The preparations for his voyage hav¬ 
ing been made for some time, he set out for Zuit- 
burg in Zealand, where the fleet which was to con- 

a Ambassades des Noailles, tom. v. 356. 


[A. D. 1566. BOOK XII. 

voy him had orders to assemble. In his way thither 
he passed through Ghent, and after stopping there 
a few days to indulge that tender and pleasing me¬ 
lancholy which arises in the mind of every man in 
the decline of life on visiting the place of his nati¬ 
vity, and viewing the scenes and objects familiar to 
him in his early youth, he pursued his journey ac¬ 
companied by his son Philip, his daughter the arch¬ 
duchess, his sisters the dowager queens of France 
and Hungary, Maximilian his son-in-law, and a 
numerous retinue of the Flemish nobility. Before 
he went on board, he dismissed them with marks of 
his attention or regard, and taking leave of Philip 
with all the tenderness of a father who embraced 
his son for the last time, he set sail on the seven¬ 
teenth of September, under the convoy of a large 
fleet of Spanish, Flemish, and English ships. He 
declined a pressing invitation from the queen of 
England to land in some part of her dominions, in 
order to refresh himself, and that she might have 
the comfort of seeing him once more. “ It cannot, 
surely/’ said he, “ be agreeable to a queen to receive 
a visit from a father-in-law, who is now nothing 
more than a private gentleman.” 

His voyage was prosperous, and he IIis arriva i and 
arrived at Laredo in Biscay on the rece P tlon 
eleventh day after he left Zealand. As soon as 
he landed he fell prostrate on the ground ; and 
considering himself now as dead to the world, he 
kissed the earth, and said, “ Naked came I out of 
my mother’s womb, and naked I now return to thee, 
thou common mother of mankind.” From Laredo 
he pursued his journey to Burgos, carried some¬ 
times in a chair and sometimes in a horse-litter, 
suffering exquisite pain at every step, and advanc¬ 
ing with the greatest difficulty. Some of the Spa¬ 
nish nobility repaired to Burgos, in order to pay 
court to him ; but they were so few in number, and 
their attendance was so negligent, that Charles ob¬ 
served it, and felt, for the first time, that he was no 
longer a monarch. Accustomed from his early 
youth to the dutiful and officious respect with which 
those who possess sovereign power are attended, he 
had received it with the credulity common to 
princes, and was sensibly mortified, when he now 
discovered, that he had been indebted to his rank 
and power for much of that obsequious regard which 
he had fondly thought was paid to his personal 
qualities. But though he might have soon learned 
to view with unconcern the levity of his subjects, or 
to have despised their neglect, he was more deeply 
afflicted with the ingratitude of his son, who, for¬ 
getting already how much he owed to his father’s 
bounty, obliged him to remain some weeks at Bur¬ 
gos, before he paid him the first moiety of that 
small pension, which was all that he had reserved 
of so many kingdoms. As without this sum, Charles 
could not dismiss his domestics with such rewards 
as their services merited, or his generosity had des¬ 
tined for them, he could not help expressing both 

b Goldast. Constit. Tmper. par i. 576 . 



BOOK XII. A. D. 1556.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. G87 


surprise and dissatisfaction. 0 At last the money 
was paid, and Charles having dismissed a great 
number of his domestics, whose attendance lie 
thought would be superfluous or cumbersome in 
his retirement, he proceeded to Valladolid. There 
he took a last and tender leave of his two sisters, 
whom he would not permit to accompany him to 
his solitude, though they requested him with tears, 
not only that they might have the consolation of 
contributing by their attendance and care to miti¬ 
gate or to soothe his sufferings, but that they might 
reap instruction and benefit by joining with him in 
those pious exercises, to which he had consecrated 
the remainder of his days. 

]557 From Valladolid he continued his 

lhe retreat° f his j° urne y t° Plazencia in Estremadura. 

He had passed through this place a 
great many years before, and having been struck 
at that time with the delightful situation of the 
monastery of St. Justus, belonging to the order of 
St. Jerome, not many miles distant from the town, 
he had then observed to some of his attendants, that 
this was a spot to which Dioclesian might have re¬ 
tired with pleasure. The impression had remained 
so strong on his mind, that he pitched upon it as 
the place of his own retreat. It was seated in a 
vale of no great extent, watered by a small brook, 
and surrounded by rising grounds, covered with 
lofty trees ; from the nature of the soil, as well as 
the temperature of the climate, it was esteemed the 
most healthful and delicious situation in Spain. 
Some months before his resignation he had sent an 
architect thither, to add a new apartment to the mo¬ 
nastery, for his accommodation ; but he gave strict 
orders that the style of the building should be such 
as suited his present station, rather than his former 
dignity. It consisted only of six rooms, four of them 
in the form of friars’ cells, with naked walls ; the 
other two, each twenty feet square, were hung with 
brown cloth, and furnished in the most simple man¬ 
ner. They were all on a level with the ground ; 
with a door on one side into a garden, of which 
Charles himself had given the plan, and had filled 
it with various plants which he intended to cultivate 
with his own hands. On the other side they com¬ 
municated with the chapel of the monastery, in 
which he was to perform his devotions. Into this 
humble retreat, hardly sufficient for the comfortable 
accommodation of a private gentleman, did Charles 
enter with twelve domestics only. He 

Feb. 24. J 

buried there, in solitude and silence, 

his grandeur, his ambition, together with all those 

vast projects, which, during almost half a century, 

had alarmed and agitated Europe, filling every 

kingdom in it, by turns, with the terror of his arms, 

and the dread of being subdued by his power/ 1 

Contrast between The contrast between Charles’s con- 

Chades and r the duct anC ^ tliat P°P e at tbis junC- 

P°P e - ture, was so obvious, that it struck 

even the most careless observers ; nor was the com¬ 


parison which they made to the advantage of Paul. 
The former, a conqueror, born to reign, long accus¬ 
tomed to the splendour which accompanies supreme 
power, and to those busy and interesting scenes in 
which an active ambition had engaged him, quitted 
the world at a period of life not far advanced, that 
he might close the evening of his days in tranquil¬ 
lity, and secure some interval for sober thought 
and serious recollection. The latter, a priest, who 
had passed the early part of his life in the shade of 
the schools, and in the study of the speculative sci¬ 
ences, who was seemingly so detached from the 
world, that he had shut himself up for many years in 
the solitude of a cloister, and who was not raised to 
the papal throne until he had reached the extremity 
of old age, discovered at once all the impetuosity of 
youthful ambition, and formed extensive schemes, 
in order to accomplish which, he scrupled not to 
scatter the seeds of discord, and to kindle the 
flames of war, in every corner of Europe. But Paul, 
regardless of the opinion or censures of mankind, 
held on his own course with his wonted arrogance 
and violence. These, although they seemed already 
to have exceeded all bounds, rose to a still greater 
height, upon the arrival of the duke of Guise in Italy. 

That which the two princes of Lor- The duke of 
rain foresaw and desired, had happen- F^encharmy^nto 
ed. The duke of Guise was intrusted Italy ‘ 
with the command of the army appointed to march 
to the pope’s assistance. It consisted of twenty 
thousand men of the best troops in the service of 
France. So high was the duke’s reputation, and 
such the general expectation of beholding some ex¬ 
traordinary exertion of his courage and abilities in 
a war into which he had precipitated his country, 
chiefly with the design of obtaining a field where 
he might display his own talents, that many of the 
French nobility who had no command in the troops 
employed, accompanied him as volunteers. This 
army passed the Alps in an inclement season, and 
advanced towards Rome without any opposition 
from the Spaniards, who, as they were not strong 
enough to act in different parts, had collected all 
their forces into one body on the frontiers of Na¬ 
ples, for the defence of that kingdom. 

Imboldened by the approach of the 

J Hi/- 1 be pope renews 

French, the pope let loose all the fury hostilities against 

. ... . Philip. 

of his resentment against Philip, which 
notwithstanding the natural violence of his temper, 
prudential considerations had hitherto obliged him 
to keep under some restraint. He named commis¬ 
sioners, whom he empowered to pass judgment in 
the suit which the consistorial advocate had com¬ 
menced against Philip, in order to prove that he 
had forfeited the crown of Naples, by 
taking arms against the holy see, of 
which he was a vassal. He recalled all the nuncios 
resident in the courts of Charles V., of Philip, or of 
any of their allies. This was levelled 
chiefly against cardinal Pole, the pa- 


c Strada de Bello Belg. lib. i. 9. 


d Sandov. ii. 607. et Zuniga, 100. Thuan. lib. xvii. 609. 



088 


THE REIGN OF THE LA. D. 1567. BOOK XU. 


pal legate in the court of England, whose great merit, 
in having contributed so successfully to reconcile 
that kingdom to the church of Rome, together with 
the expectation of further services which he might 
perform, was not sufficient to screen him from the 
resentment that he had incurred by his zealous en¬ 
deavours to establish peace between the house of Aus¬ 
tria and France. He commanded an addition to be 
made to the anathemas annually denounced against 
the enemies of the church on Maundy-Thursday, 
whereby he inflicted the censure of excommunica¬ 
tion on the authors of the late invasion of the eccle¬ 
siastical territories, whatever their rank or dignity 
might be; and, in consequence of this, the usual 
prayers for the emperor were omitted next day in 
the pope’s chapel. e 

But while the pope indulged himself 
prepamitions in those wild and childish sallies of 
ma equate. rage, either he neglected, or found 

that it exceeded his power, to take such measures 
as would have rendered his resentment really for¬ 
midable, and fatal to his enemies. For when the 
duke of Guise entered Rome, where he was received 
with a triumphal pomp, which would have been 
more suitable if he had been returning after having 


terminated the war with glory, than when he was 
going to begin it with a doubtful chance of success, 
he found none of the preparations for war in such 
forwardness as cardinal Caraffa had promised, or 
he had expected. The papal troops were far in¬ 
ferior in number to the quota stipulated ; no maga¬ 
zines sufficient for their subsistence were formed; 
nor was money for paying them provided. The 
Venetians, agreeably to that cautious maxim which 
the misfortunes of their state had first led them to 
adopt, and which was now become a fundamental 
principle in their policy, declared their resolution 
to preserve an exact neutrality, without taking any 
part in the quarrels of princes, so far superior to 
themselves in power. The other Italian states were 
either openly united in league with Philip, or se¬ 
cretly wished success to his arms against a pontiff, 
whose inconsiderate ambition had rendered Italy 
once more the seat of war. 

Duke of Guise s The duke of Guise perceived that 
operations. the w } 10 i e we ight of the war would 

devolve on the French troops under his command ; 
and became sensible, though too late, how impru¬ 
dent it is to rely, in the execution of great enter¬ 
prises, on the aid of feeble allies. 

April 13. fl 

Pushed on, however, by the popes 
impatience for action, as well as by his own desire 
of performing some part of what he had so con¬ 
fidently undertaken, he marched towards Naples, 
and began his operations. But the success of these 
fell far short of his former reputation, of what the 
world expected, and of what he himself had pro¬ 
mised. He opened the campaign with the siege 
of Civitella, a town of some importance on the 


Neapolitan frontier. But the obstinacy with which 
the Spanish governor defended it baffled all the 
impetuous efforts of the French valour, and obliged 
the duke of Guise, after a siege of three weeks, to 
retire from the town with disgrace. He endeavour¬ 
ed to wipe off that stain, by advancing boldly to¬ 
wards the duke of Alva’s camp, and offering him 
battle. But that prudent commander, sensible of 
all the advantages of standing on the defensive be¬ 
fore an invading enemy, declined an engagement, 
and kept within his intrenchment; and, adhering to 
his plan with the steadiness of a Castilian, eluded 
with great address all the Duke of Guise’s strata¬ 
gems to draw him into action/ By this time sick¬ 
ness began to waste the French army; violent 
dissensions had arisen between the duke of Guise 
and the commander of the pope’s forces; the Spa¬ 
niards renewed their incursions into the ecclesias¬ 
tical state ; the pope, when he found, instead of the 
conquests and triumphs which he had fondly ex¬ 
pected, that he could not secure his own territories 
from depredation, murmured, complained, and be¬ 
gan to talk of peace. The duke of Guise, mortified 
to the last degree with having acted such an inglo¬ 
rious part, not only solicited his court either to rein¬ 
force his army, or to recall him, but urged Paul to ful¬ 
fil his engagements ; and called on cardinal Caraffa, 
sometimes with reproaches, sometimes with threats, 
to make good those magnificent promises, from a 
rash confidence in which he had advised his master 
to renounce the truce of Vaucelles, and to join in 
league with the pope. g 

But while the French affairs in Italy Hostilities in the 
were in this wretched situation, an Low Countries. 

unexpected event happened in the Low Countries, 
which called the duke of Guise from a station 
wherein he could acquire no honour, to the most 
dignified and important charge which could be 
committed to a subject. As soon as the French 
had discovered their purpose of violating the truce 
of Vaucelles, not only by sending an army into 
Italy, but by attempting to surprise some of the 
frontier towns in Flanders, Philip, though willing 
to have avoided a rupture, determined to prosecute 
the war with such spirit, as should make his ene¬ 
mies sensible that his father had not erred, when 
he judged him to be so capable of government, that 
he had given up the reins into his hands. As he 
knew that Henry had been at great expense in fit¬ 
ting out the army under the duke of Guise, and 
that his treasury was hardly able to answer the ex¬ 
orbitant and endless demands of a distant war, he 
foresaw that all his operations in the Low Coun¬ 
tries must, of consequence, prove feeble, and be 
considered only as secondary to those in Italy. For 
that reason, he prudently resolved to make his prin¬ 
cipal effort in that place where he expected the 
French to be weakest, and to bend his chief force 
against that quarter where they would feel a blow 


e Pal. lib. xiii. 180. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 678. 
f Herrera Vida de Felipe, 181. 


g Thuan. lib. xxviii. 614. Pallav. lib. xiii. 181. Burn. ii. app. 317. 




EMPEROR CHARLES Y. 


ROOK XII. A. 1). 1557.] 

most sensibly. With this view, he assembled in 
the Low Countries an army of about fifty thousand 
men, the Flemings serving him on this occasion 
with that active zeal which subjects are wont to 
exert in obeying the first commands of a new sove¬ 
reign. But Philip, cautious and provident, even 
at this early period of life, did not rest all his hopes 
of success on that formidable force alone. 

Philip endea- He had been labouring for some time 
England ln e th| e to engage the English to espouse his 
quarrel; and though it was manifestly 
the interest of that kingdom to maintain a strict 
neutrality, and the people themselves were sensible 
of the advantages which they derived from it; 
though he knew how odious his name was to the 
English, and how averse they would be to co-ope¬ 
rate with him in any measure, he nevertheless did 
not despair of accomplishing his point. He relied 
on the affection with which the queen doated on 
him, which was so violent, that even his coldness 
and neglect had not extinguished it; he knew her 
implicit reverence for his opinion, and her fond de¬ 
sire of gratifying him in every particular. That he 
might work on these with greater facility and more 
certain success, he set out for England. The 
queen, who, during her husband’s absence, had 
languished in perpetual dejection, resumed fresh 
spirits on his arrival; and without paying the least 
attention either to the interest or to the inclinations 
of her people, entered warmly into all his schemes. 
In vain did her privy council remonstrate against 
the imprudence as well as danger of involving the 
nation in an unnecessary war; in vain did they put 
her in mind of the solemn treaties of peace subsist¬ 
ing between England and France, which the con¬ 
duct of that nation had afforded her no pretext to 
violate. Mary, soothed by Philip’s caresses, or in¬ 
timidated by the threats which his ascendant over 
her imboldened him at some times to throw out, 
was deaf to every thing that could be urged in op¬ 
position to his sentiments, and insisted with the 
greatest vehemence on an immediate declaration of 
w ar against France. The council, though all Philip’s 
address and Mary’s authority were employed to 
gain or overawe them, after struggling long, yielded 
at last, not from conviction, but merely from de¬ 
ference to the will of their sovereign. War was 
declared against France, the only one 
perhaps against that kingdom into 
which the English ever entered with reluctance. 
As Mary knew the aversion of the nation to this 
measure, she durst not call a parliament in order to 
raise money for carrying on the war. She supplied 
this want, however, by a stretch of royal preroga¬ 
tive, not unusual in that age ; and levied large 
sums on her subjects by her own authority. This 
enabled her to assemble a sufficient body of troops, 
and to send eight thousand men under the con¬ 
duct of the earl of Pembroke, to join Philip’s 


June 20. 


army. 


h Carte, lii. 337. 

2 Y 


Invests 
St. Quintin. 


(M) 

Philip, w ho was not ambitious of operations of 
military glory, gave the command of u/eLow coun-' 1 
his army to Emanuel Philibert, duke tnes> 
of Savoy, and fixed his own residence at Cambray, 
that he might be at hand to receive the earliest in¬ 
telligence of his motions, and to aid him with his 
counsels. The duke opened the campaign with a 
masterly stroke of address, which justified Philip’s 
choice, and discovered such a superiority of genius 
over the French generals, as almost insured success 
in his subsequent operations. He appointed the 
general rendezvous of his troops at a place con¬ 
siderably distant from the country which he destined 
to be the scene of action ; and having kept the 
enemy in suspense for a good time with regard to 
his intentions, he at last deceived them so effectually 
by the variety of his marches and countermarches, 
as led them to conclude that he meant to bend all his 
force against the province of Champagne, and would 
attempt to penetrate into the kingdom on that side. 
In consequence of this opinion, they drew all their 
strength towards that quarter, and reinforcing the 
garrison there, left the town on other parts of the 
frontier destitute of troops sufficient to defend them. 

The duke of Savoy, as soon as he 
perceived that this feint had its full 
effect, turned suddenly to the right, advanced by 
rapid marches into Picardy, and sending his cavalry, 
in which he was extremely strong, before him, in¬ 
vested St. Quintin. This was a town deemed in 
that, age of considerable strength, and of great im¬ 
portance, as there were few fortified cities between 
it and Paris. The fortifications, however, had been 
much neglected; the garrison, weakened by draughts 
sent towards Champagne, did not amount to a fifth 
part of the number requisite for its defence; and the 
governor, though a brave officer, was neither of rank 
nor authority equal to the command in a place of so 
much consequence, besieged by such a formidable 
army. A few days must have put the duke of Savoy 
in possession of the town, if the admiral de Coligny, 
who thought it concerned his honour to attempt 
saving a place of such importance to his country, 
and which lay within his jurisdiction as governor 
of Picardy, had not taken the gallant resolution 
of throwing himself into it, with such a body of men 
as he could collect on a sudden. This resolution 
he executed with great intrepidity, and if the nature 
of the enterprise be considered, with no contempti¬ 
ble success; for though one half of his small body 
of troops was cut off, he, with the other, broke 
through the enemy, and entered the town. The 
unexpected arrival of an officer of such high rank 
and reputation, and who had exposed himself to 
such danger in order to join them, inspired the 
desponding garrison with courage. Every thing 
that the admiral’s great skill and experience in the 
art of war could suggest, for annoying the enemy or 
defendingthe town, was attempted; and thecitizens, 
as well as the garrison, seconding his zeal with 



GOO 


THE REIGN OF THE 


equal ardour, seemed to be determined that they 
would hold out to the last, and sacrifice themselves 
in order to save their country.' 

The duke of Savoy, whom the Eng- 
Je h a e v<mrto C fefi n eve lish under the earl of Pembroke joined 
about this time, pushed on the siege 
with the greatest vigour. An army so numerous, 
and so well supplied with every thing requisite, 
carried on its approaches with great advantage 
against a garrison which was still so feeble that it 
durst seldom venture to disturb or retard the enemy’s 
operations by sallies. The admiral, sensible of the 
approaching danger, and unable to avert it, ac¬ 
quainted his uncle the constable Montmorency, who 
had the command of the French army, with his 
situation, and pointed out to him a method by which 
lie might throw relief into the town. The constable, 
solicitous to save a town, the loss of which would 
open a passage for the enemy into the heart of 


Aug. 10 


France ; and eager to extricate his nephew out of 
that perilous situation, in which zeal for the public 
had engaged him,—resolved, though aware of the 
danger, to attempt what he desired. TV ith this view, 
he marched from La Fere towards St. Quintin at 
the head of his army, which was not by one half so 
numerous as that of the enemy, and having given 
the command of a body of chosen men to Coligny’s 
brother Dandelot, who was colonel-general of the 
French infantry, he ordered him to force his way 
into the town by that avenue which the admiral had 
represented as most practicable, while he himself, 
with the main army, would give the alarm to the 
enemy’s camp on the opposite side, and endeavour 
to draw all their attention towards that quarter. 
Dandelot executed his orders with greater intre¬ 
pidity than conduct. He rushed on 
with such headlong impetuosity, that, 
though it broke the first body of the enemy which 
stood in his way, it threw his own soldiers into the 
utmost confusion ; and as they were attacked in 
that situation by fresh troops which closed in upon 
them on every side, the greater part of them were 
cut in pieces, Dandelot, with about five hundred of 
the most adventurous and most fortunate, making 
good his entrance into the town. 

The battle of Meanwhile the constable, in execut- 
st. Quintin. j n g p ai q 0 f ^| ie plan, advanced so 

near the camp of the besiegers, as rendered it im¬ 
possible to retreat with safety in the face of an enemy 
so much superior in number. The duke of Savoy 
instantly perceived Montmorency’s error, and pre¬ 
pared, with the presence of mind and abilities of a 
great general, to avail himself of it. He drew up 
his army in order of battle, with the greatest expe¬ 
dition ; and watching the moment when the French 
began to file off towards La Fere, he detached all 
his cavalry, under the command of the count of 
Egmont, to fall on their rear, while he himself, at 
the head of his infantry, advanced to support him. 
The French retired at first in perfect order, and with 

i Tbuan. lib. xix. 647. 


[A. D. 1567. BOOK XII. 

a good countenance: but when they saw Egmont 
draw near with his formidable body of cavalry, the 
shock of which they were conscious that they could 
not withstand, the prospect of imminent danger, 
added to distrust of their general, whose imprudence 
every soldier now perceived, struck them with gene¬ 
ral consternation. They began insensibly to quicken 
their pace, and those in the rear pressed so vio¬ 
lently on such as were before them, that in a short 
time their march resembled a flight rather than a 
retreat. Egmont, observing their confusion, charged 
them with the greatest fury, and in a moment all 
their men at arms, the pride and Total defeat of 
strength of the French troops in that the French - 
age, gave way, and fled with precipitation. The 
infantry, however, whom the constable, by his pre¬ 
sence and authority, kept to their colours, still 
continued to retreat in good order, until the enemy 
brought some pieces of cannon to bear upon their 
centre, which threw them into such confusion, that 
the Flemish cavalry, renewing their attack, broke 
in, and the rout became universal. About four 
thousand of the French fell in the field, and among 
these the duke of Enghien, a prince of the blood, 
together with six hundred gentlemen. The con¬ 
stable, as soon as he perceived the fortune of the 
day to be irretrievable, rushed into the thickest of 
the enemy, with a resolution not to survive the 
calamity which his ill-conduct had brought upon 
his country; but having received a dangerous 
wound, and being wasted with the loss of blood, he 
was surrounded by some Flemish officers, to whom 
he was known, who protected him from the violence 
of the soldiers, and obliged him to surrender. Be¬ 
sides the constable, the dukes of Montpensier and 
Longueville, the mareschal of St. Andre, many 
officers of distinction, three hundred gentlemen, and 
near four thousand private soldiers, Mere taken 
prisoners. All the colours belonging to the infantry, 
all the ammunition, and all the cannon, two pieces 
excepted, fell into the enemy’s hands. The victo¬ 
rious army did not lose above fourscore men. k 

This battle, no less fatal to France The first effects 
than the ancient victories of Crecy and of It - 
Agincourt, gained by the English on the same 
frontier, bore a near resemblance to those disastrous 
events, in the suddenness of the rout; in the ill con¬ 
duct of the commander-in-chief; in the number of 
persons of note slain or taken ; and in the small loss 
sustained by the enemy. It filled France with equal 
consternation. Many inhabitants of Paris, with 
the same precipitancy and trepidation as if the 
enemy had been already at their gates, quitted the 
city, and retired into the interior provinces. The 
king, by his presence and exhortations, endeavour¬ 
ed to console and to animate such as remained, and 
applying himself with the greatest diligence to re¬ 
pair the ruinous fortifications of the city, prepared 
to defend it against the attack which he instantly 
expected. But happily for France, Philip’s caution, 

k Thtran. 630. ITarasi Annal. Brabant, ii. 692. Herrera, 291. 



BOOK XII. A. 1). 1557.] EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


together with the intrepid firmness of Hie admiral 
de Coligny, not only saved the capital from the 
danger to which it was exposed, but gained the 
nation a short interval, during which the people 
recovered from the terror and dejection occasioned 
by a blow no less severe than unexpected, and 
Henry had leisure to take measures for the public 
security, with the spirit which became the sovereign 
of a powerful and martial people. 

Philip repairs to Philip, immediately after the battle, 
visited the camp at St. Quintin, where 
he was received with all the exultation of military 
triumph ; and such were his transports of joy on 
account of an event which threw so much lustre on 
the beginning of his reign, that they softened his 
severe and haughty temper into an unusual flow of 
courtesy. When the duke of Savoy approached, 
and was kneeling to kiss his hands, he caught him 
in his arms, and embracing him with warmth, “ It 
becomes me,” says he, “ rather to kiss your hands, 
which have gained me such a glorious and almost 
bloodless victory.” 

His deliberations As soon as the rejoicings and con- 
prosecutfon^r gratulations on Philip’s arrival were 
the war. over, a council of war was held, in 

order to determine how they might improve their 
victory to the best advantage. The duke of Savoy, 
seconded by several of the ablest officers formed 
under Charles V., insisted that they should imme¬ 
diately relinquish the siege of St. Quintin, the 
reduction of which was now an object below their 
attention, and advance directly towards Paris ; that 
as there were neither troops to oppose, nor any town 
of strength to retard their march, they might reach 
that capital while under the full impression of the 
astonishment and terror occasioned by the rout of 
the army, and take possession of it without resist¬ 
ance. But Philip, less adventurous or more pru¬ 
dent than his generals, preferred a moderate but 
certain advantage to an enterprise of greater splen¬ 
dour, but of more doubtful success. He represented 
to the council the infinite resources of a kingdom so 
powerful as France; the great number as well as 
martial spirit of its nobles; their attachment to 
their sovereign ; the manifold advantages with which 
they could carry on war in their own territories; 
and the unavoidable destruction which must be the 
consequence of their penetrating too rashly into the 
enemy’s country, before they had secured such a 
communication with their own as might render a 
retreat safe, if, upon any disastrous event, that 
measure should become necessary. On all these 
accounts, he advised the continuance of the siege ; 
and his generals acquiesced the more readily in his 
opinion, as they made no doubt of being masters of 
the town in a few days, a loss of time of so little 
consequence in the execution of their plan, that 
they might easily repair it by their subsequent 
activity. 1 

The weakness of the fortifications, and the small 

] Belcar. Commentar. de Reb. Gallic. 901. 

2 Y 2 


•Aug. 37- 


number of the garrison, which could 

, , . , . „ St. Quintin de- 

UO longer hope either for reinforce- fended by admi- 

. . ral Coligny; 

ment or relief, seemed to authorize this 
calculation of Philip’s generals. But in making it, 
they did not attend sufficiently to the character of 
admiral de Coligny, who commanded in the town. 
A courage undismayed, and tranquil amidst the 
greatest dangers, an invention fruitful in resources, 
a genius which roused and seemed to acquire new 
force upon every disaster, a talent of governing the 
minds of men, together with a capacity of main¬ 
taining his ascendant over them even under circum¬ 
stances the most adverse and distressful, were 
qualities which Coligny possessed in a degree su¬ 
perior to any general of that age. These qualities 
were peculiarly adapted to the station in which he 
was now placed ; and as he knew the infinite im¬ 
portance to his country of every hour which he 
could gain at this juncture, he exerted himself to 
the utmost in contriving how to protract the siege, 
and to detain the enemy from attempting any enter¬ 
prise more dangerous to France. Such which is taken 
were the perseverance and skill with by assauit - 
which he conducted the defence, and such the for¬ 
titude as well as patience with which he animated 
the garrison, that though the Spaniards, the Flem¬ 
ings, and the English, carried on the attack with 
all the ardour which national emulation inspires, 
he held out the town seventeen days. 

He was taken prisoner, at last, on the 
breach, overpowered by the superior number of the 
enemy. 

Henry availed himself, with the ut¬ 
most activity, of the interval which for the defence r of 
the admiral’s w ell-timed obstinacy had 15 kin " dom- 
afforded him. He appointed officers to collect the 
scattered remains of the constable’s army; he issued 
orders for levying soldiers in every part of the king¬ 
dom ; he commanded the ban and arriere ban of the 
frontier provinces instantly to take the field, and 
to join the duke of Nevers at Laon in Picardy ; he 
recalled the greater part of the veteran troops which 
served under the mareschal Brissac at Piedmont; he 
sent courier after courier to the duke of Guise, 
requiring him, together with all his army, to return 
instantly for the defence of their country ; he des¬ 
patched one envoy to the grand seignior, to solicit 
the assistance of his fleet, and the loan of a sum of 
money ; he sent another into Scotland, to incite the 
Scots to invade the north of England, that, by 
drawing Mary’s attention to that quarter, he might 
prevent her from reinforcing her troops which served 
under Philip. These efforts of the king were 
warmly seconded by the zeal of his subjects. The 
city of Paris granted him a free gift of three hun¬ 
dred thousand livres. The other great towns imi¬ 
tated the liberality of the capital, and contributed 
in proportion. Several noblemen of distinction en¬ 
gaged, at their own expense, to garrison and defend 
the towns which lay most exposed to the enemy. 




G92 


THE REIGN OF THE 


Nor was the general concern for the public confined 
to corporate bodies alone, or to those in the higher 
sphere of life, but diffusing itself among persons of 
every rank, each individual seemed disposed to act 
with as much vigour as if the honour of the king, 
and the safety of the state, had depended solely on 
his single efforts." 1 

Philip, who was no stranger either 

The victory of * 

st. Quintin pro- to the prudent measures taken by the 

d active of few . 

beneficial conse- French monarch for the security ox Ins 
quences. . . , • . 

dominions, or to the spirit with which 
his subjects prepared to defend themselves, per¬ 
ceived, when it was too late, that he had lost an 
opportunity which could never be recalled, and that 
it was now vain to think of penetrating into the 
heart of France. He abandoned, therefore, without 
much reluctance, a scheme which was too bold and 
hazardous to be perfectly agreeable to his cautious 
temper; and employed his army, during the re¬ 
mainder of the campaign, in the sieges of Ham and 
Catelet. Of these he soon became master; and the 
reduction of two such petty towns, together with 
the acquisition of St. Quintin, were all the advan¬ 
tages which he derived from one of the most deci¬ 
sive victories gained in that century. Philip himself, 
however, continued in high exultation on account 
of his success ; and as all his passions were tinged 
with superstition, he, in memory of the battle of 
St. Quintin, which had been fought on the day con¬ 
secrated to St. Laurence, vowed to build a church, 
a monastery, and a palace, in honour of that saint 
and martyr. Before the expiration of the year, he 
laid the foundation of an edifice in which all these 
were united, at the Escurial in the neighbourhood of 
Madrid ; and the same principle which dictated the 
vow directed the building. For the plan of the 
work was so formed as to resemble a gridiron, 
which, according to the legendary tale, had been the 
instrument of St. Laurence’s martyrdom. Notwith¬ 
standing the great and expensive schemes in which 
his restless ambition involved him, Philip continued 
the building with such perseverance for twenty-two 
years, and reserved such large sums for this monu¬ 
ment of his devotion and vanity, that the monarchs 
of Spain are indebted to him for a royal residence, 
which, though not the most elegant, is certainly the 
most sumptuous and magnificent, of any in Europe." 

The first account of that fatal blow 
recaUedou^of y which the French had received at St. 

Quintin was carried to Rome by the 
courier whom Henry had sent to recall the duke of 
Guise. As Paul, even with the assistance of his 
French auxiliaries, had hardly been able to check 
the progress of the Spanish arms, he foresaw that, 
as soon as he was deprived of their protection, his 
territories must be overrun in a moment. He re¬ 
monstrated, therefore, with the greatest violence 
against the departure of the French army, reproach¬ 
ing the duke of Guise for his ill conduct, which had 

m Mem. de Ribier, ii. 701, 70S. 

n Colmenar Annaies d’Espagne, tom. ii. p. 136. 


[A. D. 1557. BOOK XII. 

brought him into such an unhappy situation ; and 
complaining of the king for deserting him so un¬ 
generously under such circumstances. The duke 
of Guise’s orders, however, were peremptory. Paul, 
inflexible as he was, found it necessary to accommo¬ 
date his conduct to the exigency of his affairs, and 
to employ the mediation of the Venetians, and of 
Cosmo di Medici, in order to obtain peace. Philip, 
who had been forced unwillingly to a rupture with 
the pope, and who, even while success crowned his 
arms, doubted so much the justice of his own cause, 
that he had made frequent overtures of pacification, 
listened eagerly to the lirst proposals of this nature 
from Paul, and discovered such moderation in his 
demands as could hardly have been expected from 
a prince elated with victory. 

The duke of Alva on the part of 
Philip, and the cardinal Caraffa in between^thepor 
the name of his uncle, met at Cavi, 
and both being equally disposed to peace, they, 
after a short conference, terminated the war by a 
treaty on the following terms:—That Paul should 
renounce his league with France, and maintain for 
the future such a neutrality as became the common 
father of Christendom ; that Philip should instantly 
restore all the towns of the ecclesiastical territory 
of which he had taken possession ; that the claims 
of the Caraffas to the duchy of Paliano, and other 
demesnes of the Colonnas, should be referred to the 
decision of the republic of Venice; that the duke 
of Alva should repair in person to Rome, and after 
asking pardon of Paul in his own name, and in that 
of his master, for having invaded the patrimony of 
the church, should receive the pope’s absolution 
from that crime. Thus Paul, through Philip’s 
scrupulous timidity, finished an unprosperous war 
without any detriment to the papal see. The con¬ 
queror appeared humble, and acknowledged his 
error; while he who had been vanquished retained 
his usual haughtiness, and was treated with every 
mark of superiority. 0 The duke of Alva, in terms 
of the treaty, repaired to Rome, and, in the posture 
of a supplicant, kissed the feet, and implored the 
forgiveness, of that very person w hom his arms had 
reduced to the last extremity. Such was the super¬ 
stitious veneration of the Spaniards for the papal 
character, that Alva, though perhaps the proudest 
man of the age, and accustomed from his infancy 
to a familiar intercourse with princes, acknowledged 
that when he approached the pope, he w as so much 
overawed, that his voice failed, and his presence of 
mind forsook himT 

But though this war, which at its 

, ... Philip restores 

commencement threatened mighty re- Placentia to Oc- 

, . • . , ... tavio Farnese 

volutions, was brought to an end with¬ 
out occasioning any alteration in those states which 
were its immediate object, it had produced during 
its progress effects of considerable consequence in 
other parts of Italy. As Philip was extremely so- 

o Pallav. lib. xiii. 183. F. Paul, 380. Herrera, vol. i. 310. 

p Pallav. lib. xiii. 185. Summonte Istoria di Napoli, iv. 286. 





ROOK XII. A. D. 1557.] 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


693 


licitous to terminate his quarrel with Paul as speedily 
as possible, he was willing to make any sacrifice in 
order to gain those princes, who, by joining their 
troops to the papal and French army, might have 
prolonged the war. With this view, he entered into 
a negociation with Octavio Farnese, duke of Parma, 
and, in order to seduce him from his alliance with 
France, he restored to him the city of Placentia, 
with the territory depending on it, which Charles V. 
had seized in the year one thousand five hundred 
and forty-seven, had kept from that time in his pos¬ 
session, and had transmitted, together with his other 
dominions, to Philip. 

Cosmodi Medici’s ™ S Ste P m! * de SUCh * disC0Vf > r y ° f 

measures for ob- Philip’s character and views to Cosmo 
taming Siena. . r 

di Medici, the most sagacious as well 
as provident of all the Italian princes, that he con¬ 
ceived hopes of accomplishing his favourite scheme 
of adding Siena and its territories to his dominions 
in Tuscany. As his success in this attempt de¬ 
pended entirely on the delicacy of address with 
which it should be conducted, he employed all the 
refinements of policy in the negociation which he 
set on foot for this purpose. He began with solicit¬ 
ing Philip, whose treasury he knew to be entirely 
drained by the expense of the war, to repay the 
great sums which he had advanced to the emperor 
during the siege of Siena. When Philip endea¬ 
voured to elude a demand which he was unable to 
satisfy, Cosmo affected to be extremely disquieted, 
and making no secret of his disgust, instructed his 
ambassador at Rome to open a negociation with the 
pope, which seemed to be the effect of it. The am¬ 
bassador executed his commission with such dex¬ 
terity that Paul, imagining Cosmo to be entirely 
alienated from the Spanish interest, proposed to him 
an alliance with France, which should be cemented 
by the marriage of his eldest son to one of Henry’s 
daughters. Cosmo received the overture with such 
apparent satisfaction, and w ith so many professions 
of gratitude for the high honour of w hich he had the 
prospect, that not only the pope’s ministers, but the 
French envoy at Rome, talked confidently, and with 
little reserve, of the accession of that important ally, 
as a matter certain and decided. The account of this 
was quickly carried to Philip; and Cosmo, who fore¬ 
saw how much it would alarm him, had despatched 
his nephew LudovicodeToledo into the Netherlands, 
that he might be at hand to observe and take ad¬ 
vantage of his consternation, before the first impres¬ 
sion which it made should in any degree abate. 
Cosmo was extremely fortunate in the choice of the 
instrument whom he employed. Toledo waited 
with patience, until he discovered with certainty, 
that Philip had received such intelligence of his 
uncle’s negociations at Rome, as must have filled 
his suspicious mind with fear and jealousy ; and 
then craving an audience, he required payment of 
the money which had been borrowed by the emperor, 
in the most earnest and peremptory terms. In urg- 

q Thuan. lib. xviii. 624. Ilerrera i. 263, 275. Pallav. lib. xiii. 180. 


ing that point, he artfully threw out several dark 
hints and ambiguous declarations, concerning the 
extremities to which Cosmo might be driven by a 
refusal of this just demand, as well as by other 
grievances of which he had good reason to complain. 

Philip, astonished at an address in 

Their success. 

such a strain, from a prince so far his 
inferior as the duke of Tuscany, and comparing 
what he now heard with the information which he 
had received from Italy, immediately concluded 
that Cosmo had ventured to assume this bold and 
unusual tone on the prospect of his union with 
France. In order to prevent the pope and Henry 
from acquiring an ally, who, by his abilities, as 
well as the situation of his dominions, would have 
added both reputation and strength to their confe¬ 
deracy, he offered to grant Cosmo the investiture of 
Siena, if he would consent to accept of it as an 
equivalent for the sums due to him, and engage to 
furnish a body of troops towards the defence of 
Philip’s territories in Italy, against any power who 
should attack them. As soon as Cosmo had brought 
Philip to make this concession, which was the ob¬ 
ject of all his artifices and intrigues, he did not 
protract the negociation by an unnecessary delay, 
or any excess of refinement, but closed eagerly with 
the proposal; and Philip, in spite of the remon¬ 
strances of his ablest counsellors, signed a treaty 
with him to that effects 

As no prince was ever more tenacious of his rights 
than Philip, or less willing to relinquish any terri¬ 
tory which he possessed, by what tenure soever he 
held it, these unusual concessions to the dukes of 
Parma and Tuscany, by which he wantonly gave 
up countries, in acquiring or defending w'hich his 
father had employed many years, and wasted much 
blood and treasure, cannot be accounted for from 
any motive, but his superstitious desire of ex¬ 
tricating himself out of the war which he had 
been forced to wage against the pope. By these 
treaties, however, the balance of power among the 
Itaiian states was poised with greater equality, and 
rendered less variable than it had been since it re¬ 
ceived the first violent shock from the invasion of 
Charles VIII. of France. From this period Italy 
ceased to be the great theatre on which the monarchs 
of Spain, France, and Germany, contended for 
power or for fame. Their dissensions and hostili¬ 
ties, though as frequent and violent as ever, being 
excited by new objects, stained other regions of 
Europe with blood, and rendered them miserable, 
in their turn, by the devastations of war. 

The duke of Guise left Rome on the Sept 29 
same day that his adversary the duke Guise^rece^tion 
Alva made his humiliating submission ln 1 rance - 
to the pope. He was received in France as the 
guardian angel of the kingdom. His late ill suc¬ 
cess in Italy seemed to be forgotten, while his 
former services, particularly his defence of Metz, 
were recounted with exaggerated praise ; and he 




G94 


THE REIGN OF THE 


was welcomed in every city through which he pass¬ 
ed, as the restorer of public security, who, after 
having set bounds by his conduct and valour to the 
victorious arms of Charles V., returned now, at the 
call of his country, to check the formidable progress 
of Philip’s power. The reception which he met 
with from Henry was no less cordial and honour¬ 
able. New titles were invented, and new dignities 
created, in order to distinguish him. He was ap¬ 
pointed lieutenant-general-in-chief both within and 
without the kingdom, with a. jurisdiction almost 
unlimited, and hardly inferior to that which was 
possessed by the king himself. Thus, through the 
singular felicity which attended the princes of Lor- 
rain, the miscarriage of their own schemes contri¬ 
buted to aggrandize them. The calamities of his 
country, and the ill conduct of his rival the consta¬ 
ble, exalted the duke of Guise to a height of dignity 
and powder, which he could not have expected to 
attain by the most fortunate and most complete 
success of his own ambitious projects. 

Takes the com- The duke of Guise, eager to perform 
ma nd°f the army. some thing suitable to the high expec¬ 
tations of his countrymen, and that he might jus¬ 
tify the extraordinary confidence which the king 
had reposed in him, ordered all the troops which 
could be got together to assemble at Compeigne. 
Though the winter was well advanced, and had set 
in with extreme severity, he placed himself at their 
head, and took the field. By Henry’s activity and 
the zeal of his subjects, so many soldiers had been 
raised in the kingdom, and such considerable rein¬ 
forcements had been drawn from Germany and 
Switzerland, as formed an army respectable even 
in the eyes of a victorious enemy. Philip, alarmed 
at seeing it put in motion at such an uncommon 
season, began to tremble for his new r conquests, par¬ 
ticularly St. Quintin, the fortifications of which 
were hitherto but imperfectly repaired. 

TT . But the duke of Guise meditated a 

rle invests 

Calais. more important enterprise; and after 

15j 8. Jan. 1st. # # 

amusing the enemy with threatening 
successively different towns on the frontiers of 
Flanders, he turned suddenly to the left, and in¬ 
vested Calais with his whole army. Calais had 
been taken by the English under Edward III., and 
was the fruit of that monarch’s glorious victory at 
Crecy. Being the only place that they retained of 
their ancient and extensive territories in France, 
and which opened to them, at all times, an easy 
and secure passage into the heart of that kingdom, 
their keeping possession of it soothed the pride of 
the one nation as much as it mortified the vanity of 
the other. Its situation was naturally so strong, 
and its fortifications deemed so impregnable, that 
no monarch of France, how adventurous soever, 
had been bold enough to attack it. Even when 
the domestic strength of England was broken and 
exhausted by the bloody wars between the houses 
of York and Lancaster, and its attention entirely 

r Carte, iii. S45. 


| A. I). 1668. BOOK XII. 

diverted from foreign objects, Calais had remained 
undisturbed and unthreatened. Mary and her 
council, composed chiefly of ecclesiastics, unac¬ 
quainted with military affairs, and whose whole 
attention was turned towards extirpating heresy 
out of the kingdom, had not only neglected to take 
any precautions for the safety of this important 
place, but seemed to think that the reputation of 
its strength was alone sufficient for its security. 
Full of this opinion, they ventured, even after the 
declaration of war, to continue a practice which 
the low state of the queen’s finances had introduced 
in times of peace. As the country adjacent to 
Calais was overflowed during the winter, and the 
marshes around it became impassable, except by 
one avenue, which the forts of St. Agatha and 
Newnham-bridge commanded, it had been the cus¬ 
tom of the English to dismiss the greater part of the 
garrison towards the end of autumn, and to replace 
it in the spring. In vain did lord lts defenceless 
Wentworth, the governor of Calais, state * 
remonstrate against this ill-timed parsimony, and 
represent the possibility of his being attacked sud¬ 
denly, while he had not troops sufficient to man the 
works. The privy-council treated these remon¬ 
strances with scorn, as if they had flowed from the 
timidity or the rapaciousness of the governor; and 
some of them, with that confidence which is the 
companion of ignorance, boasted that they would 
defend Calais with their white rods against any 
enemy who should approach it during winter/ In 
vain did Philip, who had passed through Calais as 
he returned from England to the Netherlands, warn 
the queen of the danger to which it w as exposed ; 
and, acquainting her with what w as necessary for 
its security, in vain did he offer to reinforce the 
garrison during winter with a detachment of his 
own troops. Mary’s counsellors, though obsequious 
to her in all points w herein religion w as concerned, 
distrusted, as much as the rest of their countrymen, 
every proposition that came from her husband ; and 
suspecting this to be an artifice of Philip’s, in order 
to gain the command of the town, they neglected 
his intelligence, declined his offer, and left Calais 
with less than a fourth part of the garrison requisite 
for its defence. 

His knowledge of this encouraged Guise pushes the 
the duke of Guise to venture on an siege Wlth vl s° ur ; 
enterprise, that surprised his own countrymen no 
less than his enemies. As he knew that its success 
depended on conducting his operations with such 
rapidity as would afford the English no time for 
throwing relief into the town by sea, and prevent 
Philip from giving him any interruption by land, he 
pushed the attack with a degree of vigour little 
known in carrying on sieges during that age. He 
drove the English from fort St. Agatha at the first 
assault. He obliged them to abandon the fort of 
Newnham-bridge, after defending it only three days. 
He took the castle which commanded the harbour 




BOOK XII. A. D. 1558.] 

tikes the town, storm 5 and > on tlie eighth day after 
he appeared before Calais, compelled 
the governor to surrender; as his feeble garrison, 
which did not exceed five hundred men, was worn 
out with the fatigue of sustaining so many attacks, 
and defending such extensive works. 

and likewise Tlie duke of Guise, without allow- 

HameT and die English time to recover from 

the consternation occasioned by this 
blow, immediately invested Guisnes, the garrison of 
which, though more numerous, defended itself with 
less vigour, and, after standing one brisk assault, 
gave up the town. The castle of Hames was aban¬ 
doned b} r the troops posted there, without waiting 
the approach of the enemy. 

The splendour TllUS ’ “ feW da 3' S ’ dllrin S tlle 
andedectotthese depth of winter, and at a time when 
conquests. 

the fatal battle of St. Quintin had so 
depressed the sanguine spirit of the French, that 
their utmost aim was to protect their own country, 
without dreaming of making conquests on the enemy, 
the enterprising valour of one man drove the English 
out of Calais, after they had held it two hundred and 
ten years, and deprived them of every foot of land 
in a kingdom where their dominions had been once 
very extensive. This exploit, at the same time that 
it gave a high idea of the power and resources of 
France to all Europe, set the duke of Guise, in the 
opinion of his countrymen, far above all the gene¬ 
rals of the age. They celebrated his conquests with 
immoderate transports of joy ; while the English 
gave vent to all the passions which animate a high- 
spirited people, when any great national calamity 
is manifestly owing to the ill conduct of their rulers. 
Mary and her ministers, formerly odious, were now 
contemptible in their eyes. All the terrors of her 
severe and arbitrary administration could not re¬ 
strain them from uttering execrations and threats 
against those who, having wantonly involved the 
nation in a quarrel wherein it was nowise inter¬ 
ested, had, by their negligence or incapacity, 
brought irreparable disgrace on their country, and 
lost the most valuable possession belonging to the 
English crown. 

The king of France imitated the conduct of its 
former conqueror, Edward III., with regard to Ca¬ 
lais. He commanded all the English inhabitants to 
quit the town ; and giving their houses to his own 
subjects, whom he allured to settle there by grant¬ 
ing them various immunities, he left a numerous 
garrison, under an experienced governor, for their 
defence. After this, his victorious army was con¬ 
ducted into quarters of refreshment, and the usual 
inaction of w inter returned. 

Feb 24 Duringthese various operations, Fer- 

nattolfor the'fm- dinand assembled the college of elec- 
permi crown. tors a j. F ran cfort, in order to lay before 

them the instrument whereby Charles V. had re¬ 
signed the imperial crown, and transferred it to him. 
This he had hitherto delayed on account of some 
difficulties which had occurred, concerning the for¬ 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


G95 


malities requisite in supplying a vacancy occasioned 
by an event to which there was no parallel in the 
annals of the empire. These being at length ad¬ 
justed, the prince of Orange executed the commis¬ 
sion with which he had been intrusted by Charles ; 
the electors accepted of his resignation; declared 
Ferdinand his lawful successor; and put him in 
possession of all the ensigns of the imperial dignity. 

But when the new emperor sent T he pope refuses 
Gusman, his chancellor, to acquaint jperdhiandasem- 
the pope with this transaction, to tes- peron 
tify his reverence towards the holy see, and to sig¬ 
nify that, according to form, he w ould soon des¬ 
patch an ambassador extraordinary to treat with his 
holiness concerning his coronation ; Paul, whom 
neither experience nor disappointments could teach 
to bring down his lofty ideas of the papal preroga¬ 
tive to such a moderate standard as suited the ge¬ 
nius of the times, refused to admit the envoy into 
his presence, and declared all the proceedings at 
Francfort irregular and invalid. He contended 
that the pope, as the vicegerent of Christ, was in¬ 
trusted with the keys both of spiritual and of civil 
government; that from him the imperial jurisdiction 
was derived ; that though his predecessors had au¬ 
thorized the electors to choose an emperor whom 
the holy see confirmed, this privilege was confined 
to those cases when a vacancy w as occasioned by 
death ; that the instrument of Charles’s resignation 
had been presented in an improper court, as it be¬ 
longed to the pope alone to reject or to accept of it, 
and to nominate a person to fill the imperial throne ; 
that, setting aside all these objections, Ferdinand’s 
election laboured under two defects, which alone 
were sufficient to render it void, for the protestant 
electors had been admitted to vote, though, by their 
apostasy from the catholic faith, they had forfeited 
that and every other privilege of the electoral office ; 
and Ferdinand, by ratifying the concessions of se¬ 
veral diets in favour of heretics, had rendered him¬ 
self unworthy of the imperial dignity, which was 
instituted for the protection, not for the destruction, 
of the church. But after thundering out these ex¬ 
travagant maxims, he added, with an appearance 
of condescension, that if Ferdinand would renounce 
all title to the imperial crown, founded on the elec¬ 
tion at Francfort, make professions of repentance 
for his past conduct, and supplicate him with due 
humility to confirm Charles’s resignation, as well 
as his own assumption to the empire, he might ex¬ 
pect every mark of favour from his paternal cle¬ 
mency and goodness. Gusman, though he had fore¬ 
seen considerable difficulties in his negociation with 
the pope, little expected that he would have re¬ 
vived those antiquated and wild pretensions, which 
astonished him so much, that he hardly knew in 
what tone he ought to reply. He prudently declined 
entering into any controversy concerning the nature 
or extent of the papal jurisdiction, and confining 
himself to the political considerations which should 
determine the pope to recognise an emperor already 



THE REIGN OF THE 


696 

in possession, lie endeavoured to place them in such 
a light as he imagined could scarcely fail to strike 
Paul, if he were not altogether blind to his own in¬ 
terest. Philip seconded Gusman’s arguments with 
great earnestness, by an ambassador whom he sent 
to Rome on purpose, and besought the pope to de¬ 
sist from claims so unseasonable, as might not only 
irritate and alarm Ferdinand and the princes of the 
empire, but furnish the enemies of the holy see with 
a new reason for representing its jurisdiction as in¬ 
compatible with the rights of princes, and subver¬ 
sive of all civil authority. But Paul, who deemed 
it a crime to attend to any consideration suggested 
by human prudence or policy, when he thought 
himself called upon to assert the prerogatives of the 
papal see, remained inflexible ; and, during his 
pontificate, Ferdinand was not acknowledged as 
emperor by the court of Rome. s 
Henry endea- While Henry was intent upon his 
th^fcotsa^ainst preparations for the approaching cam- 
Engiand. paign, he received accounts of the 

issue of his negociations in Scotland. Long expe¬ 
rience having at last taught the Scots the impru¬ 
dence of involving their country in every quarrel 
between France and England, neither the solicita¬ 
tion of the French ambassador, nor the address and 
authority of the queen regent, could prevail on them 
to take arms against a kingdom with which they 
were at peace. On this occasion the ardour of a 
martial nobility and of a turbulent people was re¬ 
strained by regard for the public interest and tran¬ 
quillity, which in former deliberations of this kind 
had been seldom attended to by a nation always 
prone to rush into every new war. But though the 
Scots adhered with steadiness to their pacific sys¬ 
tem, they w ere extremely ready to gratify the French 
king in another particular, which he had given in 
charge to his ambassador. 

The young queen of Scots had been 

dau'phmVith'the affianced to the dauphin in the year 
queen of Scots. one thousand five hundred and forty- 

eight, and having been educated since that time in 
the court of France, she had grown up to be the 
most amiable and one of the most accomplished 
princesses of that age. Henry demanded the con¬ 
sent of her subjects to the celebration of the mar¬ 
riage ; and a parliament, which was held for that 
purpose, appointed eight commissioners to represent 
the whole body of the nation at that solemnity, with 
power to sign such deeds as might be requisite be¬ 
fore it was concluded. In settling the articles of 
the marriage, the Scots took every precaution that 
prudence could dictate, in order to preserve the 
liberty and independence of their country ; while 
the French used every art to secure to the dauphin 
the conduct of affairs during the queen’s life, and 
the succession of the crown on the event of her de¬ 
mise. The marriage was celebrated 
with pomp suitable to the dignity of 


April 14. 


s Godleveus de Abdicat. Car. V. ap. Gold. Polit. lmper. 393. Pallav. 
lib. xm. 189. Kibier, n. 746, 759. 


[A. D. 1558. BOOK XII. 

the parties, and the magnificence of a court at that 
time the most splendid in Europe. 1 Thus Henry, 
in the course of a few months, had the glory of re¬ 
covering an important possession which had an¬ 
ciently belonged to the crown of France, and of 
adding to it the acquisition of a new kingdom. By 
this event, too, the duke of Guise acquired new 
consideration and importance ; the marriage of his 
niece to the apparent heir of the crown, raising 
him so far above the condition of other subjects, 
that the credit which he had gained by his great 
actions seemed thereby to be rendered no less 
permanent than it was extensive. 

When the campaign opened, soon The campaj^ 
after the dauphin’s marriage, the duke opened, 
of Guise was placed at the head of the army, with 
the same unlimited power as formerly. Henry had 
received such liberal supplies from his subjects, 
that the troops under his command were both nu¬ 
merous and well-appointed ; while Philip, exhaust¬ 
ed by the extraordinary efforts of the preceding 
year, had been obliged to dismiss so many of his 
forces during the winter, that be could not bring an 
army into the field capable of making head against 
the enemy. The duke of Guise did not lose the fa¬ 
vourable opportunity which his superiority afforded 
him. He invested Thionville in the duchy of Lux¬ 
emburg, one of the strongest towns on the frontier 
of the Netherlands, and of great importance to 
France by its neighbourhood to Metz; and not¬ 
withstanding the obstinate valour with which it was 
defended, he forced it to capitulate June 22 . 
after a siege of three weeks. 0 

But the success of this enterprise, 
which it was expected would lead to drfeatedat army 
other conquests, was more than coun- Gravelmes - 
terbalanced by an event that happened in another 
partof the Low Countries. The mareschal de Termes, 
governor of Calais, having penetrated into Flan¬ 
ders without opposition, invested Dunkirk with an 
army of fourteen thousand men, and took it by 
storm on the fifth day of the siege. Hence he ad¬ 
vanced towards Nieuport, which must have soon 
fallen into his hands, if the approach of the count 
of Egmont with a superior army had not made it 
prudent to retreat. The French troops were so 
much encumbered with the booty which they had 
got at Dunkirk, or by ravaging the open country, 
that they moved slowly; and Egmont, who had 
left his heavy baggage and artillery behind him, 
marched with such rapidity, that he came up with 
them near Gravelines, and attacked them with 
the utmost impetuosity. De Termes, who had the 
choice of the ground, having posted his troops to 
advantage in the angle formed by the mouth of the 
river Aa and the sea, received him with great firm¬ 
ness. Victory remained for some time in suspense, 
the desperate valour of the French, who foresaw 
the unavoidable destruction that must follow upon 

t Keiths History of Scotland, p. 73. Append. 13. Corps Diplom. v. 21. 

u 1 huan. lib. xx. 690. 



EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


697 


BOOK XII. A. D. 1558.] 

a rout in an enemy’s country, counterbalancing the 
superior number of the Flemings, when one of those 
accidents to which human prudence does not extend, 
decided the contest in favour of the latter. A 
squadron of English ships of war, which was cruis¬ 
ing on the coast, being drawn by the noise of the fir¬ 
ing tow ards the place of the engagement, entered the 
river Aa, and turned its great guns against the right 
wing of the French, with such effect, as immediately 
broke that body, and spread terror and confusion 
through the whole army. The Flemings, to whom as¬ 
sistance, so unexpected and so seasonable, gave fresh 
spirit, redoubled their efforts, that they might not 
lose the advantage which fortune had presented 
them, or give the enemy time to recover from their 
consternation, and the rout of the French soon be¬ 
came universal. Near two thousand were killed on 
the spot; a greater number fell by the hands of the 
peasants, who, in revenge for the cruelty with which 
their country had been plundered, pursued the fu¬ 
gitives, and massacred them without mercy ; the 
rest were taken prisoners, together with de Termes, 
their general, and many officers of distinction. 51 
The duke of This signal victory, for which the 

the vkto P nous d to count of Egmont was afterwards so ill 
army - requited by Philip, obliged the duke 

of Guise to relinquish all other schemes, and to 
hasten towards the frontier of Picardy, that he 
might oppose the progress of the enemy in that 
province. This disaster, however, reflected new 
lustre on his reputation, and once more turned the 
eyes of his countrymen towards him, as the only 
general on whose arms victory always attended, and 
in whose conduct as well as good fortune they 
could confide in every danger. Henry reinforced 
the duke of Guise’s army with so many troops drawn 
from the adjacent garrisons, that it soon amounted 
to forty thousand men. That of the enemy, after 
the junction of Egmont with the duke of Savoy, 
was not inferior in number. They encamped at the 
distance of a few leagues from one another ; and 
each monarch having joined his respective army, it 
was expected, after the vicissitudes of good and 
bad success during this and the former campaign, 
that a decisive battle would at last determine w hich 
of the rivals should take the ascendant for the fu¬ 
ture, and give law to Europe. But though both 
had it in their power, neither of them discovered 
any inclination to bring the determination of such 
an important point to depend upon the uncertain 
issue of a single battle. The fatal engagements at 
St Quintin and Gravelines were too recent to be 
so soon forgotten, and the prospect of encountering 
the same troops, commanded by the same generals 
who had twice triumphed over his arms, inspired 
Henry with a degree of caution which was not com¬ 
mon to him. Philip, of a genius averse to bold 
operations in war, naturally leaned to cautious 
measures, and was not disposed to hazard any thing 
against a general so fortunate and successful as the 

x Thuan. lib. xx. 694. 


duke of Guise. Both monarchs, as if by agreement, 
stood on the defensive, and fortifying their camps 
carefully, avoided every skirmish or rencounter that 
might bring on a general engagement. 

While the armies continued in this 

. . . Both monarchs 

inaction, peace began to be mentioned begin to desire 
in each camp, and both Henry and , e Ce 
Philip discovered an inclination to listen to any 
overture that tended to re-establish it. The king¬ 
doms of France and Spain had been engaged dur¬ 
ing half a century in almost continual wars, carried 
on at a great expense, and productive of no con¬ 
siderable advantage to either. Exhausted by extra¬ 
ordinary and unceasing efforts, which far exceeded 
those to w hich the nations of Europe had been ac¬ 
customed before the rivalship between Charles Y. 
and Francis I., both nations longed so much for an 
interval of repose, in order to recruit their strength, 
that their sovereigns drew from them with difficulty 
the supplies necessary for carrying on hostilities. 
The private inclinations of both the kings concurred 
with those of their people. Philip was prompted 
to wish for peace by his fond desire of returning to 
Spain. Accustomed from his infancy to the climate 
and manners of that country, he was attached to it 
with such extreme predilection, that he never felt 
himself at ease in any other part of his dominions. 
But as he could not quit the Low Countries, either 
with decency or safety, and venture on a voyage to 
Spain during the continuance of war, the prospect 
of a pacification, which would put it in his power 
to execute his favourite scheme, was highly accept¬ 
able. Henry was no less desirous of being deliver¬ 
ed from the burden and occupations of war, that 
he might have leisure to turn his attention, and 
bend the whole force of his government, towards 
suppressing the opinions of the reformers, which 
were spreading with such rapidity in Paris and 
other great towns of France, that they began to grow 
formidable to the established church. 

Besides these public and avowed ^ 
considerations, arising from the state court of 1 f 
of the two hostile kingdoms, or from 
the wishes of their respective monarchs, there was 
a secret intrigue carried on in the court of France, 
which contributed as much as either of the other, 
to hasten and to facilitate the negociation of a 
peace. The constable Montmorency, during his 
captivity, beheld the rapid success and growing 
favour of the duke of Guise with the envy natural 
to a rival. Every advantage gained by the princes 
of Lorrain he considered as a fresh wound to his 
own reputation, and he knew with what malevolent 
address it would be improved to diminish his credit 
with the king, and to augment that of the duke of 
Guise. These arts, he was afraid, might, by de¬ 
grees, work on the easy and ductile mind of Henry, 
so as to efface all remains of his ancient affection 
towards himself. But he could not discover any 
remedy for this, unless he were allowed to return 


An intrigue in the 
ranee 
facilitates it. 



698 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1558. BOOK XII. 


home, that he might try whether by his presence he 
could defeat the artifices of his enemies, and revive 
those warm and tender sentiments which had long 
attached Henry to him, with a confidence so entire, 
as resembled rather the cordiality of private friend¬ 
ship, than the cold and selfish connexion between 
a monarch and one of his courtiers. While Mont¬ 
morency was forming schemes and wishes for his 
return to France with much anxiety of mind, but 
with little hope of success, an unexpected incident 
prepared the w r ay for it. The cardinal of Lorrain, 
who had shared with his brother in the king’s favour, 
and participated of the power which that conferred, 
did not bear prosperity with the same discretion as 
the duke of Guise. Intoxicated with their good 
fortune, he forgot how much they had been indebted 
for their present elevation to their connexions with 
the duchess of Valentinois, and vainly ascribed all 
to the extraordinary merit of their family. This led 
him not only to neglect his benefactress, but to 
thwart her schemes, and to talk with a sarcastic 
liberty of her character and person. That singular 
woman, who, if we may believe contemporary 
writers, retained the beauty and charms of youth 
at the age of threescore, and on whom it is certain 
that Henry still doated with all the fondness of love, 
felt this injury with sensibility, and set herself with 
eagerness to inflict the vengeance which it merited. 
As there was no method of supplanting the princes 
of Lorrain so effectually as by a coalition of inte¬ 
rests with the constable, she proposed the marriage 
of her grand-daughter with one of his sons, as the 
bond of their future union ; and Montmorency 
readily gave his consent to the match. Having thus 
cemented their alliance, the duchess employed all 
her influence with the king, in order to confirm his 
inclinations towards peace, and induce him to take 
the steps necessary for attaining it. She insinuated 
that any overture of that kind would come with 
great propriety from the constable, and if intrusted 
to the conduct of his prudence, could hardly fail of 
success. 

Henry, long accustomed to commit 

Henry commits .. ~. , , ,, 

the negociation to all affairs of importance to the manage- 

Montmorency. , c , , , , 

ment of the constable, and needing 
only this encouragement to return to his ancient 
habits, wrote to him immediately with his usual 
familiarity and affection, empowering him at the 
same time to take the first opportunity of sounding 
Philip and his ministers with regard to peace. 
Montmorency made his application to Philip by the 
most proper channel. He opened himself to the 
duke of Savoy, who, notwithstanding the high com¬ 
mand to w hich he had been raised, and the military 
glory which he had acquired in the Spanish service, 
was weary of remaining in exile, and languished to 
return into his paternal dominions. As there was 
no prospect of his recovering possession of them by 
force of arms, he considered a definitive treaty of 
peace between France and Spain, as the only event 
by which he could hope to obtain restitution. Being 


no stranger to Philip’s private wishes with regard 
to peace, he easily prevailed on him not only to 
discover a disposition on his part towards accom¬ 
modation, but to permit Montmorency to return on 
his parole to France, that he might confirm his own 
sovereign in his pacific sentiments. Henry receiv¬ 
ed the constable with the most flattering marks of 
regard ; absence, instead of having abated or extin¬ 
guished the monarch’s friendship, seemed to have 
given it new ardour. Montmorency, from the mo- 
mentof his appearance in court, assumed, if possible, 
a higher place than ever in his affection, and a more 
perfect ascendant over his mind. The cardinal 
of Lorrain and duke of Guise prudently gave way 
to a tide of favour too strong for them to oppose, 
and confining themselves to their proper depart¬ 
ments, permitted, without any struggle, the consta¬ 
ble and duchess of Valentinois to direct public 
affairs at their pleasure. They soon prevailed on 
the king to nominate plenipotentiaries to treat of 
peace. Philip did the same. The abbey of Cer- 
camp was fixed on as the place of congress ; and 
all military operations were immediately terminated 
by a suspension of arms. 

While these preliminary steps were Death of 
taking towards a treaty which restored Varies v. 
tranquillity to Europe, Charles V., whose ambition 
had so long disturbed it, ended his days in the 
monastery of St. Justus. When Charles entered this 
retreat, he formed such a plan of life for himself, as 
would have suited the condition of a private gen¬ 
tlemen of a moderate fortune. His table was neat, 
but plain ; his domestics few ; his intercourse with 
them familiar; all the cumbersome and ceremonious 
forms of attendance on his person were entirely 
abolished, as destructive of that social ease and 
tranquillity which he courted, in order to soothe the 
remainder of his days. As the mildness of the cli¬ 
mate, together with his deliverance from the bur¬ 
dens and cares of government, procured him, at 
first, a considerable remission from the acute pains 
with which he had been long tormented, he enjoyed, 
perhaps, more complete satisfaction in this humble 
solitude, than all his grandeur had ever yielded him. 
The ambitious thoughts and projects which had so 
long engrossed and disquieted him, were quite 
effaced frony his mind : far from taking any part in 
the political transactions of the princes of Europe, 
he restrained his curiosity even from any inquiry 
concerning them ; and he seemed to view the busy 
scene which he had abandoned with all the con¬ 
tempt and indifference arising from his thorough ex¬ 
perience of its vanity, as well as from the pleasing re¬ 
flection of having disentangled himself from its cares. 

Other amusements and other objects Bis amusem „ B 
now occupied him. Sometimes he m his retreat 
cultivated the plants in his garden with his own 
hands ; sometimes he rode out to the neighbouring 
wood on a little horse, the only one that he kept, 
attended by a single servant on foot. When his 
infirmities confined him to his apartment, which 




EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


GOD 


BOOK XII. A. D. 1558.] 

often happened, and deprived him of these more 
active recreations, he either admitted a few gentle¬ 
men who resided near the monastery to visit him, 
and entertained them familiarly at his table; or he 
employed himself in studying mechanical principles, 
and in forming curious works of mechanism, of 
which he had always been remarkably fond, and to 
which his genius was peculiarly turned. With this 
view he had engaged Turriano, one of the most in¬ 
genious artists of that age, to accompany him in his 
retreat. He laboured together with him in framing 
models of the most useful machines, as well as in 
making experiments with regard to their respective 
powers, and it was not seldom that the ideas of the 
monarch assisted or perfected the inventions of the 
artist. He relieved his mind, at intervals, with 
slighter and more fantastic works of mechanism, in 
fashioning puppets, which, by the structure of in¬ 
ternal springs, mimicked the gestures and actions 
of men, to the astonishment of the ignorant monks, 
who, beholding movements which they could not 
comprehend, sometimes distrusted their own senses, 
and sometimes suspected Charles and Turriano of 
being in compact with invisible powers. He was 
particularly curious with regard to the construction 
of clocks and watches ; and having found, after re¬ 
peated trials, that he could not bring any two of 
them to go exactly alike, he reflected, it is said, with 
a mixture of surprise as well as regret, on his own 
folly, in having bestowed so much time and labour 
on the more vain attempt of bringing mankind to a 
precise uniformity of sentiment concerning the pro¬ 
found and mysterious doctrines of religion. 

Hi, more e-rim.* But in what manner soever Charles 

occupations. disposed of the rest of his time, he 

constantly reserved a considerable portion of it for 
religious exercises. He regularly attended divine 
service in the chapel of the monastery, every morn¬ 
ing and evening; he took great pleasure in reading 
books of devotion, particularly the works of St. Au¬ 
gustine and St. Bernard ; and conversed much with 
his confessor, and the prior of the monastery, on 
pious subjects. Thus did Charles pass the first year 
of his retreat, in a manner not unbecoming a man 
perfectly disengaged from the affairs of the present 
life, and standing on the confines of a future world; 
either in innocent amusements, which soothed his 
pains, and relieved a mind worn out with excessive 
application to business ; or in devout occupations, 
which he deemed necessary in preparing for another 
state. 

The causes Of his But about six months before his 
death. death, the gout, after a longer inter¬ 
mission than usual, returned with a proportional 
increase of violence. His shattered constitution 
had not vigour enough remaining to withstand such 
a shock. It enfeebled his mind as much as his 
body, and from this period we hardly discern any 
traces of that sound and masculine understanding, 
which distinguished Charles among his contempo- 

y Strada de Bello Belg. lib. i. p. 11. Tbuan. 723. Sandov. ii. 609, &c. 


raries. An illiberal and timid superstition depressed 
his spirit. He had no relish for amusements of any 
kind. He endeavoured to conform, in his manner 
of living, to all the rigour of monastic austerity. 
He desired no other society than that of monks, and 
was almost continually employed with them in 
chanting the hymns of the Missal. As an expiation 
for his sins, he gave himself the discipline in secret 
with such severity, that the whip of cords which he 
employed as the instrument of his punishment, was 
found after his disease tinged with his blood. Nor 
was he satisfied with these acts of mortification, 
which, however severe, were not unexampled. The 
timorous and distrustful solicitude which always 
accompanies superstition, still continued to disquiet 
him, and, depreciating all the devout exercises in 
which he had hitherto been engaged, prompted him 
to aim at something extraordinary, at some new and 
singular act of piety that would display his zeal, 
and merit the favour of Heaven. The act on which 
he fixed was as wild and uncommon as any that 
superstition ever suggested to a weak and disordered 
fancy. He resolved to celebrate his own obsequies 
before his death. He ordered his tomb to be erected 
in the chapel of the monastery. His domestics 
marched thither in funeral procession, with black 
tapers in their hands. He himself followed in his 
shroud. He was laid in his coffin, with much so¬ 
lemnity. The service for the dead was chanted, and 
Charles joined in the prayers which were offered up 
for the rest of his soul, mingling his tears with those 
which his attendants shed, as if they had been cele¬ 
brating a real funeral. The ceremony closed with 
sprinkling holy water on the coffin in the usual form, 
and all the assistants retiring, the doors of the chapel 
were shut. Then Charles rose out of the coffin, and 
withdrew to his apartment, full of those awful sen¬ 
timents which such a singular solemnity was calcu¬ 
lated to inspire. But either the fatiguing length of 
the ceremony, or the impression which the image of 
death left on his mind, affected him so much, that 
next day he was seized with a fever. His feeble 
frame could not long resist its violence, and he ex¬ 
pired on the twenty-first of September, after a life of 
fifty-eight years, six months, and twenty-five days. y 

As Charles was the first prince of 

, . , , ,. ., ,, . His character. 

the age in rank and dignity, the part 
which he acted, whether we consider the greatness, 
the variety, or the success of his undertakings, was 
the most conspicuous. It is from an attentive ob¬ 
servation of his conduct, not from the exaggerated 
praises of the Spanish historians, or the undistin¬ 
guishing censure of the French, that a just idea of 
Charles’s genius and abilities is to be collected. He 
possessed qualities so peculiar, that they strongly 
mark his character, and not only distinguish him 
from the princes who were his contemporaries, but 
account for that superiority over them which he so 
long maintained. In forming his schemes, he was, 
by nature, as well as by habit, cautious and con- 

MinianaContin. Mariana?, vol. 216. Veray Zuniga Vida de Carlos, p. 111. 



700 


THE REIGN OF THE 


[A. D. 1558. BOOK XII. 


siderale. Born with talents which unfolded them¬ 
selves slowly and were late in attaining maturity, 
he was accustomed to ponder every subject that 
demanded his consideration with a careful and 
deliberate attention. He bent the whole force of 
his mind towards it, and dwelling upon it with a 
serious application, undiverted by pleasure, and 
hardly relaxed by any amusement, he revolved it, 
in silence, in his own breast. He then commu¬ 
nicated the matter to his ministers, and after hear¬ 
ing their opinions, took his resolution with a decisive 
firmness, which seldom follows such slow and 
seemingly hesitating consultations. Of consequence, 
Charles’s measures, instead of resembling the de¬ 
sultory and irregular sallies of Henry VIII. or 
Francis I., had the appearance of a consistent 
system, in which all the parts were arranged, all the 
effects were foreseen, and even every accident was 
provided for. His promptitude in execution was 
no less remarkable than his patience in deliberation. 
He did not discover greater sagacity in his choice of 
the measures which it was proper to pursue, than 
fertility of genius in finding out the means for ren¬ 
dering his pursuit of them successful. Though he 
had naturally so little of the martial turn, that, 
during the most ardent and bustling period of life, 
he remained in the cabinet inactive; yet when he 
chose at length to appear at the head of his armies, 
his mind was so formed for vigorous exertions in 
every direction, that he acquired such knowledge in 
the art of w ar, and such talents for command, as 
rendered him equal in reputation and success to the 
most able generals of the age. But Charles pos¬ 
sessed, in the most eminent degree, the science 
which is of greatest importance to a monarch, that 
of knowing men, and of adapting their talents to the 
various departments which he allotted to them. 
From the death of Chievres to the end of his reign, 
he employed no general in the field, no minister in 
the cabinet, no ambassador to a foreign court, no 
governor of a province, whose abilities were in¬ 
adequate to the trust which he reposed in them. 
Though destitute of that bewitching affability of 
manners, which gained Francis the hearts of all who 
approached his person, he was no stranger to the 
virtues which secure fidelity and attachment. He 
placed unbounded confidence in his generals; he 
rewarded their services with munificence; he neither 
envied their fame nor discovered any jealousy of 
their power. Almost all the generals who conducted 
his armies, may be placed on a level with those 
illustrious personages who have attained the highest 
eminence of military glory ; and his advantages 
over his rivals, are to be ascribed so manifestly to 
the superior abilities of the commanders whom he 
set in opposition to them, that this might seem to 
detract, in some degree, from his own merit, if the 
talent of discovering and steadiness in employing 
such instruments were not the most undoubted 
proofs of a capacity for government. 

There were, nevertheless, defects in his political 


character which must considerably abate the admi¬ 
ration due to his extraordinary talents. Charles’s 
ambition was insatiable ; and though there seems to 
be no foundation for an opinion prevalent in his own 
age, that he had formed the chimerical project of 
establishing an universal monarchy in Europe, it is 
certain that his desire of being distinguished as a 
conqueror involved him in continual wars, which 
not only exhausted and oppressed his subjects, but 
left him little leisure for giving attention to the 
interior police and improvement of his kingdoms, 
the great objects of every prince who makes the 
happiness of his people the end of his government. 
Charles, at a very early period of life, having added 
the imperial crown to the kingdoms of Spain, and 
to the hereditary dominions of the houses of Austria 
and Burgundy, this opened to him such a vast field 
of enterprise, and engaged him in schemes so com¬ 
plicated as well as arduous, that, feeling his power 
to be unequal to the execution of them, he had often 
recourse to low artifices, unbecoming his superior 
talents, and sometimes ventured on such deviations 
from integrity, as were dishonourable in a great 
prince. His insidious and fraudulent policy ap¬ 
peared more conspicuous, and was rendered more 
odious, by a comparison with the open and undesign¬ 
ing character of his contemporaries Frances I. and 
Henry VIII. This difference, though occasioned 
chiefly by the diversity of their tempers, must be 
ascribed, in some degree, to such an opposition in the 
principles of their political conduct, as affords some 
excuse for this defect in Charles’s behaviour, though 
it cannot serve as a justification of it. Francis and 
Henry seldom acted but from the impulse of their 
passions, and rushed headlong towards the object 
in view. Charles’s measures, being the result of 
cool reflection, were disposed into a regular system, 
and carried on upon a concerted plan. Persons 
who act in the former manner, naturally pursue the 
end in view, without assuming any disguise, or 
displaying much address. Such as hold the latter 
course, are apt, in forming as well as in executing 
their designs, to employ such refinements as always 
lead to artifice in conduct, and often degenerate 
into deceit. 

The circumstances transmitted to us with respect 
to Charles’s private deportment and character, are 
fewer and less interesting than might have been 
expected from the great number of authors who 
have undertaken to write an account of his life. 
These are not the object of this history, which aims 
more at representing the great transactions of the 
reign of Charles V., and pointing out the manner in 
which they affected the political state of Europe, 
than at delineating his private virtues or defects. 

The plenipotentiaries of France, conference in 
Spain, and England, continued their order to peace. 

conferences at Cercamp ; and though each of them, 
with the usual art of negociators, made at first very 
high demands in the name of their respective courts, 
yet as they were all equally desirous of peace, they 




HOOK XII. A. D. 1558.1 EMPEROR CHARLES V. 701 


would have consented reciprocally to such abate¬ 
ments and restrictions of their claims, as must have 
removed every obstacle to an accommodation. The 
death ot Charles Y. was a new motive with Philip 
to hasten the conclusion of a treaty, as it increased 
his impatience for returning into Spain, where there 
was now no person greater or more illustrious than 
himself. Rut, in spite of the concurring wishes of 
all the parties interested, an event happened which 
occasioned an unavoidable delay in their negocia- 
Nov. 17 tions. About a month after the open- 
of e Eng| 0 and Iary °f ^ ie conferences at Cercamp, 

Mary of England ended her short and 
inglorious reign, and Elizabeth, her sister, was 
immediately proclaimed queen with universal joy. 
As the powers of the English plenipotentiaries ex¬ 
pired on the death of their mistress, they could not 
proceed until they received a commission and in¬ 
structions from their new sovereign, 
ir ^ T.U-, Henry and Philip beheld Eliza- 

Henry and Philip . , . 

court Elizabeth beth s elevation to the throne with 
her successor. . 

equal solicitude. As during Mary’s 
jealous administration, under the most difficult cir¬ 
cumstances, and in a situation extremely delicate, 
that princess had conducted herself with prudence 
and address far exceeding her years, they had con¬ 
ceived a high idea of her abilities, and already 
formed expectations of a reign very different from 
that of her sister. Equally sensible of the import¬ 
ance of gaining her favour, both monarchs set them¬ 
selves with emulation to court it, and employed 
every art in order to insinuate themselves into her 
confidence. Each of them had something meritori¬ 
ous, with regard to Elizabeth, to plead in his own 
behalf. Henry had offered her a retreat in his 
dominions, if the dread of her sister’s violence 
should force her to fly for safety out of England. 
Philip, by his powerful intercession, had prevented 
Mary from proceeding to the most fatal extremities 
against her sister. Each of them endeavoured now 
to avail himself of the circumstances in his favour. 
Henry wrote to Elizabeth soon after her accession, 
with the warmest expressions of regard and friend¬ 
ship. He represented the war which had unhappily 
been kindled between their kingdoms, not as a 
national quarrel, but as the effect of Mary’s blind 
partiality to her husband, and fond compliance with 
all his wishes. He entreated her to disengage her¬ 
self from an alliance which had proved so unfor¬ 
tunate to England, and to consent to a separate 
peace with him, without mingling her interests with 
those of Spain, from which they ought now to be 
altogether disjoined. Philip, on the other hand, 
unwilling to lose his connexion with England, the 
importance of which, during a rupture with France, 
he had so recently experienced, not only vied with 
Henry in declarations of esteem for Elizabeth, and 
in professions of his resolution to cultivate the 
strictest amity with her, but in order to confirm and 

z Forbes, i. p. 4. a Strype’s Annals of the Reformation, i. 11. 

Carte’s Hist, of England, vol. iii. p. 375. 


perpetuate their union, he offered himself to her in 
marriage, and undertook to procure a dispensation 
from the pope for that purpose. 

Elizabeth weighed the proposals of Elizabeth’s de- 
the two monarchs attentively, and with c^nfng 0 ^ 11 " 
that provident discernment of her true comJuct - 
interest, which was conspicuous in all her delibera¬ 
tions. She gave some encouragement to Henry’s 
overture of a separate negociation, because it opened 
a channel of correspondence with France, which 
she might find to be of great advantage, if Philip 
should not discover sufficient zeal and solicitude for 
securing to her proper terms in the joint treaty. But 
she ventured on this step with the most cautious 
reserve, that she might not alarm Philip’s suspicious 
temper, and lose an ally in attempting to gain an 
enemy . 2 Henry himself, by an unpardonable act of 
indiscretion, prevented her from carrying her inter¬ 
course with him to such a length as might have 
off ended or alienated Philip. At the very time when 
he was courting Elizabeth’s friendship with the 
greatest assiduity, he yielded with an inconsider¬ 
ate facility to the solicitations of the princes of 
Lorrain, and allowed his daughter-in-law, the queen 
of Scots, to assume the title and arms of queen of 
England. This ill-timed pretension, the source of 
many calamities to the unfortunate queen of Scots, 
extinguished at once all the confidence that might 
have grown between Henry and Elizabeth, and left 
in its place distrust, resentment, and antipathy. 
Elizabeth soon found that she must unite her in¬ 
terests closely with Philip’s, and expect peace only 
from negociations carried on in conjunction with 
him. a 

As she had granted a commission, 

. She empowers 

immediately after her accession, to the her ambassadors 

, , , . , to treat of peace. 

same plenipotentiaries whom her sister 
had employed, she now instructed them to act in 
every point in concert with the plenipotentiaries of 
Spain, and to take no step until they had previously 
consulted with them. b But though she deemed it 
prudent to assume this appearance of confidence in 
the Spanish monarch, she knew precisely how far to 
carry it; and discovered no inclination to accept 
of that extraordinary proposal of marriage which 
Philip had made to her. The English had expressed 
so openly their detestation of her sister’s choice of 
him, that it would have been highly imprudent to 
have exasperated them by renewing that odious 
alliance. She was too well acquainted with Philip’s 
harsh imperious temper, to think of him for a hus¬ 
band. Nor could she admit a dispensation from the 
pope to be sufficient to authorize her marrying 
him, without condemning her father’s divorce from 
Catharine of Aragon, and acknowledging of conse¬ 
quence that her mother’s marriage was null, and her 
own birth illegitimate. But though she determined 
not to yield to Philip’s addresses, the situation of 
her affairs rendered it dangerous to reject them ; she 

b Forbes’s Full View, i. p. 37 , 40. 



702 


THE REIGN OF THE [A. D. 1559. BOOK XII. 


returned her answer, therefore, in terms which were 
evasive, but so tempered with respect, that though 
they gave him no reason to be secure of success, they 
did not altogether extinguish his hopes. 

By this artifice, as well as by the 
chatea'u-Cam- at prudence with which she concealed 
her sentiments and intentions concern¬ 
ing religion, for some time after her accession, she 
so far gained upon Philip, that he warmly espoused 
her interest in the conferences which were renewed 
1559 at Cercamp, and afterwards removed 
Feb - 6 - to Chateau-Cambresis. A definitive 
treaty, which was to adjust the claims and preten¬ 
sions of so many princes, required the examination 
of such a variety of intricate points, and led to such 
infinite and minute details, as drew out the negoci- 
ations to a great length. But the constable Mont¬ 
morency exerted himself with such indefatigable 
zeal and industry, repairing alternately to the courts 
of Paris and Brussels in order to obviate or remove 
every difficulty, that all points in dispute were ad¬ 
justed at length in such a manner, as to give entire 
satisfaction in every particular to Henry and Philip; 
and the last hand was ready to be put to the treaty 
between them. 


The claims of England remained 
re^rd'trthe 11 ' 1 as the only obstacle to retard it. Eli- 

claimsof England. . , .. ... . c 

zabeth demanded the restitution ot 
Calais in the most peremptory tone, as an essential 
condition of her consenting to peace. Henry re¬ 
fused to give up that important conquest; and both 
seemed to have taken their resolution with unalter¬ 
able firmness. Philip warmly supported Elizabeth’s 
pretensions to Calais, not merely from a principle 
of equity towards the English nation, that he might 
appear to have contributed to their recovering what 
they had lost by espousing his cause ; nor solely 
with a view of soothing Elizabeth by this manifesta¬ 
tion of zeal for her interest; but in order to render 
France less formidable, by securing to her ancient 
enemy this easy access into the heart of the king¬ 
dom. The earnestness, however, with which he 
seconded the arguments of the English plenipoten¬ 
tiaries, soon began to relax. During the course of 
the negociation, Elizabeth, who now felt herself 
firmly seated on her throne, began to take such open 
and vigorous measures, not only for overturning all 
that her sister had done in favour of popery, but for 
establishing the protestant church on a firm foun¬ 
dation, as convinced Philip that his hopes of an 
union with her had been from the beginning vain, 
and were now desperate. From that period his inter¬ 
positions in her favour became more cold and formal, 
flowing merely from a regard to decorum, or from 
the consideration of remote political interests. Eli¬ 
zabeth, having reason to expect such an alteration 
in his conduct, quickly perceived it. But as nothing 
would have been of greater detriment to her people, 
or more inconsistent with her schemes of domestic 
administration, than the continuance of war, she saw 


the necessity of submitting to such conditions as 
the situation of her affairs imposed, and that she 
must reckon upon being deserted by an ally who 
was now united to her by a very feeble tie, if she did 
not speedily reduce her demands to what was 
moderate and attainable, She accordingly gave 
new instructions to her ambassadors; and Philips 
plenipotentiaries acting as mediators between the 
French and them, c an expedient was fallen upon, 
which, in some degree, justified Elizabeth’s depart¬ 
ing from the rigour of her first demand with regard 
to Calais. All lesser articles were settled without 
much discussion or delay. Philip, that he might 
not appear to have abandoned the English, insisted 
that the treaty between Henry and Elizabeth 
should be concluded in form, before that between 
the French monarch and himself. The one was 
signed on the second day of April, the other on the 
day following. 

The treaty of peace between France 

. . c Articles of peace 

and England contained no articles of between France 

i • , , and Fngland. 

real importance, but that which respect¬ 
ed Calais. It was stipulated, Thatthe king of France 
should retain possession of that town, with all its 
dependencies, during eight years ; that, at the ex¬ 
piration of that term, he should restore it to England; 
that, in case of non-performance, he should forfeit 
five hundred thousand crowns, for the payment of 
which sum, seven or eight wealthy merchants, who 
were not his subjects, should grant security; that five 
persons of distinction should be given as hostages 
until that security were provided; that although 
the forfeit of five hundred thousand crowns should 
be paid, the right of England to Calais should still 
remain entire, in the same manner as if the term of 
eight years were expired ; that the king and queen 
of Scotland should be included in the treaty ; that 
if they, or the French king, should violate the peace 
by any hostile action, Henry should be obliged in¬ 
stantly to restore Calais ; that, on the other hand, if 
any breach of the treaty proceeded from Elizabeth, 
then Henry and the king and queen of Scots were 
absolved from all the engagements which they had 
come under by this treaty. 

Notwithstanding the studied atten- 

........ .. The views of both 

tion with which so many precautions parties with re- 
, , ., . . , . , n spect to these. 

were taken, it is evident that Henry 
did not intend the restitution of Calais, nor is it 
probable that Elizabeth expected it. It was hardly 
possible that she could maintain, during the course 
of eight years, such perfect concord both with 
France and Scotland, as not to afford Henry some 
pretext for alleging that she had violated the treaty. 
But even if that term should elapse without any 
ground for complaint, Henry might then choose to 
pay the sum stipulated, and Elizabeth had no 
method of asserting her right but by force of arms. 
However, by throwing the articles in the treaty with 
regard to Calais into this form, Elizabeth satisfied 
her subjects of every denomination ; she gave men 


c Forbes, i. 59. 





EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


703 


BOOK XII. A. D. 1559.] 

of discernment a striking proof of her address, in 
palliating what she could not prevent; and amused 
the multitude, to whom the cession of such an im¬ 
portant article would have appeared altogether infa¬ 
mous, with the prospect of recovering in a short 
time that favourite possession. 

A The expedient which Montmorency 

An expedient J 

which promotes employed, in order to facilitate the 

peace between 

France and conclusion of peace between France 

Spam. r 

and Spain, was the negociating two 
treaties of marriage, one between Elizabeth, Henry’s 
eldest daughter, and Philip, who supplanted his 
son, the unfortunate Don Carlos, to whom that 
princess had been promised in the former confer¬ 
ences at Cercamp ; the other between Margaret, 
Henry’s only sister, and the duke of Savoy. For 
however feeble the ties of blood may often be among 
princes, or how little soever they may regard them 
when pushed on to act by motives of ambition, they 
assume on other occasions the appearance of being 
so far influenced by these domestic affections, as to 
employ them to justify measures and concessions 
which they find to be necessary, but know to be im¬ 
politic or dishonourable. Such was the use Henry 
made of the two marriages to which he gave his 
consent. Having secured an honourable establish¬ 
ment for his sister and his daughter, he, in con¬ 
sideration of these, granted terms both to Philip 
and the duke of Savoy, of which he would not, on 
any account, have ventured to approve. 

The terms Of pa- The principal articles in the treaty 
cifi cation; between France and Spain were,— 

That sincere and perpetual amity should be estab¬ 
lished between the two crowns and their respective 
allies ; that the two monarchs should labour in con¬ 
cert to procure the convocation of a general coun¬ 
cil, in order to check the progress of heresy, and 
restore unity and concord to the Christian church ; 
that all conquests made by either party, on this 
side of the Alps, since the commencement of the 
war in one thousand five hundred and fifty-one, 
should be mutually restored ; that the duchy of 
Savoy, the principality of Piedmont, the country 
of Bresse, and all the other territories formerly sub¬ 
ject to the dukes of Savoy, should be restored to 
Emanuel Philibert, immediately after the celebra¬ 
tion of his marriage with Margaret of France, the 
towns of Turin, Quiers, Pignerol, Chivaz, and Vil- 
lanova excepted, of which Henry should keep pos¬ 
session until his claims to these places, in right of 
his grandmother, should be tried and decided in 
course of law ; that as long as Henry retained these 
places in his hands, Philip should be at liberty to 
keep garrisons in the towns of Vercelli and Asti; 
that the French king should immediately evacuate 
all the places which he held in Tuscany and the 
Sienese, and renounce all future pretensions to 
them ; that he should restore the marquisate of 
Montserrat to the duke of Mantua ; that he should 
receive the Genoese into favour, and give up to 


them the towns which he had conquered in the 
island of Corsica ; that none of the princes or states 
to whom these cessions were made, should call their 
subjects to account for any part of their conduct 
while under the dominion of their enemies, but 
should bury all past transactions in oblivion. The 
pope, the emperor, the kings of Denmark, Sweden, 
Poland, Portugal, the king and queen of Scots, and 
almost every prince and state in Christendom, were 
comprehended in this pacification as the allies either 
of Henry or Phi 1 ip. d 

Thus, by this famous treaty, peace 

J J 1 which re-estab- 

was re-established in Europe. All the jjshes tranquil- 

lity in Europe. 

causes of discord which had so long 
embroiled the powerful monarchs of France and 
Spain, that had transmitted hereditary quarrels and 
wars from Charles to Philip, and from Francis to 
Henry, seemed to be wholly removed or finally ter¬ 
minated. The French alone complained of the un¬ 
equal conditions of a treaty, into which an ambitious 
minister, in order to recover his liberty, and an art¬ 
ful mistress, that she might gratify her resentment, 
had seduced their too easy monarch. They ex¬ 
claimed loudly against the folly of giving up to the 
enemies of France an hundred and eighty-nine for¬ 
tified places, in the Low Countries or in Italy, in 
return for the three insignificant towns of St. Quin- 
tin, Ham, and Catelet. They considered it as an 
indelible stain upon the glory of the nation, to re¬ 
nounce in one day territories so extensive, and so 
capable of being defended, that the enemy could 
not have hoped to wrest them out of its hands after 
many years of victory. 

But Henry, without regarding the 

I he peace t)e- 

sentiments of his people, or being tween Fntnceand 
moved by the remonstrances of his 
council, ratified the treaty, and executed with great 
fidelity whatever he had stipulated to perform. The 
duke of Savoy repaired with a numerous retinue to 
Paris, in order to celebrate his marriage with Henry’s 
sister. The duke of Alva was sent to the same 
capital, at the head of a splendid embassy, to espouse 
Elizabeth in the name of his master. They were 
received with extraordinary magnificence by the 
French court. Amidst the rejoicings Death of Henry, 
and festivities on that occasion, Henry’s July 10- 
days were cut short by a singular and tragical ac¬ 
cident. His son, Francis II., a prince under age, 
of a weak constitution, and of a mind still more 
feeble, succeeded him. Soon after, Paul ended his 
violent and imperious pontificate, at enmity with 
all the world, and disgusted even with his own ne¬ 
phews. They, persecuted by Philip, and deserted 
by the succeeding pope, whom they had raised by 
their influence to the papal throne, were condemned 
to the punishment which their crimes and ambition 
had merited, and their death was as infamous as 
their lives had been criminal. Thus most of the 
personages, who had long sustained the principal 
characters on the great theatre of Europe, disap- 


d Recuiel dee Trails, tom. ii. 287. 




704 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ROOK XII. 


peared about the same time. A more known period 
of history opens at this era ; other actors enter upon 
the stage, with different views, as well as different 
passions; new contests arose, and new schemes of 
ambition occupied and disquieted mankind. 

Upon reviewing the transactions of 
of the e whoTe V p^ any active period in the history of 
riod - civilized nations, the changes which 

are accomplished appear wonderfully dispropor- 
tioned to the efforts which have been exerted. 
Conquests are never very extensive or rapid, but 
among nations whose progress in improvement is 
extremely unequal. When Alexander the Great, 
at the head of a gallant people, of simple manners, 
and formed to war by admirable military institu¬ 
tions, invaded a state sunk in luxury, and enervated 
by excessive refinement; when Genchizcan and 
Tamerlane, with their armies of hardy barbarians, 
poured in upon nations enfeebled by the climate 
in which they lived, or by the arts and commerce 
which they cultivated, these conquerors, like a tor¬ 
rent, swept every thing before them, subduing king¬ 
doms and provinces in as short a space of time as 
was requisite to march through them. But when 
nations are in a state similar to each other, and 
keep equal pace in their advances towards refine¬ 
ment, they are not exposed to the calamity of sud¬ 
den conquests. Their acquisitions of knowledge, 
their progress in the art of war, their political saga¬ 
city and address, are nearly equal. The fate of 
states in this situation depends not on a single 
battle. Their internal resources are many and 
various. Nor are they themselves alone interested 
in their own safety, or active in their own defence. 
Other states interpose, and balance any temporary 
advantage which either party may have acquired. 
After the fiercest and most lengthened contest, all 
the rival nations are exhausted, none are conquered. 
At length they find it necessary to conclude a peace, 
which restores to each almost the same power and 
the same territories of which they were formerly in 
possession. 


The nations of Such was the state of Eur0 P e during 
similar state ^ reign of Charles V. No prince was 
teentffcentury s0 muc ^ superior to the rest in power 

as to render his efforts irresistible, and 
his conquests easy. No nation had made progress 
in improvement so far beyond its neighbours as 
to have acquired a very manifest pre-eminence. 
Each state derived some advantage, or was subject to 
some inconvenience, from its situation or its cli¬ 
mate ; each was distinguished by something pecu¬ 
liar in the genius of its people, or the constitution 
of its government. But the advantages possessed 
by one state were counterbalanced by circumstances 
favourable to others; and this prevented any from 
attaining such superiority as might have been fatal 
to all. The nations of Europe in that age, as in the 
present, were like one great family : there were 
some features common to all, which fixed a resem¬ 


blance; there were certain peculiarities conspicu¬ 
ous in each, which marked a distinction. But there 
was not among them that wide diversity of character 
and of genius which, in almost every period of his¬ 
tory, hath exalted the Europeans above the inha¬ 
bitants of the other quarters of the globe, and 
seems to have destined the one to rule and the 
other to obey. 

But though the near resemblance 

. .... , A remarkable 

and equality in improvement, among change in the 

the different nations of Europe, pre- during the reign 
vented the reign of Charles V. from ot(JtMllesV - 
being distinguished by such sudden and extensive 
conquests as occur in some other periods of history, 
yet, during the course of his administration, all the 
considerable states in Europe suffered a remarkable 
change in their political situation, and felt the influ¬ 
ence of events, which have not hitherto spent their 
force, but still continue to operate in a greater or 
in a less degree. It was during his reign, and in 
consequence of the perpetual efforts to which his 
enterprising ambition roused him. that the different 
kingdoms of Europe acquired internal vigour; 
that they discerned the resources of which they 
were possessed ; that they came both to feel their 
own strength, and to know how to render it for¬ 
midable to others. It was during his reign, too, 
that the different kingdoms of Europe, which in 
former times seemed frequently to act as if they 
had been single and disjointed, became so thorough¬ 
ly acquainted, and so intimately connected with 
each other, as to form one great political system, in 
which each took a station, wherein it has remained 
since that time with less variation than could have 
been expected after the events of two active cen¬ 
turies. 

The progress, however, and acquisi¬ 
tions of the house of Austria were not the* hou!e eS of° f 
only greater than those of any other Austrld; 
power, but more discernible and conspicuous. I 
have already enumerated the extensive territories 
which descended to Charles from his Austrian, 
Burgundian, and Spanish ancestors. 6 To these he 
himself added the imperial dignity ; and as if all 
this had been too little, the bounds of the habitable 
globe seemed to be extended, and a new world was 
subjected to his command. Upon his resignation, the 
Burgundian provinces, and the Spanish kingdoms 
with their dependences, both in the Old and New 
Worlds, devolved to Philip. But Charles transmitted 
his dominions to his son in a condition very differ¬ 
ent from that in which he himself had received them. 
They were augmented by the accession of new pro¬ 
vinces ; they were habituated to obey an adminis¬ 
tration which was no less vigorous than steady ; 
they were accustomed to expensive and persevering 
efforts, which, though necessary in the contests be¬ 
tween civilized nations, had been little known in 
Europe before the sixteenth century. The pro¬ 
vinces of Friesland, Utrecht, and Overyssel, which 


e Book I, p. 430. 







BOOK XII. 


705 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


he acquired by purchase from their former proprie¬ 
tors, and the duchy of Gueldres, of which he made 
himself master, partly by force of arms, partly by 
the arts of negociation, were additions of great 
value to his Burgundian dominions. Ferdinand 
and Isabella had transmitted to him all the pro¬ 
vinces ol Spain, from the bottom of the Pyrenees 
to the frontiers of Portugal; but as he maintained 
a perpetual peace with that kingdom, amidst the 
various efforts of his enterprising ambition, he 
made no acquisition of territory in that quarter, 
particularly in Charles had gained, however, a vast 
Spam ’ accession of power in this part of his 
dominions. By his success in the war with the 
commons of Castile, he exalted the regal preroga¬ 
tive upon the ruins of the privileges which formerly 
belonged to the people. Though he allowed the 
name ol the Cortes to remain, and the formality of 
holding it to be continued, he reduced its authority 
and jurisdiction almost to nothing, and modelled it 
in such a manner, that it became rather a junto of 
the servants of the crown, than an assembly of the 
representatives of the people. One member of the 
constitution being thus lopped off, it was impossi¬ 
ble but that the other must feel the stroke, and suf¬ 
fer by it. The suppression of the popular power 
rendered the aristocratical less formidable. The 
grandees, prompted by the warlike spirit of the age, 
or allured by the honours which they enjoyed in a 
court, exhausted their fortunes in military service, 
or in attending on the person of their prince. They 
did not dread, perhaps did not observe, the danger¬ 
ous progress of the royal authority, which leaving 
them the vain distinction of being covered in pre¬ 
sence of their sovereign, stripped them, by degrees, 
of that real power which they possessed while they 
formed one body, and acted in concert with the 
people. Charles’s success in abolishing the privi¬ 
leges of the commons, and in breaking the power of 
the nobles of Castile, encouraged Philip to invade 
the liberties of Aragon, which were still more ex¬ 
tensive. The Castilians, accustomed to subjection 
themselves, assisted in imposing the yoke on their 
more happy and independent neighbours. The 
will of the sovereign became the supreme law in all 
the kingdoms of Spain ; and princes who were not 
checked in forming their plans by the jealousy of 
the people, nor controlled in executing them by the 
power of the nobles, could both aim at great objects, 
and call forth the whole strength of the monarchy 
in order to attain them. 

also in other As Charles, by extending the royal 

parts of Europe, prerogative, rendered the monarchs of 

Spain masters at home, he added new dignity and 
power to their crown by his foreign acquisitions. 
He secured to Spain the quiet possession of the 
kingdom of Naples, which Ferdinand had usurped 
by fraud, and held with difficulty. He united the 
duchy of Milan, one of the most fertile and populous 
Italian provinces, to the Spanish crown ; and left 
his successors, even without taking their other ter- 

2 z 


ritories into the account, the most considerable 
princes in Italy, which had been long the theatre 
of contention to the great powers of Europe, and 
in which they had struggled with emulation to ob¬ 
tain the superiority. When the French, in con¬ 
formity to the treaty of Chateau-Cambresis, with¬ 
drew their forces out of Italy, and finally relin¬ 
quished all their schemes of conquest on that side 
of the Alps, the Spanish dominions then rose in 
importance, and enabled their kings, as long as the 
monarchy retained any degree of vigour, to pre¬ 
serve the chief sway in all the transactions of that 
country. But whatever accession, either of interior 
authority or of foreign dominion, Charles gained 
for the monarchs of Spain in Europe, was incon¬ 
siderable when compared with his acquisitions in the 
New World. He added there, not provinces, but 
empires to his crown. He conquered territories ol" 
such immense extent; he discovered such inex¬ 
haustible veins of wealth, and opened such bound¬ 
less prospects of every kind, as must have roused 
his successor, and have called him forth to action, 
though his ambition had been much less ardent than 
that of Philip, and must have rendered him not 
only enterprising but formidable. 

While the elder branch of the Aus- Progress of the 
trian family rose to such pre-emi- oAhfhous^ot 
nence in Spain, the younger, of which Austria - 
Ferdinand was the head, grew to be considerable 
in Germany. The ancient hereditary dominions of 
the house of Austria in Germany, united to the 
kingdom of Hungary and Bohemia, which Ferdinand 
had acquired by marriage, formed a respectable 
power; and when the imperial dignity was added 
to these, Ferdinand possessed territories more ex¬ 
tensive than had belonged to any prince, Charles V. 
excepted, who had been at the head of the empire 
during several ages. Fortunately for Europe, the 
disgust which Philip conceived on account of Fer¬ 
dinand’s refusing to relinquish the imperial crown 
in his favour, not only prevented for some time the 
separate members of the house of Austria from act¬ 
ing in concert, but occasioned between them a visi¬ 
ble alienation and rivalship. By degrees, however, 
regard to the interest of their family extinguished 
this impolitical animosity. The confidence which 
was natural returned; the aggrandizing of the house 
of Austria became the common object of all their 
schemes ; they gave and received assistance alter¬ 
nately towards the execution of them ; and each 
derived consideration and importance from the 
other’s success. A family so great and so aspiring, 
became the general object of jealousy and terror. 
All the power, as well as policy, of Europe was 
exerted, during a century, in order to check and 
humble it. Nothing can give a more striking idea 
of the ascendant which it had acquired, than that 
after its vigour was spent with extraordinary exer¬ 
tions of its strength, after Spain was become only 
the shadow of a great name, and its monarchs were 
sunk into debility and dotage, the house of Austria 




TOG 


THE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK XII. 


still continued to be formidable. The nations of 
Europe had so often felt its superior power, and 
had been so constantly employed in guarding 
against it, that the dread of it became a kind of 
political habit, the influence of which remained 
when the causes which had formed it ceased to 
exist. 

While the house of Austria went on 
tickings of ° f with such success in enlarging its do- 
the l reign pf ms minions, France made no considerable 
acquisition of new territory. All its 
schemes of conquest in Italy had proved abortive ; 
it had hitherto obtained no establishment of conse¬ 
quence in the New World ; and after the continued 
and vigorous efforts of four successive reigns, the 
confines of the kingdom were much the same as 
Louis XI. had left them. But though France made 
not such large strides towards dominion as the house 
of Austria, it continued to advance by steps which 
were more secure, because they were gradual and 
less observed. The conquest of Calais put it out of 
the power of the English to invade France but at 
their utmost peril, and delivered the French from 
the dread of their ancient enemies, who, previous to 
that event, could at any time penetrate into the 
kingdom by that avenue, and thereby retard or de¬ 
feat the execution of their best-concerted enterprises 
against any foreign power. The important acquisi¬ 
tion of Metz covered that part of their frontier 
which formerly was most feeble, and lay most ex¬ 
posed to insult. France, from the time of its ob¬ 
taining these additional securities against external 
invasion, must be deemed the most powerful king¬ 
dom in Europe, and is more fortunately situated 
than any on the continent, either for conquest or 
defence. From the confines of Artois to the bottom 
of the Pyrenees, and from the British channel to the 
frontiers of Savoy and the coast of the Mediterra¬ 
nean, its territories lay compact and unmingled with 
those of any other power. Several of the consider¬ 
able provinces, which had contracted a spirit of 
independence by their having been long subject to 
the great vassals of the crown, who were often at 
variance or at war with their master, were now 
accustomed to recognise and to obey one sovereign. 
As they became members of the same monarchy, 
they assumed the sentiments of that body into which 
they were incorporated, and co-operated with zeal 
towards promoting its interest and honour. The 
power and influence wrested from the nobles were 
seized by the crown. The people were not admitted 
to share in these spoils ; they gained no new privi¬ 
lege ; they acquired no additional weight in the 
legislature. It was not for the sake of the people, 
but in order to extend their own prerogative, that 
the monarchs of France had laboured to humble 
their great vassals. Satisfied with having brought 
them under entire subjection to the crown, they 
discovered no solicitude to free the people from 
their ancient dependence on the nobles of whom 
they held, and by whom they were often oppressed. 


A monarch, at the head of a king- 

’ enable them to 

dom thus united at home, and secure assume a higher 

. „ station among 

from abroad, was entitled to form great the powers of 

, . , , . . Europe. 

designs, because he felt himselt in a 
condition to execute them. The foreign wars which 
had continued with little interruption from the 
accession of Charles VIII., had not only cherished 
and augmented the martial genius of the nation, 
but. bv inuring the troops, during the course of long 


service, to the fatigues of war, and accustoming 
them to obedience, had added the force of discipline 
to their natural ardour. A gallant and active body 
of nobles, who considered themselves as idle and 
useless, unless when they were in the field ; who 
were hardly acquainted with any pastime or exer¬ 
cise but what Mas military ; and who knew no road 
to power, or fame, or wealth, but war, would not 
have suffered their sovereign to remain long in 
inaction. The people, little acquainted with the 
arts of peace, and alM r ays ready to take arms at the 
command of their superiors, were accustomed, by 
the expense of long Mars carried on in distant 
countries, to bear impositions, which, however in¬ 
considerable they may seem if estimated by the 
exorbitant rate of modern exactions, appear im¬ 
mense when compared with the sums levied in 
France, or in any other country of Europe, previous 
to the reign of Louis XI. As all the members of 
which the state was composed were thus impatient 
for action, and capable of great efforts, the schemes 
and operations of France must have been no less 
formidable to Europe than those of Spain. The 
superior advantages of its situation, the contiguity 
and compactness of its territories, together with the 
peculiar state of its political constitution at that 
juncture, must have rendered its enterprises still 
more alarming and more decisive. The king pos¬ 
sessed such a degree of poM er as gave him the entire 
command of his subjects ; the people were strangers 
to those occupations and habits of life which render 
men averse to war, or unfit for it; and the nobles, 
though reduced to the subordination necessary in a 
regular government, still retained the high un¬ 
daunted spirit which was the effect of their ancient 
independence. The vigour of the feudal times re¬ 
mained, their anarchy was at an end ; and the kings 
of France could avail themselves of the martial 
ardour which that singular institution had kindled 
or kept alive, without being exposed to the dangers 
or inconveniences which are inseparable from it 
when in entire force. 

A kingdom in such a state is, per- 

J. Circumstances 

haps, capable of greater military efforts which prevented 

, , the immediate 

than at any other period in its progress, effects ot their 

* power. 

But how formidable or how fatal so¬ 
ever to the other nations of Europe the power of 
such a monarchy might have been, the civil wars 
which broke out in France saved them at that 
juncture from feeling its effects. These wars, of 
Mhich religion was the pretext and ambition the 
cause, wherein great abilities were displayed by the 



BOOK XII. 


707 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


leaders ot the different factions, and little conduct 
or firmness were manifested by the crown under a 
succession of weak princes, kept France occupied 
and embroiled for half a century. During these 
commotions the internal strength of the kingdom 
was much wasted, and such a spirit of anarchy was 
spread among the nobles, to whom rebellion was 
familiar, and the restraint of laws unknown, that a 
considerable interval became requisite, not only for 
recruiting the internal vigour of the nation, but for 
re-establishing the authority of the prince; so that 
it was long before France could turn her whole 
attention towards foreign transactions, or act with 
her proper force in foreign wars. It was long before 
she rose to that ascendant in Europe which she has 
maintained since the administration of cardinal 
Richlieu, and which the situation as well as extent 
of the kingdom, the nature of her government, to¬ 
gether with the character of her people, entitle her 
to maintain. 

Progress of Eng- While the kingdoms on the conti- 
to I itsTnterior Pect nent grew into power and consequence, 
England likewise made considerable 
progress towards regular government and interior 
strength. Henry VIII., probably w ithout intention, 
and certainly without any consistent plan, of which 
his nature was incapable, pursued the scheme of 
depressing the nobility, which the policy of his 
father Henry VII. had begun. The pride and 
caprice of his temper led him to employ chiefly new 
men in the administration of affairs, because he found 
them most obsequious, or least scrupulous; and he 
not only conferred on them such plenitude of power, 
but exalted them to such pre-eminence in dignity, 
as mortified and degraded the ancient nobility. By 
the alienation or sale of the church lands, which 
were dissipated with a profusion not inferior to the 
rapaciousness with which they had been seized, as 
well as by the privilege granted to the ancient 
landholders of selling their estates, or disposing of 
them by will, an immense property, formerly locked 
up, was brought into circulation. This put the 
spirit of industry and commerce in motion, and gave 
it some considerable degree of vigour. The road to 
pow er and to opulence became open to persons of 
every condition. A sudden and excessive flow of 
w ealth from the West Indies proved fatal to industry 
in Spain ; a moderate accession in England to the 
sum in circulation gave life to commerce, awakened 
the ingenuity of the nation, and excited it to useful 
enterprise. In France, what the nobles lost the 
crown gained. In England, the commons were 
gainers as well as the king. Power and influence 
accompanied of course the property which they 
acquired. They rose to consideration among their 
fellow-subjects ; they began to feel their own im¬ 
portance ; and, extending their influence in the 
legislative body gradually, and often when neither 
they themselves nor others foresaw all the effects of 

f The loss which the nation sustained by most of these articles is obvious, 
and must have been great. Even that by pilgrimages was not inconsider 
able. In the year 1428, licence was obtained by no fewer than 916 persons 

•2 z 2 


their claims and pretensions, they at last attained 
that high authority to which the British constitution 
is indebted for the existence, and must owe the pre¬ 
servation, of its liberty. At the same time that the 
English constitution advanced towards perfection, 
several circumstances brought on a change in the 
ancient system with respect to foreign powers, 
and introduced another more beneficial to the 
nation. As soon as Henry disclaimed the supremacy 
of the papal see, and broke off all connexion with 
the papal court, considerable sums were saved to 
the nation, of which it had been annually drained 
by remittances to Rome for dispensations and in¬ 
dulgences, by the expense of pilgrimages into 
foreign countries/ or by payment of annates, first- 
fruits, and a thousand other taxes which that artful 
and rapacious court levied on the credulity of man¬ 
kind. The exercise of a jurisdiction different from 
that of the civil power, and claiming not only to be 
independent of it, but superior to it, a wild solecism 
in government, apt not only to perplex and disquiet 
weak minds, but tending directly to disturb society, 
was finally abolished. Government became more 
simple as well as more respectable, when no rank 
or character exempted any person from being 
amenable to the same courts as other subjects, from 
being tried by the same judges, and from being ac¬ 
quitted or condemned by the same laws. 

By the loss of Calais the English 

, , , „ ,, . , with respect to 

were excluded from the continent. All the affairs of the 

, r • t -r-. , continent; 

schemes tor invading France became, 
of course, as chimerical as they had formerly been 
pernicious. The views of the English were con¬ 
fined, first by necessity, and afterwards from choice, 
within their own island. That rage for conquest 
which had possessed the nation during many cen¬ 
turies, and wasted its strength in perpetual and 
fruitless wars, ceased at length. Those active 
spirits which had known and followed no profession 
but war, sought for occupation in the arts of peace, 
and their country was benefited as much by the one 
as it had suffered by the other. The nation, which 
had been exhausted by frequent expeditions to the 
continent, recruited its numbers, and acquired new 
strength ; and when roused by any extraordinary 
exigency to take part in foreign operations, the 
vigour of its efforts was proportionably great, be¬ 
cause they were only occasional, and of short con¬ 
tinuance. 

The same principle which had led W ith respect 
England to adopt this new system with t0 Scotland - 
regard to the powers on the continent, occasioned a 
change in its plan of conduct with respect to Scot¬ 
land, the only foreign state with w hich, on account 
of its situation in the same island, the English had 
such a close connexion as demanded their perpetual 
attention. Instead of prosecuting the ancient 
scheme of conquering that kingdom, which the 
nature of the country, defended by a brave and 

to visit the shrine of St. James of Compostello in Spain. Ttymer, vol. x. 
p. . In 1434, the number of pilgrims to the same place was 2460. 

Ibid. p. . In 1445, they were 2100, vol. xi. p. 



708 


THE REIGN OF THE 


ROOK XII. 


hardy people, rendered dangerous, if not imprac¬ 
ticable ; it appeared more eligible to endeavour at 
obtaining such influence in Scotland as might 
exempt England from any danger or disquiet from 
that quarter. The national poverty of the Scots, 
together with the violence and animosity of their 
factions, rendered the execution of this plan easy to 
a people far superior to them in wealth. The lead¬ 
ing men of greatest power and popularity were 
gained ; the ministers and favourites of the crown 
were corrupted ; and such absolute direction of the 
Scottish councils was acquired, as rendered the 
operations of the one kingdom dependent, in a great 
measure, on the sovereign of the other. Such per¬ 
fect external security, added to the interior advan¬ 
tages which England now possessed, must soon have 
raised it to new consideration and importance ; the 
long reign of Elizabeth, equally conspicuous for 
wisdom, for steadiness, and for vigour, accelerated 
its progress, and carried it with greater rapidity 
towards that elevated station which it hath since 
held among the powers of Europe. 

. , During the period in which the po- 

Changes in the x 

political state of litical state of the great kingdoms 

the secondary ° 0 

powers in Eu- underwent such changes, revolutions 
rope. . 0 

of considerable importance happened 
in that of the secondary or inferior powers. Those 
in the papal court are most obvious, and of most 
extensive consequence. 

The most con- I n the preliminary book, I have 
t!on r of l the e s'ix- u ’ mentioned the rise of that spiritual 
the court n of ° m jurisdiction, which the popes claim as 
Rome. vicars of Jesus Christ, and have traced 

the progress of that authority which they possess as 
temporal princes. 8 Previous to the reign of Charles 
V. there was nothing that tended to circumscribe 
or to moderate their authority, but science and phi¬ 
losophy, which began to revive and to be cultivated. 
The progress of these, however, was still inconsider¬ 
able ; they always operate slowly ; and it is long 
before their influence reaches the people, or can 
produce any sensible effect upon them. They may, 
perhaps, gradually, and in a long course of years, 
undermine and shake an established system of false 
religion, but there is no instance of their having over¬ 
turned one. The battery is too feeble to demolish those 
fabrics which superstition raises on deep foundations, 
and can strengthen with the most consummate art. 
The general re- Luther had attacked the papal su- 
doctrlnes'of the premacy with other weapons, and with 
and r the°power 1 of an impetuosity more formidable. The 
the popes. time and manner of his attack con¬ 
curred with a multitude of circumstances, which 
have been explained, in giving him immediate suc¬ 
cess. The charm which had bound mankind for so 
many ages was broken at once. The human mind, 
which had continued long as tame and passive, as 
if it had been formed to believe whatever was taught, 
and to bear whatever was imposed, roused of a 
sudden, and became inquisitive, mutinous, and dis- 

g Page 346. 


dainful of the yoke to which it had hitherto sub¬ 
mitted. That wonderful ferment and agitation of 
mind, which, at this distance of time, appears un 
accountable, or is condemned as extravagant, was 
so general, that it must have been excited by causes 
which were natural, and of powerful efficacy. The 
kingdoms of Denmark, Sweden, England, and 
Scotland, and almost one half of Germany, threw 
off their allegiance to the pope ; abolished his ju¬ 
risdiction within their territories; and gave the 
sanction of law to modes of discipline and systems 
of doctrine, which were not only independent of 
his power, but hostile to it. Nor was this spirit of 
innovation confined to those countries which openly 
revolted from the pope; it spread through all 
Europe, and broke out in every part of it with va¬ 
rious degrees of violence. It penetrated early into 
France, and made a quick progress there. In that 
kingdom the number of converts to the opinions of 
the reformers was so great, their zeal so enterprising, 
and the abilities of their leaders so distinguished, 
that they soon ventured to contend for superiority 
with the established church, and were sometimes on 
the point of obtaining it. In all the provinces of 
Germany which continued to acknowledge the papal 
supremacy, as well as in the Low Countries, the 
protestant doctrines were secretly taught, and had 
gained so many proselytes, that they were ripe for 
revolt, and were restrained merely by the dread of 
their rulers from imitating the example of their 
neighbours, and asserting their independence. Even 
in Spain and in Italy, symptoms of the same dis¬ 
position to shake off the yoke appeared. The pre¬ 
tensions of the pope to infallible knowledge and 
supreme power were treated by many persons of 
eminent learning and abilities with such scorn, or 
attacked with such vehemence, that the most vigi¬ 
lant attention of the civil magistrate, the highest 
strains of pontifical authority, and all the rigour of 
inquisitorial jurisdiction, were requisite to check 
and extinguish it. 

The defection of so many opulent 

, c , , . , „ , . This abridged the 

and powerful kingdoms from the papal extent of the 

, . pope’s dominions, 

see, was a fatal blow to its grandeur 
and power. It abridged the dominions of the popes 
in extent, it diminished their revenues, and left them 
fewer rewards to bestow on the ecclesiastics of 
various denominations, attached to them by vows of 
obedience as well as by ties of interest, and whom 
they employed as instruments to establish or support 
their usurpations in every part of Europe. The 
countries, too, which now disclaimed their authority, 
were those which formerly had been most devoted 
to it. The empire of superstition differs from every 
other species of dominion ; its power is often great¬ 
est, and most implicitly obeyed in the provinces 
most remote from the seat of government; while 
such as are situated nearer to that, are more apt to 
discern the artifices by which it is upheld, or the 
impostures on which it is founded. The personal 



BOOK XII. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


7<)<) 


frailties or vices of the popes, the errors as well as 
corruption of their administration, the ambition, 
venality, and deceit which reigned in their courts, 
fell immediately under the observation of the 
Italians, and could not fail of diminishing that re¬ 
spect which begets submission. But in Germany, 
England, and the more remote parts of Europe, 
these were either altogether unknown, or being only 
known by report, made a slighter impression. Ve¬ 
neration for the papal dignity increased accordingly 
in these countries in proportion to their distance 
from Rome; and that veneration, added to their 
gross ignorance, rendered them equally credulous 
and passive. In tracing the progress of the papal 
domination, the boldest and most successful in¬ 
stances of encroachment are to be found in Ger¬ 
many and other countries distant from Italy. In 
these its impositions were heaviest, and its exac¬ 
tions the most rapacious; so that in estimating the 
diminution of power which the court of Rome 
suffered in consequence of the Reformation, not only 
the number but the character of the people who re¬ 
volted, not only the great extent of territory, but the 
extraordinary obsequiousness of the subjects which 
it lost, must be taken in the account. 

and obliged them Nor was ** Only by this defection 
toehanse^the spi- 0 f so man y kingdoms and states which 

vemment. the Reformation occasioned, that it 

contributed to diminish the power of the Roman 
pontiff's. It obliged them to adopt a different sys¬ 
tem of conduct towards the nations which still 
continued to recognise their jurisdiction, and to 
govern them by new maxims and with a milder 
spirit. The Reformation taught them, by a fatal 
example, what they seem not before to have ap¬ 
prehended, that the credulity and patience of man¬ 
kind might be overburthened and exhausted. They 
became afraid of venturing upon any such ex¬ 
ertion of their authority as might alarm or exas¬ 
perate their subjects, and excite them to a new 
revolt. They saw a rival church established in 
many countries of Europe, the members of which 
were on the watch to observe any errors in their ad¬ 
ministration, and eager to expose them. They were 
sensible that the opinions adverse to their power and 
usurpations, were not adopted by their enemies 
alone, but had spread even among the people who 
still adhered to them. Upon all these accounts, it 
was no longer possible to lead or to govern their 
flock in the same manner as in those dark and 
quiet ages, when faith was implicit, when sub¬ 
mission was unreserved, and all tamely followed 
and obeyed the voice of their pastor. From the era 
of the Reformation, the popes have ruled rather 
by address and management than by authority. 
Though the style of their decrees be still the same, 
the effect of them is very different. Those bulls and 
interdicts which, before the Reformation, made the 
greatest princes tremble, have since that period been 
disregarded or despised by the most inconsiderable. 
Those bold decisions and acts of jurisdiction which, 


during many ages, not only passed uncensured, but 
were revered as the awards of a sacred tribunal, 
would, since Luther's appearance, be treated by one 
part of Europe as the effect of folly or arrogance, 
and be detested by the other as impious and unjust. 
The popes, in their administration, have been 
obliged not only to accommodate themselves to the 
notions of their adherents, but to pay some regard to 
the prejudices of their enemies. They seldom ven¬ 
ture to claim new powers, or even to insist obsti¬ 
nately on their ancient prerogatives, lest they should 
irritate the former; they carefully avoid every 
measure that may either excite the indignation or 
draw on them the derision of the latter. The policy 
of the court of Rome has become as cautious, cir¬ 
cumspect, and timid, as it was once adventurous 
and violent; and though their pretensions to infal¬ 
libility, on which all their authority is founded, 
does not allow them to renounce any jurisdiction 
which they have at any time claimed or exercised, 
they find it expedient to suffer many of their prero¬ 
gatives to lie dormant, and not to expose themselves 
to the risk of losing that remainder of power which 
they still enjoy, by ill-timed attempts towards reviv¬ 
ing obsolete pretensions. Before the sixteenth 
century, the popes were the movers and directors in 
every considerable enterprise; they were at the 
head of every great alliance ; and being considered 
as arbiters in the affairs of Christendom, the court 
of Rome was the centre of political negociation and 
intrigue. Since that time, the greatest operations 
in Europe have been carried on independent of 
them ; they have sunk almost to a level with the 
other petty princes of Italy ; they continue to claim, 
though they dare not exercise, the same spiritual 
jurisdiction, but hardly retain any shadow of the 
temporal power which they anciently possessed. 

But how fatal soever the Reforma- The Reformation 
tion may have been to the power of ^prove^e* 0 
the popes, it has contributed to im- sdence and ln 
prove the church of Rome both in sci- morals * 


ence and in morals. The desire of equalling the 
reformers in those talents which had procured them 
respect; the necessity of acquiring the knowledge 
requisite for defending their own tenets, or refuting 
the arguments of their opponents, together with the 
emulation natural between two rival churches, en¬ 
gaged the Roman catholic clergy to apply them¬ 
selves to the study of useful science, which they 
cultivated with such assiduity and success, that 
they have gradually become as eminent in litera¬ 
ture, as they were in some periods infamous for ig¬ 
norance. The same principle occasioned a change 
no less considerable in the morals of the Romish 
clergy. Various causes which have formerly been 
enumerated, had concurred in introducing great 
irregularity, and even dissolution of manners, 
among the popish clergy. Luther and his adher¬ 
ents began their attack on the church with such 
vehement invectives against these, that, in order to 
remove the scandal, and silence their declamations. 



710 


THE REIGN OF THE 


BOOK XII. 


greater decency of conduct became necessary. The 
reformers themselves were so eminent not only for 
the purity, but even austerity, of their manners, and 
had acquired such reputation among the people on 
that account, that the Roman catholic clergy must 
have soon lost all credit, if they had not endeavour¬ 
ed to conform in some measure to their standard. 
They knew that all their actions fell under the se¬ 
vere inspection of the protestants, whom enmity 
and emulation prompted to observe every vice or 
even impropriety in their conduct; to censure them 
without indulgence, and to expose them without 
mercy. This rendered them, of course, not only 
cautious to avoid such enormities as might give 
offence, but studious to acquire the virtues which 
might merit praise. In Spain and Portugal, where 
the tyrannical jurisdiction of the inquisition crush¬ 
ed the protestant faith as soon as it appeared, the 
spirit of popery continues invariable ; science has 
made small progress, and the character of ecclesi¬ 
astics has undergone little change. But in those 
countries where the members of the two churches 
have mingled freely with each other, or have car¬ 
ried on any considerable intercourse, either com¬ 
mercial or literary, an extraordinary alteration in 
the ideas, as well as in the morals, of the popish 
ecclesiastics, is manifest. In France, the manners 
of the dignitaries and secular clergy have become 
decent and exemplary in a high degree. Many 
of them have been distinguished for all the accom¬ 
plishments and virtues which can adorn their pro¬ 
fession ; and differ greatly from their predecessors 
before the Reformation, both in their maxims and 
in their conduct. 

The effects Of it Nor lias the influence of the Refor- 
Scte" d oTthe Cha ' mation been felt only by the inferior 
popes themselves. mem bersof the Roman catholic church; 

it has extended to the see of Rome, to the sovereign 
pontiffs themselves. Violations of decorum, and 
even trespasses against morality, which passed 
without censure in those ages, when neither the 
power of the popes, nor the veneration of the people 
for their character, had any bounds; when there 
was no hostile eye to observe the errors in their con¬ 
duct, and no adversaries zealous to inveigh against 
them ; would be liable now to the severest animad¬ 
version, and excite general indignation or horror. 
Instead of rivalling the courts of temporal princes 
in gaiety, and surpassing them in licentiousness, 
the popes have studied to assume manners more 
severe and more suitable to their ecclesiastical cha¬ 
racter. The chair of St. Peter hath not been pol¬ 
luted during two centuries, by any pontiff that 
resembled Alexander VI., or several of his prede¬ 
cessors, who were a disgrace to religion and to hu¬ 
man nature. Throughout this long succession of 
popes, a wonderful decorum of conduct, compared 
with that of preceding ages, is observable. Many 
of them, especially among the pontiffs of the pre¬ 
sent century, have been conspicuous for all the 

h Freher. Script. Rer. German, vol. ii. 5C9. 


virtues becoming their high station ; and by their 
humanity, their love of literature, and their mode¬ 
ration, have made some atonement to mankind for 
the crimes of their predecessors. Thus the bene¬ 
ficial influences of the Reformation have been more 
extensive than they appear on a superficial view ; 
and this great division in the Christian church hath 
contributed, in some measure, to increase purity of 
manners, to diffuse science, and to inspire humanity. 
History recites such a number of shocking events 
occasioned by religious dissensions, that it must 
afford peculiar satisfaction to trace any one salutary 
or beneficial effect to that source from which so 
many fatal calamities have flowed. 

The republic of Venice, which, at state of the re- 
the beginning of the sixteenth century, publ,c of Vemce » 
had appeared so formidable, that almost all the 
potentates of Europe united in a confederacy for its 
destruction, declined gradually from its ancient 
power and splendour. The Venetians not only lost 
a great part of their territory in the war excited by 
the league of Cambray, but the revenues as well as 
vigour of the state were exhausted by their extra¬ 
ordinary and long-continued efforts in their own de¬ 
fence ; and that commerce by which they had acquir¬ 
ed their wealth and power began to decay, without 
any hopes of its reviving. All the fatal conse¬ 
quences to their republic, which the sagacity of the 
Venetian senate foresaw on the first discovery of a 
passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good 
Hope, actually took place. Their endeavours to 
prevent the Portuguese from establishing them¬ 
selves in the East Indies, not only by exciting the 
soldans of Egypt, and the Ottoman monarchs, to 
turn their arms against such dangerous intruders, 
but by affording secret aid to the infidels in order 
to insure their success, 11 proved ineffectual. The ac¬ 
tivity and valour of the Portuguese surmounted every 
obstacle, and obtained such a firm footing in that 
fertile country, as secured to them large possessions, 
together with an influence still more extensive. 
Lisbon, instead of Venice, became the staple for the 
precious commodities of the East. The Venetians, 
after having possessed for many years the monopoly 
of that beneficial commerce, had the mortification 
to be excluded from almost any share in it. The 
discoveries of the Spaniards in the western world 
proved no less fatal to inferior branches of their 
commeice. The original defects which were for¬ 
merly pointed out in the constitution of the Vene¬ 
tian republic still continued, and the disadvantages 
with which it undertook any great enterprise, in¬ 
creased rather than diminished. The sources from 
which it derived its extraordinary riches and power 
being dried up, the interior vigour of the state de¬ 
clined, and, of course, its external operations be¬ 
came less formidable. Long before the middle of 
the sixteenth century, Venice ceased to be one of 
the principal powers in Europe, and dwindled into 
a secondary and subaltern state. But as the senate 





BOOK XII. 


EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


711 


had the address to eonceal the diminution of its 
power under the veil of moderation and caution ; 
as it made no rash effort that could discover its 
weakness ; as the symptoms of political decay in 
states are not soon observed, and are seldom so 
apparent to their neighbours as to occasion any 
sudden alteration in their conduct towards them, 
Venice continued long to be considered and re¬ 
spected. She was treated not according to her pre¬ 
sent condition, but according to the rank which she 
had formerly held. Charles V., as well as the kings 
of France, his rivals, courted her assistance with 
emulation and solicitude in all their enterprises. 
Even down to the close of the century, Venice re¬ 
mained not only an object of attention, but a con¬ 
siderable seat of political negociation and intrigue. 

crr That authority which the first Cosmo 

or I uscany; # J 

di Medici, and Lawrence, his grand¬ 
son, had acquired in the republic of Florence, by 
their beneficence and abilities, inspired their de¬ 
scendants with the ambition of usurping the sove¬ 
reignty in their country, and paved their way towards 

it. Charles V. placed Alexander di 

A. D. 1550. r 

Medici at the head of the republic, 
and to the natural interest and power of the family 
added the weight as well as credit of the imperial 
protection. Of these, his successor Cosmo, sur- 
named the Great, availed himself; and establishing 
his supreme authority on the ruins of the ancient 
republican constitution, he transmitted that, toge¬ 
ther with the title of grand duke of Tuscany, to his 
descendants. Their dominions were composed of 
the territories which had belonged to the three 
commonwealths of Florence, Pisa, and Siena, and 
formed one of the most respectable of the Italian 
states. 

of the dukes of The dllkeS ° f SaVO y> du,in S the 
Savoy; former part of the sixteenth century, 

possessed territories which were not considerable 
either for extent or value : and the French, having 
seized the greater part of them, obliged the reign¬ 
ing duke to retire for safety to the strong fortress of 
Nice, where he shut himself up for several years, 
while his son, the prince of Piedmont, endeavoured 
to better his fortune, by serving as an adventurer 
in the armies of Spain. The peace of Chateau- 
Cambresis restored to him his paternal dominions. 
As these are environed on every hand by powerful 
neighbours, all whose motions the dukes of Savoy 
must observe with the greatest attention, in order 
not only to guard against the danger of being sur¬ 
prised and overpowered, but that they may choose 
their side with discernment in those quarrels w here¬ 
in it is impossible for them to avoid taking part, 
this peculiarity of their situation seems to have had 
no inconsiderable influence on their character. By 
rousing them to perpetual attention, by keeping 
their ingenuity always on the stretch, and engaging 
them in almost continual action, it hath formed a 
race of princes more sagacious in discovering their 
true interests, more decisive in their resolutions, 


and more dexterous in availing themselves of every 
occurrence which presented itself, than any per¬ 
haps that can be singled out in the history of Eu¬ 
rope. By gradual acquisitions the dukes of Savoy 
have added to their territories, as well as to their 
own importance; and aspiring at length to regal 
dignity, which they obtained about half a century 
ago, by the title of kings of Sardinia, they hold 
now no inconsiderable rank among the monarchs 
of Europe. 

The territories which form the re- ofthe united 
public of the United Netherlands, were Provinces, 
lost, during the first part of the sixteenth century, 
among the numerous provinces subject to the house 
of Austria ; and were then so inconsiderable, that 
hardly one opportunity of mentioning them hath 
occurred in all the busy period of this history. But 
soon after the peace of Chateau-Cambresis, the 
violent and bigoted maxims of Philip’s government, 
being carried into execution with unrelenting rigour 
by the duke of Alva, exasperated the people of 
the Low Countries to such a degree, that they 
threw off the Spanish yoke, and asserted their an¬ 
cient liberties and laws. These they defended with 
a persevering valour, which gave employment to 
the arms of Spain during half a century, ex¬ 
hausted the vigour, ruined the reputation of that 
monarchy, and at last constrained their ancient 
masters to recognise and to treat with them as a 
free and independent state. This state, founded on 
liberty, and reared by industry and economy, grew 
into great reputation, even while struggling for its 
existence. But when peace and security allowed it 
to enlarge its views, and to extend its commerce, it 
rose to be one of the most respectable as well as 
enterprising powers in Europe. 

The transactions of the kingdoms in the north of 
Europe have been seldom attended to in the course 
of this history. 

Russia remained buried in that bar¬ 
barism and obscurity, from which it otIxUjSia ’ 
was called about the beginning of the present cen¬ 
tury, by the creative genius of Peter the Great, who 
made his country known and formidable to the rest 
of Europe. 

In Denmark and Sweden, during the T )Pnrnar i, aU(i 
reign of Charles V., great revolutions Sweden, 
happened in their constitutions, civil as well as eccle¬ 
siastical. In the former kingdom, a tyrant being de¬ 
graded from the throne, and expelled the country, 
a new prince was called by the voice of the people 
to assume the reins of government. In the latter a 
fierce people, roused to arms by injuries and op¬ 
pression, shook off the Danish yoke, and conferred 
the regal dignity on its deliverer Gustavus Ericson, 
who had all the virtues of a hero and of a patriot. 
Denmark, exhausted by foreign wars, or weakened 
by the dissensions betw een the king and the nobles, 
became incapable of such efforts as were requisite 
in order to recover the ascendant which it had long 
possessed in the north of Europe. Sweden, as 



712 


THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


BOOK XII. 


soon as it was freed from the dominion of strangers, 
began to recruit its strength, and acquired in a 
short time such internal vigour, that it became the 
first kingdom in the north. Early in the subsequent 
century, it rose to such a high rank among the 


powers of Europe, that it had the chief merit in 
forming, as well as conducting, that powerful league 
which protected not only the protestant religion, but 
the liberties of Germany, against the bigotry and 
ambition of the house of Austria. 



HISTORY OF AMERICA. 























































































































































' 



PREFACE. 


In fulfilling the engagement which I had come 
under to the public with respect to the History of 
America, it was my intention not to have published 
any part of the work until the whole was completed. 
The present state of the British colonies has induced 
me to alter that resolution. While they are en¬ 
gaged in civil war with Great Britain, inquiries and 
speculations concerning their ancient forms of 
policy and laws, which exist no longer, cannot be 
interesting. The attention and expectation of man¬ 
kind are now turned towards their future condition. 
In whatever manner this unhappy contest may ter¬ 
minate, a new order of things must arise in North 
America, and its affairs will assume another aspect. 

I wait with the'solicitude of a good citizen, until 
the ferment subside, and regular government be re¬ 
established, and then I shall return to this part of 
my w ork, in which I had made some progress. That, 
together with the history of Portuguese America, 
and of the settlements made by the several nations 
of Europe in the West India Islands, will complete 
my plan. 

The three volumes which I now publish contain 
an account of the discovery of the New World, and 
of the progress of the Spanish arms and colonies 
there. This is not only the most splendid portion 
of the American story, but so much detached, as, 
by itself, to form a perfect whole, remarkable for 
the unity of the subject. As the principles and 
maxims of the Spaniards in planting colonies, ‘ 
w hich have been adopted in some measure by every 
nation, are unfolded in this part of my work, it will 
serve as a proper introduction to the history of all 
the European establishments in America, and con¬ 
vey such information concerning this important 
article of policy, as may he deemed no less interest¬ 
ing than curious. 

In describing the achievements and institutions 
of the Spaniards in the New World, I have depart¬ 
ed, in many instances, from the accounts of pre¬ 
ceding historians, and have often related facts 
which seem to have been unknown to them. It is 
a duty I ow e the public to mention the sources from 
which I have derived such intelligence as justifies 
me either in placing transactions in a new light, or 
in forming any new opinion with respect to their 
causes and effects. This duty I perform with greater 


satisfaction, as it will afford an opportunity of ex¬ 
pressing my gratitude to those benefactors who 
have honoured me with their countenance and aid 
in my researches. 

As it was from Spain that I had to expect the 
most important information with regard to this part 
of my work, I considered it as a very fortunate cir¬ 
cumstance for me, when lord Grantham, to whom 
I had the honour of being personally known, and 
with whose liberality of sentiment and disposition 
to oblige I was well acquainted, was appointed 
ambassador to the court of Madrid. Upon applying 
to him, I met with such a reception as satisfied me 
that his endeavours would be employed in the most 
proper manner, in order to obtain the gratification 
of my wishes ; and I am perfectly sensible, that 
what progress I have made in my inquiries among 
the Spaniards, ought to be ascribed chiefly to their 
knowing how much his lordship interested himself 
in my success. 

But did I owe nothing more to lord Grantham, 
than the advantages which I have derived from his 
attention in engaging Mr. Waddilove, the chaplain 
of his embassy, to take the conduct of my literary 
inquiries in Spain, the obligations I lie under to 
him would be very great. During five years that 
gentleman has carried on researches for my behoof, 
with such activity, perseverance, and knowledge of 
the subject to which his attention was turned, as 
' have filled me with no less astonishment than satis¬ 
faction. He procured forme the greater part of the 
Spanish books which I have consulted; and as 
many of them were printed early in the sixteenth 
century, and are become extremely rare, the collect¬ 
ing of these was such an occupation as alone re¬ 
quired much time and assiduity. To his friendly 
attention I am indebted for copies of several valua¬ 
ble manuscripts, containing facts and details which 
I might have searched for in vain in works that 
have been made public. Encouraged by the invit¬ 
ing good-will with which Mr. Waddilove confer- 
red his favours, I transmitted to him a set of queries, 
with respect both to the customs and policy of the 
native Americans, and the nature of several insti¬ 
tutions in the Spanish settlements, framed in such 
a manner, that a Spaniard might answer them, 
without disclosing any thing that was improper to 







716 


PREFACE. 


be communicated to a foreigner. He translated 
these into Spanish, and obtained from various 
persons who had resided in most of the Spanish 
colonies, such replies as have afforded me much 
instruction. 

Notwithstanding those peculiar advantages with 
which my inquiries were carried on in Spain, it is 
with regret I am obliged to add, that their success 
must be ascribed to the beneficence of individuals, 
not to any communication by public authority. By 
a singular arrangement of Philip II. the records of 
the Spanish monarchy are deposited in the Archivo 
of Simancas, near Valladolid, at the distance of a 
hundred and twenty miles from the seat of govern¬ 
ment, and the supreme courts of justice. The 
papers relative to America, and chiefly to that early 
period of its history towards which my attention 
was directed, are so numerous, that they alone, ac¬ 
cording to one account, fill the largest apartment in 
the Archivo; and, according to another, they com¬ 
pose eight hundred and seventy-three large bun¬ 
dles. Conscious of possessing, in some degree, the 
industry which belongs to an historian, the prospect 
of such a treasure excited my most ardent curiosity. 
But the prospect of it is all that I have enjoyed. 
Spain, with an excess of caution, has uniformly 
thrown a veil over her transactions in America. 
From strangers they are concealed with peculiar 
solicitude. Even to her own subjects the Archivo 
of Simancas is not opened without a particular 
order from the crown ; and after obtaining that, 
papers cannot be copied, without paying fees of 
office so exorbitant, that the expense exceeds what 
it would be proper to bestow, when the gratification 
of literary curiosity is the only object. It is to be 
hoped, that the Spaniards will at last discover this 
system of concealment to be no less impolitic than 
illiberal. From what I have experienced in the 
course of my inquiries, I am satisfied, that upon a 
more minute scrutiny into their early operations in 
the New World, however reprehensible the actions 
of individuals may appear, the conduct of the nation 
will be placed in a more favourable light. 

In other parts of Europe very different sentiments 
prevail. Having searched, without success, in 
Spain, for a letter of Cortes to Charles V. written 
soon after he landed in the Mexican empire, which 
has not hitherto been published, it occurred to me, 
that as the emperor was setting out for Germany at 
the time when the messengers from Cortes arrived 
in Europe, the letter with which they were intrust¬ 
ed might possibly be preserved in the imperial 
library of Vienna. I communicated this idea to sir 
Robert Murray Keith, with whom I have long had 
the honour to live in friendship, and I had soon the 
pleasure to learn, that upon his application, her 
imperial majesty had been graciously pleased to 
issue an order, that not only a copy of that letter, 
(if it were found,) but of any other papers in the 
library, which could throw light upon the History 

* Of the original Edition. 


of America, should be transmitted to me. The letter 
from Cortes is not in the imperial library, but an 
authentic copy, attested by a notary, of the letter 
written by the magistrates of the colony planted 
by him at Vera Cruz, which I have mentioned, 
Book V. having been found, it was transcribed and 
sent to me. As this letter is no less curious, and as 
little known, as that which was the object of my 
inquiries, I have given some account, in its proper 
place, of what is most worthy of notice in it. To¬ 
gether with it, I received a copy of a letter from 
Cortes, containing a long account of his expedition 
to Honduras, with respect to which I did not think 
it necessary to enter into any particular detail ; and 
likewise those curious Mexican paintings, which I 
have described, Vol. iii. p. 23.* 

My inquiries at St. Petersburgh were carried on 
with equal facility and success. In examining 
into the nearest communication between our conti¬ 
nent and that of America, it became of consequence 
to obtain authentic information concerning the dis¬ 
coveries of the Russians in their navigation from 
Kamschatka towards the coast of America. Accu¬ 
rate relations of their first voyage, in 1741, have 
been published by Muller and Gmelin. Several 
foreign authors have entertained an opinion, that 
the court of Russia studiously conceals the progress 
which has been made by more recent navigators, 
and suffers the public to be amused with false 
accounts of their route. Such conduct appeared to 
me unsuitable to those liberal sentiments, and that 
patronage of science, for which the present sovereign 
of Russia is eminent; nor could I discern any po¬ 
litical reason, that might render it improper to apply 
for information concerning the late attempts of the 
Russians to open a communication between Asia and 
America. My ingenious countryman, Dr. Rogerson, 
first physician to the empress, presented my request 
to her imperial majesty, who not only disclaimed 
any idea of concealment, but instantly ordered the 
journal of captain Krenitzin, who conducted the 
only voyage of discovery made by public authority 
since the year 1741, to be translated, and his origi¬ 
nal chart to be copied for my use. By consulting 
them, I have been enabled to give a more accurate 
view of the progress and extent of the Russian dis¬ 
coveries, than has hitherto been communicated to 
the public. 

From other quarters I have received information 
of great utility and importance. M. le Chevalier 
de Pinto, the minister from Portugal to the court of 
Great Britain, who commanded for several years at 
Matagrosso, a settlement of the Portuguese in the 
interior part of Brazil, where the Indians are nume¬ 
rous, and their original manners little altered by 
intercourse with Europeans, was pleased to send me 
very full answers to some queries concerning the 
character and institutions of the natives of America, 
which his polite reception of an application made 
to him in my name, encouraged me to propose. 




PREFACE. 


717 


These satisfied me, that he had contemplated with a 
discerning attention the curious objects which his 
situation presented to his view, and I have often 
followed him as one of my best instructed guides. 

M. Suard, to whose elegant translation of the 
History of the Reign of Charles V. I owe the favour¬ 
able reception of that work on the continent, pro¬ 
cured me answers to the same queries from M. de 
Bougainville, who had opportunities of observing 
the Indians both of North and South America, and 
from M. Godin le Jeune, who resided fifteen years 
among the Indians in Quito, and twenty years in 
Cayenne. The latter are more valuable from hav¬ 
ing been examined by M. de la Condamine, who, a 
few weeks before his death, made some short addi¬ 
tions to them, which may be considered as the last 
effort of that attention to science which occupied a 
long life. 

My inquiries were not confined to one region in 
America. Governor Hutchinson took the trouble 
of recommending the consideration of my queries 
to Mr. Hawley and Mr. Brainerd, two protestant 
missionaries employed among the Indians of the 
Five Nations, who favoured me with answers which 
discover a considerable knowledge of the people 
whose customs they describe. From William Smith, 
Esq. the ingenious historian of New York, I re¬ 
ceived some useful information. When I enter 
upon the History of our Colonies in North America, 
I shall have occasion to acknowledge how much I 
have been indebted to many other gentlemen of 
that country. 

From the valuable collection of voyages made by 
Alexander Dalrymple, Esq. with whose attention 
to the history of navigation and discovery the pub¬ 
lic is well acquainted, I have received some very 
rare books, particularly two large volumes of memo¬ 
rials, partly manuscript, and partly in print, which 
were presented to the court of Spain during the 
reigns of Philip III. and Philip IV. From these 
I have learned many curious particulars with re¬ 
spect to the interior state of the Spanish colonies, 
and the various schemes formed for their improve¬ 
ment. As this collection of memorials formerly 
belonged to the Colbert Library, I have quoted them 
by that title. 

* Mi'. Gibbon. 


All those books and manuscripts I have consulted 
with that attention which the respect due from an 
author to the public required ; and by minute re¬ 
ferences to them, I have endeavoured to authen¬ 
ticate whatever I relate. The longer I reflect on the 
nature of historical composition, the more I am con¬ 
vinced that this scrupulous accuracy is necessary. 
The historian who records the events of his own 
time, is credited in proportion to the opinion which 
the public entertains with respect to his means of 
information and his veracity. He who delineates 
the transactions of a remote period, has no title to 
claim assent, unless he produces evidence in proof 
of his assertions. Without this, he may write an 
amusing tale, but cannot be said to have composed 
an authentic history. In those sentiments I have 
been confirmed by the opinion of an author,* whom 
his industry, erudition, and discernment, have de¬ 
servedly placed in a high rank among the most 
eminent historians of the age. Imboldened by a 
hint from him, I have published a catalogue of the 
Spanish books which I have consulted. This prac¬ 
tice was frequent in the last century, and was con¬ 
sidered as an evidence of laudable industry in an 
author ; in the present, it may, perhaps, be deemed 
the effect of ostentation; but, as many of these 
books are unknown in Great Britain, I could not 
otherwise have referred to them as authorities, with¬ 
out encumbering the page with an insertion of their 
full titles. To any person who may choose to follow 
me in this path of inquiry, the catalogue must be 
very useful. 

My readers will observe, that in mentioning sums 
of money, I have uniformly followed the Spanish 
method of computing by pesos. In America, the 
peso fuerte, or duro, is the only one known ; and 
that is always meant when any sum imported from 
America is mentioned. The peso fuerte, as well as 
other coins, has varied in its numerary value ; but 
I have been advised, without attending to such 
minute variations, to consider it as equal to four 
shillings and sixpence of our money. It is to be 
remembered, however, that in the sixteenth century 
the effective value of a peso, i. e. the quantity of 
labour which it represented, or of goods which it 
would purchase, was five or six times as much as 
at present. 




718 


PREFACE. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

Since this edition was put into the press, a His¬ 
tory of Mexico, in two volumes in quarto, trans¬ 
lated from the Italian of the Abbe D. Francesco 
Saverio Clavigero, has been published. From a 
person who is a native of New Spain, who has resided 
forty years in that country, and who is acquainted 
with the Mexican language, it was natural to ex¬ 
pect much new information. Upon perusing his 
work, however, I find that it contains hardly any 
addition to the ancient History of the Mexican em¬ 
pire, as related by Acosta and Herrera, but what is 

derived from the improbable narratives and fanciful 

* 

conjectures of Torquemada and Boturini. Having 
copied their splendid descriptions of the high state 
of civilization in the Mexican empire, M. Clavi¬ 
gero, in the abundance of his zeal for the honour of 
his native country, charges me with having mistaken 


some points, and with having misrepresented others, 
in the history of it. When an author is conscious 
of having exerted industry in research, and impar¬ 
tiality in decision, he may, without presumption, 
claim what praise is due to these qualities, and he 
cannot be insensible to any accusation that tends 
to weaken the fofce of his claim. A feeling of this 
kind has induced me to examine such strictures of 
M. Clavigero on my History of America as merited 
any attention, especially as these are made by one 
who seemed to possess the means of obtaining ac¬ 
curate information ; and to show that the greater 
part of them is destitute of any just foundation. 
This I have in notes upon the passages in my His¬ 
tory which gave rise to his criticisms. 

College of Edinburgh, 

March 1 st, 1788. 



CONTENTS. 


BOOK I. 

Progress of navigation among the ancients. View of their 
discoveries as preparatory to those of the moderns. Imperfec¬ 
tion of ancient navigation and geography. Doctrine of the 
zones. Further discoveries checked by the irruption of bar¬ 
barous nations. G eographical knowledge still preserved in the 
East, and among the Arabians. Revival of commerce and 
navigation in Europe—favoured by the Croisades—extended 
by travellers into the East—promoted by the invention of the 
mariner’s compass. Fust regular plan ot discovery formed by 
Portugal. State of that kingdom. Schemes of prince Henry. 
Early attempts feeble. Progress along the western coast of 
Africa. Hopes of discovering a new route to the East Indies. 
Attempts to accomplish this. Prospects of success. 

BOOK II. 

Birth and education of Columbus—acquires naval skill in the 
service of Portugal—conceives hopes of reaching the East 
Indies by holding a westerly course—his system founded on 
the ideas of the ancients, and knowledge of their navigation 
—and on the discoveries of the Portuguese. His negociations 
with different courts. Obstacles which he had to surmount 
in Spain. Voyage of discovery—difficulties—success—re¬ 
turn to Spain. Astonishment of mankind on this discovery 
of a New World. Papal grant of it. Second voyage. 
Colony settled. Further discoveries. War with the Indians. 
First tax imposed on them. Third voyage. He discovers 
the continent. State of the Spanish colony. Errors in the 
first system of colonizing. Voyage of the Portuguese to the 
East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope. Effects of this. 
Discoveries made by private adventurers in the New World. 
Name of America given to it. Machinations against Colum¬ 
bus—disgraced and sent in chains to Europe. Fourth voyage 
of Columbus. His discoveries—disasters—death. 


BOOK III. 

State of the colony in Hispaniola. New war with the Indians. 
Cruelty of the Spaniards. Fatal regulations concerning the 
condition of the Indians. Diminution of that people. Dis¬ 
coveries and settlements. First colony planted on the conti¬ 
nent. Conquest of Cuba. Discovery of Florida—of the 
South Sea. Great expectations raised by this. Causes of 
disappointment with respect to these for some time. Con¬ 
troversy concerning the treatment of the Indians. Con¬ 
trary decisions. Zeal of the ecclesiastics, particularly of Las 
Casas. Singular proceedings of Ximenes. Negroes imported 
into America. Las Casas’s idea of anew colony—permitted 
to attempt it—unsuccessful. Discoveries towards the West 
Yucatan. Campeachy. New Spain—preparations for in¬ 
vading it. 

BOOK IV. 

View of America when first discovered, and of the manners 
and policy of its most uncivilized inhabitants. Vast extent 
of America—grandeur of the objects it presents to view—its 
mountains—rivers—lakes—its form favourable to commerce 
—temperature—predominance of cold—causes of this—un¬ 
cultivated—unwholesome—its animals—soil. Inquiry how 
America was peopled—various theories—what appears most 
probable. Condition and character of the Americans. All, 
the Mexicans and Peruvians excepted, in the state of savages. 
Inquiry confined to the uncivilized tribes. Difficulty of ob¬ 
taining information—various causes of this. Method ob¬ 
served in the inquiry. I. The bodily constitution of the 
Americans considered. II. The qualities of their minds. 


III. Their domestic state. IV. Their political state and in 
stitutions. V. Their system of war and public security. VI. 
The arts with which they were acquainted. VII. Their re¬ 
ligious ideas and institutions. VIII. Such singular and 
detached customs as are not reducible to any of the former 
heads. IX. General review and estimate of their virtues 
and defects. 

BOOK V. 

History of the conquest of New Spain by Cortes. 

BOOK VI. 

History of the conquest of Peru by Pizarro—and of the dis¬ 
sensions and civil wars of the Spaniards in that country. 
Origin, progress, and effects of these. 

BOOK VII. 

View of the institutions and manners of the Mexicans and 
Peruvians. Civilized states in comparison of other Ameri¬ 
cans. Recent origin of the Mexicans. Facts which prove 
their progress in civilization. View of their policy in its 
various branches—of their arts. Facts which indicate a 
small progress in civilization. What opinion should be 
formed on comparing those contradictory facts. Genius of 
their religion. Peruvian monarchy more ancient. Its policy 
founded on religion. Singular effects of this. Peculiar state 
of property among the Peruvians. Their public works and 
arts—roads—bridges—buildings. Their unwarlike spirit. 
View of other dominions of Spain in America. Cinaloa 
and Sonora. California. Yucatan and Honduras. Chili. 
Tucuman. Kingdom of Tierra Firme. New kingdom of 
Granada. 

BOOK VIII. 

View of the interior government, commerce, &c. of the Spanish 
colonies. Depopulation of America—first effect ot their 
settlements—not the consequence of any system of policy— 
nor to be imputed to religion. Number of Indians still re¬ 
maining. Fundamental maxims on which the Spanish system 
of colonization is founded. Condition of different orders of 
men in their colonies—Chapetones—Creoles—Negroes—In 
dians. Ecclesiastical state and policy. Character of secular 
and regular clergy. Small progress of Christianity among 
the natives. Mines chief object of their attention. Mode of 
working these—their produce. Effects of encouraging this 
species of industry. Other commodities of Spanish America, 
f irst effects of this new commerce with America on Spain. 
Why the Spanish colonies have not been as beneficial to the 
parent state as those of other nations. Errors in the Spanish 
system of regulating this commerce—confined to one port— 
carried on by annual fleets. Contraband trade. Decline of 
Spain both in population and wealth. Remedies proposed. 
View of the wise regulations of the Bourbon princes. A 
new and more liberal system introduced—beneficial effects 
of this—probable consequences. Trade between New Spain 
and the Philippines. Revenue of Spain from America— 
whence it arises—to what it amounts. 


BOOK IX. 

History of Virginia to the year 1688. 
BOOK X. 

History of New England to the year 1652. 





















' 



























ih*>,3 - 9 






























A 


CATALOGUE 


OF 

SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. 


A 

Acarf.tte de Biscay, Relation des Voyages dans la Riviere de 
la Plata, et de la par terre au Perou. Exst. Recueil de Theve- 
not. Part IV. 

A Voyage up the River de la Plata, and 
thence by land to Peru. Bvo. London, 1698. 

Acosta (P. Jos. de) Historia Natural y Moral de las Indias. 
4to. Madrid, 1590. 

(Joseph de) Histoire Naturelle et Morale des Indes 
tant Orientales qu’Occidentales. 8vo. Paris, 1600. 

Novi Orbis Historia Naturalis et Moralis. Exst. in 
Collect. Tlieod. de Bry, Pars IX. 

De Natura Novi Orbis, Libri duo, et de procuranda 
Indorum Salute, Libri sex. Salmant. 8vo. 1589. 

(Christov.) Tratado de las Drogas y Medecinas de 
las Indias Occidentales, con sus Plantas Dibuxadas al vivo. 4to. 
Burgos, 1578. 

Acugna (P. Christoph.) Relation de la Riviere des Ama- 
zones. 12mo. Tom. ii. Paris, 1682. 

Acugna’s Relation of the great River of the Amazons in 
South America. 8vo. London, 1698. 

Alarchon (Fern.) Navigatione a Scoprere il Regno di sette 
Cita. Ramusio III. 363. 

Albuquerque Coello, (Duarte de) Memorial de Artes de la 
Guerre del Brasil. 4to. Mad. 1634. 

Alcafarado (Franc.) An Historical Relation of the Discovery 
of the Isle of Madeira. 4to. Lond. 1675. 

Albedo y Herrera (D. Dionysio de) Aviso Historico-Po- 
litico-Geografico, con las Noticias mas particulares, del Peru, 
Tierra Firme, Chili, y nuevo Reyno de Granada. 4to. Mad. 
1740. 

Compendio Historico de la Provincia y Puerto de 
Guayaquil. 4to. Mad. 1741. 

Memorial sobre diferentes Puntos tocantes al estado 
de la Real hazienda, y del Comercio, &c. en las Indias. fol. 

Aldama y Guevara (D. Jos. Augustin de) Arde de la Lengua 
Mexicana. 12mo. Mexico, 1754. 

Alvarado (Pedro de) Dos Relaciones a Hern. Cortes, Re- 
feriendole sus Expediciones y Conquistas en varias Provincias 
de N. Espagna. Exst. Barcia Historiad. Primit. tom. i. 

Leltere due, &c. Exst. Ramus. III. 296. 

Aparicio y Leon (D. Lorenzo de) Discurso Historico- 
Politico del Hospital San Lazaro de Lima. 8vo. Lim. 1761. 

Aranzeles Reales de los Ministros de la Real Audiencia de 
N. Espagna. fol. Mex. 1727. 

Argensola (Bartolome Leonardo de) Conquista de las Islas 
Malucas. fol. Mad. 1609. 

Anales de Aragon, fol. Saragoca, 1630. 

Arguello (Eman.) Sentum Confessionis. l?mo. Mex. 1703. 

3 A 


Arriago (P. Pablo Jos. de) Extirpacion de la Idolatria de 
Peru. 4to. Lima, 1621. 

Avendagno (Didac.) Thesaurus Indicus, ceu generalis In¬ 
structor pro Regimine Conscientiae, in iis quse ad Indias spec- 
tant. fol. 2 vols. Antwerp, 1660. 

Aznar (D. Bern. Fran.) Discurso tocante a la real hazienda 
y administracion de ella. 4to. 

B 

Bandini (Angelo Maria) Vita e Lettere di Amerigo Ves¬ 
pucci. 4to. Firenze, 1745. 

Barcia (D. And. Gonzal.) Historiadores Primitivos de las 
Indias Occidentales. fol. 3 vols. Mad. 1749. 

Barco-Centinera (D. Martin de) Argentina y Conquista del 
Rio de la Plata: Poema. Exst. Barcia Historiad. Primit. III. 

Barros (Joao de) Decadas de Asia. fol. 4 vols. Lisboa, 
1682. 

Bellesteros (D. Thomas de) Ordenanzas del Peru. fol. 2 vols. 
Lima, 1685. 

Beltran (P. F. Pedro) Arte de el Idioma Maya reducido a 
sucintas reglas, y Semilexicon. 4to. Mex. 1746. 

Benzo (Hieron.) Novi Orbis Historic—De Bry America, 
Part IV. V. VI. 

Betancourt y Figuero (Don Luis) Derecho de las Iglesias 
Metropolitanas de las Indias. 4to. Mad. 1637. 

Blanco (F. Matias Ruiz) Conversion de Piritu de Indios 
Cumanagotos y otros. 12mo. Mad. 1690. 

Boturini Benaduci (Lorenzo) Idea de una nueva Historia 
general de la America Septentrional, fundada sobre material 
copiosade Figuras, Symbolas Caracteres, Canteres, y manuscri- 
tos de Autores Indios. 4to. Mad. 1746. 

Botello de Moraes y Vaseoncellos (D. Francisco de) El 
Nuevo Mundo : Poema Heroyco. 4to. Barcelona, 1701. 

Botero Benes (Juan) Descripcion de Todas las Provincias, 
Reynos, y Ciudades del Mundo. 4to. Girona, 1748. 

Brietius (Phil.) Paralela Geographiae Veteris et Novoe. 4to. 
Paris, 1648. 

C 

Cabezade Baca (Alvar. Nugnez) Relacion de los Naufragios. 
Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. 

Examen Apologetico de la Histor. Narra¬ 
tion de los Naufragios. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. 

Commentaries de lo succedido duarante su 
gubierno del Rio de la Plata. Exst. ibid. 

Cabo de Vacca Relatione de. Exst. Ramus. III. 310. 

Cabota (Sebast.) Navagazione de. Exst. Ramus. II. 211. 

Cadamustus (Aloysius) Navigatio ad Terras incognitas. 
Exst. Nov. Orb. Grynaei, p. 1. 







722 


A CATALOGUE OF 


Calancha (F. Anton, de la) Gronica moralizada del Orden 
de San Augustin en el Peru. fol. Barcelona, 1638. 

California—Diario Historico de los Viages de Mar y Tierra 
hechos en 1768, al Norte de California di orden del Marques de 
Croix Virrey de Nueva Espagna, &c. MS. 

Calle (Juan Diaz de la) Memorial Informatorio de lo que a 
su Magestad Provien de la Nueva Espagna y Peru. 4to. 1645. 

Campomanes (D. Pedro Rodrig.) Antiguedad Maritima de 
la Republica de Cartago, con en Periplo de su general Hannon 
traducido e illustrado. 4to. Mad. 1756. 

Discurso sobre el fomento de la Industria popu¬ 
lar. 8vo. Mad. 1774. 

Discurso sobre la Educacion popular de los 
Artesanos. 8vo. 5 vol. Mad. 1775, &c. 

Caracas—Real Cedula de Fundacion de la real Compagnia 
Guipuscoana de Caracas. 12mo. Mad. 1765. 

Caravantes (Fr. Lopez, de) Relacion de las Provincias que 
tiene el Govierno del Peru, los Officios que en el se Provien, y 
la Hacienda que alii tiene su Magestad, lo que se Gasta de ella 
y le queda Libre, &c. &c. Dedicado al Marques de Santos 
Claros, Agno de 1611. MS. 

Cardenas y Cano (Gabr.) Ensayo Cronologico para la 
Historia general de la Florida, fol. Mad. 1733. 

Carranzana (D. Gonzales) A Geographical Description of 
the Coasts, &c. of the Spanish West Indies. 8vo. Lond. 1740. 

Casas (Bart, de las) Brevissima Relacion de la Destruycion 
de las Indias. 4to. 1552. 

(Bart, de las) Narratio Iconibus illustrata per Theod. 
de Bry. 4to. Oppent. 1614. 

(Bart, de las) An account of the first Voyages and 
Discoveries of the Spaniards in America. 8vo. Lond. 1693. 

Cassani (P. Joseph) Historia de la Provincia de Compagnia 
de Jesus del Nuevo Reyno de Granada, fol. Mad. 1741. 

Castanheda (Fern. Lop. de) Historio do Descobrimento y 
Conquista de India pelos Portugueses. fol. 2 vol. Lisb. 1552. 

Castellanos (Juan de) Primera y Secunda de las Elegias de 
Varones Illustres de Indias. 4to. 2 vol. Mad. 1589. 

Castillo (Bernal Dias del) Historia Verdadera de la Con¬ 
quista de Nueva Espagna. fol. Mad. 1632. 

Castro, Figueroa y Salazar (D. Pedro de) Relacion di su 
ancimiento y servicios. 12mo. 

Cavallero (D. Jos. Garcia) Brieve Cotejo y Valance de las 
Pesas y Medidas di varias Naciones, reducidas a las que corren 
en Castilla. 4to. Mad. 1731. 

Cepeda (D. Fern.) Relacion Universal del Sitio en que esta 
fundada la Ciudad de Mexico, fol. 1637. 

Cie 9 a de Leon (Pedro de) Chronica del Peru. fol. Seville, 
1553. 

Cisneros (Diego) Sitio, Naturaleza y Propriedades de la 
Ciudad de Mexico. 4to. Mexico, 1618. 

Clemente (P. Claudio) Tablas Chronologicas, en que con- 
tienen los Sucesos Ecclesiasticos y Seculares de Indias. 4to. 
Val. 1689. 

Cogullado (P. Fr. Diego Lopez) Historia de Yucatan, fol. 
Mad. 1688. 

Collecao dos Brives Pontificos e Leyes Regias que forao 
Expedidos y Publicadas desde o Anno 1741, sobre a la Liber- 
dada des Pessoas bene e Commercio dos Indos de Bresil. 

Colleccion General de las Providencias hasta aqui tomadas 
par el Gobierno sobre el Estragnimento, y Occupacion de 
Temporalidades de los Regulares de la Compagnia, de Espagna, 
Indias, &c. Partes IV. 4to. Mad. 1767. 

Colon (D. Fernando) La Historia del Almirante D. Christo- 
val Colon. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. I. 1. 

Columbus (Christ.) Navigatio qua multas Regiones hactenus 
incognitas invenit. Exst. Nov. Orb. Gryneei, p. 90. 

(Ferd.) Life and Actions of his Father, Admiral 
Christoph. Columbus. Exst. Churchill’s Voyages, II. 479. 

Compagnia Real de Commercio para las Islas de Sto Do¬ 
mingo, Puerto-rico, y la Margarita. 12mo. 

Compendio General de las contribuciones y gattos que occa- 


sionan todos los effectos, Irutos, caudales, &c. que trafican en 
tre los reynos de Castilla y America. 4to. 

Concilios Provinciales Primero y Segundo celebrados en la 
muy Noble y muy leal Ciudad de Mexico en los Agnos de 1555 
& 1565. fol. Mexico, 1779. 

Concilium Mexicanum Provinciate tertium celebratum Mex- 
ici, anno 1585. fol. Mexico, 1779. 

Continente Americano, Argonauta de las costas de Nueva 
Espagna y Tierra Firme. 12mo. 

Cordeyro (Antonio) Historia Insulana das Ilhas a Portugas 
sugeylas no Oceano Occidental, fol. Lisb. 1717. 

Corita (Dr. Alonzo) Breve y sumaria Relacion de los 
Segnores, Manera, y Differencia de ellos, que havia en la 
Nueva Espagna, y otras Provincias sus Comarcanas, y de sus 
Leyes, Usos, y Costumbres, y de la Forma que tenian en Tri- 
butar sus Vasallos en Tiempo de su Gentilidad, &c. MS. 4to. 
pp. 307. 

Coronada (Fr. Vasq. de) Sommario di due sue Lettere del 
Viaggio fatto del Fra. Marco da Nizza al sette Citta de Cevola. 
Exst. Ramusio III. 354. 

Relacion Viaggio alle sette Citta. Ramusio III. 
359. 

Cortes (Hern.) Quattro Cartas dirigidas al Emperador Carlos 

V. en que ha Relacion de sus Conquistas en la Nueva Espagna. 
Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. 

Cortessii (Ferd.) De Insulis nuper inventis Narrationes ad 
Carolum V. fol. 1532. 

Cortese (Fern.) Relacioni, &c. Exst. Ramusio III. 225. 

Cubero (D. Pedro) Peregrinacion del Mayor Parte del 
Mundo. Zaragoss. 4to. 1688. 

Cumana, Govierno y Noticia de. fol. MS. 

D 

Davila Padilla (F. Aug.) Historia de la Fundacion y Dis¬ 
curso de Provincia de St. Jago de Mexico, fol. Bruss. 1625. 

(Gil Gonzalez) Teatro Ecclesiastico de la 
Primitiva Iglesia de las Indias Occidentales. fol. 2vols. 1649. 

Documentos tocantes a la Persecucion, que los Regulares de 
la Compagnia suscitaron contra Don B. de Cardenas, Obispo de 
Paraguay. 4to. Mad. 1768. 

E 

Echaveri (D. Bernardo Ibagnez de) El Reyno Jesuitico del 
Paraguay. Exst. tom. iv. Colleccion de Documentos. 4to. 
Mad. 1770. 

Echave y Assu (D. Francisco de) La Estrella de Lima con- 
vertida en Sol sobre sur tres Coronas, fol. Amberes, 1688. 

Eguiara El Egueren (D. J. Jos.) Bibliotheca Mexicana, sive 
Eruditorum Historia Virorum in America Boreali natorum, &c. 
tom. prim. fol. Mex. 1775.—N. B. No more than one volume 
of this work has been published. 

Ercilla y Zuniga (D. Alonzo de) La Araucana, Po£ma 
Eroico. fol. Mad. 1733. 

2 vols. 8vo. Mad. 1777. 

Escalona (D. Gaspar de) Gazophylacium Regium Peruvi- 
cum. fol. Mad. 1775. 

F 

Faria y Sousa (Manuel de) Historia del Reyno de Portugal, 
fol. Amber. 1730. 

Faria y Sousa, History of Portugal from the first Ages to 
the Revolution under John IV. 8vo. Lond. 1698. 

Fernandez (Diego) Prima y secunda Parte de la Historia 
del Peru. fol. Sevill. 1571. 

(P. Juan Patr.) Relacion Historial de las Mis- 
siones de los Indios que daman Chiquitos. 4to. Mad. 1726. 

Feyjoo (Benit. Geron) Espagnoles Americanos—Discurso 

VI. del tom. iv. del Teatro Critico. Mad. 1769. 




723 


SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. 


Feyj°° (Benit. Geron) Solucion del gran Problema Histo- 
rico sobre la Poblacion de la America—Discurso XV. del tom. 
v. de Teatro Critico. 

(D. Miguel) Relacion Descriptiva de la Ciudad y 
Provincia Truxillo del Peru. fol. Mad. 1763. 

Frey re (Ant.) Piratas de la America. 4to. 

Frasso (D. Petro) De Regio Patronatu Indiarum. fol. 2 vols. 
Matriti, 1775. 

G 

Galvao (Antonio) Tratado dos Descobrimentos Antigos y 
Modernos. fol. Lisboa, 1731. 

Galvano (Ant.) The Discoveries of the World from the first 
Original unto the year 1555. Osborne’s Collect. II. 354. 

Gamboa (D. Fran. Xavier de) Comentarios a los ordinanzas 
de Minas, fol. Mad. 1761. 

Garcia (Gregorio) Historia Ecclesiastica y Seglar de la 
India Oriental y Occidental, y Predicacion de la Santa Evan- 
geliaenella. 12mo. Baeca, 1626. 

(Fr. Gregorio) Origen de los Indios del Nuevo 
Mundo. fol. Mad. 1729. 

Gastelu (Anton. Valesquez) Arte de Lengua Mexicana. 
4to. Puibla de los Angeles. 1716. 

Gazeta de Mexico por los Annos 1728, 1729, 1730. 4to. 

Girava (Hieronymo) Dos Libros de Cosmographia. Milan, 
1556. 

Godoy (Diego de) Relacion al H. Cortes, qua trata del 
Descubrimiento de diversas Ciudades, y Provincias, y Guerras 
que tuio con los Indios. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. 

Godoy Lettera a Cortese, &c. Exst. Ramusio III. 300. 

Gomara (Fr. Lopez de) La Historia general de las Indias. 
l2mo. Anv. 1554. 

Historia general de las Indias. Exst. 

Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. ii. 

Chronica de la Nueva Espagna o 
Conquesta de Mexico. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. ii. 

Guatemala—Razon puntual de los Sucesos mas memorabiles, 
v de los estragos y dannos que ha padecido la rindad de Guate¬ 
mala. fol. 1774. 

Gumilla (P. Jos.) El Orinoco illustrado y defendido; His¬ 
toria Natural, Civil, y Geographica de este Gran Rio, &c. 
4to. 2 tom. Mad. 1745. 

Histoire Naturelle, Civile, et Geographique 
de l’Orenoque. Traduite par. M. Eidous. 12mo. tom. iii. 
Avig. 1758. 

Gusman (Nugno de) Relazione scritta in Omitlan Provincia 
di Mechuacan della Maggior Ispagna, nel 1730. Exst. Ramusio 
III. 331. 

H 

Henis (P. Thadeus) Ephemerides Belli Guiaranici, ab Anno 
1754. Exst. Colleccion general de Docum. tom. iv. 

Hernandes (Fran.) Plantarum, Animalium et Mineralium 
Mexicanorum Historia. fol. Rom. 1651. 

Herrera (Anton, de) Historia general de los Hechos de los 
Castellanos en las Islas y Tierra Firme de Mar Oceano. fol. 
4 vols. Mad. 1601. 

Historia General, &c. 4 vols. Mad. 1730. 

General History, &c. Translated by Stephens. 8vo. 
6 vols. Lond. 1740. 

Descriptio Indiae Occidentalis. fol. Amst. 1622. 

Huemez y Horcasitas (D. Juan Francisco de) Extracto de los 
Autos de Diligencias y reconocimientos de los rios, lagunas, 
vertientes, y desaguas de Mexico y su valle, &c. fol. Mex. 1748. 

I 

Jesuitas— Colleccion delas applicaciones que se van haciendo 
de los Cienes, casas y Coligios que fueron de la Compagnia de 

3 a 2 


Jesus, expatriados de estos Reales dominios. 4to. 2 vols. Lima, 
1772 y 1773. 

Jesuitas—Colleccion General de Providencias hasta aqui to- 
madas por el Gobierno sobre el Estrannamiento y Occupacion 
de temporalidades de los Regulares de la Compagnia de Espag¬ 
na, Indias, e Islas Filipinas. 4to. Mad. 1767. 

Retrato de los Jesuitas formado al natural. 4to. 
2 vols. Mad. 1768. 

Relacion Abbreviada da Republica que os Re- 
ligiosos Jesuitas estableceraon. 12mo. 

Idea del Origen, Gobierno, &c. de la Compagnia 
de Jesus. 8vo. Mad. 1768. 

L 

Lsevinius (Apollonius) Libri V. de Peruviae Invention, et 
rebus in eadem gestis. 12mo. Ant. 1567. 

Leon (Fr. Ruiz de) Hernandia, Poema Heroyco de Con- 
quista de Mexico. 4to. Mad. 1755. 

(Ant. de) Epitome de la Bibliotheca Oriental y Occi¬ 
dental, Nautica y Geografica. fol. Mad. 1737. 

Lima,—A true Account of the earthquake which happened 
there, 28th October, 1746. Translated from the Spanish. 8vo. 
Lond, 1748. 

Lima Gozosa, Description de las festibas Demonstraciones, 
con que esta Ciudad celebrd la real Proclamacion de el nombre 
Augusto del Catolico Monarcho D. Carlos III. Lima. 4to. 1760. 

Lano Zapata (D. Jos. Euseb.) Preliminar al Tomo 1. de 
las Memorias Historico-Physicas, Critico-Apologeticas de la 
America Meridional. 8vo. Cadiz, 1759. 

Lopez (D. Juan Luis) Discurso Historico-Politico en defenso 
de la Jurisdiction Real. fol. 1685. 

(Thom.) Atlas Geographico de la America Septentri¬ 
onal y Meridional. 12mo. Par. 1758. 

Lorenzana (D. Fr. Ant.) Arzobispo de Mexico, aliora de 
Toledo, Historia de Nueva Espagna, escrita por su Esclarecido 
Conquistador Hernan Cortes, Aumentada con otros Documen- 
tos y Notas. fol. Mex. 1770. 

Lozano (P. Pedro) Description Chorographica, del Ter- 
retorios, Arboles, Animales del Gran Chaco, y de los Ritos y 
Costumbres, de las innumerabiles Naciones que la habilan 
4to. Cordov. 1733. 

Historia de la Compagnia de Jesus en la Provincia 
del Paraguay, fol. 2 vols. Mad. 1753. 

M 

Madriga (Pedro de) Description du Gouvernement du Pe- 
rou. Exst. Voyages qui ont servi a l’6tablissement de la comp, 
des Indes, tom. ix. 105. 

Mariana (P. Juan de) Discurso de les Enfermedades de la 
Compagnia de Jesus. 4to. Mad. 1658. 

Martinez de la Puente (D. Jos.) Compendio de las Historias 
de los Descubrimientos, Conquistas, y Guerras de la India 
Oriental, y sus Islas, desde los Tiempos del Infante Don En¬ 
riquez de Portugal su.inventor. 4to. Mad. 1681. 

Martyr ab Angleria (Petr.) De Rebus Oceanicis et Novo 
Orbe Decades tres. 12mo. Colon. 1574. 

De Insulis nuper inventis, et de Moribus Incola- 
rum. Ibid. p. 329. 

Opus Epistolarum. fol. Amst. 1670. 

II Sommario cavato della sua Historia del Nuevo 
Mundo. Ramusio III. i. 

Mata (D. Geron. Fern, de) Ideas politicas y morales. 12mo 
Toledo, 1640. 

Mechuacan—Relacion de las Ceremonias, Ritos, y Poblacion 
de los Indios de Mechuacan hecha al I. S. D. Ant. de Mendoza, 
Virrey de Nueva Espagna. fol. MS. 

Melendez (Fr. Juan) Tesoros Verdaderos de las Indias 
Historia de la Provincia de S. Juan Baptista del Peru, del 
Orden de Predicadores. fol. 3 vols. Rom. 1681. 




724 


A CATALOGUE OF 


Memorial Adjustado por D. A. Fern, de Heredia, Goberna- 
dorde Nicaragua y Honduras, fol. 1753. 

Memorial Adjustado contra los Officiates de Casa de Moneda 
a Mexico de el anno 1729. fol. 

Mendoza (D. Ant. de) Lettera al Imperatore del Discopri- 
mento della Tierra Firme della N. Spagna verso Tramontano. 
Exst. Ramusio III. 355. 

(Juan Gonz. de) Historia del gran Reyno de China, 
con un Itinerario del Nuevo Mundo. 8vo. Rom. 1585. 

Miguel (Vic. Jos.) Tablas de los Sucesos Ecclesiasticos en 
Africa, Tndias Orientales y Occidentals. 4to. Val. 1689. 

Miscellanea Economico-Politico, &c. fol. Pampl. 1749. 

Molina (P. F. Anton.) Vocabulario Castellano y Mexicano. 
fol. 1571. 

Monardes (El Dottor) Primera y Segunda y Tercera Parte 
de la Historia Medicinal, de las Cosas que se traen de nuestras 
lndias Occidentales, que sirven en Medicina. 4to. Sevilla, 1754. 

Moncada (Sancho de) Restauracion Politica de Espagna, y 
deseos Publicos. 4to. Mad. 1746. 

Morales (Ambrosio de) Coronica General de Espagna. fol. 
4 vols. Alcala, 1574. 

Moreno y Escaudon (D. Fran. Aut.) Description y Estado 
del Virreynato de Santa Fe, Nuevo Reyno de Granada, &c. 
fol. MS. 

Munoz (D. Antonio) Discurso sobre Economia-Politica. 
8vo. Mad. 1769. 

N 

Nizza (F. Marco) Relatione del Viaggio fatta por Tierra al 
Cevole, Regno di sette Citta. Exst. Ramus. III. 356. 

Nodal—Relacion del Viage que hicieron los Capitanes Barth, 
y Gonz. de Nodal al descubrimiento del Estrecho que hoy es 
nombrado de Marie, y reconocimiento del de Magellanes. 4to. 
Mad. 

Noticia Individual de los derechos segun lo reglado en ultimo 
proyeoto de 1720. 4to. Barcelona, 1732. 

Neuva Espagna—Historia de los Indios de Nueva Espagna 
dividida en tres Partes. En la primera trata de los Ritos, 
Sacrificios y Idolatrias del Tiempo de su Gentilidad. En la 
segunda de su maravillosa Conversion a la Fe y modo de cele- 
brar las Fiestas de Nuestra Santa Iglesia. En la tercera del 
Genio y Caracter de aquella Gente; y Figuras con que nota- 
ban sus Acontecimientos, con otras particularidades; y No- 
ticias de las principales Ciudades en aquel Reyno. Escrita en 
el Agno 1541, por uno de los doce Religiosos Franciscos que 
primero Passaron a entender en su Conversion. MS. fol. pp. 
618. 

O 

Ogna (Pedro de) Arauco Domado, Poema. 12mo. Mad. 
1605. 

Ordenanzas del Consejo Real de las lndias. fol. Mad. 1681. 

Ortega (D. Casimiro de) Refumen Historico del primer 
Viage hecho al rededor del Mundo. 4to. Mad. 1769. 

Ossorio (Jerome) History of the Portuguese, during the 
reign of Emmanuel. 8vo. 2 vols. Lond. 1752. 

Ossorius (Hieron.) De rebus Emmanuelis Lusitaniae Regis 
8vo. Col. Agr. 1752. 

Ovalle (Alonso) Historica Relacion del Reyno de Chili, 
fol. Rom. 1646. 

An Historical Relation of the Kingdom of Chili. 
Exst. Churchill’s Collect. III. 1. 

Oviedo y Bagnos (D. Jos.) Historia de la Conquista y Pub- 
licacion de Venezuela, fol. Mad. 1723. 

Oviedo Sommaria, &c. Exst. Ramusio III. 44. 

Oviedo (Gonz. fern, de) Relacion Sommaria de la Historia 
Natural de las lndias. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. 

Oviedo Historia Generale e Naturale dell’ Indie Occidentale. 
Exst. Ramusio III. 74. 


Oviedo Relatione della Navigatione per la Grandissnna 
Fiume Maragnon. Exst. Ramus. III. 415. 

P 

Palacio (D. Raim. Mig.) Discurso Economico-Politico. 
4to. Mad. 1778. 

Palafox y Mendoza (D. Juan) Virtudes del Indios o Na- 
turaliza y Costumbres de los Indios de N. Espagna. 4to. 

Vie du Venerable Dom. Jean Palafox, Eveque de 
l’Angelopolis. 12mo. Cologne, 1772. 

Pegna (Juan Nugnez de la) Conquista y Antiguedades de 
las Islas de Gran Canaria. 4to. Mad. 1676. 

Pegna Montenegro (D. Alonso de la) Itinerario para Pa- 
rochos de Indios, en que tratan les materias mas particulares, 
tocantesaellosparasebuenadministracion. 4to. A inheres, 1751. 

Penalosa y Mondragon (Fr. Benito de) Cineo Excellencias 
del Espagnol que des pueblan a Espagna. 4to. Pampl. 1629. 

Peralta Barnuevo (D. Pedro de) Lima fundada o Conquista 
del Peru, Poema Eroyco. 4to. Lima, 1732. 

Peralta Calderon (D. Mathias de) El Apostol de las lndias y 
nueves gentes San Francisco Xavier de la Compagnia de Jesus 
Epitome de sus Apostolicos hechos. 4to. Pampl. 1665. 

Pereira de Berrido (Bernard.) Annales Historicos do estado 
do Maranchao. fol. Lisboa, 1749. 

Peru—Relatione d’un Capitano Spagnuolo del Descopri- 
mento e Conquista del Peru. Exst. Ramus. III. 371. 

Peru—Relatione d’un Secretario de Fran. Pizzarro della Con¬ 
quista del Peru. Exst. Ramusio III. 371. 

Relacion del Peru. MS. 

Pesquisa de los Oydores de Panama contra D. Jayme Mug- 
nos, &c. pro haverlos Commerciado illicitamente en tiempo de 
Guerra, fol. 1755. 

Philipinas—Carta que escribe un Religioso antiguo de Phi- 
lipinas, a un Amigo suyo en Espagna, que le pregunta el Natu¬ 
ral y Genio de los Indios Naturales de Estas Islas. MS. 4to. 

Piedrahita (Luc. Fern.) Historia general de las Conquistas 
del Nuevo Reyno de Granada, fol. Ambres. 

Pinelo (Ant. de Leon) Epitome de la Bibliotheca Oriental y 
Occidental, en que se continen los Escritores de las lndias 
Orientales y Occidentales. fol. 2 vols. Mad. 1737. 

Pinzonius socius Admirantis Columbi—Navigatio et res per 
eum repertse. Exst. Nov. Orb. Grynaei, p. 119. 

Pizzarro y Orellana (D. Fern.) Varones illustres del N. 
Mundo. fol. Mad. 1639. 

Planctus Judeeorum Christianorum in America Peruntina. 
12mo. 

Puente (D. Jos. Martinez de la) Compendio de las Historias 
de los Descubrimientos de la India Oriental y sus Islas. 4to 
Mad. 1681. 

Q 

Quir (Ferd. de) Terra Australis Incognita; or, a new 
Southern Discovery, containing a fifth part of the World 
lately found out. 4to. Lond. 1617. 

R 

Ramusio (Giov. Battista) Racolto delle Navigationie Viaggi. 
fol. 3 vols. Venet. 1588. 

Real Compagnia Guipuzcoana de Caracas, Noticias histori- 
ales Practicas, de los Sucesos y Adelantamientos de esta Com¬ 
pagnia desde su Fundacion en 1728 hasta 1746. 4to. 1765. 

Recopilacion de Leyes de los Reynos de las lndias. fol. 
4 vols. Mad. 1756. 

Reglamento y Aranceles Reales para el Comercio de Espag¬ 
na a lndias. fol. Mad. 1778. 

Relatione d’un Gentilhuomo del Sig. Fern. Cortes della gran 
Citta Temistatan, Mexico, Sc delle altre cose della Nova Spagna. 
Exst. Ramus. III. 304. 



SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. 


72.0 


Remesal (Fr. Ant.) Historia general de las Indias Occiden¬ 
tals y particular de la Governacion de Chiapa a Guatimala. 
fol. Mad. 1620. 

Ribadeneyra (D. Diego Portichuelo de) Relacion del Viage 
desde que salio de Lima, hasta que llegd a Espagna. 4to. Mad. 
1625. 

Ribandeneyra y Barrientos (D. Ant. Joach.) Manuel Com- 
pendio de el Regio Patronato Indiano. fol. Mad. 1755. 

Ribas (Andr. Perez de) Historia de losTriumphos de Nuestra 
Sta Fe, entre Gentes la mas Barbaras, en las missiones de 
Nueva Espagna. fol. Mad. 1645. 

Riol (D. Santiago) Representacion a Philipe V. sobre el 
estado actual de los Papales universales de la Monarchia, MS. 

Ripia (Juan de la) Practica de la Administracion y cobranza 
de las rentas reales. fol. Mad. 1768. 

Rocha Pitta (Sebastiand de) Historia de America Portugueza 
des de o Anno de 1500 du su Descobrimento ante o de 1724. 
fol. Lisboa, 1730. 

Rodriguez (Manuel) Explicacion de la Bulla de la Santa 
Cruzada. 4to. Alcala, 1589. 

(P. Man.) El Maragnon y Amazonas, Historia 
de los Descubrimientos, Entradas y Reducion de Naciones. 
fol. Mad. 1684. 

Roman (Hieron.) Republicas del Mundo. fol. 3 vols. Mad. 
1595. 

Roma y Rosell (De Franc.) Las segnales de la felicidad de 
Espagna y medios de hacerlas efficaces. 8vo. Mad. 1768. 

Rosende (P. Ant. Gonz. de) Vida del Juan de Palafox 
Arzobispo de Mexico, fol. Mad. 1671. 

Rubaclava (Don Jos. Gutierrez de) Tratado Historico-Po- 
litico, y Legal de el comercio de las Indias Occidentales. 
12mo. Cad. 1750. 

Ruiz (P. Ant.) Conquista Espiritual liecha por los Religiosos 
de la Compagnia de Jesus, en las Provincias de la Paraguay 
Uraguay, Parana y Tape. 4to. Mad. 1639. 

S 

Salazar de Mendoza (D. Pedro) Monarquia de Espagna, 
tom. i. ii. iii. fol. Mad. 1770. 

y Olarte (D. Ignacio) Historia de la 
Conquista de Mexico—Segunda parte. Cordov. 1743. 

y Zevallos (D. Alonz. Ed. de) Con- 
stituciones y Ordenanzas antiguas Agnadidas y Modernas de 
la Real Universidad y estudio general de San Marcos de la 
Ciudad de los Reyes del Peru. fol. En la Ciudad de los 
Reyes, 1735. 

Sanchez (Ant. Ribero) Dissertation sur POrigine de la Ma- 
ladie Venerienne, dans laquelle on prouve qu’elle n’a point ete 
aportte de l’Amerique. 12mo. Paris, 1765. 

Sarmiento de Gomboa (Pedro de) Viage al Estrecho de 
Magellanes. 4to. Mad. 1768. 

Santa Cruz (El Marques) Comercio Suelto y en Companias 
General. 12mo. Mad. 1732. 

Santa Domingo, Puerto Rico, y Margarita, Real Compagnia 
de Comercio. 12mo. 1756. 

Schemidel (Hulderico) Historia y Descubrimiento del Rio 
de la Plata y Paraguay. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. iii. 

Sebara da Sylva (Jos. de) Recueil Chronologique et Analy- 
tique de tout ce qu’a fait en Portugal la Societe dite de Jesus, 
depuis son Entree dans ce Royaume en 1540jusqu’a son Ex¬ 
pulsion 1759. 12mo. 3 vols. Lisb. 1769. 

Segni (D. Diego Raymundo) Antiquario Noticiosa General 
de Espagna y sus Indias. 12ino. 1769. 

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THE 


HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


The earth slowly 
peopled. 


BOOK I. 

The progress of men in diseovering 
and peopling the various parts of the 
earth, has been extremely slow. Several ages 
elapsed before they removed far from those mild and 
fertile regions in which they were originally placed 
by their Creator. The occasion of their first general 
dispersion is known , but we are unacquainted with 
the course of their migrations, or the time when they 
took possession of the different countries which they 
now inhabit. Neither history nor tradition furnish 
such information concerning those remote events, as 
enables us to trace, with any certainty, the opera¬ 
tions of the human race in the infancy of society. 
First migrations We n)a y conclude, however, that all 
the early migrations of mankind were 
made by land. The ocean, which surrounds the 
habitable earth, as well as the various arms of the 
sea which separate one region from another, though 
destined to facilitate the communication between 
distant countries, seem, at first view, to be formed 
to check the progress of man, and to mark the 
bounds of that portion of the globe to which nature 
had confined him. It was long, we may believe, 
before men attempted to pass these formidable bar¬ 
riers, and became so skilful and adventurous as to 
commit themselves to the mercy of the winds and 
waves, or to quit their native shores in quest of 
remote and unknown regions. 

First attempts to. Navigation and ship-building are 
wards navigation. aj q s s0 n j ce anc [ complicated, that they 

require the ingenuity, as well as experience, of 
many successive ages to bring them to any degree 
of perfection. From the raft or canoe, which first 
served to carry a savage over the river that ob¬ 
structed him in the chase, to the construction of a 
vessel capable of conveying a numerous crew with 
safety to a distant coast, the progress in improve¬ 
ment is immense. Many efforts would be made, 
many experiments would be tried, and much labour 
as well as invention would be employed, before 


men could accomplish this arduous and important 
undertaking. The rude and imperfect state in which 
navigation is still found among all nations which 
are not considerably civilized, corresponds with 
this account of its progress, and demonstrates that, 
in early times, the art was not so far improved as to 
enable men to undertake distant voyages, or to 
attempt remote discoveries. 

As soon, however, as the art of navi- introduction of 
gation became known, a new species commerce. 

of correspondence among men took place. It is 
from this era that we must date the commencement 
of such an intercourse between nations as deserves 
the appellation of commerce. Men are, indeed, far 
advanced in improvement before commerce becomes 
an object of great importance to them. They must 
even have made some considerable progress towards 
civilization, before they acquire the idea of property, 
and ascertain it so perfectly as to be acquainted 
with the most simple of all contracts, that of ex¬ 
changing by barter one rude commodity for another. 
But as soon as this important right is established, 
and every individual feels that he has an exclusive 
title to possess or to alienate whatever he has ac¬ 
quired by his own labour and dexterity, the wants 
and ingenuity of his nature suggest to him a new 
method of increasing his acquisitions and enjoy¬ 
ments, by disposing of what is superfluous in his 
own stores, in order to procure what is necessary or 
desirable in those of other men. Thus a commer¬ 
cial intercourse begins, and is carried on among the 
members of the same community. By degrees, they 
discover that neighbouring tribes possess w hat they 
themselves want, and enjoy comforts of which they 
wish to partake. In the same mode, and upon the 
same principles, that domestic traffic is carried on 
within the society, an external commerce is estab¬ 
lished with other tribes or nations. Their mutual 
interest and mutual wants render this intercourse 
desirable, and imperceptibly introduce the maxims 
and laws which facilitate its progress and render it 
secure. But no very extensive commerce can take 
place between contiguous provinces, whose soil and 
climate being nearly the same, yield similar produc- 





728 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK I. 


tions. Remote countries cannot convey their com¬ 
modities by land to those places where, on account 
of their rarity, they are desired, and become valuable. 
It is to navigation that men are indebted for the 
power of transporting the superfluous stock of one 
part of the earth to supply the wants of another. 
The luxuries and blessings of a particular climate 
are no longer confined to itself alone, but the enjoy¬ 
ment of them is communicated to the most distant 
regions. 

In proportion as the knowledge of the advantages 
derived from navigation and commerce continued to 
spread, the intercourse among nations extended. 
The ambition of conquest, or the necessity of pro¬ 
curing new settlements, were no longer the sole 
motives of visiting distant lands. The desire of gain 
became a new incentive to activity, roused adven¬ 
turers, and sent them forth upon long voyages, in 
search of countries, whose products or wants might 
increase that circulation which nourishes and gives 
vigour to commerce. Trade proved a great source 
of discovery, it opened unknown seas, it penetrated 
into new regions, and contributed more than any 
other cause to bring men acquainted with the situ¬ 
ation, the nature, and commodities of the different 
parts of the globe. But even after a regular com¬ 
merce was established in the world, after nations 
were considerably civilized, and the sciences and 
arts were cultivated with ardour and success, navi¬ 
gation continued to be so imperfect, that it can 
hardly be said to have advanced beyond the infancy 
of its improvement in the ancient world. 

Among all the nations of antiquity, 

Imperfection of’ , , p ,, , 

navigation among the structure ot their vessels was ex¬ 
tremely rude, and their method of 
working them very defective. They were unac¬ 
quainted with several principles and operations in 
navigation, which are now considered as the first 
elements on which that science is founded. Though 
that property of the magnet, by which it attracts 
iron, was well known to the ancients, its more im¬ 
portant and amazing virtue of pointing to the poles 
had entirely escaped their observation. Destitute 
of this faithful guide, which now conducts the pilot 
with so much certainty in the unbounded ocean, 
during the darkness of night, or when the heavens 
are covered with clouds, the ancients had no other 
method of regulating their course than by observing 
the sun and stars. Their navigation was of conse¬ 
quence uncertain and timid. They durst seldom quit 
sight of land, but crept along the coast, exposed to 
all the dangers, and retarded by all the obstructions, 
unavoidable in holding such an awkward course. 
An incredible length of time was requisite for per¬ 
forming voyages, which are now finished in a short 
space. Even in the mildest climates, and in seas 
the least tempestuous, it was only during the sum¬ 
mer months that the ancients ventured out of their 
harbours. The remainder of the year was lost in 


inactivity. It would have been deemed most incon¬ 
siderate rashness to have braved the fury of the 
winds and waves during winter.* 

While both the science and practice of navigation 
continued to be so defective, it was an undertaking 
of no small difficulty and danger to visit any remote 
region of the earth. Under every disadvantage, 
however, the active spirit of commerce exerted 
itself. The Egyptians, soon after the 

Navigation and 

establishment ot their monarchy, are commerce ot the 
said to have opened a trade between 
the Arabian gulf or Red sea, and the western coast 
of the great Indian continent. The commodities 
which they imported from the East, were carried by 
land from the Arabian gulf to the banks of the Nile, 
and conveyed down that river to the Mediterranean. 
But if the Egyptians in early times applied them¬ 
selves to commerce, their attention to it was of short 
duration. The fertile soil and mild climate of Egypt 
produced the necessaries and comforts of life with 
such profusion, as rendered its inhabitants so inde¬ 
pendent of other countries, that it became an estab¬ 
lished maxim among that people, whose ideas and 
institutions differed in almost every point from 
those of other nations, to renounce all intercourse 
with foreigners. In consequence of this, they never 
went out of their own country ; they held all sea¬ 
faring persons in detestation, as impious and pro¬ 
fane; and fortifying their own harbours, they 
denied strangers admittance into them. b It was in 
the decline of their power, and when their venera¬ 
tion for ancient maxims had greatly abated, that 
they again opened their ports, and resumed any 
communication with foreigners. 


The character and situation of the 


of the Phenicians; 


Phenicians were as favourable to the 
spirit of commerce and discovery as those of the 
Egyptians were adverse to it. They had no dis¬ 
tinguishing peculiarity in their manners and insti¬ 
tutions ; they were not addicted to any singular and 
unsocial form of superstition ; they could mingle 
with other nations without scruple or reluctance. 
The territory which they possessed was neither 
large nor fertile. Commerce was the only source 
from which they could derive opulence or power. 
Accordingly, the trade carried on by the Phenicians 
of Sidon and Tyre was more extensive and enter¬ 
prising than that of any state in the ancient world. 
The genius of the Phenicians, as well as the object 
of their policy and the spirit of their laws, were 
entirely commercial. They were a people of mer¬ 
chants, who aimed at the empire of the sea, and 
actually possessed it. Their ships not only fre¬ 
quented all the ports in the Mediterranean, but 
they were the first who ventured beyond the ancient 
boundaries of navigation, and, passing the Straits 
of Gades, visited the western coasts of Spain and 
Africa. In many of the places to which they re¬ 
sorted, the}' planted colonies, and communicated to 


b lU2°e’d S Amst 1 n07 P ' 78 ' Cd ‘ Wesselingii - Amst - 1756. Strabo, lib. xvii. 


a Vegetius de Re milit. lib. iv. 



COOK I. 


729 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


the rude inhabitants some knowledge of their arts 
and improvements. While they extended their 
discoveries towards the north and the west, they did 
not neglect to penetrate into the more opulent and 
fertile regions of the south and east. Having ren¬ 
dered themselves masters of several commodious 
harbours towards the bottom of the Arabian gulf, 
they, after the example of the Egyptians, establish¬ 
ed a regular intercourse with Arabia and the con¬ 
tinent ot India on the one hand, and with the eastern 
coast of Africa on the other. From these countries 
they imported many valuable commodities unknown 
to the rest of the world, and, during a long period, 
engrossed that lucrative branch of commerce with¬ 
out a rival . 0 


. The vast wealth which the Pheni- 

cians acquired by monopolizing the 
trade carried on in the Red sea, incited their neigh¬ 
bours the Jews, under the prosperous reigns of 
David and Solomon, to aim at being admitted to 
some share of it. This they obtained, partly by 
their conquest of Idumea, which stretches along 
the Red sea, and partly by their alliance with Hiram, 
king of Tyre. Solomon fitted out fleets, which, 
under the direction of Phenician pilots, sailed from 
the Red sea to Tarshish and Opliir. These, it is 
probable, were ports in India and Africa, which 
their conductors were accustomed to frequent, and 
from them the Jewish ships returned with such 
valuable cargoes as suddenly diffused wealth and 
splendour through the kingdom of Israeli But the 
singular institutions of the Jews, the observance of 
which was enjoined by their divine Legislator, with 
an intention of preserving them a separate people, 
uninfected by idolatry, formed a national character, 
incapable of that open and liberal intercourse with 
strangers which commerce requires. Accordingly, 
this unsocial genius of the people, together with 
the disasters which befell the kingdom of Israel, 
prevented the commercial spirit, which their mo- 
narehs laboured to introduce and to cherish, from 
spreading among them. The Jews cannot be num¬ 
bered among the nations which contributed to im¬ 
prove navigation, or to extend discovery. 

But though the instructions and ex¬ 
ample of the Phenicians were unable 
to mould the manners and temper of the Jews, in 
opposition to the tendency of their Jaws, they trans¬ 
mitted the commercial spirit with facility, and in 
full vigour, to their own descendants the Cartha¬ 
ginians. The commonwealth of Carthage applied 
to trade and to naval affairs, with no less ardour, 
ingenuity, and success, than its parent state. Car¬ 
thage early rivalled and soon surpassed Tyre in 
opulence and power, but seems not to have aimed 
at obtaining any share in the commerce with India. 
The Phenicians had engrossed this, and had such a 
command of the Red sea as secured to them the 


of the Cartha¬ 
ginians ; 


exclusive possession of that lucrative branch of 
trade. The commercial activity of the Carthagini¬ 
ans was exerted in another direction. Without 
contending for the trade of the East with their 
mother-country, they extended their navigation 
chielly towards the west and north. Following the 
course which the Phenicians had opened, they pass¬ 
ed the Straits of Gades, and, pushing their dis¬ 
coveries far beyond those of the parent state, visited 
not only all the coasts of Spain, but those of Gaul, 
and penetrated at last into Britain. At the same 
time that they acquired knowledge of new countries 
in this part of the globe, they gradually carried their 
researches towards the south. They made con¬ 
siderable progress, by land, into the interior pro¬ 
vinces of Africa, traded with some of them, and 
subjected others to their empire. They sailed along 
the western coast of that great continent, almost to 
the tropic of Cancer, and planted several colonies, 
in order to civilize the natives, and accustom them 
to commerce. They discovered the Fortunate 
Islands, now known by the name of the Canaries, 
the utmost boundary of ancient navigation in the 
western ocean. e 

Nor was the progress of the Phenicians and 
Carthaginians in their knowledge of the globe 
owing entirely to the desire of extending their trade 
from one country to another. Commerce was fol¬ 
lowed by its usual effects among both these people. 
It awakened curiosity, enlarged the ideas and de¬ 
sires of men, and incited them to bold enterprises. 
Voyages were undertaken, the sole object of which 
was to discover new countries, and to explore un¬ 
known seas. Such, during the prosperous age of 
the Carthaginian republic, were the famous navi¬ 
gations of Hanno and Himlico. Both their fleets 
were equipped by authority of the senate, and at 
public expense. Hanno was directed to steer to¬ 
wards the south, along the coast of Africa, and he 
seems to have advanced much nearer the equinoctial 
line than any former navigator/ Himlico had it in 
charge to proceed towards the north, and to examine 
the western coasts of the European continent/ Of 
the same nature was the extraordinary navigation 
of the Phenicians round Africa. A Phenician fleet, 
we are told, fitted out by Necho, king of Egypt, 
took its departure about six hundred and four years 
before the Christian era, from a port in the Red sea, 
doubled the southern promontory of Africa, and, 
after a voyage of three years, returned by the 
Straits of Gades to the mouth of the Nile. h Eu¬ 
doxus of Cyzicus is said to have held the same 
course, and to have accomplished the same arduous 
undertaking . 1 

These voyages, if performed in the manner w hich 
I have related, may justly be reckoned the greatest 
effort of navigation in the ancient world ; and if we 
attend to the imperfect state of the art at that time. 


c See Note I. 

d M«•moire sur le Pays d’Ophir, par M.d’Anville, Mem.de l’Academ. 
des Inscript. &c. tom. xxx. 83. 

e Plinii Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 37. edit, in usum Delph. 4to, 1685. 


f Plinii Nat. Hist. lib. v. c. 1. Ilannonis Periplus ap. Geograph, minores, 
edit. Hudsoni, vol. i. p. 1. 

g Plinii Nat. Hist. lib. ii. c. 67. Festus Avienusapud Bochart. Geogr. 
Sac-r. lib. i. c. 60. p. 65‘2. Oper. vol. iii. T„ Pat. 1707. 
h Herodot. lib. iv. c. 4C. i Plinii Nat. Hist. lib. ii. c. 67* 




730 


BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY 

it is difficult to determine, whether we should most 
admire the courage and sagacity with which the 
design was formed, or the conduct and good fortune 
with which it was executed. But unfortunately 
all the original and authentic accounts of the Phe- 
nician and Carthaginian voyages, whether under¬ 
taken by public authority, or in prosecution of their 
private trade, have perished. The information 
which we receive concerning them from the Greek 
and Roman authors, is not only obscure and inac¬ 
curate, but, if we except a short narrative of Hanno’s 
expedition, is of suspicious authority. k Whatever 
acquaintance with the remote regions of the earth 
the Phenicians or Carthaginians may have acquired, 
was concealed from the rest of mankind with a 
mercantile jealousy. Every thing relative to the 
course of their navigation was not only a mystery 
of trade, but a secret of state. Extraordinary facts 
are related concerning their solicitude to prevent 
other nations from penetrating into what they wish¬ 
ed should remain undivulged . 1 Many of their dis¬ 
coveries seem, accordingly, to have been scarcely 
known beyond the precincts of their own states. 
The navigation round Africa, in particular, is re¬ 
corded by the Greek and Roman writers, rather as 
a strange amusing tale, which they did not compre¬ 
hend, or did not believe, than as a real transaction, 
which enlarged their knowledge and influenced 
their opinions ." 1 As neither the progress of the 
Phenician or Carthaginian discoveries, nor the ex¬ 
tent of their navigation, were communicated to the 
rest of mankind, all memorials of their extraordi¬ 
nary skill in naval affairs seem, in a great measure, 
to have perished, when the maritime power of the 
former was annihilated by Alexander’s conquest of 
Tyre, and the empire of the latter was overturned 
by the Roman arms. 

k Leaving, then, the obscure and pom¬ 
pous accounts of the Phenician and 
Carthaginian voyages to the curiosity and conjec¬ 
tures of antiquaries, history must rest satisfied with 
relating the progress of navigation and discovery 
among the Greeks and Romans, which, though less 
splendid, is better ascertained. It is evident that 
the Phenicians, who instructed the Greeks in many 
other useful sciences and arts, did not communicate 
to them that extensive knowledge of navigation 
which they themselves possessed; nor did the Romans 
imbibe that commercial spirit and ardour for dis¬ 
covery which distinguished their rivals the Cartha¬ 
ginians. Though Greece be almost encompassed 
by the sea, which formed many spacious bays and 
commodious harbours ; though it be surrounded by 
a great number of fertile islands, yet, notwithstand¬ 
ing such a favourable situation, which seemed to 
invite that ingenious people to apply themselves to 
navigation, it was long before this art attained any 
degree of perfection among them. Their early voy¬ 
ages, the object of which was piracy rather than 
commerce, were so inconsiderable, that the expedi- 

k See Note II. 1 Strab. Geogr. lib. iii. p. 265. lib. xviii. p. 1154. 


OF AMERICA. 

tion of the Argonauts from the coast of Thessaly to 
the Euxine sea, appeared such an amazing effort of 
skill and courage, as entitled the conductors of it to 
be ranked among the demigods, and exalted the vessel 
in which they sailed to a place among the heavenly 
constellations. Even at a later period, when the 
Greeks engaged in their famous enterprise against 
Troy, their knowledge in naval affairs seems not to 
have been much improved. According to the ac¬ 
count of Homer, the only poet to whom history 
ventures to appeal, and who, by his scrupulous 
accuracy in describing the manners and arts of 
early ages, merits this distinction, the science of 
navigation, at that time, had hardly advanced be¬ 
yond its rudest state. The Greeks in the heroic age 
seem to have been unacquainted with the use of 
iron, the most serviceable of all the metals, without 
which no considerable progress was ever made in 
the mechanical arts. Their vessels were of incon¬ 
siderable burden, and mostly without decks. They 
had only one mast, which was erected or taken 
down at pleasure. They were strangers to the use 
of anchors. All their operations in sailing were 
clumsy and unskilful. They turned their observa¬ 
tion towards stars, which were improper for regu¬ 
lating their course, and their mode of observing 
them was inaccurate and fallacious. When they 
had finished a voyage they drew their paltry barks 
ashore, as savages do their canoes, and these re¬ 
mained on dry land until the season of returning 
to sea approached. It is not then in the early or 
heroic ages of Greece that we can expect to observe 
the science of navigation, and the spirit of dis¬ 
covery, making any considerable progress. During 
that period of disorder and ignorance, a thousand 
causes concurred in restraining curiosity and enter¬ 
prise within very narrow bounds. 

But the Greeks advanced with rapidity to a state 
of greater civilization and refinement. Government, 
in its most liberal and perfect form, began to be 
established in their different communities; equal 
laws and regular police were gradually introduced ; 
the sciences and arts which are useful or ornamental 
in life were carried to a high pitch of improvement, 
and several of the Grecian commonwealths applied 
to commerce with such ardour and success, that 
they were considered, in the ancient world, as ma¬ 
ritime powers of the first rank. Even then, how¬ 
ever, the naval victories of the Greeks must be 
ascribed rather to the native spirit of the people, 
and to that courage which the enjoyment of liberty 
inspires, than to any extraordinary progress in the 
science of navigation. In the Persian war, those 
exploits which the genius of the Greek historians 
has rendered so famous, were performed by fleets, 
composed chiefly of small vessels without decks ; n 
the crews of which rushed forward with impetuous 
valour, but little art, to board those of the enemy. 
In the war of Peloponnesus, their ships seem still 
to have been of inconsiderable burden and force. 


m See Note III. 


n Thucyd. lib. i. c. 14. 



BOOK I. THE HISTORY 

llie extent of their trade, how highly soever it may 
have been estimated in ancient times, was in pro¬ 
portion to this low condition of their marine. The 
maritime states of Greece hardly carried on any 
commerce beyond the limits of the Mediterranean 
sea. Their chief intercourse was with the colonies 
of their countrymen, planted in the Lesser Asia, 
in Italy and Sicily. They sometimes visited the 
ports of Egypt, of the southern provinces of Gaul, 
and of Thrace, or, passing through the Hellespont, 
they traded with the countries situated around the 
Euxine sea. Amazing instances occur of their 
ignorance even of those countries which lay within 
the narrow precincts to which their navigation was 
confined. When the Greeks had assembled their 
combined lleet against Xerxes at Egina, they thought 
it unadvisable to sail to Samos, because they believ¬ 
ed the distance between that island and Egina to 
be as great as the distance between Egina and the 
pillars of Hercules. 0 They were either utterly un¬ 
acquainted with all the parts of the globe beyond 
the Mediterranean sea, or what knowledge they had 
of them was founded on conjecture, or derived 
from the information of a few persons, whom cu¬ 
riosity and the love of science had prompted to 
travel by land into the Upper Asia, or by sea into 
Egypt, the ancient seats of wisdom and arts. After 
all that the Greeks learned from them, they appear 
to have been ignorant of the most important facts, 
on which an accurate and scientific knowledge of 
the globe is founded. 

The expedition of Alexander the Great into the 
East, considerably enlarged the sphere of naviga¬ 
tion and of geographical knowledge among the 
Greeks. That extraordinary man, notwithstanding 
the violent passions which incited him, at some 
times, to the wildest actions, and the most extrava¬ 
gant enterprises, possessed talents which fitted him 
not only to conquer but to govern the world. He 
was capable of framing those bold and original 
schemes of policy, which gave a new form to hu¬ 
man affairs. The revolution in commerce, brought 
about by the force of his genius, is hardly inferior 
to that revolution in empire, occasioned by the suc¬ 
cess of his arms. It is probable, that the opposi¬ 
tion and efforts of the republic of Tyre, which 
checked him so long in the career of his victories, 
gave Alexander an opportunity of observing the 
vast resources of a maritime power, and conveyed 
to him some idea of the immense wealth which the 
Tyrians derived from their commerce, especially 
that with the East Indies. As soon as he had ac¬ 
complished the destruction of Tyre, and reduced 
Egypt to subjection, he formed the plan of rendering 
the empire which he proposed to establish, the 
centre of commerce as well as the seat of dominion. 
With this view he founded a great city, which he 
honoured with his own name, near one of the 
mouths of the river Nile, that by the Mediterranean 

o Ilerodot. lib. viii. c. 132. 

p Strab. Geogr. lib. xvii. p. 1143, 1149. 


OF AMERICA. 731 

sea, and the neighbourhood of the Arabian gulf, it 
might command the trade both of the East and 
West.p This situation was chosen with such dis¬ 
cernment, that Alexandria soon became the chief 
commercial city in the world. Not only during the 
subsistence of the Grecian empire in Egypt and 
in the East, but amidst all the successive revolu- 
tions in those countries from the time of the Ptole¬ 
mies to the discovery of the navigation by the Cape 
of Good Hope, commerce, particularly that of the 
East Indies, continued to flow in the channel which 
the sagacity and foresight of Alexander had mark¬ 
ed out for it. 

His ambition was not satisfied with having open¬ 
ed to the Greeks a communication with India by 
sea ; he aspired to the sovereignty of those regions 
which furnished the rest of mankind with so many 
precious commodities, and conducted his army 
thither by land. Enterprising, however, as he was, 
he may be said rather to have viewed than to have 
conquered that country. He did not, in his pro¬ 
gress toward the East, advance beyond the banks of 
the rivers that fall into the Indus, which is now the 
western boundary of the vast continent of India. 
Amidst the wild exploits which distinguish this 
part of his history, he pursued measures that mark 
the superiority of his genius as well as the extent 
of his views. He had penetrated as far into India 
as to confirm his opinion of its commercial import¬ 
ance, and to perceive that immense wealth might 
be derived from intercourse with a country, where 
the arts of elegance, having been more early culti¬ 
vated, were arrived at greater perfection than in 
any other part of the earths Full of this idea, he 
resolved to examine the course of navigation from 
the mouth of the Indus to the bottom of the Persian 
gulf; and, if it should be found practicable, to 
establish a regular communication between them. 
In order to effect this, he proposed to remove the 
cataracts, with which the jealousy of the Persians, 
and their aversion to correspondence with foreign¬ 
ers, had obstructed the entrance into the Euphrates ; r 
to carry the commodities of the East up that river 
and the Tigris, which unites with it, into the inte¬ 
rior parts of his Asiatic dominions ; while, by the 
way of the Arabian gulf, and the river Nile, they 
might be conveyed to Alexandria, and distributed 
to the rest of the world. Nearchus, an officer of 
eminent abilities, was intrusted with the com¬ 
mand of the fleet fitted out for this expedition. 
He performed this voyage, which was deemed an 
enterprise so arduous and important, that Alex¬ 
ander reckoned it one of the most extraordinary 
events which distinguished his reign. Inconsider¬ 
able as it may now appear, it was, at that time, an 
undertaking of no little merit and difficulty. In 
the prosecution of it, striking instances occur of 
the small progress which the Greeks had made in 
naval knowledge.® Having never sailed beyond the 

q Strab. Geogr. lib. xv. p. 1036. Q. Curtius, lib. xviii. c. 9. 

r Strab. Geogr. lib. xvi. p. 1075. s See Note IV. 



732 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK I. 


bounds of the Mediterranean, where the ebb and 
flow of the sea are hardly perceptible, when they 
first observed this phenomenon at the mouth of the 
Indus, it appeared to them a prodigy, by which the 
gods testified the displeasure of heaven against 
their enterprise. 1 During their whole course, they 
seem never to have lost sight of land, but followed 
the bearings of the coast so servilely, that they 
could not much avail themselves of those periodical 
winds which facilitate navigation in the Indian 
ocean. Accordingly, they spent no less than ten 
months in performing this voyage, u which, from the 
mouth of the Indus to that of the Persian gulf, does 
not exceed twenty degrees. It is probable, that, 
amidst the violent convulsions and frequent revo¬ 
lutions in the East, occasioned by the contests among 
the successors of Alexander, the navigation to India 
by the course which Nearchus had opened was dis¬ 
continued. The Indian trade carried on at Alex¬ 
andria, not only subsisted, but was so much ex¬ 
tended under the Grecian monarchs of Egypt, that 
it proved a great source of the wealth which distin¬ 
guished their kingdom. 

The progress which the Romans made 

ofthe Romans. . . , 

in navigation and discovery, was still 

more inconsiderable than that of the Greeks. The 
genius of the Roman people, their military educa¬ 
tion, and the spirit of their laws, concurred in es¬ 
tranging them from commerce and naval affairs. It 
was the necessity of opposing a formidable rival, 
not the desire of extending trade, which first prompt¬ 
ed them to aim at maritime power. Though they 
soon perceived that in order to acquire the universal 
dominion after which they aspired, it was necessary 
to render themselves masters of the sea, they still 
considered the naval service as a subordinate sta¬ 
tion, and reserved for it such citizens as were not of 
a rank to be admitted into the legions.* In the 
history of the Roman republic, hardly one event 
occurs that marks attention to navigation any further 
than as it was instrumental towards conquest. When 
the Roman valour and discipline had subdued all 
the maritime states known in the ancient world; 
when Carthage, Greece, and Egypt, had submitted 
to their power, the Romans did not imbibe the com¬ 
mercial spirit of the conquered nations. Among 
that people of soldiers, to have applied to trade 
would have been deemed a degradation of a Roman 
citizen. They abandoned the mechanical arts, 
commerce, and navigation, to slaves, to freed-men, 
to provincials, and to citizens of the lowest class. 
Even after the subversion of liberty, when the se¬ 
verity and haughtiness of ancient manners began to 
abate, commerce did not rise into high estimation 
among the Romans. The trade of Greece, Egypt, 
and the other conquered countries, continued to be 
carried on in its usual channels, after they were 
reduced into the form of Roman provinces. As 
Rome was the capital of the world, and the seat of 

t See Note V. u Plin. Hist. Nat. lib. vi. c. 23. 

x Polyb. lib. v. 


government, all the wealth and valuable productions 
of the provinces flowed naturally thither. The 
Romans, satisfied with this, seem to have suffered 
commerce to remain almost entirely in the hands of 
the natives of the respective countries. The ex¬ 
tent, however, of the Roman power, which reached 
over the greatest part of the known world, the vigi¬ 
lant inspection of the Roman magistrates, and the 
spirit of the Roman government, no less intelligent 
than active, gave such additional security to com¬ 
merce, as animated it with new vigour. The union 
among nations was never so entire, nor the inter¬ 
course so perfect, as within the bounds of this vast 
empire. Commerce, under the Roman dominion, 
was not obstructed by the jealousy of rival states, 
interrupted by frequent hostilities, or limited by 
partial restrictions. One superintending power 
moved and regulated the industry of mankind, and 
enjoyed the fruits of their joint efforts. 

Navigation felt this influence, and improved under 
it. As soon as the Romans acquired a taste for the 
luxuries of the East, the trade with India through 
Egypt was pushed with new vigour, and carried on 
to greater extent. By frequenting the Indian con¬ 
tinent, navigators became acquainted with the pe¬ 
riodical course of the winds, which, in the ocean 
that separates Africa from India, blow with little 
variation during one half of the year from the east 
and during the other half blow with equal steadi¬ 
ness from the west. Encouraged by observing this, 
the pilots who sailed from Egypt to India abandon¬ 
ed their ancient slow and dangerous course along 
the coast, and as soon as the western monsoon set 
in, took their departure from Ocelis, at the mouth 
of the Arabian gulf, and stretched boldly across the 
oceanJ The uniform direction of the wind, sup¬ 
plying the place of the compass, and rendering the 
guidance of the stars less necessary, conducted them 
to the port of Musiris, on the western shore of the 
Indian continent. There they took on board their 
cargo, and returning with the eastern monsoon, 
finished their voyage to the Arabian gulf within the 
year. This part of India, now known by the name 
of the Malabar coast, seems to have been the utmost 
limit of ancient navigation in that quarter of the 
globe. What imperfect knowledge the ancients had 
of the immense countries which stretch beyond this 
towards the east, they received from a few adven¬ 
turers, who had visited them by land. Such excur¬ 
sions were neither frequent nor extensive, and it is 
probable, that while the Roman intercourse with 
India subsisted, no traveller ever penetrated further 
than to the banks of the Ganges. 2 The fleets from 
Egypt which traded at Musiris were loaded, it is 
true, with the spices and other rich commodities of 
the continent and islands of the further India ; but 
these were brought to that port, which became the 
staple of the commerce between the East and West, 
by the Indians themselves, in canoes hollowed out 

y Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 23. 
z Strab. Geogr. lib. xv. p. UXX5, 1010. See Note VI. 



HOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


733 


of one tree.* The Egyptian and Roman merchants, 
satisfied with acquiring those commodities in this 
manner, did not think it necessary to explore un¬ 
known seas, and venture upon a dangerous naviga¬ 
tion, in quest of the countries which produced them. 
But though the discoveries of the Romans in India 
were so limited, their commerce there was such as 
will appear considerable, even to the present age, 
in which the Indian trade has been extended far 
beyond the practice or conception of any preceding 
period. We are informed by one author of credit, 15 
that the commerce with India drained the Roman 
empire every year of more than four hundred thou¬ 
sand pounds ; and by another, that one hundred 
and twenty ships sailed annually from the Arabian 
gulf to that country. 0 

The discovery of this new method 

Discoveries of 

the ancients by of sailing to India, is the most con- 
siderable improvement in navigation 
made during the continuance of the Roman power. 
But in ancient times, the knowledge of remote 
countries was acquired more frequently by land 
than by sea ; d and the Romans, from their peculiar 
disinclination to naval affairs, may be said to have 
neglected totally the latter, though a more easy 
and expeditious method of discovery. The pro¬ 
gress, however, of their victorious armies through a 
considerable portion of Europe, Asia, and Africa, 
contributed greatly to extend discovery by land, 
and gradually opened the navigation of new and 
unknown seas. Previous to the Roman conquests, 
the civilized nations of antiquity had little commu¬ 
nication w ith those countries in Europe, which now 
form its most opulent and powerful kingdoms. The 
interior parts of Spain and Gaul were imperfectly 
known. Britain, separated from the rest of the 
world, had never been visited, except by its neigh¬ 
bours the Gauls, and by a few Carthaginian mer¬ 
chants. The name of Germany had scarcely been 
heard of. Into all these countries the arms of the 
Romans penetrated. They entirely subdued Spain 
and Gaul; they conquered the greatest and most 
fertile part of Britain; they advanced into Germany, 
as far as the banks of the river Elbe. In Africa, 
they acquired a considerable knowledge of the 
provinces, which stretch along the Mediterranean 
sea, from Egypt westward to the Straits of Gades. 
In Asia, they not only subjected to their power 
most of the provinces which composed the Persian 
and the Macedonian empires, but, after their vic¬ 
tories over Mithridates and Tygranes, they seem to 
have made a more accurate survey of the countries 
contiguous to the Euxine and Caspian seas, and to 
have carried on a more extensive trade than that of 
the Greeks with the opulent and commercial nations 
then seated round the Euxine sea. 
imperfection of From this succinct survey of dis- 
fnowie^geainonR covery and navigation, which I have 
the ancients. traced from the earliest dawn of his¬ 
torical knowledge to the full establishment of the 

a Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi.c. 26. b Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 26. 


Roman dominion, the progress of both appears to have 
been wonderfully slow. It seems neither adequate to 
what we might have expected from the activity and 
enterprise of the human mind, nor to what might 
have been performed by the power of the great 
empires which successively governed the world. If 
we reject accounts that are fabulous and obscure ; 
if we adhere steadily to the light and information of 
authentic history, without substituting in its place 
the conjectures of fancy, or the dreams of etymolo¬ 
gists, we must conclude, that the know ledge which 
the ancients had acquired of the habitable globe 
was extremely confined. In Europe, the extensive 
provinces in the eastern part of Germany were little 
known to them. They were almost totally unac¬ 
quainted with the vast countries which are now 
subject to the kings of Denmark, Sweden, Prussia, 
Poland, and the Russian empire. The more barren 
regions, that stretch within the arctic circle, were 
quite unexplored. In Africa, their researches did 
not extend far beyond the provinces which border 
on the Mediterranean, and those situated on the 
western shore of the Arabian gulf. In Asia, they 
were unacquainted, as I formerly observed, with all 
the fertile and opulent countries beyond the Ganges, 
which furnish the most valuable commodities that, 
in modern times, have been the great object of the 
European commerce with India; nor do they seem 
to have ever penetrated into those immense regions 
occupied by the wandering tribes, which they called 
by the general name of Sarmatians or Scythians, 
and which are now possessed by Tartars of various 
denominations, and by the Asiatic subjects of Russia. 

But there is one opinion that uni- A reiparka bi e 
versally prevailed among the ancients, proot of thls - 
which conveys a more striking idea of the small 
progress they had made in the knowledge of the 
habitable globe, than can be derived from any 
detail of their discoveries. They supposed the 
earth to be divided into five regions, which they dis¬ 
tinguished by the name of Zones. Two of these, 
which were nearest the poles, they termed Frigid 
Zones, and believed that the extreme cold which 
reigned perpetually there, rendered them uninhabit¬ 
able. Another, seated under the line, and extend¬ 
ing on either side towards the tropics, they called 
the Torrid Zone, and imagined it to be so burnt up 
with unremitting heat, as to be equally destitute of 
inhabitants. On the two other zones, which occu¬ 
pied the remainder of the earth, they bestowed the 
appellation of Temperate, and taught that these, 
being the only regions in which life could subsist, 
were allotted to man for his habitation. This wild 
opinion was not a conceit of the uninformed vulgar, 
or a fanciful fiction of the poets, but a system 
adopted by the most enlightened philosophers, the 
most accurate historians and geographers, in Greece 
and Rome. According to this theory, a vast por¬ 
tion of the habitable earth was pronounced to be 
unfit for sustaining the human species. Those 

c Strab. Geogr. lib. ii. p. 179. <1 See Note VII. 



734 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK I. 


fertile and populous regions within the torrid zone, 
which are now known not only to yield their own 
inhabitants the necessaries and comforts of life 
with most luxuriant profusion, but to communicate 
their superfluous stores to the rest of the world, 
were supposed to be the mansion of perpetual ste¬ 
rility and desolation. As all the parts of the glohe 
with which the ancients were acquainted, lay within 
the northern temperate zone, their opinion that the 
other temperate zone was filled with inhabitants, 
was founded on reasoning and conjecture, not on 
discovery. They even believed, that by the intole¬ 
rable heat of the torrid zone, such an insuperable 
barrier was placed between the two temperate 
regions of the earth, as would prevent for ever any 
intercourse between their respective inhabitants. 
Thus this extravagant theory not only proves that 
the ancients were unacquainted with the true state 
of the globe, but it tended to render their ignorance 
perpetual, by representing all attempts towards 
opening a communication with the remote regions 
of the earth as utterly impracticable. 6 

But, however imperfect or inaccurate the geogra¬ 
phical knowledge which the Greeks and Romans 
had acquired may appear, in respect of the present 
improved state of that science, their progress in 
discovery will seem considerable, and the extent to 
which they carried navigation and commerce must 
be reckoned great, when compared with the igno¬ 
rance of early times. As long as the Roman empire 
retained such vigour as to preserve its authority 
over the conquered nations, and to keep them 
united, it was an object of public policy, as well as of 
private curiosity, to examine and describe the coun¬ 
tries which composed this great body. Even when 
the other sciences began to decline, geography, en¬ 
riched with new observations, and receiving some 
accession from the experience of every age, and 
the reports of every traveller, continued to improve. 
It attained to the highest point of perfection and 
accuracy to which it ever arrived in 

Improvements in , . , . ... 

peography by the ancient world, by the industry and 

Ptolemy. . J 

genius of Ptolemy the philosopher. 
He flourished in the second century of the Christian 
era, and published a description of the terrestrial 
globe, more ample and exact than that of any of his 
predecessors. 

The invasion of But, soon after, violent convulsions 
pirJbybarbarous began to shake the Roman state; the 
fatal ambition or caprice of Constan¬ 
tine, by changing the seat of government, divided 
and weakened its force; the barbarous nations, 
which Providence prepared as instruments to over¬ 
turn the mighty fabric of the Roman power, began to 
assemble and to muster their armies on its frontier: 
the empire tottered to its fall. During this decline 
and old age of the Roman state, it was impossible 
that the sciences should go on improving. The 
efforts of genius were, at that period, as languid 
and feeble as those of government. From the 

e See Note VIII. f View of the State of Europe, sect. I, 


time of Ptolemy, no considerable addition seems 
to have been made to geographical knowledge, nor 
did any important revolution happen in trade, ex¬ 
cepting that Constantinople, by its advantageous 
situation, and the encouragement of the eastern 
emperors, became a commercial city of the first 
note. 

At length, the clouds which had Effects of their 
been so long gathering round the Ro- commerda°i n 
man empire, burst into a storm. Bar- inte,COUISe - 
barous nations rushed in from several quarters with 
irresistible impetuosity, and, in the general wreck, 
occasioned by the inundation which overwhelmed 
Europe, the arts, sciences, inventions, and disco¬ 
veries of the Romans, perished in a great measure, 
and disappeared/ All the various tribes, which 
settled in the different provinces of the Roman 
empire, were uncivilized, strangers to letters, desti¬ 
tute of arts, unacquainted with regular government, 
subordination, or laws. The manners and institu¬ 
tions of some of them were so rude, as to be hardly 
compatible with a state of social union. Europe, 
when occupied by such inhabitants, may be said to 
have returned to a second infancy, and had to begin 
anew its career in improvement, science, and 
civility. The first effect of the settlement of those 
barbarous invaders was to dissolve the union by 
which the Roman power had cemented mankind 
together. They parcelled out Europe into many 
small and independent states, differing from each 
other in language and customs. No intercourse 
subsisted between the members of those divided 
and hostile communities. Accustomed to a simple 
mode of life, and averse to industry, they had few 
wants to supply, and few superfluities to dispose of. 
The names of stranger and enemy became once more 
words of the same import. Customs every where 
prevailed, and even laws were established, which 
rendered it disagreeable and dangerous to visit any 
foreign country.? Cities, in which alone an exten¬ 
sive commerce can be carried on, were few, incon¬ 
siderable, and destitute of those immunities which 
produce security or excite enterprise. The sciences, 
on which geography and navigation are founded, 
were little cultivated. The accounts of ancient 
improvements and discoveries, contained in the 
Greek and Roman authors, were neglected or mis¬ 
understood. The knowledge of remote regions was 
lost; their situation, their commodities, and almost 
their names, were unknown. 


One circumstance prevented com¬ 
mercial intercourse with distant na- preTeTveTinthe 
tions from ceasing altogether. Con- eastern emp,re * 
stantinople, though often threatened by the fierce 
invaders who spread desolation over the rest of 
Europe, was so fortunate as to escape their destruc¬ 
tive rage. In that city, the knowledge of ancient 
arts and discoveries was preserved; a taste for 
splendour and elegance subsisted ; the productions 
and luxuries of foreign countries were in request; 

g View of the State of Europe, sect. I 



BOOK I. 


735 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


and commerce continued to flourish there when it 
was almost extinct in every other part of Europe. 
The citizens of Constantinople did not confine their 
trade to the islands of the Archipelago, or to the 
adjacent coasts of Asia ; they took a wider range, 
and following the course which the ancients had 
marked out, imported the commodities of the East 
Indies from Alexandria. When Egypt was torn 
from the Roman empire by the Arabians, the indus¬ 
try of the Greeks discovered a new channel, by 
which the productions of India might be conveyed 
to Constantinople. They were carried up the Indus, 
as far as that great river is navigable ; thence they 
were transported by land to the banks of the river 
Oxus, and proceeded down its stream to the Caspian 
sea. There they entered the Volga, and sailing up 
it, were carried by land to the Tanais, which con¬ 
ducted them into the Euxine sea, where vessels from 
Constantinople waited their arrival. 11 This extra¬ 
ordinary and tedious mode of conveyance merits 
attention, not only as a proof of the violent passion 
which the inhabitants of Constantinople had con¬ 
ceived for the luxuries of the East, and as a specimen 
of the ardour and ingenuity with which they carried 
on commerce; but because it demonstrates, that 
during the ignorance which reigned in the rest of 
Europe, an extensive knowledge of remote countries 
was still preserved in the capital of the Greek 
empire. 


and among the At the same time > a gleam of light 

Arabians. and knowledge broke in upon the East. 
The Arabians, having contracted some relish for the 
sciences of the people whose empire they had con¬ 
tributed to overturn, translated the books of several 
of the Greek philosophers into their own language. 
One of the first was that valuable work of Ptolemy, 
which I have already mentioned. The study of 
geography became, of consequence, an early object 
of attention to the Arabians. But that acute and 
ingenious people cultivated chiefly the speculative 
and scientific parts of geography. In order to 
ascertain the figure and dimensions of the terrestrial 
globe, they applied the principles of geometry, they 
had recourse to astronomical observations, they 
employed experiments and operations, which Eu¬ 
rope, in more enlightened times, has been proud to 
adopt and to imitate. At that period, however, the 
fame of the improvements made by the Arabians 
did not reach Europe. The knowledge of their 
discoveries was reserved for ages capable of com¬ 
prehending and of perfecting them. 

By degrees, the calamities and deso- 

Revival of com- ... . , , ,, 

merce and navi- lation brought upon the western pro¬ 
bation in Europe. . c ,, Tl . , .. 

vinces ot the Roman empire by its 
barbarous conquerors, were forgotten, and in some 
measure repaired. The rude tribes which settled 
there acquiring insensibly some idea of regular 
government, and some relish for the functions and 
comforts of civil life, Europe began to awake from 
its torpid and inactive state. The first symptoms of 

h Ramusio, vol. i. p. 372. F. 


revival were discerned in Italy. The northern tribes 
which took possession of this country, made pro¬ 
gress in improvement with greater rapidity than the 
people settled in other parts of Europe. Various 
causes, which it is not the object of this work to 
enumerate or explain, concurred in restoring liberty 
and independence to the cities of Italy. 1 The ac¬ 
quisition of these roused industry, and gave motion 
and vigour to all the active powers of the human 
mind. Foreign commerce revived, navigation was 
attended to and improved. Constantinople became 
the chief mart to which the Italians resorted. There 
they not only met with a favourable reception, but 
obtained such mercantile privileges as enabled 
them to carry on trade with great advantage. They 
were supplied both with the precious commodities 
of the East, and with many curious manufactures, 
the product of ancient arts and ingenuity which still 
subsisted among the Greeks. As the labour and 
expense of conveying the productions of India to 
Constantinople by that long and indirect course 
which I have described, rendered them extremely 
rare, and of an exorbitant price, the industry of the 
Italians discovered other methods of procuring them 
in greater abundance, and at an easier rate. They 
sometimes purchased them in Aleppo, Tripoli, and 
other ports on the coast of Syria, to which they were 
brought by a route not unknown to the ancients. 
They were conveyed from India by sea, up the 
Persian gulf, and ascending the Euphrates and 
Tigris, as far as Bagdat, were carried by land 
across the desert of Palmyra, and from thence to 
the towns on the Mediterranean. But, from the 
length of the journey, and the dangers to which the 
caravans were exposed, this proved always a tedi¬ 
ous, and often a precarious, mode of conveyance. 
At length the soldans of Egypt, having revived the 
commerce with India in its ancient channel, by the 
Arabian gulf, the Italian merchants, notwithstand¬ 
ing the violent antipathy to each other with which 
Christians and the followers of Mahomet were then 
possessed, repaired to Alexandria, and enduring, 
from the love of gain, the insolence and exactions 
of the Mahometans, established a lucrative trade in 
that port. From that period, the commercial spirit 
of Italy became active and enterprising. Venice, 
Genoa, Pisa rose, from inconsiderable towns, to be 
populous and wealthy cities. Their naval power 
increased ; their vessels frequented not only all the 
ports in the Mediterranean, but, venturing some¬ 
times beyond the Straits, visited the maritime towns 
of Spain, France, the Low Countries, and England; 
and, by distributing their commodities over Europe, 
began to communicate to its various nations some 
taste for the valuable productions of the East, as 
well as some ideas of manufactures and arts, which 
were then unknown beyond the precincts of Italy. 

While the cities of Italy were thus 

. • • ~ . Their progress 

advancing in their career ol improve- favoured i>y the 

Crusades * 

ment, an event happened, the most ex- 


i View of the State of Europe, sect. 1. 



73(5 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK I. 


traordinary, perhaps, in the history of mankind, 
which, instead of retarding the commercial progress 
of the Italians, rendered it more rapid. The mar¬ 
tial spirit of the Europeans, heightened and inflam¬ 
ed by religious zeal, prompted them to attempt the 
deliverance of the Holy Land from the dominion 
of infidels. Vast armies, composed of all the na¬ 
tions in Europe, marched towards Asia, upon this 
wild enterprise. The Genoese, the Pisans, and 
Venetians, furnished the transports which carried 
them thither. They supplied them with provisions 
and military stores. Besides the immense sums 
which they received on this account, they obtained 
commercial privileges and establishments, of great 
consequence in the settlements which the crusaders 
made in Palestine, and in other provinces of Asia. 
From those sources, prodigious wealth flowed into 
the cities which I have mentioned. This was ac¬ 
companied with a proportional increase of power ; 
and, by the end of the Holy War, Venice, in parti¬ 
cular, became a great maritime state, possessing an 
extensive commerce, and ample territories. 14 Italy 
was not the only country in which the Crusades 
contributed to revive and diffuse such a spirit as 
prepared Europe for future discoveries. By their 
expeditions into Asia, the other European nations 
became well acquainted with remote regions, which 
formerly they knew only by name, or by the reports 
of ignorant and credulous pilgrims. They had an 
opportunity of observing the manners, the arts, and 
the accommodations of people more polished than 
themselves. This intercourse between the East and 
West subsisted almost two centuries. The adven¬ 
turers who returned from Asia communicated to 
their countrymen the ideas which they had acquired, 
and the habits of life they had contracted by visit¬ 
ing more refined nations. The Europeans began to 
be sensible of wants, with which they were formerly 
unacquainted : new desires were excited ; and such 
a taste for the commodities and arts of other coun¬ 
tries gradually spread among them, that they not 
only encouraged the resort of foreigners to their 
harbours, but began to perceive the advantage and 
necessity of applying to commerce themselves. 1 

This communication, which was 

by the discoveries 

of travellers by opened between Europe and the west¬ 
ern provinces of Asia, encouraged se¬ 
veral persons to advance far beyond the countries 
in which the crusaders carried on their operations, 
and to travel by land into the more remote and opu¬ 
lent regions of the East. The wild fanaticism which 
seems, at that period, to have mingled in all the 
schemes of individuals, no less than in all the counsels 
of nations, first incited men to enter upon those long 
and dangerous peregrinations. They were after¬ 
wards undertaken from prospects of commercial 
advantage, or from motives of mere curiosity. 
Benjamin, a Jew of Tudela, in the kingdom of Na¬ 
varre, possessed with a superstitious veneration for 


the law of Moses, and solicitous to visit his coun¬ 
trymen in the East, whom he hoped to find in such 
a state of power and opulence as might redound to 
the honour of his sect, set out from Spain in the 
year 1160, and travelling by land to Constantinople, 
proceeded through the countries to the north of the 
Euxine and Caspian seas, as far as Chinese Tar¬ 
tary. From thence he took his route towards the 
south, and after traversing various provinces of the 
further India, he embarked on the Indian ocean, 
visited several of its islands, and returned at the 
end of thirteen years by the way of Egypt, to Eu¬ 
rope, with much information concerning a large 
district of the globe, altogether unknown at that 
time to the western world. 01 The zeal of the head 
of the Christian church co-operated with the super¬ 
stition of Benjamin the Jew, in discovering the in¬ 
terior and remote provinces of Asia. 

‘ . 1246. 

All Christendom having been alarmed 
with accounts of the rapid progress of the Tartar 
arms under Zengis Khan, Innocent IV. who enter¬ 
tained most exalted ideas concerning the plenitude 
of his own power, and the submission due to his 
injunctions, sent father John de Plano Carpini, at 
the head of a mission of Franciscan monks, and 
father Ascolino, at the head of another of Domini¬ 
cans, to enjoin Kay uk Khan, the grandson of Zengis, 
who was then at the head of the Tartar empire, to 
embrace the Christian faith, and to desist from de¬ 
solating the earth by his arms. The haughty de¬ 
scendant of the greatest conqueror Asia had ever 
beheld, astonished at this strange mandate from an 
Italian priest, whose name and jurisdiction were 
alike unknown to him, received it with the con¬ 
tempt which it merited, though he dismissed the 
mendicants who delivered it with impunity. But, 
as they had penetrated into the country by differ¬ 
ent routes, and followed for some time the Tartar 
camps, which were always in motion, they had op¬ 
portunity of visiting a great part of Asia. Carpini, 
who proceeded by the way of Poland and Russia, 
travelled through its northern provinces as far as the 
extremities of Thibet. Ascolino, who seems to have 
landed somewhere in Syria, advanced through its 
southern provinces, into the interior parts of Persia. 0 

Not long after St. Louis of France 

° , 1253. 

contributed further towards extending 
the knowledge which the Europeans had begun to 
acquire of those distant regions. Some designing 
impostor, who took advantage of the slender ac¬ 
quaintance of Christendom with the state and cha¬ 
racter of the Asiatic nations, having informed him 
that a powerful khan of the Tartars had embraced 
the Christian faith, the monarch listened to the tale 
with pious credulity, and instantly resolved to send 
ambassadors to this illustrious convert, with a view 
of enticing him to attack their common enemy the 
Saracens in one quarter, while he fell upon them 
in another. As monks were the only persons in 


k Essai de l’Histoiredu Commerce de Venise, p. 52, See. 
1 View of the State of Europe, sect. i. 


m Bergeion, Recueil des Voyages, &c. tom. i. p. 1. 
n Hakluyt, i. 21. Bergeron, tom. i. 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


737 


that age who possessed such a degree of know ledge 
as qualified them for a service of this kind, he em¬ 
ployed in it father Andrew, a Jacobine, who was 
followed by father William de Rubruquis, a Fran¬ 
ciscan. With respect to the progress of the former, 
there is no memorial extant. The journal of the 
latter has been published. He was admitted into 
the presence of Mangu, the third khan in succession 
from Zengis, and made a circuit through the inte¬ 
rior parts of Asia, more extensive than that of any 
European who had hitherto explored them. 0 

To those travellers, whom religious zeal sent 
forth to visit Asia, succeeded others who ventured 
into remote countries, from the prospect of commer¬ 
cial advantage, or from motives of mere curiosity, 
The first and most eminent of these was Marco 
i265 Polo, a Venetian of a noble family. 

Having engaged early in trade, accord¬ 
ing to the custom of his country, his aspiring mind 
wished for a sphere of activity more extensive than 
was afforded to it by the established traffic carried 
on in those ports of Europe and Asia, which the 
Venetians frequented. This prompted him to travel 
into unknown countries, in expectation of opening 
a commercial intercourse with them, more suited to 
the sanguine ideas and hopes of a young adventurer. 

As his father had already carried some European 
commodities to the court of the Great Khan of the 
Tartars, and had disposed of them to advantage, he 
resorted thither. Under the protection of Kublay 
Khan, the most powerful of all the successors of 
Zengis, he continued his mercantile peregrinations 
in Asia upwards of twenty-six years ; and, during 
that time, advanced towards the east, far beyond 
the utmost boundaries to which any European 
traveller had ever proceeded. Instead of following 
the course of Carpini and Rubruquis, along the 
vast unpeopled plains of Tartary, he passed through 
the chief trading cities in the more cultivated parts 
of Asia, and penetrated to Cambalu, or Peking, the 
capital of the great kingdom of Cathay, or China, 
subject at that time to the successors of Zengis. 
He made more than one voyage on the Indian 
ocean ; he traded in many of the islands, from 
which Europe had long received spiceries and other 
commodities, which it held in high estimation, 
though unacquainted with the particular countries 
to which it was indebted for those precious produc¬ 
tions ; and he obtained information concerning seve¬ 
ral countries which he did not visit in person, par¬ 
ticularly the island Zipangri, probably the same 
now known by the name of Japan.p On his return, 
he astonished his contemporaries with his descrip¬ 
tions of vast regions, whose names had never been 
heard of in Europe, and with such pompous ac¬ 
counts of their fertility, their populousness, their 
opulence, the variety of their manufactures, and 
the extent of their trade, as rose far above the con¬ 
ception of an uninformed age. 

o Ifakl. i. 71. Reeueil des Voyages par Bergeron, tom. i. 

P Viaggi di Marco Polo. Ramus, ii. 2. Bergeron, tom. ii. 

3 B 


About half a century after Marco 
Polo, sir John Mandeville, an Eng¬ 
lishman, encouraged by his example, visited most 
of the countries in the East which he had de¬ 
scribed, and like him, published an account of 
them.'i The narrations of those early travellers 
abound with many wild incoherent tales, concern¬ 
ing giants, enchanters, and monsters. But they 
were not, from that circumstance, less acceptable to 
an ignorant age, which delighted in what was mar¬ 
vellous. The wonders which they told, mostly on 
hearsay, filled the multitude with admiration. The 
facts which they related from their own observation 
attracted the attention of the more discerning. The 
former, which may be considered as the popular 
traditions and fables of the countries through which 
they had passed, were gradually disregarded as 
Europe advanced in knowledge. The latter, how¬ 
ever incredible some of them may have appeared in 
their own time, have been confirmed by the obser¬ 
vations of modern travellers. By means of both, 
however, the curiosity of mankind was excited with 
respect to the remote parts of the earth ; their ideas 
were enlarged, and they were not only insensibly 
disposed to attempt new discoveries, but received 
such information as directed to that particular course 
in which these were afterwards carried on. 

While this spirit was gradually 
forming in Europe, a fortunate dis- tion ^^hVmari- 
covery was made, which contributed ner s com P ass -- 
more than all the efforts and ingenuity of preceding 
ages, to improve and to extend navigation. That 
wonderful property of the magnet, by which it com¬ 
municates such virtue to a needle or slender rod of 
iron, as to point towards the poles of the earth, w as 
observed. The use which might be made of this 
in directing navigation was immediately perceived. 
That valuable but now familiar instrument, the 
mariner’s compass , was constructed. When, by 
means of it, navigators found that, at all seasons, 
and in every place, they could discover the north 
and south with so much ease and accuracy, it be¬ 
came no longer necessary to depend merely on the 
light of the stars and the observation of the sea 
coast. They gradually abandoned their ancient 
timid and lingering course along the shore, ventur¬ 
ed boldly into the ocean, and, relying on this new 
guide, could steer in the darkest night, and under 
the most cloudy sky, with a security and precision 
hitherto unknown. The compass may be said to 
have opened to man the dominion of the sea, and 
to have put him in full possession of the earth, by 
enabling him to visit every part of it. Flavio Gioia, 
a citizen of Amalfi, a town of considerable trade in 
the kingdom of Naples, was the author of this great 
discovery, about the year one thousand three hun¬ 
dred and two. It hath been often the fate of those 
illustrious benefactors of mankind, who have en¬ 
riched science and improved the arts by their inven- 

q Voyages and Travels, by Sir John Mandeville. 



738 


BOOK I. 


THF HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


tions, to derive more reputation than benefit from 
the happy efforts of their genius. But the lot of Gioia 
has been still more cruel; through the inattention or 
ignorance of contemporary historians, he has been 
defrauded even of the fame to which he had such a 
just title. We receive from them no information 
with respect to his profession, his character, the 
precise time when he made this important discovery, 
or the accidents and inquiries which led to it. The 
knowledge of this event, though productive of 
greater effects than any recorded in the annals of 
the human race, is transmitted to us without any of 
those circumstances which can gratify the curiosity 
that it naturally awakens/ But though the use of 
the compass might enable the Italians to perform 
the short voyages to which they were accustomed, 
with greater security and expedition, its influence 
was not so sudden or extensive, as immediately to 
render navigation adventurous, and to excite a 
spirit of discovery. Many causes combined in 
preventing this beneficial invention from producing 
its full effect instantaneously. Men relinquish an¬ 
cient habits slowly, and with reluctance. They are 
averse to new experiments, and venture upon them 
with timidity. The commercial jealousy of the 
Italians, it is probable, laboured to conceal the 
happy discovery of their countryman from other 
nations. The art of steering by the compass with 
such skill and accuracy as to inspire a full confi¬ 
dence in its direction, was acquired gradually. 
Sailors, unaccustomed to quit sight of land, durst 
not launch out at once and commit themselves to 
unknown seas. Accordingly, near half a century 
elapsed from the time of Gioia’s discovery, before 
navigators ventured into any seas which they had 
not been accustomed to frequent. 

0 The first appearance of a bolder 

Some appearance # r * 

of a bolder spirit spirit may be dated from the voyages 

in navigation. . J ° 

of the Spaniards to the Canary or For¬ 
tunate Islands. By what accident they were led 
to the discovery of those small isles, which lie near 
five hundred miles from the Spanish coast, and 
above a hundred and fifty miles from the coast of 
Africa, contemporary writers have not explained. 
But, about the middle of the fourteenth century, 
the people of all the different kingdoms into which 
Spain was then divided, were accustomed to make 
piratical excursions thither, in order to plunder the 
inhabitants, or to carry them off as slaves. Clement 
VI. in virtue of the right claimed by the holy see, 
to dispose of all countries possessed by infidels, 
erected those isles into a kingdom, in the year one 
thousand three hundred and forty-four, and con¬ 
ferred it on Lewis de la Cerda, descended from 
the royal family of Castile. But that unfortunate 
prince, destitute of power to assert his nominal 
title, having never visited the Canaries, John de 
Bethencourt, a Norman baron, obtained a grant of 
them from Henry III. of Castile/ Bethencourt, 


with the valour and good fortune which distin¬ 
guished the adventurers of his country, attempted 
and effected the conquest; and the possession of 
the Canaries remained for some time in his family, 
as a fief held of the crown of Castile. Previous to 
this expedition of Bethencourt, his countrymen 
settled in Normandy are said to have visited the 
coast of Africa, and to have proceeded 13C5 
far to the south of the Canary Islands. 

But their voyages thither seem not to have been 
undertaken in consequence of any public or regular 
plan for extending navigation and attempting new 
discoveries. They were either excursions suggested 
by that roving piratical spirit, which descended to 
the Normans from their ancestors, or the commer¬ 
cial enterprises of private merchants, which attract¬ 
ed so little notice, that hardly any memorial of them 
is to be found in contemporary authors. In a ge¬ 
neral survey of the progress of discovery, it is suffi¬ 
cient to have mentioned this event; and leaving it 
among those of dubious existence, or of small im¬ 
portance, we may conclude, that though much ad¬ 
ditional information concerning the remote regions 
of the East had been received by travellers who 
visited them by land, navigation, at the beginning 
of the fifteenth century, had not advanced beyond 
the state to which it had attained before the down¬ 
fall of the Roman empire. 

At length the period arrived, when Fir?treRularplan 
Providence decreed that men were to ot dlscover y, 
pass the limits within which they had been so long 
confined, and open to themselves a more ample field 
wherein to display their talents, their enterprise, 
and courage. The first considerable efforts towards 
this were not made by any of the more powerful 
states of Europe, or by those who had applied to 
navigation with the greatest assiduity and success. 
The glory of leading the way in this formed by the 
new career, was reserved for Portugal, Portuguese, 
one of the smallest and least powerful of the Eu¬ 
ropean kingdoms. As the attempts of the Portu¬ 
guese to acquire the knowledge of those parts of the 
globe with which mankind were then unacquainted, 
not only improved and extended the art of naviga¬ 
tion, but roused such a spirit of curiosity and en¬ 
terprise, as led to the discovery of the New World, 
of which I propose to write the history, it is neces¬ 
sary to take a full view of the rise, the progress, and 
success of their various naval operations. It was 
in this school that the discoverer of America was 
trained; and unless we trace the steps by w hich 
his instructors and guides advanced, it will be im¬ 
possible to comprehend the circumstances which 
suggested the idea or facilitated the execution of 
his great design. 

Various circumstances prompted the circumstances. 
Portuguese to exert their activity in whlch led to this, 
this new direction, and enabled them to accomplish 
undertakings apparently superior to the natural 


r Collinas et Trombellus de Aciis Nauticae Inventore. Instit. Acad. 
Konoti. tom. ii. part in. p. 372. 


s Viera y Clavijo Notic. de la Ilistor. de Canaria, i. 268, &c. Glas. 
iiist. c. i. 



BOOK I. 


739 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


force of their monarchy. The kings of Portugal, 
having driven the Moors out of their dominions, 
had acquired power, as well as glory, by the success 
of their arms against the infidels. By their victories 
over them, they had extended the royal authority 
beyond the narrow limits within which it was ori¬ 
ginally circumscribed in Portugal, as well as in 
other feudal kingdoms. They had the command of 
the national force, could rouse it to act with united 
vigour, and, after the expulsion of the Moors, could 
employ it without dread of interruption from any 
domestic enemy. By the perpetual hostilities car¬ 
ried on for several centuries against the Mahomet¬ 
ans, the martial and adventurous spirit which dis¬ 
tinguished all the European nations during the 
middle ages, was improved and heightened among 
the Portuguese. A fierce civil war towards the close 
of the fourteenth century, occasioned by a disputed 
succession, augmented the military ardour of the 
nation, and formed or called forth men of such ac¬ 
tive and daring genius, as are fit for bold under¬ 
takings. The situation of the kingdom, bounded 
on every side by the dominions of a more powerful 
neighbour, did not afford free scope to the activity 
of the Portuguese by land, as the strength of their 
monarchy was no match for that of Castile. But 
Portugal was a maritime state, in which there were 
many commodious harbours; the people had be¬ 
gun to make some progress in the knowledge and 
practice of navigation ; and the sea was open to 
them, presenting the only field of enterprise in which 
they could distinguish themselves. 

Such was the state of Portugal, and 

First attempt. . , • ... , 

such the disposition ot the people, 
when John I., surnamed the Bastard, obtained secure 
possession of the crown by the peace concluded 
with Castile, in the year one thousand four hundred 
and eleven. He was a prince of great merit, who, 
by superior courage and abilities, had opened his 
way to a throne, which of right did not belong to 
him. He instantly perceived that it would be im¬ 
possible to preserve public order, or domestic tran¬ 
quillity, without finding some employment for the 
restless spirit of his subjects. With this view he 
assembled a numerous fleet at Lisbon, composed of 
all the ships which he could fit out in his own king¬ 
dom, and of many hired from foreign¬ 
ers. This great armament was des¬ 
tined to attack the Moors settled on the coast of 
Barbary. While it was equipping, a few vessels 
were appointed to sail along the western shore of 
Africa bounded by the Atlantic ocean, and to dis¬ 
cover the unknown countries situated there. From 
this inconsiderable attempt, we may date the com¬ 
mencement of that spirit of discovery, which opened 
the barriers that had so long shut out mankind from 
the knowledge of one half of the terrestrial globe. 

At the time when John sent forth these ships on 
this new voyage, the art of navigation was still very 
imperfect. Though Africa lay so near to Portugal, 

t See Note IX. 

3 B 2 


and the fertility of the countries already known on 
that continent invited men to explore it more fully, 
the Portuguese had never ventured to sail beyond 
Cape Non. That promontory, as its name imports, 
was hitherto considered as a boundary which could 
not be passed. But the nations of Europe had now 
acquired as much knowledge as imboldened them 
to disregard the prejudices and to correct the errors 
of their ancestors. The long reign of ignorance, 
the constant enemy of every curious inquiry, and 
of every new undertaking, was approaching to its 
period. The light of science began to dawn. The 
works of the ancient Greeks and Romans began to 
be read with admiration and profit. The sciences 
cultivated by the Arabians were introduced into 
Europe by the Moors settled in Spain and Portugal, 
and by the Jews, who were very numerous in both 
these kingdoms. Geometry, astronomy, and geo¬ 
graphy, the sciences on which the art of navigation 
is founded, became objects of studious attention. 
The memory of the discoveries made by the ancients 
was revived, and the progress of their navigation 
and commerce began to be traced. Some of the 
causes which have obstructed the cultivation of 
science in Portugal, during this century and the 
last, did not exist, or did not operate in the same 
manner, in the fifteenth century ; l and the Portu¬ 
guese, at that period, seem to have kept pace with 
other nations on this side of the Alps in literary 
pursuits. 

As the genius of the age favoured 
the execution of that new undertaking, 
to which the peculiar state of the country invited 
the Portuguese, it proved successful. The vessels 
sent on the discovery doubled that formidable Cape, 
which had terminated the progress of former navi¬ 
gators, and proceeded a hundred and sixty miles 
beyond it, to Cape Bojador. As its rocky cliffs, 
which stretched a considerable way into the Atlan¬ 
tic, appeared more dreadful than the promontory 
which they had passed, the Portuguese commanders 
durst not attempt to sail round it, but returned to 
Lisbon, more satisfied with having advanced so far, 
than ashamed of having ventured no further. 

Inconsiderable as this voyage was, „ . 

. , . ° Prince Henry the 

it increased the passion for discovery, director of the 

. . i mi Portuguese clis- 

which began to arise in Portugal. The coverics_ 
fortunate issue of the king’s expedition 
against the Moors of Barbary, added strength to 
that spirit in the nation, and pushed it on to new 
undertakings. In order to render these successful, 
it was necessary that they should be conducted by 
a person who possessed abilities capable of dis¬ 
cerning what was attainable, who enjoyed leisure 
to form a regular system for prosecuting discovery, 
and who was animated with ardour that would 
persevere in spite of obstacles and repulses. Hap¬ 
pily for Portugal, she found all those qualities in 
Henry duke of Yiseo, the fourth son of king John 
by Philippa of Lancaster, sister of Henry IV. king 



740 


BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


of England. That prince, in his early youth, hav¬ 
ing accompanied his father in his expedition to 
Barbary, distinguished himself by many deeds of 
valour. To the martial spirit, which was the cha¬ 
racteristic of every man of noble birth at that time, 
he added all the accomplishments of a more en¬ 
lightened and polished age. He cultivated the arts 
and sciences, which were then unknown and despised 
by persons of his rank. He applied with peculiar 
fondness to the study of geography ; and by the in¬ 
struction of able masters, as well as by the accounts 
of travellers, he early acquired such knowledge of 
the habitable globe, as discovered the great proba¬ 
bility of finding new and opulent countries, by 
sailing along the coast of Africa. Such an object 
was formed to awaken the enthusiasm and ardour 
of a youthful mind, and he espoused with the utmost 
zeal the patronage of a design which might prove 
as beneficial, as it appeared to be splendid and 
honourable. In order that be might pursue this 
great scheme without interruption, he retired from 
court immediately after his return from Africa, and 
fixed his residence at Sagres, near Cape St. Vincent, 
where the prospect of the Atlantic ocean invited his 
thoughts continually towards his favourite project, 
and encouraged him to execute it. In this retreat 
he was attended by some of the most learned men 
in his country, who aided him in his researches. 
He applied for information to the Moors of Barbary, 
who were accustomed to travel by land into the in¬ 
terior provinces of Africa, in quest of ivory, gold- 
dust, and other rich commodities. He consulted 
the Jews settled in Portugal. By promises, rewards, 
and marks of respect, he allured into his service 
several persons, foreigners as well as Portuguese, 
who were eminent for their skill in navigation. In 
taking those preparatory steps, the great abilities of 
the prince were seconded by his private virtues. 
His integrity, his affability, his respect for religion, 
his zeal for the honour of his country, engaged per¬ 
sons of all ranks to applaud his design, and to 
favour the execution of it. His schemes were allow¬ 
ed, by the greater part of his countrymen, to pro¬ 
ceed neither from ambition nor the desire of wealth, 
but to flow from the warm benevolence of a heart 
eager to promote the happiness of mankind, and 
which justly entitled him to assume a motto for his 
device, that described the quality by which he wish¬ 
ed to be distinguished, the talent of doing good . 

His first effort, as is usual at the 

Discovery of 

Port i 4 i 8 ant °‘ comm encement of any new undertak¬ 
ing, was extremely inconsiderable. 
He fitted out a single ship, and giving the command 
of it to John Gonzalez Zarco and Tristan Vaz, two 
gentlemen of his household, who voluntarily offered 
to conduct the enterprise, he instructed them to use 
their utmost efforts to double Cape Bojador, and 
thence to steer towards the south. They, according 
to the mode of navigation which still prevailed, 


held their course along the shore ; and by following 
that direction, they must have encountered almost 
insuperable difficulties in attempting to pass Cape 
Bojador. But fortune came in aid to their want of 
skill, and prevented the voyage from being alto¬ 
gether fruitless. A sudden squall of wind arose, 
drove them out to sea, and when they expected 


every moment to perish, landed them on an unknown 
island, which from their happy escape they named 
Porto Santo. In the infancy of navigation, the 
discovery of this small island appeared a matter of 
such moment, that they instantly returned to Portu¬ 
gal with the good tidings, and were received by 
Henry with the applause and honour due to fortu¬ 
nate adventurers. This faint dawn of success filled 
a mind ardent in the pursuit ot a favourite object 
with such sanguine hopes as were sufficient incite- 


1419. 


1420. 


ments to proceed. Next year Henry 
sent out three ships under the same 
commanders, to whom he joined Bartholomew 
Perestrello, in order to take possession of the island 
which they had discovered. When they began to 
settle in Porto Santo, they observed towards the 
south a fixed spot in the horizon like a small black 
cloud. By degrees they were led to Madeira . 
conjecture that it might be land, and 
steering towards it, they arrived at a considerable 
island, uninhabited and covered with wood, which 
on that account they called Madeira.' 1 As it was 
Henry’s chief object to render his discoveries useful 
to his country, he immediately equipped a fleet to 
carry a colony of Portuguese to these 
islands. By his provident care, they 
were furnished not only with the seeds, plants, and 
domestic animals common in Europe; but as he 
foresaw that the warmth of the climate and fertility 
of the soil would prove favourable to the rearing of 
other productions, he procured slips of the vine from 
the island of Cyprus, the rich wines of which were 
then in great request, and plants of the sugar-cane 
from Sicily, into which it had been lately introduced. 
These throve so prosperously in this new' country, 
that the benefit of cultivating them was immediately 
perceived, and the sugar and wine of Madeira 
quickly became articles of some consequence in the 
commerce of Portugal. 51 

As soon as the advantages derived from this first 
settlement to the west of the European continent 
began to be felt, the spirit of discovery appeared 
less chimerical, and became more adventurous. By 
their voyages to Madeira, the Portuguese w r ere gra¬ 
dually accustomed to a bolder navigation, and, in¬ 
stead of creeping servilely along the coast, ventured 
into the open sea. In consequence of taking this 
course, Gilianez, who commanded one of Prince 
Henry’s ships, doubled Cape Bojador, 
the boundary of the Portuguese navi- D °Bojador. pe 

1423. 

gation upwards of twenty years, and 

which had hitherto been deemed impassable. This 


u Historical Relation of the first Discovery of Madeira, translated 
from the Portuguese of Fran. Alcafarana, p. 15, &c. 


x Lud. Guicciardini Descritt. de Paesi Bassi, p. 180, 181. 



BOOK I. 


741 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


v 

r 


successful voyage, which the ignorance of the age 
placed on a level with the most famous exploits re¬ 
corded in history, opened a new sphere to navi¬ 
gation's it discovered the vast continent of Africa, 
still washed by the Atlantic ocean, and stretching 
towards the south. Part of this was soon explored; 

Advance within ^ ie Portuguese advanced within the 
the tropics. tropics, and in the space of a few years 

they discovered the river Senegal, and all the coast 
extending from Cape Blanco to Cape de Verd. 

Astonished ,t Hitherto the Portuguese had been 
what they dis- guided in their discoveries, or en- 

couraged to attempt them, by the light 
and information which they received from the works 
of the ancient mathematicians and geographers. 
But when they began to enter the torrid zone, the 
notion w hich prevailed among the ancients, that the 
heat, which reigned perpetually there, was so exces¬ 
sive as to render it uninhabitable, deterred them, 
for some time, from proceeding. Their own obser¬ 
vations, when they first ventured into this unknown 
and formidable region, tended to confirm the opinion 
of antiquity concerning the violent operation of the 
direct rays of the sun. As far as the river Senegal, 
the Portuguese had found the coast of Africa in¬ 


habited by people nearly resembling the Moors of 
Barbary. When they advanced to the south of that 
river, the human form seemed to put on a new ap¬ 
pearance. They beheld men with skins black as 
ebony, with short curled hair, fiat noses, thick lips, 
and all the peculiar features which are now known 
to distinguish the race of negroes. This surprising 
alteration they naturally attributed to the influence 
of heat, and if they should advance nearer to the 
line, they began to dread that its effects would be 
still more violent. Those dangers were exaggerated ; 
and many other objections against attempting further 
discoveries were proposed by some of the grandees, 
who, from ignorance, from envy, or from that cold 
timid prudence which rejects whatever has the air 
of novelty or enterprise, had hitherto condemned all 
prince Henry's schemes. They represented, that it 
was altogether chimerical to expect any advantage 
from countries situated in that region which the 
w isdom and experience of antiquity had pronounced 
to be unfit for the habitation of men ; that their 
forefathers, satisfied with cultivating the territory 
which Providence had allotted them, did not waste 
the strength of the kingdom by fruitless projects, 
in quest of new settlements; that Portugal was al¬ 
ready exhausted by the expense of attempts to dis¬ 
cover lands, which either did not exist, or which 
nature destined to remain unknown ; and was 
drained of men, who might have been employed 
in undertakings attended with more certain success, 
and productive of greater benefit. But neither 
their appeal to the authority of the ancients, nor 
their reasonings concerning the interests of Portugal, 
made any impression upon the determined philoso¬ 
phic mind of prince Henry. The discoveries which 
he had already made convinced him that the an¬ 


cients had little more than a conjectural knowledge 
of the torrid zone. He was no less satisfied that 
the political arguments of his opponents, with re¬ 
spect to the interest of Portugal, were malevolent 
and ill founded. In those sentiments he was stre¬ 
nuously supported by his brother Pedro, who go¬ 
verned the kingdom as guardian of their nephew 
Alplionso V., who had succeeded to the 

. # 1438. 

throne during his minority; and, in¬ 
stead of slackening his efforts, Henry continued to 
pursue his discoveries with fresh ardour. 

But, in order to silence all the mur- Papd grant to 

murs of opposition, he endeavoured to countries a what 
obtain the sanction of the highest should discover. 

authority in favour of his operations. With this 
view he applied to the pope, and represented, in 
pompous terms, the pious and unwearied zeal with 
which he had exerted himself during twenty years, 
in discovering unknown countries, the wretched 
inhabitants of which were utter strangers to true 
religion, wandering in heathen darkness, or led 
astray by the delusions of Mahomet. He besought 
the holy father, to whom, as the vicar of Christ, all 
the kingdoms of the earth were subject, to confer on 
the crown of Portugal a right to all the countries 
possessed by infidels, which should be discovered 
by the industry of its subjects, and subdued by the 
force of its arms. He entreated him to enjoin all 
Christian powers, under the highest penalties, not to 
molest Portugal while engaged in this laudable 
enterprise, and to prohibit them from settling in any 
of the countries which the Portuguese should dis¬ 
cover. He promised that, in all their expeditions, 
it should be the chief object of his countrymen to 
spread the knowledge of the Christian religion, to 
establish the authority of the holy see, and to 
increase the flock of the universal pastor. As it was 
by improving with dexterity every favourable con¬ 
juncture for acquiring new powers, that the court of 
Rome had gradually extended its usurpations, Eu¬ 
gene IV. the pontiff to whom this application was 
made, eagerly seized the opportunity which now 
presented itself. He instantly perceived, that, by 
complying with prince Henry’s request, he might 
exercise a prerogative no less flattering in its own 
nature, than likely to prove beneficial in its conse¬ 
quences. A bull was accordingly issued, in which, 
after applauding in the strongest terms the past 
efforts of the Portuguese, and exhorting them to 
proceed in that laudable career on which they had 
entered, he granted them an exclusive right to all 
the countries which they should discover, from 
Cape Non to the continent of India. 

Extravagant as this donation, comprehending 
such a large portion of the habitable globe, would 
now appear, even in catholic countries, no person in 
the fifteenth century doubted that the pope, in the 
plenitude of his apostolic power, had a right to 
confer it. Prince Henry was soon sensible of the 
advantages which he derived from this transaction. 
His schemes were authorized and sanctified by the 




42 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK I. 


bull approving of them. The .spirit of discovery 
was connected with zeal for religion, which, in that 
age, was a principle of such activity and vigour, as 
to influence the conduct of nations. All Christian 
princes were deterred from intruding into those 
countries which the Portuguese had discovered, or 
from interrupting the progress of their navigation 
and conquests.^ 

Fame and The f ame ^ le P°r tu g uese VOyageS 

Portuguesedis- soon s I )rea( l over Europe. Men long 
coveries. accustomed to circumscribe the ac¬ 

tivity and knowledge of the human mind within the 
limits to which they had been hitherto confined, 
were astonished to behold the sphere of navigation 
so suddenly enlarged, and a prospect opened of 
visiting regions of the globe, the existence of which 
was unknown in former times. The learned and 
speculative reasoned and formed theories concern¬ 
ing those unexpected discoveries. The vulgar 
inquired and wondered ; while enterprising ad¬ 
venturers crowded from every part of Europe, 
soliciting prince Henry to employ them in this 
honourable service. Many Venetians and Genoese, 
in particular, who were, at that time, superior to 
all other nations in the science of naval affairs, 
entered aboard the Portuguese ships, and acquired 
a more perfect and extensive knowledge of their 
profession in that new r school of navigation. In 
emulation of these foreigners, the Portuguese ex¬ 
erted their own talents. The nation seconded the 
designs of the prince. Private mer¬ 
chants formed companies, with a view 
to search for unknown countries. The Cape de 
Verd islands, which lie oft' the promontory of that 
name, were discovered, and soon after 
the isles called Azores. As the former 
of these are above three hundred miles from the 
African coast, and the latter nine hundred miles 
from any continent, it is evident, by their venturing 
so boldly into the open seas, that the Portuguese 
had, by this time, improved greatly in the art of 
navigation. 

While the passion for engaging in 
prince Henry, new undertakings was thus warm and 
active, it received an unfortunate check 
by the death of prince Henry, whose superior know¬ 
ledge had hitherto directed all the operations of the 
discoverers, and whose patronage had encouraged 
and protected them. But notwithstanding all the 
advantages which they derived from these, the 
Portuguese, during his life, did not advance, in 
their utmost progress towards the south, within five 
degrees of the equinoctial line; and after their 
„ continued exertions for half a century, 

From 1412 to 1463. J ’ 

hardly fifteen hundred miles of the 
coast of Africa were discovered. To an age ac¬ 
quainted with the efforts of navigation in its state 
of maturity and improvement, those essays of its 
early years must necessarily appear feeble and 

y See Note X. 

z Navigatio AJoysii Cadamusti apud Novum Orbem Grynaei, p. 2, 


14-16. 


1471. 


unskilful. But inconsiderable as they may be 
deemed, they were sufficient to turn the curiosity of 
the European nations into a new channel, to excite 
an enterprising spirit, and to point the way to future 
discoveries. 

Alphonso, who possessed the throne The passion 
of Portugal at the time of prince i^gulshes^r 
Henry’s death, was so much engaged some time - 
in supporting his own pretensions to the crown of 
Castile, or in carrying on his expeditions against 
the Moors in Barbary, that the force of his kingdom 
being exerted in other operations, he could not pro¬ 
secute the discoveries in Africa with ardour. He 
committed the conduct of them to Fernando Gomez, 
a merchant in Lisbon, to whom he granted an ex¬ 
clusive right of commerce with all the countries of 
which prince Henry had taken possession. Under 
the restraint and oppression of a monopoly, the 
spirit of discovery languished. It ceased to be a 
national object, and became the concern of a private 
man, more attentive to his own gain, than to the 
glory of his country. Some progress, however, was 
made. The Portuguese ventured at 
length to cross the line, and, to their 
astonishment, found that region of the torrid zone, 
which was supposed to be scorched with intoler¬ 
able heat, to be not only habitable, but populous 
and fertile. 

John II. who succeeded his father 

Alphonso, possessed talents capable Revives with ad- 
i • ditional ardour. 

both of forming and executing great 
designs. As part of his revenues, while prince, 
had arisen from duties on the trade with the newly- 
discovered countries, this naturally turned his at¬ 
tention towards them, and satisfied him with respect 
to their utility and importance. In proportion as 
his knowledge of these countries extended, the 
possession of them appeared to be of greater conse¬ 
quence. While the Portuguese proceeded along 
the coast of Africa, from Cape Non to the river of 
Senegal, they found all that extensive tract to be 
sandy, barren, and thinly inhabited by a wretched 
people, professing the Mahometan religion, and 
subject to the vast empire of Morocco. But to the 
south of that river, the power and religion of the 
Mahometans were unknown. The country was 
divided into small independent principalities, the 
population was considerable, the soil fertile, 2 and 
the Portuguese soon discovered that it produced 
ivory, rich gums, gold, and other valuable commo¬ 
dities. By the acquisition of these, commerce was 
enlarged, and became more adventurous. Men, 
animated and rendered active by the certain pros¬ 
pect of gain, pursued discovery with greater eager¬ 
ness, than when they were excited only by curiosity 
and hope. 

This spirit derived no small rein¬ 
forcement of vigour from the counte- Its progress ' 
nance of such a monarch as John. Declaring him- 

18. Navigat. all Isola di San Tome per un Pilotto Portug. Ramusio, 
l. 115. 



BOOK I. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


743 


1 - 184 . 


self the patron of every attempt towards discovery, 
lie promoted it with all the ardour of his grand¬ 
uncle prince Henry, and with superior power. 
The effects of this were immediately felt. A power¬ 
ful fleet was fitted out, which, after 
discovering the kingdoms of Benin 
and Congo, advanced above fifteen hundred miles 
beyond the line, and the Portuguese, for the first 
time, beheld a new heaven, and observed the stars 
of another hemisphere. John was not only solicit¬ 
ous to discover, but attentive to secure, the posses¬ 
sion of those countries. He built forts on the 
coast of Guinea ; he sent out colonies to settle there; 
he established a commercial intercourse with the 
more powerful kingdoms ; he endeavoured to ren¬ 
der such as were feeble or divided, tributary to the 
crown of Portugal. Some of the petty princes 
voluntarily acknowledged themselves his vassals. 
Others were compelled to do so by force of arms. 
A regular and well-digested system was formed 
with respect to this new object of policy, and by 
firmly adhering to it, the Portuguese power and 
commerce in Africa were established upon a solid 
foundation. 

Hopes of discov- By their constant intercourse with 
route to the W East people of Africa, the Portuguese 
gradually acquired some knowledge 
of those parts of that country which they had not 
visited. The information which they received from 
the natives, added to what they had observed in 
their own voyages, began to open prospects more 
extensive, and to suggest the idea of schemes more 
important, than those which had hitherto allured 
and occupied them. They had detected the error 
of the ancients concerning the nature of the torrid 
zone. They found as they proceeded southwards, 
that the continent of Africa, instead of extending 
in breadth, according to the doctrine of Ptolemy, 1 
at that time the oracle and guide of the learned in 
the science of geography, appeared sensibly to con¬ 
tract itself, and to bend toward the east. This in¬ 
duced them to give credit to the accounts of the 
ancient Phenician voyages round Africa, which 
had long been deemed fabulous, and led them to 
conceive hopes, that, by following the same route, 
they might arrive at the East Indies, and engross 
that commerce which has been the source of wealth 
and power to every nation possessed of it. The 
comprehensive genius of prince Henry, as we may 
conjecture from the words of the pope’s bull, had 
early formed some idea of this navigation. But 
though his countrymen, at that period, were inca¬ 
pable of conceiving the extent of his views and 
schemes, all the Portuguese mathematicians and 
pilots now concurred in representing them as well 
founded and practicable. The king entered with 
warmth into their sentiments, and began to concert 
measures for this arduous and important voyage. 

Before his preparations for this expedition were 

a Vide Nov. Orbis Tabul. Geograph, secund. Ptolemy, Amst. 1730. 
b Faria y Sousa Port. Asia/vol. i. p.26. Lafitau Decouv. de Port. i. 46. 


1486. 


finished, accounts were transmitted schemes for ac- 
from Africa, that various nations along compllsh,nK tllls ' 
the coast had mentioned a mighty kingdom situ¬ 
ated on their continent, at a great distance towards 
the East, the king of which, according to their de¬ 
scription, professed the Christian religion. The 
Portuguese monarch immediately concluded, that 
this must be the emperor of Abyssinia, to whom the 
Europeans, seduced by a mistake of Rubruquis, 
Marco Polo, and other travellers to the East, ab¬ 
surdly gave the name of Prester or Presbyter John ; 
and, as he hoped to receive information and assist¬ 
ance from a Christian prince, in prosecuting a 
scheme that tended to propagate their common faith, 
he resolved to open, if possible, some intercourse 
with his court. With this view, he made choice of 
Pedro de Covillam and Alphonso de Payva, who 
were perfect masters of the Arabic language, and 
sent them into the East to search for the residence 
of this unknown potentate, and to make him prof¬ 
fers of friendship. They had in charge likewise to 
procure whatever intelligence the nations which 
they visited could supply, with respect to the trade 
of India, and the course of navigation to that con- 
tinent. b 

While John made this new attempt v e of Bar 
by land, to obtain some knowledge of tholomew 
the country which he wished so ardently to discover, 
he did not neglect the prosecution of this great de¬ 
sign by sea. The conduct of a voyage 
for this purpose, the most arduous and 
important which the Portuguese had ever projected, 
was committed to Bartholomew Diaz, an officer 
whose sagacity, experience, and fortitude rendered 
him equal to the undertaking. He stretched boldly 
towards the south, and, proceeding beyond the 
utmost limits to which his countrymen had hitherto 
advanced, discovered near a thousand miles of new 
country. Neither the danger to which he was ex¬ 
posed, by a succession of violent tempests in un¬ 
known seas, and by the frequent mutinies ©f his 
crew, nor the calamities of famine which he suffer¬ 
ed from losing his store-ship, could deter him from 
prosecuting his enterprise. In recompence of his 
labours and perseverance, he at last descried that 
lofty promontory which bounds Africa to the south. 
But to descry it was all that he had in his power 
to accomplish. The violence of the winds, the 
shattered condition of his ships and the turbulent 
spirit of the sailors, compelled him to return after a 
voyage of sixteen months, in which he discovered 
a far greater extent of country than any former 
navigator. Diaz had called the promontory which 
terminated his voyage, Cabo Tormentoso, or the 
Stormy Cape ; but the king, his master, as he now 
entertained no doubt of having found the long-de¬ 
sired route to India, gave it a name more inviting, 
and of better omen, The Cape of Good Hope. 0 

Those sanguine expectations of success were con- 

c Faria y Sousa Port. Asia, vol. i. p. 26. 



744 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK II. 


firmed by the intelligence which John 
prospects of sue- received over land, in consequence 
of his embassy to Abyssinia. Co¬ 
villam and Payva, in obedience to their master’s 
instructions, had repaired to Grand Cairo. From 
that city they travelled along with a caravan of 
Egyptian merchants, and, embarking on the Red sea, 
arrived at Aden in Arabia. There they separated ; 
Payva sailed directly towards Abyssinia ; Covillam 
embarked for the East Indies, and, having visited 
Calecut, Goa, and other cities on the Malabar coast, 
returned to Sofala, on the east side of Africa, and 
thence to Grand Cairo, which Payva and he had 
fixed upon as their place of rendezvous. Unfortu¬ 
nately the former was cruelly murdered in Abys- 
synia, but Covillam found at Cairo two Portuguese 
Jews, whom John, whose provident sagacity at¬ 
tended to every circumstance that could facilitate 
the execution of his schemes, had despatched after 
them, in order to receive a detail of their pro¬ 
ceedings, and to communicate to them new instruc¬ 
tions. By one of these Jews, Covillam transmitted 
to Portugal a journal of his travels by sea and 
land, his remarks upon the trade of India, together 
with exact maps of the coasts on which he had 
touched ; and from w hat he himself had observed, 
as well as from the information of skilful seamen in 
different countries, he concluded, that, by sailing 
round Africa, a passage might be found to the East 
Indies. d 


Preparations for The happy coincidence of Covillam’s 
another voyage. O pj n i on and report, with the discover- 

ies which Diaz had lately made, left hardly any 
shadow of doubt with respect to the possibility of 
sailing from Europe to India. But the vast length 
of the voyage, and the furious storms which Diaz 
had encountered near the Cape of Good Hope, 
alarmed and intimidated the Portuguese to such a 
degree, although by long experience they were now 
become adventurous and skilful mariners, that some 
time was requisite to prepare their minds for this 
dangerous and extraordinary voyage. The courage 
however and authority of the monarch gradually 
dispelled the vain fears of his subjects, or made it 
necessary to conceal them. As John thought him¬ 
self now upon the eve of accomplishing that great 
design, which had been the principal object of his 
reign, his earnestness in prosecuting it became so 
vehement, that it occupied his thoughts by day, 
and bereaved him of sleep through the night. While 
he was taking every precaution that his wisdom and 
experience could suggest, in order to insure the 
success of the expedition, which was to decide con¬ 


cerning the fate of his favourite project, the fame of 
the vast discoveries which the Portuguese had 

The attention of made > tlle ^P 0 * 8 C «»“ming 

mankind fixed the extraordinary intelligence which 

upon it; iii, J ° 

they had received from the East, and 
the prospect of the voyage which they now medi¬ 
tated, drew the attention of all the European nations, 


d Faria y Sousa Port. Asia, vol. i. p. 27. Lafitau Dccouv. i. 48. 


and held them in suspense and expectation. By 
some, the maritime skill and navigations of the 
Portuguese were compared with those of the Phe- 
nicians and Carthaginians, and exalted above them. 
Others formed conjectures concerning the revolu¬ 
tions which the success of the Portuguese schemes 
might occasion in the course of trade, and the poli¬ 
tical state of Europe. The Venetians began to be 
disquieted with the apprehension of losing their 
Indian commerce, the monopoly of which was the 
chief source of their power as well as opulence, and 
the Portuguese already enjoyed in fancy the wealth 
of the East. But, during this interval, which gave 
SUCh SCOpe tO the Various workings Of su dHenly turned 
curiosity, of hope, and of fear, an ac- toanew ob J ect - 
count was brought to Europe of an event no less 
extraordinary than unexpected, the discovery of a 
New World situated in the west; and the eyes and 
admiration of mankind turned immediately towards 
that great object. 


BOOK II. 


Among the foreigners whom the fame Ri th and educ ^ 

of the discoveries made by the Portu- t> on of Coium- 

J ' bus. 

guese had allured into their service, 
was Christopher Colon, or Columbus, a subject of 
the republic of Genoa. Neither the time nor place 
of his birth are known with certainty ; a but he was 
descended of an honourable family, though reduced 
to indigence by various misfortunes. His ancestors 
having betaken themselves for subsistence to a sea¬ 
faring life, Columbus discovered in his early youth 
the peculiar character and talents which mark out 
a man for that profession. His parents, instead of 
thwarting this original propensity of his mind, seem 
to have encouraged and confirmed it, by the educa¬ 
tion which they gave him. After acquiring some 
knowledge of the Latin tongue, the only language 
in which science was taught at that time, he was 
instructed in geometry, cosmography, astronomy, 
and the art of drawing. To these he applied with 
such ardour and predilection, on account of their 
connexion with navigation, his favourite object, 
that he advanced with rapid proficiency in the study 
of them. Thus qualified, he went to 
sea at the age of fourteen, and began 
his career on that element which conducted him to 
so much glory. His early voyages were to those 
ports in the Mediterranean which his countrymen 
the Genoese frequented. This being a sphere too 
narrow for his active mind, he made 
an excursion to the northern seas, and 
visited the coasts of Iceland, to which the English 
and other nations had begun to resort on account of 
its fishery. As navigation, in every direction, was 
now become enterprising, he proceeded beyond that 

a See Note XI. 


1461. 


1467. 





BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


746 


island, the Thule of the ancients, and advanced se¬ 
veral degrees within the polar circle. Having satis¬ 
fied his curiosity, by a voyage which tended more 
to enlarge his knowledge of naval affairs than to 
improve his fortune, he entered into the service of 
a famous sea-captain, of his own name and family. 
This man commanded a small squadron fitted out 
at his own expense, and by cruising sometimes 
against the Mahometans, sometimes against the 
Venetians, the rivals of his country in trade, had 
acquired both wealth and reputation. With him 
Columbus continued for several years, no less dis¬ 
tinguished for his courage, than for his experience 
as a sailor. At length, in an obstinate engagement 
off the coast of Portugal, with some Venetian cara- 
vals, returning richly laden from the Low Countries, 
the vessel on board which he served took fire, toge¬ 
ther with one of the enemy’s ships, to which it was 
fast grappled. In this dreadful extremity his intre¬ 
pidity and presence of mind did not forsake him. 
He threw himself into the sea, laid hold of a floating 
oar, and by the support of it, and his dexterity in 
swimming, he reached the shore, though above two 
leagues distant, and saved a life reserved for great 
undertakings. b 

, As soon as he recovered strength for 

He enters into t 0 

the Portuguese the journey, he repaired to Lisbon, 

where many of his countrymen were 
settled. They soon conceived such a favourable 
opinion of his merit, as well as talents, that they 
warmly solicited him to remain in that kingdom, 
where his naval skill and experience could not 
fail of rendering him conspicuous. To every ad¬ 
venturer, animated either with curiosity to visit 
new countries, or with ambition to distinguish him¬ 
self, the Portuguese service was at that time ex¬ 
tremely inviting. Columbus listened with a favour¬ 
able ear to the advice of his friends, and having 
gained the esteem of a Portuguese lady, whom he 
married, fixed his residence in Lisbon. This alli¬ 
ance, instead of detaching him from a sea-faring 
life, contributed to enlarge the sphere of his naval 
knowledge, and to excite a desire of extending it 
still further. His wife was a daughter of Bartho¬ 
lomew Perestrello, one of the captains employed 
by prince Henry in his early navigations, and who, 
under his protection, had discovered and planted 
the islands of Porto Santo and Madeira. Columbus 
got possession of the journals and charts of this ex¬ 
perienced navigator, and from them he learned the 
course which the Portuguese had held in making 
their discoveries, as well as the various circum¬ 
stances which guided or encouraged them in their 
attempts. The study of these soothed and inflamed 
his favourite passion ; and while he contemplated 
the maps, and read the descriptions of the new 
countries which Perestrello had seen, his impatience 
to visit them became irresistible. In order to in¬ 
dulge it, he made a voyage to Madeira, and con¬ 
tinued during several years to trade with that island, 


with the Canaries, the Azores, the settlements in 
Guinea, and all the other places which the Portu¬ 
guese had discovered on the continent of Africa. 0 

By the experience which Columbus effects of 
acquired during such a variety of [ 1 h p^ < | ) i fm 0verie3 
voyages, to almost every part of the 
globe with which, at that time, any intercourse was 
carried on by sea, he was now become one of the 
most skilful navigators in Europe. But, not satis¬ 
fied with that praise, his ambition aimed at some¬ 
thing more. The successful progress of the Portu¬ 
guese navigators had awakened a spirit of curiosity 
and emulation, which set every man of science upon 
examining all the circumstances that led to the dis¬ 
coveries which they had made, or that afforded a 
prospect of succeeding iri any new and bolder un¬ 
dertaking. The mind of Columbus, naturally in¬ 
quisitive, capable of deep reflection, and turned to 
speculations of this kind, was so often employed in 
revolving the principles upon which the Portuguese 
had founded their schemes of discovery, and the 
mode in which they had carried them on, that he 
gradually began to form an idea of improving upon 
their plan, and of accomplishing discoveries which 
hitherto they had attempted in vain. 

To find out a passage by sea to the 
East-Indies, was the great object in idea of a new 
view at that period. From the time indu. 

that the Portuguese doubled Cape de Verd, this was 
the point at which they aimed in all their naviga¬ 
tions, and, in comparison with it, all their disco¬ 
veries in Africa appeared inconsiderable. The 
fertility and riches of India had been known for 
many ages ; its spices and other valuable commodi¬ 
ties were in high request throughout Europe, and the 
vast wealth of the Venetians arising from their 
having engrossed this trade, had raised the envy of 
all nations. But how intent soever the Portuguese 
were upon discovering a new route to those desir¬ 
able regions, they searched for it only by steering 
towards the south, in hopes of arriving at India, by 
turning to the east, after they had sailed round the 
further extremity of Africa. This course was still 
unknown, and, even if discovered, was of such im¬ 
mense length, that a voyage from Europe to India 
must have appeared, at that period, an undertaking 
extremely arduous, and of very uncertain issue 
More than half a century had been employed in 
advancing from Cape Non to the equator; a much 
longer space of time might elapse before the more 
extensive navigation from that to India could be 
accomplished. These reflections upon the uncer¬ 
tainty, the danger, and tediousness of the course 
which the Portuguese were pursuing, naturally led 
Columbus to consider whether a shorter and more 
direct passage to the East Indies might not be found 
out. After revolving long and seriously every cir¬ 
cumstance suggested by his superior knowledge in 
the theory as well as practice of navigation ; after 
comparing attentively the observations of modern 


b Life of Columbus, c. v. 


c Life of Columbus, c. iv. v. 



74 G 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK II. 


pilots with the hints and conjectures of ancient 
authors, he at last concluded, that by sailing directly 
towards the west, across the Atlantic ocean, new 
countries, which probably formed a part of the great 
continent of India, must infallibly be discovered. 

Principles and arguments of various 
!h?<£ r histheoiy 0 kinds, and derived from different 
sources, induced him to adopt this 
opinion, seemingly as chimerical as it was new and 
extraordinary. The spherical figure of the earth 
was known, and its magnitude ascertained with 
some degree of accuracy. From this it was evident, 
that the continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa, as 
far as they were known at that time, formed but a 
small portion of the terraqueous globe. It was 
suitable to our ideas concerning the wisdom and 
beneficence of the Author of Nature, to believe that 
the vast space still unexplored was not covered 
entirely by a waste unprofitable ocean, but occupied 
by countries fit for the habitation of man. It ap¬ 
peared likewise extremely probable, that the conti¬ 
nent, on this side of the globe, was balanced by a 
proportional quantity of land in the other hemis¬ 
phere. These conclusions concerning the existence 
of another continent, drawn from the figure and 
structure of the globe, were confirmed by the ob¬ 
servations and conjectures of modern navigators. 
A Portuguese pilot, having stretched further to the 
west than was usual at that time, took up a piece of 
timber artificially carved, floating upon the sea; 
and as it was driven towards him by a westerly 
wind, he concluded that it came from some unknown 
land situated in that quarter. Columbus’s brother- 
in-law had found, to the west of the Madeira Isles, 
a piece of timber fashioned in the same manner, and 
brought by the same wind ; and had seen likewise 
canes of an enormous size floating upon the waves, 
which resembled those described by Ptolemy as 
productions peculiar to the East Indies. 41 After a 
course of westerly winds, trees, torn up by the roots, 
were often driven upon the coasts of the Azores ; 
and at one time, the dead bodies of two men with 
singular features, resembling neither the inhabitants 
of Europe nor of Africa, were cast ashore there. 

As the force of this united evidence, arising from 
theoretical principles and practical observations, 
led Columbus to expect the discovery of new coun¬ 
tries in the western ocean, other reasons induced 
him to believe that these must be connected with 
the continent of India. Though the ancients had 
hardly ever penetrated into India further than the 
banks of the Ganges, yet some Greek authors had 
ventured to describe the provinces beyond that 
river. As men are prone, and at liberty, to magnify 
what is remote or unknown, they represented them 
as regions of an immense extent. Ctesias affirmed 
that India was as large as all the rest of Asia. 
Onesicratus, whom Pliny the naturalist follows, e 
contended that it was equal to a third part of the 

d Lib. i. c. 17. e Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 17. 

f Strab. Geogr. lib. xv. p. 1011. g See Note XII. 


habitable earth. Nearchus asserted, that it would 
take four months to march in a straight line from 
one extremity of India to the other/ The journal 
of Marco Polo, who had proceeded towards the east 
far beyond the limits to which any European had 
ever advanced, seemed to confirm these exaggerat¬ 
ed accounts of the ancients. By his magnificent 
descriptions of the kingdoms of Cathay and Cipanyo , 
and of many other countries, the names of which 
were unknown in Europe, India appeared to be a 
region of vast extent. From these accounts, which, 
however defective, were the most accurate that the 
people of Europe had received at that period, with 
respect to the remote parts of the east, Columbus 
drew a just conclusion. He contended, that in 
proportion as the continent of India stretched out 
towards the east, it must, in consequence of the 
spherical figure of the earth, approach nearer to the 
islands which had lately been discovered to the west 
of Africa; that the distance from the one to the 
other was probably not very considerable; and that 
the most direct as well as shortest course to the 
remote regions of the east, was to be found by 
sailing due west.s This notion concerning the 
vicinity of India to the western parts of our conti¬ 
nent, was countenanced by some eminent writers 
among the ancients, the sanction of whose authority 
was necessary, in that age, to procure a favourable 
reception to any tenet. Aristotle thought it proba¬ 
ble that the Columns of Hercules, or Straits of 
Gibraltar, were not far removed from the East 
Indies, and that there might be a communication by 
sea between them. h Seneca, in terms still more 
explicit, affirms, that, with a fair wind, one might 
sail from Spain to India in a few days/ The 
famous Atlantic island described by Plato, and 
supposed by many to be a real country, beyond 
which an unknown continent was situated, is repre¬ 
sented by him as lying at no great distance from 
Spain. After weighing all these particulars, Co¬ 
lumbus, in whose character the modesty and diffi¬ 
dence of true genius were united with the ardent 
enthusiasm of a projector, did not rest with such 
absolute assurance either upon his own arguments, 
or upon the authority of the ancients, as not to 
consult such of his contemporaries as were capable 
of comprehending the nature of the evidence which 
he produced in support of his opinion. As early as 
the year one thousand four hundred and seventy- 
four, he communicated his ideas concerning the 
probability of discovering new countries, by sailing 
westwards, to Paul, a physician of Florence, emi¬ 
nent for his knowledge of cosmography, and who, 
from the learning as well as candour which he dis¬ 
covers in his reply, appears to have been well 
entitled to the confidence which Columbus placed 
in him. He warmly approved of the plan, suggested 
several facts in confirmation of it, and encouraged 
Columbus to persevere in an undertaking so laud- 

h Aristot. de Ccelo, lib. ii. c. 14. edit. Du Val. Par. 1629. vol. i. p. 472 
1 Senec. Quest. Natur. lib. i. in proem. 




BOOK II. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


747 


able, and which must redound so much to the 
honour ot his country, and the benelit of Europe. k 

His schemes for To a mind less capable of forming 
execution! 1 ilUo and executing great designs than 
that of Columbus, all those reasonings, 
and observations, and authorities, would have served 
only as the foundation of some plausible and fruit¬ 
less theory, which might have furnished matter for 
ingenious discourse or fanciful conjecture. But 
with his sanguine and enterprising temper, specu¬ 
lation led directly to action. Fully satisfied himself 
with respect to the truth of his system, he was 
impatient to bring it to the test of experiment, and 
to set out upon a voyage of discovery. The first step 
tow ards this w as to secure the patronage of some of 
the considerable powers in Europe, capable of un¬ 
dertaking such an enterprise. As long absence had 
not extinguished the affection which he bore to his 
native country, he wished that it should reap the 
fruits of his labours and invention. With this view, 
lie applies to the he laid his scheme before the senate of 
Genoa, and making his country the 
first tender of his service, offered to sail under the 
banners of the republic, in quest of the new regions 
which he expected to discover. But Columbus had 
resided for so many years in foreign parts, that his 
countrymen were unacquainted with his abilities 
and character ; and though a maritime people, were 
so little accustomed to distant voyages, that they 
could form no just idea of the principles on which 
he founded his hopes of success. They incon¬ 
siderately rejected his proposal, as the dream of a 
chimerical projector, and lost for ever the oppor¬ 
tunity of restoring their commonwealth to its ancient 
splendour. 1 

to the king of Having performed what was due to 
Portugal. iji s country, Columbus was so little 
discouraged by the repulse which he had received, 
that, instead of relinquishing his undertaking, he 
pursued it with fresh ardour. He made his next 
overture to John II. king of Portugal, in whose 
dominions he had been long established, and whom 
he considered, on that account, as having the second 
claim to his service. Here every circumstance 
seemed to promise him a more favourable reception : 
he applied to a monarch of an enterprising genius, 
no incompetent judge in naval affairs, and proud of 
patronizing every attempt to discover new countries. 
His subjects were the most experienced navigators 
in Europe, and the least apt to be intimidated either 
by the novelty or boldness of any maritime expedi¬ 
tion. In Portugal, the professional skill of Colum¬ 
bus, as well as his personal good qualities, were 
thoroughly known: and as the former rendered it 
probable that his scheme was not altogether vision¬ 
ary, the latter exempted him from the suspicion of 
any sinister intention in proposing it. Accordingly, 
the king listened to him in the most gracious man¬ 
ner, and referred the consideration of his plan to 


Diego Ortiz, bishop of Ceuta, and two Jewish 
physicians, eminent cosmographers, whom he was 
accustomed to consult in matters of this kind. As 
in Genoa, ignorance had opposed and disappointed 
Columbus ; in Lisbon, he had to combat with preju¬ 
dice, an enemy no less formidable. The persons, 
according to whose decision his scheme was to be 
adopted or rejected, had been the chief directors of 
the Portuguese navigations, and had advised to 
search for a passage to India, by steering a course 
directly opposite to that which Columbus recom¬ 
mended as shorter and more certain. They could 
not, therefore, approve of his proposal, without 
submitting to the double mortification of condemn¬ 
ing their own theory, and acknowledging his supe¬ 
rior sagacity. After teasing him with by who ^ he is 
captious questions, and starting innu- deceived, 
merable objections, with a view of betraying him 
into such a particular explanation of his system, as 
might draw from him a full discovery of its nature, 
they deferred passing a final judgment with respect 
to it. In the mean time, they conspired to rob him 
of the honour and advantages which he expected 
from the success of his scheme, advising the king 
to despatch a vessel secretly, in order to attempt 
the proposed discovery, by following exactly the 
course which Columbus seemed to point out. John, 
forgetting on this occasion the sentiments becoming 
a monarch, meanly adopted this perfidious counsel. 
But the pilot chosen to execute Columbus’s plan 
had neither the genius nor the fortitude of its author. 
Contrary winds arose, no sight of approaching land 
appeared, his courage failed, and he returned to 
Lisbon, execrating the project as equally extrava¬ 
gant and dangerous." 1 

Upon discovering this dishonourable He leaves Por . 
transaction, Columbus felt the indig- to g the a court P of rs 
nation natural to an ingenuous mind, Spain - 
and in the warmth of his resentment determined to 
break off all intercourse with a nation capable of 
such flagrant treachery. He instantly quitted the 
kingdom, and landed in Spain towards the close of 
the year one thousand four hundred and eighty-four. 
As he was now at liberty to court the protection of 
any patron, whom he could engage to approve of 
his plan, and to carry it into execution, he resolved 
to propose it in person to Ferdinand and Isabella, 
who at that time governed the united kingdoms of 
Castile and Arragon. But as he had sends his brother 
already experienced the uncertain issue mt0 England - 
of application to kings and ministers, he took the 
precaution of sending into England his brother 
Bartholomew, to whom he had fully communicated 
his ideas, in order that he might negociate, at the 
same time, with Henry VII. who was reputed one of 
the most sagacious as well as opulent princes in 
Europe. 

It was not without reason that Co- obstacles to his 
lumbus entertained doubts and fears success m Spam 


k Life of Columbus, c. viii. 

1 Herrera Hist, de las Indias Occid. dec. 1. lib. l. c. vn. 


m Life of Columbus, c. xi. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 7. 



748 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK II. 


with respect to the reception of his proposals in the 
Spanish court. Spain was, at that juncture, en¬ 
gaged in a dangerous war with Granada, the last of 
the Moorish kingdoms in that country. The wary 
and suspicious temper of Ferdinand.was not formed 
to relish bold or uncommon designs. Isabella, 
though more generous and enterprising, was under 
the influence of her husband in all her actions. The 
Spaniards had hitherto made no efforts to extend na¬ 
vigation beyond its ancient limits, and had beheld the 
amazing progress of discovery among their neigh¬ 
bours the Portuguese, without one attempt to imitate 
or to rival them. The war with the infidels afforded an 
ample field to the national activity and love of glory. 
Under circumstances so unfavourable, it was im¬ 
possible for Columbus to make rapid progress with 
a nation, naturally slow and dilatory in forming all 
its resolutions. His character, however, was ad¬ 
mirably adapted to that of the people whose confi¬ 
dence and protection he solicited. He was grave, 
though courteous in his deportment; circumspect 
in his words and actions; irreproachable in his 
morals; and exemplary in his attention to all the 
duties and functions of religion. By qualities so 
respectable, he notonly gained many private friends, 
but acquired such general esteem, that, notwith¬ 
standing the plainness of his appearance, suitable to 
the mediocrity of his fortune, he was not considered 
as a mere adventurer, to whom indigence had 
suggested a visionary project, but was received 
as a person to whose propositions serious atten¬ 
tion was due. 

His scheme ex Ferdinand and Isabella, though fully 
aminedb^un- occupied by their operations against 
the Moors, paid so much regard to 
Columbus, as to remit the consideration of his plan 
to the queen’s confessor, Ferdinand de Talavera. 
He consulted such of his countrymen as were sup¬ 
posed best qualified to decide with respect to a 
subject of this kind. But true science had hitherto 
made so little progress in Spain, that the pretended 
philosophers, selected to judge in a matter of such 
moment, did not comprehend the first principles 
upon which Columbus founded his conjectures and 
hopes. Some of them, from mistaken notions 
concerning the dimensions of the globe, contended 
that a voyage to those remote parts of the east which 
Columbus expected to discover, could not be per¬ 
formed in less than three years. Others concluded, 
that either he would find the ocean to be of infinite 
extent, according to the opinion of some ancient 
philosophers ,* or if he should persist in steering 
towards the west beyond a certain point, that the 
convex figure of the globe would prevent his return, 
and that he must inevitably perish, in the vain attempt 
to open a communication between the two opposite 
hemispheres, which nature had for ever disjoined. 
Even without deigning to enter into any particular 
discussion, many rejected the scheme in general, 
upon the credit of a maxim, under which the 

n Life of Columb. c. 13. Ilerrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 7. 


ignorant and unenterprising shelter themselves in 
every age, “ That it is presumptuous in any person, 
to suppose that he alone possesses knowledge su¬ 
perior to all the rest of mankind united/’ They 
maintained, that if there were really any such 
countries as Columbus pretended, they could not 
have remained so long concealed, nor would the 
wisdom and sagacity of former ages have left the 
glory of this invention to an obscure Genoese 
pilot. 

It required all Columbus’s patience 

, , . . . , who made an un- 

and address to negociate with men favourable report 
,, r , • , , concerning it. 

capable of advancing such strange 
propositions. He had to contend not only with the 
obstinacy of ignorance, but with what is still more 
intractable, the pride of false knowledge. After in¬ 
numerable conferences, and wasting five years in 
fruitless endeavours to inform and to satisfy judges 
so little capable of deciding with propriety, Tala¬ 
vera, at last, made such an unfavourable report to 
Ferdinand and Isabella, as induced them to ac¬ 
quaint Columbus, that until the war with the Moors 
should be brought to a period, it would be impru¬ 
dent to engage in any new and extensive enterprise. 

Whatever care was taken to soften the harshness 
of this declaration, Columbus considered it as a 
final rejection of his proposals. But, happily for 
mankind, that superiority of genius, which is capa¬ 
ble of forming great and uncommon designs, is 
usually accompanied with an ardent enthusiasm, 
which can neither be cooled by delays, nor damped 
by disappointment. Columbus was of this sanguine 
temper. Though he felt deeply the cruel blow given 
to his hopes, and retired immediately from a court, 
where he had been amused so long with vain ex¬ 
pectations, his confidence in the justness of his own 
system did not diminish, and his impatience to de¬ 
monstrate the truth of it by an actual experiment, 
became greater than ever. Having courted the 
protection of sovereign states without success, he 
applied next to persons of inferior rank, and ad¬ 
dressed successively the dukes of Medina Sidonia 
and Medina Celi, who, though subjects, were pos¬ 
sessed of power and opulence more than equal to 
the enterprise which he projected. His negociations 
with them proved as fruitless as those in which he 
had been hitherto engaged ; for these noblemen 
were either as little convinced by Columbus’s argu¬ 
ments as their superiors, or they were afraid of 
alarming the jealousy and offending the pride of 
Ferdinand, by countenancing a scheme which he 
had rejected." 

Amid the painful sensations occa¬ 
sioned by such a succession of disap- hisTrSher il 
pointments, Columbus had to sustain £ngland ‘ 
the additional distress of having received no ac¬ 
counts of his brother, whom he had sent to the 
court of England. In his voyage to that country, 
Bartholomew had been so unfortunate as to fall into 
the hands of pirates, who having stripped him of 



BOOK II. 


749 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


every thing, detained him a prisoner for several 
years. At length he made his escape, and arrived 
in London, but in such extreme indigence, that he 
was obliged to employ himself, during a consider¬ 
able time, in drawing and selling maps, in order to 
pick up as much money as would purchase a decent 
dress, in which he might venture to appear at court. 
He then laid before the king the proposals with 
which he had been intrusted by his brother, and, 
notwithstanding Henry’s excessive caution and 
parsimony, which rendered him averse to new or 
extensive undertakings, he received Columbus’s 
overtures with more approbation than any monarch 
to whom they had hitherto been presented. 

Columbus has Meanwhile, Columbus being unac- 
ofencouragement quainted with his brother’s fate, and 
in spam. having now no prospeet of encourage¬ 

ment in Spain, resolved to visit the court of Eng¬ 
land in person, in hopes of meeting with a more 
favourable reception there. He had already made 
preparations for this purpose, and taken measures 
for the disposal of his children during his absence, 
when Juan Perez, the guardian of the monastery of 
Rabida, near Palos, in which they had been edu¬ 
cated, earnestly solicited him to defer his journey 
for a short time. Perez was a man of considerable 
learning, and of some credit with queen Isabella, to 
whom he was known personally. He was warmly 
attached to Columbus, with whose abilities as well 
as integrity he had many opportunities of being ac¬ 
quainted. Prompted by curiosity or by friendship, 
he entered upon an accurate examination of his 
system, in conjunction with a physician settled in the 
neighbourhood, who was a considerable proficient 
in mathematical knowledge. This investigation 
satisfied them so thoroughly, with respect to the 
solidity of the principles on which Columbus found¬ 
ed his opinion, and the probability of success in 
executing the plan which he proposed, that Perez, 
in order to prevent his country from being deprived 
of the glory and benefit which must accrue to the 
patrons of such a grand enterprise, ventured to 
write to Isabella, conjuring her to consider the 
matter anew with the attention which it merited. 

Moved by the representations of a person whom 
she respected, Isabella desired Perez to repair im¬ 
mediately to the village of Santa Fe, in which, on 
account of the siege of Granada, the court resided 
at that time, that she might confer with him upon 
this important subject. The first effect of their in¬ 
terview was a gracious invitation of Columbus 
back to court, accompanied with the present of a 
small sum to equip him for the journey. As there 
was now a certain prospect that the war with the 
Moors would speedily be brought to a happy issue 
by the reduction of Granada, which would leave the 
nation at liberty to engage in new undertakings ; 
this, as well as the mark of royal favour with which 
Columbus had been lately honoured, encouraged 
his friends to appear with greater confidence than 
formerly in support of his scheme. The chief of 


these, Alonso de Quintanilla, comptroller of the 
finances in Castile, and Luis de Santangel, receiver 
of the ecclesiastical revenues in Aragon, whose 
meritorious zeal in promoting this great design en¬ 
titles their names to an honourable place in history, 
introduced Columbus to many persons of high rank, 
and interested them warmly in his behalf. 

But it was not an easy matter to in- Is aKain disap . 
spire Ferdinand with favourable sen- pointed, 
timents. He still regarded Columbus’s project as 
extravagant and chimerical; and in order to render 
the efforts of his partisans ineffectual, he had the 
address to employ, in this new negociation with 
him, some of the persons who had formerly pro¬ 
nounced his scheme to be impracticable. To their 
astonishment, Columbus appeared before them with 
the same confident hopes of success as formerly, 
and insisted upon the same high recompence. He 
proposed that a small fleet should be fitted out, un¬ 
der his command, to attempt the discovery, and de¬ 
manded to be appointed hereditary admiral and 
viceroy of all the seas and lands which he should 
discover, and to have the tenths of the profits arising 
from them settled irrevocably upon himself and his 
descendants. At the same time, he offered to ad¬ 
vance the eighth part of the sum necessary for ac¬ 
complishing his design, on condition that he should 
be entitled to a proportional share of benefit from 
the adventure. If the enterprise should totally mis¬ 
carry, he made no stipulation for any reward or 
emolument whatever. Instead of viewing this con¬ 
duct as the clearest evidence of his full persuasion 
with respect to the truth of his own system, or being 
struck with that magnanimity which, after so many 
delays and repulses, would stoop to nothing inferior 
to its original claims, the persons with whom Co¬ 
lumbus treated began meanly to calculate the ex¬ 
pense of the expedition, and the value of the re¬ 
ward which he demanded. The expense, moderate 
as it was, they represented to be too great for Spain 
in the present exhausted state of its finances. They 
contended that the honours and emoluments claimed 
by Columbus were exorbitant, even if he should 
perform the utmost of what he had promised ; and 
if all his sanguine hopes should prove illusive, such 
vast concessions to an adventurer would be deemed 
not only inconsiderate, but ridiculous. In this im¬ 
posing garb of caution and prudence, their opinion 
appeared so plausible, and was so warmly support¬ 
ed by Ferdinand, that Isabella declined giving any 
countenance to Columbus, and abruptly broke off 
the negociation with him which she had begun. 

This was more mortifying to Columbus than all 
the disappointments which he had hitherto met 
with. The invitation to court from Isabella, like an 
unexpected ray of light, had opened such prospects 
of success as encouraged him to hope that his la¬ 
bours were at an end; but now darkness and un¬ 
certainty returned, and his mind, firm as it was, 
could hardly support the shock of such an unfore¬ 
seen reverse. He withdrew in deep anguish from 



750 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1492. BOOK IT. 


court, with an intention of prosecuting his voyage 
to England as his last resource. 

„ ... About that time Granada surren- 

successful. dered, and Ferdinand and Isabella, in 
January 2 . triumphal pomp, took possession of a 
city, the reduction of which extirpated a foreign 
power from the heart of their dominions, and ren¬ 
dered them masters of all the provinces, extending 
from the bottom of the Pyrenees to the frontiers of 
Portugal. As the flow of spirits which accompanies 
success elevates the mind, and renders it enterpris¬ 
ing, Quintanilla and Santangel, the vigilant and 
discerning patrons of Columbus, took advantage of 
this favourable situation, in order to make one ef¬ 
fort more in behalf of their friend. They addressed 
themselves to Isabella, and after expressing some 
surprise that she, who had always been the muni¬ 
ficent patroness of generous undertakings, should 
hesitate so long to countenance the most splendid 
scheme that had ever been proposed to any monarch; 
they represented to her, that Columbus was a man 
of a sound understanding and virtuous character, 
well qualified, by his experience in navigation, as 
well as his knowledge of geometry, to form just 
ideas with respect to the structure of the globe and 
the situation of its various regions ; that by offering 
to risk his own life and fortune in the execution of 
his scheme, he gave the most satisfying evidence 
both of his integrity and hope of success ; that the 
sum requisite for equipping such an armament as 
he demanded was inconsiderable, and the advan¬ 
tages which might accrue from his undertaking were 
immense; that he demanded no recompence for his 
invention and labour, but what was to arise from the 
countries which he should discover ; that, as it was 
worthy of her magnanimity to make this noble at¬ 
tempt to extend the sphere of human knowledge, 
and to open an intercourse with regions hitherto 
unknown, so it would afford the highest satisfaction 
to her piety and zeal, after re-establishing the Chris¬ 
tian faith in those provinces of Spain from which it 
had been long banished, to discover a new world, to 
which she might communicate the light and blessings 
of divine truth ; that if now she did not decide in¬ 
stantly, the opportunity would be irretrievably lost; 
that Columbus was on his way to foreign countries, 
where some prince, more fortunate or adventurous, 
would close with his proposals, and Spain would 
for ever bewail that fatal timidity which had ex¬ 
cluded her from the glory and advantages that she 
had once in her power to have enjoyed. 

These forcible arguments, urged by persons of 
such authority, and at a juncture so well chosen, 
produced the desired effect. They dispelled all 
Isabella’s doubts and fears ; she ordered Columbus 
to be instantly recalled, declared her resolution of 
employing him on his own terms, and regretting 
the low estate of her finances, generously offered to 
pledge her own jewels, in order to raise as much 
money as might be needed in making preparations 

o Herrera, dec. 1. lib. c. 8. 


for the voyage. Santangel, in a transport of grati¬ 
tude, kissed the queen’s hand, and in order to save 
her from having recourse to such a mortifying ex¬ 
pedient for procuring money, engaged to advance 
immediately the sum that was requisite. 0 

Columbus had proceeded some 

. , , The conditions 

leagues on his journey, when the of his agreement 

messenger from Isabella overtook him. 1 
Upon receiving an account of the unexpected re¬ 
solution in his favour, he returned directly to Santa 
Fe, though some remainder of diffidence still min¬ 
gled itself with his joy. But the cordial reception 
which he met with from Isabella, together with the 
near prospect of setting out upon that voyage which 
had so long been the object of his thoughts and 
wishes, soon effaced the remembrance of all that he 
had suffered in Spain, during eight tedious years 
of solicitation and suspense. The negociation now 
went forward with facility and despatch, and a 
treaty or capitulation with Columbus was signed 
on the seventeenth of April, one thousand four 
hundred and ninety-two. The chief articles of it 
were :—1. Ferdinand and Isabella, as sovereigns of 
the ocean, constituted Columbus their high admiral 
in all the seas, islands, and continents, which should 
be discovered by his industry ; and stipulated that 
he and his heirs for ever should enjoy this office, 
with the same powers and prerogatives which belong¬ 
ed to the high admiral of Castile, within the limits 
of his jurisdiction. 2. They appointed Columbus 
their viceroy in all the islands and continents which 
he should discover ; but if, for the better adminis¬ 
tration of affairs, it should hereafter be necessary 
to establish a separate governor in any of those 
countries, they authorized Columbus to name three 
persons, of whom they would choose one for that 
office ; and the dignity of viceroy, with all its im¬ 
munities, was likewise to be hereditary in the family 
of Columbus. 3. They granted to Columbus and 
his heirs for ever, the tenth of the free profits ac¬ 
cruing from the productions and commerce of the 
countries which he should discover. 4. They de¬ 
clared, that if any controversy or law-suit shall 
arise with respect to any mercantile transaction in 
the countries which should be discovered, it should 
be determined by the sole authority of Columbus, 
or of judges to be appointed by him. 5. They per¬ 
mitted Columbus to advance one-eighth part of what 
should be expended in preparing for the expedition, 
and in carrying on commerce with the countries 
which he should discover, and entitled him, in re¬ 
turn, to an eighth part of the profits 

Though the name of Ferdinand appears conjoined 
with that of Isabella in this transaction, his distrust 
of Columbus was still so violent that he refused to 
take any part in the enterprise as king of Aragon. 
As the whole expense of the expedition was to be de¬ 
frayed by the crown of Castile, Isabella reserved for 
her subjects of that kingdom an exclusive right to all 
the benefits which might redound from its success. 

p Life of Columbus, c. 15. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 9. 



BOOK II. A. D. 1492.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


751 


The preparations As soon as the treaty was signed, 
for is voyage. x sa ij e i| a ^ by j ier attention and activity 

in forwarding the preparations for the voyage, en¬ 
deavoured to make some reparation to Columbus 
for the time which lie had lost in fruitless solicita¬ 
tion. By the twelfth of May, all that depended 
upon her was adjusted; and Columbus waited on 
the king and queen, in order to receive their final 
instructions. Every thing respecting the destination 
and conduct of the voyage, they committed implicitly 
to the disposal of his prudence. But that they 
might avoid giving any just cause of offence to the 
king of Portugal, they strictly enjoined him not to 
approach near to the Portuguese settlements on the 
coast of Guinea, or in any of the other countries to 
which the Portuguese claimed right as the discover¬ 
ers. Isabella had ordered the ships, of which Co¬ 
lumbus was to take the command, to be fitted out 
in the port of Palos, a small maritime town in the 
province of Andalusia. As the guardian, Juan 
Perez, to whom Columbus had already been so 
much indebted, resided in the neighbourhood of 
this place, he, by the influence of that good eccle¬ 
siastic, as well as by his own connexion with the 
inhabitants, not only raised among them what he 
wanted of the sum that he was bound by treaty to 
advance, but engaged several of them to accom¬ 
pany him in the voyage. The chief of these asso¬ 
ciates were three brothers of the name of Pinzon, 
of considerable wealth, and of great experience in 
naval affairs, who w ere willing to hazard their lives 
and fortunes in the expedition. 

But, after all the efforts of Isabella and Colum¬ 
bus, the armament was not suitable, either to the 
dignity of the nation by which it was equipped, or 
to the importance of the service for which it was 
destined. It consisted of three vessels. The 
largest, a ship of no considerable burthen, was com¬ 
manded by Columbus, as admiral, who gave it the 
name of Santa Maria , out of respect for the blessed 
Virgin, whom he honoured with singular devotion. 
Of the second, called the Pinta, Martin Pinzon 
was captain, and his brother Francis pilot. The 
third, named the Nigna, was under the command of 
Vincent Yanez Pinzon. These two were light 
vessels, hardly superior in burthen or force to large 
boats. This squadron, if it merits that name, was 
victualled for twelve months, and had on board 
ninety men, mostly sailors, together with a few ad¬ 
venturers who followed the fortune of Columbus, 
and some gentlemen of Isabella’s court, whom she 
appointed to accompany him. Though the expense 
of the undertaking was one of the circumstances 
which chiefly alarmed the court of Spain, and re¬ 
tarded so long the negociation with Columbus, the 
sum employed in fitting out this squadron did not 
exceed four thousand pounds. 

As the art of ship-building in the fifteenth century 
was extremely rude, and the bulk of vessels was 
accommodated to the short and easy voyages along 
the coast which they were accustomed to perform, 


it is a proof of the courage as w ell as enterprising 
genius of Columbus, that he ventured, with a fleet 
so unfit for a distant navigation, to explore unknown 
seas, where he had no chart to guide him, no know¬ 
ledge of the tides and currents, and no experience 
of the dangers to which he might be exposed. His 
eagerness to accomplish the great design which had 
so long engrossed his thoughts, made him overlook 
or disregard every circumstance that would have in¬ 
timidated a mind less adventurous. He pushed 
forwards the preparations with such ardour, and 
was seconded so effectually by the persons to whom 
Isabella committed the superintendance of this 
business, that every thing was soon in readiness for 
the voyage. But as Columbus was deeply impressed 
with sentiments of religion, he would not set out 
upon an expedition so arduous, and of which one 
great object was to extend the knowledge of the 
Christian faith, without imploring publicly the guid¬ 
ance and protection of Heaven. With this view, 
he, together with all the persons under his com¬ 
mand, marched in solemn procession to the monas¬ 
tery of Rabida. After confessing their sins, and 
obtaining absolution, they received the holy sacra¬ 
ment from the hands of the guardian, who joined 
his prayers to theirs for the success of an enterprise 
which he had so zealously patronized. 

Next morning, being Friday the His departure 
third day of August, in the year one trom Spam- 
thousand four hundred and ninety-two, Columbus 
set sail, a little before sun-rise, in presence of a 
vast crowd of spectators, who sent up their suppli¬ 
cations to Heaven for the prosperous issue of the 
voyage, which they wished rather than expected. 
Columbus steered directly for the Ca¬ 
nary Islands, and arrived there with¬ 
out any occurrence that would have deserved notice 
on any other occasion. But, in a voyage of such 
expectation and importance, every circumstance 
was the object of attention. The rudder of the 
Pinta broke loose the day after she left the harbour, 
and that accident alarmed the crew, no less super¬ 
stitious than unskilful, as a certain omen of the 
unfortunate destiny of the expedition. Even in the 
short run to the Canaries, the ships were found to 
be so crazy and ill-appointed, as to be very improper 
for a navigation which was expected to be both 
long and dangerous. Columbus refitted them, how¬ 
ever, to the best of his pow er, and having supplied 
himself with fresh provisions, h.e took his departure 
from Gomera, one of the most westerly of the Ca¬ 
nary Islands, on the sixth day of September. 

Here the voyage of discovery may Thecouisewhich 
properly be said to begin ; for Colum- he held - 
bus, holding his course due west, left immediately 
the usual track of navigation, and stretched into 
unfrequented and unknown seas. The first day, as 
it was very calm, he made but little w ay; but on 
the second, he lost sight of the Canaries ; and many 
of the sailors, dejected already and dismayed, when 
they contemplated the boldness of the undertaking, 


August 13. 



752 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. I). 1492. BOOK II. 


began to beat their breasts, and to shed tears, as if 
they were never more to behold land. Columbus 
comforted them with assurances of success, and the 
prospect of vast wealth, in those opulent regions 
whither he was conducting them. This early dis¬ 
covery of the spirit of his followers taught Colum¬ 
bus that he must prepare to struggle, not only with 
the unavoidable difficulties which might be expected 
from the nature of his undertaking, but with such 
as were likely to arise from the ignorance and ti¬ 
midity of the people under his command ; and he 
perceived that the art of governing the minds of 
men would be no less requisite for accomplishing 
the discoveries which he had in view, than naval 
skill and undaunted courage. Happily for himself, 
and for the country by which he was employed, he 
joined to the ardent temper and inventive genius of 
a projector, virtues of another species, which are 
rarely united with them. He possessed a thorough 
knowledge of mankind, an insinuating address, a 
patient perseverance in executing any plan, the 
perfect government of his own passions, and the 
talent of acquiring an ascendant over those of other 
men. All these qualities, which formed him for 
command, were accompanied with that superior 
knowledge of his profession, which begets confi¬ 
dence in times of difficulty and danger. To un- 
, skilful Spanish sailors, accustomed 

Vigilance and 

attention of only to coasting voyages in the Medi¬ 
terranean, the maritime science of 
Columbus, the fruit of thirty years’ experience, im¬ 
proved by an acquaintance with all the inventions 
of the Portuguese, appeared immense. As soon as 
they put to sea, he regulated every thing by his sole 
authority ; he superintended the execution of every 
order: and allowing himself only a few hours for 
sleep, he was at all other times upon deck. As his 
course lay through seas which had not formerly 
been visited, the sounding-line, or instruments for 
observation, w r ere continually in his hands. After 
the example of the Portuguese discoverers, he at¬ 
tended to the motion of tides and currents, watched 
the flight of birds, the appearance of fishes, of sea¬ 
weeds, and of every thing that floated on the waves, 
and entered every occurrence, with a minute ex¬ 
actness, in the journal which he kept. As the 
length of the voyage could not fail of alarming 
sailors habituated only to short excursions, Colum¬ 
bus endeavoured to conceal from them the real pro¬ 
gress which they made. With this view', though 
they run eighteen leagues on the second day after 
they left Gomera, he gave out that they had ad¬ 
vanced only fifteen, and he uniformly employed the 
same artifice of reckoning short during the whole 
voyage. By the fourteenth of September, the fleet 
was above two hundred leagues to the west of the 
Canary Isles, at a greater distance from land than 
. any Spaniard had been before that 

Apprehensions 

and alarms of time. There they were struck with 

the cre%v. 

an appearance no less astonishing than 

q See Note XIT1. 


new. They observed that the magnetic needle, in 
their compasses, did not point exactly to the polar 
star, but varied towards the west; and as they pro¬ 
ceeded, this variation increased. This appearance, 
which is now familiar, though it still remains one 
of the mysteries of nature, into the cause of which 
the sagacity of man hath not been able to penetrate, 
filled the companions of Columbus with terror. They 
were now in a boundless and unknown ocean, far 
from the usual course of navigation ; nature itself 
seemed to be altered, and the only guide which they 
had left was about to fail them. Columbus, with 
no less quickness than ingenuity, invented a reason 
for this appearance, which, though it did not satisfy 
himself, seemed so plausible to them, that it dis¬ 
pelled their fears, or silenced their murmurs. 

He still continued to steer due west, nearly in 
the same latitude with the Canary Islands. In 
this course he came within the sphere of the trade 
wind, which blows invariably from east to west, 
between the tropics and a few degrees beyond them. 
He advanced before this steady gale with such uni¬ 
form rapidity, that it was seldom necessary to shift 
a sail. When about four hundred leagues to the 
west of the Canaries, he found the sea so covered 
with weeds, that it resembled a meadow of vast 
extent, and in some places they were so thick, as 
to retard the motion of the vessels. This strange 
appearance occasioned new alarm and disquiet. 
The sailors imagined that they were now' arrived 
at the utmost boundary of the navigable ocean ; 
that these floating weeds would obstruct their further 
progress, and concealed dangerous rocks, or some 
large tract of land, which had sunk, they knew not 
how, in that place. Columbus endeavoured to 
persuade them, that what had alarmed, ought rather 
to have encouraged them, and was to be considered 
as a sign of approaching land. At the same time, 
a brisk gale arose, and carried them forward. 
Several birds were seen hovering about the ship/i 
and directed their flight towards the west. The 
desponding crew resumed some degree of spirit, 
and began to entertain fresh hopes. 

Upon the first of October they w ere, 
according to the admiral’s reckoning, 
seven hundred and seventy leagues to the west of 
the Canaries; but lest his men should be intimi¬ 
dated by the prodigious length of the navigation, he 
gave out that they had proceeded only five hundred 
and eighty-four leagues; and, fortunately for Colum¬ 
bus, neitherhis own pilot, nor those of the other ships, 
had skill sufficient to correct this error, and discover 
the deceit. They had now been above three weeks at 
sea; they had proceeded far beyond what former 
navigators had attempted or deemed possible; all 
their prognostics of discovery, drawn from the flight 
of birds and other circumstances, had proved falla¬ 
cious ; the appearances of land, with which their 
own credulity or the artifice of their commander had 
from time to time flattered and amused them, had 


These increase. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK H. A. D. 1492.] 


53 


been altogether illusive, and their prospect of suc¬ 
cess seemed now to be as distant as ever. These 
reflections occurred often to men, who had no other 
object or occupation than to reason and discourse 
concerning the intention and circumstances of their 
expedition. They made impression, at first, upon 
the ignorant and timid, and extending, by degrees, 
to such as were better informed or more resolute, 
the contagion spread at length from ship to ship. 
From secret whispers or murmurings, they proceeded 
to open cabals and public complaints. They taxed 
their sovereign with inconsiderate credulity, in pay¬ 
ing such regard to the vain promises and rash con¬ 
jectures of an indigent foreigner, as to hazard the 
lives of so many of her own subjects, in prosecuting 
a chimerical scheme. They affirmed that they had 
fully performed their duty, by venturing so far in 
an unknown and hopeless course, and could incur 
no blame for refusing to follow, any longer, a des¬ 
perate adventurer to certain destruction. They 
contended, that it was necessary to think of return¬ 
ing to Spain, while their crazy vessels were still in 
a condition to keep the sea, but expressed their fear 
that the attempt would prove vain, as the wind, 
which had hitherto been so favourable to their 
course, must render it impossible to sail in the 
opposite direction. All agreed that Columbus should 
be compelled by force to adopt a measure on which 
their common safety depended. Some of the more 
audacious proposed, as the most expeditious and 
certain method for getting rid at once of his remon¬ 
strances, to throw him into the sea, being persuaded 
that, upon their return to Spain, the death of an 
unsuccessful projector would excite little concern, 
and be inquired into with no curiosity. 

Columbus was fully sensible of his 

The address of ., ..... tx.ii 

Columbus in perilous situation. He had observ- 

soothing them. , . , . „ , . 

ed, with great uneasiness, the fatal 
operation of ignorance and of fear in producing 
disaffection among his crew, and saw that it was 
now ready to burst out into open mutiny. He re¬ 
tained, however, perfect presence of mind. He 
affected to seem ignorant of their machinations. 
Notwithstanding the agitation and solicitude of his 
own mind, he appeared with a cheerful countenance, 
like a man satisfied with the progress he had made, 
and confident of success. Sometimes he employed 
all the arts of insinuation, to soothe his men. Some¬ 
times he endeavoured to work upon their ambition 
or avarice, by magnificent descriptions of the fame 
and wealth which they were about to acquire. On 
other occasions, he assumed a tone of authority, and 
threatened them with vengeance from their sove¬ 
reign, if, by their dastardly behaviour, they should 
defeat this noble effort to promote the glory of God, 
and to exalt the Spanish name above that of every 
other nation. Even with seditious sailors, the words 
of a man whom they had been accustomed to rever¬ 
ence, were weighty and persuasive, and not only 
restrained them from those violent excesses which 


they meditated, but prevailed with them to accom¬ 
pany their admiral for some time longer. 

As they proceeded, the indications of approaching 
land seemed to be more certain, and excited hope 
in proportion. The birds began to appear in flocks, 
making towards the south-west. Columbus, in 
imitation of the Portuguese navigators, who had 
been guided, in several of their discoveries, by the 
motion of birds, altered his course from due w est 
towards that quarter whither they pointed their 
flight. But, after holding on for several days in this 
new direction, without any better success than for¬ 
merly, having seen no object, during thirty days, 
but the sea and the sky, the hopes of his com¬ 
panions subsided faster than they had risen ; their 
fears revived with additional force ; Their fears 
impatience, rage, and despair, ap- return, 
peared in every countenance. All sense of subor¬ 
dination was lost: the officers, who had Danger of a 
hitherto concurred with Columbus in mutiny, 
opinion, and supported his authority, now took part 
with the private men : they assembled tumultuously 
on the deck, expostulated with their commander, 
mingled threats with their expostulations, and re¬ 
quired him instantly to tack about and return to 
Europe. Columbus perceived that it would be of 
no avail to have recourse to any of his former arts, 
which having been tried so often had lost their 
effect; and that it was impossible to rekindle any 
zeal for the success of the expedition among men, 
in whose breasts fear had extinguished every gene¬ 
rous sentiment. He saw that it was no Distress of 
less vain to think of employing either Col umbus. 
gentle or severe measures to quell a mutiny so 
general and so violent. It was necessary, on all 
these accounts, to soothe passions which he could 
no longer command, and to give way to a torrent 
too impetuous to be checked. He promised so¬ 
lemnly to his men that he would comply with their 
request, provided they would accompany him, and 
obey his command for three days longer, and if, 
during that time, land were not discovered, he 
would then abandon the enterprise, and direct his 
course towards Spain/ 

Enraged as the sailors were, and 

.. , , , . c . Encouraging 

impatient to turn their faces again appearances of 

towards their native country, this pro¬ 
position did not appear to them unreasonable. Nor 
did Columbus hazard much in confining himself to 
a term so short. The presages of discovering land 
were now so numerous and promising, that he 
deemed them infallible. For some days the sound¬ 
ing-line reached the bottom, and the soil which it 
brought up indicated land to be at no great distance. 
The flocks of birds increased, and were composed 
not only of sea-fowl, but of such land birds as could 
not be supposed to fly far from the shore. The crew 
of the Pinta observed a cane floating, which seemed 
to have been newly cut, and likewise a piece of 
timber artificially carved. The sailors aboard the 


r Oviedo, Ilist. ap. Ramus, vol. iii. p. 81 E. 

3 c 



764 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Land discovered. 


Nigna took up the branch of a tree with red berries, 
perfectly fresh. The clouds around the setting sun 
assumed a new appearance; the air was more mild 
and warm, and, during night, the wind became 
unequal and variable. From all these symptoms, 
Columbus was so confident of being near land, that 
on the evening of the eleventh of October, after 
public prayers for success, he ordered the sails to 
be furled, and the ships to lie to, keeping strict 
watch, lest they should be driven ashore in the 
night. During this interval of suspense and ex¬ 
pectation, no man shut his eyes, all kept upon deck, 
gazing intently towards that quarter where they 
expected to discover the land, which had been so 
long the object of their wishes. 

About two hours before midnight, 
Columbus standing on the forecastle, 
observed a light at a distance, and privately pointed 
it out to Pedro Guttierez, a page of the queen’s 
wardrobe. Guttierez perceived it, and calling to 
Salcedo, comptroller of the fleet, all three saw it in 
.motion, as if it were carried from place to place. 
A little after midnight the joyful sound of land! 
land! was heard from the Pinta, which kept always 
ahead of the other ships. But, having been so often 
deceived by fallacious appearances, every man was 
now become slow of belief, and waited in all the 
anguish of uncertainty and impatience, for the 

return of day. As soon as morning 
Friday, Oct. 12 . ^^ wne( j^ a u anc | fears were 

dispelled. From every ship an island was seen 
about two leagues to the north, whose flat and ver¬ 
dant fields, well stored with wood, and watered with 
many rivulets, presented the aspect of a delightful 
country. The crew of the Pinta instantly began 
the Te Deum, as a hymn of thanksgiving to God, 
and were joined by those of the other ships, with 
tears of joy and transports of congratulation. This 
office of gratitude to Heaven was followed by an act 
of justice to their commander. They threw them¬ 
selves at the feet of Columbus, with feelings of self- 
condemnation mingled with reverence. They im¬ 
plored him to pardon their ignorance, incredulity, 
and insolence, which had created him so much 
unnecessary disquiet, and had so often obstructed 
the prosecution of his well-concerted plan; and 
passing, in the warmth of their admiration, from 
one extreme to another, they now pronounced the 
man, whom they had so lately reviled and threaten¬ 
ed, to be a person inspired by Heaven with sagacity 
and fortitude more than human, in order to accom¬ 
plish a design so far beyond the ideas and concep¬ 
tion of all former ages. 

First interview As soon as the sun arose, all their 
with the natives, boats were manned and armed. They 

rowed towards the island with their colours dis¬ 
played, with warlike music, and other martial 
pomp. As they approached the coast, they saw it 
covered with a multitude of people, whom the 
novelty of the spectacle had drawn together, whose 

s Life of Columbus, c. 22, 23. Herrera, dec. t. lib. i. c. 13. 


[A. D. 1492. BOOK II. 

attitudes and gestures expressed wonder and 
astonishment at the strange objects which pre¬ 
sented themselves to their view. Columbus was 
the first European who set foot in the New World 
which he had discovered. He landed in a rich 
dress, and with a naked sword in his hand. His 
men followed, and kneeling down, they all kissed 
the ground which they had so long desired to see. 
They next erected a crucifix, and prostrating them¬ 
selves before it, returned thanks to God for conduct¬ 
ing their voyage to such a happy issue. They then 
took solemn possession of the country for the crown 
of Castile and Leon, with all the formalities which 
the Portuguese were accustomed to observe in acts 
of this kind, in their new discoveries. 3 

The Spaniards, while thus employed, Their mutua i 
were surrounded by many of the na- astonlshment - 
fives, who gazed, in silent admiration, upon actions 
which they could not comprehend, and of which 
they did not foresee the consequences. The dress 
of the Spaniards, the whiteness of their skins, their 
beards, their arms, appeared strange and surprising. 
The vast machines in which they had traversed the 
ocean, that seemed to move upon the waters w ith 
wings, and uttered a dreadful sound resembling 
thunder, accompanied with lightning and smoke, 
struck them with such terror, that they began to 
respect their new guests as a superior order of 
beings, and concluded that they were children of 
the sun, who had descended to visit the earth. 

The Europeans were hardly less amazed at the 
scene now before them. Every herb, and shrub, and 
tree, was different from those which flourished in 
Europe. The soil seemed to be rich, but bore few 
marks of cultivation. The climate, even to the 
Spaniards, felt w arm, though extremely delightful. 
The inhabitants appeared in the simple innocence 
of nature, entirely naked. Their black hair, long 
and uncurled, floated upon their shoulders, or was 
bound in tresses around their heads. They had no 
beards, and every part of their bodies was perfectly 
smooth. Their complexion was of a dusky copper 
colour, their features singular, rather than disagree¬ 
able, their aspect gentle and timid. Though not 
tall, they w ere well shaped and active. Their faces, 
and several parts of their body, w^ere fantastically 
painted with glaring colours. They were shy at 
first through fear, but soon became familiar with 
the Spaniards, and with transports of joy received 
from them hawksbells, glass beads, or other baubles, 
in return for which they gave such provisions as 
they had, and some cotton yarn, the only commodity 
of value that they could produce. Towards even- 
ing, Columbus returned to his ship, accompanied 
by many of the islanders in their boats, which they 
called canoes , and though rudely formed out of the 
trunk of a single tree, they rowed them with sur¬ 
prising dexterity. Thus, in the first interview be¬ 
tween the inhabitants of the Old and New Worlds, 
every thing was conducted amicably, and to their 



BOOK II. A. D. 1492.] THE HISTORY 

mutual satisfaction. The former, enlightened and 
ambitious, formed already vast ideas with respect 
to the advantages which they might derive from the 
regions that began to open to their view. The 
latter, simple and undiscerning, had no foresight of 
the calamities and desolation which were approach¬ 
ing their country. 

Columbus as- Columbus, who now assumed the 
admiral' 1 and' e ° f title and authority of admiral and 

viceroy, called the island which he 
had discovered San Salvador. It is better known 
by the name of Guanahani , which the natives gave 
to it, and is one of that large cluster of islands called 
the Lucaya or Bahama isles. It is situated above 
three thousand miles to the west of Gomera, from 
which the squadron took its departure, and only 
four degrees to the south of it; so little had Colum¬ 
bus deviated from the westerly course, which he 
had chosen as the most proper. 

Proceeds towards Columbus employed the next day in 

the south. visiting the coasts of the island ; and 

from the universal poverty of the inhabitants, he 
perceived that this was not the rich country for 
which he sought. But, conformably to his theory 
concerning the discovery of those regions of Asia 
which stretched tow ards the east, he concluded that 
San Salvador was one of the isles which geographers 
described as situated in the great ocean adjacent to 
India. 1 Having observed that most of the people 
whom he had seen wore small plates of gold, by 
way of ornament, in their nostrils, he eagerly in¬ 
quired where they got that precious metal. They 
pointed towards the south, and made him compre¬ 
hend by signs, that gold abounded in countries 
situated in that quarter. Thither he immediately 
determined to direct his course, in full confi¬ 
dence of finding there those opulent regions which 
had been the object of his voyage, and would be a 
recompence for all his toils and dangers. He took 
along with him seven of the natives of San Salva¬ 
dor, that, by acquiring the Spanish language, they 
might serve as guides and interpreters ; and those 
innocent people considered it as a mark of distinc¬ 
tion when they were selected to accompany him. 

He saw several islands, and touched 

Discovers Cuba. „ , , . . , , . 

at three of the largest, on which he be¬ 
stowed the names of St. Mary of the Conception, 
Fernandina, and Isabella. But, as their soil, pro¬ 
ductions, and inhabitants, nearly resembled those 
of San Salvador, he made no stay in any of them. 
He inquired every where for gold, and the signs that 
were uniformly made by way of answer, confirmed 
him in the opinion that it was brought from the 
south. He followed that course, and soon discovered 
a country which appeared very extensive, not per¬ 
fectly level, like those which he had already visited, 
but so diversified with rising grounds, hills, rivers, 
woods, and plains, that he was uncertain whether 
it might prove an island, or part of the continent. 

t. Pet. Mart, epist. 135. .... 

u Lite of Columbus, c. 24—28. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. l. c. 14. 

3 c 2 


OF AMERICA. 756 

The natives of San Salvador, whom he had on board, 
called it Cuba; Columbus gave it the name of Juana. 
He entered the mouth of a large liver with his 
squadron, and all the inhabitants fled to the moun¬ 
tains as he approached the shore. But as he re¬ 
solved to careen his ships in that place, he sent 
some Spaniards, together with one of the people of 
San Salvador, to view the interior part of the coun¬ 
try. They, having advanced above sixty miles from 
the shore, reported, upon their return, that the soil 
was richer and more cultivated than any they had 
hitherto discovered ; that, besides many scattered 
cottages, they had found one village, containing 
above a thousand inhabitants; that the people, 
though naked, seemed to be more intelligent than 
those of San Salvador, but had treated them with 
the same respectful attention, kissing their feet, and 
honouring them as sacred beings allied to heaven ; 
that they had given them to eat a certain root, the 
taste of which resembled roasted chesnuts, and like¬ 
wise a singular species of corn called maize , which 
either when roasted whole or ground into meal, was 
abundantly palatable ; that there seemed to be no 
four-footed animals in the country, but a species of 
dogs, which could not bark, and a creature resem¬ 
bling a rabbit, but of a much smaller size; that 
they had observed some ornaments of gold among 
the people, but of no great value. u 

These messengers had prevailed with some of the 
natives to accompany them, who informed Colum¬ 
bus, that the gold of which they made their orna¬ 
ments w as found in Cubanacan. By this word they 
meant the middle or inland part of His con j e ctures 
Cuba ; but Columbus, being ignorant Wlth regard t0 **• 
of their language, as well as unaccustomed to their 
pronunciation, and his thoughts running continually 
upon his own theory concerning the discovery of 
the East Indies, he was led, by the resemblance of 
sound, to suppose that they spoke of the Great 
Khan, and imagined that the opulent kingdom of 
Cathay , described by Marco Polo, was not very re¬ 
mote. This induced him to employ some time in 
viewing the country. He visited almost every har¬ 
bour, from Porto del Principe, on the north coast 
of Cuba, to the eastern extremity of the island ; 
but, though delighted with the beauty of the scenes 
which every where presented themselves, and 
amazed at the luxuriant fertility of the soil, both 
which, from their novelty, made a more lively im¬ 
pression upon his imagination,* he did not find gold 
in such quantity as was sufficient to satisfy either 
the avarice of his followers, or the expectations of 
the court to which he was to return. The people of 
the country, as much astonished at his eagerness in 
quest of gold as the Europeans were at their igno¬ 
rance and simplicity, pointed towards the east, 
where an island which they called Hayti was situ¬ 
ated, in which that metal was more abundant than 
among them. Columbus ordered his squadron to 

x See Note XIV. 



766 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


bend its course thither ; but Martin Alonzo Pinzon, 
impatient to be the first who should take possession 
of the treasures which this country was supposed 
to contain, quitted his companions, regardless of 
all the admiral’s signals to slacken sail until they 
should come up with him. 

Discovers the Columbus, retarded by contrary 
island Hispaniola. w j nc [ s> did no t re ach Hayti till the 

sixth of December. He called the port, where he 
first touched, St. Nicholas, and the island itself Es- 
pagnola, in honour of the kingdom by which he 
was employed ; and it is the only country, of those 
he had yet discovered, which has retained the name 
that he gave it. As he could neither meet with the 
Pinta,nor have any intercourse with the inhabitants, 
who fled in great consternation towards the woods, 
he soon quitted St. Nicholas, and sailing along the 
northern coast of the island, he entered another 
harbour, which he called Conception. Here he 
was more fortunate ; his people overtook a woman 
who was flying from them, and after treating her 
with great gentleness, dismissed her with a present 
of such toys as they knew were most valued in those 
regions. The description which she gave to her 
countrymen of the humanity and wonderful quali¬ 
ties of the strangers ; their admiration of the trin¬ 
kets, which she showed with exultation ; and their 
eagerness to participate of the same favours, re¬ 
moved all their fears, and induced many of them 
to repair to the harbour. The strange objects which 
they beheld, and the baubles which Columbus be¬ 
stowed upon them, amply gratified their curiosity 
and their wishes. They nearly resembled the peo¬ 
ple of Guanahani and Cuba. They were naked 
like them, ignorant and simple ; and seemed to be 
equally unacquainted with all the arts which ap¬ 
pear most necessary in polished societies ; but they 
were gentle, credulous, and timid to a degree which 
rendered it easy to acquire the ascendant over them, 
especially as their excessive admiration led them 
into the same error with the people of the other 
islands, in believing the Spaniards to be more than 
mortals, and descended immediately from heaven. 
They possessed gold in greater abundance than their 
neighbours, which they readily exchanged for bells, 
beads, or pins ; and in this unequal traffic both 
parties were highly pleased, each considering them¬ 
selves as gainers by the transaction. Here Colum¬ 
bus was visited by a prince or cazique of the coun¬ 
try. He appeared with all the pomp known among 
a simple people, being carried in a sort of palanquin 
upon the shoulders of four men, and attended by 
many of his subjects, who served him with great 
respect. His deportment was grave and stately, 
very reserved towards his own people, but with Co¬ 
lumbus and the Spaniards extremely courteous. He 
gave the admiral some thin plates of gold, and a 
girdle of curious workmanship, receiving in return 
presents of small value, but highly acceptable to 
him.*' 

3' Life of Columbus, c. 32. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 15 , &c. 


[A. D. 1492. BOOK II. 

Columbus, still intent on discovering the mines 
which yielded gold, continued to interrogate all the 
natives with whom he had any intercourse, con¬ 
cerning their situation. They concurred in point¬ 
ing out a mountainous country, which they called 
Cibao, at some distance from the sea, and further 
towards the east. Struck with this sound, which 
appeared to him the same with Cipango , the name 
by which Marco Polo, and other travellers to the 
east, distinguished the island of Japan, he no 
longer doubted with respect to the vicinity of the 
countries which he had discovered to the remote 
parts of Asia; and in full expectation of reaching 
soon those regions which had been the object of his 
voyage, he directed his course towards the east. 
He put into a commodious harbour, which he called 
St. Thomas, and found that district to be under the 
government of a powerful cazique, named Guaca- 
nahari, who, as he afterwards learned, was one of 
the five sovereigns among whom the whole island 
was divided. He immediately sent messengers to 
Columbus, who, in his name, delivered to him the 
present of a mask curiously fashioned, with the 
ears, nose, and mouth of beaten gold, and invited 
him to the place of his residence, near the harbour 
now called Cape Francois, some leagues towards 
the east. Columbus despatched some of his officers 
to visit this prince, who, as he behaved himself with 
greater dignity, seemed to claim more attention. 
They returned with such favourable accounts both 
of the country and of the people, as made Columbus 
impatient for that interview with Guacanahari to 
which he had been invited. 

He sailed for this purpose from St. 0 ne of his ships 
Thomas, on the twenty-fourth of De- lost * 
cember, with a fair wind, and the sea perfectly 
calm ; and as, amidst the multiplicity of his occu¬ 
pations, he had not shut his eyes for two days, he 
retired at midnight in order to take some repose, 
having committed the helm to the pilot, with strict 
injunctions not to quit it for a moment. The pilot, 
dreading no danger, carelessly left the helm to an 
unexperienced cabin-boy, and the ship, carried 
away by a current, was dashed against a rock. The 
violence of the shock awakened Columbus. He 
ran up to the deck. There all was confusion and 
despair. He alone retained presence of mind. 
He ordered some of the sailors to take a boat, and 
carry out an anchor astern ; but, instead of obeying, 
they made off towards the Nigna, which was about 
half a league distant. He then commanded the 
masts to be cut down, in order to lighten the ship; 
but all his endeavours were too late; the vessel 
opened near the keel, and filled so fast with water 
that its loss was inevitable. The smoothness of the 
sea, and the timely assistance of boats from the 
Nigna, enabled the crew to save their lives. As 
soon as the islanders heard of this disaster, they 
crowded to the shore, with their prince Guacanahari 
at their head. Instead of taking advantage of the 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


767 


BOOK II. A. D. 1492.] 


distress in which they beheld the Spaniards, to at¬ 
tempt any thing to their detriment, they lamented 
their misfortune with tears of sincere condolence. 
Not satisfied with this unavailing expression of their 
sympathy, they put to sea a number of canoes, and 
under the direction of the Spaniards, assisted in 
saving whatever could be got out of the wreck; 
and, by the united labour of so many hands, almost 
every thing of value was carried ashore. As fast 
as the goods were landed, Guacanahari in person 
took charge of them. By his orders they were all 
deposited in one place, and armed sentinels were 
posted, who kept the multitude at a distance, in or¬ 
der to prevent them not only from embezzling, but 
from inspecting too curiously what belonged to 
their guests. 2 Next morning this prince visited 
Columbus, who was now on board the Nigna, and 
endeavoured to console him for his loss, by offering 
all that he possessed to repair it. a 

Distress of Co- The condition of Columbus was such, 

l umbus. that jj e s t 00( i j n nee d 0 f consolation. 

He had hitherto procured no intelligence of the 
Pinta, and no longer doubted but that his treacher¬ 
ous associate had set sail for Europe, in order to 
have the merit of carrying the first tidings of the 
extraordinary discoveries which had been made, 
and to pre-occupy so far the ear of their sovereign, 
as to rob him of the glory and reward to which he 
was justly entitled. There remained but one vessel, 
and that the smallest and most crazy of the squad¬ 
ron, to traverse such a vast ocean, and to carry so 
many men back to Europe. Each of those circum¬ 
stances was alarming, and filled the mind of Co¬ 
lumbus with the utmost solicitude. The desire of 
overtaking Pinzon, and of effacing the unfavoura¬ 
ble impressions which his misrepresentations might 
make in Spain, made it necessary to return thither 
without delay. The difficulty of taking such a 
number of persons aboard the Nigna, confirmed 
him in an opinion, which the fertility of the coun¬ 
try, and the gentle temper of the people, had already 
induced him to form. He resolved to 
^partof hiscrew leave a part of his crew in the island, 
that by residing there, they might learn 
the language of the natives, study their disposition, 
examine the nature of the country, search for 
mines, prepare for the commodious settlement of 
the colony, with which he purposed to return, and 
thus secure and facilitate the acquisition of those 
advantages which he expected from his discoveries. 
When he mentioned this to his men, all approved 
of the design ; and from impatience under the fa¬ 
tigue of a long voyage, from the levity natural to 
sailors, or from the hopes of amassing wealth in a 
country, which afforded such promising specimens 
of its riches, many offered voluntarily to be among 
the number of those who should remain. 

Nothing was now wanting towards 
£nt a of S the e na C - on ' the execution of this scheme, but to 
t,veSl obtain the consent of Guacanahari; 


z SoeNoteXV. 


and his unsuspicious simplicity soon presented to 
the admiral a favourable opportunity of proposing it. 
Columbus having, in the best manner he could, by 
broken words and signs, expressed some curiosity 
to know the cause which had moved the islanders 
to fly with such precipitation upon the approach of 
his ships, the cazique informed him that the coun¬ 
try was much infested by the incursions of certain 
people, whom he called Carribeans , who inhabited 
several islands to the south-east. These he de¬ 
scribed as a fierce and warlike race of men, who 
delighted in blood, and devoured the flesh of the 
prisoners who were so unhappy as to fall into their 
hands ; and as the Spaniards at their first appear¬ 
ance were supposed to be Carribeans, whom the na¬ 
tives, however numerous, durst not face in battle, 
they had recourse to their usual method of securing 
their safety, by flying into the thickest and most 
impenetrable woods. Guacanahari, while speaking 
of those dreadful invaders, discovered such symp¬ 
toms of terror, as well as such consciousness of the 
inability of his own people to resist them, as led 
Columbus to conclude that he would not be alarm¬ 
ed at the proposition of any scheme which afforded 
him the prospect of an additional security against 
their attacks. He instantly offered him the assist¬ 
ance of the Spaniards to repel his enemies ; he en¬ 
gaged to take him and his people under the protec¬ 
tion of the powerful monarch whom he served, and 
offered to leave in the island such a number of his 
men as should be sufficient, not only to defend the 
inhabitants from future incursions, but to avenge 
their past wrongs. 

The credulous prince closed eagerly with the pro¬ 
posal, and thought himself already safe under the 
patronage of beings sprung from heaven, and su¬ 
perior to the power of mortal men. 

JL, . . . . „ Builds a fort. 

The ground was marked out for a 
small fort, which Columbus called Navidad , because 
he had landed there on Christmas-day. A deep 
ditch was drawn around it. The ramparts were 
fortified with pallisades, and the great guns, saved 
out of the admiral’s ship, were planted upon them. 
In ten days the work was finished ; that simple 
race of men labouring with inconsiderate assiduity 
in erecting this first monument of their own servi¬ 
tude. During this time, Columbus, by his caresses 
and liberality, laboured to increase the high opinion 
which the natives entertained of the Spaniards. 
But while he endeavoured to inspire them with 
confidence in their disposition to do good, he wish¬ 
ed likewise to give them some striking idea of their 
power to punish and destroy such as were the ob¬ 
jects of their indignation. With this view, in pre¬ 
sence of a vast assembly, he drew up his men in 
order of battle, and made an ostentatious but inno¬ 
cent display of the sharpness of the Spanish swords, 
of the force of their spears, and the operation of 
their cross-bows. These rude people, strangers to 
the use of iron, and unacquainted with any hostile 

a Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 18. 



758 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


weapons but arrows of reeds pointed with the bones 
of fishes, wooden swords, and javelins hardened in 
the lire, wondered and trembled. Before this sur¬ 
prise or fear had time to abate, he ordered the great 
guns to be fired. The sudden explosion struck 
them with such terror, that they fell flat to the 
ground, covering their faces with their hands ; and 
when they beheld the astonishing effect of the bul¬ 
lets among the trees, towards which the cannon had 
been pointed, they concluded that it was impossible 
to resist men, who had the command of such de¬ 
structive instruments, and who came armed with 
thunder and lightning against their enemies. 

After giving such impressions both 

His instructions „ , „ , „ 

to those he left of the beneficence and power of the 

Spaniards, as might have rendered it 
easy to preserve an ascendant over the minds of the 
natives, Columbus appointed thirty-eight of his 
people to remain in the island. He intrusted the 
command of these to Diego de Arado, a gentleman 
of Cordova, investing him with the same powers 
which he himself had received from Ferdinand and 
Isabella; and furnished him with every thing re¬ 
quisite for the subsistence or defence of this infant 
colony. He strictly enjoined them to maintain 
concord among themselves, to yield an unreserved 
obedience to their commander, to avoid giving of¬ 
fence to the natives by any violence or exaction, to 
cultivate the friendship of Guacanahari, but not to 
put themselves in his power, by straggling in small 
parties, or marching too far from the fort. He pro¬ 
mised to revisit them soon, with such a reinforce¬ 
ment of strength as might enable them to take full 
possession of the country, and to reap all the fruits 
of their discoveries. In the mean time, he engaged 
to mention their names to the king and queen, and 
to place their merit and services in the most advan¬ 
tageous light. b 

Having thus taken every precaution for the secu¬ 
rity of the colony, he left Navidad on the fourth of 
January, one thousand four hundred 
and ninety-three, and steering towards 
the east, discovered and gave names to most of the 
harbours on the northern coast of the island. On 
the sixth he descried the Pinta, and soon came up 
with her, after a separation of more than six Aveeks. 
Pinzon endeavoured to justify his conduct, by pre¬ 
tending that he had been driven from his course by 
stress of weather, and prevented from returning by 
contrary winds. The admiral, though he still sus¬ 
pected his perfidious intentions, and knew well 
what he urged in his own defence to be frivolous 
as well as false, was so sensible that this was not a 
proper time for venturing upon any high strain of 
authority, and felt such satisfaction in this junction 
with his consort, which delivered him from many 
disquieting apprehensions, that, lame as Pinzon’s 
apology was, he admitted of it without difficulty, 
and restored him to favour. During his absence 
from the admiral, Pinzon had visited several har- 


1493. 


b Oviedo ap. Ramusio, iii. p. 82. E. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 20. 


[A. D. 1493. BOOK II. 

hours in the island, had acquired some gold by 
trafficking with the natives, but had made no dis¬ 
covery of any importance. 

From the condition of his ships, as Kesoivesto re¬ 
well as the temper of his men, Cojum- turn tu Europe ' 
bus now found it necessary to hasten his return to 
Europe. The former, having suffered much during 
a voyage of such an unusual length, were extremely 
leaky. The latter expressed the utmost impatience 
to revisit their native country, from which they had 
been so long absent, and where they had things so 
wonderful and unheard-of to relate. Accordingly, 
on the sixteenth of January, he directed his course 
towards the north-east, and soon lost sight of land. 
He had on board some of the natives, whom he had 
taken from the different islands which he discovered; 
and besides the gold, which was the chief object of 
research, he had collected specimens of all the pro¬ 
ductions which were likely to become subjects of 
commerce in the several countries, as well as many 
unknown birds, and other natural curiosities, which 
might attract the attention of the learned, or excite 
the wonder of the people. The voyage was pros¬ 
perous to the fourteenth of February, and he had 

advanced near five hundred leagues a violent storm 
across the Atlantic ocean, when the arises, 
wind began to rise, and continued to blow with in¬ 
creasing rage, which terminated in a furious hur¬ 
ricane. Every thing that the naval skill and expe¬ 
rience of Columbus could devise was employed, in 
order to save the ships. But it was impossible to 
withstand the violence of the storm, and, as they 
were still far from any land, destruction seemed 
inevitable. The sailors had recourse to prayers to 
Almighty God, to the invocation of saints, to vows 
and charms, to every thing that religion dictates, or 
superstition suggests, to the affrighted mind of man. 
No prospect of deliverance appearing, they aban¬ 
doned themselves to despair, and expected every 
moment to be swallowed up in the waves. Besides 
the passions which naturally agitate and alarm the 
human mind in such aw ful situations, when certain 
death, in one of his most terrible forms, is before it, 
Columbus had to endure feelings of distress peculiar 
to himself. He dreaded that all know- The conduct of 
ledge of the amazing discoveries which Columbus. 

he had made was now to perish ; mankind were to 
be deprived of every benefit that might have been 
derived from the happy success of his schemes, and 
his own name would descend to posterity as that of 
a rash deluded adventurer, instead of being trans¬ 
mitted with the honour due to the author and con¬ 
ductor of the most noble enterprise that had ever 
been undertaken. These reflections extinguished 
all sense of his own personal danger. Less affected 
with the loss of life, than solicitous to preserve the 
memory of wdiat he had attempted and achieved, he 
retired to his cabin, and wrote, upon parchment, a 
short account of the voyage which he had made, of 
the course which he had taken, of the situation and 

Life of Columbus, c. 34. 



BOOK II. A. D. 1493.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


759 


riches of the countries which he had discovered, and 
of the colony that he had left there. Having wrap¬ 
ped up this in an oiled cloth, which he enclosed in 
a cake of wax, lie put it into a cask carefully stop¬ 
ped up, and threw it into the sea, in hopes that some 
fortunate accident might preserve a deposit of so 
much importance to the world. 0 
Takes shelter in At length Providence interposed, to 
save a life reserved for other services. 
The wind abated, the sea became calm, and on the 
evening of the fifteenth, Columbus and his com¬ 
panions discovered land; and though uncertain 
what it was, they made towards it. They soon knew 
it to be St. Mary, one of the Azores or western isles, 
subject to the crown of Portugal. There, after a 
violent contest with the governor, in which Colum¬ 
bus displayed no less spirit than prudence, he ob¬ 
tained a supply of fresh provisions, and whatever 
else he needed. One circumstance, however, greatly 
disquieted him. The Pinta, of which he had lost 
sight on the first day of the hurricane, did not 
appear; he dreaded for some time that she had 
foundered at sea, and that all her crew had perished; 
afterwards, his former suspicions recurred, and he 
became apprehensive that Pinzon had borne away 
for Spain, that he might reach it before him, and, 
by giving the first account of his discoveries, might 
obtain some share of his fame. 

Feb. 24 . In order to prevent this, he left the 

Arrives at Lisbon. ^ zores RS soon as the weather would 

permit. At no great distance from the coast of 
Spain, when near the end of his voyage, and seem¬ 
ingly beyond the reach of any disaster, another 
storm arose, little inferior to the former in violence; 
and after driving before it during two days and two 
nights, he was forced to take shelter in the river 
Tagus. Upon application to the king 
of Portugal, he was allowed to come 
up to Lisbon ; and, notwithstanding the envy which 
it was natural for the Portuguese to feel, when they 
beheld another nation entering upon that province 
of discovery which they had hitherto deemed pecu¬ 
liarly their own, and in its first essay, not only 
rivalling, but eclipsing their fame, Columbus was 
received with all the marks of distinction due to a 
man who had performed things so extraordinary 
and unexpected. The king admitted him into his 
presence, treated him with the highest respect, and 
listened to the account which he gave of his voyage 
with admiration mingled with regret. While Co¬ 
lumbus, on his part, enjoyed the satisfaction of de¬ 
scribing the importance of his discoveries, and of 
being now able to prove the solidity of his schemes 
to those very persons, who, with an ignorance dis¬ 
graceful to themselves, and fatal to their country, 
had lately rejected them as the projects of a vision¬ 
ary or designing adventurer.* 1 

Columbus was so impatient to return 
to Spain, that he remained only five 
days in Lisbon. On the fifteenth of March he 

c Life of Columbus, c. .37. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 1,2. SeeNoteXVL 


Returns to Spain. 


arrived in the port of Palos, seven months and 
eleven days from the time when he set out thence 
upon his voyage. As soon as the ship was discover¬ 
ed approaching the port, all the inhabitants of Palos 
ran eagerly to the shore, in order to welcome their 
relations and fellow-citizens, and to hear tidings of 
their voyage. When the prosperous issue of it was 
known, when they beheld the strange people, the 
unknown animals, and singular productions, brought 
from the countries which had been discovered, the 
effusion of joy was general and unbounded. The 
bells were rung, the cannon fired; Columbus was 
received at landing with royal honours, and all the 
people, in solemn procession, accompanied him and 
his crew to the church, where they returned thanks 
to Heaven, which had so wonderfully conducted and 
crowned with success a voyage of greater length 
and of more importance than had been attempted in 
any former age. On the evening of the same day, 
he had the satisfaction of seeing the Pinta, which 
the violence of the tempest had driven far to the 
north, enter the harbour. 

The first care of Columbus was to 

. „ .ii- , , His reception. 

inform the king and queen, who were 
then at Barcelona, of his arrival and success. Fer¬ 
dinand and Isabella, no less astonished than de¬ 
lighted with this unexpected event, desired Colum¬ 
bus, in terms the most respectful and flattering, to 
repair immediately to court, that from his own mouth 
they might receive a full detail of his extraordinary 
services and discoveries. During his journey to 
Barcelona, the people crowded from the adjacent 
country, following him every where with admiration 
and applause. His entrance into the city was con¬ 
ducted, by order of Ferdinand and Isabella, with 
pomp suitable to the great event, which added such 
distinguishing lustre to their reign. The people 
whom he brought along with him from the countries 
which he had discovered, marched first, and by their 
singular complexion, the wild peculiarity of their 
features, and uncouth finery, appeared like men of 
another species. Next to them were carried the 
ornaments of gold fashioned by the rude art of the 
natives, the grains of gold found in the mountains, 
and dust of the same metal gathered in the rivers. 
After these appeared the various commodities of the 
new discovered countries, together with their curious 
productions. Columbus himself closed the proces¬ 
sion, and attracted the eyes of all the spectators, 
who gazed with admiration on the extraordinary 
man, whose superior sagacity and fortitude had con¬ 
ducted their countrymen, by a route concealed from 
past ages, to the know ledge of a new w orld. Ferdi¬ 
nand and Isabella received him clad in their royal 
robes, and seated upon a throne, under a magnifi¬ 
cent canopy. When he approached, they stood up, 
and raising him as he kneeled to kiss their hands, 
commanded him to take his seat upon a chair pre¬ 
pared for him, and to give a circumstantial account 
of his voyage. He delivered it with a gravity and 

d Life of Columbus, c. 40, 41. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 3. 



7 (jo THE HISTORY 

composure no less suitable to the disposition of the 
Spanish nation, than to the dignity ot the audience 
in which he spoke, and with that modest simplicity 
which characterizes men of superior minds, who, 
satisfied with having performed great actions, court 
not vain applause by an ostentatious display of 
their exploits. When he had finished his narration, 
the king and queen, kneeling down, offered up so¬ 
lemn thanks to Almighty God for the discovery of 
those new regions, from which they expected so 
many advantages to flow in upon the kingdoms 
subject to their government. 6 Every mark of honour 
that gratitude or admiration could suggest was 
conferred upon Columbus. Letters patent were 
issued, confirming to him and to his heirs all the 
privileges contained in the capitulation concluded 
at Santa Fe; his family was ennobled; the king 
and queen, and, after their example, the courtiers, 
treated him, on every occasion, with all the cere¬ 
monious respect paid to persons of the highest 
rank. But what pleased him most, as it gratified 
his active mind, bent continually upon great objects, 
was an order to equip, without delay, an armament 
of such force, as might enable him not only to take 
possession of the countries which he had already 
discovered, but to go in search of those more opu¬ 
lent regions, which he still confidently expected to 
find. 1 

While preparations were making for 

Astonishment of . . _ . 

mankind at his this expedition, the tame ot Colum- 
discoveries. 

bus’s successful voyage spread over 
Europe, and excited general attention. The mul¬ 
titude, struck with amazement when they heard 
that a new world had been found, could hardly be¬ 
lieve an event so much above their conception. Men 
of science, capable of comprehending the nature, 
and of discerning the effects, of this great discovery, 
received the account of it with admiration and joy. 
They spoke of his voyage with rapture, and con¬ 
gratulated one another upon their felicity, in having 
lived in the period when, by this extraordinary 
event, the boundaries of human knowledge were so 
much extended, and such a new field of inquiry 
and observation opened, as would lead mankind to 
a perfect acquaintance with the structure and pro¬ 
ductions of the habitable globe. 6 Yarious opinions 
and conjectures were formed concerning the new¬ 
found countries, and what division of the earth they 
belonged to. Columbus adhered tenaciously to his 
original opinion, that they should be reckoned a 
part of those vast regions in Asia, comprehended 
under the general name of India. This sentiment 
was confirmed by the observations which he made 
concerning the productions of the countries he had 
discovered. Gold was known to abound in India, 
and he had met with such promising samples of it 
in the islands which he visited, as led him to be¬ 
lieve that rich mines of it might be found. Cotton, 
another production of the East Indies, was common 

e See Note XVII. 

f Life of Columbus, c. 42, 43. llerrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 3. 

K P. Mart, cpist. 133, 134, 135. See Note XVIII. 


OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1493. BOOK II. 

there. The pimento of the islands he imagined to 
be a species of the East Indian pepper. He mis¬ 
took a root, somewhat resembling rhubarb, for that 
valuable drug, which was then supposed to be a 
plant peculiar to the East Indies. 11 The birds 
brought home by him were adorned with the same 
rich plumage which distinguishes those of India. 
The alligator of the one country appeared to be the 
same with the crocodile of the other. After weigh¬ 
ing all these circumstances, not only the Spaniards, 
but the other nations of Europe, seem to have 
adopted the opinion of Columbus. The countries 
which he had discovered were considered as a part 
of India. In consequence of this notion, the name 
of Indies is given to them by Ferdinand and Isa¬ 
bella, in a ratification of their former agreement, 
which was granted to Columbus upon his return. 1 
Even after the error which gave rise to this opinion 
was detected, and the true position of the New 
World was ascertained, the name has . . 

. . Distinguished by 

remained, and the appellation ot the name of the 

Westlndies. 

West Indies is given by all the people 

of Europe to the country, and that of Indians to its 

inhabitants. 

The name by which Columbus dis- Prepa rations for a 
tinguished the countries which he had second v °yage. 
discovered was so inviting, the specimens of their 
riches and fertility, which he produced, were so 
considerable, and the reports of his companions, 
delivered frequently with the exaggeration natural 
to travellers, so favourable, as to excite a wonderful 
spirit of enterprise among the Spaniards. Though 
little accustomed to naval expeditions, they were 
impatient to set out upon their voyage. Volunteers 
of every rank solicited to be employed. Allured by 
the inviting prospects which opened to their am¬ 
bition and avarice, neither the length nor danger of 
the navigation intimidated them. Cautious as 
Ferdinand was, and averse to every thing new or 
adventurous, he seems to have catched the same 
spirit with his subjects. Under its influence, pre¬ 
parations for a second expedition were carried on 
with a rapidity unusual in Spain, and to an extent 
that would be deemed not inconsiderable in the 
present age. The fleet consisted of seventeen ships, 
some of which were of good burden. It had on 
board fifteen hundred persons, among whom were 
many of noble families, who had served in honour¬ 
able stations. The greater part of these being 
destined to remain in the country, were furnished 
with every thing requisite for conquestor settlement, 
with all kinds of European domestic animals, with 
such seeds and plants as were most likely to thrive 
in the climate of the West Indies, with utensils and 
instruments of every sort, and with such artificers 
as might be most useful in an infant colony. k 

But, formidable and well provided The right of 
as this fleet was, Ferdinand and Isa- 
bella did not rest their title to the S “* i“S 

h llerrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 20. Gomera Hist. c. 17 . 

i Life of Columbus, c. 44. 

k Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 5. Life of Columbus, c. 45. 



BOOK II. A. D. 1493.] . THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 

possession of the newly discovered countries upon 
its operations alone. The example of the Por¬ 
tuguese, as well as the superstition of the age, 


761 


which he had entered. He set sail from the bay of 
Cadiz on the twenty-fifth of September, and touch¬ 
ing again at the island of Gomera, he steered further 


ma e it necessai) to obtain from the Roman pon- J towards the south than in his former voyage. By 

a grant ot those territories which they wished holding this course, he enjoyed more steadily the 

occupy. The pope, as the vicar and repre- benefit of the regular winds which reign within the 
sentative of Jesus Christ, was supposed to have tropics, and was carried towards a larger cluster 
a ri B it ot dominion over all the kingdoms of of islands, situated considerably to the east of those 

ie earth. Alexander VI. a pontiff infamous for which he had already discovered. On 


every crime which disgraces humanity, filled the 
papal throne at that time. As he was born Ferdi¬ 
nand’s subject, and very solicitous to secure the 
protection of Spain, in order to facilitate the execu¬ 
tion of his ambitious schemes in favour of his own 
family, he was extremely willing to gratify the 


the twenty-sixth day after his de¬ 
parture from Gomera, he made land." 1 It was one 
of the Caribbee or Leeward Islands, to which he 
gave the name of Deseada, on account of the 
impatience of his crew to discover some part of the 
New World. After this he visited successively 


Spanish monarchs. By an act of liberality which Dominica, Marigalante, Guadaloupe, Antigua, San 
cost him nothing, and that served to establish the Juan de Puerto Rico, and several other islands, 
jurisdiction and pretensions of the papal see, he scattered in his way as he advanced towards the 
granted in full right to Ferdinand and Isabella all north-west. All these he found to be inhabited by 
the countries inhabited by infidels, which they had that fierce race of people whom Guacanahari had 
discovered, or should discover ; and, in virtue of painted in such frightful colours. His descriptions 
that power which he derived from Jesus Christ, he appeared not to have been exaggerated. The 
conferred on the crown of Castile vast regions, to Spaniards never attempted to land without meeting 
the possession of which he himself was so far from with such a reception, as discovered the martial and 
having any title, that he was unacquainted with | daring spirit of the natives ; and in their habitations 
their situation, and ignorant even of their existence. 

As it was necessary to prevent this grant from 
interfering with that formerly made to the crown of 
Portugal, he appointed that a line, supposed to be 
drawn from pole to pole, a hundred leagues to the 
westward of the Azores, should serve as a limit 
between them; and, in the plenitude of his power, 


were found relics of those horrid feasts which they 
had made upon the bodies of their enemies taken 
in war. 

But as Columbus was eager to know Arrives at Hispa . 
the state of the colony which he had mola ’ Nov. 22. 
planted, and to supply it with the necessaries of 
which he supposed it to be in want, he made no 


bestowed all to the east of this imaginary line upon stay in any of those islands, and proceeded directly 
the Portuguese, and all to the west of it upon the to Hispaniola.n When he arrived off' Navidad, the 
Spaniards. 1 Zeal for propagating the Christian faith station in which he had left the thirty-eight men 
was the consideration employed by Ferdinand in under the command of Arada, he was astonished 
soliciting this bull, and is mentioned by Alexander that none of them appeared, and expected every 
as his chief motive for issuing it. In order to mani- moment to see them running with transports of joy 
fest some concern for this laudable object, several to welcome their countrymen. Full of solicitude 
friars, under the direction of father Boyl, a Catalo- about their safety, and foreboding in his mind what 
nian monk of great reputation, as apostolical vicar, had befallen them, he rowed instantly to land. All 
were appointed to accompany Columbus, and to the natives from whom he might have received in¬ 
devote themselves to the instruction of the natives, formation had fled. But the fort which he had 
The Indians, whom Columbus had brought along built was entirely demolished, and the tattered gar- 
with him, having received some tincture of Christian ments, the broken arms and utensils scattered about 
knowledge, were baptized with much solemnity, it, left no room to doubt concerning the unhappy 
the king himself, the prince his son, and the chief fate of the garrison. 0 While the Spaniards were 
persons of his court, standing as their godfathers, shedding tears over those sad memorials of their 


Those first fruits of the New World have not been 
followed by such an increase as pious men wished, 
and had reason to expect. 


Second voyage 

of Columbus. aC q U i r ed a title, which was then 


fellow-citizens, a brother of the cazique Guacana¬ 
hari arrived. From him Columbus received a par¬ 
ticular detail of what had happened after his 

The fami- 


Ferdinand and Isabella having thus departure from the island. 

,. . , - x j* ... .. The fate of the 

liar intercourse 01 the Indians with the men whom he 

Spaniards tended gradually to diminish left there ' 


deemed completely valid, to extend their disco¬ 
veries and to establish their dominion over such a 
considerable portion of the globe, nothing now re¬ 
tarded the departure of the fleet. Columbus was 


the superstitious veneration with which their first 
appearance had inspired that simple people. By 
their own indiscretion and ill conduct, the Spaniards 


extremely impatient to revisit the colony which he speedily effaced those favourable impressions, and 
had left, and to pursue that career of glory upon soon convinced the natives, that they had all the 


I Herrera, deo. 1. lib. ii.c. 4. 
m Oviedo ap. Kamus. iii. 85. 


Torquemeda Mon. Ind. lib. xviii. c. 3. 


n P. Martyr, dec. p. 15, 18. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii.c. vii. 
lumbus, c. 46, &c. 

o Hist, de Cura de los Palacios. MS. 


Life of Co- 


762 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1493. BOOK II. 


wants, and weaknesses, and passions of men. As 
soon as the powerful restraint which the presence 
and authority of Columbus imposed was withdrawn, 
the garrison threw off all regard for the officer 
whom he had invested with command. Regardless 
of the prudent instructions which he had given 
them, every man became independent, and gratified 
his desires without control. The gold, the women, 
the provisions of the natives, were all the prey of 
those licentious oppressors. They roamed in small 
parties over the island, extending their rapacity and 
insolence to every corner of it. Gentle and timid 
as the people were, those unprovoked injuries at 
length exhausted their patience, and roused their 
courage. The cazique of Cibao, whose country the 
Spaniards chiefly infested on account of the gold 
which it contained, surprised and cut off several of 
them, while they straggled in as perfect security as 
if their conduct had been altogether inoffensive. He 
then assembled his subjects, and surrounding the 
fort, set it on fire. Some of the Spaniards were 
killed in defending it, the rest perishing in attempt¬ 
ing to make their escape by crossing an arm of the 
sea. Guacanahari, whom all their exactions had 
not alienated from the Spaniards, took arms in their 
behalf, and, in endeavouring to protect them, had 
received a wound, by which he was still confined .p 

iiis prudent Though this account was far from 
conduct. removing the suspicions which the 
Spaniards entertained with respect to the fidelity of 
Guacanahari, Columbus perceived so clearly that 
this was not a proper juncture for inquiring into his 
conduct with scrupulous accuracy, that he rejected 
the advice of several of his officers, who urged him 
to seize the person of that prince, and to revenge 
the death of their countryman by attacking his sub¬ 
jects. He represented to them the necessity of 
securing the friendship of some potentate of the 
country, in order to facilitate the settlement which 
they intended, and the danger of driving the natives 
to unite in some desperate attempt against them, by 
such an ill-timed and unavailing exercise of rigour. 
Instead of wasting his time in punishing past wrongs, 
he took precautions for preventing any future injury. 
With this view he made choice of a situation more 
healthy and commodious than that of Navidad. He 
traced out the plan of a town in a large plain near 
a spacious bay, and obliging every person to put his 
hand to a work on which their common safety 
depended, the houses and ramparts were soon so far 
advanced by their united labour, as to afford them 
shelter and security. This rising city, the first that 
the Europeans founded in the New World, he 
named Isabella, in honour of his patroness the queen 
of Castile.*! 

Discontent of I n carrying on this necessary work, 

his followers. Columbus had not only to sustain all 

the hardships, and to encounter all the difficulties, 
to which infant colonies are exposed when they 


P P. Martyr, dec. p. 22, &c. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 7 
Columbus, c. 49, 50. 


9. Life of 


settle in an uncultivated country, but he had to 
contend with what was more insuperable, the lazi¬ 
ness, the impatience, and mutinous disposition of 
his followers. By the enervating influence of a hot 
climate, the natural inactivity of the Spaniards 
seemed to increase. Many of them were gentlemen, 
unaccustomed to the fatigue of bodily labour, and 
all had engaged in the enterprise with the sanguine 
hopes excited by the spendid and exaggerated 
description of their countrymen who returned from 
the first voyage, or by the mistaken opinion of 
Columbus, that the country which he had discovered 
was either the Cipango of Marco Polo, or the 
Ophir, r from which Solomon imported those pre¬ 
cious commodities which suddenly diffused such 
extraordinary riches through his kingdom. But 
when, instead of that golden harvest which they 
had expected to reap without toil or pains, the 
Spaniards saw that their prospect of wealth was 
remote as well as uncertain, and that it could not 
be attained but by the slow and persevering efforts 
of industry, the disappointment of those chimerical 
hopes occasioned such dejection of mind as bordered 
on despair, and led to general discontent. In vain 
did Columbus endeavour to revive their spirits by 
pointing out the fertility of the soil, and exhibiting 
the specimens of gold daily brought in from differ¬ 
ent parts of the island. They had not patience to 
wait for the gradual returns which the former might 
yield, and the latter they despised as scanty and 
inconsiderable. The spirit of disaffection spread, 
and a conspiracy was formed, which might have 
been fatal to Columbus and the colony. Happily 
he discovered it; and, seizing the ringleaders, 
punished some of them, sent others prisoners into 
Spain, whither he despatched twelve of the ships 
which had served as transports, with an earnest 
request for a reinforcement of men and a large 
supply of provisions. 3 

Meanwhile, in order to banish that 1494 
idleness, which, by allowing his peo- ^Ttate 5 of nt the 
pie leisure to brood over their disap- countr >'- 
pointment, nourished the spirit of discontent, Co 
lumbus planned several expeditions into the interior 
part of the country. He sent a detach- 

, _ , „ , , March 12. 

ment, under the command of Alonzo 
de Ojeda, a vigilant and enterprising officer, to 
visit the district of Cibao, which was said to yield 
the greatest quantity of gold, and followed him in 
person with the main body of his troops. In this 
expedition he displayed all the pomp of military 
magnificence that he could exhibit, in order to strike 
the imagination of the natives. He marched with 
colours flying, with martial music, and with a small 
body of cavalry that paraded sometimes in the front 
and sometimes in the rear. As those were the first 
horses which appeared in the New World, they 
were objects of terror no less than of admiration to 
the Indians, who, having no tame animals them- 


q Life of Columbus, c. 51. 
r P. Martyr, dec. p. 29. 


Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii.e. 10. 

s Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 10,11. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


763 


BOOK II, A. D. 1494.J 

selves, were unacquainted with that vast accession 
of power which man hath acquired by subjecting 
them to his dominion. They supposed them to be 
rational creatures. They imagined that the horse 
and the rider formed one animal, w ith whose speed 
they were astonished, and whose impetuosity and 
strength they considered as irresistible. But while 
Columbus endeavoured to inspire the natives with 
a dread of his power, he did not neglect the arts of 
gaining their love and confidence. He adhered 
scrupulously to the principles of integrity and jus¬ 
tice in all his transactions with them, and treated 
them, on every occasion, not only with humanity, 
but with indulgence. The district of Cibao answer¬ 
ed the description given of it by the natives. It was 
mountainous and uncultivated, but in every river 
and brook gold was gathered either in dust or in 
grains, some of which were of considerable size. 
The Indians had never opened any mines in search 
of gold. To penetrate into the bowels of the earth, 
and to refine the rude ore, were operations too com¬ 
plicated and laborious for their talents and industry, 
and they had no such high value for gold as to put 
their ingenuity and invention upon the stretch in 
order to obtain it. 1 The small quantity of that pre¬ 
cious metal which they possessed, was either picked 
up in the beds of the rivers, or washed from the 
mountains by the heavy rains that fall within the 
tropics. But, from those indications, the Spaniards 
could no longer doubt that the country contained 
rich treasures in its bowels, of which they hoped 
soon to be masters. 11 In order to secure the com¬ 
mand of this valuable province, Columbus erected 
a small fort to which he gave the name of St. 
Thomas, by way of ridicule upon some of his incre¬ 
dulous followers, who would not believe that the 
country produced gold, until they saw it with their 
own eyes, and touched it with their hands.* 

The distress and T1,e account of those promising ap- 
the a colony in- pearances of wealth in the country of 
crease. Cibao came very seasonably to com¬ 

fort the desponding colony, which was affected with 
distresses of various kinds. The stock of provisions 
which had been brought from Europe was mostly 
consumed; what remained was so much corrupted by 
the heat and moisture of the climate, as to be almost 
unfit for use; the natives cultivated so small a portion 
of ground, and with so little skill, that it hardly 
yielded what was sufficient for their own subsistence; 
the Spaniards at Isabella had hitherto neither time 
nor leisure to clear the soil, so as to reap any con¬ 
siderable fruits of their own industry. On all these 
accounts, they became afraid of perishing with 
hunger, and were reduced already to a scanty allow¬ 
ance. At the same time, the diseases predominant 
in the torrid zone, and which rage chiefly in those 
uncultivated countries, where the hand of industry 
has not opened the woods, drained the marshes, 
and confined the rivers within a certain channel, 


t Oviedo, lib. ii. p. 90. A. 
u P. -Martyr, dec. p. 32. 


began to spread among them. Alarmed at the vio¬ 
lence and unusual symptoms of those maladies, 
they exclaimed against Columbus and his compan¬ 
ions in the former voyage, who, by their splendid 
but deceitful descriptions of Hispaniola, had allured 
them to quit Spain for a barbarous uncultivated 
land, where they must either be cut off by famine, 
or die of unknown distempers. Several of the offi¬ 
cers and persons of note, instead of checking, join¬ 
ed in those seditious complaints. Father Boyl, the 
apostolical vicar, was one of the most turbulent and 
outrageous. It required all the authority and ad¬ 
dress of Columbus to re-establish subordination 
and tranquillity in the colony. Threats and pro¬ 
mises were alternately employed for this purpose ; 
but nothing contributed more to soothe the malcon¬ 
tents, than the prospect of finding in the mines of 
Cibao such a rich store of treasure as would be a 
recompence for all their sufferings, and efface the 
memory of former disappointments. 

When, by his unwearied endea- „ . , 

7 J Columbus at 

vours, concord and order were so far tempts new dis¬ 
coveries. 

restored that he could venture to leave 
the island, Columbus resolved to pursue his dis¬ 
coveries, that he might be able to ascertain whether 
those new countries with which he had opened a 
communication were connected with any region of 
the earth already known, or whether they were to 
be considered as a separate portion of the globe 
hitherto unvisited. He appointed his brother Don 
Diego, with the assistance of a council of officers, 
to govern the island in his absence ; and gave the 
command of a body of soldiers to Don Pedro Mar¬ 
garita, with which he was to visit the different parts 
of the island, and endeavour to establish the au¬ 
thority of the Spaniards among the inhabitants. 
Having left them very particular instructions with 
respect to their conduct, he weighed anchor on the 
twenty-fourth of April, with one ship and two small 
barks, under his command. During a tedious voy¬ 
age of full five months, he had a trial of almost 
all the numerous hardships to which persons of his 
profession are exposed, without making any dis¬ 
covery of importance, except the island of Jamaica. 
As he ranged along the southern coast of Cuba, y 
he was entangled in a labyrinth formed by an incre¬ 
dible number of small islands, to which he gave 
the name of the Queen’s Garden. In this unknown 
course, among rocks, and shelves, he was retarded 
by contrary winds, assaulted with furious storms, 
and alarmed with the terrible thunder and lightning 
which is often almost incessant between the tropics. 
At length his provisions fell short; his crew, ex¬ 
hausted with fatigue, as well as hunger, murmured 
and threatened, and were ready to proceed to the 
most desperate extremities against him. Beset with 
danger in such various forms, he was obliged to 
keep continual watch, to observe every occurrence 
with his own eyes, to issue every order, and to su- 


x Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 12. 
y See Note XIX. 


Life of Columbus, c. 52. 




764 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1494. BOOK II. 


perintend the execution of it. On no occasion was 
the extent of his skill and experience as a naviga¬ 
tor so much tried. To these the squadron owed its 
safety. But this unremitted fatigue of body, and 
intense application of mind, overpowering his con¬ 
stitution, though naturally vigorous and robust, 
brought on a feverish disorder, which terminated in 
a lethargy, that deprived him of sense and memory, 
and had almost proved fatal to his life.* 

But, on his return to Hispaniola, the 
on hlsreturn, sudden emotion of joy which he felt 
Barthoiomew h at upon meeting with his brother Bar- 
isabeiia. tholomew at Isabella, occasioned such 

a flow of spirits as contributed greatly to his re¬ 
covery. It was now thirteen years since the two 
brothers, whom similarity of talents united in close 
friendship, had separated from each other, and dur¬ 
ing that long period there had been no intercourse 
between them. Bartholomew, after finishing his 
negociation in the court of England, had set out for 
Spain by the way of France. At Paris he received 
an account of the extraordinary discoveries which 
his brother had made in his first voyage, and that 
he was then preparing to embark on a second ex¬ 
pedition. Though this naturally induced him to 
pursue his journey with the utmost despatch, 
the admiral had sailed for Hispaniola before he 
reached Spain. Ferdinand and Isabella received 
him with the respect due to the nearest kinsman of 
a person whose merit and services rendered him so 
conspicuous; and as they knew what consolation 
his presence would afford to his brother, they per¬ 
suaded him to take the command of three ships, 
which they had appointed to carry provisions to the 
colony at Isabella. 11 

He could not have arrived at any 

arms 1 agakfstthe juncture when Columbus stood more 
Spaniards. j n nee( j 0 f a f r j enc [ capable of assist¬ 
ing him with his counsels, or of dividing with him 
the cares and burden of government. For although 
the provisions now brought from Europe afforded 
a temporary relief to the Spaniards from the cala¬ 
mities of famine, the supply w as not in such quan¬ 
tity as to support them long, and the island did not 
hitherto yield what was sufficient for their susten¬ 
ance. They were threatened with another danger, 
still more formidable than the return of scarcity, and 
which demanded more immediate attention. No 
sooner did Columbus leave the island on his voyage 
of discovery, than the soldiers under Margarita, as 
if they had been set free from discipline and subor¬ 
dination, scorned all restraint. Instead of conform¬ 
ing to the prudent instructions of Columbus, they 
dispersed in straggling parties over the island, lived 
at discretion upon the natives, wasted their provi¬ 
sions, seized their women, and treated that in¬ 
offensive race with all the insolence of military 
oppression. 6 

As long as the Indians had any prospect that 


their sufferings might come to a period by the vo¬ 
luntary departure of the invaders, they submitted 
in silence, and dissembled their sorrow; but they 
now perceived that the yoke would be as permanent 
as it was intolerable. The Spaniards had built a 
town, and surrounded it with ramparts. They had 
erected forts in different places. They had enclosed 
and sown several fields. It was apparent that they 
came not to visit the country, but to settle in it. 
Though the number of those strangers was incon¬ 
siderable, the state of cultivation among this rude 
people was so imperfect, and in such exact propor¬ 
tion to their own consumption, that it was with 
difficulty they could afford subsistence to their new 
guests. Their own mode of life was so indolent 
and inactive, the warmth of the climate so enervat¬ 
ing, the constitution of their bodies naturally so 
feeble, and so unaccustomed to the laborious exer¬ 
tions of industry, that they were satisfied with a 
proportion of food amazingly small. A handful 
of maize, or a little of the insipid bread made of 
the cassada root, was sufficient to support men, 
whose strength and spirits were not exhausted by 
any vigorous efforts either of body or mind. The 
Spaniards, though the most abstemious of all the 
European nations, appeared to them excessively 
voracious. One Spaniard consumed as much as 
several Indians. This keenness of appetite sur¬ 
prised them so much, and seemed to be so in¬ 
satiable, that they supposed the Spaniards had left 
their own country, because it did not produce as 
much as was requisite to gratify their immoderate 
desire of food, and had come among them in quest 
of nourishment. 0 Self-preservation prompted them 
to wish for the departure of guests who wasted so 
fast their slender stock of provisions. The injuries 
which they suffered added to their impatience 
for this event. They had long expected that the 
Spaniards would retire of their own accord. They 
now perceived that, in order to avert the destruction 
with which they were threatened, either by the slow 
consumption of famine, or by the violence of their 
oppressors, it was necessary to assume courage, to 
attack those formidable invaders with united force, 
and drive them from the settlements of which they 
had violently taken possession. 

Such were the sentiments which Wrwiththem 
universally prevailed among the Indi¬ 
ans, when Columbus returned to Isabella. Inflam¬ 
ed by the unprovoked outrages of the Spaniards, 
with a degree of rage of which their gentle natures, 
formed to suffer and submit, seemed hardly suscep¬ 
tible, they waited only for a signal from their lead¬ 
ers to fall upon the colony. Some of the caziques 
had already surprised and cut off several stragglers. 
The dread of this impending danger united the* 
Spaniards, and re-established the authority of Co¬ 
lumbus, as they saw no prospect of safety but in 
committing themselves to his prudent guidance. 


7. Life of Columbus, c. 54, &c. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 13, 14. P. 
Martyr, dec. 1. p. 34, &c. 


a Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 15. 
c Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 17. 


b P. Martyr, dec. p. 47- 



BOOK II. A. D. 1494.] THE HISTORY 

Tt was now necessary to have recourse to arms, the 
employing of which against the Indians, Columbus 
had hitherto avoided with the greatest solicitude. 
Unequal as the conflict may seem, between the 
naked inhabitants of the New World, armed with 
clubs, sticks hardened in the fire, wooden swords, 
and arrows pointed with bones or flints ; and troops 
accustomed to the discipline, and provided with the 
instruments of destruction, known in the European 
art of war, the situation of the Spaniards was far 
from being exempt from danger. The vast superi¬ 
ority of the natives in number, compensated many 
defects. A handful of men was about to encounter 
a whole nation. One adverse event, or even any 
unforeseen delay in determining the fate of the war, 
might prove fatal to the Spaniards. Conscious that 
success depended on the vigour and rapidity of his 
operations, Columbus instantly assembled his forces. 
They were reduced to a very small number. Dis¬ 
eases, engendered by the warmth and humidity of 
the country, or occasioned by their own licentious¬ 
ness, had raged among them with much violence; 
experience had not yet taught them the art either 
of curing these, or the precautions requisite for 
guarding against them ; two-thirds of the original 
adventurers were dead, and many of those who sur- 
1495 . vived were incapable of service. d The 
March 24. body which took the field consisted 
only of two hundred foot, twenty horse, and twenty 
large dogs ; and how strange soever it may seem to 
mention the last as composing part of a military force, 
they were not perhaps the least formidable and de¬ 
structive of the whole, when employed against 
naked and timid Indians. All the caziques of the 
island, Guacanahari excepted, who retained an in¬ 
violable attachment to the Spaniards, were in arms 
to oppose Columbus, with forces amounting, if we 
may believe the Spanish historians, to a hundred 
thousand men. Instead of attempting to draw the 
Spaniards into the fastnesses of the woods and 
mountains, they were so imprudent as to take their 
station in the Vega Real, the most open plain in 
the country. Columbus did not allow them time to 
perceive their error, or to alter their position. He 
attacked them during the night, when undisciplined 
troops are least capable of acting with union and 
concert, and obtained an easy and bloodless victory. 
The consternation with which the Indians were 
filled by the noise and havoc made by the fire-arms, 
by the impetuous force of the cavalry, and the fierce 
onset of the dogs, was so great, that they threw 
down their weapons and fled, without attempting 
resistance. Many were slain ; more were taken 
prisoners and reduced to servitude ; e and so 
thoroughly were the rest intimidated, that from that 
moment they abandoned themselves to despair, re¬ 
linquishing all thoughts of contending with ag¬ 
gressors whom they deemed invincible. 
a tax imposed Columbus employed several months 
upon them. j n marching through the island, and 


OF AMERICA. 765 

in subjecting it to the Spanish government, without 
meeting with any opposition. He imposed a tribute 
upon all the inhabitants above the age of fourteen. 
Each person who lived in those districts w here gold 
was found, was obliged to pay quarterly as much 
gold dust as filled a hawk's bell ; from those in 
other parts of the country, twenty-five pounds of 
cotton were demanded. This was the first regular 
taxation of the Indians, and served as a precedent 
for exactions still more intolerable. Such an im¬ 
position was extremely contrary to those maxims 
which Columbus had hitherto inculcated, with re¬ 
spect to the mode of treating them. But intrigues 
were carrying on in the court of Spain at this junc¬ 
ture, in order to undermine his power, and discre¬ 
dit his operations, which constrained him to depart 
from his own system of administration. Several 
unfavourable accounts of his conduct, as well as of 
the countries discovered by him, had been trans¬ 
mitted to Spain. Margarita and father Boyl were 
now at court, and in order to justify their own con¬ 
duct, or to gratify their resentment, watched with 
malevolent attention for every opportunity of spread¬ 
ing insinuations to his detriment. Many of the 
courtiers viewed his growing reputation and power 
with envious eyes. Fonseca, archdeacon of Seville, 
who was intrusted with the chief direction of Indian 
affairs, had conceived such an unfavourable opinion 
of Columbus, for some reason which the contempo¬ 
rary writers have not mentioned, that he listened 
with partiality to every invective against him. It 
was not easy for an unfriended stranger, unpractis¬ 
ed in courtly arts, to counteract the machinations of 
so many enemies. Columbus saw that there was 
but one method of supporting his own credit, and 
of silencing all his adversaries. He must produce 
such a quantity of gold as would not only justify 
what he had reported with respect to the richness 
of the country, but encourage Ferdinand and Isa¬ 
bella to persevere in prosecuting his plans. The 
necessity of obtaining it, forced him not only to 
impose this heavy tax upon the Indians, but to ex¬ 
act payment of it with extreme rigour ; and may be 
pleaded in excuse for his deviating on this occasion 
from the mildness and humanity with which he 
uniformly treated that unhappy people/ 

The labour, attention, and foresight, Fatal effects of 
which the Indians were obliged to em- that measure, 
ploy in procuring the tribute demanded of them, 
appeared the most intolerable of all evils, to men 
accustomed to pass their days in a careless, impro¬ 
vident indolence. They were incapable of such a 
regular and persevering exertion of industry, and 
felt it such a grievous restraint upon their liberty, 
that they had recourse to an expedient for obtain¬ 
ing deliverance from this yoke, which demonstrates 
the excess of their impatience and despair. They 
formed a scheme of starving those oppressors whom 
they durst not attempt to expel ; and from the 
opinion which they entertained with respect to the 

f Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 17. 


d Life of Columbus, c. 61. 


e See Note XX. 



'GG 


voracious appetite of the Spaniards, they concluded 
the execution of it to be very practicable. With 
this view they suspended all the operations of agri¬ 
culture; they sowed no maize, they pulled up the 
roots of the manioc or cassada which were planted, 
and retiring to the most inaccessible parts of the 
mountains, left the uncultivated plains to their ene¬ 
mies. This desperate resolution produced in some 
degree the effects which they expected. The Span¬ 
iards were reduced to extreme want; but they re¬ 
ceived such seasonable supplies of provisions from 
Europe, and found so many resources in their own 
ingenuity and industry, that they suffered no great 
loss of men. The wretched Indians were the victims 
of their own ill-concerted policy. A great multitude 
of people, shut up in the mountainous or wooded part 
of the country, without any food but the spontane¬ 
ous productions of the earth, soon felt the utmost 
distresses of famine. This brought on contagious 
diseases; and, in the course of a few months, more 
than a third part of the inhabitants of the island 
perished, after experiencing misery in all its various 
forms.B 

, , . . , But while Columbus was establish- 

lntrigues against 

Columbus m the j n g the foundations of the Spanish 
court of Spam. ° * 

grandeur in the New World, his ene- 
mies laboured with unwearied assiduity to deprive 
him of the glory and rewards, which by his services 
and sufferings he was entitled to enjoy. The hard¬ 
ships unavoidable in a new settlement, the calami¬ 
ties occasioned by an unhealthy climate, the dis¬ 
asters attending a voyage in unknown seas, were 
all represented as the effects of his restless and in¬ 
considerate ambition. His prudent attention to pre¬ 
serve discipline and subordination was denominated 
excess of rigour; the punishments which he inflicted 
upon the mutinous and disorderly were imputed to 
cruelty. These accusations gained such credit in a 
jealous court, that a commissioner was appointed to 
repair to Hispaniola, and to inspect into the con¬ 
duct of Columbus. By the recommendation of his 
enemies, Aguado, a groom of the bed-chamber, was 
the person to whom this important trust was com¬ 
mitted. But in this choice they seem to have been 
more influenced by the obsequious attachment of the 
man to their interest, than by his capacity for the sta¬ 
tion. Puffed up with such sudden elevation, Aguado 
displayed, in the exercise of this office, all the frivo¬ 
lous self-importance, and acted with all the disgust¬ 
ing insolence, which are natural to little minds, when 
raised to unexpected dignity, or employed in func¬ 
tions to which they are not equal. By listening with 
eagerness to every accusation against Columbus, 
and encouraging not only the malcontent Spa¬ 
niards, but even the Indians, to produce their griev¬ 
ances, real or imaginary, he fomented the spirit of 
dissension in the island, without establishing any 
regulations of public utility, or that tended to re 
dress the many wrongs, with the odium of which he 

g Herrera, dec. 1. lib. xi. c. 18. Life of Columbua, c. 61. Oviedo, lib. 
m. p. 93. D. Benzon Hist. Novi Orbis, lib. i. c. 9. P. Martyr dec 
p. 48. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1495. BOOK If. 

wished to load the admiral’s administration. As 


1496. 


Columbus felt sensibly how humiliating his situa¬ 
tion must be, if he should remain in the country 
while such a partial inspector observed his motions, 
and controlled his jurisdiction, he took the resolu¬ 
tion of returning to Spain, in order to lay a full ac- 

countof all his transactions, particularly with respect 

to the points in dispute between him and his adver¬ 
saries, before Ferdinand and Isabella, from whose 
justice and discernment he expected an equal and 
a favourable decision. He committed 
the administration of affairs, during 
his absence, to Don Bartholomew his brother, with 
the title of Adelantado, or lieutenant-governor. By 
a choice less fortunate, and which proved the source 
of many calamities to the colony, he appointed 
Francis Roldan chief justice, with very extensive 
pow r ers. h 

In returning to Europe, Columbus ReturostoSpain 
held a course different from that which 
he had taken in his former voyage. He steered 
almost due east from Hispaniola, in the parallel of 
twenty-two degrees of latitude ; as experience had 
not yet discovered the more certain and expeditious 
method of stretching to the north, in order to fall in 
with the south-west winds. By this ill-advised 
choice, which, in the infancy of navigation between 
the New and Old Worlds, can hardly be imputed 
to the admiral as a defect in naval skill, he was 
exposed to infinite fatigue and danger, in a perpe¬ 
tual struggle with the trade-winds, which blow with¬ 
out variation from the east between the tropics. Not¬ 
withstanding the almost insuperable difficulties of 
such a navigation, he persisted in his course with 
his usual patience and firmness, but made so little 
way thathe was three months withoutseeing land. At 
length his provisions began to fail, the crew r was re¬ 
duced to the scanty allowance of six ounces of 
bread a-day for each person. The admiral fared no 
better than the meanest sailor. But, even in this 
extreme distress he retained the humanity which 
distinguishes his character, and refused to comply 
with the earnest solicitations of his crew, some of 
whom proposed to feed upon the Indian prisoners 
whom they were carrying over, and others insisted 
to throw them overboard, in order to lessen the con¬ 
sumption of their small stock. He represented that 
they were human beings, reduced by a common 
calamity to the same condition with themselves, and 
entitled to share an equal fate. His authority and 
remonstrances dissipated those wild ideas suggested 
by despair. Nor had they time to recur; as he 
came soon within sight of the coast of Spain, when 
all their fears and sufferings ended. 1 

Columbus appeared at court with jjisreception 
the modest but determined confidence there - 
of a man conscious not only of integrity, but of 
having performed great services. Ferdinand and 
Isabella, ashamed of their ow n facility in lending 

h Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 18, lib. iii. c. 1. 

i Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 1. Life of Columbus, c 64. 



BOOK II. A. 1). 1496.] THE HISTORY 

too favourable an ear to frivolous or unfounded ac¬ 
cusations, received him with such distinguished 
marks of respect as covered his enemies with shame. 
Their censures and calumnies were no more heard 
of at that juncture. The gold, the pearls, the cot¬ 
ton, and other commodities of value which Colum¬ 
bus produced, seemed fully to refute what the 
malcontents had propagated with respect to the 
poverty of the country. By reducing the Indians to 
obedience, and imposing a regular tax upon them, 
he had secured to Spain a large accession of new 
subjects, and the establishment of a revenue that 
promised to be considerable. By the mines which 
he had found out and examined, a source of wealth 
still more copious was opened. Great and unex¬ 
pected as those advantages were, Columbus repre¬ 
sented them only as preludes to future acquisitions, 
and as the earnest of more important discoveries, 
which he still meditated, and to which those he had 
already made would conduct him with ease and 
certainty , k 

a plan formed The attentive consideration of all 
farestowShment th ese circumstances made such an im- 
ot a colony. pression, not only upon Isabella, w ho 

was flattered with the idea of being the patroness 
of all Columbus’s enterprises, but even upon Fer¬ 
dinand, who having originally expressed his dis¬ 
approbation of his schemes, was still apt to doubt 
of their success, that they resolved to supply the 
colony in Hispaniola with every thing which could 
render it a permanent establishment, and to furnish 
Columbus with such a fleet, that he might proceed 
to search for those new countries, of whose exist¬ 
ence he seemed to be confident. The measures most 
proper for accomplishing both these designs were 
concerted with Columbus. Discovery had been the 
sole object of the first voyage to the New World; 
and though, in the second, settlement had been pro¬ 
posed, the precautions taken for that purpose had 
either been insufficient, or w ere rendered ineffectual 
by the mutinous spirit of the Spaniards, and the 
unforeseen calamities arising from various causes. 
Now a plan was to be formed of a regular colony, 
that might serve as a model in all future establish¬ 
ments. Every particular was considered with 
attention, and the whole arranged with a scrupulous 
accuracy. The precise number of adventurers who 
should be permitted to embark was fixed. They 
were to be of different ranks and professions ; and 
the proportion of each was established, according 
to their usefulness and the wants of the colony. A 
suitable number of women was to be chosen to ac¬ 
company these new settlers. As it was the first 
object to raise provisions in a country where scarcity 
of food had been the occasion of so much distress, 
a considerable body of husbandmen was to be 
carried over. As the Spaniards had then no con¬ 
ception of deriving any benefit from those produc¬ 
tions of the New World which have since yielded 

k Life of Columbus, c. 65. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 1. 

1 Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 2. 


OF AMERICA. 


767 


A defect in it. 


such large returns of wealth to Europe, but had 
formed magnificent ideas, and entertained san¬ 
guine hopes with respect to the riches contained 
in the mines which had been discovered, a band 
of workmen, skilled in the various arts employed 
in digging and refining the precious metals, was 
provided. All these emigrants were to receive pay 
and subsistence for some years at the public ex¬ 
pense. 1 

Thus far the regulations were pru¬ 
dent, and well adapted to the end in 
view. But as it was foreseen that few w ould engage 
voluntarily to settle in a country, whose noxious 
climate had been fatal to so many of their country¬ 
men, Columbus proposed to transport to Hispaniola 
such malefactors as had been convicted of crimes, 
which, though capital, were of a less atrocious 
nature ; and that for the future a certain proportion 
of the offenders usually sent to the galleys, should 
be condemned to labour in the mines which were to 
be opened. This advice, given without due reflec¬ 
tion, was as inconsiderately adopted. The prisons 
of Spain were drained, in order to collect members 
for the intended colony ; and the judges empowered 
to try criminals were instructed to recruit it by their 
future sentences. It was not, however, with such 
materials that the foundations of a society, destined 
to be permanent, should be laid. Industry, sobriety, 
patience, and mutual confidence, are indispensably 
requisite in an infant settlement, where purity of 
morals must contribute more towards establishing 
order, than the operation or authority of laws. But 
when such a mixture of what is corrupt is admitted 
into the original constitution of the political body, 
the vices of those unsound and incurable members 
will probably infect the whole, and must certainly 
be productive of violent and unhappy effects. This 
the Spaniards fatally experienced; and the other 
European nations having successively imitated the 
practice of Spain in this particular, pernicious con¬ 
sequences have followed in their settlements, which 
can be imputed to no other cause." 1 

Though Columbus obtained, with 
great facility and despatch, the royal 
approbation of every measure and regulation that 
he proposed, his endeavours to carry them into exe¬ 
cution were so long retarded, as must have tired out 
the patience of any man less accustomed to en¬ 
counter and to surmount difficulties. Those delays 
were occasioned partly by that tedious formality 
and spirit of procrastination, with which the Spa¬ 
niards conduct business; and partly by the exhaust¬ 
ed state of the treasury, which was drained by the 
expense of celebrating the marriage of Ferdinand 
and Isabella’s only son with Margaret of Austria, 
and that of Joanna, their second daughter, with 
Philip archduke of Austria;" but must be chiefly 
imputed to the malicious arts of Columbus’s ene¬ 
mies. Astonished at the reception which he met 

tn Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 2. Touron Hist. Gener. de I'Amerique. i. 
p. 51. n P. Martyr, epist. 168. 


Executed slowly. 




768 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


with upon his return, and overawed by his presence, 
they gave way, for some time, to a tide of favour 
too strong for them to oppose. Their enmity, how¬ 
ever, was too inveterate to remain long inactive. 
They resumed their operations, and by the assistance 
of Fonseca, the minister for Indian affairs, who was 
now promoted to the bishopric of Badajos, they 
threw in so many obstacles to protract the prepara¬ 
tions for Columbus’s expedition, that a year elapsed 0 
before he could procure two ships to carry over a 
part of the supplies destined for the colony, and 
almost two years were spent before the small squa¬ 
dron was equipped, of which he himself was to 
take the command. p 

This squadron consisted of six ships 
Third voyage of only, of no great burden, and but in¬ 
differently provided for a long or dan¬ 
gerous navigation. The voyage which he now me¬ 
ditated was in a course different from any he had 
undertaken. As he was fully persuaded that the 
fertile regions of India lay to the south-west of 
those countries which he had discovered, he pro¬ 
posed as the most certain method of finding out 
these, to stand directly south from the Canary or 
Cape de Yerd Islands, until he came under the 
equinoctial line, and then to stretch to the west 
before the favourable wind for such a course, which 
blows invariably between the tropics. With this 
idea he set sail, and touched first at 
the Canary, and then at the Cape de 
Verd, Islands. From the former he despatched 
three of his ships with a supply of 
provisions for the colony in Hispa¬ 
niola ; with the other three, he continued his voy¬ 
age towards the south. No remarkable occurrence 
happened until they arrived within five degrees of 
the line. There they were becalmed, 
and at the same time the heat became 
so excessive, that many of their wine casks burst, 
the liquors in others soured, and their provisions 
corrupted.^ The Spaniards, who had never ven¬ 
tured so far to the south, were afraid that the ships 
would take fire, and began to apprehend the reality 
of what the ancients had taught concerning the 
destructive qualities of that torrid region of the 
globe. They were relieved, in some measure, from 
their fears by a seasonable fall of rain. This, how¬ 
ever, though so heavy and unintermitting that the 
men could hardly keep the deck, did not greatly 
mitigate the intenseness of the heat. The admiral, 
who with his usual vigilance had in person directed 
every operation from the beginning of the voyage, 
was so much exhausted by fatigue and want of 
sleep, that it brought on a violent fit of the gout, 
accompanied with a fever. All these circumstances 
constrained him to yield to the importunities of his 
crew, and to alter his course to the north-west, in 
order to reach some of the Caribbee islands, where 
he might refit, and be supplied with provisions. 

o Life of Columbus, c. 65. p Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 9. 

q P. Martyr, dec. p. 70. r Gumilla Hist, de l’Oenoque, tom. i. p. 14. 


May 30. 


July 4. 


July 19. 


[A. D. 1498. BOOK II 
On the first of August, the man sta- 

. • , , Discovers the 

tioned in the round top surprised them continent of 

mcric<i. 

with the joyful cry of Land! They 
stood towards it, and discovered a considerable 
island, which the admiral called Trinidad, a name 
it still retains. It lies on the coast of Guiana, near 
the mouth of the Orinoco. This, though a river 
only of the third or fourth magnitude in the New 
World, far surpasses any of the streams in our he¬ 
misphere. It rolls towards the ocean such a vast 
body of water, and rushes into it with such impe¬ 
tuous force, that when it meets the tide, which on 
that coast rises to an uncommon height, their col¬ 
lision occasions a swell and agitation of the waves 
no less surprising than formidable. In this conflict, 
the irresistible torrent of the river so far prevails, 
that it freshens the ocean many leagues with its 
flood/ Columbus, before he could conceive the 
danger, was entangled among those adverse cur¬ 
rents and tempestuous waves, and it was with 
the utmost difficulty that he escaped through a 
narrow strait, which appeared so tremendous, that 
he called it La Boca del Drago. As soon as the 
consternation which this occasioned permitted him 
to reflect upon the nature of an appearance so 
extraordinary, he discerned in it a source of 
comfort and hope. He justly concluded that such 
avast body of water as this river contained, could 
not be supplied by any island, but must flow 
through a country of immense extent, and of 
consequence that he was now arrived at that 
continent which it had long been the object of his 
wishes to discover. Full of this idea, he stood to 
the west along the coast of those provinces which 
are now known by the names of Paria and Cumana. 
He landed in several places, and had some inter¬ 
course with the people, who resembled those of 
Hispaniola in their appearance and manner of life. 
They wore, as ornaments, small plates of gold, and 
pearls of considerable value, which they willingly 
exchanged for European toys. They seemed to 
possess a better understanding, and greater courage, 
than the inhabitants of the islands. The country 
produced four-footed animals of several kinds, as 
well as a great variety of fowls and fruits. 3 The 
admiral was so much delighted with its beauty and 
fertility, that with the warm enthusiasm of a disco¬ 
verer, he imagined it to be the Paradise described 
in Scripture, which the Almighty chose for the resi¬ 
dence of man, while he retained innocence that 
rendered him worthy of such an habitation/ Thus 
Columbus had the glory not only of discovering to 
mankind the existence of a new world, but made 
considerable progress towards a perfect knowledge 
of it; and was the first man who conducted the 
Spaniards to that vast continent which have been the 
chief seat of their empire, and the source of their 
treasures in this quarter of the globe. The shattered 
condition of his ships, scarcity of provisions, his 

s tterrera, dec. 1. lib. in. c. 9, 10. 11. Life of Columbus, c. 66-73. 

t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii, c. 12. Gomara, c. P.4. See Note XXI 



BOOK II. A. D. 1498.] 

own infirmities, together with the impatience of his 
crew, prevented him from pursuing his discoveries 
any further, and made it necessary to bear away for 
Hispaniola. In his way thither he discovered the 
islands of Cubaguaand Margarita, which afterwards 
became remarkable for their pearl-fishery. When 

Aug so lie arr ^ ve ^ at Hispaniola, he was 
wasted to an extreme degree with 
fatigue and sickness ; but found the affairs of the 
colony in such a situation, as afforded him no pros¬ 
pect of enjoying that repose of which he stood so 
much in need. 

state of Hispa Many revolutions had happened in 

vifthere‘ isarri " ^ iat country during his absence. His 
brother, the adelantado, in conse¬ 
quence of an advice which the admiral gave before 
his departure, had removed the colony from Isabella 
to a more commodious station, on the opposite side 
of the island, and laid the foundation of St. Domin¬ 
go, 11 which w as long the most considerable European 
town in the New World, and the seat of the supreme 
courts in the Spanish dominions there. As soon as 
the Spaniards were established in this new settle¬ 
ment, the adelantado, that they might neither lan¬ 
guish in inactivity, nor have leisure to form new 
cabals, marched into those parts of the island which 
his brother had not yet visited or reduced to obedi¬ 
ence. As the people were unable to resist, they 
submitted every where to the tribute which he 
imposed. But they soon found the burden to be so 
intolerable, that, overawed as the}' were by the 
superior power of their oppressors, they took arms 
against them. Those insurrections, however, were 
not formidable. A conflict with timid and naked 
Indians was neither dangerous nor of doubtful issue. 

But while the adelantado was em¬ 
ployed against them in the field, a 
mutiny of an aspect far more alarming broke out 
among the Spaniards. The ringleader of it was 
Francis Roldan, whom Columbus had placed in a 
station which required him to be the guardian of 
order and tranquillity in the colony. A turbulent 
and inconsiderate ambition precipitated him into 
this desperate measure, so unbecoming his rank. 
The arguments which he employed to seduce his 
countrymen were frivolous and ill-founded. He 
accused Columbus and his two brothers of arrogance 
and severity ; he pretended that they aimed at es¬ 
tablishing an independent dominion in the country; 
he taxed them with an intention of cutting off part 
of the Spaniards by hunger and fatigue, that they 
might more easily reduce the remainder to subjec¬ 
tion ; he represented it as unworthy of Castilians, 
to remain the tame and passive slaves of three 
Genoese adventurers. As men have always a pro¬ 
pensity to impute the hardships of which they feel 
the pressure, to the misconduct of their rulers ; as 
every nation views with a jealous eye the power and 
exaltation of foreigners, Roldan’s insinuations made 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


-09 


Mutiny of 
Roldan. 


u P. Martyr, dec. p. 56. 
Life of Columbus, c. 74—77- 


x Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 5—8. 
Gomara, c. 23. P. Martyr, p. 78. 

3 D 


a deep impression on his countrymen. His cha¬ 
racter and rank added weight to them. A consider¬ 
able number of the Spaniards made choice of him 
as their leader; and, taking arms against the 
adelantado and his brother, seized the king's maga¬ 
zine of provisions, and endeavoured to surprise the 
fort at St. Domingo. This was preserved by the 
vigilance and courage of Don Diego Columbus. 
The mutineers were obliged to retire to the province 
of Xaragua, where they continued not only to dis¬ 
claim the adelantado's authority themselves, but 
excited the Indians to throw off' the yoke.* 

Such was the distracted state of the colony when 
Columbus landed at St. Domingo. He was aston¬ 
ished to find that the three ships which he had 
despatched from the Canaries were not yet arrived. 
By the unskilfulness of the pilots, and the violence 
of currents, they had been carried a hundred and 
sixty miles to the west of St. Domingo, and forced 
to take shelter in a harbour of the province of Xara¬ 
gua, where Roldan and his seditious followers were 
cantoned. Roldan carefully concealed from the 
commanders of the ships his insurrection against 
the adelantado, and employing his utmost address 
to gain their confidence, persuaded them to set on 
shore a considerable part of the new settlers whom 
they brought over, that they might proceed by land 
to St. Domingo. It required but few arguments to 
prevail with those men to espouse his cause. They 
were the refuse of the gaols of Spain, to whom 
idleness, licentiousness, and deeds of violence were 
familiar ; and they returned eagerly to a course of 
life nearly resembling that to which they had been 
accustomed. The commanders of the ships per¬ 
ceiving, when it was too late, their imprudence in 
disembarking so many of their men, stood away for 
St. Domingo, and got safe into the port a few days 
after the admiral; but their stock of provisions was 
so wasted during a voyage of such long continu¬ 
ance, that they brought little relief to the colony.v 
By this junction with a band of such 

bold and desperate associates, Roldan prudent conduct 
. . , n *111 , of Columbus. 

became extremely formidable, and no 
less extravagant in his demands. Columbus, though 
filled with resentment at his ingratitude, and highly 
exasperated by the insolence of his followers, made 
no haste to take the field. He trembled at the 
thoughts of kindling the flames of a civil war, in 
which, whatever party prevailed, the power and 
strength of both must be so much wasted, as might 
encourage the common enemy to unite and complete 
their destruction. At the same time, he observed, 
that the prejudices and passions which incited the 
rebels to take arms, had so far infected those who 
still adhered to him, that many of them were ad¬ 
verse, and all cold to the service. From such 
sentiments, with respect to the public interest, as 
well as from this view of his own situation, ho 
chose to negociate rather than to fight. By a 

y Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 12. Life of Columbus, c. 78. 79. 



/ / 


0 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1499. 


seasonable proclamation, offering iree pardon to 
such as should merit it by returning to their duty, 
he made impression upon some ot the malcontents. 
Ey engaging to grant such as should desire it the 
liberty of returning to Spain, he allured all those 
unfortunate adventurers, who, from sickness and 
disappointment, were disgusted with the country. 
By promising to re-establish Roldan in his former 
office, he soothed his pride ; and, by complying 
with most of his demands in behalf of his followers, 
he satisfied their avarice. Thus, gradually, and 
without bloodshed, but after many tedious negocia- 
tions, he dissolved this dangerous combination, 
which threatened the colony with ruin ; and re¬ 
stored the appearance of order, regular government, 
and tranquillity. 2 

In consequence of this agreement 

A new mode . , , . , , „ , 

of settlement with the mutineers, lands were allotted 

them in different parts of the island, 
and the Indians settled in each district were ap¬ 
pointed to cultivate a certain portion of ground for 
the use of those new masters. The 
performance of this work was sub¬ 
stituted in place of the tribute formerly imposed; 
and how necessary soever such a regulation might 
be in a sickly and feeble colony, it introduced 
among the Spaniards the Repartimientos, or distri¬ 
butions of Indians, established by them in all their 
settlements, which brought numberless calamities 
upon that unhappy people, and subjected them to 
the most grievous oppression. 81 This was not the 
only bad effect of the insurrection in Hispaniola ; 
it prevented Columbus from prosecuting his dis¬ 
coveries on the continent, as self-preservation 
obliged him to keep near his person his brother the 
adelantado, and the sailors whom he intended to 
have employed in that service. As soon as his 
affairs would permit, he sent some of his ships to 
Spain with a journal of the voyage which he had 
made, a description of the new countries which he had 
discovered, a chart of the coast along which he had 
sailed, and specimens of the gold, the pearls, and 
other curious or valuable productions which he had 
acquired by trafficking with the natives. At the 
same time he transmitted an account of the insur¬ 
rection in Hispaniola; he accused the mutineers 
not only of having thrown the colony into such 
violent convulsions as threatened its dissolution, 
but of having obstructed every attempt towards 
discovery and improvement, by their unprovoked 
rebellion against their superiors ; and proposed 
several regulations for the better government of the 
island, as well as the extinction of that mutinous 
spirit, which, though suppressed at present, might 
soon burst out with additional rage. Roldan and 
his associates did not neglect to convey to Spain, 
by the same ships, an apology for their own con¬ 
duct, together with their recriminations upon the 
admiral and his brothers. Unfortunately for the 


[A. D. 1499. BOOK II. 

honour of Spain, and the happiness of Columbus, 
the latter gained most credit in the court of Ferdi¬ 
nand and Isabella, and produced unexpected effects. b 

But, previous to the relatingof these, 

. . J , . c The voyage of 

it is proper to take a view ot some Vasco de Gama 
... ...... i .i to the East In- 

events, which merit attention, botti on dies, by the Cape 

account of their own importance, and ot °" ,mI I,ope ‘ 
their connexion with the history of the New World. 
While Columbus was engaged in his successive 
voyages to the west, the spirit of discovery did not 
languish in Portugal, the kingdom where it first 
acquired vigour, and became enterprising. Self- 
condemnation and regret were not the only senti¬ 
ments to which the success of Columbus, and 
reflection upon their own imprudence in rejecting 
his proposals, gave rise among the Portuguese. 
They excited a general emulation to surpass his 
performances, and an ardent desire to make some 
reparation to their country for their own error. 
With this view, Emanuel, who inherited the enter¬ 
prising genius of his predecessors, persisted in their 
grand scheme of opening a passage to the East 
Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, and, soon after 
his accession to the throne, equipped a squadron for 
that important voyage. He gave the command of it 
to Vasco de Gama, a man of noble birth, possessed 
of virtue, prudence, and courage, equal to the sta¬ 
tion. The squadron, like all those fitted out for dis¬ 
covery in the infancy of navigation, was extremely 
feeble, consisting of three vessels, of neither burthen 
nor force adequate to the service. As the Europeans 
were at that time little acquainted with the course 
of the trade-winds and periodical monsoons, which 
render navigation in the Atlantic ocean, as well as 
in the sea that separates Africa from India, at some 
seasons easy, and at others not only dangerous, but 
almost impracticable, the time chosen for Gama’s de¬ 
parture was the most improper during the whole year. 
He set sail from Lisbon on the ninth of 
July, and standing towards the south, 
had to struggle for four months with contrary winds, 
before he could reach the Cape of Good 
Hope. Here their violence began to 
abate; and during an interval of calm weather, Gama 
doubled that formidable promontory, which had so 
long been the boundary of navigation, and directed 
his course towards the north-east, along the African 
coast. He touched at several ports; and after various 
adventures, which the Portuguese historians relate 
with high but just encomiums upon his conduct and 
intrepidity, he came to anchor before the city of 
Melinda. Throughout all the vast countries which 
extend along the coast of Africa, from the river Se¬ 
negal to the confines of Zanguebar, the Portuguese 
had found a race of men rude and uncultivated, 
strangers to letters, to arts, and commerce, and dif¬ 
fering from the inhabitants of Europe, no less in 
their features and complexion than in their manners 
and institutions. As they advanced from this, they 

b Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 14. Benzon. Hist. Nov. Orb. lib. i. c. 2. 


1497- 


Nov. 20. 


z Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 13, 14. Life of Columbus, c. 80, &c. 
a Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 14, &e. 



BOOK II. A. D. 1499.] THE HISTORY 

observed, to their inexpressible joy, that the human 
form gradually altered and improved ; the Asiatic 
features began to predominate, marks of civiliza¬ 
tion appeared, letters were known, the Mahometan 
religion was established, and a commerce, far from 
being inconsiderable, was carried on. At that time 
several vessels from India were in the port of Me¬ 
linda. Gama now pursued his voyage with almost 
absolute certainty of success, and, under the con¬ 
duct of a Mahometan pilot, arrived at Calecut, upon 
the coast ot Malabar, on the twenty-second of May 
one thousand four hundred and ninety-eight. What 
he beheld of the wealth, the populousness, the cul¬ 
tivation, the industry, and arts of this highly civilized 
country, far surpassed any idea that he had formed, 
from the imperfect accounts which the Europeans 
had hitherto received of it. But as he possessed 
neither sufficient force to attempt a settlement, nor 
proper commodities with which he could carry on 
commerce of any consequence, he hastened back to 
Portugal, with an account of his success in perform¬ 
ing a voyage, the longest, as well as most difficult, 
that had ever been made, since the first invention of 
navigation. He landed at Lisbon on the fourteenth 
of September one thousand four hundred and ninety- 
nine, two years two months and five days from the 
time he left that port. 2 

Thus, during the course of the fifteenth century, 
mankind made greater progress in exploring the state 
of the habitable globe, than in all the ages which 
had elapsed previous to that period. The spirit of 
discovery, feeble at first and cautious, moved within 
a very narrow sphere, and made its efforts with 
hesitation and timidity. Encouraged by success, it 
became adventurous, and boldly extended its opera¬ 
tions. In the course of its progression, it continued 
to acquire vigour, and advanced at length with a 
rapidity and force which burst through all the limits 
within which ignorance and fear had hitherto cir¬ 
cumscribed the activity of the human race. Almost 
fifty years were employed by the Portuguese in 
creeping along the coast of Africa from Cape Non 
to Cape de Yerd, the latter of which lies only twelve 
degrees to the south of the former. In less than 
thirty years they ventured beyond the equinoctial 
line into another hemisphere, and penetrated to the 
southern extremity of Africa, at the distance of forty- 
nine degrees from Cape de Yerd. During the last 
seven years of the century, a New World was dis¬ 
covered in the west, not inferior in extent to all the 
parts of the earth with which mankind were at that 
time acquainted. In the east, unknown seas and 
countries were found out, and a communication, 
long desired, but hitherto concealed, was opened 
between Europe and the opulent regions of India. 
Tn comparison with events so wonderful and unex¬ 
pected, all that had hitherto been deemed great or 
splendid faded away and disappeared. Yast objects 
now presented themselves. The human mind, roused 
and interested by the prospect, engaged with ardour 

c Ramusio, vol. i. 119. I). 

3D 2 


OF AMERICA. 771 

in pursuit of them, and exerted its active powers in 
a new direction. 

This Spirit Of enterprise, though but Discoveries car- 
newly awakened in Spain, began soon byprivateaiven- 
to operate extensively. All the attempts turers - 
towards discovery made in that kingdom had hitherto 
been carried on by Columbus alone, and at the ex¬ 
pense of the sovereign. But now private adven¬ 
turers, allured by the magnificent descriptions he 
gave of the regions which he had visited, as well as 
by the specimens of their wealth which he produced, 
offered to fit out squadrons at their own risk, and 
to go in quest of new countries. The Spanish court, 
whose scanty revenues were exhausted by the charge 
of its expeditions to the New World, which, though 
they opened alluring prospects of future benefit, 
yielded a very sparing return of present profit, was 
extremely willing to devolve the burthen of dis¬ 
covery upon its subjects. It seized with joy an op¬ 
portunity of rendering the avarice, the ingenuity, 
and efforts of projectors, instrumental in promoting 
designs of certain advantage to the public, though 
of doubtful success with respect to themselves. One 
of the first propositions of this kind 0 jeda the first of 
was made by Alonso de Ojeda, a gal- these - 
lant and active officer, who had accompanied Co¬ 
lumbus in his second voyage. His rank and cha¬ 
racter procured him such credit with the merchants 
of Seville, that they undertook to equip four ships, 
provided he could obtain the royal licence, autho¬ 
rizing the voyage. The powerful patronage of the 
bishop of Badajos easily secured success in a suit 
so agreeable to the court. Without consulting Co¬ 
lumbus, or regarding the rights and jurisdiction 
which he had acquired by the capitulation in one 
thousand four hundred and ninety-two, Ojeda was 
permitted to set out for the New World. In order 
to direct his course, the bishop communicated to 
him the admiral’s journal of his last voyage, and 
his charts of the countries which he had discovered. 
Ojeda struck out into no new path of M 
navigation, but adhering servilely to 
the route which Columbus had taken, arrived on 
the coast of Paria. He traded with the natives, 
and standing to the west, proceeded as far as Cape 
de Vela, and ranged along a considerable extent 
of coast beyond that on which Columbus had touched. 

Having thus ascertained the opinion 

n . October. 

of Columbus, that this country was a 
part of the continent, Ojeda returned by way of 
Hispaniola to Spain, with some reputation as a 
discoverer, but with little benefit to those who had 
raised the funds for the expedition. d 

Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine 

. • i • i • Is accompanied 

gentleman, accompanied Ojeda in by Amerigo ves- 

this voyage. In what station he served pucci ‘ 
is uncertain ; but as he was an experienced sailor, 
and eminently skilful in all the sciences subservient 
to navigation, he seems to have acquired such au¬ 
thority among his companions, that they willingly 

d Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 1, 2, 3. 



772 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


allowed him to have a chief share in directing their 
operations during the voyage. Soon after his return, 
he transmitted an account of his adventures and 
discoveries to one of his countrymen ; and labour¬ 
ing with the vanity of a traveller to magnify his 
own exploits, he had the address and confidence to 
frame his narrative, so as to make it appear that he 
had the glory of having first discovered the conti¬ 
nent in the New World. Amerigo’s account was 
drawn up not only with art, hut with some elegance. 
It contained an amusing history of his voyage, and 
judicious observations upon the natural productions, 
the inhabitants, and the customs of the countries 
which he had visited. As it was the first descrip¬ 
tion of any part of the New World that was pub¬ 
lished, a performance so well calculated to gratify 
the passion of mankind for what is new and mar¬ 
vellous, circulated rapidly, and was read with ad- 
From whom the miration. The country of which Ame- 
ls ai ^?vea A to e the a r i»° was supposed to be the discoverer, 
New world. came gradually to be called by his 

name. The caprice of mankind, often as unaccount¬ 
able as unjust, has perpetuated this error. By the 
universal consent of nations, America is the name 
bestowed on this new quarter of the globe. The 
bold pretensions of a fortunate impostor have rob¬ 
bed the discoverer of the New World of a dis¬ 
tinction which belonged to him. The name of 
Amerigo has supplanted that of Columbus ; and 
mankind may regret an act of injustice, which, hav¬ 
ing received the sanction of time, it is now too late 
to redress. e 


Voyage of Alonso During the same year, another 
Nigno: voyage of discovery was undertaken. 

Columbus not only introduced the spirit of naval 
enterprise into Spain, but all the first adventurers 
who distinguished themselves in this new career, 
were formed by his instructions, and acquired in 
his voyages the skill and information which quali¬ 
fied them to imitate his example. Alonso Nigno, 
who had served under the admiral in his last expe¬ 
dition, fitted out a single ship, in conjunction with 
Christopher Guerra, a merchant of Seville, and 
sailed to the coast of Paria. This voyage seems to 
have been conducted with greater attention to pri¬ 
vate emolument, than to any general or national 
object. Nigno and Guerra made no discoveries of 
any importance ; but they brought home such a re¬ 
turn of gold and pearls, as inflamed their country¬ 
men with the desire of engaging in similar adven¬ 
tures/ 


i 5 oo. Soon after, Vincent Yanez Pinzon, 

of v/ncent 1 Yanez 01ie °f the admiral’s companions in his 
Pmzon. fi rs t voyage, sailed from Palos with 

four ships. He stood boldly towards the south, and 
was the first Spaniard who ventured to cross the 
equinoctial line; but he seems to have landed on no 
part of the coast beyond the mouth of the Maragnon, 
or river of the Amazons. All these navigators 


[A. D. 1500. BOOK II. 

adopted the erroneous theory of Columbus, and be¬ 
lieved that the countries which they had discovered 
were part of the vast continent of India/ 

During the last year of the fifteenth The p ortU g uese 
century, that fertile district of Ame- dlscover Brazl1 * 
rica, on the confines of which Pinzon had stopped 
short, was more fully discovered. The successful 
voyage of Gama to the East Indies having encou¬ 
raged the king of Portugal to fit out a fleet so power¬ 
ful, as not only to carry on trade, but to attempt 
conquest, he gave the command of it to Pedro Al¬ 
varez Cabral. In order to avoid the coast of Africa, 
where he was certain of meeting with variable 
breezes, or frequent calms, which might retard his 
voyage, Cabral stood out to sea, and kept so far to 
the west, that, to his surprise, he found himself 
upon the shore of an unknown country, in the tenth 
degree beyond the line. He imagined at first that it 
was some island in the Atlantic ocean, hitherto un¬ 
observed ; but proceeding along its coast for several 
days, he was led gradually to believe, that a country 
so extensive formed a part of some great continent. 
This latter opinion was well founded. The country 
with which he fell in belongs to that province in 
South America, now known by the name of Brazil. 
He landed ; and having formed a very high idea of 
the fertility of the soil, and agreeableness of the 
climate, he took possession of it for the crown of 
Portugal, and despatched a ship to Lisbon with an 
account of this event, which appeared to be no less 
important than it was unexpected/ Columbus’s 
discovery of the New World was the effort of an 
active genius, enlightened by science, guided by 
experience, and acting upon a regular plan, exe¬ 
cuted with no less courage than perseverance. But 
from this adventure of the Portuguese, it appears 
that chance might have accomplished that great 
design which it is now the pride of human reason to 
have formed and perfected. If the sagacity of Co¬ 
lumbus had not conducted mankind to America, 
Cabral, by a fortunate accident, might have led 
them, a few years later, to the knowledge of that 
extensive continent/ 

While the Spaniards and Portu- Machi?ations 
guese, by those successive voyages, agalllstColumbus - 
were daily acquiring more enlarged ideas of the ex¬ 
tent and opulence of that quarter of the globe 
which Columbus had made known to them, he him¬ 
self, far from enjoying the tranquillity and honours 
with which his services should have been recom¬ 
pensed, was struggling with every distress in which 
the envy and malevolence of the people under his 
command, or the ingratitude of the court which ho 
served, could involve him. Though the pacification 
with Roldan broke the union and weakened the 
force of the mutineers, it did not extirpate the seeds 
of discord out of the island. Several of the mal¬ 
contents continued in arms, refusing to submit to 
the admiral. He and his brothers were obliged to 


e See Note XXII. 

f P. Martyr, dec. p. 87. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 5. 


g Herrera, dec. 1 . Iid. iv. c. 6. P. Martyr, dec. p. 95. 

I) Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 7. i Ibid. lib. vii. c. 5. 




BOOK II. A. D. 1500.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


773 


take the field alternately, in order to check their 
incursions, or to punish their crimes. The perpetual 
occupation and disquiet which this created, pre¬ 
vented him from giving due attention to the dan¬ 
gerous machinations of his enemies in the court of 
Spain. A good number of such as were most dis¬ 
satisfied with his administration, had embraced the 
opportunity of returning to Europe with the ships 
which he despatched from St. Domingo. The final 
disappointment of all their hopes inflamed the rage 
of these unfortunate adventurers against Columbus 
to the utmost pitch. Their poverty and distress, by 
exciting compassion, rendered their accusations 
credible, and their complaints interesting. They 
teased Ferdinand and Isabella incessantly with me¬ 
morials, containing the detail of their own griev¬ 
ances, and the articles of their charge against Co¬ 
lumbus. Whenever either the king or queen appear¬ 
ed in public, they surrounded them in a tumultuary 
manner, insisting with importunate clamours for the 
payment of the arrears due to them, and demanding 
vengeance upon the author of their sufferings. They 
insulted the admiral’s sons wherever they met them, 
reproaching them as the offspring of the projector, 
whose fatal curiosity had discovered those perni¬ 
cious regions which drained Spain of its wealth, 
and would prove the grave of its people. These 
avowed endeavours of the malcontents from Ame¬ 
rica to ruin Columbus, were seconded by the secret 
but more dangerous insinuations of that party 
among the courtiers which had always thwarted his 
schemes and envied his success and credit. k 

Ferdinand was disposed to listen, 
on e Ferd?nand* not only with a willing but with a 
and Isabella. p ar tial ear, to these accusations. Not¬ 
withstanding the flattering accounts which Colum¬ 
bus had given of the riches of America, the remit¬ 
tances from it had hitherto been so scanty, that 
they fell far short of defraying the expense of the 
armaments fitted out. The glory of the discovery, 
together with the prospect of remote commercial 
advantages, was all that Spain had yet received in 
return for the efforts which she had made. But 
time had already diminished the first sensations of 
joy which the discovery of a New World occasioned, 
and fame alone was not an object to satisfy the cold 
interested mind of Ferdinand. The nature of com¬ 
merce was then so little understood, that where 
immediate gain was not acquired, the hope of dis¬ 
tant benefit, or of slow and moderate returns, was 
totally disregarded. Ferdinand considered Spain, 
on this account, as having lost by the enterprise 
of Columbus, and imputed it to his misconduct 
and incapacity for government, that a country 
abounding in gold had yielded nothing of value to 
its conquerors. Even Isabella, who from the fa¬ 
vourable opinion which she entertained of Colum¬ 
bus, had uniformly protected him, was shaken at 
length by the number and boldness of his accusers, 
and began to suspect that a disaffection so general 

k Life of Columbus, c. 155. 


must have been occasioned by real grievances, 
which called for redress. The bishop of Badajos, 
with his usual animosity against Columbus, en¬ 
couraged these suspicions and confirmed them. 

As soon as the queen began to give Fatal effectsof 
way to the torrent of calumny, a re- thls> 
solution fatal to Columbus was taken. Francis de 
Bovadilla, a knight of Calatrava, was appointed to 
repair to Hispaniola, with full powers to inquire 
into the conduct of Columbus, and if he should 
find the charge of mal-administration proved, to 
supersede him, and assume the government of the 
island. It was impossible to escape condemnation, 
when this preposterous commission made it the 
interest of the judge to pronounce the person whom 
he was sent to try, guilty. Though Columbus had 
now composed all the dissensions in the island ; 
though he had brought both Spaniards and Indians 
to submit peaceably to his government; though he 
had made such effectual provision for working the 
mines, and cultivating the country, as would have 
secured a considerable revenue to the king, as well 
as large profits to individuals, Bovadilla, without 
deigning to attend to the nature or merit of those 
services, discovered, from the moment that he landed 
in Hispaniola, a determined purpose of treating 
him as a criminal. He took possession of the ad¬ 
miral’s house in St. Domingo, from which its master 
happened at that time to be absent, and seized his 
effects, as if his guilt had been already fully proved ; 
he rendered himself master of the fort and of the 
king’s stores by violence ; he required all persons 
to acknowledge him as supreme governor; he set 
at liberty the prisoners confined by the admiral, and 
summoned him to appear before his tribunal, in or¬ 
der to answer for his conduct; transmitting to him, 
together with the summons, a copy of the royal 
mandate, by which Columbus was enjoined to yield 
implicit obedience to his commands. 

Columbus, though deeply affected 

. . . # . r Columbus sent in. 

with the ingratitude and injustice of chains to Spain. 

^ October 

Ferdinand and Isabella, did not hesi¬ 
tate a moment about his own conduct. He sub¬ 
mitted to the will of his sovereigns with a respect¬ 
ful silence, and repaired directly to the court of 
that violent and partial judge whom they had au¬ 
thorized to try him. Bovadilla, without admitting 
him into his presence, ordered him instantly to be 
arrested, to be loaded with chains, and hurried on 
board a ship. Even under this humiliating reverse 
of fortune, the firmness of mind which distinguishes 
the character of Columbus did not forsake him. 
Conscious of his own integrity, and solacing himself 
with reflecting upon the great things which he had 
achieved, he endured this insult offered to his cha¬ 
racter, not only with composure, but with dignity. 
Nor had he the consolation of sympathy to mitigate 
his sufferings. Bovadilla had already rendered 
himself so extremely popular, by granting various 
immunities to the colony, by liberal donations of 




774 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Indians to all who applied for them, and by relax¬ 
ing the reins of discipline and government, that the 
Spaniards, who were mostly adventurers, whom 
their indigence or crimes had compelled to abandon 
their native country, expressed the most indecent 
satisfaction with the disgrace and imprisonment of 
Columbus. They flattered themselves, that now 
they should enjoy an uncontrolled liberty, more 
suitable to their disposition and former habits of 
life. Among persons thus prepared to censure the 
proceedings and to asperse the character of Co¬ 
lumbus, Bovadilla collected materials for a charge 
against him. All accusations, the most improbable, 
as well as inconsistent, were received. No inform¬ 
er, however infamous, was rejected. The result of 
this inquest, no less indecent than partial, he trans¬ 
mitted to Spain. At the same time, he ordered 
Columbus, with his two brothers, to be carried 
thither in fetters ; and, adding cruelty to insult, he 
confined them in different ships, and excluded them 
from the comfort of that friendly intercourse which 
might have soothed their common distress. But 
w hile the Spaniards in Hispaniola viewed the arbi¬ 
trary and insolent proceedings of Bovadilla with a 
general approbation, which reflects dishonour upon 
their name and country, one man still retained a 
proper sense of the great actions which Columbus 
had performed, and was touched with the sentiments 
of veneration and pity due to his rank, his age, and 
his merit. Alonzo de Yalejo, the captain of the 
vessel on board which the admiral was confined, as 
soon as he was clear of the island, approached his 
prisoner with great respect, and offered to release 
him from the fetters with which he was unjustly 
loaded. “ No,” replied Columbus, with a generous 
indignation, “ I wear these irons in consequence of 
an order from my sovereigns. They shall find me 
as obedient to this as to their other injunctions. By 
their command I have been confined, and their 
command alone shall set me at liberty.” 1 

Nov. 23 . Fortunately, the voyage to Spain 

but deprived^of was extremely short. As soon as Fer- 

aii authority. - dinand and Isabella were informed 

that Columbus was brought home a prisoner, and 
in chains, they perceived at once what universal 
astonishment this event must occasion, and what 
an impression to their disadvantage it must make. 
All Europe, they foresaw, would be filled with in¬ 
dignation at this ungenerous requital of a man who 
had performed actions worthy of the highest recom- 
pence, and would exclaim against the injustice of 
the nation, to which he had been such an eminent 
benefactor, as well as against the ingratitude of the 
princes whose reign he had rendered illustrious. 
Ashamed of their own conduct, and eager not only 
to make some reparation for this injury, but to ef¬ 
face the stain which it might fix upon their charac¬ 
ter, they instantly issued orders to set 
Columbus at liberty, invited him to 


Dec. 17. 


[A. D. 1500. BOOK II. 


court, and remitted money to enable him to appear 
there in a manner suitable to his rank. When he 
entered the royal presence, Columbus threw himself 
at the feet of his sovereigns. He remained for some 
time silent; the various passions which agitated 
his mind suppressing his power of utterance. At 
length he recovered himself, and vindicated his 
conduct in a long discourse, producing the most 
satisfying proofs of his own integrity as well as 
good intention, and evidence, no less clear, of the 
malevolence of his enemies, who, not satisfied with 
having ruined his fortune, laboured to deprive him 
of what alone was now left, his honour and his 
fame. Ferdinand received him with decent civility, 
and Isabella with tenderness and respect. They 
both expressed their sorrow for what had happened, 
disavowed their knowledge of it, and joined in pro¬ 
mising him protection and future favour. But 
though they instantly degraded Bovadilla, in order 
to remove from themselves any suspicion of having 
authorized his violent proceedings, they did not 
restore to Columbus his jurisdiction and privileges 
as viceroy of those countries which he had discov¬ 
ered. Though willing to appear the avengers of 
Columbus’s wrongs, that illiberal jealousy which 
prompted them to invest Bovadilla with such au¬ 
thority as put it in his power to treat the admiral 
with indignity, still subsisted. They were afraid to 
trust a man to whom they had been so highly in¬ 
debted, and retaining him at court under various 
pretexts, they appointed Nicholas de Ovando, a 
knight of the military order of Alcantara, governor 
of Hispaniola." 1 

Columbus was deeply affected with this new 
injury, which came from hands that seemed to be 
employed in making reparation for his past suffer¬ 
ings. The sensibility with which great minds feel 
every thing that implies any suspicion of their 
integrity, or that wears the aspect of an affront, is 
exquisite. Columbus had experienced both from 
the Spaniards; and their ungenerous conduct ex¬ 
asperated him to such a degree, that he could no 
longer conceal the sentiments which it excited. 
Wherever he went he carried about with him, as a 
memorial of their ingratitude, those fetters with 
which he had been loaded. They were constantly 
hung up in his chamber, and he gave orders, that 
when he died they should be buried in his grave.n 

Meanwhile, the spirit of discovery, 
notwithstanding the severe check Progress of 
which it had received by the ungene- dlscoveiy * 
rous treatment of the man who first excited it in 
Spain, continued active and vigorous. Roderigo de 
Bastidas, a person of distinction, fitted 
out two ships in copartnery with John January ‘ 
de la Cosa, who, having served under the admiral 
in two of his voyages, was deemed the most skilful 
pilot in Spain. They steered directly towards the 
continent, arrived on the coast of Paria, and pro- 


rn Herrera, dec. 1 . lib. iv. c. 10 —12. 
n Life of Columbus, c. 86 . p. 577 . 


Life of Columbus, c. 87 . 


1 Life of Columbus, c. 86 . Herrera, dec. 1 . lib. iv. c. 8—11. Gomera 
Hist. c. 23. Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 6 . 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK II. A. D. 1501.] 

ceeding to the west, discovered all the coast of the 
province now known by the name of Tierra Firme, 
from Cape de Vela to the gulf of Darien. Not long 
alter, Ojeda, with his former associate, Amerigo 
Vespucci, set out upon a second voyage, and being 
unacquainted with the destination of Bastidas, held 
the same course, and touched at the same places. 
The voyage of Bastidas was prosperous and lucra¬ 
tive, that of Ojeda unfortunate. But both tended 
to increase the ardour of discovery; for in propor¬ 
tion as the Spaniards acquired a more extensive 
knowledge of the American continent, their idea of 
its opulence and fertility increased. 0 
^ , Before these adventurers returned 

Ovando appoint¬ 
ed governor of Irom their voyages, a fleet was equip- 

llispaniola. J 0 n r 

ped, at the public expense, for carrying 
over Ovando, the new governor, to Hispaniola. His 
presence there was extremely requisite, in order to 
stop the inconsiderate career of Bovadilla, whose 
imprudent administration threatened the settlement 
with ruin. Conscious of the violence and iniquity 
of his proceedings against Columbus, he continued 
to make it his sole object to gain the favour and 
support of his countrymen, by accommodating 
himself to their passions and prejudices. With this 
view, he established regulations in every point the 
reverse of those which Columbus deemed essential 
to the prosperity of the colony. Instead of the severe 
discipline, necessary in order to habituate the 
dissolute and corrupted members of which the 
society was composed, to the restraints of law and 
subordination, he suffered them to enjoy such uncon¬ 
trolled licence, as encouraged the wildest excesses. 
Instead of protecting the Indians, he gave a legal 
sanction to the oppression of that unhappy people. 
He took the exact number of such as survived their 
past calamities, divided them into distinct classes, 
distributed them in property among his adherents, 
and reduced all the people of the island to a state of 
complete servitude. As the avarice of the Spaniards 
was too rapacious and impatient to try any method 
of acquiring wealth but that of searching for gold, 
this servitude became as grievous as it was unjust. 
The Indians were driven in crowds to the mountains, 
and compelled to work in the mines, by masters who 
imposed their tasks without mercy or discretion. 
Labour so disproportioned to their strength and 
former habits of life, wasted that feeble race of men 
with such rapid consumption, as must have soon 
terminated in the utter extinction of the ancient 
inhabitants of the country.? 

New regulations The necessity of applying a speedy 
established. reme( ]y to those disorders, hastened 

Ovando’s departure. He had the command of the 
most respectable armament hitherto fitted out for the 
New World. It consisted of thirty-two ships, on 
board of which two thousand five hundred persons 
embarked, with an intention of settling in the coun¬ 
try. Upon the arrival of the new governor with 

o Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 11. .. 

p Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 11, &c. Oviedo Ilist. lib. in. c. o. p. 97* 
Benzon Ilist. lib. i. c. 12. p. 51. 


775 


1502. 


this powerful reinforcement to the 
colony, Bovadilla resigned his charge, 
and was commanded to return instantly to Spain, 
in order to answer for his conduct. Roldan, and 
the other ringleaders of the mutineers, who had been 
most active in opposing Columbus, were required 
to leave the island at the same time. A proclama¬ 
tion was issued, declaring the natives to be free 
subjects of Spain, of whom no service was to be 
exacted contrary to their own inclination, and 
without paying them an adequate price for their 
labour. With respect to the Spaniards themselves, 
various regulations were made, tending to suppress 
the licentious spirit which had been so fatal to the 
colony, and to establish that reverence for law and 
order on which society is founded, and to which it 
is indebted for its increase and stability. In order 
to limit the exorbitant gain which private persons 
were supposed to make by working the mines, an 
ordinance was published, directing all the gold to 
be brought to a public smelting-house, and declar¬ 
ing one half of it to be the property of the crown.9 

While these steps were taking for 

. , The disagreeable 

securing the tranquillity and welfare situation of co- 

of the colony which Columbus had 
planted, he himself was engaged in the unpleasant 
employment of soliciting the favour of an ungrate¬ 
ful court, and notwithstanding all his merit and 
services, he solicited in vain. He demanded, in 
terms of the original capitulation in one thousand 
four hundred and ninety-two, to be reinstated in his 
office of viceroy over the countries which he had 
discovered. By a strange fatality, the circumstance 
which he urged in support of his claim, determined 
a jealous monarch to reject it. The greatness of his 
discoveries, and the prospect of their increasing 
value, made Ferdinand consider the concessions in 
the capitulation as extravagant and impolitic. He 
was afraid of intrusting a subject with the exercise 
of a jurisdiction that now appeared to be so ex¬ 
tremely extensive, and might grow to be no less 
formidable. He inspired Isabella with the same 
suspicions; and under various pretexts, equally 
frivolous and unjust, they eluded all Columbus’s 
requisitions to perform that which a solemn compact 
bound them to accomplish. After attending the 
court of Spain for near two years, as an humble 
suitor, he found it impossible to remove Ferdinand’s 
prejudices and apprehensions; and perceived, at 
length, that he laboured in vain, when he urged a 
claim of justice or merit with an interested and un¬ 
feeling prince. 

But even this ungenerous return did 

He forms new 

not discourage him from pursuing the schemes ot dis- 

covery. 

great object w hich first called forth his 
inventive genius, and excited him to attempt dis¬ 
covery. To open a new passage to the East Indies, 
was his original and favourite scheme. This still 
engrossed his thoughts; and either from his own 

q Solorzano Politica Indiana, lib. i. c. 12. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. Iv. 
c. 12. 



776 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


observations in his voyage to Paria, or from some 
obscure hint of the natives, or from the accounts 
given by Bastidas and de la Cosa of their expe¬ 
dition, he conceived an opinion that, beyond the 
"continent of America, there was a sea which ex¬ 
tended to the East Indies, and hoped to find some 
strait or narrow neck of land, by which a commu¬ 
nication might be opened with it and the part of the 
ocean already known. ' By a very fortunate conjec¬ 
ture, he supposed this strait or isthmus to be situated 
near the gulf of Darien. Full of this idea, though 
he was now of an advanced age, worn out with 
fatigue, and broken with infirmities, he offered, with 
the alacrity of a youthful adventurer, to undertake 
a voyage which w ould ascertain this important point, 
and perfect the grand scheme which from the be¬ 
ginning he proposed to accomplish. Several cir¬ 
cumstances concurred in disposing Ferdinand and 
Isabella to lend a favourable ear to this proposal. 
They were glad to have the pretext of any honour¬ 
able employment for removing from court a man 
with whose demands they deemed it impolitic to 
comply, and whose services it was indecent to neg¬ 
lect. Though unwilling to reward Columbus, they 
were not insensible of his merit, and from their ex¬ 
perience of his skill and conduct, had reason to 
give credit to his conjectures, and to confide in his 
success. To these considerations, a third must be 
added of still more powerful influence. About 
this time the Portuguese fleet, under Cabral, arrived 
from the Indies; and, by the richness of its cargo, 
gave the people of Europe a more perfect idea than 
they had hitherto been able to form, of the opulence 
and fertility of the East. The Portuguese had been 
more fortunate in their discoveries than the Spa¬ 
niards. They had opened a communication with 
countries where industry, arts, and elegance flou¬ 
rished ; and where commerce had been longer 
established, and carried to greater extent, than in 
any region of the earth. Their first voyages thither 
yielded immediate as well as vast returns of profit, 
in commodities extremely precious and in great 
request. Lisbon became immediately the seat of 
commerce and wealth ; while Spain had only the 
expectation of remote benefit, and of future gain, 
from the western world. Nothing, then, could be 
more acceptable to the Spaniards than Columbus’s 
offer to conduct them to the East, by a route which 
he expected to be shorter, as well as less dangerous, 
than that which the Portuguese had taken. Even 
Ferdinand was roused by such a prospect, and 
warmly approved of the undertaking. 

But interesting as the object of this 

His fourth voyage. . ” .. „ . . 

voyage was to the nation, Columbus 
could procure only four small barks, the largest of 
which did not exceed seventy tons in burden, for 
performing it. Accustomed to brave danger, and 
to engage in arduous undertakings with inadequate 
force, he did not hesitate to accept the command of 
this pitiful squadron. His brother Bartholomew, 
and his second son Ferdinand, the historian of his 


[A. D. 1502. BOOK II. 

actions, accompanied him. He sailed from Cadiz 
on the ninth of May, and touched, as usual, at the 
Canary islands ; from thence he proposed to have 
stood directly for the continent; but his largest 
vessel was so clumsy and unfit for service, as con¬ 
strained him to bear away for Hispaniola, in hopes 
of exchanging her for some ship of the fleet that 

had carried out Ovando. When he 

... June 29. 

arrived at St. Domingo, he found eigh¬ 
teen of these ships ready loaded, and on the point 
of departing for Spain. Columbus immediately 
acquainted the governor with the destination of his 
voyage, and the accident which had obliged him to 
alter his route. He requested permission to enter 
the harbour, not only that he might negociate the 
exchange of his ship, but that he might take shelter 
during a violent hurricane, of which he discerned 
the approach from various prognostics, which his 
experience and sagacity had taught him to observe. 
On that account, he advised him likewise to put off 
for some days the departure of the fleet bound for 
Spain. But Ovando refused his request, and de¬ 
spised his counsel. Under circumstances in which 
humanity would have afforded refuge to a stranger, 
Columbus was denied admittance into a country 
of which he had discovered the existence and ac¬ 
quired the possession. His salutary warning, which 
merited the greatest attention, was regarded as the 
dream of a visionary prophet, who arrogantly pre¬ 
tended to predict an event beyond the reach of hu¬ 
man foresight. The fleet set sail for Spain. Next 
night the hurricane came on with dreadful impetu¬ 
osity. Columbus, aware of the danger, took pre¬ 
cautions against it, and saved his little squadron. 
The fleet destined for Spain met with the fate which 
the rashness and obstinacy of its commanders de¬ 
served. Of eighteen ships, two or three only es¬ 
caped. In this general wreck perished Bovadilla, 
Roldan, and the greater part of those who had been 
the most active in persecuting Columbus, and op¬ 
pressing the Indians. Together with themselves, 
all the wealth which they had acquired by their 
injustice and cruelty was swallowed up. It ex¬ 
ceeded in value two hundred thousand pesos; an 
immense sum at that period, and sufficient not only 
to have screened them from any severe scrutiny into 
their conduct, but to have secured them a gracious 
reception in the Spanish court. Among the ships 
that escaped, one had on board all the effects of 
Columbus which had been recovered from the ruins 
of his fortune. Historians, struck with the exact 
discrimination of characters, as well as the just 
distribution of rewards and punishments, conspi¬ 
cuous in those events, universally attribute them to 
an immediate interposition of Divine Providence, 
in order to avenge the wrongs of an injured man, 
and to punish the oppressors of an innocent people. 
Upon the ignorant and superstitious race of men, 
who were witnesses of this occurrence, it made a 
different impression. From an opinion which vulgar 
admiration is apt to entertain with respect to persons 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


777 


BOOK II. A. D. 1602.] 


who have distinguished themselves by their sagacity 
and inventions, they believed Columbus to be posses¬ 
sed of supernatural powers, and imagined that he had 
conjured up this dreadful storm by magical art and 
incantations, in order to be avenged of his enemies. r 

July 14. Columbus soon left Hispaniola, 

fo e r a a C passTge to" 'w here he met with such an inhospita- 
the Indian ocean. ^| e rece p^ on> an( j s tood towards tile 

continent. After a tedious and dangerous voyage, 
he discovered Guanaia, an island not far distant 
from the coast of Honduras. There he had an in¬ 
terview w ith some inhabitants of the continent, who 
arrived in a large canoe. They appeared to be a 
people more civilized, and who had made greater 
progress in the knowledge of useful arts, than any 


whom he had hitherto discovered. In return to the 
inquiries which the Spaniards made, with their 
usual eagerness, concerning the places where the 
Indians got the gold which they wore by way of or¬ 
nament, they directed them to countries situated to 
the w est, in which gold w as found in such profusion, 
that it was applied to the most common uses. In¬ 
stead of steering in quest of a country so inviting, 
w hich would have conducted him along the coast of 
Yucatan to the rich empire of Mexico, Columbus 
was so bent upon his favourite scheme of finding out 
the strait which he supposed to communicate with 
the Indian ocean, that he bore away to the east 
towards the gulf of Darien. In this navigation he 
discovered all the coast of the continent, from Cape 
Gracias a Dios, to a harbour which, on account of 
its beauty and security, he called Porto Bello. He 
searched in vain for the imaginary strait, through 
which he expected to make his w ay into an unknown 
sea ; and though he went on shore several times, 
and advanced into the country, he did not penetrate 
so far as to cross the narrow isthmus w hich separates 
the gulf of Mexico from the great southern ocean, 
lie was so much delighted, however, with the fer¬ 
tility of the country, and conceived such an idea of 
its wealth, from the specimens of gold produced by 
the natives, that he resolved to leave a small colony 
i5o3 upon the river Belen, in the province 
of Veragua, under the command of his 
brother, and to return himself to Spain, in order to 
procure what was requisite for rendering the estab¬ 
lishment permanent. But the ungovernable spirit 
of the people under his command, deprived Colum¬ 
bus of the glory of planting the first colony on the 
continent of America. Their insolence and rapa¬ 
ciousness provoked the natives to take arms, and as 
these were a more hardy and warlike race of men 
than the inhabitants of the islands, they cutoff part 
of the Spaniards, and obliged the rest to abandon 
a station which was found to be untenable. 5 

This repulse, the first that the Spa- 
fi!e coast C ot d ja- n niards met with from any of the Ame¬ 
rican nations, was not the only misfor¬ 
tune that befell Columbus; it was followed by a 


r Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 7, 9. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. v. c. 1, 2. Life of Co¬ 
lumbus. c. 88. 


succession of all the disasters to which navigation 
is exposed. Furious hurricanes, w ith violent storms 
of thunder and lightning, threatened his leaky ves¬ 
sels with destruction ; while his discontented crew, 
exhausted with fatigue, and destitute of provi¬ 
sions, was unwilling or unable to execute his com¬ 
mands. One of his ships perished ; he was obliged 
to abandon another, as unfit for service ; and 
with the two which remained, he quitted that part 
of the continent, which in his anguish he named 
the Coast of Vexation, 1 and bore away for Hispa¬ 
niola. New distresses awaited him in this voyage. 
He was driven back by a violent tempest from the 
coast of Cuba, his ships fell foul of one another, and 
were so much shattered by the shock, that with the 
utmost difficulty they reached Jamai- 

• Jun6 24 

ca, w here he was obliged to run them 
aground, to prevent them from sinking. The mea¬ 
sure of his calamities seemed now to be full. He 
was cast ashore upon an island at a considerable 
distance from the only settlement of the Spaniards in 
America. His ships were ruined beyond the possi¬ 
bility of being repaired. To convey an account of 
his situation to Hispaniola, appeared impractica¬ 
ble ; and without this it was vain to expect relief. 
His genius, fertile in resources, and most vigorous 
in those perilous extremities when feeble minds 
abandon themselves to despair, discovered the only 
expedient which afforded any prospect of deliver¬ 
ance. He had recourse to the hospitable kindness 
of the natives, who, considering the Spaniards as 
beings of a superior nature, were eager, on every 
occasion, to minister to their wants. From them he 
obtained two of their canoes, each formed out of 
the trunk of a single tree hollowed with fire, and so 
mis-shapen and awkward as hardly to merit the 
name of boats. In these, which were fit only for 
creeping along the coast, or crossing from one side 
of a bay to another, Mendez, a Spaniard, and 
Fieschi, a Genoese, two gentlemen particularly 
attached to Columbus, gallantly offered to set out 
for Hispaniola, upon a voyage of above thirty 
leagues. 11 This they accomplished in ten days, after 
surmounting incredible dangers, and enduring such 
fatigues that several of the Indians who accompanied 
them sunk under it, and died. The attention paid 
to them by the governor of Hispaniola was neither 
such as their courage merited, nor the distress of the 
persons from whom they came required. Ovando, 
from a mean jealousy of Columbus, was afraid of 
allowing him to set foot in the island under his 
government. This ungenerous passion hardened 
his heart against every tender sentiment, which re¬ 
flection upon the services and misfortunes of that 
great man, or compassion for his own fellow-citizens 
involved in the same calamities, must have excited. 
Mendez and Fieschi spent eight months in soliciting 
relief for their commander and associates, without 
any prospect of obtaining it. 

s Herrera, dec. 1. lib. v. c. 5, &c. Life of Columbus, c. 89, &c. Ovi¬ 
edo, lib. iii. c. 9. 

t La Costa de los Contrastes. u Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 9. 



778 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Ills distress and During this period, various passions 
sufferings there. a gitated the mind of Columbus and his 

companions in adversity. At first the expectation 
of speedy deliverance, from the success of Mendez 
and Fieschi’s voyage, cheered the spirits of the 
most desponding. After some time 
the most timorous began to suspect 
that they had miscarried in their daring attempt. 
At length, even the most sanguine concluded that 
they had perished. The ray of hope which had 
broken in upon them, made their condition appear 
now more dismal. Despair, heightened by disap¬ 
pointment, settled in every breast. Their last 
resource had failed, and nothing remained but the 
prospect of ending their miserable days among 
naked savages, far from their country and their 
friends. The seamen, in a transport of rage, rose in 
open mutiny, threatened the life of Columbus, whom 
they reproached as the author of all their calami¬ 
ties, seized ten canoes, which he had purchased 
from the Indians, and, despising his remonstrances 
and entreaties, made off with them to a distant part 
of the island. At the same time the natives mur¬ 
mured at the long residence of the Spaniards in 
their country. As their industry was not greater 
than that of their neighbours in Hispaniola, like 
them they found the burden of supporting so many 
strangers to be altogether intolerable. They began 
to bring in provisions with reluctance, they furnish¬ 
ed them with a sparing hand, and threatened to 
withdraw those supplies altogether. Such a resolu¬ 
tion must have been quickly fatal to the Spaniards. 
Their safety depended upon the good-will of the 
Indians; and unless they could revive the admira¬ 
tion and reverence with which that simple people 
had at first beheld them, destruction was unavoid¬ 
able. Though the licentious proceedings of the 
mutineers had, in a great measure, effaced those 
impressions which had been so favourable to the 
Spaniards, the ingenuity of Columbus suggested a 
happy artifice, that not only restored but heightened 
the high opinion which the Indians had originally 
entertained of them. By his skill in astronomy he 
knew that there was shortly to be a total eclipse of 
the moon. He assembled all the principal persons 
of the district around him on the day before it hap¬ 
pened, and, after reproaching them for their fickle¬ 
ness in withdrawing their affection and assistance 
from men whom they had lately revered, he told 
them, that the Spaniards were servants of the Great 
Spirit who dwells in heaven, who made and governs 
the world ; that he, offended at their refusing to sup¬ 
port men who were the objects of his peculiar 
favour, was preparing to punish this crime with 
exemplary severity, and that very night the moon 
should withhold her light, and appear of a bloody 
hue, as a sign of the divine wrath, and an emblem 
of the vengeance ready to fall upon them. To this 
marvellous prediction some of them listened with 
the careless indifference peculiar to the people of 

x Life of Col. c. 103. Herr. dec. 1.1. vi. c. 5 , 6 . Benz. Hist. 1. i. c. 14. 


[A. D. 1504. BOOK II. 

America; others, with the credulous astonishment 
natural to barbarians. But when the moon began 
gradually to be darkened, and at length appeared 
of a red colour, all were struck with terror. They 
ran with consternation to their houses, and return¬ 
ing instantly to Columbus loaded with provisions, 
threw them at his feet, conjuring him to intercede 
with the Great Spirit to avert the destruction with 
which they were threatened. Columbus, seeming 
to be moved by their entreaties, promised to comply 
with their desire. The eclipse went off, the moon 
recovered its splendour, and from that day the 
Spaniards were not only furnished profusely with 
provisions, but the natives, with superstitious atten¬ 
tion, avoided every thing that could give them 
offence. x 

During those transactions, the muti- A crue i addition 
neers had made repeated attempts to 
pass over to Hispaniola in the canoes which they 
had seized. But from their own misconduct, or the 
violence of the winds and currents, their efforts were 
all unsuccessful. Enraged at this disappointment, 
they marched towards that part of the island where 
Columbus remained, threatening him with new 
insults and danger. While they were advancing, 
an event happened, more cruel and afflicting than 
any calamity which he dreaded from them. The 
governor of Hispaniola, whose mind was still filled 
with some dark suspicions of Columbus, sent a 
small bark to Jamaica, not to deliver his distressed 
countrymen, but to spy out their condition. Lest 
the sympathy of those whom he employed should 
afford them relief, contrary to his intention, lie gave 
the command of this vessel to Escobar, an invete¬ 
rate enemy of Columbus, who, adhering to his 
instructions with malignant accuracy, cast anchor 
at some distance from the island, approached the 
shore in a small boat, observed the wretched plight 
of the Spaniards, delivered a letter of empty com¬ 
pliments to the admiral, received his answer, and 
departed. When the Spaniards first descried the 
vessel standing towards the island every heart 
exulted, as if the long-expected hour of their 
deliverance had at length arrived; but when it 
disappeared so suddenly, they sunk into the deepest 
dejection, and all their hopes died away. Columbus 
alone, though he felt most sensibly this wanton 
insult which Ovando added to his past neglect, re¬ 
tained such composure of mind as to be able to 
cheer his followers. He assured them, that Mendez 
and Fieschi had reached Hispaniola in safety ; that 
they would speedily procure ships to carry them off; 
but, as Escobar’s vessel could not take them all on 
board, that he had refused to go with her, because 
he was determined never to abandon the faithful 
companions of his distress. Soothed with the ex¬ 
pectation of speedy deliverance, and delighted with 
his apparent generosity in attending more to their 
preservation than to his own safety, their spirits 
revived, and he regained their confidence.^ 

y Life of Columbus, c. 104. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 17 . 



May. 20. 


BOOK II. A. D. 1504 ] 

Without this confidence lie could not have re¬ 
sisted the mutineers, who were now at hand. All his 
endeavours to reclaim those desperate men had no 
effect but to increase their phrensy. Their demands 
became every day more extravagant, and their in¬ 
tentions more violent and bloody. The common 
safety rendered it necessary to oppose them with 
open force. Columbus, who had been long afflicted 
with the gout, could not take the field. His bro¬ 
ther, the adelantado, marched against 
them. They quickly met. The muti¬ 
neers rejected with scorn terms of accommodation, 
which were once more offered them, and rushed on 
boldly to the attack. They fell not upon an enemy 
unprepared to receive them. In the first shock, se¬ 
veral of their most daring leaders were slain. The 
adelantado, whose strength was equal to his courage, 
closed with their captain, wounded, disarmed, and 
took him prisoner. 1 At sight of this, the rest fled 
with a dastardly fear suitable to their former inso¬ 
lence. Soon after, they submitted in a body to Co¬ 
lumbus, and bound themselves by the most solemn 
oaths to obey all his commands. Hardly was tran¬ 
quillity re-established, when the ships appeared, 
whose arrival Columbus had promised with great 
address, though he could foresee it with little cer¬ 
tainty. With transports of joy, the Spaniards 
quitted an island in which the unfeeling jealousy 
of Ovando had suffered them to languish above a 
year, exposed to misery in all its various forms. 

When they arrived at St. Domingo, 

His deliverance 

and arrival at the governor, with the mean artifice 
of a vulgar nund, that labours to atone 
for insolence by servility, fawned on the man whom 
he envied, and had attempted to ruin. He received 
Columbus with the most studied respect, lodged 
him in his own house, and distinguished him with 
every mark of honour. But amidst those overacted 
demonstrations of regard, he could not conceal the 
hatred and malignity latent in his heart. He set at 
liberty the captain of the mutineers, whom Colum¬ 
bus had brought over in chains, to be tried for his 
crimes ; and threatened such as had adhered to the 
admiral with proceeding to a judicial inquiry into 
their conduct. Columbus submitted in silence to 
what he could not redress ; but discovered an ex¬ 
treme impatience to quit a country which was un¬ 
der the jurisdiction of a man who had treated him, 
on every occasion, with inhumanity and injustice. 

His preparations were soon finished, 
and he set sail for Spain with two 
ships. Disasters similar to those which had accom¬ 
panied him through life continued to pursue him 
to the end of his career. One of his vessels being 
disabled, was soon forced back to St. Domingo ; 
the other, shattered by violent storms, sailed seven 
hundred leagues with jury-masts, and 
reached with difficulty the port of St. 

Lucar. 1 


z Life of Columbus, c. 107. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 11. 
a Ibid. c. 108. Ibid. c. 12. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


779 


Sept. 12. 


There he received the account of an Death of Isabella, 
event the most fatal that could have lN0V ’ y - 
befallen him, and which completed his misfortunes. 
This w as the death of his patroness queen Isabella, 
in whose justice, humanity, and favour, he confided 
as his last resource. None now remained to redress 
his wrongs, or to reward him for his services and 
sufferings, but Ferdinand, who had so long opposed 
and so often injured him. To solicit a prince thus 
prejudiced against him, was an occupation no less 
irksome than hopeless. In this, however, was Co¬ 
lumbus doomed to employ the close of his days. 
As soon as his health was in some degree re-estab¬ 
lished, he repaired to court; and though he was 
received there with civility barely decent, he plied 
Ferdinand with petition after petition, demanding 
the punishment of his oppressors, and the restitu¬ 
tion of all the privileges bestowed upon him by the 
capitulation of one thousand four hundred and 
ninety-two. Ferdinand amused him with fair words 
and unmeaning promises. Instead of granting his 
claims, he proposed expedients in order to elude 
them, and spun out the affair with such apparent 
art, as plainly discovered his intention that it 
should never be terminated. The declining health 
of Columbus flattered Ferdinand with the hopes of 
being soon delivered from an importunate suitor, 
and encouraged him to persevere in this illiberal 
plan. Nor was he deceived in his expectations. 
Disgusted with the ingratitude of a monarch whom 
he had served with such fidelity and success, ex¬ 
hausted with the fatigues and hardships which he 
had endured, and broken with the infirmities which 
these had brought upon him, Columbus ended his 
life at Valladolid on the twentieth of May, one 
thousand five hundred and six, in the fifty-ninth 
year of his age. He died with a com- Death of 
posure of mind suitable to the magna- Columbus, 
nimity which distinguished his character, and with 
sentiments of piety becoming that supreme respect 
for religion, which he manifested in every occur¬ 
rence of his life. b 


BOOK III. 

While Columbus was employed in stateofthef;olony 
his last voyage, several events worthy 1D llls P aniola - 
of notice happened in Hispaniola. The colony 
there, the parent and nurse of all the subsequent 
establishments of Spain in the New World, gradu¬ 
ally acquired the form of a regular and prosperous 
society. The humane solicitude of Isabella to 
protect the Indians from oppression, and particu¬ 
larly the proclamation by which the Spaniards were 
prohibited to compel them to work, retarded, it is 
true, for some time the progress of improvement. 
The natives, who considered exemption from toil 

b Life of Columbus, c. 108. Ilerrera, dec. 1, lib. vi. c. 13,14, 15. 





780 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


as supreme felicity, scorned every allurement and 
reward by which they were invited to labour. The 
Spaniards bad not a sufficient number of hands 
either to work the mines or to cultivate the soil. 
Several of the first colonists, who had been accus¬ 
tomed to the service of the Indians, quitted the 
island, when deprived of those instruments without 
which they knew not how to carry on any operation. 
Many of the new settlers who came over with 
Ovando, were seized with the distempers peculiar 
to the climate, and in a short space above a thou¬ 
sand of them died. At the same time, the exacting 
one half of the product of the mines as the royal 
share, was found to be a demand so exorbitant, that 
no adventurers would engage to work them upon 
such terms. In order to save the colony from ruin, 
Ovando ventured to relax the rigour of the royal 

edicts. He made a new distribution 

1505. 

of the Indians among the Spaniards, 
and compelled them to labour, for a stated time, in 
digging the mines, or in cultivating the ground ; 
but in order to screen himself from the imputation 
of having subjected them again to servitude, he en¬ 
joined their masters to pay them a certain sum, as 
the price of their work. He reduced the royal share 
of the gold found in the mines from the half to the 
third part, and soon after lowered it to a fifth, at 
which it long remained. Notwithstanding Isabella’s 
tender concern for the good treatment of the Indians, 
and Ferdinand’s eagerness to improve the royal 
revenue, Ovando persuaded the court to approve of 
both these regulations.* 

war with the But the Indians, after enjoying re- 
indiam. spite from oppression, though during 
a short interval, now felt the yoke of bondage to be 
so galling, that they made several attempts to vin¬ 
dicate their own liberty. This the Spaniards con¬ 
sidered as rebellion, and took arms in order to re¬ 
duce them to subjection. When war is carried on 
between nations w hose state of improvement is in 
any degree similar, the means of defence bear some 
proportion to those employed in the attack ; and in 
this equal contest such efforts must be made, such 
talents are displayed, and such passions roused, as 
exhibit mankind to view in.a situation no less strik¬ 
ing than interesting. It is one of the noblest func¬ 
tions of history, to observe and to delineate men at 
a juncture when their minds are most violently 
agitated, and all their powers and passions are 
called forth. Hence the operations of war, and the 
struggles between contending states, have been 
deemed by historians, ancient as well as modern, a 
capital and important article in the annals of human 
actions. But in a contest between naked savages, 
and one of the most warlike of the European na¬ 
tions, where science, courage, and discipline on one 
side, were opposed by ignorance, timidity, and dis¬ 
order on the other, a particular detail of events 
would be as unpleasant as uninstructive. If the 
simplicity and innocence of the Indians had inspired 

a Herrera, dec. 1. lib. v. c. 3. 


[A. D. 1505. BOOK III. 

the Spaniards with humanity, had softened the pride 
of superiority into compasion, and had induced 
them to improve the inhabitants of the New World, 
instead of oppressing them, some sudden acts of 
violence, like the too rigorous chastisements of im¬ 
patient instructors, might have been related without 
horror. But, unfortunately, this consciousness of 
superiority operated in a different manner. The 
Spaniards were advanced so far beyond the natives 
of America in improvement of every kind, that they 
viewed them with contempt. They conceived the 
Americans to be animals of an inferior nature, who 
were not entitled to the rights and privileges of 
men. In peace, they subjected them to servitude. 
In war, they paid no regard to those laws, which, 
by a tacit convention between contending nations, 
regulate hostility, and set some bounds to its rage. 
They considered them not as men fighting in de¬ 
fence of their liberty, but as slaves who had revolted 
against their masters. The caziques, when taken, 
were condemned, like the leaders of banditti, to the 
most cruel and ignominious punishments ; and all 
their subjects, without regarding the distinction of 
ranks established among them, were reduced to the 
same state of abject slavery. With such a spirit 
and sentiments w ere hostilities carried on against 
the cazique of Higuey, a province at the eastern 
extremity of the island. This war was occasioned 
by the perfidy of the Spaniards, in violating a treaty 
which they had made with the natives, and it was 
terminated by hanging up the cazique, who defend¬ 
ed his people with bravery so far superior to that of 
his countrymen, as entitled him to a better fate. b 

The conduct of Ovando, in another 

part of the island, was still more treacherous con- 
, , i mi • duct of Ovando. 

treacherous and cruel. The province 
anciently named Xaragua, which extends from the 
fertile plain where Leogane is now situated, to the 
western extremity of the island, w as subject to a 
female cazique, named Anacoana, highly respected 
by the natives. She, from that partial fondness 
with which the women of America were attached to 
the Europeans, (the cause of which shall be after¬ 
wards explained,) had always courted the friend¬ 
ship of the Spaniards, and loaded them with benefits. 
But some of the adherents of Roldan having settled 
in her country, were so much exasperated at her 
endeavouring to restrain their excesses, that they 
accused her of having formed a plan to throw off 
the yoke, and to exterminate the Spaniards. Ovan¬ 
do, though he knew well what little credit was due 
to such prolligate men, marched, without further 
inquiry, toward Xaragua, with three hundred foot 
and seventy horsemen. To prevent the Indians 
from taking alarm at this hostile appearance, he 
gave out that his sole intention was to visit Anacoa¬ 
na, to whom his countrymen had been so much in¬ 
debted, in the most respectful manner, and to regu¬ 
late with her the mode of levying the tribute payable 
to the king of Spain. Anacoana, in order to receive 

b Herrera, dec. 1 . lib. vi. c. 9. 10. 




BOOK IN A. D. 1506.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


781 


this illustrious guest with due honour, assembled 
the principal men in her dominions, to the number 
of three hundred, and advancing at the head of 
these, accompanied by a great crowd of persons of 
inferior rank, she welcomed Ovando with songs and 
dances, according to the mode of the country, and 
conducted him to the place of her residence. There 
he was teasted for some days, with all the kindness 
of simple hospitality, and amused with the games 
and spectacles usual among the Americans upon 
occasions of mirth and festivity. But amidst the 
security which this inspired, Ovando was meditating 
the destruction ot his unsuspicious entertainer and 
her subjects ; and the mean perfidy with which he 
executed this scheme, equalled his barbarity in 
forming it. Under colour of exhibiting to the In¬ 
dians the parade of an European tournament, he 
advanced with his troops in battle array, towards 
the house in which Anacoana and the chiefs who 
attended her, were assembled. The infantry took 
possession of all the avenues which led to the vil¬ 
lage. The horsemen encompassed the house. These 
movements were the object of admiration without 
any mixture of fear, until, upon a signal which had 
been concerted, the Spaniards suddenly drew their 
swords, and rushed upon the Indians, defenceless 
and astonished at an act of treachery which ex¬ 
ceeded the conception of undesigning men. In a 
moment Anacoana was secured. All her attendants 
were seized and bound. Fire was set to the house ; 
and without examination or conviction, all these 
unhappy persons, the most illustrious in their own 
country, were consumed in the (lames. Anacoana 
was reserved for a more ignominious fate. She was 
carried in chains to St. Domingo, and, after the for¬ 
mality of a trial before Spanish judges, she was 
condemned, upon the evidence of those very men 
who had betrayed her, to be publicly hanged. c 

Overawed and humbled by this atro- 

Reduction of the . , , ,, . 

Indians, and its cious treatment of their princes and 
effects* • 

nobles, who were objects of their high¬ 
est reverence, the people in all the provinces of 
Hispaniola submitted, without further resistance, to 
the Spanish yoke. Upon the death of Isabella, all 
the regulations tending to mitigate the rigour of 
their servitude were forgotten. The small gratuity 
paid to them as the price of their labour was with¬ 
drawn, and at the same time the tasks imposed upon 

them were increased. Ovando, with- 

1506 • • • 

out any restraint, distributed Indians 
among his friends in the island. Ferdinand, to 
whom the queen had left by will one half of the 
revenue arising from the settlements in the New 
World, conferred grants of a similar nature upon 
his courtiers, as the least expensive mode of re¬ 
warding their services. They farmed out the 
Indians, of whom they were rendered proprietors, 
to their countrymen settled in Hispaniola ; and that 
wretched people, being compelled to labour in order 


to satisfy the rapacity of both, the exactions of their 
oppressors no longer knew any bounds. But, bar¬ 
barous as their policy was, and fatal to the inhabit¬ 
ants of Hispaniola, it produced, for some time, 
very considerable effects. By calling forth the 
force of a whole nation, and exerting it in one 
direction, the working of the mines was carried on 
with amazing rapidity and success. During several 
years, the gold brought into the royal smelting- 
houses in Hispaniola amounted annually to four 
hundred and sixty thousand pesos, above a hundred 
thousand pounds sterling; which, if we attend to 
the great change in the value of money since the 
beginning of the sixteenth century to the present 
times, must appear a considerable sum. Vast for¬ 
tunes were created, of a sudden, by some. Others 
dissipated, in ostentatious profusion, what they ac¬ 
quired with facility. Dazzled by both, new adven¬ 
turers crowded to America, with the most eager 
impatience to share in those treasures which had 
enriched their countrymen; and, notwithstanding 
the mortality occasioned by the unhealthiness of the 
climate, the colony continued to increase.' 1 

Ovando governed the Spaniards with Progress 0 f the 
wisdom and justice not inferior to the colony, 
rigour with which he treated the Indians. He 
established equal laws; and, by executing them 
with impartiality, accustomed the people of the 
colony to reverence them. He founded several new 
towns in different parts of the island, and allured 
inhabitants to them, by the concession of various 
immunities. He endeavoured to turn the attention 
of the Spaniards to some branch of industry more 
useful than that of searching for gold in the mines. 
Some slips of the sugar-cane having been brought 
from the Canary Islands by w ay of experiment, they 
were found to thrive with such increase in the rich 
soil and warm climate to which they were trans¬ 
planted, that the cultivation of them soon became 
an object of commerce. Extensive plantations were 
begun ; sugar-works, which the Spaniards called 
ingenius , from the various machinery employed in 
them, were erected, and in a few years the manufac¬ 
ture of this commodity was the great occupation of 
the inhabitants of Hispaniola, and the most con¬ 
siderable source of their wealths 

The prudent endeavours of Ovando Po i it j ca i regula . 
to promote the welfare of the colony tlonot Ferdinand. 

were powerfully seconded by Ferdinand. The large 
remittances which he received from the New World 
opened his eyes, at length, with respect to the im¬ 
portance of those discoveries, which he had hitherto 
affected to undervalue. Fortune, and his own 
address, having now extricated him out of those 
difficulties in which he had been involved by the 
death of his queen, and by his dis¬ 
putes with his son-in-law about the 
government of her dominions, f he had full leisure 
to turn his attention to the affairs of America. 


c Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 12. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 4. Relacion de 
Destruyc. de las lndias por Bart, de las Casas, p. 8. 


d Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 18, fee. 
f Hist, of the Reign of Charles V. p. 4.12. 


e Oviedo, lib. iv. c. 8. 



782 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


To his provident sagacity, Spain is indebted for 
many of those regulations which gradually formed 
that system of profound but jealous policy, by which 
she governs her dominions in the New World. He 
erected a court distinguished by the title of the 
Casa de Contratacion , or Board of Trade, composed 
of persons eminent for rank and abilities, to whom 
he committed the administration of American affairs. 
This board assembled regularly in Seville, and was 
invested with a distinct and extensive jurisdiction. 
He gave a regular form to ecclesiastical government 
in America, by nominating archbishops, bishops, 
deans, together with clergymen of subordinate ranks, 
to take charge of the Spaniards established there, 
as well as of the natives who should embrace the 
Christian faith. But notwithstanding the obsequious 
devotion of the Spanish court to the papal see, such 
was Ferdinand’s solicitude to prevent any foreign 
power from claiming jurisdiction or acquiring in¬ 
fluence in his new dominions, that he reserved to 
the crown of Spain the sole right of patronage to 
the benefices in America, and stipulated that no 
papal bull or mandate should be promulgated there, 
until it was previously examined and approved of 
by his council. With the same spirit of jealousy, 
he prohibited any goods to be exported to America, 
or any person to settle there, without a special li¬ 
cence from that council.s 

But, notwithstanding this attention 

The number of n 

the Indians di- to thepolice and welfare of the colonv, 

minishes feist * 7 

a calamity impended which threatened 
its dissolution. The original inhabitants, on whose 
labour the Spaniards in Hispaniola depended for 
their prosperity, and even their existence, wasted 
so fast, that the extinction of the whole race seemed 
to be inevitable. When Columbus discovered His¬ 
paniola, the number of its inhabitants was computed 
to be at least a million. 11 They were now reduced 
to sixty thousand in the space of fifteen years. This 
consumption of the human species, no less amazing 
than rapid, was the effect of several concurring 
causes. The natives of the American islands were 
of a more feeble constitution than the inhabitants 
of the other hemisphere. They could neither per¬ 
form the same work, nor endure the same fatigue, 
with men whose organs were of a more vigorous 
conformation. The listless indolence in which they 
delighted to pass their days, as it was the effect of 
their debility, contributed likewise to increase it, 
and rendered them, from habit as well as constitu¬ 
tion, incapable of hard labour. The food on which 
they subsisted afforded little nourishment, and 
they were accustomed to take it in small quantities, 
not sufficient to invigorate a languid frame, and 
render it equal to the efforts of active industry. 
The Spaniards, without attending to those pecu¬ 
liarities in the constitution of the Americans, im¬ 
posed tasks upon them, which, though not greater 
than Europeans might have performed with ease, 


1508. 


[A. D. 1507. BOOK III. 

were so disproportioned to their strength, that many 
sunk under the fatigue, and ended their wretched 
days. Others, prompted by impatience and de¬ 
spair, cut short their own lives with a violent hand. 
Famine, brought on by compelling such numbers to 
abandon the culture of their lands, in order to la¬ 
bour in the mines, proved fatal to many. Diseases 
of various kinds, some occasioned by the hardships 
to which they were exposed, and others by their 
intercourse with the Europeans, who communi¬ 
cated to them some of their peculiar maladies, 
completed the desolation of the island. The Spa¬ 
niards, being thus deprived of the instruments 
which they were accustomed to employ, found 
it impossible to extend their improvements, or 
even to carry on the works which they had 
already begun. In order to provide 
an immediate remedy for an evil so 
alarming, Ovando proposed to transport the inhabi¬ 
tants of the Lucayo islands to Hispaniola, under 
pretence that they might be civilized with more 
facility, and instructed to greater advantage in the 
Christian religion, if they were united to the Spanish 
colony, and placed under the immediate inspection 
of the missionaries settled there. Ferdinand, de¬ 
ceived by this artifice, or willing to connive at an act 
of violence which policy represented as necessary, 
gave his assent to the proposal. Several vessels 
were fitted out for the Lucayos, the commanders of 
which informed the natives, with whose language 
they were now well acquainted, that they came from 
a delicious country, in which the departed ancestors 
of the Indians resided, by whom they were sent to 
invite their descendants to resort thither, to partake 
of the bliss enjoyed there by happy spirits. That 
simple people listened with wonder and credulity ; 
and fond of visiting their relations and friends in 
that happy region, followed the Spaniards with 
eagerness. By this artifice, above forty thousand 
were decoyed into Hispaniola, to share in the suf¬ 
ferings which were the lot of the inhabitants of that 
island, and to mingle their groans and tears with 
those of that wretched race of men. 1 

The Spaniards had, for some time, carried on their 
operations in the mines of Hispaniola with such ar¬ 
dour, as well as success, that these seemed to have en¬ 
grossed their whole attention. Thespi- Newdiscoveries 
rit of discovery languished; and, since and settlements - 
the last voyage of Columbus, no enterprise of any 
moment had been undertaken. But as the decrease 
of the Indians rendered it impossible to acquire 
wealth in that island with the same rapidity as for- 
merly, this urged some of the more adventurous 
Spaniards to search for new countries, where their 
avarice might be gratified with more facility. Juan 
Ponce de Leon, who commanded under Ovando in 
the eastern district of Hispaniola, passed over to the 
island of St. Juan de Puerto Rico, which Columbus 
had discovered in his second voyage, and penetrated 


Ilist* c^l*’ ^ec. 1* vii. c. 3. Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 6. Gomara 


g Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 19, 20. 
n Ibid. dec. 1. lib. x. c. 12. 



783 


BOOK III. A. D. 1508.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


into the interior part of the country. As he found the 
soil to be fertile,and expected, from some symptoms, 
as well as from the information of the inhabitants, to 
discover mines of gold in the mountains, Ovando 
permitted him to attempt making a settlement in the 
island. This was easily effected by an officer emi¬ 
nent for conduct no less than for courage. In a 
few years Puerto Rico was subjected to the Spanish 
government, the natives were reduced to servitude ; 
and, being treated with the same inconsiderate 
rigour as their neighbours in Hispaniola, the race 
of original inhabitants, worn out with fatigue and 
sufferings, w as soon exterminated. 11 

About the same time, Juan Diaz de Solis, in con¬ 
junction w ith Vincent Yanez Pinzon, one of Co¬ 


lumbus’s original companions, made a voyage to 
the continent. They held the same course which 
Columbus had taken, as far as to the island of Gu- 
anaios; but, standing from thence to the west, they 
discovered a new and extensive province, afterwards 
known by the name of Yucatan, and proceeded a 
considerable way along the coast of that country. 1 
Though nothing memorable occurred in this voyage, 
it deserves notice, because it led to discoveries of 
greater importance. For the same reason, the voy¬ 
age of Sebastian de Ocampo must be mentioned. 
By the command of Ovando, he sailed round Cuba, 
and first discovered with certainty, that this country, 
which Columbus once supposed to be a part of the 
continent, was a large island." 1 

This voyage round Cuba was one 

appmntedswer- 5 of the last occurrences under the ad- 
norot ihspamoia. ministration of Ovando. Ever since 

the death of Columbus, his son Don Diego had 
been employed in soliciting Ferdinand to grant 
him the offices of viceroy and admiral in the 
New World, together with all the immunities and 
profits which descended to him by inheritance, in 
consequence of the original capitulation with his 
father. But if these dignities and revenues ap¬ 
peared so considerable to Ferdinand, that, at 
the expense of being deemed unjust as well as 
ungrateful, he had wrested them from Columbus, 
it is not surprising that he should be unw'illing to 
confer them on his son. Accordingly, Don Diego 
wasted two years in incessant but fruitless importu¬ 
nity. Weary of this, he endeavoured at length to 
obtain, by a legal sentence, what he could not pro¬ 
cure from the favour of an interested monarch. 
He commenced a suit against Ferdinand before the 
council which managed Indian affairs, and that 
court, with integrity which reflects honour upon its 
proceedings, decided against the king, and sustain¬ 
ed Don Diego’s claim of the viceroyalty, together 
w ith all the other privileges stipulated in the capi¬ 
tulation. Even after this decree, Ferdinand’s re¬ 
pugnance to put a subject in possession of such 
extensive rights, might have thrown in new ob¬ 
stacles, if Don Diego had not taken a step which 


k Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 1—4. Gomara Hist. c. 44. Relacion de 
B. de las Casas, p. 10. 

1 Jlerrera, dec. l.lib. vi. c. 17. rn Ibid. dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 1. 


interested very powerful persons in the success of 
his claims. The sentence of the council of the In¬ 
dies gave him a title to a rank so elevated, and a 
fortune so opulent, that he found no difficulty in 
concluding a marriage with Donna Maria, daughter 
of Don Ferdinand de Toledo, great commendator 
of Leon, and brother of the duke of Alva, a noble¬ 
man of the first rank, and nearly related to the 
king. The duke and his family espoused so warmly 
the cause of their new r ally, that Ferdinand could 
not resist their solicitations. He re¬ 
called Ovando, and appointed Don 
Diego his successor, though, even in conferring this 
favour, he could not conceal his jealousy ; for he 
allowed him to assume only the title of governor, 
not that of viceroy, which had been adjudged to 
belong to him." 

Don Diego quickly repaired to His- He repairs f0 
paniola, attended by his brother, his llls P amola - 
uncles, his wife, w hom the courtesy of the Spaniards 
honoured with the title of vice-queen, and a numer¬ 
ous retinue of persons of both sexes, born of good 
families. He lived with a splendour and magnifi¬ 
cence hitherto unknown in the New World ; and the 
family of Columbus seemed now to enjoy the honours 
and rewards due to his inventive genius, of which 
lie himself had been cruelly defrauded. The colony 
itself acquired new lustre by the accession of so 
many inhabitants, of a different rank and character 
from most of those who had hitherto migrated to 
America, and many of the most illustrious families 
in the Spanish settlements are descended from the 
persons who at that time accompanied Don Diego 
Columbus. 0 

No benefits accrued to the unhappy natives from 
this change of governors. Don Diego was not only 
authorized by a royal edict to continue the reparti- 
mientos, or distribution of Indians, but the particu¬ 
lar number which he might grant to every person, 
according to his rank in the colony, was specified. 
He availed himself of that permission, and soon 
after he landed at St. Domingo, he divided such 
Indians as were still unappropriated, among his 
relations and attendants. 11 

The next care of the new governor Pearl fishery of 
was to comply with an instruction Gubagua. 
which he received from the king, about settling a 
colony in Cubagua, a small island which Columbus 
had discovered in his third voyage. Though this 
barren spot hardly yielded subsistence to its wretch¬ 
ed inhabitants, such quantities of those oysters 
which produce pearls were found on its coast, that 
it did not long escape the inquisitive avarice of 
the Spaniards, and became a place of consider¬ 
able resort. Large fortunes were acquired by the 
fishery of pearls, which was carried on with extra¬ 
ordinary ardour. The Indians, especially those 
from the Lucayo islands, were compelled to dive 
for them ; and this dangerous and unhealthy em- 

n Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 4, &c. o Oviedo, lib. iii.c. 1. 

p Uecopilacion de Leyes, lib. vi. tit. 8. 1. 1, 2. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. 
vii. c. 10. 



784 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ployment was an additional calamity, which con¬ 
tributed not a little to the extinction of that devoted 


race.* 1 


New voyages. 


About this period, Juan Diaz de 
Solis and Pinzon set out, in conjunc¬ 
tion, upon a second voyage. They stood directly 
south, towards the equinoctial line, which Pinzon 
had formerly crossed, and advanced as far as the 
fortieth degree of southern latitude. They were 
astonished to find that the continent of America 
stretched on their right hand, through all this vast 
extent of ocean. They landed in different places, 
to take possession in name of their sovereign ; but 
though the country appeared to be extremely fertile 
and inviting, their force was so small, having been 
fitted out rather for discovery than making settle¬ 
ments, that they left no colony behind them. Their 
voyage served, however, to give the Spaniards more 
exalted and adequate ideas with respect to the di¬ 
mensions of this new quarter of the globe/ 

Though it was about ten years since 

A settlement on ~ . . , , ,. . , 

the continent at- Columbus had discovered the main 

land of America, the Spaniards had 
hitherto made no settlement in any part of it. What 
had been so long neglected was now seriously at¬ 
tempted, and with considerable vigour ; though the 
plan for this purpose was neither formed by the 
crown, nor executed at the expense of the nation, 
but carried on by the enterprising spirit of private 
adventurers. This scheme took its rise from Alonso 
de Ojeda, who had already made two voyages as 
a discoverer, by which he acquired considerable 
reputation, but no wealth. But his character for 
intrepidity and conduct easily procured him asso¬ 
ciates, who advanced the money requisite to defray 
the charges of the expedition. About the same 
time, Diego de Nicuessa, who had acquired a large 
fortune in Hispaniola, formed a similar design. 
Ferdinand encouraged both ; and though he refused 
to advance the smallest sum, was extremely liberal 
of titles and patents. He ereeted two governments 
on the continent, one extending from Cape de Vela 
to the gulf of Darien, and the other from that to 
Cape Gracias a Dios. The former was given to 
Ojeda, the latter to Nicuessa. Ojeda fitted out a 
ship and two brigantines, with three hundred men ; 
Nicuessa, six vessels, with seven hundred and 
eighty men. They sailed about the same time from 
St. Domingo for their respective governments. In 
order to give their title to those countries some ap¬ 
pearance of validity, several of the most eminent 
divines and lawyers in Spain were employed to 
prescribe the mode in which they should take pos¬ 
session of them/ There is not in the history of 
mankind any thing more singular or extravagant 
than the form which they devised for this purpose. 
They instructed those invaders, as soon as they 
landed on the continent, to declare to the natives 
the principal articles of the Christian faith ; to ac¬ 


[A. D. 1509. BOOK III. 

quaint them, in particular, with the supreme juris¬ 
diction of the pope over all the kingdoms of the 
earth ; to inform them of the grant which this holy 
pontiff had made of their country to the king of 
Spain ; to require them to embrace the doctrines of 
that religion which the Spaniards made known to 
them ; and to submit to the sovereign whose autho¬ 
rity they proclaimed. If the natives refused to 
comply with this requisition, the terms of which 
must have been utterly incomprehensible to unin¬ 
structed Indians, then Ojeda and Nicuessa were 
authorized to attack them with fire and sword; to 
reduce them, their wives and children, to a state of 
servitude ; and to compel them by force to recog¬ 
nise the jurisdiction of the church, and the autho¬ 
rity of the monarch, to which they would not volun¬ 
tarily subject themselves/ 

As the inhabitants of the continent The disasters at- 
could not at once yield assent to doc- tending it. 

trines too refined for their uncultivated understand¬ 
ings, and explained to them by interpreters imper¬ 
fectly acquainted with their language; as they did 
not conceive how a foreign priest, of whom they 
had never heard, could have any right to dispose of 
their country, or how an unknown prince should 
claim jurisdiction over them as his subjects; they 
fiercely opposed the new invaders of their territo¬ 
ries. Ojeda and Nicuessa endeavoured to effect by 
force what they could not accomplish by persuasion. 
The contemporary writers enter into a very minute 
detail in relating their transactions ; but as they 
made no discovery of importance, nor established 
any permanent settlement, their adventures are not 
entitled to any considerable place in the general 
history of a period, where romantic valour, strug¬ 
gling with incredible hardships, distinguishes every 
effort of the Spanish arms. They found the natives 
in those countries of which they went to assume the 
government, to be of a character very different from 
that of their countrymen in the islands. They were 
fierce and warlike. Their arrows were dipped in a 
poison so noxious, that every wound was followed 
with certain death. In one encounter they slew 
above seventy of Ojeda’s followers, and the Spa¬ 
niards, for the first time, were taught to dread the 
inhabitants of the New World. Nicuessa was op¬ 
posed by people equally resolute in defence of their 
possessions. Nothing could soften their ferocity. 
Though the Spaniards employed every art to soothe 
them, and to gain their confidence, they refused to 
hold any intercourse, or to exchange any friendly 
office, with men whose residence among them they 
considered as fatal to their liberty and independence. 
This implacable enmity of the natives, 
though it rendered an attempt to estab¬ 
lish a settlement in their country extremely difficult 
as well as dangerous, might have been surmount¬ 
ed at length by the perseverance of the Spaniards, 
by the superiority of their arms, and their skill in 


1510. 


q Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 9. Gomara Hist. c. 78. 
r Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 9. 


s Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 15. 
t See ftote XXI11. 




BOOK III. A. D. 1510.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


the art of war. But every disaster which can be 
accumulated upon the unfortunate, combined to 
complete their ruin. The loss of their ships by va¬ 
rious accidents upon an unknown coast, the dis¬ 
eases peculiar to a climate the most noxious in all 
America, the want of provisions, unavoidable in a 
country imperfectly cultivated, dissension among 
themselves, and the incessant hostilities of the na¬ 
tives, involved them in a succession of calamities, 
the bare recital of which strikes one with horror. 
Though they received two considerable reinforce¬ 
ments from Hispaniola, the greater part of those 
who had engaged in this unhappy expedition perish¬ 
ed, in less than a year, in the most extreme misery. 
A few who survived, settled as a feeble colony at 
Santa Maria el Antigua, on the gulf of Darien, under 
the command of Vasco Nugnez de Balboa, who, in 
the most desperate exigences, displayed such cou¬ 
rage and conduct, as first gained the confidence of 
his countrymen, and marked him out as their leader 
in more splendid and successful undertakings. Nor 
was he the only adventurer in this expedition who 
will appear with lustre in more important scenes. 
Francisco Pizarro was one of Ojeda’s companions, 
and in this school of adversity acquired or improved 
the talents which fitted him for the extraordinary 
actions which he afterwards performed. Hernan 
Cortes, whose name became still more famous, had 
likewise engaged early in this enterprise, which 
roused all the active youth of Hispaniola to arms ; 
but the good fortune that accompanied him in his 
subsequent adventures, interposed to save him from 
the disasters to which his companions were exposed. 
He was taken ill at St. Domingo before the de¬ 
parture of the fleet, and detained there by a tedious 
indisposition. u 


Conquest 
of Cuba. 


Notwithstanding the unfortunate 
issue of this expedition, the Spaniards 
were not deterred from engaging in new schemes of 
a similar nature. When wealth is acquired gradu¬ 
ally by the persevering hand of industry, or ac¬ 
cumulated by the slow operations of regular com¬ 
merce, the means employed are so proportioned to 
the end attained, that there is nothing to strike the 
imagination, and little to urge on the active powers 
of the mind to uncommon efforts. But when large 
fortunes w ere created almost instantaneously ; w hen 
gold and pearls were procured in exchange for 
baubles; when the countries which produced these 
rich commodities, defended only by naked savages, 
might be seized by the first bold invader; objects 
so singular and alluring roused a wonderful spirit 
of enterprise among the Spaniards, who rushed 
with ardour into this new path that was opened to 
wealth and distinction. While this spirit con¬ 
tinued warm and vigorous, every attempt either 
towards discovery or conquest was applauded, and 
adventurers engaged in it with emulation. The 
passion for new undertakings, which characterizes 
the age of discovery in the latter part of the fifteenth 


u Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. «. 11, &c. Gomara Hist. c. 5", 58, 59. 

3 E 


and beginning of the sixteenth century, would alone 
have been sufficient to prevent the Spaniards from 
stopping short in their career. But circumstances 
peculiar to Hispaniola, at this juncture, concurred 
with it in extending their navigation and conquests. 
The rigorous treatment of the inhabitants of that 
island having almost extirpated the race, many of 
the Spanish planters, as I have already observed, 
finding it impossible to carry on their works with 
the same vigour and profit, were obliged to look out 
for settlements in some country where people were 
not yet wasted by oppression. Others, with the 
inconsiderate levity natural to men upon whom 
wealth pours in with a sudden flow, had squandered, 
in thoughtless prodigality, what they acquired w ith 
ease, and were driven by necessity to embark in 
the most desperate schemes, in order to retrieve 
their affairs. From all these causes, 

1511, 

when Don Diego Columbus proposed 
to conquer the island of Cuba, and to establish a 
colony there, many persons of chief distinction in 
Hispaniola engaged with alacrity in the measure. 
He gave the command of the troops destined for 
that service to Diego Velasquez, one of his father’s 
companions in his second voyage, and who, having 
been long settled in Hispaniola, had acquired an 
ample fortune, with such reputation for probity and 
prudence, that he seemed to be well qualified for 
conducting an expedition of importance. Three 
hundred men were deemed sufficient for the con¬ 
quest of an island of above seven hundred miles in 
length, and filled with inhabitants. But they w ere 
of the same unwarlike character with the people of 
Hispaniola. They were not only intimidated by the 
appearance of their new enemies, but unprepared to 
resist them. For though, from the time that the 
Spaniards took possession of the adjacent island, 
there was reason to expect a descent on their terri¬ 
tories, none of the sm'all communities into which 
Cuba was divided, had either made any provision 
for its own defence, or had formed any concert for 
their common safety. The only obstruction the 
Spaniards met with was from Hatuey, a cazique, 
who had fled from Hispaniola, and had taken pos¬ 
session of the eastern extremity of Cuba. He stood 
upon the defensive at their first landing, and en¬ 
deavoured to drive them back to their ships. His 
feeble troops, however, were soon broken and dis¬ 
persed ; and he himself being taken prisoner, 
Velasquez, according to the barbarous maxim of 
the Spaniards, considered him as a slave who had 
taken arms against his master, and condemned him 
to the flames. When Hatuey was fastened to the 
stake, a Franciscan friar, labouring to convert him, 
promised him immediate admittance into the joys of 
heaven, if he would embrace the Christian faith. 
“ Are there any Spaniards,” says he, after some 
pause, “ in that region of bliss which you describe ?” 
—“ Yes,” replied the monk, “ but only such as are 
worthy and good.”—“ The best of them,” returned 

Benzon. Hist. lib. i. c. 19— ?3. P. Martyr, decad. p. 1C2. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1512. BOOK III. 


the indignant cazique, “have neither worth nor 
goodness: I will not go to a place where I may 
meet with one of that accursed race.”* This dread¬ 
ful example of vengeance struck the people of 
Cuba with such terror, that they scarcely gave any 
opposition to the progress of their invaders; and 
Velasquez, without the loss of a man, annexed 
this extensive and fertile island to the Spanish 
monarchy J 


Discovery Of T,ie facilit y with which this impor- 
Fiorida. tant conquest was completed, served 

as an incitement to other undertakings. Juan Ponce 
de Leon, having acquired both fame and wealth by 
the reduction of Puerto Rico, was impatient to 
engage in some new enterprise. He 
fitted out three ships at his own ex¬ 
pense for a voyage of discovery, and his reputation 
soon drew together a respectable body of followers. 
He directed his course towards the Lucayo Islands ; 
and after touching at several of them, as well as of 
the Bahama Isles, he stood to the south-west, and 
discovered a country hitherto unknown to the 
Spaniards, which he called Florida, either because 
he fell in with it on Palm Sunday, or on account of 
its gay and beautiful appearance. He attempted 
to land in different places, but met with such 
vigorous opposition from the natives, who were 
fierce and warlike, as convinced him that an in¬ 
crease of force was requisite to effect a settlement. 
Satisfied with having opened a communication with 
a new country, of whose value and importance he 
conceived very sanguine hopes, he returned to 
Puerto Rico, through the channel now known by 
the name of the Gulf of Florida. 

It was not merely the passion of searching for 
new countries that prompted Ponce de Leon to 
undertake this voyage ; he was influenced by one of 
those visionary ideas, which at that time often 
mingled with the spirit of discovery, and rendered 
it more active. A tradition prevailed among the 
natives of Puerto Rico, that in the isle of Bimini, 
one of the Lucayos, there was a fountain of such 
wonderful virtue as to renew the youth and recall 
the vigour of every person who bathed in its salutary 
waters. In hopes of finding this grand restorative, 
Ponce de Leon and his followers ranged through 
the islands, searching, with fruitless solicitude and 
labour, for the fountain which was the chief object 
of their expedition. That a tale so fabulous should 
gain credit among simple uninstructed Indians is 
not surprising. That it should make any impression 
upon an enlightened people, appears, in the present 
age, altogether incredible. The fact, however, is 
certain ; and the most authentic Spanish historians 
mention this extravagant sally of their credulous 
countrymen. The Spaniards, at that period, were 
engaged in a career of activity which gave a 
romantic turn to their imagination, and daily pre¬ 
sented to them strange and marvellous objects. A 


x B. de las Casas, p. 40. 

y Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix, c. 2, 3. &c. Oviedp, lib. xviL c. 3. p 179 
z P. Martyr, decad. p. 202. Ensayo Chronol. para la Hist. de la Florida, 


New World was opened to their view. They 
visited islands and continents, of whose existence 
mankind in former ages had no conception. In 
those delightful countries nature seemed to assume 
another form: every tree and plant and animal was 
different from those of the ancient hemisphere. 
They seemed to be transported into enchanted 
ground ; and after the wonders which they had 
seen, nothing, in the warmth and novelty of their 
admiration, appeared to them so extraordinary as to 
be beyond belief. If the rapid succession of new 
and striking scenes made such impression even 
upon the sound understanding of Columbus, that 
he boasted of having found the seat of Paradise, it 
will not appear strange that Ponce de Leon should 
dream of discovering the fountain of youth.z 

Soon after the expedition to Florida, prosress of Bai- 
a discovery of much greater import- boa in D<inen - 
ance was made in another part of America. Balboa 
having been raised to the government of the small 
colony at Santa Maria in Darien, by the voluntary 
suffrage of his associates, was so extremely desirous 
to obtain from the crown a confirmation of their 
election, that he despatched one of his officers to 
Spain, in order to solicit a royal commission, which 
might invest him with a legal title to the supreme 
command. Conscious, however, that he could not 
expect success from the patronage of Ferdinand’s 
ministers, with whom he was unconnected, or from 
negociating in a court to the arts of which he was a 
stranger, he endeavoured to merit the dignity to 
which he aspired, and aimed at performing some 
signal service that would secure him the preference 
to every competitor. Full of this idea he made 
frequent inroads into the adjacent country, subdued 
several of the caziques, and collected a considerable 
quantity of gold, which abounded more in that part 
of the continent, than in the islands. In one of 
those excursions, the Spaniards contended with 
such eagerness about the division of some gold, that 
they were at the point of proceeding to acts of vio¬ 
lence against one another. A young cazique who 
was present, astonished at the high value which 
they set upon a thing of which he did not discern 
the use, tumbled the gold out of the balance with 
indignation ; and, turning to the Spaniards, “ Why 
do you quarrel (says he) about such a trifle? If you 
are so passionately fond of gold, as to abandon 
your own country, and to disturb the tranquillity 
of distant nations for its sake, I will conduct you to 
a region where the metal which seems to be the 
chief object of your admiration and desire, is so 
common that the meanest utensils are formed of it.” 
Transported with what they heard, Balboa and his 
companions inquired eagerly where this happy 
country lay, and how they might arrive at it. He 
informed them that at the distance of six suns, that 
is, of six days’ journey, towards the south, they 
should discover another ocean, near to which this 

par. D. Gab. Cardenas, p. 1. Oviedo, lib. xvi. c. 11. Herrera, dee. 1. 
lib. ix. c. 5. Hist, de la Conq. de la Florida, par Garc. de la Vega, lib. 
i. c. 3. 



BOOK III. A. D. 1512.] THE HISTORY 

wealthy kingdom was situated; but if they intended 
to attack that powerful state, they must assemble 
forces far superior in number and strength to those 
with which they now appeared. a 

The schemes This was the first information which 
Minch he tmms. |j ie Sp an i ar( j s received concerning the 

great southern ocean, or the opulent and extensive 
country known afterwards by the name of Peru. 
Balboa had now before him objects suited to his 
boundless ambition, and the enterprising ardour of 
his genius. He immediately concluded the ocean 
which the cazique mentioned, to be that for which 
Columbus had searched without success in this 
part of America, in hopes of opening a more direct 
communication with the East Indies ; and he con¬ 
jectured that the rich territory which had been 
described to him, must be part of that vast and 
opulent region of the earth. Elated with the idea 
of performing what so great a man had attempted 
in vain, and eager to accomplish a discovery which 
he knew would be no less acceptable to the king 
than beneficial to his country, he was impatient 
until he could set out upon this enterprise, in com¬ 
parison of which all his former exploits appeared 
inconsiderable. But previous arrangement and 
preparation were requisite to insure success. He 
began with courting and securing the friendship of 
the neighbouring caziques. He sent some of his 
olficers to Hispaniola with a large quantity of gold, 
as a proof of his past success, and an earnest of his 
future hopes. By a proper distribution of this, they 
secured the favour of the governor, and allured 
volunteers into the service. A considerable rein¬ 
forcement from that island joined him, and he 
thought himself in a condition to attempt the dis¬ 
covery. 

Difficulty of The isthmus of Darien is not above 

executing them. s j x ty miles in breadth ; but this neck 

of land, which binds together the continents of 
North and South America, is strengthened by a 
chain of lofty mountains stretching through its 
whole extent, which render it a barrier of solidity 
sufficient to resist the impulse of two opposite oceans. 
The mountains are covered with forests almost in¬ 
accessible. The valleys in that moist climate, where 
it rains during two-thirds of the year, are marshy, 
and so frequently overflowed, that the inhabitants 
find it necessary, in many places, to build their 
houses upon trees, in order to be elevated at some 
distance from the damp soil, and the odious reptiles 
engendered in the putrid waters. b Large rivers 
rush down with an impetuous current from the high 
grounds. In a region thinly inhabited by wandering 
savages, the hand of industry had done nothing to 
mitigate or correct those natural disadvantages. To 
march across this unexplored country with no other 
guides but Indians, whose fidelity could be little 
trusted, was, on all those accounts, the boldest en¬ 
terprise on which the Spaniards had hitherto ven¬ 
tured in the New World. But the intrepidity of 

a Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix. c. 2. Gomara, c. tfO. P. Martyr, dec. p. 149. 

3 E 2 


OF AMERICA. 


787 


151 


Balboa was such as distinguished him among his 
countrymen, at a period when every adventurer was 
conspicuous for daring courage. Nor 
was bravery his only merit; he was 
prudent in conduct, generous, affable, and possess¬ 
ed of those popular talents which, in the most des¬ 
perate undertakings, inspire confidence and secure 
attachment. Even after the junction of the volun¬ 
teers from Hispaniola, he was able to muster only 
an hundred and ninety men for his expedition. But 
they were hardy veterans, inured to the climate of 
America, and ready to follow him through every 
danger. A thousand Indians attended them to carry 
their provisions ; and to complete their warlike ar¬ 
ray, they took with them several of those fierce dogs, 
which were no less formidable than destructive to 
their naked enemies. 

Balboa set out upon this important D i scovers the 
expedition on the first of September, SouthSea. 
about the time that the periodical rains began to 
abate. He proceeded by sea, and without any diffi¬ 
culty, to the territories of a cazique whose friend¬ 
ship he had gained; but no sooner did he begin to 
advance into the interior part of the country, than 
he was retarded by every obstacle, which he had 
reason to apprehend, from the nature of the territory, 
or the disposition of its inhabitants. Some of the 
caziques, at his approach, fled to the mountains 
with all their people, and carried off or destroyed 
whatever could afford subsistence to his troops. 
Others collected their subjects, in order to oppose 
his progress, and he quickly perceived what an 
arduous undertaking it was to conduct such a body 
of men through hostile nations, across swamps, and 
rivers, and woods, which had never been passed but 
by straggling Indians. But by sharing in every 
hardship with the meanest soldier, by appearing the 
foremost to meet every danger, by promising con¬ 
fidently to his troops the enjoyment of honour and 
riches superior to what had been attained by the 
most successful of their countrymen, he inspired 
them with such enthusiastic resolution, that they 
followed him without murmuring. When they had 
penetrated a good way into the mountains, a power¬ 
ful cazique appeared in a narrow pass, with a 
numerous body of his subjects, to obstruct their 
progress. But men who had surmounted so many 
obstacles, despised the opposition of such feeble 
enemies. They attacked them with impetuosity, 
and having dispersed them with much ease and great 
slaughter, continued their march. Though their 
guides had represented the breadth of the isthmus 
to be only a journey of six days, they had already 
spent twenty-five in forcing their way through the 
woods and mountains. Many of them were ready 
to sink under such uninterrupted fatigue in that 
sultry climate, several were taken ill of the dysen¬ 
tery and other diseases frequent in that country, 
and all became impatient to reach the period of 
their labours and sufferings. At length the Indians 

b P. Martyr, dec. p. 158. 




788 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1513. BOOK III 


assured them, that from the top of the next moun¬ 
tain they should discover the ocean which was the 
object of their wishes. When, with infinite toil, they 
had climbed up the greater part of that steep ascent, 
Balboa commanded his men to halt, and advanced 
alone to the summit, that he might be the first who 
should enjoy a spectacle which he had so long 
desired. As soon as he beheld the South Sea 
stretching in endless prospect below him, he fell on 
his knees, and lifting up his hands to heaven, re¬ 
turned thanks to God, who had conducted him to a 
discovery so beneficial to his country, and so honour¬ 
able to himself. His followers, observing his trans¬ 
ports of joy, rushed forward to join in his wonder, 
exultation, and gratitude. They held on their 
course to the shore with great alacrity, when Balboa, 
advancing up to the middle in the waves with his 


buckler and sword, took possession of that ocean 
in the name of the king his master, and vowed 
to defend it, with these arms, against all his ene¬ 
mies. 0 

That part of the great Pacific or Southern Ocean, 
which Balboa first discovered, still retains the name 
of the Gulf of St. Michael, w hich he gave to it, and 
is situated to the east of Panama. From several of 
the petty princes, who governed in the districts 
adjacent to that gulf, he extorted provisions and 
gold by force of arms. Others sent them to him 
voluntarily. To these acceptable presents, some of 
the caziques added a considerable quantity of pearls; 
and he learned from them, with much satisfaction, 
that pearl oysters abounded in the sea which he had 
newly discovered. 

He receives in- Together with the acquisition of this 
cernin^a more wealth, which served to soothe and 
opulent country, encourage his followers, he received 

accounts which confirmed his sanguine hopes of 
future and more extensive benefits from the expe¬ 
dition. All the people on the coast of the South 
Sea concurred in informing him, that there was a 
mighty and opulent kingdom situated at a consider¬ 
able distance towards the south-east, the inhabit¬ 
ants of which had tame animals to carry their bur¬ 
thens. In order to give the Spaniards an idea of 
these, they drew upon the sand the figure of the 
llamas or sheep, afterwards found in Peru, which 
the Peruvians had taught to perform such services 
as they described. As the Hama in its form nearly 
resembles a camel, a beast of burthen deemed pecu¬ 
liar to Asia, this circumstance, in conjunction with 
the discovery of the pearls, another noted produc¬ 
tion of that country, tended to confirm the Spaniards 
in their mistaken theory with respect to the vicinity 
of the New World to the East Indies/ 

But though the information which 
Balboa received from the people on 
the coast, as well as his ow n conjectures and hopes, 
rendered him extremely impatient to visit this un¬ 
known country, his prudence restrained him from 


Obliged to return. 


c H eI T era ’ dec * 1 > ,ib - x - c - &c. Gomara, c. 02, &c. P. Martyr, dec. 
. 205, <vc. 

d Herrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 2. 


attempting to invade it with a handful of men, 
exhausted by fatigue, and weakened by diseases. 
He determined to lead back his followers, at pre¬ 
sent, to their settlement of Santa Maria in Darien, 
and to return next season with a force more adequate 
to such an arduous enterprise. In order to acquire 
a more extensive knowledge of the isthmus, he 
marched back by a diflerent route, which he found 
to be no less dangerous and difficult than that which 
he had formerly taken. But to men elated with 
success, and animated with hope, no- 
thing is insurmountable. Balboa re¬ 
turned to Santa Maria, from which he had been 
absent four months, with greater glory and more 
treasure than the Spaniards had acquired in any 
expedition in the New World. None of Balboas 
officers distinguished themselves more in this ser¬ 
vice than Francisco Pizarro, or assisted with greater 
courage and ardour in opening a communication 
with those countries, in which he was destined to 
act soon a most illustrious part/ 

Balboa’s first care was to send in- 

Pedrarias ap- 

formation to Spain of the important pointed governor 

. of Darien. 

discovery which he had made ; and to 
demand a reinforcement of a thousand men, in order 
to attempt the conquest of that opulent country, 
concerning which he had received such inviting 
intelligence. The first account of the discovery of 
the New World hardly occasioned greater joy than 
the unexpected tidings, that a passage was at last 
found to the great southern ocean. The communi¬ 
cation with the East Indies, by a course to the west¬ 
ward of the line of demarcation drawn by the pope, 
seemed now to be certain. The vast wealth w hich 
flowed into Portugal from its settlements and con¬ 
quests in that country, excited the envy, and called 
forth the emulation, of other states. Ferdinand hoped 
now to come in for a share in this lucrative com¬ 
merce, and in his eagerness to obtain it, was willing 
to make an effort beyond what Balboa required. 
But even in this exertion, his jealous policy, as w ell 
as the fatal antipathy of Fonseca, now bishop of 
Burgos, to every man of merit who distinguished 
himself in the New World, were conspicuous. Not¬ 
withstanding Balboa’s recent services, which mark¬ 
ed him out as the most proper person to finish that 
great undertaking which he had begun, Ferdinand 
was so ungenerous as to overlook these, and to ap¬ 
point Pedrarias Davila governor of Darien. He 
gave him the command of fifteen stout vessels, and 
twelve hundred soldiers. These were fitted out at 
the public expense, with a liberality which Ferdi¬ 
nand had never displayed in any former armament 
destined for the New World ; and such was the ar¬ 
dour of the Spanish gentlemen to follow a leader 
who was about to conduct them to a country, where, 
as fame reported, they had only to throw their nets 
into the sea and draw out gold/ that fifteen hundred 
embarked on board the fleet; and if they had not 

e See Note XXIV. 

f I lerrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 3— 6. Gomara, c. 64. P. Martyr, dec. p. 
m, &c. g Ibid. c. 14. * F 



BOOK III. A. D. 1514.] 

been restrained, a much greater number would have 
engaged in the service. 11 

Pedrarias reached the gulf of Darien without any 
remarkable accident, and immediately sent some of 
his principal officers ashore to inform Balboa of his 
arrival, with the king’s commission, to be governor 
of the colony. To their astonishment, they found 
Balboa, of whose great exploits they had heard so 
much, and of whose opulence they had formed such 
high ideas, clad in a canvass jacket, and wearing- 
coarse hempen sandals used only by the meanest 
peasants, employed, together with some Indians, in 
thatching his own hut with reeds. Even in this 
simple garb, which corresponded so ill with the 
expectations and wishes of bis new guests, Balboa 
received them with dignity. The fame of his dis¬ 
coveries had drawn so many adventurers from the 
islands, that he could now muster four hundred and 
fifty men. At the head of those daring veterans, he 
was more than a match for the forces which Pe¬ 
drarias brought with him. But though his troops 
murmured loudly at the injustice of the king in 
superseding their commander, and complained that 
strangers would now reap the fruits of their toil and 
success, Balboa submitted with implicit obedience 
to the will of his sovereign, and received Pedrarias 
with all the deference due to his character. 1 

Dissensions be- Notwithstanding this moderation, to 
Balboa* 11 ” 1 and Pedrarias owed the peaceable 

possession of his government, he ap¬ 
pointed a judicial inquiry to be made into Balboa’s 
conduct, while under the command of Nicuessa, 
and imposed a considerable fine upon him, on ac¬ 
count of the irregularities of which he had then 
been guilty. Balboa felt sensibly the mortification 
of being subjected to trial and to punishment in a 
place where he had so lately occupied the first sta¬ 
tion. Pedrarias could not conceal his jealousy of 
his superior merit: so that the resentment of the 
one, and the envy of the other, gave rise to dissen¬ 
sions extremely detrimental to the colony. It was 
threatened with a calamity still more fatal. Pedra¬ 
rias had landed in Darien at a most 
unlucky time of the year, about the 
middle of the rainy season, in that part of the 
torrid zone where the clouds pour down such tor¬ 
rents as are unknown in more temperate climates. k 
The village of Santa Maria was seated in a rich 
plain, environed with marshes and woods. The 
constitution of Europeans was unable to withstand 
the pestilential influence of such a situation, in a 
climate naturally so noxious, and at a season so pe¬ 
culiarly unhealthy. A violent and destructive ma¬ 
lady carried off many of the soldiers who accom¬ 
panied Pedrarias. An extreme scarcity of provisions 
augmented this distress, as it rendered it impossible 
to find proper refreshment for the sick, or the neces¬ 
sary sustenance for the healthy. 1 In the space of a 
month, above six hundred persons perished in the 

h Herrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 6, 7. P. Martyr, dec. p. 177, 296. 
i Ibid. c. 13, 14. 

k Richard, Hist. Naturelle de l’Air, tom. i. p. 204. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


7sa 


July. 


utmost misery. Dejection and despair spread 
through the colony. Many principal persons soli¬ 
cited their dismission, and were glad to relinquish 
all their hopes of wealth, in order to escape from 
that pernicious region. Pedrarias endeavoured to 
divert those who remained from brooding over their 
misfortunes, by finding them employment. With 
this view, he sent several detachments into the in¬ 
terior parts of the country, to levy gold among the 
natives, and to search for the mines in which it was 
produced. Those rapacious adventurers, more at¬ 
tentive to present gain than to the means of facili¬ 
tating their future progress, plundered without dis¬ 
tinction wherever they marched. Regardless of the 
alliances which Balboa had made with several of 
the caziques, they stripped them of every thing 
valuable, and treated them, as w ell as their subjects, 
with the utmost insolence and cruelty. By their 
tyranny and exactions, which Pedrarias, either from 
w ant of authority or of inclination, did not restrain, 
all the country from the gulf of Darien to the lake 
of Nicaragua was desolated, and the Spaniards were 
inconsiderately deprived of the advantages which 
they might have derived from the friendship of the 
natives, in extending their conquests to the South 
Sea. Balboa, who saw with concern that such ill- 
judged proceedings retarded the execution of his 
favourite scheme, sent violent remonstrances to 
Spain against the imprudent government of Pedra¬ 
rias, which had ruined a happy and flourishing 
colony.. Pedrarias, on the other hand, accused him 
of having deceived the king, by magnifying his own 
exploits, as well as by a false representation of the 
opulence and value of the country." 1 

Ferdinand became sensible at length 

«... , . Violent proceed- 

of his imprudence in superseding the ings against Bai- 

most active and experienced officer he 
had in the New World, and, by way of compensation 
to Balboa, appointed him adelantado, or lieutenant- 
governor of the countries upon the South Sea, with 
very extensive privileges and authority. At the 
same time he enjoined Pedrarias to support Balboa 
in all his operations, and to consult with him con¬ 
cerning every measure which he himself pursued. 
But to effect such a sudden transition 
from inveterate enmity to perfect con¬ 
fidence, exceeded Ferdinand’s power. Pedrarias 
continued to treat his rival with neglect; and Bal¬ 
boa’s fortune being exhausted by the payment of 
his fine and other exactions of Pedrarias, he could 
not make suitable preparations for taking posses¬ 
sion of his new government. At length, by the in¬ 
terposition and exhortations of the bishop of Darien, 
they were brought to a reconciliation ; and, in order 
to cement this union more firmly, Pedrarias agreed 
to give his daughter in marriage to Balboa. The 
first effect of their concord was, that 
Balboa w as permitted to make several 
small incursions into the country. These he con- 

1 Herrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 14. P. Martyr, dec. p. 272. 
m Herrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 15. dec. 2. c. 1, &c. Gomara, c. 66. P'. 
Martyr, dec. 3. c. 10. Relacion de B. de las Casas, p. 12. 


1515. 


1516. 



790 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1517. ROOK III. 


dueled with such prudence as added to the reputa¬ 
tion which he had already acquired. Many adven¬ 
turers resorted to him ; and with the countenance 
and aid of Pedrarias, he began to prepare for his 
expedition to the South Sea. In order to accom¬ 
plish this, it w as necessary to build vessels capable 
of conveying his troops to those provinces which he 
purposed to invade. After surmount¬ 
ing many obstacles, and enduring a 
variety of those hardships which were the portion 
of the conquerors of America, he at length finished 
four small brigantines. In these, with three hun¬ 
dred chosen men, a force superior to that with 
which Pizarro afterwards undertook the same expe¬ 
dition, he was ready to sail towards Peru, when he 
received an unexpected message from Pedrarias . 11 
As his reconciliation with Balboa had never been 
cordial, the progress which his son-in-law was 
making revived his ancient enmity, and added to 
its rancour. He dreaded the prosperity and eleva¬ 
tion of a man whom he had injured so deeply. He 
suspected that success would encourage him to aim 
at independence upon his jurisdiction ; and so vio¬ 
lently did the passions of hatred, fear, and jealousy, 
operate upon his mind, that, in order to gratify his 
vengeance, he scrupled not to defeat an enterprise of 
the greatest moment to his country. Under pretexts 
which were false, but plausible, he desired Balboa to 
postpone his voyage for a short time, and to repair 
to Acla, in order that he might have an interview 
with him. Balboa, with the unsuspicious confi¬ 
dence of a man conscious of no crime, instantly 
obeyed the summons ; but as soon as he entered the 
place, he was arrested by order of Pedrarias, whose 
impatience to satiate his revenge did not suffer him 
to languish long in confinement. Judges were im¬ 
mediately appointed to proceed to his trial. An 
accusation of disloyalty to the king, and of an in¬ 
tention to revolt against the governor, was preferred 
against him. Sentence of death was pronounced ; 
and though the judges who passed it, seconded by 
the whole colony, interceded warmly for his pardon, 
Pedrarias continued inexorable ; and the Spaniards 
beheld, with astonishment and sorrow, the public 
execution of a man whom they universally deemed 
more capable than any who had borne command in 
America, of forming and accomplishing great de¬ 
signs . 0 Upon his death the expedition which he 
had planned was relinquished. Pedrarias, not¬ 
withstanding the violence and injustice of his pro¬ 
ceedings, was not only screened from punishment 
by the powerful patronage of the bishop of Burgos 
and other courtiers, but continued in power. Soon 
after he obtained permission to remove the colony 
from its unwholesome station of Santa Maria to 
Panama, on the opposite side of the isthmus ; and 
though it did not gain much in point of healthful¬ 
ness by the change, the commodious situation of 
this new settlement contributed greatly to facilitate 

n Herrera, dec. 2. lib. i. c. 3. lib. ii. c. 1J, 13, 21. 

o Ibid. lib. ii. c. 21, 22. 


the subsequent conquests of the Spaniards in the 
extensive countries situated upon the southern 
ocean .p 

During these transactions in Darien, , 5,5 
the history of which it was proper to New ^covenes. 
carry on in an uninterrupted tenor, several import¬ 
ant events occurred with respect to the discovery, 
the conquest, and government of other provinces in 
the New World. Ferdinand was so intent upon 
opening a communication with the Molucca or 
Spice Islands by the west, that, in the year one 
thousand five hundred and fifteen, he fitted out two 
ships at his own expense, in order to attempt such 
a voyage, and gave the command of them to Juan 
Diaz de Solis, who was deemed one of the most 
skilful navigators in Spain. He stood along the 
coast of South America, and on the first of January 
one thousand five hundred and sixteen entered a 
river which he called Janeiro, where an extensive 
commerce is now carried on. From thence he pro¬ 
ceeded to a spacious bay, which he supposed to be 
the entrance into a strait that communicated with 
the Indian ocean ; but upon advancing further, he 
found it to be the mouth of Rio de Plata, one of the 
vast rivers by which the southern continent of Ame¬ 
rica is watered. In endeavouring to make a de¬ 
scent in this country, De Solis and several of his 
crew were slain by the natives, who, in sight of the 
ships, cut their bodies in pieces, roasted and de¬ 
voured them. Discouraged with the loss of their 
commander, and terrified at this shocking spectacle, 
the surviving Spaniards set sail for Europe, with¬ 
out aiming at any further discovery .*1 Though this 
attempt proved abortive, it was not without benefit. 
It turned the attention of ingenious men to this 
course of navigation, and prepared the way for a 
more fortunate voyage, by which, a few years poste¬ 
rior to this period, the great design that Ferdinand 
had in view was accomplished. 

Though the Spaniards were thus ac- sb ,eofti*colony 
tively employed in extending their ,n Hispaniola. 

discoveries and settlements in America, they still 
considered Hispaniola as their principal colony, 
and the seat of government. Don Diego Columbus 
wanted neither inclination nor abilities to have ren¬ 
dered the members of this colony, who were most 
immediately under his jurisdiction, prosperous and 
happy. But he was circumscribed in all his opera¬ 
tions by the suspicious policy of Ferdinand, who 
on every occasion, and under pretexts the most fri¬ 
volous, retrenched his privileges, and encouraged 
the treasurer, the judges, and other subordinate 
officers, to counteract his measures, and to dispute 
his authority^. The most valuable prerogative which 
the governor possessed, was that of distributing In¬ 
dians among the Spaniards settled in the island. 
The rigorous servitude of those unhappy men hav¬ 
ing been but little mitigated by all the regulations 
in their favour, the power of parcelling out such ne- 

p Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iv. c. 1. 

q Ibid. lib. i. c. 7. P. Martyr, dec. p. 317. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


791 


BOOK III. A. D. 1517.] 

cessary instruments of labour at pleasure, secured to 
the governor great influence in the colony. In order 
to strip him of this, Ferdinand created a new ollice, 
with the power of distributing the Indians, and be¬ 
stowed it upon Rodrigo Albuquerque, a relation of 
Zapata, his confidential minister. Mortified with 
the injustice as well as indignity of this invasion 
upon his rights, in a point so essential, Don Diego 
could no longer remain in a place where his power 
and consequence were almost annihilated. He re¬ 
paired to Spain with the vain hopes of obtaining 
redress. 1- Albuquerque entered upon his office with 
all the rapacity of an indigent adventurer impatient 
to amass wealth. He began with taking the exact 
number of Indians in the islaud, and found, that 
from sixty thousand, who, in the year one thousand 
five hundred and eight, survived after all their suf¬ 
ferings, they were now reduced to fourteen thou¬ 
sand. These he threw into separate divisions or 
lots, and bestowed them upon such as were willing 
to purchase them at the highest price. By this 
arbitrary distribution, several of the natives were 
removed from their original habitations, many were 
taken from their ancient masters, and all of them 
subjected to heavier burdens, and to more intoler¬ 
able labour, in order to reimburse their new pro¬ 
prietors. Those additional calamities completed 
the misery, and hastened on the extinction, of this 
wretched and innocent race of men. 5 
Controversy with The violence of these proceedings, 
treatmenfof 'the together with the fatal consequences 
Indians. which attended them, not only excited 

complaints among such as thought themselves ag¬ 
grieved, but touched the hearts of all who retain¬ 
ed any sentiments of humanity. From the time 
that ecclesiastics were sent as instructors into Ame¬ 
rica, they perceived that the rigour with which 
their countrymen treated the natives, rendered their 
ministry altogether fruitless. The missionaries, in 
conformity to the mild spirit of that religion which 
they were employed to publish, early remonstrated 
against the maxims of the planters with respect to 
the Americans, and condemned the repartimientos , 
or distributions, by which they were given up as 
slaves to their conquerors, as no less contrary to 
natural justice and the precepts of Christianity, 
than to sound policy. The Dominicans, to whom 
the instruction of the Americans was originally 
committed, were most vehement in testifying against 
the repartimientos. In the year one thousand five 
hundred and eleven, Montesino, one of their most 
eminent preachers, inveighed against this practice, 
in the great church at St. Domingo, with all the im¬ 
petuosity of popular eloquence. Don Diego Co¬ 
lumbus, the principal officers of the colony, and all 
the laymen who had been his hearers, complained 
of the monk to his superiors; but they, instead of 
condemning, applauded his doctrine, as equally 
pious and seasonable. The Franciscans, influenced 

r Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix. c. 5. lib. x. c. 12. 

s Ibid. lib. x. c. 12. . ... 

t Ibid. lib. viii. c. 11. Oviedo, lib. in. c. 6. p. 97. 


by the spirit of opposition and rivalship which 
subsists between the two orders, discovered some 
inclination to take part with the laity, and to es¬ 
pouse the defence of the repartimientos. But as 
they could not with decency give their avowed ap¬ 
probation to a system of oppression so repugnant 
to the spirit of religion, they endeavoured to pal¬ 
liate what they could not justify, and alleged, in 
excuse for the conduct of their countrymen, that it 
was impossible to carry on any improvement in 
the colony, unless the Spaniards possessed such 
dominion over the natives, that they could compel 
them to labour. 1 

The Dominicans, regardless of such „ 

.... . . Contrary deci- 

pohtical and interested considerations, sions concerning 

would not relax in any degree the ri¬ 
gour of their sentiments, and even refused to ab¬ 
solve, or admit to the sacrament, such of their coun¬ 
trymen as continued to hold the natives in servitude. 11 
Both parties applied to the king for his decision in 
a matter of such importance. Ferdinand empowered 
a committee of his privy-council, assisted by some 
of the most eminent civilians and divines in Spain, 
to hear the deputies sent from Hispaniola, in sup¬ 
port of their respective opinions. After a long dis¬ 
cussion, the speculative point in controversy was 
determined in favour of the Dominicans, the Indians 
were declared to be a free people, entitled to all the 
natural rights of men ; but, notwithstanding all this 
decision, the repartimientos were continued upon 
their ancient footing. 14 As this determination ad¬ 
mitted the principle upon which the Dominicans 
founded their opinion, they renewed their efforts to 
obtain relief for the Indians with additional bold¬ 
ness and zeal. At length, in order to quiet the 
colony, which was alarmed by their remonstrances 
and censures, Ferdinand issued a decree of his 
privy-council, declaring, that after mature con¬ 
sideration of the Apostolic bull, and other titles by 
which the crown of Castile claimed a 

iOio* 

right to its possessions in the New 
World, the servitude of the Indians was warranted 
both by the laws of God and of man ; that unless 
they were subjected to the dominion of the Spa¬ 
niards, and compelled to reside under their inspec¬ 
tion, it would be impossible to reclaim them from 
idolatry, or to instruct them in the principles of the 
Christian faith ; that no further scruple ought to be 
entertained concerning the lawfulness of the repar¬ 
timientos, as the king and council were willing to 
take the charge of that upon their own consciences; 
and that therefore the Dominicans, and monks of 
other religious orders, should abstain, for the future, 
from those invectives, which, from an excess of 
charitable but ill-informed zeal, they had uttered 
against that practice.* 

That his intention of adhering to this decree 
might be fully understood, Ferdinand conferred 
new grants of Indians upon several of his courtiers.z 

u Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 6. p. 97. 
x Herrera, dec. 1. lib. viii. c. 12. lib. ix. c. 5. 
y Ibid. lib. ix. c. 14. z See Note XXV. 



792 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Effect of these. 


But in order that he might not seem altogether 
inattentive to the rights of humanity, he published 
an edict, in which he endeavoured to provide for 
the mild treatment of the Indians under the yoke to 
which he subjected them; he regulated the nature 
of the work which they should be required to per¬ 
form ; he prescribed the mode in which they should 
be clothed and fed, and gave directions with re¬ 
spect to their instruction in the principles of Chris¬ 
tianity. 41 

But the Dominicans, who, from their 
experience of what was passed, judged 
concerning the future, soon perceived the inefficacy 
of those provisions, and foretold, that as long as it 
was the interest of individuals to treat the Indians 
with rigour, no public regulations could render 
their servitude mild or tolerable. They considered 
it as vain to waste their own time and strength in 
attempting to communicate the sublime truths of 
religion to men, w hose spirits were broken, and their 
faculties impaired by oppression. Some of them, 
in despair, requested the permission of their supe¬ 
riors to remove to the continent, and to pursue the 
object of their mission among such of the natives as 
were not hitherto corrupted by the example of the 
Spaniards, or alienated by their cruelty from the 
Christian faith. Such as remained in Hispaniola 
continued to remonstrate, with decent firmness, 
against the servitude of the Indians.b 
Bartholomew de The violent operations of Albu- 
Ind^fence^ofthe querque, the new distributor of Indi- 
indians. ans, rev j vec j the zea i 0 f th e Dominicans 

against the repartimientos, and called forth an advo¬ 
cate for that oppressed people, who possessed all 
the courage, the talents, and activity requisite in 
supporting such a desperate cause. This was 
Bartholomew de las Casas, a native of Seville, 
and one of the clergymen sent out with Columbus 
in his second voyage to Hispaniola, in order to 
settle in that island. He early adopted the opinion 
prevalent among ecclesiastics, with respect to the 
unlawfulness of reducing the natives to servitude ; 
and that he might demonstrate the sincerity of his 
conviction, he relinquished all the Indians who had 
fallen to his own share in the division of the inha¬ 
bitants among their conquerors, declaring that he 
should ever bew^ail his own misfortune and guilt, in 
having exercised for a moment this impious do¬ 
minion over his fellow-creatures. c From that time 
he became the avowed patron of the Indians ; and 
by his bold interpositions in their behalf, as well as 
by the respect due to his abilities and character, he 
had often the merit of setting some bounds to the 
excesses of his countrymen. He did not fail to 
remonstrate warmly against the proceedings of 
Albuquerque, and, though he soon found that atten¬ 
tion to his own interest rendered this rapacious 
officer deaf to admonition, he did not abandon the 

a Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix.c. 14. 

b Ibid. dec. 1. Jib. ix. c. 14. Touron. Hist. Gener. de rAmerique, tom. 
l. p. 252. 


[A. D. 1517. BOOK III. 

wretched people whose cause he had espoused. He 
instantly set out for Spain, with the most sanguine 
hopes of opening the eyes and softening the heart 
of Ferdinand, by that striking picture of the oppres¬ 
sion of his new subjects, which he would exhibit to 
his view r . d 

He easily obtained admittance to the 

„ .. ii*. Solicits their 

king, w hom he tound in a declining cause in the court 

state of health. With much freedom, ot blJd111, 
and no less eloquence, he represented to him all the 
fatal effects of the repartimientos in the New World, 
boldly charging him with the guilt of having au¬ 
thorized this impious measure, which had brought 
misery and destruction upon a numerous and inno¬ 
cent race of men, whom Providence had placed 
under his protection. Ferdinand, whose mind as 
well as body was much enfeebled by his distemper, 
w'as greatly alarmed at this charge of impiety, which 
at another juncture he would have despised. He 
listened with deep compunction to the discourse of 
Las Casas, and promised to take into serious con¬ 
sideration the means of redressing the evil of which 
he complained. But death prevented him from 
executing his resolution. Charles of Austria, to 
whom all his crowns devolved, resided at that time 
in his paternal dominions in the Low Countries. 
Las Casas, with his usual ardour, prepared imme¬ 
diately to set out for Flanders, in order to occupy 
the ear of the young monarch, when cardinal 
Ximenes, who, as regent, assumed the reins of 
government in Castile, commanded him to desist 
from the journey, and engaged to hear his com¬ 
plaints in person. 

He accordingly w eighed the matter 
with attention equal to its importance; of caninmf 1 ' 0115 
and as his impetuous mind delighted Ximenes - 
in schemes bold and uncommon, he soon fixed upon 
a plan which astonished the ministers, trained up 
under the formal and cautious administration of 
Ferdinand. Without regarding either the rights of 
Don Diego Columbus, or the regulations established 
by the late king, he resolved to send three persons 
to America as superintendents of all the colonies 
there, with authority, after examining all circum¬ 
stances on the spot, to decide finally with respect 
to the point in question. It was a matter of 
deliberation and delicacy to choose men qualified 
for such an important station. As all the laymen 
settled in America, or who had been consulted in 
the administration of that department, had given 
their opinion that the Spaniards could not keep pos¬ 
session of their new settlements, unless they were 
allowed to retain their dominion over the Indians, 
he saw that he could not rely on their impartiality, 
and determined to commit the trust to ecclesiastics. 
As the Dominicans and Franciscans had already 
espoused opposite sides in the controversy, he, from 
the same principle of impartiality, excluded both 

c Fr. Aug. Davila Padilla Hist, de la Fundacion de la Provincia de St 
Ja"o de Mexico, p. 303, 304. Herrera, dec. 1 . lib. x c 12 

Hist pS dCC ' 1 ’ lb * X ' C ' 12 ' DeC> '' lib- '• c * 11 ’ DaviIa Padilla 



7!)3 


BOOK III. A. D. 1517.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


these fraternities from the commission. He con¬ 
fined his choice to the monks of St. Jerome, a small 
hut lespectable order in Spain. With the assist¬ 
ance ol their general, and in concert with Las 
Casas, he soon pitched upon three persons whom he 
deemed equal to the charge. To them he joined 
Zuazo, a private lawyer of distinguished probity, 
with unbounded power to regulate all judicial pro¬ 
ceedings in the colonies. Las Casas was appointed 
to accompany them, with the title of Protector of 
the Indians. e 


The manner in To vest such extraordinary powers, 
which they were as might at once overturn the system 

of government established in the New 
World, in four persons, who, from their humble 
condition in life, were little entitled to possess this 
high authority, appeared to Zapata, and other 
ministers of the late king, a measure so wild and 
dangerous, that they refused to issue the despatches 
necessary for carrying it into execution. But 
Ximenes was not of a temper patiently to brook 
opposition to any of his schemes. He sent for the 
refractory ministers, and addressed them in such a 
tone, that in the utmost consternation they obeyed 
his orders/ The superintendents, with their asso¬ 
ciate Zuazo, and Las Casas, sailed for St. Do¬ 
mingo. Upon their arrival, the first act of their 
authority was to set at liberty all the Indians who 
had been granted to the Spanish courtiers, or to any 
person not residing in America. This, together 
with the information which had been received from 
Spain concerning the object of the commission, 
spread a general alarm. The colonists concluded 
that they w'ere to be deprived at once of the hands 
with which they carried on their labour, and that, 
of consequence, ruin was unavoidable. But the 
fathers of St. Jerome proceeded w ith such caution 
and prudence, as soon dissipated all their fears. 
They discovered, in every step of their conduct, a 
knowledge of the world, and of affairs, which is 
seldom acquired in a cloister; and displayed a 
moderation as well as gentleness still more rare 
among persons trained up in the solitude and 
austerity of a monastic life. Their ears were open 
to information from every quarter; they compared 
the different accounts which they received; and 
after a mature consideration of the whole, they 
were fully satisfied that the state of the colony 
rendered it impossible to adopt the plan proposed 
by Las Casas, and recommended by the cardinal. 
They plainly perceived that the Spaniards settled in 
America were so few in number, that they could 
neither work the mines which had been opened, nor 
cultivate the country ; that they depended for effect¬ 
ing both upon the labour of the natives, and if 
deprived of it, they must instantly relinquish their 
conquests, or give up all the advantages which they 
derived from them; that no allurement was so 
powerful as to surmount the natural aversion of the 


Indians to any laborious effort, and that nothing 
but the authority of a master could compel them to 
work; and if they were not kept constantly under 
the eye and discipline of a superior, so great was 
their natural listlessness and indifference, that they 
would neither attend to religious instruction, nor 
observe those rites of Christianity which they had 
been already taught. Upon all those accounts, the 
superintendents found it necessary to tolerate the 
repartimientos , and to suffer the Indians to remain 
under subjection to their Spanish masters. They 
used their utmost endeavours, however, to prevent 
the fatal effects of this establishment, and to secure 
to the Indians the consolation of the best treatment 
compatible with a state of servitude. For this pur¬ 
pose, they revived former regulations, they pre¬ 
scribed new ones, they neglected no circumstance 
that tended to mitigate the rigour of the yoke; and 
by their authority, their example, and their exhor¬ 
tations, they laboured to inspire their countrymen 
with sentiments of equity and gentleness towards 
the unhappy people upon whose industry they de¬ 
pended. Zuazo, in his department, seconded the 
endeavours of the superintendents. He reformed 
the courts of justice, in such a manner as to render 
their decisions equitable as well as expeditious, 
and introduced various regulations which greatly 
improved the interior police of the colony. The 
satisfaction which his conduct and that of the 
superintendents gave, was now universal among 
the Spaniards settled in the New World, and all 
admired the boldness of Ximenes, in having de¬ 
parted from the ordinary path of business in form¬ 
ing his plan, as well as his sagacity in pitching 
upon persons, whose wisdom, moderation, and dis¬ 
interestedness, rendered them worthy of this high 
trust.® 

Las Casas alone was dissatisfied. 

. . , . , Las Casas rlis- 

The prudential considerations w hich satisfied with 

influenced the superintendents made 
no impression upon him. He regarded their idea 
of accommodating their conduct to the state of the 
colony, as the maxim of an unhallow ed timid policy, 
which tolerated what was unjust because it was 
beneficial. He contended that the Indians were 
by nature free, and as their protector, he required 
the superintendents not to bereave them of the 
common privilege of humanity. They received his 
most virulent remonstrances without emotion, but 
adhered firmly to their own system. The Spanish 
planters did not bear with him so patiently, and 
w ere ready to tear him in pieces for insisting in a 
requisition so odious to them. Las Casas, in order 
to screen himself from their rage, found it necessary 
to take shelter in a convent; and perceiving that 
all his efforts in America were fruitless, he soon set 
out for Europe, with a fixed resolution not to aban¬ 
don the protection of a people whom he deemed to 
be cruelly oppressed. 1 * 

h Herrera, dec. 2 lib. ii c. 16. 


e Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ii. c. 3. . f Ibid. c. 6. 

g Ibid. c. 15. ilemesal, Hist. Gener. lib. n. c. 14, 15, 16. 


i 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1517. BOOK III. 


Had Ximenes retained that vigour 

wkY^mte of mind with which he usually applied 
tersot Charles v. to bus i ness> L as Casas must have met 

w ith no very gracious reception upon his return to 
Spain. But he found the cardinal languishing 
under a mortal distemper, and preparing to resign 
his authority to the young king, who was daily ex¬ 
pected from the Low Countries. Charles arrived, 
took possession of the government, and, by the 
death of Ximenes, lost a minister, whose abilities 
and integrity entitled him to direct his affairs. 
Many of the Flemish nobility had accompanied their 
sovereign to Spain. From that warm predilection 
to his countrymen, which was natural at his age, he 
consulted them with respect to all the transactions 
in his new kingdom, and they, with an indiscreet 
eagerness, intruded themselves into every business, 
and seized almost every department of administra¬ 
tion. 1 The direction of American affairs was an ob¬ 
ject too alluring to escape their attention. Las 
Casas observed their growing influence, and though 
projectors are usually too sanguine to conduct their 
schemes with much dexterity, he possessed a bust¬ 
ling, indefatigable activity, which sometimes ac¬ 
complishes its purposes with greater success than 
the most exquisite discernment and address. He 
courted the Flemish ministers with assiduity. He 
represented to them the absurdity of all the maxims 
hitherto adopted with respect to the government of 
America, particularly during the administration of 
Ferdinand, and pointed out the defects of those ar¬ 
rangements which Ximenes had introduced. The 
memory of Ferdinand was odious to the Flemings. 
The superior virtue and abilities of Ximenes had 
long been the object of their envy. They fondly 
wished to have a plausible pretext for condemning 
the measures, both of the monarch and of the minis¬ 
ter, and of reflecting some discredit on their politi¬ 
cal wisdom. The friends of Don Diego Columbus, 
as well as the Spanish courtiers, who had been dis¬ 
satisfied with the cardinal’s administration, joined 
Las Casas in censuring the scheme of sending su¬ 
perintendents to America. This union of so many 
interests and passions was irresistible ; and in con¬ 
sequence of it the fathers of St. Jerome, together 
with their associate Zuazo, were recalled. Rode- 
rigo de Figueroa, a lawyer of some eminence, was 
appointed chief judge of the island, and received 
instructions, in compliance with the request of Las 
Casas, to examine once more, with the utmost atten¬ 
tion, the point in controversy between him and the 
people of the colony, with respect to the treatment 
of the natives ; and in the mean time to do every 
thing in his power to alleviate their sufferings, and 
prevent the extinction of the race. k 

This was all that the zeal of Las 

Scheme of sup- . 

piyin? the coio- Gasas could procure at that juncture 

nies with negroes. . r . 

in favour of the Indians. The impos¬ 
sibility of carrying on any improvements in America, 


unless the Spanish planters could command the 
labour of the natives, was an insuperable objection 
to his plan of treating them as free subjects. In 
order to provide some remedy for this, without 
which he found it was in vain to mention his scheme, 


Las Casas proposed to purchase a sufficient number 
of negroes from the Portuguese settlements on the 
coast of Africa, and to transport them to America, in 
order that they might be employed as slaves in work¬ 
ing the mines and cultivating the ground. One of 
the first advantages which the Portuguese had de¬ 
rived from their discoveries in Africa, arose from the 
trade in slaves. Various circumstances concurred in 
reviving this odious commerce, which had been long 
abolished in Europe, and which is no less repugnant 
to the feelings of humanity, than to the principles of 
religion. As early as the year one thousand five hun¬ 
dred and three, a few negro slaves had been sent into 
the New World. 1 In the year one thousand five hun¬ 
dred and eleven, Ferdinand permitted the importa¬ 
tion of them in greater numbers." 1 They were found 
to be a more robust and hardy race than the natives 
of America. They were more capable of enduring 
fatigue, more patient under servitude, and the la¬ 
bour of one negro was computed to be equal to that 
of four Indians." Cardinal Ximenes, however, 
when solicited to encourage this commerce, peremp¬ 
torily rejected the proposition, because he perceived 
the iniquity of reducing one race of men to slavery, 
while he was consulting about the means of restor¬ 
ing liberty to another. 0 But Las Casas, from the 
inconsistency natural to men who hurry with head¬ 
long impetuosity towards a favourite point, was in¬ 
capable of making this distinction. While he con¬ 
tended earnestly for the liberty of the people born 
in one quarter of the globe, he laboured to enslave 
the inhabitants of another region ; and in the 
warmth of his zeal to save the Americans from the 
yoke, pronounced it to be lawful and expedient to 
impose one still heavier upon the Africans. Un¬ 
fortunately for the latter, Las Casas’s plan was 
adopted. Charles granted a patent to one of his 
Flemish favourites, containing an exclusive right 
of importing four thousand negroes into America. 
The favourite sold his patent to some Genoese mer¬ 
chants for twenty-five thousand ducats, and they 
were the first who brought into a regular form that 
commerce for slaves between Africa and America, 
which has since been carried on to such an amazing 


extent. 

But the Genoese merchants, con¬ 


ducting their operations, at first, with Las Casas pro- 
the rapacity of monopolists, demanded bourers to IJ^s- 
such an high price for negroes, that fMniol ‘ i ' 
the number imported into Hispaniola made no 
great change upon the state of the colony. Las 
Casas, whose zeal was no less inventive than inde¬ 
fatigable, had recourse to another expedient for the 
relief of the Indians. He observed, that most of 


i Hist, of Charles V. p. 144. 

k Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ii. c. 16, 19, 21. lib. iii. c. 7, 8. 

1 Ibid. dec. 1. lib. v. c. 12. m Ibid. lib. viii. c. 9 


n Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix. c. 5. 
o Ibid. dec. 2. lib. ii. c. 8. 
p Ibid. dec. 1. lib. Ii. c. 20. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


795 


BOOK III. A. D. 1517.] 

the persons who had settled hitherto in America, 
were sailors and soldiers employed in the discovery 
or conquest of the country ; the younger sons of 
noble families, allured by the prospect of acquiring 
sudden wealth ; or desperate adventurers, whom 
their indigence or crimes forced to abandon their 
native land. Instead of such men, who were dis¬ 
solute, rapacious, and incapable of that sober per¬ 
severing industry, which is requisite in forming 
new colonies, he proposed to supply the settlements 
in Hispaniola and other parts of the New World 
with a sufficient number of labourers and husband¬ 
men, who should be allured by suitable premiums 
to remove thither. These, as they were accustomed 
to fatigue, would be able to perform the work, to 
which the Indians, from the feebleness of their con¬ 
stitution, were unequal, and might soon become use¬ 
ful and opulent citizens. But though Hispaniola 
stood much in need of a recruit of inhabitants, having 
been visited at this time with the small-pox, which 
swept off almost all the natives who had survived 
their long continued oppression, and though Las 
Casas had the countenance of the Flemish minis¬ 
ters, this scheme was defeated by the bishop of 
Burgos, who thwarted all his projects.' 1 

Forms the idea of Eas Casas now despaired of procur- 
anew colony. j n or an y re ]j e f f or the Indians in those 

places where the Spaniards were already settled. 
The evil was become so inveterate there, as not to ad¬ 
mit of a cure. But such discoveries w ere daily mak¬ 
ing in the continent, as gave a high idea both of its 
extent and populousness. Tn all those vast regions 
there w as but one feeble colony planted ; and ex¬ 
cept a small spot on the isthmus of Darien, the na¬ 
tives still occupied the whole country. This opened 
a new and more ample field for the humanity and 
zeal of Las Casas, who flattered himself that he 
might prevent a pernicious system from being in¬ 
troduced there, though he had failed of success in 
his attempts to overturn it, where it was already 
established. Full of this idea, he applied for a 
grant of the unoccupied country, stretching along 
the sea-coast from the gulf of Paria to the western 
frontier of that province now known by the name of 
Santa Martha. He proposed to settle there with a 
colony composed of husbandmen, labourers, and 
ecclesiastics. He engaged, in the space of two 
years, to civilize ten thousand of the natives, and 
to instruct them so thoroughly in the arts of social 
life, that, from the fruits of their industry, an an¬ 
nual revenue of fifteen thousand ducats should arise 
to the king. In ten years he expected that his im¬ 
provements would be so far advanced, as to yield 
annually sixty thousand ducats. He stipulated, 
that no sailor or soldier should ever be permitted to 
settle in this district; and that no Spaniard what¬ 
ever should enter it without his permission. He 
even projected to clothe the people whom he took 
along with him in some distinguishing garb, which 

q Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ii. c. 21 
r Ibid. lib. iv. c. 2. 


did not resemble the Spanish dress, that they might 
appear to the natives to be a different race of 
men from those who had brought so many cala¬ 
mities upon their country/ From this scheme, of 
which I have traced only the great lines, it is ma¬ 
nifest that Las Casas had formed ideas concerning 
the method of treating the Indians, similar to those 
by which the Jesuits afterwards carried on their 
great operations in another part of the same con¬ 
tinent. He supposed that the Europeans, by avail¬ 
ing themselves of that ascendant which they pos¬ 
sessed in consequence of their superior progress in 
science and improvement, might gradually form the 
minds of the Americans to relish those comforts of 
which they were destitute, might train them to the 
arts of civil life, and render them capable of its 
functions. 

But to the bishop of Burgos and the Favourably re¬ 
council of the Indies, this project ap- ceived- 
peared not only chimerical, but dangerous in a high 
degree. They deemed the faculties of the Americans 
to be naturally so limited, and their indolence so 
excessive, that every attempt to instruct or to im¬ 
prove them would be fruitless. They contended, 
that it would be extremely imprudent to give the 
command of a country extending above a thousand 
miles along the coast, to a fanciful presumptuous 
enthusiast, a stranger to the affairs of the world, 
and unacquainted with the arts of government. Las 
Casas, far from being discouraged with a repulse, 
which he had reason to expect, had recourse once 
more to the Flemish favourites, who zealously pa¬ 
tronized his scheme, merely because it had been 
rejected by the Spanish ministers. They prevailed 
with their master, who had lately been ^ 
raised to the imperial dignity, to refer 
the consideration of this measure to a select num¬ 
ber of his privy counsellors ; and Las Casas having 
excepted against the members of the council of the 
Indies, as partial and interested, they were all ex¬ 
cluded. The decision of men chosen by recom¬ 
mendation of the Flemings, was perfectly conform¬ 
able to their sentiments. They warmly approved 
of Las Casas’s plan ; and gave orders for carrying 
it into execution, but restricted the territory allotted 
him to three hundred miles along the coast of Cuma- 
na, allowing him, however, to extend it as far as he 
pleased towards the interior part of the country/ 

This determination did not pass un- A so i et nn deiibe- 
censured. Almost every person who 
had been in the West Indies exclaim- ing the Indlans - 
ed against it, and supported their opinion so con¬ 
fidently, and with such plausible reasons, as made 
it advisable to pause and to review the subject more 
deliberately. Charles himself, though accustomed, 
at this early period of his life, to adopt the senti¬ 
ments of his ministers with such submissive defe¬ 
rence as did not promise that decisive vigour of 
mind which distinguished his riper years, could not 

s Gomara Hist. Gener. c. 77- Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iv. c. 3. Oviedo, 
lib. xix. c, 5 



796 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. I). 1517. BOOK III 


help suspecting that the eagerness with which the 
Flemings took part in every affair relating to 
America, flowed from some improper motive, and 
began to discover an inclination to examine in 
person into the state of the question concerning the 
character of the Americans, and the proper manner 
of treating them. An opportunity of 
making this inquiry with great advan¬ 
tage soon occurred. Quevedo, the bishop of Darien, 
who had accompanied Pedrarias to the continent in 
the year one thousand five hundred and thirteen, 
happened to land at Barcelona, where the court 
then resided. It w as quickly known, that his senti¬ 
ments concerning the talents and disposition of the 
Indians differed from those of Las Casas; and Charles 
naturally concluded, that by confronting two re¬ 
spectable persons, who, during their residence in 
America, had full leisure to observe the manners of 
the people whom they pretended to describe, he 
might be able to discover which of them had formed 
his opinion with the greatest discernment and 
accuracy. 

A day for this solemn audience was appointed. 
The emperor appeared with extraordinary pomp, 
and took his seat on a throne in the great hall of the 
palace. His principal courtiers attended. Don 
Diego Columbus, admiral of the Indies, was sum¬ 
moned to be present. The bishop of Darien w as 
called upon first to deliver his opinion. He, in a 
short discourse, lamented the fatal desolation of 
America, by the extinction of so many of its in¬ 
habitants ; he acknowledged that this must be im¬ 
puted, in some degree, to the excessive rigour and 
inconsiderate proceedings of the Spaniards, but 
declared that all the people of the New' World 
whom he had seen, either in the continent or in the 
islands, appeared to him to be a race of men marked 
out, by the inferiority of their talents, for servitude, 
and whom it would be impossible to instruct or 
improve, unless they were kept under the continual 
inspection of a master. Las Casas, at greater 
length, and with more fervour, defended his own 
system. He rejected with indignation the idea that 
any race of men was born to servitude, as irreligious 
and inhuman. He asserted that the faculties of the 
Americans were not naturally despicable, but unim¬ 
proved ; that they were capable of receiving in¬ 
struction in the principles of religion, as well as of 
acquiring the industry and arts which would qualify 
them for the various offices of social life; that the 
mildness and timidity of their nature rendered 
them so submissive and docile, that they might be 
led and formed with a gentle hand. He professed, 
that his intentions in proposing the scheme now 
under consideration were pure and disinterested ; 
and though, from the accomplishment of his designs, 
inestimable benefits would result to the crown of 
Castile, he never had claimed, nor ever would 
receive, any recompence on that account. 


t Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iv. c. 3, 4, 5. Argensola Annales d’Aragon, "4, 
97- Remesal ilist. Gener. lib. u. c. 19, 20. 


Charles, after hearing both, and con- ^ gcheme of 
suiting with his ministers, did not think LasCasas ap- 

himself sufficiently informed to estab¬ 
lish any general arrangement with respect to the state 
of the Indians ; but as he had perfect confidence in 
the integrity of Las Casas, and as even the bishop 
of Darien admitted his scheme to be of such im¬ 
portance, that a trial should be made of its eflects, 
he issued a patent, granting him the ^ 
districtin Cumanaformerly mentioned, 
with full power to establish a colony there accord¬ 
ing to his own plan. 1 

Las Casas pushed on the prepara- His preparations 
tions for his voyage with his usual for executing u ' 
ardour. But, either from his own inexperience in 
the conduct of affairs, or from the secret opposition 
of the Spanish nobility, who universally dreaded 
the success of an institution that might rob them 
of the industrious and useful hands which cultivat¬ 
ed their estates, his progress in engaging husband¬ 
men and labourers was extremely slow, and he 
could not prevail on more than two hundred to ac¬ 
company him to Cumana. 

Nothing, however, could damp his Departs for a me- 
zeal. With this slender train, hardly ‘fomTiffiie 
sufficient to take possession of such a obstilcles - 
large territory, and altogether unequal to any effec¬ 
tual attempt towards civilizing its inhabitants, he 
set sail. The first place at which he touched was 
the island of Puerto Rico. There be received an 
account of a new r obstacle to the execution of his 
scheme, more insuperable than any he had hitherto 
encountered. When he left America in the year 
one thousand five hundred and sixteen, the Spa¬ 
niards had little intercourse with any part of the 
continent, except the countries adjacent to the gulf 
of Darien. But as every species of internal indus¬ 
try began to stagnate in Hispaniola, when, by the 
rapid decrease of the natives, the Spaniards were 
deprived of those hands with which they had 
hitherto carried on their operations, this prompted 
them to try various expedients for supplying that 
loss. Considerable numbers of negroes were im¬ 
ported ; but on account of their exorbitant price, 
many of the planters could not afford to purchase 
them. In order to procure slaves at an easier rate, 
some of the Spaniards in Hispaniola fitted out ves¬ 
sels to cruise along the coast of the continent. In 
places where they found themselves inferior in 
strength, they traded with the natives, and gave 
European toys in exchange for the plates of gold 
worn by them as ornaments ; but, wherever they 
could surprise or overpower the Indians, they car¬ 
ried them off by force, and sold them as slaves." 
In those predatory excursions, such atrocious acts 
of violence and cruelty had been committed, that 
the Spanish name w as held in detestation all over 
the continent. Whenever any ships appeared, the 
inhabitants either fled to the woods, or rushed dow n 


u Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 3. 



797 


BOOK III. A. D. 1517.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


to the shore in arms to repel those hated disturbers 
of their tranquillity. They forced some parties of 
the Spaniards to retreat with precipitation ; they 
cut oil others ; and in the violence of their resent¬ 
ment against the whole nation, they murdered two 
Dominican missionaries, whose zeal had prompted 
them to settle in the province of Cumana.* This out - 
rage against persons revered for their sanctity, ex¬ 
cited such indignation among the people of Hispa¬ 
niola, who, notwithstanding all their licentious and 
cruel proceedings, were possessed with a wonder¬ 
ful zeal for religion, and a superstitious respect for 
its ministers, that they determined to inflict exem¬ 
plary punishment, not only upon the perpetrators of 
that crime, but upon the whole race. With this 
view r , they gave the command of five ships and three 
hundred men to Diego Ocampo, with orders to lay 
waste the country of Cumana with fire and sword, 
and to transport all the inhabitants as slaves to 
Hispaniola. This armament Las Casas found at 
Puerto Rico, in its way to the continent; and as 
Ocampo refused to defer his voyage, he immediately 
perceived that it would be impossible to attempt the 
execution of his pacific plan in a country destined 
to be the seat of war and desolation.^' 

April 12 . In order to provide against the effects 

Labours to sur- ° 

mount them. of this unfortunate incident, he set 
sail directly for St. Domingo, leaving his followers 
cantoned out among the planters in Puerto Rico. 
From many concurring causes, the reception which 
Las Casas met with in Hispaniola was very un¬ 
favourable. In his negociations for the relief of 
the Indians, he had censured the conduct of his 
countrymen settled there with such honest severity, 
as rendered him universally odious to them. They 
considered their own ruin as the inevitable conse¬ 
quence of his success. They were now elated with 
hope of receiving a large recruit of slaves from Cu¬ 
mana, which must be relinquished if Las Casas 
were assisted in settling his projected colony there. 
Figueroa, in consequence of the instructions which 
he had received in Spain, had made an experiment 
concerning the capacity of the Indians, that was 
represented as decisive against the system of Las 
Casas. He collected in Hispaniola a good number 
of the natives, and settled them in two villages, 
leaving them at perfect liberty, and with the uncon¬ 
trolled direction of their own actions. But that 
people, accustomed to a mode of life extremely dif¬ 
ferent from that which takes place wherever civili¬ 
zation has made any considerable progress, were 
incapable of assuming new habits at once. Deject¬ 
ed with their own misfortunes as well as those of 
their country, they exerted so little industry in cul¬ 
tivating the ground, appeared so devoid of solicitude 
or foresight in providing for their own wants, and 
were such strangers to arrangement in conduct¬ 
ing their affairs, that the Spaniards pronounced 
them incapable of being formed to live like men in 

x Oviedo, Hist. lib. xix. p. 3. 

y Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ix. c. 8 ,9 

z Ibid. lib. x. c. 5. 


social life, and considered them as children, who 
should be kept under the perpetual tutelage of 
persons superior to themselves in wisdom and sa¬ 
gacity. 2 

Notwithstanding all those circuni- final miscarriage 
stances, which alienated the persons ot ins scheme. 

in Hispaniola to whom Las Casas applied from 
himself and from his measures, he, by his activity 
and perseverance, by some concessions, and many 
threats, obtained at length a small body of troops to 
protect him and his colony at their first landing. 
But upon his return to Puerto Rico, he found that 
the diseases of the climate had been fatal to several 
of his people ; and that others having got employ¬ 
ment in that island refused to follow him. With the 
handful that remained, he set sail and landed in 
Cumana. Ocampo had executed his commission 
in that province with such barbarous rage, having 
massacred many of the inhabitants, sent others in 
chains to Hispaniola, and forced the rest to fly for 
shelter to the woods, that the people of a small 
colony, which he had planted at a place which he 
named Toledo , were ready to perish for want in a 
desolated country. There, however, Las Casas was 
obliged to fix his residence, though deserted both 
by the troops appointed to protect him, and by those 
under the command of Ocampo, who foresaw and 
dreaded the calamities to which he must be exposed 
in that wretched station. He made the best provi¬ 
sion in his power for the safety and subsistence of 
his followers ; but as his utmost efforts availed little 
towards securing either the one or the other, he re¬ 
turned to Hispaniola, in order to solicit more effec¬ 
tual aid for the preservation of men, who, from 
confidence in him, had ventured into a post of so 
much danger. Soon after his departure, the natives, 
having discovered the feeble and defenceless state of 
the Spaniards, assembled secretly, attacked them 
with the fury natural to men exasperated by many 
injuries, cut off a good number, and compelled the 
rest to fly in the utmost consternation to the island 
of Cubagua. The small colony settled there on ac¬ 
count of the pearl fishery, catching the panic with 
which their countrymen had been seized, abandoned 
the island, and not a Spaniard remained in any 
part of the continent, or adjacent islands, from the 
gulf of Paria to the borders of Darien. Astonished 
at such a succession of disasters, Las Casas was 
ashamed to show his face after this fatal termination 
of all his splendid schemes. He shut himself up in 
the convent of the Dominicans at St. Domingo, and 
soon after assumed the habit of that order. a 

Though the expulsion of the colony from Cu¬ 
mana happened in the year one thousand five 
hundred and twenty-one, I have chosen to trace the 
progress of Las Casas’s negociations from their first 
rise to thdr final issue without interruption. His 
system was the object of long and attentive discus¬ 
sion ; and though his efforts in behalf of the op- 

•V 

a Herrera, dec. 2. lib. x. c. 5. dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 3, 4, 5. Oviedo, Hist, 
lib. xix. c. 5. Gomara, c. 77 . Davila Padilla, lib. i. c. 97 . llemesal 
Hist. Gen. lib. xi. c. 22 , 23. 



798 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


pressed Americans, partly from his own rashness 
and imprudence, and partly from the malevolent 
opposition of his adversaries, were not attended 
with that success which he promised with too san¬ 
guine confidence, great praise is due to his humane 
activity, which gave rise to various regulations that 
were of some benefit to that unhappy people. I 
return now to the history of the Spanish dicoveries, 
as they occur in the order of time. ,, 

New discoveries Diego Velasquez, who conquered 
towards the west. £ u k a j n the year one thousand five 

hundred and eleven, still retained the government 
of that island, as the deputy of Hon Diego Colum¬ 
bus, though he seldom acknowledged his superior, 
and aimed at rendering his own authority altogether 
independent. 0 Under his prudent administration, 
Cuba became one of the most flourishing of the 
Spanish settlements. The fame of this allured 
thither many persons from the other colonies, in 
hopes of finding either some permanent establish¬ 
ment or some employment for their activity. As 
Cuba lay to the west of all the islands occupied 
by the Spaniards, and as the ocean, which stretches 
beyond it towards that quarter, had not hitherto 
been explored, these circumstances naturally invited 
the inhabitants to attempt new discoveries. An 
expedition for this purpose, in which activity and 
resolution might conduct to sudden wealth, was 
more suited to the genius of the age, than the pa¬ 
tient industry requisite in clearing ground and ma¬ 
nufacturing sugar. Instigated by this spirit, se¬ 
veral officers, who had served under Pedrarias in 
Darien, entered into an association to undertake 
a voyage of discovery. They persuaded Francisco 
Hernandez Cordova, an opulent planter in Cuba, 
and a man of distinguished courage, to join with 
them in the adventure, and chose him to be their 
commander. Velasquez not only approved of the 
design, but assisted in carrying it on. As the vete¬ 
rans from Darien were extremely indigent, he and 
Cordova advanced money for purchasing three 
small vessels, and furnishing them with every thing 
requisite either for traffic or for war. A hundred 
and ten men embarked on board of them, and sailed 
from St. Jago de Cuba on the eighth of February 
one thousand five hundred and seventeen. By the ad¬ 
vice of their chief pilot, Antonio Alaminos, w ho had 
served under the first admiral Columbus, they stood 
directly west, relying on the opinion of that great 
navigator, who uniformly maintained that a westerly 
course would lead to the most important discoveries. 

On the twenty-first day after their departure 
from St. Jago, they saw land, which proved to be 
Cape Catoche , the eastern point of that large penin¬ 
sula projecting from the continent of America, which 

still retains its original name of Yuca- 

Yucatan. 

tan. As they approached the shore, 
five canoes came off full of people decently clad in 
cotton garments ; an astonishing spectacle to the 
Spaniards, who had found every other part of Ame- 

b Herrera, dec. 2. lib. x. c. 5. p. 329. 


[A. D. 1517. BOOK III. 

rica possessed by naked savages. Cordova en¬ 
deavoured by small presents to gain the good will 
of these people. They, though amazed at the 
strange objects now presented for the first lime to 
their view, invited the Spaniards to visit their ha¬ 
bitations, with an appearance of cordiality. They 
landed accordingly, and as they advanced into the 
country, they observed with new r wonder some large 
houses built w ith stone. But they soon found that, 
if the people of Yucatan had made progress in im¬ 
provement beyond their countrymen, they were 
likewise more artful and w arlike. For though the 
cazique received Cordova with many tokens of 
friendship, he had posted a considerable body of 
his subjects in ambush behind a thicket, w ho, upon 
a signal given by him, rushed out and attacked the 
Spaniards with great boldness, and some degree of 
martial order. At the first flight of their arrows, 
fifteen of the Spaniards were wounded ; but the 
Indians were struck with such terror by the sudden 
explosion of the fire-arms, and so surprised at the 
execution done by them, by the cross-bows, and by 
the other weapons of their new enemies, that they 
fled precipitately. Cordova quitted a country 
where he had met with such a fierce reception, 
carrying off two prisoners, together with the orna¬ 
ments of a small temple, which he plundered in 
his retreat. 

He continued his course towards the west, with¬ 
out losing sight of the coast, and on the sixteenth 
day arrived at Campeachy. There 
‘the natives received them more hos¬ 
pitably ; but the Spaniards w ere much surprised, 
that on all the extensive coast along which they had 
sailed, and which they imagined to be a large island, 
they had not observed any river. d As their water 
began to fail, they advanced, in hopes of finding a 
supply; and at length they discovered the mouth 
of a river at Potonchan, some leagues beyond 
Campeachy. 

Cordova landed all his troops, in order to protect 
the sailors while employed in filling the casks ; but 
notwithstanding this precaution, the natives rushed 
down upon them with such fury, and in such num¬ 
bers, that forty-seven of the Spaniards were killed 
upon the spot, and one man only of the whole body 
escaped unhurt. Their commander, though wound¬ 
ed in twelve different places, directed the retreat 
with presence of mind equal to the courage with 
which he had led them on in the engagement, and 
with much difficulty they regained their ships. 
After this fatal repulse, nothing remained but to 
hasten back to Cuba with their shattered forces. 
In their passage thither they suffered the most ex¬ 
quisite distress for want of water, that men wounded 
and sickly, shut up in small vessels, and exposed 
to the heat of the torrid zone, can be supposed to 
endure. Some of them, sinking under these cala¬ 
mities, died by the w ay ; Cordova, their commander, 
expired soon after they landed in Cuba. 6 


c Ibid. lib. ii. c. 19. 


d See Note XXVI. 


e Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ii. c. 17, 18 




BOOK III. A. D. 1517.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


799 


Voyage of Notwithstanding the disastrous con- 
^"jaKd. elusion of this expedition, it contri¬ 
buted rather to animate than to damp a spirit of 
enterprise among the Spaniards. They had dis¬ 
covered an extensive country, situated at no great 
distance from Cuba, fertile in appearance, and pos¬ 
sessed by a people far superior in improvement to 
any hitherto known in America. Though they had 
carried on little commercial intercourse with the 
natives, they had brought off some ornaments of 
gold, not considerable in value, but of singular 
fabric. These circumstances, related with the ex- 
aggeration natural to men desirous of heightening 
the merit of their own exploits, were more than 
sufficient to excite romantic hopes and expectations. 
Great numbers offered to engage in a new expedi¬ 
tion. Velasquez, solicitous to distinguish himself 
by some service so meritorious as might entitle him 
to claim the government of Cuba independent of the 
admiral, not only encouraged their ardour, but at 
his own expense fitted out four ships for the voyage. 
Two hundred and forty volunteers, among whom 
were several persons of rank and fortune, embarked 
in this enterprise. The command of it was given 
to Juan de Grijalva, a young man of known merit 
and courage, with instructions to observe attentively 
the nature of the countries which he should discover, 
to barter for gold, and, if circumstances were invit¬ 
ing, to settle a colony in some proper station. He 

sailed from St. Jago de Cuba on the 

1518 a 

eighth of April one thousand five hun¬ 
dred and eighteen. The pilot Alaminos held the 
same course as in the former voyage ; but the vio¬ 
lence of the currents carrying the ships to the south, 
Discovers the first land which they made was the 
Kew spam, island of Cozumel, to the east of Yu¬ 
catan. As all the inhabitants fled to the woods and 
mountains at the approach of the Spaniards, they 
made no long stay there, and without any remark¬ 
able occurrence they reached Potonchan on the 
opposite side of the peninsula. The desire of 
avenging their countrymen w ho had been slain there, 
concurred w ith their ideas of good policy in prompt¬ 
ing them to land, that they might chastise the 
Indians of that district with such exemplary rigour, 
as would strike terror into all the people around 
them. But though they disembarked all their 
troops, and carried ashore some field-pieces, the 
Indians fought with such courage, that the Spaniards 
gained the victory with difficulty, and were con¬ 
firmed in their opinion that the inhabitants of this 
country would prove more formidable enemies than 
any they had met with in other parts of America. 
From Potonchan, they continued their voyage to¬ 
wards the w est, keeping as near as possible to the 
shore, and casting anchor every evening, from dread 
of the dangerous accidents to which they might be 
exposed in an unknown sea. During the day their 
eyes were turned continually towards land, with a 


mixture of surprise and wonder at the beauty 
of the country, as well as the novelty of the 
objects which they beheld. Many villages were 
scattered along the coast., in which they could dis¬ 
tinguish houses of stone that appeared white and 
lofty at a distance. In the warmth of their admira¬ 
tion, they fancied these to be cities adorned with 
tow ers and pinnacles ; and one of the soldiers hap¬ 
pening to remark that this country resembled Spain 
in appearance, Grijalva, with universal applause, 
called it New Spain, the name which still distin- 


Guaxaca. 


guishes this extensive and opulent province of the 
Spanish empire in America/ They landed in a 
river which the natives called Tabasco , June g 
and the fame of their victory at Poton- labasco. 
chan having reached this place, the cazique not 
only received them amicably, but bestowed presents 
upon them of such value, as confirmed the high 
ideas which the Spaniards had formed with respect 
to the wealth and fertility of the country. These 
ideas were raised still higher by what occurred at 
the place where they next touched. This was con¬ 
siderably to the west of Tabasco, in the province 
since known by the name of Guaxaca. 

There they were received with the 
respect paid to superior beings. The people per¬ 
fumed them as they landed, with incense of gum 
copal, and presented to them as offerings the 
choicest delicacies of their country. They were 
extremely fond of trading with their new visitants, 
and in six days the Spaniards obtained ornaments 
of gold, of curious workmanship, to the value of 
fifteen thousand pesos, in exchange for European 
toys of small price. The two prisoners whom 
Cordova had brought from Yucatan, had hitherto 
served as interpreters ; but as they did riot under¬ 
stand the language of this country, the Spaniards 
learned from the natives, by signs, that they were 
subjects of a great monarch called Montezuma, 
whose dominion extended over that and many other 
provinces. Leaving this place, with which he had 
so much reason to be pleased, Grijalva continued 
his course towards the west. He land¬ 
ed on a small island, which he named 
the Isle of Sacrifices, because there the Spaniards 
beheld, for the first time, the horrid spectacle of 
human victims, which the barbarous superstition of 
the natives offered to their gods. He touched at 
another small island which he called 
St. Juan de Ulua. From this place he 
despatched Pedro de Alvarado, one of his officers, 
to Velasquez, with a full account of the important 
discoveries which he had made, and with all the 
treasure that he had acquired by trafficking with the 
natives. After the departure of Alvarado, he himself, 
with the remaining vessels, proceeded along the 
coast as far as the river Panuco, the country still 
appearing to be well peopled, fertile, and opulent. 

Several of Grijalva’s officers contended, that it was 


June 19. 


St. .Tuan 
de Ulua. 


Histor. Verdadera de la Conquista de la Nueva Espana por Bernal Diaz 


del Costillo, cap. 1—7. Oviedo, lib. xvii.c. 3. Gomara, c. 52. P. Martyr, 
de Insulis nuper inventis, p. 329. f See Note XXVII. 




800 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


not enough to have discovered those 
leaving a f coiony delightful regions, or to have perform- 
thele * e d, at their different landing-places, 

the empty ceremony of taking possession of them 
for the crown of Castile, and that their glory was 
incomplete, unless they planted a colony in some 
proper station, which might not only secure the 
Spanish nation a footing in the country, but, with 
the reinforcements which they were certain of re¬ 
ceiving, might gradually subject the whole to the 
dominion of their sovereign. But the squadron had 
now been above five months at sea; the greatest part 
of their provisions was exhausted, and what remain¬ 
ed of their stores so much corrupted by the heat of 
the climate, as to be almost unfit for use ; they had 
lost some men by death ; others were sickly ; the 
country was crowded with people who seemed to be 
intelligent as well as brave; and they were under the 
government of one powerful monarch, who could 
bring them to act against their invaders with united 
force. To plant a colony under so many circum¬ 
stances of disadvantage, appeared a scheme too 
perilous to be attempted. Grijalva, though pos¬ 
sessed both of ambition and courage, was destitute 
of the superior talents capable of forming or execut¬ 
ing such a great plan. He judged it more prudent 
to return to Cuba, having fulfilled the purpose of his 
voyage, and accomplished all that the armament 
which he commanded enabled him to perform. He 
returned to St. Jago de Cuba on the tw'enty-sixth 
of October, from which he had taken his departure 
about six months before.® 

This w as the longest as well as the 

Prpnarfltinn'i for 

another expe- most successful voyage which the 
Spaniards had hitherto made in the 
New World. They had discovered that Yucatan 
was not an island as they had supposed, but part of 
the great continent of America. From Potonchan 
they had pursued their course for many hundred 
miles along a coast formerly unexplored, stretching 
at first towards the west, and then turning to the 
north ; all the country which they had discovered 
appeared to be no less valuable than extensive. As 
soon as Alvarado reached Cuba, Velasquez, trans¬ 
ported with success so far beyond his most sanguine 
expectations, immediately despatched a person of 
confidence to carry this important intelligence to 
Spain, to exhibit the rich productions of the coun¬ 
tries which had been discovered by his means, and 
to solicit such an increase of authority as might 
enable and encourage him to attempt the conquest 
of them. Without waiting for the return of his 
messenger, or for the arrival of Grijalva, of whom 
he was become so jealous or distrustful that he was 
resolved no longer to employ him, he began to prepare 
such a powerful armament, as might prove equal to 
an enterprise of so much danger and importance. 

But as the expedition upon which Velasquez 
was now intent, terminated in conquests of greater 


moment than what the Spaniards had hitheito 
achieved, and led them to the knowledge of a 
people, who, if compared with those tribes of 
America with whom they w'ere hitherto acquainted, 
may be considered as highly civilized ; it is proper 
to pause before we proceed to the history of events 
extremely different from those which we have 
already related, in order to take a view of the state of 
the New World when first discovered, and to con¬ 
template the policy and manners of the rude uncul¬ 
tivated tribes that occupied all the parts of it with 
which the Spaniards were at this time acquainted. 


BOOK IV. 

Twenty-six years had elapsed since 

J c What parts of 

Columbus conducted the people ot America were 
t , , tx . then known. 

Europe to the New World. During 
that period the Spaniards had made great progress 
in exploring its various regions. They had visited 
all the islands scattered in different clusters through 
that part of the ocean which flow s in between North 
and South America. They had sailed along the 
eastern coast of the continent from the river De la 
Plata to the bottom of the Mexican gulf, and had 
found that it stretched without interruption through 
this vast portion of the globe. They had discovered 
the great Southern ocean, which opened new pros¬ 
pects in that quarter. They had acquired some 
knowledge of the coast of Florida, which led them 
to observe the continent as it extended in an op¬ 
posite direction; and though they pushed their 
discoveries no further towards the north, other 
nations had visited those parts which they neglected. 
The English, in a voyage, the motives and success 
of which shall be related in another part of this 
History, had sailed along the coast of America from 
Labrador to the confines of Florida; and the Por¬ 
tuguese, in quest of a shorter passage to the East 
Indies, had ventured into the northern seas, and 
viewed the same regions.a Thus, at the period 
where I have chosen to take a view of the state of 
the New World, its extent was known almost from 
its northern extremity to thirty-five degrees south 
of the equator. The countries which stretch from 
thence to the southern boundary of America, the 
great empire of Peru, and the interior state of the 
extensive dominions subject to the sovereigns of 
Mexico, were still undiscovered. 

When we contemplate the New Tllevastextentof 
World, the first circumstance that the New ' Vor,tl * 
strikes us is its immense extent. It was not a small 
portion of the earth, so inconsiderable that it might 
have escaped the observation or research of former 
ages, which Columbus discovered. He made know n 
a new hemisphere, larger than either Europe, or 


K Herrera, dec. 11. lib. iii. c. 1,2, 9, 10. Bernal Diaz, c. 8, 17- Oviedo 
Hist. lib. xvii. c. 9, 20. Gornara, c. 49. 


a Herrera dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 16. 




BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


801 


Asia, or Africa, the three noted divisions of the an¬ 
cient continent, and not much inferior in dimen¬ 
sions to a third part of the habitable globe. 

America is remarkable, not only for its magni¬ 
tude, but for its position. It stretches from the 
northern polar circle to a high southern latitude, 
above fifteen hundred miles beyond the furthest 
extremity of the old continent on that side of the 
line. A country of such extent passes through all 
the climates capable of becoming the habitation of 
man, and fit for yielding the various productions 
peculiar either to the temperate or to the torrid 
regions of the earth. 

Grand objects it Next to the extent of the New 
presents to view. World, th e g ranc | cur of tile objects 

which it presents to view is most apt to strike the 
eye of an observer. Nature seems here to have 
carried on her operations upon a larger scale, and 
with a bolder hand, and to have distinguished the 
features of this country by a peculiar magnificence. 

, The mountains in America are much 

Its mountains; . 

superior in height to those in the 
other divisions of the globe. Even the plain of 
Quito, which may be considered as the base of the 
Andes, is elevated further above the sea than the 
top of the Pyrenees. This stupendous ridge of the 
Andes, no less remarkable for extent than elevation, 
rises in different places more than one-third above 
the Peak of Teneriffe, the highest land in the 
ancient hemisphere. The Andes may literally be 
said to hide their heads in the clouds; the storms 
often roll, and the thunder bursts below their sum¬ 
mits, which, though exposed to the rays of the sun 
in the centre of the torrid zone, are covered with 
everlasting snows. 6 

From these lofty mountains descend 

rivers, proportionably large,with which 
the streams in the ancient continent are not to be 
compared, either for length of course, or the vast 
body of water which they roll towards the ocean. 
The Maragnon, the Orinoco, the Plata in South 
America, the Mississippi and St. Laurence in North 
America, flow in such spacious channels, that, long 
before they feel the influence of the tide, they re¬ 
semble arms of the sea rather than rivers of fresh 


water. c 

The lakes of the New World are 
no less conspicuous for grandeur than 
its mountains and rivers. There is nothing in other 
parts of the globe which resembles the prodigious 
chain of lakes in North America. They may pro¬ 
perly be termed inland seas of fresh water; and 
even those of the second or third class in magnitude 
are of larger circuit (the Caspian sea excepted) 
than the greatest lake of the ancient continent. 

„ , The New World is of a form ex¬ 

its form favour- 

able to commerce, tremely favourable to commercial in¬ 
tercourse. When a continent is formed, like Africa, 
of one vast solid mass, unbroken by arms of the 
sea penetrating into its interior parts, with few large 


b See Note XXVIII. 
3 F 


rivers, and those at a considerable distance from 
each other, the greater part of it seems destined to 
remain forever uncivilized, and to be debarred from 
any active or enlarged communication with the rest 
of mankind. When, like Europe, a continent is 
opened by inlets of the ocean of great extent, such 
as the Mediterranean and Baltic; or when, like 
Asia, its coast is broken by deep bays advancing 
far into the country, such as the Black sea, the 
gulfs of Arabia, of Persia, of Bengal, of Siam, and 
of Leotang; when the surrounding seas are filled 
with large and fertile islands, and the continent 
itself watered with a variety of navigable rivers, 
those regions may be said to possess whatever can 
facilitate the progress of their inhabitants in com¬ 
merce and improvement. In all these respects 
America may bear a comparison with the other 
quarters'of the globe. The gulf of Mexico, which 
flows in between North and South America, may be 
considered as a Mediterranean sea, which opens a 
maritime commerce with all the fertile countries by 
which it is encircled. The islands scattered in it 
are inferior only to those in the Indian Archipelago, 
in number, in magnitude, and in value. As we 
stretch along the northern division of the American 
hemisphere, the bay of Chesapeak presents a spa¬ 
cious inlet, which conducts the navigator far into 
the interior parts of provinces no less fertile than 
extensive; and if ever the progress of culture and 
population shall mitigate the extreme rigour of the 
climate in the more northern districts of America, 
Hudson's bay may become as subservient to com¬ 
mercial intercourse in that quarter of the globe, as 
the Baltic is in Europe. The other great portion of 
the New World is encompassed on every side by 
the sea, except one narrow neck which separates 
the Atlantic from the Pacific ocean ; and though it 
be not opened by spacious bays or arms of the sea, 
its interior parts are rendered accessible by a number 
of large rivers, fed by so many auxiliary streams, 
flowing in such various directions, that, almost 
without any aid from the hand of industry and art, 
an inland navigation may be carried on through all 
the provinces from the river De la Plata to the gulf 
of Paria. Nor is this bounty of nature confined to 
the southern division of America; its northern con¬ 
tinent abounds no less in rivers which are navigable 
almost to their sources, and by its immense chain of 
lakes provision is made for an inland communica¬ 
tion, more extensive and commodious than in any 
quarter of the globe. The countries stretching from 
the gulf of Darien on one side, to that of California 
on the other, which form the chain that binds the 
two parts of the American continent together, are 
not destitute of peculiar advantages. Their coast 
on one side is washed by the Atlantic ocean, on the 
other by the Pacific. Some of their rivers flow into 
the former, some into the latter, and secure to them 
all the commercial benefits that may result from a 
communication with both. 

c See Note XXIX. 



802 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IY. 


Temperature of But what m0st distinguishes Ame- 
its climate. r j ca f rom other parts of the earth, is 

the peculiar temperature of its climate, and the 
different laws to which it is subject with respect to 
the distribution of heat and cold. We cannot de¬ 
termine with precision the portion of heat felt in 
any part of the globe, merely by measuring its dis¬ 
tance from the equator. The climate of a country 
is affected, in some degree, by its elevation above 
the sea, by the extent of continent, by the nature of 
the soil, the height of adjacent mountains, and many 
other circumstances. The influence of these, how¬ 
ever, is, from various causes, less considerable in 
the greater part of the ancient continent; and from 
knowing the position of any country there, we can 
pronounce with greater certainty, what will be the 
warmth of its climate, and the nature of its pro¬ 
ductions. 

Predominance The maxims which are founded upon 
°t cold. observation of our hemisphere will not 
apply to the other. In the New World, cold pre¬ 
dominates. The rigour of the frigid zone extends 
over half of those regions, which should be tempe¬ 
rate by their position. Countries where the grape 
and the fig should ripen, are buried under snow 
one-half of the year; and lands situated in the 
same parallel with the most fertile and best culti¬ 
vated provinces in Europe, are chilled with per¬ 
petual frosts, which almost destroy the power of 
vegetation. d As we advance to those parts of Ame¬ 
rica which lie in the same parallel with provinces 
of Asia and Africa, blessed with an uniform en¬ 
joyment of such genial warmth as is most friendly 
to life and to vegetation, the dominion of cold con¬ 
tinues to be felt, and winter reigns, though during 
a short period, with extreme severity. If we pro¬ 
ceed along the American continent into the torrid 
zone, we shall find the cold prevalent in the New 
World extending itself also to this region of the 
globe, and mitigating the excess of its fervour. 
While the negro on the coast of Africa is scorched 
with unremitting heat, the inhabitant of Peru 
breathes an air equally mild and temperate, and is 
perpetually shaded under a canopy of grey clouds, 
which intercepts the fierce beams of the sun, with¬ 
out obstructing his friendly influence.® Along the 
eastern coast of America, the climate, though more 
similar to that of the torrid zone in other parts of 
the earth, is nevertheless considerably milder than 
in those countries of Asia and Africa which lie in 
the same latitude. If from the southern tropic we 
continue our progress to the extremity of the Ame¬ 
rican continent, we meet with frozen seas, and 
countries horrid, barren, and scarcely habitable for 
cold, much sooner than in the north/ 

, , Various causes combine in render- 

causes of tins. . _ . 

ing the climate of America so ex¬ 
tremely different from that of the ancient continent. 

d See Note XXX. 

e Voyage de Ulloa, tom. i. p. 453. Anson’s Voyage, p. 184. 

f Anson’s Voyage, p. 74. and Voyage de Quires, chez Hist. Gen. des 
Voyages, tom. xiv. p. 83. Richard llist. Natur.de l’Air, ii. 305, &c. 


Though the utmost extent of America towards the 
north be not yet discovered, we know that it advan¬ 
ces much nearer to the pole than either Europe or 
Asia. Both these have large seas to the north, which 
are open during part of the year ; and even when 
covered with ice, the wind that blows over them is 
less intensely cold than that which blows over land 
in the same high latitudes. But in America the 
land stretches from the river St. Laurence towards 
the pole, and spreads out immensely to the west 
A chain of enormous mountains, covered with snow 
and ice, runs through all this dreary region. The 
wind in passing over such an extent of high and 
frozen land, becomes so impregnated with cold, that 
it acquires a piercing keenness, which it retains in 
its progress through warmer climates, and it is not 
entirely mitigated until it reach the gulf of Mexico. 
Over all the continent of North America, a north¬ 
westerly wind and excessive cold are synonymous 
terms. Even in the most sultry weather, the moment 
that the wind veers to that quarter, its penetrating 
influence is felt in a transition from heat to cold no 
less violent than sudden. To this powerful cause 
we may ascribe the extraordinary dominion of cold, 
and its violent inroads into the southern provinces 
in that part of the globe . 5 

Other causes, no less remarkable, diminish the 
active power of heat in those parts of the American 
continent which lie between the tropics. In all 
that portion of the globe, the wind blows in an in¬ 
variable direction from east to west. As this wind 
holds its course across the ancient continent, it 
arrives at the countries which stretch along the 
western shores of Africa, inflamed w ith all the fiery 
particles which it hath collected from the sultry 
plains of Asia, and the burning sands in the African 
deserts. The coast of Africa is, accordingly, the 
region of the earth which feels the most fervent 
heat, and is exposed to the unmitigated ardour of 
the torrid zone. But this same wind, which brings 
such an accession of warmth to the countries lying 
between the river of Senegal and Cafraria, traverses 
the Atlantic ocean before it reaches the American 
shore. It is cooled in its passage over this vast 
body of water, and is felt as a refreshing gale along 
the coast of Brazil , 11 and Guiana, rendering these 
countries, though among the warmest in America, 
temperate, when compared with those which lie 
opposite to them in Africa . 1 As this wind advances 
in its course across America, it meets with immense 
plains, covered with impenetrable forests, or occu¬ 
pied by large rivers, marshes, and stagnating waters, 
where it can recover no considerable degree of heat. 
At length it arrives at the Andes, which run from 
north to south through the whole continent. In 
passing over their elevated and frozen summits, it 
is so thoroughly cooled, that the greater part of the 
countries beyond them hardly feel the ardour to 

g Charlevoix Hist, de Nouv. I-r. iii. 165. Hist. Generale des Voyages, 
torn. xv. <215, &c. s ’ 

h See Note XXXI. j See Note XXXII. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


803 


which they seem exposed by their situation . 11 In 
the other provinces of America, from Tierra Ferme 
westward to the Mexican empire, the heat of the 
climate is tempered, in some places, by the eleva¬ 
tion of the land above the sea, in others, by their 
extraordinary humidity, and in all, by the enor¬ 
mous mountains scattered over this tract. The 
islands of America in the torrid zone are either 
small or mountainous, and are fanned alternately 
by refreshing sea and land breezes. 

The causes ot the extraordinary cold towards the 
southern limits of America, and in the seas beyond 
it, cannot be ascertained in a manner equally satis¬ 
fying. It was long supposed that a vast continent, 
distinguished by the name of Terra Australis In¬ 
cognita, lay between the southern extremity of 
America, and the Antarctic pole. The same prin¬ 
ciples which account for the extraordinary degree 
of cold in the northern regions of America, were 
employed in order to explain that which is felt at 
Cape Horn and the adjacent countries. The im¬ 
mense extent of the southern continent, and the 
large rivers which it poured into the ocean, were 
mentioned and admitted by philosophers as causes 
sufficient to occasion the unusual sensation of cold, 
and the still more uncommon appearances of frozen 
seas in that region of the globe. But the imaginary 
continent to which such influence was ascribed, 
having been searched for in vain, and the space 
which it was supposed to occupy having been found 
to be an open sea, new conjectures must be formed 
with respect to the causes of a temperature of cli¬ 
mate, so extremely different from that which we 
experience in countries removed at the same dis¬ 
tance from the opposite pole . 1 

After contemplating those perman¬ 
ent and characteristic qualities of the 
American continent, which arise from the peculia¬ 
rity of its situation, and the disposition of its parts, 
the next object that merits attention is its condition 
when first discovered, as far as that depended upon 
the industry and operations of man. The effects of 
human ingenuity and labour are more extensive and 
considerable, than even our own vanity is apt at 
first to imagine. When we survey the face of the 
habitable globe, no small part of that fertility and 
beauty which we ascribe to the hand of nature, is 
the work of man. His efforts, when continued 
through a succession of ages, change the appearance 
and improve the qualities of the earth. As a great 
part of the ancient continent has long been occupied 
by nations far advanced in arts and industry, our 
eye is accustomed to view the earth in that form 
which it assumes when rendered fit to be the resi¬ 
dence of a numerous race of men, and to supply 
them with nourishment. 

But in the New World, the state of 
mankind was ruder, and the aspect of 
nature extremely different. Throughout all its vast 


Condition when 
first discovered. 


Rude and uncul¬ 
tivated. 


k Acosta Hist. Novi Orbis, lib. n.c. 11. Ruflfon tlisf. Nat. <Vo. tom. ii. 
2, &c. ix. 107, &c. Osborn’s Collect, of Voyages, ii. p. W*B. 

3 f 2 


regions, there were only two monarchies remark¬ 
able for extent of territory, or distinguished by any 
progress in improvement. The rest of this continent 
was possessed by small independent tribes, destitute 
of arts and industry, and neither capable to correct 
the defects, nor desirous to meliorate the condition, 
of that part of the earth allotted to them for their 
habitation. Countries, occupied by such people, 
were almost in the same state as if they had been 
without inhabitants. Immense forests covered a 
great part of the uncultivated earth ; and as the 
hand of industry had not taught the rivers to run in 
a proper channel, or drained off the stagnating 
water, many of the most fertile plains were over¬ 
flowed with inundations, or converted into marshes. 
In the southern provinces, where the warmth of the 
sun, the moisture of the climate, and the fertility of 
the soil, combine in calling forth the most vigorous 
powers of vegetation, the woods are so choked with 
its rank luxuriance as to be almost impervious, and 
the surface of the ground is hid from the eye under 
a thick covering of shrubs and herbs and weeds. In 
this state of wild unassisted nature, a great part of 
the large provinces in South America, which extend 
from the bottom of the Andes to the sea, still re¬ 
main. The European colonies have cleared and 
cultivated a few spots along the coast, but the ori¬ 
ginal race of inhabitants, as rude and indolent as 
ever, have done nothing to open or improve a coun¬ 
try, possessing almost every advantage of situation 
and climate. As we advance towards the northern 
provinces of America, nature continues to wear the 
same uncultivated aspect, and in proportion as the 
rigour of the climate increases, appears more deso¬ 
late and horrid. There the forests, though not en¬ 
cumbered with the same exuberance of vegetation, 
are of immense extent; prodigious marshes over¬ 
spread the plains, and few marks appear of human 
activity in any attempt to cultivate or embellish the 
earth. No wonder that the colonies sent from 
Europe were astonished at their first entrance into 
the New World. It appeared to them waste, soli¬ 
tary, and uninviting. When the English began to 
settle in America, they termed the countries of which 
they took possession, The Wilderness. Nothing but 
their eager expectation of finding mines of gold, 
could have induced the Spaniards to penetrate 
through the woods and marshes of America, where, 
at every step, they observed the extreme difference 
between the uncultivated face of nature, and that 
which it acquires under the forming hand of indus¬ 
try and art . 111 

The labour and operations of man Un „, h()les „ me 
not only improve and embellish the 
earth, but render it more wholesome and friendly 
to life. When any region lies neglected and desti¬ 
tute of cultivation, the air stagnates in the woods, 
putrid exhalations arise from the waters; the sur¬ 
face of the earth, loaded with rank vegetation, feels 


1 See Note XXXIII. 
in See Note XXXIV. 



804 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


Its animals. 


not the purifying influence of the sun or of the 
wind; the malignity of the distempers natural to 
the climate increases, and new maladies no less 
noxious are engendered. Accordingly, all the pro¬ 
vinces of America, when first discovered, were 
found to be remarkably unhealthy. This the Spa¬ 
niards experienced in every expedition into the New 
World, whether destined for conquest or settlement. 
Though, by the natural constitution of their bodies, 
their habitual temperance, and the persevering- 
vigour of their minds, they were as much formed as 
any people in Europe for active service in a sultry 
climate, they felt severely the fatal and pernicious 
qualities of those uncultivated regions through 
which they marched, or where they endeavoured to 
plant colonies. Great numbers were cut off by the 
unknown and violent diseases with which they were 
infected. Such as survived the destructive rage of 
those maladies, were not exempted from the nox¬ 
ious influence of the climate. They returned to 
Europe, according to the description of the early 
Spanish historians, feeble, emaciated, with languid 
looks, and complexions of such a sickly yellow 
colour, as indicated the unwholesome temperature 
of the countries where they had resided/ 

The uncultivated state of the New 
World affected not only the tempera¬ 
ture of the air, but the qualities of its productions. 
The principle of life seems to have been less active 
and vigorous there, than in the ancient continent. 
Notwithstanding the vast extent of America, and 
the variety of its climates, the different species of 
animals peculiar to it are much fewer in proportion, 
than those of the other hemisphere. In the islands, 
there were only four kinds of quadrupeds known, 
the largest of which did not exceed the size of a 
rabbit. On the continent, the variety was greater; 
and though the individuals of each kind could not 
fail of multiplying exceedingly, when almost un¬ 
molested by men, who were neither so numerous, 
nor so united in society, as to be formidable ene¬ 
mies to the animal creation, the number of distinct 
species must still be considered as extremely small. 
Of two hundred different kinds of animals spread 
over the face of the earth, only about one-third ex¬ 
isted in America at the time of its discovery . 0 Na¬ 
ture was not only less prolific in the New World, 
but she appears likewise to have been less vigorous 
in her productions. The animals originally belong¬ 
ing to this quarter of the globe appear to be of an 
inferior race, neither so robust, nor so fierce, as 
those of the other continent. America gives birth 
to no creature of such bulk as to be compared with 
the elephant or rhinoceros, or that equals the lion 
and tiger in strength and ferocity/ The Tapijr of 
Brazil, the largest quadruped of the ravenous tribe 

n Gomara Hist. c. 20. 22. Oviedo Hist. lib. ii. c. 13. lib. v. c. 10. P. 
Mart. Epist. 545. Decad. p. 176. 
o Buffon Hist. Naturelie, tom. ix. p. 86. 
p See Note XXXV. 

q Buffon Hist. Nat. tom. ix. p.87. Maregravii Hist. Nat. Brazil, p. 229. 
r Ibid. ix. 13. 203. Acosta Hist. lib. iv. c. 34. Pisonis Hist. p. 6. 
Herrera, dec. 4. lib. iv. c. 1. lib. x. c. 13. 

s Churchill, v. p. 691. Ovalle Relat. of Chili, Charchill, iii. p. 10. 
Sommario de Oviedo, c. 14—22. Voyage du Des Marchais, iii. 299. 


Insects and rep¬ 
tiles. 


in the New World, is not larger than a calf of six 
months old. The Puma and Jaguar , its fiercest 
beasts of prey, which Europeans have inaccurately 
denominated lions and tigers, possess neither the 
undaunted courage of the former, nor the ravenous 
cruelty of the latter .' 1 They are inactive and timid, 
hardly formidable to man, and often turn their 
backs upon the least appearance of resistance/ 
The same qualities in the climate of America, which 
stinted the growth, and enfeebled the spirit, of its 
native animals, have proved pernicious to such as 
have migrated into it voluntarily from the other 
continent, or have been transported thither by the 
Europeans/ The bears, the wolves, the deer of 
America, are not equal in size to those of the Old 
World/ Most of the domestic animals, with which 
the Europeans have stored the provinces wherein 
they settled, have degenerated with respect either to 
bulk or quality, in a country whose temperature 
and soil seem to be less favourable to the strength 
and perfection of the animal creation/ 

The same causes which checked the 
growth and the vigour of the more 
noble animals, were friendly to the propagation 
and increase of reptiles and insects. Though 
this is not peculiar to the New World, and those 
odious tribes, nourished by heat, moisture, and cor¬ 
ruption, infest every part of the torrid zone; they 
multiply faster, perhaps, in America, and grow to 
a more monstrous bulk. As this country is, on the 
whole, less cultivated, and less peopled, than the 
other quarters of the earth, the active principle of 
life wastes its force in productions of this inferior 
form. The air is often darkened with clouds of in¬ 
sects, and the ground covered with shocking and 
noxious reptiles. The country around Porto-Bello 
swarms with toads in such multitudes, as hide the 
surface of the earth. At Guayaquil, snakes and vi¬ 
pers are hardly less numerous. Carthagena is in¬ 
fested with numerous flocks of bats, which annoy 
not only the cattle but the inhabitants/ In the 
islands, legions of ants have, at different times, con¬ 
sumed every vegetable production/' and left the 
earth entirely bare, as if it had been burnt with 
fire. The damp forests and rank soil of the coun¬ 
tries on the banks of the Orinoco and Maragnon, 
teem with almost every offensive and poisonous 
creature, which the power of a sultry sun can 
quicken into life . 2 

The birds of the New World are not 
distinguished by qualities so conspi¬ 
cuous and characteristical, as those which we have 
observed in its quadrupeds. Birds are more inde¬ 
pendent of man, and less affected by the changes 
which his industry and labour make upon the state 
of the earth. They have a greater propensity to 

t Bufion Hist. Natur. ix. 103. Kalm’s Travels, i. 102. Biet. Vov de 
France Equinox, p. 339. 7 

u See Note XXXVI. 

c X 3 ^y yage de 1JU ° a - t0m ' i- p - 89 ' Id - P- 14 ?- Herrera, dec. 11. lib. iii. 
y See Note XXXVTI. 

H * v^ ya -! de . c °ndamine, p. 167., Gumilla, iii. 120, &c. Hist. Gener. 
mario /e Oviedo,' c. 52-S m ° nt Memo,res sur ,a Lou,siane - i. 108. Som- 


Birds. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


805 


migrate from one country to another, and can gra¬ 
tify this instinct of their nature without difficulty or 
danger. Hence the number of birds common to both 
continents is much greater than that of quadrupeds ; 
and even such as are peculiar to America nearly 
resemble those with which mankind were acquaint¬ 
ed in similar regions of the ancient hemisphere. 
The American birds of the torrid zone, like those 
of the same climate in Asia and Africa, are decked 
in plumage, which dazzles the eye with the beauty 
of its colours; but nature, satisfied with clothing 
them in this gay dress, has denied most of them 
that melody of sound, and variety of notes, which 
catch and delight the ear. The birds of the tem¬ 
perate climates there, in the same manner as in our 
continent, are less splendid in their appearance; 
but, in compensation for that defect, they have 
voices of greater compass, and more melodious. In 
some districts of America, the unwholesome tempe¬ 
rature of the air seems to be unfavourable even to this 
part of the creation. The number of birds is less than 
in other countries, and the traveller is struck with the 
amazing solitude and silence of its forests . 3 It is re¬ 
markable, however, that America, where the quadru¬ 
peds are so dwarfish and dastardly, should produce 
the Condor, which is entitled to pre-eminence overall 
the flying tribe, in bulk, in strength, and in courage . 6 

„ The soil in a continent so extensive 

Soil. 

as America, must of course be ex¬ 
tremely various. In each of its provinces, we find 
some distinguishing peculiarities ; the description 
of which belongs to those who write their particular 
history. In general, we may observe, that the mois¬ 
ture and cold, which predominate so remarkably in 
all parts of America, must have great influence 
upon the nature of its soil; countries lying in 
the same parallel with those regions which never 
feel the extreme rigour of winter in the ancient con¬ 
tinent, are frozen over in America during a great 
part of the year. Chilled by this intense cold, the 
ground never acquires warmth sufficient to ripen the 
fruits which are found in the corresponding parts of 
the other continent. If we wish to rear in America 
the productions which abound in any particular 
district of the ancient world, we must advance se¬ 
veral degrees nearer to the line than in the other 
hemisphere, as it requires such an increase of heat 
to counterbalance the natural frigidity of the soil 
and climate . 0 At the Cape of Good Hope, several 
of the plants and fruits peculiar to the countries 
within the tropics, are cultivated with success ; 
whereas, at St. Augustine in Florida, and Charles¬ 
town, in South Carolina, though considerably nearer 
the line, they cannot be brought to thrive with equal 
certainty .* 1 But, if allowance be made for this di¬ 
versity in the degree of heat, the soil of America is 
naturally as rich and fertile as in any part of the 
earth. As the country was thinly inhabited, and 

a Bouguer Voy. au Perou, 17. Chanvalon Voyage a la Martinique, 
p 96. Warren’s Descript. Surinam. Osborn’s Collect, n. 924. Lettres 
Kdif. xxiv. p. 339. Charlev. Hist, de la Nouv. France, in. 155. 

b Voyage de Ulloa, i. 363. Voyage de Condamine, 175. Button Hist. 
Nat. xvi. 184. Voyage du Des Marchais, iii. 320. 


by a people of little industry, who had none of the 
domestic animals which civilized nations rear in 
such vast numbers, the earth was not exhausted by 
their consumption. The vegetable productions, to 
which the fertility of the soil gave birth, often re¬ 
mained untouched, and being suffered to corrupt on 
its surface, returned with increase into its bosom. e 
As trees and plants derive a great part of their 
nourishment from air and water, if they were not 
destroyed by man and other animals, they would 
render to the earth more, perhaps, than they take 
from it, and feed rather than impoverish it. Thus 
the unoccupied soil of America may have gone on 
enriching for many ages. The vast number as well 
as enormous size of the trees in America, indicate the 
extraordinary vigour of the soil in its native state. 
When the Europeans first began to cultivate the New 
World, they were astonished at the luxuriant power of 
vegetation in its virgin mould ; and in several places 
the ingenuity of the planter is still employed in dimi¬ 
nishing and wasting its superfluous fertility, in order 
to bring it down to a state fit for profitable culture/ 

Having thus surveyed the state of HowwasAme- 
the New World at the time of its dis- ncapeopled? 

covery, and considered the peculiar features and 
qualities which distinguish and characterize it, the 
next inquiry that merits attention is, How was Ame¬ 
rica peopled ? By what course did mankind migrate 
from the one continent to the other ? and in what 
quarter is it most probable that a communication 
was opened between them ? 

We know, with infallible certainty, 
that all the human race spring from ^ncerning?t 
the same source, and that descend- selves! themr 
ants of one man, under the protection as well as in 
obedience to the command of Heaven, multiplied 
and replenished the earth. But neither the annals 
nor the traditions of nations reach back to those 
remote ages, in which they took possession of the 
different countries where they are now settled. We 
cannot trace the branches of this first family, or 
point out with certainty the time and manner in 
which they divided and spread over the face of 
the globe. Even among the most enlightened peo¬ 
ple, the period of authentic history is extremely 
short; and every thing prior to that is fabulous or 
obscure. It is not surprising, then, that the unlet¬ 
tered inhabitants of America, who have no solici¬ 
tude about futurity, and little curiosity concerning 
what is past, should be altogether unacquainted 
with their own original. The people on the two 
opposite coasts of America, who occupy those coun¬ 
tries in America which approach nearest to the 
ancient continent, are so remarkably rude, that it is 
altogether vain to search among them for such 
information as might discover the place from whence 
they came, or the ancestors of whom they are de¬ 
scended . 6 Whatever light has been thrown on this 

c See Note XXXVIII. d Ibid. XXXIX. 

e Buffon Hist. N'atur. i. 242. Kalm. i. 151. 

f Charlevoix, Ilist. de Nouv. Fran. iii. 405. Voyage du Des Marchais, 
ii. 229. Lerv ap de Bry, part iii. p. 174. See Note XL. 

g Vinegas s Hist, of California, l. 60. 



80tf THE HISTORY 

subject, is derived, not from the natives of Ame¬ 
rica, but from the inquisitive genius of their con¬ 
querors. 

When the people of Europe unex- 
Vanous theories. p ec ^ e( j]y discovered a new world, re¬ 
moved at a vast distance from every part of the an¬ 
cient continent which was then known, and filled 
with inhabitants whose appearance and manners 
differed remarkably from the rest of the human 
species, the question concerning their original be¬ 
came naturally an object of curiosity and attention. 
The theories and speculations of ingenious men 
with respect to this subject, would fill many vo¬ 
lumes ; but are often so wild and chimerical, that I 
should offer an insult to the understanding of my 
readers, if I attempted either minutely to enume¬ 
rate or to refute them. Some have presumptuously 
imagined that the people of America were not the 
offspring of the same common parent with the rest 
of mankind, but that they formed a separate race 
of men, distinguishable by peculiar features in the 
constitution of their bodies, as well as in the cha¬ 
racteristic qualities of their minds. Others contend, 
that they are descended from some remnant of the 
antediluvian inhabitants of the earth, who survived 
the deluge, which swept away the greatest part of 
the human species in the days of Noah, and pre¬ 
posterously suppose rude, uncivilized tribes, scat¬ 
tered over an uncultivated continent, to be the most 
ancient race of people on the earth. There is 
hardly any nation from the north to the south pole, 
to which some antiquary, in the extravagance of 
conjecture, has not ascribed the honour of peopling 
America. The Jews, the Canaanites, the Phoeni¬ 
cians, the Carthaginians, the Greeks, the Scythians 
in ancient times, are supposed to have settled in 
this western world. The Chinese, the Swedes, the 
Norwegians, the Welsh, the Spaniards, are said 
to have sent colonies thither in later ages, at differ¬ 
ent periods, and on various occasions. Zealous 
advocates stand forth to support the respective 
claims of those people ; and though they rest upon 
no better foundation than the casual resemblance 
of some customs, or the supposed affinity between 
a few words in their different languages, much eru¬ 
dition and more zeal have been employed, to little 
purpose, in defence of the opposite systems. Those 
regions of conjecture and controversy belong not to 
the historian. His is a more limited province, con¬ 
fined by what is established by certain or highly 
probable evidence. Beyond this I shall not venture, 
in offering a few observations which may contribute 
to throw some light upon this curious and much 
agitated question. 

1. There are authors who have en- 

foufided°on°mere deavoured by mere conjecture to ac- 
coujecture , count for the peopling of America. 

Some have supposed that it was originally united to 
the ancient continent, and disjoined from it by the 

h Parsons’s Remains of Japhet, p. 240. Ancient Univers. Hist. vol. 


OF AMERICA. [BOOK IV. 

shock of an earthquake, or the irruption of a de¬ 
luge. Others have imagined, that some vessel being 
forced from its course, by the violence of a westerly 
wind, might be driven by accident towards the 
American coast, and have given a beginning to po¬ 
pulation in that desolate continent.* 1 But with 
respect to all those systems, it is vain either to rea¬ 
son or inquire, because it is impossible to come to 
any decision. Such events as they suppose are 
barely possible, and may have happened. That 
they ever did happen, we have no evidence, either 
from the clear testimony of history, or from the 
obscure intimations of tradition. 

2. Nothing can be more frivolous oron resemblance 
or uncertain than the attempts to dis- ot manners; 

cover the original of the Americans, merely by 
tracing the resemblance between their manners and 
those of any particular people in the ancient conti¬ 
nent. If we suppose two tribes, though placed in 
the most remote regions of the globe, to live in a 
climate nearly of the same temperature, to be in the 
same state of society, and to resemble each other in 
the degree of their improvement, they must feel the 
same wants, and exert the same endeavours to sup¬ 
ply them. The same objects will allure, the same 
passions will animate them, and the same ideas and 
sentiments will arise in their minds. The character 
and occupations of the hunter in America must be 
little different from those of an Asiatic, who depends 
for subsistence on the chase. A tribe of savages on 
the banks of the Danube must nearly resemble one 
upon the plains washed by the Mississippi. Instead 
then of presuming from this similarity, that there 
is any affinity between them, we should only con¬ 
clude, that the dispositions and manners of men are 
formed by their situation, and arise from the state 
of society in which they live. The moment that 
begins to vary, the character of a people must 
change. In proportion as it advances in improve¬ 
ment, their manners refine, their powers and talents 
are called forth. In every part of the earth, the 
progress of man hath been nearly the same ; and 
we can trace him in his career from the rude sim¬ 
plicity of savage life, until he attains the industry, 
the arts, and the elegance of polished society. 
There is nothing wonderful then in the similitude 
between the Americans and the barbarous nations 
of our continent. Had Lafitau, Garcia, and many 
other authors attended to this, they would not have 
perplexed a subject which they pretend to illustrate, 
by their fruitless endeavours to establish an affinity 
between various races of people, in the old and new 
continents, upon no other evidence than such a re¬ 
semblance in their manners as necessarily arises 
from the similarity of their condition. There are, 
it is true, among every people some customs which, 
as they do not How from any natural want or desire 
peculiar to their situation, may be denominated 
usages of arbitrary institution. If between two na- 

xx. p 164. P. Feyjoo Teatro Critico, tom. v. p. 304, &c. Acosta Hist. 
Moral. Novi Orbis, lib. l.c. 16. 19. 



BOOK IV. 


807 


THE HISTORY 

tions settled in remote parts of the earth, a per¬ 
fect agreement witli respect to any of these should 
be discovered, one might be led to suspect that they 
were connected by some affinity. If, for example, 
a nation were found in America that consecrated 
the seventh day to religious worship and rest, we 
might justly suppose that it had derived its know¬ 
ledge of this usage, which is of arbitrary institution, 
from the Jews. But, if it were discovered that ano¬ 
ther nation celebrated the first appearance of every 
new moon with extraordinary demonstrations of 
joy, we should not be entitled to conclude that the 
observation of this monthly festival w ; as borrowed 
from the Jews, but ought to consider it merely as 
the expression of that joy which is natural to man 
on the return of the planet which guides and cheers 
him in the night. The instances of customs, merely 
arbitrary, common to the inhabitants of both hemis¬ 
pheres, are, indeed, so few and so equivocal, that 
no theory concerning the population of the New 
World ought to be founded upon them, 
or of religious 3. The theories which have been 
formed with respect to the original of 
the Americans, from observation of their religious 
rites and practices, are no less fanciful, and desti¬ 
tute of solid foundation. When the religious opi¬ 
nions of any people are neither the result of rational 
inquiry, nor derived from the instructions of reve¬ 
lation, they must needs be wild and extravagant. 
Barbarous nations are incapable of the former, and 
have not been blessed with the advantages arising 
from the latter. Still, however, the human mind, 
even where its operations appear most wild and ca¬ 
pricious, holds a course so regular, that in every 
age and country the dominion of particular passions 
will be attended with similar effects. The savage 
of Europe or America, when filled with superstitious 
dread of invisible beings, or with inquisitive solici¬ 
tude to penetrate into the events of futurity, trem¬ 
bles alike with fear, or glow s with impatience. He 
has recourse to rites and practices of the same kind, 
in order to avert the vengeance which he supposes 
to be impending over him, or to divine the secret 
which is the object of his curiosity. Accordingly 
the ritual of superstition in one continent, seems, 
in many particulars, to be a transcript of that estab¬ 
lished in the other, and both authorize similar in¬ 
stitutions, sometimes so frivolous as to excite pity, 
sometimes so bloody and barbarous as to create 
horror. But without supposing any consanguinity 
between such distant nations, or imagining that 
their religious ceremonies were conveyed by tradi¬ 
tion from the one to the other, we may ascribe this 
uniformity, which, in many instances, seems very 
amazing, to the natural operation of superstition and 
enthusiasm upon the weakness of the human mind. 

^ _ _ _ 4. We may lay it down as a certain 

Mot peopled by # ... 

any,nationhigMy principle in this inquiry, that America 
was not peopled by any nation of the 
ancient continent, which had made considerable 
progress in civilization. The inhabitants of the 


OF AMERICA. 

New World were in a state of society so extremely 
rude, as to be unacquainted with those arts which 
are the first essays of human ingenuity in its ad¬ 
vance towards improvement. Even the most culti¬ 
vated nations of America were strangers to many of 
those simple inventions which were almost coeval 
with society in other parts of the w'orld, and were 
known in the earliest periods of civil life with which 
w'e have any acquaintance. From this it is manifest, 
that the tribes which originally migrated to America, 
came off from nations which must have been no less 
barbarous than their posterity, at the time when they 
were first discovered by the Europeans. For, al¬ 
though the elegant or refined arts may decline or 
perish, amidst the violent shocks of those revolu¬ 
tions and disasters to which nations are exposed, 
the necessary arts of life, when once they have been 
introduced among any people, are never lost. None 
of the vicissitudes in human affairs affect these, and 
they continue to be practised as long as the race of 
men exists. If ever the use of iron had been known 
to the savages of America, or to their progenitors; 
if ever they had employed a plough, a loom, or a 
forge, the utility of those inventions would have 
preserved them, and it is impossible that they should 
have been abandoned or forgotten. We may con¬ 
clude, then, that the Americans sprung from some 
people, who were themselves in such an early and 
unimproved stage of society, as to be unacquainted 
with all those necessary arts, which continued to be 
unknown among their posterity when first visited 
by the Spaniards. 

5. It appears no less evident that 

1 1 nor from the 

America was not peopled by any colony southern regions 
r 1 . our continent. 

from the more southern nations of the 
ancient continent. None of the rude tribes settled 
in that part of our hemisphere can be supposed to 
have visited a country so remote. They possessed 
neither enterprise, nor ingenuity, nor power, that 
could prompt them to undertake, or enable them to 
perform, such a distant voyage. That the more 
civilized nations in Asia or Africa are not the pro¬ 
genitors of the Americans is manifest, not only from 
the observations which I have already made con¬ 
cerning their ignorance of the most simple and ne¬ 
cessary arts, but from an additional circumstance. 
Whenever any people have experienced the advan¬ 
tages which men enjoy by their dominion over the 
inferior animals, they can neither subsist without 
the nourishment which these afford, nor carry on 
any considerable operation independent of their 
ministry and labour Accordingly, the first care of 
the Spaniards, when they settled in America, was 
to stock it with all the domestic animals of Europe; 
and if, prior to them, the Tyrians, the Carthaginians, 
the Chinese, or any other polished people, had taken 
possession of that continent, we should have found 
there the animals peculiar to those regions of the 
globe, where they were originally seated. In all 
America, however, there is not one animal, tame or 
wild, which properly belongs to the warm or even 



808 


BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


the more temperate countries of the ancient con¬ 
tinent. The camel, the dromedary, the horse, the 
cow, were as much unknown in America, as the 
elephant or the lion. From which it is obvious, that 
the people who first settled in the western world 
did not issue from the countries where those animals 
abound, and where men, from having been long ac¬ 
customed to their aid, would naturally consider it, 
not only as beneficial, but as indispensably neces¬ 
sary to the improvement, and even the preservation, 
of civil society. 

6. From considering the animals 
nentsseem to ap- with which America is stored, we may 

proach nearest to 1 j . • , c 

each other towards conclude that the nearest point ot con¬ 
tact between the old and new conti¬ 
nents is towards the northern extremity of both, and 
that there the communication was opened, and the 
intercourse carried on between them. All the ex¬ 
tensive countries in America which lie within the 
tropics, or approach near to them, are filled with 
indigenous animals of various kinds, entirely differ¬ 
ent from those in the corresponding regions of the 
ancient continent. But the northern provinces of 
the New World abound with many of the wild 
animals which are common in such parts of our 
hemisphere as lie in a similar situation. The bear, 
the wolf, the fox, the hare, the deer, the roebuck, the 
elk, and several other species, frequent the forests 
of North America, no less than those in the north of 
Europe and Asia.' It seems to be evident, then, 
that the two continents approach each other in this 
quarter, and are either united, or so nearly adja¬ 
cent, that these animals might pass from the one to 
the other. 

This ascertained 7 - The actual vicinity of the two 
by discovery. con tinents is so clearly established by 

modern discoveries, that the chief difficulty with 
respect to the peopling of America is removed. 
While those immense regions which stretch east¬ 
ward from the river Oby to the sea of Kamchatka 
were unknown or imperfectly explored, the north¬ 
east extremities of our hemisphere were supposed 
to be so far distant from any part of the New World, 
that it was not easy to conceive how any communi¬ 
cation should have been carried on between them. 
But the Russians, having subjected the western 
part of Siberia to their empire, gradually extended 
their knowledge of that vast country, by advancing 
towards the east into unknown provinces. These 
were discovered by hunters in their excursions after 
game, or by soldiers employed in levying the taxes ; 
and the court of Moscow estimated the importance 
of those countries, only by the small addition which 
they made to its revenue. At length Peter the 
Great ascended the Russian throne. His enlight¬ 
ened, comprehensive mind, intent upon every cir¬ 
cumstance that could aggrandize his empire, or 
render his reign illustrious, discerned consequences 
of those discoveries which had escaped the observ¬ 


ation of his ignorant predecessors. He perceived 
that in proportion as the regions of Asia extended 
towards the east, they must approach nearer to 
America ; that the communication between the two 
continents, which had long been searched for in 
vain, would probably be found in this quarter, and 
that by opening it, some part of the wealth and com¬ 
merce of the western world might be made to flow 
into his dominions by a new channel. Such an 
object suited a genius that delighted in grand 
schemes. Peter drew up instructions with his own 
hand for prosecuting this design, and gave orders 
for carrying it into execution. k 

His successors adopted his ideas, and pursued 
his plan. The officers whom the Russian court 
employed in this service had to struggle with so 
many difficulties, that their progress was extremely 
slow. Encouraged by some faint traditions among 
the people of Siberia, concerning a successful voy¬ 
age in the year one thousand six hundred and forty- 
eight, round the north-east promontory of Asia, they 
attempted to follow the same course. Vessels were 
fitted out, with this view, at different times, from 
the rivers Lena and Kolyma; but in a frozen ocean, 
which nature seems not to have destined for naviga¬ 
tion, they were exposed to many disasters, without 
being able to accomplish their purpose. No vessel 
fitted out by the Russian court ever doubled this 
formidable Cape; 1 we are indebted for what is 
known of those extreme regions of Asia, to the dis¬ 
coveries made in excursions by land. In all those 
provinces an opinion prevails, that there are coun¬ 
tries of great extent and fertility, which lie at no 
considerable distance from their own coasts. These 
the Russians imagined to be part of America ; and 
several circumstances concurred not only in con¬ 
firming them in this belief, but in persuading them 
that some portion of that continent could not be 
very remote. Trees of various kinds, unknown in 
those naked regions of Asia, are driven upon the 
coast by an easterly wind. By the same wind, 
floating ice is brought thither in a few days; flights 
of birds arrive annually from the same quarter; and 
a tradition obtains among the inhabitants, of an 
intercourse formerly carried on with some countries 
situated to the east. 

After weighing all these particulars, and com¬ 
paring the position of the countries in Asia which 
had been discovered, with such parts in the north¬ 
west of America as were already known, the Russian 
court formed a plan, which would have hardly 
occurred to a nation less accustomed to engage in 
arduous undertakings, and to contend with great 
difficulties. Orders were issued to build two vessels 
at the small village of Ochotz, situated on the sea 
of Kamchatka, to sail on a voyage of discovery. 
Though that dreary uncultivated region furnished 
nothing that could be of use in constructing them, 
but some larch trees: though not only the iron, the 

k Muller, Voyages et D^couvertes par les Russes, tom. i. p. 4, 5, 141. 

1 See Note XLI. 


i Button Hist. Nat. ix. p. 97,&c. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


809 


cordage, the sails, and all the numerous articles 
requisite for their equipment, but the provisions for 
victualling them, were to be carried through the 
immense deserts of Siberia, down rivers of difficult 
navigation, and along roads almost impassable, the 
mandate of the sovereign, and the perseverance of 
the people, at last surmounted every obstacle. Two 
1741 . vessels were finished, and, under the 
command of the captains Behring and 
Tschirikow, sailed from Kamchatka, in quest of the 
New World, in a quarter where it had never been 
approached. They shaped their course towards the 
east; and though a storm soon separated the vessels, 
which never rejoined, and many disasters befell 
them, the expectations from the voyage were not 
altogether frustrated. Each of the commanders 
discovered land, which to them appeared to be part 
of the American continent; and, according to their 
observations, it seems to be situated within a few 
degrees of the north-west coast of California. Each 
set some of his people ashore : but in one place the 
inhabitants fled as the Russians approached; in 
another, they carried off those who landed, and 
destroyed their boats. The violence of the weather, 
and the distress of their crews, obliged both cap¬ 
tains to quit this inhospitable coast. In their return 
they touched at several islands, which stretch in a 
chain from east to west between the country which 
they had discovered and the coast of Asia. They 
had some intercourse with the natives, who seemed 
to them to resemble the North Americans. They 
presented to the Russians the calumet , or pipe of 
peace, which is a symbol of friendship universal 
among the people of North America, and an usage 
of arbitrary institution, peculiar to them. 

Though the islands of this New Archipelago have 
been frequented since that time by the Russian 
hunters, the court of St. Petersburgli, during a 
period of more than forty years, seems to have re¬ 
linquished every thought of prosecuting discoveries 
in that quarter. But in the year one thousand 
seven hundred and sixty-eight, it was unexpectedly 
resumed. The sovereign, who had been lately seated 
on the throne of Peter the Great, possessed the 
genius and talents of her illustrious predecessor. 
During the operations of the most arduous and 
extensive war in which the Russian empire was 
ever engaged, she formed schemes and executed 
undertakings, to which more limited abilities would 
have been incapable of attending but amidst the 
leisure of pacific times. A new voyage of discovery 
from the eastern extremity of Asia was planned, 
and captain Krenitzin and lieutenant Levasheff 
were appointed to command the two vessels fitted 
out for that purpose. In their voyage outward they 
held nearly the same course with the former navi¬ 
gators, they touched at the same islands, observed 
their situation and productions more carefully, and 
discovered several new islands, with which Behring 
and Tschirikow had not fallen in. Though they 

n Muller’s Voyages, tom. i. C48, &c. C67- 27 0. 


did not proceed so far to the east as to revisit the 
country which Behring and Tschirikow supposed to 
be part of the American continent, yet, by returning 
in a course considerably to the north of theirs, they 
corrected some capital mistakes into which their 
predecessors had fallen, and have contributed to 
facilitate the progress of future navigators in those 
seas. m 

Thus the possibility of a communication between 
the continents in this quarter rests no longer upon 
mere conjecture, but is established by undoubted 
evidence. 11 Some tribe or some families of wander¬ 
ing Tartars, from the restless spirit peculiar to their 
race, might migrate to the nearest islands, and, 
rude as their knowledge of navigation was, might, 
by passing from one to the other, reach at length the 
coast of America, and give a beginning to popula¬ 
tion in that continent. The distance between the 
Marian or Ladrone islands and the nearest land in 
Asia, is greater than that between the part of Ame¬ 
rica which the Russians discovered, and the coast of 
Kamchatka; and yet the inhabitants of those islands 
are manifestly of Asiatic extract. If, notwithstand¬ 
ing their remote situation, we admit that the Marian 
islands were peopled from our continent, distance 
alone is no reason why we should hesitate about 
admitting that the Americans may derive their 
original from the same source. It is probable that 
future navigators in those seas, by steering further 
to the north, may find that the continent of America 
approaches still nearer to Asia. According to the 
information of the barbarous people who inhabit the 
country about the north-east promontory of Asia, 
there lies, off the coast, a small island, to which 
they sail in less than a day. From that they can 
descry a large continent, which according to their 
description, is covered with forests, and possessed 
by people whose language they do not understands 
By them they are supplied with the skins of mar¬ 
tens, an animal unknown in the northern parts of 
Siberia, and which is never found but in countries 
abounding with trees. If we could rely on this 
account, we might conclude, that the American 
continent is separated from ours only by a narrow 
strait, and all the difficulties with respect to the 
communication between them would vanish. What 


could be offered only as a conjecture when this 
History was first published, is now known to be 
certain. The near approach of the two continents 
to each other has been discovered and traced in a 
voyage undertaken upon principles so pure and so 
liberal, and conducted with so much professional 
skill, as reflect lustre upon the reign of the sove¬ 
reign by whom it was planned, and do honour to the 
officers intrusted with the execution of it.P 
It is likewise evident from recent 

, , . , . Another commu- 

discovenes, that an intercourse be- nication by the 

. . north-west. 

tween our continent and America 

might be carried on with no less facility from the 

north-west extremities of Europe. As early as the 


tn See Note XLIT. 


o Muller’s Voyages et Decouv. i. 166. 


p See Note XLI1I. 





810 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK IV. 


A. D. 830. 


A. D. 1764. 


ninth century, the Norwegians disco¬ 
vered Greenland, and planted colonies 
there. The communication with that country, after 
along interruption, was renewed in the last cen¬ 
tury. Some Lutheran and Moravian missionaries, 
prompted by zeal for propagating the Christian 
faith, have ventured to settle in this frozen and 
uncultivated regions To them we are indebted 
for much curious information with respect to its 
nature and inhabitants. We learn, that the north¬ 
west coast of Greenland is separated from America 
by a very narrow strait; that, at the bottom of the 
bay into which this strait conducts, it is highly 
probable that they are united ; r that the inhabitants 
of the two countries have some intercourse with one 
another ; that the Esquimaux of America perfectly 
resemble the Greenlanders in their aspect, dress, 
and mode of living ; that some sailors who had 
acquired the knowledge of a few words in the 
Greenlandish language, reported that these were 
understood by the Esquimaux ; that, 
at length, a Moravian missionary, well 
acquainted with the language of Greenland, having 
visited the country of the Esquimaux, found, to his 
astonishment, that they spoke the same language 
with the Greenlanders ; that they were in every 
respect the same people, and he was accordingly 
received and entertained by them as a friend and 
a brother. s 

By these decisive facts, not only the consangui¬ 
nity of the Esquimaux and Greenlanders is estab¬ 
lished, but the possibility of peopling America from 
the north of Europe is demonstrated. If the Nor¬ 
wegians, in a barbarous age, when science had not 
begun to dawn in the north of Europe, possessed 
such naval skill as to open a communication with 
Greenland, their ancestors, as much addicted to 
roving by sea as the Tartars are to wandering by 
land, might, at some more remote period, accom¬ 
plish the same voyage, and settle a colony there, 
whose descendants might, in progress of time, mi¬ 
grate into America. But if, instead of venturing to 
sail directly from their own coast to Greenland, we 
suppose that the Norwegians held a more cautious 
course, and advanced from Shetland to the Feroe 
Islands,and from them to Iceland, in all which they 
had planted colonies; their progress may have been 
so gradual, that this navigation cannot be consi¬ 
dered as either longer or more hazardous, than those 
voyages which that hardy and enterprising race of 
men is known to have performed in every age. 

8. Though it be possible that Ame- 
pied a from P the rica may have received its first inhabi- 

north east. . . 

tants from our continent, either by the 
north-west of Europe or the north-east of Asia, there 
seems to be good reason for supposing that the pro¬ 
genitors of all the American nations, from Cape Horn 
to the southern confines of Labrador, migrated from 

q Crantz’ Hist, of Greenl. i. 242. 244. Prevot, Hist. Gen. des Voyages, 
tom. xv. 152. not. (96). 
r Eggede, p. 2, 3. 

s Crantz’ Hist, of Greenl. p. 261, 262. 


the latter rather than the former. The Esquimaux 
are the only people in America, who, in their aspect 
or character, bear any resemblance to the northern 
Europeans. They are manifestly a race of men 
distinct from all the nations of the American conti¬ 
nent, in language, in disposition, and in habits of 
life. Their original, then, may warrantably be traced 
up to that source which I have pointed out. But 
among all the other inhabitants of America, there is 
such a striking similitude in the form of their bodies 
and the qualities of their minds, that, notwithstand¬ 
ing the diversities occasioned by the influence of 
climate, or unequal progress in improvement, we 
must pronounce them to be descended from one 
source. There may be a variety in the shades, but we 
can every where trace the same original colour. 
Each tribe has something peculiar which distin¬ 
guishes it, but in all of them we discern certain 
features common to the whole race. It is remark¬ 
able, that in every peculiarity, whether in their per¬ 
sons or dispositions, which characterize the Ame¬ 
ricans, they have some resemblance to the rude 
tribes scattered over the north-east of Asia, but 
almost none to the nations settled in the northern 
extremities of Europe. We may, therefore, refer 
them to the former origin, and conclude that their 
Asiatic progenitors, having settled in those parts of 
America where the Russians have discovered the 
proximity of the two continents, spread gradually 
over its various regions. This account of the pro¬ 
gress of population in America coincides with the 
traditions of the Mexicans concerning their own 
origin, which, imperfect as they are, were preserved 
with more accuracy, and merit greater credit, than 
those of any people in the New World. According 
to them, their ancestors came from a remote country, 
situated to the north-west of Mexico. The Mexi¬ 
cans point out their various stations as they ad¬ 
vanced from this into the interior provinces, and it 
is precisely the same route which they must have 
held, if they had been emigrants from Asia. The 
Mexicans, in describing the appearance of their 
progenitors, their manners and habits of life at that 
period, exactly delineate those of the rude Tartars, 
from whom I suppose them to have sprung. 1 

Thus have I finished a disquisition which has been 
deemed of so much importance, that it would have 
been improper to omit it in writing the history of 
America. I have ventured to inquire, but without 
presuming to decide. Satisfied with offering con¬ 
jectures, I pretend not to establish any system. 
When an investigation is, from its nature, so intri¬ 
cate and obscure, that it is impossible to arrive at 
conclusions which are certain, there may be some 
merit in pointing out such as are probable. u 

The condition and character of the 

A « .• . .i ,. , Condition and 

meiican nations at the time wdien character ot the 

they became known to the Europeans, 


Americans; 


t Acosta Hist. ”Nat. & Mor. lib. vii. c. 2, fcc. Garcia Origen de I 03 
Indios, lib. v. c. 3. Torquemada Monar. Ind. lib. i. c. 2, &c. Boturiui 
Benaduci ldeade una liist. rie la Amer. Septentr. § xvii. p. 127. 
u Memoires sur la Louisiane, par Dumont, torn, i, p. 119. 



BOOK 1Y. 


811 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA, 
deserve more attentive consideration than the in¬ 


quiry concerning their original. The latter is 
merely an object of curiosity ; the former is one of 
the most important as well as instructive researches 
which can occupy the philosopher or historian. In 
order to complete the history of the human mind, 
and attain to a perfect knowledge of its nature and 
operations, we must contemplate man in all those 
various situations wherein he has been placed. We 
must follow him in his progress through the differ¬ 
ent stages of society, as he gradually advances from 
the infant state of civil life towards its maturity 
and decline. We must observe, at each period, 
how the faculties of his understanding unfold ; we 
must attend to the efforts of his active power, watch 
the various movements of desire and affection, as 
they rise in his breast, and mark whither they tend, 
and with what ardour they are exerted. The phi¬ 
losophers and historians of ancient Greece and 
Rome, our guides in this as well as every other dis¬ 
quisition, had only a limited view of this subject, 
as they had hardly any opportunity .of surveying 
man in his rudest and most early state. In all 
those regions of the earth with which they were 
well acquainted, civil society had made consider¬ 
able advances, and nations had finished a good 
part of their career before they began to observe 
them. The Scythians and Germans, the rudest 
people of whom any ancient author has transmitted 
to us an authentic account, possessed flocks and 
herds, had acquired property of various kinds, and, 
when compared with mankind in their primitive 
state, may be reckoned to have attained to a great 
degree of civilization. 

But the discovery of the New World 

less improved 

than m anv part enlarged the sphere of contemplation, 

of the earth. . . , . 

and presented nations to our view, in 
stages of their progress much less advanced than 
those wherein they have been observed in our con¬ 
tinent. In America, man appears under the rudest 
form in which we can conceive him to subsist. We 
behold communities just beginning to unite, and 
may examine the sentiments and actions of human 
beings in the infancy of social life, while they feel 
but imperfectly the force of its ties, and have 
scarcely relinquished their native liberty. That 
state of primaeval simplicity, which was known in 
our continent, only by the fanciful description of 
poets, really existed in the other. The greater part 
of its inhabitants were strangers to industry and 
labour, ignorant of arts, imperfectly acquainted 
with the nature of property, and enjoying almost 
without restriction or control the blessings which 
flowed spontaneously from the bounty of nature. 
There were only two nations in this vast continent 
which had emerged from this rude state, and had 
made any considerable progress in acquiring the 
ideas, and adopting the institutions, which belong 
to polished societies. Their government and man¬ 
ners will fall naturally under our review in relating 
the discovery and conquest of the Mexican and 


Peruvian empires ; and we shall have there an op¬ 
portunity of contemplating the Americans in the 
state of highest improvement to which they ever 
attained. 

At present, our attention and re- 

i . , , ,, This inquiry 

searches shall be turned to the small confined to the 

j , .. ... . , rudest tribes. 

independent tribes which occupied 
every other part of America. Among these, though 
with some diversity in their character, their man¬ 
ners, and institutions, the state of society was nearly 
similar, and so extremely rude, that the denomina¬ 
tion of savage may be applied to them all. In a 
general history of America, it would be highly im¬ 
proper to describe the condition of each petty com¬ 
munity, or to investigate every minute circumstance 
which contributes to form the character of its mem¬ 
bers. Such an inquiry would lead to details of 
immeasurable and tiresome extent. The qualities 
belonging to the people of all the different tribes 
have such a near resemblance, that they may be 
painted with the same features. Where any cir¬ 
cumstance seem to constitute a diversity in their 
character and manners worthy of attention, it will 
be sufficient to point these out as they occur, and to 
inquire into the cause of such peculiarities. 

It is extremely difficult to procure 
satistymg and authentic information taining informa- 
concerning nations while they remain 
uncivilized. To discover their true character under 
this rude form, and to select the features by which 
they are distinguished, requires an observer pos¬ 
sessed of no less impartiality than discernment. 
For, in every stage of society, the faculties, the sen¬ 
timents, and desires of men, are so accommodated to 
their own state, that they become standards of ex¬ 
cellence to themselves, they affix the idea of perfec¬ 
tion and happiness to those attainments which 
resemble their own, and wherever the objects and 
enjoyments to which they have been accustomed are 
wanting, confidently pronounce a people to be bar¬ 
barous and miserable. Hence the mutual contempt 
with which the members of communities, unequal 
in their degrees of improvement, regard each other. 
Polished nations, conscious of the advantages which 
they derive from their knowledge and arts, are apt 
to view rude nations with peculiar scorn, and, in 
the pride of superiority, will hardly allow either 
their occupations, their feelings, or their pleasures, 
to be worthy of men. It has seldom been the lot of 
communities, in their early and unpolished state, to 
fall under the observation of persons endowed with 
force of mind superior to vulgar prejudices, and 
capable of contemplating man, under whatever as¬ 
pect he appears, with a candid and discerning.eye. 

The Spaniards, who first visited 

. iiii . „ from the inca- 

Amenca, and who had opportunity of parity of the first 

observers 

beholding its various tribes while en¬ 
tire and unsubdued, and before any change had 
been made in their ideas or manners by intercourse 
with a race of men much advanced beyond them 
in improvement, were far from possessing the quali- 



812 


BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ties requisite for observing the striking spectacle 
presented to their view. Neither the age in which 
they lived, nor the nation to which they belonged, 
had made such progress in true science, as in¬ 
spires enlarged and liberal sentiments. The 
conquerors of the New World were mostly illi¬ 
terate adventurers, destitute of all the ideas which 
should have directed them in contemplating objects 
so extremely different from those with which they 
were acquainted. Surrounded continually with 
danger, or struggling with hardships, they had little 
leisure, and less capacity, for any speculative in¬ 
quiry. Eager to take possession of a country of 
such extent and opulence, and happy in finding it 
occupied by inhabitants so incapable to defend it, 
they hastily pronounced them to be a wretched 
order of men, formed merely for servitude ; and 
were more employed in computing the profits of 
their labour, than in inquiring into the operations 
of their minds, or the reasons of their customs and 
institutions. The persons who penetrated at subse¬ 
quent periods into the interior provinces, to which 
the knowledge and devastations of the first con¬ 
querors did not reach, were generally of a similar 
character ; brave and enterprising in a high degree, 
but so uninformed as to be little qualified either for 
observing or describing what they beheld. 

and their Not on ly the incapacity, but the 
prejudices; prejudices of the Spaniards, render 

their accounts of the people of America extremely 
defective. Soon after they planted colonies in their 
new conquests, a difference in opinion arose with re- 
spect to the treatment of the natives. One party soli¬ 
citous to render their servitudeperpetual, represent¬ 
ed them as a brutish, obstinate race, incapable either 
of acquiring religious knowledge, or of being train¬ 
ed to the functions of social life. The other full of 
pious concern for their conversion, contended that, 
though rude and ignorant, they were gentle, affec¬ 
tionate, docile, and by proper instructions and re¬ 
gulations might be formed gradually into good 
Christians and useful citizens. This controversy, 
as I have already related, was carried on with all 
the warmth which is natural, when attention to in¬ 
terest on the one hand, and religious zeal on the 
other, animate the disputants. Most of the laity 
espoused the former opinion ; all the ecclesiastics 
were advocates for the latter; and we shall uni¬ 
formly find, that, accordingly as an author belonged 
to either of these parties, he is apt to magnify the 
virtues or aggravate the defects of the Americans 
far beyond truth. Those repugnant accounts in¬ 
crease the difficulty of attaining a perfect know¬ 
ledge of their character, and render it necessary 


to peruse all the descriptions of them by Spanish 
writers with distrust, and to receive their informa¬ 
tion with some grains of allowance. 

Almost two centuries elapsed after 
system°of philo- the discovery of America, before the 
sophers ' manners of its inhabitants attracted, 


x M. de Buffon Hist. Nat. iii. 484, &c. ix. 103. 114. 


in any considerable degree, the attention of philo¬ 
sophers. At length they discovered, that the con¬ 
templation of the condition and character of the 
Americans, in their original state, tended to com¬ 
plete our knowledge of the human species ; might 
enable us to fill up a considerable chasm in the 
history of its progress ; and lead to speculations no 
less curious than important. They entered upon 
this new field of study with great ardour ; but, in¬ 
stead of throwing light upon the subject, they have 
contributed in some degree to involve it in ad¬ 
ditional obscurity. Too impatient to inquire, they 
hastened to decide ; and began to erect systems, 
when they should have been searching for facts on 
which to establish their foundations. Struck with 
the appearance of degeneracy in the human species 
throughout the New World, and astonished at be¬ 
holding a vast continent occupied by a naked, feeble, 
and ignorant race of men, some authors of great 
name have maintained that this part of the globe 
had but lately emerged from the sea, and become fit 
for the residence of man ; that every thing in it 
bore marks of a recent original; and that its inha¬ 
bitants, lately called into existence, and still at the 
beginning of their career, were unworthy to be com¬ 
pared with the people of a more ancient and im¬ 
proved continent.* Others have imagined, that, 
under the influence of an unkindly climate, which 
checks and enervates the principle of life, man 
never attained in America the perfection which be¬ 
longs to his nature, but remained an animal of an 
inferior order, defective in the vigour of his bodily 
frame, and destitute of sensibility, as well as of 
force, in the operations of his mind.y In opposition 
to both these, other philosophers have supposed 
that man arrives at his highest dignity and excel¬ 
lence long before he reaches a state of refinement; 
and, in the rude simplicity of savage life, displays 
an elevation of sentiment, an independence of mind, 
and a warmth of attachment, for which it is vain to 
search among the members of polished societies. 2 
They seem to consider that as the most perfect state 
of man which is the least civilized. They describe 
the manners of the rude Americans with such rap¬ 
ture, as if they proposed them for models to the 
rest of the species. These contradictory theories 
have been proposed with equal confidence, and 
uncommon powers of genius and eloquence have 
been exerted in order to clothe them with an ap¬ 
pearance of truth. 

As all those circumstances concur in rendering: 
an inquiry into the state of the rude nations in 
America intricate and obscure, it is necessary to 
carry it on with caution. When guided in our re¬ 
searches by the intelligent observations of the few 
philosophers who have visited this part of the globe, 
we may venture to decide. When obliged to have 
recourse to the superficial remarks of vulgar travel¬ 
lers, of sailors, traders, buccaneers, and missionaries, 
we must often pause, and, comparing detached 

y M. de P. Recher Philos, sur les Americ. passim. 


z M. Rousseau. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


813 


facts, endeavour to discover what they wanted saga¬ 
city to observe. Without indulging conjecture, or 
betraying a propensity to either system, we must 
study with equal care to avoid the extremes of ex¬ 
travagant admiration or of supercilious contempt 
for those manners which we describe. 

Method observed I * 1 order to conduct this inquiry with 
m the inquiry, g rea t er aceu^cy^ it should be rendered 

as simple as possible. Man existed as an indivi¬ 
dual before he became the member of a community ; 
and the qualities which belong to him under his 
former capacity should be known, before we pro¬ 
ceed to examine those which arise from the latter 
relation. This is peculiarly necessary in investi¬ 
gating the manners of rude nations. Their politi¬ 
cal union is so incomplete, their civil institutions 
and regulations so few, so simple, and of such slen¬ 
der authority, that men in this state ought to be 
viewed rather as independent agents, than as mem¬ 
bers of a regular society. The character of a savage 
results almost entirely from his sentiments or feel¬ 
ings as an individual, and is but little influenced 
by his imperfect subjection to government and order. 
I shall conduct my researches concerning the man¬ 
ners of the Americans in this natural order, pro¬ 
ceeding gradually from what is simple to what is 
more complicated. 

I shall consider, I. The bodily constitution of the 
Americans in those regions now under review. II. 
The qualities of their minds. III. Their domestic 
state. IV. their political state and institutions. V. 
Their system of war, and public security. VI. The 
arts with which they were acquainted. VII. Theirre- 
ligious ideas and institutions. VIII. Such singular 
detached customs as are not reducible to any of the 
former heads. IX. I shall conclude with a general 
review and estimate of their virtues and defects. 

The constitution L The bodil y constitution of the 
of their bodies. Americans.—The human body is less 

affected by climate than that of any other animal. 
Some animals are confined to a particular region of 
the globe, and cannot exist beyond it; others, 
though they may be brought to bear the injuries of 
a climate foreign to them, cease to multiply when 
carried out of that district which nature destined to 
be their mansion. Even such as seem capable of 
being naturalized in various climates, feel the effect 
of every remove from their proper station, and gra¬ 
dually dwindle and degenerate from the vigour and 
perfection peculiar to their species. Man is the 
only living creature whose frame is at once so hardy 
and so flexible, that he can spread over the whole 
earth, become the inhabitant of every region, and 
thrive and multiply under every climate. Subject, 
however, to the general law of nature, the human 
body is not entirely exempt from the operation of 
climate ; and when exposed to the extremes either 
of heat or cold, its size or vigour diminishes. 

a Oviedo Sommaiio, p. 46. D. Life of Columbus, c. 24. 
b See Note XLIV. c Ibid. XLV, 

d Oviedo Som. p. 51. C. Voy. rie Correal, ii. 138. Wafer’s Descrip¬ 
tion, p. 131. 


More feeble. 


The first appearance of the inhabit- „ , . 

rr # Complexion, &c. 

ants of the New World filled the dis¬ 
coverers with such astonishment, that they were 
apt to imagine them a race of men different from 
those of the other hemisphere. Their complexion is 
of a reddish brown, nearly resembling the colour of 
copper. a The hair of their heads is always hlack, 
long, coarse, and uncurled. They have no beard, 
and every part of their body is perfectly smooth. 
Their persons are of a full size, extremely straight, 
and well proportioned. 6 Their features are regular, 
though often distorted by absurd endeavours to im¬ 
prove the beauty of their natural form, or to render 
their aspect more dreadful to their enemies. In the 
islands, w here four-footed animals were 
both few and small, and the earth 
yielded her productions almost spontaneously, the 
constitution of the natives, neither braced by the 
active exercises of the chase, nor invigorated by 
the labour of cultivation, w as extremely feeble and 
languid. On the continent, where the forests 
abound with game of various kinds, and the chief 
occupation of many tribes was to pursue it, the hu¬ 
man frame acquired greater firmness. Still, how¬ 
ever, the Americans were more remarkable for 
agility than strength. They resembled beasts of 
prey, rather than animals formed for labour. 0 They 
were not only averse to toil, but incapable of it; and 
when roused by force from their native indolence, 
and compelled to work, they sunk under tasks which 
the people of the other continent would have per¬ 
formed with ease. d This feebleness of constitution 
was universal among the inhabitants of those regions 
in America which we are surveying, and may be 
considered as characteristic of the species there. e 

The beardless countenance and smooth skin of 
the American seems to indicate a defect of vigour, 
occasioned by some vice in his frame. He is des¬ 
titute of one sign of manhood and of strength. This 
peculiarity, by which the inhabitants of the New 
World are distinguished from the people of all 
other nations, cannot be attributed, as some travel¬ 
lers have supposed, to their mode of subsistence/ 
For though the food of many Americans be ex¬ 
tremely insipid, as they are altogether unacquaint¬ 
ed with the use of salt, rude tribes in other parts of 
the earth have subsisted on aliments equally sim¬ 
ple, without this mark of degradation, or any appa¬ 
rent symptom of a diminution in their vigour. 

As the external form of the Ame¬ 
ricans leads us to suspect that there 
is some natural debility in their frame, the small¬ 
ness of their appetite for food has been men¬ 
tioned by many authors as a confirmation of this 
suspicion. The quantity of food which men con¬ 
sume varies according to the temperature of the 
climate in which they live, the degree of activity 
which they exert, and the natural vigour of their 

e B. Las Casas Brev. Relac. p. 4. Torquem. Monar. i. 58(>. Oviedo 
Sommario, p. 41. Histor. lib. iii. c. 6. Ilerrera, dec. 1. lib. ix. c. 5. 
Simon, p. 41. 

f Charlev. Hist, de N’ouv. Fr. iii. 310. 


Less appetite. 



814 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK IV. 


constitutions. Under the enervating heat of the 
torrid zone, and when men pass their days in indo¬ 
lence and ease, they require less nourishment than 
the active inhabitants of temperate or cold coun¬ 
tries. Rut neither the warmth of their climate, nor 
their extreme laziness, will account for the uncom¬ 
mon defect of appetite among the Americans. The 
Spaniards were astonished with observing this, not 
only in the islands, but in several parts of the con¬ 
tinent. The constitutional temperance of the na¬ 
tives far exceeded, in their opinion, the abstinence 
of the most mortified hermits; 8 while on the other 
hand, the appetite of the Spaniards appeared to the 
Americans insatiably voracious ; and they affirmed, 
that one Spaniard devoured more food in a day 
than was sufficient for ten Americans. 11 

Less vehemence ^ proof of some feebleness in their 
ot desire. frame, still more striking, is the insen¬ 
sibility of the Americans to the charms of beauty, 
and the power of love. That passion, which was 
destined to perpetuate life, to be the bond of 
social union, and the source of tenderness and joy, 
is the most ardent in the human breast. Though 
the perils and hardships of the savage state, though 
excessive fatigue, on some occasions, and the diffi¬ 
culty at all times of procuring subsistence, may 
seem to be adverse to this passion, and to have 
a tendency to abate its vigour, yet the rudest na¬ 
tions in every other part of the globe seem to feel 
its influence more powerfully than the inhabitants of 
the New World. The negro glows with all the 
warmth of desire natural to his climate ; and the 
most uncultivated Asiatics discover that sensibility 
which, from their situation on the globe, we should 
expect them to have felt. Rut the Americans are, 
in an amazing degree, strangers to the force of this 
first instinct of nature. In every part of the New 
World the natives treat their women with coldness 
and indifference. They are neither the objects of 
that tender attachment which takes place in civi¬ 
lized society, nor of that ardent desire conspicuous 
among rude nations. Even in climates where this 
passion usually acquires its greatest vigour, the 
savage of America views his female with disdain, 
as an animal of a less noble species. He is at no 
pains to win her favour by the assiduity of court¬ 
ship, and still less solicitous to preserve it by in¬ 
dulgence and gentleness. 1 Missionaries themselves, 
notwithstanding the austerity of monastic ideas, 
cannot refrain from expressing their astonishment 
at the dispassionate coldness of the American 
young men in their intercourse with the other sex. k 
Nor is this reserve to be ascribed to any opinion 
which they entertain with respect to the merit of 
female chastity. That is an idea too refined for a 
savage, and suggested by a delicacy of sentiment 
and affection to which he is a stranger. 

g Ramusio, iii. 304. F. 300. A. Simon Conquista, &c. p. 39. Hak¬ 
luyt, iii. 468. f>08. 

h Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 16. 

i Hennepin Maeurs des Sauvages, 32, fee. Rochefort. Hist, des Isles 
Antilles, p. 461. Voyage de Correal, ii. 1 11. Ramusio, iii. 309. F. Lozano 


But in inquiries concerning either Reflections with 
the bodily or mental qualities of par- res P ect t0 these - 
ticular races of men, there is not a more common or 
more seducing error, than that of ascribing to a 
single cause those characteristic peculiarities, which 
are the effect of the combined operation of many 
causes. The climate and soil of America differ, in 
so many respects, from those of the other hemis¬ 
phere, and this difference is so obvious and striking, 
that philosophers of great eminence have laid hold 
on this as sufficient to account for what is peculiar 
in the constitution of its inhabitants. They rest on 
physical causes alone, and consider the feeble 
frame and languid desire of the Americans, as 
consequences of the temperament of that portion of 
the globe which they occupy. But the influences 
of political and moral causes ought not to have 
been overlooked. These operate with no less effect 
than that on which many philosophers rest as a full 
explanation of the singular appearances which have 
been mentioned. Wherever the state of society is 
such as to create many wants and desires, which 
cannot be satisfied without regular exertions of in¬ 
dustry, the body accustomed to labour becomes ro¬ 
bust and patient of fatigue. In a more simple state, 
where the demands of men are so few and so mode¬ 
rate, that they may be gratified, almost without any 
effort, by the spontaneous productions of nature, 
the powers of the body are not called forth, nor can 
they attain their proper strength. The natives of 
Chili and of North America, the two temperate re¬ 
gions in the New World, who live by hunting, may 
be deemed an active and vigorous race, when com¬ 
pared with the inhabitants of the isles, or of those 
parts of the continent where hardly any labour is 
requisite to procure subsistence. The exertions of 
a hunter are not, however, so regular, or so conti¬ 
nued, as those of persons employed in the culture 
of the earth, or in the various arts of civilized life ; 
and though his agility may be greater than theirs, 
his strength is on the whole inferior. If another 
direction were given to the active pow ers of man in 
the New World, and his force augmented by exer¬ 
cise, he might acquire a degree of vigour which he 
does not in his present state possess. The truth of 
this is confirmed by experience. Wherever the 
Americans have been gradually accustomed to hard 
labour, their constitutions become robust, and they 
have been found capable of performing such tasks, 
as seemed not only to exceed the powers of such a 
feeble frame as has been deemed peculiar to their 
country, but to equal any effort of the natives, either 
of Africa or of Europe. 1 

The same reasoning will apply to what has been 
observed concerning their slender demand for food. 
As a proof that this should be ascribed as much to 
their extreme indolence, and often total want of 

Descr. del Gran Chaco, 71. Falkner’s Descr. of Pa'agon. p. 125. Let- 
terre di P. Cataneo ap. Muratori I! Christian. Felice, l. .305. 

k Chanvalon, p. 51. Lettr. Fdif. tom. xxiv. .318. Tertre, ii. 377. 
Henegas, i. 81. Hibas Hist, de los Iriumf, p. 11. 

1 See Note XLV1. 



HOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


815 


occupation, as to any thing peculiar in the physical 
structure ot their bodies, it has been observed, that 
in those districts where the people of America are 
obliged to exert any unusual effort of activity, in 
order to procure subsistence, or wherever they are 
employed in severe labour, their appetite is not in¬ 
ferior to that of other men, and, in some places, it 
has struck observers as remarkably voracious. 1 " 

The operation of political and moral causes is 
still more conspicuous, in modifying the degree of 
attachment between the sexes. In a state of high 
civilization, this passion, inflamed by restraint, 
refined by delicacy, and cherished by fashion, occu¬ 
pies and engrosses the heart. It is no longer a 
simple instinct of nature; sentiment heightens the 
ardour of desire, and the most tender emotions of 
which our frame is susceptible, soothe and agitate 
the soul. This description, however, applies only 
to those, who, by their situation, are exempted from 
the cares and labours of life. Among persons of 
inferior order, who are doomed by their condition 
to incessant toil, the dominion of this passion is 
less violent; their solicitude to procure subsistence, 
and to provide for the first demand of nature, leaves 
little leisure for attending to its second call. But 
if the nature of the intercourse between the sexes 
varies so much in persons of different rank in 
polished societies, the condition of man, while he 
remains uncivilized, must occasion a variation still 
more apparent. We may well suppose, that amidst 
the hardships, the dangers, and the simplicity of 
savage life, where subsistence is always precarious, 
and often scanty, where men are almost continually 
engaged in the pursuit of their enemies, or in 
guarding against their attacks, and where neither 
dress nor reserve are employed as arts of female 
allurement, that the attention of the Americans to 
their women would be extremely feeble, without 
imputing this solely to any physical defect or de¬ 
gradation in their frame. 

It is accordingly observed, that in those countries 
of America, where, from the fertility of the soil, 
the mildness of the climate, or some further advances 
which the natives have made in improvement, the 
means of subsistence are more abundant, and the 
hardships of savage life are less severely felt, the 
animal passion of the sexes becomes more ardent. 
Striking examples of this occur among some tribes 
seated on the banks of great rivers well stored with 
food, among others who are masters of hunting 
grounds abounding so much with game, that they 
have a regular and plentiful supply of nourishment 
with little labour. The superior degree of security 
and aflluence which these tribes enjoy, is followed 
by their natural effects. The passions implanted in 
the human frame by the hand of nature acquire 
additional force; new tastes and desires are formed ; 
the women, as they are more valued and admired, 

m Gumilla, ii. 12. 70. 247. Lafitau, i. 515. Ovalle Church, ii. 81. 
Muratori, i. 295. T . . . ... 

n Biet. 389. Charlev. iii. 423. Dumont. Mem. sur Louisiane, i. 155. 

o Piso, p. 6. 


become more attentive to dress and ornament; the 
men, beginning to feel how much of their own 
happiness depends upon them, no longer disdain 
the arts of winning their favour and affection. The 
intercourse of the sexes becomes very different from 
that which takes place among their ruder country¬ 
men ; and as hardly any restraint is imposed on the 
gratification of desire, either by religion, or laws, 
or decency, the dissolution of their manners is ex¬ 
cessive. 11 

Notwithstanding the feeble make of Non? of them 
the Americans, hardly any of them deformed, 
are deformed, or mutilated, or defective in any of 
their senses. All travellers have been struck with 
this circumstance, and have celebrated the uniform 
symmetry and perfection of their external figure. 
Some authors search for the cause of this appearance 
in their physical condition. As the parents are not 
exhausted or over-fatigued with hard labour, they 
suppose that their children are born vigorous and 
sound. They imagine, that in the liberty of savage 
life, the human body, naked and unconfined from 
its earliest age, preserves its natural form; and that 
all its limbs and members acquire a juster propor¬ 
tion, than when fettered with artificial restraints, 
which stint its growth and distort its shape. 0 Some¬ 
thing, without doubt, may be ascribed to the opera¬ 
tion of these causes ; but the true reasons of this 
apparent advantage, which is common to all savage 
nations, lie deeper, and are closely interwoven with 
the nature and genius of that state. The infancy 
of man is so long and so helpless, that it is ex¬ 
tremely difficult to rear children among rude nations. 
Their means of subsistence are not only scanty, but 
precarious. Such as live by hunting must range 
over extensive countries, and shift often from place 
to place. The care of children, as well as every 
other laborious task, is devolved upon the women. 
The distresses and hardships of the savage life, 
which are often such as can hardly be supported 
by persons in full vigour, must be fatal to those of 
more tender age. Afraid of undertaking a task so 
laborious, and of such long duration, as that of 
rearing their offspring, the women, in some parts of 
America, procure frequent abortions by the use of 
certain herbs, and extinguish the first sparks of that 
life which they are unable to cherish .p Sensible 
that only stout and well formed children have force 
of constitution to struggle through such a hard 
infancy, other nations abandon and destroy such of 
their progeny as appear feeble or defective, as un¬ 
worthy of attention. q Even when they endeavour 
to rear all their children without distinction, so 
great a proportion of the whole number perishes 
under the rigorous treatment which must be their 
lot in the savage state, that few of those who la¬ 
boured under any original frailty attain the age of 
manhood. r Thus, in polished societies, where the 

p Ellis’s Voyage to Hudson’6 Bay, 198. Herrera, dec. 7. lib. ix. c. 4. 

q Gumilla Hist. ii. 234. Techo’s Hist, of Paraguay, &c. Churchill's 
Collect, vi. 108. 

r Creuxii Hist. Canad. p. 57- 



810 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


means of subsistence are secured with certainty, 
and acquired with ease ; where the talents of the 
mind are often of more importance than the powers 
of the body ; children are preserved notwithstand¬ 
ing their defects or deformity, and grow up to be 
useful citizens. In rude nations, such persons are 
either cut off as soon as they are born, or, becoming 
a burden to themselves and to the community, can¬ 
not long protract their lives. But in those provinces 
of the New World, where, by the establishment of 
the Europeans, more regular provision has been 
made for the subsistence of its inhabitants, and 
they are restrained from laying violent hands on 
their children, the Americans are so far from being 
eminent for any superior perfection in their form, 
that one should rather suspect some peculiar imbe¬ 
cility in the race, from the extraordinary number of 
individuals who are deformed, dwarfish, mutilated, 
blind, or deaf.* 

Uniformity of How feeble soever the constitution 
their appearance. Q f fj ie Americans may be, it is re¬ 
markable, that there is less variety in the human 
form throughout the New World, than in the ancient 
continent. When Columbus and the other discover¬ 
ers first visited the different countries of America 
which lie within the torrid zone, they naturally ex¬ 
pected to find people of the same complexion with 
those in the corresponding regions of the other he¬ 
misphere. To their amazement, however, they dis¬ 
covered that America contained no negroes; 1 and 
the cause of this singular appearance became as 
much the object of curiosity, as the fact itself was 
of wonder. In what part or membrane of the body 
that humour resides which tinges the complexion 
of the negro with a deep black, it is the business 
of anatomists to inquire and describe. The power¬ 
ful operation of heat appears manifestly to be the 
cause which produces this striking variety in the 
human species. All Europe, a great part of Asia, 
and the temperate countries of Africa, are inhabited 
by men of a white complexion. All the torrid zone 
in Africa, some of the warmer regions adjacent to 
it, and several countries in Asia, are filled with 
people of a deep black colour. If we survey the 
nations of our continent, making our progress from 
cold and temperate countries towards those parts 
which are exposed to the influence of vehement and 
unremitting heat, we shall find, that the extreme 
whiteness of their skin soon begins to diminish ; 
that its colour deepens gradually as we advance; 
and after passing through all the successive grada¬ 
tions of shade, terminates in an uniform unvarying 
black. But in America, where the agency of heat 
is checked and abated by various causes, which I 
have already explained, the climate seems to be 
destitute of that force which produces such wonder¬ 
ful effects on the human frame. The colour of the 
natives of the torrid zone in America is hardly of a 
deeper hue than that of the people in the more 
temperate parts of their continent. Accurate 

s Voyage de Ulloa, i. 232. 


observers, who had an opportunity of viewing the 
Americans in very different climates, and in pro¬ 
vinces far removed from each other, have been 
struck with the amazing similarity of their figure 
and aspect. 11 

But though the hand of nature has deviated so 
little from one standard in fashioning the human 
form in America, the creation of fancy hath been 
various and extravagant. The same fables that 
were current in the ancient continent, have been 
revived with respect to the New World, and America 
too has been peopled with human beings of mon¬ 
strous and fantastic appearance. The inhabitants 
of certain provinces were described to be pigmies 
of three feet high ; those of others to be giants of 
an enormous size. Some travellers published ac¬ 
counts of people with only one eye ; others pretend¬ 
ed to have discovered men without heads, whose 
eyes and mouths were planted in their breasts. The 
variety of nature in her productions is indeed so 
great, that it is presumptuous to set bounds to her 
fertility, and to reject indiscriminately every rela¬ 
tion that does not perfectly accord with our own 
limited observation and experience. But the other 
extreme, of yielding a hasty assent, on the slightest 
evidence, to whatever has the appearance of being 
strange and marvellous, is still more unbecoming a 
philosophical inquirer; as, in every period, men are 
more apt to be betrayed into error, by their weak¬ 
ness in believing too much, than by their arrogance 
in believing too little. In proportion as science 
extends, and nature is examined with a discerning 
eye, the wonders which amused ages of ignorance 
disappear. The tales of credulous travellers con¬ 
cerning America are forgotten ; the monsters which 
they describe have been searched for in vain ; and 
those provinces where they pretend to have found 
inhabitants of singular forms, are now known to be 
possessed by people nowise different from the other 
Americans. 

Though those relations may, without discussion, 
be rejected as fabulous, there are other accounts of 
varieties in the human species in some parts of the 
New World, which rest upon better evidence, and 
merit more attentive examination. This variety has 
been particularly observed in three different districts. 
The first of these is situated in the isthmus of Darien, 
near the centre of America. Lionel Wafer, a tra¬ 
veller possessed of more curiosity and intelligence 
than we should have expected to find in an associate 
of buccaneers, discovered there a race of men, few in 
number, but of a singular make. They are of low sta¬ 
ture, according to his description, of a feeble frame, 
incapable of enduring fatigue. Their colour is a 
dead milk white; not resembling that of fair people 
among Europeans, but without any tincture of a 
blush or sanguine complexion. The skin is covered 
with a fine hairy down of a chalky white ; the hair 
of their heads, their eye-brows, and eye-lashes, are 
of the same hue. Their eyes are of a singular form, 

u See note XLVII. 


t P. Martyr, dec. p. 71 . 




BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


and so weak, that they can hardly bear the light of 
the sun ; but they see clearly by moon-light, and 
are most active and gay in the night. u No race 
similar to this has been discovered in any other part 
of America. Cortes, indeed, found some persons 
exactly resembling the white people of Darien, 
among the rare and monstrous animals which Mon¬ 
tezuma had collected. x But as the power of the 
Mexican empire extended to the provinces border¬ 
ing on the isthmus of Darien, they were probably 
brought thence. Singular as the appearance of 
those people may be, they cannot be considered as 
constituting a distinct species. Among the negroes 
of Africa, as well as the natives of the Indian 
islands, nature sometimes produces a small number 
of individuals, with all the characteristic features 
and qualities of the white people of Darien. The 
former are called Albinos by the Portuguese, the 
latter Kackerlakes by the Dutch. In Darien the 
parents of those Whites are of the same colour with 
the other natives of the country ; and this observa¬ 
tion applies equally to the anomalous progeny of 
the negroes and Indians. The same mother who 
produces some children of a colour that does not 
belong to the race, brings forth the rest with the 
complexion peculiar to her country J One conclu¬ 
sion may then be formed with respect to the people 
described by Wafer, the Albinos and the Kacker¬ 
lakes; they are a degenerate breed, not a separate 
class of men ; and from some disease or defect of 
their parents, the peculiar colour and debility 
which mark their degradation are transmitted to 
them. As a decisive proof of this, it has been 
observed, that neither the white people of Darien, 
nor the Albinos of Africa, propagate their race: 
their children are of the colour and temperament 
peculiar to the natives of their respective countries. 2 

The second district that is occupied by inhabitants 
differing in appearance from the other people of 
America, is situated in a high northern latitude, 
extending from the coast of Labrador towards the 
pole, as far as the country is habitable. The people 
scattered over those dreary regions, are know n to the 
Europeans by the name of Esquimaux. They them¬ 
selves, with that idea of their own superiority which 
consoles the rudest and most wretched nations, as¬ 
sume the name of Keralit or Men. They are of a 
middle size, and robust, with heads of a dispropor- 
tioned bulk, and feet as remarkably small. Their 
complexion, though swarthy, by being continually 
exposed to the rigour of a cold climate, inclines to 
the European white, rather than to the copper co¬ 
lour of America, and the men have beards which 
are sometimes bushy and long. a From these marks 
of distinction, as well as from one still less equivo¬ 
cal, the affinity of their language to that of the 
Greenlanders, which I have already mentioned, we 
may conclude, with some degree of confidence, that 

u Wafer Descript, of Isth. ap. Dampier, iii. p. 346. 

x Cortes ap. Ramus, iii. p. 241. E. 

y Margrav. Hist. Her. Nat. Bras. lib. yiii. c. 4. 

z Wafer, p. 348. Demanet. Hist, de l’Atrique, u. 234. Recherch. 
Philos, sur fes Amer. ii. 1, &c. Note XLVI11. 

3 G 


817 

the Esquimaux are a race different from the rest of 
the Americans. 

We cannot decide with equal certainty concern¬ 
ing the inhabitants of the third district, situated at 
the southern extremity of America. These are the 
famous Patayonians, who, during two centuries and 
a half, have afforded a subject of controversy to the 
learned, and an object of winder to the vulgar. 
They are supposed to be one of the wandering tribes, 
which occupy the vast but least known region of 
America, which extends from the river de la Plata 
to the straits of Magellan. Their proper station is 
in that part of the interior country which lies on 
the banks of the river Negro; but in the hunting 
season, they often roam as far as the straits which 
separate Tierra del Fuego from the main land. The 
first accounts of this people were brought to Europe 
by the companions of Magellan, b who described 
them as a gigantic race, above eight feet high, and 
of strength in proportion to their enormous size. 
Among several tribes of animals, a disparity in bulk 
as considerable may be observed. Some large breeds 
of horses and dogs exceed the more diminutive 
races in stature and strength, as far as the Patago¬ 
nian is supposed to rise above the usual standard of 
the human body. But animals attain the highest 
perfection of their species only in mild climates, or 
where they find the most nutritive food in greatest 
abundance. It is not then in the uncultivated waste 
of the Magellanic regions, and among a tribe of im¬ 
provident savages, that we should expect to find a 
man possessing the highest honours of his race, and 
distinguished by a superiority of size and vigour, far 
beyond what he has reached in any other part of the 
earth. The most explicit and unexceptionable evi¬ 
dence is requisite, in order to establish a fact repug¬ 
nant to those general principles and laws, which seem 
to affect the human frame in every other instance, and 
to decide with respect to its nature and qualities. 
Such evidence has not hitherto been produced. 
Though several persons, to waose testimony great 
respect is due, have visited this part of America 
since the time of Magellan, and have had inter¬ 
views with the natives ; though some have affirmed, 
that such as they saw were of gigantic stature, and 
others have formed the same conclusion from mea¬ 
suring their footsteps, or from viewing the skeletons 
of their dead ; yet their accounts vary from each 
other in so many essential points, and are mingled 
with so many circumstances manifestly false or fa¬ 
bulous, as detract much from their credit. On the 
other hand, some navigators, and those among the 
most eminent of their order for discernment and 
accuracy, have asserted that the natives of Patago¬ 
nia, with whom they had intercourse, though stout 
and well made, are not of such extraordinary size 
as to be distinguished from the rest of the human 
species.* The existence of this gigantic race of 

a Ellis’s Voy. to Huds. Bay, p. 131. 139. De la Potherie, tom. i. 
p. 79. Wales Journ. of a Voy. to Churchill River. Phil. Trans, 
vol. lx. 109. 

b Falkner’s Description of Patagonia, p. 102. 

c See Note XLIX. 




818 


BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


men seems, then, to be one of those points in natu¬ 
ral history, with respect to which a cautious in¬ 
quirer will hesitate, and will choose to suspend his 
assent, until more complete evidence shall decide, 
whether he ought to admit a fact, seemingly incon¬ 
sistent with what reason and experience have dis¬ 
covered concerning the structure and condition of 
man, in all the various situations in which he has 
been observed. 

Their state of I* 1 or der to form a complete idea 
health. with respect to the constitution of the 
inhabitants of this and the other hemisphere, we 
should attend not only to the make and vigour of 
their bodies, but consider what degree of health 
they enjoy, and to what period of longevity they 
usually arrive. In the simplicity of the savage 
state, when man is not oppressed with labour, or 
enervated by luxury, or disquieted with care, we 
are apt to imagine that his life will flow on almost 
untroubled by disease or suffering, until his days be 
terminated, in extreme old age, by the gradual decays 
of nature. We find, accordingly, among the Ame¬ 
ricans, as well as among other rude people, persons, 
whose decrepit and shrivelled form seems to indi¬ 
cate an extraordinary length of life. But as most 
of them are unacquainted with the art of number¬ 
ing, and all of them as forgetful of what is past, as 
they are improvident of what is to come, it is im¬ 
possible to ascertain their age with any degree of 
precision.* 1 It is evident that the period of their 
longevity must vary considerably, according to the 
diversity of climates, and their different modes of 
subsistence. They seem, however, to be every 
where exempt from many of the distempers which 
afflict polished nations. None of the maladies, 
which are the immediate offspring of luxury, ever 
visited them; and they have no names in their lan¬ 
guages by which to distinguish this numerous train 
of adventitious evils. 

But whatever be the situation in 
which man is placed, he is bom to 
suffer ; and his diseases, in the savage state, though 
fewer in number, are like those of the animals whom 
he nearly resembles in his mode of life, more vio¬ 
lent and more fatal. If luxury engenders and 
nourishes distempers of one species, the rigour and 
distresses of savage life bring on those of another. 
As men in this state are wonderfully improvident, 
and their means of subsistence precarious, they 
often pass from extreme want to exuberant plenty, 
according to the vicissitudes of fortune in the chase, 
or in consequence of the various degrees of abund¬ 
ance with which the earth affords to them its pro¬ 
ductions, in different seasons. Their inconsiderate 
gluttony in the one situation, and their severe ab¬ 
stinence in the other, are equally pernicious. For 
though the human constitution may be accustomed 
by habit, like that of animals of prey, to tolerate long 
famine, and then to gorge voraciously, it is not a 

d Ulloa Notic, America, 32.3. Bancroft Natural History of Guiana, 
3.34. 


little affected by such sudden and violent transi¬ 
tions. The strength and vigour of savages are at 
some seasons impaired by what they suffer from a 
scarcity of food ; at others, they are afflicted with 
disorders arising from indigestion and a superfluity 
of gross aliment. These are so common, that they 
may be considered as the unavoidable consequence 
of their mode of subsisting, and cut off considerable 
numbers in the prime of life. They are likewise 
extremely subject to consumptions, to pleuritic, 
asthmatic, and paralytic disorders, 6 brought on by 
the immoderate hardships and fatigue which they 
endure in hunting and in war; or owing to the in¬ 
clemency of the seasons to which they are continu¬ 
ally exposed. In the savage state, hardships and 
fatigue violently assault the constitution. In po¬ 
lished societies, intemperance undermines it. It is 
not easy to determine which of them operates with 
most fatal effect, or tends most to abridge human 
life. The influence of the former is certainly most 
extensive. The pernicious consequences of luxury 
reach only a few members in any community ; the 
distresses of savage life are felt by all. As far as 
I can judge, after very minute inquiry, the general 
period of human life is shorter among savages, than 
in well regulated and industrious societies. 

One dreadful malady, the severest scourge with 
which, in this life, offended Heaven chastens the in¬ 
dulgence of criminal desire, seems to have been 
peculiar to the Americans. By communicating it 
to their conquerors, they have not only amply 
avenged their own wrongs, but by adding this ca¬ 
lamity to those which formerly imbittered human 
life, they have, perhaps, more than counterbalanced 
all the benefits which Europe has derived from the 
discovery of the New World. This distemper, 
from the country in which it first raged, or from the 
people by whom it was supposed to have been 
spread over Europe, has sometimes been called the 
Neapolitan, and sometimes the French, disease. 
At its first appearance, the infection was so malig¬ 
nant, its symptoms so violent, its operation so rapid 
and fatal, as to baflle all the efforts of medical skill. 
Astonishment and terror accompanied this unknown 
affliction in its progress, and men began to dread 
the extinction of the human race by such a cruel 
visitation. Experience, and the ingenuity of phy¬ 
sicians, gradually discovered remedies of such vir¬ 
tue as to cure or to mitigate the evil. During the 
course of two centuries and a half, its virulence 
seems to have abated considerably. At length, in 
the same manner with the leprosy, which raged in 
Europe for some centuries, it may waste its force 
and disappear; and in some happier age, this 
western infection, like that from the East, may be 
known only by description. f 

II. After considering what appears PowerMd 
to be peculiar in the bodily constitu- tles oHheirn - linds * 
tion of the Americans, our attention is naturally 

e Charley. N. Fran. iii. 364. Lafitau, ii. 360. De la Potberie, ii. 37. 

t See N ote L. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


819 


turned towards the powers and qualities of their 
minds. As the individual advances from the ig¬ 
norance and imbecility of the infant state to vigour 
and maturity of understanding, something similar 
to this may be observed in the progress of the 
species. With respect to it, too, there is a period of 
infancy, during which several powers of the mind 
are not unfolded, and all are feeble and defective 
in their operation. In the early ages of society, 
while the condition of man is simple and rude, his 
reason is but little exercised, and his desires move 
within a very narrow sphere. Hence arise two re¬ 
markable characteristics of the human mind in this 
state. Its intellectual powers are extremely limited ; 
its emotions and efforts are few and languid. Both 
these distinctions are conspicuous among the rudest 
and most unimproved of the American tribes, and 
constitute a striking part of their description. 

intellectual facul- What, among polished nations, is 
ties very limited. ca n e( j speculative reasoning or re¬ 
search, is altogether unknown in the rude state of 
society, and never becomes the occupation or 
amusement of the human faculties, until man be 
so far improved as to have secured, with certainty, 
the means of subsistence, as well as the possession 
of leisure and tranquillity. The thoughts and at¬ 
tention of a savage are confined within the small 
circle of objects immediately conducive to his pre¬ 
servation or enjoyment. Every Idling beyond that, 
escapes his observation, or is perfectly indifferent to 
him. Like a mere animal, what is before his eyes 
interests and affects him ; what is out of sight, or at 
a distance, makes little impression.s There are 
several people in America whose limited under¬ 
standings seem not to be capable of forming an 
arrangement for futurity ; neither their solicitude 
nor their foresight extend so far. They follow 
blindly the impulse of the appetite which they feel, 
but are entirely regardless of distant consequences, 
and even of those removed in the least degree from 
immediate apprehension. While thej r highly prize 
such things as serve for present use, or minister to 
present enjoyment, they set no value upon those 
which are not the object of some immediate want. 1 ' 
When, on the approach of the evening, a Caribbee 
feels himself disposed to go to rest, no considera¬ 
tion will tempt him to sell his hammock. But, in 
the morning, when he is sallying out to the business 
or pastime of the day, he will part with it for the 
slightest toy that catches his fancy. 1 At the close 
of winter, while the impression of what he has 
suffered from the rigour of the climate is fresh in 
the mind of the North American, he sets himself 
with vigour to prepare materials for erecting a com¬ 
fortable hut to protect him against the inclemency of 
the succeeding season ; but, as soon as the weather 
becomes mild, he forgets what is past, abandons his 

gr Ulloa Noticias Americ. €2(2. 

h Venegas Hist, of Calif, i. 66. Supp. Church. Coll. v. 693. Borde 
Descr. des Caraibes, p. 16. Ellis Voy. 194. 

i Lahat Voyages, ii. 114, 115. Tertre, ii. 385. 

k Adair’s Hist, ot Amer. Indians, 417. 

I Condain. p. f»7. Stadinsap.de Bry, ix. 128. Lery, ibid. 251. Biet. 
362. I.ettr. Edif. 2.3. .311. 


work, and never thinks of it more, until the return 
of cold compels him, when too late, to resume it. k 

If, in concerns the most interesting, and seemingly 
the most simple, the reason of man, while rude and 
destitute of culture, differs so little from the thought¬ 
less levity of children, or the improvident instinct 
of animals, its exertions in other directions cannot 
be very considerable. The objects towards which 
reason turns, and the disquisitions in which it en¬ 
gages, must depend upon the state in which man is 
placed, and are suggested by his necessities and de¬ 
sires. Disquisitions, which appear the most neces¬ 
sary and important to men in one state of society, 
never occur to those in another. Among civilized 
nations, arithmetic, or the art of numbering, is 
deemed an essential and elementary science ; and 
in our continent, the invention and use of it reaches 
back to a period so remote as is beyond the know¬ 
ledge of history. But among savages, who have no 
property to estimate, no hoarded treasures to count, 
no variety of objects or multiplicity of ideas to enu¬ 
merate, arithmetic is a superfluous and useless art. 
Accordingly, among some tribes in America it seems 
to be quite unknown. There are many who cannot 
reckon further than three; and have no denomina¬ 
tion to distinguish any number above it.' Several 
can proceed as far as ten, others to twenty. When 
they would convey an idea of any number beyond 
these, they point to the hair of their head, intimating 
that it is equal to them, or with wonder declare it. 
to be so great that it cannot be reckoned." 1 Not 
only the Americans, but all nations, while extremely 
rude, seem to be unacquainted with the art of com¬ 
putation." As soon, however, as they acquire such 
acquaintance or connexion with a variety of objects 
that there is frequent occasion to combine or divide 
them, their knowledge of numbers increases, so that 
the state of this art among any people may be con¬ 
sidered as one standard, by which to estimate the 
degree of their improvement. The Iroquois, in 
North America, as they are much more civilized 
than the rude inhabitants of Brazil, Paraguay, or 
Guiana, have likewise made greater advances in 
this respect; though even their arithmetic does not 
extend beyond a thousand, as in their petty trans¬ 
actions they have no occasion for any higher num¬ 
ber. 0 The Cherokee, a less considerable nation on 
the same continent, can reckon only as far as a 
hundred, and to that extent have names for the 
several numbers ; the smaller tribes in their neigh¬ 
bourhood can rise no higher than ten.P 

In other respects, the exercise of the 

, .. . No abstract ideas, 

understanding among rude nations is 

still more limited. The first ideas of every human 

being must be such as he receives by the senses. 

But in the mind of man, while in the savage state, 

there seem to be hardly any ideas but what enter by 

m Dumont Louis, i. 187. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii.c. 3. Biet. 396. 
Borde, 6 

n This is the case with the Greenlanders. Crantz, i. 225. and with Kam 
chatkadales, M. l’Abbe Chappe, iii. 17. 

o Charlev. Nouv. Franc, iii. 402. 

p Adair's Hist, of Amer. Indians, 77- See Note LI. 


3 c. 2 



820 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK IV. 


this avenue. The objects around him are presented 
to his eye. Such as may be subservient to his use, 
or can gratify any of his appetites, attract his 
notice ; he views the rest without curiosity or atten¬ 
tion. Satisfied with considering them under that 
simple mode in which they appear to him, as sepa¬ 
rate and detached, he neithei combines them so as 
to form general classes, nor contemplates their qua¬ 
lities apart from the subject in which they inhere, 
nor bestows a thought upon the operations of his 
own mind concerning them. Thus he is unac¬ 
quainted with all the ideas which have been deno¬ 
minated universal , or abstract, or of reflection. The 
range of his understanding must, of course, be very 
confined, and his reasoning powers be employed 
merely on what is sensible. This is so remarkably 
the case with the ruder nations of America, that 
their language (as we shall afterwards find) have 
not a word to express any thing but what is material 
or corporeal. Time, space, substance, and a thousand 
other terms, which represent abstract and universal 
ideas, are altogether unknown to them.<i A naked 
savage, cowering over the fire in his miserable 
cabin, or stretched under a few branches which 
afford him a temporary shelter, has as little inclina¬ 
tion as capacity for useless speculation. His 
thoughts extend not beyond what relates to animal 
life; and when they are not directed towards some 
of its concerns, his mind is totally inactive. In 
situations where no extraordinary effort either of 
ingenuity or labour is requisite, in order to satisfy 
the simple demands of nature, the powers of the 
mind are so seldom roused to any exertion, that the 
rational faculties continue almost dormant and un¬ 
exercised. The numerous tribes scattered over the 
rich plains of South America, the inhabitants of 
some of the islands, and of several fertile regions on 
the continent, come under this description. Their 
vacant countenance, their staring unexpressive eye, 
their listless inattention, and total ignorance of 
subjects, which seemed to be the first which should 
occupy the thoughts of rational beings, made such 
impression upon the Spaniards, when they first 
beheld those rude people, that they considered them 
as animals of an inferior order, and could not 
believe that they belonged to the human species. r 
It required the authority of a papal bull to counter¬ 
act this opinion, and to convince them that the 
Americans were capable of the functions, and en¬ 
titled to the privileges, of humanity. s Since that 
time, persons more enlightened and impartial than 
the discoverers or conquerors of America, have had 
an opportunity of contemplating the most savage of 
its inhabitants, and they have been astonished and 
humbled, with observing how nearly man, in this 
condition, approaches to the brute creation. But in 
severer climates, where subsistence cannot be pro¬ 
cured with the same ease, where men must unite 
more closely, and act with greater concert, necessity 
calls forth their talents, and sharpens their inven- 

q Cond. p. 51. r Herr. dec. 2. 1. ii. c. 15. s Torq. Mon. Ind. iii. 198. 


tion, so that the intellectual powers are more exer¬ 
cised and improved. The North American tribes 
and the natives of Chili, who inhabit the temperate 
regions in the two great districts of America, are 
people of cultivated and enlarged understandings, 
when viewed in comparison with some of those 
seated in the islands, or on the banks of the Marag- 
non and Orinoco. Their occupations are more 
various, their system of policy, as well as of war, 
more complex, their arts more numerous. But even 
among them, the intellectual powers are extremely 
limited in their operations, and unless when turned 
directly to those objects which interest a savage, 
are held in no estimation. Both the North Ameri¬ 
cans and Chilese, when not engaged in some of the 
functions belonging to a warrior or hunter, loiter 
away their time in thoughtless indolence, unac¬ 
quainted with any other subject worthy of their 
attention, or capable of occupying their minds. 1 If 
even among them reason is so much circumscribed 
in its exertions, and never arrives, in its highest 
attainments, at the knowledge of those general 
principles and maxims which serve as the founda¬ 
tion of science, we may conclude, that the intellec¬ 
tual powers of man in the savage state are destitute 
of their proper object, and cannot acquire any con¬ 
siderable degree of vigour and enlargement. 

From the same causes, the active 

.Active efforts of 

efforts of the mind are few, and, on the mind tew and 
most occasions, languid. If we ex- languld ' 
amine into the motives which rouse men to activity 
in civilized life, and prompt them to persevere in 
fatiguing exertions of their ingenuity or strength, 
we shall find that they arise chiefly from acquired 
wants and appetites. These are numerous and im¬ 
portunate ; they keep the mind in perpetual agita¬ 
tion, and, in order to gratify them, invention must 
be always on the stretch, and industry must be 
incessantly employed. But the desires of simple 
nature are few, and where a favourable climate 
yields almost spontaneously what suffices to gratify 
them, they scarcely stir the soul, or excite any vio¬ 
lent emotion. Hence the people of several tribes in 
America waste their life in a listless indolence. To 
be free from occupation, seems to be all the enjoy¬ 
ment towards which they aspire. They will continue 
whole days stretched out in their hammocks, or 
seated on the earth in perfect idleness, without 
changing their posture, or raising their eyes from 
the ground, or uttering a single word.u 

Such is their aversion to labour, that 
neither the hope of future good, nor Impr0Vident - 
the apprehension of future evil, can surmount it. 
They appear equally indifferent to both, discovering 
little solicitude, and taking no precautions to avoid 
the one, or to secure the other. The cravings of 
hunger may arouse them ; but as they devour, with 
little distinction, whatever will appease its instinc¬ 
tive demands, the exertions which these occasion 
are ot short duration. Destitute of ardour, as well 

t Lafitau, ii. 2. u Bouguer Voy. au Perou, 102. Borde, 15. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


821 


as variety of desire, they feel not the force of those 
powerful springs which give vigour to the move¬ 
ments of the mind, and urge the patient hand of 
industry to persevere in its efforts. Man, in some 
parts of America, appears in a form so rude, that 
we can discover no effects of his activity, and the 
principle of understanding which should direct it 
seems hardly to be unfolded. Like the other ani¬ 
mals, he has no fixed residence; lie has erected no 
habitation to shelter him from the inclemency of 
the weather ; he has taken no measures for securing 
certain subsistence ; he neither sows nor reaps ; but 
roams about as led in search of the plants and fruits 
which the earth brings forth in succession; and in 
quest of the game which he kills in the forests, or 
of the fish which he catches in the rivers. 

Some variety This description, however, applies 
aifthese** 1 to on ^ to some tribes. Man cannot con¬ 
tinue long in this state of feeble and un¬ 
informed infancy. He was made for industry and 
action, and the powers of his nature, as well as the 
necessity of his condition, urge him to fulfil his 
destiny. Accordingly, among most of the American 
nations, especially those seated in rigorous climates, 
some efforts are employed, and some previous pre¬ 
cautions are taken, for securing subsistence. The 
career of regular industry is begun, and the labo¬ 
rious arm has made the first essays of its power. 
Still, however, the improvident and slothful genius 
of the savage state predominates. Even among 
those more improved tribes, labour is deemed igno¬ 
minious and degrading. It is only to work of a cer¬ 
tain kind that a man will deign to put his hand. The 
greater part is devolved entirely upon the women. 
One half of the community remains inactive, while 
the other is oppressed with the multitude and 
variety of its occupations. Thus their industry is 
partial, and the foresight which regulates it is no 
less limited. A remarkable instance of this occurs 
in the chief arrangement with respect to their man¬ 
ner of living. They depend for their subsistence, 
during one part of the year, on fishing ; during 
another, on hunting; during a third, on the pro¬ 
duce of their agriculture. Though experience has 
taught them to foresee the return of those various 
seasons, and to make some provision for the respec¬ 
tive exigencies of each, they either w ant sagacity to 
proportion this provision to their consumption, or 
are so incapable of any command over their appe¬ 
tites, that from their inconsiderate waste, they often 
feel the calamities of famine as severely as the 
rudest of the savage tribes. What they suffer one 
year does not augment their industry, or render them 
more provident to prevent similar distresses.* This 
inconsiderate thoughtlessness about futurity, the 
effect of ignorance and the cause of sloth, accompa¬ 
nies and characterizes man in every stage of savage 
life ; y and, by a capricious singularity in his opera¬ 


tions, he is then least solicitous about supplying his 
wants, when the means of satisfying them are most 
precarious, and procured with the greatest difficulty. 2 

III. After viewing the bodily con- 

... „ ,, . . , Their social state. 

stitution ot the Americans, and con¬ 
templating the powers of their minds, we are led, 
in the natural order of inquiry, to consider them as 
united together in society. Hitherto our researches 
have been confined to the operations of understand¬ 
ing respecting themselves as individuals, now they 
will extend to the degree of their sensibility and 
affection towards their species. 

The domestic state is the first and ^ 

Domestic union. 

most simple form ot human association. 

The union of the sexes, among different animals, is 
of longer or shorter duration in proportion to the ease 
or difficulty of rearing their offspring. Among those 
tribes where the season of infancy is short, and the 
young soon acquire vigour or agility, no permanent 
union is formed. Nature commits the care of training 
up the offspring to the mother alone, and her tender¬ 
ness, without any other assistance, is equal to the 
task. But where the state of infancy is long and help¬ 
less, and the joint assiduity of both parents is requi¬ 
site in tending their feeble progeny, there a more 
intimate connexion takes place, and continues until 
the purpose of nature be accomplished, and the 
new race grow up to full maturity. As the infancy 
of man is more feeble and helpless than that of any 
other animal, and he is dependent, during a much 
longer period, on the care and foresight of his pa¬ 
rents, the union between husband and wife came 
early to be considered, not only as a solemn, but as 
a permanent, contract. A general state of promis¬ 
cuous intercourse between the sexes never existed 
but in the imagination of poets. In the infancy of 
society, when men, destitute of arts and industry, 
lead a hard precarious life, the rearing of their pro¬ 
geny demands the attention and efforts of both pa¬ 
rents ; and if their union had not been formed and 
continued with this view, the race could not have been 
preserved. Accordingly, in America, even among 
the rudest tribes, a regular union between husband 
and wife was universal, and the rights of marriage 
were understood and recognised. In those districts 
where subsistence was scanty, and the difficulty of 
maintaining a family was great, the man confined him¬ 
self to one wife. In warmer and more fertile provin¬ 
ces, the facility of procuring food concurred with the 
influence of climate in inducing the i nhabitants to in¬ 
crease the number of their wives. 2 In some countries, 
the marriage union subsisted during life ; in others, 
the impatience of the Americans under restraint of 
any species, together with their natural levity and 
caprice, prompted them to dissolve it on very slight 
pretexts, and often without assigning any cause. 6 

But in whatever light the Americans condition of 
considered the obligation of this con- women. 


x Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 330. Lettr. Ed if. 23.298. Descript, of N. France, 
Osborn’s Collect, ii. 880. De la Potlierie, ii. 63. 
y Bancroft’s Nat. Hist, of Guiana, 326. 333. 
sc See Note Lll. 


a Lettr. Edif. 23. 318. Lafitau Moeurs, i. 554. Lery ap. de Bry, m. 
231. Journal de Grillet et Bechamel, p. 88. 

b Lafitau, i. 580. Joutel Journ. Histor. 345. Lozano Descr. del Gran 
Chaco, 70. Hennepin Mceurs des Sauvages, p. 30. 33. 



822 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


tract, either as perpetual, or only as temporary, the 
condition of women was equally humiliating and 
miserable. Whether man has been improved by 
the progress of arts and civilization in society, is a 
question which, in the wantonness of disputation, 
lias been agitated among philosophers. That wo¬ 
men are indebted to the refinements of polished 
manners for a happy change in their state, is a point 
which can admit of no doubt. To despise and to 
degrade the female sex, is the characteristic of the 
savage state in every part of the globe. Man, proud 
of excelling in strength and in courage, the chief 
marks of pre-eminence among rude people, treats 
woman, as an inferior, with disdain. The Ame¬ 
ricans, perhaps from that coldness and insensibility 
which has been considered as peculiar to their con¬ 
stitution, add neglect and harshness to contempt. 
The most intelligent travellers have been struck 
with this inattention of the Americans to their wo¬ 
men. It is not, as I have already observed, by a 
studied display of tenderness and attachment, that 
the American endeavours to gain the heart of the 
woman whom he wishes to marry. Marriage itself, 
instead of being an union of affection and interests 
between equals, becomes, among them, the unna¬ 
tural conjunction of a master with his slave. It is 
the observation of an author, whose opinions are 
deservedly of great weight, that wherever wives are 
purchased, their condition is extremely depressed.* 1 
They become the property and the slaves of those 
who buy them. In whatever part of the globe this 
custom prevails, the observation holds. In coun¬ 
tries where refinement has made some progress, 
women, when purchased, are excluded from society, 
shut up in sequestered apartments, and kept under 
the vigilant guard of their masters. In ruder na¬ 
tions, they are degraded to the meanest functions. 
Among many people of America, the marriage- 
contract is properly a purchase. The man buys his 
wife of her parents. Though unacquainted with 
the use of money, or with such commercial transac¬ 
tions as take place in more improved society, he 
knows how to give an equivalent for any object 
which he desires to possess. In some places, the 
suitor devotes his service for a certain time to the 
parents of the maid whom he courts ; in others, he 
hunts for them occasionally, or assists in cultivating 
their fields, and forming their canoes ; in others, he 
offers presents of such things as are deemed most 
valuable on account of their usefulness or rari¬ 
ty.* 1 In return for these he receives his wife; 
and this circumstance, added to the low estimation 
of women among savages, leads him to consider her 
as a female servant whom he has purchased, and 
whom he has a title to treat as an inferior. In all 
unpolished nations, it is true, the functions in do¬ 
mestic economy, which fall naturally to the share of 

c Sketches of Hist, of Man, i. 184. 

d Lafitau Moeurs, &c. i. 56(>, &c. Cliarlev. iii. 285, &c. Herrera, dec. 
4. lib. iv. c. 7. Dumont, n. 156. 

e Tertre, ii. 382. Borde Relat. des Moeurs des Caraibes, p. 21. Biet, 
357. Condamine, p. 110. l ermin, i. 7Q. 

f Gumilla, i. J53. Barrere, 164. Labat. Voy. ii. 78. Chanvalon, 51. 
Tertre, n. 300. 


women, are so many, that they are subjected to hard 
labour, and must bear more than their full portion 
of the common burthen. But in America their con¬ 
dition is so peculiarly grievous, and their depression 
so complete, that servitude is a name too mild to 
describe their wretched state. A wife, among most 
tribes, is no better than a beast of burthen, destined 
to every office of labour and fatigue. While the 
men loiter out the day in sloth, or spend it in amuse¬ 
ment, the women are condemned to incessant toil. 
Tasks are imposed upon them without pity, and 
services are received without complaisance or grati¬ 
tude. 6 Every circumstance reminds women of this 
mortifying inferiority. They must approach their 
lords with reverence; they must regard them as 
more exalted beings, and are not permitted to eat 
in their presence.* There are districts in America 
where this dominion is so grievous, and so sensibly 
felt, that some women, in a wild emotion of mater¬ 
nal tenderness, have destroyed their female children 
in their infancy, in order to deliver them from that 
intolerable bondage to which they knew they were 
doomed. 8 Thus the first institution of social life is 
perverted. That state of domestic union towards 
which nature leads the human species, in order to 
soften the heart to gentleness and humanity, is 
rendered so unequal, as to establish a cruel distinc¬ 
tion between the sexes, which forms the one to be 
harsh and unfeeling, and humbles the other to 
servility and subjection. 

It is owing, perhaps, in some mea- Theirwnen not 
sure to this state of depression, that prolific, 
women in rude nations are far from being prolific. 1 ’ 
The vigour of their constitution is exhausted by ex¬ 
cessive fatigue, and the wants and distresses of savage 
life are so numerous, as to force them to take vari¬ 
ous precautions in order to prevent too rapid an in¬ 
crease of their progeny. Among wandering tribes, 
or such as depend chiefly upon hunting for subsist¬ 
ence, the mother cannot attempt to rear a second 
child, until the first has attained such a degree of 
vigour as to be in some measure independent of her 
care. From this motive it is the universal practice 
of the American women to suckle their children 
during several years;’ and as they seldom marry 
early, the period of their fertility is over before they 
can finish the long but necessary attendance upon 
two or three children. 1 * Among some of the least 
polished tribes, whose industry and foresight do not 
extend so far as to make any regular provision for 
their own subsistence, it is a maxim not to burthen 
themselves with rearing more than two children ; l 
and no such numerous families, as are frequent in 
civilized societies, are to be found among men in 
the savage state. 1 ” When twins are born, one of 
them commonly is abandoned, because the mother 
is not equal to the task of rearing both." When a 


u t U ? 111,a \ 11 • 233. 538. Herrera, dec. 7 . lib. ix. c. iv. 

1 . rn!i au ’ ^!_! ar l ev oix, iii. 304. i Her. dec. 6. lib. i. c. 4. 

k Charley, m. 303. Dumont Mem. sur Louisiane, ii. 2?0. Deny’s Hist. 
Natur.de 1 Amerique, &c. ii. 365. Charlev. Hist, de Paras, ii. 422. 

JU *T°«L Ac r 0unt Paraguay, &c. Church. Collect, vi. 108. Lett. 
Lair. 24. 200. Lozano Descr. 92. 

m Maccleur's Journal, 63. n Left. Edif. x. 200. See Note LIT I 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


823 


mother dies while she is nursing a child, all hope of 
preserving its life fails, and it is buried together 
with her in the same grave/ As the parents are fre¬ 
quently exposed to want by their own improvident 
indolence, the difficulty of sustaining their children 
becomes so great, that it is not uncommon to aban¬ 
don or destroy them/ Thus their experience of the 
difficulty of training up an infant to maturity, 
amidst the hardships of savage life, often stifles the 
voice of nature among the Americans, and suppresses 
the strong emotions of parental tenderness. 

Parental affection But, though necessity compels the 

and filial duty, inhabitants of America thus to set 

bounds to the increase of their families, they are 
not deficient in affection and attachment to their 
offspring. They feel the power of this instinct in 
its full force, and as long as their progeny continue 
feeble and helpless, no people exceed them in ten¬ 
derness and care/ But in rude nations, the depend¬ 
ence of children upon their parents is of shorter 
continuance than in polished societies. When men 
must be trained to the various functions of civil life 
by previous discipline and education, when the 
know ledge of abstruse sciences must be taught, and 
dexterity in intricate arts must be acquired, before a 
young man is prepared to begin his career of action, 
the attentive feelings of a parent are not confined to 
the years of infancy, but extend to what is more re¬ 
mote, the establishment of his child in the world. 
Even then his solicitude does not terminate. His 
protection may still be requisite, and his wisdom 
and experience still prove useful guides. Thus a 
permanent connexion is formed ; parental tender¬ 
ness is exercised, and filial respect returned, through¬ 
out the whole course of life. But in the simplicity 
of the savage state, the affection of parents, like the 
instinctive fondness of animals, ceases almost en¬ 
tirely as soon as their offspring attain maturity. 
Little instruction fits them for that mode of life to 
which they are destined. The parents, as if their 
duty were accomplished, when they have conducted 
their children through the helpless years of infancy, 
leave them afterwards at entire liberty. Even in 
their tender age, they seldom advise or admonish, 
they never chide or chastise them. They suffer 
them to be absolute masters of their ow n actions.® In 
an American hut, a father, a mother, and their pos¬ 
terity, live together like persons assembled by acci¬ 
dent, without seeming to feel the obligation of the 
duties mutually arising from this connexion/ As 
filial love is not cherished by the continuance of 
attention or good offices, the recollection of benefits 
received in early infancy is too faint to excite it. 
Conscious of their own liberty, and impatient of 
restraint, the youth of America are accustomed to act 
as if they were totally independent. Their parents 
are not objects of greater regard than other persons. 

p Charlev. iii. 368. Lett. Ed if. x. 200. P. Melch. Hernandez. Mem. 
de Cheriqui. Colbert. Collect. Orig. Pap. i. 

q Venegas, Hist, of Califom. i. 82. 

r Gumilla, i. 211. Biet, 300. .... T . 

s Charlev. iii. 272. Biet, 390. Gumilla, l. 212. Lafitau, l. 602. 
C’reuxii Hist. Canad. p. 71. Fernandez, Relac. Hist, de los Chequit. 33. 

t Cliarlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 273. 


They treat them always with neglect, and often with 
such harshness and insolence, as to fill those who 
have been witnesses of their conduct with horror/ 
Thus the ideas which seem to be natural to man in 
his savage state, as they result necessarily from his 
circumstances and condition in that period of his 
progress, affect the two capital relations in domestic 
life. They render the union between husband 
and wife unequal. They shorten the duration, and 
weaken the force, of the connexion between parents 
and children. 

IV. From the domestic state of the political 
Americans, the transition to the con- institutions. 

sideration of their civil government and political in¬ 
stitutions is natural. In every inquiry concerning 
the operations of men when united together in so¬ 
ciety, the first object of attention should be their 
mode of subsistence. Accordingly as that varies, 
their laws and policy must be different. The insti¬ 
tution suited to the ideas and exigences of tribes, 
which subsist chiefly by fishing or hunting, and 
which have as yet acquired but an imperfect con¬ 
ception of any species of property, will be much 
more simple than those which must take place when 
the earth is cultivated with regular industry, and a 
right of property, not only in its productions, but in 
the soil itself, is completely ascertained. 

All the people of America, now un- Mode 0 f subsist- 
der review, belong to the former class. ence; 

But though they may all be comprehended under 
the general denomination of savage, the advances 
which they had made in the art of procuring to them¬ 
selves a certain and plentiful subsistence, were very 
unequal. On the extensive plains of South America, 
man appears in one of the rudest states in which he 
has been ever observed, or, perhaps, can exist. Se¬ 
veral tribes depend entirely upon the bounty of 
nature for subsistence. They discover no solicitude, 
they employ little foresight, they scarcely exert any 
industry, to secure what is necessary for their sup¬ 
port. The Topcn/ers of Brazil, the Guaxeros of Tierra 
Firme, the Caiguas, the Moxos, and several other 
people of Paraguay, are unacquainted with every 
species of cultivation. They neither sow nor plant. 
Even the culture of the manioc, of which cassada 
bread is made, is an art too intricate for their inge¬ 
nuity, or too fatiguing to their indolence. The roots 
which the earth produces spontaneously, the fruits, 
the berries, and the seeds, which they gather in the 
woods, together with lizards and other reptiles, 
which multiply amazingly with the heat of the cli¬ 
mate in a fat soil, moistened by frequent rains, sup¬ 
ply them with food during some part of the year/ 
At other times they subsist by fishing ; _ .. 

and nature seems to have indulged the 
laziness of the South American tribes by the libe¬ 
rality with which she ministers, in this way, to their 

u Gumilla, i. 212. Tertre, ii. 376. Charlev. Hist. de. N. France, iii. 
309. Charlev. Hist, de Parag. i. 115. Lozano. Descript, del. Gran Chaco, 
p. 68. 100, 101. Fernand. Relac. Histor. de los Chequit. 426. 

x Nieuhoff. Hist, of Brazil. Church. Coll. ii. 134. Simon Conquista 
de Tierra Fume, p. 166. Techo, Account of Paraguay, &c. Church, vi. 
78. Lettr. Edif. 23. 384. 10. 190. Lozano, Descrip, del Gran Chaco, p. 
81. Ribas, Histor. de los l'riumfos, &c. p.7. 



824 


BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY 

wants. The vast rivers of that region in America 
abound with an infinite variety of the most delicate 
fish. The lakes and marshes formed by the annual 
overflowing of the waters, are filled with all the dif¬ 
ferent species, where they remain shut up, as in 
natural reservoirs, for the use of the inhabitants. 
They swarm in such shoals, that in some places they 
are catched without art or industry. 3 ” In others, the 
natives have discovered a method of infecting the 
w ater with the juice of certain plants, by which the 
fish are so intoxicated, that they float on the surface, 
and are taken with the hand. 2 Some tribes have 
ingenuity enough to preserve them without salt, by 
drying or smoking them upon hurdles over a slow 
fire. a The prolific quality of the rivers in South 
America induces many of the natives to resort to 
their banks, and to depend almost entirely for 
nourishment on what their waters supply with such 
profusion. 1 * In this part of the globe, hunting seems 
not to have been the first employment of men, or 
the first effort of their invention and labour to ob¬ 
tain food. They were fishers before they became 
hunters; and as the occupations of the former do 
not call for equal exertions of activity or talents 
with those of the latter, people in that state appear 
to possess neither the same degree of enterprise nor 
of ingenuity. The petty nations, adjacent to the 
Maragnon and Orinoco, are manifestly the most 
inactive and least intelligent of all the Americans. 

None but tribes contiguous to great 

by bunting; . , . , . ., . 

rivers can sustain themselves in this 

manner. The greater part of the American nations, 
dispersed over the forests with which their country 
is covered, do not procure subsistence with the 
same facility. For although these forests, especi¬ 
ally in the southern continent of America, are 
stored plentifully with game, c considerable efforts 
of activity and ingenuity are requisite in pursuit of 
it. Necessity incited the natives to the one, and 
taught them the other. Hunting became their 
principal occupation ; and as it called forth strenu¬ 
ous exertions of courage, of force, and of invention, 
it was deemed no less honourable than necessary. 
This occupation was peculiar to the men. They 
were trained to it from their earliest youth. A bold 
and dexterous hunter ranked next in fame to the 
distinguished warrior, and an alliance with the 
former is often courted in preference to one with 
the latter. d Hardly any device, which the ingenu¬ 
ity of man has discovered for insnaring or destroy¬ 
ing wild animals, was unknown to the Americans. 
While engaged in this favourite exercise, they 
shake off the indolence peculiar to their nature, 
the latent powers and vigour of their minds are 
roused, and they become active, persevering, and 
indefatigable. Their sagacity in finding their prey, 
and their address in killing it, are equal. Their 

y See Note LTV. z See Note LV. 

a Condam. 159. Gumilla, 11 . 37. lettr. Edif. 14. 199. 23. 328. Acugna, 
Kelat. de la Riv. des Amaz. 138. 

b Barrere, Relat. de Fr. Equin. p. 155. 

c P. Martyr, Decad. p. 324. Gumilla, ii. 4, <Scc. Acugna. i. 156. 

d Charlev. Histoire de laN. France,iii. 115. 


OF AMERICA. 

reason and their senses being constantly directed 
towards this one object, the former displays such 
fertility of invention, and the latter acquire such a 
degree of acuteness, as appear almost incredible. 
They discern the footsteps of a wild beast, which 
escape every other eye, and can follow them with 
certainty through the pathless forest. If they at¬ 
tack their game openly, their arrow seldom errs 
from the mark ; e if they endeavour to circumvent 
it by art, it is almost impossible to avoid their toils. 
Among several tribes, their young men were not 
permitted to marry, until they had given such proofs 
of their skill in hunting as put it beyond doubt 
that they were capable of providing for a family. 
Their ingenuity, always on the stretch, and sharp¬ 
ened by emulation, as well as necessity, has struck 
out many inventions, which greatly facilitate suc¬ 
cess in the chase. The most singular of these is the 
discovery of a poison in which they dip the arrows 
employed in hunting. The slightest wound with 
those envenomed shafts is mortal. If they only 
pierce the skin the blood fixes and congeals in a 
moment, and the strongest animal falls motionless 
to the ground. Nor does this poison, notwithstand¬ 
ing its violence and subtilty, infect the flesh of the 
animal which it kills. That may be eaten with 
perfect safety, and retain its native relish and qua¬ 
lities. All the nations situated upon the banks of 
the Maragnon and Orinoco are acquainted with 
this composition, the chief ingredient in which is 
the juice extracted from the root of the curare, a 
species of withe. f In other parts of America, they 
employ the juice of the manchenille for the same 
purpose, and it operates with no less fatal activity. 
To people possessed of those secrets, the bow is a 
more destructive weapon than the musket, and, in 
their skilful hands, does great execution among 
the birds and beasts which abound in the forests of 
America. 

But the life of a hunter gradually 
leads man to a state more advanced. by agnculture * 
The chase, even where prey is abundant, and the 
dexterity of the hunter much improved, affords but 
an uncertain maintenance, and at some seasons it 
must be suspended altogether. If a savage trusts 
to his bow alone for food, he and his family will be 
often reduced to extreme distress.* Hardly any 
region of the earth furnishes man spontaneously 
with what his w ants require. In the mildest cli¬ 
mates, and most fertile soils, his own industry and 
foresight must be exerted, in some degree, to secure 
a regular supply of food. Their experience of this 
surmounts the abhorrence of labour natural to 
savage nations, and compels them to have recourse 
to culture, as subsidiary to hunting. In particular 
situations, some small tribes may subsist by fishing, 
independent of any production of the earth raised 

e Riet. Voy. de France Equin. 357- Davies’s Discov. of the River of 
Amaz. Purchas. iv. p. 1287. 

.Condam. 208. Recherch. Philos, ii. 239. Ban¬ 
crofts Nat. Mist, of Guiana, 281, &c. 

g See Note LV1. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


825 


by their own industry. But throughout all Ame¬ 
rica, we scarcely meet with any nation of hunters, 
which does not practise some species of cultiva¬ 
tion. 

The various fruits The agriculture of the Americans, 
ot then culture. i 10wever> j s neither extensive nor la¬ 
borious. As game and fish are their principal food, 
all they aim at, by cultivation, is to supply any oc¬ 
casional defect of these. In the southern continent 
of America, the natives confined their industry to 
rearing a few r plants, which in a rich soil and warm 
climate were easily trained to maturity. The chief 
of these is maize , well known in Europe by the 
name of Turkey or Indian wheat, a grain extremely 
prolific, of simple culture, agreeable to the taste, 
and affording a strong hearty nourishment. The 
second is the manioc , w hich grows to the size of a 
large shrub, or small tree, and produces roots some¬ 
what resembling parsnips. After carefully squeez¬ 
ing out the juice, these roots are grated down to a 
fine powder, and formed into thin cakes, called 
cassada bread, which, though insipid to the taste, 
proves no contemptible food. 6 As the juice of the 
manioc is a deadly poison, some authors have cele¬ 
brated the ingenuity of the Americans, in convert¬ 
ing a noxious plant into wholesome nourishment. 
But it should rather be considered as one of the 
desperate expedients for procuring subsistence, to 
which necessity reduces rude nations ; or, perhaps, 
men w ere led to the use of it by a progress, in 
which there is nothing marvellous. One species of 
manioc is altogether free of any poisonous quality, 
and may be eaten without any preparation but that 
of roasting it in the embers. This, it is probable, 
was first used by the Americans as food ; and ne¬ 
cessity having gradually taught them the art of 
separating its pernicious juice from the other spe¬ 
cies, they have by experience found it to be more 
prolific as w ell as more nourishing. 11 The third is 
the plantain , which, though it rises to the height of 
a tree, it is of such quick growth, that in less than 
a year it rewards the industry of the cultivator with 
its fruit. This, when roasted, supplies the place of 
bread, and is both palatable and nourishing.' The 
fourth is the potato , whose culture and qualities are 
too well known to need any description. The fifth 
is pimento , a small tree yielding a strong aromatic 
spice. The Americans, who, like other inhabitants 
of warm climates, delight in whatever is hot and of 
poignant llavour, deem this seasoning a necessary of 
life, and mingle it copiously with every kind of 
food they take. k 

Such are the various productions, which were the 
chief object of culture among the hunting tribes on 
the continent of America; and with a moderate 
exertion of active and provident industry, these 
might have yielded a full supply to the wants of a 


numerous people. But men, accustomed to the free 
and vagrant life of hunters, are incapable of regular 
application to labour, and consider agriculture as a 
secondary and inferior occupation. Accordingly, 
the provision for subsistence, arising from cultiva¬ 
tion, was so limited and scanty among the Ameri¬ 
cans, that, upon any accidental failure of their 
usual success in hunting, they were often reduced 
to extreme distress. 

In the islands, the mode of subsisting was con¬ 
siderably different. None of the large animals 
which abound on the continent were known there. 
Only four species of quadrupeds, besides a kind of 
small dumb dog, existed in the islands, the biggest 
of which did not exceed the size of a rabbit. 1 To 
hunt such diminutive prey, was an occupation 
which required no effort either of activity or courage. 
The chief employment of a hunter in the isles was 
to kill birds, which on the continent are deemed 
ignoble game, and left chiefly to the pursuit of 
boys. 1 " This want of animals, as well as their 
peculiar situation, led the islanders to depend prin¬ 
cipally upon fishing for their subsistence." Their 
rivers, and the sea with which they are surrounded, 
supplied them with this species of food. At some 
particular seasons, turtle, crabs, and other shell-fish, 
abounded in such numbers, that the natives could 
support themselves with a facility in which their 
indolence delighted. 0 At other times they ate 
lizards, and various reptiles of odious forms .p To 
fishing, the inhabitants of the islands added some 
degree of agriculture. Maize, q manioc, and other 
plants, were cultivated in the same manner as on 
the continent. But all the fruits of Their agriculture 
their industry, together with what their very ^ ,mited - 
soil and climate produced spontaneously, afforded 
them but a scanty maintenance. Though their 
demands for food were very sparing, they hardly 
raised what was sufficient for their own consump¬ 
tion. If a few Spaniards settled in any district, 
such a small addition of supernumerary mouths 
soon exhausted their scanty stores, and brought on 
a famine. 

Two circumstances, common to all Two causes of its 
the savage nations of America, con- “^perfection, 
curred with those which I have already mentioned, 
not only in rendering their agriculture imperfect, 
but in circumscribing their power in all their ope¬ 
rations. They had no tame animals ; and they were 
unacquainted with the useful metals. 

In other parts of the globe, man, in The want of 
his rudest state, appears as lord of the tame animals * 
creation, giving law to various tribes of animals, 
which he has tamed, and reduced to subjection. 
The Tartar follows his prey on the horse which he 
has reared ; or tends his numerous herds, which 
furnish him both with food and clothing: the Arab 


g Sloane, Hist, of Jam. Introduct. p. 18. I.abat, i. 394. Acosta, Hist. 
Ind. Occid. Natur. lib. iv. c. 17- Ulloa, i. 62. Aublet, Mem. sur le 
Magnioc, Hist, des Plantes, torn. ii. p. 65, &c. ... 

h Martyr, Decad. 301. Labat, i. 411. Gumilla, m. 192. Machucha 
Milic. Indiana, 164. See Note LVII. ... . 

i See Note LVI1I. k Gumilla, in. 171. Acosta, lib. iv. c. 20. 


1 Oviedo, lib. xii. in proem. 

m Ribas, Hist, de los Triumf. p. 13. De la Potherie, ii. 33. iii. 20. 
n Oviedo, lib. xiii. c. 1. Gotnara, Hist. Gener. c. 28. 
o Gomara, Hist. Gener. c. 9. Labat, ii. 221, &c. 
p Oviedo, lib. xiii. c. 3. q See Note L1X. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


826 

lms rendered the camel docile, and avails himself 
of its persevering strength: the Laplander has 
formed the rein-deer to be subservient to bis will; 
and even the people of Kamchatka have trained 
their dogs to labour. This command over the 
inferior creatures is one of the noblest prerogatives 
of man, and among the greatest efforts of his wisdom 
and power. Without this, his dominion is incom¬ 
plete. He is a monarch who has no subjects ; a 
master without servants, and must perform every 
operation by the strength of his own arm. Such 
was the condition of all the rude nations in America. 
Their reason was so little improved, or their union 
so incomplete, that they seem not to have been con¬ 
scious of the superiority of their nature, and suffered 
all the animal creation to retain its liberty, without 
establishing their own authority over any one species. 
Most of the animals, indeed, which have been ren¬ 
dered domestic in our continent, do not exist in the 
New World ; but those peculiar to it are neither so 
fierce nor so formidable, as to have exempted them 
from servitude. There are some animals of the 
same species in both continents. But the rein-deer, 
which has been tamed and broken to the yoke in 
the one hemisphere, runs wild in the other. The 
bison of America is manifestly of the same species 
with the horned cattle of the other hemisphere/ 
The latter, even among the rudest nations in our 
continent, have been rendered domestic ; and, in 
consequence of his dominion over them, man can 
accomplish works of labour with greater facility, 
and has made a great addition to his means of sub¬ 
sistence. The inhabitants of many regions of the 
New World, where the bison abounds, might have 
derived the same advantages from it. It is not of a 
nature so indocile, but that it might have been 
trained to be as subservient to man as our cattle. s 
But a savage, in that uncultivated state wherein the 
Americans were discovered, is the enemy of the 
other animals, not their superior. He wastes and 
destroys, but knows not how to multiply or to govern 
them/ 

This, perhaps, is the most notable distinction 
between the inhabitants of the Ancient and New 
Worlds, and a high pre-eminence of civilized men 
above such as continue rude. The greatest opera¬ 
tions of man, in changing and improving the face 
of nature, as well as his most considerable efforts in 
cultivating the earth, are accomplished by means of 
the aid which he receives from the animals that 
he has tamed, and employs in labour. It is by their 
strength that he subdues the stubborn soil, and 
converts the desert or marsh into a fruitful field. 
But man, in his civilized state, is so accustomed to 
the service of the domestic animals, that he seldom 
reflects upon the vast benefits which he derives from 
it. If we were to suppose him, even when most 
improved, to be deprived of their useful ministry, 
his empire over nature must in some measure cease, 

r Buffon, Artie. Bison. 

s Nouv. Decouverte par Hennepin, p. 192. KaAn, i. 207 . 


and he would remain a feeble animal, at a loss how 
to subsist, and incapable of attempting such arduous 
undertakings as their assistance enables him to 
execute with ease. 

It is a doubtful point, whether the Wa ntofthe 
dominion of man over the animal ere- usetul metals - 
ation, or his acquiring the useful metals, has con¬ 
tributed most to extend his power. The era of this 
important discovery is unknown, and in our hemis¬ 
phere very remote. It is only by tradition, or by 
digging up some rude instruments of our fore¬ 
fathers, that we learn that mankind were originally 
unacquainted with the use of metals, and endea¬ 
voured to supply the want of them by employing 
flints, shells, bones, and other hard substances, for 
the same purposes which metals serve among 
polished nations. Nature completes the formation 
of some metals. Gold, silver, and copper, are found 
in their perfect state in the clefts of rocks, in the 
sides of mountains, or the channels of rivers. These 
were accordingly the metals first known, and first 
applied to use. But iron, the most serviceable of 
all, and to which man is most indebted, is never 
discovered in its perfect form ; its gross and stub¬ 
born ore must feel twice the force of fire, and go 
through two laborious processes, before it become 
fit for use. Man was long acquainted with the other 
metals before he acquired the art of fabricating 
iron, or attained such ingenuity as to perfect an 
invention, to which he is indebted for those instru¬ 
ments wherewith he subdues the earth, and com¬ 
mands all its inhabitants. But in this, as well as 
in many other respects, the inferiority of the Ameri¬ 
cans was conspicuous. All the savage tribes, scat¬ 
tered over the continent and islands, were totally 
unacquainted with the metals which their soil pro¬ 
duces in great abundance, if we except some trifling 
quantity of gold, which they picked up in the 
torrents that descended from their mountains, and 
formed into ornaments. Their devices to supply 
this want of the serviceable metals, were extremely 
rude and awkward. The most simple operation 
was to them an undertaking of immense difficulty 
and labour. To fell a tree with no other instruments 
than hatchets of stone, was employment for a 
month. u To form a canoe into shape, and to hollow 
it, consumed years ; and it frequently began to rot 
before they were able to finish it. x Their operations 
in agriculture were equally slow and defective. In 
a country covered with woods of the hardest timber, 
the clearing of a small field destined for culture 
required the united efforts of a tribe, and was a work 
of much time and great toil. This was the business 
of the men, and their indolence was satisfied with 
performing it in a very slovenly manner. The 
labour of cultivation was left to the women, who, 
after digging, or rather stirring, the field, with 
wooden mattocks, and stakes hardened in the fire, 
sowed or planted it; but they were more indebted 

t Buffon, Hist. Nat. ix. 85. ITist. Philos, et Polit. des Etablissem. des 
Europ. dans les deux Indes, vi. 364. 

u Gumilla, iii. 196. x Borde, Relat. des Caraibes. p. 22. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


827 


for the increase to the fertility of the soil, than to 
their own rude industry.y 

Agriculture, even when the strength of man is 
seconded by that of the animals which he has sub¬ 
jected to the yoke, and his power augmented by the 
use of the various instruments with which the dis¬ 
covery of metals has furnished him, is still a work 
of great labour; and it is with the sweat of his 
brow that he renders the earth fertile. It is not 
wonderful, then, that people destitute of both these 
advantages should have made so little progress in 
cultivation, that they must be considered as depend¬ 
ing for subsistence on fishing and hunting, rather 
than on the fruits of their own labour. 

Political institu From this description of the mode of 
tions arising from subsisting among the rude American 

inis siRtc, 

tribes, the form and genius of their 
political institutions may be deduced, and we are 
enabled to trace various circumstances of distinction 
between them and more civilized nations. 

, . 1. They were divided into small 

1. Divided into . J 

ties 111 communi ' independent communities. While 

hunting is the chief source of subsist¬ 
ence, a vast extent of territory is requisite for sup¬ 
porting a small number of people. In proportion as 
men multiply and unite, the wild animals, on which 
they depend for food, diminish, or fly at a greater 
distance from the haunts of their enemy. The in¬ 
crease of a society in this state is limited by its own 
nature, and the members of it must either disperse, 
like the game which they pursue, or fall upon some 
better method of procuring food than by hunting. 
Beasts of prey are by nature solitary and unsocial ; 
they go not forth to the chase in herds, but delight 
in those recesses of the forest where they can roam 
and destroy undisturbed. A nation of hunters 
resembles them both in occupation and in genius. 
They cannot form into large communities, because 
it would be impossible to find subsistence ; and they 
must drive to a distance every rival who may 
encroach on those domains, which they consider as 
their own. This was the state of all the American 
tribes; the numbers in each were inconsiderable, 
though scattered over countries of great extent; 
they were far removed from one another, and en¬ 
gaged in perpetual hostilities or rivalship. 2 In 
America, the word nation is not of the same import 
as in other parts of the globe. It is applied to small 
societies, not exceeding, perhaps, two or three hun¬ 
dred persons, but occupying provinces greater than 
some kingdoms in Europe. The country of Guiana, 
though of larger extent than the kingdom of France, 
and divided among a greater number of nations, did 
not contain above twenty five thousand inhabitants. 3 
In the provinces which border on the Orinoco, one 
may travel several hundred miles in different direc¬ 
tions, without finding a single hut, or observing the 

y Gumilla, iii. 166. Lettr. Edif. xii. 10. 

z Lozano, Descrip, del Gran Chaco, 59, 62. Fernandez, Relac. Hist, 
de los Chequit. 162. 

a Voyages de Marchais. iv. 353. _ b Gumilla, ii. 101. 

c M. Fabry, quoted by Ruffon, iii. 448. Lafitau, ii. 179- Bossu, 
Travels through Louisiana, i. 111. See Note LX. 


footsteps of a human creature. b In North America, 
where the climate is more rigorous, and the soil less 
fertile, the desolation is still greater. There, jour¬ 
neys of some hundred leagues have been made 
through uninhabited plains and forests.c As long as 
hunting continues to be the chief employment of 
man, to which he trusts for subsistence, he can 
hardly be said to have occupied the earth. d 

2. Nations which depend upon hunt- 

. . . „ Unacquainted 

ing are, in a great measure, strangers with the idea of 
to the idea of property. As the ani- property ‘ 
mals on which the hunter feeds are not bred under 
his inspection, nor nourished by his care, he can 
claim no right to them, while they run wild in the 
forest. Where game is so plentiful that it may be 
catched with little trouble, men never dream of 
appropriating what is of small value, or of easy 
acquisition. Where it is so rare, that the labour or 
danger of the chase requires the united efforts of a 
tribe, or village, what is killed is a common stock, 
belonging equally to all, who, by their skill or their 
courage, have contributed to the success of the ex¬ 
cursion. The forest, or hunting-grounds, are deemed 
the property of the tribe, from which it has a title 
to exclude every rival nation. But no individual 
arrogates a right to any district of these, in prefer¬ 
ence to his fellow-citizens. They belong alike to 
all; and thither, as to a general and undivided 
store, all repair in quest of sustenance. The same 
principles by which they regulate their chief occu¬ 
pation, extend to that which is subordinate. Even 
agriculture has not introduced among them a com¬ 
plete idea of property. As the men hunt, the women 
labour together, and after they have shared the toils 
of the seed-time, they enjoy the harvest in common. e 
Among some tribes, the increase of their cultivated 
lands is deposited in a public granary, and divided 
among them at stated times, according to their 
wants/ Among others, though they lay up separate 
stores, they do not acquire such an exclusive right 
of property, that they can enjoy superfluity, while 
those around them suffer want.s Thus the distinc¬ 
tions arising from the inequality of possessions are 
unknown. The terms rich or poor enter not into 
their language, and being strangers to property, 
they are unacquainted with what is the great object 
of laws and policy, as well as the chief motive 
which induced mankind to establish the various 
arrangements of regular government.* 1 

3. People in this state retain a high 

„ i « j j High sense of 

sense of equality and independence, equality and in- 

Wherever the idea of property is not <kpen ence ' 

established, there can be no distinction among men, 

but what arises from personal qualities. These can 

be conspicuous only on such occasions as call them 

forth into exertion. In times of danger, or in 

affairs of intricacy, the wisdom and experience of 

d See Note LXI. e Dr. Ferguson’s Essay, 125. 

f Gumilla, i, 265. Brickell, Hist, of N. Carol. 327. See Note LXIT. 
g Denys, Hist. Natur. ii. 392, 393. 

h P. Martyr, dec. p. 45 Veneg. Hist, of Californ. i. 66. Lery, Navig. 
in Brazil, c. 17. 



828 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


age are consulted, and prescribe the measures which 
ought to he pursued. When a tribe of savages 
takes the field against the enemies of their country, 
the warrior of most approved courage leads the 
youth to the combat. 1 If they go forth in a body to 
the chase, the most expert and adventurous hunter 
is foremost, and directs their motions. But during 
seasons of tranquillity and inaction, when there is 
no occasion to display those talents, all pre-emi¬ 
nence ceases. Every circumstance indicates that 
all the members of the community are on a level. 
They are clothed in the same simple garb. They 
feed on the same plain fare. Their houses and fur¬ 
niture are exactly similar. No distinction can arise 
from the inequality of possessions. Whatever forms 
dependence on one part, or constitutes superiority 
on the other, is unknown. All are freemen, all feel 
themselves to he such, and assert with firmness the 
rights which belong to that condition. 14 This senti¬ 
ment of independence is imprinted so deeply in their 
nature, that no change of condition can eradicate it, 
and bend their minds to servitude. Accustomed 
to he absolute masters of their own conduct, they 
disdain to execute the orders of another; and hav¬ 
ing never known control, they will not submit to 
correction. 1 Many of the Americans, when they 
found that they were treated as slaves by the Spa¬ 
niards, died of grief; many destroyed themselves in 
despair." 1 

Sense of subordi- 4 - Among people in this state, go- 
nationimperfect. vernmeri t can assume little authority, 

and the sense of civil subordination must remain 
very imperfect. While the idea of property is un¬ 
known, or incompletely conceived ; while the spon¬ 
taneous productions of the earth, as well as the 
fruits of industry, are considered as belonging to 
the public stock, there can hardly be any such sub¬ 
ject of difference or discussion among the members 
of the same community, as will require the hand of 
authority to interpose in order to adjust it. Where 
the right of separate and exclusive possession is not 
introduced, the great object of law and jurisdiction 
does not exist. When the members of a tribe are 
called into the field, either to invade the territories 
of their enemies or to repel their attacks, when they 
are engaged together in the toil and dangers of the 
chase, they then perceive that they are part of a 
political body. They are conscious of their own 
connexion with the companions in conjunction with 
whom they act; and they follow and reverence such 
as excel in conduct and valour. But, during the 
intervals between such common efforts, they seem 
scarcely to feel the ties of political union." No 
visible form of government is established. The 
names of magistrate and subject are not in use. 
Every one seems to enjoy his natural independence 
almost entire. If a scheme of public utility be pro¬ 
posed, the members of the community are left at 

i Acosta. Hist. lib. vi. c. 19. Stadius, Hist. Brazil, lib. ii. c. 13. De 
Bry.iii. p. 110. Biet. 361. 

k Labat, vi. 124. Brickell, Hist, of Carol. 310. 1 See Note LX1IT. 

in Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 6. p. 97. Vega, Conquist. de la Florida, i. 30. ii. 
416. Labat. ii. 138. Benzo, Hist. Nov. Orb. lib. iv. c. 25. 


liberty to choose whether they will or will not assist 
in carrying it into execution. No statute imposes 
any service as a duty, no compulsory laws oblige 
them to perform it. All their resolutions are volun¬ 
tary, and flow from the impulse of their own minds.® 
The first step towards establishing a public jurisdic¬ 
tion has not been taken in those rude societies. The 
right of revenge is left in private hands. p If vio¬ 
lence is committed, or blood is shed, the community 
does not assume the power either of inflicting or of 
moderating the punishment. It belongs to the fa¬ 
mily and friends of the person injured or slain to 
avenge the w'rong, or to accept ot the reparation 
offered by the aggressor. If the elders interpose, it 
is to advise, not to decide, and it is seldom their 
counsels are listened to; for as it is deemed pusil¬ 
lanimous to suffer an offender to escape with impu¬ 
nity, resentment is implacable and everlasting. q The 
object of government among savages is rather 
foreign than domestic. They do not aim at main¬ 
taining interior order and police by public regula¬ 
tions, or the exertions of any permanent authority, 
but labour to preserve such union among the mem¬ 
bers of their tribe, that they may watch the motions 
of their enemies, and act against them with concert 
and vigour. 

Such was the form of political order 
established among the greater part of ^?, s ^ descriptions 
the American nations. In this state appl> ‘ 
were almost all the tribes spread over the provinces 
extending eastward of the Mississippi, from the 
mouth of the St. Laurence to the confines of Florida. 
Tn a similar condition were the people of Brazil, the 
inhabitants of Chili, several tribes in Paraguay 
and Guiana, and in the countries which stretch from 
the mouth of the Orinoco to the peninsula of Yu¬ 
catan. Among such an infinite number of petty 
associations, there may be peculiarities which con¬ 
stitute a distinction, and mark the various degrees 
of their civilization and improvement. But an at¬ 
tempt to trace and enumerate these would be vain, 
as they have not been observed by persons capable 
of discerning the minute and delicate circumstances 
which serve to discriminate nations resembling one 
another in their general character and features. 
The description which I have given of the political 
institutions that took place among those rude 
tribes in America, concerning which we have re¬ 
ceived most complete information, will apply with 
little variation, to every people, both in its northern 
and southern division, who have advanced no fur¬ 
ther in civilization, than to add some slender degree 
of agriculture to fishing and hunting. 

Imperfect as those institutions may appear, several 
tribes were not so far advanced in their political 
progress. Among all those petty nations which 
trusted for subsistence entirely to fishing and hunt¬ 
ing without any species of cultivation, the union 

n Lozano, Descr. del Gran Chaco, 93. Melendez Teforos Verdaderos, 
ii. 23. See Note LX1V. o Charlev. Hist. N. France, iii. 266.268. 

p Herrera, dec. 8. lib. iv. c. 8. 

q Charlev. Hist. N. France, iii. 271, 272. Lafit. i. 468. Cassani, Hist, 
de Nuevo Keyno de Granada, 226. 



BOOK IV. 


82 D 


THE HISTORY 

was so incomplete, and their sense of mutual de¬ 
pendence so feeble, that hardly any appearance of 
government or order can be discerned in their pro¬ 
ceedings. Their wants are few, their objects of 
pursuit simple, they form into separate tribes, and 
act together, from instinct, habit, or conveniency, 
rather than from any formal concert and associa¬ 
tion. To this class belong the Californians, several 
of the small nations in the extensive country of 
Paraguay, some of the people on the banks of the 
Orinoco and on the river St. Magdalene, in the 
new kingdom of Granada. 1 

Some irregular But though among these last men¬ 
tioned tribes there was hardly any 
shadow of regular government, and even among 
those which I first described its authority is slender 
and confined within narrow bounds, there were, 
however, some places in America, where govern¬ 
ment was carried far beyond the degree of perfec¬ 
tion which seems natural to rude nations. In 
surveying the political operations of man, either in 
his savage or civilized state, we discover singular 
and eccentric institutions, which start as it were 
from their station, and fly off so wide, that we la¬ 
bour in vain to bring them within the general laws 
of any system, or to account for them by those 
principles which influence other communities in a 
similar situation. Some instances of this occur 
among those people of America, whom I have in¬ 
cluded under the common denomination of savage. 
These are so curious and important that I shall de¬ 
scribe them, and attempt to explain their origin. 

In the New World, as well as in 
some of the other parts of the globe, cold or tem- 
" Hrmer regions, p era t e countries appear to be the fa¬ 
vourite seat of freedom and independence. There 
the mind, like the body, is firm and vigorous. 
There men, conscious of their own dignity, and 
capable of the greatest efforts in asserting it, aspire 
to independence, and their stubborn spirits stoop 
with reluctance to the yoke of servitude. In 
warmer climates, by whose influence the whole 
frame is so much enervated, that present pleasure 
is the supreme felicity, and mere repose is enjoy¬ 
ment, men acquiesce, almost without a struggle, in 
the dominion of a superior. Accordingly, if we 
proceed from north to south along the continent of 
America, we shall find the power of those vested 
with authority gradually increasing, and the spirit 
of the people becoming more tame and passive, 
In Florida, the authority of the sachems, caziques, 
or chiefs, was not only permanent, but hereditary. 
They were distinguished by peculiar ornaments, 
they enjoyed prerogatives of various kinds, and 
were treated by their subjects with that reverence, 
which people accustomed to subjection pay to 
xia master.* Among the Natchez, a 

among the r* at- ° ’ 

chez; powerful tribe now extinct, formerly 

r Venegas i. 68. Lettr. Edif. ii. 176. Techo. Hist, of Parag. Churchill, 
vi. 78. Hist. Gen. des Voyages, xiv. 74. 

s Cardenas y Cano Ensayo Chronol. a la Hist, de Honda, p. 46. Le 
Moyne de Morgues leones Florid*. Ap. de Bry, p. 1, 4, &c. Charier. 
Hist. N. France, iii. 467, 468. 


OF AMERICA. 

situated on the banks of the Mississippi, a differ¬ 
ence of rank took place, with which the northern 
tribes were altogether unacquainted. Some families 
were reputed noble, and enjoyed hereditary dignity. 
The body of the people was considered as vile, and 
formed only for subjection. This distinction was 
marked by appellations which intimated the high 
elevation of the one state, and the ignominious de¬ 
pression of the other. The former were called Re¬ 
spectable ; the latter, the Stinkards. The great Chief, 
in whom the supreme authority was vested, is re¬ 
puted to be a being of superior nature, the brother 
of the sun, the sole object of their worship. They 
approach this great Chief with religious veneration, 
and honour him as the representative of their deity. 
His will is a law to which all submit with implicit 
obedience. The lives of his subjects are so abso¬ 
lutely at his disposal, that if any one has incurred 
his displeasure, the offender comes with profound 
humility and offers him his head. Nor does the 
dominion of the Chiefs end with their lives ; their 
principal officers, their favourite wives, together 
with many domestics of inferior rank, are sacrificed 
at their tombs, that they may be attended in the 
next world by the same persons who served them in 
this ; and such is the reverence in which they are 
held, that those victims welcome death with exulta¬ 
tion, deeming it a recompence of their fidelity, and 
a mark of distinction, to be selected to accompany 
their deceased master. 1 Thus a perfect despotism, 
with its full train of superstition, arrogance, and 
cruelty, is established among the Natchez, and by 
a singular fatality, that people has tasted of the 
worst calamities incident to polished nations, though 
they themselves are not far advanced beyond the 
tribes around them in civility and improvement. 
In Hispaniola, Cuba, and the larger 

. r . , . „ m the islands; 

islands, their caziques or chiefs pos¬ 
sessed extensive power. The dignity was transmitted 
by hereditary right from father to son. Its honours 
and prerogatives were considerable. Their subjects 
paid great respect to the caziques, and executed 
their orders without hesitation or reserve." They 
were distinguished by peculiar ornaments, and in 
order to preserve or augment the veneration of the 
people, they had the address to call in the aid of 
superstition to uphold their authority. They de¬ 
livered their mandates as the oracles of heaven, and 
pretended to possess the power of regulating the 
seasons, and of dispensing rain or sunshine, accord¬ 
ing as their subjects stood in need of them. 

In some parts of the southern con- . „ 

in Bogota; 

tinent, the power of the caziques seems 
to have been as extensive as in the isles. In Bogota, 
which is now a province of the new kingdom of 
Granada, there was settled a nation, more consider¬ 
able in number, and more improved in the various 
arts of life, than any in America, except the Mexi- 

t Dumont, Memoir. Hist, sur Louisiane, i. 175. Chari. Hist. N. France, 
iii. 419, &c. Lettr. Edif. 20. 106. 111.. 

u Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 16. lib. iii. c. 44. p. 88. Life of Columbus, 
ch. 32. 




830 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IY. 


cans and Peruvians. The people of Bogota sub¬ 
sisted chielly by agriculture. The idea of property 
was introduced among them, and its rights, secured 
by laws, handed down by tradition, and observed 
with great care.* They lived in towns which may 
be termed large when compared with those in 
other parts of America. They were clothed in a 
decent manner, and their houses may be termed 
commodious, when compared with those of the 
small tribes around them. The effects of this un¬ 
common civilization were conspicuous. Govern¬ 
ment had assumed a regular form. A jurisdiction 
was established, which took cognizance of different 
crimes, and punished them with rigour. A distinc¬ 
tion of ranks was known ; their chief, to whom the 
Spaniards gave the title of monarch, and who me¬ 
rited that name on account of his splendour as well 
as power, reigned with absolute authority. He was 
attended by officers of various conditions ; he never 
appeared in public without a numerous retinue ; he 
was carried in a sort of palanquin with much pomp, 
and harbingers went before him to sweep the road 
and strew it with flowers. This uncommon pomp 
was supported by presents or taxes received from 
his subjects, to whom their prince was such an ob¬ 
ject of veneration, that none of them presumed to 
look him directly in the face, or ever approached 
him but with an averted countenance.^ There were 
other tribes on the same continent, among which, 
though far less advanced than the people of Bogota 
in their progress towards refinement, the freedom 
and independence, natural to man in his savage 
state, was much abridged, and their caziques had 
assumed extensive authority. 

It is not easy to point out the cir- 

Causes of those , J 

irregular appear- cumstances, or to discover the causes, 
which contributed to introduce and 
establish among each of those people a form of go¬ 
vernment so different from that of the tribes around 
them, and so repugnant to the genius of rude na¬ 
tions. If the persons who had an opportunity of 
observing them in their original state had been more 
attentive and more discerning, we might have re¬ 
ceived information from their conquerors sufficient 
to guide us in this inquiry. If the transactions of 
people, unacquainted with the use of letters, were 
not involved in impenetrable obscurity, we might 
have derived some information from this domestic 
source. But as nothing satisfactory can be gather¬ 
ed either from the accounts of the Spaniards, or 
from their own traditions, we must have recourse to 
conjectures, in order to explain the irregular ap¬ 
pearances in the political state of the people whom 
I have mentioned. As all those tribes which had 
lost their native liberty and independence were 
seated in the torrid zone, or in countries approach¬ 
ing to it, the climate may be supposed to have had 
some influence in forming their minds to that servi¬ 
tude, which seems to be the destiny of man in those 

X Piedrahita, Hist, de las Conquist. del Reyno de Gran p 46 

y Herrera, dec. 6. lib. i. c. 2. lib. v. c. 56. Piedrahita. c. 5. 25, &c. 

Gomara, Hist. c. 72. 


regions of the globe. But though the influence of 
climate, more powerful than that of any other na¬ 
tural cause, is not to be overlooked, that alone 
cannot be admitted as a solution of the point in 
question. The operations of men are so complex, 
that we must not attribute the form which they as¬ 
sume to the force of a single principle or cause. 
Although despotism be confined in America to the 
torrid zone, and to the warm regions bordering upon 
it, I have already observed that these countries con¬ 
tain various tribes, some of which possess a high 
degree of freedom, and others are altogether unac¬ 
quainted with the restraints of government. The 
indolence and timidity peculiar to the inhabitants 
of the islands, render them so incapable of the sen¬ 
timents or efforts necessary for maintaining inde¬ 
pendence, that there is no occasion to search for 
any other cause of their tame submission to the 
will of a superior. The subjection of the Natchez, 
and of the people of Bogota, seems to have been 
the consequence of a difference in their state from 
that of the other Americans. They were settled 
nations, residing constantly in one place. Hunting 
was not the chief occupation of the former, and the 
latter seem hardly to have trusted to it for any part 
of their subsistence. Both had made such progress 
in agriculture and arts, that the idea of property was 
introduced in some degree in the one community, and 
fully established in the other. Among people in this 
state avarice and ambition have acquired objects, 
and have begun to exert their power ; views of in¬ 
terest allure the selfish ; the desire of pre-eminence 
excites the enterprising ; dominion is courted by 
both ; and passions unknown to man in his savage 
state prompt the interested and ambitious to en¬ 
croach on the rights of their fellow-citizens. Mo¬ 
tives, with which rude nations are equally unac¬ 
quainted, induce the people to submit tamely to 
the usurped authority of their superiors. But even 
among nations in this state, the spirit of subjects 
could not have been rendered so obsequious, or the 
power of rulers so unbounded, without the inter¬ 
vention of superstition. By its fatal influence, 
the human mind, in every stage of its progress, is 
depressed, and its native vigour and independence 
subdued. Whoever can acquire the direction of 
this formidable engine, is secure of dominion over 
his species. Unfortunately for the people whose 
institutions are the subject of inquiry, this power 
was in the hands of their chiefs. The caziques of 
the isles could put what responses they pleased into 
the mouths of their Cemis or gods ; and it was by 
their interposition, and in their name, that they im¬ 
posed any tribute or burden on their people. 2 The 
same power and prerogative was exercised by the 
great chief of the Natchez, as the principal minister 
as well as the representative of the sun, their deity. 
The respect which the people of Bogota paid to 
their monarchs was likewise inspired by religion 


z Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 3. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


831 


Their art of war. 


and the heir-apparent of the kingdom was edu¬ 
cated in the innermost recess of their principal 
temple, under such austere discipline, and with 
such peculiar rites, as tended to fill his subjects 
with high sentiments concerning the sanctity of his 
character, and the dignity of his station. b Thus 
superstition, which, in the rudest period of society, 
is either altogether unknown, or wastes its force in 
childish unmeaning practices, had acquired such 
an ascendant over those people of America who 
had made some little progress towards refinement, 
that it became the chief instrument of bending their 
minds to an untimely servitude, and subjected them, 
in the beginning of their political career, to a des¬ 
potism hardly less rigorous than that which awaits 
nations in the last stage of their corruption and 
decline. 

V. After examining the political in¬ 
stitutions of the rude nations in Ame¬ 
rica, the next object of attention is their art of war, 
or their provision for public security and defence. 
The small tribes dispersed over America are not 
only independent and unconnected, but engaged 
in perpetual hostilities with one another. 0 Though 
mostly strangers to the idea of separate property, 
vested in any individual, the rudest of the Ameri¬ 
can nations are well acquainted with the rights of 
each community to its own domains. This right 
they hold to be perfect and exclusive, entitling the 
possessor to oppose the encroachment of neighbour¬ 
ing tribes. As it is of the utmost consequence to 
prevent them from destroying or disturbing the 
game in their hunting grounds, they guard this 
national property with a jealous attention. But as 
their territories are extensive, and the boundaries 
of them not exactly ascertained, innumerable sub¬ 
jects of dispute arise, which seldom terminate with¬ 
out bloodshed. Even in this simple and primitive 
state of society, interest is a source of discord, and 
often prompts savage tribes to take arms, in order 
to repel or punish such as encroach on the forests 
or plains, to which they trust for subsistence. 

But interest is not either the most 
for engaging in frequent or the most powerful motive 
of the incessant hostilities among rude 
nations. These must be imputed to the passion of 
revenge; which rages with such violence in the 
breast of savages, that eagerness to gratify it may 
be considered as the distinguishing characteristic of 
men in their uncivilized state. Circumstances of 
powerful influence,both in the interior government 
of rude tribes, and in their external operations 
against foreign enemies, concur in cherishing and 
adding strength to a passion fatal to the general 
tranquillity. When the right of redressing his own 
wrongs is left in the hands of every individual, in¬ 
juries are felt with exquisite sensibility, and ven¬ 
geance exercised with unrelenting rancour. No 

b Piedrahita, p. 27. 

c Ribas, Hist, de losTriumf. p. 9. TT . . 

d Boucher, Hist. Nat. de N. Prance, p. 9.3. Charlev. Hist, de N. 
France, iii. 215. 251. Lery ap de Bry, iii. 204. Creux, Hist. Canad. p. 
12 Lozano, l)escr. del Gran Chaco, 25. Ilennep. Mceurs des Sauv. 40. 


time can obliterate the memory of an offence, and 
it is seldom that it can be expiated but by the 
blood of the offender. In carrying on their public 
wars, savage nations are influenced by the same 
ideas, and animated with the same spirit, as in 
prosecuting private vengeance. In small commu¬ 
nities, every man is touched with the from the spirit 
injury or affront offered to the body of of vengeance, 
which he is a member, as if it were a personal at¬ 
tack upon his own honour or safety. The desire of 
revenge is communicated from breast to breast, and 
soon kindles into rage. As feeble societies can take 
the field only in small parties, each warrior is con¬ 
scious of the importance of his own arm, and feels 
thatto it is committed a considerable portion of the 
public vengeance. War, which between extensive 
kingdoms is carried on with little animosity, is pro¬ 
secuted by small tribes with all the rancour of a 
private quarrel. The resentment of nations is as 
implacable as that of individuals. It may be dis¬ 
sembled or suppressed, but is never 

Hence the fc- 

extinguished; and often, when least rocity of their 

ii*i wars; 

expected or dreaded, it bursts out 
with redoubled fury. d When polished nations have 
obtained the glory of victory, or have acquired an 
addition of territory, they may terminate a war with 
honour. But savages are not satisfied until they 
extirpate the community which is the object of 
their hatred. They fight, not to conquer, but to 
destroy. If they engage in hostilities, it is with a 
resolution never to see the face of the enemy in 
peace, but to prosecute the quarrel with immortal 
enmity. e The desire of vengeance is the first and 
almost the only principle, which a savage instils 
into the minds of his children/ This grows up with 
him as he advances in life ; and as his attention is 
directed to few objects, it acquires a degree of force 
unknown among men whose passions are dissipated 
and weakened by the variety of their occupations 
and pursuits. The desire of vengeance, which 
takes possession of the heart of savages, resembles 
the instinctive rage of an animal, rather than the 
passion of a man. It turns, with undiscerning fury, 
even against inanimate objects. If hurt accident¬ 
ally by a stone, they often seize it in a transport of 
anger, and endeavour to wreak their vengeance 
upon it.® If struck with an arrow in a battle, they 
will tear it from the wound, break and bite it with 
their teeth, and dash it on the ground/ With re¬ 
spect to their enemies, the rage of vengeance knows 
no bounds. When under the dominion of this pas¬ 
sion, man becomes the most cruel of all animals. 
He neither pities, nor forgives, nor spares. 

The force of this passion is so well understood 
by the Americans themselves, that they always 
apply to it, in order to excite their people to take 
arms. If the elders of any tribe attempt to rouse 
their youth from sloth, if a chief wishes to allure a 

e Charlev. Ilist. N. Fr. iii. 251. Colden, i. 108. ii. 126. Barrere, p. 
170, 173. 

f Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 326. Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 236. Lozano, Ilist. 
de Parag. i. 144. 


h 1 


rag. i. 144. g Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 190. 

ery ap. de Bry, iii. 208. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 8. 




832 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


band of warriors to follow him in invading an 
enemy's country, the most persuasive topics of their 
martial eloquence are drawn from revenge. “ The 
bones of our countrymen,” say they, “ lie uncover¬ 
ed ; their bloody bed has not been washed clean. 
Their spirits cry against us ; they must be appeased. 
Let us go and devour the people by whom they were 
slain. Sit no longer inactive upon your mats ; lift 
the hatchet, console the spirits of the dead, and tell 
them that they shall be avenged.” 1 

and their per- Animated with such exhortations, 
petuity. the y 0u th snatch their arms in a trans¬ 
port of fury, raise the song of war, and burn with 
impatience to imbrue their hands in the blood of 
their enemies. Private chiefs often assemble small 
parties, and invade a hostile tribe, without consult¬ 
ing the rulers of the community. A single warrior, 
prompted by caprice or revenge, will take the field 
alone, and march several hundred miles to surprise 
and cut off a straggling enemy. k The exploits of 
a noted warrior, in such solitary excursions, often 
form the chief part in the history of an American 
campaign and their elders connive at such irre¬ 
gular sallies, as they tend to cherish a martial spirit, 
and accustom their people to enterprise and danger. 1 " 
But when a war is national, and undertaken by 
public authority, the deliberations are formal and 
slow. The elders assemble, they deliver their 
opinions in solemn speeches, they weigh with ma¬ 
turity the nature of the enterprise, and balance its 
beneficial or disadvantageous consequences with no 
inconsiderable portion of political discernment or 
sagacity. Their priests and soothsayers are con¬ 
sulted, and sometimes they ask the advice even of 
their women." If the determination be for war, 
they prepare for it with much ceremony. A leader 
offers to conduct the expedition, and is accepted. 
But no man is constrained to follow him; the reso¬ 
lution of the community to commence hostilities 
imposes no obligation upon any member to take 
part in the war. Each individual is still master of 
his own conduct, and his engagement in the service 
is perfectly voluntary.® 

Mode of carrying The maxims by which they regulate 

on war; their military operations, though ex¬ 
tremely different from those which take place among 
more civilized and populous nations, are well suit¬ 
ed to their own political state, and the nature of the 
country in which they act. They never take the 
field in numerous bodies, as it would require a 
greater effort of foresight and industry, than is usual 
among savages, to provide for their subsistence, 
during a march of some hundred miles through 
dreary forests, or during a long voyage upon their 
lakes and rivers. Their armies are not encumbered 
with baggage or military stores. Each warrior, 
besides his arms, carries a mat and a small bag of 

i Charlev Hist . N. Fr. iii. 216, 217- Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 204. 

k See Note LXV. 1 i bid . LXVI. 

m Bossu, 1.140. Lery ap. de Bry, 215. Hennepin, Moeurs des Sauv. 
41. Lantau, n. 169. 

n Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. 215. 268. Biet, 367. 380. 

o Charlev. Hist. N. Fr.217, 218. 


pounded maize, and with these is completely 
equipped for any service. While at a distance 
from the enemy's frontier, they disperse through the 
w oods, and support themselves with the game which 
they kill, or the fish which they catch. As they 
approach nearer to the territories of the nation which 
they intend to attack, they collect their troops, and 
advance with greater caution. Even in their hottest 
and most active wars, they proceed wholly by stra¬ 
tagem and ambuscade. They place not their glory 
in attacking their enemies with open force. To 
surprise and destroy is the greatest merit of a com¬ 
mander, and the highest pride of his followers. 
War and hunting are their only occupations, and 
they conduct both with the same spirit and the 
same arts. They follow the track of their enemies 
through the forest. They endeavour to discover 
their haunts, they lurk in some thicket near to these, 
and, with the patience of a sportsman lying in wait 
for game, will continue in their station day after day, 
until they can rush upon their prey when most se¬ 
cure, and least able to resist them. If they meet no 
straggling party of the enemy, they advance towards 
their villages, but with such solicitude to conceal 
their own approach, that they often creep on their 
hands and feet through the woods, and paint their 
skins of the same colour with the withered leaves, 
in order to avoid detection .p If so fortunate as to 
remain unobserved, they set on fire the enemies’ 
huts in the dead of night, and massacre the inhabi¬ 
tants, as they fly naked and defenceless from the 
flames. If they hope to effect a retreat without 
being pursued, they carry off some prisoners, whom 
they reserve for a more dreadful fate. But if, 
notwithstanding all their address and precautions, 
they find that their motions are discovered, that the 
enemy has taken the alarm, and is prepared to op¬ 
pose them, they usually deem it most prudent to 
retire. They regard it as extreme folly to meet an 
enemy who is on his guard, upon equal terms, or to 
give battle in an open field. The most distinguish¬ 
ed success is a disgrace to a leader, if it has been 
purchased with any considerable loss of his follow¬ 
ers,' 1 and they never boast of a victory, if stained 
with the blood of their ow n countrymen/ To fall in 
battle, instead of being reckoned an honourable 
death, is a misfortune which subjects the memory of 
a warrior to the imputation of rashness or impru¬ 
dence.® 

This system of war was universal in nnt . 

J not owing to any 

America; and the small uncivilized defect of courage; 
tribes, dispersed through all its different regions 
and climates, display more craft than boldness in 
carrying on their hostilities. Struck with this con¬ 
duct, so opposite to the ideas and maxims of Eu¬ 
ropeans, several authors contend that it flow s from 
a feeble and dastardly spirit peculiar to the Ameri- 

p Charlev Hist. N. Fr. iii. 237. 238. Hennep. Moeurs des Sauv. p. 59. 

q See Note LXV 11. 

r Charley Hist. N. Fr. iii. 238. 307. Biet. 381. Lafitau, Mceurs des 
Sauv. n. 248. 

s Charlev. iii. 376. See Note LXVIII, 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY 

cans, which is incapable of any generous or manly 
exertion. 1 But when we reflect that many of these 
tribes, on occasions which call for extraordinary 
efforts, not only defend themselves with obstinate 
resolution, but attack their enemies with the most 
daring courage, and that they possess fortitude of 
mind superior to the sense of danger or the fear of 
death, we must ascribe their habitual caution to 
some other cause than constitutional timidity." The 
number of men in each tribe is so small, the diffi¬ 
culty of rearing new members amidst the hardships 
and dangers of savage life so great, that the life of 
a citizen is extremely precious, and the preservation 
of it becomes a capital object in their policy. Had 
the point of honour been the same among the feeble 
American tribes as among the powerful nations of 
Europe, had they been taught to court fame or vic¬ 
tory in contempt of danger and death, they must 
have been ruined by maxims so ill adapted to their 
condition. But wherever their communities are 
more populous, so that they can act with consider¬ 
able force, and can sustain the loss of several of their 
members, without being sensibly weakened, the mi¬ 
litary operations of the Americans more nearly re¬ 
semble those of other nations. The Brazilians, as 
well as the tribes situated upon the banks of the 
river De la Plata, often take the field in such nume¬ 
rous bodies as deserve the name of armies. x They 
defy their enemies to the combat, engage in regular 
battles, and maintain the conflict with that despe¬ 
rate ferocity, which is natural to men who, having 
no idea of war but that of exterminating their ene¬ 
mies, never give or take quartern In the powerful 
empires of Mexico and Peru, great armies were as¬ 
sembled, frequent battles were fought, and the 
theory as well as practice of war were different from 
what took place in those petty societies which as¬ 
sume the name of nations. 

But though vigilance and attention 

Incapable of .... . . n . 

order 01 disci- are the qualities chiefly requisite, 
where the object of war is to deceive 
and to surprise ; and though the Americans, when 
acting singly, display an amazing degree of address 
in concealing their own motions, and discovering 
those of an enemy, yet it is remarkable, that, when 
they take the field in parties, they can seldom be 
brought to observe the precautions most essential to 
their own security. Such is the difficulty of accus¬ 
toming savages to subordination, or to act in con¬ 
cert ; such is their impatience under restraint, and 
such their caprice and presumption, that it is rarely 
they can be brought to conform themselves to the 
counsels and directions of their leaders. They never 
station sentinels around the place where they rest 
at night, and after marching some hundred miles to 
surprise an enemy, are often surprised themselves, 
and cut off, while sunk in as profound sleep as if 
they were not within reach of danger/ 

t Becherches Philos, sur les Americ. i. 115. Voyage de March, 
iv 410 

ii Lafitau, Mceurs des Sauv. ii. 248, 249. Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 307. 

x Fabri Veriss Descrip, lndias ap. de Bry, vii. p. 42. 

y See Note LXIX. 

3 H 


OF AMERICA. 833 

If, notwithstanding this negligence and security, 
which often frustrate their most artful schemes, they 
catch the enemy unprepared, they rush upon them 
with the utmost ferocity, and tearing off the scalps 
of all those who fall victims to their rage, a they 
carry home those strange trophies in triumph. These 
they preserve as monuments, not only of their own 
prowess, but of the vengeance which their arm has 
inflicted upon the people who were objects of public 
resentment/ They are still more solicitous to seize 
prisoners. During their retreat, if they hope to effect 
it unmolested, the prisoners are commonly exempt 
from any insult, and treated with some degree of hu¬ 
manity, though guarded with the most strict attention. 

But after this temporary suspension, Treatment of 
the rage of the conquerors rekindles prisoners. 

with new fury. As soon as they approach their own 
frontier, some of their number are despatched to 
inform their countrymen with respect to the success 
of the expedition. Then the prisoners begin to feel 
the wretchedness of their condition. The women 
of the village, together with the youth w ho have 
not attained to the age of bearing arms, assemble, 
and forming themselves into two lines, through 
which the prisoners must pass, beat and bruise them 
with sticks or stones in a cruel manner/ After this 
first gratification of their rage against their enemies, 
follow lamentations for the loss of such of their own 
countrymen as have fallen in the service, accom¬ 
panied with words and actions which seem to ex¬ 
press the utmost anguish and grief. But in a mo¬ 
ment, upon a signal given, their tears cease ; they 
pass, with a sudden and unaccountable transition, 
from the depths of sorrow to the transports of joy ; 
and begin to celebrate their victory with all the wild 
exultation of a barbarous triumph/ The fate of the 
prisoners remains still undecided. The old men 
deliberate concerning it. Some are destined to be 
tortured to death, in order to satiate the revenge of 
the conquerors ; some to replace the members which 
the community has lost in that or former wars. They 
who are reserved for this milder fate, are led to the 
huts of those whose friends have been killed. The 
women meet them at the door, and if they receive 
them, their sufferings are at an end. They are 
adopted into the family, and according to their 
phrase, are seated upon the mat of the deceased. 
They assume- his name, they hold the same rank, 
and are treated thenceforw ard with all the tender¬ 
ness due to a father, a brother, a husband, or a 
friend. But if, either from caprice or an unrelent¬ 
ing desire of revenge, the women of any family re¬ 
fuse to accept of the prisoner who is offered to them, 
his doom is fixed. No power can then save him 
from torture and death. 

While their lot is in suspense, the 
prisoners themselves appear altogether JnceVoncen^ng 
unconcerned about what may befall their tate * 

z Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 2.36, 237. Lettr. Edif. 1“. 308. 20. 130. Lafit. 
Mceurs, 247. Lahontan, ii. 176. 

a See Note LXX. b Lafit. Moeurs, ii. 256. 

c Lahontan, ii. 184. 

d Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 241. Lafit. Moeurs, ii. 264. 




834 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


them. They talk, they eat, they sleep, as if they 
were perfectly at ease, and no danger impending. 
When the fatal sentence is intimated to them, they 
receive it with an unaltered countenance, raise their 

and fortitude death-song, and prepare to suffer like 

under torture. men< Their conquerors assemble as 

to a solemn festival, resolved to put the fortitude of 
the captive to the utmost proof. A scene ensues, 
the bare description of which is enough to chill the 
heart with horror, wherever men have been accus¬ 
tomed, by milder institutions, to respect their species, 
and melt with tenderness at the sight of human 
sufferings. The prisoners are tied naked to a stake, 
but so as to be at liberty to move round it. All who 
are present, men, women, and children, rush upon 
them like furies. Every species of torture is ap¬ 
plied that the rancour of revenge can invent. Some 
burn their limbs with red hot irons, some mangle 
their bodies with knives, others tear their flesh from 
their bones, pluck out their nails by the roots, and 
rend and twist their sinews. They vie with one 
another in refinements of torture. Nothing sets 
bounds to their rage but the dread of abridging the 
duration of their vengeance by hastening the death 
of the sufferers ; and such is their cruel ingenuity 
in tormenting, that, by avoiding industriously to 
hurt any vital part, they often prolong this scene of 
anguish for several days. In spite of all that they 
suffer, the victims continue to chant their death 
song with a firm voice, they boast of their own ex¬ 
ploits, they insult their tormentors for their want of 
skill in avenging their friends and relations, they 
warn them of the vengeance which awaits them on 
account of what they are now doing, and excite 
their ferocity by the most provoking reproaches and 
threats. To display undaunted fortitude in such 
dreadful situations, is the noblest triumph of a 
warrior. To avoid the trial by a voluntary death, 
or to shrink under it, is deemed infamous and cow¬ 
ardly. If any one betray symptoms of timidity, 
his tormentors often despatch him at once with 
contempt, as unworthy of being treated like a man. e 
Animated with those ideas, they endure, without a 
groan, what it seems almost impossible that human 
nature should sustain. They appear to be not only 
insensible of pain, but to court it. “ Forbear,” said 
an aged chief of the Iroquois, when his insults had 
provoked one of his tormentors to wound him with 
a knife, “ forbear these stabs of your knife, and 
rather let me die by fire, that those dogs, your allies, 
from beyond the sea, may learn by my example to 
suffer like men.” f This magnanimity, of which 
there are frequent instances among the American 
warriors, instead of exciting admiration, or calling 
forth sympathy, exasperates the fierce spirits of 
their torturers to fresh acts of cruelty. 8 Weary, at 


e T)e la Potherie, ii. 237. iii. 48. 
f Colden, Hist, of Five Nations, i. 200. 
g Voyages de Lahont. i. 236. 

h Charley. Hist. N. Fran. iii. 243, &c. 385. I.afitau Mceurs, ii. 265 
Oreuxii Hist. Canad. p. 73. Hcnnep. Moeurs des Sauv. p. 64, See. La 
hont. l. 233, &c. i ertre, ii. 405. De la Potherie, ii. 22, &c. 

> ^d'us.ap. de Bry, in. 123. Lery, ibid. 210. Biet, 384. I.etfr. Edif 
23- 341. Piso.8. Condain. 154. 97. Ribas, Hist, de los lriuraf. 473. 
k Life of Columb. 529. Mart. Dec. p. 18. Tertre, ii. 405. 


length, of contending with men whose constancy 
of mind they cannot vanquish, some chief, in a 
rage, puts a period to their sufferings, by despatch¬ 
ing them with his dagger or club. 1 ' 

This barbarous scene is often sue- sometimes eat 
ceeded by one no less shocking. As their prisoners. 

it is imposible to appease the fell spirit of revenge 
which rages in the heart of a savage, this frequently 
prompts the Americans to devour those unhappy 
persons, who have been the victims of their cruelty. 
In the ancient world, tradition has preserved the 
memory of barbarous nations of cannibals, who fed 
on human flesh. But in every part of the New 
World there were people to whom this custom was 
familiar. It prevailed in the southern continent, 
in several of the islands, k and in various districts of 
North America. 1 Even in those parts, where cir¬ 
cumstances, with which we are unacquainted, had 
in a great measure abolished this practice, it seems 
formerly to have been so well known, that it is in¬ 
corporated into the idiom of their language. Among 
the Iroquois, the phrase by which they express 
their resolution of making w ar against an enemy 
is, “ Let us go and eat that nation.” If they solicit 
the aid of a neighbouring tribe, they invite it to 
“ eat broth made of the flesh of their enemies.” 1 " 
Nor was the practice peculiar to rude unpolished 
tribes ; the principle from which it took rise is so 
deeply rooted in the minds of the Americans, that 
it subsisted in Mexico, one of the civilized empires 
in the New World, and relics of it may be discover¬ 
ed among the more mild inhabitants of Peru. It 
was not scarcity of food, as some authors imagine, 
and the importunate cravings of hunger, which 
forced the Americans to those horrid repasts on 
their fellow-creatures. Human flesh w r as never 
used as common food in any country, and the 
various relations concerning people w ho reckoned 
it among the stated means of subsistence, flow from 
the credulity and mistakes of travellers. The ran¬ 
cour of revenge first prompted men to this barba¬ 
rous action." The fiercest tribes devoured none 
but prisoners taken in war, or such as they regard¬ 
ed as enemies. 0 Women and children, who were 
not the objects of enmity, if not cut off' in the 
fury of their first inroad into an hostile country, 
seldom suffered by the deliberate effects of their 
revenge. p 

The people of South America gratify their re¬ 
venge in a manner somewhat different, but with no 
less unrelenting rancour. Their prisoners, after 
meeting at their first entrance with the same rough 
reception as among the North Americans, q are not 
only exempt from injury, but treated w ith the great¬ 
est kindness. They are feasted and caressed, and 
some beautiful young w omen are appointed to at- 


I Dumont, Mem. i. 254. Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. i. 259. ii. 14. iii. 21. De 
la Potherie, iii. 50. 

m Charlev. Hist N. Fr. iii. 208, 209. Lettr. Edif. 23. p. 277- De la 
Potherie, n. 298. See Note LXX1. 

** Biet, 383. Blanco, Conversion de Piritu, p.28. Bancroft, Nat. Hist, 
of Guiana, p. 259, &c. 

o See Note LXX11. 

p Biet, 382. Bandini, Vita di Americo, 84. Tertre, 405. Fermin. De¬ 
script. de Sunn. l. 54, q stadius ap. de Bry, iii. p. 40. 123. 





BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


tend and solace them. It is not easy to account 
for this part of their conduct, unless we impute it 
to a refinement in cruelty. For, while they seem 
studious to attach the captives to life, by supplying 
them with every enjoyment that can render it agree¬ 
able, their doom is irrevocably fixed. On a day 
appointed, the victorious tribe assembles, the pri¬ 
soner is brought forth with great solemnity, he views 
the preparations for the sacrifice with as much in- 
difierence as if he himself were not the victim, and, 
meeting his fate with undaunted firmness, is des¬ 
patched with a single blow. The moment he falls, 
the women seize the body, and dress it for the feast. 
They besmear their children with the blood, in order 
to kindle in their bosoms a hatred of their enemies, 
which is never extinguished ; and all join in feed¬ 
ing upon the flesh with amazing greediness and ex¬ 
ultation. r To devour the body of a slaughtered 
enemy, they deem the most complete and exquisite 
gratification of revenge. Wherever this practice 
prevails, captives never escape death, but they are 
not tortured with the same cruelty as among tribes 
which are less accustomed to such horrid feasts. 8 

As the constancy of every American warrior may 
be put to such severe proof, the great object of mi¬ 
litary education and discipline in the New World is 
to form the mind to sustain it. When nations carry 
on war with open force, defy their enemies to the 
combat, and vanquish them by the superiority of 
their skill or courage, soldiers are trained to be ac¬ 
tive, vigorous, and enterprising. But in America, 
where the genius and maxims of war are extremely 
different, passive fortitude is the quality in highest 
estimation. Accordingly, it is early the study of the 
Americans to acquire sentiments and habits, which 
will enable them to behave like men, when their re¬ 
solution shall be put to the proof. As the youth of 
other nations exercise themselves in feats of activity 
and force, those of America vie with one another in 
exhibitions of their patience under sufferings. They 
harden their nerves by those voluntary trials, and gra¬ 
dually accustom themselves to endure the sharpest 
pain without complaining. A boy and girl will bind 
their naked arms together and place a burning coal 
between them, in order to try who first discovers 
such impatience as to shake it off. 1 All the trials, 
customary in America, when a youth is admitted 
into the class of warriors, or when a warrior is pro¬ 
moted to the dignity of captain or chief, are accom¬ 
modated to this idea of manliness. They are not 
displays of valour, but of patience ; they are not 
exhibitions of their ability to offend, but of their 
capacity to suffer. Among the tribes on the banks 
of the Orinoco, if a warrior aspires to the rank of 
captain, his probation begins with a long fast, more 
rigid than any ever observed by the most abstemi¬ 
ous hermit. At the close of this the chiefs assem¬ 
ble, each gives him three lashes with a large whip, 
applied so vigorously, that his body is almost flayed, 


r Stadius ap. de Fry, iii. 
s See Note LXXU I. 


128, Arc. 

3 


Lery, ibid. 210. 

t Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 307- 

H 2 


OtjtJ 

and if he betrays the least symptoms of impatience, 
or even sensibility, he is disgraced for ever, and 
rejected as unworthy of the honour to which he 
aspires. After some interval, the constancy of the 
candidate is proved by a more excruciating trial. 
He is laid in a hammock with his hands bound fast, 
and an innumerable multitude of venomous ants, 
whose bite occasions exquisite pain, and produces 
a violent inflammation, are thrown upon him. The 
judges of his merit stand around the hammock, and, 
while these cruel insects fasten upon the most 
sensible parts of his body, a sigh, a groan, an in¬ 
voluntary motion expressive of what he suffers, 
would exclude him for ever from the rank of cap¬ 
tain. Even after this evidence of his fortitude, it 
is not deemed to be completely ascertained, but 
must stand another test more dreadful than any he 
has hitherto undergone. He is again suspended 
in his hammock, and covered with leaves of the 
palmetto. A fire of stinking herbs is kindled un¬ 
derneath, so as he may feel its heat, and be involved 
in its smoke. Though scorched and almost suffo¬ 
cated, he must continue to endure with the same 
patient insensibility. Many perish in this rude 
essay of their firmness and courage, but such as go 
through it with applause, receive the ensigns of 
their new dignity with much solemnity, and are ever 
after regarded as leaders of approved resolution, 
whose behaviour, in the most trying situations, will 
do honour to their country. 11 In North America, 
the previous trial of a warrior is neither so formal, 
nor so severe. Though even there, before a youth 
is permitted to bear arms, his patience and fortitude 
are proved by blows, by fire, and by insults, more 
intolerable to a haughty spirit than both.* 

The amazing steadiness w ith which the Americans 
endure the most exquisite torments, has induced 
some authors to suppose that, from the peculiar 
feebleness of their frame, their sensibility is not so 
acute as that of other people ; as women, and 
persons of a relaxed habit, are observed to be less 
affected with pain than robust men, whose nerves 
are more firmly braced. But the constitution of the 
Americans is not so different, in its texture, from 
that of the rest of the human species, as to account 
for this diversity in their behaviour. It flows from 
a principle of honour, instilled early, and cultivated 
with such care, as to inspire man in his rudest state 
with an heroic magnanimity, to which philosophy 
hath endeavoured, in vain, to form him, when more 
highly improved and polished. This invincible 
constancy he has been taught to consider as the 
chief distinction of a man, and the highest attain¬ 
ment of a warrior. The ideas which influence his 
conduct, and the passions which take possession of 
his heart, are few. They operate of course with 
more decisive effect, than when the mind is crowded 
with a multiplicity of objects, or distracted by the 
variety of its pursuits ; and when every motive that 

ii Gumilla, ii. 286, See. Biet, 376, &c. 

x Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 219. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


83(> 


acts with any force in forming the sentiments of a 
savage, prompts him to suffer with dignity, he will 
bear what might seem to be impossible for human 
patience to sustain. But wherever the fortitude of 
the Americans is not roused to exertion by their 
ideas of honour, their feelings of pain are the same 
with those of the rest of mankind .y Nor is that 
patience under sufferings for which the Americans 
have been so justly celebrated an universal attain¬ 
ment. The constancy of many of the victims is 
overcome by the agonies of torture. Their weak¬ 
ness and lamentations complete the triumph of 
their enemies, and reflect disgrace upon their own 
country. 2 


Wasted by their The perpetual hostilities carried on 
perpetual wars. amon g the American tribes are pro¬ 
ductive of very fatal effects. Even in seasons of 
public tranquillity, their imperfect industry does 
not supply them with any superfluous store of 
provisions; but when the irruption of an enemy 
desolates their cultivated lands, or disturbs them in 
their hunting excursions, such a calamity reduces a 
community, naturally improvident and destitute of 
resources, to extrerfle want. All the people of the 
district that is invaded, are frequently forced to 
take refuge in woods or mountains, which can afford 
them little subsistence, and where many of them 
perish. Notwithstanding their excessive caution in 
conducting their military operations, and the solici¬ 
tude of every leader to preserve the lives of his 
followers, as the rude tribes in America seldom 
enjoy any interval of peace, the loss of men among 
them is considerable in proportion to the degree of 
population. Thus famine and the sword combine 
in thinning their numbers. All their communities 
are feeble, and nothing now remains of several 
nations, which were once considerable, but the 


name.a 


Sensible of this continual decay, 

Recruit their J 

numbers by adopt- there are tribes which endeavour to 

mg prisoners. ,, . , „ , 

recruit their national force when ex¬ 
hausted, by adopting prisoners taken in war, and 
by this expedient prevent their total extinction. 
The practice, however, is not universally received. 
Resentment operates more powerfully among sa¬ 
vages, than considerations of policy. Far the greater 
part of their captives was anciently sacrificed to 
their vengeance, and it is only since their numbers 
began to decline fast, that they have generally 
adopted milder maxims. But such as they do 
naturalize, renounce for ever their native tribe, and 
assume the manners as well as passions of the 
people by whom they are adopted b so entirely, that 
they often join them in expeditions against their 
own countrymen. Such a sudden transition, and so 
repugnant to one of the most powerful instincts im¬ 
planted by nature, would be deemed strange among 
many people; but among the members of small 
communities, where national enmity is violent and 


y See Note LXXIV. 

7. Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 248, 385. De la Potberie, iii. 48. 
a Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii.202, 203, 429. Gumilla, ii. 227, &c. 


deep-rooted, it has the appearance of being still 
more unaccountable. It seems, however, to result 
naturally from the principles upon which war is 
carried on in America. When nations aim at ex¬ 
terminating their enemies, no exchange of prisoners 
can ever take place. From the moment one is 
made a prisoner, his country and his friends con¬ 
sider him as dead. c He has incurred indelible 
disgrace by suffering himself to be surprised or to 
be taken by an enemy; and were he to return home, 
after such a stain upon his honour, his nearest rela¬ 
tions would not receive or even acknowledge that 
they knew him. d Some tribes were still more rigid, 
and if a prisoner returned, the infamy which he had 
brought on his country was expiated by putting 
him instantly to death. e As the unfortunate cap¬ 
tive is thus an outcast from his own country, and 
the ties which bound him to it are irreparably 
broken, he feels less reluctance in forming a new 
connexion with people, who, as an evidence of their 
friendly sentiments, not only deliver him from a 
cruel death, but offer to admit him to all the rights 
of a fellow-citizen. The perfect similarity of man¬ 
ners among savage nations facilitates and completes 
the union, and induces a captive to transfer not only 
his allegiance, but his affection, to the community 
into the bosom of which he is received. 

But though war be the chief occu- 

.. c • • , , , , Their inferiority 

pation ot men in their rude state, and in war to polished 

to excel in it their highest distinction 
and pride, their inferiority is always manifest when 
they engage in competition with polished nations. 
Destitute of that foresight which discerns and pro¬ 
vides for remote events, strangers to the union and 
mutual confidence requisite in forming any ex¬ 
tensive plan of operations, and incapable of the 
subordination no less requisite in carrying such plans 
into execution, savage nations may astonish a dis¬ 
ciplined enemy by their valour, but seldom prove 
formidable to him by their conduct; and whenever 
the contest is of long continuance, must yield to 
superior art. f The empires of Peru and Mexico, 
though their progress in civilization, when measured 
by the European or Asiatic standards, was incon¬ 
siderable, acquired such an ascendency over the 
rude tribes around them, that they subjected most 
of them with great facility to their power. When 
the people of Europe overran the various provinces 
of America, this superiority was still more conspi¬ 
cuous. Neither the courage nor number of the 
natives could repel a handful of invaders. The 


alienation and enmity, prevalent among barbarians, 
prevented them from uniting in any common scheme 
of defence, and while each tribe fought separately, 
all were subdued. 

VI. The arts of rude nations unac¬ 
quainted with the use of metals, hardly Their arts ' 
merit any attention on their own account, but are 
worthy of some notice, as far as they serve to dis- 


b Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 245, &c. Lafit. ii. 308. 

c . ee Note LXXV . a Lahout, ii. 185, 186. 

e Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 16. p. 173 . f See Note LXXVI 



BOOK IV. 


837 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


play the genius and manners of man in this stage of 
his progress. The first distress a savage must feel, 
will arise from the manner in which his body is 
affected, by the heat, or cold, or moisture, of the 

Dress and climate under which he lives ; and his 

ornaments. fj rs t care vvill be to provide some cover¬ 
ing for his own defence. In the warmer and more 
mild climates of America, none of the rude tribes 
were clothed. To most of them nature had not 
even suggested any idea of impropriety in being 
altogether uncovered.^ As under a mild climate 
there was little need of any defence from the inju¬ 
ries of the air, and their extreme indolence shunned 
every species of labour to which it was not urged by 
absolute necessity, all the inhabitants of the isles, 
and a considerable part of the people on the conti¬ 
nent, remained in this state of naked simplicity. 
Others were satisfied with some slight covering, 
such as decency required. But though naked, they 
were not unadorned. They dressed their hair in 
many different forms. They fastened bits of gold, 
or shells, or shining stones, in their ears, their 
noses, and cheeks. h They stained their skins with 
a great variety of figures ; and they spent much 
time, and submitted to great pain, in ornamenting 
their persons in this fantastic manner. Vanity, 
however, which finds endless occupation for inge¬ 
nuity and invention, in nations where dress has be¬ 
come a complex and intricate art, is circumscribed 
within so narrow bounds, and confined to so few 
articles among naked savages, that they are not satis¬ 
fied with those simple decorations, and have a won¬ 
derful propensity to alter the natural form of their 
bodies, in order to render it (as they imagine) more 
perfect and beautiful. This practice was universal 
among the rudest of the American tribes. Their 
operations for that purpose begin as soon as an 
infant is born. By compressing the bones of the 
skull, while still soft and flexible, some flatten the 
crown of their heads ; some squeeze them into the 
shape of a cone ; others mould them as much as 
possible into a square figure ;* and they often en¬ 
danger the lives of their posterity by their violent 
and absurd efforts to derange the plan of nature, or 
to improve upon her designs. But in all their at¬ 
tempts either to adorn or to new-model their per¬ 
sons, it seems to have been less the object of the 
Americans to please, or to appear beautiful, than 
to give an air of dignity and terror to their aspect. 
Their attention to dress had more reference to war 
than to gallantry. The difference in rank and esti¬ 
mation between the two sexes was so great, as seems 
to have extinguished, in some measure, their solici¬ 
tude to appear mutually amiable. The man deem¬ 
ed it beneath him to adorn his person, for the sake 
of one on whom he was accustomed to look down 


as a slave. It was when the warrior had in view to 
enter the council of his nation, or to take the field 
against its enemies, that he assumed his choicest 
ornaments, and decked his person with the nicest 
care. k The decorations of the women were few and 
simple ; whatever was precious or splendid was 
reserved for the men. In several tribes the women 
were obliged to spend a considerable part of their 
time every day in adorning and painting their hus¬ 
bands, and could bestow little attention upon or¬ 
namenting themselves. Among a race of men so 
haughty as to despise, or so cold as to neglect them, 
the women naturally became careless and slovenly, 
and the love of finery and show r , which has been 
deemed their favourite passion, was confined chiefly 
to the other sex. 1 To deck his person w as the dis¬ 
tinction of a warrior, as well as one of his most 
serious occupations. 111 In one part of their dress, 
which, at first sight, appears the most singular and 
capricious, the Americans have discovered con¬ 
siderable sagacity in providing against the chief 
inconveniences of their climate, which is often sul¬ 
try and moist to excess. All the different tribes, 
which remain unclothed, are accustomed to anoint 
and rub their bodies with the grease of animals, 
with viscous gums, and with oils of different kinds. 
By this they check that profuse perspiration, which, 
in the torrid zone, wastes the vigour of the frame, 
and abridges the period of human life. By this, too, 
they provide a defence against the extreme moisture 
during the rainy season." They likewise, at cer¬ 
tain seasons, temper paint of different colours with 
those unctuous substances, and bedaub themselves 
plentifully with that composition. Sheathed with 
this impenetrable varnish, their skins are not only 
protected from the penetrating heat of the sun, but 
as all the innumerable tribes of insects have an anti¬ 
pathy to the smell or taste of that mixture, they 
are delivered from their teasing persecution, which 
amidst forests and marshes, especially in the warmer 
regions, would have been altogether intolerable in 
a state of perfect nakedness. 0 

The next object to dress that will 

. „ . Habitations. 

engage the attention of a savage, is to 
prepare some habitation which may afford him 
shelter by day, and a retreat at night. Whatever is 
connected with his ideas of personal dignity* what¬ 
ever bears any reference to his military character, 
the savage warrior deems an object of importance. 
Whatever relates only to peaceable and inactive 
life, he views with indifference. Hence, though 
finically attentive to dress, he is little solicitous 
about the elegance or disposition of his habitation. 
Savage nations, far from that state of improvement, 
in which the mode of living is considered as a mark 
of distinction, and unacquainted with those wants 


g I.ery Navigat. ap. de Bry, iii. p. 164. Life of Columbus, c. 24. Ve¬ 
negas, Hist, of Calitorn. p. 70. 

h Lery ap. de Bry, iii. p. 165. Lettr. Edif. 20.223. . .. 

i Oviedo, Hist. lib. iii. c. 5. Ulloa, i. 329. Voyage de Labat. u. 72. 
Charlevoix, iii. 323. Gumilla, i. 197, &c. Acugna, lielat. de la Kiv. des 
Ainaz. ii.83. Lawson’s Voyage to Carolina, p. 33. 

k Wafer’s Voyage, p. 142. Lery ap.de Bry, in. 167- Charlev. Hist. 
N. Fran. iii. 216.222. 


1 Charlev. Hist, de la Nouv. Fran. iii. 278. 327. Lafit. ii. 53. Kalm’s 
Voyage, iii. 273. Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 169,170. Purch. Pilgr. iv. 1287. 
Ribas, Hist, de los Triumt. &c. 472. 
m See Note LXXV1I. 
n See Note LXXVIII. 

o Labat, ii. 73. Gumilla, l. 190. 202. Bancroft, Nat. Hist, of Guiana, 

81. 280. 



838 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


which require a variety of accommodation, regulate 
the construction of their houses according to their 
limited ideas of necessity. Some of the American 
tribes were so extremely rude, and had advanced 
so little beyond the primeval simplicity of nature, 
that they had no houses at all. During the day, 
they take shelter from the scorching rays of the sun 
under thick trees; at night they form a shed with 
their branches and leaves.? In the rainy season 
they retire into coves, formed by the hand of nature, 
or hollowed out by their own industry/ Others, 
who have no fixed abode, and roam through the 
forest in quest of game, sojourn in temporary huts, 
which they erect with little labour, and abandon 
without any concern. The inhabitants of those 
vast plains, which are deluged by the overllowing 
of rivers during the heavy rains that fall periodically 
between the tropics, raise houses upon piles fasten¬ 
ed in the ground, or place them among the boughs 
of trees, and are thus safe amidst that wide ex¬ 
tended inundation which surrounds them. r Such 
were the first essays of the rudest Americans to¬ 
wards providing themselves with habitations. But 
even among tribes which are more improved, and 
whose residence is become altogether fixed, the 
structure of their houses is extremely mean and 
simple. They are w retched huts, sometimes of an 
oblong and sometimes of a circular form, intended 
merely for shelter, with no view to elegance, and 
little attention to conveniency. The doors are so 
low' that it is necessary to bend or to creep on the 
hands and feet in order to enter them. They are 
without windows, and have a large hole in the 
middle of the roof, to convey out the smoke. To 
follow travellers in other minute circumstances of 
their descriptions, is not only beneath the dignity 
of history, but would be foreign to the object 
of my researches. One circumstance merits atten¬ 
tion, as it is singular, and illustrates the character 
of the people. Some of their houses are so large 
as to contain accommodation for fourscore or a 
hundred persons. These are built for the reception 
of different families, which dwell together under 
the same roof, 8 and often around a common fire, 
without separate apartments, or any kind of screen 
or partition between the spaces which they respec¬ 
tively occupy. As soon as men have acquired dis¬ 
tinct ideas of property ; or when they are so much 
attached to their females, as to watch them with 
care and jealousy; families of course divide and 
settle in separate houses, where they can secure 
and guard whatever they wish to preserve. This 
singular mode of habitation among several people 
of America, may therefore be considered, not only 
as the effect of their imperfect notions concerning 
property, but as a proof of inattention and indiffer¬ 
ence towards their women. If they had not been 

p See Note LXXIX. 

q Lettres Edit', v. 273. Venegas, Hist, of Califor. i. 76. Lozano, De- 
scrip. del Gran Chaco, p. 55. Lettres Edif. ii. 176 . Gumilla, i. 383. 
Bancroft, Nat. Hist, of Guiana, 277. 

r Gumilla, i. 225. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix. c. 6. Oviedo Sommar. p. 
63. C. s See Note LXXX. 

t Journ. cle Grillet et Bechamel dans la Goyane, p. 65. Lafit. 


Their arms. 


accustomed to perfect equality, such an arrange¬ 
ment could not have taken place. If their sensi¬ 
bility had been apt to have taken alarm, they would 
not have trusted the virtue of their women amidst 
the temptations and opportunities of such a pro¬ 
miscuous intercourse. At the same time, the per¬ 
petual concord which reigns in habitations where 
so many families are crowded together, is surprising, 
and affords a striking evidence that they must be 
people of either a very gentle or of a very phlegmatic 
temper, who, in such a situation, are unacquainted 
with animosity, brawling, and discord. 1 

After making some provision for his 
dress and habitation, a savage will 
perceive the necessity of preparing proper arms 
with which to assault or repel an enemy. This, 
accordingly, has early exercised the ingenuity and 
invention of all rude nations. The first offensive 
weapons were doubtless such as chance presented, 
and the first efforts of art to improve upon these, 
were extremely awkward and simple. Clubs made 
of some heavy wood, stakes hardened in the fire, 
lances whose heads were armed with flint or the 
bones of some animal, are weapons knowm to the 
rudest nations All these, however, w ere of use 
only in close encounter. But men wished to annoy 
their enemies while at a distance, and the bow and 
arrow is the most early invention for this purpose. 
This weapon is in the hands of people, whose ad¬ 
vances in improvement are extremely inconsider¬ 
able, and is familiar to the inhabitants of every 
quarter of the globe. It is remarkable, however, 
that some tribes in America were so destitute of art 
and ingenuity, that they had not attained to the 
discovery of this simple invention, 11 and seem to 
have been unacquainted with the use of any mis¬ 
sive weapon. The sling, though in its construction 
not more complex than the bow, and among many 
nations of equal antiquity, was little known to the 
people of North America/ or the islands, but ap¬ 
pears to have been used by a few' tribes in the 
southern continents The people, in some provinces 
of Chili, and those of Patagonia, towards the south¬ 
ern extremity of America, use a weapon peculiar 
to themselves. They fasten stones, about the size 
of a fist, to each end of a leather thong of eight 
feet in length, and swinging these round their heads, 
throw them with such dexterity, that they seldom 
miss the object at which they aim/ 

Among people who had hardly any Their domestic 
occupation but war or hunting, the utensils, 
chief exertions of their invention/ as well as in¬ 
dustry, were naturally directed towards these ob¬ 
jects. With respect to every thing else, their wants 
and desires were so limited, that their invention w'as 
not upon the stretch. As their food and habitations 
are perfectly simple, their domestic utensils are few 

Maeurs, ii. 4. Torquem. Monarq. i. 247. Journal, Hist, de Toutal, 
2J7. Ler>, Hist. Brazil, ap. de Bry, iii. 238. Lozano, Descr. del Gran 
Chaco, 67. u 1 ledrahita, Conq. del Muevo Kevno, ix. 12. 

x Naufr. de Alv. 1*un. Cabeca de Vaca, c. x. p. 12. 
y Piedrah. p. 16. Sec Note LXXXI. 

z Ovalle's Relation of Chili. Church. Collect, iii. P.2. Ealkner’s De¬ 
script. ot Patagon. p. 130. a See Note LXXXI I. 




BOOK IV. THE HISTORY 

and rude. Some of the southern tribes had dis- 
eovered the art of forming vessels of earthen ware, 
and baking them in the sun, so as they could en¬ 
dure the fire. In North America, they hollowed a 
piece of hard wood into the form of a kettle, and 
lilling it with water, brought it to boil by putting 
red-hot stones into it. b These vessels they used in 
Dressing preparing part of their provisions ; and 
this may be considered as a step 
towards refinement and luxury, for men in their 
rudest state were not acquainted with any method 
ot dressing their victuals but by roasting them on 
the fire ; and among several tribes in America, this 
is the only species of cookery yet known. c But the 

Construction of masterpiece of art, among the savages 
their canoes. 0 f America, is the construction of the 

canoes. An Esquimaux, shut up in his boat of 
whalebone, covered with the skins of seals, can 
brave that stormy ocean, on which the barrenness 
of his country compels him to depend for the chief 
part of his subsistence/ The people of Canada 
venture upon their rivers and lakes in boats made 
of the bark of trees, and so light that two men can 
carry them, wherever shallows or cataracts obstruct 
the navigation. 6 In these frail vessels they under¬ 
take and accomplish long voyages/ The inhabitants 
of the isles and of the southern continent form their 
canoes by hollowing the trunk of a large tree, with 
infinite labour; and though in appearance they are 
extremely awkward and unwieldy, they paddle and 
steer them with such dexterity, that Europeans, 
well acquainted with all the improvements in the 
science of navigation, have been astonished at the 
rapidity of their motion, and the quickness of their 
evolutions. Their pirogues, or war-boats, are so 
large as to carry forty or fifty men; their canoes 
employed in fishing and in short voyages are less 
capacious.g The form as well as materials of all 
these various kinds of vessels is well adapted to 
the service for which they are destined ; and the 
more minutely they are examined, the mechanism 
of their structure, as well as neatness of their fabric, 
will appear the more surprising. 

But, in every attempt towards in- 

T with 

which they apply dustry among the Americans, one 
striking quality in their character is 
conspicuous. They apply to work without ardour, 
carry it on with little activity, and, like children, 
are easily diverted from it. Even in operations 
which seem the most interesting, and where the 
most powerful motives urge them to vigorous exer¬ 
tions, they labour w ith a languid listlessness. Their 
work advances under their hand with such slowness, 
that an eye-witness compares it to the imperceptible 
progress of vegetation/ They will spend so many 
years in forming a canoe, that it often begins to rot 
with age before they finish it. They will suffer one 
part of a roof to decay and perish, before they com¬ 
plete the other.* The slightest manual operation 

b Charlev. Hist. N. Fran. iii. 332. 
c See Mote LXXXIII. d Ellis Voy. 133. 

e See Note LXXXIV. f Lafit. Mceurs, &c. ii. 213. 


OF AMERICA. 8 30 

consumes an amazing length of time, and what in 
polished nations would hardly be an effort of in¬ 
dustry, is among savages an arduous undertaking. 
This slowness of the Americans in executing works 
of every kind may be imputed to various causes. 
Among savages, who do not depend for subsistence 
upon the efforts of regular industry, time is of so 
little importance, that they set no value upon it; 
and provided they can finish a design, they never 
regard how long they are employed about it. The 
tools which they employ are so awkward and defec¬ 
tive, that every work in which they engage must 
necessarily be tedious. The hand of the most in¬ 
dustrious and skilful artist, were it furnished with 
no better instrument than a stone hatchet, a shell, 
or the bone of some animal, would find it difficult 
to perfect the most simple work. It is by length of 
labour that he must endeavour to supply his defect 
of power. But above all, the cold phlegmatic 
temper peculiar to the Americans renders their 
operations languid. It is almost impossible to rouse 
them from that habitual indolence to which they 
are sunk ; and unless when engaged in war or 
hunting, they seem incapable of exerting any 
vigorous effort. Their ardour of application is not 
so great as to call forth that inventive spirit which 
suggests expedients for facilitating and abridging 
labour. They will return to a task day after day, 
but all their methods of executing it are tedious 
and operose.k Even since the Europeans have 
communicated to them the know ledge of their in¬ 
struments, and taught them to imitate their arts, the 
peculiar genius of the Americans is conspicuous in 
every attempt they make. They may be patient 
and assiduous in labour, they can copy with a servile 
and minute accuracy, but discover little invention 
and no talents for despatch. In spite of instruction 
and example, the spirit of the race predominates ; 
their motions are naturally tardy, and it is vain 
to urge them to quicken their pace. Among the 
Spaniards in America, the work of an Indian is a 
phrase by which they describe any thing, in the 
execution of which an immense time has been em¬ 
ployed, and much labour wasted. 1 

VII. No circumstance respecting 
rude nations has been the object of lheirrel, ° ion 
greater curiosity than their religious tenets and 
rites ; and none, perhaps, has been so imperfectly 
understood, or represented with so little fidelity. 
Priests and missionaries are the per- 

. . . Peculiar difficul- 

sons who have had the best opportum- ties in this in- 

„ . . • . quiry. 

ties of carrying on this inquiry, among 
the most uncivilized of the American tribes. Their 
minds, engrossed by the doctrines of their own reli¬ 
gion, and habituated to its institutions, are apt to 
discover something which resembles those objects 
of their veneration, in the opinions and rites of 
every people. Whatever they contemplate, they 
view through one medium, and draw and accommo- 

g T.abat, Voyages, ii. 91, &c. 131. h Gnmilla, ii. 297. 

i Eorde, Kelat. des Caraibes, p. 22. k See Note LXXXV. 

1 Voyages de Ulloa. i. 335. Lettr. Edif. &c. 15. 348. 



840 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


date it to their own system. They study to reconcile 
the institutions, which fall under their observation, 
to their own creed, not to explain them according 
to the rude notions of the people themselves. They 
ascribe to them ideas which they are incapable of 
forming, and suppose them to be acquainted with 
principles and facts, which it is impossible that 
they should know. Hence, some missionaries have 
been induced to believe, that even among the most 
barbarous nations in America, they had discovered 
traces, no less distinct than amazing, of their ac¬ 
quaintance with the sublime mysteries and peculiar 
institutions of Christianity. From their own inter¬ 
pretation of certain expressions and ceremonies, 
they have concluded that these people had some 
knowledge of the doctrine of the Trinity, of the 
incarnation of the Son of God, of his expiatory 
sacrifice, of the virtue of the cross, and of the efficacy 
of the sacraments. m In such unintelligent and 
credulous guides, we can place little confidence. 

But even when we make our choice of con¬ 
ductors with the greatest care, we must not follow 
them with implicit faith. An inquiry into the re¬ 
ligious notions of rude nations is involved in pecu¬ 
liar intricacies, and we must often pause in order 
to separate the facts which our informers relate 
from the reasonings with which they are accom¬ 
panied, or the theories which they build upon them. 
Several pious writers, more attentive to the import¬ 
ance of the subject than to the condition of the 
people whose sentiments they were endeavouring to 
discover, have bestowed much unprofitable labour 
in researches of this nature. 11 

Confined to two There are two fundamental doc- 
articies. trines, upon which the whole system 

of religion, as far as it can be discovered by the 
light of nature, is established. The one respects 
the being of a God, the other the immortality of the 
soul. To discover the ideas of the uncultivated 
nations under our review with regard to those 
important points, is not only an object of curiosity, 
but may afford instruction. To these two articles I 
shall confine my researches, leaving subordinate 
opinions, and the detail of local superstitions, to 

more minute inquirers. Whoever has 

The being of God. . , ., „ ... 

had any opportunity of examining into 
the religious opinions of persons in the inferior 
ranks of life, even in the most enlightened and 
civilized nations, will find that their system of 
belief is derived from instruction, not discovered by 
inquiry. That numerous part of the human species, 
whose lot is labour, whose principal and almost 
sole occupation is to secure subsistence, views the 
arrangement and operations of nature with little 
reflection, and has neither leisure nor capacity for 
entering into that path of refined and intricate 
speculation w hich conducts to the knowledge of the 


principles of natural religion. In the early and 
most rude periods of savage life, such disquisitions 
are altogether unknown. When the intellectual 
powers are just beginning to unfold, and their first 
feeble exertions are directed towards a few objects 
of primary necessity and use ; when the faculties of 
the mind are so limited, as not to have formed 
abstract or general ideas; when language is so 
barren, as to be destitute of names to distinguish 
any thing that is not perceived by some of the 
senses ; it is preposterous to expect that man should 
be capable of tracing with accuracy the relation 
between cause and effect; or to suppose that he 
should rise from the contemplation of the one to the 
knowledge of the other, and form just conceptions 
of a Deity, as the Creator and Governor of the 
universe. The idea of creation is so familiar 
wherever the mind is enlarged by science, and 
illuminated with revelation, that we seldom reflect 
how profound and abstruse this idea is, or consider 
what progress man must have made in observation 
and research, before he could arrive at any know¬ 
ledge of this elementary principle in religion. Ac¬ 
cordingly, several tribes have been discovered in 
America, which have no idea whatever of a Supreme 
Being, and no rites of religious worship. Inatten¬ 
tive to that magnificent spectacle of beauty and 
order presented to their view, unaccustomed to 
reflect either upon what they themselves are, or to 
inquire who is the author of their existence, men, 
in their savage state, pass their days like the 
animals around them, without knowledge or venera¬ 
tion of any superior power, Some rude tribes have 
not in their language any name for the Deity, nor 
have the most accurate observers been able to dis¬ 
cover any practice or institution which seemed to 
imply that they recognised his authority, or were 
solicitous to obtain his favour. 0 It is however only 
among men in the most uncultivated state of nature, 
and while their intellectual faculties are so feeble 
and limited as hardly to elevate them above the 
irrational creation, that we discover this total in¬ 
sensibility to the impressions of any invisible power. 

But the human mind, formed for religion, soon 
opens to the reception of ideas, which are destined, 
when corrected and refined, to be the great source of 
consolation amidst the calamities of life. Among 
some of the American tribes, still in the infancy of 
improvement, we discern apprehensions of some in¬ 
visible and powerful beings. These apprehensions 
are originally indistinct and perplexed, and seem to 
be suggested rather by the dread of impending evils, 
than to flow' from gratitude for blessings received. 
While nature holds on her course with uniform and 
undisturbed regularity, men enjoy the benefits re¬ 
sulting from it, without inquiring concerning its 
cause. But every deviation from this regular course 


m Venegas, i. 88, 92. Torquemada, ii. 445. Garcia Origen. 122. 
Herrera, dec. 4. lib. ix. c. 7. dec. 5. lib. iv. c. 7. 
n See Note LXXXV1. 

o Biet, 539. Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 221. Nieuhoff. Church. Coll. ii. 1.32. 
Lettr. Edit. 2. 177- Id. 12, 1.3. Venegas, i. 87. Lozano, Descript, del 
Gran Chaco, 59. Fernand. Mission, de Chequit. 39. Gurnilla, ii. 156 


Rochefort, Hist, des Antilles, p. 468. Margrave, Hist, in Append, de 
Clnliensibus, 216. Ulloa, Notic. Americ. 335, &c. Barrere, 218, 219. 
Harcourt, Voyage to Guiana, Purch. Pilgr. iv. p. 1273. Account of Brazil, 

T y vvv,°r r ii uguese - Ib,d ' p ' 1289 ' Jon °s’s Journal, p. 59. See Note 
LA AA VII. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


841 


rouses and astonishes them. When they behold 
events to which they are not accustomed, they search 
for the reasons of them with eager curiosity. Their 
understanding is unable to penetrate into these ; but 
imagination, a more forward and ardent faculty of 
the mind, decides without hesitation. It ascribes the 
extraordinary occurrences in nature to the influence 
of invisible beings, and supposes that the thunder, 
the hurricane, and the earthquake, are effects of 
their interposition. Some such confused notion of 
spiritual or invisible power, superintending over 
those natural calamities which frequently desolate 
the earth, and terrify its inhabitants, may be traced 
among many rude nations. p But besides this, the 
disasters and dangers of savage life are so many, 
and men often find themselves in situations so for¬ 
midable, that the mind, sensible of its own weak¬ 
ness, has no resource but in the guidance and pro¬ 
tection of w isdom and power superior to what is 
human. , Dejected with calamities which oppress 
him, and exposed to dangers which he cannot repel, 
the savage no longer relies upon himself; he feels 
his own impotence, and sees no prospect of being 
extricated, but by the interposition of some unseen 
arm. Hence, in all unenlightened nations, the first 
rites or practices which bear any resemblance to 
acts of religion, have it for their object to avert evils 
which men suffer or dread. The Manitous or Okkis 
of the North Americans were amulets or charms, 
w hich they imagined to be of such virtue, as to pre¬ 
serve the persons who reposed confidence in them 
from every disastrous event; or they were consider¬ 
ed as tutelar spirits, whose aid they might implore 
in circumstances of distress. q The Cemis of the 
islanders w ere reputed by them to be the authors of 
every calamity that afflicts the human race; they 
were represented under the most frightful forms, 
and religious homage was paid to them with no 
other view than to appease these furious deities/ 
Even among those tribes w hose religious system was 
more enlarged, and who had formed some concep¬ 
tion of benevolent beings, which delighted in confer¬ 
ring benefits, as well as of malicious powers prone to 
inflict evil, superstition still appears as the offspring of 
fear, and all its efforts were employed to avert cala¬ 
mities. They were persuaded that their good deities, 
prompted by the beneficence of their nature, would 
bestow every blessing in their power, without solici¬ 
tation or acknowledgment; and their only anxiety 
was to soothe and deprecate the wrath of the powers 
whom they regarded as the enemies of mankind. 8 

Such w ere the imperfect conceptions of the greater 
part of the Americans with respect to the interpo¬ 
sitions of invisible agents, and such, almost univer¬ 
sally, was the mean and illiberal object of their 
superstitions. Were we to trace back the ideas of 
other nations to that rude state in which history 
first presents them to our view, we should discover 


a surprising resemblance in their tenets and prac¬ 
tices ; and should be convinced, that, in similar 
circumstances, the faculties of the human mind 
hold nearly the same course in their progress, and 
arrive at almost the same conclusions. The impres¬ 
sions of fear are conspicuous in all the systems of 
superstition formed in this situation. The most 
exalted notions of men rise no higher than to a per¬ 
plexed apprehension of certain beings, whose power, 
though supernatural, is limited as well as partial. 

But, among other tribes, which have Remarkab] di 
been longer united, or have made versity in their 

° < \ religious notions. 

greater progress in improvement, we 
discern some feeble pointing towards more just and 
adequate conceptions of the power that presides in 
nature. They seem to perceive that there must be 
some universal cause to whom all things are in¬ 
debted for their being. If we may judge by some 
of their expressions, they appear to acknowledge a 
divine power to be the maker of the world, and the 
disposer of all events. They denominate him the 
Great Spirit / But these ideas are faint and con¬ 
fused, and when they attempt to explain them, it is 
manifest, that among them the word spirit has a 
meaning very different from that in which we employ 
it, and that they have no conception of any deity 
but what is corporeal. They believe their gods to 
be of the human form, though of a nature more ex¬ 
cellent than man, and retail such wild incoherent 
fables concerning their functions and operations, ' 
as are altogether unworthy of a place in history. 
Even among these tribes, there is no established 
form of public worship ; there are no temples erect¬ 
ed in honour of their deities ; and no ministers pe¬ 
culiarly consecrated to their service. They have 
the knowledge, however, of several superstitious 
ceremonies and practices handed down to them by 
tradition, and to these they have recourse with a 
childish credulity, when roused by any emergence 
from their usual insensibility, and excited to ac¬ 
knowledge the power, and to implore the protec¬ 
tion, of superior beings/ 

The tribe of the Natchez, and the system of the 
people of Bogota, had advanced be- Natchez. 

yond the other uncultivated nations of America in 
their ideas of religion, as well as in their political 
institutions ; and it is no less difficult to explain 
the cause of this distinction than of that which we 
have already considered. The sun was the chief 
object of religious worship among the Natchez. In 
their temples, which were constructed with some 
magnificence, and decorated with various orna¬ 
ments, according to their mode of architecture, they 
preserved a perpetual fire, as the purest emblem of 
their divinity. Ministers were appointed to watch 
and feed this sacred flame. The first function of 
the great chief of the nation, every morning, was an 
act of obeisance to the sun ; and festivals returned 


p 

q 

r 


ee Note LXXXVIIT. .. , o , oo x 

harlev. N. Fr. iii. 343, &c. Creuxn Hist. Canad. p. 82, tec. 
viedo, lib. iii. c. 1 . p. J11. P. Martyr, dec. p. 102, <$cc. 


s Tertte, ii. 3 66. Borde, p. 14. State of Virginia, by a Native, book 
iii. p. 32, 33. Dumont, i. 165. Bancroft, Nat. Hist, of Guiana, 309. 
t Chariev. N. Fr. iii. 343. Sagard, Voy. du Pays des Hurons, 226. 
u Chariev. N. Fr. iii. 345. Golden, i. 17. 





842 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IY. 


at stated seasons, which were celebrated by the 
whole community with solemn but unbloody rites. x 
This is the most refined species of superstition 
known in America, and, perhaps, one of the most 
natural as well as most seducing. The sun is 
the apparent source of the joy, fertility, and life, 
diffused through nature ; and while the human 
mind, in its earliest essays towards inquiry, con¬ 
templates and admires his universal and animating 
energy, its admiration is apt to stop short at what 
is visible, without reaching to the unseen cause; 
and pays that adoration to the most glorious and 
beneficial work of God, which is due only to him 
who formed it. As fire is the purest and most ac¬ 
tive of the elements, and in some of its qualities 
and effects resembles the sun, it was, not impro¬ 
perly, chosen to be the emblem of his powerful 
operation. The ancient Persians, a people far su¬ 
perior, in every respect, to that rude tribe whose 
rites I am describing, founded their religious sys¬ 
tem on similar principles, and established a form of 
public worship, less gross and exceptionable than 
that of any people destitute of guidance from reve¬ 
lation. This surprising coincidence in sentiment 
between two nations, in such different- states of im¬ 
provement, is one of the many singular and unac¬ 
countable circumstances which occur in the history 
of human affairs. 

Among the people of Bogota, the sun and moon 
were, likewise, the chief objects of veneration. 
Their system of religion was more regular and com¬ 
plete, though less pure, than that of the Natchez. 
They had temples, altars, priests, sacrifices, and 
that long train of ceremonies, which superstition 
introduces wherever she has fully established her 
dominion over the minds of men. But the rites of 
their worship were cruel and bloody. They offered 
human victims to their deities, and many of their 
practices nearly resembled the barbarous institutions 
of the Mexicans, the genius of which we shall have 
an opportunity of considering more attentively in 
its proper placed 

Their ideas con- AVith lespect to the other great doc- 
mortaHty of the trine of religion, concerning the im- 
501,1; mortality of the soul, the sentiments 

of the Americans were more united : the human 
mind, even when least improved and invigorated 
by culture, shrinks from the thoughts of annihila¬ 
tion, and looks forward with hope and expectation 
to a state of future existence. This sentiment, re¬ 
sulting from a secret consciousness of its own dig- 
nity, from an instinctive longing after immortality, 
is universal, and may be deemed natural. Upon 
this are founded the most exalted hopes of man 
in his highest state of improvement ; nor has 
nature withheld from him this soothing consolation, 
in the most early and rude period of his progress. 


We can trace this opinion from one extremity of 
America to the other, in some regions more faint 
and obscure, in others more perfectly developed, 
but nowhere unknown. The most uncivilized of 
its savage tribes do not apprehend death as the ex¬ 
tinction of being. All entertain hopes ot a future 
and more happy state, where they shall be for ever 
exempt from the calamities which imbitter human 
life in its present condition. This future state they 
conceive to be a delightful country, blessed with 
perpetual spring, whose forests abound with game, 
whose rivers swarm with fish, where famine is never 
felt, and uninterrupted plenty shall be enjoyed 
without labour or toil. But as men, in forming 
their first imperfect ideas concerning the invisible 
world, suppose that there they shall continue to feel 
the same desires, and to be engaged in the same 
occupations, as in the present world ; they natur¬ 
ally ascribe eminence and distinction, in that state, 
to the same qualities and talents which are here the 
object of their esteem. The Americans, accordingly, 
allotted the highest place, in their country of spi¬ 
rits, to the skilful hunter, to the adventurous and 
successful warrior, and to such as had tortured the 
greatest number of captives, and devoured their 
flesh. 2 These notions were so preva- 

. . . induce them to 

lent, that they gave rise to an uni- bury arms, &c. 

. . , . ., with the dead. 

versal custom, which is at once the 
strongest evidence that the Americans believe in a 
future state, and the best illustration of what they 
expect there. As they imagine, that departed spi¬ 
rits begin their career anew in the world whither 
they are gone, that their friends may not enter upon 
it defenceless and unprovided, they bury together 
with the bodies of the dead, their bow, their arrows, 
and other weapons used in hunting or war; they 
deposit in their tombs the skins or stuffs of which 
they make garments, Indian corn, manioc, venison, 
domestic utensils, and whatever is reckoned amons: 
the necessaries in their simple mode of life. 3 In 
some provinces, upon the decease of a cazique or 
chief, a certain number of his wives, of his favour¬ 
ites, and of his slaves, were put to death, and in¬ 
terred together with him, that he might appear with 
the same dignity in his future station, and be waited 
upon by the same attendants. 15 This persuasion is 
so deep-rooted, that many of the deceased person’s 
retainers offer themselves as voluntary victims, and 
court the privilege of accompanying their departed 
master, as a high distinction. It has been found 
difficult, on some occasions, to set bounds to this 
enthusiasm of affectionate duty, and to reduce the 
train of a favourite leader to such a number as the 
tribe could afford to spare. c 

Among the Americans, as well as 
other uncivilized nations, many of the LTedSdevo- 
rites and observances which bear some 


x Dumont, i. 158, &c. Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 417, &c. 429. Lafitau 

I • 1 1 ) l . * 

y Piedrahita, Conq. del. N. Reyno, p. 17 . Herrera, dec. 6 . lib. v c 6 
x Lery ap.de Bry, m. 222. Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 351, & c . De la Po- 
therie, 11 . 4o, fcc. ill. 5. 

a Chronica de Cieca de Leon, c. 28. Sagard, 288. Creux. Hist Canad 


Ji‘ ad'iii R H Ch ni r ° rt ’ des A '^illes, 568. Biet, 391. De la Potherie, 
11 *44. in. 8 . Blanco, Convers. de Piritu, p 35 

r*nn^ nt \> I vr isi fF' '•SW’&c- Oviedo, lib. v. c. 3. Gomara, Hist. 
? , P i W n r \ f e( i a ^ 304 ,\ Ct>arlev. N . Fr. iii. 421. ! lerrera, dec. 

; r h b „ c ; ?• ' • Melchior Hernandez, Memor. de Cheriqui. Coll. 
Urig. Papers, 1 . Chron. de Cieca de Leon, c. 33. c See Note LXXX1X. 




BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


843 


resemblance to acts of religion, have no connexion 
with devotion, but proceed from a fond desire of 
prying into futurity. The human mind is most apt 
to feel and to discover this vain curiosity, when its 
own powers are most feeble and uninformed. As¬ 
tonished with occurrences, of which it is unable to 
comprehend the cause, it naturally fancies, that 
there is something mysterious and wonderful in 
their origin. Alarmed at events of which it cannot 
discern the issue or the consequences, it has recourse 
to other means of discovering them, than the exer¬ 
cise of its own sagacity. Wherever superstition is so 
established as to form a regular system, this desire 
of penetrating into the secrets of futurity is con¬ 
nected with it. Divination becomes a religious act. 
Priests, as the ministers of Heaven, pretend to de¬ 
liver its oracles to men. They are the only sooth¬ 
sayers, augurs, and magicians, who profess the 
sacred and important art of disclosing what is hid 
from other eyes. 

But, among rude nations, who pay 

This department . • . 

belongs to their no veneration to any superintending 

power, and who have no established 
rites or ministers of religion, their curiosity to dis¬ 
cover what is future and unknown, is cherished by 
a different principle, and derives strength from 
another alliance. As the diseases of men in a 
savage state are, as has been already observed, like 
those of the animal creation, few but extremely 
violent, their impatience under wdiat they suffer, 
and solicitude for the recovery of health, soon in¬ 
spired them with extraordinary reverence for such 
as pretended to understand the nature of their 
maladies, and to be possessed of knowledge suffi¬ 
cient to preserve or deliver them from their sudden 
and fatal effects. These ignorant pretenders, how¬ 
ever, were such utter strangers to the structure of 
the human frame, as to be equally unacquainted 
with the causes of its disorders, and the manner 
in which they will terminate. Superstition, min¬ 
gled frequently with some portion of craft, supplied 
what they wanted in science. They imputed the 
origin of diseases to supernatural influence, and 
prescribed or performed a variety of mysterious 
rites, which they gave out to be of such efficacy as 
to remove the most dangerous and inveterate mala¬ 
dies. The credulity and love of the marvellous, na¬ 
tural to uninformed men, favoured the deception, 
and prepared them to be the dupes of those impos¬ 
tors. Among savages, their first physicians are a 
kind of conjurers or wizards, who boast that they 
know what is past, and can foretell what is to come. 
Incantations, sorcery, and mummeries of diverse 
kinds, no less strange than frivolous, are the means 
which they employ to expel the imaginary causes 
of malignity ; d and, relying upon the efficacy of 
these, they predict with confidence what will be the 
fate of their deluded patients. Thus superstition, 


in its earliest form, flowed from the solicitude of 
man to be delivered from present distress, not from 
his dread of evils awaiting him in a future life, and 
w as originally ingrafted on medicine, not on religion. 
One of the first and most intelligent historians of 
America was struck with this alliance between the 
art of divination and that of physic, among the 
people of Hispaniola. e But this w as not peculiar 
to them. The Alexis, the Piai/as, the Antmoins, or 
whatever was the distinguishing name of their di¬ 
viners and charmers in other parts of America, were 
all the physicians of their respective tribes, in the 
same manner as the Bubitos of Hispaniola. As 
their function led them to apply to the human mind 
when enfeebled by sickness, and as they found it, 
in that season of dejection, prone to be alarmed with 
imaginary fears, or amused with vain hopes, they 
easily induced it to rely with implicit confidence on 
the virtue of their spells, and the certainty of their 
predictions/ 

Whenever men acknowledge the Gradually 
reality of supernatural pow er and dis- extends, 
cernment in one instance, they have a propensity to 
admit it in others. The Americans did not long 
suppose the efficacy of conjuration to be confined to 
one subject. They had recourse to it in every situ¬ 
ation of danger or distress. When the events of 
war were peculiarly disastrous, when they met w ith 
unforeseen disappointment in hunting, when inun¬ 
dations or drought threatened their crops with de¬ 
struction, they called upon their conjurers to begin 
their incantations, in order to discover the causes of 
those calamities, or to foretell what would be their 
issue. 8 Their confidence in this delusive art gra¬ 
dually increased, and manifested itself in all the 
occurrences of life. When involved in any diffi¬ 
culty, or about to enter upon any transaction of 
moment, every individual regularly consulted the 
sorcerer, and depended upon his instructions to ex¬ 
tricate him from the former, as well as to direct his 
conduct in the latter. Even among the rudest tribes 
in America, superstition appears in this form, and 
divination is an art in high esteem. Long before 
man had acquired such know ledge of a deity as in¬ 
spires reverence and leads to adoration, we observe 
him stretching out a presumptuous hand to draw 
aside that veil with which Providence kindly con¬ 
ceals its purpose from human knowledge; and we 
find him labouring with fruitless anxiety to pene¬ 
trate into the mysteries of the divine administration. 
To discern and to worship a superintending power, 
is an evidence of the enlargement and maturity of 
the human understanding ; a vain desire of prying 
into futurity, is the error of its infancy, and a proof 
of its weakness. 

From this weakness proceeded likewise the faith 
of the Americans in dreams, their observation of 
omens, their attention to the chirping of birds, and 


<1 P. Melcli. Hernandez, Memorial de Cheriqui. Collect. Orig. Pap. i. 
e Oviedo, lib. v. c. 1. _ , ,, .. T . , . 

r Herrera, dec. 1. lib. in. c. 4. Osborne, Coll. n. 800. Dumont, l. 


169, &c. Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 361 364, &c. Lawson, N. Carol. 214. 
Ribas, Triumf. p. 17. Biet, 386. De la Potherie, ii. 35, &:c. 

g Charlev. N. Fran. iii. 3. Dumont, i. 173. Fernand. Itelac. de 1 os 
Cliequit. p. 40. Lozano, 84. Margrave, 279. 



844 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV. 


Love of dancing. 


the cries of animals, all which they suppose to be 
indications of future events; and if any one of 
these prognostics is deemed unfavourable, they in¬ 
stantly abandon the pursuit of those measures on 
which they are most eagerly bent. h 

. VIII. But if we would form a com- 

Detachedpustoms. j ( j ea ^j ie uncu itivated nations 

of America, we must not pass unobserved some 
singular customs, which, though universal and cha¬ 
racteristic, could not be reduced, with propriety, 
to any of the articles into which I have divided my 
inquiry concerning their manners. 

Among savages, in every part of the 
globe, the love of dancing is a favour¬ 
ite passion. As, during a great part of their time, 
they languish in a state of inactivity and indolence, 
without any occupation to rouse or interest them, 
they delight universally in a pastime which calls 
forth the active powers of their nature into exercise. 
The Spaniards, when they first visited America, 
were astonished at the fondness of the natives for 
dancing, and beheld with wonder a people, cold 
and unanimated in most of their other pursuits, 
kindle into life, and exert themselves with ardour, 
as often as this favourite amusement recurred. 
Among them, indeed, dancing ought not to be 
denominated an amusement. It is a serious and 
important occupation, which mingles in every oc¬ 
currence of public or private life. If any inter¬ 
course be necessary between two American tribes, 
the ambassadors of the one approach in a solemn 
dance, and present the calumet or emblem of peace ; 
the sachems of the other receive it with the same 
ceremony. 1 If war is denounced against an enemy, 
it is by a dance, expressive of the resentment which 
they feel, and of the vengeance which they medi¬ 
tate. k If the wrath of their gods is to be appeased, 
or their beneficence to be celebrated ; if they rejoice 
at the birth of a child, or mourn the death of a 
friend, 1 they have dances appropriated to each of 
these situations, and suited to the different senti¬ 
ments with which they are then animated. If a 
person is indisposed, a dance is prescribed as the 
most effectual means of restoring him to health ; 
and if he himself cannot endure the fatigue of such 
an exercise, the physician or conjurer performs it 
in his name, as if the virtue of his activity could be 
transferred to his patient." 1 

All their dances are imitations of some action ; 
and though the music by which they are regulated 
is extremely simple and tiresome to the ear by its 
dull monotony, some of their dances appear won¬ 
derfully expressive and animated. The war dance 
is, perhaps, the most striking. It is the representa¬ 
tion of a complete American campaign. The de¬ 
parture of the warriors from their village, their 

h Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 262. 35.3. Stadius ap. de Bry, iii. 120. Creuxii 
Hist. Canad. 84. Teclio, Hist, of Parag. Church. Coll. vi. 37 . De la 
Potherie, iii. 6 . 

i De la Potherie, Hist. ii. 17 , & c . Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 211. 297. La 
IJontan, i. 100 . 137. Hennepin, Decou. 146, Arc. 

k Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 298. Lafitau, i. 523. 

I .loutel, 343. Gomara. Hist. Gen. c. 196. 

in Denys, Hist. Nat. 189. Rrickell, 372. De la Potherie, ii. 36. 

II De la Potherie, ii. 116. Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 297. Lafitau, i. 523. 


march into the enemy's country, the caution with 
which they encamp, the address with which they 
station some of their party in ambush, the manner 
of surprising the enemy, the noise and ferocity of 
the combat, the scalping of those who are slain, the 
seizing of prisoners, the triumphant return of the 
conquerors, and the torture of the victims, are suc¬ 
cessively exhibited. The performers enter with 
such enthusiastic ardour into their several parts ; 
their gestures, their countenance, their voice, are 
so wild and so well adapted to their various situa¬ 
tions, that Europeans can hardly believe it to be a 
mimic scene, or view it without emotions of fear 
and horror." 

But however expressive some of the American 
dances may be, there is one circumstance in them 
remarkable, and connected with the character of the 
race. The songs, the dances, the amusements of 
other nations, expressive of the sentiments which 
animate their hearts, are often adapted to display 
or excite that sensibility which mutually attaches 
the sexes. Among some people, such is the ardour 
of this passion, that love is almost the sole object 
of festivity and joy; and as rude nations are 
strangers to delicacy, and unaccustomed to disguise 
any emotion of their minds, their dances are often 
extremely wanton and indecent. Such is the Ca- 
lenda, of which the natives of Africa are so passion¬ 
ately fond ;° and such the feats of the dancing girls, 
which the Asiatics contemplate with so much 
avidity of desire. But, among the Americans, more 
cold and indifferent to their females, from causes 
which I have already explained, the passion of love 
mingles but little with their festivals and pastimes. 
Their songs and dances are mostly solemn and mar¬ 
tial ; they are connected with some of the serious 
and important affairs of life ; p and having no re¬ 
lation to love or gallantry, are seldom common to 
the two sexes, but executed by the men and women 
apart. q If, on some occasions, the women are per¬ 
mitted to join in the festival, the character of the 
entertainment is still the same, and no movement or 
gesture is expressive of attachment, or encourages 
familiarity. r 

An immoderate love of play, espe- Passi( , n for 
cially games of hazard, which seems gam mg. 
to be natural to all people unaccustomed to the oc¬ 
cupations of regular industry, is likewise universal 
among the Americans. The same causes, which so 
often prompt persons in civilized life, who are at 
their ease, to have recourse to this pastime, render 
it the delight of the savage. - The former are inde¬ 
pendent of labour, the latter do not feel the necessity 
of it; and as both are unemployed, they run with 
transport to whatever is interesting enough to stir 
and to agitate their minds. Hence the Americans, 

. 1 ® Adanson, "V oyage to Senegal, iii. 287- Labat, Voyag. iv. 463. Sloane, 
Hist. Nat. ot .lam. lntrod. p. 48. Fermin, Descript, de Surin. i. 139. 

...P Descript. of N. France. Osborne, Coll. ii. 883. Charlev. N. Fr. 
ill. 84. 

q Wafer s Account of Isthmus, fee. 169. Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 177. 
Lozano, Hist, de Parag. 1 . 149. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. vii. c. 8 . dec. 4. lib. 
x. c. 4. See Note XC. 

r Harrere, Fr. Equin. p. 191. 



BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


845 


who at other times are so indifferent, so phlegmatic, 
so silent, and animated with so few desires, as soon 
as they engage in play become rapacious, impatient, 
noisy, and almost frantic with eagerness. Their 
furs, their domestic utensils, their clothes, their 
arms, are staked at the gaming-table, and when all 
is lost, high as their sense of independence is, in a 
wild emotion of despair or of hope, they will often 
risk their personal liberty upon a single cast. s 
Among several tribes, such gaming parties fre¬ 
quently recur, and become their most acceptable 
entertainment at every great festival. Superstition, 
which is apt to take hold of those passions which 
are most vigorous, frequently lends its aid to con¬ 
firm and strengthen this favourite inclination. Their 
conjurers are accustomed to prescribe a solemn 
match at play, as one of the most efficacious methods 
of appeasing their gods, or of restoring the sick to 
health. 1 

And for From causes similar to those which 

drinking. render them fond of play, the Ame¬ 
ricans are extremely addicted to drunkenness. It 
seems to have been one of the first exertions of 
human ingenuity to discover some composition of 
an intoxicating quality ; and there is hardly any 
nation so rude, or so destitute of invention, as not 
to have succeeded in this fatal research. The most 
barbarous of the American tribes have been so un¬ 
fortunate as to attain this art; and even those which 
are so deficient in knowledge, as to be unacquainted 
with the method of giving an inebriating strength 
to liquors by fermentation, can accomplish the same 
end by other means. The people of the islands 
of North America, and of California, used, for 
this purpose, the smoke of tobacco, drawn up with 
a certain instrument into the nostrils, the fumes 
of which ascending to the brain, they felt all the 
transports and phrensy of intoxication." In almost 
every other part of the New World, the natives 
possessed the art of extracting an intoxicating 
liquor from maize or the manioc root, the same 
substances which they convert into bread. The 
operation by which they effect this, nearly resembles 
the common one of brewing, but with this difference, 
that in place of yeast, they use a nauseous infusion 
of a certain quantity of maize or manioc chewed 
by their women. The saliva excites a vigorous fer¬ 
mentation, and in a few days the liquor becomes 
fit for drinking. It is not disagreeable to the taste, 
and when swallowed in large quantities, is of an 
intoxicating quality.' This is the general beverage 
of the Americans, which they distinguish by various 
names, and for which they feel such a violent and 
insatiable desire, as it is not easy either to conceive 
or describe. Among polished nations, where a suc¬ 
cession of various functions and amusements keeps 
the mind in continual occupation, the desire for 
strong drink is regulated in a great measure by the 

s Charlev. N. Fran. iii. 261.318. Lafitau, ii. 338, &c. Ribas, Triumf. 
13. Brickell, 336. 

t Charlev. N. Fran. iii. 262. VT _ , „ 

u Oviedo, Hist. ap. Ramus, iii. 113. Venegas, i. 68. Naufrag. de Ca- 
beca de Vaca, cap. 26 . See Note XCI. 


climate, and increases or diminishes according to 
the variations of its temperature. In warm regions, 
the delicate and sensible frame of the inhabitants 
does not require the stimulation of fermented liquors. 
In colder countries, the constitution of the natives, 
more robust and more sluggish, stands in need ot 
generous liquors to quicken and animate it. But 
among savages, the desire of something that is of 
power to intoxicate, is in every situation the same. 
All the people of America, if we except some small 
tribes near the Straits of Magellan, whether natives 
of the torrid zone, or inhabitants of its more tempe¬ 
rate regions, or placed by a harder fate in the severe 
climates towards its northern or southern extremity, 
appear to be equally under the dominion of this 
appetite.y Such a similarity of taste, among people 
in such different situations, must be ascribed to the 
influence of some moral cause, and cannot be con¬ 
sidered as the effect of any physical or constitu¬ 
tional want. While engaged in war or in the chase, 
the savage is often in the most interesting situations, 
and all the powers of his nature are roused to the 
most vigorous exertions. But those animating scenes 
are succeeded by long intervals of repose, during 
which the warrior meets with nothing that he deems 
of sufficient dignity or importance to merit his 
attention. He languishes and mopes in this season 
of indolence. The posture of his body is an emblem 
of the state of his mind. In one climate, cowering 
over the fire in his cabin ; in another, stretched 
under the shade of some tree, he dozes away his 
time in sleep, or in an unthinking joyless inactivity, 
not far removed from it. As strong liquors awake 
him from this torpid state, give a brisker motion to 
his spirits, and enliven him more thoroughly than 
either dancing or gaming, his love of them is ex¬ 
cessive. A savage when not engaged in action, is 
a pensive melancholy animal; but as soon as he 
tastes, or has a prospect of tasting, the intoxicating 
draught, he becomes gay and frolicksome. 2 What¬ 
ever be the occasion or pretext on which the Ame¬ 
ricans assemble, the meeting always terminates in 
a debauch. Many of their festivals have no other 
object, and they welcome the return of them with 
transports of joy. As they are not accustomed to 
restrain any appetite, they set no bounds to this. 
The riot often continues without intermission several 
days ; and whatever may be the fatal effects of their 
excess, they never cease from drinking as long as 
one drop of liquor remains. The persons of great¬ 
est eminence, the most distinguished warriors, and 
the chiefs most renowned for their wisdom, have no 
greater command of themselves than the most 
obscure members of the community. Their eager¬ 
ness for present enjoyment renders them blind to 
its fatal consequences ; and those very men, who in 
other situations seem to possess a force of mind 
more than human, are in this instance inferior to 

x Stadius ap. de Bry, iii. 111. Lery, ibid. 175. 

Gumilla, i. 257. Lozano, Descr. del Gran Chaco, 56. 103. Ribas, 8. 
oa, i. 240. 337. Marchias, iv. 436. Fernandez, Mission, de las Che- 
quit. 35. Barrere, p. 203. Blanco, Convers. de Piritu, 31. 
z Melendez Tesorez Verdad. iii. 369. 





846 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IY. 


children in foresight, as well as consideration, and 
mere slaves of brutal appetite.* When their pas¬ 
sions, naturally strong, are heightened and inflamed 
by drink, they are guilty of the most enormous out¬ 
rages, and the festivity seldom concludes without 
deeds of violence or bloodsheds 

But, amidst this wild debauch, there is one cir¬ 
cumstance remarkable; the women, in most of the 
American tribes, are not permitted to partake of it. c 
Their province is to prepare the liquor, to serve it 
about to the guests, and to take care of their hus¬ 
bands and friends, when their reason is overpowered. 
This exclusion of the women from an enjoyment so 
highly valued by savages, may be justly considered 
as a mark of their inferiority, and as an additional 
evidence of that contempt with which they were 
treated in the New World. The people of North 
America, when first discovered, were not acquainted 
with any intoxicating drink ; but as the Europeans 
early found it their interest to supply them with 
spirituous liquors, drunkenness soon became as 
universal among them as among their countrymen 
to the south ; and their women having acquired this 
new taste, indulge it with as little decency and 
moderation as the men. d 

It were endless to enumerate all the 

Put to death the . . 

aged and incur- detached customs which have excited 

the wonder of travellers in America; 
but I cannot omit one seemingly as singular as any 
that has been mentioned. When their parents and 
other relations become old, or labour under any 
distemper which their slender knowledge of the 
healing art cannot remove, the Americans cut short 
their days with a violent hand, in order to be re¬ 
lieved from the burden of supporting and tending 
them. This practice prevailed among the ruder 
tribes in every part of the continent, from Hudson’s 
Bay to the river De la Plata; and however shock¬ 
ing it may be to those sentiments of tenderness and 
attachment, which, in civilized life, we are apt to 
consider as congenial with our frame, the condition 
of man in the savage state leads and reconciles him 
to it. The same hardships and difficulty of procur¬ 
ing subsistence, which deter savages, in some cases, 
from rearing their children, prompt them to destroy 
the aged and infirm. The declining state of the one 
is as helpless as the infancy of the other. The 
former are no less unable than the latter to perform 
the functions that belong to a warrior or hunter, or 
to endure those various distresses in which savages 
are so often involved, by their own w ant of foresight 
and industry. Their relations feel this; and, in¬ 
capable of attending to the wants or weaknesses of 
others, their impatience under an additional burden 
prompts them to extinguish that life which they 
find it difficult to sustain. This is not regarded as 
a deed of cruelty, but as an act of mercy. An 
American, broken with years and infirmities, con¬ 
scious that he can no longer depend on the aid of 

a Ribas, 9. Ulloa, i. 338. 

b Lettr. Edif. ii. 178. lorquemada, Mond. Ind. i. 339. 

c See .Note XC11. 


those around him, places himself contentedly in his 
grave; and it is by the hands of his children or 
nearest relations that the thong is pulled, or the 
blow inflicted, which releases him for ever from the 
sorrows of life. e 

IX. After contemplating the rude 

. . General estimate 

American tribes in such various lights; of their diarac- 

ter. 

after taking a view of their customs 
and manners from so many different stations, no¬ 
thing remains but to form a general estimate of their 
character, compared with that of more polished 
nations. A human being, as he comes originally 
from the hand of nature, is every where the same. 
At his first appearance in the state of infancy, whe¬ 
ther it be among the rudest savages, or in the most 
civilized nation, we can discern no quality which 
marks any distinction or superiority. The capacity 
of improvement seems to be the same ; and the 
talents he may afterwards acquire, as well as the 
virtues he may be rendered capable of exercising, 
depend, in a great measure, upon the state of society 
in which he is placed. To this state his mind natu¬ 
rally accommodates itself, and from it receives dis¬ 
cipline and culture. In proportion to the wants 
which it accustoms a human being to feel, and the 
functions in which these engage him, his intellectual 
powers are called forth. According to the connex¬ 
ions which it establishes between him and the rest 
of his species, the affections of his heart are exerted. 
It is only by attending to this great principle, that w e 
can discover what is the character of man in every 
different period of his progress. 

If we apply it to savage life, and ]ntellectual 
measure the attainments of the human powers, 
mind in that state by this standard, we shall find, 
according to an observation which I have already 
made, that the intellectual pow ers of man must be 
extremely limited in their operations. They are 
confined within the narrow sphere of w hat he deems 
necessary for supplying his own wants. Whatever 
has not some relation to these, neither attracts his 
attention, nor is the object of his inquiries. But 
however narrow the bounds may be within which 
the knowledge of a savage is circumscribed, he 
possesses thoroughly that small portion which he 
has attained. It was not communicated to him by 
formal instruction ; he does not attend to it as a 
matter of mere speculation and curiosity; it is the 
result of his own observation, the fruit of his own 
experience, and accommodated to his condition and 
exigencies. While employed in the active occupa¬ 
tions of war or of hunting, he often finds himself 
in difficult and perilous situations, from which the 
efforts of his own sagacity must extricate him. He 
is frequently engaged in measures, where every step 
depends upon his own ability to decide, where he 
must rely solely upon his own penetration to discern 
the dangers to which he is exposed, and upon his 
own wisdom in providing against them. In conse- 

d Hutchinson, Hist, of Massarbus. 469. Lafitau, ii. 125. Sagard, 146. 

e Cassarn, Hist.de N. Reynode Gran. p. 390. Piso. p. 6. 'Ellis, Voy. 
191. Gumilla, i. 333. 




ROOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


847 


quence of this, he feels the knowledge which he 
possesses, and the eflorts which lie makes, and either 
in deliberation or action rests on himself alone. 

Political talents. As , the talents of individuals are 
exercised and improved by such exer¬ 
tions, much political wisdom is said to be displayed 
in conducting the affairs of their small communities. 
The council of old men in an American tribe, de¬ 
liberating upon its interests, and determining with 
respect to peace or war, has been compared to the 
senate in more polished republics. The proceedings 
of the former, we are told, are often no less formal 
and sagacious than those of the latter. Great politi¬ 
cal wisdom is exhibited in pondering the various 
measures proposed, and in balancing their probable 
advantages, against the evils of which they maj r be 
productive. Much address and eloquence are em¬ 
ployed by the leaders, who aspire at acquiring such 
confidence with their countrymen as to have an 
ascendent in those assemblies. f But, among savage 
tribes, the field for displaying political talents can¬ 
not be extensive. Where the idea of private pro¬ 
perty is incomplete, and no criminal jurisdiction is 
established, there is hardly any function of internal 
government to exercise. Where there is no com¬ 
merce, and scarcely any intercourse among separate 
tribes ; where enmity is implacable, and hostilities 
are carried on almost without intermission ; there 
will be few points of public concern to adjust with 
their neighbours; and that department of their 
affairs which may be denominated foreign, cannot 
be so intricate as to require much refined policy in 
conducting it. Where individuals are so thought¬ 
less and improvident as seldom to take effectual 
precautions for self-preservation, it is vain to expect 
that public measures and deliberations will be regu¬ 
lated by the contemplation of remote events. It is 
the genius of savages to act from the impulse of 
present passion. They have neither foresight nor 
temper to form complicated arrangements with 
respect to their future conduct. The consultations 
of the Americans, indeed, are so frequent, and their 
negociations are so many,s and so long protracted, 
as to give their proceedings an extraordinary aspect 
of wisdom. But this is not owing so much to the 
depth of their schemes, as to the coldness and 
phlegm of their temper, which render them slow in 
determining. h If we except the celebrated league 
that united the Five Nations in Canada into a 
federal republic, which shall be considered in its 
proper place, we can discern few such traces of 
political wisdom among the rude American tribes, 
as discover any great degree of foresight or extent 
of intellectual abilities. Even among them, we 
shall find public measures more frequently directed 
by the impetuous ferocity of their youth, than regu¬ 
lated by the experience and wisdom of their old men. 
Decree of As ^ ie condition of man in the savage 
affection. s t a t e j s unfavourable to the progress of 

f Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 269, &c. 

e See Note XCII1. h Charlev. N. Fr. in. 271. 

i Fernandez, Mission, de los Chequit. 33. 


the understanding, it has a tendency likewise, in 
some respects, to check the exercise of affection, 
and to render the heart contracted. The strongest 
feeling in the mind of a savage is a sense of his own 
independence. He has sacrificed so small a portion 
of his natural liberty by becoming a member of 
society, that he remains, in a great degree, the sole 
master of his own actions. 1 He often takes his 
resolutions alone, without consulting, or feeling 
any connexion with the persons around him. In 
many of his operations, he stands as much detached 
from the rest of his species, as if he had formed no 
union with them. Conscious how little he depends 
upon other men, he is apt to view them with a care¬ 
less indifference. Even the force of his mind con¬ 
tributes to increase this unconcern; and as he looks 
not beyond himself in deliberating with respect to 
the part which he should act, his solicitude about 
the consequences of it seldom extends further. He 
pursues his own career, and indulges his own fancy, 
without inquiring or regarding whether what he 
does be agreeable or offensive to others, whether 
they may derive benefit or receive hurt from it. 
Hence the ungovernable caprice of savages, their 
impatience under any species of restraint, their 
inability to suppress or moderate any inclination, 
the scorn or neglect with which they receive advice, 
their high estimation of themselves, and their con¬ 
tempt of other men. Among them, the pride of 
independence produces almost the same effects with 
interestedness in a more advanced state of society ; 
it refers every thing to a man himself, it leads him to 
be indifferent about the manner in which his actions 
may affect other men, and renders the gratification 
of his own wishes the measure and end of conduct. 

To the same cause may be imputed 
the hardness of heart, and insensibility, 
remarkable in all savage nations. Their minds, 
roused only by strong emotions, are little susceptible 
of gentle, delicate, or tender affections. k Their 
union is so incomplete, that each individual acts as 
if he retained all his natural rights entire and un¬ 
diminished. If a favour is conferred upon him, or 
any beneficial service is performed on his account, 
he receives it with much satisfaction, because it 
contributes to his enjoyment; but this sentiment 
extends not beyond himself; it excites no sense of 
obligation ; he neither feels gratitude, nor thinks of 
making any return. 1 Even among persons the most 
closely connected, the exchange of those good 
offices which strengthen attachment, mollify the 
heart, and sweeten the intercourse of life, is not 
frequent. The high ideas of independence among 
the Americans nourish a sullen reserve, which keeps 
them at a distance from each other. The nearest 
relations are mutually afraid to make any demand, 
or to solicit any service," 1 lest it should be con¬ 
sidered by the other as imposing a burden, or laying 
a restraint upon his will. 

k Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 309. 

1 Oviedo, Hist. lib. xvi. c. 2. See Note XCIV. 

tn De la Potherie, iii. 2B. 


Hardness 
of heart. 



848 


BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


I have already remarked the in flu- 
insensibility. ence of this hard un feeling temper 

upon domestic life, with respect to the connexion 
between husband and wife, as well as that between 
parents and children. Its effects are no less con¬ 
spicuous, in the performance of those mutual offices 
of tenderness which the infirmities of our nature 
frequently exact. Among some tribes, when any of 
their number are seized with any violent disease, they 
are generally abandoned by all around them, who, 
careless of their recovery, fly in the utmost conster¬ 
nation from the supposed danger of infection." But 
even where they are not thus deserted, the cold in¬ 
difference with which they are attended can afford 
them little consolation. No look of sympathy, no 
soothing expressions, no officious services, contri¬ 
bute to alleviate the distress of the sufferers, or to 
make them forget what they endure. 0 Their nearest 
relations will often refuse to submit to the smallest 
inconveniency, or to part with the least trifle, 
however much it may tend to their accommodation 
or reliefs So little is the breast of a savage sus¬ 
ceptible of those sentiments which prompt men to 
that feeling attention which mitigates the calamities 
of human life, that in some provinces of America, 
the Spaniards have found it necessary to enforce 
the common duties of humanity by positive laws, 
and to oblige husbands and wives, parents and 
children, under severe penalties, to take care of 
each other during their sickness. q The same harsh¬ 
ness of temper is still more conspicuous in their 
treatment of the animal creation. Prior to their 
intercourse with the people of Europe, the North 
Americans had some tame dogs, which accompanied 
them in their hunting excursions, and served them 
with all the ardour and fidelity peculiar to the spe¬ 
cies. But, instead of that fond attachment which 
the hunter naturally feels towards those useful 
companions of his toils, they requite their services 
with neglect, seldom feed, and never caress them. r 
In other provinces the Americans have become ac¬ 
quainted with the domestic animals of Europe, and 
avail themselves of their service ; but it is univer¬ 
sally observed that they always treat them harshly, s 
and never employ any method, either for breaking 
or managing them, but force and cruelty. In every 
part of the deportment of man in his savage state, 
whether towards his equals of the human species, 
or towards the animals below him, we recognise the 
same character, and trace the operations of a mind 
intent on its own gratifications, and regulated 
by its own caprice, with little attention or sensi¬ 
bility to the sentiments and feelings of the beings 
around him. 

After explaining how unfavourable 
Taciturnity. ^ savR g e s t a ^ e j s the cultivation of 

the understanding and to the improvement of the 
heart, I should not have thought it necessary to 

n Lettre da P. Cataneo ap. Muratori Christian, i. 300. Tertre, ii. 410. 
Lozano, 1(H). Herrera, dec. 4. lib. viii, c. 5. dec. 5. lib. iv. c. 2. Falk- 
ner’s Descript, of Patagonia, 98. 

o Gumilla. i. 329. Lozano, 100. 


mention what may be deemed its lesser defects, if the 
character of nations, as well as of individuals, were 
not often more distinctly marked by circumstances 
apparently trivial than by those of greater moment. 
A savage, frequently placed in situations of danger 
and distress, depending on himself alone, and 
wrapped up in his own thoughts and schemes, is 
a serious melancholy animal. His attention to 
others is small. The range of his own ideas is 
narrow. Hence that taciturnity which is so disgust¬ 
ing to men accustomed to the open intercourse of 
social conversation. When they are not engaged in 
action, the Americans often sit whole days in one 
posture, without opening their lips. 1 When they 
go forth to war, or to the chase, they usually march 
in a line at some distance from one another, and 
without exchanging a word. The same profound 
silence is observed when they row together in a 
canoe." It is only when they are animated by 
intoxicating liquors, or roused by the jollity of 
the festival and dance, that they become gay and 
conversible. 

To the same causes may be imputed 
the refined cunning with which they 
form and execute their schemes. Men who are not 
habituated to a liberal communication of their own 
sentiments and wishes, are apt to be so distrustful, 
as to place little confidence in others, and to have 
recourse to an insidious craft in accomplishing 
their own purposes. In civilized life, those per¬ 
sons who, by their situations, have but a few objects 
of pursuit on which their minds incessantly dwell, 
are most remarkable for low artifice in carrying on 
their little projects. Among savages, whose views 
are equally confined, and their attention no less 
persevering, those circumstances must operate still 
more powerfully, and gradually accustom them to 
a disingenuous subtilty in all their transactions. 
The force of this is increased by habits which they 
acquire in carrying on the two most interesting 
operations wherein they are engaged. With them 
war is a system of craft, in which they trust for suc¬ 
cess to stratagem more than to open force, and have 
their invention continually on the stretch to cir¬ 
cumvent and surprise their enemies. As hunters, 
it is their constant object to insnare, in order that 
they may destroy. Accordingly, art and cunning 
have been universally observed as distinguishing 
characteristics of all savages. The people of the 
rude tribes of America are remarkable for their ar¬ 
tifice and duplicity. Impenetrably secret in form¬ 
ing their measures, they pursue them with a patient 
undeviating attention, and there is no refinement of 
dissimulation which they cannot employ, in order 
to insure success. The natives of Peru were en¬ 
gaged above thirty years in concerting the plan 
of that insurrection which took place under the 
vice-royalty of the Marquis de Villa Garcia; and 

p Garcia Origen, &c. 90. Herrera, dec. 4. lib. viii. c. 5. 

q Cogulludo, Hist, de Yucathan, p. 300. 

r Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 119. 337. s Ulloa, Notic. American. 31? 

t Voyage de Bouguer, 102. u Charlev. iii. 340. 




BOOK IV. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


84f) 


though it was communicated to a great number of 
persons, in all different ranks, no indication of it 
ever transpired during that long period ; no man 
betrayed his trust, or by an unguarded look, or rash 
word, gave rise to any suspicion of what was intend¬ 
eds The dissimulation and craft of individuals is 
no less remarkable than that of nations. When set 
upon deceiving, they wrap themselves up so artifi¬ 
cially, that it is impossible to penetrate into their 
intentions, or to detect their designs .y 

Virtues ^ there be defects or vices pe¬ 

culiar to the savage state, there are 
likewise virtues which it inspires, and good quali¬ 
ties, to the exercise of which it is friendly. The 
bonds of society sit so loose upon the members of 
the more rude American tribes, that they hardly 
independent feel an y restraint. Hence the spirit of 

spirit. independence, which is the pride of a 
savage, and which he considers as the unalienable 
prerogative of man. Incapable of control, and 
disdaining to acknowledge any superior, his mind, 
though limited in its powers, and erring in many 
of its pursuits, acquires such elevation by the con¬ 
sciousness of its own freedom, that he acts on some 
occasions with astonishing force, and perseverance, 
and dignity. 

As independence nourishes this high 

Fortitude. 

spirit among savages, the perpetual 
wars in which they are engaged call it forth into 
action. Such long intervals of tranquillity as are 
frequent in polished societies, are unknown in the 
savage state. Their enmities, as I have observed, 
are implacable and immortal. The valour of the 
young men is never allowed to rust in inaction. The 
hatchet is always in their hand, either for attack or 
defence. Even in their hunting excursions, they 
must be on their guard against surprise from the 
hostile tribes by which they are surrounded. Accus¬ 
tomed to continual alarms, they grow familiar with 
danger; courage becomes an habitual virtue, re¬ 
sulting naturally from their situation, and strength¬ 
ened by constant exertions. The mode of display¬ 
ing fortitude may not be the same in small and rude 
communities, as in more powerful and civilized 
states. Their system of war, and standard of va¬ 
lour, may be formed upon different principles, but 
in no situation does the human mind rise more su¬ 
perior to the sense of danger, or the dread of death, 
than in its most simple and uncultivated state. 

. ., Another virtue remarkable among 

Attachment to ° 

their community. sav ages, is attachment to the commu¬ 
nity of which they are members. From the nature 
of their political union, one might expect this tie to 
be extremely feeble. But there are circumstances 
which render the influence, even of their loose mode 
of association, very powerful. The American tribes 
are small; combined against their neighbours, in 
prosecuting of ancient enmities, or in avenging re¬ 
cent injuries, their interests and operations are 
neither numerous nor complex. These are objects, 


x Voy. de UUoa, ii. 309. 


3 l 


y Gumilla. i. 162. Charlev. iii. 109. 


which the uncultivated understanding of a savage 
can comprehend. His heart is capable of forming 
connexions which are so little diffused. He assents 
with warmth to public measures, dictated by pas¬ 
sions similar to those which direct his own conduct. 
Hence the ardour with which individuals under 
take the most perilous service, when the community 
deems it necessary. Hence their fierce and deep- 
rooted antipathy to the public enemies. Hence 
their zeal for the honour of their tribe, and that love 
of their country, which prompts them to brave dan¬ 
ger that it may triumph, and to endure the most 
exquisite torments, without a groan, that it may 
not be disgraced. 

Thus, in every situation where a c . 4 . 

J # Satisfaction with 

human being: can be placed, even in their own condi- 

the most unfavourable, there are vir¬ 
tues which peculiarly belong to it; there are affec¬ 
tions which it calls forth ; there is a species of hap¬ 
piness which it yields. Nature, with most bene¬ 
ficent intention, conciliates and forms the mind to 
its condition ; the ideas and wishes of man extend 
not beyond that state of society to which he is ha¬ 
bituated. What it presents as objects of contem¬ 
plation or enjoyment, fills and satisfies his mind, 
and he can hardly conceive any other mode of life 
to be pleasant, or even tolerable. The Tartar, ac¬ 
customed to roam over extensive plains, and to sub¬ 
sist on the product of his herds, imprecates upon 
his enemy, as the greatest of all curses, that he 
may be condemned to reside in one place, and to 
be nourished with the top of a weed. The rude 
Americans, fond of their own pursuits, and satisfied 
with their own lot, are equally unable to compre¬ 
hend the intention or utility of the various accom¬ 
modations, which, in more polished society, are 
deemed essential to the comfort of life. Far from 
complaining of their own situation, or viewing that 
of men in a more improved state with admiration 
or envy, they regard themselves as the standard 
of excellence, as beings the best entitled, as well 
as the most perfectly qualified, to enjoy real hap¬ 
piness. Unaccustomed to any restraint upon their 
will or their actions, they behold with amaze¬ 
ment the inequality of rank and the subordina¬ 
tion which takes place in civilized life, and con¬ 
sider the voluntary submission of one man to an¬ 
other, as a renunciation, no less base than unac¬ 
countable, of the first distinction of humanity. 
Void of foresight as well as free from care them¬ 
selves, and delighted with that state of indolent 
security, they wonder at the anxious precautions, 
the unceasing industry, and complicated arrange¬ 
ments of Europeans, in guarding against distant 
evils, or providing for future wants ; and they often 
exclaim against their preposterous folly, in thus 
multiplying the troubles and increasing the labour 
of life. 2 This preference of their own manners is 
conspicuous on every occasion. Even the names, 
by which the various nations wish to be distin- 

z Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 338. Lahontan, ii. 97. 




850 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IV 


guislied, arc assumed from this idea of their own 
pre-eminence. The appellation which the Iroquois 
give to themselves is, the chief of men.* Caraibe , 
the original name of the fierce inhabitants of the 
Windward Islands, signifies, the warlike people . b 
The Cherokee, from an idea of their own superi¬ 
ority, call the Europeans Nothings, or the accursed 
race, and assume to themselves the name of the be¬ 
loved people . c The same principle regulated the 
notions of the other Americans concerning the Eu¬ 
ropeans ; for although, at first, they were filled with 
astonishment at their arts, and with dread of their 
power, they soon came to abate their estimation of 
men whose maxims of life were so different from 
their own. Hence they called them the froth of the 
sea, men w ithout father or mother. They supposed, 
that either they had no country of their own, and 
therefore invaded that which belonged to others ; d 
or that, being destitute of the necessaries of life at 
home, they were obliged to roam over the ocean, in 
order to rob such as were more amply provided. 

Men, thus satisfied with their condition, are far 
from any inclination to relinquish their own habits, 
or to adopt those of civilized life. The transition 
is too violent to be suddenly made. Even where 
endeavours have been used to wean a savage from 
his own customs, and to render the accommodations 
of polished society familiar to him; even where he 
has been allowed to taste of those pleasures, and 
has been honoured with those distinctions, which 
are the chief objects of our desire, he droops and 
languishes under the restraint of laws and forms, 
he seizes the first opportunity of breaking loose 
from them, and returns with transport to the forest 
or the wild, where he can enjoy a careless and un¬ 
controlled freedom. e 

Thus I have finished a laborious delineation of 
the character and manners of the uncivilized tribes 
scattered over the vast continent of America. In 
this, I aspire not at rivalling the great masters who 
have painted and adorned savage life, either in 
boldness of design, or in the glow and beauty of 
their colouring. I am satisfied with the more hum¬ 
ble merit of having persisted with patient industry, 
in viewing my subject in many various lights, and 
collecting from the most accurate observers such 
detached, and often minute features, as might en¬ 
able me to exhibit a portrait that resembles the 
original. 

„ , . Before I close this part of my work, 

General caution J 

with respect to one observation more is necessary, in 

this inquiry. , J 

order to justify the conclusions which 
I have formed, or to prevent the mistakes into which 
such as examine them may fall. In contemplating 
the inhabitants of a country so widely extended as 
America, great attention should be paid to the di¬ 
versity ol climates under which they are placed. 
The influence of this I have pointed out with re¬ 
spect to several important particulars which have 

a Coklan, i. 3. 

b Rochefort, Hist, des Antilles, 455. 

c Adair, Hist of Amer. Indians, p. 32. 


been the object of research ; but even where it has 
not been mentioned, it ought not to be overlooked. 
The provinces of America are of such different 
temperament, that this alone is sufficient to consti¬ 
tute a distinction between their inhabitants. In 
every part of the earth w here man exists, the pow er 
of climate operates, with decisive influence, upon 
his condition and character. In those countries 
which approach near to the extremes of heat or 
cold, this influence is so conspicuous as to strike 
every eye. Whether we consider man merely as an 
animal, or as being endowed with rational powers 
which fit him for activity and speculation, we shall 
find that he has uniformly attained the greatest 
perfection of which his nature is capable, in the 
temperate regions of the globe. There his consti¬ 
tution is most vigorous, his organs most acute, and 
his form most beautiful. There, too, he possesses 
a superior extent of capacity, greater fertility of 
imagination, more enterprising courage, and a sen¬ 
sibility of heart which gives birth to desires, not 
only ardent, but persevering. In this favourite 
situation he has displayed the utmost efforts of his 
genius, in literature, in policy, in commerce, in 
war, and in all the arts which improve or embellish 
life/ 

This powerful operation of climate is felt most 
sensibly by rude nations, and produces greater 
effects than in societies more improved. The talents 
of civilized men are continually exerted in render¬ 
ing their own condition more comfortable ; and by 
their ingenuity and inventions, they can, in a great 
measure, supply the defects, and guard against the 
inconveniences, of any climate. But the impro¬ 
vident savage is affected by every circumstance 
peculiar to his situation. He takes no precau¬ 
tion either to mitigate or improve it. Like a plant, 
or an animal, he is formed by the climate under 
which he is placed, and feels the full force of its 
influence. 

In surveying the rude nations of America, this 
natural distinction between the inhabitants of the 
temperate and torrid zones is very remarkable. They 
may, accordingly, be divided into two great classes. 
The one comprehends all the North Americans, 
from the river St. Laurence to the gulf of Mexico, 
together with the people of Chili, and a few small 
tribes towards the extremity of the southern con¬ 
tinent. To the other belong all the inhabitants 
of the islands, and those settled in the various pro¬ 
vinces which extend from the isthmus of Darien 
almost to the southern confines of Brazil, along the 
east side of the Andes. In the former, w'hich com¬ 
prehends all the regions of the temperate zone that 
in America are inhabited, the human species appear 
manifestly to be more perfect. The natives are more 
robust, more active, more intelligent, and more cou- 
i ageous. They possess, in the most eminent degree, 
that force of mind, and love of independence, which 

d Fenon. Hist. "Nov* Orbis, lib. iii. c 21 
e Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 322. 

f Dr. Feiguson s Essay on the Ilist. of Civil Society, part. iii. c. 1. 



BOOK IV. 


8,51 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


I have pointed out as the ehief virtues of man in his 
savage state. 1 hey have defended their liberty with 
persevering fortitude against the Europeans, who 
subdued the other rude nations of America with the 
greatest ease. The natives of the temperate zone 
are the only people in the New World who are in¬ 
debted for their freedom to their own valour. The 
North Americans, though long encompassed by three 
formidable European powers, still retain part of 
their original possessions, and continue to exist as 
independent nations. The people of Chili, though 
early invaded, still maintain a gallant contest with 
the Spaniards, and have set bounds to their en¬ 
croachments ; whereas, in the warmer regions, men 
are more feeble in their frame, less vigorous in the 
efforts of their minds, of a gentle but dastardly spirit, 
more enslaved by pleasure, and more sunk in indo¬ 
lence. Accordingly, it is in the torrid zone that the 
Europeans have most completely established their 
dominion over America; the most fertile and de¬ 
sirable provinces in it are subject to their yoke ; and 
if several tribes there still enjoy independence, it is 
either because they have never been attacked by an 
enemy already satiated with conquest, and possessed 
of larger territories than he was able to occupy, or 
because they have been saved from oppression by 
their remote and inaccessible situation. 

Conspicuous as this distinction may appear be¬ 
tween the inhabitants of those different regions, it 
is not, however, universal. Moral and political 
causes, as I have formerly observed, affect the dis¬ 
position and character of individuals, as well as 
nations, still more powerfully than the influence of 
climate. There are, accordingly, some tribes, in 
various parts of the torrid zone, possessed of cou¬ 
rage, high spirit, and love of independence, in a 
degree hardly inferior to the natives of more tem¬ 
perate climates. We are too little acquainted with 
the history of those people, to be able to trace the 
several circumstances in their progress and condi¬ 
tion, to which they are indebted for this remarkable 
pre-eminence. The fact, nevertheless, is certain. 
As early as the first voyage of Columbus, he re¬ 
ceived information that several of the islands were 
inhabited by the Caribbees, a fierce race of men, 
nowise resembling their feeble and timid neigh¬ 
bours. In his second expedition to the New World, 
he found this information to be just, and was him¬ 
self a witness of their intrepid valour.* The same 
character they have maintained invariably in all 
subsequent contests with the people of Europe ; h 
and, even in our own times, we have seen them 
make a gallant stand in defence of the last territory 
which the rapacity of their invaders had left in their 
possession. 1 Some nations in Brazil were no less 
eminent for vigour of mind and bravery in war. k 
The people of the isthmus of Darien boldly met the 
Spaniards in the field, and frequently repelled those 
formidable invaders. 1 Other instances might be 


produced. It is not by attending to any single 
cause or principle, how powerful and extensive 
soever its influence may appear, that we can explain 
the actions, or account for the character, of men. 
Even the law of climate, more universal, perhaps, 
in its operation than any that affects the human 
species, cannot be applied, in judging of their 
conduct, without many exceptions. 


BOOK V. 


When Grijalva returned to Cuba, 

he found the armament destined to Preparations ot 
. , . Velasquez for 

attempt the conquest of that rich invading New 
country which he had discovered, 
almost complete. Not only ambition, but avarice, 
had urged Velasquez to hasten his preparations ; 
and having such a prospect of gratifying both, he 
had advanced considerable sums out of his private 
fortune towards defraying the expenses of the expe¬ 
dition. At the same time, he exerted his influence 
as governor, in engaging the most distinguished 
persons in the colony to undertake the service. 11 
At a time when the spirit of the Spanish nation 
was adventurous to excess, a number of soldiers, 
eager to embark in any daring enterprise, soon 
appeared. But it was not so easy to find a person 
qualified to take the command in an expedition of 
so much importance; and the character of Velas¬ 
quez, who had the right of nomination, greatly 
increased the difficulty of the choice. Though of 
most aspiring ambition, and not destitute of talents 
for government, he possessed neither such courage 
nor such vigour and activity of mind, as to under¬ 
take in person the conduct of the armament which 
he was preparing. In this embarrassing situation, 
he formed the chimerical scheme, not only of 
achieving great exploits by a deputy, but of se¬ 
curing to himself the glory of conquests which were 
to be made by another. In the execution of this 
plan he fondly aimed at reconciling contradictions. 
He was solicitous to choose a commander of intrepid 
resolution, and of superior abilities, because he 
knew these to be requisite in order to insure suc¬ 
cess ; but, at the same time, from the jealousy 
natural to little minds, he wished this person to be 
of a spirit so tame and obsequious, as to be entirely 
dependent on his will. But when he came to apply 
those ideas in forming an opinion concerning the 
several officers who occurred to his thoughts as 
worthy of being intrusted with the command, he 
soon perceived that it was impossible to find such 
incompatible qualities united in one character. 
Such as w'ere distinguished for courage and talents 
were too high-spirited to be passive instruments in 
his hands. Those who appeared more gentle and 


g Life of Columbus, c. 47, 48. See Note XCV 
h Hochefort, Hist, des Antilles, 581. 
i See Note XCV1. 


k Tery ap. de Bry, iii. 207, &c. 

1 Herrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 15, &c.; dec. 2. passim, 
a See Note XCVII. 


3 i 2 




862 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


tractable were destitute of capacity, and unequal 
to the charge. This augmented his perplexity and 
his fears. He deliberated long, and with much 
solicitude, and was still wavering in his choice, 
when Amador de Lares, the royal treasurer in Cuba, 
and Andres Duero, his own secretary, the two per¬ 
sons in whom he chiefly confided, were encouraged 
by this irresolution to propose a new candidate, 
and they supported their recommendation with 
such assiduity and address, that, no less fatally 
for Velasquez than happily for their country, it 
proved successful. b 

He appoints Cor- T1,e man wbom the y P° inted OUt to 
tes commander. hj m was Fernando Cortes. He was 

born at Medellin, a small town in Estremadura, in 
the year one thousand four hundred and eighty-five, 
and descended from a family of noble blood, but of 
very moderate fortune. Being originally destined 
by his parents to the study of law, as the most likely 
method of bettering his condition, he was sent 
early to the university of Salamanca, where he 
imbibed some tincture of learning. But he was 
soon disgusted with an academic life, which did not 
suit his ardent and restless genius, and retired to 
Medellin, where he gave himself up entirely to 
active sports and martial exercises. At this period 
of life, he was so impetuous, so overbearing, and so 
dissipated, that his father was glad to comply with 
his inclination, and send him abroad as an adven¬ 
turer in arms. There were in that age two con¬ 
spicuous theatres, on which such of. the Spanish 
youth as courted military glory might display their 
valour; one in Italy, under the command of the 
great captain ; the other in the New World. Cortes 
preferred the former, but was prevented by indispo¬ 
sition from embarking with a reinforcement of troops 
sent to Naples. Upon this disappointment he turned 
his views towards America, whither he was allured 
by the prospect of the advantages which he might 
derive from the patronage of Ovando, c the governor 
of Hispaniola, who was his kinsman. When he 
landed at St. Domingo in one thousand five hundred 
and four, his reception was such as equalled his 
most sanguine hopes, and he was employed by the 
governor in several honourable and lucrative stations. 
These, however, did not satisfy his ambition; and 
in the year one thousand five hundred and eleven 
he obtained permission to accompany Diego Velas¬ 
quez in his expedition to Cuba. In this service he 
distinguished himself so much, that notwithstanding 
some violent contests with Velasquez, occasioned 
by trivial events unworthy of remembrance, he was 
at length taken into favour, and received an ample 
concession of lands and of Indians, the recompence 
usually bestowed upon adventurers in the New 
World. d 

Though Cortes had not hitherto acted in high 
command, he had displayed such qualities in several 
scenes of difficulty and danger, as raised universal 

b B. Diaz. c. 19. Gomara, Cron. c. 7 . Herrera, dec. 2 . lib. iii. c. 11. 

c See Note XCVII1. 


[A. D. 1518. BOOK V. 

expectation, and turned the eyes of his countrymen 
towards him, as one capable of performing great 
things. The turbulence of youth, as soon as he 
found objects and occupations suited to the ardour 
of his mind, gradually subsided, and settled into a 
habit of regular indefatigable activity. The im¬ 
petuosity of his temper, when he came to act with 
his equals, insensibly abated, by being kept under 
restraint, and mellowed into a cordial soldierly 
frankness. These qualities were accompanied w ith 
calm prudence in concerting his schemes, with per¬ 
severing vigour in executing them, and with what 
is peculiar to superior genius, the art of gaining the 
confidence and governing the minds of men. To 
all which were added the inferior accomplishments 
that strike the vulgar, and command their respect ; 
a graceful person, a winning aspect, extraordinary 
address in martial exercises, and a constitution of 
such vigour as to be capable of enduring any fatigue. 

As soon as Cortes was mentioned to Velasquez 
by his two confidants, he flattered himself that he 
had at length found what he had hitherto sought in 
vain, a man with talents for command, but not an 
object for jealousy. Neither the rank nor the fortune 
of Cortes, as he imagined, were such that he could 
aspire at independence. He had reason to believe 
that by his own readiness to bury ancient animosi¬ 
ties in oblivion, as well as his liberality in conferring 
several recent favours, he had already gained the 
good-wdll of Cortes, and hoped, by this new and 
unexpected mark of confidence, that he might attach 
him for ever to his interest. 

Cortes, receiving his commission 

... .. . . P Soon becomes jea- 

with the warmest expressions of re- ious«f him. 

Oct G 3 

spect and gratitude to the governor, 
immediately erected his standard before his own 
house, appeared in a military dress, and assumed 
all the ensigns of his new dignity. His utmost in¬ 
fluence and activity were exerted in persuading 
many of his friends to engage in the service, and in 
urging forward the preparations for the voyage. 
All his own funds, together with what money he 
could raise by mortgaging his lands and Indians, 
were expended in purchasing military stores and 
provisions, or in supplying the wants of such of his 
officers as were unable to equip themselves in a 
manner suited to their rank. 8 Inoffensive, and even 
laudable as this conduct was, his disappointed com¬ 
petitors were malicious enough to give it a turn to 
his disadvantage. They represented him as aiming 
already, with little disguise, at establishing an in¬ 
dependent authority over his troops, and endeavour¬ 
ing to secure their respect or love by his ostentatious 
and interested liberality. They reminded Velas¬ 
quez of his former dissensions with the man in whom 
he now reposed so much confidence, and foretold 
that Cortes would be more apt to avail himself of 
the power which the governor was inconsiderately 
putting in his hands, to avenge past injuries, than 

d Gomara, Cron. c. 1, 2, 3. 

e See Note X(JJ X. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


853 


BOOK Y. A. D. 1518.] 

to requite recent obligations. These insinuations 
made such impression upon the suspicious mind of 
Yelasquez, that Cortes soon observed some symptoms 
of a growing alienation and distrust in his behaviour, 
and was advised by Lares and Duero to hasten his 
departure, before these should become so confirmed 
as to break out with open violence. Fully sensible 
of this danger, he urged forward his preparations 
with such rapidity, that he set sail from St. Jago 
de Cuba on the eighteenth of November, Velas¬ 
quez accompanying him to the shore, and taking 
leave of him with an appearance of perfect friend¬ 
ship and confidence, though he had secretly given 
it in charge to some of Cortes’s officers, to keep a 
watchful eye upon every part of their commander’s 
conduct/ 

, Cortes proceeded to Trinidad, a 

Endeavours to 

deprive him of small settlement on the same side ot 

his commission, , • , , , , . . , , 

the island, where he was joined by 
several adventurers, and received a supply of pro¬ 
visions and military stores, of which his stock was 
still very incomplete. He had hardly left St. Jago, 
w hen the jealousy which had been working in the 
breast of Velasquez grew so violent, that it was 
impossible to suppress it. The armament was no 
longer under his own eye and direction ; and he 
felt, that as his power over it ceased, that of Cortes 
would become more absolute. Imagination now 
aggravated every circumstance which had formerly 
excited suspicion: the rivals of Cortes industriously 
threw in reflections which increased his fears; and 
with no less art than malice they called superstition 
to their aid, employing the predictions of an astro¬ 
loger in order to complete the alarm. All these, by 
their united operation, produced the desired effect. 
Velasquez repented bitterly of his own imprudence, 
in having committed a trust of so much importance 
to a person whose fidelity appeared so doubtful, 
and hastily despatched instructions to Trinidad, 
empowering Verdugo, the chief magistrate there, 
to deprive Cortes of his commission. But Cortes 
had already made such progress in gaining the 
esteem and confidence of his troops, that, finding 
officers as w ell as soldiers equally zealous to sup¬ 
port his authority, he soothed or intimidated Ver¬ 
dugo, and w as permitted to depart from Trinidad 
without molestation. 

and to lay him From Trinidad Cortes sailed for the 
under arrest. Havana, in order to raise more soldiers, 

and to complete the victualling of his fleet. There 
several persons of distinction entered into the ser¬ 
vice, and engaged to supply what provisions were 
still wanting ; but as it was necessary to allow them 
some time for performing what they had promised, 
Velasquez, sensible that he ought no longer to rely 
on a man of whom he had so openly discovered 
his distrust, availed himself of the interval which 
this unavoidable delay afforded, in order to make 
one attempt more to wrest the command out of the 
hands of Cortes. He loudly complained of Ver- 

f Gomara. Cron. c. 7* B. Diaz, c. 20. 


dugo’s conduct, accusing him either of childish 
facility,, or of manifest treachery, in suffering Cortes 
to escape from Trinidad. Anxious to guard against 
a second disappointment, he sent a person of con¬ 
fidence to the Havana, with peremptory injunctions 
to Pedro Barba, his lieutenant-governor in that 
colony,, instantly to arrest Cortes, to send him 
prisoner to St. Jago under a strong guard, and to 
countermand the sailing of the armament until he 
should receive further orders. He wrote likewise 
to the principal officers, requiring them to assist 
Barba in executing what he had given him in 
charge. But before the arrival of this messenger, a 
Franciscan friar of St. Jago had secretly conveyed 
an account of this interesting transaction to Bar¬ 
tholomew de Olmedo,. a monk of the same order, 
who acted as chaplain to the expedition. 

Cortes, forewarned of the danger, Cortes defea(s 
had time to take precautions for his cont?nu^ e his nd 
own safety. His first step was to find P re P aratl °n»- 
some pretext for removing from the Havana Diego 
de Ordaz, an officer of great merit, but in whom, 
on account of his known attachment to Velasquez, 
he could not confide in this trying and delicate junc¬ 
ture. He gave him the command of a vessel, des¬ 
tined to take on board some provisions in a small 
harbour beyond cape Antonio, and thus made sure 
of his absence, without seeming to suspect his 
lidelity. When he was gone, Cortes no longer con¬ 
cealed the intentions of Velasquez from his troops ; 
and as officers and soldiers were equally impatient 
to set out on an expedition, in preparing for which 
most of them had expended all their fortunes, they 
expressed their astonishment and indignation at 
that illiberal jealousy, to which the governor was 
about to sacrifice, not only the honour of their 
general, but all their sanguine hopes of glory and 
wealth. With one voice they entreated that he 
would not abandon the important station to which 
he had such a good title. They conjured him not 
to deprive them of a leader whom they followed 
with such well-founded confidence, and offered to 
shed the last drop of their blood in maintaining his 
authority. Cortes was easily induced to comply 
with what he himself so ardently desired. He 
swore that he would never desert soldiers who had 
given him such a signal proof of their attachment, 
and promised instantly to conduct them to that rich 
country, which had been so long the object of 
their thoughts and wishes. This declaration was 
received with transports of military applause, ac¬ 
companied with threats and imprecations against 
all who should presume to call in question the ju¬ 
risdiction of their general, or to obstruct the execu¬ 
tion of his designs. 

Every thing was now ready for their The amount of 
departure; but though this expedition his forces, 
was fitted out by the united efforts of the Spanish 
power in Cuba; though every settlement had con¬ 
tributed its quota of men and provisions; though 



86 1 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


the governor had laid out considerable sums, and 
each adventurer had exhausted his stock or strain¬ 
ed his credit, the poverty of the preparations was 
such as must astonish the present age, and bore, in¬ 
deed, no resemblance to an armament destined for 
the conquest of a great empire. The fleet consisted 
of eleven vessels; the largest of a hundred tons, 
which was dignitied by the name of admiral ; three 
of seventy or eighty tons, and the rest small 
open barks. On board of these were six hundred 
and seventeen men; of which five hundred and 
eight belonged to the land service, and a hundred 
and nine were seamen or artificers. The soldiers 
were divided into eleven companies, according to 
the number of the ships ; to each of which Cortes 
appointed a captain, and committed to him the 
command of the vessel while at sea, and of the men 
when on shore . 8 As the use of fire-arms among the 
nations of Europe was hitherto confined to a few 
battalions of regularly disciplined infantry, only 
thirteen soldiers w r ere armed with muskets, thirty- 
two were cross-bowmen, and the rest had swords 
and spears. Instead of the usual defensive armour, 
which must have been cumbersome in a hot climate, 
the soldiers wore jackets quilted with cotton, which 
experience had taught the Spaniards to be a suffi¬ 
cient protection against the weapons of the Ame¬ 
ricans. They had only sixteen horses, ten small 
field pieces, and four falconets . 11 

1519. With this slender and ill-provided 

His F departure train did Cortes set sail, to make war 
trom Cuba. U p 0n a monarch whose dominions 

were more extensive than all the kingdoms subject 
to the Spanish crown. As religious enthusiasm 
always mingled with the spirit of adventure in the 
New World, and, by a combination still more 
strange, united with avarice, in prompting the 
Spaniards to all their enterprises, a large cross was 
displayed in their standards, with this inscription, 
Let us follow the cross, for under this sign we shall 
conquer. 

So powerfully were Cortes and his followers 
animated with both these passions, that no less 
eager to plunder the opulent country whither they 
were bound, than zealous to propagate the Christian 
faith among its inhabitants, they set out, not with 
the solicitude natural to men going upon dangerous 
services, but with that confidence which arises from 
security of success, and certainty of the divine 
protection. 


Touches at Coz- As Cortes had determined to touch 
at every place which Grijalva had 
visited, he steered directly towards the island of 
Cozumel; there he had the good fortune to redeem 
Jerome de Aguilar, a Spaniard, who had been eight 
years a prisoner among the Indians. This man was 
perfectly acquainted wdth a dialect of their lan¬ 
guage understood through a large extent of country, 
and possessing besides a considerable share of 


[A. D. 1619. ROOK V. 

prudence and sagacity, proved extremely useful as 
an interpreter. From Cozumel Cortes March 4 . 
proceeded to the river of Tabasco, in and at iabasc0 - 
hopes of a reception as friendly as Grijalva had met 
with there, and of finding gold in the same abun¬ 
dance ; but the disposition of the natives, from some 
unknown cause, was totally changed. After re¬ 
peated endeavours to conciliate their good-will, he 
was constrained to have recourse to violence. 
Though the forces of the enemy were numerous, 
and advanced with extraordinary courage, they were 
routed with great slaughter, in several successive 
actions. The loss which they sustained, and still 
more the astonishment and terror excited by the 
destructive effect of the fire-arms, and the dreadful 
appearance of the horses, humbled their fierce 
spirits, and induced them to sue for peace. They 
acknowledged the king of Castile as their sovereign, 
and granted Cortes a supply of provisions, with a 
present of cotton garments, some gold, and twenty 
female slaves . 1 

Cortes continued his course to the Arrives at st 
westward, keeping as near the shore as Juan tle ulua - 
possible, in order to observe the country ; but could 
discover no proper place for landing, until he ar¬ 
rived at St. Juan de Ulua. k As he en¬ 
tered this harbour, a large canoe full 
of people, among w hom were two who seemed to be 
persons of distinction, approached his ship with 
signs of peace and amity. They came on board 
without fear or distrust, and addressed him in a 
most respectful manner, but in a language altogether 
unknown to Aguilar. Cortes was in the utmost 
perplexity and distress, at an event of which he in¬ 
stantly foresaw all the consequences, and already 
felt the hesitation and uncertainty with which he 
should carry on the great schemes which he medi¬ 
tated, if, in his transactions with the natives, he 
must depend entirely upon such an imperfect, am¬ 
biguous, and conjectural mode of communication, as 
the use of signs. But he did not remain long in 
his embarrassing situation; a fortunate accident 
extricated him, when his own sagacity could have 
contributed little towards his relief. One of the 
female slaves, w hom he had received from the ca- 
zique of Tabasco, happened to be present at the 
first interview between Cortes and his new guests. 
She perceived his distress, as well as the confusion 
of Aguilar; and as she perfectly understood the 
Mexican language, she explained what they had 
said in the Yucatan tongue, with which Aguilar 
was acquainted. This woman, known afterwards 
by the name of Donna Marina, and w ho makes a 
conspicuous figure in the history of the New World, 
where great revolutions were brought about by 
small causes and inconsiderable instruments, W'as 
born in one of the provinces of the Mexican em¬ 
pire. Having been sold as a slave in the early part 
of her life, after a variety of adventures she fell 

.^^.^Diaz, c. 31 35. Gomara, Cron. c. 18 —23. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. 


g See Note C. 
i See Note Cl. 


h B. Diaz, c. 19. 




BOOK V. A. D. 1519.] THE HISTORY 

into the hands of the Tabascans, and had resided 
long enough among them to acquire their language, 
without losing the use of her own. Though it was 
both tedious and troublesome to converse by the 
intervention ot two different interpreters, Cortes was 
so highly pleased with having discovered this me¬ 
thod of carrying on some intercourse with the people 
of a country into which he was determined to pene¬ 
trate, that in the transports of his joy he considered 
it as a visible interposition of Providence in his 
favour. 1 

Lands his troops, He now Earned, that the two per¬ 
sons whom he had received on board 
of his ship were deputies from Teutile and Pilpatoe, 
two officers intrusted with the government of that 
province, by a great monarch, whom they called 
Montezuma; and that they were sent to inquire 
what his intentions were in visiting their coast, and 
to offer him what assistance he might need, in order 
to continue his voyage. Cortes, struck with the 
appearance of those people, as well as the tenor of 
the message, assured them, in respectful terms, that 
he approached their country with most friendly sen¬ 
timents, and came to propose matters of great 
importance to the welfare of their prince and his 
kingdom, which he would unfold more fully, in 
person, to the governor arid the general. Next 
morning, without waiting for any answer, he landed 
his troops, his horses, and artillery; and having 
chosen proper ground, began to erect huts for his 
men and to fortify his camp. The natives, instead 
of opposing the entrance of those fatal guests into 
their country, assisted them in all their operations, 
with an alacrity of which they had ere long good 
reason to repent. 

His first inter- Next day Teutile and Pilpatoe en- 

Mexicans! 1 the tcre ^ the Spanish camp with a numer¬ 
ous retinue, and Cortes considering 
them as the ministers of a great monarch, entitled 
to a degree of attention very different from that 
which the Spaniards were accustomed to pay the 
petty caziques with whom they had intercourse in 
the isles, received them with much formal ceremony. 
He informed them, that he came as ambassador 
from Don Carlos of Austria, king of Castile, the 
greatest monarch of the east, and was intrusted 
with propositions of such moment, that he could 
impart them to none but the emperor Montezuma 
himself, and therefore required them to conduct 
him, without loss of time, into the presence of their 
master. The Mexican officers could not conceal 
their uneasiness at a request, which they knew r 
would be disagreeable, and which they foresaw 
might prove extremely embarrassing to their sove¬ 
reign, whose mind had been filled with many dis¬ 
quieting apprehensions, ever since the former ap¬ 
pearance of the Spaniards on his coasts. But be¬ 
fore they attempted to dissuade Cortes from insist¬ 
ing on this demand, they endeavoured to conciliate 
his good-will, by entreating him to accept of certain 

B. Diaz, c. 37, 38, 39. Gomara, Cron. c. 25, 26. Herrera, dec. 2. 


OF AMERICA. 


855 


presents, which, as humble slaves of Montezuma, 
they laid at his feet. They were introduced with 
great parade, and consisted of fine cotton cloth, of 
plumes of various colours, and of ornaments of gold 
and silver to a considerable value; the workman¬ 
ship of which appeared to be as curious as the ma¬ 
terials were rich. The display of these produced 
an effect very different from what the Mexicans in¬ 
tended. Instead of satisfying it increased the avi¬ 
dity of the Spaniards, and rendered them so eager 
and impatient to become masters of a country w hich 
abounded with such precious productions, that 
Cortes could hardly listen with patience to the ar¬ 
guments which Pilpatoe and Teutile employed to 
dissuade him from visiting the capital, and in a 
haughty determined tone he insisted on his demand, 
of being admitted to a personal audience of their 
sovereign. During this interview, some painters, 
in the train of the Mexican chiefs, had been dili¬ 
gently employed in delineating, upon white cotton 
cloths, figures of the ships, the horses, the artillery, 
the soldiers, and whatever else attracted their eyes 
as singular. When Cortes observed this, and was 
informed that these pictures were to be sent to 
Montezuma, in order to convey to him a more lively 
idea of the strange and wonderful objects now pre¬ 
sented to their view, than any words could commu¬ 
nicate, he resolved to render the representation still 
more animating and interesting, by exhibiting such 
a spectacle as might give both them and their mo¬ 
narch an awful impression of the extraordinary 
prowess of his followers, and the irresistible force 
of their arms. The trumpets, by his order, sounded 
an alarm ; the troops, in a moment, formed in order 
of battle, the infantry performed such martial exer¬ 
cises as were best suited to display the effect of 
their different weapons; the horse, in various evolu¬ 
tions, gave a specimen of their agility and strength ; 
the artillery pointed towards the thick w oods which 
surrounded the camp, were fired, and made dread¬ 
ful havoc among the trees. The Mexicans looked 
on with that silent amazement which is natural 
when the mind is struck with objects, which are 
both awful and above its comprehension. But. at 
the explosion of the cannon, many of them fled, 
some fell to the ground, and all were so much con¬ 
founded at the sight of men whose power so nearly 
resembled that of the gods, that Cortes found it 
difficult to compose and re-assure them. The 
painters had now many new objects on which to 
exercise their art, and they put their fancy on the 
stretch in order to invent figures and symbols to 
represent the extraordinary things which they had 
seen. 

Messengers were immediately des- Negociationswith 
patched to Montezuma with those pic- Montezuma, 
tures, and a full account of every thing that had 
passed since the arrival of the Spaniards, and by 
them Cortes sent a present of some European curi¬ 
osities to Montezuma, which, though of no great 


lib v. c. 4. 





85G 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1519. ROOK V. 


value, lie believed would be acceptable on account 
of their novelty. The Mexican monarchs, in order 
to obtain early information of every occurrence in 
all the corners of their extensive empire, had intro¬ 
duced a refinement in police, unknown, at that time, 
in Europe. They had couriers posted at proper 
stations along the principal roads; and as these 
were trained to agility by a regular education, and 
relieved one another at moderate distances, they 
conveyed intelligence with surprising rapidity. 
Though the capital in which Montezuma resided 
was above an hundred and eighty miles from St. 
Juan deUlua, Cortes’s presents were carried thither, 
and an answer to his demands was received in a 
few days. The same officers who had hitherto treated 
with the Spaniards, were employed to deliver this 
answer; but as they knew how repugnant the de¬ 
termination of their master was to all the schemes 
and wishes of the Spanish commander, they would 
not venture to make it known until they had pre¬ 
viously endeavoured to soothe and mollify him. For 
TT . this purpose they renewed their nego- 

ciation, by introducing a train of a 
hundred Indians, loaded with presents sent to him 
by Montezuma. The magnificence of these was 
such as became a great monarch, and far exceeded 
any idea which the Spaniards had hitherto formed 
of his wealth. They w ere placed on mats spread on 
the ground, in such order as showed them to the 
greatest advantage. Cortes and his officers viewed, 
with admiration, the various manufactures of the 
country ; cotton stuffs so fine, and of such delicate 
texture, as to resemble silk; pictures of animals, 
trees, and other natural objects, formed with fea¬ 
thers of different colours, disposed and mingled w ith 
such skill and elegance, as to rival the works of the 
pencil in truth and beauty of imitation. But w hat 
chiefly attracted their eyes, were two large plates of 
a circular form, one of massive gold representing 
the sun, the other of silver, an emblem of the moon.™ 
These were accompanied with bracelets, collars, 
rings, arid other trinkets of gold ; and,that nothing 
might be wanting which could give the Spaniards a 
complete idea of what the country afforded, with 
some boxes filled with pearls, precious stones, and 
grains of gold unwrought, as they had been found 
in the mines or rivers. Cortes received all these 
with an appearance of profound veneration for the 
monarch by whom they were bestowed. But when 
the Mexicans, presuming upon this, informed him, 
that their master, though he desired him to ac¬ 
cept of what he had sent as a token of regard for 
that monarch whom Cortes represented, would not 

Forbids Cortes & ive his consent that foreign troops 

capitaf° ach his S ^ 0U ^ approach nearer to his capi¬ 
tal, or even allow them to continue 
longer in his dominions, the Spanish general de¬ 
clared, in a manner more resolute and peremptory 
than formerly, that he must insist on his first de¬ 
mand, as he could not, without dishonour, return 


to his own country, until he was admitted into the 
presence of the prince whom he was appointed to 
visit in the name of his sovereign. The Mexicans, 
astonished at seeing any man dare to oppose that 
will, which they were accustomed to consider as 
supreme and irresistible, yet afraid of precipitating 
their country into an open rupture with such for¬ 
midable enemies, prevailed with Cortes to promise, 
that he would not move from his present camp, until 
the return of a messenger whom they sent to Monte¬ 
zuma for further instructions." 

The firmness with which Cortes ad- 

... 1111 State of the Mexi- 

hered to his original proposal, should can empire at that 

naturally have brought the negociation penod ' 
between him and Montezuma to a speedy issue, as 
it seemed to leave the Mexican monarch no choice, 
but either to receive him with confidence as a friend, 
or to oppose him openly as an enemy. The latter 
was what might have been expected from a haughty 
prince in possession of extensive power. The 
Mexican empire, at this period, w as at a pitch of 
grandeur to which no society ever attained in so 
short a period. Though it had subsisted, according 
to their own traditions, only a hundred and thirty 
years, its dominion extended from the North to the 
South sea, over territories stretching, with some 
small interruption, above five hundred leagues from 
east to west, and more than two hundred from north 
to south, comprehending provinces not inferior in 
fertility, population, and opulence, to any in the 
torrid zone. The people were warlike and enter¬ 
prising, the authority of the monarch unbounded, 
and his revenues considerable. If, with the forces 
which might have been suddenly assembled in 
such an empire, Montezuma had fallen upon the 
Spaniards while encamped on a barren unhealthy 
coast, unsupported by any ally, without a place of 
retreat, and destitute of provisions, it seems to be 
impossible, even with all the advantages of their 
superior discipline and arms, that they could have 
stood the shock, and they must either have perished 
in such an unequal contest, or have abandoned the 
enterprise. 

As the power of Montezuma enabled character of 
him to take this spirited part, his own the monarch. 

dispositions were such as seemed naturally to 
prompt him to it. Of all the princes who had 
swayed the Mexican sceptre, he was the most 
haughty, the most violent, and the most impatient 
of control. His subjects looked up to him with 
awe, and his enemies with terror. The former he 
governed with unexampled rigour; but they were 
impressed with such an opinion of his capacity, as 
commanded their respect; and, by many victories 
over the latter, he had spread far the dread of his 
arms, and had added several considerable provinces 
to his dominions. But though his talents might be 
suited to the transactions of a state so imperfectly 
polished as the Mexican empire, and sufficient to 
conduct them while in their accustomed course, 

n B. Diaz, c. 39. Gomara, Cron. c. 27. Herr. dec. 2. lib. v. c. 5, 6. 


m See Note CII. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


867 


BOOK V. A. D. 1619.] 

they were altogether inadequate to a conjuncture so 
extraordinary, and did not qualify him either to 
judge with the discernment or to act with the de¬ 
cision requisite in such a trying emergence. 

Ilis perplexity From the moment that the Spaniards 
the arrival ot' ti'e appeared on his coast, lie discovered 
Spaniards. symptoms of timidity and embarrass¬ 
ment. Instead of taking such resolutions as the 
consciousness of his own power, or the memory of 
his former exploits, might have inspired, he deli¬ 
berated with an anxiety and hesitation which did 
not escape the notice of his meanest courtiers. The 
perplexity and discomposure of Montezuma’s mind 
upon this occasion, as well as the general dismay of 
his subjects, were not owing wholly to the impres¬ 
sion which the Spaniards had made by the novelty 
of their appearance and the terror of their arms. 
Its origin may be traced up to a more remote source. 
There was an opinion, if we may believe the earliest 
and most authentic Spanish historians, almost uni¬ 
versal among the Americans, that some dreadful 
calamity was impending over their heads, from a 
race of formidable invaders, who should come from 
regions towards the rising sun, to overrun and deso¬ 
late their country. Whether this disquieting ap¬ 
prehension flowed from the memory of some natural 
calamity which had afflicted that part of the globe, 
and impressed the minds of the inhabitants with 
superstitious fears and forebodings, or whether it 
was an imagination accidentally suggested by the 
astonishment which the first sight of a new race of 
men occasioned, it is impossible to determine. But 
as the Mexicans were more prone to superstition 
than any people in the New World, they were more 
deeply affected by the appearance of the Spaniards, 
whom their credulity instantly represented as the 
instrument destined to bring about this fatal revo¬ 
lution which they dreaded. Under those circum¬ 
stances, it ceases to be incredible that a handful of 
adventurers should alarm the monarch of a great 
empire, and all his subjects. 0 

Continues to Notwithstanding the influence of 
negociate. this impression, when the messenger 

arrived from the Spanish camp with an account 
that the leader of the strangers, adhering to his 
original demand, refused to obey the order enjoin¬ 
ing him to leave the country, Montezuma assumed 
some degree of resolution, and, in a transport of 
rage natural to a fierce prince unaccustomed to meet 
with any opposition to his will, he threatened to 
sacrifice those presumptuous men to his gods. But 
his doubts and fears quickly returned, and instead 
of issuing orders to carry his threats into execution, 
he again called his ministers to confer and oiler 
their advice. Feeble and temporizing measures 
will always be the result when men assemble to 
deliberate in a situation where they ought to act. 
The Mexican counsellors took no effectual measure 
for expelling such troublesome intruders, and were 

o Cortes Kelatione Seconda, ap. Ramus, iii. 234, 235. Herrera, dec. 2. 
lib. iii. c. 1. lib. v. c. 11. lib. vii. c. 6. Goinara, Cron. c. .66, 92, 144. 


satisfied with issuing a more positive injunction, 
requiring them to leave the country ; but this they 
preposterously accompanied with a present of such 
value, as proved fresh inducement to remain there. 

Meanw hile, the Spaniards were not 

• • ,. Anxiety; and ap- 

without solicitude, or a variety oi senti- prehensions ot 

. .... ,« . . the Spaniards. 

merits, in deliberating concerning their 
own future conduct. From what they had already 
seen, many of them formed such extravagant ideas 
concerning the opulence of the country, that, despis¬ 
ing danger or hardships, when they had in view 
treasures which appeared to be inexhaustible, they 
were eager to attempt the conquest. Others, esti¬ 
mating the power of the Mexican empire by its 
wealth, and enumerating the various proofs which 
had occurred of its being under a well-regulated 
administration, contended, that it would be an act 
of the wildest phrensy to attack such a state with a 
small body of men, in want of provisions, uncon¬ 
nected with any ally, and already enfeebled by the 
diseases peculiar to the climate, and the loss of 
several of their number.^ Cortes secretly applauded 
the advocates for bold measures, and cherished 
their romantic hopes, as such ideas corresponded 
with his own, and favoured the execution of the 
schemes which he had formed. From the time that 
the suspicions of Velasquez broke out with open 
violence in the attempts to deprive him of the com¬ 
mand, Cortes saw the necessity of dis- schemesof 
solving a connexion which would Cortes * 
obstruct and embarrass all his operations, and 
w atched for a proper opportunity of coming to a 
final rupture with him. Having this in view, he 
had laboured by every art to secure the esteem and 
affection of his soldiers. With his abilities for 
command, it was easy to gain their esteem; and his 
followers w ere quickly satisfied that they might rely, 
with perfect confidence, on the conduct and courage 
of their leader. Nor was it more difficult to acquire 
their affection. Among adventurers, nearly of the 
same rank, and serving at their own expense, the 
dignity of command did not elevate a general above 
mingling with those who acted under him. Cortes 
availed himself of this freedom of intercourse, to 
insinuate himself into their favour, and by his 
affable manners, by well-timed acts of liberality to 
some, by inspiring all with vast hopes, and by 
allowing them to trade privately with the natives,Q 
he attached the greater part of his soldiers so firmly 
to himself, that they almost forgot that the armament 
had been fitted out by the authority and at the 
expense of another. 

During those intrigues, Teutile ar- H is address in 
rived with the present from Monte- carr y»ngthemon. 

zuma, and, together with it, delivered the ultimate 
order of that monarch to depart instantly out of his 
dominions ; and when Cortes, instead of complying, 
renewed his request of an audience, the Mexican 
turned from him abruptly, and quitted the camp 

p B. Diaz. c. 40. 

q See Mote Clii. 



858 THE HISTORY 

with looks and gestures which strongly expressed 
his surprise and resentment. Next morning, none 
of the natives who used to frequent the camp in 
great numbers, in order to barter with the soldiers 
and to bring in provisions, appeared. All friendly 
correspondence seemed now to be at an end, and it 
was expected every moment that hostilities would 
commence. This, though an event that might have 
been foreseen occasioned a sudden consternation 
among the Spaniards, which imboldened the ad¬ 
herents of Velasquez not only to murmur and cabal 
against their general, but to appoint one of their 
number to remonstrate openly against his impru¬ 
dence in attempting the conquest of a mighty 
empire with such inadequate force, and to urge the 
necessity of returning to Cuba, in order to refit the 
licet and augment the army. Diego de Ordaz, one 
of his principal officers, whom the malcontents 
charged with this commission, delivered it with a 
soldierly freedom and bluntness, assuring Cortes 
that he spoke the sentiments of the whole army. He 
listened to this remonstrance without any appear¬ 
ance of emotion, and as he well knew the temper 
and wishes of his soldiers, and foresaw how they 
would receive a proposition fatal at once to all the 
splendid hopes and schemes which they had been 
forming with such complacency, he carried his dis¬ 
simulation so far as to seem to relinquish his own 
measures in compliance with the request of Ordaz, 
and issued orders that the army should be in readi¬ 
ness next day to re-embark for Cuba. As soon as 
this was known, the disappointed adventurers ex¬ 
claimed and threatened ; the emissaries of Cortes, 
mingling with them, inflamed their rage ; the fer¬ 
ment became general; the whole camp was almost 
in open mutiny; all demanding with eagerness to 
see their commander. Cortes was not slow in ap¬ 
pearing ; when, with one voice, officers and soldiers 
expressed their astonishment and indignation at 
the orders which they had received. It was un¬ 
worthy, they cried, of the Castilian courage, to be 
daunted at the first aspect of danger, and infamous 
to fly before any enemy appeared. For their parts, 
they were determined not to relinquish an enterprise 
that had hitherto been successful, and which tended 
so visibly to spread the knowledge of true religion, 
and to advance the glory and interest of their 
country. Happy under his command, they would 
follow him with alacrity through every danger, in 
quest of those settlements and treasures which he 
had so long held out to their view ; but if he chose 
rather to return to Cuba, and tamely give up all his 
hopes of distinction and opulence to an envious 
rival, they would instantly choose another general 
to conduct them in that path of glory which he had 
not spirit to enter. 

Cortes, delighted with their ardour, took no 
offence at the boldness with which it was uttered. 
The sentiments were what he himself had inspired, 
and the warmth of expression satisfied him that his 

r B. Diaz, c. 40, 41, 42. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. v. c. 0, 7. 


OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1519. BOOK V. 

followers had imbibed them thoroughly. He affect- 
ed, however, to be surprised at what he heard, de¬ 
claring that his orders to prepare for embarking 
were issued from a persuasion that this was agiee- 
able to his troops; that, from deference to what 
he had been informed was their inclination, he had 
sacrificed his own private opinion, which was firmly 
bent on establishing immediately a settlement on 
the sea-coast, and then on endeavouring to penetrate 
into the interior part of the country ; that now he 
was convinced of his error; and as he perceived 
that they were animated with the generous spirit 
which breathed in every true Spaniard, he would 
resume, w ith fresh ardour, his original plan of ope¬ 
ration, and doubted not to conduct them, in the 
career of victory, to such independent fortunes as 
their valour merited. Upon this declaration, 
shouts of applause testified the excess of their joy. 
The measure seemed to be taken with unanimous 
consent; such as secretly condemned it being 
obliged to join in the acclamations, partly to con¬ 
ceal their disaffection from their general, and partly 
to avoid the imputation of cowardice from their 
fellow-soldiers. r 

Without allowing his men time to 

. Establishing a 

cool or to reflect, Cortes set about form of civil gx>- 

. ... . vernment. 

carrying his design into execution. 

In order to give a beginning to a colony, he assem¬ 
bled the principal persons in his army, and by their 
suffrage elected a council and magistrates, in whom 
the government was to be vested. As men naturally 
transplant the institutions and forms of the mother- 
country into their new r settlements, this was framed 
upon the model of a Spanish corporation. The 
magistrates were distinguished by the same names 
and ensigns of office, and were to exercise a similar 
jurisdiction. All the persons chosen were most 
firmly devoted to Cortes, and the instrument of 
their election was framed in the king’s name, with¬ 
out any mention of their dependence on Velasquez. 
The two principles of avarice and enthusiasm, 
which prompted the Spaniards to all their enter¬ 
prises in the New World, seem to have concurred 
in suggesting the name which Cortes bestowed on 
his infant settlement. He called it, The rich town 
of the irue Cross . 5 

The first meeting of the new council Resigns his com- 
was distinguished by a transaction of mission, 
great moment. As soon as it assembled, Cortes 
applied for leave to enter; and approaching with 
many marks of profound respect, which added 
dignity to the tribunal, and set an example of 
reverence for its authority, he began a long harangue, 
in which, with much art, and in terms extremely 
flattering to persons just entering upon their new 
function, he observed, that as the supreme juris¬ 
diction over the colony which they had planted was 
now vested in this court, he considered them as 
clothed with the authority, and representing the 
person, of their sovereign; that accordingly he 

6 Villa rica de la veja Cruz. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


859 


BOOK Y. A. D. 1519.] 

would communicate to them what he deemed 
essential to the public safety, with the same dutiful 
fidelity as if he were addressing his royal master; 
that the security of a colony settled in a great em¬ 
pire, whose sovereign had already discovered his 
hostile intentions, depended upon arms, and the 
efficacy of these upon the subordination and dis¬ 
cipline preserved among the troops ; that his right 
to command was derived from a commission granted 
by the governor of Cuba; and as that had been 
long since revoked, the lawfulness of his jurisdic¬ 
tion might well be questioned ; that he might be 
thought to act upon a defective, or even a dubious, 
title; nor could they trust an army which might 
dispute the powers of its general, at a juncture 
when it ought implicitly to obey bis orders ; that, 
moved by these considerations, he now resigned all 
his authority to them, that they, having both right 
to choose, and power to confer full jurisdiction, 
might appoint one in the king’s name, to command 
the army in its future operations ; and as for his 
own part, such was his zeal for the service in which 
they were engaged, that he would most cheerfully 
take up a pike with the same hand that laid down 
the general’s truncheon, and convince his fellow- 
soldiers, that though accustomed to command, he 
had not forgotten how to obey. Having finished 
his discourse, he laid the commission from Velas¬ 
quez upon the table, and after kissing his trun¬ 
cheon, delivered it to the chief magistrate, and 
withdrew. 

The deliberations of the council were 
chief justice and not long, as Cortes had concerted this 

captain-general. . ... , . c , 

important measure with his confidants, 
and had prepared the other members with great 
address, for the part which he wished them to take. 
His resignation was accepted ; and as the uninter¬ 
rupted tenor of their prosperity under his conduct 
afforded the most satisfying evidence of his abilities 
for command, they, by their unanimous suffrage, 
elected him chief-justice of the colony, and cap¬ 
tain-general of its army, and appointed his commis¬ 
sion to be made out in the king’s name, with most 
ample powers, which were to continue in force until 
the royal pleasure should be further known. That 
this deed might not be deemed the machination of 
a junto, the council called together the troops, and 
acquainted them with what had been resolved. 
The soldiers, with eager applause, ratified the 
choice which the council had made ; the air re¬ 
sounded with the name of Cortes, and all vowed to 
shed their blood in support of his authority. 

Asserts his autho- CorteS llaV ‘ n S 110 ' V br0U S ht h is ill- 
rity with vigour. t r ig Ues to the desired issue, and shaken 

off his mortifying dependence on the governor of 

Cuba, accepted of the commission which vested in 

him supreme jurisdiction, civil as well as military, 

over the colony, with many professions of respect 

to the council, and gratitude to the army. Together 

t B. Diaz, c. 42, 43. Gomara, Cron. c. 30, 31. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. 
v. c. 7 


with his new command, he assumed greater dig¬ 
nity, and began to exercise more extensive powers. 
Formerly he had felt himself to be only the deputy 
of a subject; now be acted as the representative of 
his sovereign. The adherents of Velasquez, fully 
aware of what would be the effect of this change in 
the situation of Cortes, could no longer continue 
silent and passive spectators of his actions. They 
exclaimed openly against the proceedings of the 
council as illegal, and against those of the army 
as mutinous. Cortes, instantly perceiving the ne¬ 
cessity of giving a timely check to such seditious 
discourse by some vigorous measure, arrested Ordaz, 
Escudero, and Velasquez de Leon, the ringleaders 
of this faction, and sent them prisoners aboard 
the fleet, loaded with chains. Their dependants, 
astonished and overawed, remained quiet; and 
Cortes, more desirous to reclaim than to punish 
his prisoners, who were officers of great merit, 
courted their friendship with such assiduity and 
address, that the reconciliation was perfectly cor¬ 
dial ; and on the most trying occasions, neither 
their connexion with the governor of Cuba, nor the 
memory of the indignity with which they had been 
treated, tempted them to swerve from an inviolable 
attachment to his interest. 1 In this as well as his 
other negociations at this critical conjuncture, which 
decided with respect to his future fame and fortune, 
Cortes owed much of his success to the Mexican 
gold, which he distributed with a liberal hand both 
among his friends and his opponents." 

Cortes, having thus rendered the 

His friendship 

union between himself and his army coin ted by the 

. . . . Zempoallans* 

indissoluble, by engaging it to join 
him in disclaiming any dependence on the governor 
of Cuba, and in repeated acts of disobedience to 
his authority, thought he might now venture to quit 
the camp in which he had hitherto remained, and 
advance into the country. To this he was encouraged 
by an event no less fortunate than seasonable. Some 
Indians having approached his camp in a mysterious 
manner, were introduced into his presence. He 
found that they were sent with a proffer of friend¬ 
ship from the cazique of Zempoalla, a considerable 
town at no great distance; and from their answers 
to a variety of questions which he put to them, 
according to his usual practice in every interview 
with the people of the country, he gathered, that 
their master, though subject to the Mexican empire, 
was impatient of the yoke, and filled with such 
dread and hatred of Montezuma, that nothing could 
be more acceptable to him than any prospect of 
deliverance from the oppression under which he 
groaned. On hearing this, a ray of light and hope 
broke in upon the mind of Cortes. He saw that 
the great empire which he intended to attack was 
neither perfectly united, nor its sovereign univer¬ 
sally beloved. He concluded, that the causes of 
disaffection could not be confined to one province; 


u B. Diaz, c. 44. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


8(i0 

but that in other corners there must he malcontents, 
so weary of subjection, or so desirous of change, as to 
be ready to follow the standard of any protector. 
Full of those ideas, on which he began to form a 
scheme, that time, and more perfect information con¬ 
cerning the state of the country, enabled him to ma¬ 
ture, he gave a most gracious reception to the Zem- 
poallans, and promised soon to visit their cazique. x 

Marches to I* 1 orf ^ er to perform this promise, it 

Zempoaiia. was no t necessary to vary the route 

which he had already fixed for his march. Some 
officers, w hom he had employed to survey the coast, 
having discovered a village named Quiabislan, 
about forty miles to the northward, which, both on 
account of the fertility of the soil and commodious¬ 
ness of the harbour, seemed to be a more proper 
station for a settlement than that where he was 
encamped, Cortes determined to remove thither. 
Zempoaiia lay in his way, where the cazique re¬ 
ceived him in the manner which he had reason to 
expect—w ith gifts and caresses, like a man solicit¬ 
ous to gain his good-will; with respect approaching 
almost to adoration, like one who looked up to him 
as a deliverer. From him he learned many parti¬ 
culars with respect to the character of Montezuma, 
and the circumstances which rendered his dominion 
odious. He was a tyrant, as the cazique told him 
with tears, haughty, cruel, and suspicious; who 
treated his own subjects w ith arrogance, ruined the 
conquered provinces by excessive exactions, and 
often tore their sons and daughters from them by 
violence ; the former, to be offered as victims to his 
gods; the latter, to be reserved as concubines for 
himself or favourites. Cortes, in reply to him, 
artfully insinuated, that one great object of the 
Spaniards in visiting a country so remote from their 
own, was to redress grievances, and to relieve the 
distressed ; and having encouraged him to hope for 
this interposition in due time, he continued his 
march to Quiabislan. 

The spot which his officers had re- 

Builds a tort. . 

commended as a proper situation, ap¬ 
peared to him to be so well chosen, that he imme¬ 
diately marked out ground for a town. The houses 
to be erected were only huts; but these were to be 
surrounded with fortifications, of sufficient strength 
to resist the assaults of an Indian army. As the 
finishing of those fortifications was essential to the 
existence of a colony, and of no less importance in 
prosecuting the designs which the leader and his 
followers meditated, both in order to secure a place 
of retreat, and to preserve their communication with 
the sea, every man in the army, officers as well as 
soldiers, put his hand to the work, Cortes himself 
setting them an example of activity and persever¬ 
ance in labour. The Indians of Zempoaiia and 
Quiabislan lent their aid ; and this petty station, 
the parent of so many mighty settlements, was soon 
in a state of defence.* 

x B. Diaz, c. 41. Gomara Cron. c. 28. 

y B. Diaz, c. 45, 46, 48. Gomara Cron. c. 32, 33, 37. Herrera, dec. 
2. lib. v. c. 8, 9. 


[A. D. 1519. BOOK V. 

While engaged in this necessary concludes a 
work, Cortes had several interviews with a sUerai nce 
with the caziques of Zempoaiia and CHZ,ques - 
Quiabislan ; and availing himself of their wonder 
and astonishment at the new objects which they 
daily beheld, he gradually inspired them with such 
a high opinion of the Spaniards, as beings of a 
superior order and irresistible in arms, that, relying 
on their protection, they ventured to insult the 
Mexican power, at the very name of which they 
were accustomed to tremble. Some of Monte¬ 
zuma's officers having appeared to levy the usual 
tribute, and to demand a certain number of human 
victims as an expiation for their guilt in presuming 
to hold intercourse with those strangers whom the 
emperor had commanded to leave his dominions, 
instead of obeying the order, the caziques made 
them prisoners, treated them with great indignity, 
and as their superstition was no less barbarous than 
that of the Mexicans, they prepared to sacrifice 
them to their gods. From this last danger they 
were delivered by the interposition of Cortes, who 
manifested the utmost horror at the mention of such 
a deed. The two caziques having now been pushed 
to an act of such open rebellion, as left them no 
hope of safety but in attaching themselves inviola¬ 
bly to the Spaniards, they soon completed their 
union with them, by formally acknow ledging them¬ 
selves to be vassals of the same monarch. Their 
example was followed by the Totonaques, a fierce 
people who inhabited the mountainous part of 
the country. They willingly subjected themselves 
to the crown of Castile, and offered to accompany 
Cortes with all their forces in his march towards 
Mexico. 2 

Cortes had now been above three 
months in New Spain ; and though this pmcllre^confir- 
period had not been distinguished by Jhority by*the au * 
martial exploits, every moment had king ' 
been employed in operations, which though less 
splendid, were more important. By his address in 
conducting his intrigues with his own army, as well 
as his sagacity in carrying on his negociations with 
the natives, he had already laid the foundations of 
his future success. But whatever confidence he 
might place in the plan which he had formed, he 
could not but perceive, that as his title to command 
was derived from a doubtful authority, he held it 
by a precarious tenure. The injuries which Velas¬ 
quez had received, were such as would naturally 
prompt him to apply for redress to their common 
sovereign ; and such a representation, he foresaw, 
might be given of his conduct, that he had reason 
to apprehend, not only that he might be degraded 
from his present rank, but subjected to punish¬ 
ment. Before he began his march, it was necessary 
to take the most effectual precautions against this 
impending danger. With this view he persuaded 
the magistrates of the colony at Vera Cruz to ad- 

z _p. Diaz, c. 47. Gomara Cron. 35, 36. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. v. c. 

y# l'h H| 




BOOK V. A. D. 1519.] THE HISTORY 

dress a letter to the king, the chief object of which 
was to justify their own conduct in establishing a 
colony independent on the jurisdiction of Velas¬ 
quez. In order to accomplish this, they endeavour¬ 
ed to detract from his merit in fitting out the two 
former armaments under Cordova and Grijalva, 
affirming that these had been equipped by the ad¬ 
venturers who engaged in the expeditions, and not 
by the governor. They contended that the sole 
object of Velasquez was to trade or barter with the 
natives, not to attempt the conquest of New Spain, 
or to settle a colony there. They asserted that Cortes 
and the officers who served under him had defray¬ 
ed the greater part of the expense in fitting out the 
armament. On this account, they humbly requested 
their sovereign to ratify what they had done in his 
name, and to confirm Cortes in the supreme com¬ 
mand by his royal commission. That Charles might 
be induced to grant more readily what they demand¬ 
ed, they gave him a pompous description of the 
country which they had discovered: of its riches, 
the number of its inhabitants, their civilization and 
arts; they related the progress which they had 
already made in annexing some parts of the coun¬ 
try situated on the sea-coast to the crown of Castile; 
and mentioned the schemes which they had formed, 
as well as the hopes which they entertained, of re¬ 
ducing the whole to subjection. 1 Cortes himself 
wrote in a similar strain ; and as he knew that the 
Spanish court, accustomed to the exaggerated re¬ 
presentations of every new country by its discoverers, 
would give little credit to their splendid accounts of 
New Spain, if these were not accompanied with 
such a specimen of what it contained as would ex¬ 
cite a high idea of its opulence, he solicited his 
soldiers to relinquish what they might claim as 
their part of the treasures which had hitherto been 
collected, in order that the whole might be sent to 
the king. Such was the ascendant which he had 
acquired over their minds, and such their own ro¬ 
mantic expectations of future wealth, that an army 
of indigent and rapacious adventurers was capable 
of this generous effort, and offered to their sove¬ 
reign the richest present that had hitherto been 
transmitted from the New World. b Portocarrero 
and Montejo, the chief magistrates of the colony, 
w ere appointed to carry this present to Castile, with 
express orders not to touch at Cuba in their passage 
thither. 0 

a conspiracy While a vessel was preparing for 

against Cortes, their departure, an unexpected event 

occasioned a general alarm. Some soldiers and 
sailors, secretly attached to Velasquez, or intimi¬ 
dated at the prospect of the dangers unavoidable in 
attempting to penetrate into the heart of a great 
empire with such unequal force, formed the design 
of seizing one of the brigantines, and making their 

a In this letter it is asserted, that though a considerable number of 
Spaniards have been wounded in their various encounters with the people 
of 1 abasco, not one of them died, and all had recovered in a very short 
time. This seems to confirm what 1 observe in p. 863. concerning the im¬ 
perfection of the offensive weapons used by the Americans. In this 
letter, the human sacrifices offered by the Mexicans to their deities are 
described minutely, and with great horror; some of the Spaniards, it is 


OF AMERICA. 801 

escape to Cuba, in order to give the governor such 
intelligence as might enable him to intercept the 
ship which was to carry the treasure and despatches 
to Spain. This conspiracy, though formed by per¬ 
sons of low rank, was conducted with profound se¬ 
crecy ; but at the moment when every thing was 
ready for execution, they were betrayed by one of 
their associates. 

Though the good fortune of Cortes He destroys his 
interposed so seasonably on this occa- rieet - 
sion, the detection of this conspiracy filled his mind 
with most disquieting apprehensions, and prompted 
him to execute a scheme which he had long revolv¬ 
ed. He perceived that the spirit of disaffection 
still lurked among his troops ; that though hitherto 
checked by the uniform success of his schemes, or 
suppressed by the hand of authority, various events 
might occur which would encourage and call it 
forth. He observed, that many of his men, weary 
of the fatigue of service, longed to revisit their set¬ 
tlements in Cuba; and that upon any appearance 
of extraordinary danger, or any reverse of fortune, 
it would be impossible to restrain them from return¬ 
ing thither. He w^ns sensible that his forces, al¬ 
ready too feeble, could bear no diminution, and 
that a very small defection of his followers would 
oblige him to abandon the enterprise. After rumi¬ 
nating often, and with much solicitude, upon those 
particulars, he saw no hope of success but in cut¬ 
ting off all possibility of retreat, and in reducing 
his men to the necessity of adopting the same reso¬ 
lution with which he himself was animated, either 
to conquer or to perish. With this view, he deter¬ 
mined to destroy his fleet; but as he durst not ven¬ 
ture to execute such a bold resolution by his single 
authority, he laboured to bring his soldiers to adopt 
his ideas with respect to the propriety of this mea¬ 
sure. His address in accomplishing this was not 
inferior to the arduous occasion in which it was 
employed. He persuaded some, that the ships had 
suffered so much by having been long at sea, as to 
be altogether unfit for service ; to others he pointed 
out what a seasonable reinforcement of strength 
they would derive from the junction of a hundred 
men, now unprofitably employed as sailors ; and to 
all he represented the necessity of fixing their eyes 
and wishes upon what was before them, without 
allowing the idea of a retreat once to enter their 
thoughts. With universal consent the ships were 
drawn ashore, and after stripping them of their 
sails, rigging, iron works, and whatever else might 
be of use, they were broke in pieces. Thus, from 
an effort of magnanimity, to which there is nothing 
parallel in history, five hundred men voluntarily 
consented to be shut up in a hostile country, filled 
with powerful and unknown nations ; and having 
precluded every means of escape, left themselves 

said, had been eye-witnesses of those barbarous rites. To the letter is 
subjoined a catalogue and description of the presents sent to the emperor. 
That published by Gomara, Cron. c. 29. seems to have been copied from 
it. Pet. Martyr describes many of the articles in his treatise ‘ De lnsulis 
nuper inventis,’ p. 354, &c. 

b See Note CIV. 

c B. Diaz, c. 54. Gomara Cron. c. 40. 



862 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


without any resource but their own valour and per¬ 
severance. 41 

Nothing now retarded Cortes ; the alacrity of his 
troops and the disposition of his allies were equally 
favourable. All the advantages, however, derived 
from the latter, though procured by much assiduity 
and address, were well nigh lost in a moment, by 
an indiscreet sally of religious zeal, which, on 
many occasions, precipitated Cortes into actions 
inconsistent with the prudence that distinguishes 
his character. Though hitherto he had neither time 
nor opportunity to explain to the natives the errors 
of their own superstition, or to instruct them in the 
principles of the Christian faith, he commanded his 
soldiers to overturn the altars and to destroy the 
idols in the chief temple of Zempoalla, and in their 
place to erect a crucifix and an image of the Virgin 
Mary. The people beheld this with astonishment 
and horror ; the priests excited them to arms ; but 
such was the authority of Cortes, and so great the 
ascendant which the Spaniards had acquired, that 
the commotion was appeased without bloodshed, 
and concord perfectly re-established. 6 

Advances into Cortes began his march from Zem- 
the country. p 0a p a on the sixteenth of August, with 

five hundred men, fifteen horse, and six field-pieces. 
The rest of his troops, consisting chiefly of such as 
from age or infirmity were less fit for active service, 
he left as a garrison in Villa Rica, under the com¬ 
mand of Escalante, an officer of merit, and warmly 
attached to his interest. The cazique of Zempo¬ 
alla supplied him with provisions, and with two 
hundred of those Indians called Tamemes , whose 
office, in a country where tame animals were un¬ 
known, was to carry burthens, and to perform all 
servile labour. They w r ere a great relief to the 
Spanish soldiers, who hitherto had been obliged, 
not only to carry their own baggage, but to drag 
along the artillery by main force. He offered like¬ 
wise a considerable body of his troops, but Cortes 
was satisfied with four hundred ; taking care, how¬ 
ever, to choose persons of such note as might prove 
hostages for the fidelity of their master. Nothing 
memorable happened in his progress, until he ar¬ 
rived on the confines of Tlascala. The inhabitants 
of that province, a warlike people, were implacable 
enemies of the Mexicans, and had been united in 
an ancient alliance with the caziquesof Zempoalla. 
Though less civilized than the subjects of Monte¬ 
zuma, they were advanced in improvement far be 
yond the rude nations of America, whose manners 
we have described. They had made considerable 
progress in agriculture ; they dwelt in large towns ; 
they were not strangers to some species of com¬ 
merce ; and in the imperfect accounts of their in¬ 
stitutions and laws, transmitted to us by the early 
Spanish writers, we discern traces both of distribu¬ 
tive justice and of criminal jurisdiction in their 
interior police. But still, as the degree of their 

d Relat. di Cortes. Ramus, iii. 225. B. Diaz, c. 57, 58. Herrera, 
dec. 2. lib. v. c. 14. 


[A. I>. 1519. BOOK V. 

civilization was incomplete, and as they depended 
for subsistence, not on agriculture alone, but trusted 
for it in a great measure to hunting, they retained 
many of the qualities natural to men in this state. 
Like them, they were fierce and revengeful; like 
them, too, they were high-spirited and independent. 
In consequence of the former, they were involved 
in perpetual hostilities, and had but a slender and 
occasional intercourse with neighbouringstates. The 
latter inspired them with such detestation of servi¬ 
tude, that they not only refused to stoop to a foreign 
yoke, and maintained an obstinate and successful 
contest in defence of their liberty against the supe¬ 
rior power of the Mexican empire, but they guarded 
with equal solicitude against domestic tyranny ; and 
disdaining to acknowledge any master, they lived 
under the mild and limited jurisdiction of ^ council 
elected by their several tribes. I 

Cortes, though he had received in- His wa ‘ with the 
formation concerning the martial cha- Hascaians. 
racter of this people, flattered himself that his pro¬ 
fessions of delivering the oppressed from the tyranny 
of Montezuma, their inveterate enmity to the Mex¬ 
icans, and the example of their ancient allies the 
Zempoallans, might induce the Tlascalans to grant 
him a friendly reception. In order to dispose them 
to this, four Zempoallans of great eminence were 
sent ambassadors, to request, in his name, and in 
that of their cazique, that they would permit the 
Spaniards to pass through the territories of the re¬ 
public, in their way to Mexico. But instead of the 
favourable answer which was expected, the Tlasca¬ 
lans seized the ambassadors, and without any re¬ 
gard to their public character, made preparations 
for sacrificing them to their gods. At the same time, 
they assembled their troops, in order to oppose those 
unknown invaders, if they should attempt to make 
their passage good by force of arms. Various mo¬ 
tives concurred in precipitating the Tlascalans into 
this resolution. A fierce people, shut up within its 
own narrow precincts, and little accustomed to any 
intercourse with foreigners, is apt to consider every 
stranger as an enemy, and is easily excited to arms. 
They concluded, from Cortes’s proposal of visiting 
Montezuma in his capital, that, notwithstanding all 
his professions, he courted the friendship of a mo¬ 
narch whom they both hated and feared. The im¬ 
prudent zeal of Cortes in violating the temples in 
Zempoalla filled the Tlascalans with horror; and 
as they were no less attached to their superstition 
than the other nations of New Spain, they were 
impatient to avenge their injured gods, and to ac¬ 
quire the merit of offering up to them, as victims, 
those impious men who had dared to profane their 
altars; they contemned the small number of the 
Spaniards, as they had not yet measured their own 
strength with that of these new enemies, and had 
no idea of the superiority which they derived from 
their arms and discipline. 

e B. Diaz, c. 41, 42. Ilerrera, dec. 2. lib. v. c. 3, 4. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


863 


BOOK V. A. D. 1519.J 

Auff. 30 . Cortes, after waiting some days in 
Success ot it. V ain for the return of his ambassadors, 

advanced into the Tlascalan territories. As the reso¬ 
lutions of people who delight in war are executed 
with no less promptitude than they are formed, he 
found troops in the field ready to oppose him. They 
attacked him with great intrepidity, and, in the first 
encounter, wounded some of the Spaniards, and 
killed two horses ; a loss, in their situation, of great 
moment, because it was irreparable. From this 
specimen of their courage, Cortes saw the necessity 
of proceeding w ith caution. His army marched in 
close order; he chose the stations where he halted 
with attention, and fortified every camp with extra¬ 
ordinary care. During fourteen days he was ex¬ 
posed to almost uninterrupted assaults, the Tlas- 
calans advancing with numerous armies, and re¬ 
newing the attack in various forms, with a degree 
of valour and perseverance to which the Spaniards 
had seen nothing parallel in the New World. The 
Spanish historians describe those successive battles 
with great pomp, and enter into a minute detail of 
particulars, mingling many exaggerated and incre¬ 
dible circumstances f with such as are real and mar¬ 
vellous. But no power of words can render the 
recital of a combat interesting, where there is no 
equality of danger ; and when the narrative closes 
with an account of thousands slain on the one side, 
while not a single person falls on the other, the most 
laboured descriptions of the previous disposition of 
the troops, or of the various vicissitudes in the en¬ 
gagement, command no attention. 

some singular dr- There are some circumstances, how- 
cumstances m it. ever> j n this W ar, which are memorable, 

and merit notice, as they throw light upon the cha¬ 
racter both of the people of New Spain, and of their 
conquerors. Though the Tlascalans brought into 
the field such numerous armies as appear sufficient 
to have overwhelmed the Spaniards, they were never 
able to make any impression upon their small bat¬ 
talion. Singular as this may seem, it is not inex¬ 
plicable. The Tlascalans, though addicted to war, 
were, like all unpolished nations, strangers to mili¬ 
tary order and discipline, and lost in a great measure 
the advantage which they might have derived from 
their numbers, and the impetuosity of their attack, 
by their constant solicitude to carry off the dead and 
wounded. This point of honour, founded on a sen¬ 
timent of tenderness natural to the human mind, 
and strengthened by anxiety to preserve the bodies 
of their countrymen from being devoured by their 
enemies, was universal among the people of New 
Spain. Attention to this pious office occupied them 
even during the heat of combat,& broke their union, 
and diminished the force of the impression which 
they might have made by a joint effort. 

Not only was their superiority in number of little 
avail, but the imperfection of their military weapons 
rendered their valour in a great measure inoffensive. 
After three battles, and many skirmishes and as- 

f See Note CV. g B. Diaz, c. 65. 


saults, not one Spaniard was killed in the field. 
Arrows and spears, headed with flint or the bones 
of fishes, stakes hardened in the fire, and wooden 
swords, though destructive weapons among naked 
Indians, were easily turned aside by the Spanish 
bucklers, and could hardly penetrate the escaupiles, 
or quilted jackets, which the soldiers wore. The 
Tlascalans advanced boldly to the charge, and often 
fought hand to hand. Many of the Spaniards were 
wounded, though all slightly, which cannot be im¬ 
puted to any want of courage or strength in their 
enemies, but to the defect of the arms with which 
they assailed them. 

Notwithstanding the fury with which the Tlas¬ 
calans attacked the Spaniards, they seemed to have 
conducted their hostilities with some degree of 
barbarous generosity. They gave the Spaniards 
warning of their hostile intentions, and as they 
knew that their invaders wanted provisions, and 
imagined, perhaps, like the other Americans, that 
they had left their own country because it did not 
afford them subsistence, they sent to their camp a 
large supply of poultry and maize, desiring them 
to eat plentifully, because they scorned to attack 
an enemy enfeebled by hunger ; and it would be an 
affront to their gods to offer them famished victims, 
as well as disagreeable to themselves to feed on 
such emaciated prey. 11 

When they were taught by the first encounter 
with their new enemies, that it was not easy to 
execute this threat; when they perceived, in the 
subsequent engagements, that notwithstanding all 
the efforts of their own valour, of which they had a 
very high opinion, not one of the Spaniards was 
slain or taken, they began to conceive them to be 
a superior order of beings, against whom human 
power could not avail. In this extremity they had 
recourse to their priests, requiring them to reveal 
the mysterious causes of such extraordinary events, 
and to declare what new means they should employ 
in order to repulse those formidable invaders. The 
priests, after many sacrifices and incantations, de¬ 
livered this response: That these strangers w^ere 
the off spring of the sun, procreated by his animating 
energy in the regions of the east; that, by day, while 
cherished with the influence of his parental beams, 
they were invincible ; but by night, when his re¬ 
viving heat was withdrawn, their vigour declined 
and faded like the herbs in the field, and they 
dwindled down into mortal men.' Theories less 
plausible have gained credit with more enlightened 
nations, and have influenced their conduct. In 
consequence of this, the Tlascalans, with the im¬ 
plicit confidence of men who fancy themselves to 
be under the guidance of Heaven, acted in contra¬ 
diction to one of their most established maxims in 
w ar, and ventured to attack the enemy with a strong 
body in the night-time, in hopes of destroying them 
when enfeebled and surprised. But Cortes had 
greater vigilance and discernment than to be de¬ 
li Herr. dec. 2. lib. vi. c. 6. Gomara Cron. c. 47. i B. Diaz, c. 66. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1519. BOOK V. 


ceived by the rude stratagems of an Indian army. 
The sentinels at his out-posts, observing some ex¬ 
traordinary movement among the Tlascalans, gave 
the alarm. In a moment the troops were under 
arms, and sallying out, dispersed the party with 
great slaughter, without allowing it to approach 
the camp. The Tlascalans convinced by sad expe¬ 
rience that their priests had deluded them, and 
satisfied that they attempted in vain, either to de¬ 
ceive or to vanquish their enemies, their fierce¬ 
ness abated, and they began to incline seriously to 
peace. 

The Tlascalans The y Were at a loSS ’ however, in 
disposed to peace. w j ia t manner to address the stran¬ 
gers, what idea to form of their character, and 
whether to consider them as beings of a gentle or 
of a malevolent nature. There were circumstances 
in their conduct which seemed to favour each 
opinion. On the one hand, as the Spaniards con¬ 
stantly dismissed the prisoners whom they took, 
not only without injury, but often with presents of 
European toys, and renewed their offers of peace 
after every victory ; this lenity amazed people, who, 
according to the exterminating system of war known 
in America, were accustomed to sacrifice and de¬ 
vour without mercy all the captives taken in battle, 
and disposed them to entertain favourable senti¬ 
ments of the humanity of their new enemies. But, 
on the other hand, as Cortes had seized fifty of their 
countrymen who brought provisions to his camp, 
and, supposing them to be spies, had cut off their 
bands ; k this bloody spectacle, added to the terror 
occasioned by the fire-arms and horses, filled them 
with dreadful impressions of the ferocity of their in¬ 
vaders. 1 This uncertainty was apparent in the mode 
of addressing the Spaniards. “ If,” said they, “ you 
are divinities of a cruel and savage nature, we pre¬ 
sent to you five slaves, that you may drink their 
blood and eat their flesh. If you are mild deities, 
accept an offering of incense and variegated plumes. 
If you are men, here is meat, and bread, and fruit 
to nourish you.” 01 The peace which both parties now 
desired with equal ardour, was soon 
Concluded. conc } U( ] e( j > The Tlascalans yielded 

themselves as vassals to the crown of Castile, and 
engaged to assist Cortes in all his future operations. 
He took the republic under his protection, and pro¬ 
mised to defend their persons and possessions from 
injury or violence. 

Advantages of it Tllis treat y was concluded at a 
to the Spaniards, seasonable juncture for the Spaniards. 

The fatigue of service among a small body of men, 
surrounded by such a multitude of enemies, was 
incredible. Half the army was on duty every 
night, and even they whose turn it was to rest, 
slept always upon their arms, that they might be 
ready to run to their posts on a moment’s warning. 
Many of them were wounded ; a good number, and 

k Cortes Relat. Ramus, iii. 228. C. Gomara Cron. c. 48. 

1 See Mote CVf. 

m B. Diaz, c. 70. Gomara Cron. c. 47. Her. dec. 2. lib. vi. c. 7- 

n B. Diaz, c. 62, 65. 


among these Cortes himself, laboured under the 
distempers prevalent in hot climates, and several 
had died since they set out from Vera Cruz. Not¬ 
withstanding the supplies which they received from 
the Tlascalans, they were often in want of pro¬ 
visions, and so destitute of the necessaries most 
requisite in dangerous service, that they had no 
salve to dress their wounds, but what was composed 
with the fat of the Indians whom they had slain." 
Worn out with such intolerable toil and hardships, 
many of the soldiers began to murmur, and, when 
they reflected on the multitude and boldness of 
their enemies, more were ready to despair. It re¬ 
quired the utmost exertion of Cortes’s authority 
and address to check this spirit of despondency in 
its progress, and to reanimate his lollowers with 
their wonted sense of their own superiority over 
the enemies with whom they had to contlend. 0 The 
submission of the Tlascalans, and their o\vWjtriumph- 
ant entry into the capital city, where they were 
received with the reverence paid to beings of a 
superior order, banished, at once, from the minds 
of the Spaniards, all memory of past sufferings, 
dispelled every anxious thought with respect to 
their future operations, and fully satisfied them 
that there was not now any power in America able 
to withstand their arms.* 5 

Cortes remained twenty days in 

Cortes solicitous 

Tlascala, in order to allow his troops to gain their con¬ 
fidence, 

a short interval of repose after such 
hard service. During that time he was employed 
in transactions and inquiries of great moment with 
respect to his future schemes. In his daily con¬ 
ferences with the Tlascalan chiefs, he received in¬ 
formation concerning every particular relative to 
the state of the Mexican empire, or to the qualities 
of its sovereign, which could be of use in regulat¬ 
ing his conduct, whether he should be obliged to 
act as a friend or as an enemy. As he found that 
the antipathy of bis new allies to the Mexican 
nation was no less implacable than had been repre¬ 
sented, and perceived what benefit he might derive 
from the aid of such powerful confederates, he em¬ 
ployed all his powers of insinuation in order to 
gain their confidence. Nor was any extraordinary 
exertion of these necessary. The Tlascalans, with 
the levity of mind natural to unpolished men, were, 
of their own accord, disposed to run from the ex¬ 
treme of hatred to that of fondness. Every thing 
in the appearance and conduct of their guests was 
to them matter of wonder/* They gazed with admi¬ 
ration at whatever the Spaniards did, and fancying 
them to be of heavenly origin, were eager not only 
to comply with their demands, but to anticipate 
their wishes. They offered, accordingly, to accom¬ 
pany Cortes in his march to Mexico, with all the 
forces of the republic, under the command of their 
most experienced captains 

o Cortes Relat. Ramus, iii. 229. B. Diaz, c. 69. Gomara Cron, 
c. 51. 

p Cortes Relat. Ramus, iii. 230. B. Diaz, c. 72. 

q See Mote CVI1. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1519.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


865 


.. . , , , But, after bestowing so much pains 

which he had ... r 

almost lost by his on cementing this union, all the bene- 

rash zeal. , „ . 

iicial fruits of it were on the point of 
being lost, by a new effusion of that intemperate 
religious zeal with which Cortes was animated, 
no less than the other adventurers of the age. 
They all considered themselves as instruments 
employed by Heaven to propagate the Christian 
faith, and the less they were qualified, either by 
their knowledge or morals, for such a function, 
they were more eager to discharge it. The pro¬ 
found veneration of the Tlascalans for the Spa¬ 
niards, having encouraged Cortes to explain to 
some of their chiefs the doctrines of the Christian 
religion, and to insist that they should abandon 
their own superstitions, and embrace the faith of 
their new friends, they, according to an idea uni¬ 
versal among barbarous nations, readily acknow¬ 
ledged the truth and excellence of what he taught; 
but contended, that the Teules of Tlascala were 
divinities no less than the God in whom the Spa¬ 
niards believed ; and as that Being was entitled to 
the homage of Europeans, so they were bound to 
revere the same powers which their ancestors had 
worshipped. Cortes continued, nevertheless, to 
urge his demand in a tone of authority, mingling 
threats with his arguments, until the Tlascalans 
could bear it no longer, and conjured him never to 
mention this again, lest the gods should avenge on 
their heads the guilt of having listened to such a 
proposition. Cortes, astonished and enraged at their 
obstinacy, prepared to execute by force what he could 
not accomplish by persuasion, and was going to over¬ 
turn their altars, and cast down their idols with the 
same violent hand as at Zempoalla, if Father Bar¬ 
tholomew de Olmedo, chaplain to the expedition, 
had not checked his inconsiderate impetuosity. He 
represented the imprudence of such an attempt in a 
large city newly reconciled, and filled with people 
no less superstitious than warlike; he declared, that 
the proceeding at Zempoalla had always appeared 
to him precipitate and unjust; that religion was not 
to be propagated by the sword, or infidels to be con¬ 
verted by violence ; that other weapons were to be 
employed in this ministry ; patient instruction must 
enlighten the understanding, and pious example 
captivate the heart, before men could be induced to 
abandon error, and embrace the truth. r Amidst 
scenes, where a narrow-minded bigotry appears in 
such close union with oppression and cruelty, sen¬ 
timents so liberal and humane soothe the mind with 
unexpected pleasure ; and at a time when the rights 
of conscience were little understood in the Christian 
world, and the idea of toleration unknown, one is 
astonished to find a Spanish monk of the sixteenth 
century among the first advocates against persecu¬ 
tion, and in behalf of religious liberty. The re¬ 
monstrances of an ecclesiastic, no less respectable 
for wisdom than virtue, had their proper weight 

r B. Diaz, c. 77- P- 54. c. 83. p. 61. 

3 K 


Oct. 13. 


with Cortes. He left the Tlascalans in the undis¬ 
turbed exercise of their own rites, requiring only 
that they should desist from their horrid practice of 
offering human victims in sacrifice. 

Cortes, as soon as his troops were Advances to 
fit for service, resolved to continue his Cholula * 
march towards Mexico, notwithstanding the earnest 
dissuasives of the Tlascalans, who represented his 
destruction as unavoidable, if he put himself in the 
power of a prince so faithless and cruel as Mon¬ 
tezuma. As he was accompanied by six thousand 
Tlascalans, he had now the command of forces 
which resembled a regular army. They 
directed their course tow ai ds Cholula; 

Montezuma, who had at length consented to admit 
the Spaniards into his presence, having informed 
Cortes that he had given orders for his friendly 
reception there. Cholula was a considerable town, 
and though only five leagues distant from Tlascala, 
was formerly an independent state, but had been 
lately subjected to the Mexican empire. This was 
considered by all the people of New Spain as a holy 
place, the sanctuary and chief seat of their gods, to 
which pilgrims resorted from every province, and a 
greater number of human victims were offered in 
its principal temple than even in that of Mexico.* 
Montezuma seems to have invited the Spaniards 
thither, either from some superstitious hope that the 
gods would not suffer this sacred mansion to be de¬ 
filed, without pouring down their wrath upon those 
impious strangers, who ventured to insult their 
power in the place of its peculiar residence; or 
from a belief that he himself might there attempt to 
cut them off with more certain success, under the 
immediate protection of his divinities. 

Cortes had been warned by the 

• The severity ol 

Tlascalans, before he set out on his his procedure 

, „ , there. 

march, to keep a watchful eye over 
the Cholulans. He himself, though received into 
the town with much seeming respect and cordiality, 
observed several circumstances in their conduct 
which excited suspicion. Two of the Tlascalans, 
who were encamped at some distance from the 
town, as the Cholulans refused to admit their 
ancient enemies within its precincts, having found 
means to enter in disguise, acquainted Cortes, that 
they observed the women and children of the prin¬ 
cipal citizens retiring in great hurry every night; 
and that six children had been sacrificed in the 
chief temple, a rite which indicated the execution of 
some warlike enterprise to be approaching. At the 
same time, Marina the interpreter received informa¬ 
tion from an Indian woman of distinction, whose 
confidence she had gained, that the destruction of 
her friends was concerted ; that a body of Mexican 
troops lay concealed near the town ; that some of 
the streets were barricaded, and in others, pits or 
deep trenches were dug, and slightly covered over, 
as traps into which the horses might fall; that 

s Torquemada, Monar. Ind. i. 281, 282. ii. 291. Gomara Cron. c. 61. 
Herrera, dec. 2. lib. vii. c. 2. 



860 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1519. BOOK Y. 


stones or missive weapons were collected on the 
tops of the temples, with which to overwhelm the 
infantry ; that the fatal hour was now at hand, and 
their ruin unavoidable. Cortes, alarmed at this 
concurring evidence, secretly arrested three of the 
chief priests, and extorted from them a confession 
that confirmed the intelligence which he had re¬ 
ceived. As not a moment was to be lost, he in¬ 
stantly resolved to prevent his enemies, and to 
inflict on them such dreadful vengeance as might 
strike Montezuma and his subjects with terror. 
For this purpose, the Spaniards and Zempoallans 
were drawn up in a large court, which had been 
allotted for their quarters, near the centre of the 
town ; the Tlascalans had orders to advance; the 
magistrates and several of the chief citizens were 
sent for, under various pretexts, and seized. On a 
signal given, the troops rushed out, and fell upon 
the multitude, destitute of leaders, and so much 
astonished, that the weapons dropping from their 
hands, they stood motionless, and incapable of 
defence. While the Spaniards pressed them in 
front, the Tlascalans attacked them in the rear. 
The streets were filled with bloodshed and death. 
The temples, which afforded a retreat to the priests 
and some of the leading men, were set on fire, and 
they perished in the flames. This scene of horror 
continued two days; during which the wretched 
inhabitants suffered all that the destructive rage of 
the Spaniards, or the implacable revenge of their 
Indian allies, could inflict. At length the carnage 
ceased, after the slaughter of six thousand Cholu- 
lans, without the loss of a single Spaniard. Cortes 
then released the magistrates, and reproaching them 
bitterly for their intended treachery, declared, that 
as justice was now appeased, he forgave the offence, 
but required them to recall the citizens who had 
fled, and re-establish order in the town. Such was 
the ascendant which the Spaniards had acquired 
over this superstitious race of men, and so deeply 
were they impressed with an opinion of their supe¬ 
rior discernment, as well as power, that, in obedi¬ 
ence to this command, the city was in a few days 
filled again with people, who, amidst the ruins of 
their sacred buildings, yielded respectful service to 
men whose hands were stained with the blood of 
their relations and fellow-citizens. 

From Cholula, Cortes advanced 

Oct. 29. 

Advances directly towards Mexico, which was 

towards Mexico. 

only twenty leagues distant. In every 
place through which he passed, he was received as 
a person possessed of sufficient power to deliver the 
empire from the oppression under which it groaned; 
and the caziques or governors communicated to 
him all the grievances which they felt under the 
tyrannical government of Montezuma,' with that 
unreserved confidence which men naturally repose 
in superior beings. When Cortes first observed the 
seeds of discontent in the remote provinces of the 


empire, hope dawned upon his mind ; but when he 
now discovered such symptoms of alienation from 
their monarch near the seat of government, he con¬ 
cluded that the vital parts of the constitution were 
affected, and conceived the most sanguine expecta¬ 
tions of overturning a state, whose natural strength 
was thus divided and impaired. While those re¬ 
flections encouraged the general to persist in his 
arduous undertaking, the soldiers were no less 
animated by observations more obvious to their 
capacity. In descending from the mountains of 
Chaleo, across which the road lay, the vast plain of 
Mexico opened gradually to their view. When 
they first beheld this prospect, one of 

^ * First view ot it. 

the most striking and beautiful on the 
face of the earth ; when they observed fertile and 
cultivated fields stretching further than the eye could 
reach ; when they saw a lake resembling the sea in 
extent, encompassed with large towfts, and disco¬ 
vered the capital city rising upon an island in the 
middle, adorned with its temples and turrets; the 
scene so far exceeded their imagination, that some 
believed the fanciful descriptions of romance were 
realized, and that its enchanted palaces and gilded 
domes were presented to their sight; others could 
hardly persuade themselves that this wonderful 
spectacle was any thing more than a dream. u As 
they advanced, their doubts were removed, but their 
amazement increased. They were now fully satis¬ 
fied that the country was rich beyond any concep¬ 
tion which they had formed of it, and flattered 
themselves that at length they should obtain an am¬ 
ple recompence for all their services and sufferings. 

Hitherto they had met with no enemy The i rreso iution 
to oppose their progress, though seve- otMontezuma ' 
ral circumstances occurred which led them to sus¬ 
pect that some design was formed to surprise and 
cut them off. Many messengers arrived succes¬ 
sively from Montezuma, permitting them one day to 
advance, requiring them on the next to retire, as his 
hopes or fears alternately prevailed ; and so wonder¬ 
ful was this infatuation, which seems to be unac¬ 
countable on any supposition but that of a super¬ 
stitious dread of the Spaniards, as beings of a 
superior nature, that Cortes was almost at the gates 
of the capital, before the monarch had determined 
whether to receive him as a friend, or to oppose him 
as an enemy. But as no sign of open hostility 
appeared, the Spaniards, without regarding the 
fluctuations of Montezuma’s sentiments, continued 
their march along the causeway which led to Mexico 
through the lake, with great circumspection and the 
strictest discipline, though without seeming to sus¬ 
pect the prince whom they were about to visit. 

When they drew near the city, about 
a thousand persons, who appeared to view^thVhe 
be of distinction, came forth to meet Spdnidrds- 
them, adorned with plumes and clad in mantles of 
fine cotton. Each of these, in his order, passed by 


t Cortes Relat. Ramus, iii. 231. B. Diaz, c. 83. Goftiara Cron. c. 04. 
Herrera, dec. 2. lib. vii.c. 1, 2. See Note CVI1I. 


u See Note CIX. 




BOOK V. A. D. 1519.] THE HISTORY 

Cortes, and saluted him according to the mode 
deemed most respectful and submissive in their 
country. They announced the approach of Monte¬ 
zuma himself, and soon after his harbingers came 
in sight. There appeared first two hundred persons 
in an uniform dress, with large plumes of feathers, 
alike in fashion, marching two and two, in deep 
silence, bare-footed, with their eyes fixed on the 
ground. 1 liese were followed by a company of 
higher rank, in their most showy apparel, in the 
midst ot whom was Montezuma, in a chair or litter 
richly ornamented with gold and feathers of various 
colours. Four of his principal favourites carried 
him on their shoulders, others supported a canopy 
of curious workmanship over his head. Before him 
marched three officers with rods of gold in their 
hands, which they lifted up on high at certain inter¬ 
vals, and at that signal all the people bowed their 
heads, and hid their faces, as unworthy to look on 
so great a monarch. When he drew near, Cortes 
dismounted, advancing towards him with officious 
haste, and in a respectful posture. At the same 
time Montezuma alighted from his chair, and 
leaning on the arms of two of his near relations, 
approached with a slow and stately pace, his atten¬ 
dants covering the street with cotton cloths, that he 
might not touch the ground. Cortes accosted him 
with profound reverence, after the European fashion. 
He returned the salutation, according to the mode 
of his country, by touching the earth with his hand, 
and then kissing it. This ceremony, the customary 
expression of veneration from inferiors towards 
those who were above them in rank, appeared such 
amazing condescension in a proud monarch, who 
scarcely deigned to consider the rest of mankind as 
of the same species with himself, that all his sub¬ 
jects firmly believed those persons, before whom he 
humbled himself in this manner, to be something 
more than human. Accordingly, as they marched 
through the crowd, the Spaniards frequently, and 
with much satisfaction, heard themselves denomi¬ 
nated Teules, or divinities. Nothing material passed 
in this first interview. Montezuma conducted Cor¬ 
tes to the quarters which he had prepared for his 
reception, and immediately took leave of him, with 
a politeness not unworthy of a court more refined. 

“ You are now/ 7 says he, “ with your brothers in 
your own house; refresh yourselves after your 
fatigue, and be happy until I return.”* The place 
allotted to the Spaniards for their lodging was a 
house built by the father of Montezuma. It was 
surrounded by a stone wall, with towers at proper 
distances, which served for defence as well as for 
ornament, and its apartments and courts were so 
large, as to accommodate both the Spaniards and 
their Indian allies. The first care of Cortes was to 
take precautions for his security, by planting the 
artillery so as to command the different avenues* 
which led to it, by appointing a large division of his 
troops to be always on guard, and by posting senti- 

x Cortes Relat. Ram. iii. 232—235. B. Diaz. c. 83—88. Gomara ' 

3 K 2 


OF AMERICA. 807 

nels at proper stations, with injunctions to observe 
the same vigilant discipline as if they were within 
sight of an enemy’s camp. 

In the evening, Montezuma return- nis idea of the 
ed to visit his guests with tbe same Spaniards. 

pomp as in their first interview, and brought pre¬ 
sents of such value, not only to Cortes and to his 
officers, but even to the private men, as proved the 
liberality of the monarch to be suitable to the opu¬ 
lence of his kingdom. A long conference ensued, 
in which Cortes learned what was the opinion of 
Montezuma with respect to the Spaniards. It was 
an established tradition, he told him, among the 
Mexicans, that their ancestors came originally from 
a remote region, and conquered the provinces now 
subject to his dominion ; that after they were settled 
there, the great captain w ho conducted this colony, 
returned to his own country, promising, that at 
some future period his descendants should visit 
them, assume the government, and reform their 
constitution and laws ; that from what he had heard 
and seen of Cortes and his followers, he was con¬ 
vinced that they were the very persons whose ap¬ 
pearance the Mexican traditions and prophecies 
taught them to expect; that accordingly he had 
received them, not as strangers, but as relations of 
the same blood and parentage, and desired that 
they might consider themselves as masters in his 
dominions, for both himself and his subjects should 
be ready to comply with their will, and even to 
prevent their wishes. Cortes made a reply in his 
usual style, with respect to the dignity and power 
of his sovereign, and his intention in sending him 
into that country ; artfully endeavouring so to frame 
his discourse, that it might coincide as much as 
possible with the idea which Montezuma had form¬ 
ed concerning the origin of the Spaniards. Next 
morning, Cortes and some of his principal attend¬ 
ants were admitted to a public audience of the 
emperor. The three subsequent days were employed 
in viewing the city, the appearance of which, so 
far superior in the order of its buildings and the 
number of its inhabitants to any place the Spaniards 
had beheld in America, and yet so little resembling 
the structure of a European city, filled them with 
surprise and admiration. 

Mexico, or Tenuchtitlan , as it w as anciently called 
by the natives, is situated in a large plain, environ¬ 
ed by mountains of such height, that, though within 
the torrid zone, the temperature of its climate is 
mild and healthful. All the moisture which descends 
from the high grounds is collected in several lakes, 
the two largest of which, of about ninety miles in 
circuit, communicate with each other. The waters 
of the one are fresh, those of the others brackish. 
On the banks of the latter, and on some small 
islands adjoining to them, the capital of Montezu¬ 
ma’s empire was built. The access to the city was 
by artificial causeways or streets formed of stones 
and earth, about thirty feet in breadth. As the 

Cron. c. 64, 65. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. vii, c. 3, 4, 5. 



868 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


waters of the lake during the rainy season overflow¬ 
ed the flat country, these causeways were of consider¬ 
able length. That of Tacuba, on the west, extended 
a mile and a half; that of Tepeaca,* on the north¬ 
west, three miles; that of Cuoyacan, towards the 
south, six miles. On the east there was no causeway, 
and the city could be approached only by canoes. 2 
In each of these causeways were openings at proper 
intervals, through which the waters flowed, and over 
these beams of timber were laid, which beingcovered 
with earth, the causeway or street had everywhere 
an uniform appearance. As the approaches to the 
city were singular, its construction was remarkable. 
Not only the temples of their gods, but the houses 
belonging to the monarch, and to persons of distinc¬ 
tion, were of such dimensions, that in comparison 
with any other buildings which had been hitherto 
discovered in America, they might be termed mag¬ 
nificent. The habitations of the common people 
were mean, resembling the huts of other Indians. 
But they were all placed in a regular manner, on 
the banks of the canals which passed through the 
city, in some of its districts, or on the sides of the 
streets which intersected it in other quarters. In 
several places were large openings or squares, one 
of which, allotted for the great market, is said to 
have been so spacious, that forty or fifty thousand 
persons carried on traffic there. In this city, the 
pride of the New World, and the noblest monument 
of the industry and art of man, while unacquainted 
with the use of iron, and destitute of aid from any 
domestic animal, the Spaniards, who are most mo¬ 
derate in their computations, reckon that there were 
at least sixty thousand inhabitants. 11 

Their dangerous But h° w muc h soever the novelty of 
situation. those objects might amuse or astonish 

the Spaniards, they felt the utmost solicitude with 
respect to their own situation. From a concurrence 
of circumstances, no less unexpected than favour¬ 
able to their progress, they had been allowed to 
penetrate into the heart of a powerful kingdom, and 
were now lodged in its capital, without having once 
met with open opposition from its monarch. The 
Tlascalans, however, had earnestly dissuaded them 
from placing such confidence in Montezuma as to 
enter a city of such peculiar situation as Mexico, 
where that prince would have them at mercy, shut 
up as it were in a snare, from which it was impos¬ 
sible to escape. They assured them that the Mexi¬ 
can priests had, in the name of the gods, counselled 
their sovereign to admit the Spaniards into the ca¬ 
pital, that he might cut them off there at one blow 
with perfect security. 5 They now perceived too 
plainly, that the apprehensions of their allies were 
not destitute of foundation; that, by breaking the 
bridges placed at certain intervals on the cause¬ 
ways, or by destroying part of the causeways them- 

y I am indebted to M. Clavigero for correcting an error of importance 
in my description ot Mexico. From the east, where Tezeuco was situated, 
there was no causeway, as I have observed, and yet by some inattention 
on my part, or on that of the printer, in all the former editions one of the 
causeways was said to lead to Tezeuco. M. Clavigero's measurement of 
the lenglh ot these causeways differs somewhat from that which I have 
adopted from I<. Iorribio. Clavig. ii. p. 72 . 


[A. D. 1519. BOOK Y. 


selves, their retreat would be rendered impractica¬ 
ble, and they must remain cooped up in the centre 
of a hostile city, surrounded by multitudes sufficient 
to overwhelm them, and without a possibility of 
receiving aid from their allies. Montezuma had, 
indeed, received them with distinguished respect. 
But ought they to reckon upon this as real, or to 
consider it as feigned ? Even if it were sincere, could 
they promise on its continuance ? Their safety de¬ 
pended upon the w ill of a monarch in whose at¬ 
tachment they had no reason to confide; and an 
order flowing from his caprice, or a word uttered by 
him in passion, might decide irrevocably concern¬ 
ing their fate. c 

These reflections, so obvious as^to 

. .. ( Solicitude and 

occur to the meanest soldier, did jiot perplexity of 
... . _ ) . Cortes. 

escape the vigilant sagacity ot their 
general. Before he set out from Cholula, Cortes 
had received advice from Villa Rica, d that Qual- 
popoca, one of the Mexican generals on the fron¬ 
tiers, having assembled an army in order to attack 
some of the people whom the Spaniards had en¬ 
couraged to throw off the Mexican yoke, Escalante 
had marched out with part of the garrison to sup¬ 
port his allies ; that an engagement had ensued, in 
which, though the Spanish were victorious, Esca¬ 
lante, with seven of his men, had been mortally 
wounded, his horse killed, and one Spaniard had 
been surrounded by the enemy and taken alive ; 
that the head of this unfortunate captive, after be¬ 
ing carried in triumph to different cities in order to 
convince the people that their invaders were not 
immortal, had been sent to Mexico. e Cortes, though 
alarmed with this intelligence, as an indication of 
Montezuma's hostile intentions, had continued his 
march. But as soon as he entered Mexico, he be¬ 
came sensible, that, from an excess of confidence 
in the superior valour and discipline of his troops, 
as well as from the disadvantage of having nothing 
to guide him in an unknown country, but the de¬ 
fective intelligence which he had received from 
people with whom his mode of communication was 
very imperfect, he had pushed forward into a situa¬ 
tion, where it was difficult to continue, and from 
which it was dangerous to retire. Disgrace, and 
perhaps ruin, was the certain consequence of at¬ 
tempting the latter. The success of his enterprise 
depended upon supporting the high opinion which 
the people of New Spain had formed with respect 
to the irresistible power of his arms. Upon the first 
symptom of timidity on his part, their veneration 
would cease, and Montezuma, whom fear alone re¬ 
strained at present, would let loose upon him the 
whole force of his empire. At the same time, he 
knew that the countenance of his own sovereign 
was to be obtained only by a series of victories, and 
that nothing but the merit of extraordinary success 


z t. i orrioio ivi 


a Cortes Relat. Ram. iii. C39. T>. Kelat della or an Pitf* 
fib" del L0rtese - Ram - ^ 3° 4 E - Herreri, dec! 2 : 

d CnrS Keiaf'nSn. iii. 235. C. C Ibid> C ‘ 94 * 

e B. Diaz, c. 93, 94. Herrera, dec. 2. lib viii. c. 1. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


8G9 


BOOK V. A. D. 1519.] 

could screen his conduct from the censure of irre¬ 
gularity. From all these considerations, it was 
necessary to maintain his station, and to extricate 
himself out of the difficulties in which one hold 
step had involved him, by venturing upon another 
still bolder. The situation was trying, but his mind 
was equal to it; and after revolving the matter with 
deep attention, he fixed upon a plan no less extra- 

Kesoives to seize ordinary than daring. He determined 
Montezuma. t0 se j ze Montezuma in his palace, and 

to carry him as a prisoner to the Spanish quarters. 
From the superstitious veneration of the Mexicans 
for the person of their monarch, as well as their 
implicit submission to his will, he hoped, by having 
Montezuma in his power, to acquire the supreme 
direction of their affairs; or, at least, w ith such a 
sacred pledge in his hands, he made no doubt of 
being secure from any effort of their violence. 

His manner of This lie immediately proposed to his 
executing this, officers. The timid startled at a mea¬ 
sure so audacious, and raised objections. The more 
intelligent and resolute, conscious that it was the 
only resource in which there appeared any prospect 
of safety, warmly approved of it, and brought over 
their companions so cordially to the same opinion, 
that it was agreed instantly to make the attempt. 
At his usual hour of visiting Montezuma, Cortes 
went to the palace, accompanied by Alvarado, 
Sandoval, Lugo, Velasquez de Leon, and Davila, 
five of his principal officers, and as many trusty 
soldiers. Thirty chosen men followed, not in re¬ 
gular order, but sauntering at some distance, as 
if they had no object but curiosity ; small parties 
were posted at proper intervals, in all the streets 
leading from the Spanish quarters to the court; 
and the remainder of his troops, with the Tlas- 
calan allies, were under arms ready to sally out 
on the first alarm. Cortes and his attendants were 
admitted without suspicion : the Mexicans retiring, 
as usual, out of respect. He addressed the mo¬ 
narch in a tone very different from that which he 
had employed in former conferences, reproaching 
him bitterly as the author of the violent assault 
made upon the Spaniards by one of his officers, and 
demanded public reparation for the loss which they 
had sustained by the death of some of their com¬ 
panions, as w ell as for the insult offered to the great 
prince whose servants they were. Montezuma, 
confounded at this unexpected accusation, and 
changing colour, either from consciousness of guilt, 
or from feeling the indignity with which he was 
treated, asserted his own innocence with great earn¬ 
estness, and, as a proof of it, gave orders instantly 
to bring Qualpopoca and his accomplices prisoners 
to Mexico. Cortes replied, with seeming complais¬ 
ance, that a declaration so respectable left no doubt 
remaining in his own mind, but that something 
more was requisite to satisfy his followers, who 
would never be convinced that Montezuma did not 
harbour hostile intentions against them, unless, as 

f B. Diaz, c. 95. Gomara Cron. c. 83. Cortes Relat. Ram. iii. p. 


an evidence of his confidence and attachment, he 
removed from his own palace, and took up his resi¬ 
dence in the Spanish quarters, where he should be 
served and honoured as became a great monarch. 
The first mention of so strange a proposal bereaved 
Montezuma of speech, and almost of motion. At 
length, indignation gave him utterance, and he 
haughtily answ ered, “ That persons of his rank w ere 
not accustomed voluntarily to give up themselves as 
prisoners; and were he mean enough to do so, his 
subjects would not permit such an affront to be 
offered to their sovereign.” Cortes, unwilling to 
employ force, endeavoured alternately to soothe and 
to intimidate him. The altercation became warm ; 
and having continued above three hours, Velasquez 
de Leon, an impetuous and gallant young man, ex¬ 
claimed with impatience, “ Why waste more time 
in vain? Let us either seize him instantly, or stab 
him to the heart.” The threatening voice and fierce 
gestures with which these words were uttered, 
struck Montezuma. The Spaniards, he was sensi¬ 
ble, had now proceeded so far, as left him no hope 
that they would recede.. His own danger was im¬ 
minent, the necessity unavoidable. He saw both, 
and abandoning himself to his fate, complied with 
their request. 

His officers were called. He com- „ 

Montezuma car- 

municated to them his resolution, p, ed to the Span.- 

ish quarters. 

Though astonished and afflicted, they 
presumed not to question the will of their master, 
but carried him in silent pomp, all bathed in tears,, 
to the Spanish quarters. When it was known that 
the strangers were conveying aw ay the emperor, the 
people broke out into the w ildest transports of grief 
and rage, threatening the Spaniards with immediate 
destruction, as the punishment justly due to their 
impious audacity. But as soon as Montezuma ap¬ 
peared with a seeming gaiety of countenance, and 
waved his hand, the tumult was hushed; and upon 
his declaring it to be of his own choice that he w ent 
to reside for some time among his new r friends, the 
multitude, taught to revere every intimation of their 
sovereign's pleasure, quietly dispersed/ 

Thus was a powerful prince seized by a few 
strangers in the midst of his capital, at noon-day, 
and carried off as a prisoner without opposition or 
bloodshed. History contains nothing parallel to 
this event, either with respect to the temerity of the 
attempt, or the success of the execution ; and were 
not all the circumstances of this extraordinary 
transaction authenticated by the most unquestion¬ 
able evidence, they would appear so wild and ex¬ 
travagant, as to go far beyond the bounds of that 
probability which must be preserved even in ficti¬ 
tious narrations. 

Montezuma was received in the Spa- Received with 
nish quarters w ith all the ceremonious a PP arent aspect, 
respect which Cortes had promised. He was attended 
by his own domestics, and served with his usual state. 
His principal officers had free access to him, and 


235, 23G. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. viii. c. 2, 3. 




870 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1519. BOOK Y. 


he carried on every function of government as if he 
had been at perfect liberty. The Spaniards, how¬ 
ever, watched him with the scrupulous vigilance 
which was natural in guarding such an important 
prize, 6 endeavouring at the same time to soothe 
and reconcile him to his situation, by every external 
demonstration of regard and attachment. But from 
captive princes the hour of humiliation and suffer- 

Subjected to ins, is never far distant. Qualpopoca, 
cruel indignities. j^ s son> anc [ p lve 0 f ^he principal offi¬ 
cers who served under him, were brought prisoners 
d ^ to the capital, in consequence of the 
orders which Montezuma had issued. 
The emperor gave them up to Cortes, that he might 
inquire into the nature of their crime, and determine 
their punishment. They were formally tried by a 
Spanish court-martial ; and though they had acted 
no other part than what became loyal subjects and 
brave men, in obeying the orders of their lawful 
sovereign, and in opposing the invaders of their 
country, they were condemned to be burnt alive. 
The execution of such atrocious deeds is seldom 
long suspended. The unhappy victims were in¬ 
stantly led forth. The pile on which they were 
laid was composed of the weapons collected in the 
royal magazine for the public defence. An innu¬ 
merable multitude of Mexicans beheld, in silent 
astonishment, the double insult offered to the ma¬ 
jesty of their empire, an officer of distinction com¬ 
mitted to the flames by the authority of strangers, 
for having done what he owed in duty to his natu¬ 
ral sovereign ; and the arms provided by the fore¬ 
sight of their ancestors for avenging public wrongs, 
consumed before their eyes. 

But these were not the most shocking indignities 
which the Mexicans had to bear. The Spaniards, 
convinced that Qualpopoca would not have ven¬ 
tured to attack Escalante without orders from his 
master, were not satisfied with inflicting vengeance 
on the instrument employed in committing that 
crime, while the author of it escaped with impunity. 
Just before Qualpopoca was led out to suffer, Cortes 
entered the apartment of Montezuma, followed by 
some of his officers, and a soldier carrying a pair of 
fetters ; and approaching the monarch with a stern 
countenance, told him, that as the persons who 
were now to undergo the punishment which they 
merited, had charged him as the cause of the out¬ 
rage committed, it was necessary that he likewise 
should make atonement for that guilt; then turning 
away abruptly, without waiting for a reply, com¬ 
manded the soldiers to clap the fetters on his legs. 
The orders were instantly executed. The discon¬ 
solate monarch, trained up with an idea that his 
person was sacred and inviolable, and considering 
this profanation of it as the prelude of immediate 
death, broke out into loud lamentations and com¬ 
plaints. His attendants, speechless with horror, 
fell at his feet, bathing them with their tears; and 
bearing up the fetters in their hands, endeavoured 


with officious tenderness to lighten their pressure. 
Nor did their grief and despondency abate until 
Cortes returned from the execution, and with a 
cheerful countenance ordered the fetters to be taken 
off. As Montezuma's spirits had sunk with un¬ 
manly dejection, they now rose into indecent joy; 
and with an unbecoming transition, he passed at 
once from the anguish of despair to transports of 
gratitude and expressions of fondness towards his 
deliverer. 

In those transactions, as represented Reasons of 
by the Spanish historians, we search Cortess conduct, 
in vain for the qualities which distinguish other 
parts of Cortes’s conduct. To usurp a jurisdiction 
which could not belong to a stranger, who assumed 
no higher character than thaj; of an ambassador 
from a foreign prince, and under colour of it, to in¬ 
flict a capital punishment ori Yn^n whose conduct 
entitled them to esteem, appears an act of barbarous 
cruelty. To put the monarch of a great kingdom 
in irons, and, after such ignominious treatment, 
suddenly to release him, seems to be a display of 
power no less inconsiderate than wanton. Accord¬ 
ing to the common relation, no account can be given 
either of one action or the other, but that Cortes, 
intoxicated with success, and presuming on the as¬ 
cendant which he had acquired over the minds of 
the Mexicans, thought nothing too bold for him to 
undertake, or too dangerous to execute. But, in 
one view, these proceedings, however repugnant to 
justice and humanity, may have flowed from that 
artful policy which regulated every part of Cortes’s 
behaviour towards the Mexicans. They had con¬ 
ceived the Spaniards to be an order of beings supe¬ 
rior to men. It was of the utmost consequence to 
cherish this illusion, and to keep up the veneration 
w hich it inspired. Cortes wished that shedding the 
blood of a Spaniard should be deemed the most 
heinous of all crimes ; and nothing appeared better 
calculated to establish this opinion, than to con¬ 
demn the first Mexicans who had ventured to 
commit it to a cruel death, and to oblige their mo¬ 
narch himself to submit to a mortifying indignity, 
as an expiation for being accessory to a deed so 
atrocious. 11 

The rigour with which Cortes punish¬ 
ed the unhappy persons who first pre- The power which 
sumed to lay violent hands upon his Colte!> a( ' qiilled ' 
followers, seems accordingly to have made all the 
impression that he desired. The spirit of Monte¬ 
zuma w as not only overawed, but subdued. During 
six months that Cortes remained in Mexico, the 
monarch continued in the Spanish quarters, with an 
appearance of as entire satisfaction and tranquillity, 
as if he had resided there, not from constraint, 
but through choice. His ministers and officers 
attended him as usual. He took cognizance of all 
affairs ; every order was issued in his name. The 
external aspect of government appearing the same, 
and all its ancient forms being scrupulously ob- 

h See Note CXI. 


S See Note CX. 




BOOK V. A. 1 ). 1520.] THE HISTORY 

served, the people were so little sensible of any 
change, that they obeyed the mandates of their 
monarch with the same submissive reverence as 
ever. Such was the dread which both Montezuma 
and his subjects had of the Spaniards, or such the 
veneration in which they held them, that no attempt 
was made to deliver their sovereign from confine¬ 
ment ; and though Cortes, relying on this ascendant 
which he had acquired over their minds, permitted 
him not only to visit his temples, but to make hunt¬ 
ing excursions beyond the lake, a guard of a few 
Spaniards carried with it such a terror as to in¬ 
timidate the multitude, and secure the captive 
monarch.* 

Thus, by the fortunate temerity of Cortes in seiz¬ 
ing Montezuma, the Spaniards at once secured to 
themselves more extensive authority in the Mexican 
empire than it was possible to have acquired in a 
long course of time by open force ; and they exer¬ 
cised more absolute sway in the name of another 
than they could have done in their own. The arts 
of polished nations, in subjecting such as are less 
improved, have been nearly the same in every 
period. The system of screening a foreign usurpa¬ 
tion, under the sanction of authority derived from 
the natural rulers of a country, the device of em¬ 
ploying the magistrates and forms already establish¬ 
ed as instruments to introduce a new dominion, of 
which we are apt to boast as sublime refinements in 
policy peculiar to the present age, were inventions 
of a more early period, and had been tried with 
success in the west, long before they were practised 
in the east. 

Use which he Cortes availed himself to the utmost 

makes ot it. 0 f t j ie powers which he possessed by be¬ 
ing able to act in the name of Montezuma. He sent 
some Spaniards, whom he judged best qualified for 
such commissions, into different parts of the empire, 
accompanied by persons of distinction, whom 
Montezuma appointed to attend them both as 
guides and protectors. They visited most of the 
provinces, viewed their soil and productions, sur¬ 
veyed with particular care the districts which yielded 
gold or silver, pitched upon several places as proper 
stations for future colonies, and endeavoured to 
prepare the minds of the people for submitting to 
the Spanish yoke. While they w ere thus employed, 
Cortes, in the name and by the authority of Monte¬ 
zuma, degraded some of the principal officers in 
the empire, whose abilities or independent spirit 
excited his jealousy, and substituted in their place 
persons less capable or more obsequious. 

One thing still was wanting to complete his secu¬ 
rity. He wished to have such command of the lake 
as might insure a retreat, if, either from levity or 
disgust, the Mexicans should take arms against 
him, and break down the bridges or causeways. 
This, too, his ow n address, and the facility of Monte¬ 
zuma, enabled him to accomplish. Having fre- 

i Cortes Kelat. p. 236. E. B. Diaz, c. 97 , 98, 99. 

k See Mote CX1I. 


OF AMERICA. 871 

quently entertained his prisoner with pompous 
accounts of the European marine and art of navi¬ 
gation, he awakened his curiosity to see those 
moving palaces which made their way through the 
water without oars. Under pretext of gratifying 
this desire, Cortes persuaded Montezuma to appoint 
some of his subjects to fetch part of the naval stores 
which the Spaniards had deposited at Vera Cruz to 
Mexico, and to employ others in cutting down 
and preparing timber. With their assistance, the 
Spanish carpenters soon completed two brigantines, 
which afforded a frivolous amusement to the mo¬ 
narch, and were considered by Cortes as a certain 
resource, if he should be obliged to retire. 

Encouraged by so many instances of Montezuma ac- 
the monarch’s tame submission to his selfava^ai ot' n " 
will, Cortes ventured to put it to a Spalil - 
proof still more trying. He urged Montezuma to 
acknowledge himself a vassal of the king of Castile, 
to hold his crown of him as superior, and to subject 
his dominions to the payment of an annual tribute. 
With this requisition, the last and most humbling 
that can be made to one possessed of sovereign 
authority, Montezuma was so obsequious as to 
comply. He called together the chief men of his 
empire, and in a solemn harangue, reminding them 
of the traditions and prophecies which led them to 
expect the arrival of a people sprung from the same 
stock with themselves, in order to take possession 
of the supreme power, he declared his belief that the 
Spaniards were this promised race; that therefore 
he recognised the right of their monarch to govern 
the Mexican empire; that he would lay his crown 
at his feet, and obey him as a tributary. While 
uttering these words, Montezuma discovered how 
deeply he was affected in making such a sacrifice. 
Tears and groans frequently interrupted his dis¬ 
course. Overawed and broken as his spirit was, it 
still retained such a sense of dignity, as to feel that 
pang which pierces the heart of princes when con¬ 
strained to resign independent power. The first 
mention of such a resolution struck the assembly 
dumb with astonishment. This was followed by a 
sudden murmur of sorrows mingled with indigna¬ 
tion, which indicated some violent eruption of rage 
to be near at hand. This Cortes foresaw, and 
seasonably interposed to prevent it, by declaring 
that his master had no intention to deprive Monte¬ 
zuma of the royal dignity, or to make any innova¬ 
tion upon the constitution and laws of the Mexican 
empire. This assurance, added to their dread of 
the Spanish power, and to the authority of their 
monarch’s example, extorted a reluctant consent 
from the assembly. k The act of submission and 
homage w as executed w ith all the formalities which 
the Spaniards were pleased to prescribe. 1 

Montezuma, at the desire of Cortes, The amount of 
accompanied this profession of fealty Uctedbythe 001 " 
and homage with a magnificent present S i ,amar<ls - 

I Cortes Kelat. 238. D. B. Diaz.c. 101. Goniara Cron. c. 92. Herrera, 
dec. 2. lib. x. c. 4. 



872 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


to his new sovereign; and after his example, his 
subjects brought in very liberal contributions. The 
Spaniards now collected all the treasure which had 
been either voluntarily bestowed upon them at dif¬ 
ferent times by Montezuma, or had been extorted 
from his people under various pretexts ; and having 
melted the gold and silver, the value of these, with¬ 
out including jewels and ornaments of various 
kinds, which were preserved on account of their 
curious workmanship, amounted to six hundred 
thousand pesos. The soldiers were impatient to 
have it divided, and Cortes complied with their 
desire. A fifth of the whole was first 

and'the'discon- set apart as the tax due to the king, 
tent it occasioned. ^ no ft )er was allotted to Cortes as 

commander in chief. The sums advanced by Velas¬ 
quez, by Cortes, and by some of the officers, towards 
defraying the expense of fitting out the armament, 
were then deducted. The remainder was divided 
among the army, including the garrison of Vera 
Cruz, in proportion to their different ranks. After 
so many defalcations, the share of a private man 
did not exceed a hundred pesos. This sum fell so 
far below their sanguine expectations, that some 
soldiers rejected it with scorn, and others murmured 
so loudly at this cruel disappointment of their hopes, 
that it required all the address of Cortes, and no 
small exertion of his liberality, to appease them. 
The complaints of the army were not altogether 
destitute of foundation. As the crown had contri¬ 
buted nothing towards the equipment or success of 
the armament, it was not without regret that the 
soldiers beheld it sw r eep away so great a proportion 
of the treasure purchased by their blood and toil. 
What fell to the share of the general appeared, 
according to the ideas of wealth in the sixteenth 
century, an enormous sum. Some of Cortes’s fa¬ 
vourites had secretly appropriated to their own use 
several ornaments of gold, which neither paid the 
royal fifth, nor were brought into account as part of 
the common stock. It was, how ever, so manifestly 
the interest of Cortes at this period to make a large 
remittance to the king, that it is highly proba¬ 
ble those concealments were not of great conse¬ 
quence. 

Reasons why The total sum amassed by the 

fn l such a smaii nd Spaniards bears no proportion to the 

quantities. ideas which might be formed, either 

by reflecting on the descriptions given by historians 
of the ancient splendour of Mexico, or by consider¬ 
ing the productions of its mines in modern times. 
But among the ancient Mexicans, gold and silver 
were not the standards by which the worth of other 
commodities was estimated; and, destitute of the 
artificial value derived from this circumstance, were 
no further in request than as they furnished mate¬ 
rials for ornaments and trinkets. These were either 
consecrated to the gods in their temples, or were 
worn as marks of distinction by their princes and 

m Cortes Relat. p. 236. F. B. Diaz, c. 102,103. Gomara Cron. c. 90. 

n B. Diaz, c. 103. 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK V. 

some of their most eminent chiefs. As the con¬ 
sumption of the precious metals was inconsiderable, 
the demand for them w as not such as to put either 
the ingenuity or industry of the Mexicans on the 
stretch, in order to augment their store. They were 
altogether unacquainted with the art of working the 
rich mines with which their country abounded. 
What gold they had was gathered in the beds of 
rivers, native, and ripened into a pure metallic 
state. m The utmost effort of their labour in search 
of it was to wash the earth carried down by torrents 
from the mountains, and to pick out the grains of 
gold which subsided ; and even this simple opera¬ 
tion, according to the report of the persons whom 
Cortes appointed to survey the provinces where 
there was a prospect of finding mines, they per¬ 
formed very unskilfully." From all those causes, 
the whole mass of gold in possession of the Mexi¬ 
cans was not great. As silver is rarely found pure, 
and the Mexican art was too rude to conduct the 
process for refining it in a proper manner, the 
quantity of this metal was still less considerable. 0 
Thus, though the Spaniards had exerted all the 
power which they possessed in Mexico, and often 
with indecent rapacity, in order to gratify their 
predominant passion, and though Montezuma had 
fondly exhausted his treasures, in hopes of satiating 
their thirst for gold, the product of both, which 
probably included a great part of the bullion in the 
empire, did not rise in value above what has been 
mentioned .p 

But however pliant Montezuma Montezuma 
might be in other matters, with respect re^ect'to Wlth 
to one point he w^as inflexible. Though rellglon - 
Cortes often urged him, with the importunate zeal 
of a missionary, to renounce his false gods, and to 
embrace the Christian faith, he always rejected the 
proposition with horror. Superstition, among the 
Mexicans, was formed into such a regular and 
complete system, that its institutions naturally took 
fast hold of the mind ; and while the rude tribes in 
other parts of America were easily induced to re¬ 
linquish a few notions and rites, so loose and ar¬ 
bitrary as hardly to merit the name of a public 
religion, the Mexicans adhered tenaciously to their 
mode of worship, which, however barbarous, was 
accompanied with such order and solemnity as to 
render it an object of the highest veneration. Cortes, 
finding all his attempts ineffectual to shake the con¬ 
stancy of Montezuma, was so much enraged at his 
obstinacy, that in a transport of zeal he led out his 
soldiers to throw down the idols in the grand temple 
by force. But the priests taking arms in defence of 
their altars, and the people crowding with great 
ardour to support them, Cortes’s prudence overruled 
his zeal, and induced him to desist from his rash 
attempt, after dislodging the idols from one of the 
shrines, and placing in their stead an image of the 
Virgin Mary. q 

0 l Ierr x e , ra - dec. 2. Uh. ix. c. 4. p See Note CXIII. 

q See Note CXIV. 



BOOK V. A. I). 1520.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


873 


Schemes of the From that moment the Mexicans, 
destroy n the° w ^° had permitted the imprisonment 
Spaniards. of their sovereign, and suffered the 

exactions of strangers without a struggle, began to 
meditate how they might expel or destroy the Spa¬ 
niards, and thought themselves called upon to 
avenge their insulted deities. The priests and 
leading men held frequent consultations with Mon¬ 
tezuma for this purpose. But as it might prove 
fatal to the captive monarch to attempt either the 
one or the other by violence, he was willing to try 
more gentle means. Having called Cortes into his 
presence, he observed, that now, as all the purposes 
of his embassy were fully accomplished, the gods 
had declared their will, and the people signified 
their desire, that he and his followers should in¬ 
stantly depart out of the empire. With this he 
required them to comply, or unavoidable destruction 
would fall suddenly on their heads. The tenor of 
this unexpected requisition, as well as the determin¬ 
ed tone in which it was uttered, left Cortes no room 
to doubt that it was the result of some deep scheme 
concerted between Montezuma and his subjects. 
He quickly perceived that he might derive more 
advantage from a seeming compliance with the 
monarch’s inclination, than from an ill-timed attempt 
to change or to oppose it; and replied, with great 
composure, that he had already begun to prepare 
for returning to his own country ; but as he had 
destroyed the vessels in which he arrived, some 
time was requisite for building other ships. This 
appeared reasonable. A number of Mexicans were 
sent to Vera Cruz to cut down timber, and some 
Spanish carpenters w ere appointed to superintend 
the work. Cortes flattered himself, that during this 
interval he might either find means to avert the 
threatened danger, or receive such reinforcements as 
would enable him to despise it. 

Anxiety and dan- Almost nine months were elapsed 

ger or Cortes. s j nce Portocarrero and Montejo had 

sailed with his despatches to Spain; and he daily 
expected their return with a confirmation of his 
authority from the king. Without this, his con¬ 
dition was insecure and precarious; and after all 
the great things which he had done, it might be his 
doom to bear the name and suffer the punishment 
of a traitor. Rapid and extensive as his progress 
had been, he could not hope to complete the reduc¬ 
tion of a great empire with so small a body of men, 
which by this time diseases of various kinds had 
considerably thinned ; nor could he apply for re¬ 
cruits to the Spanish settlements in the islands, 
until he received the royal approbation of his pro¬ 
ceedings. 

The arrival of a While he remained in this cruel 
new armament, situation, anxious about what was 

past, uncertain with respect to the future, and by 
the late declaration of Montezuma oppressed with 
a new addition of cares, a Mexican courier arrived 
with an account of some ships having appeared 


on the coast. Cortes with fond credulity imagining 
that his messengers were returned from Spain, and 
that the completion of all his wishes and hopes was 
at hand, imparted the glad tidings to his companions, 
who received them with transports of mutual gratu- 
lation. Their joy was not of long continuance. A 
courier from Sandoval, whom Cortes had appointed 
to succeed Escalante in command at Vera Cruz, 
brought certain information that the armament was 
fitted out by Velasquez, governor of Cuba, and in¬ 
stead of bringing the aid which they expected, 
threatened them with immediate destruction. 

The motives which prompted Velas- fitted out by Ve . 
quez to this violentmeasure are obvious. lasquez> 
From the circumstances of Cortes's departure, it 
was impossible not to suspect his intention of throw¬ 
ing off all dependence upon him. His neglecting 
to transmit any account of his operations to Cuba, 
strengthened this suspicion, which was at last con¬ 
firmed beyond doubt, by the indiscretion of the 
officers whom Cortes sent to Spain. They, from 
some motive which is not clearly explained by the 
contemporary historians, touched at the island of 
Cuba, contrary to the peremptory orders of their 
general. 1. By this means Velasquez not only learn¬ 
ed that Cortes and his followers, after formally 
renouncing all connexion with him, had estab¬ 
lished an independent colony in New Spain, and 
were soliciting the king to confirm their proceed¬ 
ings by his authority ; but he obtained particular 
information concerning the opulence of the coun¬ 
try, the valuable presents which Cortes had receiv¬ 
ed, and the inviting prospects of success that 
opened to his view. Every passion which can 
agitate an ambitious mind ; shame, at having been 
so grossly over-reached ; indignation at being be¬ 
trayed by the man whom he had selected as the ob¬ 
ject of his favour and confidence ; grief, for having 
wasted his fortune to aggrandize an enemy ; and 
despair of recovering so fair an opportunity of 
establishing his fame and extending his power, 
now raged in the bosom of Velasquez. All these, 
with united force, excited him to make an extraor¬ 
dinary effort in order to be avenged on the author 
of his wrongs, and to wrest from him his usurped 
authority and conquests. Nor did he want the ap¬ 
pearance of a good title to justify such an attempt. 
The agent whom he sent to Spain with an account 
of Grijalva's voyage, had met with a most favour¬ 
able reception ; and from the specimens which he 
produced, such high expectations were formed con¬ 
cerning the opulence of New Spain, that Velasquez 
was authorized to prosecute the discovery of the 
country, and appointed governor of it during life, 
with more extensive power and privileges than had 
been granted to any adventurer from the time of 
Columbus. 8 Elated by this distinguishing mark of 
favour, and w arranted to consider Cortes not only 
as intruding upon his jurisdiction, but as disobe¬ 
dient to the royal mandate, he determined to vindi- 


r B. Diaz, c. 54, 55. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. v. c. 14. Gomara Cron. c. 96. 


s Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iii. c. 11. 




874 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


cate bis own rights, and the honour of his sovereign, 
. bv force of arms. 1 His ardour in car- 

under the com- 'v 

mand of Narvaez. r y 1 n g on his preparations was such as 
might have been expected from the violence of the 
passions with which he was animated; and in a 
short time an armament was completed, consisting 
of eighteen ships, which had on board fourscore 
horsemen, eight hundred foot soldiers, of which 
eighty were musketeers, and a hundred and twenty 
cross-bow men, together with a train of twelve pieces 
of cannon. As Velasquez’s experience of the fatal 
consequence of committing to another what he ought 
to have executed himself, had not rendered him 
more enterprising, he vested the command of this 
formidable body, which, in the infancy of the Spa¬ 
nish power in America, merits the appellation of 
an army, in Pamphilo de Narvaez, with instruc¬ 
tions to seize Cortes and his principal officers, to 
send them prisoners to him, and then to complete 
the discovery and conquest of the country in his 
name. 


After a prosperous voyage, Narvaez 

The proceedings . * , 

of Narvaez” landed his men without opposition 
near St. Juan de Ulua. Three soldiers, 
whom Cortes had sent to search for mines in that 
district, immediately joined him. By this accident 
he not only received information concerning the 
progress and situation of Cortes, but as these 
soldiers had made some progress in the knowledge 
of the Mexican language, he acquired interpreters, 
by whose means he was enabled to hold some inter¬ 
course with the people of the country. But, ac¬ 
cording to the low cunning of deserters, they framed 
their intelligence with more attention to what they 
thought would be agreeable, than to what they knew 
to be true ; and represented the situation of Cortes 
to be so desperate, and the disaffection of his fol¬ 
lowers to be so general, as increased the natural 
confidence and presumption of Narvaez. His first 
operation, however, might have taught him not to 
rely on their partial accounts. Having sent to 
summon the governor of Vera Cruz to surrender, 
Guevara, a priest whom he employed in that ser¬ 
vice, made the requisition with such insolence, that 
Sandoval, an officer of high spirit, and zealously 
attached to Cortes, instead of complying with his 
demands, seized him and his attendants, and sent 
them in chains to Mexico 

Cortes deeply Cortes received them, not like ene- 
aiarmed. m jes, but as friends, and condemning 
the severity of Sandoval, set them immediately at 
liberty. By this well-timed clemency, seconded by 
caresses and presents, he gained their confidence, 
and drew from them such particulars concerning the 
force and intentions of Narvaez, as gave him a view 
of the impending danger in its full extent. He had 
not to contend now with half-naked Indians, no 
match for him in war, and still more inferior in the 
arts of policy, but to take the field against an army 
in courage and martial discipline equal to his 


[A. IX 1520. BOOK V. 

own, in number far superior, acting under the sanc¬ 
tion of royal authority, and commanded by an 
officer of known bravery. He was informed that 
Narvaez, more solicitous to gratify the resentment 
of Velasquez, than attentive to the honour or in¬ 
terest of his country, had begun his intercourse 
with the natives, by representing him and his fol¬ 
lowers as fugitives and outlaws, guilty of rebellion 
against their own sovereign, and of injustice in 
invading the Mexican empire ; and had declared 
that his chief object in visiting the country M as to 
punish the Spaniards who had committed these 
crimes, and to rescue the Mexicans from oppression. 
He soon perceived that the same unfavourable 
representations of his character and actions had 
been conveyed to Montezuma, and that Narvaez 
had found means to assfrre him, that as the conduct 
of those who kept him under restraint was highly 
displeasing to the king his master, he had it in 
charge not only to rescue an injured monarch from 
confinement, but to reinstate him in the possession 
of his ancient power and independence. Animated 
with this prospect of being set free from subjection 
to strangers, the Mexicans in several provinces be¬ 
gan openly to revolt from Cortes, and to regard 
Narvaez as a deliverer no less able than willing to 
save them.. Montezuma himself kept up a secret 
intercourse with the new commander, and seemed 
to court him as a person superior in poMer and 
dignity to those Spaniards whom he had hitherto 
revered as the first of men. u 

Such were the various aspects of 

, , ,. , , • i i His deliberations 

danger and difficulty which presented concerning bis 

, . „ _ own conduct. 

themselves to the view of Cortes. No 
situation can be conceived more trying to the capa 
city and firmness of a general, or where the choice 
of the plan which ought to be adopted Mas more 
difficult. If he should wait the approach of Nar¬ 
vaez in Mexico, destruction seemed to be unavoid¬ 
able ; for while the Spaniards pressed him from 
without, the inhabitants, whose turbulent spirit he 
could hardly restrain with all his authority and at¬ 
tention, Mould easily lay hold on such a favourable 
opportunity of avenging all their wrongs. If he 
should abandon the capital, set the captive monarch 
at liberty, and march out to meet the enemy; he 
must at once forego the fruits of all his toils and 
victories, and relinquish advantages which could 
not be recovered without extraordinary efforts and 
infinite danger. If, instead of employing force, he 
should have recourse to conciliating measures, and 
attempt an accommodation with Narvaez; the na¬ 
tural haughtiness of that officer, augmented by con¬ 
sciousness of his present superiority, forbade him 
to cherish any sanguine hope of success. After re¬ 
volving every scheme with deep attention, Cortes 
fixed upon that which in execution was most ha¬ 
zardous, but, if successful, M ould prove most bene¬ 
ficial to himself and to his country; and with the 
decisive intrepidity suited to desperate situations, 


t See Note CXV. 


u See Note CXVI. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


875 


BOOK V. A. D. 1520.] 


determined to make one bold effort for victory 
under every disadvantage, rather than sacrifice his 
own conquests and the Spanish interests in Mexico. 

His negotiations But thou S h he foresaw that the con- 
fol,<nv ' lest must be terminated finally by arms, 

ers or JN arvaez. j J ’ 

it would have been not only indecent, 


but criminal, to have marched against his country¬ 
men, without attempting to adjust matters by an 
amicable negociation. In this service he employed 
Oltnedo, his chaplain, to whose character the func¬ 
tion was well suited, and who possessed, besides, 
such prudence and address as qualified him to carry 
on the secret intrigues in which Cortes placed his 
chief confidence. Narvaez rejected, with scorn, every 
scheme of accommodation that Olmedo proposed, 
and was with difficulty restrained from laying vio¬ 
lent hands on him and his attendants. He met, 
however, with a more favourable reception among 
the followers of Narvaez, to many of whom he de¬ 
livered letters, either from Cortes or his officers, their 
ancient friends and companions. Cortes artfully 
accompanied these with presents of rings, chains of 
gold, and other trinkets of value, which inspired those 
needy adventurers with high ideas of the wealth that 
he had acquired, and with envy of their good for¬ 
tune who were engaged in his service. Some, from 
hopes of becoming sharers in those rich spoils, de¬ 
clared for an immediate accommodation with Cortes. 
Others, from public spirit, laboured to prevent a 
civil war, which, whatever party should prevail, 
must shake, and perhaps subvert, the Spanish power, 
in a country where it was so imperfectly established. 
Narvaez disregarded both, and by a public pro¬ 
clamation denounced Cortes and his adherents re¬ 
bels and enemies to their country. Cortes, it is 
probable, was not much surprised at the untractable 
arrogance of Narvaez ; and, after having given such 
a proof of his own pacific disposition as might jus¬ 
tify his recourse to other means, he determined to 
advance towards an enemy whom he had laboured 
in vain to appease. 

Marches against He left a hundred and fifty men in 

him. May. capital, under the command of 

Pedro de Alvarado, an officer of distinguished 
courage, for whom the Mexicans had conceived a 
singular degree of respect. To the custody of this 
slender garrison he committed a great city, with all 
the wealth he had amassed, and, what was still of 
greater importance, the person of the imprisoned 
monarch. His utmost art was employed in conceal¬ 
ing from Montezuma the real cause of his march. 
He laboured to persuade him, that the strangers who 
had lately arrived were his friends and fellow-sub¬ 
jects ; and that, after a short interview with them, 
they would depart together, and return to their own 
country. The captive prince, unable to comprehend 
the designs of the Spaniards, or to reconcile what 
he now heard with the declarations of Narvaez, and 
afraid to discover any symptom of suspicion or dis¬ 
trust of Cortes, promised to remain quietly in the 
Spanish quarters, and to cultivate the same friend¬ 


ship with Alvarado which he had uniformly main¬ 
tained with him. Cortes, with seeming confidence 
in this promise, but relying principally upon the 
injunctions which he had given Alvarado to guard 
his prisoner with the most scrupulous vigilance, set 
out from Mexico. 

His strength, even after it was rein- dumber of his 
forced by the j unction of Sandoval and troops, 
the garrison of Vera Cruz, did not exceed two hun¬ 
dred and fifty men. As he hoped for success chiefly 
from the rapidity of his motions, his troops were not 
encumbered either with baggage or artillery. But 
as he dreaded extremely the impression which the 
enemy might make with their cavalry, he had pro¬ 
vided against this danger with the foresight and 
sagacity which distinguish a great commander. 
Having observed that the Indians in the province of 
Chinantla used spears of extraordinary length and 
force, he armed his soldiers with these, and accus¬ 
tomed them to that deep and compact arrangement 
which the use of this formidable weapon, the best 
perhaps that ever was invented for defence, enabled 
them to assume. 

With this small but firm battalion, 

Cortes advanced towards Zempoalla, g odate U as he ad- 
of which Narvaez had taken possession. vanced - 
During his march, he made repeated attempts to¬ 
wards some accommodation with his opponent. But 
Narvaez requiring that Cortes and his followers 
should instantly recognise his title to be governor 
of New Spain, in virtue of the powers which he 
derived from Velasquez; and Cortes refusing to 
submit to any authority which was not founded on 
a commission from the emperor himself, under 
whose immediate protection he and his adherents 
had placed their infant colony ; all these attempts 
proved fruitless. The intercourse, however, which 
this occasioned between the two parties, proved of 
no small advantage to Cortes, as it afforded him an 
opportunity of gaining some of Narvaez's officers 
by liberal presents, of softening others by a sem¬ 
blance of moderation, and of dazzling all by the 
appearance of wealth among his troops, most of his 
soldiers having converted their share of the Mex¬ 
ican gold into chains, bracelets, and other ornaments, 
which they displayed with military ostentation. 
Narvaez and a little junto of his creatures except¬ 
ed, all the army leaned towards an accommodation 
with their countrymen. This discovery of their in¬ 
clination irritated his violent temper almost to 
madness. In a transport of rage, he set a price 
upon the head of Cortes, and of his principal offi¬ 
cers ; and having learned that he was now advanced 
within a league of Zempoalla with his small body 
of men, he considered this as an insult which me¬ 
rited immediate chastisement, and marched out 
with all his troops to offer him battle. 

But Cortes was a leader of greater stacks Narvaez 
abilities and experience than, on equal 111 tlie m ” ht ’ 
ground, to fight an enemy so far superior in num¬ 
ber, and so much better appointed. Having taken 



876 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


his station on the opposite bank of the river de 
Canoas, where he knew that he could not be attack¬ 
ed, he beheld the approach of the enemy without 
concern, and disregarded this vain bravado. It was 
then the beginning of the wet season, x and the rain 
had poured down, during a great part of the day, 
with the violence peculiar to the torrid zone. The 
followers of Narvaez, unaccustomed to the hard¬ 
ships of military service, murmured so much at be¬ 
ing thus fruitlessly exposed, that, from their unsol¬ 
dier-like impatience, as well as his own contempt 
of his adversary, their general permitted them to 
retire to Zempoalla. The very circumstance which 
induced them to quit the field, encouraged Cortes 
to form a scheme by which he hoped at once to 
terminate the war. He observed, that his hardy vete¬ 
rans, though standing under the torrents which con¬ 
tinued to fall, without a single tent or any shelter 
whatsoever to cover them, were so far from repining 
at hardships which were become familiar to them, 
that they were still fresh and alert for service. He 
foresaw that the enemy would naturally give them¬ 
selves up to repose after their fatigue, and that, 
judging of the conduct of others by their own 
effeminacy, they would deem themselves perfectly 
secure at a season so unfit for action. He resolved, 
therefore, to fall upon them in the dead of night, 
when the surprise and terror of this unexpected 
attack might more than compensate the inferiority 
of his numbers. His soldiers, sensible that no re¬ 
source remained but in some desperate effort of 
courage, approved of the measure with such warmth, 
that Cortes, in a military oration which he address¬ 
ed to them before they began their march, was 
more solicitous to temper than to inflame their ar¬ 
dour. He divided them into three parties. At the 
head of the first he placed Sandoval; intrusting 
this gallant officer with the most dangerous and im¬ 
portant service, that of seizing the enemy’s artil¬ 
lery, which was planted before the principal tower 
of the temple, where Narvaez had fixed his head¬ 
quarters. Christoval de Olid commanded the se¬ 
cond, with orders to assault the tower, and lay hold 
on the general. Cortes himself conducted the third 
and smallest division, which was to act as a body 
of reserve, and to support the other two as there 
should be occasion. Having passed the river de 
Canoas, which was much swelled with the rains, 
not without difficulty, the water reaching almost to 
their chins, they advanced in profound silence, 
without beat of drum, or sound of any warlike in¬ 
strument; each man armed with his sword, his 
dagger, and his Chinantlan spear. Narvaez, remiss 
in proportion to his security, had posted only two 
sentinels to watch the motions of an enemy whom 
he had such good cause to dread. One of these 
was seized by the advanced guard of Cortes’s troops, 
the other made his escape, and hurrying to the town 
with all the precipitation of fear and zeal, gave 
such timely notice of the enemy’s approach, that 

x Hackluyt, vol. iii. 467. De Laet Descr. Ind. Occid. 221. 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK V. 

there was full leisure to have prepared for their re¬ 
ception. But through the arrogance and infatuation 
of Narvaez, this important interval was lost. He 
imputed this alarm to the cowardice of the sentinel, 
and treated with derision the idea of being attacked 
by forces so unequal to his own. The shouts of 
Cortes’s soldiers, rushing on to the assault, con¬ 
vinced him at last that the danger which he de¬ 
spised was real. The rapidity with which they 
advanced was such, that only one cannon could be 
fired before Sandoval’s party closed with the enemy, 
drove them from their guns, and began to force 
their way up the srteps of the tower. Narvaez, no 
less brave in action than presumptuous in conduct, 
armed himself in haste, and by his voice and exam¬ 
ple animated his men to the combat. Olid advanc¬ 
ed to sustain his companions; and Cortes himself, 
rushing to the front, conducted and added new 
vigour to the attack. The compact order in which 
this small body pressed on, and the impenetrable 
front which they presented with their long spears, 
bore down all opposition before it. and over comes 
They had now reached the gate, and * him ’ 
w ere struggling to burst it open, when a soldier hav¬ 
ing set fire to the reeds with which the tower was 
covered, compelled Narvaez to sally out. In the 
first encounter he was wounded in the eye with a 
spear, and, falling to the ground, was dragged down 
the steps, and in a moment clapt in fetters. The 
cry of victory resounded among the troops of Cortes. 
Those w ho had sallied out with their leader now 
maintained the conflict feebly, and began to surren¬ 
der. Among the remainder of his soldiers, station¬ 
ed in tw o smaller towers of the temple, terror and 
confusion prevailed. The darkness was so great, 
that they could not distinguish between their friends 
and foes. Their own artillery was pointed against 
them. Wherever they turned their eyes, they be¬ 
held lights gleaming through the obscurity of night> 
which, though proceeding only from a variety of 
shining insects that abound in moist and sultry 
climates, their affrighted imaginations represented 
as numerous bands of musketeers advancing with 
kindled matches to the attack. After a short resist¬ 
ance, the soldiers compelled their officers to capitu¬ 
late, and before morning all laid down their arms, 
and submitted quietly to their conquerors. 

This complete victory proved more T h e effects of this 
acceptable, as it was gained almost victory. 

without bloodshed, only two soldiers being killed 
on the side of Cortes, and two officers, with fifteen 
private men, of the adverse faction. Cortes treated 
the vanquished not like enemies, but as countrymen 
and friends, and offered either to send them back 
directly to Cuba, or to take them into his service, 
as partners in his fortune, on equal terms with his 
own soldiers. This latter proposition, seconded by a 
seasonable distribution of some presents from Cortes, 
and liberal promises of more, opened prospects so 
agreeable to the romantic expectations which had 



BOOK V. A. D. 1520.] THE HISTORY 

invited them to engage in this service, that all, a few 
partisans of Narvaez excepted, closed with it, and 
vied with each other in professions of fidelity and 
attachment to a general, whose recent success had 
given them such a striking proof of his abilities for 
command. Thus, by a series of events no less for¬ 
tunate than uncommon, Cortes not only escaped 
from perdition which seemed inevitable, but, when 
he had least reason to expect it, was placed at the 
head of a thousand Spaniards, ready to follow when¬ 
ever he should lead them. Whoever reflects upon 
the facility with which this victory was obtained, or 
considers with what sudden and unanimous transi¬ 
tion the followers of Narvaez ranged themselves 
under the standard of his rival, will be apt to ascribe 
both events as much to the intrigues as to the arms 
of Cortes, and cannot but suspect that the ruin of 
Narvaez was occasioned, no less by the treachery of 
his own followers, than by the valour of the enemy.* 
„ . But, in one point, the prudent con- 

take arms against duct and good fortune of Cortes w ere 
the Spaniards. 0 

equally conspicuous. If, by the rapi¬ 
dity of his operations after he began his march, he 
had not brought matters to such a speedy issue, 
even this decisive victory would have come too late 
to have saved his companions whom he left in Mex¬ 
ico. A few days after the discomfiture of Narvaez, 
a courier arrived with an account that the Mexicans 
had taken arms, and having seized and destroyed 
the two brigantines which Cortes had built in order 
to secure the command of the lake, and attacked the 
Spaniards in their quarters, had killed several of 
them, and wounded more, had reduced to ashes 
their magazine of provisions, and carried on hosti¬ 
lities with such fury, that though Alvarado and 
his men defended themselves with undaunted reso¬ 
lution, they must either be soon cut off by famine, 
or sink under the multitude of their enemies. This 
revolt was excited by motives which rendered it still 
more alarming. On the departure of Cortes for 
Zempoalla, the Mexicans flattered themselves, that 
the long-expected opportunity of restoring their 
sovereign to liberty, and of vindicating their country 
from the odious dominion of strangers, was at length 
arrived ; that while the forces of their oppressors 
were divided, and the arms of one party turned 
against the other, they might triumph with greater 
facility over both. Consultations were held, and 
schemes formed with this intention. The Spaniards 
in Mexico, conscious of their own feebleness, sus¬ 
pected and dreaded those machinations. Alvarado, 
though a gallant officer, possessed neither that ex¬ 
tent of capacity, nor dignity of manners, by which 
Cortes had acquired such an ascendant over the 
minds of the Mexicans, as never allowed them to 
form a just estimate of his weakness or of their 
own strength. Alvarado knew no mode of support¬ 
ing his authority but force. Instead of employing 
address to disconcert the plans, or to soothe the 
spirits of the Mexicans, he waited the return of one 

y Cortes Relat. 242. D. B. Diaz, c. 110-125. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. 


OF AMERICA. 877 

of their solemn festivals, when the principal persons 
in the empire were dancing, according to custom, in 
the court of the great temple; he seized all the 
avenues which led to it, and, allured partly by the 
rich ornaments which they wore in honour of their 
gods, and partly by the facility of cutting off at 
once the authors of that conspiracy which he dread¬ 
ed, he fell upon them, unarmed and unsuspicious 
of any danger, and massacred a great number, 
none escaping but such as made their way over the 
battlements of the temple. An action so cruel and 
treacherous filled not only the city, but the whole 
empire, with indignation and rage. All called 
aloud for vengeance; and regardless of the safety 
of their monarch, whose life was at the mercy of the 
Spaniards, or of their own danger in assaulting an 
enemy who had been so long the object of their 
terror, they committed all those acts of violence of 
which Cortes received an account. 

To him the danger appeared so im- IIe marche? back 
minent, as to admit neither of delibe- t0 the capital - 
ration nor delay. He set out instantly with all his 
forces, and returned from Zempoalla with no less 
rapidity than he had advanced thither. At Tlascala 
he was joined by two thousand chosen warriors. 
On entering the Mexican territories, he found that 
disaffection to the Spaniards was not confined to 
the capital. The principal inhabitants had deserted 
the towns through which he passed ; no person of 
note appearing to meet him with the usual respect; 
no provision was made for the subsistence of his 
troops ; and though he was permitted to advance 
without opposition, the solitude and silence which 
reigned in every place, and the horror with which 
the people avoided all intercourse with him, dis¬ 
covered a deep-rooted antipathy, that excited the 
most just alarm. But implacable as the enmity of 
the Mexicans was, they were so unacquainted with 
the science of war, that they knew not how to take 
the proper measures, either for their own safety or 
the destruction of the Spaniards. ' Uninstructed by 
their former error in admitting a formidable enemy 
into their capital, instead of breaking down the 
causew ays and bridges, by which they might have 
enclosed Alvarado and his party, and have effectu¬ 
ally stopped the career of Cortes, they again suf¬ 
fered him to march into the city with- 
out molestation, and to take quiet 
possession of his ancient station. 

The transports of joy with which Impr 0 p ei; con - 
Alvarado and his soldiers received duct ot Cortes - 
their companions cannot be expressed. Both par¬ 
ties w ere so much elated, the one w ith their season¬ 
able deliverance, and the other with the great 
exploits which they had achieved, that this intoxi¬ 
cation of success seems to have reached Cortes him¬ 
self ; and he behaved on this occasion neither w ith 
his usual sagacity nor attention. He not only neg¬ 
lected to visit Montezuma, but imbittered the insult 
by expressions full of contempt for that unfortunate 

ix. c. 18, &c. Gomara Cron. c. 97, &c 




878 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK V. 


prince and his people. The forces of which he had 
now the command appeared to him so irresistible, 
that he might assume a higher tone, and lay aside 
the mask of moderation under which he had hitherto 
concealed his designs. Some Mexicans, who un¬ 
derstood the Spanish language, heard the contemp¬ 
tuous words which Cortes uttered, and reporting 
them to their countrymen, kindled their rage anew. 
They were now convinced that the intentions of 
the general were equally bloody with those of Al¬ 
varado, and that his original purpose in visiting 
their country had not been, as he pretended, to 
court the alliance of their sovereign, but to attempt 
the conquest of his dominions. They resumed their 
arms with the additional fury which this discovery 
inspired, attacked a considerable body of Spaniards 
who were marching towards the great square in 
which the public market was held, and compelled 
them to retire with some loss. Imbol- 

tiiity ot the Mex- dened by this success, and delighted 
icans. „ , , , . 

to find that their oppressors were not 

invincible, they advanced next day with extraordi¬ 
nary martial pomp to assault the Spaniards in their 
quarters. Their number was formidable, and their 
undaunted courage still more so. Though the ar¬ 
tillery pointed against their numerous battalions, 
crowded together in narrow streets, swept off multi¬ 
tudes at every discharge ; though every blow of the 
Spanish weapons fell with mortal effect upon their 
naked bodies, the impetuosity of the assault did 
not abate. Fresh men rushed forward to occupy 
the places of the slain, and meeting with the same 
fate, were succeeded by others no less intrepid and 
eager for vengeance. The utmost efforts of Cortes’s 
abilities and experience, seconded by the disciplined 
valour of his troops, were hardly sufficient to defend 
the fortifications that surrounded the post where the 
Spaniards were stationed, into which the enemy were 
more than once on the point of forcing their way. 

Distress of the Cortes beheld, with wonder, the im- 
Spamards. placable ferocity of a people who 
seemed at first to submit tamely to the yoke, and 
had continued so long passive under it. The sol¬ 
diers of Narvaez, who fondly imagined that they 
followed Cortes to share in the spoils of a conquered 
empire, were astonished to find that they were in¬ 
volved in a dangerous war, with an enemy whose 
vigour was still unbroken, and loudly execrated 
their own weakness, in giving such easy credit to 
the delusive promises of their new leader. 2 But 
surprise and complaints were of no avail. Some 
immediate and extraordinary effort was requisite to 
extricate themselves out of their present situation. 
As soon as the approach of evening induced the 
Mexicans to retire, in compliance with their national 
custom of ceasing from hostilities with the setting 
sun, Cortes began to prepare for a sally, next day, 
with such a considerable force, as might either drive 
the enemy out of the city, or compel them to listen 
to terms of accommodation. 


He conducted, in person, the troops 

* . Cortes attacks 

destined for this important service. them without 

. , success. 

Every invention known in the Euro¬ 
pean art of war, as well as every precaution sug¬ 
gested by his long acquaintance with the Indian 
mode of fighting, were employed to insure success. 
But he found an enemy prepared and determined 
to oppose him. The force of the Mexicans was 
greatly augmented by fresh troops, which poured in 
continually from the country, and their animosity 
was in no degree abated. They were led by their 
nobles, inflamed by the exhortations of their priests, 
and fought in/defence of their temples and families, 
under the eyeW their gods, and in presence of their 
wives and children. Notwithstanding their num¬ 
bers, and enthusiastic contempt of danger and death, 
wherever the Spaniards could close with them, the 
superiority of their discipline and arms obliged the 
Mexicans to give way. But in narrow streets, and 
where many of the bridges of communication were 
broken down, the Spaniards could seldom come to 
a fair rencounter with the enemy, and as they ad¬ 
vanced, were exposed to showers of arrows and 
stones from the tops of houses. After a day of 
incessant exertion, though vast numbers of the 
Mexicans fell, and part of the city was burnt, the 
Spaniards, weary with the slaughter, and harassed 
by multitudes which successively relieved each 
other, were obliged at length to retire, with the 
mortification of having accomplished nothing so 
decisive as to compensate the unusual calamity of 
having twelve soldiers killed, and above sixty 
wounded. Another sally, made with greater force, 
was not more effectual, and in it the general himself 
was w ounded in the hand. 

Cortes now perceived, too late, the 

~ i 1,1 Montezuma slain. 

fatal error into which he had been 
betrayed by his own contempt of the Mexicans, and 
was satisfied that he could neither maintain his 
present station in the centre of an hostile city, nor 
retire from it without the most imminent danger. 
One resource still remained, to try what effect the 
interposition of Montezuma might have to soothe or 
overawe his subjects. When the Mexicans ap¬ 
proached next morning to renew the assault, that 
unfortunate prince, at the mercy of the Spaniards, 
and reduced to the sad necessity of becoming the 
instrument of his own disgrace, and of the slavery 
of his people, a advanced to the battlements in his 
royal robes, and with all the pomp in which he used 
to appear on solemn occasions. At sight of their 
sovereign, whom they had long been accustomed to 
honour, and almost to revere as a god, the weapons 
dropped from their hands, every tongue was silent, 
all bowed tlieir heads, and many prostrated them¬ 
selves on the ground. Montezuma addressed them 
with every argument that could mitigate their rage, 
or persuade them to cease from hostilities. When 
he ended his discourse, a sullen murmur of disap¬ 
probation ran through the ranks; to this succeeded 


z B. Diaz, c. 126. 


a See Note CXVII. 




BOOK V. A. D. 1520.] THE HISTORY 

reproaches and threats ; and the fury of the mul¬ 
titude rising in a moment above every restraint 
of decency or respect, flights of arrows and volleys 
of stones poured in so violently upon the ram¬ 
parts, that betore the Spanish soldiers appointed 
to cover Montezuma with their bucklers, had time 
to lift them in his defence, two arrows wounded the 
unhappy monarch, and the blow of a stone on his 
temple struck him to the ground. On seeing him 
fall, the Mexicans were so much astonished, that 
with a transition not uncommon in popular tumults, 
they passed in a moment from one extreme to the 
other; remorse succeeded to insult, and they fled 
with horror, as if the vengeance of Heaven were 
pursuing the crime which they had committed. 
The Spaniards without molestation carried Mon¬ 
tezuma to his apartments, and Cortes hastened 
thither to console him under his misfortune. But 
the unhappy monarch now perceived how low he 
was sunk, and the haughty spirit which seemed to 
have been so long extinct, returning, he scorned to 
survive this last humiliation, and to protract an 
ignominious life, not only as the prisoner and tool 
of his enemies, but as the object of contempt or 
detestation among his subjects. In a transport of 
rage he tore the bandages from his wounds, and 
refused, with such obstinacy, to take any nourish¬ 
ment, that he soon ended his wretched days, reject¬ 
ing with disdain all the solicitations of the Spaniards 
to embrace the Christian faith. 

Upon the death of Montezuma, 

New conflicts. , . , , r , . 

Cortes having lost all hope ot bringing 
the Mexicans to an accommodation, saw no prospect 
of safety but in attempting a retreat, and began to 
prepare for it. But a sudden motion of the Mexi¬ 
cans engaged him in new conflicts. They took 
possession of a high tower in the great temple which 
overlooked the Spanish quarters, and placing there 
a garrison of their principal warriors, not a Spaniard 
could stir without being exposed to their missile 
weapons. From this post it was necessary to dis¬ 
lodge them at any risk; and Juan de Escobar, with 
a numerous detachment of chosen soldiers, was 
ordered to make the attack. But Escobar, though a 
gallant officer, and at the head of troops accustomed 
to conquer, and who now fought under the eyes of 
their countrymen, was thrice repulsed. Cortes, 
sensible that not only the reputation but the safety 
of his army depended on the success of this assault, 
ordered a buckler to be tied to his arm, as he could 
not manage it with his wounded hand, and rushed 
with his drawn sword into the thickest of the com¬ 
batants. Encouraged by the presence of their 
general, the Spaniards returned to the charge with 
such vigour, that they gradually forced their way 
up the steps, and drove the Mexicans to the platform 
at the top of the tower. There a dreadful carnage 
began, when two young Mexicans of high rank, 
observing Cortes as he animated his soldiers by his 

b M. Clavigero has censured me with asperity for relating this gallant 
ac tion of the two Mexicans, and for supposing that there were battlements 
round the temple of Mexico. 1 related the attempt to destroy Cortes on 


OF AMERICA. 879 

voice and example, resolved to sacrifice their own 
lives in order to cut off' the author of all the cala¬ 
mities which desolated their country. They ap¬ 
proached him in a supplicant posture, as if they 
had intended to lay down their arms, and seizing 
him in a moment, hurried him towards the battle¬ 
ments, over which they threw themselves headlong, 
in hopes of dragging him along to be dashed 
in pieces by the same fall. But Cortes, by his 
strength and agility, broke loose from their grasp, 
and the gallant youths perished in this generous 
though unsuccessful attempt to save their coun¬ 
try. b As soon as the Spaniards became masters of 
the tower, they set fire to it, and, without further 
molestation, continued the preparations for their 
retreat. 

This became the more necessary, as The Spaniards 
the Mexicans were so much astonished abandon the city, 
at the last effort of the Spanish valour, that they 
began to change their whole system of hostility, and, 
instead of incessant attacks, endeavoured, by barri¬ 
cading the streets, and breaking down the cause¬ 
ways, to cut off the communication of the Spaniards 
with the continent, and thus to starve an enemy 
whom they could not subdue. The first point to be 
determined by Cortes and his followers was, whether 
they should march out open in the face of day, 
when they could discern every danger, and see how 
to regulate their own motions, as well as how to 
resist the assaults of the enemy; or, whether they 
should endeavour to retire secretly in the night ? 
The latter was preferred, partly from hopes that 
their national superstition would restrain the Mex¬ 
icans from venturing to attack them in the night, 
and partly from their own fond belief in the predic¬ 
tions of a private soldier, who, having acquired 
universal credit by a smattering of learning, and 
his pretensions to astrology, boldly assured his 
countrymen of success if they made their retreat in 
this manner. They began to move, towards mid¬ 
night, in three divisions. Sandoval led the van ; 
Pedro Alvarado, and Velasquez de Leon, had the 
conduct of the rear ; and Cortes commanded in the 
centre, where he placed the prisoners, among whom 
were a son and two daughters of Montezuma, to¬ 
gether with several Mexicans of distinction, the 
artillery, the baggage, and a portable bridge of 
timber, intended to be laid over the breaches in the 
causeway. They marched in profound silence along 
the causeway which led to Tacuba, because it was 
shorter than any of the rest, and, lying most remote 
from the road towards Tlascala and the sea-coast, 
had been left more entire by the Mexicans. They 
reached the first breach in it without molestation, 
hoping that their retreat was undiscovered. 

But the Mexicans, unperceived, had Attacke( , by the 
not only watched all their motions Mexicans, 
with attention, but had made proper dispositions 
for a most formidable attack. While the Spaniards 

the authority of Herrera, dec. 2. lib. x. c. 9. and of Torquemado, lib. iv. 
c. 69. I followed them likewise in supposing the uppermost platform of 
the temple to be encompassed by a battlement or rail. 




880 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1520. BOOK V. 


were intent upon placing their bridge in the breach, 
and occupied in conducting their horses and artil¬ 
lery along it, they were suddenly alarmed with a 
tremendous sound of warlike instruments, and a 
general shout from an innumerable multitude of 
enemies ; the lake was covered with canoes ; flights 
of arrows and showers of stones poured in upon 
them from every quarter; the Mexicans rushing 
forward to the charge with fearless impetuosity, as 
if they hoped in that moment to be avenged for all 
their wrongs. Unfortunately the wooden bridge, 
by the weight of the artillery, was wedged so fast 
into the stones and mud, that it was impossible to 
remove it. Dismayed at this accident, the Spaniards 
advanced with precipitation towards the second 
breach. The Mexicans hemmed them in on every 
side, and though they defended themselves with 
their usual courage, yet crowded together as they 
were on a narrow causeway, their discipline and 
military skill were of little avail, nor did the ob¬ 
scurity of the night permit them to derive great 
advantage from their fire-arms, or the superiority of 
their other weapons. All Mexico was now in arms, 
and so eager were the people on the destruction of 
their oppressors, that they who were not near 
enough to annoy them in person, impatient of the 
delay, pressed forward with such ardour, as drove 
on their countrymen in the front with irresistible 
violence. Fresh warriors instantly filled the place 
of such as fell. The Spaniards, weary with slaughter, 
and unable to sustain the weight of the torrent that 
poured in upon them, began to give way. In a 
moment the confusion was universal; horse and 
foot, officers and soldiers, friends and enemies, 
were mingled together; and while all fought, and 
many fell, they could hardly distinguish from what 
hand the blow came. 

Cortes, with about a hundred foot 
soldiers and a few horse, forced his 
way over the two remaining breaches in the cause¬ 
way, the bodies of the dead serving to fill up the 
chasms, and reached the main land. Having formed 
them as soon as they arrived, he returned with such 
as were yet capable of service, to assist his friends 
in their retreat, and to encourage them, by his pre¬ 
sence and example, to persevere in the efforts requi¬ 
site to effect it. He met with part of his soldiers, 
who had broke through the enemy, but found many 
more overwhelmed by the multitude of their agres- 
sors, or perishing in the lake ; and heard the piteous 
lamentations of others, whom the Mexicans, having 
taken alive, were carrying off in triumph to be 
sacrificed to the god of war. Before day, all who 
had escaped assembled at Tacuba. But when the 
morning dawned, and discovered to the view of 
Cortes his shattered battalion, reduced to less than 
half its number, the survivors dejected, and most 
of them covered with wounds, the thoughts of what 
they had suffered, and the remembrance of so many 

c Noc/ie Triste is the name by which it is still distinguished in New 
Spain. 

d See Note CXV1IL 


Their disasters, 


faithful friends and gallant followers who had 
fallen in that night of sorrow, 0 pierced his soul 
with such anguish, that while he was forming their 
ranks, and issuing some necessary orders, his soldiers 
observed the tears trickling from his eyes, and re¬ 
marked, with much satisfaction, that while attentive 
to the duties of a general, he was not insensible to 
the feelings of a man. 

In this fatal retreat many officers of , 

and loss. 

distinction perished, and among these 
Velasquez de Leon, who having forsaken the party 
of his kinsjuan, the governor of Cuba, to follow the 
fortune of his companions, was, on that account, as 
well as for^his superior merit, respected by them 
as the secondjierson in the army. All the artillery, 
ammunition, and baggage, were lost; the greater 
part of the horses, and above two thousand Tlas- 
calans, were killed, and only a very small portion 
of the treasure which they had amassed was saved. 
This, which had been always their chief object, 
proved a great cause of their calamity ; for many 
of the soldiers having so overloaded themselves w ith 
bars of gold as rendered them unfit for action, and 
retarded their flight, fell, ignominiously, the victims 
of their own inconsiderate avarice. Amidst so many 
disasters, it was some consolation to find that Aguilar 
and Marina, whose function as interpreters was of 
such essential importance, had made their escape.' 

The first care of Cortes was to find Difficult retreat of 
some shelter for his wearied troops ; the Spanlards * 
for as the Mexicans infested them on every side, and 
the people of Tacuba began to take arms, he could 
not continue in his present station. He directed 
his march towards the rising ground, and having 
fortunately discovered a temple situated on an emi¬ 
nence, took possession of it. There he found not 
only the shelter for which he wished, but, what was 
no less wanted, some provisions to refresh his men; 
and though the enemy did not intermit their attacks 
throughout the day, they were with less difficulty 
prevented from making any impression. During 
this time Cortes was engaged in deep consultation 
with his officers, concerning the route which they 
ought to take in their retreat. They were now on 
the west side of the lake. Tlascala, the only place 
where they could hope for a friendly reception, lay 
about sixty-four miles to the east of Mexico ; f so 
that they were obliged to go round the north end of 
the lake before they could fall into the road which 
led thither. A Tlascalan soldier undertook to be 
their guide, and conducted them through a country, 
in some places marshy, in others mountainous, in 
all ill cultivated and thinly peopled. They marched 
for six days w ith little respite, and under continual 
alarms, numerous bodies of the Mexicans hovering 
around them, sometimes harassing them at a distance 
with their missile weapons, and sometimes attacking 
them closely in front, in rear, in flank, with great 
boldness, as they now knew that they were not in- 

e Cortes Relat. p. 248. B. Diaz, c. 128. Gomara Cron. c. 109. 
Herrera, dec. 2. lib. x. c. 11, 12. 

f Villa Segnor l eatro Americanos, lib. ii. c. 11. 



BOOK V. A. D. 1520.] THE HISTORY 

vincible. Nor were the fatigue and danger of those 
incessant conllicts the worst evils to which they 
were exposed. As the barren country through which 
they passed afforded hardly any provisions, they 
were reduced to feed on berries, roots, and the stalks 
ot green maize ; and at the very time that famine 
was depressing their spirits and wasting their 
strength, their situation required the most vigorous 
and unremitting exertions of courage and activity. 
Amidst those complicated distresses, one circum¬ 
stance supported and animated the Spaniards. 
Their commander sustained this sad reverse of for¬ 
tune with unshaken magnanimity. His presence 
of mind never forsook him ; his sagacity foresaw 
every event, and his vigilance provided for it. He 
was foremost in every danger, and endured every 
hardship with cheerfulness. The difficulties with 
which he was surrounded seemed to call forth new 
talents ; and his soldiers, though despairing them¬ 
selves, continued to follow him with increasing 
confidence in his abilities. 

Battle of On the sixth day they arrived near 

otumba. to otumba, not far from the road be¬ 
tween Mexico and Tlaseala. Early next morning 
they began to advance towards it, flying parties of 
the enemy still hanging on the rear; and, amidst 
the insults with which they accompanied their hos¬ 
tilities, Marina remarked that they often exclaimed 
with exultation, “ Go on, robbers ; go to the place 
where you shall quickly meet the vengeance due 
to your crimes.” The meaning of this threat the 
Spaniards did not comprehend, until they reached 
the summit of an eminence before them. There a 
spacious valley opened to their view covered with 
a vast army, extending as far as the eye could reach. 
The Mexicans, while with one body of their troops 
they harrassed the Spaniards in their retreat, had 
assembled their principal force on the other side of 
the lake ; and marching along the road which led 
directly to Tlaseala, posted it in the plain of Otum¬ 
ba, through which they knew Cortes must pass. At 
the sight of this incredible multitude, which they 
could survey at once from the rising ground, the 
Spaniards were astonished, and even the boldest 
began to despair. But Cortes, without allowing 
leisure for their fears to acquire strength by reflec¬ 
tion, after warning them briefly that no alternative 
now remained but to conquer or to die, led them 
instantly to the charge. The Mexicans waited their 
approach with unusual fortitude. Such, however, 
was the superiority of the Spanish discipline and 
arms, that the impression of this small body was 
irresistible ; and whichever way its force was di¬ 
rected, it penetrated and dispersed the most nume¬ 
rous battalions. But whilfe these gave way in one 
quarter, new combatants advanced from another, 
and the Spaniards, though successful in every at¬ 
tack, were ready to sink under those repeated efforts, 
without seeing any end to their toil, or any hope of 
victory. At that time Cortes observed the great 

S Cortes Relat. p. 219. B. Diaz, c. 128. Gomara Cron. c. 110. Herr. 

3 L 


OF AMERICA. 


881 


July 8. 


standard of the empire, which was carried before 
the Mexican general, advancing; and fortunately 
recollecting to have heard, that on the fate of it 
depended the event of every battle, he assembled a 
few of his bravest officers, whose horses were still 
capable of service, and placing himself at their 
head, pushed forward towards the standard with an 
impetuosity which bore down every thing before it. 
A chosen body of nobles, who guarded the standard, 
made some resistance, but were soon broken. 
Cortes, with a stroke of his lance, wounded the 
Mexican general, and threw him to the ground. 
One of the Spanish officers alighting, put an end 
to his life, and laid hold of the imperial standard. 
The moment that their leader fell, and the standard, 
towards which all directed their eyes, disappeared, 
an universal panic struck the Mexicans, and, as if 
the bond which held them together had been dis¬ 
solved, every ensign was lowered, each soldier 
threw away his weapons, and all fled with precipi¬ 
tation to the mountains. The Spaniards, unable to 
pursue them far, returned to collect the spoils of 
the field, which were so valuable as to be some 
compensation for the wealth which they had lost in 
Mexico ; for in the enemy’s army were most of their 
principal warriors, dressed out in their richest or¬ 
naments, as if they had been marching to assured 
victory. Next day, to their great joy, 
they entered the Tlascalan territories. 8 

But amidst their satisfaction in hav- 

. ... Reception of the 

ing got beyond the precincts ot an hostile Spaniards in 
country, they could not look forward lla5cala ‘ 
without solicitude, as they were still uncertain what 
reception they might meet with from allies, to whom 
they returned in a condition very different from that 
in which they had lately set out from their domi¬ 
nions. Happily for them, the enmity of the Tlas- 
calans to the Mexican name was so inveterate, their 
desire to avenge the death of their countrymen so 
vehement, and the ascendant which Cortes had 
acquired over the chiefs of the republic so complete, 
that far from entertaining a thought of taking any 
advantage of the distressed situation in which they 
beheld the Spaniards, they received them with a 
tenderness and cordiality which quickly dissipated 
all their suspicions. 

Some interval of tranquillity and ^ cw c i e iibera- 
indulgence was now absolutely neces- tlons of Cortes - 
sary ; not only that the Spaniards might give atten¬ 
tion to the cure of their wounds, which had been 
too long neglected, but in order to recruit their 
strength, exhausted by such a long succession of 
fatigue and hardships. During this, Cortes learned 
that he and his companions were not the only Spa¬ 
niards who had felt the effects of the Mexican 
enmity. A considerable detachment which was 
marching from Zempoalla towards the capital had 
been cut off by the people of Tepeaca. A smaller 
party, returning from Tlaseala to Yera Cruz, with 
the share of the Mexican gold allotted to the garri- 


dec. 2. lib. x. c. 12, 13. 



882 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1520. BOOK V. 


son, liad been surprised and destroyed in the moun¬ 
tains. At a juncture when the life of every Spa¬ 
niard was of importance, such losses were deeply 
felt. The schemes which Cortes was meditating 
rendered them peculiarly afllictive to him. While 
his enemies, and even many of his own followers, 
considered the disasters which had befallen him as 
fatal to the progress of his arms, and imagined that 
nothing now remained hut speedily to abandon a 
country which he had invaded with unequal force, 
his mind, as eminent for perseverance as for enter¬ 
prise, was still bent on accomplishing his original 
purpose, of subjecting the Mexican empire to the 
crown of Castile. Severe and unexpected as the 
check was which he had received, it did not appear 
to him a sufficient reason for relinquishing the con¬ 
quests which he had already made, or against re¬ 
suming his operations with better hopes of success. 
The colonj^ at Vera Cruz was not only safe, but bad 
remained unmolested. The people of Zempoalla 
and the adjacent districts had discovered no symp¬ 
toms of defection. The Tlascalans continued faith¬ 
ful to their alliance. On their martial spirit, easily 
roused to arms, and inflamed with implacable 
hatred of the Mexicans, Cortes depended for power¬ 
ful aid. He had still the command of a body of 
Spaniards, equal in number to that with which he 
had opened his way into the centre of the empire, 
and had taken possession of the capital; so that 
with the benefit of greater experience, as well as 
more perfect knowledge of the country, he did not 
despair of quickly recovering all that he had been 
deprived of by untoward events. 

The measures he Full °f this idea, lie COUlted the 
takes. Tlascalan chiefs with such attention, 
and distributed among them so liberally the rich 
spoils of Otumba, that he was secure of obtaining 
whatever he should require of the republic. He 
di ew a small supply of ammunition, and two or 
three field-pieces, from his stores at Vera Cruz. 
He despatched an officer of confidence with four 
ships of Narvaez’s lleet to Hispaniola and Jamaica, 
to engage adventurers, and to purchase horses, gun¬ 
powder, and other military stores. As he knew 
that it would be vain to attempt the reduction of 
Mexico unless he could secure the command of 
the lake, he gave orders to prepare, in the moun¬ 
tains of Tlascala, materials for building twelve 
brigantines, so as they might be carried thither in 
pieces ready to be put together, and launched when 
he stood in need of their service.' 1 

Mutinous spirit But while, with provident attention, 
ot ins troops. j ie was taking those necessary steps 

towards the execution of his measures, an obstacle 
arose in a quarter where it was least expected, but 
most formidable. The spirit of discontent and mu¬ 
tiny broke out in his own army. Many of Nar¬ 
vaez’s followers were planters rather than soldiers, 
and had accompanied him to New Spain with san¬ 
guine hopes of obtaining settlements, but with little 

h Cortes Relat. p. 253. E. Gomara Cron. c. 117 . 


inclination to engage in the hardships and dangers 
of war. As the same motives had induced them to 
enter into their new engagements with Cortes, they 
no sooner became acquainted with the nature of the 
service, than they bitterly repented of their choice. 
Such of them as had the good fortune to survive the 
perilous adventures in which their own imprudence 
had involved them, happy in having made their 
escape, trembled at the thoughts of being exposed 
a second time to similar calamities. As soon as 
they discovered the intention of Cortes, they began 
secretly to murmur and cabal, and waxing gradu¬ 
ally more audacious, they, in a body, offered a re¬ 
monstrance to their general against the imprudence 
of attacking ^a powerful empire with his shattered 
forces, and formally required him to lead them back 
directly to Cuba. Though Cortes, long practised in 
the arts of command, employed arguments, entrea¬ 
ties, and presents to convince or to soothe them; 
though his own soldiers, animated with the spirit of 
their leader, warmly seconded his endeavours ; he 
found their fears too violent and deep-rooted to be 
removed, and the utmost he could effect was to pre¬ 
vail with them to defer their departure for some 
time, on a promise that he would, at a more proper 
juncture, dismiss such as should desire it. 

That the malcontents might have no 

Means he em- 

leisure to brood over the causes of ploys to revive 
..... . their confidence. 

their disaflection, he resolved instantly 
to call forth his troops into action. He proposed to 
chastise the people of Tepeaca for the outrage which 
they had committed, and as the detachment which 
they had cut off happened to be composed mostly 
of soldiers wbo had served under Narvaez, their 
companions, from the desire of vengeance, engaged 
the more willingly in this war. He 
took the command in person, accom¬ 
panied by a numerous body of Tlascalans, and in 
the space of a few weeks, after various encounters, 
w ith great slaughter of the Tepeacans, reduced that 
province to subjection. During several months, 
while he waited for the supplies of men and ammu¬ 
nition which he expected, and was carrying on his 
preparations for constructing the brigantines, he 
kept his troops constantly employed in various 
expeditions against the adjacent provinces, all of 
which were conducted with an uniform tenor of 
success. By these, his men became again accus¬ 
tomed to victory, and resumed their wonted sense 
of superiority ; the Mexican power was weakened ; 
the Tlascalan warriors acquired the habit of acting 
in conjunction with the Spaniards ; and the chiefs 
of the republic, delighted to see their country en¬ 
riched with the spoils of all the people around them, 
and astonished every day with fresh discoveries of 
the irresistible prowess of their allies, declined no 
effort requisite to support them. 

All those preparatory arrangements, 
however, though the most prudent . several reinforci,- 
and efficacious which the situation of m " ut “' 


August. 




BOOK V. A. I). 1520.] THE HISTORY 

Cortes allowed him to make, would have been of 
little avail without a reinforcement of Spanish 
soldiers. Of this he was so deeply sensible, that it 
was the chief object of his thoughts and wishes; 
and yet his only prospect of obtaining it, from 
the return of the officer whom he had sent to the 
isles to solicit aid, was both distant and uncer¬ 
tain. But what neither his own sagacity nor power 
could have procured, he owed to a series of fortu¬ 
nate and unforeseen incidents. The governor of 
Cuba, to whom the success of Narvaez appeared an 
event of infallible certainty, having sent two small 
ships after him with new instructions, and a supply 
of men and military stores, the officer whom Cortes 
had appointed to command on the coast, artfully de¬ 
coyed them into the harbour of Yera Cruz, seized 
the vessels, and easily persuaded the soldiers to 
follow the standard of a more able leader than him 
whom they were destined to join. 1 Soon after, three 
ships of more considerable force came into the har¬ 
bour separately. These belonged to an armament 
fitted out by Francisco de Garay, governor of Ja¬ 
maica, who, being possessed with the rage of dis¬ 
covery and conquest which animated every Spaniard 
settled in America, had long aimed at intruding into 
some district of New Spain, and dividing with 
Cortes the glory and gain of annexing that empire 
to the crown of Castile. They unadvisedly made 
their attempt on the northern provinces, where the 
country was poor, and the people fierce and warlike ; 
and after a cruel succession of disasters, famine 
compelled them to venture into Yera Cruz, and cast 
^ , themselves upon the mercy of their 

countrymen. Their fidelity was not 
proof against the splendid hopes and promises which 
had seduced other adventurers, and, as if the spirit 
of revolt had been contagious in New Spain, they 
likewise abandoned the master whom they were 
bound to serve, and enlisted under Cortes. k Nor 
was it America alone that furnished such unexpect¬ 
ed aid ; a ship arrived from Spain, freighted by 
some private merchants with military stores, in 
hopes of a profitable market in a country, the fame 
of whose opulence began to spread over Europe. 
Cortes eagerly purchased a cargo which to him was 
invaluable, and the crew, following the general ex¬ 
ample, joined him atTlascala. 1 

From those various quarters, the army of Cortes 
was augmented with a hundred and eighty men, 
and twenty horses, a reinforcement too inconsider¬ 
able to produce any consequence which would en¬ 
title it to have been mentioned in the history of 
other parts of the globe. But in that of America, 
where great revolutions were brought about by 
causes which seemed to bear no proportion to their 
effects, such small events rise into importance, be¬ 
cause they were sufficient to decide with respect to 
the fate of kingdoms. Nor is it the least remark¬ 
able instance of the singular felicity conspicuous in 


OF AMERICA. 


88,‘5 


i B. Diaz, c. 131. 
I Ibid. c. 136. 


k Cortes It el at. 253. F. B. Diaz, c. 133. 
in Cortes Kelat. 255. £. 

3 L 2 


many passages of Cortes’s story, that the two persons 
chiefly instrumental in furnishing him with those 
seasonable supplies, should be an avowed enemy 
who aimed at his destruction, and an envious rival 
who wished to supplant him. 

The first effect of the junction w ith Number of his 
his new followers was to enable him forces, 
to dismiss such of Narvaez’s soldiers as remained 
with reluctance in his service. After their depar¬ 
ture, he still mustered five hundred and fifty infan¬ 
try, of which fourscore were armed w ith muskets or 
cross-bows, forty horsemen, and a train of nine 
field-pieces. 111 At the head of these, accompanied 
by ten thousand Tlascalans and other friendly In¬ 
dians, Cortes began his march towards Mexico, on 
the twenty-eighth of December, six months after 
his disastrous retreat from that city." 

Nor did he advance to attack an 
enemy unprepared to receive him. the. Mexicans for 
Upon the death of Montezuma, the theJr detence - 
Mexican chiefs, in whom the right of electing the 
emperor was vested, had instantly raised his brother 
Quetlavaca to the throne. His avowed and inve¬ 
terate enmity to the Spaniards would have been 
sufficient to gain their suffrages, although he had 
been less distinguished for courage and capacity. 
He had an immediate opportunity of showing that 
he was worthy of their choice, by conducting, in 
person, those fierce attacks which compelled the 
Spaniards to abandon his capital; and as soon as 
their retreat afforded them any respite from action, 
he took measures for preventing their return to 
Mexico, with prudence equal to the spirit which he 
had displayed in driving them out of it. As, from 
the vicinity of Tlascala, he could not be unac¬ 
quainted with the motions and intentions of Cortes, 
he observed the storm that was gathering, and began 
early to provide against it. He repaired w hat the 
Spaniards had ruined in the city, and strengthened 
it with such new fortifications as the skill of his 
subjects was capable of erecting. Besides filling his 
magazines with the usual weapons of war, he gave di¬ 
rections to make long spears headed with the swmrds 
and daggers taken from the Spaniards, in order 
to annoy the cavalry. He summoned the people 
in every province of the empire to take arms against 
their oppressors, and as an encouragement to exert 
themselves with vigour, he promised them exemp¬ 
tion from all the taxes which his predecessors had 
imposed. 0 But what he laboured with the greatest 
earnestness was, to deprive the Spaniards of the 
advantages which they derived from the friendship 
of the Tlascalans, by endeavouring to persuade that 
people to renounce all connexion with men, who 
were not only avowed enemies of the gods whom 
they worshipped, but who would not fail to subject 
them at last to the same yoke, which they were now 
inconsiderately lending their aid to impose upon 
others. These representations, no less striking than 

n Belat. 256. A. B. Diaz, c. 137. 

o.Cortes Rclat. p. 253. E. 254. A. B. Diaz, c. 140. 





884 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1621. BOOK Y. 


well founded, were urged so forcibly by his ambas¬ 
sadors, that it required all the address of Cortes to 
prevent their making a dangerous impression .p 
B ut while Quetlavaca was arranging his plan of 
defence, with a degree of foresight uncommon in 
an American, his days were cut short by the small¬ 
pox. This distemper, which raged at that time in 
New Spain with fatal malignity, was unknown in 
that quarter of the globe until it was introduced by 
the Europeans, and may be reckoned among the 
greatest calamities brought upon them by their in¬ 
vaders. In his stead the Mexicans raised to the 
throne Guatimozin, nephew and son-in-law of Mon¬ 
tezuma, a young man of such high reputation for 
abilities and valour, that in this dangerous crisis 
his countrymen, with one voice, called him to the 
supreme command/ 

As soon as Cortes entered the enemy’s 


1521. 


Cortes advances territories, he discovered various pre- 
towards Mexico. . ... V. 

parations to obstruct his progress. But 


his troops forced their way with little difficulty, and 
took possession of Tezeuco, the second city of the 
empire, situated on the banks of the lake, about 
twenty miles from Mexico/ Here he determined to 
establish his head-quarters, as the most proper sta¬ 
tion for launching his brigantines, as well as for 
making his approaches to the capital. In order to 
render his residence there more secure, he deposed 
the cazique or chief who was at the head of that 
community, under pretext of some defect in his 
title, and substituted in his place a person whom a 
faction of the nobles pointed out as the right heir of 
that dignity. Attached to him by this benefit, the 
new cazique and his adherents served the Spaniards 
with inviolable fidelity/ 

As the preparations for constructing 


His operations 

slow and cau- the brigantines advanced slowly under 


the unskilful hands of soldiers and 
Indians, whom Cortes was obliged to employ in as¬ 
sisting three or four carpenters who happened for¬ 
tunately to be in his service, and as he had not yet 
received the reinforcement which he expected from 
Hispaniola, he was not in a condition to turn his 
arms directly against the capital. To have attacked, 
at this period, a city so populous, so well prepared 
for defence, and in a situation of such peculiar 
strength, must have exposed his troops to inevit¬ 
able destruction. Three months elapsed before the 
materials for the brigantines were finished, and be¬ 
fore he heard any thing with respect to the success 
of the officer whom he had sent to Hispaniola. This, 
however, was not a season of inaction to Cortes. He 
attacked successively several of the towns situated 
around the lake ; and though all the Mexican power 
was exerted to obstruct his operations, he either 
compelled them to submit to the Spanish crown, or 
reduced them to ruins. The inhabitants of other 
towns he endeavoured to conciliate by more gentle 


p R. Diaz, c. 129. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. x c. 14, 19. 
q B, Dia 2 , c. ISO. 

r Villa Segnor l eatro Americanos, i. 156. 


means, and though he could not hold any inter¬ 
course with them but by the intervention of inter¬ 
preters, yet, under all the disadvantage of that te¬ 
dious and imperfect mode of communication, I e 
had acquired such thorough know ledge of the state 
of the country, as well as of the dispositions of the 
people, that he conducted his negociations and 
intrigues with astonishing dexterity and success. 
Most of the cities adjacent to Mexico were origin¬ 
ally the capitals of small independent states; and 
soipe of them, having been but lately annexed to the 
Mexican empire, still retained the remembrance of 
their 1 ancient liberty, and bore with impatience the 
rigoroqs yoke of their new masters. Cortes, hav¬ 
ing early observed symptoms of their disaffection, 
availed himself of this knowledge to gain their con¬ 
fidence and friendship. By offering with confidence 
to deliver them from the odious dominion of the 
Mexicans, and by liberal promises of more indul¬ 
gent treatment if they would unite with him against 
their oppressors, he prevailed on the people of seve¬ 
ral considerable districts, not only to acknowledge 
the king of Castile as their sovereign, but to supply 
the Spanish camp w ith provisions, and to strengthen 
his army with auxiliary troops. Guatimozin, on 
the first appearance of defection among his subjects, 
exerted himself with vigour to prevent or to punish 
their revolt; but, in spite of his efforts, the spirit 
continued to spread. The Spaniards gradually ac¬ 
quired new allies, and with deep concern he beheld 
Cortes arming against his empire those very hands 
which ought to have been active in its defence ; and 
ready to advance against the capital at the head of 
a numerous body of his own subjects/ 

While, by those various methods, Cortes was 
gradually circumscribing the Mexican power in 
such a manner that his prospect of overturning it 
seemed neither to be uncertain nor remote, all his 
schemes were well nigh defeated by a conspiracy 
no less unexpected than dangerous. The soldiers 
of Narvaez had never united perfectly with the 
original companions of Cortes, nor did they enter 
into his measures with the same cordial zeal. Upon 
every occasion that required any extraordinary 
effort of courage or of patience, their spirits were 
apt to sink ; and now, on a near view of what they 
had to encounter, in attempting to reduce a city so 
inaccessible as Mexico, and defended by a numer¬ 
ous army, the resolution even of those among them 
who had adhered to Cortes when he was deserted 
by their associates, began to fail. Their fears led 
them to presumptuous and unsoldier-like discus¬ 
sions concerning the propriety of their general’s 
measures, and the improbability of their success. 
From these they proceeded to censure and invec¬ 
tives, and at last began to deliberate how they 
might provide for their own safety, of which they 
deemed their commander to be totally negligent 


B. Diaz, c. 137. 


s Cortes Belat. 256. &c. 

Herrera, dec. 3. c. 1. 

t Cortes Re]at. 256—260. B. Diaz, c. 137-140. 
122, 123. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. i. c. 1,2. 


Gomara Cron. c. 121, 
Gomara Cron. c. 





THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


885 


BOOK V. A. D. 1521.] 

Antonio Villefagna, a private soldier, but bold, in¬ 
triguing, and strongly attached to Velasquez, art¬ 
fully fomented this growing spirit of disaffection. 
His quarters became the rendezvous of the mal¬ 
contents, where, after many consultations, they 
could discover no method of checking Cortes in his 
career, but by assassinating him and his most con¬ 
siderable officers, and conferring the command upon 
some person who would relinquish his wild plans, 
and adopt measures more consistent with the gene¬ 
ral security. Despair inspired them with courage. 
The hour for perpetrating the crime, the persons 
whom they destined as victims, the officers to suc¬ 
ceed them in command, were all named ; and the 
conspirators signed an association, by which they 
bound themselves with most solemn oaths to mutual 
fidelity. But on the evening before the appointed 
day, one of Cortes’s ancient followers, who had 
been seduced into the conspiracy, touched with 
compunction at the imminent danger of a man 
whom he had long been accustomed to revere, or 
struck with horror at his own treachery, went 
privately to his general, and revealed to him all 
that he knew. Cortes, though deeply alarmed, 
discerned at once what conduct was proper in a 
situation so critical. He repaired instantly to Vil- 
lefagna’s quarters, accompanied by some of his 
most trusty officers. The astonishment and confu¬ 
sion of the man at this unexpected visit anticipated 
the confession of his guilt. Cortes, while his at¬ 
tendants seized the traitor, snatched from his bosom 
a paper containing the association, signed by the 
conspirators. Impatient to know how r far the de¬ 
fection extended, he retired to read it, and found 
there names which filled him with surprise and 
sorrow. But aw^are how dangerous a strict scrutiny 
might prove at such a juncture, he confined his 
judicial inquiries to Villefagna alone. As the proofs 
of his guilt were manifest, he was condemned after 
a short trial, and next morning he was seen hanging 
before the doorof the house in which he had lodged. 
Cortes called his troops together, and having ex¬ 
plained to them the atrocious purpose of the con¬ 
spirators, as well as the justice of the punishment 
inflicted on Villefagna, he added, with an appear¬ 
ance of satisfaction, that he was entirely ignorant 
with respect to all the circumstances of this dark 
transaction, as the traitor, when arrested, had sud¬ 
denly torn and swallowed a paper which probably 
contained an account of it, and under the severest 
tortures possessed such constancy as to conceal the 
names of his accomplices. This artful declaration 
restored tranquillity to many a breast that was 
throbbing, while he spoke, with consciousness of 
guilt and dread of detection ; and by this prudent 
moderation, Cortes had the advantage of having 
discovered, and of being able to observe, such of 
his followers as were disaffected ; while they, flatter¬ 
ing themselves that their past crime was unknown, 

u Cortes Relat. 283. C. B. Diaz, c. 146. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. i. c. 1. 

x Cortes Relat..260. C. E. B. Diaz, c. 140. 


endeavoured to avert any suspicion of it, by re¬ 
doubling their activity and zeal in his service. 11 

Cortes did not allow them leisure nj S singular 
to ruminate on what had happened; {o^u'ibVing 
and, as the most effectual means of bn s antines - 
preventing the return of a mutinous spirit, he de¬ 
termined to call forth his troops immediately to 
action. Fortunately a proper occasion for this 
occurred without his seeming to court it. He re¬ 
ceived intelligence that the materials for building 
the brigantines were at length completely finished, 
and waited only for a body of Spaniards to conduct 
them to Tezeuco. The command of this convoy, 
consisting of two hundred foot soldiers, fifteen 
horsemen, and two field-pieces, he gave to San¬ 
doval, who, by the vigilance, activity, and courage 
which he manifested on every occasion, was grow¬ 
ing daily in his confidence, and in the estimation of 
his fellow-soldiers. The service was no less singu¬ 
lar than important; the beams, the planks, the 
masts, the cordage, the sails, the iron-work, and all 
the infinite variety of articles requisite for the con¬ 
struction of thirteen brigantines, were to be carried 
sixty miles over land, through a mountainous coun¬ 
try, by people who were unacquainted with the 
ministry of domestic animals, or the aid of machines 
to facilitate any work of labour. The Tlascalans 
furnished eight thousand Tamenes, an inferior order 
of men destined for servile tasks, to carry the mate¬ 
rials on their shoulders, and appointed fifteen 
thousand w arriors to accompany and defend them. 
Sandoval made the disposition for their progress 
with great propriety, placing the Tamenes in the 
centre, one body of warriors in the front, another in 
the rear, with considerable parties to cover the 
flanks. To each of these he joined some Spaniards, 
not only to assist them in danger, but to accustom 
them to regularity and subordination. A body so 
numerous, and so much encumbered, advanced 
leisurely, but in excellent order; and in some 
places, where it was confined by the woods or 
mountains, the line of march extended above six 
miles. Parties of Mexicans frequently appeared 
hovering around them on the high grounds; but 
perceiving no prospect of success in attacking an 
enemy continually on his guard, and prepared to 
receive them, they did not venture to molest him ; 
and Sandoval had the glory of conducting safely to 
Tezeuco a convoy on which all the future opera¬ 
tions of his countrymen depended. x 

This was followed by another event Receives a ncw 
of no less moment. Four ships arrived r « mtorcemeut - 
at Yera Cruz from Hispaniola, with two hundred 
soldiers, eighty horses, two battering cannon, and 
a considerable supply of ammunition and arms.* 
Elevated with observing that all his preparatory 
schemes, either for recruiting his own army, or 
impairing the force of the enemy, had now produced 
their full effect, Cortes, impatient to begin the siege 

y Cortes Relat. 259. F. 262. D. Gomara Cron. c. 129. 



H8f> 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. I). 1521. ROOK V. 


in form, hastened the launching of the brigantines. 
To facilitate this lie had employed a vast number 
of Indians, for two months, in deepening the small 
rivulet which runs by Tezeuco into the lake, and in 
forming it into a canal near two miles in length ; z 
and though the Mexicans, aware of his intentions, 
as well as of the danger which threatened them, 
endeavoured frequently to interrupt the labourers, 
or to burn the brigantines, the work was at last 

The brigantines completed." On the twenty-eighth of 
launched. April all the Spanish troops, together 

with the auxiliary Indians, were drawn up on the 
banks of the canal; and with extraordinary military 
pomp, rendered more solemn by the celebration of 
the most sacred rites of religion, the brigantines 
were launched. As they fell down the canal in 
order, father Olinedo blessed them, and gave each 
its name. Every eye followed them with wonder 
and hope, until they entered the lake, when they 
hoisted their sails, and bore away before the wind. 
A general shout of joy was raised ; all admiring 
that bold inventive genius, which, by means so 
extraordinary that their success almost exceeded 
belief, had acquired the command of a fleet, with¬ 
out the aid of which Mexico would have continued 
to set the Spanish power and arms at defiance. 5 

Dispositions for Cortes determined to attack the city 
the siege. from three different quarters; from Te- 

peaca on the north side of the lake, from Tacuba on 
the west, and from Cuyocan towards the south. 
Those towns were situated on the principal cause¬ 
ways which led to the capital, and intended for their 
defence. He appointed Sandoval to command in 
the first, Pedro de Alvarado in the second, and 
Christoval de Olid in the third ; allotting to each a 
numerous body of Indian auxiliaries, together with 
an equal division of Spaniards, who, by the junc¬ 
tion of the troops from Hispaniola, amounted now 
to eighty-six horsemen, and eight hundred and 
eighteen foot soldiers ; of whom one hundred and 
eighteen were armed with muskets or cross-bow s. 
The train of artillery consisted of three battering 
cannon, and fifteen field-pieces. c He reserved for 
himself, as the station of greatest importance and 
danger, the conduct of the brigantines, each armed 
with one of his small cannon, and manned with 
twenty-five Spaniards. 

As Alvarado and Olid proceeded 
towards the posts assigned them, they 
broke down the aqueducts which the ingenuity of 
the Mexicans had erected for conveying water into 
the capital, and by the distress to which this reduced 
the inhabitants, gave a beginning to the calamities 
which they were destined to suffer. d Alvarado and 
Olid found the towns of which they were ordered to 
take possession deserted by their inhabitants, who 
had fled for safety to the capital, were Guatimozin 
had collected the chief force of his empire, as there 
alone he could hope to make a successful stand 

7. See Note CXIX. a B. Diaz, c. 140. 

b Cortes Relat. 266. C. Ilerr. dec. 3. lib, i. c. 5. Gomara Cron. c. 129. 

c Cortes Relat. 266. C. 


May 10. 


Repulsed. 


against the formidable enemies who were approach¬ 
ing to assault him. 

The first effort of the Mexicans was Mexic ., ns attack 
to destroy the fleet of brigantines, the the bllgantmes - 
fatal effects of whose operations they foresaw and 
dreaded. Though the brigantines, after all the 
labour and merit of Cortes in forming them, were of 
inconsiderable bulk, rudely constructed, and manned 
chiefly with landsmen, hardly possessed of skill 
enough to conduct them, they must have been 
dbjects of terror to a people unacquainted with any 
navigation but that of their lake, and possessed of 
no vessel larger than a canoe. Necessity, however, 
urgncTHuatimozin to hazard the attack; and hoping 
to supply by numbers what he wanted in force, he 
assembled such a multitude of canoes as covered 
the face of the lake. They rowed on boldly to the 
charge, while the brigantines, retarded by a dead 
calm, could scarcely advance to meet them. But as 
the enemy drew near, a breeze suddenly sprung up; 
in a moment the sails were spread, the brigantines, 
with the utmost ease broke through 
their feeble opponents, overset many 
canoes, and dissipated the whole armament with 
such slaughter as convinced the Mexicans, that the 
progress of the Europeans in knowledge and arts 
rendered their superiority greater on this new 
element than they had hitherto found it by land. e 

From that time Cortes remained 

master of the lake, and the brigantines conducting the 

sie^e 

not only preserved a communication 
between the Spaniards in their different stations, 
though at considerable distance from each other, 
but were employed to cover the causeways on each 
side, and keep off the canoes, w hen they attempted 
to annoy the troops as they advanced towards the 
city. Cortes formed the brigantines in three divi¬ 
sions, appointing one to cover each of the stations 
from which an attack was to be carried on against 
the city, with orders to second the operations of the 
officer who commanded there. From all the three 
stations he pushed on the attack against the city 
with equal vigour ; but in a manner so very differ¬ 
ent from the conduct of sieges in regular w ar, that 
he himself seems afraid it would appear no less 
improper than singular, to persons unacquainted 
with his situation/ Each morning his troops as¬ 
saulted the barricades which the enemy had erected 
on the causeways, forced their way over the trenches 
which they had dug, and through the canals where 
the bridges w ere broken dow n, and endeavoured to 
penetrate into the heart of the city, in hopes of 
obtaining some decisive advantage, which might 
force the enemy to surrender, and terminate the war 
at once; but when the obstinate valour of the 
Mexicans rendered the efforts of the day ineffectual, 
the Spaniards retired in the evening to their former 
quarters. Thus their toil and danger were, in some 
measure, continually renewed ; the Mexicans re- 

d Cortes Relat. 267- B. B. Diaz, c. 150. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. i. c. 13. 

e Cortes Kelat. 267. C. B. Diaz. c. 150. Gomara Cron. c. 131. Herr, 
dec. 3. lib. l. c. 17 . f Cortes Relat. 270. I\ 





BOOK Y. A. D. 1521.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


887 


pairing in the night what the Spaniards had de¬ 
stroyed through the day, and recovering the posts 
from which they had driven them. But necessity 
prescribed this slow and untoward mode of opera¬ 
tion. The number of his troops was so small, that 
Cortes durst not, with a handful of men, attempt to 
make a lodgment in a city where he might be sur¬ 
rounded and annoyed by such a multitude of ene¬ 
mies. The remembrance of what he had already 
suflered by the ill-judged confidence with which he 
had ventured into such a dangerous situation, was 
still fresh in his mind. The Spaniards, exhausted 
with fatigue, were unable to guard the various posts 
which they daily gained ; and though their camp 
was filled with Indian auxiliaries, they durst not 
devolve this charge upon them, because they were 
so little accustomed to discipline, that no confidence 
could be placed in their vigilance. Besides this, 
Cortes was extremely solicitous to preserve the city 
as much as possible from being destroyed, both 
because he destined it to be the capital of his con¬ 
quests, and wished that it might remain as a monu¬ 
ment of his glory. From all these considerations, 
he adhered obstinately, for a month after the siege 
was opened, to the system which he had adopted. 
The Mexicans, in their own defence, displayed 
valour which was hardly inferior to that with which 
the Spaniards attacked them. On land, on water, 
by night and by day, one furious conflict succeeded 
to another. Several Spaniards were killed, more 
wounded, and all were ready to sink under the 
toils of unintermitting service, which were rendered 
more intolerable by the injuries of the season, the 
periodical rains being now set in with their usual 
violence.® 

Astonished and disconcerted with 

Endeavours to . . , , -. „ . . e, 

take the city by the length and difficulties or the siege, 
storm. . 

Cortes determined to make one great 
effort to get possession of the city, before he relin¬ 
quished the plan which he had hitherto followed, 
and had recourse to any other mode of attack. 
With this view, he sent instructions to Alvarado 
and Sandoval to advance with their divisions to a 
general assault, and took the command in person of 
that posted on the causeway of Cuyocan. Animated 
by his presence, and the expectation 
of some decisive event, the Spaniards 
pushed forward with irresistible impetuosity. They 
broke through one barricade after another, forced 
their w ay over the ditches and canals, and having 
entered the city, gained ground incessantly, in spite 
of the multitude and ferocity of their opponents. 
Cortes, though delighted with the rapidity of his 
progress, did not forget that he might still find it 
necessary to retreat; and in order to secure it, 
appointed Julien de Alderete, a captain of chief 
note in the troops which he had received from 
Hispaniola, to fill up the canals and gaps in the 
causeway as the main body advanced. That 


July 3. 


Repulsed, 


officer, deeming it inglorious to be thus employed 
while his companions were in the heat of action 
and the career of victory, neglected the important 
charge committed to him, and hurried on, incon¬ 
siderately, to mingle with the combatants. The 
Mexicans, whose military attention and skill were 
daily improving, no sooner observed this, than they 
carried an account of it to their monarch. 

Guatimozin instantly discerned the 
consequence of the error which the 
Spaniards had committed, and, with admirable 
presence of mind, prepared to take advantage of it. 
He commanded the troops posted in the front to 
slacken their efforts, in order to allure the Spaniards 
to push forward, while he despatched a large body 
of chosen warriors through different streets, some 
by land, and others by water, towards the great 
breach in the causeway, which had been left open. 
On a signal which he gave, the priests in the prin¬ 
cipal temple struck the great drum consecrated to 
the god of war. No sooner did the Mexicans hear 
its doleful solemn sound, calculated to inspire them 
with contempt of death and enthusiastic ardour, 
than they rushed upon the enemy with frantic rage. 
The Spaniards, unable to resist men urged on no 
less by religious fury than hope of success, began 
to retire, at first leisurely, and with a good counte¬ 
nance ; but as the enemy pressed on, and their ow n 
impatience to escape increased, the terror and con¬ 
fusion became so general, that when they arrived 
at the gap in the causeway, Spaniards and Tlasca- 
lans, horsemen and infantry, plunged in promiscu¬ 
ously, w hile the Mexicans rushed upon them fiercely 
from every side, their light canoes carrying them 
through shoals which the brigantines could not ap¬ 
proach. In vain did Cortes attempt to stop and 
rally his flying troops; fear rendered them regard¬ 
less of his entreaties or commands. Finding all his 
endeavours to renew the combat fruitless, his next 
care was to save some of those who had thrown 
themselves into the water; but while thus em¬ 
ployed, with more attention to their situation than 
to his own, six Mexican captains suddenly laid 
hold of him, and were hurrying him off in triumph ; 
and though two of his officers rescued him at the 
expense of their own lives, he received several dan¬ 
gerous wounds before he could break w ith consider- 
loose. Above sixty Spaniards perished able loss, 
in the rout; and what rendered the disaster more 
afflicting, forty of these fell alive into the hands of 
an enemy never known to show mercy to a captive. 11 

The approach of night, though it 

. Those who were 

delivered the dejected Spaniards from taken sacrificed 

, i . to the god of war. 

the attacks of the enemy, ushered in 
what was hardly less grievous, the noise of their 
barbarous triumph, and of the horrid festival with 
w hich they celebrated their victory. Every quarter 
of the city was illuminated; the great temple shone 
with such peculiar splendour, that the Spaniards 

h Cortes Kelat. p. 273. B. Diaz, c. 152. Gomara Cron. c. 138. Her. 
dec. 3. lib. i. c. 23. 


g B. Diaz, c. 151. 




888 THE HISTORY 

could plainly see the people in motion, and the 
priests busy in hastening the preparations for the 
death of the prisoners. Through the gloom, they 
fancied that they discerned their companions by 
the whiteness of their skins, as they were stript 
naked, and compelled to dance before the image of 
the god to whom they were to be offered. They 
heard the shrieks of those who were sacrificed, and 
thought that they could distinguish each unhappy 
victim by the well-known sound of his voice. Ima¬ 
gination added to what they really saw or heard, 
and augmented its horror. The most unfeeling 
melted into tears of compassion, and the stoutest 
heart trembled at the dreadful spectacle which they 
beheld.* 

Cortes, who, besides all that he felt 

Wew schemes . ... 

amt efforts of in common with his soldiers, was op- 

the Mexicans. .... 

pressed with the additional load of 
anxious reilections natural to a general on such an 
unexpected calamity, could not, like them, relieve 
his mind by giving vent to its anguish. He was 
obliged to assume an air of tranquillity, in order to 
revive the spirit and hopes of his followers. The 
juncture, indeed, required an extraordinary exer¬ 
tion of fortitude. The Mexicans, elated with their 
victory, sallied out next morning to attack him in 
his quarters. But they did not rely on the efforts 
of their own arms alone. They sent the heads of 
the Spaniards whom they had sacrificed to the lead¬ 
ing men in the adjacent provinces, and assured them 
that the god of war, appeased by the blood of their 
invaders, which had been shed so plentifully on his 
altars, had declared with an audible voice, that 
in eight days' time those hated enemies should be 
finally destroyed, and peace and prosperity re¬ 
established in the empire. 

A prediction uttered with such con- 

Cortes deserted 

by many of his fidence, and in terms so void of ambi- 

Jndian allies. 

guity, gained universal credit among 
a people prone to superstition. The zeal of the 
provinces which had already declared against the 
Spaniards augmented; and several which had 
hitherto remained inactive, took arms, with enthu¬ 
siastic ardour, to execute the decree of the gods. 
The Indian auxiliaries who had joined Cortes, ac¬ 
customed to venerate the same deities with the 
Mexicans, and to receive the responses of their 
priests with the same implicit faith, abandoned the 
Spaniards as a race of men devoted to certain de¬ 
struction. Even the fidelity of the Tlascalans was 
shaken, and the Spanish troops were left almost 
alone in their stations. Cortes, finding that he 
attempted in vain to dispel the superstitious fears 
of his confederates by argument, took advantage, 
from the imprudence of those who had framed the 
prophecy, in fixing its accomplishment so near at 
hand, to give a striking demonstration of its falsity, 
lie suspended all military operations during the 
period marked out by the oracle. Under cover of 

i See Note CXX. 

n 0. Diaz, c. 153. Gomara Cron. c. 138. 


OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1521. BOOK V. 

the brigantines, which kept the enemy at a distance, 
his troops lay in safety, and the fatal term expired 
without any disaster. k 

Many of his allies, ashamed of their Hfe regains their 
own credulity, returned to theirstation. friendship. 
Other tribes, judging that the gods who had now 
deceived the Mexicans, had decreed finally to with¬ 
draw their protection from them, joined his standard ; 
and such was the levity of a simple people, moved 
by every slight impression, that in a short time after 
such a general defection of his confederates, Cortes 
saw himself, if we may believe his own account, at 
the head of a hundred and fifty thousand Indians. 
Even with such a numerous army, he and a d op tsanew 
found it necessary to adopt a new and s - ystem otattack - 
more wary system of operation. Instead of renew¬ 
ing his attempts to become master of the city at 
once, by such bold but dangerous efforts of valour 
as he had already tried, he made his advances gra¬ 
dually, and with every possible precaution against 
exposing his men to any calamity similar to that 
which they still bewailed. As the Spaniards pushed 
forward, the Indians regularly repaired the cause¬ 
ways behind them. As soon as they got possession 
of any part of the town, the houses were instantly 
levelled with the ground. Day by day, the Mexi¬ 
cans, forced to retire as theirenemies gained ground, 
were hemmed in within more narrow limits. Gua- 
timozin, though unable to stop the career of the 
enemy, continued to defend his capital with obsti¬ 
nate resolution, and disputed every inch of ground. 
The Spaniards not only varied their mode of attack, 
but, by orders of Cortes, changed the weapons with 
which they fought. They were again armed with 
the long Chinantlan spears, which they had em¬ 
ployed with such success against Narvaez ; and, 
by the firm array in which this enabled them to 
range themselves, they repelled, with little danger, 
the loose assault of the Mexicans ; incredible num¬ 
bers of them fell in the conflicts which they renewed 
every day. 1 While war wasted without, famine 
began to consume them within, the city. The Spa¬ 
nish brigantines, having the entire command of the 
lake, rendered it almost impossible to convey to the 
besieged any supply of provisions by water. The 
immense number of his Indian auxiliaries enabled 
Cortes to shut up the avenues to the city by land. 
The stores which Guatimozin had laid up were 
exhausted by the multitudes which had crowded 
into the capital to defend their sovereign and the 
temples of their gods. Not only the people, but 
persons of the highest rank, felt the utmost distresses 
of famine. What they suffered brought on infec¬ 
tious and mortal distempers, the last calamity that 
visits besieged cities, and which filled up the mea¬ 
sure of their woes. ,n 

But, under the pressure of so many 
and such various evils, the spirit of constancy of 
Guatimozin remained firm and un- (,uatimo2!,n - 

I Cortes Helat. p. 275. C. 276. F. B. Diaz, c. 153. 

m Cortes Helat. 276. E. 277. F. B. Diaz, 155. Comar a Cron. c. 141. 



July 27. 


BOOK V. A. D. 1521.] 

subdued. He rejeeted, with scorn, every overture 
ot peace from Cortes ; and, disdaining the idea of 
submitting to the oppressors of his country, deter¬ 
mined not to survive its ruin. The 
Spaniards continued their progress. 
At length all the three divisions penetrated into the 
great square in the centre of the city, and made a 
secure lodgment there. Three-fourths of the city 
were now reduced, and laid in ruins. The remaining 
quarter was so closely pressed, that it could not 
long withstand assailants* who attacked it from 
their new station with superior advantage, and more 
assured expectation of success. The Mexican 
nobles, solicitous to save the life of a monarch 
whom they revered, prevailed on Guatimozin to 
retire from a place where resistance was now vain, 
that he might rouse the more distant provinces of 
the empire to arms, and maintain there a more suc¬ 
cessful struggle with the public enemy. In order 
to facilitate the execution of this measure, thev 
endeavoured to amuse Cortes with the overtures of 
submission, that, while his attention was employed 
in adjusting the articles of pacification, Guatimozin 
might escape unperceived. But they made this 
attempt upon a leader of greater sagacity and dis¬ 
cernment than to he deceived by their arts. Cortes, 
suspecting their intention, and aware of what mo¬ 
ment it was to defeat it, appointed Sandoval, the 
officer on whose vigilance he could most perfectly 
rely, to take the command of the brigantines, with 
strict injunctions to watch every motion of the 
enemy. Sandoval, attentive to the charge, observ¬ 
ing some large canoes crowded with people rowing 
across the lake with extraordinary rapidity, instantly 
gave the signal to chase. Garcia Holguin, who 
commanded the swiftest sailing brigantine, soon 
overtook them, and was preparing to fire on the 
foremost canoe, which seemed to carry some person 
whom all the rest followed and obeyed. At once 
the rowers dropped their oars, and all on board, 
throwing down their arms, conjured him with cries 
and tears to forbear, as the emperor was there. 

He is taken P ri- Holguin eagerly seized his prize ; and 
soner. Guatimozin, with a dignified com¬ 
posure, gave himself up into his hands, requesting 
only that no insult might be offered to the empress 
or his children. When conducted to Cortes, he 
appeared neither with the sullen fierceness of a bar¬ 
barian, nor with the dejection of a supplicant. 
“ I have done,” said he, addressing himself to the 
Spanish general, “ what became a monarch. I have 
defended my people to the last extremity. Nothing 
now r remains but to die. Take this dagger,” laying 
his hand on one which Cortes wore, “plant it in 
my breast, and put an end to a life which can no 
longer be of use.”" 

au- is The As soon as t1ie fate of tlieir soverei S n 
surrenders. was k n0 wn, the resistance of the Mexi¬ 
cans ceased ; and Cortes took possession of that 

n Cortes llelat. 279. B. Diaz, c. 156. Gomara Cron. c. 142. Herrera, 
dec. .3. lib. ii. 7- 

o See Note CXXI. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


889 


small part of the capital which yet remained unde¬ 
stroyed. Thus terminated the siege of Mexico, the 
most memorable event in the conquest of America. 
It continued seventy-five days, hardly one of which 
passed without some extraordinary effort of one 
party in the attack, or of the other in the defence, 
of a city, on the fate of which both knew that the 
fortune of the empire depended. As the struggle 
here was more obstinate, it was likewise more equal, 
than any between the inhabitants of the Old and 
New Worlds. The great abilities of Guatimozin, 
the number of his troops, the peculiar situation of 
his capital, so far counterbalanced the superiority 
of the Spaniards in arms and discipline, that they 
must have relinquished the enterprise if they had 
trusted for success to themselves alone. But Mexico 
was overturned by the jealousy of neighbours who 
dreaded its power, and by the revolt of subjects 
impatient to shake off its yoke. By their effectual 
aid, Cortes was enabled to accomplish what, with¬ 
out such support, he would hardly have ventured 
to attempt. How much soever this account of the 
reduction of Mexico may detract, on the one hand, 
from the marvellous relations of some Spanish 
writers, by ascribing that to simple and obvious 
causes which they attribute to the romantic valour 
of their countrymen, it adds, on the other, to the 
merit and abilities of Cortes, who, under every 
disadvantage, acquired such an ascendant over un¬ 
known nations, as to render them instruments to¬ 
wards carrying his schemes into execution. 0 

The exultation of the Spaniards on SmaIlness of the 
accomplishing this arduous enterprise ^Iftment o'/the 
was at first excessive. But this was s P amards - 
quickly damped by the cruel disappointment of 
those sanguine hopes, which had animated them 
amidst so many hardships and dangers. Instead of 
the inexhaustible wealth which they expected from 
becoming masters of Montezuma’s treasures, and 
the ornaments of so many temples, their rapacious¬ 
ness could only collect an inconsiderable booty 
amidst ruins and desolation .p Guatimozin, aware 
of his impending fate, had ordered what remained 
of the riches amassed by his ancestors to be thrown 
into the lake. The Indian auxiliaries, while the 
Spaniards were engaged in conflict with the enemy, 
had carried off the most valuable part of the spoil. 
The sum to be divided among the conquerors was 
so small, that many of them disdained to accept of 
the pittance which fell to their share, and all mur¬ 
mured and exclaimed ; some against Cortes and his 
confidants, whom they suspected of having secretly 
appropriated to their own use a large portion of the 
riches which should have been brought into the 
common stock ; others against Guatimozin, whom 
they accused of obstinacy, in refusing to discover 
the place where he had hidden his treasure. 

Arguments, entreaties, and promises Guatimozin 
were employed in order to soothe them, tortured. 

p The gold and silver, according to Cortes, amounted only to 120,000 
pesos, Itelat. 280. A. a sum much inferior to that which the Spaniards 
had formerly divided in Mexico. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1521. BOOK V. 


but with so little effect, that Cortes, from solicitude 
to check this growing spirit of discontent, gave way 
to a deed which stains the glory of all his great 
actions. Without regarding the former dignity of 
Guatimozin, or feeling any reverence for those vir¬ 
tues which he had displayed, he subjected the un¬ 
happy monarch, together with his chief favourite, 
to torture, in order to force from them a discovery of 
the royal treasures, which it was supposed they had 
concealed. Guatimozin bore whatever the refined 
cruelty of his tormentors could inflict, with the in¬ 
vincible fortitude of an American warrior. His 
fellow-sufferer, overcome by the violence of the an¬ 
guish, turned a dejected eye towards his master, 
which seemed to implore his permission to reveal 
all that he knew. But the high-spirited prince, 
darting on him a look of authority mingled with 
scorn, checked his weakness by asking, “ Am I now 
reposing on a bed of flowers ?” Overaw ed by the 
reproach, the favourite persevered in his dutiful 
silence, and expired. Cortes, ashamed of a scene 
so horrid, rescued the royal victim from the hands 
of his torturers, and prolonged a life reserved for 
new indignities and sufferings.* 1 

The fate of the capital, as both par- 

A 11 the provinces . 

of the empire ties had foreseen, decided that of the 

submit. . . . 

empire. The provinces submitted one 
after another to the conquerors. Small detachments 
of Spaniards marching through them w ithout inter¬ 
ruption, penetrated in different quarters to the great 
Southern ocean, which, according to the ideas of 
Columbus, they imagined would open a short as 
well as easy passage to the East Indies, and secure 
to the crown of Castile all the envied wealth of 
those fertile regions ; r and the active mind of 
„ Cortes began already to form schemes 

Cortes forms .... 

schemes of new for attempting this important dis- 

discoveries. 10 1 

covery. 8 

,. _ He did not know', that during the 

which are com- ° 

pieted by Magei- progress of his victorious arms in 

lam . 

Mexico, the very scheme of which he 
began to form some idea had been undertaken and 
accomplished. As this is one of the most splen¬ 
did events in the history of the Spanish discoveries, 
and has been productive of effects peculiarly in¬ 
teresting to those extensive provinces which Cortes 
had now subjected to the erown of Castile, the ac¬ 
count of its rise and progress merits a particular 
detail. 

Ferdinand Magalhaens, or Magellan, a Portu¬ 
guese gentleman of honourable birth, having served 
several years in the East Indies, with distinguished 
valour, under the famous Albuquerque, demanded 
the recompence which he thought due to his ser¬ 
vices, with the boldness natural to a high-spirited 
soldier. But as his general would not grant his 
suit, and he expected greater justice from his sove¬ 
reign, whom he knew to be a good judge and a gene¬ 
rous rew'arder of merit, he quitted India abruptly, 

.j B. Diaz, c. ipf. Gomara Cron. c. 146. Ilerrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 8. 
iorqiiem. Mon. Ind. i. 5?4. 


and returned to Lisbon. In order to induce Eman¬ 
uel to listen more favourably to his claim, he not 
only stated his past services, but offered to add to 
them by conducting his countrymen to the Molucca or 
Spice Islands, by holding a westerly course ; which 
he contended would be both shorter and less hazard¬ 
ous than that w hich the Portuguese now followed by 
the Cape of Good Hope, through the immense extent 
of the Eastern Ocean. This was the original and fa¬ 
vourite project of Columbus, and Magellan founded 
his hopes of success on the ideas of that great naviga¬ 
tor, confirmed by many observations, the result of his 
own naval experience, as well as that of his country¬ 
men, in their intercourse with the East. But though 
the Portuguese monarchs had the merit of having 
first awakened and encouraged the spirit of discovery 
in that age, it was their destiny, in the course of a 
few years, to reject two grand schemes for this pur¬ 
pose, the execution of which would have been at¬ 
tended with a great accession of glory to themselves, 
and of power to their kingdom. In consequence of 
some ill-founded prejudice against Magellan, or of 
some dark intrigue which contemporary historians 
have not explained, Emanuel would neither bestow' 
the recompence which he claimed, nor approve of 
the scheme which he proposed ; and dismissed him 
with a disdainful coldness, intolerable to a man 
conscious of what he deserved, and animated with 
the sanguine hopes of success peculiar to those who 
are capable of forming or of conducting new and 
great undertakings. In a transport of 
resentment, Magellan formally re¬ 
nounced his allegiance to an ungrateful master, 
and fled to the court of Castile, where he expected 
that his talents would be most justly estimated. He 
endeavoured to recommend himself by offering to 
execute, under the patronage of Spain, that scheme 
which he had laid before the court of Portugal, the 
accomplishment of which, he knew, would wound 
the monarch against whom he was exasperated in 
the most tender part. In order to establish the 
justness of his theory, he produced the same argu¬ 
ments which he had employed at Lisbon $ acknow¬ 
ledging, at the same time, that the undertaking was 
both arduous and expensive, as it could not be at¬ 
tempted but with a squadron of considerable force, 
and victualled for at least two years. Fortunately, 
he applied to a minister who was not apt to be de¬ 
terred, either by the boldness of a design, or the 
expense of carrying it into execution. Cardinal 
Ximenes, who at that time directed the affairs of 
Spain, discerning at once what an increase of wealth 
and glory "would accrue to his country by the suc¬ 
cess of Magellan’s proposal, listened to it with a 
most favourable ear. Charles V. on his arrival in 
his Spanish dominions, entered into the measure 
with no less ardour, and orders were issued for 
equipping a proper squadron at the public charge, 
of which the command was given to Magellan, 

r Cortes Belat. 280. D. See. T$. Diaz, c. 157. 

s Herrera, dec. 3 lib. ii. c. 17 . Gomara Cron. c. 149. 



HOOK Y. A. D. 1521.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


891 


whom the king honoured with the habit of St. Jago 
and the title of captain-general. 1 

On the tenth of August one thousand 

His voyage. . 

live hundred and nineteen, Magellan 
sailed from Seville with five ships, which, according 
to the ideas of the age, were deemed to be of con¬ 
siderable force, though the burden of the largest 
did not exceed one hundred and twenty tons. The 
crews of the whole amounted to two hundred and 
thirty-four men, among whom were some of the 
most skilful pilots in Spain, and several Portuguese 
sailors, in whose experience, as more extensive, 
Magellan placed still greater confidence. After 
touching at the Canaries, he stood directly south 
towards the equinoctial line along the coast of Ame¬ 
rica, but was so long retarded by tedious calms, 
and spent so much time in searching every bay and 
inlet for that communication with the Southern 
Ocean which he w ished to discover, that he did not 
reach the river De la Plata till the twelfth of Janu¬ 
ary. That spacious opening through 
which its vast body of water pours 
into the Atlantic allured him to enter ; but after 
sailing up it for some days, he concluded, from the 
shallowness of the stream and the freshness of the 
w ater, that the wished-for strait was not situated 
there, and continued his course towards the south. 
On the thirty-first of March he arrived in the port 
of St. Julian, about forty-eight degrees south of the 
line, where he resolved to winter. In this uncom¬ 
fortable station he lost one of his squadron, and the 
Spaniards suffered so much from the excessive 
rigour of the climate, that the crews of three of his 
ships, headed by their officers, rose in open mutiny, 
and insisted on relinquishing the visionary project 
of a desperate adventurer, and returning directly to 
Spain. This dangerous insurrection Magellan sup¬ 
pressed by an effort of courage no less prompt than 
intrepid, and inflicted exemplary punishment on 
the ringleaders. With the remainder of his follow¬ 
ers, overawed but not reconciled to his scheme, he 
continued his voyage towards the south, and at 
length discovered, near the fifty-third degree of 
latitude, the mouth of a strait, into which he entered, 
notwithstanding the murmurs and remonstrances of 
the people under his command. After sailing 
twenty days in that winding dangerous channel, to 
which he gave his own name, and where one of his 
ships deserted him, the great Southern ocean opened 
to his view', and with tears of joy he returned thanks 
to Heaven for having thus far crowned his endea¬ 
vours with success. 11 

Rut he was still at a greater distance than he ima¬ 
gined from the object of his wishes. He sailed dur¬ 
ing three months and twenty days in an uniform 
direction towards the north-west, without discover¬ 
ing land. In this voyage, the longest that had ever 
been made in the unbounded ocean, he suffered 


incredible distress. His stock of provisions was 
almost exhausted, the water became putrid, the 
men were reduced to the shortest allowance with 
which it w as possible to sustain life, and the scurvy, 
the most dreadful of all the maladies with which 
seafaring people are afflicted, began to spread among 
the crew. One circumstance alone afforded them 
some consolation; they enjoyed an uninterrupted 
course of fair weather, with such favourable winds, 
that Magellan bestowed on that ocean the name of 
Pacific , which it still retains. When reduced to 
such extremity that they must have sunk under 
their sufferings, they fell in with a ,, , 

cluster of small but fertile islands, 
which afforded them refreshments in such abun¬ 
dance, that their health was soon re-established. 
From these isles, which he called De los Ladrones , 
he proceeded on his voyage, and soon made a more 
important discovery of the islands now known by 
the name of the Philippines. In one of these he got 
into an unfortunate quarrel with the natives, who 
attacked him with a numerous body of troops well 
armed ; and while he fought at the head of his men 
with his usual valour, he fell by the 

’ J April 26. 

hands of those barbarians, together 
with several of his principal officers. 

The expedition was prosecuted under other com¬ 
manders. After visiting many of the smaller isles 
scattered in the eastern part of the Indian Ocean, 
they touched at the great island of Borneo, and at 
length landed in Tidore, one of the 

° Nov. 8. 

Moluccas, to the astonishment of the 
Portuguese, who could not comprehend how' the 
Spaniards, by holding a westerly course,had arrived 
at that sequestered seat of their most valuable com¬ 
merce, which they themselves had discovered by 
sailing in an opposite direction. There, and in the 
adjacent isles, the Spaniards found a people ac¬ 
quainted with the benefits of extensive trade, and 
willing to open an intercourse with a new nation. 
They took in a cargo of the precious spices, which 
are the distinguished production of these islands ; 
and with that, as well as w ith specimens of the rich 
commodities yielded by the other countries which 
they had visited, the Victory , which, of the two 
ships that remained of the squadron, was most fit 
for a long voyage, set sail for Europe, 1522 
under the command of Juan Sebastian January, 
del Cano. He followed the course of the Portu¬ 
guese, by the Cape of Good Hope, and after many 
disasters and sufferings he arrived at St. Lucar on 
the seventh of September one thousand five hundred 
and twenty-two, having sailed round the globe in 
the space of three years and twenty-eight days.* 

Though an untimely fate deprived Magellan of 
the satisfaction of accomplishing this great under¬ 
taking, his contemporaries, just to his memory and 
talents, ascribed to him not only the honour of hav- 

u Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iv. c. 1ft. lib. ix. c. 10, &c. Gomara, Hist. c. 92. 
Pigafetta Viaggio ap. Hamus. ii. p. .'152, <Vc. 

x Herrera, dec. 3. lib. i. c. iii. 9. lib. iv. c. 1. Gomara Cron. c. 93, &c. 
Pigafetta ap. Ramos, ii. p. 361, &c. 


t Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ii. c. 19. lib. iv. c. 9. Gomara, Hist. c. 91. 
Dalrymple’s Collect, of Voyages to the South Pacific Ocean, vol. i. 
p. 1, &c. 




892 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ing formed tlie plan, but of having surmounted 
almost every obstacle to the completion of it; and 
in the present age his name is still ranked among 
the highest in the roll of eminent and successful 
navigators. The naval glory of Spain now eclipsed 
that of every other nation ; and by a singular feli¬ 
city she had the merit, in the course of a few years, 
of discovering a new continent almost as large as 
that part of the earth which was formerly known, 
and of ascertaining by experience the form and ex¬ 
tent of the whole of the terraqueous globe. 

The Spaniards were not satisfied with the glory 
of having first encompassed the earth ; they ex¬ 
pected to derive great commercial advantages from 
this new and boldest effort of their maritime skill. 
The men of science among them contended, that 
the Spice Islands, and several of the richest coun¬ 
tries in the east, were so situated as to belong of 
right to the crown of Castile, in consequence of the 
partitions made by Alexander VI. The merchants, 
without attending to this discussion, engaged eagerly 
in that lucrative and alluring commerce which was 
now opened to them. The Portuguese, alarmed at 
the intrusion of such formidable rivals, remonstrat¬ 
ed and negociated in Europe, while in Asia they ob¬ 
structed the trade of the Spaniards by force of arms. 
Charles V. not sufficiently instructed with respect to 
the importance of this valuable branch of commerce, 
or distracted by the multiplicity of his schemes and 
operations, did not afford his subjects proper pro¬ 
tection. At last, the low state of his finances, 
exhausted by the efforts of his arms in every part 
of Europe, together with the dread of adding a 
new war with Portugal to those in which he was 
already engaged, induced him to make over his 
claim of the Moluccas to the Portuguese for three 
hundred and fifty thousand ducats. He reserved, 
however, to the crown of Castile the right of reviv¬ 
ing its pretensions on repayment of that sum ; but 
other objects engrossed his attention and that of his 
successors ; and Spain was finally excluded from a 
branch of commerce in which it was engaging with 
sanguine expectations of profit. 5 " 

Though the trade with the Moluccas was relin¬ 
quished, the voyage of Magellan was followed 
by commercial effects of great moment to Spain. 
Philip II., in the year one thousand five hundred 
and sixty-four, reduced those islands which he dis¬ 
covered in the Eastern ocean to subjection, and 
established settlements there; between which and 
the kingdom of New Spain a regular intercourse, 
the nature of which shall be explained in its pro¬ 
per place, is still carried on. I return now to the 
transactions in new Spain. 

An order to su- At the time that Cortes was acquir- 

persede Cortes, } n g. extensive territories for his 

native country, and preparing the way for future 
conquests, it was his singular fate not only to be 
destitute of any commission or authority from the 


[A. I). 1522. ROOK V 

sovereign whom he was serving with such success¬ 
ful zeal, but to be regarded as an undutiful and 
seditious subject. By the influence of Fonseca, 
bishop of Burgos, his conduct in assuming the go¬ 
vernment of New Spain was declared to be an 
irregular usurpation, in contempt of the royal au 
thority ; and Christoval de Tapia received a com¬ 
mission, empowering him to supersede Cortes, to 
seize his person, to confiscate his effects, to make a 
strict scrutiny into his proceedings, and to transmit 
the result of all the inquiries carried on in New 
Spain to the council of the Indies, of which the 
bishop of Burgos was president. A few weeks 
after the reduction of Mexico, Tapia landed at 
Vera Cruz, with the royal mandate to strip its con¬ 
queror of his power, and treat him as a criminal. 
But Fonseca had chosen a very improper instrument 
to wreak his vengeance on Cortes. Tapia had 
neither the reputation nor the talents that suited 
the high command to which he was 

° . which he eludes. 

appointed. Cortes, while he publicly 
expressed the most respectful veneration for the 
emperor’s authority, secretly took measures to de¬ 
feat the effect of his commission ; and having 
involved Tapia and his followers in a multiplicity 
of negociations and conferences, in which he some¬ 
times had recourse to threats, but more frequently 
employed bribes and promises, he at length prevail¬ 
ed upon that weak man to abandon a province which 
he was unworthy of governing. 2 

But notwithstanding the fortunate 

, . . , . . , , , , , j i Applies again to 

dexterity with which he had eluded the court. 

this danger, Cortes was so sensible of 
the precarious tenure by which he held his pow r er, 
that he despatched deputies to Spain, with a pomp¬ 
ous account of the success of his arms, w ith further 
specimens of the productions of the country, and 
with rich presents to the emperor, as the earnest 
of future contributions from his new r conquests ; 
requesting, in recompence for all his services, the 
approbation of his proceedings, and that he might 
be intrusted with the government of those dominions, 
which his conduct and the valour of his followers 
had added to the crown of Castile. The juncture 
in which his deputies reached the court was favour¬ 
able. The internal commotions in Spain, which 
had disquieted the beginning of Charles’s reign, 
w ere just appeased. 9 The ministers had leisure to 
turn their attention towards foreign affairs. The 
account of Cortes’s victories filled his countrymen 
with admiration. The extent and value of his con¬ 
quests became the object of vast and interesting 
hopes. Whatever stain he might have contracted, 
by the irregularity of the steps which he took in 
order to attain power, was so fully effaced by the 
splendour and merit of the great actions which this 
had enabled bimto perform, that every heart revolt¬ 
ed at the thought of inflicting any censure on a man 
whose services entitled him to the highest marks of 


y Herrera, dec. 3. lib. vi. c. 5, &c, dec. 4. lib. v. c. 7, &c. 


z Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iii. c. 16. dec. 3. iv. c. 1. Cortes Tlelat. 281. E. 
B. Diaz, c. 158. a Hist, of Charles V. b. iii. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


893 


BOOK V. A. D. 1522.] 

distinction. The public voice declared warmly in 
favour of his pretensions ; and Charles, arriving in 
Spain about this time, adopted the sentiments of 
his subjects with a youthful ardour. Notwithstand- 
and is appointed * n o ^ ,e claims of Velasquez, and the 
Lm^governo^'of partial representations of the bishop of 
New SpaU1- Burgos, the emperor appointed Cortes 
captain-general and governor of New Spain, judg¬ 
ing that no person was so capable of maintaining 
the royal authority, or of establishing good order 
both among his Spanish and Indian subjects, as 
the victorious leader whom the former had long 
been accustomed to obey, and the latter had been 
taught to fear and to respect. 5 

His schemes and Even before his jurisdiction received 
arrangements, this legal sanction, Cortes ventured 

to exercise all the powers of a governor, and, by 
various arrangements, endeavoured to render his 
conquest a secure and beneficial acquisition to his 
country. He determined to establish the seat of 
government in its ancient station, and to raise 
Mexico again from its ruins ; and having conceived 
high ideas concerning the future grandeur of the 
state of which he was laying the foundation, he 
began to re-build its capital on a plan which hath 
gradually formed the most magnificent city in the 
New World. At the same time, he employed skil¬ 
ful persons to search for mines in different parts of 
the country, and opened some which were found 
to be richer than any which the Spaniards had 
hitherto discovered in America. He detached his 
principal officers into the remote provinces, and en¬ 
couraged them to settle there, not only by bestow¬ 
ing upon them large tracts of land, but by granting 
them the same dominion over the Indians, and the 
same right to their service, which the Spaniards had 
assumed in the islands. 

Insurrection, of 11 waS n0t - however . without diffi- 

crueky X 'of U the ld culty, that the Mexican empire could 
Spaniards. ) je entirely reduced into the form of a 
Spanish colony. Enraged and rendered desperate 
by oppression, the natives often forgot the superi¬ 
ority of their enemies, and ran to arms in defence of 
their liberties. In every contest, however, the Eu¬ 
ropean valour and discipline prevailed. But fatally 
for the honour of their country, the Spaniards sullied 
the glory redounding from these repeated victories 
by their mode of treating the vanquished people. 
After taking Guatimozin, and becoming masters of 
his capital, they supposed that the king of Castile 
entered on possession of all the rights of the captive 
monarch, and affected to consider every effoit of the 
Mexicans to assert their own independence, as the 
rebellion of vassals against their sovereign, or the 
mutiny of slaves against their master. Under the 
sanction of those ill-founded maxims, they violated 
every right that should be held sacred between hos¬ 
tile nations. After each insurrection, they reduced 
the common people, in the provinces which they 

b Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 3. Gomara Cron. c. 164, 165. B. Diaz, 
1 c’tortes Relat. 291. C. Gomara Cron. c. 155. 


subdued, to the most humiliating of all conditions, 
that of personal servitude. Their chiefs, supposed 
to be more criminal, were punished with greater 
severity, and put to death in the most ignominious 
or the most excruciating mode that the insolence or 
the cruelty of their conquerors could devise. In 
almost every district of the Mexican empire, the 
progress of the Spanish arms is marked with blood, 
and with deeds so atrocious, as disgrace the enter¬ 
prising valour that conducted them to success. In 
the country of Panuco sixty caziques or leaders, 
and four hundred nobles, were burnt at one time. 
Nor was this shocking barbarity perpetrated in any 
sudden sally of rage, or by a commander of inferior 
note. It was the act of Sandoval, an officer whose 
name is entitled to the second rank in the annals of 
New Spain, and executed after a solemn consulta¬ 
tion with Cortes ; and to complete the horror of the 
scene, the children and relations of the wretched 
victims were assembled, and compelled to be spec¬ 
tators of their dying agonies. 0 It seems hardly pos¬ 
sible to exceed in horror this dreadful example of 
severity ; but it was followed by another, which af¬ 
fected the Mexicans still more sensibly, as it gave 
them a most feeling proof of their own degradation, 
and of the small regard which their haughty mas¬ 
ters retained for the ancient dignity and splendour 
of their state. On a slight suspicion, confirmed by 
very imperfect evidence, that Guatimozin had form¬ 
ed a scheme to shake off* the yoke, and to excite his 
former subjects to take arms, Cortes, without the 
formality of a trial, ordered the unhappy monarch, 
together with the caziques of Tezeuco and Tacuba, 
the two persons of greatest eminence in the empire, 
to be hanged ; and the Mexicans, with astonishment 
and horror, beheld this disgraceful punishment in¬ 
flicted upon persons, to whom they were accustom¬ 
ed to look up with reverence hardly inferior to that 
which they paid to the gods themselves. d The ex¬ 
ample of Cortes and his principal officers encourag¬ 
ed and justified persons of subordinate rank to 
venture upon committing greater excesses. Nuno 
de Guzman, in particular, stained an illustrious 
name by deeds of peculiar enormity and rigour, in 
various expeditions which he conducted. 0 

One circumstance, however, saved ^ object 
the Mexicans from further consump- industry among 
tion, perhaps from one as complete as 
that which had depopulated the islands. The first 
conquerors did not attempt to search for the pre¬ 
cious metals in the bowels of the earth. They were 
neither sufficiently wealthy to carry on the expen¬ 
sive works, which are requisite for opening those 
deep recesses where nature has concealed the veins 
of gold and silver, nor sufficiently skilful to perform 
the ingenious operations by which those precious 
metals are separated from their respective ores. 
They were satisfied with the more simple method, 
practised by the Indians, of washing the earth carried 

d Gomara Cron.c. 170. B. Diaz, c. 177. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. viii. 9 . 9. 
See Note CXXli. 

e Herrera, dec. 4 and 5. passun. 



894 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1524. BOOK V. 


1552, &:c. 


Their poverty. 


down rivers and torrents from the mountains, and 
collecting the grains of native metal deposited there. 
The rich mines of New Spain, which have poured 
forth their treasures with such profusion on every 
quarter of the globe, were not discover¬ 
ed for several years after the conquest/ 
By that time a more orderly government and police 
were introduced into the colony; experience, de¬ 
rived from former errors, had suggested many useful 
and humane regulations for the protection and pre¬ 
servation of the Indians; and though it then be¬ 
came necessary to increase the number of those 
employed in the mines, and they were engaged in a 
species of labour more pernicious to the human con¬ 
stitution, they suffered less hardship or diminution 
than from the ill-judged but less extensive schemes 
of the first conquerors. 

While it was the lot of the Indians 
to suffer, their new masters seemed 
not to have derived any considerable wealth from 
their ill-conducted researches. According to the 
usual fate of first settlers in new colonies, it was 
their lot to encounter danger, and to struggle with 
difficulties ; the fruits of their victories and toils 
were reserved for times of tranquillity, and reaped 
by successors of greater industry, hut of inferior 
merit. The early historians of America abound 
with accounts of the sufferings and of the poverty 
of its conquerors.s In New Spain, their condition 
was rendered more grievous by a peculiar arrange¬ 
ment. When Charles Y. advanced Cortes to the 
government of that country, he at the same time 
appointed certain commissioners to receive and 
administer the royal revenue there with inde¬ 
pendent jurisdiction. 11 These men, chosen from 
inferior stations in various departments of public 
business at Madrid, were so much elevated with 
their promotion, that they thought they were called 
to act a part of the first consequence. But being 
accustomed to the minute formalities of office, and 
having contracted the narrow ideas suited to the 
sphere in which they had hitherto moved, they were 
astonished, on arriving in Mexico, at the high 
authority which Cortes exercised, and 
could not conceive that the mode of 
administration, in a country recently subdued and 
settled, must be different from what took place in 
one where tranquillity and regular government had 
been long established. In their letters they repre¬ 
sented Cortes as an ambitious tyrant, who, having 
usurped a jurisdiction superior to law, aspired at 
independence, and by his exorbitant wealth and 
extensive influence might accomplish those disloyal 
schemes which he apparently meditated. 1 These in¬ 
sinuations made such deep impression upon the Spa¬ 
nish ministers, most of whom had been formed to 
business under the jealous and rigid administration 
of Ferdinand, that, unmindful of all Cortes’s past 

f Herrera, dec. 8. lib. x. c. 21. 

8 C ortes Itelat. 283. F. B. Diaz, c. 209. 

h Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 3. i Ibid. lib. v, c. 14. 

k See Mote CXXIII. 1 Herrera, dec. 3. lib. viii. c. 14, 15. 


1524. 


1525. 


1528. 


services, and regardless of what he was then sullering 
inconductingthatextraordinary expedition, in which 
he advanced from the lake of Mexico to the western 
extremities of Honduras, k they infused the same 
suspicions into the mind of their master, and pre¬ 
vailed on him to order a solemn in¬ 
quest to be made into his conduct, 
with powers to the licentiate Ponce de Leon, in¬ 
trusted with that commission, to seize his person, 
if he should find that expedient, and send him pri¬ 
soner to Spain. 1 

The sudden death of Ponce de Leon, Cortes re t U rns to 
a few days after his arrival in New spam. 
Spain, prevented the execution of this commission. 
But as the object of his appointment was known, 
the mind of Cortes was deeply wounded with this 
unexpected return for services which far exceeded 
whatever any subject of Spain had rendered to his 
sovereign. He endeavoured, however, to maintain 
his station, and to recover the confidence of the 
court. But every person in office who had arrived 
from Spain since the conquest was a spy upon his 
conduct, and with malicious ingenuity gave an un¬ 
favourable representation of all his actions. The 
apprehensions of Charles and his ministers increas¬ 
ed. A new commission of inquiry was 
issued, with more extensive powers, 
and various precautions were taken in order to pre¬ 
vent or to punish him, if he should be so presump¬ 
tuous as to attempt what was inconsistent with the 
fidelity of a subject." 1 Cortes beheld the approach¬ 
ing crisis of his fortune with all the violent emotions 
natural to a haughty mind, conscious of high de¬ 
sert, and receiving unworthy treatment. But though 
some of his desperate followers urged him to assert 
his own rights against his ungrateful country, and 
with a bold hand to seize that power which the 
courtiers meanly accused him of coveting," he re¬ 
tained such self-command, or was actuated with 
such sentiments of loyalty, as to reject their dan¬ 
gerous counsels, and to choose the only course in 
which he could secure his own dignity, without de¬ 
parting from his duty. He resolved not to expose 
himself to the ignominy of a trial, in that country 
which had been the scene of his triumphs; but, w ith¬ 
out waiting for the arrival of his judges, to repair 
directly to Castile, and commit himself and his 
cause to the justice and generosity of his sovereign. 0 

Cortes appeared in his native coun- Hi . reception 
try with the splendour that suited there - 
the conqueror of a mighty kingdom. He brought 
with him a great part of his wealth, many jewels 
and ornaments of great value, several curious pro¬ 
ductions of the countryand was attended by some 
Mexicans of the first rank, as well as by the most 
considerable of his own officers. His arrival in 
Spain removed at once every suspicion and fear that 
had been entertained with respect to his intentions. 


ii. c. 1. lib. iv. c. 9, 10. 


m Herrera, dec. 3. lib. viii. c. 15. dec. 4. lib 
B. Diaz, c. 172. 196. Gomara Cron. c. 166. 

n ?• 1 Z a? ;’ 9; 0 Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 8. 

p See Mote CXXIV. 





THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


895 


1530. 


BOOK V. A. D. 1528.J 

The emperor, having now nothing to apprehend 
from the designs of Cortes, received him like a 
person whom consciousness of his own innocence 
had brought into the presence of his master, and 
who was entitled, by the eminence of his services, 
to the highest marks of distinction and respect. The 
order ot St. Jago, the title of Marquis del Valle de 
Guaxaca, the grant of an ample territory in New 
Spain, were successively bestowed upon him; and 
as his manners were correct and elegant, although 
he had passed the greater part of his life among 
rough adventurers, the emperor admitted him to 
the same familiar intercourse with himself, that 
was enjoyed by noblemen of the first rank.q 
c ... . But, amidst those external proofs of 

Settlement ot the r 

government in regard, symptoms of remaining distrust 
M e\v Spam. J ° 

appeared. Though Cortes earnestly 
solicited to be reinstated in the government of New 
Spain, Charles, too sagacious to commit such an 
important charge to a man whom he had once sus¬ 
pected, peremptorily refused to invest him again 
with powers which he might find it impossible to 
control. Cortes, though dignified with new titles, 
returned to Mexico with diminished 
authority. The military department, 
with powers to attempt new discoveries, was left in 
his hands ; but the supreme direction of civil affairs 
was placed in a board called The Audience of New 
Spain. At a subsequent period, when, upon the 
increase of the colony, the exertion of authority 
more united and extensive became necessary, An¬ 
tonio de Mendoza, a nobleman of high rank, was 
sent thither as Viceroy , to take the government into 
his hands. 

This division of power in New Spain 
proved, as was unavoidable, the source 
of perpetual dissension, which imbittered the life 
of Cortes, and thwarted all his schemes. As he 
had now no opportunity to display his active ta¬ 
lents but in attempting new discoveries, he formed 
various schemes for that purpose, all of which bear 
impressions of a genius that delighted in what was 
bold and splendid. He early entertained an idea, 
that, either by steering through the gulf of Florida 
along the east coast of North America, some strait 
would be found that communicated with the West¬ 
ern ocean ; or that by examining the isthmus of 
Darien, some passage would be discovered between 
the North and South seas/ But having been dis¬ 
appointed in his expectations with respect to both, 
he now confined his views to such voyages of dis¬ 
covery as he could make from the ports of New 
Spain in the South Sea. There he fitted out suc¬ 
cessively several small squadrons, which either pe¬ 
rished in the attempt, or returned without making 
any discovery of moment. Cortes, 
w eary of intrusting the conduct of his 
operations to others, took the command of a new 
armament in person, and after enduring incredible 


New schemes of 
Cortes. 


1536. 


q Flerrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 1. lib. vi. c. 4. B. Diaz, c. 196. Gomara 
Cron. c. 192. r Cortes, Helat. Bam. iii. 291. B. 


hardships, and encountering dangers of every spe¬ 
cies, he discovered the large peninsula of Califor¬ 
nia, and surveyed the greater part of the gulf 
which separates it from New Spain. The discovery 
of a country of such extent would have reflected 
credit on a common adventurer; but it could add 
little new honour to the name of Cortes, and was 
far from satisfying the sanguine expectations which 
he had formed/ Disgusted with ill success, to 
which he had not been accustomed, and weary of 
contesting with adversaries to whom he considered 
it as a disgrace to be opposed, he once 
more sought for redress in his native 
country. 

But his reception there was very different from 
that which gratitude, and even decency, ought to 
have secured for him. The merit of his ancient 
exploits w as already, in a great measure, forgotten, 
or eclipsed by the fame of recent and more valuable 
conquests in another quarter of America. No ser¬ 
vice of moment was now expected from a man of 
declining years, and who began to be unfortunate. 
The emperor behaved to him with cold civility ; his 
ministers treated him sometimes with neglect, some¬ 
times with insolence. His grievances received no 
redress ; his claims w ere urged without effect; and 
after several years spent in fruitless application to 
ministers and judges, an occupation the most irk¬ 
some and mortifying to a man of high spirit, who 
had moved in a sphere where he was more accus¬ 
tomed to command than to solicit, Cortes ended his 
days on the second of December one 
thousand five hundred and forty-seven, Ihs death ' 
in the sixty-second year of his age. His fate was 
the same with that of all the persons who distin¬ 
guished themselves in the discovery or conquest of 
the New World. Envied by his contemporaries, 
and ill requited by the court which he served, he 
has been admired and celebrated by succeeding 
ages. Which has formed the most just estimate of 
his character, an impartial consideration of his ac¬ 
tions must determine. 


BOOK VI. 

From the time that Nugnez de Balboa 

15°3. 

discovered the great Southern ocean, Schemes for dis¬ 
and received the first obscure hints c °' enn '’ Peru ‘ 
concerning the opulent countries with which it 
might open a communication, the wishes and 
schemes of every enterprising person in the colonies 
of Darien and Panama were turned towards the 
w ealth of those unknowm regions. In an age when 
the spirit of adventure was so ardent and vigorous, 
that large fortunes were wasted, and the most alarm¬ 
ing dangers braved, in pursuit of discoveries merely 
possible, the faintest ray of hope was followed with 

s Herrera, dec 5. lib. viii. c. 9, 10. dec. 8. lib. vi.c. 14. Venegas Hist, 
of California, i. 125. Lorenziana Hist. p. 322, &c. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


890 


[A. D. 1524. ROOK VI. 


an eager expectation, and the slightest informa¬ 
tion was sufficient to inspire such perfect confi¬ 
dence, as conducted men to the most arduous un¬ 
dertakings.* 

unsuccessful Accordingly, several armaments were 
for some tune, fitted out in order to explore and take 

possession of the countries to the east of Panama, 
but under the conduct of leaders whose talents and 
resources were unequal to the attempt. b As the 
excursions of those adventurers did not extend 
beyond the limits of the province to which the 
Spaniards had given the name of Tierra Firme, a 
mountainous region covered with woods, thinly in¬ 
habited, and extremely unhealthy, they returned 
with dismal accounts concerning the distresses to 
which they had been exposed, and the unpromis¬ 
ing aspect of the places which they had visited. 
Damped by these tidings, the rage for discovery in 
that direction abated; and it became the general 
opinion, that Balboa had founded visionary hopes, 
on the tale of an ignorant Indian, ill understood, or 
calculated to deceive. 

1524 But there were three persons settled 

pizarro^Ahua Panama, on whom the circum- 

gro, and Luque. s t ances vvhich deterred others made 

so little impression, that at the very moment when 
all considered Balboa’s expectations of discovering 
a rich country, by steering towards the east, as 
chimerical, they resolved to attempt the execution 
of his scheme. The names of those extraordinary 
men were Francisco Pizarro, Diego de Almagro, 
and Hernando Luque. Pizarro was the natural 
son of a gentleman of an honourable family by a 
very low woman, and, according to the cruel fate 
which often attends the offspring of unlawful love, 
had been so totally neglected in his youth by the 
author of his birth, that he seems to have destined 
him never to rise beyond the condition of his mother. 
In consequence of this ungenerous idea, he set him, 
when bordering on manhood, to keep hogs. But 
the aspiring mind of young Pizarro disdaining that 
ignoble occupation, he abruptly abandoned his 
charge, enlisted as a soldier, and, after serving 
some years in Italy, embarked for America, which, 
by opening such a boundless range to active talents, 
allured every adventurer whose fortune was not 
equal to his ambitious thoughts. There Pizarro 
early distinguished himself. With a temper of 
mind no less daring than the constitution of his 
body was robust, he was foremost in every danger, 
patient under the greatest hardships, and unsub¬ 
dued by any fatigue. Though so illiterate that he 
could not even read, he was soon considered as a 
man formed to command. Every operation com¬ 
mitted to his conduct proved successful, as, by a 
happy but rare conjunction, he united perseverance 
with ardour, and was as cautious in executing, as 
he was bold in forming, his plans. By engaging 
early in active life, without any resource but his 

a See Note CXXV. 

b Calancha Coronica, p. 100, 


own talents and industry, and by depending on 
himself alone in his struggles to emerge from ob¬ 
scurity, he acquired such a thorough knowledge of 
affairs, and of men, that he was fitted to assume a 
superior part in conducting the former, and in go¬ 
verning the latter. 0 

Almagro had as little to boast of his descent as 
Pizarro. The one was a bastard, the other a found¬ 
ling. Bred, like his companion, in the camp, he 
yielded not to him in any of the soldierly qualities 
of intrepid valour, indefatigable activity, or insur¬ 
mountable constancy, in enduring the hardships 
inseparable from military service in the New World. 
But in Almagro these virtues were accompanied 
with the openness, generosity, and candour, natural 
to men whose profession is arms; in Pizarro, they 
were united with the address, the craft, and the 
dissimulation of a politician, with the art of con¬ 
cealing his own purposes, and with sagacity to pene¬ 
trate into those of other men. 

Fernando de Luque was an ecclesiastic, who 
acted both as priest and schoolmaster at Panama, 
and, by means which the contemporary writers have 
not described, had amassed riches that inspired him 
with thoughts of rising to greater eminence. 

Such were the men destined to over- Terms 0 f their 
turn one of the most extensive empires association, 
on the face of the earth. Their confederacy for this 
purpose was authorized by Pedrarias, the governor 
of Panama. Each engaged to employ his whole 
fortune in the adventure. Pizarro, the least wealthy 
of the three, as he could not throw so large a sum 
as his associates into the common stock, engaged 
to take the department of greatest fatigue and 
danger, and to command in person the armament 
which was to go first upon discovery. Almagro 
offered to conduct the supplies of provisions and 
reinforcements of troops, of which Pizarro might 
stand in need. Luque was to remain at Panama to 
negociate with the governor, and superintend what¬ 
ever was carrying on for the general interest. As 
the spirit of enthusiasm uniformly accompanied 
that of adventure in the New World, and by that 
strange union both acquired an increase of force, 
this confederacy, formed by ambition and avarice, 
was confirmed by the most solemn act of religion. 
Luque celebrated mass, divided a consecrated host 
into three, and reserving one part to himself, gave 
the other two to his associates, of which they par¬ 
took ; and thus, in the name of the Prince of peace, 
ratified a contract of which plunder and bloodshed 
were the objects. d 

The attempt w as begun with a force Their first 
more suited to the humble condition attempt, 

of the three associates, than to the greatness of the 
enterprise in which they were engaged. 

Pizarro sef sail from Panama with a Nov ' 14, 
single vessel, of small burthen, and a hundred and 
twelve men. But in that age, so little were the 

c c Hcrrera^deefil and 2.^passim, dec. 4. lib. vi. c. 107 . Gomara Hist, 
cl Ilerrera, dec. 3. lib, vi. c, 13, Zarate, lib, i. c. 1. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1525.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


897 


1525. 


Spaniards acquainted with the peculiarities of 
climate in America, that the time which Pizarro 
chose for his departure was the most improper in 
the whole year; the periodical winds which were 
then set in, being; directly adverse to the course 
which he proposed to steer. e After beating about 
for seventy days, with much danger and incessant 
fatigue, Pizarro’s progress towards the south-east 
was not greater than what a skilful navigator will 
now make in as many hours. He touched at several 
places on the coast of Tierra Firme, but found 
every where the same uninviting country which 
former adventurers had described ; the low grounds 
converted into swamps by an overflowing of rivers; 
the higher covered with impervious woods ; few in¬ 
habitants, and those fierce and hostile. 
Famine, fatigue, or frequent encoun¬ 
ters with the natives, and, above all, the distempers 
of a moist, sultry climate, combined in wasting his 

attended with slender band of followers. The un- 
iittie success. da. un t e cl resolution of their leader 

continued, however, for some time, to sustain their 
spirits, although no sign had yet appeared of dis¬ 
covering those golden regions to which he had pro¬ 
mised to conduct them. At length he was obliged 
to abandon that inhospitable coast, and retire to 
Chuchama, opposite to the pearl islands, where he 
hoped to receive a supply of provisions and troops 
from Panama. 

But Almagro having sailed from that port with 
seventy men, stood directly towards that part of the 
continent where he hoped to meet with his associate. 
Not finding him there, he landed his soldiers, who, 
in searching for their companions, underwent the 
same distresses, and were exposed to the same 
dangers, w hich had driven them out of the country. 
Repulsed at length by the Indians in a sharp con¬ 
flict, in which their leader lost one of his eyes by 
the wound of an arrow, they likewise were com¬ 
pelled to reimbark. Chance led them to the place 
of Pizarro’s retreat, where they found some conso¬ 
lation in recounting to each other their adventures, 
and comparing their sufferings. As 
Almagro had advanced as far as the 
river St. Juan, in the province of Popayau, where 
both the country and inhabitants appeared with a 
more promising aspect, that dawn of better fortune 
was sufficient to determine such sanguine projectors 
not to abandon their scheme, notwithstanding all 
that they had suffered in prosecuting it. f 

Almagro repaired to Panama, in 
They resume the hopes of recruiting their shattered 
undertaking. droops. But w h a t he and Pizarro had 

suffered gave his countrymen such an unfavourable 
idea of the service, that it was with difficulty he 
could levy fourscore men.® Feeble as this rein¬ 
forcement was, Almagro took the command of it, 
and having joined Pizarro, they did not hesitate 
about resuming their operations. After 


June 24. 


a long 


e Herrera, dec. 4. lib. ii. c. 8. Xerez, p. 179. 

1 Herrera, dec. 3. lib. viii. c. 11. 12. See Mote CXXVI. 

3 M 


series of disasters and disappointments, not inferior 
to those which they had already experienced, part 
of the armament reached the Bay of St. Matthew, 
on the coast of Quito, and landing at Tacamez, to 
the south of the river of Emeralds, they beheld a 
country more champaign and fertile than any they 
had yet discovered in the Southern ocean, the na¬ 
tives clad in garments of woollen or cotton stuff, 
and adorned with several trinkets of gold and silver. 

But, notwithstanding those favourable appear¬ 
ances, magnified beyond the truth, both by the vanity 
of the persons who brought the report from Tacamez, 
and by the fond imagination of those who listened 
to them, Pizarro and Almagro durst not venture to 
invade a country so populous w ith a handful of men 
enfeebled by fatigue and diseases. They retired to 
the small island of Gallo, where Pizarro remained 
with part of the troops, and his associate returned 
to Panama, in hopes of bringing such a reinforce¬ 
ment as might enable them to take possession of 
the opulent territories, whose existence seemed to 
be no longer doubtful. 11 

But some of the adventurers, less 

. . , , , , , . Pizarro recalled 

enterprising or less hardy than their by the governor 
, , , . , of Panama. 

leaders, having secretly conveyed la¬ 
mentable accounts of their sufferings and losses to 
their friends at Panama, Almagro met with an un¬ 
favourable reception from Pedro de los Rios, who 
had succeeded Pedrarias in the government of that 
settlement. After weighing the matter with that 
cold economical prudence, which appears the first 
of all virtues to persons whose limited faculties are 
incapable of conceiving or executing great designs, 
he concluded an expedition, attended with such 
certain waste of men, to be so detrimental to an in¬ 
fant and feeble colony, that he not only prohibited 
the raising of new levies, but despatched a vessel 
to bring home Pizarro and his companions from the 
island of Gallo. Almagro and Luque, though 
deeply affected with those measures, which they 
could not prevent, and durst not oppose, found 
means of communicating their sentiments privately 
to Pizarro, and exhorted him not to relinquish an 
enterprise that was the foundation of all their hopes, 
and the only means of re-establishing their reputa¬ 
tion and fortune, which were both on the decline. 
Pizarro’s mind, bent with inflexible obstinacy on 
all its purposes, needed no incentive to Persists in his 
persist in the scheme. He peremp- designs, 
torily refused to obey the governor of Panama’s 
orders, and employed all his address and eloquence 
in persuading his men not to abandon him. But 
the incredible calamities to which they had been 
exposed were still so recent in their memories, and 
the thoughts of revisiting their families and friends 
after a long absence, rushed with such joy into 
their minds, that when Pizarro drew a line upon 
the sand with his sword, permitting such as wished 
to return home to pass over it, only thirteen of all 


g Zarate, lib. l. c. 1. 

h Xerez, 181. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. viii. c. 13. 



898 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1526. BOOK VJ. 


the daring veterans in his service had resolution to 
remain with their commander. 1 

This small but determined band, whose names 
the Spanish historians record with deserved praise, 
as the persons to whose persevering fortitude their 
country is indebted for the most valuable of all its 
American possessions, fixed their residence in the 
island of Gorgona. This, as it was further removed 
from the coast than Gallo, and uninhabited, they 
considered as a more secure retreat, where, unmo¬ 
lested, they might wait for supplies from Panama, 
which they trusted that the activity of their associ¬ 
ates would be able to procure. Almagro and Luque 
were not inattentive or cold solicitors, and their 
incessant importunity was seconded by the general 
voice of the colony, which exclaimed loudly against 
the infamy of exposing brave men, engaged in the 
public service, and chargeable with no errror but 
what flowed from an excess of zeal and courage, to 
perish like the most odious criminals in a desert 
island. Overcome by those entreaties and expostu¬ 
lations, the governor at last consented to send a 
small vessel to their relief. But that he might not 
seem to encourage Pizarro to any new enterprise, 
he would not permit one landman to embark on 
board of it. 

Hardships he B y this time Pizarr ° and his com- 
endured. panions had remained five months in 

an island, infamous for the most unhealthy climate 
in that region of America. 14 During all this period 
their eyes were turned towards Panama, in hopes 
of succour from their countrymen ; but worn out at 
length with fruitless expectations, and dispirited 
with suffering hardships of which they saw no end, 
they, in despair, came to a resolution of committing 
themselves to the ocean on a float, rather than con¬ 
tinue in that detestable abode. But, on the arrival 
of the vessel from Panama, they were transported 
with such joy, that all their sufferings were forgot¬ 
ten. Their hopes revived, and, with a rapid transi¬ 
tion, not unnatural among men accustomed by their 
mode of life to sudden vicissitudes of fortune, high 
confidence succeeding to extreme dejection, Pizarro 
easily induced not only his own followers, but the 
crew of the vessel from Panama, to resume his 
former scheme with fresh ardour. Instead of re¬ 
turning to Panama, they stood towards the south¬ 
east, and more fortunate in this than in any of their 
past efforts, they, on the twentieth day after their 
departure from Gorgona, discovered 
the coast of Peru. After touching at 
several villages near the shore, which they found to 
be no wise inviting, they landed atTumbez, a place 
of some note, about three degrees south of the line, 
distinguished for its stately temple, and a palace of 
the Incas or sovereigns of the country. 1 There the 
Spaniards feasted their eyes with the first view of 
the opulence and civilization of the Peruvian em¬ 
pire. They beheld a country fully peopled, and 


Discovers Peru. 


i Herrera, dec. 3. lib. 
Gomara, Hist. c. 10U. 
k See Note CXXVII. 


x. c. 2, 3. Zarate, lib. i. c. 2. Xerex, 181. 


1527- 


cultivated with an appearance of regular industry ; 
the natives decently clothed, and possessed of in¬ 
genuity so far surpassing the other inhabitants of 
the New World, as to have the use of tame domes¬ 
tic animals. But what chiefly attracted their notice, 
was such a show of gold and silver, not only in the 
ornaments of their persons and temples, but in 
several vessels and utensils for common use, formed 
of those precious metals, as left no room to doubt 
that they abounded with profusion in the country. 
Pizarro and his companions seemed now to have 
attained to the completion of their most sanguine 
hopes, and fancied that all their wishes and dreams 
of rich domains, and inexhaustible treasures, would 
soon be realized. 

But with the slender force then Returns to 
under his command, Pizarro could 
only view the rich country of which he hoped here¬ 
after to obtain possession. He ranged, however, for 
some time along the coast, maintaining every where 
a peaceable intercourse with the natives, no less 
astonished at their new visitants, than the Spaniards 
were with the uniform appearance of opulence and 
cultivation which they beheld. Having 
explored the country as far as was re¬ 
quisite to ascertain the importance of the discovery, 
Pizarro procured from the inhabitants some of their 
Llamas or tame cattle, to which the Spaniards gave 
the name of sheep, some vessels of gold and silver, 
as well as some specimens of their other works of 
ingenuity, and two young men, whom he proposed 
to instruct in the Castilian language, that they might 
serve as interpreters in the expedition which he 
meditated. With these he arrived at Panama, 
towards the close of the third year from the time of 
his departure thence. m No adventurer of the age 
suffered hardships or encountered dangers which 
equal those to which he was exposed during this 
long period. The patience with which he endured 
the one, and the fortitude with which he surmounted 
the other, exceed whatever is recorded in the his¬ 
tory of the New World, where so many romantic 
displays of those virtues occur. 

Neither the splendid relation that 

1528. 

Pizarro gave of the incredible opulence New schemes of 

. -i.il i -it the associates. 

ot the country which he had discover¬ 
ed, nor his bitter complaints on account of that un¬ 
seasonable recall of his forces, which had put it out 
of his power to attempt making any settlement 
there, could move the governor of Panama to swerve 
from his former plan of conduct. He still con¬ 
tended, that the colony was not in a condition to 
invade such a mighty empire, and refused to au¬ 
thorize an expedition which he foresaw would be 
so alluring that it might ruin the province in which 
he presided, by an effort beyond its strength. His 
coldness, however, did not in any degree abate the 
ardour of the three associates ; but they perceived 
that they could not carry their scheme into execu- 

1 Calancha, p. 103. 


m llerrera, dec. 3. lib. x. c. 3—6. dec. 4. lib. ii. c. 7,8. Vi 
10—14. Zarate, lib. i. c. 2. Benzo Hist. NoviOrbis, lib. iii 


Vega, 2. lib. i. 
iii. c. 1. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1528.] 

tion without the countenance of superior authority, 
and must solicit their sovereign to grant that per¬ 
mission which they could not extort from his dele¬ 
gate. With this view, after adjusting among them¬ 
selves. that Pizarro should claim the station of 
governor, Almagro that of lieutenant-governor, and 
Luque the dignity of bishop, in the country which 
they purposed to conquer, they sent Pizarro as their 
agent to Spain, though their fortunes were now so 
much exhausted by the repeated efforts which they 
had made, that they found some difficulty in bor¬ 
rowing the small sum requisite towards equipping 
him for the voyage- 11 

Pizarro sent to Pizarro lost no time in repairing to 

Spain to nego- court, and new as the scene might be 

ciate. . ° 

to him, he appeared before the emperor 
w ith the unembarrassed dignity of a man conscious 
of what his services merited ; and he conducted his 
negociations with an insinuating dexterity of ad¬ 
dress, which could not have been expected either 
from his education or former habits of life. His 
feeling description of his own sufferings, and his 
pompous account of the country which he had dis¬ 
covered, confirmed by the specimens of its produc¬ 
tions which he exhibited, made such an impression 
both on Charles and his ministers, that they not 
only approved of the intended expedition, but 
seemed to be interested in the success of its leader. 

Neglects his Presuming on those dispositions in 
associates, f avour; pizarro paid little attention 

to the interest of his associates. As the pretensions 
of Luque did not interfere with his own, he obtained 
for him the ecclesiastical dignity to which he 
aspired. For Almagro he claimed only the command 
of the fortress which should be erected at Tumbez. 
To himself he secured whatever his boundless 
July 26 . ambition could desire. He was ap- 

supreme C com- the pointed governor, captain-general, and 
mand to himself. a <j e lantado of all the country which he 

had discovered, and hoped to conquer, with supreme 
authority, civil as well as military; and with full 
right to all the privileges and emoluments usually 
granted to adventurers in the New World. His 
jurisdiction was declared to extend two hundred 
leagues along the coast to the south of the river St. 
Jago; to be independent of the governor of Panama; 
and he had power to nominate all the officers who 
were to serve under him. In return for those con¬ 
cessions, which cost the court of Spain nothing, as 
the enjoyment of them depended upon the success of 
Pizarro’s own efforts, he engaged to raise two 
hundred and fifty men, and to provide the ships, 
arms, and w arlike stores requisite towards subject¬ 
ing to the crown of Castile the country of which the 
government was allotted him. 

Inconsiderable as the body of men 

Slender force he , i ± 

was able to raise, was which Pizarro had undertaken to 

raise, his funds and credit were so low 
that he could hardly complete half the number; and 

n Herrera, dec. 4. lib. iii. c. 1. Vega, 2. lib. i % c. 14. 

o Herrera, dec. 4. lib. vii. c. 9. P Ibid. lib. vu. e. 10. 

3 M 2 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


8<)<) 


after obtaining his patents from the crown, he was 
obliged to steal privately out of the port of Seville, 
in order to elude the scrutiny of the officers who 
had it in charge to examine whether he had fulfilled 
the stipulations in his contract. 0 Before his depar¬ 
ture, however, he received some supply of money 
from Cortes, who having returned to Spain about 
this time, was willing to contribute his aid towards 
enabling an ancient companion, with whose talents 
and courage he was well acquainted, to begin a 
career of glory similar to that which he himself had 
finished .p 

He landed at Nombre de Dios, and marched 
across the isthmus to Panama, accompanied by his 
three brothers, Ferdinand, Juan, and Gonzalo, of 
w hom the first was born in lawful wedlock, the two 
latter, like himself, were of illegitimate birth, and 
by Francisco de Alcantara, his mother’s brother. 
They were all in the prime of life, and of such 
abilities and courage as fitted them to take a dis¬ 
tinguished part in his subsequent transactions. 

On his arrival at Panama, Pizarro 1530 
found Almagro so much exasperated ^ 0 n with"Ai- a * 
at the manner in w hich he had con- magr0 - 
ducted his negociation, that he not only refused to 
act any longer in concert with a man by whose per¬ 
fidy he had been excluded from the power and 
honours to which he had a just claim, but laboured 
to form a new association, in order to thwart or to 
rival his former confederate in his discoveries. 
Pizarro, however, had more wisdom and address 
than to suffer a rupture so fatal to all his schemes 
to become irreparable. By offering voluntarily to 
relinquish the office of adelantado, and promising to 
concur in soliciting that title, with an independent 
government, for Almagro, he gradually mitigated 
the rage of an open-hearted soldier, which had been 
violent, but was not implacable. Luque, highly 
satisfied with having been successful in all his own 
pretensions, cordially seconded Pizarro’s endea¬ 
vours. A reconciliation was effected, and the con¬ 
federacy renewed on its original terms, that the 
enterprise should be carried on at the common 
expense of the associates, and the profits accruing 
from it should be equally divided among them.' 1 

Even after their reunion, and the 
utmost efforts of their interest, three 
small vessels, with a hundred and eighty soldiers, 
thirty-six of whom were horsemen, composed the 
armament which they w ere able to fit out. But the 
astonishing progress of the Spaniards in America 
had inspired them with such ideas of their own 
superiority, that Pizarro did not hesitate to sail 
with this contemptible force to invade a great em¬ 
pire. Almagro was left at Panama, 1531 
as formerly, to follow him with what February, 
reinforcement of men he should be able to muster. 
As the season for embarking was properly chosen, 
and the course of navigation between Panama and 

q Herrera, dec. 4. lib. vii. c. 9. Zarate, lib. i. c. 3 Vega, 2. lib. l. 
c. 14. 


Their armament. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


900 


BOOK VI. 


Lands in Peru. 


Peru was now better known, Pizarro completed 
the voyage in thirteen days; though, by the force 
of the winds and currents, he was carried above a 
hundred leagues to the north of Tumbez, the place 
of his destination, and obliged to land 
his troops in the bay of St. Matthew. 
Without losing a moment he began to advance to¬ 
wards the south, taking care, however, not to depart 
far from the sea-shore, both that he might easily 
effect a junction with the supplies which he ex¬ 
pected from Panama, and secure a retreat in case 
of any disaster, by keeping as near as possible to 
his ships. But as the country in several parts on 
the coast of Peru is barren, unhealthful, and thinly 
peopled ; as the Spaniards had to pass all the rivers 
near their mouth, where the body of water is great¬ 
est ; and as the imprudence of Pizarro, in attacking 
the natives when he should have studied to gain 
their confidence, had forced them to abandon their 
habitations; famine, fatigue, and diseases of various 
kinds, brought upon him and his followers calami¬ 
ties hardly inferior to those which they had endured 
in their former expedition. What they now ex¬ 
perienced corresponded so ill with the alluring de¬ 
scription of the country given by Pizarro, that 
many began to reproach him, and every soldier must 
have become cold to the service, if, even in this 
unfertile region of Peru, they had not met with 
some appearances of wealth and cultivation, which 
seemed to justify the report of their leader. At 
length they reached the province of 
Coaque; and, having surprised the 
principal settlement of the natives, they seized 
their vessels and ornaments of gold and silver, to 
the amount of thirty thousand pesos, with other 
booty of such value, as dispelled all their doubts, and 
inspired the most desponding with sanguine hopes. 1- 

Pizarro himself was so much de- 


April 14. 


obtahiSiR U a < rein- lighted with this rich spoil, which he 
considered as the first fruits of a land 


abounding with treasure, that he instantly despatch¬ 
ed one of his ships to Panama with a large remit¬ 
tance to Almagro; and another to Nicaragua with 
a considerable sura to several persons of influence 
in that province, in hopes of alluring adventurers 
by this early display of the wealth which he had 
acquired. Meanwhile he continued his march 
along the coast, and disdaining to employ any 
means of reducing the natives but force, he attack¬ 
ed them with such violence in their scattered habi¬ 
tations, as compelled them either to retire into the 
interior country, or to submit to Ins yoke. This 
sudden appearance of invaders, whose aspect and 
manners were so strange, and whose power seemed 
to be so irresistible, made the same dreadful im¬ 
pression as in other parts of America. Pizarro 
hardly met with resistance until he attacked the 
island of Puna in the bay of Guayaquil. As that 
w , as better peopled than the country through which 


r Herrera, dec. 4. lib. vii. c. 9. lib. ii. c. 1. Xerez, 182. 


[A. D. 1531 

he had passed, and its inhabitants fiercer and less 
civilized than those of the continent, they defended 
themselves with such obstinate valour that Pizarro 
spent six months in reducing them to subjection. 
From Puna he proceeded to Tumbez, where the 
distempers which raged among his men compelled 
him to remain for three months. 8 
While he was thus employed, he 


Receives some, 

began to reap advantage from his at- and continues 
0,0 to advance. 


tention to spread the fame of his first 
success to Coaque. Two different detachments 
arrived from Nicaragua, which, though neither ex¬ 
ceeded thirty men, he considered as a reinforcement 
of great consequence to his feeble 
band, especially as the one w ? as under 
the command of Sebastian Benalcazar, and the 


May 16. 


other of Hernando Soto, officers not inferior in 
merit and reputation to any who had 
served in America. From Tumbez 
he proceeded to the river Piura, and in an advan¬ 
tageous station near the mouth of it, he established 
the first Spanish colony in Peru, to which be gave 
the name of St. Michael. 

As Pizarro continued to advance towards the 
centre of the Peruvian empire, he gradually re¬ 
ceived more full information concerning its extent 
and policy, as well as the situation of its affairs at 
that juncture. Without some knowledge of these, 
he could not have conducted his operations with 
propriety; and without a suitable attention to them, 
it is impossible to account for the progress which 
the Spaniards had already made, or to unfold the 
causes of their subsequent success. 

At the time when the Spaniards in- state of the Pe _ 
vaded Peru, the dominions of its ruvian em P lre - 
sovereigns extended in length, from north to south, 
above fifteen hundred miles along the Pacific ocean. 
Its breadth, from east to west, was much less con¬ 
siderable, being uniformly bounded by the vast 
ridge of the Andes, stretching from its one extremity 
to the other. Peru, like the rest of the New World, 
w'as originally possessed by small independent 
tribes, differing from each other in manners, and in 
their forms of rude policy. All, however, w ere so 
little civilized, that if the traditions concerning 
their mode of life, preserved among their descen¬ 
dants, deserve credit, they must be classed among 
the most unimproved savages of America. Stran¬ 
gers to every species of cultivation or regular 
industry, without any fixed residence, and unac¬ 
quainted with those sentiments and obligations 
which form the first bonds of social union, they are 
said to have roamed about naked in the forests, w ith 
which the country was then covered, more like wild 
beasts than like men. After they had struggled for 
several ages with the hardships and calamities 
which are inevitable in such a state, and when no 
circumstance seemed to indicate the approach of 
any uncommon effort tow ards improvement, we are 


s P. Sancho ap. Ramus, iii. p. ” 171 . F. Herrera, dec. 4. lib. vii. c. 18. 
lib. ix. c. 1. Zarate, lib. ii. c. 2, 3. Xerez p. 182, etc. 




BOOK VI. A. D. 1532.] THE HISTORY 

told that there appeared, on the banks of the 
lake litiaca, a man and woman of majestic form, 
clothed in decent garments. They declared them¬ 
selves to be children of the sun, sent by their be¬ 
neficent parent, who beheld with pity the miseries 
of the human race, to instruct and to reclaim them. 
At their persuasion, enforced by reverence for the 
divinity in whose name they were supposed to speak, 
several of the dispersed savages united together, 
and receiving their commands as heavenly injunc¬ 
tions, followed them to Cuzco, where they settled 
and began to lay the foundations of a city. 

Manco Capac and Mama Ocollo, for such were 
the names of those extraordinary personages, having 
thus collected some wandering tribes, formed that 
social union, which, by multiplying the desires and 
uniting the efforts of the human species, excites 
industry, and leads to improvement. Manco Capac 
instructed the men in agriculture and other useful 
arts: Mama Ocollo taught the women to spin and 
to weave. By the labour of the one sex, subsistence 
became less precarious; by that of the other, life 
was rendered more comfortable. After securing the 
objects of first necessity in an infant state, by pro¬ 
viding food, raiment, and habitations for the rude 
people of whom he took charge, Manco Capac 
turned his attention towards introducing such laws 
and policy as might perpetuate their happiness. 
By his institutions, which shall be more particularly 
explained hereafter, the various relations in private 
life were established, and the duties resulting from 
them prescribed with such propriety, as gradually 
formed a barbarous people to decency of manners. 
In public administration, the functions of persons 
in authority were so precisely defined, and the sub¬ 
ordination of those under their jurisdiction main¬ 
tained with such a steady hand, that the society in 
which he presided soon assumed the aspect of a 
regular and well-governed state. 

Thus, according to the Indian tradition, was 
founded the empire of the Incas or Lords of Peru. 
At first its extent was small. The territory of Man¬ 
co Capac did not reach above eight leagues from 
Cuzco. But within its narrow precincts he exer¬ 
cised absolute and uncontrolled authority. His 
successors, as their dominions extended, arrogated 
a similar jurisdiction over the new subjects which 
they acquired ; the despotism of Asia was not more 
complete. The incas were not only obeyed as 
monarchs, but revered as divinities. Their blood 
was held to be sacred, and by prohibiting inter¬ 
marriages with the people, was never contaminated 
by mixing with that of any other race. The family, 
thus separated from the rest of the nation, was dis¬ 
tinguished by peculiarities in dress and ornaments, 
which it was unlawful for others to assume. The 
monarch himself appeared with ensigns of royalty 
reserved for him alone ; and received from his sub¬ 
jects marks of obsequious homage and respect, 
which approached almost to adoration. 

t Ciecade Leon, Chron. c. 44. Herrera dec. 3. lib. x. c. 4, dec. 5. 


OF AMERICA. U01 

But, among the Peruvians, this unbounded power 
of their monarchs seems to have been uniformly 
accompanied with attention to the good of their 
subjects. It was not the rage of conquest, if we 
may believe the accounts of their countrymen, that 
prompted the incas to extend their dominions, but 
the desire of diffusing the blessings of civilization, 
and the knowledge of the arts which they possessed, 
among the barbarous people whom they reduced. 
During a succession of twelve monarchs, it is said 
that not one deviated from this beneficent cha¬ 
racter. 1 

When the Spaniards first visited the coast of 
Peru, in the year one thousand five hundred and 
twenty-six, Huana Capac, the twelfth monarch 
from the founder of the state, was seated on the 
throne. He is represented as a prince distinguish¬ 
ed not only for the pacific virtues peculiar to the 
race, but eminent for his martial talents. By his 
victorious arms the kingdom of Quito was subjected, 
a conquest of such extent and importance as almost 
doubled the power of the Peruvian empire. He 
was fond of residing in the capital of that valuable 
province which he had added to his dominions y 
and, notwithstanding the ancient and fundamental 
law of the monarchy against polluting the royal 
blood by any foreign alliance, he married the daugh¬ 
ter of the vanquished monarch of Quito. She bore 
him a son named Atahualpa, whom, on his death at 
Quito, which seems to have happened about the 
year one thousand five hundred and twenty-nine, 
he appointed his successor in that kingdom, leaving 
the rest of his dominions to Huascar, his eldest son, 
by a mother of the royal race. Greatly as the Pe¬ 
ruvians revered the memory of a monarch who had 
reigned with greater reputation and splendour than- 
any of his predecessors, the destination of Huana 
Capac concerning the succession appeared so re¬ 
pugnant to a maxim coeval with the empire, and 
founded on authority deemed sacred, that it was 
no sooner known at Cuzco than it excited general 
disgust. Encouraged by those sentiments of his 
subjects, Huascar required his brother to renounce 
the government of Quito, and to acknowledge him 
as his lawful superior. But it had been the first 
care of Atahualpa to gain a large body of troops 
which had accompanied his father to Quito. These 
were the flower of the Peruvian warriors, to whose 
valour Huana Capac had been indebted for all his 
victories. Relying on their support, Atahualpa 
first eluded his brother’s demand, and then marched 
against him in hostile array. 

Thus the ambition of two young men, the title of 
the one founded on ancient usage, and that of the 
other asserted by the veteran troops, involved Peru 
in civil war, a calamity to which, under a succes¬ 
sion of virtuous princes, it had hitherto been a 
stranger. In such a contest the issue was obvious. 
The force of arms triumphed over the authority of 
laws. Atahualpa remained victorious, and made a 


lib. iii. c. 17- 



902 THE HISTORY 

cruel use of his victory. Conscious of the defect in 
his own title to the crown, he attempted to extermi¬ 
nate the royal race, by putting to death all the chil¬ 
dren of the sun descended from Manco Capac, 
whom he could seize either by force or stratagem. 
From a political motive, the life of his unfortunate 
rival Huascar, who had been taken prisoner in a 
battle which decided the fate of the empire, was 
prolonged for some time, that by issuing orders in 
his name the usurper might more easily establish his 
own authority. 11 

When Pizarro landed in the bay of 
pS > ie8s b of tothe St. Matthew, this civil war raged be¬ 
tween the two brothers in its greatest 
fury. Had he made any hostile attempt in his for¬ 
mer visit to Peru in the year one thousand five hun¬ 
dred and twenty-seven, he must then have encoun¬ 
tered the force of a powerful state, united under a 
monarch possessed of capacity as well as courage, 
and unembarrassed with any care that could divert 
him from opposing his progress. But at this time 
the two competitors, though they received early 
accounts of the arrival and violent proceedings of 
the Spaniards, were so intent upon the operations 
of a war which they deemed more interesting, that 
they paid no attention to the motions of an enemy, 
too inconsiderable in number to excite any great 
alarm, and to whom it would be easy, as they ima¬ 
gined, to give a check when more at leisure. 

By this fortunate coincidence of 

lie avails himself , „ , 

of it, and ad- events, whereof Pizarro could have no 
foresight, and of which, from his de¬ 
fective mode of intercourse with the people of the 
country, he remained long ignorant, he was per¬ 
mitted to carry on his operations unmolested, and 
advance to the centre of a great empire before one 
effort of its power was exerted to stop his career. 
During their progress, the Spaniards had acquired 
some imperfect knowledge of this struggle between 
the two contending factions. The first complete 
information with respect to it they received from 
messengers whom Huascar sent to Pizarro, in order 
to solicit his aid against Atahualpa, whom he re¬ 
presented as a rebel and an usurpers Pizarro per¬ 
ceived at once the importance of this intelligence, 
and foresaw so clearly all the advantages which might 
be derived from this divided state of the kingdom 
which he had invaded, that without waiting for the 
reinforcement which he expected from Panama, he 
determined to push forward, while intestine discord 
put it out of the power of the Peruvians to attack 
him with their whole force, and while, by taking part, 
as circumstances should incline him, with one of the 
competitors, he might be enabled with greater ease 
to crush both. Enterprising as the Spaniards of 
that age were in all their operations against Ameri¬ 
cans, and distinguished as Pizarro was among his 
countrymen for daring courage, we can hardly sup¬ 
pose, that, after having proceeded hitherto slowly 

ii Zarate, lib. i. c. 15. Vega, 1. lib. ix, c. 12 . and 32- 40- Herrera, 
dec. 5. lib. i. c.2. lib. in. 17. 


OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1632. BOOK VJ. 

and with much caution, he would have changed at 
once his system of operation, and have ventured 
upon a measure so hazardous, without some new 
motive or prospect to justify it. 

As he was obliged to divide his State of hi* 
troops, in order to leave a garrison in forces - 
St. Michael, sufficient to defend a station of equal 
importance as a place of retreat in case of any dis¬ 
aster, and as a port for receiving any supplies which 
should come from Panama, he began his march with 
a very slender and ill-accoutred train of followers. 
They consisted of sixty-two horsemen/ and a hun¬ 
dred and two foot-soldiers, of whom twenty were 
armed with cross-bows, and three with muskets. He 
directed his course towards Caxamalca, a small 
town at the distance of twelve days' march from St. 
Michael, where Atahualpa was encamped with a 
considerable body of troops. Before he had pro¬ 
ceeded far, an officer despatched by the inca met 
him with a valuable present from that prince, 
accompanied with a proffer of his alliance, and 
assurances of a friendly reception at Caxamalca. 
Pizarro, according to the usual artifice of his coun¬ 
trymen in America, pretended to come as the am¬ 
bassador of a very powerful monarch, and declared 
that he was now advancing with an intention to 
offer Atahualpa his aid against those enemies who 
disputed his title to the throne. 2 

As the object of the Spaniards in 
entering their country was altogether Juvfan^cdncern- 
incomprehensible to the Peruvians, 1112their deslgns " 
they had formed various conjectures concerning it, 
without being able to decide whether they should 
consider their new guests as beings of a superior 
nature, who had visited them from some beneficent 
motive, or as formidable avengers of their crimes, 
and enemies to their repose and liberty. The con¬ 
tinual professions of the Spaniards, that they came 
to enlighten them with the knowledge of truth, and 
lead them in the way of happiness, favoured the for¬ 
mer opinion; the outrages which they committed, 
their rapaciousness and cruelty, were awful con¬ 
firmations of the latter. While in this state of uncer¬ 
tainty, Pizarro’s declaration of his pacific inten¬ 
tions so far removed all the inca’s fears, that he 
determined to give him a friendly reception. In 
consequence of this resolution, the Spaniards were 
allowed to march in tranquillity across the sandy 
desert between St. Michael and Motupe, where the 
most feeble effort of an enemy, added to the una¬ 
voidable distresses which they suffered in passing 
through that comfortless region, must have proved 
fatal to them. a From Motupe they advanced to¬ 
wards the mountains which encompassed the low 
country of Peru, and passed through a defile so 
narrow and inaccessible, that a few men might have 
defended it against a numerous army. But here 
likewise, from the same inconsiderate credulity of 
the inca, the Spaniards met with no opposition, 

X Zarate, lib. ii. c 3. y See Note CXXVlII. 

a Herrera, dec. 5. lib. i. c. 3. Xerez, p. 189- a See Mote CXXIX 







THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1632.] 


903 


and took quiet possession of a fort erected for the 
security of that important station. As they now 
approached near to Caxamalca, Atahualpa renewed 
his professions of friendship ; and as an evidence 
of their sincerity, sent them presents of greater 
value than the former. 

Arrive at On entering Caxamalca, Pizarro 

took possession of a large court, on 
one side of which was a house which the Spanish 
historians call a palace of the inca, and on the other 
a temple of the sun, the whole surrounded with a 
strong rampart or wall of earth. When he had 
posted his troops in this advantageous station, he 
despatched his brother Ferdinand and Hernando 
Soto to the camp of Atahualpa, which was at about 
a league distant from the town. He instructed them 
to confirm the declaration which he had formerly 
made of his pacific disposition, and to desire an 
interview with the inca, that he might explain more 
fully the intention of the Spaniards in visiting his 
country. They were treated with all the respectful 
hospitality usual among the Peruvians in the re¬ 
ception of their most cordial friends, and Atahualpa 
promised to visit the Spanish commander next day 
in his quarters. The decent deportment of the Pe¬ 
ruvian monarch, the order of his court, and the 
reverence with which his subjects approached his 
person and obeyed his commands, astonished those 
Spaniards who had never met in America with any 
thing more dignified than the petty cazique of a 
barbarous tribe. But their eyes were still more 
powerfully attracted by the vast profusion of wealth 
which they observed in the inca’s camp. The rich 
ornaments worn by him and his attendants, the ves¬ 
sels of gold and silver in which the repast offered 
to them was served up, the multitude of utensils of 
every kind formed of those precious metals, opened 
prospects far exceeding any idea of opulence that 
an European of the sixteenth century could form. 

Perfidious scheme On their return to Caxamalca, while 

ot Pizarro. their minds were yet warm with ad¬ 
miration and desire of the wealth which they had 
beheld, they gave such a description of it to their 
countrymen as confirmed Pizarro in a resolution 
which he had already taken. From his own obser¬ 
vation of American manners during his long service 
in the New World, as well as from the advantages 
which Cortes had derived from seizing Montezuma, 
he knew of what consequence it was to have the 
inca in his power. For this purpose, he formed a 
plan as daring as it was perfidious. Notwithstand¬ 
ing the character that he had assumed, of an am¬ 
bassador from a powerful monarch who courted an 
alliance with the inca, and in violation of the re- 
peated offers which he had made to him of his own 
friendship and assistance, he determined to avail 
himself of the unsuspicious simplicity with which 
Atahualpa relied on his professions, and to seize 
the person of the inca during the interview to which 
he had invited him. He prepared for the execution 


of his scheme with the same deliberate arrangement, 
and with as little compunction, as if it had re¬ 
flected no disgrace on himself or his country. He 
divided his cavalry into three small squadrons, 
under the command of his brother Ferdinand, Soto, 
and Benalcazar; his infantry were formed in one 
body, except twenty of most tried courage, whom 
he kept near his own person to support him in the 
dangerous service which he reserved for himself; 
the artillery, consisting of two field-pieces, b and the 
cross-bowmen, were placed opposite to the avenue by 
which Atahualpa was to approach. All were com¬ 
manded to keep within the square, and not to move 
until the signal for action was given. 

Early in the morning the Peruvian 

. Nov. 16. 

camp was all in motion, But as Ata- Visited by the 
hualpa was solicitous to appear with 
the greatest splendour and magnificence in his first 
interview with the strangers, the preparations for 
this were so tedious, that the day was far advanced 
before he began his march. Even then, lest the 
order of the procession should be deranged, he 
moved so slowly, that the Spaniards became impa¬ 
tient, and apprehensive that some suspicion of their 
intention might be the cause of this delay. In 
order to remove this, Pizarro despatched one of Itis 
officers with fresh assurances of his friendly dispo¬ 
sition. At length the inca approached. First of 
all appeared four hundred men, in an uniform dress, 
as harbingers to clear the way before him. He 
himself, sitting on a throne or couch adorned with 
plumes of various colours, and almost covered with 
plates of gold and silver enriched with precious 
stones, was carried on the shoulders of his principal 
attendants. Behind him came some chief officers 
of his court, carried in the same manner. Several 
bands of singers and dancers accompanied this ca¬ 
valcade ; and the whole plain was covered with 
troops, amounting to more than thirty thousand men. 

As the inca drew near the Spanish 

quarters, father Vincent Valverde, of r fatfier a vad? ue 

. verde. 

chaplain to the expedition, advanced 

with a crucifix in one hand, and a breviary in the 
other, and in a long discourse explained to him the 
doctrine of the creation, the fall of Adam, the incar¬ 
nation, the sufferings and resurrection of Jesus 
Christ, the appointment of St. Peter as God’s vice¬ 
gerent on earth, the transmission of his apostolic 
power by succession to the popes, the donation 
made to the king of Castile, by pope Alexander, of 
all the regions of the New World. In consequence 
of all this, he required Atahualpa to embrace the 
Christian faith, to acknowledge the supreme juris¬ 
diction of the pope, and to submit to the king of 
Castile as his lawful sovereign ; promising if he 
complied instantly with this requisition, that the 
Castilian monarch would protect his dominions, 
and permit him to continue in the exercise of his 
royal authority; but if he should impiously refuse 
to obey this summons, he denounced war against 


b Xerez, o. 194. 



004 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1532. BOOK VI. 


him in his master’s name, and threatened him with 
the most dreadful effects of his vengeance. 

Reply Of the This strange harangue, unfolding 
mca. deep mysteries, and alluding to un¬ 
known facts, of which no power of eloquence could 
have conveyed at once a distinct idea to an Ame¬ 
rican, was so lamely translated by an unskilful in¬ 
terpreter, little acquainted with the idiom of the 
Spanish tongue, and incapable of expressing him¬ 
self with propriety in the language of the inca, that 
its general tenor was altogether incomprehensible to 
Atahualpa. Some parts in it, of more obvious mean¬ 
ing, filled him with astonishment and indignation. 
His reply, however, was temperate. He began with 
observing, that he was lord of the dominions over 
which he reigned by hereditary succession ; and 
added, that he could not conceive how a foreign 
priest should pretend to dispose of territories which 
did not belong to him ; that if such a preposterous 
grant had been made, he, who was the rightful pos¬ 
sessor, refused to confirm it; that he had no inclina¬ 
tion to renounce the religious institutions established 
by his ancestors ; nor would he forsake the service 
of the sun, the immortal divinity whom he and his 
people revered, in order to worship the god of the 
Spaniards, who was subject to death ; that with re¬ 
spect to other matters contained in his discourse, as 
he had never heard of them before, and did not now 
understand their meaning, he desired to know where 
the priest had learned things so extraordinary. “ In 
this book,” answered Valverde, reaching out to him 
his breviary. The inca opened it eagerly, and turning 
over the leaves, lifted it to his ear: “ This,” says 
he, “ is silent; it tells me nothing;” and threw it 
with disdain to the ground. The enraged monk, 
running towards his countrymen, cried out, “ To 
arms, Christians, to arms; the word of God is in¬ 
sulted ; avenge this profanation on those impious 
dogs.” c 

Pizarro attacks pizarro > who, during this long con- 

the Peruvians; f erence> had with difficulty restrained 

his soldiers, eager to seize the rich spoils of which 
they had now so near a view, immediately gave the 
signal of assault. At once the martial music struck 
up, the cannon and muskets began to fire, the horse 
sallied out fiercely to the charge, the infantry rush¬ 
ed on sword in hand. The Peruvians, astonished 
at the suddenness of an attack which they did not 
expect, and dismayed with the destructive effect 
of the fire-arms, and the irresistible impression of 
the cavalry, fled with universal consternation on 
every side, without attempting either to annoy the 
enemy, or to defend themselves. Pizarro, at the 
head of his chosen band, advanced directly tow ards 
the inca; and though his nobles crowded around 
him with officious zeal, and fell in numbers at his 
feet, while they vied one with another in sacrificing 
their own lives, that they might cover the sacred 
person of their sovereign, the Spaniards soon pene¬ 
trated to the royal seat; and Pizarro, seizing the 

c See Note CXXX. 


inca by the arm, dragged him to the and seizes the 
ground, and carried him as a prisoner ,nca ‘ 
to his quarters. The fate of the monarch increas¬ 
ed the precipitate flight of his followers. The Spa¬ 
niards pursued them towards every quarter, and 
with deliberate and unrelenting barbarity continued 
to slaughter wretched fugitives, wdio never once 
offered to resist. The carnage did not cease until 
the close of the day. Above four thousand Peru¬ 
vians were killed. Not a single Spaniard fell, nor 
was one wounded but Pizarro himself, whose hand 
w as slightly hurt by one of his own soldiers, while 
struggling eagerly to lay hold on the Inca. d 

The plunder of the field was rich beyond any 
idea which the Spaniards had yet formed concern¬ 
ing the wealth of Peru, and they were so transported 
with the value of the acquisition, as well as the 
greatnesss of their success, that they passed the 
night in the extravagant exultation natural to in¬ 
digent adventurers on such an extraordinary change 
of fortune. 

As first the captive monarch could Dejection of 
hardly believe a calamity, which he so the inca- 
little expected, to be real. But he soon felt all the 
misery of his fate, and the dejection into which he 
sunk was in proportion to the height of grandeur 
from which he had fallen. Pizarro, afraid of losing 
all the advantages which he hoped to derive from 
the possession of such a prisoner, laboured to con¬ 
sole him with professions of kindness and respect, 
that corresponded ill with his actions. By residing 
among the Spaniards, the inca quickly discovered 
their ruling passion, which indeed they were nowise 
solicitous to conceal, and, by applying to that, made 
an attempt to recover his liberty. He His offer of 
offered as a ransom what astonished a ransom, 
the Spaniards, even after all they now knew con¬ 
cerning the opulence of his kingdom. The apart¬ 
ment in which he was confined was twenty-two feet 
in length and sixteen in breadth ; he undertook to 
fill it with vessels of gold as high as he could reach. 
Pizarro closed eagerly with this tempting proposal, 
and a line was drawn upon the walls of the cham¬ 
ber, to mark the stipulated height to which the 
treasure was to rise. 

Atahualpa, transported with having obtained 
some prospect of liberty, took measures instantly for 
fulfilling his part of the agreement, by sending mes¬ 
sengers to Cuzco, Quito, and other places, where 
gold had been amassed in largest quantities, either 
for adorning the temples of the gods, or the houses 
of the inca, to bring what was necessary for com¬ 
pleting his ransom directly to Caxamalca. Though 
Atahualpa was now in the custody of his enemies, 
yet so much were the Peruvians accustomed to 
respect every mandate issued by their sovereign, 
that his orders were executed with the greatest 
alacrity. Soothed with hopes of recovering his 
liberty by this means, the subjects of the inca were 
afraid ot endangering his life by forming any other 

d See Note CXXXI. 





BOOK VI. A. D. 1532.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


905 


December. 


scheme for his relief; and though the force of 
the empire was still entire, no preparations were 
made and no army assembled to avenge their own 
wrongs or those of their monarch. e The Spaniards 
remained in Caxamalca tranquil and unmolested. 

„ . , Small detachments of their number 

visit different marched into remote provinces of the 

provinces. r 

empire, and, instead of meeting with 
any opposition, were every where received with 
marks of the most submissive respect/ 

AI Inconsiderable as those parties were, 

with a reinforce- and desirous as Pizarro mi^ht be to 

ment. # ° 

obtain some knowledge of the interior 
state of the country, he could not have ventured 
upon any diminution of his main body, if he had 
not about this time received an account 
of Almagro’s having landed at St. 
Michael with such a reinforcement as would almost 
double the number of his followers.® The arrival of 
this long-expected succour was not more agreeable 
to the Spaniards than alarming to the inca. He 
saw the power of his enemies increase; and as he 
knew neither the source whence they derived their 
supplies, nor the means by which they were con¬ 
veyed to Peru, he could not foresee to what a height 
the inundation that poured in upon his dominions 
might rise. While disquieted with such apprehen¬ 
sions, he learned that some Spaniards, in their way 
to Cuzco, had visited his brother Huascar in the 
place where he kept him confined, and that the cap¬ 
tive prince had represented to them the justice of 
his own cause, and as an inducement to espouse it, 
had promised them a quantity of treasure greatly 
beyond that which Atahualpa had engaged to pay 
for his ransom. If the Spaniards should listen to 
this proposal, Atahualpa perceived his own destruc¬ 
tion to be inevitable ; and suspecting that their 
insatiable thirst for gold would tempt them to lend 
a favourable ear to it, he determined to sacrifice 
his brother’s life, that he might save 

1533. . . . 

Huascar'put his own ; and his orders for this pur¬ 
pose were executed, like all his other 
commands, with scrupulous punctuality.* 1 

Meanwhile Indians daily arrived at 
make a division Caxamalca from different parts of the 
kingdom, loaded with treasure. A 
great part of the stipulated quantity was now 
amassed, and Atahualpa assured the Spaniards, 
that the only thing which prevented the whole from 
being brought in, was the remoteness of the pro¬ 
vinces where it was deposited. But such vast piles 
of gold presented continually to the view of needy 
soldiers, had so inflamed their avarice, that it was 
impossible any longer to restrain their impatience 
to obtain possession of this rich booty. Orders were 
given for melting down the whole, except some 
pieces of curious fabric, reserved as a present for the 
emperor. After setting apart the fifth due to the crown, 
and a hundred thousand pesos as a donative to the 

t A’erez, 305. f See Note CXXXII. 

H Se rez, 204. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iii. c; 1, 2. ... 

)j Zarate, lib. ii. c. 6. Gomara, Hist. c. 115. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. in. c. 2. 


soldiers which arrived with Almagro, there remained 
one million five hundred and twenty-eight thousand 
five hundred pesos to Pizarro and his followers. 
The festival of St. James, the patron ^ ] ^ 
saint of Spain, was the day chosen for 
the partition of this enormous sum, and the manner 
of conducting it strongly marks the strange alliance 
of fanaticism with avarice, which I have more than 
once had occasion to point out as a striking feature 
in the character of the conquerors of the New 
World. Though assembled to divide the spoils of 
an innocent people, procured by deceit, extortion, 
and cruelty, the transaction began with a solemn 
invocation of the name of God,' as if they could 
have expected the guidance of Heaven in distribut¬ 
ing those wages of iniquity. In this division above 
eight thousand pesos, at that time not inferior in 
effective value to as many pounds sterling in the 
present century, fell to the share of each horseman, 
and half that sum to each foot soldier. Pizarro 
himself, and his officers, received dividends in pro¬ 
portion to the dignity of their rank. 

There is no example in history of 
, .. .... c The effect of it. 

such a sudden acquisition ot wealth 

by military service, nor was ever a sum so great 
divided among so small a number of soldiers. Many 
of them having received a recompence for their 
services far beyond their most sanguine hopes, were 
so impatient to retire from fatigue and danger, in 
order to spend the remainder of their days in their 
native country in ease and opulence, that they de¬ 
manded their discharge with clamorous importunity. 
Pizarro, sensible that from such men he could ex¬ 
pect neither enterprise in action nor fortitude in 
suffering, and persuaded that wherever they went 
the display of their riches would allure adventurers, 
less opulent but more hardy, to his standard, granted 
their suit without reluctance, and permitted above 
sixty of them to accompany his brother Ferdinand, 
whom he sent to Spain with an account of his suc¬ 
cess, and the present destined for the emperor. k 

The Spaniards having divided among 

The inca de- 

tliem the treasure amassed tor the mands his liberty 

in vain. 

inca’s ransom, he insisted with them 
to fulfil their promise of setting him at liberty. 
But nothing was further from Pizarro’s thoughts. 
During his long service in the New World, he had 
imbibed those ideas and maxims of his fellow- 
soldiers, which led them to consider its inhabitants 
as an inferior race, neither worthy of the name, nor 
entitled to the rights, of men. In his compact with 
Atahualpa, he had no other object than to amuse 
his captive with such a prospect of recovering his 
liberty, as might induce him to lend all the aid of 
his authority towards collecting the wealth of his 
kingdom. Having now accomplished this, he no 
longer regarded his plighted faith ; and at the very 
time when the credulous prince hoped to be replaced 
on his throne, he had secretly resolved to bereave 

i Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iii. c. 3. 

k Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iii, c. 4. Vega, p. 2. lib. i. c. 38. 



900 


THE HISTORY 


him of life. Many circumstances seem to have con¬ 
curred in prompting him to this action, the most 
criminal and atrocious that stains the Spanish name, 
amidst all the deeds of violence committed in carry¬ 
ing on the conquests of the New World. 

Though Pizarro had seized the inca, 
Spaniards mutu- in imitation of Cortes’s conduct towards 
ally jeaJoub. Mexican monarch, he did not pos¬ 

sess talents for carrying on the same artful plan of 
policy. Destitute of the temper and address re¬ 
quisite for gaining the confidence of his prisoner, 
he never reaped all the Advantages which might 
have been derived from being master of his person 
and authority. Atahualpa was, indeed, a prince of 
greater abilities and discernment than Montezuma, 
and seems to have penetrated more thoroughly into 
the character and intentions of the Spaniards. 
Mutual suspicion and distrust accordingly took place 
between them. The strict attention with which it 
was necessary to guard a captive of such impor¬ 
tance, greatly increased the fatigue of military duty. 
The utility of keeping him appeared inconsider¬ 
able ; and Pizarro felt him as an encumbrance, from 
which he wished to be delivered. 1 

Almagro and his followers had made 

Almasro and . , „ , , . . 

his followers a demand ot an equal share in the 

demand his life. . , , , 

incas ransom; and though Pizarro 
had bestowed upon the private men the large gra¬ 
tuity which I have mentioned, and endeavoured to 
soothe their leader by presents of great value, they 
still continued dissatisfied. They were apprehen¬ 
sive, that as long as Atahualpa remained a prisoner, 
Pizarro’s soldiers would apply whatever treasure 
should be acquired, to make up what was wanting 
of the quantity stipulated for his ransom, and under 
that pretext exclude them from any part of it. 
They insisted eagerly on putting the inca to death, 
that all the adventurers in Peru might thereafter be 
on an equal footing. 1 " 

Pizarro himself began to be alarmed 

Motives which „ P ... 

induced Pizarro With aCCOUlltS Ot lOl'CeS assembling in 
to consent. ,, , . c 

the remote provinces ot the empire, 
and suspected Atahualpa of having issued orders 
for that purpose. These fears and suspicions were 
artfully increased by Philippillo, one of the Indians 
whom Pizarro had carried off from Tumbez in the 
year one thousand five hundred and twenty-seven, 
and whom he employed as an interpreter. The 
function which he performed admitting this man to 
familiar intercourse with the captive monarch, he 
presumed, notwithstanding the meanness of his 
birth, to raise his affections to a Coya, or descendant 
of the sun, one of Atahualpa’s wives; and seeing no 
prospect of gratifying that passion during the life of 
the monarch, he endeavoured to fill the ears of the 
Spaniards with such accounts of the inca’s secret 
designs and preparations, as might awaken their 
jealousy, and incite them to cut him off. 

While Almagro and his followers openly de- 


Ilis trial. 


OF AMERICA. [A. D. 1533. BOOK VI. 

manded the life of the inca, and Philippillo labour¬ 
ed to ruin him by private machinations, that unhappy 
prince inadvertently contributed to hasten his own 
fate. During his confinement he had attached 
himself with peculiar affection to Ferdinand Pizarro 
and Hernando Soto; who, as they were persons of 
birth and education superior to the rough adven¬ 
turers with whom they served, were accustomed to 
behave with more decency and attention to the 
captive monarch. Soothed with this respect from 
persons of such high rank, he delighted in their 
society. But in the presence of the governor he 
was always uneasy and overawed. This dread soon 
came to be mingled with contempt. Among all the 
European arts, what he admired most was that of 
reading and writing; and he long deliberated with 
himself, whether he should regard it as a natural or 
acquired talent. In order to determine this, he 
desired one of the soldiers, who guarded him, to 
write the name of God on the nail of his thumb. 
This he showed successively to several Spaniards, 
asking its meaning; and to his amazement, they 
all, without hesitation, returned the same answer. 
At length Pizarro entered ; and, on presenting it to 
him, he blushed, and with some confusion was 
obliged to acknowledge his ignorance. From that 
moment Atahualpa considered him as a mean per¬ 
son, less instructed than his own soldiers ; and he 
had not address enough to conceal the sentiments 
with which this discovery inspired him. To be the 
object of a barbarian’s scorn, not only mortified the 
pride of Pizarro, but excited such resentment in his 
breast, as added force to all the other considerations 
which prompted him to put the inca to death." 

But in order to give some colour of 
justice to this violent action, and that 
he himself might be exempted from standing singly 
responsible for the commission of it, Pizarro re¬ 
solved to try the inca with all the formalities ob¬ 
served in the criminal courts of Spain. Pizarro 
himself, and Almagro, with two assistants, were 
appointed judges, with full power to acquit or to 
condemn; an attorney-general was named to carry 
on the prosecution in the king’s name ; counsellors 
were chosen to assist the prisoner in his defence ; 
and clerks were ordained to record the proceedings 
of court. Before this strange tribunal, a charge was 
exhibited still more amazing. It consisted of va¬ 
rious articles ; that Atahualpa, though a bastard, 
had dispossessed the rightful owner of the throne, 
and usurped the regal power; that he had put his 
brother and lawful sovereign to death ; that he was 
an idolater, and had not only permitted, but com¬ 
manded, the offering of human sacrifices ; that he 
had a great number of concubines; that since his 
imprisonment he had wasted and embezzled the 
royal treasures, which now belonged of right to the 
conquerors ; that he had incited his subjects to take 
arms against the Spaniards. On these heads of ac- 


1 Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iii. c. 4. 

m Zarate, lib. ii. c. 7. Vega, p. 2. lib. i. c. 7. Herr. dec. 5. lib. iii. c. 4. 


n TIerrcra, dec. 5. lib. iii, c. 4. Vega, p. 11. lib. i. c. 38. 








BOOK VI. A. 1). 1533.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


007 


cusation, some of which are so ludicrous, others so 
absurd, that the effrontery of Pizarro, in making 
them the foundation of a serious procedure, is not 
less surprising than his injustice, did this strange 
court go on to try the sovereign of a great empire, 
over whom it had no jurisdiction. With respect 
to each of the articles, witnesses were examined ; 
hut as they delivered their evidence in their native 
tongue, Philippillo had it in his power to give their 
words whatever turn best suited his malevolent in¬ 
tentions. To judges predetermined in their opinion, 
this evidence appeared sufficient. 

lie is condemned, The ^ Pronounced Atahualpa guilty, 
and condemned him to be burnt alive, 
briar \alverde prostituted the authority of his sa¬ 
cred function to confirm this sentence, and by his 
signature warranted it to be just. Astonished at 
his fate, Atahualpa endeavoured to avert it by tears, 
by promises, and by entreaties that he might be sent 
to Spain, where a monarch would be the arbiter of 
his lot. But pity never touched the unfeeling heart 
of Pizarro. He ordered him to be led instantly to 
execution ; and, what added to the bitterness of his 
last moments, the same monk who had just ratified 
his doom, offered to console, and attempted to convert 
him. The most powerful argument Valverde em¬ 
ployed to prevail with him to embrace the Christian 
faith, w as a promise of mitigation in his punishment. 
The dread of a cruel death extorted from the trembling 
victim a desire of receiving baptism. The ceremony 

and executed was performed ; and Atahualpa, instead 

of being burnt, w as strangled at the stake. 0 

Several Spa- Happily for the credit of the Spa¬ 
niards protest . . - 

agamst it. nish nation, even among the prolligate 

adventurers which it sent forth to conquer and de¬ 
solate the New World, there were persons who re¬ 
tained some tincture of the Castilian generosity and 
honour. Though, before the trial of Atahualpa, 
Ferdinand Pizarro had set out for Spain, and Soto 
was sent on a separate command at a distance from 
Caxamalca, this odious transaction was not carried 
on without censure and opposition. Several officers, 
and among those some of the greatest reputation 
and most respectable families in the service, not 
only remonstrated, but protested against this mea¬ 
sure of their general, as disgraceful to their coun¬ 
try, as repugnant to every maxim of equity, as a 
violation of public faith, and an usurpation of juris¬ 
diction over an independent monarch, to which 
they had no title. But their laudable endeavours 
were vain. Numbers, and the opinion of such as 
held every thing to be lawful which they deemed 
advantageous, prevailed. History, however, records 
even the unsuccessful exertions of virtue with ap¬ 
plause ; and the Spanish writers, in relating events 
where the valour of their natipn is more conspicu¬ 
ous than its humanity, have not failed to preserve 
the names of those who made this laudable effort to 

o Zarate, lib. ii. c. 7. Xerez, p. 233. Vega, p. 11. lib. i. c. 36, 37. 
Gomara Hist. c. 117. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iii. c. 4. ... 

p Vega, p. 1). lib. i. c. .37. Xerez, i. 235. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. in. c. 5. 

<1 Vega, p. 11. lib. ii.c. 7. 


save their country from the infamy of having perpe¬ 
trated such a crime/ 

On the death of Atahualpa, Pizarro 
invested one of his sons with the en- ver S nment°and or- 
signs of royalty, hoping that a young dei 111 leru ' 
man without experience might prove a more passive 
instrument in his hands, than an ambitious monarch, 
who had been accustomed to independent command. 
The people of Cuzco, and the adjacent country, 
acknowledged Manco Capac, a brother of Huascar, 
as inca. q But neither possessed the authority 
which belonged to a sovereign of Peru. The vio¬ 
lent convulsions into which the empire had been 
thrown, first by the civil war between the two bro¬ 
thers, and then by the invasion of the Spaniards, 
had not only deranged the order of the Peruvian 
government, but almost dissolved its frame. When 
they beheld their monarch a captive in the power of 
strangers, and at last suffering an ignominious 
death, the people in several provinces, as if they 
had been set free from every restraint of law and 
decency,broke outinto the most licentious excesses/ 
So many descendants of the sun, after being treat¬ 
ed with the utmost indignity, had been cut off by 
Atahualpa, that not only their influence in the state 
diminished with their number, but the accustomed 
reverence for that sacred race sensibly decreased. 
In consequence of this state of things, ambitious 
men in different parts of the empire aspired to in¬ 
dependent authority, and usurped jurisdiction to 
which they had no title. The general who commanded 
for Atahualpa in Quito, seized the brother and chil¬ 
dren of his master, put them to a cruel death, and 
disclaiming any connexion with either inca, endea¬ 
voured to establish a separate kingdom for himself/ 
The Spaniards, with pleasure, be- Pizarro advances 
held the spirit of discord diffusing t0 Cuzc0 * 
itself, and the vigour of government relaxing among 
the Peruvians. They considered those disorders as 
symptoms of a state hastening towards its dissolu¬ 
tion. Pizarro no longer hesitated to advance to¬ 
wards Cuzco, and he had received such considerable 
reinforcements, that he could venture with little 
danger to penetrate so far into the interior part of 
the country. The account of the wealth acquired 
at Caxamalca operated as he had foreseen. No 
sooner did his brother Ferdinand, with the officers 
and soldiers to whom he had given their discharge 
after the partition of the inca’s ransom, arrive at 
Panama, and display their riches in the view of 
their astonished countrymen, than fame spread the 
account with such exaggeration through all the 
Spanish settlements on the South Sea, that the go¬ 
vernors of Guatimala, Panama, and Nicaragua, 
could hardly restrain the people under their juris¬ 
diction from abandoning their possessions, and 
crowding to that inexhaustible source of wealth 
which seemed to be opened in Peru/ In spite of 

r Herrera, dec. 5. lib. ii. c. 12. lib. iii. c. 5. 

s Zarate, lib. ii. c. 8. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 3, 4. 

t Gomara Hist. c. 125. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 1. Herrera, dec. 5. lib 
iii. c. 5. 



908 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1633. BOOK VI. 


every check and regulation, such numbers resorted 
thither, that Pizarro began his march at the head 
of five hundred men, after leaving a considerable 
garrison in St. Michael, under the command of 
Benalcazar. The Peruvians had assembled some 
large bodies of troops to oppose his progress. Se¬ 
veral fierce encounters happened. But they ter¬ 
minated like all the actions in America : a few 
Spaniards were killed or wounded; the natives 
were put to flight with incredible slaughter. At 
length Pizarro forced his way to Cuzco, and took 
quiet possession of that capital. The riches found 
there, even after all that the natives had carried off 
and concealed, either from a superstitious venera¬ 
tion for the ornaments of their temples, or out of 
hatred to their rapacious conquerors, exceeded in 
value what had been received as Atahualpa’s ran¬ 
som. But as the Spaniards were now accustomed 
to the wealth of the country, and it came to be 
parcelled out among a great number of adventurers, 
this dividend did not excite the same surprise, 
either from novelty, or the largeness of the sum that 
fell to the share of each individual. 11 

During the march to Cuzco, that son of Atahu- 
alpa, whom Pizarro treated as inca, died; and as 
the Spaniards substituted no person in his place, 
the title of Manco Capac seems to have been uni¬ 
versally recognised. x 

While his fellow-soldiers were thus 


Quito conquered 

by Benalcazar. em pi 0 yed, Benalcazar, governor of St. 
Michael, an able and enterprising officer, was 
ashamed of remaining inactive, and impatient to 
have his name distinguished among the discoverers 
and conquerors of the New World. The seasonable 
arrival of a fresh body of recruits from Panama and 
Nicaragua, put it in his power to gratify this pas¬ 
sion. Leaving a sufficient force to protect the in¬ 
fant settlement intrusted to his care, he placed him¬ 
self at the head of the rest, and set out to attempt 
the reduction of Quito, where, according to the re¬ 
port of the natives, Atahualpa had left the greatest 
part of his treasure. Notwithstanding the distance 
of that city from St. Michael, the difficulty of march¬ 
ing through a mountainous country covered with 
woods, and the frequent and fierce attacks of the 
best troops in Peru, commanded by a skilful leader, 
the valour, good conduct, and perseverance of Ben¬ 
alcazar surmounted every obstacle, and he entered 
Quito with h-is victorious troops. But they met 
with a cruel mortification there. The natives, now 
acquainted to their sorrow with the predominant 
passion of their invaders, and knowing how to dis¬ 
appoint it, had carried off all those treasures, the 
prospect of which had prompted them to undertake 
this arduous expedition, and had supported them 
under all the dangers and hardships wherewith they 
had to struggle in carrying it on.>' 

Alvarado's expe- Benalcazar was not the only Spanish 
leader who attacked the kingdom of 


dition. 


ti See Note CXXX1II. x Herrera, dec. 5. lib. v. c. 2. 

v Zarate, lib. ii. c. 9. Vega, p. ]1. lib. ii. c. 9. Ilerrera, dec. 5. lib. 
iv. c. 11, 12. lib. v. c. 2,3. lib. vi. c. 3. z See Note CXXX1V. 


Quito. The fame of its riches attracted a more 
powerful enemy. Pedro de Alvarado, who had dis¬ 
tinguished himself so eminently in the conquest of 
Mexico, having obtained the government of Guati- 
mala as a recompence for his valour, soon became 
disgusted with a life of uniform tranquillity, and 
longed to be again engaged in the bustle of military 
service. The glory and wealth acquired by the 
conquerors of Peru heightened this passion, and 
gave it a determined direction. Believing, or pre¬ 
tending to believe, that the kingdom of Quito did 
not lie within the limits of the province allotted 
to Pizarro, he resolved to invade it. The high re¬ 
putation of the commander allured volunteers from 
every quarter. He embarked with five hundred 
men, of whom above two hundred were of such 
distinction as to serve on horseback. He landed at 
Puerto Viejo, and without sufficient knowledge of 
the country, or proper guides to conduct him, at¬ 
tempted to march directly to Quito, by following the 
course of the river Guayaquil, and crossing the 
ridge of the Andes towards its head. But in this 
route, one of the most impracticable in all America, 
his troops endured such fatigue in forcing their way 
through forests and marshes on the low grounds, 
and suffered so much from excessive cold when they 
began to ascend the mountains, that before they 
reached the plain of Quito, a fifth part of the men 
and half their horses died, and the rest were so much 
dispirited and worn out, as to be almost unfit for 
service.* There they met with a body, not of In¬ 
dians but of Spaniards, drawn up in hostile array 
against them. Pizarro having received an account 
of Alvarado’s armament, had detached Almagro with 
some troops to oppose this formidable invader of 
his jurisdiction ; and these were joined by Benal¬ 
cazar and his victorious party. Alvarado, though 
surprised at the sight of enemies whom he did not 
expect, advanced boldly to the charge. But, by the 
interposition of some moderate men in each party, 
an amicable accommodation took place; and the 
fatal period, when Spaniards suspended their con¬ 
quests to imbrue their hands in the blood of their 
countrymen, was postponed a few years. Alvarado 
engaged to return to his government, upon Alma- 
gro’s paying him a hundred thousand pesos to de¬ 
fray the expense of his armament. Most of his 
followers remained in the country ; and an expedi¬ 
tion, which threatened Pizarro and his colony with 
ruin, contributed to augment its strength. 3 

By this time Ferdinand Pizarro had 1534 
landed in Spain. The immense quan- Jed n o°n r pizarco r 
tities of gold and silver which he im- and Alma § ro - 
ported, b filled the kingdom with no less astonish¬ 
ment than they had excited in Panama and the 
adjacent provinces. Pizarro was received by the 
emperor with the attention due to the bearer of a 
present so rich as to exceed any idea which the 
Spaniards had formed concerning the value of their 






a Zarate, lib. ii. c. 10—13. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 1,2, 9, &r. Gomara 
Hist. c. 126, &c, Remesal, Hist. Guatimal. lib. iii. c. 6. Ilerrera, dec. 
5. lib. vi. c. 1,2, 7. 8. b See Note (JXXXV. 






BOOK VI. A. D. 1534.] THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


909 


acquisitions in America, even after they had been 
ten years masters of Mexico. In recompence of his 
brother’s services, his authority was confirmed with 
new' powers and privileges, and the addition of 
seventy leagues, extending along the coast, to the 
southward of the territory granted in his former 
patent. Almagro received the honours which he 
had so long desired. The title of adelantado, or 
governor, was conferred upon him, with jurisdiction 
over two hundred leagues of country, stretching 
beyond the southern limits of the province allotted 
to Pizarro. Ferdinand himself did not go unre¬ 
warded. He was admitted into the military order 
of St. Jago, a distinction always acceptable to a 
Spanish gentleman, and soon set out on his return 
to Peru, accompanied by many persons of higher 
rank than had yet served in that country. 0 
Beginning of dis- Some account of his negociations 

Pizarro and 'a l ° reached Peru before he arrived there 
magro- himself. Almagro no sooner learned 

that he had obtained the royal grant of an indepen¬ 
dent government, than pretending that Cuzco, the 
imperial residence of the incas, lay within its boun¬ 
daries, he attempted to render himself master of 
that important station. Juan and Gonzalez Pi¬ 
zarro prepared to oppose him. Each of the contend¬ 
ing parties was supported by powerful adherents, 
and the dispute was on the point of being terminated 
by the sword, when Francis Pizarro arrived in the 
capital. The reconciliation between him and Al¬ 
magro had never been cordial. The treachery of 
Pizarro in engrossing to himself all the honours 
and emoluments, which ought to have been divided 
with his associate, was always present in both their 
thoughts. The former, conscious of his own perfidy, 
did not expect forgiveness ; the latter, feeling that 
he had been deceived, was impatient to be aveng¬ 
ed ; and though avarice and ambition had induced 
them not only to dissemble their sentiments, but 
even to act in concert while in pursuit of wealth 
and power, no sooner did they obtain possession of 
these, than the same passions which had formed 
this temporary union gave rise to jealousy and dis¬ 
cord. To each of them was attached a small band 
of interested dependants, who, with the malicious 
art peculiar to such men, heightened their suspi¬ 
cions, and magnified every appearance of offence. 
But w ith all those seeds of enmity in their minds, 
and thus assiduously cherished, each was so tho¬ 
roughly acquainted with the abilities and courage 
of his rival, that they equally dreaded the conse¬ 
quences of an open rupture. The fortunate arrival 
of Pizarro at Cuzco, and the address mingled with 
firmness which he manifested in his expostulations 
with Almagro and his partisans, averted that evil 
for the present. A new reconciliation took place ; 
the chief article of which was, that Almagro should 
attempt the conquest of Chili; and if he did not 
find in that province an establishment adequate to 

c Zarate, lib. iii. c. 3. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 19. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. 
vi. c. 13. 


June 12. 


his merit and expectations, Pizarro, by way of in¬ 
demnification, should yield up to him 
a part of Peru. This new agreement, 
though confirmed with the same sacred solemnities as 
their first contract,was observed with as little fidelity . d 

Soon after he concluded this im- Regulations of 
portant transaction, Pizarro marched Pizarro. 
back to the countries on the sea-coast, and as he 
now enjoyed an interval of tranquillity undisturbed 
by any enemy, either Spanish or Indian, he applied 
himself with that persevering ardour which distin¬ 
guishes his character, to introduce a form of regular 
government into the extensive provinces subject to 
his authority. Though ill qualified by his educa¬ 
tion to enter into any disquisition concerning the 
principles of civil policy, and little accustomed by 
his former habits of life to attend to its arrange¬ 
ments, his natural sagacity supplied the want both 
of science and experience. He distributed the 
country into various districts ; he appointed proper 
magistrates to preside in each ; and established 
regulations concerning the administration of justice, 
the collection of the royal revenue, the working of 
the mines, and the treatment of the Indians, ex¬ 
tremely simple, but well calculated to promote the 
public prosperity. But though, for the present, he 
adapted his plan to the infant state of his colony, 
his aspiring mind looked forward to its future 
grandeur. He considered himself as 
laying the foundation of a great em¬ 
pire, and deliberated long, and with much solici¬ 
tude, in what place he should fix the seat of govern¬ 
ment. Cuzco, the imperial city of the incas, was 
situated in a corner of the empire, above four hun¬ 
dred miles from the sea, and much further from 
Quito, a province of whose value he had formed a 
high idea. No other settlement of the Peruvians 
was so considerable as to merit the name of a town, 
or to allure the Spaniards to fix their residence in 
it. But in marching through the country, Pizarro 
had been struck with the beauty and fertility of the 
valley of Rimac, one of the most extensive and 
best cultivated in Peru. There, on the banks of a 
small river, of the same name with the vale which 
it waters and enriches, at the distance of six miles 
from Callao, the most commodious harbour in the 
Pacific ocean, he founded a city which he destined 
to be the capital of his government. 1535 
He gave it the name of Ciudad de Ios January is. 
Reyes, either from the circumstance of having laid 
the first stone at that season when the church cele¬ 
brates the festival of the three kings, or, as is more 
probable, in honour of Juana and Charles, the joint 
sovereigns of Castile. This name it still retains 
among the Spaniards in all legal and formal deeds; 
but it is better known to foreigners by that of Lima , 
a corruption of the ancient appellation of the valley 
in which it is situated. Under his inspection, the 
buildings advanced with such rapidity, that it soon 


Foundation of 
Lima. 


d Zarate, lib. ii. c. 13. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 19. Benzo, lib. iii. c. 6. 
Herrera, dec. 5. lib. vii. c. 8. 




910 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


assumed the form of a city, which, by a magnificent 
palace that he erected for himself, and by the stately 
houses built by several of his officers, gave, even 
in its infancy, some indication of its subsequent 
grandeur. 6 

Almagro invades In consequence of wliat had been 
chili. agreed with Pizarro, Almagro began 

his march towards Chili; and as he possessed in 
an eminent degree the virtues most admired by sol¬ 
diers, boundless liberality and fearless courage, his 
standard was followed by five hundred and seventy 
men, the greatest body of Europeans that had 
hitherto been assembled in Peru. From impatience 
to finish the expedition, or from that contempt of 
hardship and danger acquired by all the Spaniards 
who had served long in America, Almagro, instead 
of advancing along the level country on the coast, 
chose to march across the mountains by a route that 
was shorter indeed, but almost impracticable. In 
this attempt his troops were exposed to every 
calamity which men can suffer, from fatigue, from 
famine, and from the rigour of the climate in those 
elevated regions of the torrid zone, where the 
degree of cold is hardly inferior to what is felt 
within the polar circle. Many of them perished ; 
and the survivors, when they descended into the 
fertile plains of Chili, had new difficulties to en¬ 
counter. They found there a race of men very differ¬ 
ent from the people of Peru, intrepid, hardy, inde¬ 
pendent, and in their bodily constitution, as well as 
vigour of spirit, nearly resembling the warlike tribes 
in North America. Though filled with wonder at 
the first appearance of the Spaniards, and still 
more astonished at the operations of their cavalry 
and the effects of their fire-arms, the Chilese soon 
recovered so far from their surprise, as not only to 
defend themselves with obstinacy, but to attack 
their new enemies with more determined fierceness 
than any American nation had hitherto discovered. 
The Spaniards, however, continued to penetrate 
into the country, and collected some considerable 
quantities of gold ; but were so far from thinking 
of making any settlement amidst such formidable 
neighbours, that, in spite of all the experience and 
valour of their leader, the final issue of the expe¬ 
dition still remained extremely dubious, when they 
w r ere recalled from it by an unexpected revolution 
in Peru/ The causes of this important event I 
shall endeavour to trace to their source. 

So many adventurers had flocked to 
Peru from every Spanish colony in 
America, and all with such high expectations of 
accumulating independent fortunes at once, that, to 
men possessed with notions so extravagant, any 
mention of acquiring wealth gradually, and by 
schemes of patient industry, would have been not 
only a disappointment, but an insult. In order to 
find occupation for men who could not with safety 
be allowed to remain inactive, Pizarro encouraged 

• e I I? rre , r , a ’ riec - 5 - lib- c. ]2. lib. vii. c. 13. Calancho Coronica, lib. 
i. c. 37. Barneuvo, Luna fundata, 11 . 294 . 
f Zarate, lib. iii.c. 1. Gomara Hist. c. 131. Vega, p. 2. lib ii.c.20 Ovale 


An insurrection 
of the Peruvians. 


[A. D. 1535. BOOK VI. 


some of the most distinguished officers who had 
lately joined him, to invade different provinces of 
the empire, which the Spaniards had not hitherto 
visited. Several large bodies were formed for this 
purpose ; and about the time that Almagro set out 
for Chili, they marched into remote districts of the 
country. No sooner did Manco Capac, 

J . . Its rise, 

the inca, observe the inconsiderate se¬ 
curity of the Spaniards in thus dispersing their 
troops, and that only a handful of soldiers remained 
in Cuzco, under Juan and Gonzalez Pizarro, than 
he thought that the happy period was at length 
come for vindicating his own rights, for avenging 
the w rongs of his country, and extirpating its op¬ 
pressors. Though strictly watched by the Spaniards, 
w ho allowed him to reside in the palace of his an¬ 
cestors at Cuzco, he found means of communicating 
his scheme to the persons w ho w ere to be intrusted 
with the execution of it. Among people accustomed 
to revere their sovereign as a divinity, every hint 
of his will carries the authority of a command ; 
and they themselves were now convinced, by the 
daily increase in the number of their invaders, that 
the fond hopes which they had long entertained of 
their voluntary departure were altogether vain. All 
perceived that a vigorous effort of the whole nation 
was requisite to expel them, and the preparations 
for it were carried on with the secrecy and silence 
peculiar to Americans. 

After some unsuccessful attempts of and progress, 
the inca to make his escape, Ferdi¬ 
nand Pizarro happening to arrive at 1535 . 
that time in Cuzco, he obtained permission from 
him to attend a great festival which was to be cele¬ 
brated a few leagues from the capital. Under pretext 
of that solemnity, the great men of the empire were 
assembled. As soon as the inca joined them, the 
standard of war was erected ; and in a short time all 
the fighting men, from the confines of Quito to the 
frontier of Chili, were in arms. Many Spaniards, 
living securely on the settlements allotted them, were 
massacred. Several detachments, as they marched 
carelessly through a country which seemed to be 
tamely submissive to their dominion, were cutoff to 
a man. An army amounting (if we may believe the 
Spanish writers) to two hundred thousand men, 
attacked Cuzco, which the three brothers endea¬ 
voured to defend with only one hundred and seven¬ 
ty Spaniards. Another formidable body invested 
Lima, and kept the governor closely shut up. There 
was no longer any communication between the two 
cities; the numerous forces of the Peruvians spread¬ 
ing over the country, intercepted every messenger; 
and as the parties in Cuzco and Lima w r ere equally 
unacquainted with the fate of their countrymen, 
each boded the worst concerning the other, and 
imagined that they themselves were the only per¬ 
sons who had survived the general extinction of 
the Spanish name in Peru.® 


Hist, de Chile lib. iv.c. 15, &c. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. vi. c. 9. lib. x. c. 1, &c. 

L Z a i r’/*’ Joi 11 ‘ w ~ 8 ’ ^‘' rate ’ Id*, i'i- c. 3. Ciecade T,eon, c. 82. 
Gomaia Hist. c. 135. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. viii. c. 5. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1536.] 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


911 


It was at Cuzco, where the inca 

Siege of Cuzco. , , . . . ^ 

commanded in person, that the Peru¬ 
vians made their chief effort. During nine months 
they carried on the siege with incessant ardour, 
and in various forms ; and though they displayed 
not the same undaunted ferocity as the Mexican 
warriors, they conducted some of their operations 
in a manner which discovered greater sagacity, and 
a genius more susceptible of improvement in the 
military art. They not only observed the advan¬ 
tages which the Spaniards derived from their disci¬ 
pline and their weapons, but they endeavoured to 
imitate the former, and turned the latter against 
them. They armed a considerable body of their 
bravest warriors with the swords, the spears, and 
bucklers, which they had taken from the Spanish 
soldiers whom they had cut off in different parts of 
the country. These they endeavoured to marshal 
in that regular compact order, to which experience 
had taught them that the Spaniards were indebted 
for their irresistible force in action. Some appeared 
in the field with Spanish muskets, and had acquired 
skill and resolution enough to use them. A few of 
the boldest, among whom was the inca himself, 
were mounted on the horses which they had taken, 
and advanced briskly to the charge like Spanish 
cavaliers, with their lances in the rest. It was more 
by their numbers, however, than by those imper¬ 
fect essays to imitate European arts and to employ 
European arms, that the Peruvians annoyed the 
Spaniards. 11 In spite of the valour, heightened by 
despair, with which the three brothers defended 
Cuzco, Manco Capac recovered possession of one 
half of his capital ; and in their various efforts to 
drive him out of it, the Spaniards lost Juan Pizarro, 
the best beloved of all the brothers, together with 
some other persons of note. Worn out with the fa¬ 
tigue of incessant duty, distressed with want of pro¬ 
visions, and despairing of being able any longer to 
resist an enemy whose numbers daily increased, 
the soldiers became impatient to abandon Cuzco, 
in hopes either of joining their countrymen, if any 
of them yet survived, or of forcing their way to the 
sea, and finding some means of escaping from a 
country which had been so fatal to the Spanish 
name.' While they were brooding over those de¬ 
sponding thoughts, which their officers laboured in 
vain to dispel, Almagro appeared suddenly in the 
neighbourhood of Cuzco. 

Arrival of Ai- The accounts transmitted to Almagro 

motives oThis concerning the general insurrection of 

conduct. the Peruvians, were such as would 

have induced him, without hesitation, to relinquish 
the conquest of Chili, and hasten to the aid of his 
countrymen. But in this resolution he was con¬ 
firmed by a motive less generous, but more inte¬ 
resting. By the same messenger who brought him 
intelligence of the inca’s revolt, he received the 
royal patent creating him governor of Chili, and 


h See Note CXXXVI. 
i Herrera, dec. 5. lib. viii. c. 4. 


defining the limits of his jurisdiction. Upon con¬ 
sidering the tenor of it, he deemed it manifest 
beyond contradiction, that Cuzco lay within the 
boundaries of his government, and he was equally 
solicitous to prevent the Peruvians from recovering 
possession of their capital, and to wrest it out of the 
hands of the Pizarros. From impatience to ac¬ 
complish both, he ventured to return by a new 
route ; and in marching through the sandy plains 
on the coast, he suffered from heat and drought, 
calamities of a new species, hardly inferior to those 
in which he had been involved by cold and famine 
on the summits of the Andes. 

His arrival at Cuzco was in a critical i r>7 
moment. The Spaniards and Peru- 11 1S operations, 
vians fixed their eyes upon him with equal solici¬ 
tude. The former, as he did not study to conceal 
his pretensions, were at a loss whether to welcome 
him as a deliverer, or to take precautions against 
him as an enemy. The latter, knowing the points 
in contest between him and his countrymen, flattered 
themselves that they had more to hope than to dread 
from his operations. Almagro himself, unacquaint¬ 
ed with the detail of the events which had happened 
in his absence, and solicitous to learn the precise 
posture of affairs, advanced towards the capital 
slowly, and with great circumspection. Various 
negociations with both parties were set on foot. 
The inca conducted them on his part with much 
address. At first he endeavoured to gain the friend¬ 
ship of Almagro; and after many fruitless overtures, 
despairing of any cordial union with a Spaniard, he 
attacked him by surprise with a numerous body of 
chosen troops. But the Spanish discipline and 
valour maintained their wonted superiority. The 
Peruvians were repulsed with such slaughter, that a 
great part of their army dispersed, and A lmagro pro¬ 
ceeded to the gates of Cuzco without interruption. 

The Pizarros, as they had no longer Takes possession 
to make head against the Peruvians, °f Cuzco, 
directed all their attention towards their new enemy, 
and took measures to obstruct his entry into the 
capital. Prudence, however, restrained both parties 
for some time from turning their arms against one 
another, while surrounded by common enemies, 
who would rejoice in the mutual slaughter. Differ¬ 
ent schemes of accommodation were proposed. 
Each endeavoured to deceive the other, or to corrupt 
his followers. The generous, open, affable temper 
of Almagro gained many adherents of the Pizarros, 
who were disgusted with their harsh domineering 
manners. Encouraged by this defection, he ad¬ 
vanced towards the city by night, surprised the 
sentinels, or was admitted by them, and investing 
the house w here the two brothers resided, compelled 
them, after an obstinate defence, to surrender at 
discretion. Almagro’s claim of jurisdiction over 
Cuzco was universally acknowledged, and a form 
of administration established in his naine. k 


k Zarate, lib. iii. c. 4. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 29, 31. 
134. Herrera, dec. 6. lib. ii. c. 1—5. 


Gomara Hist. c. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


912 


[A. D. 1537. BOOK VT. 


July 12. 


Two orthree persons only were killed 
firstsuceessof in this first act of civil hostility; but 
it was soon followed by scenes more 
bloody. Francis Pizarro having dispersed the 
Peruvians who had invested Lima, and received 
some considerable reinforcements from Hispaniola 
and Nicaragua, ordered five hundred men, under 
the command of Alonso de Alvarado, to march to 
Cuzco, in hopes of relieving his brothers, if they 
and their garrison were not already cut olf by the 
Peruvians. This body, which at that period of the 
Spanish power in America, must be deemed a con¬ 
siderable force, advanced near to the capital before 
they knew that they had any enemy more formidable 
than Indians to encounter. It was with astonish¬ 
ment that they beheld their countrymen posted on 
the banks of the river Abancay to oppose their 
progress. Almagro, however, wished rather to gain 
than to conquer them, and by bribes and promises 
endeavoured to seduce their leader. The fidelity of 
Alvarado remained unshaken ; but his talents for 
war were not equal to his virtue. Almagro amused 
him with various movements, of which he did not 
comprehend the meaning, while a large detachment 
of chosen soldiers passed the river by 
night, fell upon his camp by surprise, 
broke his troops before they had time to form, and took 
him prisoner, together with his principal officers. 1 

By the sudden rout of this body, the 

but he does not 

improve his ad- contest between the two rivals must 

vantages. . . 

have been decided, if Almagro had 
known as well how to improve as how to gain a 
victory. Rodrigo Orgognez, an officer of great 
abilities, who having served under the constable 
Bourbon, when he led the imperial army to Rome, 
had been accustomed to bold and decisive measures, 
advised him instantly to issue orders for putting to 
death Ferdinand and Gonzalo Pizarro, Alvarado, 
and a few other persons wdiom he could not hope to 
gain, and to march directly with his victorious 
troops to Lima, before the governor had time to 
prepare for his defence. But Almagro, though he 
discerned at once the utility of the counsel, and 
though he had courage to have carried it into exe¬ 
cution, suffered himself to be influenced by senti¬ 
ments unlike those of a soldier of fortune grow n old 
in service, and by scruples which suited not the 
chief of a party who had drawn his sword in civil 
war. Feelings of humanity restrained him from 
shedding the blood of his opponents ; and the dread 
of being deemed a rebel, deterred him from entering 
a province which the king had allotted to another. 
Though he knew that arms must terminate the 
dispute between him and Pizarro, and resolved not 
to shun that mode of decision, yet, with a timid 
delicacy preposterous at such a juncture, he was so 
solicitous that his rival should be considered as the 
aggressor, that he marched quietly back to Cuzco 
to wait his approach." 1 

I Zarate, lib. iii. c. 6. Honiara Hist. c. 138. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 32, 
$4. Herrera, dec. 6. lib. 11 . c. 9. 
m Herrera, dec. 6. lib. ii. c. 10, 11. 


Pizarro was still unacquainted with Distress of 
all the interesting events which had Plzarro * 
happened near Cuzco. Accounts of Almagro's 
return, of the loss of the capital, of the death of one 
brother, of the imprisonment of the other two, and 
of the defeat of Alvarado, were brought to him at 
once. Such a tide of misfortunes almost over¬ 
whelmed a spirit which had continued firm and 
erect under the rudest shocks of adversity. But the 
necessity of attending to his own safety, as well as 
the desire of revenge, preserved him from sinking 
under it. He took measures for both His artful con- 
with his wonted sagacity. As he had duct - 
the command of the sea-coast, and expected con¬ 
siderable supplies both of men and military stores, 
it was no less his interest to gain time, and to avoid 
action, than it w as that of Almagro to precipitate 
operations, and bring the contest to a speedy issue. 
He had recourse to arts which he had formerly 
practised with success; and Almagro was again 
weak enough to suffer himself to be amused with a 
prospect of terminating their differences by some 
amicable accommodation. By varying his over¬ 
tures, and shifting his ground as often as it suited 
his purpose, sometimes seeming to yield to every 
thing which his rival could desire, and then retract¬ 
ing all that he had granted, Pizarro dexterously 
protracted the negociation to such a length, that, 
though every day was precious to Almagro, several 
months elapsed without coming to any final agree¬ 
ment. While the attention of Almagro, and of the 
officers with whom he consulted, was occupied in 
detecting and eluding the fraudulent intentions of 
the governor, Gonzalo Pizarro and Alvarado found 
means to corrupt the soldiers to whose custody they 
were committed, and not only made their escape 
themselves, but persuaded sixty of the men who 
formerly guarded them to accompany their flight.n 
Fortune having thus delivered one of his brothers, 
the governor scrupled not at one act of perfidy more 
to procure the release of the other. He proposed, 
that every point in controversy between Almagro 
and himself should be submitted to the decision of 
their sovereign ; that until his award was known, 
each should retain undisturbed possession of what¬ 
ever part of the country he now occupied ; that 
Ferdinand Pizarro should be set at liberty, and 
return instantly to Spain, together with the officers 
whom Almagro purposed to send thither to repre¬ 
sent the justice of his claims. Obvious as the design 
of Pizarro was in those propositions, and familiar 
as his artifices might now have been to his opponent, 
Almagro, with a credulity approaching to infatua¬ 
tion, relied on his sincerity, and concluded an 
agreement on these terms. 0 

The moment that Ferdinand Pizarro 

His preparations 

recovered his liberty, the governor, no * or war - 
longer fettered in his operations by anxiety about 
his brother s life, threw off every disguise which his 

n Zarate, lib. iii. c. 8. Herrera, dec. 6. lib. ii. c. 14. 

140 ^ U1, Zarate > lib. iii. c. 9. Comara Hist. c. 

1H). vega, p. ll. hb. u. c. 35. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


013 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1538.J 

concern for it bad obliged him to assume. The 
treaty was forgotten ; pacific and conciliating 
measures were no more mentioned ; it was in the 
field, he openly declared, and not in the cabinet, by 
arms, and not by negociation, that it must now be 
determined who should be master of Peru. The 
rapidity of his preparations suited such a decisive 

resolution. Seven hundred men were 

1538, 

soon ready to march towards Cuzco. 
The command of these was given to his two brothers, 
in whom he could perfectly confide for the execu¬ 
tion ot his most violent schemes, as they were urged 
on, not only by the enmity flowing from the rival- 
ship between their family and Almagro, but ani¬ 
mated with the desire of vengeance, excited by 
recollection of their own recent disgrace and suffer¬ 
ings. After an unsuccessful attempt to cross the 
mountains in the direct road between Lima and 
Cuzco, they marched towards the south along the 
coast as far as Nasca, and then turning to the left, 
penetrated through the defiles in that branch of the 
Andes which lay between them and the capital. 
Almagro, instead of hearkening to some of his 
officers, who advised him to attempt the defence of 
those difficult passes, waited the approach of the 
enemy in the plain of Cuzco. Two reasons seem to 
have induced him to take this resolution. His 
followers amounted hardly to five hundred, and he 
was afraid of weakening such a feeble body by 
sending any detachment towards the mountains. 
His cavalry far exceeded that of the adverse party, 
both in number and discipline, and it was only in 
an open country that he could avail himself of that 
advantage. 

His army marches The Pizarros advanced without any 
to Cuzco. obstruction, but what arose from the 
nature of the desert and horrid regions through 
which they marched. As soon as they reached the 
plain, both factions were equally impatient to bring 
this long protracted contest to an issue. Though 
countrymen and friends, the subjects of the same 
sovereign, and each with the royal standard dis¬ 
played ; and though they beheld the mountains 
that surrounded the plain in which they were drawn 
up, covered with a vast multitude of Indians, as¬ 
sembled to enjoy the spectacle of their mutual 
carnage, and prepared to attack whatever party 
remained master of the field ; so fell and implacable 
was the rancour which had taken possession of 
every breast, that not one pacific counsel, not a 
single overture towards accommodation, proceeded 
from either side. Unfortunately for Almagro, he 
w r as so worn out with the fatigues of service, to 
which his advanced age was unequal, that at this 
crisis of his fate he could not exert his wonted 
activity ; and he was obliged to commit the leading 
of his troops to Orgognez, who, though an officer of 
great merit, did not possess the same ascendant 
either over the spirit or affections of the soldiers, as 

p Herrera, dec. 6. lib. iii. c. 8. 

q Zarate, lib. iii. c. 8. 

3 N 


the chief whom they had long been accustomed to 
follow and revere. 

The conflict was fierce, and main- April , 26 
tained by each party with equal cou- Alma s ro deleate(, » 
rage. On the side of Almagro were more veteran 
soldiers, and a large proportion of cavalry ; but 
these were counterbalanced by Pizarro's superiority 
in numbers, and by two companies of well disci¬ 
plined musketeers, which, on receiving an account 
of the insurrection of the Indians, the emperor had 
sent from Spain. p As the use of fire-arms was not 
frequent among the adventurers in America, 1 1 hastily 
equipped for service at their own expense, this 
small band of soldiers regularly trained and armed 
was a novelty in Peru, and decided the fate of the 
day. Wherever it advanced, the weight of a heavy 
and well-sustained fire bore down horse and foot 
before it; and Orgognez, while he endeavoured to 
rally and animate his troops, having received a 
dangerous wound, the rout became general. The 
barbarity of the conquerors stained the glory which 
they acquired by this complete victory. The vio¬ 
lence of civil rage hurried on some to slaughter 
their countrymen with indiscriminate cruelty ; the 
meanness of private revenge instigated others to 
single out individuals as the objects of their ven¬ 
geance. Orgognez, and several officers of distinc¬ 
tion, were massacred in cold blood ; above a hundred 
and forty soldiers fell in the field ; a large propor¬ 
tion, where the number of combatants was few, 
and the heat of the contest soon over. Almagro, 
though so feeble that he could not bear the motion 
of a horse, had insisted on being carried in a litter 
to an eminence which overlooked the field of battle. 
From thence, in the utmost agitation of mind, he 
viewed the various movements of both parties, and 
at last beheld the total defeat of his own troops, 
with all the passionate indignation of a veteran 
leader long accustomed to victory. He 
endeavoured to save himself by flight 
but was taken prisoner, and guarded with the strict¬ 
est vigilance. r 

The Indians, instead of executing the resolution 
which they had formed, retired quietly after the 
battle was over; and in the history of the New 
World, there is not a more striking instance of the 
wonderful ascendant which the Spaniards had ac¬ 
quired over its inhabitants, than that, after seeing 
one of the contending parties ruined and dispersed, 
and the other weakened and fatigued, they had not 
courage to fall upon their enemies, when fortune 
presented an opportunity of attacking them with 
such advantage. 8 

Cuzco was pillaged by the victo¬ 
rious troops, who found there a con- Kewex P edltl0us - 
siderable booty, consisting partly of the gleanings 
of the Indian treasures, and partly of the wealth 
amassed by their antagonists from the spoils of Peru 
and Chili. But so far did this, and whatever the 

r Zarate, lib. iii. c. 11, 12. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 36-38. Herrera, 
dec. 6. lib. iii. c. 10—12. lib. iv. c. 1—6. 

s Zarate, lib. iii. c. 11. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 38. 


and taken. 



914 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


bounty of their leader could add to it, tall below 
the high ideas of the recompence which they con¬ 
ceived to be due to their merit, that Ferdinand 
Pizarro, unable to gratify such extravagant expec¬ 
tations, had recourse to the same expedient which 
his brother had employed on a similar occasion, 
and endeavoured to find occupation for this turbu¬ 
lent assuming spirit, in order to prevent it from 
breaking out into open mutiny. With this view, 
he encouraged his most active officers to attempt 
the discovery and reduction of various provinces 
which had not hitherto submitted to the Spaniards. 
To every standard erected by the leaders who un¬ 
dertook any of those new expeditions, volunteers 
resorted with the ardour and hope peculiar to the 
age. Several of Almagro’s soldiers joined them, 
and thus Pizarro had the satisfaction of being de¬ 
livered both from the importunity of his discontented 
friends, and the dread of his ancient enemies. 1 

Almagro himself remained for seve- 

Aimagro tried, ra j mont i ls j n custody, under all the 

anguish of suspense. For although his doom was 
determined by the Pizarros from the moment that 
he fell into their hands, prudence constrained them 
to defer gratifying their vengeance, until the sol¬ 
diers who had served under him, as well as several 
of their own followers in whom they could not per¬ 
fectly confide, had left Cuzco. As soon as they set 
out upon their different expeditions, Almagro was 
impeached of treason, formally tried, 
condemned, an( j conc ] emnec i to die. The sentence 

astonished him ; and though he had often braved 
death with undaunted spirit in the field, its approach 
under this ignominious form appalled him so much, 
that he had recourse to abject supplications, un¬ 
worthy of his former fame. He besought the Pizar¬ 
ros to remember the ancient friendship between their 
brother and him, and how much he had contributed 
to the prosperity of their family; he reminded them 
of the humanity with which, in opposition to the 
repeated remonstrances of his own most attached 
friends, he had spared their lives when he had them 
in his power; he conjured them to pity his age and 
infirmities, and to suffer him to pass the wretched 
remainder of his days in bewailing his crimes, and 
in making his peace with Heaven. The entreaties, 
says a Spanish historian, of a man so much beloved, 
touched many an unfeeling heart, and drew tears 
from many a stern eye. But the brothers remained 
inflexible. As soon as Almagro knew his fate to be 
inevitable, he met it with the dignity and fortitude 
of a veteran. He was strangled in 

and put to death. . , . 

prison, and afterwards publicly be¬ 
headed. He suffered in the seventy-fifth year of 
his age, and left one son by an Indian woman of 
Panama, whom, though at that time a prisoner in 
Lima, he named as successor to his government, 
pursuant to a power which the emperor had grant¬ 
ed him. 0 

t Zarate, lib. iii. c. 12v Gomara Hist. c. 141. Herrera, dec. 6. lib. 
iv. c. 7- 


[A. D. 1539. BOOK VI. 


As, during the civil dissensions in i.m 

’ ° . Deliberations ot 

Peru all intercourse with Spain was the court of Spain 

concerning the 

suspended, the detail of the extraor- state of Peru, 
dinary transactions there did not soon reach the 
court. Unfortunately for the victorious faction, the 
first intelligence was brought thither by some of 
Almagro’s officers, who left the country upon the 
ruin of their cause; and they related what had 
happened with every circumstance unfavourable to 
Pizarro and his brothers. Their ambition, their 
breach of the most solemn engagements, their vio¬ 
lence and cruelty, were painted with all the malig¬ 
nity and exaggeration of party hatred. Ferdinand 
Pizarro, who arrived soon after, and appeared in 
court with extraordinary splendour, endeavoured to 
efface the impression which their accusations bad 
made, and to justify his brother and himself by re¬ 
presenting Almagro as the aggressor. The emperor 
and his ministers, though they could not pronounce 
which of the contending factions was most criminal, 
clearly discerned the fatal tendency of their dissen¬ 
sions. It was obvious, that while the leaders, 
intrusted with the conduct of two infant colonies, 
employed the arms which should have been turned 
against the common enemy in destroying one another, 
all attention to the public good must cease, and there 
was reason to dread that the Indians might improve 
the advantage which the disunion of the Spaniards 
presented to them, and extirpate both the victors 
and vanquished. But the evil was more apparent 
than the remedy. Where the information which 
had been received was so defective and suspicious, 
and the scene of action so remote, it was almost 
impossible to chalk out the line of conduct that 
ought to be followed, and before any plan that 
should be approved of in Spain could be cairied 
into execution, the situation of the parties, and the 
circumstances of affairs, might alter so entirely as 
to render its effects extremely pernicious. 

Nothing therefore remained but to 
send a person to Peru, vested with ex- ^nt a thfth^r S with 
tensive and discretionary power, who, ainple powers * 
after viewing deliberately the posture of affairs with 
his own eyes, and inquiring upon the spot into the 
conduct of the different leaders, should be au¬ 
thorized to establish the government in that form 
which he deemed most conducive to the interest 
of the parent state, and the welfare of the colony. 
The man selected for this important charge was 
Christoval Vaca de Castro, a judge in the court of 
royal audience at Valladolid ; and his abilities, in¬ 
tegrity, and firmness, justified the choice. His 
instructions, though ample, were not such as to 
fetter him in his operations. According to the dif¬ 
ferent aspect of affairs, he had power to take upon 
him different characters. If he found the governor 
still alive, he was to assume only the title of judge, 
to maintain the appearance of acting in concert 
with him, and to guard against giving any just 


u Zarate, lib. iii. c. 12. Gomara Hist. c. 141. 
39. Herrera, dec. 6. lib. iv. c. 9. lib. v. c. 1. 


V?ga, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1510.] 


015 


Pizarro divides 
Peru among his 
followers. 


cause of offence to a man who had merited so highly 
of his country. But if Pizarro were dead, lie was in¬ 
trusted with a commission that he might then pro¬ 
duce, by which he was appointed his successor in 
the government of Peru. This attention to Pizarro, 
however, seems to have flowed rather from dread of 
his power, than from any approbation of his mea¬ 
sures ; for at the very time that the court seemed so 
solicitous not to irritate him, his brother Ferdinand 
was arrested at Madrid, and confined to a prison, 
where he remained above twenty years.* 

1540 . While Vaca de Castro was prepar¬ 

ing for his voyage, events of great 
moment happened in Peru. The go¬ 
vernor considering himself, upon the death of Al- 
magro, as the unrivalled possessor of that vast 
empire, proceeded to parcel out its territories among 
the conquerors ; and had this division been made 
with any degree of impartiality, the extent of coun¬ 
try which he had to bestow was sufficient to have 
gratified his friends, and to have gained his enemies. 
But Pizarro conducted this transaction, not with 
the equity and candour of a judge attentive to dis¬ 
cover and to reward merit, but with the illiberal 
spirit of a party leader. Large districts, in parts 
of the country most cultivated and populous, were 
set apart as his own property, or granted to his 
brothers, his adherents,, and favourites. To others 
lots less valuable and inviting were assigned. The 
followers of Almagro, amongst whom were many of 
the original adventurers to whose valour and per¬ 
severance Pizarro was indebted for his success, 
were totally excluded from any portion in those 
lands, towards the acquisition of which they had 
contributed so largely. As the vanity of every in¬ 
dividual set an immoderate value upon his own 
services, and the idea of each concerning the 
recompence due to them rose gradually to a more 
exorbitant height in proportion as their conquests 
extended, all who were disappointed in their ex¬ 
pectations exclaimed loudly against the rapacious¬ 
ness and partiality of the governor. The partisans 
of Almagro murmured in secret, and meditated 
revenge.* 


Progress of the 
Spanish arms. 


Rapid as the progress of the Spa¬ 
niards in South America had been 
since Pizarro landed in Peru, their avidity of do¬ 
minion was not yet satisfied. The officers to whom 
Ferdinand Pizarro gave the command of different 
detachments, penetrated into several new provinces, 
and though some of them were exposed to great 
hardships in the cold and barren regions of the 
Andes, and others suffered distress not inferior 
amidst the woods and marshes of the plains, they 
made discoveries and conquests which not only ex¬ 
tended their knowledge of the country, but added 
considerably to the territories of Spain in the New' 
World. Pedro de Valdivia reassumed Almagro’s 
scheme of invading Chili, and notwithstanding the 

x Gomara Hist, c. 142. Vega, p. 11. lib. ii. c. 40. Ilerrera, dec. 6. 
“y vL C 'p°i lViifcU* c?*.' - Herrera, dec. 6. lib. .ill, c. 5. 

3 N 2 


fortitude of the natives in defending their posses¬ 
sions, made such progress in the conquest of the 
country, that he founded the city of St. Jago, and 
gave a beginning to the establishment of the Spa¬ 
nish dominion in that province. 2 But of all the 
enterprises undertaken about this period, that of 
Gonzalo Pizarro was the most remarkable. The 
governor, who seems to have resolved 

, • tt, i i i Remarkable ex- 

that no person in Peru should possess pedition of Gon- 

^aio pizarro 

any station of distinguished eminence 
or authority but those of his own family, had de¬ 
prived Benalcazar, the conqueror of Quito, of 
his command in that kingdom, #nd appointed his 
brother Gonzalo to take the government of it. He 
instructed him to attempt the discovery and con¬ 
quest of the country to the east of the Andes, which, 
according to the information of the Indians, abound¬ 
ed with cinnamon and other valuable spices. Gon¬ 
zalo, not inferior to any of his brothers in courage, 
and no less ambitious of acquiring distinction, 
eagerly engaged in this difficult service. He set out 
from Quito at the head of three hundred and forty 
soldiers, near one half of whom were horsemen ; 
with four thousand Indians to carry their provisions. 
In forcing their way through the defiles, or over the 
ridges, of the Andes, excess of cold and fatigue, to 
neither of which they were accustomed, proved fatal 
to the greater part of their wretched attendants. 

The Spaniards, though more robust, Hardships they 
and inured to a variety of climates, endure, 
suffered considerably, and lost some men ; but 
when they descended into the low country their 
distress increased. During two months it rained 
incessantly, without any interval of fair weather 
long enough to dry their clothes. 8 The immense 
plains upon which they were now entering, either 
altogether without inhabitants, or occupied by the 
rudest and least industrious tribes in the New 
World, yielded little subsistence. They could not 
advance a step but as they cut a road through woods, 
or made it through marshes. Such incessant toil, 
and continual scarcity of food, seem more than suf¬ 
ficient to have exhausted and dispirited any troops. 
But the fortitude and perseverance of the Spaniards 
in the sixteenth century were insuperable. Allured 
by frequent but false accounts of rich countries be¬ 
fore them, they persisted in struggling on, until 
they reached the banks of the Coca or Napo, one of 
the large rivers whose waters pour into the Marag- 
non, and contribute to its grandeur. There, with 
infinite labour, they built a bark, which they ex¬ 
pected would prove of great utility, in conveying 
them over rivers, in procuring provisions, and in 
exploring the country. This was manned with fifty 
soldiers, under the command of Francis Orellana, 
the officer next in rank to Pizarro. The stream 
carried them down with such rapidity, that they 
were soon far a-head of their countrymen, who fol¬ 
lowed slowly and with difficulty by land. 

z Zarate, lib. iii. c. 13. Ovalle, lib. ii. c. 1, &c. 

a Zarate, lib. iv. c. 2. 



91G 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1540. ROOK VI. 


Deserted by 
Orellana. 


At this distance from his commander, 
Orellana, a young man of an aspiring 
mind, began to fancy himself independent, and 
transported with the predominant passion of the 
age, he formed the scheme of distinguishing himself 
as a discoverer, by following the course of the Ma- 
ragnon, until it joined the ocean, and by surveying 
the vast regions through which it flows. This 
scheme of Orellana’s was as bold as it was treach¬ 
erous. For, if he be chargeable with the guilt of 
having violated his duty to his commander, and 
with having abandoned his fellow-soldiers in a 
pathless desert, where they had hardly any hopes of 
success, or even of safety, but what were founded 
on the service which they expected from the bark ; 
his crime is, in some measure, balanced by the glory 
of having ventured upon a navigation of near two 
thousand leagues, through unknown nations, in a 
vessel hastily constructed, with green timber, and 
by very unskilful hands, without provisions, with¬ 
out a compass, or a pilot. But his courage and 

Sails down the alacrity supplied every defect. Com- 
Maragnon. niitting himself fearlessly to the guid¬ 
ance of the stream, the Napo bore him along to the 
south, until he reached the great channel of the Ma- 
ragnon. Turning with it towards the coast, he held 
on his course in that direction. He made frequent 
descents on both sides of the river, sometimes seizing 
by force of arms the provisions of the fierce savages 
seated on its banks, and sometimes procuring a sup¬ 
ply of food by a friendly intercourse with more gen¬ 
tle tribes. After a long series of dangers, which he 
encountered with amazing fortitude, and of dis¬ 
tresses which he supported with no less magnani¬ 
mity, he reached the ocean, b where new perils await¬ 
ed him. These he likewise surmounted, and got 
safe to the Spanish settlement in the island Cuba- 
gua ; from thence he sailed to Spain. The vanity 
natural to travellers who visit regions unknown to 
the rest of mankind, and the art of an adventurer 
solicitous to magnify his own merit, concurred in 
prompting him to mingle an extraordinary propor¬ 
tion of the marvellous in the narrative of his voyage. 
He pretended to have discovered nations so rich, 
that the roofs of their temples were covered with 
plates of gold; and described a republic of women 
so warlike and powerful, as to have extended their 
dominion over a considerable tract of the fertile 
plains which he had visited. Extravagant as those 
tales were, they gave rise to an opinion, that a re¬ 
gion abounding with gold, distinguished by the 
name of El Dorado, and a community of Amazons, 
were to be found in this part of the New World ; 
and such is the propensity of mankind to believe 
what is wonderful, that it has been slowly and with 
difficulty that reason and observation have exploded 
those fables. The voyage, however, even when 
stripped of every romantic embellishment, deserves 

b See Note CXXXVIT. 

c Zarate, lib. iv. c. 4, Gomara Hist. c. 86. Vega, p. 11. lib. iii. 
c. 4. Herrera, dec. 6. lib. xi. c. 2—5. Rodriguez El Maragnon y Ama¬ 
zonas, lib. i. c. 3. 


to be recorded, not only as one of the most memo¬ 
rable occurrences in that adventurous age, but as 
the first event which led to any certain knowledge 
of the extensive countries that stretch eastward from 
the Andes to the ocean. c 

No words can describe the conster- Distress ot Pi- 
nation of Pizarro, when he did not find 
the bark at the confluence of the Napo and Marag¬ 
non, where he had ordered Orellana to wait for 
him. He would not allow himself to suspect that a 
man whom he had intrusted with such an important 
command, could be so base and so unfeeling as to 
desert him at such a juncture. But imputing his 
absence from the place of rendezvous to some un¬ 
known accident, he advanced above fifty leagues 
along the banks of the Maragnon, expecting every 
moment to see the bark appear with a supply of 
provisions. At length he came up 

IOi I • 

w ith an officer whom Orellana had left 
to perish in the desert, because he had the courage 
to remonstrate against his perfidy. From him he 
learned the extent of Orellana’s crime, and his fol¬ 
lowers perceived at once their own desperate situa¬ 
tion, when deprived of their only resource. The 
spirit of the stoutest-hearted veteran sunk within 
him, and all demanded to be led back instantly. 
Pizarro, though he assumed an appearance of tran¬ 
quillity, did not oppose their inclination. But he 
was now twelve hundred miles from Quito; and in 
that long march the Spaniards encountered hard¬ 
ships greater than those which they had endured in 
their progress outward, without the alluring hopes 
which then soothed and animated them under their 
sufferings. Hunger compelled them to feed on roots 
and berries, to eat all their dogs and horses, to de¬ 
vour the most loathsome reptiles, and even to gnaw 
the leather of their saddles and sword-belts. Four 
thousand Indians, and two hundred and ten Spa¬ 
niards, perished in this wild disastrous expedition, 
which continued near two years ; and as fifty men 
were aboard the bark w ith Orellana, only fourscore 
got back to Quito. These were naked like savages, 
and so emaciated with famine, or worn out with fa¬ 
tigue, that they had more the appearance of spec¬ 
tres than of men. d 

But, instead of returning to enjoy 

i'll- ,. . Number of 

the repose winch his condition re- malcontents 

quired, Pizarro, on entering Quito, m eru ‘ 
received accounts of a fatal event that threatened 
calamities more dreadful to him than those through 
which he had passed. From the time that his bro¬ 
ther made that partial division of his conquests 
which has been mentioned, the adherents of Alma- 
gro, considering themselves as prescribed by the 
party in power, no longer entertained any hope of 
bettering their condition. Great numbers in despair 
resorted to Lima, where the house of young Almagro 
was always open to them, and the slender portion 


d Zarafe, lib. iv. c. 2—5. Vega, p. 11. lib. iii. c. 3, 4, 5,14. Herrera, 
dec. 6. lib. vm. c. 7, 8. lib. ix. c. 2—5. dec. 7- lib. iii. c. 14. Pizar. Va- 
rones, lllustr. 319, See. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


017 


ROOK VI. A. I). 1541.] 

of his father’s fortune which the governor allowed 
him to enjoy, was spent in affording them subsist¬ 
ence. The warm attachment with which every person 
who had served under the elder Almagro devoted 
himself to his interests, was quickly transferred to 
his son. who w as now growft up to the age of man¬ 
hood, and possessed all the qualities which cap¬ 
tivate the affections of soldiers. Of 

Consider young 

Almagro as their a graceful appearance, dexterous at 

leader. 

all martial exercises, bold, open, ge¬ 
nerous, he seemed to be formed for command ; and 
as his father, conscious of his own inferiority, from 
the total want of education, had been extremely 
attentive to have him instructed in every science 
becoming a gentleman, the accomplishments which 
he had acquired heightened the respect of his fol¬ 
lowers, as they gave him distinction and eminence 
among illiterate adventurers. In this young man 
the Ahnagrians found a point of union which they 
wanted, and looking up to him as their head, were 
ready to undertake any thing for his advancement. 
Nor was affection for Almagro their only incite¬ 
ment ; they w ere urged on by their own distresses. 
Many of them, destitute of common necessaries, 6 
and weary of loitering away life, a burden to their 
chief, or to such of their associates as had saved 
some remnant of their fortune from pillage and 
confiscation, longed impatiently for an occasion to 
exert their activity and courage, and began to de¬ 
liberate how they might be avenged on the author 
of all their misery. Their frequent cabals did not 
pass unobserved ; and the governor 
the life of ci- was warned to be on his guard against 
men who meditated some desperate 
deed, and had resolution to execute it. But either 
from the native intrepidity of his mind, or from 
contempt of persons whose poverty seemed to render 
their machinations of little consequence, he disre¬ 
garded the admonitions of his friends. “ Be in no 
pain,” said he carelessly, “ about my life; it is 
perfectly safe, as long as every man in Peru knows 
that I can in a moment cut off' any head which dares 
to harbour a thought against it.” This security gave 
the Almagrians full leisure to digest and ripen 
every part of their scheme ; and Juan de Herrada, 
an officer of great abilities, who had the charge of 
Almagro’s education, took the direction of their 
consultations, with all the zeal which this con¬ 
nexion inspired, and with all the authority which 
the ascendant that he was known to have over the 
mind of his pupil gave him. 

On Sunday the twenty-sixth of June, at mid-day, 
the season of tranquillity and repose in all sultry 
climates, Herrada, at the head of eighteen of the 
most determined conspirators, sallied out of Alma¬ 
gro’s house in complete armour; and, drawing 
their swords, as they advanced hastily towards the 
governor’s palace, cried out, “ Long live the king, 
but let the tyrant die !” Their associates, warned 

e See Note CXXXVIII. 


of their motions by a signal, were in arms at differ¬ 
ent stations ready to support them. Though Pi- 
zarro was usually surrounded by such a numerous 
train of attendants as suited the magnificence of 
the most opulent subject of the age in which he 
lived, yet as he was just risen from table, and most 
of his domestics had retired to their own apart¬ 
ments, the conspirators passed through the two 
outer courts of the palace unobserved. They were 
at the bottom of a staircase before a page in waiting 
could give the alarm to his master, who was con¬ 
versing with a few friends in a large hall. The 
governor, whose steady mind no form of danger 
could appal, starting up, called for arms, and com¬ 
manded Francisco de Chaves to make fast the door. 
But that officer, who did not retain so much presence 
of mind as to obey this prudent order, running to 
the top of the stair-case, wildly asked the conspi¬ 
rators what they meant, and whither they were 
going? Instead of answering, they stabbed him to 
the heart, and burst into the hall. Some of the per¬ 
sons who were there threw themselves from the win¬ 
dows ; others attempted to fly; and a few drawing 
their swords followed their leader into an inner 
apartment. The conspirators, animated with having 
the object of their vengeance now in view, rushed 
forward after them. Pizarro, with no other arms 
than his sword and buckler, defended the entry; 
and supported by his half-brother Alcantara, and 
his little knot of friends, he maintained the unequal 
contest with intrepidity worthy of his past exploits, 
and with the vigour of a youthful combatant. 
“ Courage,” cried he, “ companions! we are yet 
enow to make those traitors repent of their audacity.” 
But the armour of the conspirators protected them, 
while every thrust they made took effect. Alcantara 
fell dead at his brother’s feet; his other defenders 
were mortally wounded. The governor, so weary 
that he could hardly wield his sword, and no longer 
able to parry the many weapons furiously aimed at 
him, received a deadly thrust full in his throat, 
sunk to the ground, and expired. 

As soon as he was slain, the assassins 

. . . Almagro aeknow- 

ran out into the streets, and waving ledged as his sue. 

cessor 

their bloody swords, proclaimed the 
death of the tyrant. Above two hundred of their 
associates having joined them, they conducted young 
Almagro in solemn procession through the city, and 
assembling the magistrates and principal citizens, 
compelled them to acknowledge him as law ful suc¬ 
cessor to his father in his government. The palace 
of Pizarro, together with the houses of several of 
his adherents, w ere pillaged by the soldiers, who 
had the satisfaction at once of being avenged on. 
their enemies, and of enriching themselves by the 
spoils of those through whose hands all the wealth 
of Peru had passed/ 

The boldness and success of the Kew appearances, 
conspiracy, as well as the name and of discord. 

r Zarate, lib. 4. c. 6—8. Gomara Hist. c. 144, 145. Vega, p. 11. lib. lii. 
e. 5—7. llerrern, dec. 6. lib. x. c. 4—7. Pizarro Var 11 lust. p. 183. 



018 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


popular qualities of Almagro, drew many soldiers 
to his standard. Every adventurer of desperate 
fortune, all who were dissatisfied with Pizarro, and 
from the rapaciousness of his government in the 
latter years of his life the number of malcontents 
was considerable, declared without hesitation in 
favour of Almagro, and he was soon at the head of 
eight hundred of the most gallant veterans in Peru. 
As his youth and inexperience disqualified him 
from taking the command of them himself, he ap¬ 
pointed Herrada to act as general. But though 
Almagro speedily collected such a respectable force, 
the acquiescence in his government was far from 
being general. Pizarro had left many friends to 
whom his memory was dear; the barbarous assassi¬ 
nation of a man to whom his country was so highly 
indebted, filled every impartial person with horror. 
The ignominious birth of Almagro, as well as the 
doubtful title on which he founded his pretensions, 
led others to consider him as an usurper. The 
officers who commanded in some provinces refused 
to recognise his authority, until it was confirmed 
by the emperor. In others, particularly at Cuzco, 
the royal standard was erected, and preparations 
were begun in order to revenge the murder of their 
ancient leader. 

Arrival of Vaca Those seeds of discord, which could 
de Castro, not have lain long dormant, acquired 

great vigour and activity when the arrival of Yaca 
de Castro was known. After a long and disastrous 
voyage, he was driven by stress of weather into a 
small harbour in the province of Popayan ; and 
proceeding from thence by land, after a journey no 
less tedious than difficult, he reached Quito. In his 
way he received accounts of Pizarro’s death, and 

of the events which followed upon it. 

who assumes . , 

the title of go- He immediately produced the roval 

vernor. . . ... . 

commission, appointing him governor 
of Peru, with the same privileges and authority ; 
and his jurisdiction was acknowledged without 
hesitation by Benalcazar, adelantado or lieutenant- 
general for the emperor in Popayan, and by Pedro 
de Puelles, who, in the absence of Gonzalo Pizarro, 
had the command of the troops left in Quito. Vaca 
de Castro not only assumed the supreme authority, 
but showed that he possessed the talents which the 
exercise of it at that juncture required. By his 
influence and address he soon assembled such a 
body of troops, as not only to set him above all fear 
of being exposed to any insult from the adverse 
party, but enabled him to advance from Quito with 
the dignity that became his character. By de¬ 
spatching persons of confidence to the different 
settlements in Peru, with a formal notification of 
his arrival and of his commission, he communicated 
to his countrymen the royal pleasure with respect 
to the government of the country. By private 
emissaries, he excited such officers as had discover¬ 
ed their disapprobation of Almagro’s proceedings, 
to manifest their duty to their sovereign by sup- 

g Benzon, lib. iii. c. 9. Zarate, lib. iv. c. 11. Gomara, c. 116. 147. 


1542. 


[A. 1). 1541. BOOK VI. 

porting the person honoured with his commission. 
Those measures were productive of great effects. 
Encouraged by the approach of the new governor, 
or prepared by his machinations, the loyal were 
confirmed in their principles, and avowed them with 
greater boldness; the titnid ventured to declare their 
sentiments ; the neutral and wavering, finding it 
necessary to choose a side, began to lean to that 
which now appeared to be the safest, as well as the 
most just.g 

Almagro observed the rapid progress conduct of 
of this spirit of disaffection to his Almagro. 
cause, and in order to give an effectual check to it 
before the arrival of Vaca de Castro, 
he set out at the head of his troops 
for Cuzco, where the most considerable body of 
opponents had erected the royal standard, under 
the command of Pedro Alvarez Holguin. During 
his march thither, Herrada, the skilful guide of 
his youth and of his counsels, died ; and from that 
time his measures were conspicuous for their vio¬ 
lence, but concerted with little sagacity, and exe¬ 
cuted with no address. Holguin, who, with forces 
far inferior to those of the opposite party, was de¬ 
scending towards the coast at the very time that 
Almagro was on his way to Cuzco, deceived his 
inexperienced adversary by a very simple stratagem, 
avoided an engagement, and effected a junction 
with Alvarado, an officer of note, who had been the 
first to declare against Almagro as an usurper. 

Soon after, Vaca de Castro entered Pr0 j, ress ot Va ca 
their camp with the troops which he tie Castro * 
brought from Quito, and erecting the royal standard 
before his own tent, he declared that, as governor, 
he would discharge in person all the functions of 
general of their combined forces. Though formed 
by the tenor of his past life to the habits of a se¬ 
dentary and pacific profession, he at once assumed 
the activity, and discovered the decision, of an officer 
long accustomed to command. Know ing his strength 
to be now far superior to that of the enemy, he was 
impatient to terminate the contest by a battle. Nor 
did the followers of Almagro, who had no hopes 
of obtaining a pardon for a crime so atrocious as 
the murder of the governor, decline 
that mode of decision. They met at 
Chupaz, about two hundred miles from Cuzco, 
and fought with all the fierce animosity inspired 
by the violence of civil rage, the rancour of private 
enmity, the eagerness of revenge, and the last 
efforts of despair. Victory, after re¬ 
maining long doubtful, declared at 
last for Vaca de Castro. The superior number of 
his troops, his own intrepidity, and the martial 
talents of Francisco de Carvajal, a veteran officer 
formed under the great captain in the wars of Italy, 
and who on that day laid the foundation of his 
future fame in Peru, triumphed over the bravery of 
his opponents, though led on by young Almagro 
with a gallant spirit, worthy of a better cause, and 

Herrera, dec. 6. lib. x. c. 1, 2, 3, 7, Sic. 


Defeats Almagro. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1542.] 

deserving another fate. The carnage was great in 
proportion to the number of the combatants. Many 
ot the vanquished, especially such as were conscious 
that they might be charged with being accessary to 
the assassination of Pizarro, rushing on the sw ords 
ot the enemy, chose to fall like soldiers, rather than 
wait an ignominious doom. Of fourteen hundred 
men, the total amount of combatants on both sides, 
live hundred lay dead on the field, and the number 
ot the wounded was still greater. 1 ' 

Severity of his If the military talents displayed by 
proceedings. y aca de Castro, both in the council 

and in the field, surprised the adventurers in Peru, 
they were still more astonished at his conduct after 
the victory. As he was by nature a rigid dispenser 
of justice, and persuaded that it required examples 
of extraordinary severity to restrain the licentious 
spirit of soldiers so far removed from the seat of 
government, he proceeded directly to try his prison¬ 
ers as rebels. Forty were condemned to sulfer the 
death of traitors, others were banished from Peru. 
Their leader, w ho made his escape from the battle, 
being betrayed by some of his officers, w as publicly 
beheaded in Cuzco ; and in him the name of Alma- 
gro, and the spirit of the party, was extinct. 1 
„ , . During those violent convulsions in 

Consultations of 

the emperor Peru, the emperor and his ministers 

concerning his . 

dominions in were intently employed in preparing 
regulations, by which they hoped, not 
only to re-establish tranquillity there, but to intro¬ 
duce a more perfect system of internal policy into all 
their settlements in the New World. It is manifest 
from all the events recorded in the history of America, 
that, rapid and extensive as the Spanish conquests 
there had been, they were not carried on by any 
regular exertion of the national force, but by the 
occasional efforts of private adventurers. After 
fitting out a few of the first armaments for discover¬ 
ing new regions, the court of Spain, during the busy 
reigns of Ferdinand and of Charles V., the former 
the most intriguing prince of the age, and the latter 
the most ambitious, was encumbered with such a 
multiplicity of schemes, and involved in w ar with so 
many nations of Europe, that he had not leisure to 
attend to distant and less interesting objects. The 
care of prosecuting discovery, or of attempting con¬ 
quest, was abandoned to individuals; and with 
such ardour did men push forward in this new 
career, on which novelty, the spirit of adventure, 
avarice, ambition, and the hope of meriting heaven, 
prompted them with combined influence to enter, 
that in less than half a century almost the whole of 
that extensive empire which Spain now possesses 
in the New World, was subjected to its dominion. 
As the Spanish court contributed nothing towards 
the various expeditions undertaken in America, it 
was not entitled to claim much from their success. 
The sovereignty of the conquered provinces, with 
the fifth of the gold and silver, was reserved for the 


<>19 

crown ; every thing else was seized by the associates 
in each expedition as their own right. The plunder 
of the countries which they invaded served to in¬ 
demnify them for what they had expended in equip¬ 
ping themselves for the service, and the conquered 
territory was divided among them, according to 
rules which custom had introduced, as permanent 
establishments which their successful valour merit¬ 
ed. In the infancy of those settlements, when their 
extent as well as their value were unknown, many 
irregularities escaped observation, and it was found 
necessary to connive at many excesses. The con ¬ 
quered people were frequently pillaged with de¬ 
structive rapacity, and their country parcelled out 
among its new masters in exorbitant shares, far 
exceeding the highest recompence due to their ser¬ 
vices. The rude conquerors of America, incapable 
of forming their establishments upon any general or 
extensive plan of policy, attentive only to private 
interest, unwilling to forego present gain from the 
prospect of remote or public benefit, seem to have 
had no object but to amass sudden wealth, w ithout 
regarding what might be the consequences of the 
means by which they acquired it. But when time 
at length discovered to the Spanish court the im¬ 
portance of its American possessions, the necessity 
of new-modelling their whole frame became obvious, 
and in place of the maxims and practices prevalent 
among military adventurers, it was found requisite 
to substitute the institutions of regular government. 

One evil in particular called for an immediate 
remedy. The conquerors of Mexico and Peru 
imitated the fatal example of their countrymen 
settled in the islands, and employed themselves in 
searching for gold and silver with the same incon¬ 
siderate eagerness. Similar effects followed. The 
natives employed in this labour by masters, who in 
imposing tasks had no regard either to what they 
felt or to what they were able to perform, pined 
away and perished so fast, that there was reason to 
apprehend that Spain, instead of possessing coun¬ 
tries peopled to such a degree as to be susceptible 
of progressive improvement, would soon remain 
proprietor only of a vast uninhabited desert. 

The emperor and his ministers were so sensible 
of this, and so solicitous to prevent the extinction 
of the Indian race, which threatened to render their 
acquisitions of no value, that from time to time 
various laws, which I have mentioned, had been 
made for securing to that unhappy people more 
gentle and equitable treatment. But the distance 
of America from the seat of empire, the feebleness 
of government in the new colonies, the avarice and 
audacity of soldiers unaccustomed to restraint, pre¬ 
vented these salutary regulations from operating 
with any considerable influence. The evil continued 
to grow r , and at this time the emperor found an 
interval of leisure from the affairs of Europe to take 
it into attentive consideration. He consulted not 

i Zarate, lib. iv. c. 21. Gomara, c. 150. Herrera, dec. 7- lib. iii. c. 12. 
lib. vi. c. 1. 


h Zarate, lib. iv. c. 12—19. Gorrmra, c. 148. Vega, p. 11. lib. iii. c. 11— 
18. Herrera, dec. 7* lib. i. c. 1, 2, 3; lib. iii. c. 1—11. 



920 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1542. BOOK VI. 


only with his ministers and the members of the 
rpi ... council of the Indies, but called upon 

whom he advises. severa l persons who had resided long 
in the New World, to aid them with the result of 
their experience and observation. Fortunately for 
the people of America, among these was Bartholo¬ 
mew de las Casas, Mho happened to be then at 
Madrid on a mission from a chapter of his order at 
Chiapa. k Though since the miscarriage of his 
former schemes for the relief of the Indians, he had 
continued shut up in his cloister, or occupied in 
religious functions, liis zeal in behalf of the former 
objects of his pity was so far from abating, that, 
from an increased knowledge of their sufferings, its 
ardour had augmented. He seized eagerly this 
opportunity of reviving his favourite maxims con¬ 
cerning the treatment of the Indians. With the 
moving eloquence natural to a man on whose mind 
the scenes which he had beheld had made a deep 
impression, he described the irreparable waste of 
the human species in the New World, the Indian 
race almost totally swept away in the islands in less 
than fifty years, and hastening to extinction on the 
continent with the same rapid decay. With the 
decisive tone of one strongly prepossessed with the 
truth of his own system, he imputed all this to a 
single cause, to the exactions and cruelty of his 
countrymen, and contended that nothing could pre¬ 
vent the depopulation of America, but the declaring 
of its natives to be freemen, and treating them as 
subjects, not as slaves. Nor did he confide for the 
success of this proposal in the powers of his oratory 
alone. In order to enforce them, he composed 
his famous treatise concerning the destruction of 
America, 1 in which he relates, with many horrid 
circumstances, but with apparent marks of exagge¬ 
rated description, the devastation of every province 
which had been visited by the Spaniards. 

The emperor was deeply afflicted 
to introduce a with the recital of so many actions 
tionot govern- shocking to humanity. But as his 
views extended far beyond those of 
Las Casas, he perceived that relieving the Indians 
from oppression was but one step towards rendering 
his possessions in the New World a valuable ac¬ 
quisition, and would be of little avail, unless he 
could circumscribe the power and usurpations of 
his own subjects there. The conquerors of America, 
however great their merit had been towards their 
country, were mostly persons of such mean birth, 
and of such an abject rank in society, as gave no 
distinction in the eye of a monarch. The exorbitant 
wealth with wdiich some of them returned, gave 
umbrage to an age not accustomed to see men in 
inferior condition elevated above their level, and 
rising to emulate or to surpass the ancient nobility 
in splendour. The territories which their leaders 
had appropriated to themselves were of such enor¬ 
mous extent,' 11 that if the country should ever be 

k Remesal, Hist, de Chiapa, p. 146. 

1 Remesal, p. 192, 199. 


improved in proportion to the fertility of the soil, 
they must grow too wealthy and too powerful for 
subjects. It appeared to Charles that this abuse 
required a remedy no less than the other, and that 
the regulations concerning both must be enforced 
by a mode of government more vigorous than had 
yet been introduced into America. 

With this view he framed a body of New regulations 
laws, containing many salutary ap- lor thi s purpose. 

pointments with respect to the constitution and 
powers of the supreme council of the Indies; con¬ 
cerning the station and jurisdiction of the royal 
audiences in different parts of America; the ad¬ 
ministration of justice ; the order of government, 
both ecclesiastical and civil. These were approved 
of by all ranks of men. But together with them 
were issued the following regulations, which ex¬ 
cited universal alarm, and occasioned the most 
violent convulsions : “ That as the repartimientos or 
shares of land seized by several persons appeared 
to be excessive, the royal audiences are empowered 
to reduce them to a moderate extent: That upon 
the death of any conqueror or planter, the lands and 
Indians granted to him shall not descend to his 
widow or children, but return to the crown : That 
the Indians shall henceforth be exempt from per¬ 
sonal service, and shall not be compelled to carry 
the baggage of travellers, to labour in the mines, or 
to dive in the pearl fisheries : That the stated tribute 
due by them to their superior shall be ascertained, 
and they shall be paid as servants for any work 
they voluntarily perform : That all persons who are 
or have been in public offices, all ecclesiastics of 
every denomination, all hospitals and monasteries, 
shall be deprived of the lands and Indians allotted 
to them, and these be annexed to the crown : That 
every person in Peru, who had any criminal con¬ 
cern in the contests between Pizarro and Almagro, 
should forfeit his lands and Indians.” 

All the Spanish ministers who had hitherto been 
intrusted with the direction of American affairs, and 
who were best acquainted with the state of the 
country, remonstrated against those 

. ^. . ... - His ministers re- 

regulations as ruinous to their infant monstrate against 

colonies. They represented that the 
number of Spaniards who had hitherto emigrated to 
the New World m as so extremely small, that nothing 
could be expected from any effort of theirs towards 
improving the vast regions over which they were 
scattered ; that the success of every scheme for this 
purpose must depend upon the ministry and service 
of the Indians, whose native indolence and aversion 
to labour, no prospect of benefit or promise of re¬ 
ward could surmount; that the moment the right of 
imposing a task, and exacting the performance of it, 
was taken from their masters, every work of indus¬ 
try must cease, and all the sources from which 
wealth began to pour in upon Spain must be stop¬ 
ped tor ever. But Charles, tenacious at all times of 

m See Note CXXXIX. 

n Herrera, dec. 7. lib. vi, c. 5. Fernandez, Hist. lib. i. c. 1,2. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


921 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1542.] 

his own opinions, ana so much impressed at present 
with the view of the disorders which reigned in 
America, that he was willing to hazard the applica¬ 
tion even of a dangerous remedy, persisted in his 
resolution of publishing the laws. That they might 
be carried into execution with greater vigour and 
authority, he authorized Francisco Tello de Sando¬ 
val to repair to Mexico as visitador or superintendant 
of that country, and to co-operate with Antonio de 

a viceroy ap- Mendoza, the viceroy, in enforcing 
pointed tor 1 eru. them. He appointed Blasco Nugnez 

Vela to be governor of Peru with the title of viceroy ; 
and in order to strengthen his administration, he esta¬ 
blished a court of royal audience in Lima, in which 
four lawyers of eminence were to preside as judges. 0 

, The viceroy and superintendant 

Effects of the re- . r 

guiationsin n ew sailed at the same time; and an ac- 

Spam, 

count of the laws which they were to 
enforce reached America before them. The entry of 
Sandoval into Mexico was viewed as the prelude of 
general ruin. The unlimited grant of liberty to the 
Indians affected every Spaniard in America without 
distinction; and there was hardly one who might 
not on some pretext be included under the other re¬ 
gulations, and suffer by them. But the colony in 
New Spain had now been so long accustomed to the 
restraints of law and authority under the steady and 
prudent administration of Mendoza, that how r much 
soever the spirit of the new statutes was detested 
and dreaded, no attempt was made to obstruct the 
publication of them by any act of violence unbe¬ 
coming subjects. The magistrates and principal 
inhabitants, however, presented dutiful addresses to 
the viceroy and superintendant, representing the 
fatal consequences of enforcing them. Happily for 
them, Mendoza, by long residence in the country, 
was so thoroughly acquainted with its state, that he 
knew what was for its interest as well as what it 
could bear ; and Sandoval, though new in office, 
displayed a degree of moderation seldom possessed 
by persons just entering upon the exercise of power. 
They engaged to suspend, for some time, the exe¬ 
cution of what was offensive in the new laws, and 
not only consented that a deputation of citizens 
should be sent to Europe to lay before the emperor 
the apprehensions of his subjects in New Spain 
with respect to their tendency and effects, but they 
concurred with them in supporting their sentiments. 
Charles, moved by the opinion of men whose abili¬ 
ties and integrity entitled them to decide concern¬ 
ing what fell immediately under their own view, 
granted such a relaxation of the rigour of the laws 
as re-established the colony in its former tran¬ 
quil lity. p 

l543 In Peru the storm gathered with an 

in Peru. aspect still more fierce and threaten¬ 
ing, and was not so soon dispelled. The conquerors 
of Peru, of a rank much inferior to those w ho had 

o Zarate, lib. iii. C. 24. Gomara, c. 151. Vega, p. 2. lib. iii. c. 20. 

p Fernandez, Hist. lib. i. c. 3, 4, 5. Vega, p. 11. lib. in. c. 21, 22. 
Herrera, dec. 7. lib. v. c. 7 lib w». c - 14, 15. Torquem. Mon. Ind. lib. 
v. c. i3. 


subjected Mexico to the Spanish crown, further re¬ 
moved from the inspection of the parent state, and 
intoxicated with the sudden acquisition of wealth, 
carried on all their operations with greater license 
and irregularity than any body of adventurers in 
the New World. Amidst the general subversion of 
law and order, occasioned by two successive civil 
wars, when each individual was at liberty to decide 
for himself, without any guide but his own interest 
or passions, this turbulent spirit rose above all sense 
of subordination. To men thus corrupted by anarchy, 
the introduction of regular government, the powei 
of a viceroy, and the authority of a respectable 
court of judicature, would of themselves have ap¬ 
peared formidable restraints, to which they would 
have submitted with reluctance. But they revolted 
with indignation against the idea of complying with 
laws, by which they were to be stripped at once of 
all they had earned so hardly during many years 
of service and suffering. As the account of the new 
laws spread successively through the different set¬ 
tlements, the inhabitants ran together, the women 
in tears, and the men exclaiming against the injus¬ 
tice and ingratitude of their sovereign in depriving 
them, unheard and unconvicted, of their possessions. 

“ Is this/’ cried they, “ the recompence due to per¬ 
sons, who, without public aid, at their own expense, 
and by their own valour, have subjected to the 
crown of Castile territories of such immense extent 
and opulence? Are these the rewards bestowed for 
having endured unparalleled distress, for having 
encountered every species of danger in the service 
of their country? Whose merit is so great, whose 
conduct has been so irreproachable, that he may not 
be condemned by some penal clause in regulations, 
conceived in terms as loose and comprehensive as 
if it had been intended that all should be entangled 
in their snare? Every Spaniard of note in Peru 
has held some public office, and all, without distinc¬ 
tion, have been constrained to take an active part 
in the contest between the two rival chiefs. Were 
the former to be robbed of their property because 
they had done their duty? Were the latter to be 
punished on account of what they could not avoid? 
Shall the conquerors of this great empire, instead 
of receiving marks of distinction, be deprived of 
the natural consolation of providing for their widows 
and children, and leave them to depend for subsist¬ 
ence on the scanty supply they can extort from 
unfeeling courtiers ? q We are not able now, con¬ 
tinued they, to explore unknown regions in quest 
of more secure settlements; our constitutions de¬ 
bilitated with age, and our bodies covered with 
wounds, are no longer fit for active service ; but 
still we possess vigour sufficient to assert our just 
rights, and we will not tamely suffer them to be 
wrested from us.” r 

By discourses of this sort, uttered with vehe- 

q Herrera, dec. 7- lib. vii. c. 14, 15. 

r Gomara, c. 152. Herrera, dec. 7. lib. vi. c. 10, 11. Vega, p. 11. lib 
iii. c. 20, 22. lib. iv.c, 3, 4. 



9 22 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


An insurrection and Iistoned to with universal 

moderation^f hc approbation, their passions were in- 
Castro - flamed to such a pitch, that they were 

prepared for the most violent measures, and began 
to hold consultations in different places, how they 
might oppose the entrance of the viceroy and j udges, 
and prevent not only the execution but the promul¬ 
gation of the new laws. From this, however, they 
were diverted by the address of Yaca de Castro, 
who flattered them with hopes, that as soon as the 
viceroy and judges should arrive, and had leisure to 
examine their petitions and remonstrances, they 
would concur with them in endeavouring to pro¬ 
cure some mitigation in the rigour of laws, which 
had been framed without due attention either to 
the state of the country or to the sentiments of 
the people. A greater degree of accommodation 
to these, and even some concessions on the part 
of government, were now become requisite to com¬ 
pose the present ferment, and to soothe the colo¬ 
nists into submission, by inspiring them with con¬ 
fidence in their superiors. But without profound 
discernment, conciliating manners, and flexibility 
of temper, such a plan could not be 

The spirit of dis- . , , 

affection increas- carried on. The viceroy possessed 

ed b> the none of these. Of all the qualities 

that fit men for high command, he was endowed 

only with integrity and courage ; the former harsh 

and uncomplying, the latter bordering so frequently 

on rashness or obstinacy, that in his situation they 

were defects rather than virtues. From 

March 4. 

the moment that he landed at Tumbez, 
Nugnez Vela seems to have considered himself 
merely as an executive officer, without any discre¬ 
tionary power; and, regardless of whatever he ob¬ 
served or heard concerning the state of the country, 
he adhered to the letter of the regulations with un¬ 
relenting rigour. In all the towns through which 
he passed, the natives were declared to be free, 
every person in public office was deprived of his 
lands and servants; and as an example of obedi¬ 
ence to others, he would not suffer a single Indian 
to be employed in carrying his own baggage in his 
march towards Lima. Amazement and consterna¬ 
tion went before him as he approached ; and so 
little solicitous was he to prevent these from aug¬ 
menting, that on entering the capital he openly 
avowed, that he came to obey the orders of his so¬ 
vereign, not to dispense with his laws. This harsh 
declaration was accompanied with what rendered 
it still more intolerable, haughtiness in deportment, 
a tone of arrogance and decision in discourse, and 
an insolence of office grievous to men little accus¬ 
tomed to hold civil authority in high respect. Every 
attempt to procure a suspension or mitigation of the 
new laws, the viceroy considered as flowing from a 
spirit of disaffection that tended to rebellion. Se¬ 
veral persons of rank were confined, and some put 
to death, without any form of trial. Yaca de Cas¬ 
tro was arrested, and notwithstanding the dignity 

s Zarate, lib. iv. c. 23,24, 25. Gomara, c. 153—155. Vega, p. 11. lib. iv. 


[A. D. 1543. BOOK VI. 

of his former rank, and his merit in having pre¬ 
vented a general insurrection in the colony, he was 
loaded with chains, and shut up in the common 
gaol.® 

But however general the indigna- The ma]content , 
tion was against such proceedings, it 
is probable the hand of authority would their leafler - 
have been strong enough to suppress it, or to pre¬ 
vent it bursting out with open violence, if the mal¬ 
contents had not been provided with a leader of 
credit and eminence to unite and to direct their 
efforts. From the time that the purport of the new' 
regulations was known in Peru, every Spaniard 
there turned his eyes towards Gonzalo Pizarro, as 
the only person able to avert the ruin w ith which 
they threatened the colony. From all quarters, 
letters and addresses were sent to him, conjuring 
him to stand forth as their common protector, and 
offering to support him in the attempt with their 
lives and fortunes. Gonzalo, though inferior in ta¬ 
lents to his other brothers, was equally ambitious, 
and of courage no less daring. The behaviour of 
an ungrateful court towards his brothers and him¬ 
self dwelt continually on his mind. Ferdinand a 
state prisoner in Europe, the children of the go¬ 
vernor in custody of the viceroy, and sent aboard 
his fleet, himself reduced to the condition of a pri¬ 
vate citizen in a country, for the discovery and con¬ 
quest of which Spain w r as indebted to his family ;— 
these thoughts prompted him to seek for vengeance, 
and to assert the rights of his family, of which he 
now considered himself as the guardian and the 
heir. But as no Spaniard can easily surmount that 
veneration for his sovereign which seems to be in¬ 
terwoven in his frame, the idea of marching in arms 
against the royal standard filled him with horror. 
He hesitated long, and was still unresolved, when 
the violence of the viceroy, the universal call of his 
countrymen, and the certainty of becoming soon a 
victim himself to the severity of the new laws, 
moved him to quit his residence at Chuquisaca de la 
Plata, and repair to Cuzco. All the inhabitants 
went out to meet him, and received him with trans¬ 
ports of joy as the deliverer of the colony. In the 
fervour of their zeal, they elected him procurator- 
general of the Spanish nation in Peru, to solicit 
the repeal of the late regulations. They empowered 
him to lay their remonstrances before the royal au¬ 
dience in Lima, and upon pretext of danger from 
the Indians, authorized him to march thither in 
arms. Under sanction of this nomi- 

] 544 

nation, Pizarro took possession of the 
royal treasure, appointed officers, levied soldiers, 
seized a large train of artillery which Yaca de Cas¬ 
tro had deposited in Gumanga, and set out for 
Lima, as if he had been advancing against a public 
enemy. Disaffection having now assumed a regu¬ 
lar form, and being united under a chief of such 
distinguished name, many persons of note resorted 
to his standard ; and a considerable part of the 

c. 4, 5. Fernandez, lib. i. c. 6—10. 



BOOK VI. A. D. 1544.1 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


923 


The viceroy im¬ 
prisoned. 

Sept. 18. 


troops, raised by the viceroy to oppose his progress, 
deserted to him in a body. 1 

Before Pizarro reached Lima, a re- 

Dissensions of the . ,. , , . , . . 

viceroy and court volution had happened there, which 

encouraged him to proceed with almost 
certainty of success. The violence of the viceroy's 
administration was not more formidable to the Spa¬ 
niards of Peru, than his overbearing haughtiness 
was odious to his associates, the judges of the royal 
audience. During their voyage from Spain some 
symptoms of coldness between the viceroy and 
them began to appear. u But as soon as they entered 
upon the exercise of their respective offices, both 
parties were so much exasperated by frequent con¬ 
tests, arising from interference of jurisdiction and 
contrariety of opinion, that their mutual disgust 
soon grew into open enmity. The judges thwarted 
the viceroy in every measure, set at liberty prisoners 
whom he had confined, justified the malcontents, and 
applauded their remonstrances. At a time when 
both departments of government should have united 
against the approaching enemy, they were contend¬ 
ing with each other for superiority. The judges at 
length prevailed. The viceroy, univer¬ 
sally odious, and abandoned even by 
his own guards, was seized in his pa¬ 
lace, and carried to a desert island on the coast, to 
be kept there until he could be sent home to Spain. 

The judges, in consequence of this, 
having assumed the supreme direction 
of affairs into their own hands, issued a proclamation 
suspending the execution of the obnoxious laws, 
and sent a message to Pizarro, requiring him, as 
they had already granted whatever he could request, 
to dismiss his troops, and to repair to Lima with 
fifteen or twenty attendants. They could hardly 
expect that a man so daring and ambitious would 
tamely comply with this requisition. It was made 
probably with no such intention, but only to throw 
a decent veil over their own conduct; for Cepeda, 
the president of the court of audience, a pragmatical 
and aspiring lawyer, seems to have held a secret 
correspondence with Pizarro, and had already 
formed the plan which he afterwards executed, of 
devoting himself to his service. The imprisonment 
of the viceroy, the usurpation of the judges, to 
gether with the universal confusion and anarchy 
consequent upon events so singular and unexpected, 
opened new and vast prospects to Pizarro. He 
now beheld the supreme power within his reach. 
Nor did he want courage to push on towards the 
object which fortune presented to his view. Carva 
jal, the prompter of his resolutions and guide of all 
his actions, had long fixed his eye upon it as the 
only end at which Pizarro ought to aim. Instead 
of the inferior function of procurator for the Spa¬ 
nish settlements in Peru, he openly demanded to be 
governor and captain-general of the whole province, 


Views of Pizarro. 


and required the court of audience to grant him a 
commission to that effect. At the head of twelve 
hundred men, within a mile of Lima, where there 
was neither leader nor army to oppose him, such a 
request carried with it the authority of a command. 
But the judges, either from unwillingness to relin¬ 
quish power, or from a desire of preserving some 
attention to appearances, hesitated, or seemed to 
hesitate, about complying with what he demanded. 
Carvajal, impatient of delay, and im- He assumes the 
petuous in all his operations, marched government. 

into the city by night, seized several officers of dis¬ 
tinction obnoxious to Pizarro, and hanged them 
without the formality of a trial. Next morning the 
court of audience issued a commission in the em¬ 
peror's name, appointing Pizarro governor of Peru, 
with full powers, civil as well as military, and he 
entered the town that day with extraordinary pomp, 
to take possession of his new dignity/ 

But amidst the disorder and turbu¬ 
lence which accompanied this total The viceroy re¬ 
dissolution of the frame of government, c ° e s h ' ' be ty 
the minds of men, set loose from the ordinary re¬ 
straints of law and authority, acted with such 
capricious irregularity, that events no less extra¬ 
ordinary than unexpected followed in a rapid suc¬ 
cession. Pizarro had scarcely begun to exercise 
the new powers with which he was invested, when 
he beheld formidable enemies rise up to oppose 
him. The viceroy having been put on board a 
vessel by the judges of the audience, in order that 
he might be carried to Spain under custody of 
Juan Alvarez, one of their own number; as soon as 
they were out at sea, Alvarez, either touched with 
remorse, or moved by fear, kneeled down to his 
prisoner, declaring him from that moment to be free, 
and that he himself, and every person in the ship, 
would obey him as the legal representative of their 
sovereign. Nugnez Vela ordered the pilot of the 
vessel to shape his course towards Tumbez, and as 
soon as he landed there, erected the royal standard, 
and resumed his functions of viceroy. Several per¬ 
sons of note, to whom the contagion of the seditious 
spirit which reigned at Cuzco and Lima had not 
reached, instantly avowed their resolution to sup¬ 
port his authority/ The violence of Pizarro's 
government, who observed every individual with 
the jealousy natural to usurpers, and who punished 
every appearance of disaffection with unforgiving 
severity, soon augmented the number of the viceroy’s 
adherents, as it forced some leading men in the 
colony to fly to him for refuge While he was 
gathering such strength at Tumbez, that his forces 
began to assume the appearance of what was con¬ 
sidered as an army in America, Diego Centeno, a 
bold and active officer, exasperated by the cruelty 
and oppression of Pizarro’s lieutenant-governor 
in the province of Charcas, formed a conspiracy 


t Zarate, lib. v. c. 1. Gomara, c. 156, 157. Vega, p. 11. lib. iv. c. 4— 
12. Fernandez, Kb. i. c. 12—17- Herrera, dec. 7. lib. vu. c. 18, <Vc. lib. 
viii. c. 1—5. 
u Gomara, c. 171- 


x Zarate, lib. v. c. 8—10. Vega, p. 11. lib. iv. c. 13—19.. Gomara, c. 
159—163. Fernan. lib. i. c. 18—25. Herrera, dec. 7- lib. viii. c. 10 —20. 

y Zarate, lib. v. c. 9. Gomara, c. 165. Fernandez, lib. i. c. 23. Her. 
dec. 7. lib. viii. c. 15. 



924 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1540. ROOK VI. 


against his life, cut him off, and declared for the 
viceroy. 2 

Pizarro, though alarmed with those 
Pizarrcfmarches appearances of hostility in the opposite 
extremes of the empire, was not dis¬ 
concerted. He prepared to assert the authority to 
which he had attained, with the spirit and conduct 
of an officer accustomed to command, and marched 
directly against the viceroy as the enemy who was 
nearest as well as most formidable. As he was 
master of the public revenues in Peru, and most of 
the military men were attached to his family, his 
troops were so numerous, that the viceroy, unable 
to face them, retreated towards Quito. Pizarro 
followed him ; and in that long march, through a 
wild mountainous country, suffered hardships and 
encountered difficulties, which no troops but those 
accustomed to serve in America could have endured 
or surmounted. a The viceroy had scarcely reached 
Quito, when the vanguard of Pizarro’s forces ap¬ 
peared, led by Carvajal, who, though near four¬ 
score, was as hardy and active as any young soldier 
under his command. Nugnez Vela instantly aban¬ 
doned a town incapable of defence, and with a 
rapidity more resembling a flight than a retreat, 
marched into the province of Popayan. Pizarro 
continued to pursue ; but finding it impossible to 
overtake him, returned to Quito. From thence he 
despatched Carvajal to oppose Centeno, who was 
growing formidable in the southern provinces of the 
empire, and he himself remained there to make 
head against the viceroy. b 

The viceroy By his own activity, and the assist- 
defeated, ance of Benalcazar, Nugnez Vela soon 
assembled four hundred men in Popayan. As he 
retained, amidst all his disasters, the same elevation 
of mind, and the same high sense of his own dignity, 
he rejected with disdain the advice of some of his 
followers, who urged him to make overtures of 
accommodation to Pizarro, declaring that it was 
only by the sword that a contest with rebels could 
be decided. With this intention he 
marched back to Quito. Pizarro, 
relying on the superior number, and still more on 
the discipline and valour, of his troops, advanced 
resolutely to meet him. The battle 
was fierce and bloody, both parties 
fighting like men who knew that the possession of a 
great empire, the fate of their leaders, and their own 
future fortune, depended upon the issue of that day. 
But Pizarro’s veterans pushed forward with such 
regular and well-directed force, that they soon began 
to make an impression on their enemies. The viceroy, 
by extraordinary exertions, in which the abilities of 
a commander and the courage of a soldier were 
equally displayed, held victory for 
some time in suspense. At length he 
fell, pierced with many wounds ; and the rout of his 


Jan. 18. 


and slain. 


z Zarate, lib. v. c. 18. Gomara, c. 169. Herrera, dec. 7. lib. ix. c. 27. 
a See N ote CX L. 

b Zarate, 1. v. c. 15,16—24. Gomara, c. 167. Vega, p. ll. 1. iv. c. 25— 
28. Fernandez, lib. i. c. 34, 40. Herrera, dec. 7. lib. viii. c. 16, 20—27. 


followers became general. They were hotly pursued. 
His head was cut off, and placed on the public 
gibbet in Quito, which Pizarro entered in triumph. 
The troops assembled by Centeno were dispersed 
soon after by Carvajal, and he himself compelled 
to fly to the mountains, where he remained for seve¬ 
ral months concealed in a cave. Every person in 
Peru, from the frontiers of Popayan to those of Chili, 
submitted to Pizarro ; and by his fleet, under Pedro 
de Hinojosa, he had not only the unrivalled com¬ 
mand of the South sea, but had taken possession of 
Panama, and placed a garrison in Nombre de Dios, 
on the opposite side of the isthmus, which rendered 
him master of the only avenue of communication be¬ 
tween Spain and Peru that was used at that periods 
After this decisive victory, Pizarro Pizarro advised 
and his followers remained for some sovereignty of 
time at Quito, and during the first Peru; 
transports of their exultation, they ran into every 
excess of licentious indulgence, with the riotous 
spirit usual among low adventurers upon extraor¬ 
dinary success. But amidst this dissipation, their 
chief and his confidants were obliged to turn their 
thoughts sometimes to what was serious, and deli¬ 
berated with much solicitude concerning the part 
that he ought now to take. Carvajal, no less bold 
and decisive in council than in the field, had from 
the beginning warned Pizarro, that in the career on 
w hich he was entering it was vain to think of hold¬ 
ing a middle course ; that he must either boldly aim 
at all, or attempt nothing. From the time that 
Pizarro obtained possession of the government of 
Peru, he inculcated the same maxim with greater 
earnestness. Upon receiving an account of the 
victory at Quito, he remonstrated with him in a tone 
still more peremptory. “ You have usurped,” said 
he, in a letter written to Pizarro on that occasion, 
“ the supreme pow r er in this country, in contempt of 
the emperor’s commission to the viceroy. You have 
marched in hostile array against the royal standard ; 
you have attacked the representative of your sove¬ 
reign in the field, have defeated him, and cut off his 
head. Think not that ever a monarch will forgive 
such insults on his dignity, or that any reconcilia¬ 
tion with him can be cordial or sincere. Depend 
no longer on the precarious favour of another. As¬ 
sume yourself the sovereignty over a country, to the 
dominion of which your family has a title founded 
on the rights both of discovery and conquest. It is 
in your power to attach every Spaniard in Peru of 
any consequence inviolably to your interest, by 
liberal grants of lands and of Indians, or by insti¬ 
tuting ranks of nobility, and creating titles of honour 
similar to those which are courted with so much 
eagerness in Europe. By establishing orders of 
knighthood, with privileges and distinctions resem¬ 
bling those in Spain, you may bestow a gratification 
upon the officers in your service, suited to the ideas 


c Zarate, lib. v. c. 31, 32. Gomara, c. 170. Vega, p. 11. lib. iv. c. 33. 
34. lernandez, lib. l. c. 51—54. Herrera, dec. 7. lib. x. c. 12, 19—22. 
dec. 8. lib. l. c. 1—3. Benzo, lib. iii. 12. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 




BOOK VI. A. I). 1540.] 

of military men. Nor is it to your countrymen only 
that you ought to attend ; endeavour to gain the 
natives. By marrying the Coya, or daughter of the 
Sun next in succession to the crown, you will in¬ 
duce the Indians, out of veneration for the blood of 
their ancient princes, to unite with the Spaniards 
in support of your authority. Thus, at the head of 
the ancient inhabitants of Peru, as well as of the 
new settlers there, you may set at defiance the power 
of Spain, and repel with ease any feeble force which 
it can send at such a distance.” Cepeda, the law¬ 
yer, who was now Pizarro’s confidential counsellor, 
warmly seconded Carvajal’s exhortations, and em¬ 
ployed whatever learning he possessed in demon¬ 
strating, that all the founders of great monarchies 
had been raised to pre-eminence, not by the an¬ 
tiquity of their lineage, or the validity of their rights, 
but by their own aspiring valour and personal merit. d 
but chooses to Pizarro listened attentively to both, 
the court of lth an ^ could not conceal the satisfaction 
Spsun * with which he contemplated the object 

that they presented to his view. But happily for 
the tranquillity of the world, few men possess that 
superior strength of mind, and extent of abilities, 
which are capable of forming and executing such 
daring schemes, as cannot be accomplished without 
overturning the established order of society, and 
violating those maxims of duty which men are 
accustomed to hold sacred. The mediocrity of 
Pizarro’s talents circumscribed his ambition within 
more narrow limits. Instead of aspiring at inde¬ 
pendent power, he confined his views to the obtain¬ 
ing from the court of Spain a confirmation of the 
authority which he now possessed; and for that 
purpose he sent an officer of distinction thither, to 
give such a representation of his conduct, and of 
the state of the country, as might induce the empe¬ 
ror and his ministers, either from inclination or from 
necessity, to continue him in his present station. 

While Pizarro was deliberating with 

Consultations of , , - , 

the Spanish respect to the part which he should 

take, consultations were held in Spain, 
with no less solicitude, concerning the measures 
which ought to be pursued in order to re-establish 
the emperor’s authority in Peru. Though unac¬ 
quainted with the last excesses of outrage to which 
the malcontents had proceeded in that country, the 
court had received an account of the insurrection 
against the viceroy, of his imprisonment, and the 
usurpation of the government by Pizarro. A revo¬ 
lution so alarming called for an immediate inter¬ 
position of the emperor’s abilities and authority. 
But as he was fully occupied at that time in Ger- 
man} r , in conducting the war against the famous 
league of Smalkalde, one of the most interesting 
and arduous enterprises in his reign, the care of 
providing a remedy for the disorders in Peru de¬ 
volved upon his son Philip, and the counsellors 
whom Charles had appointed to assist him in the 
government of Spain during his absence. At first 

d Vega, p. 11. lib. iv. c. 40. Fernandez, lib. i. c. 34. lib. ii. c. 1, 49. 


view, the actions of Pizarro and his adherents ap¬ 
peared so repugnant to the duty of subjects towards 
their sovereign, that the greater part of the ministers 
insisted on declaring them instantly to be guilty of 
rebellion, and on proceeding to punish them with 
exemplary rigour. But when the fervour of their 
zeal and indignation began to abate, innumerable 
obstacles to the execution of this measure presented 
themselves. The veteran bands of infantry, the 
strength and glory of the Spanish armies, were 
then employed in Germany. Spain, exhausted of 
men and money by a long series of wars, in which 
she had been involved by the restless ambition of 
two successive monarchs, could not easily equip an 
armament of sufficient force to reduce Pizarro. To 
transport any respectable body of troops to a coun¬ 
try so remote as Peru, appeared almost impossible. 
While Pizarro continued master of the South sea, 
the direct route by Nombre de Dios and Panama 
was impracticable. An attempt to march to Quito 
by land through the new kingdom of Granada, and 
the province of Popayan, across regions of pro¬ 
digious extent, desolate, unhealthy, or inhabited by 
fierce and hostile tribes, would be attended with 
insurmountable danger and hardships. The passage 
to the South sea by the straits of Magellan was so 
tedious, so uncertain, and so little known in that 
age, that no confidence could be placed in any 
effort carried on in a course of navigation so remote 
and precarious. Nothing then remained but to 
relinquish the system which the ardour of their 
loyalty had first suggested, and to attempt by leni¬ 
ent measures what could not be effected by force. 
It was manifest from Pizarro’s solicitude to repre¬ 
sent his conduct in a favourable light to the em¬ 
peror, that notwithstanding the excesses of which 
he had been guilty, he still retained sentiments of 
veneration for his sovereign. By a proper applica¬ 
tion to these, together with some such concessions 
as should discover a spirit of moderation and for¬ 
bearance in government, there was still room to 
hope that he might be yet reclaimed, or the ideas of 
loyalty natural to Spaniards might so far revive 
among his followers, that they would no longer 
lend their aid to uphold his usurped authority. 

The success, however, of this nego- 

. .. Gasca appointed 

ciation, no less delicate than it was to repair to Peru 

important, depended entirely on the as presideut 
abilities and address of the person to whom it 
should be committed. After weighing with much 
attention the comparative merit of various persons, 
the Spanish ministers fixed with unanimity of 
choice upon Pedro de la Gasca, a priest in no higher 
station than that of counsellor to the inquisition. 
Though in no public office, he had been occasion¬ 
ally employed by government in affairs of trust and 
consequence, and had conducted them with no less 
skill than success; displaying a gentle and insinu¬ 
ating temper, accompanied with much firmness; 
probity, superior to any feeling of private interest; 


Herrera, dec. 8. lib. ii. c. 10. 



92(3 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1546. ROOK VI. 


His moderation. 


and a cautious circumspection in concerting mea¬ 
sures, followed by such vigour in executing them, 
as is rarely found in alliance with the other. These 
qualities marked him out for the function to which 
he was destined. The emperor, to whom Gasca was 
not unknown, warmly approved of the choice, and 
communicated it to him in a letter containing ex¬ 
pressions of good-will and confidence, no less 
honourable to the prince who wrote than to the 
subject who received it. Gasca, notwithstanding 
his advanced age and feeble constitution, and 
though, from the apprehensions natural to a man, 
who, during the course of his life, had never been 
out of his own country, he dreaded the effects of a 
long voyage, and of an unhealthy climate, e did not 
hesitate a moment about complying with the will 
of his sovereign. But as a proof that 
it was from this principle alone he 
acted, he refused a bishopric which was offered to 
him, in order that he might appear in Peru with a 
more dignified character; he would accept of no 
higher title than that of president of the court of 
audience in Lima; and declared that he would 
receive no salary on account of his discharging the 
duties of that office. All he required was, that the 
expense of supporting his family should be defrayed 
by the public, and as he was to go like a minister 
of peace with his gown and breviary, and without 
any retinue but a few domestics, this would not load 
the revenue with any enormous burthen/ 

The powers com- But wllile he discovered such dis- 
mitted to him. interested moderation with respect to 

w hatever related personally to himself, he demanded 
his official powers in a very different tone. He in¬ 
sisted, as he was to be employed in a country so 
remote from the seat of government, w'here he could 
not have recourse to his sovereign for new instruc¬ 
tions on every emergence, and as the whole success 
of his negociations must depend upon the confi¬ 
dence which the people with whom he had to treat 
could place in the extent of his powers, that he 
ought to be invested with unlimited authority ; that 
his jurisdiction must reach to all persons and to all 
causes; that he must be empowered to pardon, to 
punish, or to reward, as circumstances and the be¬ 
haviour of different men might require ; that in case 
of resistance from the malcontents, he might be 
authorized to reduce them to obedience by force of 
arms, to levy troops for that purpose, and to call 
for assistance from the governors of all the Spanish 
settlements in America. These powers, though 
manifestly conducive to the great objects of his 
mission, appeared to the Spanish ministers to be 
inalienable prerogatives of royalty, which ought not 
to be delegated to a subject, and they refused to 
grant them. But the emperor’s views were more 
enlarged. As, from the nature of his employment, 
Gasca must be intrusted with discretionary power 
in several points, and all his efforts might prove 

e Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 17. 

1 Zarate, lib. vi. c. 6. Gomara, c. 174. Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 14—16. 
Vega, p. 11. lib. v. e. 1. Ilerrera, dec. 8. lib. i. c. 4, <5cc. 


ineffectual if he was circumscribed in any one par¬ 
ticular, Charles scrupled not to invest him with 
authority to the full extent that he demanded. 
Highly satisfied with this fresh proof of his master’s 
confidence, Gasca hastened his departure, and, 
without either money or troops, set out to quell a 
formidable rebellion.*? 

On his arrival at Nombre de Dios 

July £7. 

lie found Herman Mexia, an officer of His arrival at 

Panama. 

note, posted there, by order of Pizarro, 
with a considerable body of men, to oppose the 
landing of any hostile forces. But Gasca appeared 
in such pacific guise, with a train so little formi¬ 
dable, and with a title of no such dignity as to 
excite terror, that he was received with much re¬ 
spect. From Nombre de Dios he advanced to 
Panama, and met with a similar reception from 
Hinojosa, whom Pizarro had intrusted with the 
government of that town, and the command of his 
fleet stationed there. In both places he held the 
same language, declaring that he was sent by their 
sovereign as a messenger of peace, not as a minister 
of vengeance; that he came to redress all their 
grievances, to revoke the laws which had excited 
alarm, to pardon past offences, and to re-establish 
order and justice in the government of Peru. His 
mild deportment, the simplicity of his manners, the 
sanctity of his profession, and a winning appear¬ 
ance of candour, gained credit to his declarations. 
The veneration due to a person clothed with legal 
authority, and acting in virtue of a royal commis¬ 
sion, began to revive among men accustomed for 
some time to nothing more respectable than an 
usurped jurisdiction. Hinojosa, Mexia, and seve¬ 
ral other officers of distinction, to each of whom 
Gasca applied separately, were gained over to his 
interest, and waited only for some decent occasion 
of declaring openly in his favour/ 

This the violence of Pizarro soon violent proceed _ 
afforded them. As soon as he heard ings of pizarro. 
of Gasca’s arrival at Panama, though he received, 
at the same time, an account of the nature of his 
commission, and was informed of his offers, not 
only to render every Spaniard in Peru easy con¬ 
cerning what was past, by an act of general ob¬ 
livion, but secure with respect to the future by 
repealing the obnoxious laws ; instead of accepting 
with gratitude his sovereign’s gracious concessions, 
he was so much exasperated on finding that he was 
not to be continued in his station as governor of the 
country, that he instantly resolved to oppose the 
president’s entry into Peru, and to prevent his 
exercising any jurisdiction there. To this desperate 
resolution he added another highly preposterous. 
He sent a new deputation to Spain to justify this 
conduct, and to insist, in name of all the commu¬ 
nities in Peru, for a confirmation of the government 
to himself during life, as the only means of pre¬ 
serving tranquillity there. The persons intrusted 

g Fernandez, lib. ii. e. 16—18. 

h Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 21, &c. Zarate, lib. vi. c. 6, 7. Gomara, c 
175. Vega, p. 11. lib. v. c. 3. 



BOOK VI. A. 1). 154G.] THE HISTORY 

with this strange commission intimated the inten¬ 
tion of Pizarro to the president, and required him, 
in his name, to depart from Panama and return to 
Spain. They carried likewise secret instructions 
to Hinojosa, directing him to offer Gasea a present 
of fifty thousand pesos, if he would comply volun¬ 
tarily with what was demanded of him; and if he 
should continue obstinate, to cut him off, either by 
assassination or poison.* 

c.asca gai ns his Many circumstances concurred in 
pushing on Pizarro to those wild 
measures. Having been once accustomed to su¬ 
preme command, he could not bear the thoughts of 
descending to a private station. Conscious of his 
own demerit, he suspected that the emperor studied 
only to deceive him, and would never pardon 
the outrages which he had committed. His 
chief confidants, no less guilty, entertained the 
same apprehensions. The approach of Gasea 
without any military force excited no terror. 
There were now above six thousand Spaniards 
settled in Peru ; k and at the head of these he 
doubted not to maintain his own independence, if 
the court of Spain should refuse to grant what he 
required. But he knew not that a spirit of defec¬ 
tion had already begun to spread among those whom 
he trusted most. Hinojosa, amazed at Pizarro’s 
precipitate resolution of setting himself in opposi¬ 
tion to the emperor’s commission, and disdaining 
to be his instrument in perpetrating the odious 
crimes pointed out in his secret instructions, pub¬ 
licly recognised the title of the president to the 
supreme authority in Peru. The officers under his 
command did the same. Such was the contagious 
influence of the example, that it reached even the 
deputies who had been sent from Peru ; and at the 
time when Pizarro expected to hear either of Gasca’s 
return to Spain, or of his death, he received an ac¬ 
count of his being master of the fleet, of Panama, 
and of the troops stationed there. 

Irritated almost to madness bv 

1547. J 

Pizarro resolves events so unexpected, he openly pre¬ 
pared for war ; and in order to give 
some colour of justice to his arms, he appointed 
the court of audience in Lima to proceed to the 
trial of Gasea, for the crimes of having seized his 
ships, seduced his officers, and prevented bis depu¬ 
ties from proceeding in their voyage to Spain. 
Cepeda, though acting as a judge in virtue of the 
royal commission, did not scruple to prostitute the 
dignity of his function by finding Gasea guilty of 
treason, and condemning him to death on that ac¬ 
count. 1 Wild, and even ridiculous, as this pro¬ 
ceeding was, it imposed on the low illiterate ad¬ 
venturers with whom Peru was filled, by the sem¬ 
blance of legal sanction warranting Pizarro to 
carry on hostilities against a convicted traitor. 
Soldiers accordingly resorted from every quarter to 

i Zarata. lib. vi. c. 8. Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 33, 34. Herrera, dec. 8. 
lib. ii. c. 9, 10. 

k Herrera, dec. 8. lib. iii. c. 1. 


OF AMERICA. <>27 

his standard, and he was soon at the head of a 
thousand men, the best equipped that had ever 
taken the field in Peru. 

Gasea, on his part, perceiving that preparations 
force must be employed in order to of Gasca - 
accomplish the purpose of his mission, was no less 
assiduous in collecting troops from Nicaragua, 
Carthagena, and other settlements on the conti¬ 
nent ; and with such success, that he was soon in 
a condition to detach a squadron of his fleet, with a 
considerable body of soldiers, to the coast of Peru. 
Their appearance excited a dreadful 
alarm; and though they did not at- Apnl * 
tempt for some time to make any descent, they did 
more effectual service, by setting ashore in different 
places persons who dispersed copies of the act of 
general indemnity, and the revocation of the late 
edicts; and who made known everywhere the pa¬ 
cific intentions, as well as mild temper, of the presi¬ 
dent. The effect of spreading this information was 
wonderful. All who were dissatisfied with Pizarro’s 
violent administration, all who retained an} r senti¬ 
ments of fidelity to their sovereign, began to medi¬ 
tate revolt. Some openly deserted a cause which 
they now deemed to be unjust. Cen- Insurrect ionof 
teno, leaving the cave in which he lay Centeno, 
concealed, assembled about fifty of his former ad¬ 
herents, and with this feeble half-armed band ad¬ 
vanced boldly to Cuzco. By a sudden attack in 
the night-time, in which he displayed no less mili¬ 
tary skill than valour, he rendered himself master 
of that capital, though defended by a garrison of 
five hundred men. Most of these having ranged 
themselves under his banners, he had soon the 
command of a respectable body of troops." 1 

Pizarro, though astonished at be- af?ainst whom 
holding one enemy approaching by Plzarro marches, 
sea, and another by land, at a time when he trusted 
to the union of all Peru in his favour, was of a spirit 
more undaunted, and more accustomed to the vicis¬ 
situdes of fortune, than to be disconcerted or ap¬ 
palled. As the danger from Centeno’s operations 
was the most urgent, he instantly set out to oppose 
him. Having provided horses for all his soldiers, 
he marched with amazing rapidity. But every 
morning he found his force diminished, by numbers 
who had left him during the night; and though he 
became suspicious to excess, and punished without 
mercy all whom he suspected, the rage of desertion 
was too violent to be checked. Before he got within 
sight of the enemy at Huarina, near the lake Titiaca, 
he could not muster more than four hundred sol¬ 
diers. But these he justly considered as men of 
tried attachment, on whom he might depend. They 
were indeed the boldest and most desperate of his 
followers, conscious, like himself, of crimes for 
which they could hardly expect forgiveness, and 
without any hope but in the success of their arms. 

1 Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 55. Vega, p. 11. lib. v. c. 7- Herrera, dec. 8. 
lib. iii. c. 6. _ .. 

m Zarate, lib. vi. c. 13—16. Gomara, c. 180, 181. Fernandez, lib. u 
c. ea. 6i, &c. 



928 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


[A. D. 1548. HOOK VI. 


October 20. 


and defeats him. 


With these he did not hesitate to at¬ 
tack Centeno’s troops, though double 
to his own in number. The royalists did not decline 
the combat. It was the most obstinate and bloody 
that had hitherto been fought in Peru. At length 
the intrepid valour of Pizarro, and 
the superiority of Carvajal’s military 
talents, triumphed over numbers, and obtained a 
complete victory. The booty was immense, 11 and 
the treatment of the vanquished cruel. By this 
signal success the reputation of Pizarro was re¬ 
established, and being now deemed invincible in 
the field, his army increased daily in number. 0 

But events happened in other parts of Peru, 
which more than counterbalanced the splendid 
victory at Huarina. Pizarro had scarcely left Lima, 
when the citizens, weary of his oppressive dominion, 
erected the royal standard, and Aldana, with a 
detachment of soldiers from the fleet, took posses¬ 
sion of the town. About the same time,P Gasca 

Gasca lands landed at Tumbez with five hundred 
at Peru. me n. Encouraged by his presence, 

every settlement in the low country declared for the 
king. The situation of the two parties was now 
perfectly reversed: Cuzco and the adjacent pro¬ 
vinces were possessed by Pizarro; all the rest of 
the empire, from Quito southward, acknowledged 
the jurisdiction of the president. As his numbers 
augmented fast, Gasca advanced into the interior 
part of the country. His behaviour still continued 
to be gentle and unassuming; he expressed, on 
every occasion, his ardent wish of terminating the 
contest without bloodshed. More solicitous to re¬ 
claim than to punish, he upbraided no man for past 
offences, but received them as a father receives 
penitent children returning to a sense of their duty. 
Though desirous of peace, he did not slacken his 

Advances to- preparations for war. He appointed 

wards Cuzco. t j J0 g enera j rendezvous of his troops in 

the fertile valley of Xauxa, on the road to Cuzco.q 
There he remained for some months, not only that 
he might have time to make another attempt towards 
an accommodation with Pizarro, but that he might 
train his new soldiers to the use of arms, and ac¬ 
custom them to the discipline of a camp, before he 
led them against a body of victorious veterans. 
Pizarro, intoxicated with the success which had 
hitherto accompanied his arms, and elated with 
having again near a thousand men under his com¬ 
mand, refused to listen to any terms, although 
Cepeda, together with several of his officers, and 
even Carvajal himself, 1- gave it as their advice to 
close with the president’s offer of a general indem¬ 
nity, and the revocation of the obnoxious laws. s 
Dec. 29 . Gasca having tried in vain every expe¬ 
dient to avoid imbruing his hands in 
the blood of his countrymen, began to move towards 
Cuzco, at the head of sixteen hundred men. 


n See Note CXLT. 

o Zarate, lib. vii. c. 2, 3. Gomara, c. 181. Vega, p 11 lib 
f ernandez, lib. ii. c. 79. Herrera, dec. 8. lib, iv. c. 1 2 
p Zarate, lib. vj. c. 17 . 


v, c. 18, &c. 


April 9. 


Pizarro, confident of victory, sufler- 

, , .. .. . Both parties pre 

ed the royalists to pass all the rivers pare for battle, 
which lie between Guamanga and 
Cuzco without opposition, and to advance within 
four leagues of that capital, flattering himself that a 
defeat in such a situation as rendered escape im¬ 
practicable would at once terminate the war. He 
then marched out to meet the enemy, and Carvajal 
chose his ground, and made the disposition of the 
troops w ith the discerning eye, and profound know¬ 
ledge in the art of war, conspicuous in all his ope¬ 
rations. As the two armies moved 
forwards slowly to the charge, the ap¬ 
pearance of each was singular. In that of Pizarro, 
composed of men enriched with the spoils of the 
most opulent country in America, every officer, and 
almost all the private men, were clothed in stuffs of 
silk, or brocade, embroidered with gold and silver ; 
and their horses, their arms, their standards, were 
adorned with all the pride of military pomp.t That 
of Gasca, though not so splendid, exhibited what 
was no less striking. He himself, accompanied by 
the archbishop of Lima, the bishops of Quito and 
Cuzco, and a great number of ecclesiastics, march¬ 
ing along the lines, blessing the men, and encourag¬ 
ing them to a resolute discharge of their duty. 

When both armies were just ready Pizarro deserted 
to engage, Cepeda set spurs to his by his troops, 
horse, galloped off, and surrendered himself to the 
president. Garcilasso de la Vega, and other officers 
of note, followed his example. The revolt of per¬ 
sons in such high rank struck all with amazement. 
The mutual confidence on which the union and 
strength of armies depend, ceased at once. Distrust 
and consternation spread from rank to rank. Some 
silently slipped away, others threw down their arms, 
the greatest number went over to the royalists. 
Pizarro, Carvajal, and some leaders, employed 
authority, threats, and entreaties, to stop them, but 
in vain. In less than half an hour, a body of men, 
which might have decided the fate of the Peruvian 
empire, was totally dispersed. Pizarro, seeing all 
irretrievably lost, cried out in amazement to a few 
officers who still faithfully adhered to him, “ What 
remains for us to do ?”—“ Let us rush,” replied one 
of them, “ upon the enemy’s firmest battalion, and 
die like Romans.” Dejected with such a reverse of* 
fortune, he had not spirit to follow this soldierly 
counsel, and with a tameness disgraceful to his 
former fame, he surrendered to one of Gasca’s 
officers. Carvajal, endeavouring to 
escape, was overtaken and seized. taken * 

Gasca, happy in this bloodless victory, did not 
stain it with cruelty. Pizarro, Car¬ 
vajal, and a small number of the most and p,ut0 death * 
distinguished or notorious offenders, were punished 
capitally. Pizarro was beheaded on the day after 
he surrendered. He submitted to his fate with a 

q Zarate, lib. vii. c. 9. Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 77 8° 
r See Note CXLII. 

s Zarate, lib. vii. c. 6. Vega, p. 11. lib. v. c. 27. 
t Zarate, lib. vi. c. 11. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


92<J 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1548.] 

composed dignity, and seemed desirous to atone by 
repentance for the crimes which he had committed. 
The end of Carvajal was suitable to his life. On 
his trial he offered no defence. When the sentence 
adjudging him to be hanged was pronounced, he 
carelessly replied, “ One can die but once.” During 
the interval between the sentence and execution, he 
discovered no sign either of remorse for the past, or 
of solicitude about the future ; scoffing at all who 
visited him, in his usual sarcastic vein of mirth, 
with the same quickness of repartee and gross 
pleasantry as at any other period of his life. Cepeda, 
more criminal than either, ought to have shared the 
same fate; but the merit of having deserted his 
associates at such a critical moment, and with such 
decisive effect, saved him from immediate punish¬ 
ment. He was sent, however, as a prisoner to 
Spain, and died in confinement.*! 

In the minute detail which the contemporary 
historians have given of the civil dissensions that 
raged in Peru, with little interruption, during ten 
years, many circumstances occur so striking, and 
which indicate such an uncommon state of man¬ 
ners, as to merit particular attention. 

No mercenary Though the Spaniards who first in- 
civfi'wars of e vaded Peru were of the lowest order 
in society, and the greater part of 
those who afterwards joined them were persons of 
desperate fortune, yet in all the bodies of troops 
brought into the field by the different leaders who 
contended for superiority, not one man acted as a 
hired soldier, that follows his standard for pay. 
Every adventurer in Peru considered himself as a 
conqueror, entitled, by his services, to an establish¬ 
ment in that country which had been acquired by 
his valour. In the contests between the rival chiefs, 
each chose his side as he was directed by his own 
judgment or affections. He joined his commander 
as a companion of his fortune, and disdained to 
degrade himself by receiving the wages of a merce¬ 
nary. It was to their sword, not to pre-eminence 
in office, or nobility of birth, that most of the leaders 
whom they followed were indebted for their eleva¬ 
tion ; and each of their adherents hoped, by the 
same means, to open a way for himself to the pos¬ 
session of power and wealth/ 

Armies immense- But though the troops in Peru served 
ly expensive; without any regular pay, they were 

raised at immense expense. Among men accus¬ 
tomed to divide the spoils of an opulent country, 
the desire of obtaining wealth acquired incredible 
force. The ardour of pursuit augmented in pro¬ 
portion to the hope of success. Where all were 
intent on the same object, and under the dominion 
of the same passion, there was but one mode of 
gaining men, or of securing their attachment. 
Officers of name and influence, besides the promise 
of future establishments, received in hand large 

u Zarate, lib. vii. c. 6, 7,8. Gomara, c. 185, 186. Vega, p. 11. lib. v. 
c. 30, &c. Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 86, &c. Herrera, dec. 8. lib. iv. c. 14, Arc. 
x Vega, p. 11. lib. iv. e. 38, 41. 
y Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 54. 

3 o 


gratuities from the chief with whom they engaged. 
Gonzalo Pizarro, in order to raise a thousand men, 
advanced five hundred thousand pesos/ Gasca 
expended, in levying the troops which he led against 
Pizarro, nine hundred thousand pesos. 2 The dis¬ 
tribution of property, bestowed as the 

. - . ... and immense 

reward ot services, was still more ex- rewards to in- 
orbitant. Cepeda, as the recompence 
of his perfidy and address, in persuading the cortrj; 
of royal audience to give the sanction of its authority 
to the usurped jurisdiction of Pizarro, received a 
grant of lands which yielded an annual income of a 
hundred and fifty thousand pesos. 3 Hinojosa, who, 
by his early defection from Pizarro, and surrender 
of the fleet to Gasca, decided the fate of Peru, ob¬ 
tained a district of country affording two hundred 
thousand pesos of yearly value. b While sucli re¬ 
wards were dealt out to the principal officers, with 
more than royal munificence, proportional shares 
were conferred upon those of inferior rank. 

Such a rapid change of fortune pro- T heir profusion 
duced its natural effects. It gave and ‘ uxury - 
birth to new wants, and new desires. Veterans, 
long accustomed to hardship and toil, acquired of a 
sudden a taste for profuse and inconsiderate dissi¬ 
pation, and indulged in all the excesses of military 
licentiousness. The riot of low debauchery occu¬ 
pied some; a relish for expensive luxuries spread 
among others/ The meanest soldier in Peru would 
have thought himself degraded by marching on 
foot; and at a time when the prices of horses in that 
country were exorbitant, each insisted on being fur¬ 
nished with one before he would take the field. But 
though less patient under the fatigue and hardships 
of service, they were ready to face danger and death 
with as much intrepidity as ever; and animated 
by the hope of new rewards, they never failed, on 
the day of battle, to display all their ancient valour. 

Together with their courage, they Fe , ocity yith 
retained all the ferocity by which Stwc^carOed 
they were originally distinguished. on - 
Civil discord never raged with a more fell spirit than 
among the Spaniards in Peru. To all the passions 
which usually envenom contests among countrymen 
avarice was added, and rendered their enmity more 
rancorous. Eagerness to seize the valuable forfeit¬ 
ures expected upon the death of every opponent, 
shut the door against mercy. To be wealthy, was 
of itself sufficient to expose a man to accusation, 01 
to subject him to punishment. On the slightest 
suspicions, Pizarro condemned many of the most 
opulent inhabitants in Peru to death. Carvajal, 
without searching for any pretext to justify his 
cruelty, cut off many more. The number of those 
who suffered by the hands of the executioner, was 
not much inferior to what fell in the field ; d and the 
greater part was condemned without the formality 
of any legal trial. 

z Zarate, lib. vii, c. 10. Herrera, dec. 8. lib. r. c. 7. 
a Gomara, c. 164. b Vega, p. 11. lib. vi. c. S, 

c Herrera, dec. 5. lib. ii. c. 3. dec. 8. lib. viii. c. 10. 
d See Note CXLII1. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


930 

The violence with which the con- 
and want ot falth ‘ tending parties treated their opponents 
w r as not accompanied with its usual attendants, at¬ 
tachment and fidelity to those with whom they acted. 
The ties of honour, which ought to be held sacred 
among soldiers, and the principle of integrity, inter¬ 
woven as thoroughly in the Spanish character as in 
that of any nation, seem to have been equally for¬ 
gotten. Even regard for decency, and the sense of 
shame, were totally lost. During their dissensions, 
there was hardly a Spaniard in Peru who did not 
abandon the party which he had originally espoused, 
betray the associates with whom he had united, and 
violate the engagements under which be had come. 
The viceroy Nugnez Vela was ruined by the trea¬ 
chery of Cepeda and the other judges of the royal 
audience, who were bound b) r the duties of their 
function to have supported his authority. The chief 
advisers and companions of Gonzalo Pizarro’s re¬ 
volt were the first to forsake him, and submit to his 
enemies. His fleet was given up to Gasca, by the 
man whom he had singled out among his officers to 
intrust with that important command. On the day 
that was to decide his fate, an army of veterans, in 
sight of the enemy, threw down their arms without 
striking a blow, and deserted a leader who had often 
conducted them to victory. Instances of such gene¬ 
ral and avowed contempt of the principles and obli¬ 
gations which attach man to man, and bind them 
together in social union, rarely occur in history. It 
is only where men are far removed from the seat of 
s:overnment, where the restraints of law and order 

ZD 

are little felt, where the prospect of gain is unbound¬ 
ed, and w here immense wealth may cover the crimes 
by which it is acquired, that we can find any pa¬ 
rallel to the levity, the rapaciousness, the perfidy 
and corruption prevalent among the Spaniards 
in Peru. 

On the death of Pizarro, the mal- 
emDiovment for contents in every corner of Peru laid 

; down their ar ; ns> and tranqaiUity 
seemed to be perfectly re-established. But two 
very interesting objects still remained to occupy the 
president’s attention. The one was to find imme¬ 
diately such employment for a multitude of turbu¬ 
lent and daring adventurers with which the country 
was filled, as might prevent them from exciting 
new commotions. The other, to bestow proper 
gratifications upon those to whose loyalty and valour 
he had been indebted for his success. The former 
of these was in some measure accomplished, by ap¬ 
pointing Pedro de Valdivia to prosecute the con¬ 
quest of Chili; and by empowering Diego Centeno 
to undertake the discovery of the vast regions bor¬ 
dering on the river De la Plata. The reputation of 
those leaders, together with the hopes of acquiring 
wealth, and of rising to consequence in some un¬ 
explored country, alluring many of the most indi¬ 
gent and desperate soldiers to follow their standards, 

e Vega, p. 11. lib. vi. c. 4. 


[A. D. 1548. BOOK VI. 

drained oil' no inconsiderable portion of that mu¬ 
tinous spirit which Gasca dreaded. 

The latter was an affair of greater 
difficulty, and to be adjusted with a the 3 country ' 
more attentive and delicate hand. The lowers.* us 
repartimientos, or allotments of lands and Indians, 
which fell to be distributed in consequence of the 
death or forfeiture of the former possessors, ex¬ 
ceeded two millions of pesos of yearly rent. 6 Gasca, 
when now absolute master of this immense pro¬ 
perty, retained the same disinterested sentiments 
which he had originally professed, and refused to 
reserve the smallest portion of it for himself. But 
the number of claimants was great; and whilst the 
vanity or avarice of every individual fixed the value 
of his own services, and estimated the recompence 
which he thought due to him, the pretensions of 
each were so extravagant, that it was impossible to 
satisfy all. Gasca listened to them one by one, 
with the most patient attention ; and that he might 
have leisure to weigh the comparative merit of their 
several claims with accuracy, he retired with the 
archbishop of Lima and a single secretary, to a vil¬ 
lage twelve leagues from Cuzco. There he spent 
several days in allotting to each a district of lands 
and number of Indians, in proportion to his idea 
of their past services and future importance. But 
that he might get beyond the reach of the fierce 
storm of clamour and rage which he foresaw would 
burst out on the publication of his decree, notwith¬ 
standing the impartial equity with which he had 
framed it, he set out for Lima, leaving the instru¬ 
ment of partition sealed up, with orders not to open 
it for some days after his departure. 

The indignation excited by publish- A ^ ^ 
ini* - the decree of partition was not less discontent 
than Gasca had expected. Vanity, 
avarice, emulation, envy, shame, rage, and all the 
other passions which most vehemently agitate the 
minds of men when both their honour and their in¬ 
terest are deeply affected, conspired in adding to its 
violence. It broke out with all the fury of military 
insolence. Calumny, threats, and curses, were 
poured out openly upon the president. He was 
accused of ingratitude, of partiality, and of injus¬ 
tice. Among soldiers prompt to action, such sedi¬ 
tious discourse would have been soon followed by 
deeds no lesa violent, and they already began to 
turn their eyes towards some discontented leaders, 
expecting them to stand forth in redress of their 
wrongs. By some vigorous interpositions of govern¬ 
ment, a timely check was given to this mutinous 
spirit, and the danger of another civil war averted 
for the present/ 

Gasca, however, perceiving that the 1549 
flame was suppressed rather than ex- order'and^go- 
tinguished, laboured with the utmost vernment ; 
assiduity to soothe the malcontents, by bestowing 
large gratuities on some, by promising repartimien - 

f Zarate, lib. vii. c. 9. Gomara, c. 187- Vega, p. 11. lib. vii. c. 1, &c. 
Fernandez, p. 11. lib. i. c. 1, Arc. Herrera, dec. 8. lib. iv. c. 17, &c. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VI. A. D. 1550.] 


031 


1550. 


Feb. 1. 

and sets out for 
Spain. 


His reception 
there. 


tos , when they fell vacant, to others, and by caress¬ 
ing and flattering all. But that the public security 
might rest on a foundation more stable than their 
good affection, he endeavoured to strengthen the 
hands of his successors in office, by re-establishing 
the regular administration of justice in every part 
of the empire. He introduced order and simplicity 
into the mode of collecting the royal revenue. He 
issued regulations concerning the treatment of the 
Indians, well calculated to protect them from op¬ 
pression, and to provide for their instruction in the 
principles of religion, without depriving the Spa¬ 
niards of the benefit accruing from their labour. 

Having now accomplished every ob¬ 
ject of his mission, Gasca, longing to 
return again to a private station, committed the go¬ 
vernment of Peru to the court of audience, and set 
out for Spain. As, during the anarchy 
and turbulence of the four last years, 
there had been no remittance made of 
the royal revenue, he carried with him thirteen hun¬ 
dred thousand pesos of public money, which the 
economy and order of his administration enabled 
him to save, after paying all the expenses of the war. 

He was received in his native coun¬ 
try with universal admiration of his 
abilities and of his virtue. Both were, indeed, 
highly conspicuous. Without army, or fleet, or 
public funds ; with a train so simple, that only three 
thousand ducats were expended in equipping him," 
he set out to oppose a formidable rebellion. By his 
address and talents he supplied all those defects, 
and seemed to create instruments for executing his 
designs. He acquired such a naval force, as gave 
him the command of the sea. He raised a body of 
men able to cope with the veteran bands which gave 
law to Peru. He vanquished their leader, on whose 
arms victory had hitherto attended ; and in place 
of anarchy and usurpation, he established the go¬ 
vernment of laws, and the authority of the rightful 
sovereign. But the praise bestowed on his abilities 
was exceeded by that which his virtue merited. 
After residing in a country where wealth presented 
allurements which had seduced every person who 
had hitherto possessed power there, he returned 
from that trying station with integrity not only un¬ 
tainted but unsuspected. After distributing among 
his countrymen possessions of greater extent and 
value than had ever been in the disposal of a sub¬ 
ject in any age or nation, he himself remained in 
his original state of poverty ; and at the very time 
when he brought such a large recruit to the royal 
treasury, he was obliged to apply by petition for a 
small sum to discharge some petty debts which he 
had contracted during the course of his service. h 
Charles was not insensible to such disinterested 
merit. Gasca was received by him with the most 
distinguishing marks of esteem, and being promoted 
to the bishopric of Palencia, he passed the remain¬ 
der of his days in the tranquillity of retirement, re- 

g Fernaudez, lib. ii. c. 18. 

3 o 2 


specled by his country, honoured by his sovereign, 
and beloved by all. 

Notwithstanding all Gasca’s w'ise regulations, 
the tranquillity of Peru was not of long continuance. 
In a country where the authority of government 
had been almost forgotten during the long pre¬ 
valence of anarchy and misrule, where there were 
disappointed leaders ripe for revolt, and seditious 
soldiers ready to follow them, it was not difficult to 
raise combustion. Several successive insurrections 
desolated the country for some years. But as those, 
though fierce, were only transient storms, excited 
rather by the ambition and turbulence of particular 
men, than by general or public motives, the detail 
of them is not the object of this history. These 
commotions in Peru, like every thing of extreme 
violence either in the natural or political body, w ere 
not of long duration, and by carrying off the cor¬ 
rupted humours which had given rise to the disor¬ 
ders, they contributed in the end to strengthen the 
society which at first they threatened to destroy. 
During their fierce contests, several of the first in¬ 
vaders of Peru, and many of those licentious ad¬ 
venturers whom the fame of their success had allur¬ 
ed thither, fell by each other's hands. Each of the 
parties, as they alternately prevailed in the struggle, 
gradually cleared the country of a number of tur¬ 
bulent spirits, by executing, proscribing, or banish¬ 
ing their opponents. Men less enterprising, less 
desperate, and more accustomed to move in the 
path of sober and peaceable industry, settled in 
Peru ; and the royal authority was gradually 
established as firmly there as in other Spanish 
colonies. 


BOOK VII. 

As the conquest of the two great empires of Mexico 
and Peru forms the most splendid and interesting 
period in the history of America, a view of their 
political institutions, and a description of their na¬ 
tional manners, will exhibit the human species to 
the contemplation of intelligent observers in a very 
singular stage of its progress.* 

When compared with other parts of Mexico ^ Peru 
the New World, Mexico and Peru tha^Jther'parts 
may be considered as polished states. ot America - 
Instead of small, independent, hostile tribes, strug¬ 
gling for subsistence amidst woods and marshes, 
strangers to industry and arts, unacquainted with 
subordination, and almost without the appearance 
of regular government, we find countries of great 
extent subjected to the dominion of one sovereign; 
the inhabitants collected together in cities; the 
wisdom and foresight of rulers employed in provid¬ 
ing for the maintenance and security of the people ; 
the empire of laws in some measure established ; 


h MS. penes me. 


a See Note CXLIV. 




932 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VII. 


the authority of religion recognised ; many of the 
arts essential to life brought to some degree of ma¬ 
turity, and the dawn of such as are ornamental be¬ 
ginning to appear. 

The inferiority But ^ tlie comparison be made with 
the th andent n cou- f tiie people of the ancient continent, 
tinent - the inferiority of America in improve¬ 

ment will be conspicuous, and neither the Mexicans 
nor Peruvians will be entitled to rank with those 
nations which merit the name of civilized. The 
people of both the great empires in America, like 
the rude tribes around them, were totally unac¬ 
quainted with the useful metals, and the progress 
which they had made in extending their dominion 
over the animal creation was inconsiderable. The 
Mexicans had gone no further than to tame and 


rear turkeys, ducks, a species of small dogs, and 
rabbits. b By this feeble essay of ingenuity, the 
means of subsistence were rendered somewhat more 
plentiful and secure, than when men depend solely 
on hunting ; but they had no idea of attempting to 
subdue the more robust animals, or of deriving any 
aid from their ministry in carrying on works of la¬ 
bour. The Peruvians seem to have neglected the 
inferior animals, and not rendered any of them do¬ 
mestic except the duck ; but they were more for¬ 
tunate in taming the Llama, an animal peculiar to 
their country, of a fo:m which bears some resem¬ 
blance to a deer, and some to a camel, and is of a 
size somewhat larger than a sheep. Under the 
protection of man, this species multiplied greatly. 
Its wool furnished the Peruvians with clothing, its 
flesh with food. It was even employed as a beast 
of burden, and carried a moderate load with much 
patience and docility. c It was never used for 
draught; and the breed being confined to the moun¬ 
tainous country, its service, if we may judge by 
incidents which occur in the early Spanish writers, 
w r as not very extensive among the Peruvians in 
their original state. 


In tracing the line by which nations proceed to¬ 
wards civilization, the discovery of the useful metals, 
and the acquisition of dominion over the animal cre¬ 
ation, have been marked as steps of capital import¬ 
ance in their progress. In our continent, long after 
men had attained both, society continued in that 
state which is denominated barbarous. Even with 
all that command over nature which these confer, 
many ages elapse, before industry becomes so re¬ 
gular as to render subsistence secure, before the 
arts which supply the wants and furnish the accom¬ 
modations of life are brought to any considerable 
degree of perfection, and before any idea is con¬ 
ceived of various institutions requisite in a well- 
ordered society. The Mexicans and Peruvians, 
without knowledge of the useful metals, or the aid 
of domestic animals, laboured under disadvantages 
which must have greatly retarded their progress, 
and in their highest state of improvement their 
power was so limited, and their operations so feeble, 


b Herrera, dec. 11. lib. vii. c. 12. 


that they can hardly be considered as having ad¬ 
vanced beyond the infancy of civil life. 

After this general observation con¬ 
cerning the most singular and distin- stitutions and 
guishing circumstance in the state of 
both the great empires in America, I shall endeav¬ 
our to give such a view of the constitution and 
interior police of each, as may enable us to ascer¬ 
tain their place in the political scale, to allot them 
their proper station between the rude tribes in the 
New World, and the polished states of the ancient, 
and to determine how far they had risen above the 
former, as well as how much they fell below the 
latter. 

Mexico was first subjected to the imperfect infor- 
Spanish crown. But our acquaint- lUg^hSs^of ern 
ance w ith its laws and manners is not, MexlC0 - 
from that circumstance, more complete. What I 
have remarked concerning the defective and inac¬ 
curate information on which we must rely with 
respect to the condition and customs of the savage 
tribes in America, may be applied likewise to our 
knowledge of the Mexican empire. Cortes, and 
the rapacious adventurers who accompanied him, 
had not leisure or capacity to enrich either civil or 
natural history with new observations. They un¬ 
dertook their expedition in quest of one object, and 
seemed hardly to have turned their eyes towards 
any other. Or if, during some short interval of 
tranquillity, when the occupations of war ceased, 
and the ardour of plunder was suspended, the in¬ 
stitutions and manners of the people whom they 
had invaded drew their attention, the inquiries of 
illiterate soldiers were conducted with so little 
sagacity and precision, that the accounts given by 
them of the policy and order established in the 
Mexican monarchy are superficial, confused, and 
inexplicable. It is rather from incidents which 
they relate occasionally, than from their own de¬ 
ductions and remarks, that we are enabled to form 
some idea of the genius and manners of that people. 
The obscurity in which the ignorance of its con¬ 
querors involved the annals of Mexico, was aug¬ 
mented by the superstition of those who succeeded 
them. As the memory of past events was preserved 
among the Mexicans by figures painted on skins, 
on cotton cloth, on a kind of pasteboard, or on the 
bark of trees, the early missionaries, unable to 
comprehend their meaning, and struck with their 
uncouth forms, conceived them to be monuments of 
idolatry w hich ought to be destroyed, in order to 
facilitate the conversion of the Indians. In obedi¬ 
ence to an edict issued by Juan de Zummaraga, a 
Franciscan monk, the first bishop of Mexico, as 
many records of the ancient Mexican story as could 
be collected were committed to the flames. In 
consequence of this fanatical zeal of the monks 
wdto first visited New Spain, (which their succes¬ 
sors soon began to lament,) whatever knowledge of 
remote events such rude monuments contained was 


c Vega, p. i. lib. viii. c. 16. Zarate, lib. i. c. 14. 




BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


933 


almost entirely lost; and no information remained 
concerning the ancient revolutions and policy of 
the empire, but what w as derived from tradition, or 
from some fragments of their historical paintings 
that escaped the barbarous researches of Zumma- 
raga. d From the experience of all nations it is 
manifest, that the memory of past transactions can 
neither be long preserved, nor be transmitted with 
any fidelity, by tradition. The Mexican paintings, 
which are supposed to have served as annals of 
their empire, are few in number, and of ambiguous 
meaning. Thus, amidst the uncertainty of the 
former, and the obscurity of the latter, we must 
glean what intelligence can be collected from the 
scanty materials scattered in the Spanish writers. 6 
_ . . „ , According to the account of the 

ch> x * can monar ‘ Mexicans themselves, their empire 
was not of long duration. Their 
country, as they relate, was originally possessed, 
rather than peopled, by small independent tribes, 
w hose mode of life and manners resembled those of 
the rudest savages which we have described. But 
about a period corresponding to the beginning of 
the tenth century in the Christian aera, several 
tribes moved in successive migrations from unknown 
regions towards the north and north west, and 
settled in different provinces of Analiuac, the ancient 
name of New Spain. These, more civilized than 
the original inhabitants, began to form them to the 
arts of social life. At length, towards the com¬ 
mencement of the thirteenth century, the Mexicans, 
a people more polished than any of the former, 
advanced from the border of the Californian gulf, 
and took possession of the plains adjacent to the 
great lake near the centre of the country. After 
residing there about fifty years they founded a town, 
since distinguished by the name of Mexico , which, 
from humble beginnings, soon grew to be the most 
considerable city in the New World. The Mexi¬ 
cans, long after they were established in their new 
possessions, continued, like other martial tribes in 
America, unacquainted with regal dominion, and 
w ere governed in peace, and conducted in war, by 
such as were entitled to pre-eminence by their 
wisdom or their valour. But among them, as in 
other states whose power and territories become 
extensive, the supreme authority centred at last 
in a single person ; and when the Spaniards un¬ 


d Acosta, lib. vi. c. 7. Torquem. Proem, lib. ii. lib. iii. c. ft. lib. xiv. c. 6. 
e In the first edition I observed, that in consequence of the destruction 
of the ancient Mexican paintings, occasioned by the zea.1 of Zummaraga, 
whatever knowledge they might have conveyed was entirely lost. Every 
candid reader must have perceived that the expression was inaccurate; as 
in a few lines afterwards I mention some ancient paintings to be still ex¬ 
tant. M. Clavigero, not satisfied with laying hold of this inaccuracy, 
which 1 corrected in the subsequent editions, labours to render it more 
glaring, by the manner in which he quotes the remaining part of the sen¬ 
tence." He reprehends with great asperity the account which 1 gave of the 
scanty materials for writing the ancient history of Mexico. Vol. I. Ac¬ 
count ot Writers, p. xxvi. Vol. 11.380. My words, however, are almost 
the same with those of Torquemada, who seems to have been better ac¬ 
quainted with the ancient monuments of the Mexicans than any Spanish 
author whose works 1 have seen. Lib. xiv. c. 6. M. Clavigero himself 
gives a description of the destruction of ancient paintings in almost the 
same terms I have used ; and mentions, as an additional reason of there 
being so small a number of ancient paintings known to the Spaniards, that 
the natives have become so solicitous to preserve and conceal them, that it. 
is “ difficult, if not impossible, to make them part with one of them.” 
Vol I. 407. 11. 194. No point can be more ascertained than that few of 
the Mexican historical paintings have been preserved. Though several 
Spaniards have carried on inquiries into the antiquities of the Mexican 
empire, no engravings from Mexican paintings have been communicated 


der Cortes invaded the country, Montezuma was 
the ninth monarch in order who had 'swayed the 
Mexican sceptre, not by hereditary right, but by 
election. 

Such is the traditional tale of the ( 

Mexicans concerning the progress of 
their own empire. According to this, its duration 
was very short. From the first migration of their 
parent tribe, they can reckon little more than three 
hundred years. From the establishment of monar¬ 
chical government, not above a hundred and thirty 
years according to one account/ or a hundred and 
ninety seven, according to another computation/' 
had elapsed. If, on one hand, we suppose the 
Mexican state to have been of higher antiquity, and 
to have subsisted during such a length of time as 
the Spanish accounts of its civilization would na¬ 
turally lead us to conclude, it is difficult to conceive 
how, among a people who possessed the art of re¬ 
cording events by pictures, and who considered it 
as an essential part of their national education to 
teach their children to repeat the historical songs 
which celebrated the exploits of their ancestors/ 
the knowledge of past transactions should be so 
slender and limited. If, on the other hand, we 
adopt their own system with respect to the an¬ 
tiquities of their nation, it is no less difficult to ac¬ 
count either for that improved state of society, or 
for the extensive dominion to which their empire 
had attained, when first visited by the Spaniards. 
The infancy of nations is so long, and, even w hen 
every circumstance is favourable to their progress, 
they advance so slowly towards any maturity of 
strength or policy, that the recent origin of the 
Mexicans seems to be a strong presumption of some 
exaggeration in the splendid descriptions which 
have been given of their government and manners. 

But it is not by theory or conjectures Facts which 
that history decides with regard to the progress^n 
state or character of nations. It pro- clvl i> zatlon - 
duces facts as the foundation of every judgment 
which it ventures to pronounce. In collecting those 
which must regulate our opinion in the present in¬ 
quiry, some occur that suggest an idea of consider¬ 
able progress in civilization in the Mexican empire, 
and others which seem to indicate that it had ad¬ 
vanced but little beyond the savage tribes around 
it. Both shall be exhibited to the view of the reader. 


to the public, except those by Purchas, Gemelli Carreri, and T.orenzana. 
It affords me some satisfaction, that in the course of my researches 1 have 
discovered two collections of Mexican paintings which were unknown to 
former inquirers. The cut which 1 published is an exact copy of the 
original, and gives no high idea of the progress which the Mexicans had 
made in the art of painting. I cannot conjecture what could induce M. 
Clavigero to express some dissatisfaction with me for having published it 
without the same colours it has in the original painting, p. xxix. He 
might have recollected, that neither Purchas, nor Gemelli Carreri, nor 
I orenzana, thought it necessary to colour the prints which they have 
published, and they have never been censured on that account, lie may 
rest assured, that though the colours in the paintings in the imperial 
library are remarkably bright, they are laid on without art, and without 
“ any of that regard to light and shade, or the rules of perspective,” which 
M. Clavigero requires. Vol. 11. 378. If the public express any desire to 
have the seven paintings still in my possession engraved, l am ready to 
communicate them. J he print published by Gemelli Carreri, of the 
route of the ancient Mexicans when they travelled towards the lake on 
which they built the capital of their empire, (Churchill, Vol. IV. p. 481.) 
is the most finished monument of art brought from the New World, and 
yet a very slight inspection of it will satisfy every one, that the annals 
of a nation conveyed in this manner must be very meagre and imperfect, 
f Acost. Hist. lib. vii. c. 8, &c. g Purchas, Pilgr. iii. p. 1068, &c. 
h Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 18. 




THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VII. 


934 

that, from comparing them, he may determine on 
which side the evidence preponderates. 

In the Mexican empire, the right of 
property fully private property was perfectly under¬ 
stood, and established in its full ex¬ 
tent. Among several savage tribes, we have seen, 
that the idea of a title to the separate and exclusive 
possession of any object was hardly known ; and 
that among all it was extremely limited and ill de¬ 
fined. But in Mexico, where agriculture and 
industry had made some progress, the distinction 
between property in land and property in goods had 
taken place. Both might be transferred from one 
person to another by sale or barter; both might de¬ 
scend by inheritance. Every person who could be 
denominated a freeman had property in land. This, 
however, they held by various tenures. Some pos¬ 
sessed it in full right, and it descended to their 
heirs. The title of others to their lands was de¬ 
rived from the office or dignity which they enjoyed; 
and when deprived of the latter, they lost posses¬ 
sion of the former. Both these modes of occupying 
land were deemed noble, and peculiar to citizens 
of the highest class. The tenure by which the great 
body of the people held their property, was very 
different. In every district a certain quantity of 
land was measured out in proportion to the number 
of families. This was cultivated by the joint labour 
of the whole ; its produce was deposited in a com¬ 
mon storehouse, and divided among them according 
to their respective exigencies. The members of the 
Calpullee , or associations, could not alienate their 
share of the common estate ; it was an indivisible 
permanent property, destined for the support of 
their families. 1 In consequence of this distribution 
of the territory of the state, every man had an 
interest in its welfare, and the happiness of the 
individual was connected with the public security. 

Another striking circumstance, which 

The number and __ . . 

greatness of distinguishes the Mexican empire from 
their cities. . . , , 

those nations in America we have al¬ 
ready described, is the number and greatness of its 
cities. While society continues in a rude state, the 
wants of men are so few, and they stand so little in 
need of mutual assistance, that their inducements 
to crowd together are extremely feeble. Their in¬ 
dustry at the same time is so imperfect, that it 
cannot secure subsistence for any considerable 
number of families settled in one spot. They live 
dispersed, at this period, from choice as well as 
from necessity, or, at the utmost, assemble in small 
hamlets on the banks of the river which supplies 
them with food, or on the border of some plain left 
open by nature, or cleared by their own labour. 
The Spaniards, accustomed to this mode of habita¬ 
tion among all the savage tribes with which they 
were hitherto acquainted, were astonished, on en¬ 
tering New Spain, to find the natives residing in 
towns of such extent as resembled those of Europe. 

i Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 15. Torquem. Mon. Ind. lib. xiv. c. 7. 
Corita, MS. 


In the first fervour of their admiration, they com¬ 
pared Zempoalla, though a town only of the se¬ 
cond or third size, to the cities of greatest note 
in their own country. When, afterwards, they 
visited in succession TIascala, Cholula, Tacuba, 
Tezeuco, and Mexico itself, their amazement in¬ 
creased so much, that it led them to convey ideas 
of their magnitude and populousness bordering on 
what is incredible. Even when there is leisure for 
observation, and no interest that leads to deceive, 
conjectural estimates of the number of people in 
cities are extremely loose, and usually much exag¬ 
gerated. It is not surprising, then, that Cortes and 
his companions, little accustomed to such computa¬ 
tions, and powerfully tempted to magnify, in order 
to exalt the merit of their own discoveries and con¬ 
quests, should have been betrayed into this common 
error, and have raised their descriptions consider¬ 
ably above truth. For this reason, some consider¬ 
able abatement ought to be made from their calcu¬ 
lations of the number of inhabitants in the Mexican 
cities, and we may fix the standard of their popula¬ 
tion much lower than they have done; but still they 
will appear to be cities of such consequence, as are 
not to be found but among people who have made 
some considerable progress in the arts of social 
life. k From their accounts, w e can hardly suppose 
Mexico, the capital of the empire, to have con¬ 
tained fewer than sixty thousand inhabitants. 

The separation of professions among The separation 
the Mexicans is a symptom of improve- of P rotesslons - 
ment no less remarkable. Arts, in the early ages of 
society, are so few and so simple, that each man is 
sufficiently master of them all, to gratify every demand 
of his own limited desires. The savage can form his 
bow, point his arrows, rear his hut, and hollow his 
canoe, without calling in the aid of any hand more 
skilful than his own. Time must have augmented 
the wants of men, and ripened their ingenuity, before 
the productions of art became so complicated in their 
structure, or so curious in their fabric, that a particu¬ 
lar course of education was requisite towards forming 
the artificer to expertness in contrivance and work¬ 
manship. In proportion as refinement spreads, the 
distinction of professions increases, and they branch 
out into more numerous and minute subdivisions. 
Among the Mexicans this separation of the arts 
necessary in life had taken place to a considerable 
extent. The functions of the mason, the weaver, 
the goldsmith, the painter, and of several other 
crafts, were carried on by different persons. Each 
was regularly instructed in his calling. To it alone 
his industry w as confined; and, by assiduous ap¬ 
plication to one object, together with the perse¬ 
vering patience peculiar to Americans, their artisans 
attained to a degree of neatness and perfection in 
work, far beyond what could have been expected 
from the rude tools which they employed. Their 
various productions were brought into commerce; 

k See Note CXLV. 



BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1)36 


and by the exchange of them in the stated markets 
held in the cities, not only were their mutual wants 
supplied, 1 in such orderly intercourse as charac¬ 
terizes an improved state of society, but their in¬ 
dustry was daily rendered persevering and inventive. 

The distinction The distinction of ranks established 
in the Mexican empire is the next cir¬ 
cumstance that merits attention. In surveying the 
savage tribes of America, we observed, that con¬ 
sciousness of equality, and impatience of subordi¬ 
nation, are sentiments natural to man in the infancy 
of civil life. During peace, the authority of a 
superior is hardly felt among them, and even in war 
it is but little acknowledged. Strangers to the idea 
of property, the difference in condition resulting 
from the inequality of it is unknown. Birth or 
titles confer no pre-eminence ; it is only by personal 
merit and accomplishments that distinction can be 
acquired. The form of society was very different 
among the Mexicans. The great body of the people 
was in a most humiliating state. A considerable 
number, known by the name of Mayeques, nearly 
resembled in condition those peasants who, under 
various denominations, were considered, during the 
prevalence of the feudal system, as instruments of 
labour attached to the soil. The Mayeques could 
not change their place of residence without per¬ 
mission of the superior on whom they depended. 
They were conveyed, together with the lands on 
which they were settled, from one proprietor to 
another; and were bound to cultivate the ground, 
and to perform several kinds of servile work. In 
Others were reduced to the lowest form of sub¬ 
jection, that of domestic servitude, and felt the 
utmost rigour of that wretched state. Their con¬ 
dition was held to be so vile, and their lives deemed 
to be of so little value, that a person who killed one 
of these slaves was not subjected to any punish¬ 
ment. n Even those considered as freemen were 
treated by their haughty lords as beings of an in¬ 
ferior species. The nobles, possessed of ample 
territories, were divided into various classes, to each 
of which peculiar titles of honour belonged. Some 
of these titles, like their lands, descended from 
father to son in perpetual succession. Others were 
annexed to particular offices, or conferred during 
life as marks of personal distinction. 0 The monarch, 
exalted above all, enjoyed extensive power, and 
supreme dignity. Thus, the distinction of ranks 
was completely established, in a line of regular 
subordination, reaching from the highest to the 
lowest member of the community. Each of these 
knew what he could claim, and what he owed. The 
people, who were not allowed to wear a dress of the 
same fashion, or to dwell in houses of a form similar 
to those of the nobles, accosted them with the 
most submissive reverence. In the presence of 
their sovereign, they durst not lift their eyes from 

1 Cortes Relat. ap. Ramus, iii. 239, ,&c. Com. Cron. c. 79. Torquem. 
iib. xiii. c. 34. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. vii. c. 15, &c. 

m Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 17- Corita MS. 

n Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 7. 


the ground, or look him in the face.P The nobles 
themselves, when admitted to an audience of their 
sovereign, entered barefooted, in mean garments, 
and, as his slaves, paid him homage approaching to 
adoration. This respect, due from inferiors to those 
above them in rank, was prescribed with such 
ceremonious accuracy, that it incorporated with the 
language, and influenced its genius and idiom. 
The Mexican tongue abounded in expressions of 
reverence and courtesy. The style and appellations 
used in the intercourse between equals, would 
have been so unbecoming in the mouth of one in a 
lower sphere, when he accosted a person in higher 
rank, as to be deemed an insult.q It is only in 
societies, which time and the institution of regular 
governmenthave moulded into form, that we find such 
an orderly arrangement of men into different ranks, 
and such nice attention paid to their various rights. 

The spirit of the Mexicans, thus Their pon(ica i 
familiarized and bended to subordina- constitution. 

tion, was prepared for submitting to monarchical 
government. But the descriptions of their policy 
and laws by the Spaniards who overturned them, 
are so inaccurate and contradictory, that it is diffi¬ 
cult to delineate the form of their constitution 
with any precision. Sometimes they represent the 
monarchs of Mexico as absolute, deciding accord¬ 
ing to their pleasure with respect to every operation 
of the state. On other occasions, we discover the 
traces of established customs and laws, framed in 
order to circumscribe the power of the crown, and 
we meet with rights and privileges of the nobles 
which seemed to be opposed as barriers against its 
encroachments. This appearance of inconsistency 
has arisen from inattention to the innovations of 
Montezuma upon the Mexican policy. His aspiring 
ambition subverted the original system of govern¬ 
ment, and introduced a pure despotism. He dis¬ 
regarded the ancient laws, violated the privileges 
held most sacred, and reduced his subjects of every 
order to the level of slaves. 1- The chiefs, or nobles 
of the first rank, submitted to the yoke with such 
reluctance, that, from impatience to shake it off, and 
hope of recovering their rights, many of them 
courted the protection of Cortes, and joined a 
foreign power against their domestic oppressor. 8 It 
is not then under the dominion of Montezuma, but 
under the government of his predecessors, that we 
can discover what was the original form and genius 
of Mexican policy. From the foundation of the 
monarchy to the election of Montezuma, it seems to 
have subsisted with little variation. That body of 
citizens which may be distinguished by the name of 
nobility, formed the chief and most respectable 
order in the state. They were of various ranks, as 
has been already observed, and their honours were 
acquired and transmitted in different manners. 
Their number seems to have been great. According 

o Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 15. Corita, MS. 

p Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 14. q See Rote CXLVI. 

r Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 14. Torquem. lib. ii. c. 69. 

s Herrera, dec. 2. lib. v. c. 10, 11. Torquem. lib. iv. c. 49. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VII. 


&36 

to an author accustomed to examine with attention 
what he relates, there were in the Mexican empire 
thirty of this order, each of whom had in his terri¬ 
tories about an hundred thousand people, and 
subordinate to these, there were about three thou¬ 
sand nobles of a lower class. 1 The territories be¬ 
longing to the chiefs of Tezeueo and Tacuba were 
hardly inferior in extent to those of the Mexican 
monarch. 11 Each of these possessed complete terri¬ 
torial jurisdiction, and levied taxes from their own 
vassals. But all followed the standard of Mexico 
in war, serving with a number of men in proportion 
to their domain, and most of them paid tribute to 
its monarch as their superior lord. 

In tracing those great lines of the Mexican con¬ 
stitution, an image of feudal policy, in its most rigid 
form, rises to view, and we discern its three distin¬ 
guishing characteristics, a nobility possessing almost 
independent authority, a people depressed into the 
lowest state of subjection, and a king intrusted with 
the executive power of the state. Its spirit and 
principles seem to have operated in the New World 
in the same manner as in the ancient. The juris¬ 
diction of the crown was extremely limited. All 
real and effective authority was retained by the 
Mexican nobles in their own hands, and the shadow 
of it only left to the king. Jealous to excess of their 
own rights, they guarded with the most vigilant 
anxiety against the encroachments of their sove- 
riegns. By a fundamental law of the empire it was 
provided, that the king should not determine con¬ 
cerning any point of general importance, without 
the approbation of a council composed of the prime 
nobility.* Unless he obtained their consent, he 
could not engage the nation in war, nor could he 
dispose of the most considerable branch of the 
public revenue at pleasure ; it was appropriated to 
certain purposes, from which it could not be diverted 
by the regal authority alone. y In order to secure 
full effect to those constitutional restraints, the 
Mexican nobles did not permit their crown to 
descend by inheritance, but disposed of it by elec¬ 
tion. The right of election seems to have been 
originally vested in the whole body of nobility, but 
was afterwards committed to six electors, of whom 
the chiefs of Tezeueo and Tacuba were always two. 
From respect for the family of their monarchs, the 
choice fell generally upon some person sprung from 
it. But as the activity and valour of their prince 
were of greater moment to a people perpetually en¬ 
gaged in war, than a strict adherence to the order of 
birth, collaterals of mature age, or of distinguished 
merit, were often preferred to those who were nearer 
the throne in direct descent. 2 To this maxim in 
their policy, the Mexicans appear to be indebted 
for such a succession of able and warlike princes, 
as raised their empire in a short period to that ex¬ 
traordinary height of power which it had attained 
when Cortes landed in New Spain. 

t Herrera, rlec. 2 lib. viii. c. 12. 

u Torquem. lib. ii. c. 57. Corita MS. 

x Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 19. lib. iv. c. 16. Corita MS. 


While the jurisdiction of the Mexi- 

, . , , Power and splen- 

can monarchs continued to be limited, dour of their 

it is probable that it was exercised ,no,,dlths - 
with little ostentation. But as their authority became 
more extensive, the splendour of their government 
augmented. It was in this last state that the Spani¬ 
ards beheld it; and struck with the appearance of 
Montezuma’s court, they describe its pomp at great 
length, and with much admiration. The number of 
his attendants, the order, the silence, and the reve¬ 
rence w ith which they served him ; the extent of 
his royal mansion, the variety of its apartments 
allotted to different officers, and the ostentation with 
which his grandeur was displayed, whenever he 
permitted his subjects to behold him, seem to re¬ 
semble the magnificence of the ancient monarchies 
in Asia, rather than the simplicity of the infant 
states in the New World. 

But it was not in the mere parade of 0rder of their 
royalty that the Mexican potentates government, 
exhibited their power; they manifested it more 
beneficially in the order and regularity with which 
they conducted the internal administration and 
police of their dominions. Complete jurisdiction, 
civil as well as criminal, over its own immediate 
vassals, was vested in the crown. Judges were 
appointed for each department, and if w e may rely 
on the account which the Spanish writers give of 
the maxims and laws upon which they founded 
their decisions with respect to the distribution of 
property and the punishment of crimes, justice was 
administered in the Mexican empire with a degree 
of order and equity resembling what takes place in 
societies highly civilized. 

Their intention in providing for the Provision for tJie 
support of government w'as not less sa- support ot it. 
gacious. Taxes were laid upon land, upon the ac¬ 
quisitions of industry, and upon commodities of 
every kind exposed to sale in the public markets. 
These duties were considerable, but not arbitrary or 
unequal. They were imposed according to estab¬ 
lished rules, and each knew' what share of the com¬ 
mon burden he had to bear. As the use of money 
was unknown, all the taxes were paid in kind, and 
thus not only the natural productions of all the dif¬ 
ferent provinces in the empire, but every species of 
manufacture, and every work of ingenuity and art, 
were collected in the public storehouses. From 
those the emperor supplied his numerous train of 
attendants in peace, and his armies during war, w ith 
food, with clothes, and ornaments. People of infe¬ 
rior condition, neither possessing land nor engaged 
in commerce, were bound to the performance of va¬ 
rious services. By their stated labour the crown 
lands were cultivated, public works w'ere carried 
on, and the various houses belonging to the emperor 
were built and kept in repair. a 

The improved state of government 
among the Mexicans is conspicuous, 

y Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 1". 

z Acosta, lib. vi. c. 24. llerrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 13. Conta MS. 

a Ilerr. dec. ii. lib. vii. c. 13. dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 16,17. See Note CXLVII. 


Their police. 



BOOK VII. 


937 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA, 
not only in points essential to the being of a well 


ordered society, but in several regulations of infe¬ 
rior consequence with respect to police. The institu¬ 
tion which I have already mentioned, of public 
couriers, stationed at proper intervals, to convey 
intelligence from one part of the empire to the other, 
was a refinement in police not introduced into any 
kingdom of Europe at that period. The structure of 
the capital city in a lake, with artificial dykes, and 
causeways of great length, which served as avenues 
to it trom different quarters, erected in the water 
with no less ingenuity than labour, seems to be an 
idea that could not have occurred to any but a civil¬ 
ized people. The same observation may be applied to 
the structure of the aqueducts, or conduits, by which 
they conveyed a stream of fresh water, from a con¬ 
siderable distance, into the city, along one of the 
causeways. b The appointment of a number of per¬ 
sons to clean the streets, to light them by fires kin¬ 
dled in different places, and to patrole as watchmen 
during the night, 0 discovers a degree of attention 
which even polished nations are late in acquiring. 

Their arts TJie P ro g ress the Mexicans in 
various arts, is considered as the most 
decisive proof of their superior refinement. Cortes, 
and the early Spanish authors, describe this with 
rapture, and maintain, that the most celebrated 
European artists could not surpass or even equal 
them in ingenuity and neatness of workmanship. 
They represented men, animals, and other objects, 
by such a disposition of various coloured feathers, 
as is said to have produced all the effects of light 
and shade, and to have imitated nature with truth 
and delicacy. Their ornaments of gold and silver 
have been described to be of a fabric no less curious. 
But in forming any idea, from general descriptions, 
concerning the state of arts among nations imper¬ 
fectly polished, we are extremely ready to err. In 
examining the works of people whose advances in 
improvement are nearly the same with our own, we 
view them with a critical and often with a jealous 
eye. Whereas, when conscious of our own supe¬ 
riority, we survey the arts of nations comparatively 
rude, we are astonished at works executed by them 
under such manifest disadvantages, and, in the 
warmth of our admiration, are apt to represent them 
as productions more finished than they really are. 
To the influence of this illusion, without supposing 
any intention to deceive, we may impute the exag- 

b See NoteCXLVIll. c TTerrera, dec. 2. lib. viii. c. 4. Tom bio, MS. 
d Kelac. de Cort. Ramus, iii. 294. F. e See Note CX MX. 

f As a specimen of the spirit and style in which M. Clavigero makes 
his strictures upon my History of America, I shall publish His remarks 
upon this passage. “ Thus far Robertson: to whom we answer, first, 
That there is no reason to believe that those rude works were really 
Mexican; secondly, That neither do we know whether those persons in 
whose judgments he confides, may be persons fit to merit our faith, be¬ 
cause we have observed that Robertson trusts frequently to the testimony 
of Gage, Correal, lbagnez, and other such authors, who are entirely un¬ 
deserving of credit; thirdly, I t is more probable that the arms of copper, 
believed by those intelligent judges to be certainly Oriental, are really 
Mexican.” Vof. II. 3yi.—When an author not entirely destitute of in¬ 
tegrity or discernment, and who has some solicitude about his own cha¬ 
racter, asserts that he received his information concerning any particular 
point from persons “ on whose judgment and taste he can rely a very 
slender degree of candour, one should think, might induce the reader to 
believe that he does not endeavour to impose upon the public by an ap¬ 
peal to testimony altogether unworthy of credit. My information con¬ 
cerning the Mexican works of art deposited in the king of Spain's cabi¬ 
net, was received from the late lord Grantham, ambassador extraordinary 
from the court of London to that of Madrid, and from Mr. Archdeacon 


geration of some Spanish authors, in their accounts 
of the Mexican arts. 

It is not from those descriptions, but from con¬ 
sidering such specimens of their arts as are still 
preserved, that we must decide concerning their 
degree of merit. As the ship in which Cortes sent 
to Charles V. the most curious productions of the 
Mexican artisans, which were collected by the Spa¬ 
niards when they first pillaged the empire, was taken 
by a French corsair, d the remains of their ingenuity 
are less numerous than those of the Peruvians. 
Whether any of their works with feathers, in imita¬ 
tion of painting, be still extant in Spain, I have not 
learned ; but many of their ornaments in gold and 
silver, as well as various utensils employed in com¬ 
mon life, are deposited in the magnificent cabinet 
of natural and artificial productions, lately opened 
by the king of Spain ; and I am informed by per¬ 
sons on whose judgment and taste I can rely, that 
these boasted efforts of their art are uncouth repre¬ 
sentations of common objects, or very coarse images 
of the human and some other forms, destitute of 
grace and propriety. 6 The justness of these obser¬ 
vations is confirmed by inspecting the wooden prints 
and copper-plates of their paintings, which have 
been published by various authors. In them, every 
figure of men, of quadrupeds, or birds, as well as 
every representation of inanimated nature, is ex¬ 
tremely rude and awkward/ The hardest Egyptian 
style, stiff and imperfect as it was, is more elegant. 
The scraw ls of children delineate objects almost as 
accurately. 

But however low the Mexican paintings may be 
ranked, when viewed merely as works of art, a 
very different station belongs to them, when con¬ 
sidered as the records of their country, as historical 
monuments of its policy and transactions ; and they 
become curious as well as interesting objects of at¬ 
tention. The noblest and most beneficial invention 
of which human ingenuity can boast, is that of 
writing. But the first essays of this art, w hich hath 
contributed more than all others to the improve¬ 
ment of the species, were very rude, and it advanced 
towards perfection slowly, and by a gradual pro¬ 
gression. When the warrior, eager for fame, wished 
to transmit some knowledge of his exploits to suc¬ 
ceeding ages ; w hen the gratitude of a people to 
their sovereign prompted them to hand down an 
account of his beneficent deeds to posterity ; the 

W r addilove, chaplain to the embassy; and it was upon their authority 
that 1 pronounced the coat of armour, mentioned in the note, to be of 
Oriental fabric. As they were both at Madrid in their public character 
when the first edition of the History of America was published, 1 thought 
it improper at that time to mention their names. Did their decision con¬ 
cerning a matter of taste, or their testimony concerning a point of 
fact, stand in need of confirmation, I might produce the evidence 
of an intelligent traveller, who, in describing the royal cabinet of 
Madrid, takes notice that it contains “ specimens of Mexican and 
Peruvian utensils, vases, &c. in earthen-ware, wretched both in taste and 
execution.” Dillon’s Travels through Spain, p. 77. As Gage composed 
his survey of New Spain with all the zeal and acrimony of a new convert, 

I have paid little regard to his testimony with respect to points relating 
to religion. But as he resided in several provinces in New Spain which 
travellers seldom visit, and as he seems to have observed their manners 
and laws with an intelligent eye, I have availed myself of his informa¬ 
tion with respect to matters where religious opinion could have little in¬ 
fluence. Correal 1 have seldom quoted, and never rested upon his evi¬ 
dence alone. The station in which lbagnez was employed in America, 
as well as the credit given to his veracity by printing his Regno .lesuitico 
among the large collection of documents published fas I believe by autho¬ 
rity) at Madrid, A. D. 1707, justifies me for appealing to his authority. 



938 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VII. 


first method of accomplishing this which seems to 
have occurred to them, was to delineate, in the best 
manner they could, figures representing the action 
of which they were solicitous to preserve the me¬ 
mory. Of this, which has very properly been called 
nicture-writitig,* we find traces among some of the 
most savage tribes of America. When a leader re¬ 
turns from the field, he strips a tree of its bark, and 
with red paint scratches upon it some uncouth 
figures, which represent the order of his march, 
the number of his followers, the enemy whom he 
attacked, the scalps and captives which he brought 
home. To those simple annals he trusts for renown, 
and soothes himself with hope that by their means 
he shall receive praise from the warriors of future 
times. h 

Compared with those awkward essays of their 
savage countrymen, the paintings of the Mexicans 
may be considered as works of composition and 
design. They were not acquainted, it is true, with 
any other method of recording transactions, than 
that of delineating the objects which they wished 
to represent. But they could exhibit a more com¬ 
plex series of events in progressive order, and 
describe, by a proper disposition of figures, the oc¬ 
currences of a king’s reign from his accession to his 
death ; the progress of an infant’s education from 
its birth until it attain to the years of maturity ; 
the different recompences and marks of distinction 
conferred upon warriors, in proportion to the ex¬ 
ploits which they had performed- Some singular 
specimens of this picture-writing have been preserv¬ 
ed, which are justly considered as the most curious 
monuments of art brought from the New World. The 
most valuable of these was published by Purchas in 
sixty-six plates. It is divided into three parts. The 
first contains the history of the Mexican empire 
under its ten monarclis. The second is a tribute- 
roll, representing what each conquered town paid 
into the royal treasury. The third is a code of their 
institutions, domestic, political, and military. Ano¬ 
ther specimen of Mexican painting has been pub¬ 
lished in thirty-two plates, by the present archbishop 
of Toledo. To both is annexed a full explanation 
of what the figures were intended to represent, which 
was obtained by the Spaniards from Indians well 
acquainted with their ow n arts. The style of paint¬ 
ing in all these is the same. They represent things 
not words. They exhibit images to the eye, not 
ideas to the understanding. They may, therefore, 
be considered as the earliest and most imperfect 
essay of men in their progress towards discovering 
the art of writing. The defects in this mode of re¬ 
cording transactions must have been early felt. To 
paint every occurrence was, from its nature, a very 
tedious operation ; and as affairs became more com¬ 
plicated, and events multiplied in society, its annals 
must have swelled to an enormous bulk. Besides 
this, no objects could be delineated but those of 


sense ; the conceptions of the mind had no corpo¬ 
real form, and as long as picture-writing could not 
convey an idea of these, it must have been a very 
imperfect art. The necessity of improving it must 
have roused and sharpened invention, and the hu¬ 
man mind holding the same course in the New 
World as in the Old, might have advanced by the 
same successive steps, first from an actual picture 
to the plain hieroglyphic; next to the allegorical 
symbol; then to the arbitrary character ; until, at 
length, an alphabet of letters was discovered, capa¬ 
ble of expressing all the various combinations of 
sound employed in speech. In the paintings of the 
Mexicans we accordingly perceive, that this progress 
was begun among them. Upon an attentive inspec¬ 
tion of the plates which I have mentioned, we may 
observe some approach to the plain or simple hiero¬ 
glyphic, where some principal part or circumstance 
in the subject is made to stand for the whole. In 
the annals of their kings, published by Purchas, 
the towns conquered by each are uniformly repre¬ 
sented in the same manner by a rude delineation of 
a house ; but in order to point out the particular 
towns which submitted to their victorious arms, pe¬ 
culiar emblems, sometimes natural objects, and 
sometimes artificial figures, are employed. In the 
tribute-roll published by the archbishop of Toledo, 
the house, which was properly the picture of the 
town, is omitted, and the emblem alone is employed 
to represent it. The Mexicans seem even to have 
made some advances beyond this, towards the use 
of the more figurative and fanciful hieroglyphic. In 
order to describe a monarch who had enlarged his 
dominions by force of arms, they painted a target 
ornamented with darts, and placed it between him 
and those towns which he subdued. But it is only 
in one instance, the notation of numbers, that we 
discern any attempt to exhibit ideas which had no 
corporeal form. The Mexican painters had invented 
artificial marks, or signs of convention, for this pur¬ 
pose. By means of these, they computed the years 
of their kings’ reigns, as well as the amount of tri¬ 
bute to be paid into the royal treasury. The figure 
of a circle represented unit, and in small numbers the 
computation was made by repeating it. Larger num¬ 
bers were expressed by a peculiar mark, and they 
had such as denoted all integral numbers, from 
twenty to eight thousand. The short duration of 
their empire prevented the Mexicans from advanc¬ 
ing further in that long course which conducts men 
from the labour of delineating real objects, to the 
simplicity and ease of alphabetic writing. Their 
records, notwithstanding some dawn of such ideas 
as might have led to a more perfect style, can be 
considered as little more than a species of picture¬ 
writing, so far improved as to mark their superiority 
over the savage tribes of America ; but still so de¬ 
fective, as to prove that they had not proceeded far 
beyond the first stage in that progress which must be 


. " ;'. r Johnson, Philos. Transact, vol. lxiii. p. 143. Mem. de la Hon- 
td.n, 11 . 191. Lantau, Moeurs de Sauv. u. 43 . 


g Divine Legat. of Moses, iii. 73. 



BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


939 


completed before any people can be ranked among 
polished nations. 1 

Their mode of Their mode of computing time may 
computing time. jj e considered as a more decisive evi¬ 
dence ol their progress in improvement. They di¬ 
vided their year into eighteen months, each consist¬ 
ing of twenty days, amounting in all to three hun¬ 
dred and sixty. But as they observed that the 
course of the sun was not completed in that time, 
they added five days to the year. These, which 
were properly intercalary days, they termed super¬ 
numerary or waste ; and as they did not belong to 
any month, no work was done, and no sacred rite 
performed on them ; they were devoted wholly to 
festivity and pastime. k This near approach to phi¬ 
losophical accuracy is a remarkable proof that the 
Mexicans had bestowed some attention upon in¬ 
quiries and speculations, to which men in a very 
rude state never turn their thoughts. 1 

Such are the most striking particu- 

nsmali 1 progress lars in the manners and policy of the 
in civilization. • , . , 

Mexicans, which exhibit them to view 
as a people considerably refined. But from other cir¬ 
cumstances, one is apt to suspect that their charac¬ 
ter, and many of their institutions, did not differ 
greatly from those of the other inhabitants of 
America. 

Their warsconti- Like the rude tribes around them, 
cious. and tcr ° the Mexicans were incessantly engaged 

in war, and the motives which prompt¬ 
ed them to hostility seem to have been the same. 
They fought in order to gratify their vengeance, 
by shedding the blood of their enemies. In battle 
they were chiefly intent on taking prisoners, and it 
was by the number of these that they estimated the 
glory of victory. No captive was ever ransomed or 
spared. All were sacrificed without mercy, and 
their flesh devoured with the same barbarous joy as 
among the fiercest savages. On some occasions it 
rose to even w ilder excesses. Their principal war¬ 
riors covered themselves with the skins of the un¬ 
happy victims, and danced about the streets, boasting 
of their own valour, and exulting over their ene¬ 
mies." 1 Even in their civil institutions we discover 
traces of that barbarous disposition which their 
system of war inspired. The four chief counsellors 
of the empire were distinguished by titles, which 
could have been assumed only by a people who de¬ 
lighted in blood. 11 This ferocity of character pre¬ 
vailed among all the nations of New' Spain. The 
TIascalans, the people of Mechoacan, and other 
states at enmity with the Mexicans, delighted 
equally in war, and treated their prisoners with the 
same cruelty. In proportion as mankind combine 
in social union, and live under the influence of 
equal law s and regular policy, their manners soften, 
sentiments of humanity arise, and the rights of the 

i See Note CL. k Acosta, lib. vi. c. 2. 

1 The Mexican mode of computing time, and every other particular re¬ 
lating to their chronology, have been considerably elucidated by M. Cla- 
vigero, vol. i. 288. vof. li. 225. &c. the observations and theories ot the 
Mexicans concerning those subjects, discover a greater progress in specu¬ 
lative science than we find among any people in the New World. 


species come to be understood. The fierceness of 
war abates, and even while engaged in hostility, 
men remember what they owe one to another. The 
savage fights to destroy, the citizen to conquer. 
The former neither pities nor spares, the latter has 
acquired sensibility which tempers his rage. To 
this sensibility the Mexicans seem to have been 
perfect strangers, and among them w'ar was carried 
on w ith so much of its original barbarity, that we 
cannot but suspect their degree of civilization to 
have been very imperfect. 

Their funeral rites were not less bloody Their funeral 
than those of the most savage tribes. ntes- 
On the death of any distinguished personage, espe¬ 
cially of the emperor, a certain number of his 
attendants were chosen to accompany him to the 
other world ; and those unfortunate victims were 
put to death without mercy, and buried in the same 
tomb.Q 

Though their agriculture was more Th#jr agriculture 
extensive than that of the roving tribes imperfect, 
who trusted chiefly to their bow for food, it seems 
not to have supplied them with such subsistence as 
men require when engaged in efforts of active in¬ 
dustry. The Spaniards appear not to have been 
struck with any superiority of the Mexicans over 
the other people of America in bodily vigour. 
Both, according to their observation, were of such 
a feeble frame as to be unable to endure fatigue, 
and the strength of one Spaniard exceeded that of 
several Indians. This they imputed to their scanty 
diet, on poor fare, sufficient to preserve life, but not 
to give firmness to their constitution. Such a re¬ 
mark could hardly have been made with respect to 
any people furnished plentifully with the necessa¬ 
ries of life. The difficulty which Cortes found in 
procuring subsistence for his small body of sol¬ 
diers, who were often constrained to live on the 
spontaneous productions of the earth, seems to con¬ 
firm the remark of the Spanish writers, and gives 
no high idea of the state of cultivation in the Mex¬ 
ican empire.p 

A practice that was universal in New A furtlier proof 
Spain appears to favour this opinion. ot thls - 
The Mexican women gave suck to their children 
for several years, and during that time they did 
not cohabit with their husbands! 11 This precaution 
against a burdensome increase of progeny, though 
necessary, as I have already observed, among 
savages, who from the hardships of their condition, 
and the precariousness of their subsistence, find it 
impossible to rear a numerous family, can hardly 
be supposed to have continued among a people who 
lived at ease and in abundance. 

The vast extent of the Mexican 

. . , . , Doubts concern 

empire, which has been considered, ing the extent ot 

and with justice, as the most decisive e e,n P' Ie - 

m Ilerrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 15. Gomara Cron. c. 217. 
n See Note CL1. 

o Herrera, dec. lib. ii. c. 18. Gomara Cron. c. 202. 
p Relat. ap. Ramus, iii. 306. A. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 17. dec. 2. 
lib. vi. c. lb. 

q Gomara Cron. c. 208. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 16. 



940 


BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


proof of a considerable progress in regular govern¬ 
ment and police, is one of those lacts in the history 
of the New World which seems to have been ad¬ 
mitted without due examination or sufficient evi¬ 
dence. The Spanish historians, in order to magnify 
the valour of their countrymen, are accustomed to 
represent the dominion of Montezuma as stretch¬ 
ing over all the provinces of New Spain from the 
Northern to the Southern ocean. But a great part 
of the mountainous country was possessed by the 
Otomies, a fierce uncivilized people, who seem to 
have been the residue of the original inhabitants. 
The provinces towards the north and west of Mexico 
were occupied by the Chichemecas , and other tribes 
of hunters. None of these recognised the Mexican 
monarch as their superior. Even in the interior and 
more level country, there were several cities and 
provinces which had never submitted to the Mexican 
yoke. Tlascala, though only twenty-one leagues 
from the capital of the empire, was an independent 
and hostile republic. Cholula, though still nearer, 
had been subjected only a short time before the 
arrival of the Spaniards. Tepeaca, at the distance 
of thirty leagues from Mexico, seems to have been 
a separate state, governed by its own laws. r Me- 
choacan, the frontier of which extended within 
forty leagues of Mexico, was a powerful kingdom, 
remarkable for its implacable enmity to the Mexi¬ 
can name.® By these hostile powers the Mexican 
empire was circumscribed on every quarter, and 
the high ideas which we are apt to form of it from 
the description of the Spanish historians, should be 
considerably moderated. 

Little inter- I n consequence of this independence 

ifcTseverai"pro- °f several states in New Spain upon 

vmces. the Mexican empire, there was not any 

considerable intercourse between its various pro¬ 
vinces. Even in the interior country, not far distant 
from the capital, there seem to have been no roads 
to facilitate the communication of one district with 
another; and when the Spaniards first attempted to 
penetrate into its several provinces, they had to open 
their way through forests and marshes. 1 Cortes, in 
his adventurous march from Mexico to Honduras 
in 1525, met with obstructions, and endured hard¬ 
ships, little inferior to those with which he must 
have struggled in the most uncivilized regions of 
America. In some places he could hardly force a 
passage through impervious woods, and plains over¬ 
flowed with water. In others he found so little 
cultivation, that his troops were frequently in dan¬ 
ger of perishing by famine. Such facts correspond 
ill with the pompous description which the Spanish 
writers give of Mexican police and industry, and 
convey an idea of a country nearly similar to that 
possessed by the Indian tribes in North America. 
Here and there a treading or a war-path, as they are 
called in North America, led from one settlement 
to another," but generally there appeared no sign 

r Herrera, dec. 3. lib. x. c. 15. 21. B. Diaz, c. 130. 

s Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii.c. 10. 


of any established communication, few marks of 
industry, and fewer monuments of art. 

A proof of this imperfection in their Further proof of 
commercial intercourse, no less strik¬ 
ing, is their want of money, or some universal 
standard by which to estimate the value of com¬ 
modities. The discovery of this is among the steps 
of greatest consequence in the progress of nations. 
Until it has been made, all their transactions must 
be so awkward, so operose, and so limited, that we 
may boldly pronounee that they have advanced but 
a little way in their career. The invention of such 
a commercial standard is of such high antiquity in 
our hemisphere, and rises so far beyond the aera of 
authentic history, as to appear almost coeval with 
the existence of society. The precious metals seem 
to have been early employed for this purpose, and 
from their permanent value, their divisibility, and 
many other qualities, they are better adapted to 
serve as a common standard than any other sub¬ 
stance of which nature has given us the command. 
But in the New World, where these metals abound 
most, this use of them was not known. The exi¬ 
gencies of rude tribes, or of monarchies imperfectly 
civilized, did not call for it. All their commercial 
intercourse was carried on by barter, and their 
ignorance of any common standard by which to 
facilitate that exchange of commodities which con¬ 
tributes so much towards the comfort of life, may 
be justly mentioned as an evidence of the infant 
state of their policy. But even in the New World 
the inconvenience of wanting some general instru¬ 
ment of commerce began to be felt, and some efforts 
were making towards supplying that defect. The 
Mexicans, among whom the number and greatness 
of their cities gave rise to a more extended com¬ 
merce than in any other part of America, had begun 
to employ a common standard of value, which ren¬ 
dered smaller transactions much more easy. As 
chocolate was the favourite drink of persons in 
every rank of life, the nuts or almonds of cacao, of 
which it is composed, were of such universal con¬ 
sumption, that, in their stated markets, these were 
willingly received in return for commodities of small 
price. Thus they came to be considered as the in¬ 
strument of commerce, and the value of what one 
wished to dispose of was estimated by the number 
of nuts of the cacao which he might expect in 
exchange for it. This seems to be the utmost 
length which the Americans had advanced towards 
the discovery of any expedient for supplying the 
use of money. And if the want of it is to be held, 
on one hand, as a proof of their barbarity, this ex¬ 
pedient for supplying that want should be admitted, 
on the other, as an evidence no less satisfying, of 
some progress which the Mexicans had made in 
refinement and civilization, beyond the savage tribes 
around them. 

In such a rude state were many of the Mexican 

t B. Diaz, c. 166. 176. 

u Herrera, dec. 3. lib. vii. c. 8. 



BOOK VII. 


941 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


•p. .. provinces when first visited by their 

Doubts concern- J 

ing the state ot conquerors. Even their cities, ex- 

tneir cities, . 7 

tensive and populous as they were, 
seem more fit to be the habitation of men just 
emerging from barbarity, than the residence of a 
polished people. The description of Tlascala nearly 
resembles that of an Indian village. A number of 
low struggling huts, scattered about irregularly, 
according to the caprice of each proprietor, built 
witli turf and stone and thatched with reeds, with¬ 


out any light but what they received by a door, so 
low that it could not be entered upright.* In 
Mexico, though, from the peculiarity of its situation, 
the disposition of the houses was more orderly, the 
structure of the greater part was equally mean. 

temple Nor does ^ ie °f their temples, 

and other public edifices, appear to 
have been such as entitled them to the high praise 
bestowed upon them by many Spanish authors. 
As far as one can gather from their obscure and 
inaccurate descriptions, the great temple of Mexi¬ 
co, the most famous in New Spain, which has been 
represented as a magnificent building, raised to 
such a height that the ascent to it was by a flight 
of a hundred and fourteen steps, was a solid 


mass of earth of a square form, faced partly with 
stone. Its base on each side extended ninety feet, 
and decreasing gradually as it advanced in height, 
it terminated in a quadrangle of about thirty feet, 
where were placed a shrine of the deity, and two 
altars on which the victims were sacrificed.y All 
the other celebrated temples of New Spain exactly 
resembled that of Mexico. 2 Such structures convey 
no high idea of progress in art and ingenuity ; and 
one can hardly conceive that a form more rude and 
simple could have occurred to a nation in its first 
efforts towards erecting any great work. 

and other public Greater skill and ingenuity were 
buildings. displayed, if we may believe the Spa¬ 
nish historians, in the houses of the emperor, and 
in those of the principal nobility. There, some 
elegance of design was visible, and a commodious 
arrangement of the apartments was attended to. 
But if buildings corresponding to such descriptions 
had ever existed in the Mexican cities, it is probable 
that some remains of them would still be visible. 
From the manner in which Cortes conducted the 
siege of Mexico, we can indeed easily account for 
the total destruction of whatever had any appear¬ 
ance of splendour in that capital. But as only two 
centuries and a half have elapsed since the conquest 
of New Spain, it seems altogether incredible that 
in a period so short every vestige of this boasted 
elegance and grandeur should have disappeared; 
and that in the other cities, particularly in those 
which did not suffer by the destructive hand of the 
conquerors, there are not any ruins which can be 
considered as monuments of their ancient magnifi¬ 
cence. 


Even in a village of the rudest Indians, there are 
buildings of greater extent and elevation than com¬ 
mon dwelling-houses. Such as are destined for 
holding the council of the tribe, and in which all 
assemble on occasions of public festivity, may be 
called stately edifices, when compared with the rest. 
As among the Mexicans the distinction of ranks 
was established, and property was unequally di¬ 
vided, the number of distinguished structures in 
their towns would of course be greater than in other 
parts of America. But these seem not to have been 
either so solid or magnificent as to merit the pompous 
epithets which some Spanish authors employ in 
describing them. It is probable, that, though more 
ornamented, and built on a larger scale, they were 
erected with the same slight materials which the 
Indians employed in their common buildings,* and 
time, in a space much less than two hundred and 
fifty years, may have swept away all remains of 
them. b 

From this enumeration of facts, it seems upon 
the whole to be evident, that the state of society in 
Mexico was considerably advanced beyond that of 
the savage tribes which we have delineated. But 
it is no less manifest, that with respect to many 
particulars, the Spanish accounts of their progress 
appear to be highly embellished. There is not a 
more frequent or a more fertile source of deception 
in describing the manners and arts of savage na¬ 
tions, or of such as are imperfectly civilized, than 
that of applying to them the names and phrases 
appropriated to the institutions and refinements of 
polished life. When the leader of a small tribe, or 
the head of a rude community, is dignified with the 
name of king or emperor, the place of his residence 
can receive no other name but that of his palace ; 
and whatever his attendants may be, they must be 
called his court. Under such appellations they 
acquire, in our estimation, an importance and dig¬ 
nity w hich does not belong to them. The illusion 
spreads, and giving a false colour to every part 
of the narrative, the imagination is so much car¬ 
ried away with the resemblance, that it becomes 
difficult to discern objects as they really are. 
The Spaniards, when they first touched on the Mex¬ 
ican coast, were so much struck with the appear¬ 
ance of attainments in policy and in the arts of life, 
far superior to those of the rude tribes with which 
they were hitherto acquainted, that they fancied 
they had at length discovered a civilized people in 
the New World. This comparison between the 
people of Mexico and their uncultivated neighbours, 
they appear to have kept constantly in view, and 
observing with admiration many things which mark¬ 
ed the pre-eminence of the former, they employ, in 
describing their imperfect policy and infant arts, 
such terms as are applicable to the institutions of 
men far beyond them in improvement. Both these 
circumstances concur in detracting from the credit 


x Herrera, dec. 2. lib. vi. c. 12. 
y Ibid. lib. vii. c. 17- 


z See Note CLl I. 
b See Note CLIV. 


a See Note CT.III. 



942 


BOOK VII. 


early Spanish writers. By drawing a parallel be¬ 
tween them and those of people so much less civil¬ 
ized, they raised their own ideas too high. By their 
mode of describing them, they conveyed ideas to 
others no less exalted above truth. Later writers 
have adopted the style of the original historians, 
and improved upon it. The colours with which De 
Solis delineates the character and describes the 
actions of Montezuma, the splendour of his court, 
the laws and policy of his empire, are the same that 
he must have employed in exhibiting to view the 
monarch and institutions of a highly polished 
people. 

But though we may admit, that the warm imagina¬ 
tion of the Spanish writers has added some embel¬ 
lishment to their descriptions, this will not justify 
the decisive and peremptory tone with which seve¬ 
ral authors pronounce all their accounts of the 
Mexican power, policy, and laws, to be the fictions of 
men who wished to deceive, or who delighted in the 
marvellous. There are few historical facts that can 
be ascertained by evidence more unexceptionable 
than may be produced in support of the material 
articles in the description of the Mexican constitu¬ 
tion and manners. Eye-witnesses relate what they 
beheld. Men who had resided among the Mexicans, 
both before and after the conquest, describe institu¬ 
tions and customs which were familiar to them. 
Persons of professions so different that objects must 
have presented themselves to their view under every 
various aspect; soldiers, priests, and lawyers, all 
concur in their testimony. Had Cortes ventured to 
impose upon his sovereign, by exhibiting to him a 
picture of imaginary manners, there wanted not 
enemies and rivals who were qualified to detect his 
deceit, and who would have rejoiced in exposing it. 
But according to the just remark of an author, whose 
ingenuity has illustrated, and whose eloquence has 
adorned, the history of America, 0 this supposition is 
in itself as improbable as the attempt would have 
been audacious. Who among the destroyers of this 
great empire was so enlightened by science, or so 
attentive to the progress and operations of men in 
social life, as to frame a fictitious system of policy, 
so well combined and so consistent, as that which 
they delineate in their accounts of the Mexican 
government? Where could they have borrowed the 
idea of many institutions in legislation and police, 
to which, at that period, there was nothing parallel 
in the nations with which they were acquainted ? 
There was not, at the beginning of the sixteenth 
century, a regular establishment of posts for con¬ 
veying intelligence to the sovereign of any kingdom 
in Europe. The same observation will apply to 
what the Spaniards relate with respect to the struc¬ 
ture of the city of Mexico, the regulations concern¬ 
ing its police, and various laws established for the 
administration of justice, or securing the happiness 
of the community. Whoever is accustomed to con- 

c M. l’Abbe Raynal, Hist, philos. et polit. &c. iii. 127 . 


template the progress of nations, will often, at very 
early stages of it, discover a premature and unex¬ 
pected dawn of those ideas, which gave rise to in¬ 
stitutions that are the pride and ornament of its 
most advanced period. Even in a state as imper¬ 
fectly polished as the Mexican empire, the happy 
genius of some sagacious observer, excited or aided 
by circumstances unknown to us, may have intro¬ 
duced institutions which are seldom found but in 
societies highly refined. But it is almost impossible 
that the illiterate conquerors of the New World 
should have formed, in any one instance, a concep¬ 
tion of customs and laws beyond the standard of 
improvement in their own age and country. Or if 
Cortes had been capable of this, what inducement 
had those by whom he was superseded to continue 
the deception ? Why should Corita, or Motolinea, 
or Acosta, have amused their sovereign or their 
fellow-citizens with a tale purely fabulous? 

In one particular, however, the Religion of the 
guides whom we must follow have re- Mexicans 

presented the Mexicans to be more barbarous, per¬ 
haps, than they really were. Their religious tenets, 
and the rites of their worship, are described by 
them as wild and cruel in an extreme degree. Re¬ 
ligion, which occupies no considerable place in the 
thoughts of a savage, whose conceptions of any 
superior power are obscure, and his sacred rites few 
as well as simple, was formed among the Mexicans 
into a regular system, with its complete train of 
priests, temples, victims, and festivals. This, of it¬ 
self, is a clear proof that the state of the Mexicans 
was very different from that of the ruder American 
tribes. But from the extravagance of their religious 
notions, or the barbarity of their rites, no conclu¬ 
sion can be drawn with certainty concerning the 
degree of their civilization. For nations, long after 
their ideas begin to enlarge, and their manners to 
refine, adhere to systems of superstition founded on 
the crude conceptions of early ages. From the ge¬ 
nius of the Mexican religion we may, however, 
form a most just conclusion with respect to its in¬ 
fluence upon the character of the people. The 
aspect of superstition in Mexico was gloomy and 
atrocious. Its divinities were clothed with terror, 
and delighted in vengeance. They were exhibited 
to the people under detestable forms, which created 
horror. The figures of serpents, of tigers, and of 
other destructive animals, decorated their temples. 
Fear was the only principle that inspired their vo¬ 
taries. Fasts, mortifications, and penances, all 
rigid, and many of them excruciating to an ex¬ 
treme degree, were the means employed to appease 
the wrath of their gods; and the Mexicans never 
approached their altars without sprinkling them 
with blood drawn from their own bodies. But, 
of all offerings, human sacrifices were deemed 
the most acceptable. This religious belief, min¬ 
gling with the implacable spirit of vengeance, and 
adding new force to it, every captive taken in war 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA, 
due to the descriptions of Mexican manners by the 



BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


943 


was brought to the temple, was devoted as a victim 
to the deity, and sacrificed with rites no less solemn 
than cruel. d The heart and head were the portion 
consecrated to the gods; the warrior by whose 
prowess the prisoner had been seized, carried off 
the body to feast upon it with his friends. Under 
the impression of ideas so dreary and terrible, and 
accustomed daily to scenes of bloodshed rendered 
awful by religion, the heart of man must harden 
and be steeled to every sentiment of humanity. 
The spirit of the Mexicans was accordingly unfeel¬ 
ing, and the genius of their religion so far counter¬ 
balanced the influence of policy and arts, that 
notwithstanding their progress in both, their man¬ 
ners, instead of softening, became more fierce. To 
what circumstances it was owing that superstition 
assumed such a dreadful form among the Mexicans, 
we have not sufficient knowledge of their history to 
determine. But its influence is visible, and pro¬ 
duced an effect that is singular in the history of the 
human species. The manners of the people in the 
New World who had made the greatest progress in 
the arts of policy, were, in several respects, the 
most ferocious, and the barbarity of some of their 
customs exceeded even those of the savage state. 

The empire of Peru boasts of a 
Peru to’ 0 "high higher antiquity than that of Mexico, 
antiquity According to the traditionary accounts 

collected by the Spaniards, it had subsisted four 
hundred years, under twelve successive monarchs. 
But the knowledge of their ancient story, which the 
Peruvians could communicate to their conquerors, 
must have been both imperfect and 
uncertain. 6 Like the other American 
nations, they were totally unacquainted with the 
art of writing, and destitute of the only means by 
which the memory of past transactions can be pre¬ 
served with any degree of accuracy. Even among 
people to whom the use of letters is known, the aera 
where the authenticity of history commences is 
much posterior to the introduction of writing. That 
noble invention continued, every where, to be long- 
subservient to the common business and wants of 
life, before it was employed in recording events, 
with a view of conveying information from one age 
to another. But in no country did ever tradition 
alone carry down historical knowledge, in any full 
continued stream, during a period of half the length 
that the monarchy of Peru is said to have subsisted. 

Defects in their The Quipos, OV knots Oil COrds of 
records by Quipos. different colours, which are celebrated 

by authors fond of the marvellous, as if they had 
been regular annals of the empire, imperfectly sup¬ 
plied the place of writing. According to the ob¬ 
scure description of them by Acosta/ which Gar- 
cilasso de la Yega has adopted with little variation 
and no improvement, the quipos seem to have been 
a device for rendering calculation more expeditious 
and accurate. By the various colours different ob- 

d Cort. Relat. ap. Ramus, iii. 240, &c. B. Diaz, c. 82. Acosta, lib. 
v. c. 13, &c. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 15, &c. GomaraCron. c, 80. &c. 
See Note GLV. 


jects were denoted, and by each knot a distinct 
number. Thus an account was taken, and a kind 
of register kept, of the inhabitants in each province, 
or of the general productions collected there for 
public use. But as by these knots, however varied or 
combined, no moral or abstract idea, no operation 
or quality of the mind, could be represented, they 
contributed little towards preserving the memory of 
ancient events and institutions. By the Mexican 
paintings and symbols, rude as they were, more 
knowledge of remote transactions seems to have 
been conveyed than the Peruvians could derive 
from their boasted quipos. Had the latter been 
even of more extensive use, and better adapted to 
supply the place of written records, they perished 
so generally, together with other monuments of Pe¬ 
ruvian ingenuity, in the wreck occasioned by the 
Spanish conquest, and the civil wars subsequent to 
it, that no accession of light or knowledge comes 
from them. All the zeal of Garcilasso de la Vega 
for the honour of that race of monarchs from whom 
he descended, all the industry of his researches, 
and the superior advantages with which he carried 
them on, opened no source of information unknow n 
to the Spanish authors who wrote before him. In 
his Royal Commentaries, he confines himself to il¬ 
lustrate what they had related concerning the 
antiquities and institutions of Peru ;S and his illus¬ 
trations, like their accounts, are derived entirely 
from the traditionary tales current among his 
countrymen. 

Very little credit then is due to the minute details 
which have been given of the exploits, the battles, 
the conquests, and private character of the early 
Peruvian monarchs. We can rest upon nothing 
in their story, as authentic, but a few facts so inter¬ 
woven in the system of religion and policy, as pre¬ 
served the memory of them from being lost; and 
upon the description of such customs and institu¬ 
tions as continued in force at the time of the con¬ 
quest, and fell under the immediate observation of 
the Spaniards. By attending carefully to these, 
and endeavouring to separate them from what ap¬ 
pears to be fabulous, or of doubtful authority, I 
have laboured to form an idea of the Peruvian go¬ 
vernment and manners. 

The people of Peru, as I have al- origin of their 
ready observed/ had not advanced clvl1 pollcy - 
beyond the rudest form of savage life, when Manco 
Capac, and his consort Mama Ocollo, appeared to 
instruct and civilize them. Who these extraordi¬ 
nary personages were, whether they imported their 
system of legislation and knowledge of arts from 
some country more improved, or, if natives of Peru, 
how they acquired ideas so far superior to those of 
the people whom they addressed, are circumstances 
with respect to which the Peruvian tradition con¬ 
veys no information. Manco Capac and his con¬ 
sort, taking advantage of the propensity in the 

e See Note CLVI. f Hist. lib. vi. c. 8. 

g Lib. i. c. 10. 

h Book vi. p. 900, &c. 



944 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK VII. 


Peruvians to superstition, and particularly of their 
veneration for the sun, pretended to be children of 
that glorious luminary, and to deliver their instruc¬ 
tions in his name, and by authority from him. The 
multitude listened and believed. What reformation 
in policy and manners the Peruvians ascribe to 
those founders of their empire, and how, from the 
precepts of the inca and his consort, their ancestors 
gradually acquired some knowledge of those arts, 
and some relish for that industry, which render 
subsistence secure and life comfortable, hath been 
formerly related. Those blessings were originally 
confined within narrow precincts ; but in process of 
time, the successors of Manco Capac extended their 
dominion over all the regions that stretch to the 
west of the Andes from Chili to Quito, establishing 
in every province their peculiar policy and religious 
institutions. 


Founded in 
religion. 


The most singular and striking cir¬ 
cumstance in the Peruvian govern¬ 
ment, is the influence of religion upon its genius 
and laws. Religious ideas make such a feeble im¬ 
pression on the mind of a savage, that their effect 
upon his sentiments and manners is hardly percep¬ 
tible. Among the Mexicans, religion, reduced into 
a regular system, and holding a considerable place 
in their public institutions, operated with conspicu¬ 
ous efficacy in forming the peculiar character of 
that people. But in Peru, the whole system of po¬ 
licy was founded on religion. The inca appeared 
not only as a legislator, but as the messenger of 
Heaven. His precepts were received not merely 
as the injunctions of a superior, but as the man¬ 
dates of the Deity. His race was to be held sacred ; 
and in order to preserve it distinct, without being 
polluted by any mixture of less noble blood, the 
sons of Manco Capac married their own sisters, and 
no person was ever admitted to the throne who could 
not claim it by such a pure descent. To those 
Children of the Sun , for that was the appellation 
bestowed upon the offspring of the first inca, the 
people looked up with the reverence due to beings 
of a superior order. They were deemed to be under 
the immediate protection of the deity from whom 
they issued, and by him every order of the reigning 
inca was supposed to be dictated. 

Two remarkable From those ideas two consequences 

effects of tins. resu ited. The authority of the inca 

was unlimited and absolute, in the most extensive 
meaning of the words. Whenever the decrees of a 
prince are considered as the commands of the Divi¬ 
nity, it is not only an act of rebellion, but of impiety, 

The absolute t° dispute or oppose his will. Obedi- 
powerot themca. ence becomes a duty of religion ; and 

as it would be profane to control a monarch who 
is believed to be under the guidance of Heaven, and 
presumptuous to advise him, nothing remains but 
to submit with implicit respect. This must neces¬ 
sarily be the effect of every government established 
on pretensions of intercourse with superior powers. 


i Zarate, lib. i. c. 13. 


Such accordingly was the blind submission which 
the Peruvians yielded to their sovereigns. The per¬ 
sons of highest rank and greatest power in their 
dominions acknowledged them to be of a more ex¬ 
alted nature ; and in testimony of this, when admit¬ 
ted into their presence, they entered with a burden 
upon their shoulders, as an emblem of their servi¬ 
tude, and willingness to bear whatever the inca 
was pleased to impose. Among their subjects, force 
was not requisite to second their commands. Every 
officer intrusted with the execution of them was re¬ 
vered, and, according to the account* of an intelli¬ 
gent observerof Peruvian manners, he might proceed 
alone from one extremity of the empire to another 
without meeting opposition ; for, on producing a 
fringe from the royal borla, an ornament of the 
head peculiar to the reigning inca, the lives and 
fortunes of the people were at his disposal. 

Another consequence of establishing A n cr i mes pun j s h- 
government in Peru on the foundation e<1 ca P ltal b'- 
of religion was, that all crimes were punished capi¬ 
tally. They were not considered as transgressions 
of human laws, but as insults offered to the Deity. 
Each, without any distinction between such as were 
slight and such as were atrocious, called for ven¬ 
geance, and could be expiated only by the blood 
of the offender. Consonantly to the same ideas, 
punishment followed the trespass with inevitable 
certainty, because an offence against Heaven was 
deemed such a high enormity as could not be par¬ 
doned. k Among a people of corrupted morals, 

maxims of jurisprudence so severe and unrelent¬ 
ing, by rendering men ferocious and desperate, 
would be more apt to multiply crimes than to re¬ 
strain them. But the Peruvians, of simple manners 
and unsuspicious faith, were held in such awe by 
this rigid discipline, that the number of offenders 
was extremely small. Veneration for monarchs, 
enlightened and directed, as they believed, by the 
divinity whom they adored, prompted them to 
their duty: the dread of punishment which they 
were taught to consider as unavoidable vengeance 
inflicted by offended Heaven, withheld them from 
evil. 

The system of superstition on which Milfl ,, enil , sof 
the incas ingrafted their pretensions to their rel| s* on - 
such high authority, was of a genius very different 
from that established among the Mexicans. Manco 
Capac turned the veneration of his followers entirely 
towards natural objects. The Sun, as the great 
source of light, of joy, and fertility in the creation, 
attracted their principal homage. The Moon and 
Stars, as co-operating with him, were entitled to 
secondary honours. Wherever the propensity in 
the human mind to acknowledge and to adore some 
superior power takes this direction, and is employed 
in contemplating the order and beneficence that 
really exist in nature, the spirit of superstition is 
mild. Wherever imaginary beings, created by the 
fancy and the fears of men, are supposed to preside 

k Ve ea, lib. ii. c. 6. 



BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


in nature, and become the objects of worship, super¬ 
stition always assumes a more severe and atrocious 
form. Of the latter we have an example among the 
Mexicans, of the former among the people of Peru. 
The Peruvians had not, indeed, made such progress 
in observation or inquiry, as to have attained just 
conceptions of the Deity ; nor was there in their 
language any proper name or appellation of the 
Supreme Power, which intimated that they had 
formed any idea of him as the Creator and Governor 
of the world.i But by directing their veneration to 
that glorious luminary, which, by its universal and 
vivifying energy, is the best emblem of divine bene¬ 
ficence, the rites and observances which they deem¬ 
ed acceptable to him were innocent and humane. 
They offered to the sun a part of those productions 
which his genial warmth had called forth from the 
bosom of the earth, and reared to maturity. They 
sacrificed, as an oblation of gratitude, some of the 
animals which were indebted to his influence for 
nourishment. They presented to him choice speci¬ 
mens of those works of ingenuity which his light 
had guided the hand of man in forming. But the 
incas never stained his altars with human blood, 
nor could they conceive that their beneficent father, 
the sun, would be delighted with such horrid vic¬ 
tims. ,n Thus the Peruvians, unacquainted with 
those barbarous rites which extinguish sensibility, 
and suppress the feelings of nature at the sight of 
human sufferings, were formed by the spirit of the 
superstition which they had adopted, to a national 
character more gentle than that of any people in 
America. 


Its influence on The influence of this superstition 
civil policy, operated in the same manner upon 

their civil institutions, and tended to correct in 
them whatever was adverse to gentleness of cha¬ 
racter. The dominion of the incas, though the most 
absolute of all despotisms, was mitigated by its 
alliance with religion. The mind was not humbled 
and depressed by the idea of a forced subjection to 
the will of a superior: obedience, paid to one who 
was believed to be clothed with divine authority, 
was willingly yielded, and implied no degradation. 
The sovereign, conscious that the submissive reve¬ 
rence of his people flowed from their belief of his 
heavenly descent, was continually reminded of a 
distinction which prompted him to imitate that 
beneficent power which he was supposed to repre¬ 
sent. In consequence of those impressions, there 
hardly occurs in the traditional history of Peru, any 
instance of rebellion against the reigning prince, 
and, among twelve successive monarchs, there was 
not one tyrant. 

.. Even the wars in which the incas 

and on their 

military system. eil g a g e( j[ were carried on with a spirit 
very different from that of other American nations. 
They fought not, like savages, to destroy and to 
exterminate ; or, like the Mexicans, to glut blood¬ 


I Acosta, lib. v. c. 3. m See Note CLVII. 

n Heriera, dec. 7• lib. iv. c. 4. Vega, lib. v. c. 12. 

3 P 


thirsty divinities with human sacrifices. They 
conquered, in order to reclaim and civilize the 
vanquished, and to diffuse the knowledge of their 
own institutions and arts. Prisoners seem not to 
have been exposed to the insults and tortures which 
were their lot in every other part of the New 
World. The incas took the people whom they 
subdued under their protection, and admitted them 
to a participation of all the advantages enjoyed 
by their original subjects. This practice, so re¬ 
pugnant to American ferocity, and resembling the 
humanity of the most polished nations, must be 
ascribed, like other peculiarities which we have 
observed in the Peruvian manners, to the genius of 
their religion. The incas, considering the homage 
paid to any other object than to the heavenly powers 
which they adored as impious, were fond of gaining 
proselytes to their favourite system. The idols of 
every conquered province were carried in triumph 
to the great temple at Cuzco, n and placed there as 
trophies of the superior power of the divinity who 
was the protector of the empire. The people were 
treated with lenity, and instructed in the religious 
tenets of their new masters, 0 that the conqueror 
might have the glory of having added to the number 
of the votaries of his father the sun. 

The state of property in Peru was no p ecu i; ar state 
less singular than that of religion, and ot proper1y ' 
contributed, likewise, towards giving a mild turn 
of character to the people. All the lands capable 
of cultivation were divided into three shares. One 
was consecrated to the sun, and the product of it 
was applied to the erection of temples, and furnish¬ 
ing what was requisite towards celebrating the 
public rites of religion. The second belonged to the 
inca, and was set apart as the provision made by the 
community for the support of government. The 
third and largest share was reserved for the main¬ 
tenance of the people, among whom it was parcelled 
out. Neither individuals, however, nor communi¬ 
ties, had a right of exclusive property in the portion 
set apart for their use. They possessed it only for 
a year, at the expiration of which a new division 
was made, in proportion to the rank, the number, 
and exigencies of each family. All those lands 
were cultivated by the joint industry of the com¬ 
munity. The people, summoned by a proper officer, 
repaired in a body to the fields, and performed their 
common task, while songs and musical instruments 

cheered them to their labour.P By this 

I J. . ., ,. r , .. Effects of this, 

singular distribution ot territory, as 

well as by the mode of cultivating it, the idea of a 

common interest, and of mutual subserviency, was 

continually inculcated. Each individual felt his 

connexion with those around him, and knew that 

he depended on their friendly aid for what increase 

he was to reap. A state thus constituted may be 

considered as one great family, in which the union 

of the members was so complete, and the exchange 


o Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iv. c. 8. 
p Ibid. c. 2. Vega, lib. v. c. 5. 



1)46 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK VII. 


State of arts. 


of good offices so perceptible, as to create stronger 
attachment, and to bind man to man in closer inter¬ 
course, than subsisted under any form of society 
established in America. From this resulted gentle 
manners, and mild virtues unknown in the savage 
state, and with which the Mexicans were little ac¬ 
quainted. 

inequality Of But > though the institutions of the 
ranks. incas were so framed as to strengthen 
the bonds of affection among their subjects, there 
was great inequality in their condition. The dis¬ 
tinction of ranks was fully established in Peru. A 
great body of the inhabitants, under the denomina¬ 
tion of Yanaconas, were held in a state of servitude. 
Their garb and houses were of a form different from 
those of freemen. Like the Tanneries of Mexico, 
they were employed in carrying burdens, and in 
performing every other work of drudgery. 4 ! Next 
to them in rank, were such of the people as were 
free, but distinguished by no official or hereditary 
honours. Above them were raised, those whom the 
Spaniards call Or ej ones, from the ornaments worn 
in their ears. They formed what may be denomi¬ 
nated the order of nobles, and in peace as well as 
war held every office of power or trust/ At the 
head of all were the children of the sun, who, by 
their high descent and peculiar privileges, were as 
much exalted above the orejones, as these were 
elevated above the people. 

Such a form of society, from the 
union of its members, as well as from 
the distinction in their ranks, was favourable to 
progress in the arts. But the Spaniards, having been 
acquainted with the improved state of various arts 
in Mexico, several years before they discovered 
Peru, w^ere not so much struck with what they 
observed in the latter country, and describe the 
appearances of ingenuity there with less warmth of 
admiration. The Peruvians, nevertheless, had ad¬ 
vanced far beyond the Mexicans, both in the neces¬ 
sary arts of life, and in such as have some title to 
the name of elegant. 

improved state of In Peru ’ agriculture, the art of pri- 

agricuiture. raar y necessity in social life, was more 

extensive, and carried on with greater skill, than in 
any part of America. The Spaniards, in their pro¬ 
gress through the country, were so fully supplied 
with provisions of every kind, that in the relation of 
their adventures we meet with few of those dismal 
scenes of distress occasioned by famine, in which 
the conquerors of Mexico were so often involved. 
The quantity of soil under cultivation was not left 
to the discretion of individuals, but regulated by 
public authority, in proportion to the exigencies of 
the community. Even the calamity of an unfruit¬ 
ful season was but little felt, for the product of the 
lands consecrated to the sun, as well as those set 
apart for the incas, being deposited in the Tambos, 
or public storehouses, it remained there as a stated 

q Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iii. c. 4. lib. x. c. 8. 

r Ibid. lib. iv. c. 1. 

s Zarate, lib. i. c. 14. Vega, lib. i. c. 8. 


provision for times of scarcity/ As the extent of 
cultivation was determined with such provident 
attention to the demands of the state, the invention 
and industry of the Peruvians were called forth to 
extraordinary exertions, by certain defects peculiar 
to their climate and soil. All the vast rivers that 
How from the Andes take their course eastward to 
the Atlantic Ocean. Peru is watered only by some 
streams which rush down from the mountains like 
torrents. A great part of the low country is sandy 
and barren, and never refreshed with rain. In 
order to render such an unpromising region fertile, 
the ingenuity of the Peruvians had recourse to 
various expedients. By means of artificial canals, 
conducted with much patience and considerable 
art, from the torrents that poured across their coun¬ 
try, they conveyed a regular supply of moisture to 
their fields/ They enriched the soil by manuring 
it with the dung of sea-fowls, of which they found 
an inexhaustible store on all the islands scattered 
along the coasts. u In describing the customs of 
any nation thoroughly civilized, such practices 
would hardly draw attention, or be mentioned as in 
any degree remarkable; but in the history of the 
improvident race of men in the New World, they 
are entitled to notice as singular proofs of industry 
and of art. The use of the plough, indeed, was 
unknown to the Peruvians. They turned up the 
earth with a kind of mattock of hard wood. x Nor 
was this labour deemed so degrading as to be de¬ 
volved wholly upon the women. Both sexes joined 
in performing this necessary work. Even the chil¬ 
dren of the sun set an example of industry, by 
cultivating a field near Cuzco with their own hands, 
and they dignified this function by denominating it 
their triumph over the earth.z 

The superior ingenuity of the Peru¬ 
vians is obvious, likewise, in the con¬ 
struction of their houses and public buildings. In 
the extensive plains which stretch along the Pacific 
Ocean, where the sky is perpetually serene, and the 
climate mild, their houses were very properly of a 
fabric extremely slight. But in the higher regions, 
where rain falls, where the vicissitude of seasons is 
known, and their rigour felt, houses w ere constructed 
with greater solidity. They were generally of a 
square form, the walls about eight feet high, built 
with bricks hardened in the sun, without any 
windows, and the door low and strait. Simple 
as these structures w ere, and rude as the materials 
may seem to be of which they w ere formed, they 
were so durable, that many of them still subsist in 
difierent parts of Peru, long after every monument 
that might have conveyed to us any idea of the do¬ 
mestic state of the other American nations has va¬ 
nished from the face of the earth. But it was in the 
temples consecrated to the sun, and in the buildings 
destined for the residence of their monarchs, that 
the Peruvians displayed the utmost extent of their 

t Zarate, lib. i. c. 4. Vega, lib. v. c. 1 and 24. 

u Acosta, lib. iv. c. 37. Vega, lib. v. c. 3. See Note CLVIII. 

x Zarate, lib. l. c. 8. y Vega, lib. v. c. 2. 


Their buildings. 



BOOK VII. 


947 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


art and contrivance. The descriptions of them by 
such of the Spanish writers as had an opportu¬ 
nity of contemplating them, while in some measure 
entire, might have appeared highly exaggerated, if 
the ruins which still remain did not vouch the truth 
of their relations. These ruins of sacred or royal 
buildings are found in every province of the empire, 
and by their frequency demonstrate that they are 
monuments of a powerful people, who must have 
subsisted, during a period of some extent, in a state 
of no inconsiderable improvement. They appear to 
have been edifices various in their dimensions. Some 
of a moderate size, many of immense extent, all 
remarkable for solidity, and resembling each other 
in the style of architecture. The temple of Pacha- 
camac, together with a palace of the inca, and a 
fortress, were so connected together as to form one 
great structure, above half a league in circuit. In 
this prodigious pile, the same singular taste in 
building is conspicuous as in other works of the 
Peruvians. As they were unacquainted with the 
use of the pulley, and other mechanical powers, and 
could not elevate the large stones and bricks which 
they employed in building to any considerable 
height, the walls of this edifice, in which they seem 
to have made their greatest effort towards magnifi¬ 
cence, did not rise above twelve feet from the 
ground. Though they had not discovered the use 
of mortar, or of any other cement in building, the 
bricks or stones were joined with so much nicety, 
that the seams can hardly be discerned. 2 The apart¬ 
ments, as far as the distribution of them can be 
traced in the ruins, were ill disposed, and afforded 
little accommodation. There was not a single win¬ 
dow in any part of the building; and as no light 
could enter but by the door, all the apartments of 
largest dimensions must either have been perfectly 
dark, or illuminated by some other means. But 
with all these, and many other imperfections that 
might be mentioned in their art of building, the 
works of the Peruvians which still remain, must 
be considered as stupendous efforts of a people un¬ 
acquainted with the use of iron, and convey to us 
a high idea of the power possessed by their ancient 
monarchs. 


Their public 
roads, 


These, however, w ere not the noblest 
or most useful works of the incas. The 
two great roads from Cusco to Quito, extending in 
an uninterrupted stretch above fifteen hundred miles, 
are entitled to still higher praise. The one was con¬ 
ducted through the interior and mountainous coun¬ 
try, the other through the plains on the sea-coast. 
From the language of admiration in which some of 
the early writers express their astonishment when 
they first viewed those roads, and from the more 
pompous description of later writers, who labour 
to support some favourite theory concerning Ame¬ 
rica, one might be led to compare this work of the 
incas to the famous military ways which remain as 


monuments of the Roman power; but in a country 
where there was no tame animal except the llama, 
which was never used for draught, and but little as 
a beast of burden, w here the high-roads were seldom 
trod by any but a human foot, no great degree of 
labour or art was requisite in forming them. The 
Peruvian roads were only fifteen feet in breadth, 1 
and in many places so slightly formed, that time 
has effaced every vestige of the course in which they 
fan. In the low country, little more seems to have 
been done than to plant trees, or to fix posts at cer¬ 
tain intervals, in order to mark the proper route to 
travellers. To open a path through the mountainous 
country w as a more arduous task. Eminences were 
levelled, and hollows filled up, and for the preser¬ 
vation of the road it w as fenced with a bank of turf. 
At proper distances, tambos, or storehouses, were 
erected for the accommodation of the inca and his 
attendants, in their progress through his dominions. 
From the manner in which the road was originally 
formed in this higher and more impervious region, 
it has proved more durable; and though, from 
the inattention of the Spaniards to every object 
but that of working their mines, nothing has 
been done towards keeping it in repair, its course 
may still be traced. b Such was the celebrated road 
of the incas; and even from this description, di¬ 
vested of every circumstance of manifest exaggera¬ 
tion, or of suspicious aspect, it must be considered 
as a striking proof of an extraordinary progress in 
improvement and policy. To the savage tribes of 
America, the idea of facilitating communication 
with places at a distance had never occurred. To 
the Mexicans it was hardly known. Even in the 
most civilized countries in Europe, men had ad¬ 
vanced far in refinement, before it became a regu¬ 
lar object of national police to form such roads as 
render intercourse commodious. It was a capital 
object of Roman policy to open a communication 
with all the provinces of their extensive empire, by 
means of those roads which are justly considered as 
one of the noblest monuments both of their wisdom 
and their power. But during the long reign of bar¬ 
barism, the Roman roads were neglected or destroy¬ 
ed ; and at the time when the Spaniards entered 
Peru, no kingdom in Europe could boast of any 
work of public utility that could be compared with 
the great roads formed by the incas. 

The formation of those roads intro- , , ., 

and bridges. 

duced another improvement in Peru 
equally unknown over all the rest of America. In 
its course from south to north, the road of the incas 
was intersected by all the torrents which roll from 
the Andes towards the Western ocean. From the 
rapidity of their course, as well as from the frequency 
and violence of their inundation, these were not 
fordable. Some expedient, however, was to be 
found for passing them. The Peruvians, from their 
unacquaintance with the use of arches, and their 

b Xerez, p. 189. 191. Zarate, lib. i. c. 13, 14. Vega, lib. ix. c. 13. 
Bourguer Voyage, p. 105. Ulloa Entretenemicntos, p. 365. 


z See Note CLIX. 
a Cieca, c. 60. 


3 p 2 



948 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VII. 


inability to work in wood, could not construct 
bridges either of stone or timber. But necessity, 
the parent of invention, suggested a device which 
supplied that defect. They formed cables of great 
strength, by twisting together some of the pliable 
withes or osiers, with which their country abounds ; 
six of these cables they stretched across the stream 
parallel to one another, and made them fast on each 
side. These they bound firmly together, by inter¬ 
weaving smaller ropes so close, as to form a com¬ 
pact piece of net-work, which being covered with 
branches of trees and earth, they passed along it with 
tolerable security . c Proper persons were appointed 
to attend at each bridge, to keep it in repair, and to 
assist passengers. 41 In the level country, where the 
rivers became deep and broad and still, they are pass¬ 
ed in Balzas , or lloats ; in the construction as well as 
navigation of which, the ingenuity of the Peruvians 
appears to be far superior to that of any people in 
America. These had advanced no further in naval 
skill than the use of the paddle, or oar; the Peru¬ 
vians ventured to raise a mast, and spread a sail, by 
means of which their balzas not only went nimbly 
before the wind, but could veer and tack with great 
celerity.* 

Mode of refining Nor were tlie ingenuity and art of 
silver ore. the p eruv j ans confined solely to ob¬ 
jects of essential utility. They had made some pro¬ 
gress in arts, which may be called elegant. They 
possessed the precious metals in greater abundance 
than any people of America. They obtained gold 
in the same manner with the Mexicans, by search¬ 
ing in the channels of rivers, or washing the earth 
in which particles of it were contained. But in 
order to procure silver, they exerted no inconsider¬ 
able degree of skill and invention. They had not, 
indeed, attained the art of sinking a shaft into the 
bowels of the earth, and penetrating to the riches 
concealed there ; but they hollowed deep caverns 
on the banks of rivers and the sides of mountains, 
and emptied such veins as did not dip suddenly be¬ 
yond their reach. In other places, where the vein 
lay near the surface, they dug pits to such a depth, 
that the person who worked below could throw out 
the ore, or hand it up in baskets/ They had dis¬ 
covered the art of smelting and refining this, either 
by the simple application of fire, or where the ore 
was more stubborn, and impregnated with foreign 
substances, by placing it in small ovens or furnaces, 
on high grounds, so artificially constructed, that the 
draught of air performed the function of a bellows, 
an engine with which they were totally unacquaint¬ 
ed. By this simple device, the purer ores were 
smelted with facility, and the quantity of silver in 
Peru was so considerable, that many of the utensils 
employed in the functions of eommon life were made 
of it. g Several of those vessels and trinkets are 
said to have merited no small degree of estimation, 


on account of the neatness of the workmanship, as 
well as the intrinsic value of the materials. But as 
the conquerors of America were well acquainted 
with the latter, but had scarcely any conception of 
the former, most of the silver vessels and trinkets 
were melted down, and rated according to the weight 
and fineness of the metal in the division of the spoil. 

In other works of mere curiosity or works of eie- 
ornament, their ingenuity has been giince - 
highly celebrated. Many specimens of those have 
been dug out of the Guacas , or mounds of earth, with 
which the Peruvians covered the bodies of the dead. 
Among these are mirrors of various dimensions, of 
hard shining stones highly polished; vessels of 
earthenware of different forms ; hatchets, and other 
instruments, some destined for war, and others for 
labour; some were of flint, some of copper, hardened 
to such a degree by an unknowm process, as to supply 
the place of iron on several occasions. Had the use 
of those tools formed of copper been general, the pro¬ 
gress of the Peruvians in the arts might have been 
such as to emulate that of more cultivated nations. 
But either the metal was so rare, or the operation by 
which it was hardened so tedious, that their instru¬ 
ments of copper were few, and so extremely small, 
that they seem to have been employed only in 
slighter works. But even to such a circumscribed 
use of this imperfect metal, the Peruvians were in¬ 
debted for their superiority to the other people of 
America in various arts. 11 The same observation, 
however, may be applied to them, which I formerly 
made with respect to the arts of the Mexicans. 
From several specimens of Peruvian utensils and 
ornaments, which are deposited in the royal cabinet 
of Madrid, and from some preserved in different 
collections in other parts of Europe, I have reason 
to believe that the workmanship is more to be ad¬ 
mired on account of the rude tools with which it 
was executed, than on account of its intrinsic neat¬ 
ness and elegance; and that the Peruvians, though 
the most improved of all the Americans, were not 
advanced beyond the infancy of arts. 

But notwithstanding so many parti- Al? ^perfect 
culars which seem to indicate a high civilization, 
degree of improvement in Peru, other circumstances 
occur that suggest the idea of a society still in the 
first stages of its transition from barbarism to civi¬ 
lization. In all the dominions of the No cities but 
incas, Cuzco was the only place that Cuzco - 
had the appearance, or was entitled to the name, of 
a city. Everywhere else the people lived mostly 
in detached habitations, dispersed over the country, 
or, at the utmost, settled together in small villages. 1 
But until men are brought to assemble in numerous 
bodies, and incorporated in such close union, as to 
enjoy frequent intercourse, and to feel mutual de¬ 
pendence, they never imbibe perfectly the spirit, or 
assume the manners, of social life. In a country of 


c See Note CLX. 

d Sanclio ap. IIam. iii. 376. U. Zarate, lib. i. c. 14. Vega, lib. iii. c. 
7,8. Ilerrera, dec. o. lib. iv. c. 3, 4. 
e Ulloa Voy. i. 167, &c. f Ramusio, iii. 414. A, 


infernos' 6 258 ^' * V * C ‘ V® 8 a » P* 1. I*b. viii. c. 25. Ulloa Entretene- 

h Ulloa Voy. tom. i. 381, Arc. Id. Entreten. p. 369, Arc. 
i Zaiate, lib. i. c. 9. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. vi. c. 4. 




BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


949 


immense extent, with only one city, the progress of 
manners, and the improvement either of the neces¬ 
sary or more refined arts, must have been so slow, 
and carried on under such disadvantages, that it is 
more surprising the Peruvians should have ad¬ 
vanced so far in refinement, than that they did not 
proceed further. 

kT . A In consequence of this state of im- 

No perfect scpa- . 

sTonT of pro ' es ‘ perfect union, the separation of pro¬ 
fessions in Peru was not so complete 
as among the Mexicans. The less closely men as¬ 
sociate, the more simple are their manners, and the 
fewer their wants. The crafts of common and most 
necessary use in life do not, in such a state, become 
so complex or difficult, as to render it requisite that 
men should be trained to them by any particular 
course of education. All the arts, accordingly, 
which were of daily and indispensable utility, were 
exercised by every Peruvian indiscriminately. 
None but the artists employed in works of mere 
curiosity, or ornament, constituted a separate order 
of men, or were distinguished from other citizens. k 

l ittle commer- From the want of cities in Peru, 
tiai intercourse. ano th e r consequence followed. There 

was little commercial intercourse among the inha¬ 
bitants of that great empire. The activity of com¬ 
merce is coeval with the foundation of cities ; and 
from the moment that the members of any commu¬ 
nity settle in considerable numbers in one place, 
its operations become vigorous. The citizen must 
depend for subsistence on the labour of those who 
cultivate the ground. They, in return, must receive 
some equivalent. Thus mutual intercourse is es¬ 
tablished, and the productions of art are regularly 
exchanged for the fruits of agriculture. In the 
towns of the Mexican empire, stated markets were 
held, and whatever could supply any want or 
desire of man was an object of commerce. But 
in Peru, from the singular mode of dividing pro¬ 
perty, and the manner in which the people were 
settled, there was hardly any species of commerce 
carried on between different provinces,' and the 
community was less acquainted with that active 
intercourse, which is at once a bond of union, and 
an incentive to improvement. 

Unwarlike spirit But the unwarlike spirit of the Pe- 
ofthe Peruvians. ruv j ans was the most remarkable, as 

well as the most fatal, defect in their character.™ 
The greater part of the rude nations of America 
opposed their invaders with undaunted ferocity, 
though with little conduct or success. The Mexi¬ 
cans maintained the struggle in defence of their 
liberties with such persevering fortitude, that it was 
with difficulty the Spaniards triumphed over them. 
Peru was subdued at once, and almost without re¬ 
sistance ; and the most favourable opportunities of 
regaining their freedom, and of crushing their op¬ 
pressors, were lost through the timidity of the peo¬ 
ple. Though the traditional history of the Peruvians 

k Acosta, lib. vi. c. 15. Vega, lib. v. c. 9. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. iv. c. 4. 

1 Vega, lib. vi. c. 8. .... „ 

a i Xerez, 193. Sanchoap. Ram. m. 372. Ilerrera. dec. 5. lib. i. c. 3. 


represents all the incas as warlike princes, fre¬ 
quently at the head of armies, which they led to 
victory and conquest; few symptoms of such a 
martial spirit appear in any of their operations sub¬ 
sequent to the invasion of the Spaniards. The in- 
fl uence, perhaps, of those institutions which rendered 
their manners gentle, gave their minds this unmanly 
softness; perhaps the constant serenity and mild¬ 
ness of the climate may have enervated the vigour 
of their frame; perhaps some principle in their 
government, unknown to us, was the occasion of 
this political debility. Whatever may have been 
the cause, the fact is certain, and there is not an 
instance in history of any people so little advanced 
in refinement, so totally destitute of military enter¬ 
prise. This character hath descended to their pos¬ 
terity. The Indians of Peru are now more tame 
and depressed than any people of America. Their 
feeble spirits, relaxed in lifeless inaction, seem 
hardly capable of any bold or manly exertion. 

But, besides those capital defects in the political 
state of Peru, some detached circumstances and 
facts occur in the Spanish writers, which discover 
a considerable remainder of barbarity in their man¬ 
ners. A cruel custom, that prevailed in some of 
the most savage tribes, subsisted among the Peru¬ 
vians. On the death of the incas, and of other 
eminent persons, a considerable number of their 
attendants were put to death, and interred around 
their guacas, that they might appear in the next world 
with their former dignity, and be served with the 
same respect. On the death of Huona-Capac, 
the most powerful of their monarchs, above a thou¬ 
sand victims were doomed to accompany him to the 
tomb. n In one particular their manners appear 
to have been more barbarous than those of most 
rude tribes. Though acquainted with the use of 
fire in preparing maize, and other vegetables, for 
food, they devoured both flesh and fish perfectly 
raw, and astonished the Spaniards with a practice 
repugnant to the ideas of all civilized people." 

But though Mexico and Peru are 
the possessions of Spain in the New ofsp^in^nAme 5 
World, which, on account both of their nta ' 
ancient and present state, have attracted the great¬ 
est attention, her other dominions there are far 
from being inconsiderable, either in extent or value. 
The greater part of them was reduced to subjection 
during the first part of the sixteenth century, by 
private adventurers, who fitted out their small ar¬ 
maments either in Hispaniola or in Old Spain ; and 
were we to follow each leader in his progress, we 
should discover the same daring courage, the same 
persevering ardour, the same rapacious desire for 
wealth, and the same capacity for enduring and 
surmounting every thing in order to attain it, which 
distinguished the operations of the Spaniards in 
their greater American conquests. But instead of 
entering into a detail, which, from the similarity of 

n Acosta, lib. v. c. 7- 

o Xerez, p. 190. Satxcho. Ram. iii. 372. C. Herrera, dec. 5. lib, 
i. c. 3. 



950 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK VII. 


the transactions would appear almost a repetition 
of what lias been already related, I shall satisfy 
A , . . myself with such a view of those pro- 

A brief survey J „ , . . . 

of them. 'vinces of the Spanish empire in Ame¬ 
rica, which have not hitherto been mentioned, as 
may convey to my readers an adequate idea of its 
greatness, fertility, and opulence. 

I begin with the countries contigu- 
cenUo^the^mpire ous to the two great monarchies, of 
of Mexico. -whose history and institutions I have 

given some account, and shall then briefly describe 
the other districts of Spanish America. The juris¬ 
diction of the viceroy of New Spain extends over 
several provinces, which were not subject to the 

Cinaloa and So- dominion of the Mexicans. The coun- 
nora, &c. tries of Cinaloa and Sonora,that stretch 
along the east side of the Vermilion sea, or gulf 
of California, as well as the immense kingdoms of 
New Navarre and New Mexico, which bend towards 
the west and north, did not acknowledge the sove¬ 
reignty of Montezuma, or his predecessors. These 
regions, not inferior in magnitude to all the Mexican 
empire, are reduced, some to a greater, others to a 
less, degree of subjection to the Spanish yoke. They 
extend through the most delightful part of the tem¬ 
perate zone; their soil is, in general, remarkably 
fertile, and all their productions, whether animal or 
vegetable, are most perfect in their kind. They 
have all a communication either with the Pacific 
ocean, or with the gulf of Mexico, and are watered 
by rivers which not only enrich them, but may be¬ 
come subservient to commerce. The number of 
Spaniards settled in those vast countries is indeed 
extremely small. They may be said to have sub¬ 
dued rather than to have occupied them. But if 
the population in their ancient establishments in 
America shall continue to increase, they may gra¬ 
dually spread over those provinces, of which, how¬ 
ever inviting, they have not hitherto been able to 
take full possession. 

One circumstance may contribute 
to the speedy population of some dis¬ 
tricts. Very rich mines, both of gold and silver, 
have been discovered in many of the regions which 
I have mentioned. Wherever these are opened, and 
worked with success, a multitude of people resort. 
In order to supply them with the necessaries of life, 
cultivation must be increased, artisans of various 
kinds must assemble, and industry as well as wealth 
will be gradually diffused. Many examples of this 
have occurred in different parts of America since 
they fell under the dominion of the Spaniards. 
Populous villages and large towns have suddenly 
arisen amidst uninhabited wilds find mountains; 
and the working of mines, though far from being 
the most proper object towards which the attention 
of an infant society should be turned, may become 
the means both of promoting useful activity, and of 

a recent and augmenting the number of people. A 
remarkable dis- . 

covery. recent and singular instance of this 


Rich mines. 


has happened, which, as it is but little known in 
Europe, and may be productive of great effects, 
merits attention. The Spaniards settled in the 
provinces of Cinaloa and Sonora had been long 
disturbed by the depredations of some fierce tribes 
of Indians. In the year 1705, the incursions of 
those savages became so frequent, and so destruc¬ 
tive, that the Spanish inhabitants, in despair, 
applied to the marquis de Croix, viceroy of Mexico, 
for such a body of troops as might enable them to 
drive those formidable invaders from their places of 
retreat in the mountains. But the treasury of 
Mexico was so much exhausted by the large sums 
drawn from it, in order to support the late war 
against Great Britain, that the viceroy could afford 
them no aid. The respect due to his virtues accom¬ 
plished what his official power could not effect. He 
prevailed with the merchants of New Spain to ad¬ 
vance about two hundred thousand pesos for de¬ 
fraying the expense of the expedition. The war 
was conducted by an officer of abilities; and after 
being protracted for three years, chiefly by the 
difficulty of pursuing the fugitives over mountains 
and through defiles which were almost impassable, 
it terminated, in the year 1771, in the final submis¬ 
sion of the tribes which had been so long the object 
of terror to the two provinces. In the course of 
this service, the Spaniards marched through coun¬ 
tries into which they seem not to have penetrated 
before that time, and discovered mines of such 
value, as was astonishing even to men acquainted 
with the riches contained in the mountains of the 
New World. At Cineguilla, in the province of 
Sonora, they entered a plain of fourteen leagues in 
extent, in which, at the depth of only sixteen inches, 
they found gold in grains of such a size, that some 
of them weighed nine marks, and in such quan¬ 
tities, that in a short time, with a few labourers, 
they collected a thousand marks of gold in grains, 
even w ithout taking time to wash the earth that had 
been dug, which appeared to be so rich, that per¬ 
sons of skill computed that it might yield what 
would be equal in value to a million of pesos. Be¬ 
fore the end of the year 1771, above Probable effects 
two thousand persons were settled in of tlns * 
Cineguilla, under the government of proper magis¬ 
trates, and the inspection of several ecclesiastics. 
As several other mines, not inferior in richness to 
that of Cineguilla, have been discovered, both in 
Sonora and Cinaloa ,p it is probable that these neg¬ 
lected and thinly inhabited provinces may soon 
become as populous and valuable as any part of 
the Spanish empire of America. 

The peninsula of California, on the California- 
other side of the Vermilion sea, seems lts state » 
to have been less known to the ancient Mexicans 
than the provinces which I have mentioned. It was 
discovered by Cortes in the year 1536. q During a 
long period it continued to be so little frequented, 
that even its form was unknown, and in most charts 

q Book v. p, 895. 


p See NoteCLXI. 



BOOK VII 


951 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


it was represented as an island, not as a peninsula/ 
Though the climate of this country, if we may 
judge from its situation, must be very desirable, the 
Spaniards have made small progress in peopling it. 
Towards the close of the last century, the Jesuits, 
who had great merit in exploring this neglected 
province, and in civilizing its rude inhabitants, im¬ 
perceptibly acquired a dominion over it as complete 
as that which they possessed in their missions in 
Paraguay, and they laboured to introduce into it 
the same policy, and to govern the natives by the 
same maxims. In order to prevent the court of 
Spain Irom conceiving any jealousy of their designs 
and operations, they seem studiously to have depre¬ 
ciated the country, by representing the climate as 
so disagreeable and unwholesome, and the soil as 
so barren, that nothing but a zealous desire of con¬ 
verting the natives could have induced them to 
settle there.® Several public-spirited citizens en¬ 
deavoured to undeceive their sovereigns, and to 
give them a better view of California ; but in vain. 

and probability of At length, on the expulsion of the 
its improving. j esu jt s f rom the Spanish dominions, 

the court of Madrid, as prone at that juncture to 
suspect the purity of the order’s intentions, as form¬ 
erly to confide in them with implicit trust, appointed 
Don Joseph Galvez, whose abilities have since 
raised him to the high rank of minister for the 
Indies, to visit that peninsula. His account of the 
country was favourable ; he found the pearl-fishery 
on its coasts to be valuable, and he discovered mines 
of gold of a very promising appearance/ From 
its vicinity to Cinaloa and Sonora, it is probable, 
that if the population of these provinces shall in¬ 
crease in the manner which I have supposed, Ca¬ 
lifornia may, by degrees, receive from them such a 
recruit of inhabitants, as to be no longer reckoned 
among the desolate and useless districts of the 
Spanish empire. 

Yucatan and On the east of Mexico, Yucatan and 
Honduras. Honduras are comprehended in the 
government of New Spain, though anciently they 
can hardly be said to have formed a part of the 
Mexican empire. These large provinces, stretching 
from the bay of Campeachy beyond Cape Gracias a 
Dios, do not, like the other territories of Spain in the 
New World, derive their value either from the fer¬ 
tility of their soil, or the richness of their mines ; but 
they produce, in greater abundance than any part of 
America, the logwood-tree, which, in dying some 
colours, is so far preferable to any other material, 
that the consumption of it in Europe is consider¬ 
able, and it has become an article in commerce 
of great value. During a long period, no Euro¬ 
pean nation intruded upon the Spaniards in those 
provinces, or attempted to obtain any share in this 
branch of trade. But after the conquest of Jamaica 
by the English, it soon appeared that a formidable 
rival was now seated in the neighbourhood of the 


Their decline. 


and revival. 


Spanish territories. One of the first objects which 
tempted the English settled in that island, was the 
great profit arising from the logwood trade, and 
the facility of wresting some portion of it from the 
Spaniards. Some adventurers from 
Jamaica made the first attempt at 
Cape Catoche, the south-east promontory of Yuca¬ 
tan, and by cutting logwood there, carried on a 
gainful traffic. When most of the trees near the 
coast in that place were felled, they removed to the 
island of Trist, in the bay of Campeachy, and in 
later times, their principal station has been in the 
bay of Honduras. The Spaniards, alarmed at this 
encroachment, endeavoured by negociation, remon¬ 
strances, and open force, to prevent the English 
from obtaining any footing on that part of the Ame- 
can continent. But after struggling against it for 
more than a century, the disasters of last war ex¬ 
torted from the court of Madrid a reluctant consent 
to tolerate this settlement of foreigners in the heart 
of its territories . 11 The pain which this humbling 
concession occasioned, seems to have prompted the 
Spaniards to devise a method of rendering it of 
little consequence, more effectual than all the efforts 
of negociation or violence. The logwood produced 
on the west coast of Yucatan, where the soil is drier, 
is in quality far superior to that which grows on the 
marshy grounds where the English are settled. By 
encouraging the cutting of this, and 
permitting the importation of it into 
Spain without paying any dnty, x such vigour has 
been given to this branch of commerce, and the 
logwood which the English bring to market has 
sunk so much in value, that their trade to the bay 
of Honduras has gradually declined^ since it ob¬ 
tained a legal sanction ; and, it is probable, will 
soon be finally abandoned. In that event, Yucatan 
and Honduras will become possessions of consider¬ 
able importance to Spain. 

Still further east than Honduras lie C( , sta Rica 
the two provinces of Costa Rica and andVera § ua - 
Veragua, which likewise belong to the viceroyalty 
of New Spain ; but both have been so much neg¬ 
lected by the Spaniards, and are apparently cf 
such small value, that they merit no particular 
attention. 

The most important province de¬ 
pending on the viceroyalty of Peru is 
Chili. The incas had established their dominion 
in some of its northern districts ; but in the greater 
part of the country, its gallant and high-spirited 
inhabitants maintained their independence. The 
Spaniards, allured by the fame of its opulence, 
early attempted the conquest of it under Diego 
Almagro; and after his death, Pedro de Valdivia 
resumed the design. Both met w ith fierce opposi¬ 
tion. The former relinquished the enterprise in 
the manner which I have mentioned/ The latter, 
after having given many displays, both of courage 


Chili. 


r See Note CLXII. 
t Lorenzano, 340, 350. 


s Venegas, Hist, of California, i. 26. 

u t reaty of Paris, Art. xviii. 


x Real Cedula, Carnpomanes, iii. 145. 
y See Note CLXiil. z Book vi. p. 910. 




962 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK VII. 


and military skill, was cut off, together with a 
considerable body of troops under his command. 
Francisco de Villagra, Valdivia’s lieutenant, by 
his spirited conduct, checked the natives in their 
career, and saved the remainder of the Spaniards 
from destruction. By degrees, all the champaign 
country along the coast was subjected to the Spa¬ 
nish dominion. The mountainous country is still 
possessed by the Puelches, Araucos, and other 
tribes of its original inhabitants, formidable neigh¬ 
bours to the Spaniards ; with whom, during the 
course of two centuries, they have been obliged to 
maintain almost perpetual hostility, suspended only 
by a few intervals of insecure peace. 

That part of Chili, then, which may 

l^xcsl lcncc of" • 

its climate and properly be deemed a Spanish pro¬ 
vince, is a narrow district, extended 
along the coast from the desert of Atacamas to the 
island of Chiloe, above nine hundred miles. Its 
climate is the most delicious in the New World, 
and is hardly equalled by that of any region on the 
face of the earth. Though bordering on the torrid 
zone, it never feels the extremity of heat, being 
screened on the east by the Andes, and refreshed 
from the west by cooling sea-breezes. The tempe¬ 
rature of the air is so mild and equable, that the 
Spaniards give it the preference to that of the 
southern provinces in their native country. The 
fertility of the soil corresponds with the benignity 
of the climate, and is wonderfully accommodated 
to European productions. The most valuable of 
these, corn, wine, and oil, abound in Chili, as if 
they had been native to the country. All the fruits 
imported from Europe attain to full maturity there. 
The animals of our hemisphere not only multiply, 
but improve, in this delightful region. The horned 
cattle are of larger size than those of Spain. Its 
breed of horses surpasses, both in beauty and 
spirit, the famous Andalusian race from which they 
sprung. Nor has nature exhausted her bounty on 
the surface of the earth ; she has stored its bowels 
with riches. Valuable mines of gold, of silver, of 
copper, and of lead, have been discovered in various 
parts of it. 

A country distinguished by so many 

Cause of its being . , , J , , 

neglected by the blessings, we may be apt to conclude, 
would early become a favourite station 
of the Spaniards, and must have been cultivated 
with peculiar predilection and care. Instead of 
this, a great part of it remains unoccupied. In all 
this extent of country, there are not above eighty 
thousand white inhabitants, and about three times 
that number of negroes and people of a mixed 
race. The most fertile soil in America lies unculti¬ 
vated, and some of its most promising mines remain 
unwrought. Strange as this neglect of the Spa¬ 
niards to avail themselves of advantages which 
seemed to court their acceptance may appear, the 
causes of it can be traced. The only intercourse 
of Spain with its colonies in the South sea, was 

a Campomanes, ii. 157. 


carried on during two centuries by the annual fleet 
to Porto-Bello. All the produce of these colonies 
was shipped in the ports of Callao or Africa in 
Peru, for Panama, and carried from thence across 
the isthmus. All the commodities which they re¬ 
ceived from the mother-country were conveyed from 
Panama to the same harbours. Thus both the ex¬ 
ports and imports of Chili passed through the hands 
of merchants settled in Peru. These had of course 
a profit on each ; and in both transactions the Chi- 
lese felt their own subordination ; and having no 
direct intercourse with the parent state, they de¬ 
pended upon another province for the disposal of 
their productions, as well as for the supply of their 
wants. Under such discouragements, population 
could not increase, and industry was destitute of 
one chief incitement. But now that p rospect 0 f its 
Spain, from motives which I shall im P roveI1,ent - 
mention hereafter, has adopted a new system, and 
carries on her commerce with the colonies in the 
South sea, by ships which go round Cape Horn, a 
direct intercourse is opened between Chili and the 
mother-country. The gold, the silver, and the other 
commodities of the province, will be exchanged in 
its own harbours for the manufactures of Europe. 
Chili may speedily rise into that importance among 
the Spanish settlements to w hich it is entitled by 
its natural advantages. It may become the granary 
of Peru, and the other provinces along the Pacific 
ocean. It may supply them with wine, w ith cattle, 
w ith horses, w ith hemp, and many other articles for 
which they now depend upon Europe. Though the 
new system has been established only a few' years, 
those effects of it begin already to be observed. 1 
If it shall be adhered to with any steadiness for 
half a century, one may venture to foretell, that 
population, industry, and opulence, will advance 
in this province with rapid progress. 

To the east of the Andes, the pro- 

c m , tt j i Provinces of Tu- 

vinces ot lucuman and Rio de la cuman and i<io 

Plata border on Chili, and like it were de * Pla a ‘ 
dependent on the viceroyalty of Peru. These re¬ 
gions of immense extent stretch in length from 
north to south above thirteen hundred miles, and 
in breadth more than a thousand. This Northern and 
country, which is larger than most southern dlvlslon - 
European kingdoms, naturally forms itself into two 
great divisions, one on the north and the other on 
the south of Rio de la Plata. The former compre¬ 
hends Paraguay, the famous missions of the Jesuits, 
and several other districts. But as disputes have 
long subsisted between the courts of Spain and 
Portugal concerning its boundaries, which, it is 
probable, will be soon finally ascertained, either 
amicably, or by the decision of the sword, 1 choose 
to reserve my account of this northern division, 
until I enter upon the history of Portuguese Ame¬ 
rica, with which it is intimately connected ; and, in 
relating it, I shall be able, from authentic materials, 
supplied both by Spain and Portugal, to give a full 



BOOK VII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1)53 


and accurate description of the operations and views 
of the Jesuits, in rearing that singular fabric of 
policy in America, which has drawn so much at¬ 
tention, and has been so imperfectly understood. 
The latter division of the province contains the 
governments of Tucuman and Buenos Ayres, and 
to these I shall at present confine my observations. 

View of the The Spaniards entered this part of 
America by the river De la Plata ; and 
though a succession of cruel disasters befell them 
in their early attempts to establish their dominion 
in it, they were encouraged to persist in the design, 
at first by the hopes of discovering mines in the 
interior country, and afterwards by the necessity of 
occupying it, in order to prevent any other nation 
from settling there, and penetrating by this route 
into their rich possessions in Peru. But except at 
Buenos-Ayres, they have made no settlement of any 
consequence in all the vast space which I have 
mentioned. There are indeed, scattered over it, a 
few places on which they have bestowed the name 
of towns, and to which they have endeavoured to 
add some dignity, by erecting them into bishoprics; 
but they are no better than paltry villages, each 
with two or three hundred inhabitants. One cir¬ 
cumstance, however, which was not originally 
foreseen, has contributed to render this district, 
though thinly peopled, of considerable importance. 
The province of Tucuman, together with the coun¬ 
try to the south of the Plata, instead of being covered 
with wood like other parts of America, forms one 
extensive open plain, almost without a tree. The 
soil is a deep fertile mould, watered by many streams 
descending from the Andes, and clothed in per¬ 
petual verdure. In this rich pasturage, the horses 
and cattle imported by the Spaniards from Europe 
have multiplied to a degree which almost exceeds 
belief. This has enabled the inhabitants, not only 
to open a lucrative trade with Peru, by supplying it 
with cattle, horses, and mules, but to carry on a 
commerce no less beneficial, by the exportation of 
hides to Europe. From both the colony has derived 
great advantages. But its commodious situation 
for carrying on contraband trade, has been the chief 
source of its prosperity. While the court of Madrid 
adhered to its ancient system, with respect to its 
communication with America, the river De la Plata 
lay so much out of the course of Spanish naviga¬ 
tion, that interlopers, almost without any risk of 
being either observed or obstructed, could pour in 
European manufactures in such quantities, that 
they not only supplied the wants of the colony, but 
were conveyed into all the eastern districts of Peru. 
When the Portuguese in Brazil extended their 
settlements to the banks of Rio de la Plata, a new 
channel was opened, by which prohibited commo¬ 
dities flowed into the Spanish territories, with still 
more facility, and in greater abundance. This 
illegal traffic, however detrimental to the parent 
state, contributed to the increase of the settlement 
which had the immediate benefit of it, and Buenos- 


Darien. 


Ayres became gradually a populous and opulent 
town. What may be the effect of the alteration 
lately made in the government of this colony, the 
nature of which shall be described in the subsequent 
Book, cannot hitherto be known. 

All the other territories of Spain in other territories 
the New' World, the islands excepted, ot Spain ‘ 
of whose discovery and reduction I have formerly 
given an account, are comprehended under two 
great divisions ; the former denominated the king¬ 
dom of Tierra Firme, the provinces of w hich stretch 
along the Atlantic, from the eastern frontier of New 
Spain to the mouth of the Orinoco ; the latter, the 
new kingdom of Granada, situated in the interior 
country. With a short view of these I shall close 
this part of my work. 

To the east of Veragua, the last pro¬ 
vince subject to the viceroy of Mexico, 
lies the isthmus of Darien. Though it was in this 
part of the continent that the Spaniards first began 
to plant colonies, they have made no considerable 
progress in peopling it. As the country is extreme¬ 
ly mountainous, deluged with rain during a good 
part of the year, remarkably unhealthful, and con¬ 
tains no mines of great value, the Spaniards would 
probably have abandoned it altogether, if they had 
not been allured to continue by the excellence of 
the harbour of Porto-Bello on the one sea, and that 
of Panama on the other. These have been called 
the keys to the communication between the North 
and South sea, between Spain and her most valu¬ 
able colonies. In consequence of this advantage, 
Panama has become a considerable and thriving: 
town. The peculiar noxiousness of its climate has 
prevented Porto-Bello from increasing in the same 
proportion. As the intercourse with the settle¬ 
ments in the Pacific ocean is now carried on by 
another channel, it is probable that both Porto- 
Bello and Panama will decline, when no longer 
nourished and enriched by that commerce to which 
they were indebted for their prosperity, and even 
their existence. 

The provinces of Carthagena and Carthagena and 
Santa Martha stretch to the eastward Santa Martha - 
of the isthmus of Darien. The country still continues 
mountainous, but its valleys begin to expand, are 
well watered, and extremely fertile. Pedro de He¬ 
redia subjected this part of America to the crown 
of Spain, about the year 1532. It is thinly peopled, 
and of course ill cultivated. It produces, however, 
a variety of valuable drugs, and some precious 
stones, particularly emeralds. But its chief im¬ 
portance is derived from the harbour of Carthagena, 
the safest and best fortified of any in the American 
dominions of Spain. In a situation so favourable, 
commerce soon began to flourish. As early as the 
year 1544 it seems to have been a town of some 
note. But when Carthagena was chosen as the 
port in which the galeons should first begin to trade 
on their arrival from Europe, and to which they 
were directed to return, in order to prepare for their 



954 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VII. 


voyage homeward, the commerce of its inhabitants 
was so much favoured by this arrangement, that it 
soon became one of the most populous, opulent, 
and beautiful cities in America. There is, how¬ 
ever, reason to apprehend, that it has reached its 
highest point of exaltation, and that it will be so 
far afTected by the change in the Spanish system of 
trade with America, which has withdrawn from it 
the desirable visits of the galeons, as to feel at least 
a temporary decline. But the wealth now collected 
there will soon find or create employment for itself, 
and may be turned with advantage into some new 
channel. Its harbour is so safe, and so conveniently 
situated for receiving commodities from Europe, 
its merchants have been so long accustomed to 
convey these into all the adjacent provinces, that 
it is probable they will still retain this branch of 
trade, and Carthagena continue to be a city of great 
importance. 

The province contiguous to Santa 

"V enezuela. 

Martha on the east, was first visited by 
Alonso de Ojeda, in the year 1499 ; b and the Span¬ 
iards, on their landing there, having observed some 
huts in an Indian village built upon piles, in order 
to raise them above the stagnated water which 
covered the plain, were led to bestow upon it the 
name of Venezuela, or Little Venice, by their usual 
propensity to find a resemblance between what they 
discovered in America, and the objects which were 
familiar to them in Europe. They made some 
attempts to settle there, but with little success. The 
final reduction of the province was accomplished 
by means very different from those to which Spain 
was indebted for its other acquisitions in the New 
World. The ambition of Charles V. often engaged 
him in operations of such variety and extent, that 
his revenues were not sufficient to defray the ex¬ 
pense of carrying them into execution. Among 
other expedients for supplying the deficiency of 
his funds, he had borrowed large sums from the 
Velsers of Augsburg, the most opulent merchants at 
that time in Europe. By way of retribution for 
these, or in hopes, perhaps, of obtaining a new loan, 
he bestowed upon them the province of Venezuela, 
to be held as an hereditary fief from the crown of 
Castile, on condition that within a limited time they 
should render themselves masters of the country, 
and establish a colony there. Under the direction 
of such persons, it might have been expected that a 
settlement would have been established on maxims 
very different from those of the Spaniards, and better 
calculated to encourage such useful industry as 
mercantile proprietors might have known to be the 
most certain source of prosperity and opulence. 
But unfortunately they committed the execution of 
their plan to some of those soldiers of fortune with 
which Germany abounded in the sixteenth century. 
These adventurers, impatient to amass riches, that 
they might speedily abandon a station which they 

soon discovered to be very uncomfortable, instead 
of planting a colony in order to cultivate and 
improve the country, wandered from district to 
district in search of mines, plundering the natives 
with unfeeling rapacity, or oppressing them by the 
imposition of intolerable tasks. In the course of a 
few years, their avarice and exactions, in comparison 
with which those of the Spaniards were moderate, 
desolated the province so completely, that it could 
hardly afford them subsistence, and the Velsers 
relinquished a property from which the inconsiderate 
conduct of their agents left them no hope of ever 
deriving any advantage. 0 When the wretched re¬ 
mainder of the Germans deserted Venezuela, the 
Spaniards again took possession of it; but notwith¬ 
standing many natural advantages, it is one of their 
most languishing and unproductive settlements. 

The provinces of Caraccas and Cu- caraccasand 
mana are the last of the Spanish Cumana. 

territories on this coast; but in relating the origin 
and operations of the mercantile company, in which 
an exclusive right of trade with them has been 
vested, I shall hereafter have occasion to consider 
their state and productions. 

The new kingdom of Granada is New kingdom 
entirely an inland country of great ot Granada, 
extent. This important addition was made to the 
dominions of Spain about the year 153G, by Sebas¬ 
tian de Benalcazar and Gonzalo Ximenes de Que- 
sada, two of the bravest and most accomplished 
officers employed in the conquest of America. The 
former, who commanded at that time in Quito, 
attacked it from the south ; the latter made his 
invasion from Santa Martha on the north. As the 
original inhabitants of this region were further 
advanced in improvement than any people in Ame¬ 
rica but the Mexicans and Peruvians, d they defend¬ 
ed themselves with great resolution and good 
conduct. The abilities and perseverance of Benal¬ 
cazar and Quesada surmounted all opposition, 
though not without encountering many dangers, 
and reduced the country into the form of a Spanish 
province. 

The new kingdom of Granada is so far elevated 
above the level of the sea, that though it approaches 
almost to the equator, the climate is remarkably 
temperate. The fertility of its valleys is not inferior 
to that of the richest districts in America, and its 
higher grounds yield gold and precious stones of 
various kinds. It is not by digging into the bowels 
of the earth that this gold is found ; it is mingled 
with the soil near the surface, and separated from 
it by repeated washing with water. This operation 
is carried on wholly by negro slaves ; for though the 
chill subterranean air has been discovered, by ex¬ 
perience, to be so fatal to them, that they cannot be 
employed with advantage in the deep silver mines, 
they are more capable of performing the other 
species of labour than Indians. As the natives in 

b Book ii. p. 771 . 

c Oviedo y Bagnos, Hist, de Venezuela, p. 11, &c. 

d Book iv. p. 829, &c. 

/ 




BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


955 


the new kingdom of Granada are exempt from that 
service, which 1ms wasted their race so rapidly in 
other parts of America, the country is still remark¬ 
ably populous. Some districts yield gold with a 
prolusion no less wonderful than that in the vale of 
Cineguilla, which I have formerly mentioned, and 
it is often found in large pepitas , or grains, which 
manifest the abundance in which it is produced. 
On a rising ground near Pamplona, single labourers 
have collected in a day what was equal in value to 
a thousand pesos. 6 A late governor of Santa Fe 
brought with him to Spain a lump of pure gold, 
estimated to be worth seven hundred and forty 
pounds sterling. This, which is, perhaps, the 
largest and finest specimen ever found in the New 
World, is now deposited in the royal cabinet of 
Madrid. But without founding any calculation on 
what is rare and extraordinary, the value of the 
gold usually collected in this country, particularly 
in the provinces of Popayan and Choco, is of con¬ 
siderable amount. Its towns are populous and 
flourishing. The number of inhabitants in almost 
every part of the country daily increases. Cultiva¬ 
tion and industry of various kinds begin to be 
encouraged, and to prosper. A considerable trade 
is carried on with Carthagena, the produce of the 
mines, and other commodities, being conveyed down 
the great river of St. Magdalene to that city. On 
another quarter, the new kingdom of Granada has a 
communication with the Atlantic by the river 
Orinoco ; but the country which stretches along its 
banks towards the east, is little known, and imper¬ 
fectly occupied by the Spaniards. 


BOOK VIII. 


view of the After tracing the progress of the 
policy ami jrade Spaniards in their discoveries and 
colonies. conquests during more than half a 

century, I have conducted them to that period when 
their authority was established over almost all the 
vast regions in the New World still subject to their 
dominion. The effect of their settlements upon the 
countries of which they took possession, the maxims 
which they adopted in forming their new colonies, 
the interior structure and policy of these, together 
with the influence of their progressive improvement 
upon the parent state, and upon the commercial 
intercourse of nations, are the objects to which we 


now turn our attention. 


Depopulation of 
America, the 
first effect of 
them. 


The first visible consequence of the 
establishments made by the Spaniards 
in America, was the diminution of the 


ancient inhabitants, to a degree equally astonishing 
and deplorable. I have already, on different oc¬ 
casions, mentioned the disastrous influence under 
which the connexion of the Americans with the 


people of our hemisphere commenced, both in the 
islands and in several parts of the continent, and 
have touched upon various causes of their rapid 
consumption. Wherever the inhabitants of America 
had resolution to take arms in defence of their 
liberty and rights, many perished in the unequal 
contest, and were cut off by their fierce invaders. 
But the greatest desolation followed after the sword 
was sheathed, and the conquerors were settled in 
tranquillity. It was in the islands, causes of this in 
and in those provinces of the continent, some'parts’ oTthe 
which stretch from the gulf of Trini- continent; 
dad to the confines of Mexico, that the fatal effects 
of the Spanish dominion were first and most sensibly 
felt. All these were occupied either by wandering 
tribes of hunters, or by such as had made but small 
progress in cultivation and industry. When they 
were compelled by their new masters to take up a 
fixed residence, and to apply to regular labour; 
when tasks were imposed upon them dispropor- 
tioned to their strength, and were exacted with 
unrelenting severity, they possessed not vigour 
either of mind or of body to sustain this unusual 
load of oppression. Dejection and despair drove 
many to end their lives by violence. Fatigue and 
famine destroyed more. In all those extensive 
regions, the original race of inhabitants, wasted 
away; in some it was totally extinguished. In 
Mexico, where a powerful and martial people dis¬ 
tinguished their opposition to the Spaniards by 
efforts of courage worthy of a better fate, great 
numbers fell in the field ; and there, as well as in 
Peru, still greater numbers perished under the hard¬ 
ships of attending the Spanish armies in their vari¬ 
ous expeditions and civil wars, worn out with the 
incessant toil of carrying their baggage, provisions, 
and military stores. 

But neither the rage nor cruelty of in New Spain 
the Spaniards was so destructive to and Peru - 
the people of Mexico and Peru as the inconsiderate 
policy with which they established their new settle¬ 
ments. The former were temporary calamities, 
fatal to individuals: the latter was a permanent 
evil, which, with gradual consumption, wasted the 
nation. When the provinces of Mexico and Peru 
were divided among the conquerors, each was eager 
to obtain a district from which he might expect 
an instantaneous recompence for all his services. 
Soldiers, accustomed to the carelessness and dissi¬ 
pation of a military life, had neither industry to 
carry on any plan of regular cultivation, nor patience 
to wait for its slow but certain returns. Instead of 
settling in the valleys occupied by the natives, 
where the fertility of the soil would have amply 
rewarded the diligence of the planter, they chose 
to fix their stations in some of the mountainous 
regions, frequent both in New Spain and in Peru. 
To search for mines of gold and silver, was the 
chief object of their activity. The prospects which 
this opens, and the alluring hopes which it con- 


e Piedrahita, Hist, del N. Reyno, p. 481. MS. penes me. 






95G 


BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


tinually presents, correspond wonderfully with the 
spirit of enterprise and adventure that animated the 
first emigrants to America in every part of their 
conduct. In order to push forward those favourite 
projects, so many hands were wanted, that the 
service of the natives became indispensably re¬ 
quisite. They were accordingly compelled to aban¬ 
don their ancient habitations in the plains, and 
driven in crowds to the mountains. This sudden 
transition from the sultry climate of the valleys to 
the chill penetrating air peculiar to high lands in 
the torrid zone ; exorbitant labour, scanty or un¬ 
wholesome nourishment, and the despondency oc¬ 
casioned by a species of oppression to which they 
were not accustomed, and of which they saw no 
end, affected them nearly as much as their less 
industrious countrymen in the islands. They sunk 
under the united pressure of those calamities, and 
melted away with almost equal rapidity. 51 In con¬ 
sequence of this, together with the introduction of 
the small-pox, a malady unknown in America, and 
extremely fatal to the natives, b the number of people 
both in New Spain and Peru was so much reduced, 
that in a few years the accounts of their ancient 
population appeared almost incredible. 0 

, „ Such are the most considerable 

Not the result of 

any system of events and causes which, by their com- 
policy; J l 

bined operation, contributed to depo- 
pulate America. Without attending to these, many 
authors, astonished at the suddenness of the deso¬ 
lation, have ascribed this unexampled event to a 
system of policy no less profound than atrocious. 
The Spaniards, as they pretend, conscious of their 
own inability to occupy the vast regions which they 
had discovered, and foreseeing the impossibility of 
maintaining their authority over a people infinitely 
superior to themselves in number, in order to preserve 
the possession of America, resolved to exterminate 
the inhabitants, and, by converting a great part of 
the country into a desert, endeavoured to secure 
their own dominion over it. d But nations seldom 
extend their views to objects so remote, or lay their 
plans so deep; and for the honour of humanity we 
may observe, that no nation ever deliberately form¬ 
ed such an execrable scheme. The Spanish mo- 
narchs, far from acting upon any such system of 
destruction, were uniformly solicitous for the pre¬ 
servation of their new subjects. With Isabella, zeal 
for propagating the Christian faith, together with 
the desire of communicating the knowledge of truth, 
and the consolations of religion, to people destitute 
of spiritual light, were more than ostensible motives 
for encouraging Columbus to attempt his disco¬ 
veries. Upon his success, she endeavoured to fulfil 
her pious purpose, and manifested the most tender 
concern to secure not only religious instruction, but 
mild treatment, to that inoffensive race of men sub¬ 
jected to her crown. 6 Her successors adopted the 
same ideas ; and on many occasions, which I have 

a Torquemada, i. 613. 

b B. Diaz, c. 124. Herrera, dec. 2. Ub. x. c. 4. Ulloa Entreten. 206. 


mentioned, their authority was interposed, in the 
most vigorous exertions, to protect the people ot 
America from the oppression of their Spanish sub¬ 
jects. Their regulations for this purpose were nu¬ 
merous, and often repeated. They were framed 
with wisdom and dictated by humanity. After their 
possessions in the New World became so extensive 
as might have excited some apprehensions of diffi¬ 
culty in retaining their dominion over them, the 
spirit of their regulations was as mild as when their 
settlements were confined to the islands alone. Their 
solicitude to protect the Indians seems rather to 
have augmented as their acquisitions increased : 
and from ardour to accomplish this, they enacted 
and endeavoured to enforce the execution of laws, 
which excited a formidable rebellion in one of their 
colonies, and spread alarm and disaffection through 
all the rest. But the avarice of individuals was too 
violent to be controlled by the authority of laws. 
Rapacious and daring adventurers, far removed 
from the seat of government, little accustomed to 
the restraints of military discipline while in service, 
and still less disposed to respect the feeble juris¬ 
diction of civil power in an infant colony, despised 
or deluded every regulation that set bounds to their 
exactions and tyranny. The parent state, with per¬ 
severing attention, issued edicts to prevent the op¬ 
pression of the Indians ; the colonists, regardless 
of these, or trusting to their distance for impunity, 
continued to consider and treat them as slaves. The 
governors themselves, and other officers employed 
in the colonies, several of whom were as indigent 
and rapacious as the adventurers over whom they 
presided, w ere too apt to adopt their contemptuous 
ideas of the conquered people ; and, instead of 
checking, encouraged or connived at their excesses. 
The desolation of the New World should not then 
be charged on the court of Spain, or be considered 
as the effect of any system of policy adopted there. 
It ought to be imputed wholly to the indigent and 
often unprincipled adventurers, whose fortune it 
was to be the conquerors and first planters of Ame¬ 
rica, who, by measures no less inconsiderate than 
unjust, counteracted the edicts of their sovereign, 
and have brought disgrace upon their country. 

With still greater injustice have n0 r the effect of 
many authors represented the intole- rel ‘ Kl0n - 
rating spirit of the Roman catholic religion, as the 
cause of exterminating the Americans, and have 
accused the Spanish ecclesiastics of animating their 
countrymen to the slaughter of that innocent people, 
as idolaters and enemies of God. But the first mis¬ 
sionaries who visited America, though weak and 
illiterate, were pious men. They early espoused the 
defence of the natives, and vindicated their charac¬ 
ter from the aspersions of their conquerors, who, 
describing them as incapable of being formed to the 
offices of civil life, or of comprehending the doc¬ 
trines of religion, contended, that they were a sub- 

c Torquem. 615. 642, 613. See Note CLXIV. 

d See Note CLXV. e See Note CLXVI. 



BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


l)f>7 


ordinate race of men, on whom the hand of nature 
had set the mark of servitude. From the accounts 
which I have given of the humane and persevering 
zeal of the Spanish missionaries, in protecting the 
helpless flock committed to their charge, they ap¬ 
pear in a light which reflects lustre upon their func¬ 
tion. They were ministers of peace, who endeavoured 
to wrest the rod from the hands of oppressors. To 
their powerful interposition the Americans were in¬ 
debted for every regulation tending to mitigate the 
rigour of their fate. The clergy in the Spanish set¬ 
tlements, regular as well as secular, are still con¬ 
sidered by the Indians as their natural guardians, 
to whom they have recourse under the hardships 
and exactions to which they are too often exposed/ 
But, notwithstanding the rapid de- 

T!ie number of ’ _ . . ° ^ 

the Indians still population of America, a very con¬ 
siderable number of the native race 
still remains both in Mexico and Peru, especially 
in those parts which were not exposed to the first 
fury of the Spanish arms, or desolated by the first 
efforts of their industry, still more ruinous. In 
Guatimala, Chiapa, Nicaragua, and the other de¬ 
lightful provinces of the Mexican empire, which 
stretch along the South sea, the race of Indians is 
still numerous. Their settlements in some places 
are so populous, as to merit the name of cities.s 
In the three audiences into which New Spain is 
divided, there are at least two millions of Indians ; 
a pitiful remnant, indeed, of its ancient population, 
but such as still forms a body of people superior in 
number to that of all the other inhabitants of this 
extensive country. 11 In Peru several districts, par¬ 
ticularly in the kingdom of Quito, are occupied 
almost entirely by Indians. In other provinces they 
are mingled with the Spaniards, and in many of 
their settlements are almost the only persons who 
practise the mechanic arts, and fill most of the in¬ 
ferior stations in society. As the inhabitants both 
of Mexico and Peru were accustomed to a fixed 
residence, and to a certain degree of regular indus¬ 
try, less violence was requisite in bringing them to 
some conformity with the European modes of civil 
life. But wherever the Spaniards settled among 
the savage tribes of America, their attempts to in¬ 
corporate with them have been always fruitless, and 
often fatal to the natives. Impatient of restraint, 
and disdaining labour as a mark of servility, they 
either abandoned their original seats, and sought 
for independence in mountains and forests inacces¬ 
sible to their oppressors, or perished when reduced 
to a state repugnant to their ancient ideas and 
habits. In the districts adjacent to Carthagena, to 
Panama, and to Buenos-Ayres, the desolation is 
more general than even in those parts of Mexico 
and Peru of which the Spaniards have taken most 
full possession. 

General ideis of But ^ ie establishments of the Span- 
s'oain ia C rts cilo- i^ds in the New World, though fatal 
aiei ' to its ancient inhabitants, were made 


at a period when that monarchy was capable of 
forming them to best advantage. By the union of 
all its petty kingdoms, Spain was become a power¬ 
ful state, equal to so great an undertaking. Its 
monarchs, having extended their prerogatives far 
beyond the limits which once circumscribed the re¬ 
gal power in every kingdom of Europe, were hardly 
subject to control, either in concerting or in execut¬ 
ing their measures. In every wide-extended em¬ 
pire, the form of government must be simple, and 
the sovereign authority such, that its resolutions 
may be taken with promptitude, and may pervade 
the whole with sufficient force. Such was the power 
of the Spanish monarchs, when they were called to 
deliberate concerning the mode of establishing their 
dominion over the most remote provinces which had 
ever been subjected to any European state. In this 
deliberation, they felt themselves under no con¬ 
stitutional restraint, and that, as independent mas¬ 
ters of their own resolves, they might issue the edicts 
requisite for modelling the government of the new 
colonies, by a mere act of prerogative. 

This early interposition of the Span- 

• , . , , , . Early interposi- 

ish crow n, in order to regulate the po- tion of the regal 

i• , , , r , . . authority. 

licy and trade ot its colonies, is a pecu¬ 
liarity which distinguishes their progress from that 
of the colonies of any other European nation. 
When the Portuguese, the English, and French 
took possession of the regions in America which 
they now occupy, the advantages which these pro¬ 
mised to yield were so remote and uncertain, that 
their colonies were suffered to struggle through a 
hard infancy, almost without guidance or protection 
from the parent state. But gold and silver, the first 
productions of the Spanish settlements in the New 
World, were more alluring, and immediately attract¬ 
ed the attention of their monarchs. Though they 
had contributed little to the discovery, and almost 
nothing to the conquest, of the New World, they in¬ 
stantly assumed the function of its legislators ; and 
having acquired a species of dominion formerly un¬ 
known, they formed a plan for exercising it, to 
which nothing similar occurs in the history of hu¬ 
man affairs. 

The fundamental maxim of Spanish 
jurisprudence, with respect to Arne- p r operty ei vested 
rica, is to consider what has been ac- in the trown - 
quired there as vested in the crown, rather than in 
the state. By the bull of Alexander VT., on which, 
as its great charter, Spain founded its right, all the 
regions that had been or should be discovered were 
bestowed as a free gift upon Ferdinand and Isabella. 
They and their successors were uniformly held to 
be the universal proprietors of the vast territories 
which the arms of their subjects conquered in the 
New World. From them all grants of land there 
flowed, and to them they finally returned. The leaders 
who conducted the various expeditions, the gover¬ 
nors who presided over the different colonies, the 
officers of justice, and the ministers of religion, 


f See Note CI.XVII, 


g See Note CLXVIII. 


h See Note CLX1X. 




958 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


were all appointed by their authority, and remov¬ 
able at their pleasure. The people who composed 
infant settlements were entitled to no privileges in¬ 
dependent of the sovereign, or that served as a bar¬ 
rier against the power of the crown. It is true, 
that when towns were built, and formed into bodies 
corporate, the citizens were permitted to elect their 
own magistrates, who governed them by laws which 
the community enacted. Even in the most despotic 
states this feeble spark of liberty is not extinguish¬ 
ed. But in the cities of Spanish America, this ju¬ 
risdiction is merely municipal, and is confined to 
the regulation of their own interior commerce and 
police. In whatever relates to public government, 
and the general interest, the will of the sovereign 
is law. No political power originates from the 
people. All centres in the crown, and in the offi¬ 
cers of its nomination. 

All the new do- When the conquests of the Span- 
su'bjected*to^two* i ar( ^ s in America were completed, 
viceroys. their monarchs, in forming the plan of 

internal policy for their new dominions, divided 
them into two immense governments, one subject to 
the viceroy of New Spain, the other to the viceroy 
of Peru. The jurisdiction of the former extended 
over all the provinces belonging to Spain in the 
northern division of the American continent. Un¬ 
der that of the latter, was comprehended whatever 
she possessed in South America. This arrange¬ 
ment, which, from the beginning, was attended 
with many inconveniences, became intolerable when 
the remote provinces of each viceroyalty began to 
improve in industry and population. The people 
complained of their subjection to a superior, whose 
place of residence was so distant, or so inaccessible, 
as almost excluded them from any intercourse with 
the seat of government. The authority of the 
viceroy over districts so far removed from his own 
eye and observation, was unavoidably both feeble 
and ill directed. As a remedy for those evils, a 
third viceroyalty has been established in the pre¬ 
sent century, at Santa Fe de Bogota, the capital of 
the new kingdom of Granada, the jurisdiction of 
which extends over the whole kingdom of Tierra 
Firme and the province of Quito.* Those viceroys 

not only represent the person of their 

Their powers. . . . . , 

sovereign, but possess his regal pre¬ 
rogatives within the precincts of their own go¬ 
vernments in their utmost extent. Like him, they 
exercise supreme authority in every department of 
government, civil, military, and criminal. They have 
the sole right of nominating the persons who hold 
many offices of the highest importance, and the occa¬ 
sional privilege of supplying those which when they 
become vacant by death, are in the royal gift, until 
the successor appointed by the king shall arrive. 
The external pomp of their government is suited to 
its real dignity and power. Their courts are form¬ 
ed upon the model of that at Madrid, with horse 

i Voy. de Ulloa, i. 23. 255. 

k Ulloa, Voy. i. 432. Gage, 61. 


and foot guards, a household regularly established, 
numerous attendants, and ensigns of command, 
displaying such magnificence as hardly retains the 
appearance of delegated authority. k 

But as the viceroys cannot discharge Courts of au . 
in person the functions of a supreme dlence - 
magistrate in every part of their extensive jurisdic¬ 
tion, they are aided in their government by officers 
and tribunals similar to those in Spain. The con¬ 
duct of civil affairs in the various provinces and 
districts, into which the Spanish dominions in 
America are divided, is committed to magistrates of 
various orders and denominations ; some appointed 
by the king, others by the viceroy, but all subject 
to the command of the latter, and amenable to his 
jurisdiction. The administration of justice is vested 
in tribunals, known by the name of audiences , and 
formed upon the model of the court of chancery in 
Spain. These are eleven in number, and dispense 
justice to as many districts, into which the Spanish 
dominions in America are divided.' The number 
of judges in the court of audience is various, ac¬ 
cording to the extent and importance of their ju¬ 
risdiction. The station is no less honourable than 
lucrative, and is commonly filled by persons of such 
abilities and merit as render this tribunal extremely 
respectable. Both civil and criminal causes come 
under their cognizance, and for each peculiar judges 
are set apart. Though it is only in the Their j lirisdic . 
most despotic governments that the tl0n> 
sovereign exercises in person the formidable prero¬ 
gative of administering justice to his subjects, and 
in absolving, or condemning, consults no law but 
what is deposited in his own breast; though, in all 
the monarchies of Europe, judicial authority is com¬ 
mitted to magistrates, whose decisions are regulated 
by known laws and established forms ; the Spanish 
viceroys have often attempted to intrude themselves 
into the seat of justice, and, with an ambition 
which their distance from the control of a superior 
rendered bold, have aspired at a power which their 
master does not venture to assume. In order to 
check an usurpation which must have annihilated 
justice and security in the Spanish colonies, by 
subjecting the lives and property of all to the will 
of a single man, the viceroys have been prohibited, 
in the most explicit terms, by repeated laws, from 
interfering in the judicial proceedings of the courts 
of audience, or from delivering an opinion, or giv¬ 
ing a voice, with respect to any point litigated be¬ 
fore them ." 1 In some particular cases, in which any 
question of civil right is involved, even the political 
regulations of the viceroy may be brought under 
the review of the court of audience, which in those 
instances may be deemed an intermediate power 
placed between him and the people, as a constitu¬ 
tional barrier to circumscribe his jurisdiction. But 
as legal restraints on a person who represents the 
sovereign, and is clothed with his authority, are 

1 See Note CLXX. 

in Recop. lib. ii. tit. xv. 1. 35. 38. 44. lib. iii. tit. iii. 1. 36. 37. 




BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


959 


little suited to the genius of Spanish policy ; the 
hesitation and reserve with which it confers this 
power ou the courts of audience are remarkable. 
They may advise, they may remonstrate; but, in 
the event of a direct collision between their opinion 
and the will of the viceroy, what he determines 
must be carried into execution, and nothing remains 
for them, but to lay the matter before the king and 
the council of the Indies . 0 But to be entitled to re¬ 
monstrate, and inform against a person before whom 
all others must be silent, and tamely submit to his de¬ 
crees, is a privilege which adds dignity to the courts 
of audience. This is further augmented by another 
circumstance. Upon the death of a viceroy, with¬ 
out any provision of a successor by the king, the 
supreme power is vested in the court of audience 
resident in the capital of the viceroyalty ; and the 
senior judge, assisted by his brethren, exercises all 
the functions of the viceroy while the office con¬ 
tinues vacant . 0 In matters which come under the 
cognizance of the audiences, in the course of their 
ordinary jurisdiction, as courts of justice, their sen¬ 
tences are final in every litigation concerning pro¬ 
perty of less value than six thousand pesos ; but 
when the subject in dispute exceeds that sum, their 
decisions are subject to review, and may be carried 
by appeal before the royal council of the Indies .v 

Council of the 1 ° ^* s council, one of the most con- 
indies. siderable in the monarchy for dignity 

and power, is vested the supreme government of all 
the Spanish dominions in America. It was first es¬ 
tablished by Ferdinand, in the year 1511, and brought 
into a more perfect form by Charles V., in the year 
1524. Its jurisdiction extends to every 
department, ecclesiastical, civil, mili¬ 
tary, and commercial. All laws and ordinances 
relative to the government and police of the colo¬ 
nies originate there, and must be approved of by 
two-thirds of the members before they are issued 
in the name of the king. All the offices, of which 
the nomination is reserved to the crown, are con¬ 
ferred in this council. To it each person employed 
in America, from the viceroy downwards, is account¬ 
able. It reviews their conduct, rewards their ser¬ 
vices, and inflicts the punishments due to their mal¬ 
versations.* 1 Before it is laid whatever intelligence, 
either public or secret, is received from America ; 
and every scheme of improving the administration, 
the police, or the commerce of the colonies, is sub¬ 
mitted to its consideration. From the first insti¬ 
tution of the council of the Indies, it has been the 
constant object of the catholic monarchs to main¬ 
tain its authority, and to make such additions from 
time to time, both to its power and its splendour, as 
might render it formidable to all their subjects in 
the New World. Whatever degree of public order 
and virtue still remains in that country, where so 
many circumstances conspire to relax the former, 


Its power. 


n Solorz. de Jure Tnd. lib. iv. c. 3. n. 40, 41. 
36. lib. iii. tit. iii. 1. 34. lib. v. tit. ix. 1.1. 
o Kecop. lib. li. tit. xv. 1. 57, &c. 
p Ibid. lib. v. tit. xiii. 1. 1, &c. 


Recop. lib. ii. tit. xv. 1. 


Its functions. 


and to corrupt the latter, may be ascribed in a great 
measure to the wise regulations and vigilant inspec¬ 
tion of this respectable tribunal/ 

As the king is supposed to be always present in 
his council of the Indies, its meetings are held in 
the place where he resides. Another tribunal has 
been instituted, in order to regulate such commer¬ 
cial affairs as required the immediate and personal 
inspection of those appointed to superintend them. 
This is called Casa de la Contratacion, Casade la Con¬ 
or the house of trade, and was estab- tratacion. 

lished in Seville, the port to which commerce with 
the New World was confined, as early as the year 
1501. It may be considered both as a 
board of trade, and as a court of judi¬ 
cature. In the former capacity, it takes cognizance 
of whatever relates to the intercourse of Spain with 
America, it regulates what commodities should be 
exported thither, and has the inspection of such as 
are received in return. It decides concerning the 
departure of the fleets for the West Indies, the 
freight and burden of the ships, their equipment 
and destination. In the latter capacity, it judges 
with respect to every question, civil, commercial, or 
criminal, arising in consequence of the transactions 
of Spain with America ; and in both these depart¬ 
ments its decisions are exempted from the review of 
any court but that of the council of the Indies/ 

Such is the great outline of that system of go¬ 
vernment which Spain has established in her Ame¬ 
rican colonies. To enumerate the various subordi¬ 
nate boards and offices employed in the administra¬ 
tion of justice, in collecting the public revenue, and 
in regulating the interior police of the country; to 
describe their different functions, and to inquire into 
the mode and effect of their operations ; would prove 
a detail no less intricate than minute and uninter¬ 
esting. 

The first object of the Spanish 

. , , First object, to 

monarchs was to secure the produc- secure an exciu- 

• sive trftdc 

tions of the colonies to the parent- 
state, by an absolute prohibition of any intercourse 
with foreign nations. They took possession of Ame¬ 
rica by right of conquest, and conscious not only of 
the feebleness of their infant settlements, but aware 
of the difficulty in establishing their dominion over 
regions so extensive, or in retaining so many reluct¬ 
ant nations under the yoke, they dreaded the intru¬ 
sion of strangers; they even shunned their inspec¬ 
tion, and endeavoured to keep them at a distance 
from their coasts. This spirit of jealousy and ex¬ 
clusion, which at first was natural, and perhaps 
necessary, augmented as their possessions in Ame¬ 
rica extended, and the value of them came to be more 
fully understood. In consequence of it, a system 
of colonizing was introduced, to which there had 
hitherto been nothing similar among mankind. In 
the ancient world, it was not uncommon to send 

q Recop. lib. ii. tit. ii. 1. 1, 2, &c. 

r Solorz. de Jure Ind. lib. iv. c. 12. 

s Recop. lib. ix. tit. i. Veitia Norte de la Contratacion, lib. i. 1. 



900 


BOOK VIII. 


TIIE HISTORY 

forth colonies. But they were of two kinds only. 
They were either migrations, which served to dis¬ 
burden a state of its superfluous subjects, when 
they multiplied too fast for the territory which they 
occupied ; or they were military detachments, sta¬ 
tioned as garrisons in a conquered province. The 
colonies of some Greek republics, and the swarms 
of northern barbarians which settled in different 
parts of Europe, were of the first species. The 
Roman colonies were of the second. In the former, 
the connexion with the mother-country quickly 
ceased, and they became independent states. In 
the latter, as the disjunction was not complete, the 

Regulations for dependence continued. In their Ame- 

that purpose. r j can settlements, the Spanish mon- 

archs took what was peculiar to each, and studied 
to unite them. By sending colonies to regions so 
remote, by establishing in each a form of interior 
policy and administration, under distinct governors, 
and with peculiar laws, they disjoined them from 
the mother-country. By retaining in their own 
hands the rights of legislation, as well as that of 
imposing taxes, together with the power of nominat¬ 
ing the persons who filled every department of 
executive government, civil or military, they secured 
their dependence upon the parent-state. Happily 
for Spain, the situation of her colonies was such as 
rendered it possible to reduce this new idea into 
practice. Almost all the countries which she had 
discovered and occupied, lay within the tropics. 
The productions of that large portion of the globe 
are different from those of Europe, even in its most 
southern provinces. The qualities of the climate 
and of the soil naturally turn the industry of such 
as settle there into new channels. When the Span¬ 
iards first took possession of their dominions in 
America, the precious metals which they yielded 
were the only object that attracted their attention. 
Even when their efforts began to take a better 
direction, they employed themselves almost wholly 
in rearing such peculiar productions of the climate 
as, from their rarity or value, were of chief demand 
in the mother-country. Allured by vast prospects 
of immediate wealth, they disdained to waste their 
industry on what was less lucrative, but of superior 
moment. In order to render it impossible to correct 
this error, and to prevent them from making any 
efforts in industry which might interfere with those 
of the mother-country, the establishment of several 
species of manufactures, and even the culture of the 
vine, or olive, are prohibited in the Spanish colo¬ 
nies, 1 under severe penalties. u They must trust 
entirely to the mother-country for the objects of 
primary necessity. Their clothes, their furniture, 
their instruments of labour, their luxuries, and even 
a considerable part of the provisions which they 
consume, were imported from Spain. During a 
great part of the sixteenth century, Spain, possessing 
an extensive commerce and flourishing manufac- 

t See Note CLXXI. 

u 15. Ulloa Retab. des Manuf. &c. p. 206. 


OF AMERICA. 

tures, could supply with ease the growing demands 
of her colonies from her own stores. The produce 
of their mines and plantations was given in ex¬ 
change for these. But all that the colonies received, 
as well as all that they gave, was conveyed in 
Spanish bottoms. No vessel belonging to the 
colonies was ever permitted to carry the commodi¬ 
ties of America to Europe. Even the commercial 
intercourse of one colony with another was either 
absolutely prohibited, or limited by many jealous 
restrictions. All that America yields flows into the 
ports of Spain : all that it consumes must issue 
from them. No foreigner can enter its colonies 
without express permission ; no vessel of any 
foreign nation is received into their harbours ; and 
the pains of death, with confiscation of movables, 
are denounced against every inhabitant who pre¬ 
sumes to trade with them. x Thus the colonies are 
kept in a state of perpetual pupilage; and by the 
introduction of this commercial dependence, a re¬ 
finement in policy of which Spain set the first 
example to European nations, the supremacy of the 
parent state hath been maintained over remote colo¬ 
nies during two centuries and a half. 

Such are the capital maxims to 

Slow progress or 

which the Spanish monarchs seem to population from 

1 ... Europe. 

have attended in forming their new 
settlements in America. But they could not plant 
with the same rapidity that they had destroyed ; and 
from many concurring causes, their progress has 
been extremely slow in filling up the immense void 
which their devastations had occasioned. As soon 
as the rage for discovery and adventure began to 
abate, the Spaniards opened their eyes to dangers 
and distress which at first they did not perceive, or 
had despised. The numerous hardships with which 
the members of infant colonies have to struggle ; the 
diseases of unwholesome climates fatal to the con¬ 
stitution of Europeans ; the difficulty of bringing a 
country covered with forests into culture ; the want 
of hands necessary for labour in some provinces, 
and the slow reward of industry in all, unless where 
the accidental discovery of mines enriched a few for¬ 
tunate adventurers, were evils universally felt and 
magnified. Discouraged by the view of these, the 
spirit of migration was so much damped, that sixty 
years after the discovery of the New World the 
number of Spaniards in all its provinces is com¬ 
puted not to have exceeded fifteen thousand.^ 

The mode in which property was 
distributed in the Spanish colonies, by S ti?e stfufof 
and the regulations established with property ’ 
respect to the transmission of it, whether by descent 
or by sale, were extremely unfavourable to popula¬ 
tion. In order to promote a rapid increase of people 
in any new settlement, property in land ought to be 
divided into small shares, and the alienation of it 
should be rendered extremely easy. 2 But the ra¬ 
paciousness of the Spanish conquerors of the New 

X Recopil. lib. ix. tit. xxvii. 1. i. 4, 7, &c, 

y See Note CLXXII. z Dr, Smith’s Inquiry, ii. 166. 



BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


World paid no regard to this fundamental maxim of 
policy ; and, as they possessed power which enabled 
them to gratify the utmost extravagance of their 
wishes, many seized districts of great extent, and 
held them as encomiendas. By degrees they ob¬ 
tained the privilege of converting a part of these 
into Mayorasgos, a species of fief, introduced into 
the Spanish system of feudal jurisprudence, a which 
can neither be divided nor alienated. Thus a great 
portion of landed property, under this rigid form of 
entail, is withheld from circulation, and descends 
from father to son unimproved, and of little value 
either to the proprietor or to the community. In 
the account which I have given of the reduction of 
Peru, various examples occur of enormous tracts of 
country occupied by some of the conquerors. b The 
excesses in other provinces were similar; for, as the 
value of the lands which the Spaniards acquired 
was originally estimated according to the number 
of Indians which lived upon them, America was in 
general so thinly peopled, that only districts of 
great extent could alford such a number of labour¬ 
ers as might be employed in the mines with any 
prospect of considerable gain. The pernicious 
effects of those radical errors in the distribution and 
nature of property in the Spanish settlements, are 
felt through every department of industry, and may 
be considered as one great cause of a progress in 
population so much slower than that which has 
taken place in better constituted colonies. 0 

To this we may add, that the support 

and the nature of „ , , . , . 

their ecciesiasti- ot the enormous and expensive fabric 
of their ecclesiastical establishment 
has been a burden on the Spanish colonies, which 
has greatly retarded the progress of population and 
industry. The payment of tithes is a heavy tax on 
industry ; and if the exaction of them be not regu¬ 
lated and circumscribed by the wisdom of the civil 
magistrate, it becomes intolerable and ruinous. 
But, instead of any restraint on the claims of eccle¬ 
siastics, the inconsiderate zeal of the Spanish legis¬ 
lators admitted them into America in their full 
extent, and at once imposed on their infant colonies 
a burden which is in no slight degree oppressive to 
society, even in its most improved state. As early 
as the year 1501, the payment of tithes in the 
colonies was enjoined, and the mode of it regulated 
by law. Every article of primary necessity, towards 
which the attention of new settlers must naturally 
be turned, is subjected to that grievous exaction.* 1 
Nor were the demands of the clergy confined to 
articles of simple and easy culture. Its more arti¬ 
ficial and operose productions, such as sugar, indigo, 
and cochineal, were soon declared to be titheable ; e 
and thus the industry of the planter was taxed in 
every stage of its progress, from its rudest essay 
to its highest improvement. To the weight of this 
legal imposition, the bigotry of the American 
Spaniards has made many voluntary additions. 


a Recop. lib. iv. tit. iii. 1. 24. 
c See Note CLXX1I1. 


b Book vi. 

d Recop. lib. i. tit. xiv. 1.2. 

3 Q 




From their fond delight in the external pomp and 
parade of religion, and from superstitious reverence 
for ecclesiastics of every denomination, they have 
bestowed profuse donatives on churches and monas¬ 
teries, and have unprofitably wasted a large pro¬ 
portion of that wealth, which might have nourished 
and given vigour to productive labour in growing 
colonies. 

But so fertile and inviting are the re- 
gions ot America, which the Spaniards of people in the 
have occupied, that, notwithstanding 
all the circumstances which have checked and re¬ 
tarded population, it has gradually increased, and 
filled the colonies of Spain with citizens of various 
orders. Among these, the Spaniards who arrive 
from Europe, distinguished by the chapetones the 
name of Chapetones , are the first in first 
rank and power. From the jealous attention of the 
Spanish court to secure the dependence of the 
colonies on the parent state, all departments of con¬ 
sequence are filled by persons sent from Europe; 
and in order to prevent any of dubious fidelity from 
being employed, each must bring proof of a clear 
descent from a family of Old Christians , untainted 
with any mixture of Jewish or Mahometan blood, 
and never disgraced by any censure of the inquisi¬ 
tion. 1 In such pure hands power is deemed to be 
safely lodged, and almost every function, from the 
viceroyalty downwards, is committed to them alone. 
Every person, who, by his birth or residence in 
America, may be suspected of any attachment or 
interest adverse to the mother-country, is the object 
of distrust to such a degree, as amounts nearly 
to an exclusion from all offices of confidence or 
authorityBy this conspicuous predilection of the 
court, the Chapetones are raised to such pre-emi¬ 
nence in America, that they look down with disdain 
on every other order of men. 

The character and state of the Cre- Creo i es the 
oles , or descendants of Europeans second, 
settled in America, the second class of subjects in 
the Spanish colonies, have enabled the Chapetones 
to acquire other advantages, hardly less consider¬ 
able than those which they derive from the partial 
favour of government. Though some of the Creo- 
lian race are descended from the conquerors of the 
New World ; though others can trace up their pedi¬ 
gree to the noblest families in Spain ; though many 
are possessed of ample fortunes; yet, by the ener¬ 
vating influence of a sultry climate, by the rigour of 
a jealous government, and by their despair of 
attaining that distinction to which mankind natu¬ 
rally aspire, the vigour of their minds is so entirely 
broken, that a great part of them waste life in luxuri¬ 
ous indulgences, mingled w ith an illiberal supersti¬ 
tion still more debasing. 

Languid and unenterprising, the operations of an 
active extended commerce would be to them so 
cumbersome and oppressive, that in almost every 


e Recopil. lib. i. tit. xiv. 1. 3& 4. 

f Ibid. lib. ix. tit. xxvi. I. 15,16. g See Note CLXXI\ . 



962 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK VIII. 


part of America they decline engaging in it. The 
interior traffic of every colony, as well as any trade 
which is permitted with the neighbouring provinces, 
and with Spain itself, is carried on chiefly by the 
Chapetones; h who, as the recompence of their in¬ 
dustry, amass immense wealth, while the Creoles, 
sunk in sloth, are satisfied with the revenues of 
their paternal estates. 

Rivaishipbe- From this stated competition for 

tween these. power and wealth between those two 

orders of citizens, and the various passions excited 
by a rivaiship so interesting, their hatred is violent 
and implacable. On every occasion, symptoms of 
this aversion break out, and the common appella¬ 
tions which each bestows on the other are as con¬ 
temptuous as those which flow from the most deep- 
rooted national antipathy . 5 The court of Spain, 
from a refinement of distrustful policy, cherishes 
those seeds of discord, and foments this mutual jea¬ 
lousy, which not only prevents the two most power¬ 
ful classes of its subjects in the New World from 
combining against the parent state, but prompts 
each, with the most vigilant zeal, to observe the mo¬ 
tions and to counteract the schemes of the other. 

The third class of inhabitants in the 

A mixed race ...... , 

forms the third Spanish colonies is a mixed race, the 
order of citizens. . _ . 

ollspnng either of a European and a 
negro, or of a European and Indian, the former 
called Mulattoes , the latter Mestizos. As the court 
of Spain, solicitous to incorporate its new vassals 
with its ancient subjects, early encouraged the Spa¬ 
niards settled in America to marry the natives of 
that country, several alliances of this kind were 
formed in their infant colonies. k But it has been 
more owing to licentious indulgence, than to com¬ 
pliance with this injunction of their sovereigns, that 
this mixed breed has multiplied so greatly, as to 
constitute a considerable part of the population in 
all the Spanish settlements. The several stages of 
descent in this race, and the gradual variations of 
shade until the African black or the copper colour 
of America brighten into European complexion, are 
accurately marked by the Spaniards, and each dis¬ 
tinguished by a peculiar name. Those of the first 
and second generations are considered and treated 
as mere Indians and negroes ; but in the third de¬ 
scent, the characteristic hue of the former disappears; 
and in the fifth, the deeper tint of the latter is so 
entirely effaced, that they can no longer be distin¬ 
guished from Europeans, and become entitled to all 
their privileges . 1 It is chiefly by this mixed race, 
whose frame is so remarkably robust and hardy, 
that the mechanic arts are carried on in the Spa¬ 
nish settlements, and other active functions in so¬ 
ciety are discharged, which the two higher classes 
of citizens, from pride or from indolence, disdain 
to exercise .' 11 

The negroes hold the fourth rank among the inha- 

h Voy. de Ulloa, i. 27. 251. Voy. de Frezier, 227. 
i Gage’s Survey, p. 9. Frezier, 226. 

k Recopil. lib. vi. tit. i. 1. 2. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. v. c. 12. dec. 3. lib. 
▼». c. 2. 1 Voy. de Ulloa, i. 27. 


bitants of the Spanish colonies, flic j^pgroes form the 
introduction of that unhappy part of fuurth order - 
the human species into America, together with their 
services and sufferings there, shall be fully explain¬ 
ed in another place ; here they are mentioned chiefly 
in order to point out a peculiarity in their situation 
under the Spanish dominion. In several of their 
settlements, particularly in new Spain, negroes are 
mostly employed in domestic service. They form a 
principal part in the train of luxury, and are che¬ 
rished and caressed by their superiors, to whose 
vanity and pleasures they are equally subservient. 
Their dress and appearance are hardly less splendid 
than that of their masters, whose manners they imi¬ 
tate, and whose passions they imbibe." Elevated 
by this distinction, they have assumed such a tone 
of superiority over the Indians, and treat them with 
such insolence and scorn, that the antipathy be¬ 
tween the two races has become implacable. Even 
in Peru, where negroes seem to be more numerous, 
and are employed in field-work as well as domestic 
service, they maintain their ascendant over the In¬ 
dians, and the mutual hatred of one to the other 
subsists with equal violence. The laws have indus¬ 
triously fomented this aversion, to which accident 
gave rise, and, by most rigorous injunctions, have 
endeavoured to prevent every intercourse that might 
form a bond of union between the two races. Thus, 
by an artful policy, the Spaniards derive strength 
from that circumstance in population which is the 
weakness of other European colonies, and have 
secured, as associates and defenders, those very 
persons who elsewhere are objects of jealousy and 
terror." 

The Indians form the last and the m 

The Indians form 

most depressed order of men in the the last order of 

citizens. 

country which belonged to their ances¬ 
tors. I have already traced the progress of the Spa¬ 
nish ideas with respect to the condition and treat¬ 
ment of that people ; and have mentioned the most 
important of their more early regulations, concern¬ 
ing a matter of so much consequence in the adminis¬ 
tration of their new dominions. But since the 
period to which I have brought down the history of 
America, the information and experience acquired 
during two centuries have enabled the court of 
Spain to make such improvements in this part of 
its American system, that a short view of the pre¬ 
sent condition of the Indians may prove both curious 
and interesting. 

By the famous regulations of Charles Their pi;esent 
V. in 1542, which have been so often condition, 
mentioned, the high pretensions of the conquerors 
of the New World, who considered its inhabitants 
as slaves to whose service they had acquired a full 
right of property, were finally abrogated. From 
that period, the Indians have been reputed freemen, 
and entitled to the privileges of subjects. When 

m \ oy. de Ulloa, i. 29. Voy. de Bouguer, p. 104. Melendez, Tesoros 
Verdaderos. I. 354. n Gage, p. 56. Voy. de Ulloa, i. 451. 

o Recopil. lib. vii. tit. V. 1. 7. Ilerrera, dec. 8. lib. vii. c. 12. Frezier, 
244. 




BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


U63 


Tax imposed on 
them. 


admitted into this rank, it was deemed just that 
they should contribute towards the support and 
improvement of the society which had adopted 
them as members. But as no considerable benefit 
could be expected from the voluntary efforts of men 
unacquainted with regular industry, and averse to 
labour, the court of Spain found it necessary to fix 
and secure, by proper regulations, what it thought 
reasonable to exact from them. With 
this view, an annual tax was imposed 
upon every male from the age of eighteen to fifty; 
and at the same time the nature as well as the extent 
of the services which they might be required to per¬ 
form, was ascertained with precision. This tribute 
varies in different provinces; but if we take that 
paid in New Spain as a medium, its annual amount 
is nearly four shillings a head ; no exorbitant sum 
in countries where, as at the source of wealth, the 
value of money is extremely Iow.p The right of 
levying this tribute likewise varies. In America, 
every Indian is either an immediate vassal of the 
crown, or depends upon some subject to whom the 
district in which he resides has been granted for a 
limited time, under the denomination of an encomi- 
enda. In the former case, about three-fourths of the 
tax is paid into the royal treasury; in the latter, 
the same proportion of it belongs to the holder of 
the grant. When Spain first took possession of 
America, the greater part of it was parcelled out 
among its conquerors, or those who first settled 
there, and but a small portion reserved for the 
crown. As those grants, which were made for two 
lives only,'' reverted successively to the sovereign, 
he had it in his power either to diffuse his favours 
by grants to new proprietors, or to augment his own 
revenue by valuable annexations. Of these, the 
latter has been frequently chosen ; the number of 
Indians now depending immediately on the crown 
is much greater than in the first stage after the con¬ 
quest, and this branch of the royal revenue continues 
to extend. 

The services The b ene fit arising from the services 
demanded. G f t} ie Xndians, accrues either to the 

crown, or to the holder of the encomienda , according 
to the same rule observed in the payment of tribute. 
Those services, however, which can now be legally 
exacted, are very different from the tasks originally 
imposed upon the Indians. The nature of the work 
which they must perform is defined, and an equit¬ 
able recompence is granted for their labour. The 
stated services demanded of the Indians may be 
divided into two branches. They are either em¬ 
ployed in works of primary necessity, without 
which society cannot subsist comfortably, or are 
compelled to labour in the mines, from which the 
Spanish colonies derive their chief value and im¬ 
portance. In consequence of the former, they are 

p See Note CLXXV. Recopil. lib. vi. tit. v. 1. 42. Hakluyt, vol. iii. 
p. 461. 

q Recopil. lib. vi. tit. viii. 1. 48. Solorz, de Ind. Jure, lib. ii. c. 16. 

r See Note CLXXVI. 

s Recopil. lib. vi. tit. xiii. 1. 19. Solorz. de Ind. Jure, ii. lib. i. c. 
6 > 7 - <J * 

3 Q 2 


obliged to assist in the culture of maize, and other 
grain of necessary consumption ; in tending cattle ; 
in erecting edifices of public utility ; in building 
bridges; and in forming high roads ; s but they 
cannot be constrained to labour in raising vines, 
olives, and sugar-canes, or any species of cultiva¬ 
tion which has for its object the gratification of lux¬ 
ury, or commercial profit . 1 In consequence of the 
latter, the Indians are compelled to undertake the 
more unpleasant task of extracting ore from the 
bowels of the earth, and of refining it by successive 
processes, no less unwholesome than operose. u 

The mode of exacting both these The ^ ode of cx _ 
services is the same, and is under re- actlng these - 
gulations framed with a view of rendering it as little 
oppressive as possible to the Indians. They are 
called out successively in divisions, termed Mitas, 
and no person can be compelled to go but in his 
turn. In Peru, the number called out must not ex¬ 
ceed the seventh part of the inhabitants in any dis¬ 
tricts In New Spain, where the Indians are more 
numerous, it is fixed at four in the hundreds 
During what time the labour of such Indians as are 
employed in agriculture continues, I have not been 
able to learn . 2 But in Peru, each mita, or division, 
destined for the mines, remains there six months ; 
and while engaged in this service, a labourer never 
receives less than two shillings a day, and often 
earns more than double that sum. a No Indian, re¬ 
siding at a greater distance than thirty miles from 
a mine, is included in the mita, or division employed 
in working it ; b nor are the inhabitants of the low 
country exposed now to certain destruction, as they 
were at first when under the dominion of the con¬ 
querors, by compelling them to remove from that 
warm climate to the cold elevated regions where 
minerals abound . 0 

The Indians who live in the prin¬ 
cipal towns are entirely subject to the 
Spanish laws and magistrates: but in their own 
villages they are governed by caziques, some of 
whom are the descendants of their ancient lords, 
others are named by the Spanish viceroys. These 
regulate the petty affairs of the people under them, 
according to maxims of justice transmitted to them 
by tradition from their ancestors. To the Indians 
this jurisdiction, lodged in such friendly hands, 
affords some consolation ; and so little formidable is 
this dignity to their new masters, that they often 
allow it to descend by hereditary right. d For the 
further relief of men so much exposed to oppression, 
the Spanish court has appointed an officer in every 
district with the title of Protector of the Indians. 
It is his function, as the name implies, to assert the 
rights of the Indians ; to appear as their defender 
in the courts ofjustice; and, by the interposition of 
his authority, to set bounds to the encroachments 

t Recopil. lib. vi. tit. xiii. 1. 8. Solorz. lib. i. c. 7- No. 41, &c. 
u See Note CLXXVIl. x Recopil. lib. vi. tit. xii. 1. 21. 

y Recop. lib. vi. 1. 22. z See Note CLXXVIII. 

a Ulloa Entreten. 265, 266. b Recopil. lib. vi. tit. xii. 1.3. * 

c Recopil. lib. vi. tit. xii. 1. 29. tit. i. 1. 13. See Note CLXX1X. 
cl Solorz. de Jure Ind. lib. i. c. 26. Recopil. lib. vi. tit. vii. 


How governed. 



964 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


and exactions of his countrymen/ A certain por¬ 
tion of the reserved fourth of the annual tribute is 
destined for the salary of the caziques and protec¬ 
tors ; another is applied to the maintenance of the 
clergy employed in the instruction of the Indians/ 
Another part seems to be appropriated for the bene¬ 
fit of the Indians themselves, and is applied for the 
payment of their tribute in years of famine, or when 
a particular district is affected by any extraordinary 
local calamity/ Besides this, provision is made by 
various laws, that hospitals shall be founded in 
every new settlement for the reception of Indians/ 
Such hospitals have accordingly been erected, both 
for the indigent and infirm, in Lima, in Cuzco, and 
in Mexico, where the Indians are treated with ten¬ 
derness and humanity/ 

Such are the leading principles in the jurispru¬ 
dence and policy by which the Indians are now 
governed in the provinces belonging to Spain. In 
those regulations of the Spanish monarchs, we dis¬ 
cover no traces of that cruel system of extermina¬ 
tion, which they have been charged with adopting; 
and if we admit that the necessity of securing sub¬ 
sistence for their colonies, or the advantages derived 
from working the mines, give them a right to avail 
themselves of the labour of the Indians, we must 
allow, that the attention with which they regulate 
and recompense that labour is provident and saga¬ 
cious. In no code of laws is greater solicitude dis¬ 
played, or precautions multiplied with more prudent 
concern, for the preservation, the security, and the 
happiness of the subject, than we discover in the col¬ 
lection of the Spanish laws for the Indies. But those 
latter regulations, like the more early edicts which 
have been already mentioned, have too often proved 
ineffectual remedies against the evils which they 
were intended to prevent. In every age, if the same 
causes continue to operate the same effects must 
follow. From the immense distance between the 
power intrusted with the execution of laws, and that 
by whose authority they are enacted, the vigour even 
of the most absolute government must relax, and 
the dread of a superior, too remote to observe with 
accuracy, or to punish with despatch, must insensi¬ 
bly abate. Notwithstanding the numerous injunc¬ 
tions of the Spanish monarch, the Indians still suffer, 
on many occasions, both from the avarice of indi¬ 
viduals, and from the exactions of the magistrates 
who ought to have protected them ; unreasonable 
tasks are imposed ; the term of their labour is pro¬ 
longed beyond the period fixed by law, and they 
groan under many of the insults and wrongs which 
are the lot of a dependent people/ From some in¬ 
formation on which I can depend, such oppression 
abounds more in Peru than in any other colony. 
But it is not general. According to the accounts 
even of those authors who are most disposed to ex¬ 
aggerate the sufferings of the Indians, they in several 

e Solorz. lib. i. c. 17- p. 201. Recopil. lib. vi. tit. vi. 
f Recopil. lib. vi. tit. v. 1. 30. tit. xvi. 1. 12—15. 
g Ibid. lib. vi. tit, iv. 1. 13. h Ibid. lib. i. tit. ir. 1. 1, &c. 

i Voy. de Ulloa, i. 429. 509. Churchill, iv. 496. 
k See Note CLXXX. 1 Gage’s Survey, p. 85. 90. 104. 119, l kc. 


provinces enjoy not only ease but affluence; they 
possess large farms ; they are masters of numerous 
herds and flocks ; and, by the knowledge which 
they have acquired of European arts and industry, 
are supplied not only with the necessaries but with 
many luxuries of life . 1 

After explaining the form of civil 

Ecclesiastical 

government in the Spanish colonies, constitution of 
and the state of the various orders of the colomes- 
persons subject to it, the peculiarities in their eccle¬ 
siastical constitution merit consideration. Notwith¬ 
standing the superstitious veneration with which 
the Spaniards are devoted to the holy see, the vigi¬ 
lant and jealous policy of Ferdinand early prompted 
him to take precautions against the introduction of 
the papal dominion in America. With Restraints pn the 
this view, he solicited Alexander VI. P a P a| jurisdiction. 

for a grant to the crown of the tithes in all the newly 
discovered countries ," 1 which he obtained on con¬ 
dition of his making provision for the religious 
instruction of the natives. Soon after Julius II. con¬ 
ferred on him, and his successors, the right of 
patronage, and the absolute disposal of all ecclesi¬ 
astical benefices there." But these pontiffs, unac¬ 
quainted with the value of what he demanded, be¬ 
stowed those donations with an inconsiderate libe¬ 
rality, which their successors have often lamented, 
and wished to recall. In consequence of those 
grants, the Spanish monarchs have become in effect 
the heads of the American church. In them the ad¬ 
ministration of its revenues is vested. Their nomi¬ 
nation of persons to supply vacant benefices is 
instantly confirmed by the pope. Thus in all Spa¬ 
nish America, authority of every species centres in 
the crown. There no collision is known between 
spiritual and temporal jurisdiction. The king is 
the only superior, his name alone is heard of, and 
no dependence upon any foreign power has been 
introduced. Papal bulls cannot be admitted into 
America, nor are they of any force there, until they 
have been previously examined and approved of by 
the royal council of the Indies ;° and if any bull 
should be surreptitiously introduced and circulated 
in America without obtaining that approbation, 
ecclesiastics are required not only to prevent it from 
taking effect, but to seize all the copies of it, and 
transmit them to the council of the Indies. p To this 
limitation of the papal jurisdiction, equally singular 
whether we consider the age and nation in which it 
was devised, or the jealous attention with which 
Ferdinand and his successors have studied to main¬ 
tain it in full force/ Spain is indebted, in a great 
measure, for the uniform tranquillity which has 
reigned in her American dominions. 

The hierarchy is established in Ame- Form and en _ 
rica in the same form as in Spain, with its chmdi?n S the the 
full train of archbishops, bishops, deans, Spanish colonies, 
and other dignitaries. The inferior clergy are divided 

m ? u Jj a A - D. 1501. ap. Solorz. de Jure Ind. ii. p. 498. 

n I.u 1 la. Juln IT. n. 1508, ap. Solorz. de Jure Ind. ii. 509. 
o Hecop .lib. i. tit. ix. 1. 2. and Autas del Consejo de las Indias, clxi. 
p Ibid. lib. i. tit. vii. 1. 55. 
q Id.- lib. i. tit. vii. 1. 55. passim. 



BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


into three classes, under the denomination of Curas , 
Doclrineros, and Missioneros. The first are parish 
priests in those parts of the country where the Spa¬ 
niards have settled. The second have the charge 
of such districts as are inhabited by Indians sub¬ 
jected to the Spanish government, and living under 
its protection. The third p.re employed in instruct¬ 
ing and converting those fiercer tribes, which dis¬ 
dain submission to the Spanish yoke, and live in 
remote or inaccessible regions, to which the Spa¬ 
nish arms have not penetrated. So numerous are 
the ecclesiastics of all those various orders, and 
such the profuse liberality with which many of them 
are endowed, that the revenues of the church in 
America are immense. The Romish superstition 
appears with its utmost pomp in the New World. 
Churehes and convents there are magnificent, and 
richly adorned ; and on high festivals, the display 
of gold and silver, and precious stones, is such as 
exceeds the conception of a European/ An eccle¬ 
siastical establishment so splendid and extensive, 
is unfavourable, as has been formerly observed, to 
the progress of rising colonies; but in countries 
where riches abound, and the people are so delight¬ 
ed with parade, that religion must assume it in order 
to attract their veneration, this propensity to osten¬ 
tation has been indulged, and becomes less per¬ 
nicious. 

The early institution of monasteries 

Pernicious ef- 

fects of monastic in the Spanish colonies, and the in¬ 
institutions. . , , . ,, • i • .1 

considerate zeal in multiplying them, 
have been attended with consequences more fatal. 
In every new settlement, the first object should be 
to encourage population, and to incite every citizen 
to contribute towards augmenting the number and 
strength of the community. During the youth and 
vigour of society, while there is room to spread, 
and sustenance is procured with facility, mankind 
increase w ith amazing rapidity. But the Spaniards 
had hardly taken possession of America, when, 
with a most preposterous policy, they began to erect 
convents, where persons of both sexes w r ere shut 
up, under a vow to defeat the purpose of nature, 
and to counteract the first of her laws. Influenced 
by a misguided piety, which ascribes transcendent 
merit to a state of celibacy, or allured by the pros¬ 
pect of that listless ease which in sultry climates is 
deemed supreme felicity, numbers crowded into 
those mansions of sloth and superstition, and are 
lost to society. As none but persons of Spanish 
extract are admitted into the monasteries of the 
New World, the evil is more sensibly felt, and 
every monk or nun may be considered as an active 
person withdrawn from civil life. The impropriety 
of such foundations in any situation where the ex¬ 
tent of territory requires additional hands to im¬ 
prove it, is so obvious, that some catholic states 
have expressly prohibited any person in their colo¬ 
nies from taking the monastic vows.* Even the 


i 


of the seculars; 


Spanish monarchs, on some occasions, seem to have 
been alarmed with the spreading of a spirit so ad¬ 
verse to the increase and prosperity of their colonies, 
that they have endeavoured to check it/ But the 
Spaniards in America, more thoroughly under the 
influence of superstition than their countrymen in 
Europe, and directed by ecclesiastics more bigoted 
and illiterate, have conceived such a high opinion 
of monastic sanctity, that no regulations can re¬ 
strain their zeal; and, by the excess of their ill- 
judged bounty, religious houses have multiplied to 
a degree no less amazing than pernicious to society/ 
In viewing the state of colonies, character of 
where not only the number but inllu- s C panlsh St Ame n - 
ence of ecclesiastics is so great, the nca; 
character of this powerful body is an object that 
merits particular attention. A considerable part of 
the secular clergy in Mexico and Peru are natives 
of Spain. As persons long accustomed, by their 
education, to the retirement and indolence of aca¬ 
demic life are more incapable of active enterprise, 
and less disposed to strike into new paths, than 
any order of men, the ecclesiastical adventurers by 
whom the American church is recruited, are com¬ 
monly such as, from merit or rank in life, have 
little prospect of success in their own country. Ac¬ 
cordingly, the secular priests in the 
New World are still less distinguished 
than their brethren in Spain for literary accom¬ 
plishments of any species ; and though by the ample 
provision which has been made for the American 
church, many of its members enjoy the ease and 
independence which are favourable to the cultivation 
of science, the body of secular clergy has hardly,, 
during two centuries and a half, produced one 
author w hose works convey such useful information, 
or possess such a degree of merit, as to be ranked 
among those which attract the attention of enlighten¬ 
ed nations- But the greatest part of 
the ecclesiastics in the Spanish settle¬ 
ments are regulars. On the discovery of America, 
a new field opened to the pious zeal of the monastic 
orders ; and, with a becoming alacrity, they im¬ 
mediately sent forth missionaries to labour in it. 
The first attempt to instruct and convert the Ame¬ 
ricans was made by monks ‘ r and as soon as the 
conquest of any province was completed, and its 
ecclesiastical establishment began to assume some 
form, the popes permitted the missionaries of the 
four mendicant orders, as a reward for their ser¬ 
vices, to accept of parochial charges in America, 
to perform all spiritual functions, and to receive 
the tithes and other emoluments of the benefice, 
without depending on the jurisdiction of the bishop 
of the diocese, or being subject to his censures. 
In consequence of this, a new career of usefulness, 
as well as new objects of ambition, presented them¬ 
selves. Whenever a call is made for a fresh supply 
of missionaries, men of the most ardent and aspir- 

t Ilerrera, dec. v. lib. ix. c. 1, 2. Recop. lib. i. tit. iii. 1. 1, 2. tit. iv.. 
c. ii. Solorz. lib. iii. c. 23. u See Isote CLXXXl. 


of the regulars. 


r Voy. de Ulloa, i. 430. 
s Ibid. ii. 124. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


966 

ing minds, impatient under the restraint of a cloister, 
weary of its insipid uniformity, and fatigued with 
the irksome repetition of its frivolous functions, 
offer their service with eagerness, and repair to the 
New World in quest of liberty and distinction. 
Nor do they pursue distinction without success. 
The highest ecclesiastical honours, as well as the 
most lucrative preferments in Mexico and Peru, are 
often in the hands of regulars; and it is chiefly to 
the monastic orders that the Americans are indebted 
for any portion of science which is cultivated among 
them. They are almost the only Spanish ecclesi¬ 
astics from whom we have received any accounts 
either of the civil or natural history of the various 
provinces in America. Some of them, though 
deeply tinged with the indelible superstition of 
their profession, have published books which give a 
favourable idea of their abilities. The natural and 
moral history of the New World, by the Jesuit 
Acosta, contains more accurate observations, per¬ 
haps, and more sound science, than are to be found 
in any description of remote countries published in 
the sixteenth century. 

But the same disgust with monastic 

Dissolute man- .. - . . . . . 

nersofsomeof life, to which America is indebted for 

some instructors of worth and abilities, 
filled it with others of a very different character. 
The giddy, the profligate, the avaricious, to whom 
the poverty and rigid discipline of a convent are 
intolerable, consider a mission to America as a 
release from mortification and bondage. There 
they soon obtain some parochial charge; and far 
removed, by their situation, from the inspection of 
their monastic superiors, and exempt, by their cha¬ 
racter, from the jurisdiction of their diocesan, x they 
are hardly subjected to any control. According to 
the testimony of the most zealous catholics, many 
of the regular clergy in the Spanish settlements are 
not only destitute of the virtues becoming their 
profession, but regardless of that external decorum 
and respect for the opinion of mankind, which pre¬ 
serve a semblance of worth where the reality is 
wanting. Secure of impunity, some regulars, in 
contempt of their vow of poverty, engage openly in 
commerce, and are so rapaciously eager in amass¬ 
ing wealth, that they become the most grievous 
oppressors of the Indians whom it was their duty 
to have protected. Others, with no less flagrant 
violation of their vow of chastity, indulge with little 
disguise in the most dissolute licentiousness. y 

Various schemes have been proposed for redress¬ 
ing enormities so manifest and so offensive. Several 
persons, no less eminent for piety than discernment, 
have contended, that the regulars, in conformity to 
the canons of the church, ought to be confined 
within the walls of their cloisters, and should no 
longer be permitted to encroach on the functions of 
the secular clergy. Some public-spirited magis¬ 
trates, from conviction of its being necessary to 
deprive the regulars of a privilege bestowed at first 


with good intention, but of which time and experi¬ 
ence had discovered the pernicious effects, openly 
countenanced the secular clergy in their attempts to 
assert their own rights. The prince D’Esquilache, 
viceroy of Peru under Philip 111., took measures 
so decisive and effectual for circumscribing the 
regulars within their proper sphere, as struck them 
with general consternation. 2 They had recourse to 
their usual arts. They alarmed the superstitious, 
by representing the proceedings of the viceroy as 
innovations fatal to religion. They employed all 
the refinements of intrigue, in order to gain persons 
in power; and seconded by the powerful influence 
of the Jesuits, who claimed and enjoyed all the 
privileges which belonged to the mendicant orders 
in America, they made a deep impression on a bigoted 
prince and a weak ministry. The ancient practice 
was tolerated. The abuses which it occasioned con¬ 
tinued to increase, and the corruption of monks, ex¬ 
empt from the restraints of discipline, and the inspec¬ 
tion of any superior, became a disgrace to religion. 
At last, as the veneration of the Spaniards for the 
monastic orders began to abate, and the June 23 
power of the Jesuits was on the de- 175< ’ 
cline, Ferdinand VI. ventured to apply the only 
effectual remedy, by issuing an edict, prohibiting 
regulars of every denomination from taking the 
charge of any parish with the cure of souls ; and 
declaring, that on the demise of the present incum¬ 
bents, none but secular priests, subject to the juris¬ 
diction of their diocesans, shall be presented to 
vacant benefices. 1 If this regulation is carried into 
execution with steadiness in any degree proportional 
to the wisdom with which it is framed, a very con¬ 
siderable reformation may take place in the eccle¬ 
siastical state of Spanish America, and the secular 
clergy may gradually become a respectable body of 
men. The deportment of many ecclesiastics, even 
at present, seems to be decent and exemplary; 
otherwise we can hardly suppose that they would 
be held in such high estimation, and possess such 
a wonderful ascendant over the minds of their coun¬ 
trymen throughout all the Spanish settlements. 

But whatever merit the Spanish small progress 
ecclesiastics in America may possess, j£ e fndians'to 
the success of their endeavours in christlamt y- 
communicating the knowledge of true religion to 
the Indians, has been more imperfect than might 
have been expected, either from the degree of their 
zeal, or from the dominion which they had acquired 
over that people. For this, various reasons may be 
assigned. The first missionaries, in their ardour to 
make proselytes, admitted the people of America 
into the Christian church, without previous instruc¬ 
tion in the doctrines of religion, and even before 
they themselves had acquired such knowledge in 
the Indian language, as to be able to explain to the 
natives the mysteries of faith, or the precepts of 
duty. Resting upon a subtle distinction in scho¬ 
lastic theology, between that degree of assent which 

z See Note CLXXXI1I. 


x Avendano Thes. Indie, ii. £53. 


y See Note CLXXXII. 


a Real Cedula MS. penes me. 



BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


DG7 


is founded on a complete knowledge and conviction 
of duty, and that which may be yielded when both 
these are imperfect, they adopted this strange prac¬ 
tice, no less inconsistent with the spirit of a religion 
which addresses itself to the understanding of men, 
than repugnant to the dictates of reason. As soon 
as any body of people, overawed by dread of the 
Spanish power, moved by the example of their own 
chiefs, incited by levity, or yielding from mere ig¬ 
norance, expressed the slightest desire of embracing 
the religion of their conquerors, they were instantly 
baptized. While this rage of conversion continued, 
a single clergyman baptized in one day above five 
thousand Mexicans, and did not desist until he was 
so exhausted by fatigue, that he was unable to lift 
his hands.** In the course of a few years after the 
reduction of the Mexican empire, the sacrament of 
baptism was administered to more than four mil¬ 
lions.® Proselytes adopted with such inconsiderate 
haste, and who were neither instructed in the nature 
of the tenets to which it was supposed they had 
given assent, nor taught the absurdity of those 
which they were required to relinquish, retained 
their veneration for their ancient superstitions in 
full force, or mingled an attachment to its doctrines 
and rites with that slender knowledge of Christianity 
which they had acquired. These sentiments the 
new converts transmitted to their posterity, into 
whose minds they have sunk so deep, that the Spa¬ 
nish ecclesiastics, with all their industry, have not 
been able to eradicate them. The religious institu¬ 
tions of their ancestors are still remembered and 
held in honour by many of the Indians, both in 
Mexico and Peru; and whenever they think them¬ 
selves out of reach of inspection by the Spaniards, 
they assemble and celebrate their idolatrous rites. d 

But this is not the most insurmountable obstacle 
to the progress of Christianity among the Indians. 
The powers of their uncultivated understandings 
are so limited, their observations and reflections 
reach so little beyond the mere objects of sense, that 
they seem hardly to have the capacity of forming 
abstract ideas, and possess not language to express 
them. To such men the sublime and spiritual doc¬ 
trines of Christianity must be, in a great measure, 
incomprehensible. The numerous and splendid 
ceremonies of the popish worship catch the eye, 
please and interest them; but when their instructors 
attempt to explain the articles of faith with which 
those external observances are connected, though the 
Indians may listen with patience, they so little con¬ 
ceive the meaning of what they hear, that their ac¬ 
quiescence does not merit the name of belief. Their 
indifference is still greater than their incapacity. 
Attentive only to the present moment, and engrossed 
by the objects before them, the Indians so seldom 
reflect upon what is past, or take thought for what 
is to come, that neither the promises nor threats of 


religion make much impression upon them ; and 
while their foresight rarely extends so far as the 
next day, it is almost impossible to inspire them 
with solicitude about the concerns of a future world. 
Astonished equally at their slowness of comprehen¬ 
sion, and at their insensibility, some of the early 
missionaries pronounced them a race of men so 
brutish as to be incapable of understanding the first 
principles of religion. A council held at Lima 
decreed, that, on account of this incapacity, they 
ought to be excluded from the sacrament of the 
Eucharist. e Though Paul III., by his famous bull 
issued in the year 1537, declared them to be rational 
creatures entitled to all the privileges of Christians ; f 
yet, after the lapse of two centuries, during which 
they have been members of the church, so imperfect 
are their attainments in knowledge, that very few 
possess such a portion of spiritual discernment, as 
to be deemed worthy of being admitted to the holy 
communion.^ From this idea of their incapacity 
and imperfect knowledge of religion, when the zeal 
of Philip II. established the Inquisition in America 
in the year 1570, the Indians were exempted from 
the jurisdiction of that severe tribunal, 11 and still 
continue under the inspection of their diocesans. 
Even after the most perfect instruction, their faith 
is held to be feeble and dubious ; and though some 
of them have been taught the learned languages, 
and have gone though the ordinarj r course of aca¬ 
demic education with applause, their frailty is still 
so much suspected, that few Indians are either 
ordained priests, or received into any religious 
order. 1 

From this brief survey, some idea 

, Productions of 

may be formed of the interior state of the Spanish coio- 

J nies \ 

the Spanish colonies. The various 
productions with which they supply and enrich the 
mother-country, and the system of commercial inter¬ 
course between them, come next in order to be 
explained. If the dominions of Spain in the New 
World had been of such moderate extent, as bore a 
due proportion to the parent state, the progress of 
her colonizing might have been attended with the 
same benefit as that of other nations. But when, in 
less than half a century, her inconsiderate rapacity 
had seized on countries larger than all Europe, her 
inability to fill such vast regions with a number of 
inhabitants sufficient for the cultivation of them was 
so obvious, as to give a wrong direction to all the 
efforts of the colonists. They did not form compact 
settlements, where industry, circumscribed within 
proper limits, both in its views and operations, is 
conducted with that sober persevering spirit, which 
gradually converts whatever is in its possession to 
a proper use, and derives thence the greatest ad¬ 
vantage. Instead of this, the Spaniards, seduced 
by the boundless prospect which opened to them, 
divided their possessions in America into govern- 


b P. Torribio, MS. Torquem. Mond. Ind. lib. xvi. c. 6. 
c Torribio, MS. Torquem. lib. xvi. c. 8. . 

d Voy. de Ulloa, i. 341. Torquem. 1. xv. c. 23. 1. xvi. c. 28. Gage, 171. 
e Torquem. lib. xvi. c. 20. 


f Torquem. lib. 16. c. 25. Garcia Origin. 311. 
g Voy. de Ulloa, i. .343. 
h Recop. lib. vi. tit. i. 1. 35. 

i Torquem. lib. xvii. c. 13. See Note CLXXXIV. 



968 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


from their mines. 


ments of great extent. As their number was too 
small to attempt the regular culture of the immense 
provinces which they occupied rather than peopled, 
they bent their attention to a few objects that 
allured them with hopes of sudden and exorbitant 
gain, and turned away with contempt from the 
humbler paths of industry, which lead more slowly, 
but with greater certainty, to wealth and increase 
of national strength. 

Of all the methods by which riches 
may be acquired, that of searching for 
the precious metals is one of the most inviting to men 
who are either unaccustomed to the regular assiduity 
with which the culture of the earth and the opera¬ 
tions of commerce must be carried on, or who are 
so enterprising and rapacious as not to be satisfied 
with the gradual returns of profit which they yield. 
Accordingly, as soon as the several countries in 
America were subjected to the dominion of Spain, 
this was almost the only method of acquiring wealth 
which occurred to the adventurers by whom they 
were conquered. Such provinces of the continent 
as did not allure them to settle, by the prospect of 
their affording gold and silver, were totally neglect¬ 
ed. Those in which they met with a disappoint¬ 
ment of the sanguine expectations they had formed, 
were abandoned. Even the value of the islands, 
the first fruits of their discoveries, and the first 
object of their attention, sunk so much in their 
estimation, when the mines which had been opened 
in them were exhausted, that they were deserted 
by many of the planters, and left to be occupied by 
more industrious possessors. All crowded to Mexico 
and Peru, where the quantities of gold and silver 
found among the natives, who searched for them 
with little industry and less skill, promised an un¬ 
exhausted store, as the recompence of more intelli¬ 
gent and persevering efforts. 

During several years, the ardour of 

those ot £otosi their researches was kept up by hope 

and Sdcotecds. rat k er flj an succe ss. At length, the 

rich silver mines of Potosi in Peru were accidentally 
discovered in the year 1545 k by an Indian, as he was 
clambering up the mountains in pursuit of a llama 
which had strayed from his flock. Soon after the 
mines of Sacotecas in New Spain, little inferior to 
the other in value, were opened. From that time, 
successive discoveries have been made in both colo¬ 
nies, and silver mines are now so numerous, that the 
working of them, and of some few mines of gold in 
the provinces of Tierra Firme, and the new kingdom 
of Granada, has become the capital occupation of 
the Spaniards, and is reduced into a system no less 
complicated than interesting. To describe the na¬ 
ture of the various ores, the mode of extracting them 
from the bowels of the earth, and to explain the 
several processes by which the metals are separated 
from the substances with which they are mingled, 
either by the action of fire, or the attractive powers 


of mercury, is the province of the natural philoso¬ 
pher or chemist, rather than of the historian. 

The exuberant profusion with which R j C h es which 
the mountains of the New World 
poured forth their treasures astonished mankind, 
who had been accustomed hitherto to receive a 
penurious supply of the precious metals, from the 
more scanty stores contained in the mines of the 
ancient hemisphere. According to principles of 
computation, which appear to be extremely mode¬ 
rate, the quantity of gold and silver that has been 
regularly entered in the ports of Spain, is equal in 
value to four millions sterling annually, reckoning 
from the year 1492, in which America was dis¬ 
covered, to the present time. This, in two hundred 
and eighty-three years, amounts to eleven hundred 
and thirty-two millions. Immense as this sum is, 
the Spanish writers contend, that as much more 
ought to be added to it, in consideration of treasure 
which has been extracted from the mines, and 
imported fraudulently into Spain without paying 
duty to the king. By this account, Spain has drawn 
from the New World a supply of wealth amounting 
at least to two thousand millions of pounds sterling. 1 

The mines, which have yielded this spirit to which 
amazing quantity of treasure, are not thls glves nse * 
worked at the expense of the crown or of the public. 
In order to encourage private adventurers, the 
person who discovers and works a new vein is 
entitled to the property of it. Upon laying his 
claim to such a discovery before the governor of the 
province, a certain extent of land is measured off, 
and a certain number of Indians allotted him, under 
the obligation of his opening the mine within a 
limited time, and of his paying the customary duty 
to the king for what it shall produce. Invited by 
the facility with which such grants are obtained, 
and encouraged by some striking examples of suc¬ 
cess in this line of adventure, not only the sanguine 
and the bold, but the timid and diffident, enter upon 
it with astonishing ardour. With vast objects always 
in view, fed continually with hope, and expecting 
every moment that fortune will unveil her secret 
stores, and give up the wealth which they contain 
to their wishes, they deem every other occupation 
insipid and uninteresting. The charms of this pur¬ 
suit, like the rage for deep play, are so bewitching, 
and take such full possession of the mind, as even 
to give a new bent to the natural temper. Under its 
influence the cautious become enterprising, and the 
covetous profuse. Powerful as this charm naturally 
is, its force is augmented by the arts of an order of 
men known in Peru by the cant name of searchers. 
These are commonly persons of desperate fortune, 
who, availing themselves of some skill in mine¬ 
ralogy, accompanied with the insinuating manner 
and confident pretensions peculiar to projectors, 
address the wealthy and the credulous. By plausible 
descriptions of the appearances which they have 


1 Uztariz Theor. y Pract. de Commercia. c. 3. Herrera dec. viii. lib. 
xi. c. 15. See Note CLXXXV. 


k Fernandez, p. 1. lib. xi. c. 11. 



BOOK VIII. 


969 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


discovered of rich veins hitherto unexplored ; by 
producing, when requisite, specimens of promising 
ore ; by affirming, with an imposing assurance, that 
success is certain, and that the expense must be 
trilling, they seldom fail to persuade. An associa¬ 
tion is formed ; a small sum is advanced by each 
copai tner; the mine is opened; the searcher is 
intrusted with the sole direction of every operation : 
unforeseen difficulties occur; new demands of 
money are made ; but, amidst a succession of disap¬ 
pointments and delays, hope is never extinguished, 
and the ardour of expectation hardly abates. For 
it is observed, that if any person once enter this 
seducing path, it is almost impossible to return ; 
his ideas alter, he seems to be possessed with 
another spirit; visions of imaginary wealth are 
continually before his eyes, and he thinks, and 
speaks, and dreams of nothing else. m 

Fatal effects Such is the spirit that must be form¬ 
ed, wherever the active exertions of 
any society are chiefly employed in working mines 
of gold and silver. No spirit is more adverse 
to such improvements in agriculture and commerce 
as render a nation really opulent. If the system 
of administration in the Spanish colonies had been 
founded upon principles of sound policy, the power 
and ingenuity of the legislator would have been 
exerted with as much ardour in restraining its sub¬ 
jects from such pernicious industry, as is now em¬ 
ployed in alluring them towards it. “ Projects of 
mining,” says a good judge of the political conduct 
of nations, “ instead of replacing the capital em¬ 
ployed in them, together with the ordinary profit of 
stock, commonly absorb both capital and profit. 
They are the projects, therefore, to which, of all 
others, a prudent lawgiver, who desired to increase 
the capital of his nation, would least choose to give 
any extraordinary encouragement, or to turn to¬ 
wards them a greater share of that capital than 
would go to them of its own accord. Such, in re¬ 
ality, is the absurd confidence which all men have 
in their own good fortune, that wherever there is 
the least probability of success, too great a share of 
it is apt to go to them of its own accord.” 11 But in 
the Spanish colonies, government is studious to 
cherish a spirit which it should have laboured to 
depress, and, by the sanction of its approbation, 
augments that inconsiderate credulity, which has 
turned the active industry of Mexico and Peru into 
such an improper channel. To this maybe imputed 
the slender progress which Spanish America has 
made, during two centuries and a half, either in 
useful manufactures, or in those lucrative branches 
of cultivation which furnish the colonies of other 
nations with their staple commodities. In compa¬ 
rison with the precious metals every bounty of 
nature is so much despised, that this extravagant 
idea of their value has mingled with the idiom of 
language in America, and the Spaniards settled 

m Ulloa Entreten. p. 223. 

n Dr. Smith’s Inquiry, &c. ii. 155. 


there, denominate a country rich , not from the fer¬ 
tility of its soil, the abundance of its crops, or the 
exuberance of its pastures, but on account of the 
minerals which its mountains contain. In quest of 
these, they abandon the delightful plains of Peru 
and Mexico, and resort to barren and uncomfortable 
regions, where they have built some of the largest 
towns which they possess in the New World. As 
the activity and enterprise of the Spaniards origin¬ 
ally took this direction, it is now so difficult to bend 
them a different way, that although, from various 
causes, the gain of working mines is much decreas¬ 
ed, the fascination continues, and almost every per¬ 
son, who takes any active part in the commerce of 
New Spain or Peru, is still engaged in some adven¬ 
ture of this kind. 0 

But though mines are the chief ob¬ 
ject of the Spaniards, and the precious diMesoftEeSpa- 
metals which these yield form the nish colonies - 
principal article in their commerce with America ; 
the fertile countries which they possess there abound 
with other commodities of such value, or scarcity, 
as to attract a considerable degree of attention. 
Cochineal is a production almost peculiar to New 
Spain, of such demand in commerce that the sale 
is always certain, and yet yields such profit as amply 
rewards the labour and care employed in rearing 
the curious insects of which this valuable drug is 
composed, and preparing it for the market. Quin¬ 
quina or Jesuits’ bark, the most salutary simple, 
perhaps, and of most restorative virtue, that Provi¬ 
dence, in compassion to human infirmity, has made 
known unto man, is found only in Peru, to which 
it affords a lucrative branch of commerce. The in¬ 
digo of Guatimala is superior in quality to that of 
any province in America, and cultivated to a con¬ 
siderable extent. Cacao, though not peculiar to 
the Spanish colonies, attains to its highest state of 
perfection there, and from the great consumption of 
chocolate in Europe as well as in America, is a valu¬ 
able commodity. The tobacco of Cuba, of more 
exquisite flavour than any brought from the New 
World ; the sugar raised in that island, in Hispa¬ 
niola, and in New Spain, together with drugs of 
various kinds, may be mentioned among the natural 
productions of America which enrich the Spanish 
commerce. To these must be added an article of no 
inconsiderable account, the exportation of hides ; 
for which, as well as for many of those which I 
have enumerated, the Spaniards are more indebted 
to the wonderful fertility of the country, than to 
their own foresight and industry. The domestic 
animals of Europe, particularly horned cattle, have 
multiplied in the New World with a rapidity which 
almost exceeds belief. A few years after the Spa¬ 
niards settled there, the herds of tame cattle became 
so numerous, that their proprietors reckoned them 
by thousands. 11 Less attention being paid to them 
as they continued to increase, they were suffered to 

o See Note CLXXXV1. 

p Oviedo ap. Rarnus. iii. 101. B. Hakluyt, iii. 460. 511. 



970 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK YIII. 


run wild ; and spreading over a country of bound¬ 
less extent, under a mild climate and covered with 
rich pasture, their number became immense. They 
range over the vast plains which extend from Bue¬ 
nos Ayres towards the Andes, in herds of thirty or 
forty thousand ; and the unlucky traveller who 
once falls in among them, may proceed several days 
before he can disentangle himself from among the 
crowd that covers the face of the earth, and seems 
to have no end. They are hardly less numerous in 
New Spain, and in several other provinces : they 
are killed merely for the sake of their hides ; and 
the slaughter at certain seasons is so great, that the 
stench of their carcasses, which are left in the field, 
would infect the air, if large packs of wild dogs, 
and vast flocks of gallinazos, or American vultures, 
the most voracious of all the feathered kind, did 
not instantly devour them. The number of those 
hides exported in every fleet to Europe is very great, 
and is a lucrative branch of commerce.s 

Almost all these may be considered as staple com¬ 
modities peculiar to America, and different, if we 
except that last mentioned, from the productions of 
the mother-country. 

Advantages When the importation into Spain of 
rivesVrom'her 6 ’ th° se various articles from her colo- 
coiomes. n j es fj rs j. b ecame active and consider¬ 
able, her interior industry and manufactures were 
in a state so prosperous, that with the product of 
these she was able both to purchase the commodi¬ 
ties of the New World and to answer its growing 
demands. Under the reigns of Ferdinand and Isa¬ 
bella, and Charles V., Spain was one of the most 
industrious countries in Europe. Her manufactures 
in wool, and flax, and silk, were so extensive, as 
not only to furnish what was sufficient for her own 
consumption, but to a fiord a surplus for exportation. 
When a market for them, formerly unknown, and 
to which she alone had access, opened in America, 
she had recourse to her domestic store, and found 
there an abundant supply/ This new employment 
must naturally have added vivacity to the spirit of 
industry. Nourished and invigorated by it, the 
manufactures, the population, and wealth, of Spain 
might have gone on increasing in the same propor¬ 
tion with the growth of her colonies. Nor was the 
state of the Spanish marine at this period less 
flourishing than that of its manufactures. In the 
beginning of the sixteenth century, Spain is said 
to have possessed above a thousand merchant ships/ 
a number probably far superior to that of any na¬ 
tion in Europe in that age. By the aid which 
foreign trade and domestic industry give recipro¬ 
cally to each other in their progress, the augmenta¬ 
tion of both must have been rapid and extensive, 
and Spain might have received the same accession 
of opulence and vigour from her acquisitions in 
the New World, that other powers have derived 
from their colonies there. 


q Acosta, lib. iii. c. 33. 
sept. Ibid. v. p. 680. 692. 


Ovallo Hist, of Chili. Church Collect, iii. 47. 
Lettres Edit', xiii. 235. i’euille, i. 249. 


But various causes prevented this. 

. . Why she docs not 

The same thing happens to nations as now derive the 

Sttinc. 

to individuals. Wealth, which flows 
in gradually, and with moderate increase, feeds and 
nourishes that activity which is friendly to com¬ 
merce, and calls it forth into vigorous and well- 
conducted exertions ; but wdien opulence pours in 
suddenly, and with too full a stream, it overturns 
all sober plans of industry, and brings along w ith 
it a taste for what is wild and extravagant and 
daring in business or in action. Such was the great 
and sudden augmentation of power and revenue, 
that the possession of America brought into Spain ; 
and some symptoms of its pernicious influence upon 
the political operations of that monarchy soon began 
to appear. For a considerable time, however, the 
supply of treasure from the New World was scanty 
and precarious ; and the genius of Charles V. con¬ 
ducted public measures with such prudence, that 
the effects of this influence were little perceived. 
But when Philip II. ascended the Spanish throne, 
with talents far inferior to those of his father, and 
remittances from the colonies became a regular and 
considerable branch of revenue, the fatal operation 
of this rapid change in the state of the kingdom, 
both on the monarch and his people, was at once 
conspicuous. Philip, possessing that spirit of un¬ 
ceasing assiduity which often characterizes the 
ambition of men of moderate talents, entertained 
such a high opinion of his own resources that he 
thought nothing too arduous for him to undertake. 
Shut up himself in the solitude of the Escurial, he 
troubled and annoyed all the nations around him. 
He waged open war with the Dutch and English ; 
he encouraged and aided a rebellious faction in 
France; he conquered Portugal, and maintained 
armies and garrisons in Italy, Africa, and both the 
Indies. By such a multiplicity of great and compli¬ 
cated operations, pursued with ardour during the 
course of a long reign, Spain was drained both of 
men and money. Under the w'eak administration 
of his successor, Philip III., the vigour 
of the nation continued to decrease, ' ' 16n * 
and sunk into the lowest decline, when the incon¬ 
siderate bigotry of that monarch expelled at once 
near a million of his most industrious subjects, at 
the very time when the exhausted state of the king¬ 
dom required some extraordinary exertion of politi¬ 
cal wisdom to augment its numbers, and to revive 
its strength. Early in the seventeenth century, 
Spain felt such a diminution in the number of her 
people, that from inability to recruit her armies she 
w as obliged to contract her operations. Her flour¬ 
ishing manufactures were fallen into decay. Her 
fleets, which had been the terror of all Europe, 
were ruined. Her extensive foreign commerce was 
lost. The trade between different parts of her own 
dominions was interrupted, and the ships which 
attempted to carry it on were taken and plundered 


r See Mote CLXXXVIT. 
s Campomanes, ii. 140. 



BOOK VIII. 


071 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


by enemies whom she once despised. Even agri¬ 
culture, the primary object of industry in every 
prosperous state, was neglected, and one of the most 
fertile countries in Europe hardly raised what was 
sufficient for the support of its own inhabitants. 

Rapid decline I * 1 proportion as the population and 
of its trade, manufactures of the parent state de¬ 
clined, the demands of her colonies continued to 
increase. The Spaniards, like their monarchs, in¬ 
toxicated with the wealth which poured in annually 
upon them, deserted the paths of industry to which 
they had been accustomed, and repaired with ea¬ 
gerness to those regions from which this opulence 
issued. By this rage of emigration another drain 
■was opened, and the strength of the colonies aug¬ 
mented by exhausting that of the mother-country. 
All those emigrants, as M'ell as the adventurers who 
had at first settled in America, depended absolutely 
upon Spain tor almost every article of necessary 
consumption. Engaged in more alluring and lucra¬ 
tive pursuits, or prevented by restraints which go¬ 
vernment imposed, they could not turn their own 
attention towards establishing the manufactures re¬ 
quisite for comfortable subsistence. They received 
(as I have observed in another place) their clothing, 
their furniture, whatever ministers to the ease or 
luxury of life, and even their instruments of labour, 
from Europe. Spain, thinned of people and de¬ 
creasing in industry, Mas unable to supply their 
growing demands. She had recourse to her neigh¬ 
bours. The manufactures of the Low Countries, of 
England, of France, and of Italy, which her wants 
called into existence or animated with new vivacity, 
furnished in abundance whatever she required. In 
vain did the fundamental law, concerning the ex¬ 
clusion of foreigners from trade with America, op¬ 
pose this innovation. Necessity, more powerful 
than any statute, defeated its operation, and con¬ 
strained the Spaniards themselves to concur in 
eluding it. The English, the French and Dutch, 
relying on the fidelity and honour of Spanish mer¬ 
chants, who lend their names to cover the deceit, 
send out their manufactures to America, and re¬ 
ceive the exorbitant price for which they are sold 
there, either in specie, or in the rich commodities 
of the New World. Neither the dread of danger, 
nor the allurement of profit, ever induced a Spanish 
factor to betray or defraud the person who confided 
in him ; l and that probity, which is the pride and 
distinction of the nation, contributes to its ruin. 
In a short time, not above a twentieth part of the 
commodities exported to America M as of Spanish 
growth or fabric." All the rest was the property of 
foreign merchants, though entered in the name of 
Spaniards. The treasure of the New World may 
be said henceforward not to have belonged to Spain. 
Before it reached Europe, it was anticipated as the 
price of goods purchased from foreigners. That 
wealth which, by an internal circulation, would 
have spread through each vein of industry, and 

t Zavala Representation, p. 226. u Campomanes, ii. 138. 


have conveyed life and movement to every branch 
of manufacture, flowed out of the kingdom with 
such a rapid course as neither enriched nor ani¬ 
mated it. On the other hand, the artisans of rival 
nations, encouraged by this quick sale of their 
commodities, improved so much in skill and indus¬ 
try, as to be able to afford them at a rate so low, 
that the manufactures of Spain, which could not 
vie with theirs, either in quality or cheapness of 
work, Mere still further depressed. This destructive 
commerce drained off the riches of the nation faster 
and more completely than even the extravagant 
schemes of ambition carried on by its monarchs. 
Spain was so much astonished and distressed, at 
beholding her American treasures vanish almost as 
soon as they were imported, that Philip III., unable 
to supply what was requisite in circulation, issued 
an edict, by which he endeavoured to raise copper 
money to a value in currency nearly equal to that 
of silver ; x and the lord of the Peruvian and Mexi¬ 
can mines was reduced to a wretched expedient, 
which is the last resource of petty impoverished 
states. 

Thus the possessions of Spain in America have 
not proved a source of population and of M'ealth to 
her, in the same manner as those of other nations. 
In the countries of Europe, where the spirit of in¬ 
dustry subsists in full vigour, every person settled 
in such colonies as are similar, in their situation, to 
those of Spain, is supposed to give employment to 
three or four at home in supplying his wants.? But 
wherever the mother-country cannot afford this 
supply, every emigrant may be considered as a citi¬ 
zen lost to the community, and strangers must reap 
all the benefit of ansMering his demands. 

Such has been the internal state of increased by the 
Spain from the close of the sixteenth Stercou'rse 
century, and such her inability to sup- Wltl1 America - 
ply the growing wants of her colonies. The fatal 
effects of this disproportion between their demands, 
and her capacity of answering them, have been much 
increased by the mode in which Spain has endea¬ 
voured to regulate the intercourse between the 
mother-country and the colonies. It is from her 
idea of monopolizing the trade with America, and 
debarring her subjects there from any communication 
with foreigners, that all her jealous and systematic 
arrangements have arisen. These are so singular 
in their nature and consequences as to merit a par¬ 
ticular explanation. In order to secure the mono¬ 
poly at which she aimed, Spain did not vest the 
trade with her colonies in an exclusive company, a 
plan which has been adopted by nations more com¬ 
mercial, and at a period when mercantile policy 
was an object of greater attention, and ought to 
have been better understood. The Dutch gave up 
the whole trade with their colonies, both in the 
East and West Indies, to exclusive companies. The 
English, the French, the Danes, have imitated their 
example with respect to the East Indian commerce; 

x Uztarez, c. 104. y Child on Trade and Colonies. 



972 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


and the two former have laid a similar restraint upon 
some branches of their trade with the New World. 
The wit of man cannot, perhaps, devise a method 
for checking the progress of industry and population 
in a new colony more effectual than this. The in¬ 
terest of the colony, and of the exclusive company, 
must in every point be diametrically opposite; and 
as the latter possesses such advantages in this un¬ 
equal contest, that it can prescribe at pleasure the 
terms of intercourse, the former must not only buy 
dear and sell cheap, but must suffer the mortifica¬ 
tion of having the increase of its surplus stock dis¬ 
couraged by those very persons to whom alone it 
can dispose of its productions. 7 ' 

Spain, it is probable, was preserved 

This confined „ r .. 

to one port in from falling into this error of policy, 
by the high ideas which she early 
formed concerning the riches of the New World. 
Gold and silver were commodities of too high a 
value to vest a monopoly of them in private hands. 
The crown wished to retain the direction of a com¬ 
merce so inviting; and, in order to secure that, 
ordained the cargo of every ship fitted out for Ame¬ 
rica to be inspected by the officers of the Casa de 
Contratacion in Seville before it could receive a 
licence to make the voyage ; and that, on its return, 
a report of the commodities which it brought should 
be made to the same board before it could be per¬ 
mitted to land them. In consequence of this regu¬ 
lation, all the trade of Spain with the New World 
centred originally in the port of Seville, and was 
gradually brought into a form, in which it has been 
conducted, with little variation, from the middle of 
the sixteenth century almost to our own times. For 
the greater security of the valuable cargoes sent to 
America, as well as for the more easy prevention 
of fraud, the commerce of Spain with its colonies 
is carried on by fleets which sail under strong con¬ 
voys. These fleets, consisting of two squadrons, 
one distinguished by the name of the Galeons , the 
other by that of the Flota, are equipped annually. 
Formerly they took their departure from Seville; 
but as the port of Cadiz has been found more com¬ 
modious, they have sailed from it since the year 1720. 

Carried on by The Galeons destined to supply 
the Galeons, xj erra Firme, and the kingdoms of 

Peru and Chili, with almost every article of luxury, 
or necessary consumption, that an opulent people 
can demand, touch first at Carthagena, and then at 
Porto-bello. To the former, the merchants of Santa 
Martha, Caraccas, the new kingdom of Granada, 
and several other provinces, resort. The latter is 
the great mart for the rich commerce of Peru and 
Chili. At the season when the Galeons are expected, 
the product of all the mines in these two kingdoms, 
together with their other valuable commodities, is 
transported by sea to Panama. From thence, as 
soon as the appearance of the fleet from Europe is 
announced, they are conveyed across the isthmus, 


partly on mules and partly down the river Chagre, 
to Porto-bello. This paltry village, the climate of 
which, from the pernicious union of excessive heat, 
continual moisture, and the putrid exhalations 
arising from a rank soil, is more fatal to life than 
any perhaps in the known world, is immediately 
filled with people. From being the residence of a 
few negroes and mulattoes, and of a miserable 
garrison relieved every three months, Porto-bello 
assumes suddenly a very different aspect, and its 
streets are crowded with opulent merchants from 
every corner of Peru and the adjacent provinces. 
A fair is opened, the wealth of America is exchanged 
for the manufactures of Europe; and, during its 
prescribed term of forty days, the richest traffic on 
the face of the earth is begun and finished, with 
that simplicity of transaction, and that unbounded 
confidence, which accompany extensive commerce . 1 
The Flota holds its course to Yera 
Cruz. The treasures and commodi¬ 
ties of New Spain, and the depending provinces, 
which were deposited at Puebla de los Angeles, in 
expectation of its arrival, are carried thither ; and 
the commercial operations of Vera Cruz, conducted 
in the same manner with those of Porto-bello, are 
inferior to them only in importance and value. Both 
fleets, as soon as they have completed their cargoes 
from America, rendezvous at the Havanna, and re¬ 
turn in company to Europe. 

The trade of Spain with her colonies, Ead effcct3 of 
while thus fettered and restricted, came thlsarra »&ement. 
necessarily to be conducted with the same spirit, 
and upon the same principles, as that of an exclu¬ 
sive company. Being confined to a single port, it 
was of course thrown into a few hands, and almost 
the whole of it was gradually engrossed by a small 
number of wealthy houses, formerly in Seville, and 
now in Cadiz. These, by combinations which they 
can easily form, may altogether prevent that compe¬ 
tition which preserves commodities at their natural 
price; and by acting in concert, to which they are 
prompted by their mutual interest, they may raise or 
lower the value of them at pleasure. In consequence 
of this, the price of European goods in America is 
always high, and often exorbitant. A hundred, two 
hundred, and even three hundred per cent., are 
profits not uncommon in the commerce of Spain 
with her colonies. 1 * From the same engrossing spirit 
it frequently happens, that traders of the second 
order, whose warehouses do not contain a complete 
assortment of commodities for the American market, 
cannot purchase from the more opulent merchants 
such goods as they want, at a lower price than that 
for which they are sold in the colonies. With the 
same vigilant jealousy that an exclusive company 
guards against the intrusion of the free trader, those 
overgrown monopolists endeavour to check the pro¬ 
gress of every one whose encroachments they dread.' 
This restraint of the American commerce to one 


z Smith’s Inquiry, ii. 171. 
a See Note CLAXXV1II. 


b B. Ulloa Ttetabliss. part ii. p. 191. 

c Smith’s Inquiry, ii. 171 . Campomanes, Educ. Popul. i. 43 . 



BOOK vm. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


973 


port, not only affects its domestic state, but limits 
its foreign operations. A monopolist may acquire 
more, and certainly will hazard less, by a confined 
trade which yields exorbitant profit, than by an ex¬ 
tensive commerce in which he receives only a mo¬ 
derate return of gain. It is often his interest not to 
enlarge but to circumscribe the sphere of his ac¬ 
tivity ; and, instead of calling forth more vigorous 
exertions of commercial industry, it may be the ob¬ 
ject of his attention to check and set bounds to them. 
By some such maxim, the mercantile policy of 
Spain seems to have regulated its intercourse with 
America. Instead of furnishing the colonies with 
European goods in such quantity as might render 
both the price and the profit moderate, the mer¬ 
chants of Seville and Cadiz seem to have supplied 
them with a sparing hand, that the eagerness of 
competition, amongst customers obliged to purchase 
in a scanty market, might enable the Spanish fac¬ 
tors to dispose of their cargoes with exorbitant 
gain. About the middle of the last century, when 
the exclusive trade to America from Seville was in 
its most flourishing state, the burden of the two 
united squadrons of the Galeons and Flota did not 
exceed twenty-seven thousand five hundred tons. d 
The supply which such a fleet could carry must 
have been very inadequate to the demands of those 
populous and extensive colonies, which depended 
upon it for all the Luxuries and many of the neces¬ 
saries of life. 


Remedies pro- s P ain earl y became sensible of her 
posed. declension from her former prosperity; 

and many respectable and virtuous citizens employ¬ 
ed their thoughts in devising methods for reviving 
the decaying industry and commerce of their coun¬ 
try. From the violence of the remedies proposed, 
we may judge how desperate and fatal the malady 
appeared. Some, confounding a violation of police 
with criminality against the state, contended that, 
in order to check illicit commerce, every person 
convicted of carrying it on should be punished with 
death, and confiscation of all his effects. e Others, 
forgetting the distinction between civil offences and 
acts of impiety, insisted that contraband trade should 
be ranked among the crimes reserved for the cog¬ 
nizance of the inquisition ; that such as were guilty 
of it might be tried and punished, according to the 
secret and summary form in which that dreadful 
tribunal exercises its jurisdiction/ Others, unin¬ 
structed by observing the pernicious effects of mo¬ 
nopolies in every country where they have been estab¬ 
lished, have proposed to vest the trade with America 
in exclusive companies, which interest would render 
the most vigilant guardians of the Spanish com¬ 
merce against the encroachment of the interlopers . 6 

Besides these wild projects, many schemes, better 
digested and more beneficial, were suggested. But 
under the feeble monarchs with whom the reign of 
the Austrian line in Spain closed, incapacity and 


indecision are conspicuous in every department of 
government. Instead of taking for their model the 
active administration of Charles V., they affected 
to imitate the cautious procrastinating wisdom of 
Philip II.; and destitute of his talents, they deli¬ 
berated perpetually, but determined nothing. No 
remedy was applied to the evils under which the 
national commerce, domestic as well as foreign, lan¬ 
guished. These evils continued to increase ; and 
Spain, with dominions more extensive and more 
opulent than any European state, possessed neither 
vigour, nor money/ nor industry. At length, the 
violence of a great national convulsion roused the 
slumbering genius of Spain. The efforts of the two 
contending parties in the civil war kindled by the 
dispute concerning the succession of the crown at 
the beginning of this century, called forth in some 
degree the ancient spirit and vigour of the nation. 
While men were thus forming, capable of adopting 
sentiments more liberal than those which had in¬ 
fluenced the councils of the monarchy during the 
course of a century, Spain derived from an unex¬ 
pected source the means of availing itself of their 
talents. The various powers who favoured the pre¬ 
tensions either of the Austrian or Bourbon candidate 
for the Spanish throne, sent formidable fleets and 
armies to their support; France, England, and Hol¬ 
land remitted immense sums to Spain. These were 
spent in the provinces which became the theatre of 
war. Part of the American treasure, of which 
foreigners had drained the kingdom, flowed back 
thither. From this aera, one of the most intelligent 
Spanish authors dates the revival of the monarchy ; 
and, however humiliating the truth may be, he ac¬ 
knowledges, that it is to her enemies his country is 
indebted for the acquisition of a fund of circulating 
specie, in some measure adequate to the exigencies 
of the public/ 

As soon as the Bourbons obtained step towards im- 
quiet possession of the throne, they fheRTurb^mo- 
discerned this change in the spirit of harchs * 
the people and in the state of the nation, and took 
advantage of it; for although that family has not 
given monarchs to Spain remarkable for superiority 
of genius, they have all been beneficent princes, 
attentive to the happiness of their subjects, and so¬ 
licitous to promote it. It was, accordingly, the first 
object of Philip V. to suppress an innovation w hich 
had crept in during the course of the war, and had 
overturned the whole system of the Spanish com¬ 
merce with America. The English and Dutch, by 
their superiority in naval power, having acquired 
such command of the sea as to cut off all intercourse 

between Spain and her colonies, Spain, , 

_ . , , , . , . excluding fo- 

in order to furnish her subjects in refers from 

. trade with Peru; 

America those necessaries ot hie with¬ 
out which they could not exist, and as the only 
means of receiving from thence any part of their 
treasure, departed so far from the usual rigour of 


d Campomanes, Educ. Popul. 1 . 435. 11 .140. 
e M. de Santa Cruz Commercia Suelto, p. 142. 
f Moncada Restauracion politica de Espagna, p. 41. 


e Zavalla y Augnon Representacion, &c. p. 190. 
h See Note CLXXX1X. 
i Campomanes, i. 420. 



974 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK YIII. 


its maxims as to open the trade with Peru to her 
allies the French. The merchants of St. Malo, to 
whom Louis XIV. granted the privilege of this 
lucrative commerce, engaged in it with vigour, and 
carried it on upon principles very different from 
those of the Spaniards. They supplied Peru with 
European commodities at a moderate price, and not 
in stinted quantity. The goods which they import¬ 
ed were conveyed to every province of Spanish 
America, in such abundance as had never been 
known in any former period. If this intercourse 
had been continued, the exportation of European 
commodities from Spain must have ceased, and the 
dependence of the colonies on the mother-country 

have been at an end. The most per- 
1713 . r 

emptory injunctions were therefore 
issued, prohibiting the admission of foreign vessels 
into any port of Peru or Chili, k and a Spanish 
squadron was employed to clear the South sea of 
intruders, whose aid was no longer necessary. 

by checking con- But though, on the cessation of the 
traband trade, war w hj c h was terminated by the treaty 

of Utrecht, Spain obtained relief from one encroach¬ 
ment on her commercial system, she was exposed to 
another which she deemed hardly less pernicious. 
As an inducement that might prevail with queen 
Anne to conclude a peace, which France and Spain 
desired with equal ardour, Philip V. not only con¬ 
veyed to Great Britain the Assiento, 

particularly of , , r 0 . . 

the English Assi- or contract tor su pp/lying the Spanish 

ento company. . , . , . , ~ 

colonies with negroes, which had for¬ 
merly been enjoyed by France, but granted it the 
more extraordinary privilege of sending annually to 
the fair of Porto-bello a ship of five hundred tons, 
laden with European commodities. In consequence 
of this, British factories were established at Cartlia- 
gena, Panama, Yera Cruz, Buenos Ayres, and other 
Spanish settlements. The veil with which Spain 
had hitherto covered the state and transactions of her 
colonies was removed. The agents of a rival nation, 
residing in the towns of most extensive trade, and 
of chief resort, had the best opportunities of becom¬ 
ing acquainted with the interior condition of the 
American provinces, of observing their stated and 
occasional wants, and of knowing what commodities 
might be imported into them with the greatest ad¬ 
vantage. In consequence of information so authen¬ 
tic and expeditious, the merchants of Jamaica and 
other English colonies who traded to the Spanish 
main, were enabled to assort and proportion their 
cargoes so exactly to the demands of the market, 
that the contraband commerce was carried on with 
a facility and to an extent unknown in any former 
period. This, however, was not the most fatal con¬ 
sequence of the Assiento to the trade of Spain. 
The agents of the British South sea company, under 
cover of the importation which they were authorized 
to make by the ship sent annually to Porto-bello, 
poured in their commodities on the Spanish conti- 

k Frezier Voy. 256. R. Ulloa Itetab. ii. 104, &c. Alcedo Herrera, 
Aviso, &c. 236. 


nent without limitation or restraint. Instead of a 
ship of five hundred tons, as stipulated in the treaty, 
they usually employed one which exceeded nine 
hundred tons in burthen. She was accompanied by 
two or three smaller vessels, which, mooring in some 
neighbouring creek, supplied her clandestinely with 
fresh bales of goods to replace such as were sold. 
The inspectors of the fair, and officers of the revenue, 
gained by exorbitant presents, connived at the 
fraud . 1 Thus, partly by the operations of the com¬ 
pany, and partly by the activity of private interlop¬ 
ers, almost the whole trade of Spanish ^ 
America was engrossed by foreigners. 

The immense commerce of the Galeons, formerly 
the pride of Spain, and the envy of other nations, 
sunk to nothing; and the squadron itself, reduced 
from fifteen thousand to two thousand tons,™ served 
hardly any purpose but to fetch home the royal 
revenue arising from the fifth on silver. 

While Spain observed those en- 

G uftrds costas 

croachments, and felt so sensibly their employed for this 

rr , . ... purpose. 

pernicious effects, it was impossible 
not to make some effort to restrain them. Her first 
expedient was to station ships of force, under the 
appellation of Guarda costas, upon the coasts of 
those provinces to Mdiicli interlopers most frequently 
resorted. As private interest concurred with the 
duty which they owed to the public, in rendering 
the officers who commanded those vessels vigilant 
and active, some check was given to the progress of 
the contraband trade, though in dominions so ex¬ 
tensive, and so accessible by sea, hardly any number 
of cruisers was sufficient to guard against its inroads 
in every quarter. This interruption of an intercourse 
which had been carried on with so much facility, 
that the merchants in the British colonies were ac¬ 
customed to consider it almost as an allowed branch 
of commerce, excited murmurs and complaints. 
These, authorized in some measure, and rendered 
more interesting by several unjustifiable acts of vio¬ 
lence committed by the captains of the 

3 * 39 

Spanish Guarda costas, precipitated 
Great Britain into a war with Spain ; in conse¬ 
quence of which the latter obtained a final release 
from the Assiento, and was left at liberty to regu¬ 
late the commerce of her colonies without being re¬ 
strained by any engagement with a foreign power. 

As the formidable encroachments of The use of register 
the English on their American trade ship3 introduced - 
had discovered to the Spaniards the vast consump¬ 
tion of European goods in their colonies, and taught 
them the advantage of accommodating their impor¬ 
tations to the occasional demand of the various 
provinces, they perceived the necessity of devising 
some method of supplying their colonies, different 
from their ancient one of sending thither periodical 
fleets. That mode of communication had been 
found not only to be uncertain, as the departure of 
the Galeons and Flota was sometimes retarded by 

1 See Note CXC. 

m Alcedo y Herrera, p. 359. Campomanes, i. 436. 





BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


975 


various accidents, and often prevented by the wars 
which raged in Europe ; but long experience had 
shown it to be ill adapted to afford America a re¬ 
gular and timely supply of what it wanted. The 
scarcity of European goods in the Spanish settle¬ 
ments frequently became excessive; their price 
rose to an enormous height; the vigilant eye of 
mercantile attention did not fail to observe this fa¬ 
vourable opportunity ; an ample supply was poured 
in by interlopers from the English, the French, and 
Dutch islands ; and when the Galeons at length 
arrived, they found the markets so glutted by this 
illicit commerce, that there was no demand for the 
commodities with which they were loaded. In 
order to remedy this, Spain has permitted a con¬ 
siderable part of her commerce with America to be 
carried on by register ships. These are fitted out 
during the intervals between the stated seasons 
when the Galeons and Flota sail, by merchants in 
Seville or Cadiz, upon obtaining a licence from the 
council of the Indies, for which they pay a very 
high premium, and are destined for those ports in 
America where any extraordinary demand is fore¬ 
seen or expected. By this expedient, such a regular 
supply of the commodities for which there is the 
greatest demand is conveyed to the American mar¬ 
ket, that the interloper is no longer allured by the 
same prospect of excessive gain, or the people in 
the colonies urged by the same necessity, to engage 
in the hazardous adventures of contraband trade. 

In proportion as experience mani¬ 
fested the advantages of carrying on 
trade in this mode, the number of register ships in¬ 
creased ; and at length, in the year 1748, the Gale¬ 
ons, after having been employed upwards of two 
centuries, were finally laid aside. From that period 
there has been no intercourse with Chili and Peru 
but by single ships despatched from time to time, 
as occasion requires, and when the merchants ex¬ 
pect a profitable market will open. These ships 
sail round cape Horn, and convey directly to the 
ports in the South sea the productions and manu¬ 
factures of Europe, for which the people settled in 
those countries were formerly obliged to repair to 
Porto-bello or Panama. These towns, as has been 
formerly observed, must gradually decline, when 
deprived of that commerce to which they owed 
their prosperity. This disadvantage, however, is 
more than compensated by the beneficial effects of 
this new arrangement, as the whole continent of 
South America receives new supplies of European 
commodities with so much regularity, and in such 
abundance, as must not only contribute greatly to 
the happiness, but increase the population, of all 
the colonies settled there. But as all the register- 
ships destined for the South seas must still take 
their departure from Cadiz, and are obliged to re¬ 
turn thither, r this branch of the American commerce, 
even in its new and improved form, continues sub¬ 
ject to the restraints of a species of monopoly, and 

n Campomanes, i. 434. 440. 


The Galeons 
abolished. 


feels those pernicious effects of it which I have 
already described. 

Nor has the attention of Spain been Sctiemes for re¬ 
confined to regulating the trade with vlvin s com,lier c e . 
its more flourishing colonies ; it has extended like¬ 
wise to the reviving commerce in those settlements 
where it was neglected, or had decayed. Among 
the new tastes which the people of Europe have 
acquired, in consequence of importing the produc¬ 
tions of those countries which they conquered in 
America, that for chocolate is one of the most uni¬ 
versal. The use of this liquor, made with a paste 
formed of the nut or almond of the cacao-tree com¬ 
pounded with various ingredients, the Spaniards 
first learned from the Mexicans ; and it has appear¬ 
ed to them, and to the other European nations, so 
palatable, so nourishing, and so wholesome, that it 
has become a commercial article of considerable 
importance. The cacao-tree grows spontaneously 
in several parts of the torrid zone ; but the nuts of 
the best quality, next to those of Guatimala on the 
South sea, are produced in the rich plains of Ca- 
raccas, a province of Tierra Firme. In consequence 
of this acknowledged superiority in the quality of 
cacao in that province, and its communication with 
the Atlantic, which facilitates the conveyance to 
Europe, the culture of the cacao there is more ex¬ 
tensive than in any district of America. But the 
Dutch, by the vicinity of their settlements in the 
small islands of Curazoa and Buen-Ayre, to the 
coast of Caraccas, gradually engrossed the greatest 
part of the cacao trade. The traffic with the 
mother-country for this valuable commodity ceased 
almost entirely; and such was the supine negligence 
of the Spaniards, or the defects of their commercial 
arrangements, that they were obliged to receive 
from the hands of foreigners this production of their 
own colonies, at an exorbitant price. 

by establishing 

In order to remedy an evil no less dis- the company o? 

Caraccas 

graceful than pernicious to his sub¬ 
jects, Philip V., in the year 1728, granted to a body 
of merchants an exclusive right to the commerce 
with Caraccas and Cumana, on condition of their 
employing, at their own expense, a sufficient num¬ 
ber of armed vessels to clear the coast of interlop¬ 
ers. This society, distinguished sometimes by the 
name of the company of Guipuscoa, from the pro¬ 
vince of Spain in which it is established, and some¬ 
times by that of the company of Caraccas, from the 
district of America to which it trades, has carried 
on its operations with such vigour and success, that 
Spain has recovered an important branch of com¬ 
merce which she had suffered to be wrested from her, 
and is plentifully supplied with an article of exten¬ 
sive consumption at a moderate price. Not only 
the parent state, but the colony of Caraccas, has 
derived great advantages from this institution ; for 
although, at the first aspect, it may appear to be 
one of those monopolies whose tendency is to check 
the spirit of industry, instead of calling it forth to 



976 


BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


new exertions, it has been prevented from operating 
in this manner by several salutary regulations 
framed upon foresight of such bad effects, and of 
purpose to obviate them. The planters in the Ca- 
raccas are not left to depend entirely on the com¬ 
pany, either for the importation of European com¬ 
modities or the sale of their own productions. The 
inhabitants of the Canary Islands have the privi¬ 
lege of sending thither annually a register-ship of 
considerable burthen ; and from Vera Cruz, in New 
Spain, a free trade is permitted in every port com¬ 
prehended in the charter of the company. In con¬ 
sequence of this, there is such a competition, that 
both with respect to what the colonies purchase and 
what they sell, the price seems to be fixed at its 
natural and equitable rate. The company has not 
the power of raising the former, or of degrading 
the latter, at pleasure; and accordingly, since it 
was established, the increase of culture, of popu¬ 
lation, and of live stock, in the province of Carac- 
cas, has been very considerable. 0 

But as it is slowly that nations relin- 

Enlargement of . . . 

commercial ideas quish any system winch time has ren¬ 
dered venerable, and as it is still more 
slowly that commerce can be diverted from the 
channel in which it has long been accustomed to 
flow, Philip V., in his new regulations concerning 
the American trade, paid such deference to the 
ancient maxim of Spain, concerning the limitation 
of all importation from the New World to one har¬ 
bour, as to oblige both the register-ships which 
returned from Peru, and those of the Guipuscoan 
company from Caraccas, to deliver their cargoes in 
the port of Cadiz. Since his reign, sentiments more 
liberal and enlarged begin to spread in Spain. The 
spirit of philosophical inquiry, which it is the glory 
of the present age to have turned from frivolous or 
abstruse speculations to the business and affairs of 
men, has extended its influence beyond the Pyre¬ 
nees. In the researches of ingenious authors con¬ 
cerning the police or commerce of nations, the 
errors and defects of the Spanish system with re¬ 
spect to both met every eye, and have not only been 
exposed with severity, but are held up as a warning 
to other states. The Spaniards, stung with the re¬ 
proaches of these authors, or convinced by their 
arguments, and admonished by several enlightened 
writers of their own country, seem at length to have 
discovered the destructive tendency of those narrow 
maxims, which, by cramping commerce in all its 
operations, have so long retarded its progress. It 
is to the monarch now on the throne that Spain is 
indebted for the first public regulation formed in 
consequence of such enlarged ideas. 

„ „ While Spain adhered with rigour to 

regular packet ' " er ancieil t maxim concerning her 
commerce with America, she was so 
much afraid of opening any channel by which an 
illicit trade might find admission into the colonies, 
that she almost shut herself out from any intercourse 

p Ponte Viage de Espagna, vi. Prol. p. 15. 


with them, but that which was carried on by her 
annual fleets. There was no establishment, for a 
regular communication of either public or private 
intelligence, between the mother-country and its 
American settlements. From the want of this 
necessary institution, the operations of the state, as 
well as the business of individuals, were retarded, 
or conducted unskilfully, and Spain often received 
from foreigners her first information with respect to 
very interesting events in her own colonies. But 
though this defect in police was sensibly felt, and 
the remedy for it was obvious, that jealous spirit 
with which the Spanish monarchs guarded the ex¬ 
clusive trade, restrained them from applying it. At 
length Charles III. surmounted those considerations 
which had deterred his predecessors, and in the year 
1764 appointed packet-boats to be despatched on 
the first day of each month from Corugna to the 
Havanna or Porto Rico. From thence letters are 
conveyed in smaller vessels to Vera Cruz and Porto- 
bello, and transmitted by post through the kingdoms 
of Tierra Firme, Granada, Peru, and New Spain. 
With no less regularity packet-boats sail once in 
two months to Rio de la Plata, for the accommodation 
of the provinces to the east of the Andes. Thus 
provision is made for a speedy and certain circula¬ 
tion of intelligence throughout the vast dominions 
of Spain, from which equal advantages must re¬ 
dound to the political and mercantile interest of 
the kingdom. p With this new arrangement a scheme 
of extending commerce has been more immediately 
connected. Each of the packet-boats, which are 
vessels of some considerable burden, is allowed to 
take in half a loading of such commodities as are 
the product of Spain, and most in demand in the 
ports whither they are bound. In return for these, 
they may bring home to Corugna an equal quantity 
of American productions/ 1 This may be considered 
as the first relaxation of those rigid laws, which 
confined the trade with the New World to a single 
port, and the first attempt to admit the rest of the 
kingdom to some share in it. 

It was soon followed by one more de¬ 
cisive. In the year 1765, Charles III. mutedTo several 
laid open the trade to the windward prcvinces - 
islands, Cuba, Hispaniola, Porto-Rico, Margarita, 
and Trinidad, to his subjects in every province of 
Spain. He permitted them to sail from certain 
ports in each province, which are specified in the 
edict, at any season and with whatever cargo they 
deemed most proper, without any other warrant 
than a simple clearance from the custom-house of 
the place whence they took their departure. He 
released them from the numerous and oppressive 
duties imposed on goods exported to America, and 
in place of the whole substituted a moderate tax of 
six in the hundred on the commodities sent from 
Spain. He allowed them to return either to the 
same port, or to any other where they might hope 
for a more advantageous market, and there to enter 

q Append, ii. a laEduc. Pop. p. 31. 


o See Note CXCI. 




BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


i)77 


the homeward cargo on payment of the usual duties. 
This ample privilege, which at once broke through 
all the fences which the jealous policy of Spain had 
been labouring for two centuries and a half to throw 
round its commercial intercourse with the New 
World, was soon after extended to Louisiana, and 
to the provinces of Yucatan and Campeachy. 1- 
beneficial effects The propriety of this innovation, 
ot lt- which may be considered as the most 
liberal effort of Spanish legislation, has appeared 
from its effects. Prior to the edict in favour of the 
free trade, Spain derived hardly any benefit from 
its neglected colonies in Hispaniola, Porto-Rico, 
Margarita, and Trinidad. Its commerce with Cuba 
was inconsiderable, and that of Yucatan and Cam- 
peachy was engrossed almost entirely by interlopers. 
But as soon as a general liberty of trade was per¬ 
mitted, the intercourse with those provinces revived, 
and has gone on with a rapidity of progression of 
which there are few examples in the history of na¬ 
tions. In less than ten years, the trade of Cuba 
has been more than tripled. Even in those settle¬ 
ments where, from the languishing state of industry, 
greater efforts were requisite to restore its activity, 
their commerce has been doubled. It is computed, 
that such a number of ships is already employed in 
the free trade, that the tonnage of them far exceeds 
that of the Galeons and Flota at the most flourish¬ 
ing aera of their commerce. The benefits of this 
arrangement are not confined to a few merchants 
established in a favourite port. They are diffused 
through every province of the kingdom ; and, by 
opening a new market for their various productions 
and manufactures, must encourage and add viva¬ 
city to the industry of the farmer and artificer. Nor 
does the kingdom profit only by what it exports; it 
derives advantage likewise from what it receives in 
return, and has the prospect of being soon able to 
supply itself with several commodities of extensive 
consumption, for which it formerly depended on 
foreigners. The consumption of sugar in Spain is 
perhaps as great, in proportion to the number of its 
inhabitants, as that of any European kingdom. 
But though possessed of countries in the New 
World whose soil and climate are most proper for 
rearing the sugar-cane; though the domestic cul¬ 
ture of that valuable plant in the kingdom of Gra¬ 
nada was once considerable ; such has been the 
fatal tendency of ill-judged institutions in America, 
and such the pressure of improper taxes in Europe, 
that Spain has lost almost entirely this branch of 
industry, which has enriched other nations. This 
commodity, which has now become an article of 
primary necessity in Europe, the Spaniards were 
obliged to purchase of foreigners, and had the mor¬ 
tification to see their country drained annually of 
great sums on that account.* But, if that spirit 
which the permission of free trade has put in motion 
shall persevere in its efforts with the same vigour, 


the cultivation of sugar in Cuba and Porto-Rico 
may increase so much, that in a few years it is pro¬ 
bable that their growth of sugars may be equal to 
the demand of the kingdom. 

Spain has been induced, by her ex- 

. . Free trade per- 

perience of the beneficial consequences mitted between 

, the colonies. 

resulting from having relaxed some¬ 
what of the rigour of her ancient laws with respect 
to the commerce of the mother-country with the 
colonies, to permit a more liberal intercourse of one 
colony with another. By one of the jealous maxims 
of the old system, all the provinces situated on the 
South seas were prohibited, under the most severe 
penalties, from holding any communication with 
one another. Though each of these yields peculiar 
productions, the reciprocal exchange of which 
might have added to the happiness of their re¬ 
spective inhabitants, or have facilitated their pro¬ 
gress in industry, so solicitous was the council of 
the Indies to prevent their receiving any supply of 
their wants but by the periodical fleets from Europe, 
that in order to guard against this, it cruelly de¬ 
barred the Spaniards in Peru, in the southern pro¬ 
vinces of New Spain, in Guatimala, and the new 
kingdom of Granada, from such a correspondence 
with their fellow-subjects as tended manifestly to 
their mutual prosperity. Of all the numerous re¬ 
strictions devised by Spain for securing the exclu¬ 
sive trade with her American settlements, none 
perhaps was more illiberal, none seems to have 
been more sensibly felt, or to have produced more 
hurtful effects. This grievance, coeval with the 
settlements of Spain in the countries situated on 
the Pacific ocean, is at last redressed. In the year 
1774, Charles III. published an edict, granting to 
the four great provinces which I have mentioned 
the privilege of a free trade with each other. 1 What 
may be the effects of opening this communication 
between countries destined by their situation for 
reciprocal intercourse, cannot yet be determined by 
experience. They can hardly fail of being bene¬ 
ficial and extensive. The motives for granting this 
permission are manifestly no less laudable, than the 
principle on which it is founded is liberal; and 
both discover the progress of a spirit in Spain, far 
elevated above the narrow prejudices and maxims 
on which her system for regulating the trade and 
conducting the government of her colonies was 
originally founded. 

At the same time that Spain has New regulations 
been intent on introducing regulations, governmental' 
suggested by more enlarged views of lhecolomes - 
policy, into her system of American commerce, she 
has not been inattentive to the interior government 
of her colonies. Here, too, there was much room 
for reformation and improvement; and Don Joseph 
Galvez, who has now the direction of the depart¬ 
ment for Indian affairs in Spain, has enjoyed the 
best opportunities, not only of observing the defects 


r Append, ii. a la Educ. Pop. 37- 54. 91. 
s Uztariz, c. 94. 

3 R 


t Real Cedula, penes me. Pontz Viage de Espagna, vi. Prologo, p. 2 
Mote CXC1I. 



978 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


and corruption in the political frame of the colonies, 
but of discovering the sources of those evils. After 
being employed seven years in the New World on 
an extraordinary mission, and with very extensive 
powers, as inspector-general of New Spain ; after 
visiting in person the remote provinces of Cinaloa, 
Sonora, and California, and making several import¬ 
ant alterations in the state of the police and reve¬ 
nue ; he began his ministry with a general reform¬ 
ation of the tribunals of justice in America. In 
consequence of the progress of popu- 

Reformation of . , . ., 

the courts of lation and wealth in the colonies, the 

business of the courts of audience has 

increased so much, that the number of judges of 

which they were originally composed has been 

found inadequate to the growing labours and duties 

- of the office, and the salaries settled upon them 

have been deemed inferior to the dignity of the 

station. As a remedy for both, he obtained a royal 

edict, establishing an additional number of judges 

in each court of audience, with higher titles, and 

more ample appointments." 

Histrihntinn To the same intelligent minister 
Of government. Spain is indeb t e d for a new distribu¬ 
tion of government in its American provinces. Even 
since the establishment of a third viceroyalty in the 
new kingdom of Granada, so great is the extent of 
the Spanish dominions in the New World, that 
several places subject to the jurisdiction of each 
viceroy were at such an enormous distance from the 
capitals in which they resided, that neither their 
attention nor their authority could reach so far. 
Some provinces subordinate to the viceroy of New 
Spain lay above two thousand miles from Mexico. 
There were countries subject to the viceroy of Peru 
still further from Lima. The people in those remote 
districts could hardly be said to enjoy the benefit 
of civil government. The oppression and insolence 
of its inferior ministers they often feel, and rather 
submit to these in silence, than involve themselves 
in the expense and trouble of resorting to the 
distant capitals, where alone they can find redress. 
As a remedy for this, a fourth viceroyalty has been 
erected, to the jurisdiction of which 

viceroyalty, 

Aug. 1776 , on ’ are subjected the provinces of Rio de 
KmdeuPlata. ^ Plata, Buenos-Ayres, Paraguay, 

Tucuman, Potosi, St a . Cruz de la Sierra, Charcas, 
and the tow ns of Mendoza and St. Juan. By this 
well-judged arrangement, two advantages are gain¬ 
ed. All the inconveniences occasioned by the 
remote situation of those provinces, which had been 
long felt, and long complained of, are in a great 
measure removed. The countries most distant from 
Lima are separated from the viceroyalty of Peru, 
and united under a superior, whose seat of govern 
ment at Buenos-Ayres will be commodious and 
accessible. The contraband trade with the Portu¬ 
guese, which was become so extensive as must have 
put a final stop to the exportation of commodities 
from Spain to her southern colonies, may be checked 

u Gazeta de Madrid, 19th March, 1776. 


more thoroughly, and with greater facility, when 
the supreme magistrate, by his vicinity to the places 
in which it is carried on, can view its progress and 
effects with his own eyes. Don Pedro Zevallos, 
who has been raised to this new dignity, with ap¬ 
pointments equal to those of the other viceroys, 
is well acquainted both with the state and the 
interest of the countries over which he is to preside, 
having served in them long, and with distinction. 
By this dismemberment, succeeding that which took 
place at the erection of the viceroyalty of the new 
kingdom of Granada, almost two-third parts of the 
territories originally subject to the viceroys of Peru 
are now lopped off' from their jurisdiction. 

The limits of the viceroyalty of New 
. . . * , i New government 

Spain have likewise been considerably in provinces of 

Sonora, &c. 

circumscribed, and with no less pro¬ 
priety and discernment. Four of its most remote 
provinces, Sonora, Cinaloa, California, and New 
Navarre, have been formed into a separate govern¬ 
ment. The Chevalier de Croix, who is intrusted 
with this command, is not dignified with the title of 
viceroy, nor does he enjoy the appointments be¬ 
longing to that rank ; but his jurisdiction is altoge¬ 
ther independent on the viceroyalty of New Spain. 
The erection of this last government seems to have 
been suggested not only by the consideration of the 
remote situation of those provinces from Mexico, 
but by attention to the late discoveries made there 
which I have mentioned/ Countries containing 
the richest mines of gold that have hitherto been 
discovered in the New World, and which probably 
may rise into great importance, required the imme¬ 
diate inspection of a governor to whom they should 
be specially committed. As every consideration of 
duty, of interest, and of vanity, must concur in 
prompting those new r governors to encourage such 
exertions as tend to diffuse opulence and pros¬ 
perity through the provinces committed to their 
charge, the beneficial effects of this arrangement 
may be considerable. Many districts in America, 
long depressed by the languor and feebleness natu¬ 
ral to provinces which compose the extremities of 
an overgrown empire, may be animated with vigour 
and activity when brought so near the seat of power 
as to feel its invigorating influence. 

Such, since the accession of the 
princes of the house of Bourbon to the form domestic 
throne of Spain, has been the progress pollcy ‘ 
of their regulations, and the gradual expansion of 
their views with respect to the commerce and 
government of their American colonies. Nor has 
their attention been so entirely engrossed by what 
related to the more remote parts of their dominions, 
as to render them neglectful of what was still more 
important, the reformation of domestic errors and 
defects in policy. Fully sensible of the causes to 
which the declension of Spain from her former 
prosperity ought to be imputed, they have made it 
a great object of their policy to revive a spirit of 


x Rook vii. 



BOOK VIII. 


979 


THE HISTORY 

industry among their subjects, and to give such ex¬ 
tent and perfection to their manufactures as may 
enable them to supply the demands of America 
from their own stock, and to exclude foreigners 
from a branch of commerce which has been so fatal 
to the kingdom. This they have endeavoured to 
accomplish by a variety of edicts issued since the 
peace of Utrecht. They have granted bounties for 
the encouragement of some branches of industry ; 
they have lowered the taxes on others ; they have 
either entirely prohibited, or have loaded with ad¬ 
ditional duties, such foreign manufactures as come 
in competition with their own ; they have instituted 
societies for the improvement of trade and agricul¬ 
ture ; they have planted colonies of husbandmen in 
some uncultivated districts of Spain, and divided 
among them the waste fields ; they have had re¬ 
course to every expedient devised by commercial 
wisdom, or commercial jealousy, for reviving their 
own industry, and discountenancing that of other 
nations. These, however, it is not my province to 
explain, or to inquire into their propriety and effects. 
There is no effort of legislation more arduous, no 
experiment in policy more uncertain, than an at¬ 
tempt to revive the spirit of industry where it has 
declined, or to introduce it where it is unknown. 
Nations, already possessed of extensive commerce, 
enter into competition with such advantages, de¬ 
rived from the large capitals and extensive credit of 
their merchants, the dexterity of their manufac¬ 
turers, and the alertness acquired by habit in every 
department of business, that the state which aims 
at rivalling or supplanting them, must expect to 
struggle with many difficulties, and be content to 
advance slowly. If the quantity of productive in¬ 
dustry, now in Spain, be compared with that of the 
kingdom under the last listless monarchs of the 
Austrian line, its progress must appear consider¬ 
able, and is sufficient to alarm the jealousy, and to 
call forth the most vigorous efforts, of the nations 
now in possession of the lucrative trade which the 
Spaniards aim at wresting from them. One cir¬ 
cumstance may render those exertions of Spain an 
object of more serious attention to the other Euro¬ 
pean powers. They are not to be ascribed wholly 
to the influence of the crown and its ministers. 
The sentiments and spirit of the people seem to 
second the provident care of their monarchs, and to 
give it greater effect. The nation has adopted more 
liberal ideas, not only with respect to commerce but 
domestic policy. In all the later Spanish writers, 
defects in the arrangements of their country con¬ 
cerning both are acknowledged, and remedies pro¬ 
posed, which ignorance rendered their ancestors 
incapable of discerning, and pride would not have 
allowed them to confess.y But after all that the 
Spaniards have done, much remains to do. Many 
pernicious institutions and abuses, deeply incor¬ 
porated with the system of internal policy and tax- 

y See Note CXCIII. 
i Solorz. de Ind. Jure, 11 . lib. v. 

3 R 2 1 


OF AMERICA. 

ation which has been long established in Spain, 
must be abolished before industry and manufactures 
can recover an extensive activity. 

Still, however, the commercial regu- contraband 
lations of Spain with respect to her trade ' 
colonies are too rigid and systematical to be carried 
into complete execution. The legislature that loads 
trade with impositions too heavy, or fetters it by 
restrictions too severe, defeats its own intention, 
and is only multiplying the inducements to violate 
its statutes, and proposing a high premium to en¬ 
courage illicit traffic. The Spaniards, both in 
Europe and America, being circumscribed in their 
mutual intercourse by the jealousy of the crown, or 
oppressed by its exactions, have their invention 
continually on the stretch how to elude its edicts. 
The vigilance and ingenuity of private interest dis¬ 
cover means of effecting this, which public wisdom 
cannot foresee, nor public authority prevent. This 
spirit, counteracting that of the laws, pervades the 
commerce of Spain with America in all its branches; 
and from the highest departments in government 
descends to the lowest. The very officers appointed 
to check contraband trade are often employed as 
instruments in carrying it on ; and the boards in¬ 
stituted to restrain and punish it are the channels 
through which it flows. The king is supposed, by 
the most intelligent Spanish writers, to be de¬ 
frauded, by various artifices, of more than one half 
of the revenue which he ought to receive from 
America; 2 and as long as it is the interest of so 
many persons to screen those artifices from detection, 
the knowledge of them will never reach the throne. 
“ How many ordinances/’ says Corita, “ how many 
instructions, how many letters from our sovereign, 
are sent in order to correct abuses ! and how little 
are they observed, and what small advantage is 
derived from them! To me the old observation ap¬ 
pears just, that where there are many physicians 
and many medicines, there is a want of health ; 
where there are many laws and many judges, there 
is want of justice. We have viceroys, presidents, 
governors, oydors, corrigidors, alcaldes ; and thou¬ 
sands of alguazils abound every where ; but not¬ 
withstanding all these, public abuses continue to 
multiply.” a Time has increased the evils which 
he lamented as early as the reign of Philip II. A 
spirit of corruption has infected all the colonies of 
Spain in America. Men far removed from the 
seat of government; impatient to acquire wealth, 
that they may return speedily from what they are 
apt to consider as a state of exile in a remote 
unhealthful country ; allured by opportunities too 
tempting to be resisted, and seduced by the exam¬ 
ple of those around them; find their sentiments of 
honour and of duty gradually relax. In private life 
they give themselves up to a dissolute luxury, while 
in their public conduct they become unmindful of 
what they ow e to their sovereign and to their country. 

a MS. penes me. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


980 


Trade between 


Before I close this account of the 

New Spain and Spanish trade in America, there re- 
tbe Phnppmes. ma j ns one detached but important 

branch of ft to be mentioned. Soon after his acces¬ 
sion to the throne, Philip II. formed a scheme of 
planting a colony in the Philippine islands which 
had been neglected since the time of their discovery; 
and he accomplished it by means of an armament 
i5g4 fitted out from New Spain. b Manila, 
in the island of Luconia, was the sta¬ 
tion chosen for the capital of this new establish¬ 
ment. From it an active commercial intercourse 
began with the Chinese, and a considerable num¬ 
ber of that industrious people, allured by the pros¬ 
pect of gain, settled in the Philippine islands under 
the Spanish protection. They supplied the colony 
so amply with all the valuable productions and 
manufactures of the East, as enabled it to open a 
trade with America, by a course of navigation the 
longest from land to land on our globe. In the in¬ 
fancy of this trade, it was carried on with Callao, 
on the coast of Peru; but experience having dis¬ 
covered the impropriety of fixing upon that as the 
port of communication with Manila, the staple of 
the commerce between the east and west was re¬ 
moved from Callao to Acapulco, on the coast of 
New Spain. 

After various arrangements, it has been brought 
into a regular form. One or two ships depart an¬ 
nually from Acapulco, which are permitted to carry 
out silver to the amount of five hundred thousand 
pesos ; c but they have hardly any thing else of 
value on board ; in return for which, they bring 
back spices, drugs, china and japan wares, calicoes, 
chintz, muslins, silks, and every precious article 
with which the benignity of the climate, or the in¬ 
genuity of its people, has enabled the East to sup¬ 
ply the rest of the world. For some time the mer¬ 
chants of Peru were admitted to participate in this 
traffic, and might send annually a ship to Acapulco, 
to wait the arrival of the vessels from Manila, and 
receive a proportional share of the commodities 
which they imported. At length the Peruvians were 
excluded from this trade by most rigorous edicts, 
and all the commodities from the East reserved solely 
for the consumption of New Spain. 

In consequence of this indulgence, the inhabit¬ 
ants of that country enjoy advantages unknown in 
the other Spanish colonies. The manufactures of 
the East are not only more suited to a warm climate, 
and more showy than those of Europe, but can be 
sold at a lower price; while, at the same time, the 
profits upon them are so considerable as to enrich all 
those who are employed either in bringing them 
from Manila or vending them in New Spain. As 
the interest both of the buyer and seller concurred in 
favouring this branch of commerce, it has continu¬ 
ed to extend in spite of regulations concerted with 
the most anxious jealousy to circumscribe it. Under 
eover of what the laws permit to be imported, great 


quantities of Indian goods are poured into the 
markets of New Spain ; d and when the Flota arrives 
at Vera Cruz from Europe, it often finds the wants 
of the people already supplied by cheaper and more 
acceptable commodities. 

There is not, in the commercial arrangements of 
Spain, any circumstance more inexplicable than the 
permission of this trade between New Spain and the 
Philippines, or more repugnant to its fundamental 
maxim of holding the colonies in perpetual depen¬ 
dence on the mother-country, by prohibiting any 
commercial intercourse that might suggest to them 
the idea of receiving a supply of their wants from 
any other quarter. This permission must appear 
still more extraordinary, from considering that 
Spain herself carries on no direct trade with her 
settlements in the Philippines, and grants a privi¬ 
lege to one of her American colonies which she 
denies to her subjects in Europe. It is probable, 
that the colonists who originally took possession of 
the Philippines, having been sent out from New 
Spain, begun this intercourse with a country which 
they considered, in some measure, as their parent 
state, before the court of Madrid was aware of its 
consequences, or could establish regulations in 
order to prevent it. Many remonstrances have been 
presented against this trade, as detrimental to Spain, 
by diverting into another channel a large portion of 
that treasure which ought to flow into the kingdom, 
as tending to give rise to a spirit of independence 
in the colonies, and to encourage innumerable 
frauds, against which it is impossible to guard, in 
transactions so far removed from the inspection of 
government. But as it requires no slight effort of 
political wisdom and vigour to abolish any practice 
which numbers are interested in supporting, and to 
which time has added the sanction of its authority, 
the commerce between New Spain and Manila seems 
to be as considerable as ever, and may be consider¬ 
ed as one chief cause of the elegance and splendour 
conspicuous in this part of the Spanish dominions, 

But notwithstanding this general p ublic reve nue 
corruption in the colonies of Spain, trom Americ »- 
and the diminution of the income belonging to the 
public occasioned by the illicit importations made by 
foreigners, as well as by the various frauds of which 
the colonists themselves are guilty in their commerce 
with the parent state, the Spanish monarchs receive 
a very considerable revenue from their American do¬ 
minions. This arises from taxes of various kinds, 
which maybe divided into three capital branches. 
The first contains what is paid to the king, as sove¬ 
reign, or superior lord of the New World : to this 
class belongs the duty on the gold and silver raised 
from the mines, and the tribute exacted from the 
Indians ; the former is termed by the Spaniards the 
right of signiory, the latter is the duty of vassalage. 
The second branch comprehends the numerous du¬ 
ties upon commerce, which accompany and oppress 
it in every step of its progress, from the greatest 

c Hfecop. lib. ix. c. 45. 1. 6. 


b Torquem. i. lib. v. c. 14. 


See Note CXC1V. 



BOOK VIII. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ysi 


transactions of the wholesale merchant, to the petty 
trallic of the vender by retail. The third includes 
what accrues to the king, as head of the church, 
and administrator of ecclesiastical funds in the 
New World. In consequence of this, he receives 
the first-lruits, annates, spoils, and other spiritual 
revenues, levied by the apostolic chamber in Eu¬ 
rope ; and is entitled likewise to the profit arising 
from the sale of the bull of Cruzado. This bull, 
which is published every two years, contains an ab¬ 
solution from past offences by the pope, and among 
other immunities, a permission to eat several kinds 
of prohibited food during Lent, and on meagre days. 
The monks employed in dispersing those bulls extol 
their virtues with all the fervour of interested elo¬ 
quence; the people, ignorant and credulous, listen 
with implicit assent; and every person in the Spa¬ 
nish colonies, of European, Creolian, or mixed race, 
purchases a bull, which is deemed essential to his 
salvation, at the rate set upon it by government.® 

What may be the amount of those 
various funds, it is almost impossible 
to determine with precision. The extent of the 
Spanish dominions in America, the jealousy of go¬ 
vernment, which renders them inaccessible to fo¬ 
reigners, the mysterious silence which the Spaniards 
are accustomed to observe with respect to the inte¬ 
rior state of their colonies, combine in covering: 
this subject with a veil which it is not easy to re¬ 
move. But an account, apparently no less accurate 
than it is curious, has lately been published, of the 
royal revenue in New Spain, from which we may 
form some idea with respect to what is collected in 
the other provinces. According to that account, 
the crow n does not receive from all the departments 
of taxation in New 7 Spain above a million of our 
money, from which one half must be deducted as 
the expense of the provincial establishment/ Peru, 
it is probable, yields a sum not inferior to this ; and 
if we suppose that all the other regions of America, 
including the islands, furnish a third share of equal 
value, we shall not perhaps be far wide from the 
truth, if we conclude that the net public revenue of 
Spain, raised in America, does not exceed a million 
and a half sterling. This falls far short of the im¬ 
mense sums to which suppositions, founded upon 
conjecture, have raised the Spanish revenue in 
America.£ It is remarkable, however, upon one 
account. Spain and Portugal are the only Eu¬ 
ropean powers who derive a direct revenue from 
their colonies. All the advantage that accrues to 
other nations from their American dominions, arises 
from the exclusive enjoyment of their trade : but 
beside this, Spain has brought her colonies to con¬ 
tribute towards increasing the power of the state, 
and, in return for protection, to bear a proportional 
share of the common burden. 

Accordingly, the sum which I have computed to 
be the amount of the Spanish revenue from Ame¬ 


rica arises wholly from the taxes collected there, 
and is far from being the whole of what accrues to 
the king from his dominions in the New World. 
The heavy duties imposed on the commodities ex¬ 
ported from Spain to America, h as well as what is 
paid by those which she sends home in return; the 
tax upon the negro slaves with which Africa sup¬ 
plies the New World,together with several smaller 
branches of finance, bring large sums into the trea¬ 
sury, the precise extent of which I cannot pretend 
to ascertain. 

But if the revenue which Spain Expense of ad- 
draws from America be great, the ex- ministration. 

pense of administration in her colonies bears pro¬ 
portion to it. In every department, even of her do¬ 
mestic police and finances, Spain has adopted a 
system more complex, and more encumbered with 
a variety of tribunals and a multitude of officers, 
than that of any European nation in which the so¬ 
vereign possesses such extensive power. From the 
jealous spirit with which Spain watches over her 
American settlements, and her endeavours to guard 
against fraud in provinces so remote from inspec¬ 
tion, boards and officers have been multiplied there 
with still more anxious attention. In a country 
where the expense of living is great, the salaries 
allotted to every person in public office must be 
high, and must load the revenue with an immense 
burden. The parade of government greatly aug¬ 
ments the weight of it. The viceroys of Mexico, 
Peru, and the new kingdom of Granada, as repre¬ 
sentatives of the king’s person, among people fond 
of ostentation, maintain all the state and dignity 
of royalty. Their courts are formed upon the model 
of that of Madrid, with horse and foot guards, a 
household regularly established, numerous attend 
ants, and ensigns of power, displaying such pomp 
as hardly retains the appearance of a delegated au¬ 
thority. All the expense incurred by supporting 
the external and permanent order of government is 
defrayed by the crown. The viceroys have, besides, 
peculiar appointments suited to their exalted station. 
The salaries fixed by law are indeed extremely mo¬ 
derate ; that of the viceroy of Peru is only thirty 
thousand ducats ; and that of the viceroy of Mex¬ 
ico, twenty thousand ducats/ Of late they have 
been raised to forty thousand. 

These salaries, however, constitute but a small 
part of the revenue enjoyed by the viceroys. The 
exercise of an absolute authority extending to every 
department of government, and the power of dis¬ 
posing of many lucrative offices, afford them many 
opportunities of accumulating wealth. To these, 
which may be considered as legal and allowed emo¬ 
luments, large sums are often added by exactions, 
which, in countries so far removed from the seat of 
government, it is not easy to discover, and impos¬ 
sible to restrain. By monopolizing some branches 
of commerce, by a lucrative concern in others, by 


f See Note CXCVI. 
g See Note CXCVII. 


h See Note CXCVIII. 
i Recop, lib. iii. tit. iii. c. 72. 


e See Note CXCV. 



982 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK VIII. 


conniving at the frauds of merchants, a viceroy may 
raise such an annual revenue as no subject of any 
European monarch enjoys. k From the single article 
of presents made to him on the anniversary of his 
Name-day, (which is always observed as a high 
festival,) I am informed that a viceroy has been 
known to receive sixty thousand pesos. According 
to a Spanish saying, the legal revenues of a viceroy 
are unknown,his real profits depend upon his oppor¬ 
tunities and his conscience. Sensible of this, the 
kings of Spain, as I have formerly observed, grant 
a commission to their viceroys only for a few years. 
This circumstance, however, renders them often 

k See Note CXCIX. 


more rapacious, and adds to the ingenuity and 
ardour wherewith they labour to improve every 
moment of a power which they know is hastening 
fast to a period ; and short as its duration is, it 
usually affords sufficient time for repairing a shat¬ 
tered fortune, or for creating a new one. But even 
in situations so trying to human frailty, there are 
instances of virtue that remain unseduced. In the 
year 1772, the marquis de Croix finished the term 
of his vice-royalty in New Spain with unsuspected 
integrity ; and, instead of bringing home exorbitant 
wealth, returned with the admiration and applause 
of a grateful people, whom his government had 
rendered happy. 



THE 


HISTORY OF AMERICA. 

BOOKS IX. and X. 

CONTAINING 

THE HISTORY OF VIRGINIA TO THE YEAR 1688 ; 

AND 

THE HISTORY OF NEW ENGLAND TO THE YEAR 1652 . 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The original plan of my father, the late Dr. Robertson, with respect to the History of America, com¬ 
prehended not only an account of the discovery of that country, and of the conquests and colonies of the 
Spaniards, but embraced also the History of the British and Portuguese establishments in the New World, 
and of the settlements made by the several nations of Europe in the West India Islands. It was his in¬ 
tention not to have published any part of the Work until the whole was completed. In the Preface to 
his History of America, he has stated the reasons which induced him to depart from that resolution, and 
to publish the two volumes which contain an account of the discovery of the New World, and of the 
progress of the Spanish arms and colonies in that quarter of the globe. He says, “ he had made some 
progress in the History of British America and he announces his intention to return to that part of his 
Work, as soon as the ferment which at that time prevailed in the British colonies in America should sub¬ 
side, and regular government be re-established. Various causes concurred in preventing him from 
fulfilling his intention. 

During the course of a tedious illness, which he early foresaw would have a fatal termination. Dr. 
Robertson at different times destroyed many of his papers. But after his death, 1 found that part of the 
History of British America which he had wrote many years before, and which is now offered to the public. 
It is written with his own hand, as all his works were; it is as carefully corrected as any part of his 
manuscripts which I have ever seen ; and he had thought it worthy of being preserved, as it escaped the 
flames to which so many other papers had been committed. I read it with the utmost attention; but, 
before I came to any resolution about the publication, I put the MS. into the hands of some of those 
friends whom my father used to consult on such occasions, as it would have been rashness and presump¬ 
tion in me to have trusted to my own partial decision. It was perused by some other persons also, in 
whose taste and judgment I have the greatest confidence ; by all of them I was encouraged to offer it to 
the public, as a fragment curious and interesting in itself, and not inferior to any of my father s works. 

When I determined to follow that advice, it was a circumstance of great weight with me, that as I never 
could think myself at liberty to destroy those papers, which my father had thought worthy of being pre¬ 
served, and as I could not know into whose hands they might hereafter fall, I considered it as certain 
that they would be published at some future period, when they might meet with an editor who, not being 
actuated by the same sacred regard for the reputation of the author, which I feel, might make alterations 
and additions, and obtrude the whole on the public as a genuine and authentic work. The MS. is now 
published, such as it was left by the author; nor have I presumed to make any addition, alteration, or 

correction whatever. wm. RO BERTSON. 

Queen-Street, Edinburgh, 

April, 179C. 





984 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


BOOK IX. 

The dominions of Great Britain in 
t lire awakened in America are next in extent to those of 

England by Co- _ _ .... .1 

iumbus’s discov- Spain. Its acquisitions there are a 

recompence due to those enterprising 
talents which prompted the English to enter early 
on the career of discovery, and to pursue it with 
persevering ardour. England was the second na¬ 
tion that ventured to visit the New World. The 
account of Columbus’s successful voyage filled all 
Europe with astonishment and admiration. But 
in England it did something more ; it excited a 
vehement desire of emulating the glory of Spain, 
and of aiming to obtain some share in those ad¬ 
vantages which were expected in this new field 
opened to national activity. The attention of the 
English court had been turned towards the discov¬ 
ery of unknown countries by its negociation with 
Bartholomew Columbus. Henry VII. having lis¬ 
tened to his propositions with a more favourable 
ear than could have been expected from a cautious, 
distrustful prince, averse by habit as well as by 
temper to new and hazardous projects, he was more 
easily induced to approve of a voyage for discovery, 
proposed by some of his own subjects, soon after 
the return of Christopher Columbus. 

But though the English had spirit 
skilfulness 7 in to form the scheme, they had not at 
navi 0 ation. p er j 0( j stained to such skill in 

navigation as qualified them for carrying it into 
execution. From the inconsiderate ambition of its 
monarchs, the nation had long wasted its genius 
and activity in pernicious and ineffectual efforts to 
conquer France. When this ill-directed ardour 
began to abate, the fatal contest between the houses 
of York and Lancaster turned the arms of one half 
of the kingdom against the other, and exhausted 
the vigour of both. During the course of two cen¬ 
turies, while industry and commerce were making 
gradual progress, both in the south and north of 
Europe, the English continued so blind to the ad¬ 
vantages of their own situation, that they hardly 
began to bend their thoughts towards those objects 
and pursuits to which they are indebted for their 
present opulence and power. While the trading 
vessels of Italy, Spain, and Portugal, as well as 
those of the Hans Towns, visited the most remote 
ports in Europe, and carried on an active intercourse 
with its various nations, the English did little more 
than creep along their own coasts, in small barks, 
which conveyed the productions of one county to 
another. Their commerce was almost wholly pas¬ 
sive. Their wants were supplied by strangers; and 
whatever necessary^ or luxury of life their own 
country did not yield, was imported in foreign 
bottoms. The cross of St. George was seldom dis¬ 
played beyond the precincts of the narrow seas. 

a Hakluyt, iii. 4. 


1497- 

May. 


Hardly any English ship traded with Spain or Por¬ 
tugal before the beginning of the fifteenth century ; 
and half a century more elapsed before the English 
mariners became so adventurous as to enter the 
Mediterranean. 

In this infancy of navigation, Henry Expedition from 
could not commit the conduct of an comman^of 
armament destined to explore un- Cdbot ' 
known regions, to his own subjects. He invested 
Giovanni Gaboto, a Venetian adventurer, who had 
settled in Bristol, with the chief command; and 
issued a commission to him and his three sons, em¬ 
powering them to sail under the banner of England, 
towards the east, north, or west, in order to discover 
countries unoccupied by any Christian state ; to 
take possession of them in his name, and to carry 
on an exclusive trade with the inhabitants, under 
condition of paying a fifth part of the free profit 
on every voyage to the crown. This commission 
was granted on March 5th, 1495, in less than two 
years after the return of Columbus from America. a 
But Cabot (for that is the name he assumed in 
England, and by which he is best known) did not 
set out on his voyage for two years. He, together 
with his second son Sebastian, em¬ 
barked at Bristol on board a ship fur¬ 
nished by the king, and was accompanied by 
four small barks fitted out by the merchants of 
that city. 

As in that age the most eminent 

. , , , . . Cabot discovers 

navigators, formed by the instructions Newfoundland, 

. . and sails along 

ot Columbus, or animated by his ex- the coast of Vir. 
ample, were guided by ideas derived glDld ‘ 
from his superior knowledge and experience, Cabot 
had adopted the system of that great man concern¬ 
ing the probability of opening a new and shorter 
passage to the East Indies by holding a western 
course. The opinions which Columbus had formed 
with respect to the islands which he had discovered, 
were universally received. They were supposed to 
lie contiguous to the great continent of India, and 
to constitute a part of the vast countries compre¬ 
hended under that general name. Cabot accord¬ 
ingly deemed it probable, that, by steering to the 
north-west, he might reach India by a shorter course 
than that which Columbus had taken, and hoped to 
fall in with the coast of Cathay, or China, of whose 
fertility and opulence the descriptions of Marco Polo 
had excited high ideas. After sailing for some 
weeks due west, and nearly on the parallel of the 
port from which he took his departure, he discovered 
a large island, which he called Prima Vista, and his 
sailors Newfoundland; and in a few days he des¬ 
cried a smaller isle, to which he gave the name of 
St. John. He landed on both these, 
made some observations on their soil 
and productions, and brought off three of the 
natives. Continuing his course westward, he soon 
reached the continent of North America, and sailed 
along it from the fifty-sixth to the thirty-eighth 


June 24. 






BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA 


.985 


degree of latitude, from the coast of Labrador to 
that of Virginia. As his chief object was to dis¬ 
cover some inlet that might open a passage to 
the west, it does not appear that he landed any 
where during this extensive run ; and he returned 
to England without attempting either settlement or 
conquest in any part of that continents 
__ . If it had been Henry's purpose to 

Henry does not . . 

profit by Cabot’s prosecute the object of the commission 

discovery; u 

given by him to Cabot, and to take 
possession of the countries which he had discovered, 
the success of this voyage must have answered his 
most sanguine expectations. His subjects were 
undoubtedly the first Europeans who had visited 
that part of the American continent, and were en¬ 
titled to whatever right of property prior discovery 
is supposed to confer. Countries which stretched 
in an uninterrupted course through such a large 
portion of the temperate zone, opened a prospect of 
settling to advantage under mild climates, and in a 
fertile soil. But by the time that Cabot returned to 
England, he found both the state of affairs and the 
king’s inclination unfavourable to any scheme the 
execution of which would have required tranquillity 
and leisure. Henry was involved in a war with 
Scotland, and his kingdom was not yet fully com¬ 
posed after the commotion excited by a formidable 
insurrection of his own subjects in the west. An 
ambassador from Ferdinand of Arragon was then in 
London ; and as Henry set a high value upon the 
friendship of that monarch, for whose character he 
professed much admiration, perhaps from its simi¬ 
larity to his own, and was endeavouring to strengthen 
their union by negociating the marriage which 
afterwards took place between his eldest son and 
the princess Catherine, he was cautious of giving 
any offence to a prince jealous to excess of all his 
rights. From the position of the islands and con¬ 
tinent which Cabot had discovered, it was evident 
that they lay within the limits of the ample donative 
which the bounty of Alexander VI. had conferred 
upon Ferdinand and Isabella. No person in that 
age questioned the validity of a papal grant; and 
Ferdinand was not of a temper to relinquish any 
claim to which he had a shadow of title. Submis¬ 
sion to the authority of the pope, and deference for 
an ally whom he courted, seem to have concurred 
with Henry’s own situation in determining him to 
abandon a scheme in which he had engaged with 
some degree of ardour and expectation. No at¬ 
tempt towards discovery was made in England 
during the remainder of his reign; and Sebas¬ 
tian Cabot, finding no encouragement for his 
active talents there, entered into the service of 
Spain. 0 

nor his immediate This is the m0St P robable account 
successors. 0 f tj ie gulden cessation of Henry’s 

b Monson’s fjaval Tracts, in Churchill’s Collect, iii. 211. 

c Some schemes of discovery seem to have been formed in England 
towards the beginning of the sixteenth century. But as there is no other 
memorial of them than what remains in a patent granted by the king to the 
adventurers, it is probable that they were feeble or abortive projects. If 
any attempt had been made in consequence of this patent, it would not 


activity, after such success in his first essay as 
might have encouraged him to persevere. The ad¬ 
vantages of commerce, as well as its nature, were so 
little understood in England about this period, that 
by an act of parliament in the year 1488, the taking 
of interest for the use of money was prohibited under 
severe penalties. d And by another law, the profit 
arising from dealing in bills of exchange was con¬ 
demned as savouring of usury. e It is not surpris¬ 
ing, then, that no great effort should be made to 
extend trade by a nation whose commercial ideas 
were still so crude and illiberal. But it is more 
difficult to discover what prevented this scheme of 
Henry VII. from being resumed during the reigns 
of his son and grandson ; and to give any reason 
why no attempt was made, either to explore the 
northern continent of America more fully, or to 
settle in it. Henry VIII. was frequently at open 
enmity with Spain : the value of the Spanish ac¬ 
quisitions in America had become so well known, 
as might have excited his desire to obtain some 
footing in those opulent regions ; and during a con¬ 
siderable part of his reign, the prohibitions in a 
papal bull would not have restrained him from 
making encroachment upon the Spanish dominions. 
But the reign of Henry was not favourable to the 
progress of discovery. During one period of it, 
the active part which he took in the affairs of the 
continent, and the vigour with which he engaged in 
the contest between the two mighty rivals, Charles 

V. and Francis I., gave full occupation to the 
enterprising spirit both of the king and his nobility. 
During another period of his administration, his 
famous controversy with the court of Rome kept the 
nation in perpetual agitation and suspense. En¬ 
grossed by those objects, neither the king nor the 
nobles had inclination or leisure to turn their atten¬ 
tion to new pursuits; and without their patronage 
and aid, the commercial part of the nation was too 
inconsiderable to make any effort of consequence. 
Though England, by its total separation from the 
church of Rome soon after the accession of Edward 

VI. , disclaimed that authority which, by its pre¬ 
sumptuous partition of the globe between two fa¬ 
vourite nations, circumscribed the activity of every 
other state within very narrow limits ; yet a feeble 
minority, distracted with faction, was not a juncture 
for forming schemes of doubtful success and remote 
utility. The bigotry of Mary, and her marriage 
with Philip, disposed her to pay a sacred regard to 
that grant of the holy see, which vested in a hus¬ 
band, on whom she doted, an exclusive right to 
every part of the New World. Thus, through a 
singular succession of various causes, sixty-one 
years elapsed from the time that the English dis¬ 
covered North America, during which their mo- 
narchs gave little attention to that country which 

have escaped the knowledge of a compiler so industrious and inquisitive 
as Hakluyt. In his patent, Henry restricts the adventurers from encroach¬ 
ing on the countries discovered by the kings of Portugal, or any other prince 
in confederacy with England. Rymer’s Foedera, vol. xiii. p. 37- 
d 3 lien. VII. c. 5. e Ibid. c. 6. 



98 C, 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


was destined to be annexed to their crown, and to 
be a chief source of its opulence and power. 

But though the public contributed 
south**America, little towards the progress of dis- 
m a mi ofsebas- covery, naval skill, knowledge of com- 
twn Cabot. merce , and a spirit of enterprise, 

began to spread among the English. During the 
reign of Henry VIII. several new channels of trade 
were opened, and private adventurers visited remote 
countries, with which England had formerly no 
intercourse. Some merchants of* Bristol, having 
fitted out two ships for the southern regions of 
America, committed the conduct of them to Se¬ 
bastian Cabot, who had quitted the service of Spain. 
He visited the coasts of Brazil, and touched at the 
islands of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico ; and though 
this voyage seems not to have been beneficial to the 
adventurers, it extended the sphere of English 
navigation, and added to the national stock of 
nautical science/ Though disappointed in their 
expectations of profit in this first essay, the mer¬ 
chants were not discouraged. They sent, succes¬ 
sively, several vessels from different ports towards 
the same quarter, and seem to have carried on an 
interloping trade in the Portuguese settlements 
with success.? Nor was it only towards the west, 
that the activity of the English was directed. Other 
merchants began to extend their commercial views 
to the east; and by establishing an intercourse with 
several islands in the Archipelago, and with some 
of the towns on the coast of Syria, they found a new 
market for woollen cloths, (the only manufacture 
which the nation had begun to cultivate,) and sup¬ 
plied their countrymen with various productions of 
the East, formerly unknown, or received from the 
Venetians at an exorbitant price.h 

But the discovery of a shorter passage 
attempts to dis- to the East Indies, by the north-west, 
west passage to Was still the favourite project of the 
nation, which beheld with envy the 
vast wealth that flowed into Portugal from its com¬ 
merce with those regions. The scheme was accord¬ 
ingly twice resumed under the long administration 
of Henry VIII. first, with some slen¬ 
der aid from the king, and then by 
private merchants. Both voyages were disastrous 
and unsuccessful. In the former, one of the ships 
was lost. In the latter, the stock of provisions was 
so ill proportioned to the number of the crew, that, 
although they were but six months at sea, many 
perished with hunger, and the survivors were con¬ 
strained to support life by feeding on the bodies of 
their dead companions.* 

sir Hugh wii- The vigour of a commercial spirit 

search* 5 oV*a north- did not relax in the reign of Edward 
cast passage. VI. The g rea j. fishery on the banks of 

Newfoundland became an object of attention ; and 
from some regulations for the encouragement of that 
branch of trade, it seems to have been prosecuted 
with activity and success/ But the prospect of 

f Hakluyt, iii. 498. g Ibid. iii. 700. r. Ibid. ii. 96, &c. 


1507 and 1536. 


opening a communication with China and the Spice 
Islands, by some other route than round the Cape of 
Good Hope, still continued to allure the English 
more than any scheme of adventure. Cabot, whose 
opinion was deservedly of high authority in what¬ 
ever related to naval enterprise, warmly urged the 
English to make another attempt to discover this 
passage. As it had been thrice searched for in 
vain by steering towards the north-west, he pro¬ 
posed that a trial should now be made by the north¬ 
east; and supported this advice by such plausible 
reasons and conjectures as excited sanguine ex¬ 
pectations of success. Several noblemen and persons 
of rank, together with some principal merchants, 
having associated for this purpose, were incorpo¬ 
rated, by a charter from the king, under the title of 
The Company of Merchant Adventurers for the 
Discovery of Regions, Dominions, Islands, and 
Places unknown. Cabot, who was appointed go¬ 
vernor of this company, soon fitted out two ships 
and a bark, furnished with instructions in his own 
hand, which discover the great extent both of his 
naval skill and mercantile sagacity. 

Sir Hugh Willoughby, who was intrusted with 
the command, stood directly northwards along the 
coast of Norway, and doubled the 
North Cape. But in that tempestuous 
ocean, his small squadron was separated in a violent 
storm. Willoughby’s ship and the Willoughby pe- 


May 10. 


bark took refuge in an obscure bar- shi winters 


rishes. One of 
bis ships winl 

bour in a desert part of Russian Lap- at Arc nangei. 
land, where he and all his companions were frozen 
to death. Richard Chancelour, the captain of the 
other vessel, was more fortunate ; he entered the 
White sea, and wintered in safety at Archangel. 
Though no vessel of any foreign nation had ever 
visited that quarter of the globe before, the inhabit¬ 
ants received their new visitors with a hospitality 
which would have done honour to a more polished 
people. The English learned there, that this was 
a province of a vast empire, subject to the great 
duke or czar of Muscovy, who resided in a great 
city twelve hundred miles from Arch- Thecaptainvisits 
angel. Chancelour, with a spirit be- Moscow, 
coming an officer employed in an expedition for 
discovery, did not hesitate a moment about the part 
which he ought to take, and set out for that distant 
capital. On his arrival in Moscow, he was admit¬ 
ted to audience, and delivered a letter which the 
captain of each ship had received from Edward YI. 
for the sovereign of whatever country they should 
discover, to John Yasilowitz, who at that time filled 
the Russian throne. John, though he ruled over his 
subjects with the cruelty and caprice of a barbarous 
lespot, was not destitute of political sagacity. He 
instantly perceived the happy consequences that 
might flow from opening an intercourse between 
his dominions and the western nations of Europe; 
and, delighted with the fortunate event to which 
he was indebted for this unexpected benefit, he 

i Ilakiuyt, i. 213, &c. iii. 129, 130. k Ibid. iii. 131. 



BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


987 


treated Ciiancelour with great respect; and, by a 

Feb 1554 to the king of England, in¬ 

vited his subjects to trade in the 
Russian dominions, with ample promises of pro¬ 
tection and favour. 1 

Trade opened Chancelour, on his return, found 
with Russia. Mary seated on the English throne 

The success of this voyage, the discovery of a new 
course of navigation, the establishment of commerce 
with a vast empire, the name of which was then 
hardly known in the West, and the hope of ar¬ 
riving, in this direction, at those regions which had 
been so long the object of desire, excited a won¬ 
derful ardour to prosecute the design with greater 
vigour. Mary, implicitly guided by her husband 
in every act of administration, was not unwilling 
to turn the commercial activity of her subjects to¬ 
wards a quarter where it could not excite the jea¬ 
lousy of Spain by encroaching on its possessions in 
the New World. She wrote to John Yasilowitz in 
the most respectful terms, courting his friendship. 
She confirmed the charter of Edward VI., em¬ 
powered Chancelour, and two agents appointed by 
the company, to negociate with the czar in her 
name; and according to the spirit of that age, she 
granted an exclusive right of trade with Russia to 
the corporation of merchant adventurers. 1 " In vir¬ 
tue of this, they not only established an active and 
gainful commerce with Russia, but, in hopes of 
reaching China, they pushed their discoveries east¬ 
ward to the coast of Nova Zembla, the straits of 
Waigatz, and towards the mouth of the great river 
Oby. But in those frozen seas, which nature seems 
not to have destined for navigation, they were ex¬ 
posed to innumerable disasters, and met with suc¬ 
cessive disappointments. 

Nor were their attempts to open a 

Communication . T ,, , , 

with India by communication with India made only 

in this channel. They appointed some 
of their factors to accompany the Russian caravans 
which travelled into Persia by the way of Astracan 
and the Caspian sea, instructing them to penetrate 
as far as possible towards the east, and to endeavour 
not only to establish a trade with those countries, 
but to acquire every information that might afford 
any light towards the discovery of a passage to 
China by the north-east." Notwithstanding a va¬ 
riety of dangers to which they were exposed in 
travelling through so many provinces inhabited by 
fierce and licentious nations, some of these factors 
reached Bokara in the province of Chorassan ; and 
though prevented from advancing further by the 
civil wars which desolated the country, they re¬ 
turned to Europe with some hopes of extending the 
commerce of the company into Persia, and with 
much intelligence concerning the state of those 
remote regions of the East. 0 

The successful progress of the mer- 
tiie coast of t0 chant adventurers in discovery roused 
the emulation of their countrymen, and 

1 Hakluyt, i. £26, fee. m Tbid. £58, fee. 


turned their activity into new channels. A com¬ 
mercial intercourse, hitherto unattempted by the 
English, having been opened with the coast of 
Barbary, the specimens which that afforded of the 
valuable productions of Africa invited some enter¬ 
prising navigators to visit the more remote provinces 
of that quarter of the globe. They sailed along its 
western shore, traded in different ports on both sides 
of the line, and, after acquiring considerable know¬ 
ledge of those countries, returned with a cargo of 
gold-dust, ivory, and other rich commodities little 
known at that time in England. This commerce 
with Africa seems to have been pursued with vigour, 
and was at that time no less innocent than lucrative; 
for, as the English had then no demand for slaves, 
they carried it on for many years without violating 
the rights of humanity. Thus far did the English 
advance during a period which may be considered 
as the infant state of their navigation and commerce; 
and feeble as its steps at that time may appear to 
us, we trace them with an interesting curiosity, and 
look back with satisfaction to the early essays of 
that spirit which we now behold in the full ma¬ 
turity of its strength. Even in those first efforts of 
the English, an intelligent observer will discern 
presages of their future improvement. As soon as 
the activity of the nation was put in motion, it took 
various directions, and exerted itself in each with 
that steady, persevering industry which is the soul 
and guide of commerce. Neither discouraged by 
the hardships and dangers to which they were ex¬ 
posed in those northern seas which they first at¬ 
tempted to explore, nor afraid of venturing into the 
sultry climates of the torrid zone, the English, 
during the reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., and 
Mary, opened some of the most considerable sources 
of their commercial opulence, and gave a beginning 
to their trade with Turkey, with Africa, with Russia, 
and with Newfoundland. 

By the progress which England had 

, , , . i Reign of Eliza- 

already made in navigation and com- beth auspicious 

, to discovery. 

merce, it was now prepared tor ad¬ 
vancing further; and on the accession of Elizabeth 
to the throne, a period commenced extremely aus¬ 
picious to this spirit which was rising in the nation. 
The domestic tranquillity of the kingdom, main¬ 
tained, almost without interruption, during the 
course of a long and prosperous reign ; the peace 
with foreign nations, that subsisted more than twenty 
years after Elizabeth was seated on the throne ; the 
queen’s attentive economy, which exempted her 
subjects from the burthen of taxes oppressive to 
trade; the popularity of her administration ; were 
all favourable to commercial enterprise, and called 
it forth into vigorous exertion. The discerning eye 
of Elizabeth having early perceived that the security 
of a kingdom environed by the sea depended on its 
naval force, she began her government with adding 
to the number and strength of the royal navy; 
which, during a factious minority, and a reign in- 

n Hakluyt, i. 301. o Ibid. 310, fee. 



988 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


tent on no object but that of suppressing heresy, 
had been neglected, and suffered to 
decay. She filled her arsenals with 
naval stores ; she built several ships of great force, 
according to the ideas of that age, and encouraged 
her subjects to imitate her example, that they might 
no longer depend on foreigners, from whom the 
English had hitherto purchased all vessels of any 
considerable burthen.^ By those efforts the skill 
of the English artificers was improved, the number 
of sailors increased, and the attention of the public 
turned to the navy, as the most important national 
object. Instead of abandoning any of the new 
channels of commerce which had been opened in 
the three preceding reigns, the English frequented 
them with greater assiduity, and the patronage of 
their sovereign added vigour to all their efforts. In 
order to secure to them the continuance of their ex¬ 
clusive trade with Russia, Elizabeth cultivated the 
connexion with John Yasilowitz, which had been 
formed by her predecessor, and, by successive em¬ 
bassies, gained his confidence so thoroughly, that 
the English enjoyed that lucrative privilege^during 
his long reign. She encouraged the company of 
merchant adventurers, whose monopoly of the 
Russian trade was confirmed by act of parliament/ 1 
to resume their design of penetrating into Persia by 
land. Their second attempt, conducted with greater 
prudence, or undertaken at a more favourable junc¬ 
ture, than the first, was more successful. Their 
agents arrived in the Persian court, and obtained 
such protection and immunities from the Shah, that 
for a course of years they carried on a gainful com¬ 
merce in his kingdom ; r and by frequenting the 
various provinces of Persia, became so well ac¬ 
quainted with the vast riches of the East, as strength¬ 
ened their design of opening a more direct inter¬ 
course with those fertile regions by sea. 

„ ,. , But as every effort to accomplish 

Frobisher rnnkGS ^ 1 

three attempts to this by the north-east had proved abor- 
discover the v 1 

north-west tive, a scheme was formed, under the 
patronage of the earl of Warwick, the 
head of the enterprising family of Dudley, to make 
a new attempt, by holding an opposite course by 
the north-west. The conduct of this enterprise was 
committed to Martin Frobisher, an officer of expe- 
1576 , 1577 , Hence and reputation. In three suc- 
and 1578 . cessive voyages he explored the inhos¬ 
pitable coast of Labrador, and that of Greenland, 
(to which Elizabeth gave the name of Meta Incog¬ 
nita,) without discovering any probable appearance 
of that passage to India for which he sought. This 

. „ . new disappointment was sensibly felt, 

Sir Francis Drake , 

sails round the and might have damped the spirit of 
world. t # 

naval enterprise among the English, if 
it had not resumed fresh vigour, amidst the general 
exultation of the nation, upon the successful 
expedition of sir Francis Drake. That bold navi¬ 
gator, emulous of the glory which Magellan had 
acquired by sailing round the globe, formed a 

p Camd. Annales, p. 70. edit. 1615. fol. q Hakluyt, i. 369. 


scheme of attempting a voyage, which all Europe 
had admired for sixty years, without venturing to 
follow the Portuguese discoverer in his adventurous 
course. Drake undertook this with a feeble squa¬ 
dron, in which the largest vessel did not exceed a 
hundred tons, and he accomplished it with no less 
credit to himself than honour to his country. Even 
in this voyage, conducted with other views, Drake 
seems not to have been inattentive to the favourite 
object of his countrymen, the discovery of a new 
route to India. Before he quitted the Pacific ocean, 
in order to stretch towards the Philippine islands, 
he ranged along the coast of California, as high as 
the latitude of forty-two degrees north, in hopes of 
discovering, on that side, the communication be¬ 
tween the two seas, which had so often been searched 
for in vain on the other. But this was the only 
unsuccessful attempt of Drake. The excessive 
cold of the climate, intolerable to men who had long 
been accustomed to tropical heat, obliged him to 
stop short in his progress towards the north ; and 
w hether or not there be any passage from the Pacific 
to the Atlantic ocean in that quarter is a point still 
unascertained.® 

From this period, the English seem Fnthllsia , m of 
to have confided in their own abilities discover - v - 
and courage, as equal to any naval enterprise. They 
had now visited every region to which navigation 
extended in that age, and had rivalled the nation of 
highest repute for naval skill in its most splendid 
exploit. But notwithstanding the knowledge which 
they had acquired of the different quarters of the 
globe, they had not hitherto attempted any settle¬ 
ment out of their own country. Their merchants had 
not yet acquired such a degree either of wealth or of 
political influence, as was requisite towards carrying 
a scheme of colonization into execution. Persons 
of noble birth were destitute of the ideas and infor¬ 
mation which might have disposed them to patro¬ 
nize such a design. The growing power of Spain, 
however, and the ascendant over the other nations 
of Europe to which it had attained under Charles Y. 
and his son, naturally turned the attention of man¬ 
kind towards the importance of those settlements 
in the New World, to which they w ere so much in¬ 
debted for that pre-eminence. The intercourse 
between Spain and England, during the reign of 
Philip and Mary ; the resort of the Spanish nobility 
to the English court, while Philip resided there ; 
the study of the Spanish language, which became 
fashionable; and the translation of several his¬ 
tories of America into English, diffused gradu¬ 
ally through the nation a more distinct knowledge 
of the policy of Spain in planting its colonies, and 
of the advantages which it derived from them. 
When hostilities commenced between Elizabeth 
and Philip, the prospect of annoying Spain by sea 
opened a new career to the enterprising spirit of 
the English nobility. Almost every eminent leader 
of the age aimed at distinguishing himself by naval 

r Hakluyt, i. 344, &c. s Ibid. iii. 44. Camd. Annal. 301, &c. 



BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 




exploits. That service, and the ideas connected 
with it, the discovery of unknown countries, the 
establishment of distant colonies, and the enriching 
of commerce by new commodities, became familiar 
to persons of rank. 

In consequence of all those con- 
colony in North currmg causes, the English began se¬ 
riously to form plans of settling colo¬ 
nies in those parts of America w hich hitherto they 
had only visited. The projectors and patrons of 
these plans were mostly persons of rank and in¬ 
fluence. Among them, Sir Humphry Gilbert, of 
Compton in Devonshire, ought to be mentioned 
with the distinction due to the conductor of the 
first English colony to America. He had early 
rendered himself conspicuous by his military ser¬ 
vices both in France and Ireland ; and having after¬ 
wards turned his attention to naval affairs, he 
published a discourse concerning the probability of 
a north-west passage, which discovered no incon¬ 
siderable portion both of learning and ingenuity, 
mingled with the enthusiasm, the credulity, and 
sanguine expectations which incite men to new and 
hazardous undertakings. 1 With those talents he 
was deemed a proper person to be employed in es- 
June u, tablishing a new colony, and easily 
1578, obtained from the queen letters patent, 
vesting in him sufficient powders for this purpose. 

As this is the first charter to a colony, 
S’q^eenEUz^ granted by the crown of England, the 
articles in it merit particular attention, 
as they unfold the ideas of that age with respect to 
the nature of such settlements. Elizabeth autho¬ 
rizes him to discover and take possession of all re¬ 
mote and barbarous lands, unoccupied by any 
Christian prince or people. She vests in him, his 
heirs, and assigns for ever, the full right of property 
in the soil of those countries whereof he shall take 
possession. She permits such of her subjects as 
were willing to accompany Gilbert in his voyage, to 
go and settle in the countries which he shall plant. 
She empowers him, his heirs, and assigns, to dis¬ 
pose of whatever portion of those lands he shall 
judge meet, to persons settled there, in fee simple, 
according to the laws of England. She ordains, 
that all the lands granted to Gilbert shall hold of 
the crown of England by homage, on payment of 
the fifth part of the gold or silver ore found there. 
She confers upon him, his heirs and assigns, the 
complete jurisdictions and royalties, as well marine 
as other, within the said lands and seas thereunto 
adjoining ; and as their common safety and interest 
would render good government necessary in their 
new settlements, she gave Gilbert, his heirs and 
assigns, full power to convict, punish, pardon, go¬ 
vern, and rule, by their good discretion and policy, 
as well in causes capital or criminal as civil, both 
marine and other, all persons who shall, from time 
to time, settle within the said countries, according 
to such statutes, laws, and ordinances, as shall be 


by him, his heirs and assigns, devised and esta¬ 
blished for their better government. She declared, 
that all who settled there should have and enjoy 
all the privileges of free denizens and natives of 
England, any law, custom, or usage to the con¬ 
trary notwithstanding. And finally, she prohibited 
all persons from attempting to settle within two 
hundred leagues of any place which Sir Humphry 
Gilbert, or his associates, shall have occupied, dur¬ 
ing the space of six years. u 

With those extraordinary powers, First expedition 
suited to the high notions of autho- fa “ s - 
rity and prerogative prevalent in England during 
the sixteenth century, but very repugnant to more 
recent ideas with respect to the rights of free men, 
who voluntarily unite to form a colony, Gilbert be¬ 
gan to collect associates, and to prepare for em¬ 
barkation. His own character, and the zealous 
efforts of his half-brother, Walter Ralegh, who 
even in his early youth displayed those splendid 
talents, and that undaunted spirit, which create 
admiration and confidence, soon procured him a 
sufficient number of followers. But his success 
was not suited either to the sanguine hopes of his 
countrymen, or to the expense of his preparations. 
Two expeditions, both of which he 
conducted in person, ended disas¬ 
trously. In the last he himself perished, without 
having effected his intended settlement on the con¬ 


tinent of America, or performing any thing more 
worthy of notice, than the empty formality of taking 
possession of the island of Newfoundland in the 
name of his sovereign. The dissensions among his 
officers ; the licentious and ungovernable spirit of 
some of his crew ; his total ignorance of the coun¬ 
tries which he purposed to occupy; his misfortune 
in approaching the continent too far towards the 
north, where the inhospitable coast of Cape Breton 
did not invite them to settle; the shipwreck of his 
largest vessel; and, above all, the scanty provision 
which the funds of a private man could make of 
what was requisite for establishing a new colony, 
were the true causes to which the failure of the en¬ 
terprise must be imputed, not to any deficiency of 
abilities or resolution in its leader.* 

But the miscarriage of a scheme in The plan resum _ 
which Gilbert had wasted his fortune, ed b f 5 8 F lesh ‘ 
did not discourage Ralegh. He adopt- March 26, 
ed all his brother’s ideas ; and applying to the 
queen, in whose favour he stood high at that time, 
he procured a patent, with jurisdiction and prero¬ 
gatives as ample as had been granted unto Gilbert.* 
Ralegh, no less eager to execute than to undertake 
the scheme, instantly despatched two small vessels, 
under the command of Amadas and 

A pril 

Barlow, two officers of trust, to visit 
the countries which he intended to settle, and to 
acquire some previous knowledge of their coasts, 
their soil, and productions. In order DiBt . 0 v er .v of 
to avoid Gilbert’s error, in holding too N '^ima. 


X Hakluyt, iii. 143, Sic. y Ibid. iii. 243. 


t Hakluyt, iii. 11. 


u Ibid. iii. 135. 



990 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK IX. 


Sept. 15. 


far north, they took their course by the Canaries 
and the West India islands, and approached the 
North American continent by the gulf of Florida. 
Unfortunately, their chief researches were made in 
that part of the country now known by the name of 
North Carolina, the province in America most des¬ 
titute of commodious harbours. They touched first 
at an island, which they call Wokocon, (probably 
Ocakoke,) situated on the inlet into Pamplicoe 
sound, and then at Roanoke, near the mouth of Al¬ 
bemarle sound. In both they had some intercourse 
with the natives, whom they found to be savages 
with all the characteristic qualities of uncivilized 
life, bravery, aversion to labour, hospitality, a pro¬ 
pensity to admire, and a willingness to exchange 
their rude productions for English commodities, 
especially for iron, or any of the useful metals of 
which they were destitute. After spending a few 
weeks in this traffic, and in visiting 
some parts of the adjacent continent, 
Amadas and Barlow returned to England with two 
of the natives, and gave such splendid descriptions 
of the beauty of the country, the fertility of the soil, 
and the mildness of the climate, that Elizabeth, de¬ 
lighted with the idea of occupying a territory supe¬ 
rior, so far, to the barren regions towards the north 
hitherto visited by her subjects, bestowed on it the 
name of Virginia ; as a memorial that this happy 
discovery had been made under a virgin queen.* 
Colony estab- Their report encouraged Ralegh to 
Dy h sfr l Hkhfrd ia hasten his preparations for taking 
Greenville. possession of such an inviting pro¬ 
perty. He fitted out a squadron of seven small ships, 
under the command of sir Richard Greenville, a 
man of honourable birth, and of courage so un¬ 
daunted as to be conspicuous even in that gallant 
age. But the spirit of that predatory war which 
the English carried on against Spain, mingled with 
this scheme of settlement; and on this account, as 
well as from unacquaintance with a more direct 
and shorter course to North America, Greenville 
sailed by the West Indian islands. He spent some 
time in cruising among these, and in taking prizes ; 
so that it was towards the close of June before he 
arrived on the coast of North America. He touched 
at both the inlands where Amadas and Barlow had 
landed, and made some excursions into different 
parts of the continent round Pamplicoe and Albe¬ 
marle sounds. But as, unfortunately, he did not 
advance far enough towards the north, to discover 
the noble bay of Chesapeak, he estab¬ 
lished the colony w hich he left on the 
island of Roanoke, an incommodious station, with¬ 
out any safe harbour, and almost uninhabited.a 
in danger of pe- This colony consisted only of one 
mirnTf returns hundred and eighty persons, under 
to England. the com mand of captain Lane, assist¬ 
ed by some men of note, the most distinguished of 
whom was Hariot, an eminent mathematician. 
Their chief employment, during a residence of nine 

z Hakluyt, iii. 246. a Ibid. iii. 251. 


Aug. 25. 


months, was to obtain a more extensive knowledge 
of the country ; and their researches w ere carried 
on with greater spirit, and reached further, than 
could have been expected from a colony so feeble, 
and in a station so disadvantageous. But from the 
same impatience of indigent adventurers to acquire 
sudden wealth, which gave a wrong direction to the 
industry of the Spaniards in their settlements, the 
greater part of the English seem to have considered 
nothing as worthy of attention but mines of gold 
and silver. These they sought for, wherever they 
came : these they inquired after with unwearied 
eagerness. The savages soon discovered the fa¬ 
vourite objects which allured them, and artfully 
amused them with so many tales concerning pearl 
fisheries, and rich mines of various metals, that 
Lane and his companions wasted their time and 
activity in the chimerical pursuit of these, instead 
of labouring to raise provisions for their own sub¬ 
sistence. On discovering the deceit of the Indians, 
they were so much exasperated, that from expostu¬ 
lations and reproaches they proceeded to open hos¬ 
tility. The supplies of provision which they had 
been accustomed to receive from the natives were 
of course withdrawn. Through their own negli¬ 
gence, no other precaution had been taken for their 
support. Ralegh, having engaged in a scheme too 
expensive for his narrow funds, had not been able 
to send them that recruit of stores with which 
Greenville had promised to furnish them early in 
the spring. The colony, reduced to the utmost dis¬ 
tress, and on the point of perishing with famine, 
was preparing to disperse into different districts of 
the country in quest of food, when 
sir Francis Drake appeared with his 
fleet, returning from a successful expedition against 
the Spaniards in the West Indies. A scheme 
which he formed, of furnishing Lane and his asso¬ 
ciates with such supplies as might enable them to 
remain with comfort in their station, was disap¬ 
pointed by a sudden storm, in which a small vessel 
that he destined for their service was dashed to 
pieces; and as he could not supply them with 
another, at their joint request, as they 
were worn out with fatigue and famine, 
he carried them home to England. 6 

Such was the inauspicious begin- Knowledge of 
ning of the English settlements in the ^ired hi r thb C ' 
New World ; and, after exciting high ex P edltlon - 
expectations, this first attempt produced no effect 
but that of affording a more complete knowledge of 
the country ; as it enabled Hariot, a man of science 
and observation, to describe its soil, climate, pro¬ 
ductions, and the manners of its inhabitants, with 
a degree of accuracy which merits no inconsider¬ 
able praise, when compared with the childish and 
marvellous tales published by several of the early 
visitants of the New World. There is another con¬ 
sequence of this abortive colony important enough 
to entitle it to a place in history. Lane and his as- 

b Hnkluyt, ii. 255. Camd. Anna!. 387. 



BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


991 


sociates, by their constant intercourse with the 
,. , Indians, had acquired a relish for their 
Introduced in favourite enjoyment of smoking to¬ 
bacco ; to the use of which, the cre¬ 
dulity of that people not only ascribed a thousand 
imaginary virtues, but their superstition considered 
the plant itself as a gracious gift of the gods, for 
the solace of human kind, and the most acceptable 
oflering which man can present to heaven. 0 They 
brought with them a specimen of this new com¬ 
modity to England, and taught their countrymen 
the method of using it; which Ralegh and some 
young men of fashion fondly adopted. From imi¬ 
tation of them, from love of novelty, and from the 
favourable opinion of its salutary qualities enter¬ 
tained by several physicians, the practice spread 
among the English. The Spaniards and Portuguese 
had, previous to this, introduced it in other parts 
of Europe. This habit of taking tobacco gradually 
extended from the extremities of the north to those 
of the south, and in one form or other seems to be 
equally grateful to the inhabitants of every climate, 
and by a singular caprice of the human species, no 
less inexplicable than unexampled, (so bewitching 
is the acquired taste for a weed of no manifest 
utility, and at first not only unpleasant, but nau¬ 
seous,) that it has become almost as universal as 
the demands of those appetites originally implanted 
in our nature. Smoking was the first mode of taking 
tobacco in England ; and we learn from the comic 
writers towards the close of the sixteenth century 
and the beginning of the seventeenth, that this was 
deemed one of the accomplishments of a man of 
fashion and spirit. 

A few days after Drake departed from Roanoke, 
a small bark, despatched by Ralegh with a supply 
of stores for the colony, landed at the place where 
the English had settled ; but on finding it deserted 
by their countrymen, they returned to England. 
The bark was hardly gone, when sir Richard Green¬ 
ville appeared with three ships. After search¬ 
ing in vain for the colony which he had planted, 
without being able to learn what had befallen it, he 
left fifteen of his crew to keep possession of the 
island. This handful of men was soon overpowered 
and cut in pieces by the savages. d 
Ralegh’s second Though all Ralegh’s efforts to estab- 
a^Xny^vir- Ush a c °l° n y in Virginia had hitherto 
£ inia - proved abortive, and had been defeat¬ 

ed by a succession of disasters and disappointments, 
neither his hopes nor resources were exhausted. 

Early in the following year, he fitted 
out three ships, under the command of 
captain John White, who carried thither a colony 
more numerous than that which had been settled 
under Lane. On their arrival in Virginia, after 
viewing the face of the country covered with one 
continued forest, which to them appeared an unin¬ 
habited wild, as it was occupied only by a few scat¬ 
tered tribes of savages, they discovered that they 

c Hanot ap. Hakluyt, iii. 271. De Bry, America, part i. 


1588. 


were destitute of many things which they deemed 
essentially necessary towards their subsistence in 
such an uncomfortable situation; and, with one 
voice, requested White, their commander, to return 
to England, as the person among them most likely 
to solicit, with efficacy, the supply on which de¬ 
pended the existence of the colony. White landed 
in his native country at a most unfavourable season 
for the negociation which he had undertaken. He 
found the nation in universal alarm at the formida¬ 
ble preparations of Philip II. to invade England, and 
collecting all his force to oppose the fleet to which 
he had arrogantly given the name of the Invincible 
Armada. Ralegh, Greenville, and all the most 
zealous patrons of the new settlement, were called 
to act a distinguished part in the ope¬ 
rations of a year equally interesting 
and glorious to England. Amidst danger so immi¬ 
nent, and during a contest for the honour of their 
sovereign and the independence of their country, it 
was impossible to attend to a less important and re¬ 
mote object. The unfortunate colony in colony perishes 
Roanoke received no supply, and pe- bytamme. 
rished miserably by famine, or by the unrelenting 
cruelty of those barbarians by whom they were sur¬ 
rounded. 

During the remainder of Elizabeth’s Ealegh abandons 
reign, the scheme of establishing a co- tHnglf'coionyln 
lony in Virginia was not resumed. Ra- Virginla ‘ 
legh, with a most aspiring mind and extraordinary 
talents, enlightened by knowledge no less uncom¬ 
mon, had the spirit and the defects of a projector. 
Allured by new objects, and always giving the pre¬ 
ference to such as were most splendid and arduous, 
he was apt to engage in undertakings so vast and 
so various as to be far beyond his power of accom¬ 
plishing. He was now intent on peopling and im¬ 
proving a large district of country in Ireland, of 
which he had obtained a grant from the queen. He 
was a deep adventurer in the scheme of fitting out 
a powerful armament against Spain, in order to 
establish Don Antonio on the throne of Portugal. 
He had begun to form his favourite but visionary 
plan, of penetrating into the province of Guiana, 
where he fondly dreamed of taking possession of 
inexhaustible wealth flowing from the richest 
mines in the New World. Amidst this multiplicity 
of projects, of such promising appearance, and 
recommended by novelty, he naturally became 
cold towards his ancient and hitherto unprofitable 
scheme of settling a colony in Virginia, and was 
easily induced to assign his right of property in 
that country, which he had never visited, together 
with all the privileges contained in his patent, to 
sir Thomas Smith and a company of 
merchants in London. This company, 
satisfied with a paltry traffic carried on by a few 
small barks, made no attempt to take possession of 
the country. Thus, after a period of a hundred and 
six vears from the time that Cabot discovered North 


March. 

1596. 


d Ilakluyt, iii. 265. 283. 



992 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK IX. 


America in the name of Henry VIE, and of twenty 
years from the time that Ralegh planted the first 
colony, there was not a single Englishman settled 
there at the demise of queen Elizabeth, in the year 
one thousand six hundred and three, 
circumstances in 1 have already explained the causes 
unfavourable 6 ^ 11 °f this* during the period previous to 
colonization. th e access i 0 n of Elizabeth. Other 

causes produced the same effect under her adminis¬ 
tration. Though for one half of her reign England 
was engaged in no foreign war, and commerce en¬ 
joyed that perfect security which is friendly to its 
progress ; though the glory of her latter years give 
the highest tone of elevation and vigour to the na¬ 
tional spirit; the queen herself, from her extreme 
parsimony, and her aversion to demand extraor¬ 
dinary supplies of her subjects, was more apt to re¬ 
strain than to second the ardent genius of her people. 
Several of the most splendid enterprises in her reign 
were concerted and executed by private adventurers. 
All the schemes for colonization were carried on by 
the funds of individuals, without any public aid. 
Even the felicity of her government was adverse to 
the establishment of remote colonies. So powerful 
is the attraction of our native soil, and such our 
fortunate partiality to the laws and manners of our 
own country, that men seldom choose to abandon 
it, unless they be driven away by oppression, or 
allured by vast prospects of sudden wealth. But 
the provinces of America, in which the English at¬ 
tempted to settle, did not, like those occupied by 
Spain, invite them thither by any appearance of 
silver or gold mines. All their hopes of gain were 
distant; and they saw that nothing could be earned 
but by persevering exertions of industry. The 
maxims of Elizabeth’s administration were, in their 
general tenor, so popular, as did not force her sub¬ 
jects to emigrate in order to escape from the heavy 
or vexatious hand of power. It seems to have been 
with difficulty that these slender bands of planters 
w ere collected, on which the writers of that age be¬ 
stow the name of the first and second Virginian 
colonies. The fulness of time for English coloniza¬ 
tion was not yet arrived. 

But the succession of the Scottish 


1603. 


Reign of James line to the crown of England hastened 

favourable to the . 

establishment of its approach. James was hardly seat- 
colonies. , 

ed on the throne before he discovered 


his pacific intentions, and he soon terminated the 
long war which had been carried on between Spain 
and England, by an amicable treaty. From that 
period, uninterrupted tranquillity continued during 
his reign. Many persons of high rank, and of 
ardent ambition, to whom the war with Spain had 
afforded constant employment, and presented allur¬ 
ing prospects not only of fame but of wealth, soon 
became so impatient of languishing at home with¬ 
out occupation or object, that their invention was 
on the stretch to find pome exercise for their ac¬ 
tivity and talents. To both these North America 


e Purclias, iv. p. 1647. 


seemed to open a new field, and schemes of carry¬ 
ing colonies thither became more general and more 
popular. 

A voyage undertaken by Bartholo- 

J D „ . Direct course 

mew Gosnold, in the last year ot the from England to 

„ ... , i, North America 

queen, facilitated as well as encou- first^attem^ted 
raged the execution of these schemes. y 
He sailed from Falmouth in a small bark with 
thirty-two men. Instead of following former navi¬ 
gators in their unnecessary circuit by the West 
India isles and the gulf of Florida, Gosnold steered 
due west as nearly as the w inds would permit, and 
w as the first English commander who reached Ame¬ 
rica by this shorter and more direct course. That 
part of the continent which he first described was 
a promontory in the province now called Massa¬ 
chusetts Bay, to which he gave the name of Cape 
Cod. Holding along the coast, as it stretched to¬ 
wards the south west, he touched at two islands, 
one of which he called Martha’s Vineyard, the 
other Elizabeth’s Island ; and visited the adjoining 
continent, and traded w ith its inhabitants. He and 
his companions were so much delighted every where 
with the inviting aspect of the country, that not¬ 
withstanding the smallness of their number, a part 
of them consented to remain there. But when they 
had leisure to reflect upon the fate of former settlers 
in America, they retracted a resolution formed in 
the first warmth of their admiration ; and Gosnold 
returned to England in less than four months from 
the time of his departure. 6 

This voyage, however inconsiderable 

. . Consequences of 

it may appear, had important ellects. Gosnoid s voy- 

The English now discovered the aspect 
of the American continent to be extremely inviting 
far to the north of the place where they had formerly 
attempted to settle. The coast of a vast country, 
stretching through the most desirable climates, lay 
before them. The richness of its virgin soil pro¬ 
mised a certain recompence to their industry. In 
its interior provinces unexpected sources of wealth 
might open, and unknown objects of commerce 
might be found. Its distance from England was 
diminished almost a third part, by the new course 
which Gosnold had pointed out. Plans for estab¬ 
lishing colonies began to be formed in different 
parts of the kingdom ; and before these were ripe 
for execution, one small vessel was sent out by the 
merchants of Bristol, another by the earl of South¬ 
ampton and lord Arundel of Wardour, in order to 
learn whether Gosnold’s account of the country was 
to be considered as a just representation of its state, 
or as the exaggerated description of a fond dis¬ 
coverer. Both returned with a full confirmation of 
his veracity, and with the addition of so many new r 
circumstances in favour of the country, acquired 
by a more extensive view of it, as greatly increased 
the desire of planting it. 

The most active and efficacious promoter of this 
was Richard Hakluyt, prebendary of Westminster, 



BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


993 


to whom England is more indebted 

Hakluyt un- . 

proves the com- for its American possessions than to 

mercial and 1 

naval skin of any man of that age. Formed under 

that age. J 6 

a kinsman oi the same name, emi¬ 
nent for naval and commercial knowledge, lie 
imbibed a similar taste, and applied early to the 
study of geography and navigation. These favour¬ 
ite sciences engrossed his attention, and to diffuse 
a relish for them was the great object of his life. 
Tn order to excite his countrymen to naval enter¬ 
prise, by flattering their national vanity, he pub¬ 
lished, in the year one thousand five hundred and 
eighty-nine, his valuable collection of voyages and 
discoveries made by Englishmen. In order to sup¬ 
ply them with what information might be derived 
from the experience of the most successful foreign 
navigators, he translated some of the best accounts 
of the progress of the Spaniards and Portuguese in 
their voyages both to the East and West Indies, 
into the English tongue. He was consulted with 
respect to many of the attempts towards discovery 
or colonization during the latter part of Elizabeth’s 
reign. He corresponded with the officers who con¬ 
ducted them, directed their researches to proper 
objects, and published the history of their exploits. 
By the zealous endeavours of a person equally 
respected by men of rank and men of business, 
many of both orders formed an association to estab¬ 
lish colonies in America, and petitioned the king 
for the sanction of his authority to warrant the 
execution of their plans. 

James divides the James, who prided himself on his 
Amedca^ntotwo profound skill in the science of go- 
parts > vernment, and who had turned his 

attention to consider the advantages which might 
be derived from colonies, at a time when he patro¬ 
nized his scheme for planting them in some of the 
ruder provinces of his ancient kingdom, with a 
view 7 of introducing industry and civilization there/ 
was now no less fond of directing the active genius 
of his English subjects towards occupations not re¬ 
pugnant to bis own pacific maxims, and listened 
with a favourable ear to their application. But as 
the extent as well as value of the American con¬ 
tinent began now to be better known, a grant of the 
whole of such a vast region to any one body of men, 
however respectable, appeared to him an act of 
impolitic and profuse liberality. For this reason 
he divided that portion of North America, which 
stretches from the thirty-fourth to the forty-fifth 
degree of latitude, into two districts nearly equal; 
the one called the first or south colony of Virginia, 
1606 the other, the second or north colony. 

April 10 . jj e authorized sir Thomas Gates, sir 
George Summers, Richard Hakluyt, and their asso¬ 
ciates, mostly resident in London, to settle any part 
of the former which they should choose, and vested 
in them a right of property to the land extending 
along the coast fifty miles on eachjside of the place 
of their first habitation, and reaching into the inte¬ 


rior country a hundred miles. The 

/ and gi ants char- 

latter district he allotted, as the place ters to two com- 

' pames. 

of settlement, to sundry knights, gen¬ 
tlemen, and merchants of Bristol, Plymouth, and 
other parts in the west of England, with a similar 
grant of territory. Neither the monarch who issued 
this charter, nor his subjects who received it, had 
any conception that they were proceeding to lay 
the foundation of mighty and opulent states. What 
James granted was nothing more than a simple 
charter of corporation to a trading company, em¬ 
powering the members of it to have a common seal, 
and to act as a body politic. But as the object for 
which they associated w as new, the plan established 
for the administration of their affairs was uncom¬ 
mon. Instead of the pow er usually granted to cor¬ 
porations, of electing ofiicers and framing by-laws 
for the conduct of their own opera- Tenor of these 
tions, the supreme government of the charters, 
colonies to be settled was vested in a council resi¬ 
dent in England, to be named by the king according 
to such laws and ordinances as should be given 
under his sign manual; and the subordinate juris¬ 
diction was committed to a council resident in 
America, which was likewise to be nominated by 
the king, and to act conformably to his instructions. 
To this important clause, which regulated the form 
of their constitution, was added the concession of 
several immunities, to encourage persons to settle 
in the intended colonies. Some of these were the 
same which had been granted to Gilbert and Ra¬ 
legh ; such as the securing to the emigrants and 
their descendants all the rights of denizens, in the 
same manner as if they had remained or had been 
born in England ; and granting them the privilege 
of holding their lands in America by the freest and 
least burdensome tenure. Others w ere more favour¬ 
able than those granted by Elizabeth. He permit¬ 
ted whatever was necessary for the sustenance or 
commerce of the new colonies to be exported from 
England, during the space of seven years, without 
paying any duty ; and, as a further incitement to 
industry, he granted them liberty of trade with 
other nations, and appropriated the duty to be 
levied on foreign commodities, for twenty-one years, 
as a fund for the benefit of the colony. 5 

In this singular charter, the contents Defects of these 
of which have been little attended to charters, 
by the historians of America, some articles are as 
unfavourable to the rights of the colonists, as others 
are to the interest of the parent state. By placing 
the legislative and executive powers in a council 
nominated by the crown, and guided by its instruc¬ 
tions, every person settling in America seems to be 
bereaved of the noblest privilege of a free man ; 
by the unlimited permission of trade with foreign¬ 
ers, the parent state is deprived of that exclusive 
commerce which has been deemed the chief advan¬ 
tage resulting from the establishment of colonies. 
But in the infancy of colonization, and without the 


f Hist, of Scotland, p. 210. 

3 s 


g Slith. Hist, of Virginia, p. 3.5. Append, p. 1. Purchas, v. 1GB3. 



THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


994 


guidance of observation or experience, the ideas of 
men, with respect to the mode of forming new 
settlements, were not fully unfolded, or properly 
arranged. At a period when they could not foresee 
the future grandeur and importance of the commu¬ 
nities which they were about to call into existence, 
they were ill qualified to concert the best plan for 
governing them. Besides, the English of that age, 
accustomed to the high prerogative and arbitrary 
rule of their monarchs, were not animated with such 
liberal sentiments, either concerning their own 
personal or political rights, as have become familiar 
in the more mature and improved state of their 
constitution. 


Without hesitation or reluctance the 

Colonies of Vir- . . 

|inia and New proprietors ot both colonies prepared 

to execute their respective plans; and 
under the authority of a charter, which would now 
be rejected with disdain, as a violent invasion of 
the sacred and inalienable rights of liberty, the first 
permanent settlements of the English in America 
were established. From this period, the progress 
of the two provinces of Virginia and New England 


forms a regular and connected story. The former 
in the south, and the latter in the north, may be 
considered as the original and parent colonies ; in 
imitation of which, and under whose shelter, all the 


others have been successively planted and reared. 


Advantages of 
tracing the his¬ 
tory ot these 
colonies in 
their infant 
state. 


The first attempts to occupy Vir¬ 
ginia and New England were made 
by very feeble bodies of emigrants. 
As these settled under great disadvan¬ 


tages, among tribes of savages, and in an unculti¬ 
vated desert; as they attained gradually, after long 
struggles and many disasters, to that maturity of 
strength, and order of policy, which entitle them 
to be considered as respectable states, the history 
of their persevering efforts merits particular atten¬ 
tion. It will exhibit a spectacle no less striking 
than instructive, and presents an opportunity, which 
rarely occurs, of contemplating a society in the 
first moment of its political existence, and of ob¬ 
serving how its spirit forms in its infant state, how 
its principles begin to unfold as it advances, and 
how those characteristic qualities which distinguish 
its maturer age are successively acquired. The ac¬ 
count of the establishment of the other English 
colonies, undertaken at periods when the import¬ 
ance of such possessions was better understood, and 
effected by more direct and vigorous exertions of 
the parent state, is less interesting. I shall there¬ 
fore relate the history of the two original colonies 
in detail. With respect to the subsequent settle¬ 
ments, some more general observations concerning 
the time, the motives, and circumstances of their 
establishment will be sufficient. I begin with the 
history of Virginia, the most ancient and most va¬ 
luable of the British colonies in North America. 

_ T x Though many persons of distinction 

K6wr)ort sriIs 1 

for ^Virginia, became proprietors in the company 
which undertook to plant a colony in 


Virginia, its funds seem not to have been consider¬ 
able, and its first effort was certainly extremely 
feeble. A small vessel of a hundred tons, and two 
barks under the command of captain Newport, 
sailed with a hundred and five men destined to re¬ 
main in the country. Some of these were of re¬ 
spectable families, particularly a brother of the 
earl of Northumberland, and several officers who 
had served with reputation in the reign of Elizabeth. 
Newport, I know not for what reason, 160 - 
followed the ancient course by the April 26 th. 
West Indies, and did not reach the coast of North 
America for four months. But he approached it 
with better fortune than any former navigator; for 
having been driven, by the violence of a storm, to 
the northward of Roanoke, the place of his destina¬ 
tion, the first land he discovered was a promontory 

which he called Cape Henry, the discovers the 
southern boundary of the bay of dies- Chesapeak ; 

apeak. The English stood directly into that spa¬ 
cious inlet, which seemed to invite them to enter ; 
and as they advanced, contemplated, with a mixture 
of delight and admiration, that grand reservoir, into 
which are poured the waters of all the vast rivers, 
which not only diffuse fertility through that district 
of America, but open the interior parts of the 
country to navigation, and render a commercial in¬ 
tercourse more extensive and commodious than in 
any other region of the globe. New port, keeping 
along the southern shore, sailed up a river, which 
the natives called Powhatan, and to which he gave the 
name of James river. After viewing sajls up 
its banks, during a run of above forty tames river; 
miles from its mouth, they all concluded that a 
country, where safe and convenient harbours seemed 
to be numerous, would be a more suitable station 
for a trading colony, than the shoaly and dangerous 
coast to the south, on which their countrymen had 
formerly settled. Here then they determined to 


abide ; and having chosen a proper spot for their 
residence, they gave this infant settle- founds 
ment the name of James town, which Jame3 town - 
it still retains; and though it has never become 
either populous or opulent, it can boast of being the 
most ancient habitation of the English in the New 
World. But however well chosen the situation 
might be, the members of the colony were far from 
availing themselves of its advantages. Violent ani¬ 
mosities had broke out among some of their leaders, 
during their yoyagetoVirginia. These Bad adminis ,J 
did not subside on their arrival there. tl0n - 
The first deed of the council, which assumed the 
government in virtue of a commission brought from 
England under the seal of the company, and opened 
on the day after they landed, w'as an act of injustice. 
Captain Smith, who had been appointed a member 
of the council, was excluded from his seat at the 
board, by the mean jealousy of his colleagues, and 
not only reduced to the condition of a private man, 
but of one suspected and watched by his superiors. 
This diminution of his influence, and restraint on 





BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


his activity, was an essential injury to the colony, 
which at that juncture stood in need of the aid of 
both. For soon after they began to settle, the 
English were involved in a war with the natives, 
partly by their own indiscretion, and partly by the 
suspicion and ferocity of those barbarians. And 

Colony annoyed although the Indians, scattered over 
by the Indians; t j ie coun tries adjacent to James river, 

were divided into independent tribes, so extremely 
feeble that hardly one of them could muster above 
two hundred warriors, h they teased and annoyed an 
infant colony by their incessant hostilities. To this 
was added a calamity still more dreadful; the 
June io stock of provisions left for their sub¬ 
sistence, on the departure of their ships 
for England, was so scanty and of such bad quality, 
that a scarcity, approaching almost to absolute 
suffers from scar- famine, soon followed. Such poor un- 
heaithiness'of the wholesome fare brought on diseases, 
climate. the violence of which was so much in¬ 

creased by the sultry heat of the climate, and the 
moisture of a country covered with wood, that be¬ 
fore the beginning of September one half of their 
number died, and most of the survivors were sickly 
and dejected. In such trying extremities, the com¬ 
parative powers of every individual are discovered 
and called forth, and each naturally takes that sta¬ 
tion, and assumes that ascendant, to which he is 
entitled by his talents and force of mind. Every 

Smith, died to e 5’ e was now tumed Awards Smith, 
store°sX? a pr d ospe- and all willingly devolved on him that 
rity of the colony, authority of which they had formerly 

deprived him. His undaunted temper, deeply 
tinctured with the wild romantic spirit characteris¬ 
tic of military adventurers in that age, was pecu¬ 
liarly suited to such a situation. The vigour of 
his constitution continued fortunately still unim¬ 
paired by disease, and his mind was never appalled 
by danger. He instantly adopted the only plan 
that could save them from destruction. He began 
by surrounding James town with such rude forti¬ 
fications as were a sufficient defence against the 
assaults of savages. He then marched, at the head 
of a small detachment, in quest of their enemies. 
Some tribes he gained by caresses and presents, 
and procured from them a supply of provisions. 
Others he attacked with open force ; and defeating 
them on every occasion, whatever their superiority 
in numbers might be, compelled them to impart to 
him some portion of their winter stores. As the 
recompence of all his toils and dangers, he saw 
abundance and contentment re-established in the 
colony, and hoped that he should be able to main¬ 
tain them in that happy state, until the arrival of 
ships from England in the spring : but in one of his 
excursions he was surprised by a numerous body 
of Indians, and in making his escape from them, 
after a gallant defence, he sunk to the neck in a 
swamp, and was obliged to surrender. Though he 


995 


knew well what a dreadful fate awaits He is taken pri- 

. soner by the 

the prisoners ot savages, his presence Indians, 
of mind did not forsake him. He showed those who 
had taken him captive a mariner's compass, and 
amused them with so many wonderful accounts of 
its virtues, as filled them with astonishment and 
veneration, which began to operate very powerfully 
in his favour. They led him, however, in triumph 
through various parts of the country, and con¬ 
ducted him at last to Powhatan, the most con¬ 
siderable sachim in that part of Virginia. There 
the doom of death being pronounced, he was led 
to the place of execution, and his head already 
bowed down to receive the fatal blow, when that 
fond attachment of the American women to their 
European invaders, the beneficial effects of which 
the Spaniards often experienced, interposed in his 
behalf. The favourite daughter of Powhatan rush¬ 
ed in between him and the executioner, and by her 
entreaties and tears prevailed on her father to spare 
his life. The beneficence of his deliverer, whom 
the early English writers dignify with the title 
of the princess Pocahuntas, did not terminate 
here ; she soon after procured his liberty, and sent 
him from time to time seasonable presents of pro¬ 
visions. 1 

Smith, on his return to James town, 

, . On his return, he 

found the colony reduced to thirty- finds the colony 
. . . almost ruined. 

eight persons, who in despair were 
preparing to abandon a country which did not seem 
destined to be the habitation of Englishmen. He 
employed caresses, threats, and even violence, in 
order to prevent them from executing this fatal 
resolution. With difficulty he prevailed on them to 
defer it so long, that the succour anxiously expect¬ 
ed from England arrived. Plenty was 

Seasonable sue- 

instantly restored ; a hundred new cours from Eug- 

J i land. 

planters were added to their number ; 
and an ample stock of whatever was requisite for 
clearing and sowing the ground was delivered to 
them. But an unlucky incident turned their atten¬ 
tion from that species of industry which alone could 
render their situation comfortable. In 

Colonists deceiv- 

a small stream of water that issued ed by the appear¬ 
ances of gold. 

from a bank of sand near James town, 
a sediment of some shining mineral substance, 
which had some resemblance of gold, was discover¬ 
ed. At a time when the precious metals were 
conceived to be the peculiar and only valuable 
productions of the New World, when every moun¬ 
tain was supposed to contain a treasure, and every 
rivulet was searched for its golden sands, this 
appearance was fondly considered as an infallible 
indication of a mine. Every hand was eager to dig ; 
large quantities of this glittering dust were amassed. 
From some assay of its nature, made by an artist as 
unskilful as his companions were credulous, it was 
pronounced to be extremely rich. “ There was 
now," says Smith, “ no talk, no hope, no work, but 


h Purchas, vol. iv. 1692. Smith’s Travels, p. 23. 

3 s 2 


i Smith’s Travels, p. 44, &c. Purchas, iv. 1704. Stith. p. 45, &c. 





mc> 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


dig gold, wash gold, refine go!d.” k With this ima¬ 
ginary wealth the first vessel returning to England 
was loaded, while the culture of the land and every 
useful occupation were totally neglected. 

The effects of this fatal delusion were 

Smith undertakes <» 1 . a. j ' u .1 

a survey of the soon felt- Notwithstanding all the 

countrv. • 1 . . • •. pci • • 

provident activity ot Smith, in pro- 
curing corn from the natives by traffic or by force, 
the colony began to suffer as much as formerly from 
scarcity of food, and was wasted by the same dis¬ 
tempers. In hopes of obtaining some relief. Smith 
proposed, as they had not hitherto extended their 
researches beyond the countries contiguous to 
James river, to open an intercourse with the more 
remote tribes, and to examine into the state of cul¬ 
ture and population among them. The execution 
of this arduous design he undertook himself, in a 
small open boat, v/ith a feeble crew, and a very 
scanty stock of provisions. He began his survey at 
Cape Charles, and in two different excursions, 
which continued above four months, he advanced as 
far as the river Susquehannah, which flows into the 
bottom of the bay. He visited all the countries both 
on the east and west shores ; he entered most of the 
considerable creeks ; he sailed up many of the great 
rivers as far as their falls. He traded with some 
tribes; he fought with others; he observed the 
nature of the territory which they occupied, their 
mode of subsistence, the peculiarities in their man¬ 
ners ; and left among all a wonderful admiration 
either of the beneficence or valour of the English. 
After sailing above three thousand miles in a paltry 
vessel, ill fitted for such an extensive navigation, 
during which the hardships to which he was ex¬ 
posed, as well as the patience with which he endur¬ 
ed, and the fortitude with which he surmounted 
them, equal whatever is related of the celebrated 
Spanish discoverers in their most daring enterprises, 
he returned to James town ; he brought with him 
an account of that large portion of the American 
continent now comprehended in the two provinces 
of Virginia and Maryland, 1 so full and exact, that 
after the progress of information and research for a 
century and a half, his map exhibits no inaccurate 
view of both countries, and is the original upon 
which all subsequent delineations and descriptions 
have been formed. 1 " 

But whatever pleasing prospect of future benefit 
might open upon this complete discovery of a coun¬ 
try formed by nature to be the seat of an exclusive 
commerce, it afforded but little relief for their pre¬ 
sent wants. The colony still depended for subsist¬ 
ence chiefly on supplies from the natives ; as, after 
all the efforts of their own industry, hardly thirty 
acres of ground were yet cleared so as to be capable 
of culture." By Smith’s attention, however, the 
stores of the English were so regularly filled, that 
for some time they felt no considerable distress ; and 
at this juncture a change w as made in the constitu¬ 
tion of the company, which seemed to promise an 

k Smith’s Travels, p. 53. 1 Ibid. p. 65, See. 


increase of their security and happiness. That 
supreme direction of all the company’s operations, 
which the king by his charter had reserved to him¬ 
self, discouraged persons of rank or property from 
becoming members of a society so dependent on the 
arbitrary w ill of the crown. Upon a 1609 
representation of this to James, he A n ew y charter 
granted them a new charter, with more granted, 
ample privileges. He enlarged the boundaries of 
the colony; he rendered the powers of the company, 
as a corporation, more explicit and complete; he 
abolished the jurisdiction of the council resident in 
Virginia ; he vested the government entirely in a 
council residing in London ; he granted to the pro¬ 
prietors of the company the right of electing the 
persons who were to compose this council, by a 
majority of voices; he authorized this council to 
establish such laws, orders, and forms of govern¬ 
ment and magistracy, for the colony and plantation, 
as they in their discretion should think to be fittest 
for the good of the adventurers and inhabitants 
there ; he empowered them to nominate a governor 
to have the administration of affairs in the colony, 
and to carry their orders into execution. 0 In con¬ 
sequence of these concessions, the company having 
acquired the power of regulating all its own trans¬ 
actions, the number of proprietors increased, and 
among them we find the most respectable names in 
the nation. 

The first deed of the new council 

• T.orH Delaware 

was to appoint lord Delaware governor appointed go- 
and captain-general of their colony in ' ernor ' 
Virginia. To a person of his rank those high- 
sounding titles could be no allurement; and by his 
thorough acquaintance with the progress and state 
of the settlement, he knew enough of the labour 
and difficulty with which an infant colony is reared, 
to expect any thing but anxiety and care in dis¬ 
charging the duties of that delicate office. But, 
from zeal to promote an establishment which he 
expected to prove so highly beneficial to his coun¬ 
try, he was willing to relinquish all the comforts of 
an honourable station, to undertake a long voyage 
to settle in an uncultivated region, destitute of every 
accommodation to which he had been accustomed, 
and where he foresaw that toil, and trouble, and 
danger awaited him. But as he could 
not immediately leave England, the Seff appointed* 
council despatched sir Thomas Gates the C arrWa? d of 11 
and sir George Summers, the former lord DeldWare * 
of whom had been appointed lieutenant-general 
and the latter admiral, with nine ships and five 
hundred planters. They carried with them com¬ 
missions by which they were empowered to su¬ 
persede the jurisdiction of the former council, to 
proclaim lord Delaware governor, and, until he 
should arrive, to take the administra¬ 
tion of affairs into their own hands. A strandldon the 
violent hurricane separated the ves- datf ot Bermu * 
sel in which Gates and Summers had 

m Stith. p. 83. n Ibid. p. 97. 


Aug. ll. 


o Ibid. Append. 8. 




BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


VD7 


embarked from the rest of the fleet, and stranded 
it on the coast of Bermudas. The other ships 
arrived safely at James town. But the fate of 
their commanders was unknown. Their commission 
for new-modelling the government, and all other 
public papers, were supposed to be lost together 
with them. The present form of government, how¬ 
ever, was held to be abolished. No legal warrant 
could be produced for establishing any other. Smith 
was not in a condition at tins juncture to assert his 
own rights, or to act with his wonted vigour. By 
an accidental explosion of gunpowder, he had been 
so miserably scorched and mangled that he was 
incapable of moving, and under the necessity of 
committing himself to the guidance of his friends, 
who carried him aboard one of the ships returning 
to England, in hopes that he might recover by more 
skilful treatment than he could meet with in Vir¬ 
ginia. p 

Anarchy in the After his departure, every thing 
tended fast to the wildest anarchy. 
Faction and discontent had often arisen so high 
among the old settlers, that they could hardly be 
kept within bounds. The spirit of the new comers 
w as too ungovernable to bear any restraint. Several 
among them of better rank were such dissipated 
hopeless young men, as their friends were glad to 
send out in quest of whatever fortune might betide 
them in a foreign land. Of the lower order many were 
so profligate or desperate, that their country was 
happy to throw them out as nuisances in society. 
Such persons were little capable of the regular sub¬ 
ordination, the strict economy, and persevering in¬ 
dustry, which their situation required. The Indians, 
observing their misconduct, and that every precau¬ 
tion for sustenance or safety was neglected, not 
only withheld the supplies of provisions which 
they were accustomed to furnish, but harassed 

The colony re- them with continual hostilities. All 
duced by famine. ^] )e j r subsistence was derived from the 

stores which they had brought from England ; these 
were soon consumed ; then the domestic animals 
sent out to breed in the country were devoured ; 
and by this inconsiderate waste, they were reduced 
to such extremity of famine, as not only to eat the 
most nauseous and unwholesome roots and berries, 
but to feed on the bodies of the Indians whom they 
slew, and even on those of their companions who 
sunk under the oppression of such complicated 
distress. In less than six months, of five hundred 
persons whom Smith left in Virginia, only sixty 
remained ; and these so feeble and dejected, that 
they could not have survived for ten days, if suc¬ 
cour had not arrived from a quarter whence they 
did not expect it.s 

When Gates and Summers were 
mers arrive from thrown ashore on Bermudas, fortu¬ 
nately not a single person on board 
their ship perished. A considerable part of their 

p Purchas, iv. 1734, &c. Smith’s Travels, p. 89. Stith. p. 102, &c. 

q Stith. p. 116. Purchas, iv. 1748. , . _ . . c 

r A minute and curious account of the shipwreck ot Gates and Sum- 


May 23. 


provisions and stores, too, was saved, and in that 
delightful spot nature, with spontaneous bounty, 
presented to them such a variety of her productions, 
that a hundred and fifty people subsisted in afflu¬ 
ence for ten months on an uninhabited island. Im¬ 
patient, how ever, to escape from a place where they 
were cut off' from all intercourse with mankind, 
they set about building two barks with such tools 
and materials as they had, and by amazing efforts 
of perseverance and ingenuity they finished them. 
In these they embarked, and steered directly to¬ 
wards Virginia, in hopes of finding an ample con¬ 
solation for all their toils and dangers in the 
embraces of their companions, and amidst the com¬ 
forts of a flourishing colony. After a more prosper¬ 
ous navigation than they could have expected in 
their ill-constructed vessels, they landed at James 
town. But instead of that joyful in¬ 
terview for which they fondly looked, 
a spectacle presented itself which struck them with 
horror. They beheld the miserable 

. . find the colony 

remainder of their countrymen emaci- in the utmost 
ated with famine and sickness, sunk 
in despair, and in their figure and looks rather re¬ 
sembling spectres than human beings. As Gates 
and Summers, in full confidence of finding plenty 
of provisions in Virginia, had brought with them 
no larger stock than was deemed necessary for their 
own support during the voyage, their inability to 
afford relief to their countrymen added to the an¬ 
guish with which they viewed this unexpected 
scene of distress. Nothing now remained but in¬ 
stantly to abandon a country, where it was impos¬ 
sible to subsist any longer; and though all that 
could be found in the stores of the colony, when 
added to what remained of the stock brought from 
Bermudas, did not amount to more than was suffi¬ 
cient to support them for sixteen days, at the most 
scanty allowance, they set sail, in hopes of being 
able to reach Newfoundland, where they expected 
to be relieved by their countrymen employed at 
that season in the fishery there/ 

But it was not the will of Heaven are about to re- 
that all the labour of the English, in wheVlord^S’ 
planting this colony, as well as all ware amves - 
their hopes of benefit from its future prosperity, 
should be for ever lost. Before Gates and the me¬ 
lancholy companions of his voyage had reached the 
mouth of James river, they were met by lord Dela¬ 
ware w ith three ships, that brought a large recruit 
of provisions, a considerable number of new settlers, 
and every thing requisite for defence or cultivation. 
By persuasion and authority he prevailed on them 
to return to James town, where they found their 
fort, their magazines, and houses entire, which sir 
Thomas Gates, by some happy chance, had preserv¬ 
ed from being set on fire at the time of their de¬ 
parture. A society so feeble and disordered in its 
frame, required a tender and skilful hand to cherish 

mers, and of their adventures in Bermudas, was composed by Strachy, 
a gentleman who accompanied them, and was published by Purchas, iv. 
1734. 



098 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


it, and restore its vigour. This it 
tWnfonord De- found in lord Delaware : he searched 
Uware. j n t 0 the causes of their misfortunes, 

as far as he could discover them, amidst the violence 
of their mutual accusations ; but instead of exert¬ 
ing his power in punishing crimes that were past, 
he employed his prudence in healing their dissen¬ 
sions, and in guarding against a repetition of the 
same fatal errors. By unwearied assiduities, by the 
respect due to an amiable and beneficent character, 
by knowing how to mingle severity with indulgence, 
and when to assume the dignity of his office, as 
well as when to display the gentleness natural to his 
own temper, he gradually reconciled men corrupt¬ 
ed by anarchy to subordination and discipline, he 
turned the attention of the idle and profiigate to 
industry, and taught the Indians again to reve¬ 
rence and dread the English name. 
March 28 . Under such an administration, the 

Ilis health obliges , , 

him to return to colony began once more to assume a 
England. . . , , 

promising appearance ; when unhap¬ 
pily for it, a complication of diseases brought on 
by the climate obliged lord Delaware to quit the 
country ; s the government of which he committed 
to Mr. Percy. 

He was soon superseded by the ar- 
SirThomas'Dale rival of sir Thomas Dale; in whom 
vernor. ted 8 °’ the company had vested more absolute 
Martial law es- authority than in any of his prede- 
cessors, empowering him to rule by 
martial law ; a short code of which, founded on the 
practice of the armies in the Low Countries, the 
most rigid military school at that time in Europe, 
they sent out with him. This system of government 
is so violent and arbitrary, that even the Spaniards 
themselves had not ventured to introduce it into 
their settlements ; for among them, as soon as a 
plantation began, and the arts of peace succeeded 
to the operations of war, the jurisdiction of the civil 
magistrate was uniformly established. But how¬ 
ever unconstitutional or oppressive this may appear, 
it was adopted by the advice of sir Francis Bacon, 
the most enlightened philosopher, and one of the 
most eminent lawyers of the age.* The company, 
well acquainted with the inefficacy of every method 
which they had hitherto employed for restraining 
the unruly mutinous spirits which they had to go¬ 
vern, eagerly adopted a plan that had the sanction 
of such high authority to recommend it. Happily 
for the colony, sir Thomas Dale, who was intrusted 
with this dangerous power, exercised it with pru¬ 
dence and moderation. By the vigour which the 
summary mode of military punishment gave to 
his administration, he introduced into the colony 
more perfect order than had ever been established 
there; and at the same time he tempered his 
vigour with so much discretion, that no alarm 
seems to have been given by this formidable inno¬ 
vation. 15 

s Stith. p. 117 . Pttrchas, iv. 1764. 
t Bacon, Essay on Plantations, p. 3 . 
u Stith. p. 112. 


The regular form which the colony 1612 . 
now began to assume induced the king N ew charter issu- 
to issue a new charter lor the encour- new privileges 
agement of the adventurers, by which conferre(L 
he not only confirmed all their former privileges, 
and prolonged the term of exemption from pay¬ 
ment of duties on the commodities exported by 
them, but granted them more extensive property, 
as well as more ample jurisdiction. All the islands 
lying within three hundred leagues of the coast 
were annexed to the province of Virginia. In con¬ 
sequence of this, the company took possession of 
Bermudas, and the other small islands discovered 
by Gates and Summers, and at the same time pre¬ 
pared to send out a considerable reinforcement to 
the colony at James town. The expense of those 
extraordinary efforts was defrayed by the profits 
of a lottery, which amounted nearly to thirty thou¬ 
sand pounds. This expedient they were authorized 
to employ by their new charter ; x and it is remark¬ 
able, as the first instance, in the English history, of 
any public countenance given to this pernicious 
seducing mode of levying money. But the house 
of Commons, which towards the close of this reign 
began to observe every measure of government with 
jealous attention, having remonstrated against the 
institution as unconstitutional and impolitic, James 
recalled the licence under the sanction of which it 
had been established. y 

By the severe discipline of martial cultivation of the 
law r , the activity of the colonists was lands P romoted - 
forced into a proper direction, and exerted itself 
in useful industry. This, aided by a fertile soil 
and favourable climate, soon enabled them to 
raise such a large stock of provisions, that they 
were no longer obliged to trust for subsistence to 
the precarious supplies which they obtained or ex¬ 
torted from the Indians. In proportion as the Eng¬ 
lish became more independent, the natives courted 
their friendship upon more equal terms. The happy 
effects of this were quickly felt. Sir Treaty with the 
Thomas Dale concluded a treaty with natives, 
one of their most powerful and warlike tribes, situ¬ 
ated on the river Chickahominy, in which they con¬ 
sented to acknowledge themselves subjects to the 
king of Great Britain, to assume henceforth the 
name of Englishmen, to send a body of their war¬ 
riors to the assistance of the English as often as they 
took the field against any enemy, and to deposit 
annually a stipulated quantity of Indian corn in the 
storehouses of the colony. 2 An event, which the 
early historians of Virginia relate with peculiar sa¬ 
tisfaction, prepared the way for this union. Poca- 
huntas, the favourite daughter of the great chief 
Powhatan, to whose intercession captain Smith was 
indebted for his life, persevered in her partial 
attachment to the English ; and as she frequently 
visited their settlements, where she was always re¬ 
ceived with respectful hospitality, her admiration 

x Stith. p. 191. Appendix, 23, &c. 

y Chalmers’ Annals, i. 32. 

7 Hamer Solida Narratio, ap. de Bry, pars x. p. 33. Stith. p. 130. 




BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


999 


of their arts and manners continued to increase. 
During this intercourse, her beauty, which is repre¬ 
sented as far superior to that of her country-women, 

, made such impression on the heart of 

daughter of an Mr. Rolfe, a young man of rank in the 
Indian chief. J ° 

colony, that he warmly solicited her 
to accept of him as a husband. Where manners 
are simple, courtship is not tedious. Neither arti¬ 
fice prevents, nor ceremony forbids, the heart from 
declaring its sentiments. Pocahuntas readily gave 
her consent; Dale encouraged the alliance, and 
Powhatan did not disapprove it. The marriage was 
celebrated with extraordinary pomp ; and from that 
period a friendly correspondence subsisted between 
the colony and all the tribes subject to Powhatan, 
or that stood in awe of his power. Rolfe and his 
princess (for by that name the writers of the last 
age always distinguish her) set out for England, 
where she was received by James and his queen 
with the respect suited to her birth. Being care¬ 
fully instructed in the principles of the Christian 
faith, she was publicly baptized, but died a few years 
after, on her return to America, leaving one son, 
from whom are sprung some of the most respect¬ 
able families in Virginia, who boast of their de¬ 
scent from the race of the ancient rulers of their 
country. 11 But notwithstanding the visible good 
effects of that alliance, none of Rolfe’s countrymen 
seem to have imitated the example which he set 
them, of intermarrying with the natives. Of all 
the Europeans who have settled in America, the 
English have availed themselves least of this ob¬ 
vious method of conciliating the affection of its 
original inhabitants ; and, either from the shyness 
conspicuous in their national character, or from the 
want of that pliant facility of manners which ac¬ 
commodates itself to every situation, they have been 
more averse than the French and Portuguese, or 
even the Spaniards, from incorporating with the 
native Americans. The Indians, courting such an 
union, offered their daughters in marriage to their 
new guests : and when they did not accept of the 
proffered alliance, they naturally imputed it to pride, 
and to their contempt of them as an inferior order 
of beings. b 

During the interval of tranquillity 
first becomes procured by the alliance with Powha¬ 
tan, an important change was made in 
the state of the colony. Hitherto no right of private 
property in land had been established. The fields 
that were cleared had been cultivated by the joint 
labour of the colonists ; their product was carried to 
the common storehouses, and distributed weekly to 
every family, according to its number and exigen¬ 
cies. A society, destitute of the first advantage 
resulting from social union, was not formed to 
prosper. Industry, when not excited by the idea of 
property in what was acquired by its own efforts, 
made no vigorous exertion. The head had no in- 

a Hamer Solida Narratio, ap. de Bry, pars x. p. 23. Stitb. p. 129,146. 
Smith’s Travels, p. 113,121. 

b Beverley’s Hist, of Virg. p. 25. 


Advantages. 


1616. 


ducement to contrive, nor the hand to labour. The 
idle and improvident trusted entirely to what was 
issued from the common store; the assiduity even 
of the sober and attentive relaxed, when they per¬ 
ceived that others were to reap the fruit of their 
toil ; and it was computed, that the united industry 
of the colony did not accomplish as much work in 
a week as might have been performed in a day, if 
each individual had laboured on his own account. 
In order to remedy this, sir Thomas 
Dale divided a considerable portion 
of the land into small lots, and granted one of these 
to each individual in full property. From the 
moment that industry had the certain prospect of a 
recompence, it advanced with rapid progress. The 
articles of primary necessity were cultivated with 
so much attention as secured the means of sub¬ 
sistence ; and such schemes of improvement were 
formed as prepared the way for the introduction of 
opulence into the colony. 0 

The industrious spirit which began culture of tobac- 
to rise among the planters was soon cointroduced. 

directed towards a new object; and they applied 

to it for some time with such inconsiderate ardour 

as was productive of fatal consequences. The 

culture of tobacco, which has since become the 

staple of Virginia, and the source of 

its prosperity, was introduced about 

this time into the colony. As the taste for that weed 

continued to increase in England, notwithstanding 

the zealous declamations of James against it, the 

tobacco imported from Virginia came to a ready 

market; and though it was so much inferior in 

quality or in estimation to that raised by the 

Spaniards in the West Indian islands, that a pound 

of the latter sold for eighteen shillings, and of the 

former for no more than three shillings, it yielded a 

considerable profit. Allured by the 

prospect of such a certain and quick quencesarising 

from it. 

return, every other species ot industry 
was neglected. The land which ought to have been 
reserved for raising provisions, and even the streets 
of James town, were planted with tobacco. Vari¬ 
ous regulations were framed to restrain this ill- 
directed activity. But, from eagerness for present 
gain, the planters disregarded every admonition. 
The means of subsistence became so scanty, as 
forced them to renew their demands upon the 
Indians, who seeing no end of those exactions, 
their antipathy to the English name revived with 
additional rancour, and they began to form schemes 
of vengeance, with a secrecy and silence peculiar to 
Americans.* 1 

Meanwhile the colony, notwithstanding this error 
in its operations, and the cloud that was gathering 
over its head, continued to wear an aspect of pros¬ 
perity. Its numbers increased by successive migra¬ 
tions ; the quantity of tobacco exported became 
every year more considerable, and several of the 

c Smith’s Travels, p. 114. Stith. p. 131. 

d Stith. p. 140, 147, 164, 168. Smith, p. 130. Purchas, iv. 1787. 



1000 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


planters were not only in an easy situation, but 
advancing fast to opulence ; e and by two events, 
which happened nearly at the same time, both 
population and industry were greatly promoted. As 
few women had hitherto ventured to encounter the 
hardships which were unavoidable in an unknown 
and uncultivated country, most of the colonists, 
constrained to live single, considered themselves as 
no more than sojourners in a land to which they 
were not attached by the tender ties of a family and 
children. In order to induce them to settle there, 
the company took advantage of the apparent tran- 
Youn? women quillity in the country, to send out a 
England to° m considerable number of young women, 
Virginia. G f i lum jji e birth indeed, but of unex¬ 
ceptionable character, and encouraged the planters, 
by premiums and immunities, to marry them/ These 
new companions were received with such fondness, 
and many of them so comfortably established, as 
invited others to follow their example; and by 
degrees thoughtless adventurers, assuming the sen¬ 
timents of virtuous citizens and of provident fathers 
of families, became solicitous about the prosperity 
of a country which they now considered as their 
own. As the colonists began to form more extensive 
plans of industry, they were unexpectedly furnished 
with means of executing them with greater facility. 

Negroes first ^ Dutch ship from the coast of 
introduced. Guinea, having sailed up James 

river, sold a part of her cargo of negroes to the 
planters ;§ and as that hardy race was found more 
capable of enduring fatigue under a sultry climate 
than Europeans, their number has been increased 
by continual importation ; their aid seems now to 
be essential to the existence of the colony, and the 
greater part of field-labour in Virginia is performed 
by servile hands. 

But as the condition of the colony improved, the 
spirit of its members became more independent. To 
Englishmen the summary and severe decisions of 
martial law, however tempered by the mildness of 
their governors, appeared intolerably oppressive; 
and they longed to recover the privileges to which 
they had been accustomed under the liberal form 
of government in their native country. In compli- 
1619 . June. ance with this spirit, sir GeorgeYeard- 
sembi| e of repre- i n ^ ie year 1619, called the first 
sentatives. general assembly that w as ever held in 
Virginia ; and the numbers of the people were now 
so increased, and their settlements so dispersed, 
that eleven corporations appeared by their represent¬ 
atives in this convention, where they were permitted 
to assume legislative power, and to exercise the 
noblest function of free men. The laws enacted in 
it seem neither to have been many nor of great im¬ 
portance ; but the meeting was highly acceptable 

e Smith, p. 139. f Stith. p. 166,197- 

g Beverley, p. 37. 
n Stith. Appendix, p. .32, &c. 

i It isamatter ot some curiosity to trace the progress of the consumption 
of this unnecessary commodity. The use of tobacco seems to have been 
first introduced into England about the year 1580. Possibly a few sea¬ 
taring persons may have accpiired a relish for it by their intercourse with 
the Spaniards previous to that period; but the use of it cannot be de- 


to the people, as they now beheld among themselves 
an image of the English constitution, which they 
reverenced as the most perfect model of free govern¬ 
ment. In order to render this resem- Ju , y2 4. 
blance more complete, and the rights j^nn^the* 11 * 10 " 
of the planters more certain, the com- colony * 
pany issued a charter or ordinance, which gave a 
legal and permanent form to the government of the 
colony. The supreme legislative authority in Vir¬ 
ginia, in imitation of that in Great Britain, was 
divided, and lodged partly in the governor, who 
held the place of the sovereign ; partly in a council 
of state named by the company, which possessed 
some of the distinctions, and exercised some of the 
functions, belonging to the peerage; partly in a 
general council or assembly composed of the repre¬ 
sentatives of the people, in which were vested 
powers and privileges similar to those of the house 
of Commons. In both these councils all questions 
were to be determined by the majority of voices, and 
a negative was reserved to the governor; but no law 
or ordinance, though approved of by all the three 
members of the legislature, was to be of force until 
it was ratified in England by a general court of the 
company, and returned under its seal. h Thus the 
constitution of the colony was fixed, and the mem¬ 
bers of it are henceforth to be considered, not merely 
as servants of a commercial company dependent on 
the will and orders of their superior, but as free 
men and citizens. 

The natural effect of that happy industry 
change in their condition was an in- increased. 

crease of their industry. The product of tobacco in 
Virginia was now equal, not only to the consump¬ 
tion of it in Great Britain,* but could furnish some 
quantity for a foreign market. The 
company opened a trade for it with the colony with 
Holland, and established warehouses IIolldlK1, 
for it in Middleburg and Flushing. James and his 
privy council, alarmed at seeing the gives offence 
commerce of a commodity, for which t0 James - 
the demand was daily increasing, turned into a 
channel that tended to the diminution of the reve¬ 
nue, by depriving it of a considerable duty imposed 
on the importation of tobacco, interposed with 
vigour to check this innovation. Some expedient 
was found, by which the matter was adjusted for the 
present; but it is remarkable as the first instance of 
a difference in sentiment between the parent-state 
and the colony, concerning their respective rights. 
The former concluded, that the trade of the colony 
should be confined to England, and all its produc¬ 
tions be landed there. The latter claimed, not only 
the general privilege of Englishmen to carry their 
commodities to the best market, but pleaded the 
particular concessions in their charter, by which an 

• 

nominated a national habit sooner than the time I have mentioned. Upon 
an average ot the seven years immediately preceding the year 1622. the 

hvt thnT/ 0t A° b ^° 'P 10 En ^ amou nted to a hundred and forty- 
two thousand and eighty-five pounds weight. Stith. p. 246. From this 
it appears, that the taste had spread with a rapidity which is remarkable 
r r* t h p t" 1 ™ nSldCrab e 1S thaf quantit - v t0 wh at is now consumed in 



BOOK IX. 


1001 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


unlimited freedom of commerce seemed to be grant¬ 
ed to them. k The time for a more full discussion 
ot this important question was not yet arrived. 

The colony neg- But while the colony continued to 
tjons'necessary" increase so fast, that settlements were 
^ainstule^n- scattered, not only along the banks of 
James and York rivers, but began to 
extend to the Rapahannock, and even to the Potow- 
maek, the English, relying on their own numbers, 
and deceived by this appearance of prosperity, lived 
in full security. They neither attended to the 
movements of the Indians, nor suspected their 
machinations; and though surrounded by a people 
whom they might have known from experience to 
be both artful and vindictive, they neglected every 
precaution for their own safety that was requisite in 
such a situation. Like the peaceful inhabitants of a 
society completely established, they were no longer 
soldiers but citizens, and were so intent on what 
was subservient to the comfort or embellishment of 
civil life, that every martial exercise began to be 
laid aside as unnecessary. The Indians, whom they 
commonly employed as hunters, were furnished with 
fire-arms, and taught to use them with dexterit}\ They 
were permitted to frequent the habitations of the 
English at all hours, and received as innocent visit¬ 
ants whom there was no reason to dread. This 
inconsiderate security enabled the Indians to pre¬ 
pare for the execution of that plan of vengeance, 
which they meditated with all the deliberate fore¬ 
thought which is agreeable to their temper. Nor 
did they want a leader capable of conducting their 
General massacre schemes with address. On the death 
pianned n by S the °f Powhatan, in the year 1618, Ope- 
lndians; , chancanough succeeded him, not only 

as wirowanee, or chief of his own tribe, but in that 
extensive influence over all the Indian nations of 
Virginia, which induced the English writers to dis¬ 
tinguish them by the name of Emperor. According 
to the Indian tradition, he was not a native of Vir¬ 
ginia, but came from a distant country to the south¬ 
west, possibly from some province of the Mexican 
empire.' But as he was conspicuous for all the 
qualities of highest estimation among savages, a fear¬ 
less courage, great strength and agility of body, and 
crafty policy, he quickly rose to eminence and power. 
Soon after his elevation to the supreme command, a 
general massacre of the English seems to have been 
resolved upon ; and during four years, the means 
of perpetrating it with the greatest facility and suc¬ 
cess were concerted with amazing secrecy. All the 
tribes contiguous to the English settlements were 
successively gained, except those on the eastern 
shore, from whom, on account of their peculiar at¬ 
tachment to their new neighbours, every circum¬ 
stance that might discover what they intended was 
carefully concealed. To each tribe its station was 
allotted, and the part it was to act prescribed. On 
the morning of the day consecrated to 
vengeance, each was at the place of 

1 Beverly, p. 51. 


March 22. 


k Stith, p. 200, &c. 


rendezvous appointed, while the English were so 
little aware of the impending destruction, that they 
received with unsuspicious hospitality several per¬ 
sons sent by Opechancanough, under pretext of 
delivering presents of venison and fruits, but in 
reality to observe their motions. Finding them 
perfectly secure, at mid-day, the mo- 

r J J < executed on most 

ment that was previously fixed for this of th e settie- 
1 J ments. 

deed of horror, the Indians rushed at 
once upon them in all their different settlements, 
and murdered men, women, and children, with un¬ 
distinguishing rage, and that rancorous cruelty 
with which savages treat their enemies. In one hour 
nearly a fourth part of the whole colony was cut off, 
almost without knowing by whose hands they fell. 
The slaughter would have been universal, if com¬ 
passion, or a sense of duty, had not moved a con¬ 
verted Indian, to whom the secret was communicated 
the night before the massacre, to reveal it to his 
master in such time as to save James town and 
some adjacent settlements ; and if the English in 
other districts had not run to their arms with resolu¬ 
tion prompted by despair, and defended themselves 
so bravely as to repulse their assailants, who, in the 
execution of their plan, did not discover courage 
equal to the sagacity and art with which they had 
concerted it. m 

But though the blow was thus prevented from 
descending with its full effect, it proved very griev¬ 
ous to an infant colony. In some settlements not 
a single Englishman escaped. Many persons of 
prime note in the colony, and among these several 
members of the council, were slain. The survivors, 
overwhelmed with grief, astonishment, and terror, 
abandoned all their remote settlements, and, crowd¬ 
ing together for safety to James town, did not oc¬ 
cupy a territory of greater extent than had been 
planted soon after the arrival of their countrymen 
in Virginia. Confined within those narrow boun¬ 
daries, they were less intent on schemes of industry 
than on thoughts of revenge. Every man took arms. 
A bloody war against the Indians com- B]oody war with 
menced ; and, bent on exterminating the lndlans - 
the whole race, neither old nor young were spared. 
The conduct of the Spaniards in the southern re¬ 
gions of America was openly proposed as the most 
proper model to imitate and regardless, like them, 
of those principles of faith, honour, and humanity, 
which regulate hostility among civilized nations and 
set bounds to its rage, the English deemed every 
thing allowable that tended to accomplish their de¬ 
sign. They hunted the Indians like wild beasts, 
rather than enemies ; and as the pursuit of them 
to their places of retreat in the woods, which cover¬ 
ed the country, was both difficult and dangerous, 
they endeavoured to allure them from their inacces¬ 
sible fastnesses by offers of peace and promises of 
oblivion, made with such an artful appearance of 
sincerity as deceived their crafty leader, and induced 
them to return to their former settlements, and re¬ 
in Stith. p. 208, &c. Purchas, iv. 1788, &c. n Stith, p. 233 



1002 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


sume their usual peaceful occupations. The be¬ 
haviour of the two people seemed now to be perfectly 
reversed. The Indians, like men acquainted with 
the principles of integrity and good faith, on which 
the intercourse between nations is founded, confided 
in the reconciliation, and lived in absolute security 
without suspicion of danger; while the English, 
with perfidious craft, were preparing to imitate 
savages in their revenge and cruelty. On the ap¬ 
proach of harvest, when they knew an hostile attack 
would be most formidable and fatal, they fell sud¬ 
denly upon all the Indian plantations, murdered 
every person on whom they could lay hold, and 
drove the rest to the woods, w here so many perished 
with hunger, that some of the tribes nearest to the 
English were totally extirpated. This atrocious 
deed, which the perpetrators laboured to represent 
as a necessary act of retaliation, was followed by 
some happy effects. It delivered the colony so 
entirely from any dread of the Indians, that its 
settlements began again to extend, and its industry 
to revive. 


But unfortunately at this juncture 
ho°me P dmded by the state of the company in England, 
in which the property of Virginia and 
the government of the colony settled there were 
vested, prevented it from seconding the efforts of the 
planters, by such a reinforcement of men, and such 
a supply of necessaries, as were requisite to replace 
what they had lost. The company was originally 
composed of many adventurers, and increased so 
fast by the junction of new members, allured by the 
prospect of gain, or the desire of promoting a scheme 
of public utility, that its general courts formed a 
numerous assembly. 0 The operation of every poli¬ 
tical principle and passion, that spread through the 
kingdom, was felt in those popular meetings, and 
influenced their decisions. As towards the close of 
James’s reign more just and enlarged sentiments 
with respect to constitutional liberty were diffused 
among the people, they came to understand their 
rights better and to assert them with greater bold¬ 
ness ; a distinction formerly little known, but now 
familiar in English policy, began to be established 
between the court and country parties, and the 
leaders of each endeavoured to derive power and 
consequence from every quarter. Both exerted 
themselves with emulation, in order to obtain the 
direction of a body so numerous and respectable as 
the company of Virginian adventurers. In conse¬ 
quence of this, business had been conducted in 
every general court for some years, not with the 
temperate spirit of merchants deliberating concern¬ 
ing their mutual interest, but with the animosity 
and violence natural to numerous assemblies, by 
which rival factions contend for superiority .p 

As the king did not often assemble 

James institutes ,, , ,. ,. 

an inquiry into the great council of the nation in par- 
their conduct. li ame nt, the general courts of the com¬ 
pany became a theatre on which popular orators 


o Stith, p. 272, 276- P Stith, p. 229, &c. Chalmers, p. 59. 


displayed their talents; the proclamations of the 
crown, and acts of the privy council, with respect 
to the commerce and police of the colony, were 
canvassed there with freedom, and censured with 
severity, ill-suited to the lofty ideas which James 
entertained of his own wisdom, and the extent of 
his prerogative. In order to check this growing 
spirit of discussion, the ministers employed all their 
address and influence to gain as many members of 
the company as might give them the direction of 
their deliberations. But so unsuccessful were they 
in this attempt, that every measure proposed by 
them was reprobated by a vast majority, and some¬ 
times without any reason but because they were the 
proposers of it. James, little favourable to the 
power of any popular assembly, and weary of con¬ 
tending with one over which he had laboured in 
vain to obtain an ascendant, began to entertain 
thoughts of dissolving the company, and new-mo¬ 
delling its constitution. Pretexts, neither un- 
plausible, nor destitute of some foundation, seemed 
to justify this measure. The slow progress of the 
colony, the large sums of money expended, and 
great number of men who had perished in attempt¬ 
ing to plant it, the late massacre by the Indians, 
and every disaster that had befallen the English 
from their first migration to America, were imputed 
solely to the inability of a numerous company to 
conduct an enterprise so complex and arduous. 
The nation felt sensibly its disappointment in a 
scheme in which it had engaged with sanguine ex¬ 
pectations of advantage, and wished impatiently 
for such an impartial scrutiny into former proceed¬ 
ings, as might suggest more salutary measures in 
the future administration of the colony. The pre¬ 
sent state of its affairs, as well as the wishes of the 
people, seemed to call for the interposition of the 
crown ; and James, eager to display the superiority 
of his royal wisdom, in correcting those errors into 
which the company had been betrayed by inexperi¬ 
ence in the arts of government, boldly undertook 
the work of reformation. Without lf)23 

regarding the rights conveyed to the May 9. 

company by their charter, and without the formality 
of any judicial proceeding for annulling it, he, by 
virtue of his prerogative, issued a commission, 
empowering some of the judges, and other persons 
of note, to examine into all the transactions of the 
company from its first establishment, and to lay the 
result of their inquiries, together with their opinion 
concerning the most effectual means of rendering 
the colony more prosperous,^ before the privy coun¬ 
cil. At the same time, by a strain of authority still 
higher, he ordered all the records and papers of the 
company to be seized, and two of its principal 
officers to be arrested. Violent and arbitrary as 
these acts of authority may now appear, the com¬ 
missioners carried on their inquiry without any 
obstruction, but what arose from some feeble and 
ineffectual remonstrances of the company. The 

q Stith p. £88. 



BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1003 


commissioners, though they conducted their scrutiny 
with much activity and vigour/ did not communi¬ 
cate any of their proceedings to the company ; but 
their report, with respect to its operations, seems to 
have been very unfavourable, as the king, in conse¬ 
quence of it, signified to the company his intention 
Oct. a. of vesting the supreme government of 
'inVr/nder^ 1C company in a governor and twelve 
assistants, to be resident in England, 
and the executive power in a council of twelve, 
which should reside in Virginia. The governor and 
assistants were to be originally appointed by the 
king. Future vacancies were to be supplied by the 
governor and his assistants, but their nomination 
was not to take effect until it should be ratified by 
the privy council. The twelve counsellors in 
Virginia were to be chosen by the governor and 
assistants ; and this choice was likewise subjected 
to the review of the privy council. With an inten¬ 
tion to quiet the minds of the colonists, it was 
declared that private property should be deemed 
sacred ; and for the more effectual security of it, 
all grants of lands from the former company were 
to be confirmed by the new one. In order to facili¬ 
tate the execution of this plan, the king required 
the company instantly to surrender its charter into 
his hands/ 

But here James and his ministers encountered 
a spirit of which they seem not to have been aware. 

Company re- They found the members of the com- 
ruses - pany unwilling tamely to relinquish 
rights of franchises, conveyed to them with such 
legal formality, that upon faith in their validity 
they had expended considerable sums/ and still 
more averse to the abolition of a popular form of 
government, in which every proprietor had a voice, 
in order to subject a colony, in which they were 
deeply interested, to the dominion of a small junto 
absolutely dependent on the crow n. Neither pro¬ 
mises nor threats could induce them to 
depart from these sentiments ; and in 
a general court the king’s proposal was almost 
unanimously rejected, and a resolution taken to 
defend to the utmost their chartered rights, if these 
should be called in question in any court of justice. 
James, highly offended at their presumption in 
daring to oppose his will, directed a 
writ of quo warranto to be issued 
against the company, that the validity of its charter 
might be tried in the court of King’s Bench; and in 
order to aggravate the charge, by collecting addi¬ 
tional proofs of mal-administration, he appointed 
some persons in whom he could confide, to repair 
to Virginia to inspect the state of the colony, and 
inquire into the conduct of the company, and of its 
oflicers there. 

TrUHntheKins'. The law-suit ill the King’s Bench 
iut"on h if a thecom°-' did not hang long suspense. It ter- 
minated, as was usual in that reign, in 
a decision perfectly consonant to the 

Smith's Travels, p. 165, fee. s Srith, p. 293, fee. 


Oct. 20. 


Nov. 10. 


pany. 


J une 
1624. 


wishes of the monarch. The charter was forfeited, 
the company was dissolved, and all the rights and 
privileges conferred upon it returned to the king, 
from whom they flowed/ 

Some writers, particularly Stith, f ^ ^ 

the most intelligent and best informed first constitution 
... . „ TT . . . .. ,, ,. of the colonies. 

historian of Virginia, mention the dis¬ 
solution of the company as a most disastrous event 
to the colony. Animated with liberal sentiments, 
imbibed in an age when the principles of liberty 
were more fully unfolded than under the reign of 
James, they viewed his violent and arbitrary pro¬ 
ceedings on this occasion with such indignation, 
that their abhorrence of the means which he em¬ 
ployed to accomplish his design seems to have ren¬ 
dered them incapable of contemplating its effects 
with discernment and candour. There is not per¬ 
haps any mode of governing an infant colony less 
friendly to its liberty, than the dominion of an ex¬ 
clusive corporation possessed of all the powers 
which James had conferred upon the company of 
adventurers in Virginia. During several years the 
colonists can hardly be considered in any other 
light than as servants to the company, nourished 
out of its stores, bound implicitly to obey its orders, 
and subjected to the most rigorous of all forms of 
government, that of martial law. Even after the 
native spirit of Englishmen began to rouse under 
oppression, and had extorted from their superiors 
the right of enacting laws for the government of 
that community of which they were members, as no 
act, though approved of by all the branches of the 
provincial legislature, was held to be of legal force 
until it was ratified by a general court in England, 
the company still retained the paramount authority 
in its own hands. Nor was the power of the com¬ 
pany more favourable to the prosperity of the colony 
than to its freedom. A numerous body of merchants, 
as long as its operations are purely commercial, may 
carry them on with discernment and success. But 
the mercantile spirit seems ill adapted to conduct 
an enlarged and liberal plan of civil policy, and 
colonies have seldom grown up to maturity and 
vigour under its narrow and interested regulations. 
To the unavoidable defects in administration which 
this occasioned, were added errors arising from 
inexperience. The English merchants of that age 
had not those extensive views which a general 
commerce opens to such as have the direction of it. 
When they first began to venture out of the beaten 
track, they groped their way with timidity and 
hesitation. Unacquainted with the climate and 
soil of America, and ignorant of the productions 
best suited to them, they seem to have had no 
settled plan of improvement, and their schemes 
were continually varying. Their system of govern¬ 
ment was equally fluctuating. In the course of 
eighteen years ten different persons presided over 
the province as chief governors. No wonder that, 
under such administration, all the efforts to give 

t Chalmers, p. 61. u Rymer, vol. xvii. p. 618, &c. Chalmers, p.62. 




1004 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


Weakness of 
the colony. 


vigour and stability to the colony should prove 
abortive, or produce only slender effects. These 
efforts, however, when estimated according to the 
ideas of that age, either with respect to commerce 
or to policy, were very considerable, and conducted 
with astonishing perseverance. 

Above an hundred and fifty thousand 
pounds were expended in this first at¬ 
tempt to plant an English colony in America ; x and 
more than nine thousand persons were sent out 
from the mother-country to people this new set¬ 
tlement. At the dissolution of the company, the 
nation, in return for this waste of treasure and of 
people, did not receive from Virginia an annual 
importation of commodities exceeding twenty thou¬ 
sand pounds in value ; and the colony was so far 
from having added strength to the state by an in¬ 
crease of population, that in the year one thousand 
six hundred and twenty-four scarcely two thousand 
persons survived a wretched remnant of the nu¬ 
merous emigrants who had flocked thither with 
sanguine expectations of a very different fate. 
Temporarycoun- The company, like all unprosperons 

the government societies, fell unpitied. The violent 
of Virginia. hand with which prerogative had in¬ 
vaded its rights was forgotten, and new prospects 
of success opened, under a form of government 
exempt from all the defects to which past disasters 
were imputed. The king and the nation concurred 
with equal ardour in resolving to encourage the 
colony. Soon after the final judgment in the court 
of King’s Bench against the company, James ap¬ 
pointed a council of twelve persons to take the 
temporary direction of affairs in Virginia, that he 
might have leisure to frame with de¬ 
liberate consideration proper regula¬ 
tions for the permanent government of the colony.* 
Pleased with such an opportunity of exercising his 
talents as a legislator, he began to turn his attention 
towards the subject; but death prevented him from 
completing his plan. 

Charles I. on his accession to the 
throne, adopted all his father’s maxims 
with respect to the colony in Virginia. 

His arbitrary go- . 

vernment of the He declared it to be a part of the 
colony. 

empire annexed to the crown, and 
immediately subordinate to its jurisdiction: he 


Aug. 26. 


1625. 

March 27. 
Accession of 
Charles the first 


conferred the title of 


governor on 


sir George 


Yardely, and appointed him, in conjunction with a 
council of twelve, and a secretary, to exercise su¬ 
preme authority there, and enjoined them to con¬ 
form, in every point, to such instructions as from 
time to time they might receive from him. a From 
the tenor of the king’s commission, as well as from 
the known spirit of his policy, it is apparent that 
he intended to vest every power of government, 
both legislative and executive, in the governor and 
council, without recourse to the representatives of 
the people, as possessing a right to enact laws for 


the community, or to impose taxes upon it. Yardely 
and his council, who seem to have been fit instru¬ 
ments for carrying this system of arbitrary rule into 
execution, did not fail to put such a construction 
on the words of their commission as was most fa¬ 
vourable to their own jurisdiction. During a great 
part of Charles’s reign, Virginia knew no other law 
than the will of the sovereign. Statutes w ere pub¬ 
lished, and taxes imposed, without once calling the 
representatives of the people to authorize them by 
their sanction. At the same time that the colonists 
were bereaved of political rights, which they deemed 
essential to freemen and citizens, their private pro¬ 
perty was violently invaded. A pro- Grants and mono- 
clamation was issued, by which, under pol> ot tobdCLO - 
pretexts equally absurd and frivolous, they w’ere 
prohibited from selling tobacco to any person but 
certain commissioners appointed by the king to 
purchase it on his account ; b and they had the cruel 
mortification to behold the sovereign who should 
have afforded them protection, engross all the profits 
of their industry, by seizing the only valuable com¬ 
modity which they had to vend, and retaining the 
monopoly of it in his own hands. While the staple 
of the colony in Virginia sunk in value under the 
oppression and restraints of a monopoly, property 
in land Avas rendered insecure by various grants of 
it, which Charles inconsiderately bestowed upon 
his favourites. These were not only of such exor¬ 
bitant extent as to be unfavourable to the progress 
of cultivation ; but from inattention, or imperfect 
acquaintance with the geography of the country, 
their boundaries were so inaccurately defined, that 
large tracts already occupied and planted were often 
included in them. 

The murmurs and complaints which such a system 
of administration excited, were augmented by the 
rigour with which sir John Harvey, who succeeded 
Yardely in the government of the colony, 0 enforced 
every act of power. Rapacious, un¬ 
feeling, and haughty, he added inso¬ 
lence to oppression, and neither regarded the senti¬ 
ments nor Fstened to the remonstrances of the peo¬ 
ple under his command. The colonists, far from 
the seat of government, and overawed by authority 
derived from a royal commission, submitted long to 
his tyranny and exactions. Their patience was at 
last exhausted ; and in a transport of ^ , 

. . Colonists seize 

popular rage and indignation, they on Harvey their 

governor, and 

seized their governor, and sent him a send him prisoner 
* 17 i l . , , t0 England. 

prisoner to England, accompanied by 
two of their number, whom they deputed to prefer 
their accusations against him to the king. But this 
attempt to redress their own wrongs, by a proceeding 
so summary and violent as is hardly consistent with 
any idea of regular government, and can be justi¬ 
fied only in cases of such urgent necessity as rarely 
occur in civil society, was altogether repugnant to 
every notion which Charles entertained with respect 


x Smith’s Travels, p. 42. 167. 
z Hymer, xvii. 618, &c. 


y Chalmers's Annals, p. 69. 


a Rymer, xviii. 72. 311. 
c Ibid. 980. 


b Ibid. 19. 





BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1005 


to the obedience due by subjects to their sovereign. 
To him the conduct of the colonists appeared to be 
not only an usurpation of his right to judge and to 
punish one of his own officers, but an open and 
audacious act of rebellion against his authority. 
Without deigning to admit their deputies into his 
Tie is released by presence, or to hear one article of their 
iSstateT in nd |,is e ' charge against Harvey, the king in¬ 
stantly sent him back to his former 
station, with an ample renewal of all the powers 
belonging to it. But though Charles deemed this 
vigorous step necessary in order to assert his own 
authority, and to testify his displeasure with those 
who had presumed to offer such an insult to it, he 
seems to have been so sensible of the grievances 
under which the colonists groaned, and of the chief 
1639 source from which they flowed, that 

fppolnted e go- ley soon a f ter lie not only removed a go¬ 
vernor. vernor so justly odious to them, but 

named as a successor sir William Berkeley, a person 
far superior to Harvey in rank and abilities, and 
still more distinguished by possessing all the popu¬ 
lar virtues to which the other was a stranger.* 1 

ills mild and wise Under his govei nment the colony in 
administration. Vi r gj n j a remained, with some short 

intervals of interruption, almost forty years ; and to 
his mild andprudent administration its increase and 
prosperity are in a great measure to be ascribed. It 
was indebted, however, to the king himself for such 
a reform of its constitution and policy, as gave a 
different aspect to the colony, and animated all its 
operations with new spirit. Though the tenor of 
sir William Berkeley’s commission was the same 
with that of his predecessor, he received instruc¬ 
tions under the great seal, by which he was em¬ 
powered to declare, that in all its concerns, civil as 

well as ecclesiastical, the colony was 
New privileges . J 

RiHiited by to be governed according to the laws 
Charles. 0 0 

of England ; he was directed to issue 
writs for electing representatives of the people, who, 
in conjunction with the governor and council, were 
to form a general assembly, and to possess supreme 
legislative authority in the community ; he was or¬ 
dered to establish courts of justice, in which all 
questions, whether civil or criminal, were to be 
decided agreeably to the forms of judicial proce¬ 
dure in the mother-country. It is not easy to dis¬ 
cover what were the motives which induced a 
monarch, tenacious in adhering to any opinion or 
system which he had once adopted, jealous to excess 
of his own rights, and adverse on every occasion to 
any extension of the privileges claimed by his 
people, to relinquish his original plan of administra¬ 
tion in the colony, and to grant such immunities to 

his subjects settled there. From the 

rear to S h?veff" historians of Virginia, no less superfi- 
tiuenced the king, c | a j t j ]an jjj inform^ no light can be 

derived with respect to this point. It is most 
probable, the dread of the spirit then rising in 
Great Britain extorted from Charles concessions so 


favourable to Virginia. After an intermission of 
almost twelve years, the state of his affairs com¬ 
pelled him to have recourse to the great council of 
the nation. There his subjects would find a juris¬ 
diction independent of the crown, and able to con¬ 
trol its authority. There they hoped for legal 
redress of all their grievances. As the colonists in 
Virginia had applied for relief to a former parlia¬ 
ment, it might be expected with certainty that they 
would lay their case before the first meeting of an 
assembly in w hich they were secure of a favourable 
audience. Charles knew that, if the spirit of his 
administration in Virginia were to be tried by the 
maxims of the English constitution, it must be 
severely reprehended. He was aware that many 
measures of greater moment in his government 
would be brought under a strict review in parlia¬ 
ment; and, unwilling to give malcontents the 
advantage of adding a charge of oppression in the 
remote parts of his dominions to a catalogue of 
domestic grievances, he artfully endeavoured to take 
the merit of having granted voluntarily to his people 
in Virginia such privileges as he foresaw would be 
extorted from him. 

But though Charles established the 

. , , , c Tr . . . Virginia flour- 

internal government of Virginia on a ishes under the 

model similar to that of the English ne " s o ' e, nment. 
constitution, and conferred on his subjects there all 
the rights of freemen and citizens, he was extremely 
solicitous to maintain its connexion with the parent 
state. With this view, he instructed sir William 
Berkeley strictly to prohibit any commerce of the 
colony with foreign nations ; and in order more 
certainly to secure exclusive possession of all the 
advantages arising from the sale of its productions, 
he was required to take a bond from the master of 
each vessel that sailed from Virginia, to land his 
cargo in some part of the king’s dominions in Eu¬ 
rope. e Even under this restraint, such is the kindly 
influence of free government on society, the colony 
advanced so rapidly in industry and population, 
that at the beginning of the civil war the English 
settled in it exceeded twenty thousand/ 

Gratitude towards a monarch from 

, , , , , ... Remains attach- 

whose hands they had received lmmu- ed to the royal 

cause 

nities which they had long w ished but 
hardly expected to enjoy, the influence and exam¬ 
ple of a popular governor passionately devoted to 
the interests of his master, concurred in preserving 
inviolated loyalty among the colonists. Even after 
monarchy was abolished, after one king had been 
beheaded, and another driven into exile, the autho¬ 
rity of the crown continued to be acknowledged and 
revered in Virginia. Irritated at this 
open defiance of its power, the parlia¬ 
ment issued an ordinance, declaring, that as the 
settlement in Virginia had been made at the cost 
and by the people of England, it ought to be sub¬ 
ordinate to and dependent upon the English com¬ 
monwealth, and subject to such laws and regula- 


1650. 


d Beverley’s Hist, of Virg. p. 50. Chalmers’s Annals, i. 118, &c. 


e Chalmers’s Annals, p. 219, 232. 


f Ibid. p. 125. 




1006 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX 


1651. 


tions as are or shall be made in parliament; that, 
instead of this dutiful submission, the colonists had 
disclaimed the authority of the state, and audaci¬ 
ously rebelled against it; that on this account they 
were denounced notorious traitors, and not only all 
vessels belonging to natives of England, but those 
of foreign nations, were prohibited to enter their 
ports, or to carry on any commerce with them. 

It was not the mode of that age to 

Parliament „ , , 

makes war on wage a war of words alone. Ihe 

efforts of a high-spirited government 
in asserting its own dignity were prompt and 
vigorous. A powerful squadron, with a consider¬ 
able body of land-forces, was despatched to reduce 
the Virginians to obedience. After compelling the 
colonies in Barbadoes and the other islands to sub¬ 
mit to the commonwealth, the squadron 
entered the bay of Chesapeak. Berke¬ 
ley, with more courage than prudence, took arms to 
oppose this formidable armament; but he could not 
long maintain such an unequal contest. His gallant 
resistance, however, procured favourable terms to 

0 

Virginia is forced people under his government. A 

the a com!non- se general indemnity for all past offences 
wealth> was granted ; they acknowledged the 

authority of the commonwealth, and were admitted 
to a participation of all the rights enjoyed by citi- 
zens.g Berkeley, firm to his principles of loyalty, 
disdained to make any stipulation for himself; and, 
choosing to pass his days far removed from the seat 
of a government which he detested, continued to 
reside in Virginia as a private man, beloved and re¬ 
spected by all over whom he had formerly presided. 

Not satisfied with taking measures 

Restraints on the . , . . ., , 

trade of the to subject the colonies, the common¬ 

wealth turned its attention towards the 
most effectual mode of retaining them in depend¬ 
ence on the parent state, and of securing to it the 
benefit of their increasing commerce. With this 
view the parliament framed two laws, one of which 
expressly prohibited all mercantile intercourse be¬ 
tween the colonies and foreign states, and the other 
ordained that no production of Asia, Africa, or 
America should be imported into the dominions of 
the commonwealth but in vessels belonging to 
English owners, or to the people of the colonies 
settled there, and navigated by an English com¬ 
mander, 11 and by crews of which the greater part 
must be Englishmen. But while the wisdom of the 
commonwealth prescribed the channel in which the 
trade of the colonies was to be carried on, it w as 
solicitous to encourage the cultivation of the staple 
commodity of Virginia, by an act of parliament, 
which gave legal force to all the in¬ 
junctions of James and Charles against 
planting tobacco in England. 1 

Under governors appointed by the commonwealth, 
or by Cromwell when he usurped the supreme 
power, Virginia remained almost nine years in 


1652. 


g Thurlow’s State Papers, i. 197- 
lev’s Hist. p. 53. 


Chalmers’s Annals, p. 122. Bever- 


perfect tranquillity. During that period, many 
adherents to the royal party, and among these some 
gentlemen of good families, in order to avoid danger 
and oppression, to which they were exposed in 
England, or in hopes of repairing their ruined 
fortunes, resorted thither. Warmly 

, , , „ , . , u . The colonists, 

attached to the cause for which they dissatisfied with 

had fought and suffered, and animated 1 e e rtsl d n S ’ 
with all the passions natural to men recently en¬ 
gaged in a fierce and long protracted civil war, they, 
by their intercourse with the colonists, confirmed 
them in principles of loyalty, and added to their 
impatience and indignation under the restraints 
imposed on their commerce by their new masters. 
On the death of Matthews, the last governor named 
by Cromwell, the sentiments and inclination of the 
people, no longer under the control of authority, 
burst out with violence. They forced sir William 
Berkeley to quit his retirement; they unanimously 
elected him governor of the colony : and as he re¬ 
fused to act under an usurped authority, they boldly 
erected the royal standard, and, ac¬ 
knowledging Charles II. to be their acknowledge* 0 
lawful sovereign, proclaimed him with 
all his titles ; and the Virginians long boasted, that 
as they were the last of the king’s subjects who re¬ 
nounced their allegiance, they were the first who 
returned to their duty. k 

Happily for the people of Virginia, T heir loyalty ill 
a revolution in England, no less sud- rewarded. 

den and unexpected, seated Charles on the throne 
of his ancestors, and saved them from the severe 
chastisement to which their premature declaration 
in his favour must have exposed them. On re¬ 
ceiving the first account of this event, the joy and 
exultation of the colony were universal and un¬ 
bounded. These, however, were not of long con¬ 
tinuance. Gracious but unproductive professions 
of esteem and good will were the only return made 
by Charles to loyalty and services which in their 
own estimation were so distinguished that no re- 
compence was beyond what they might claim. If 
the king’s neglect and ingratitude disappointed all 
the sanguine hopes which their vanity had founded 
on the merit of their past conduct, the spirit which 
influenced parliament in its commercial delibera¬ 
tions opened a prospect that alarmed them with 
respect to their future situation. In framing regu¬ 
lations for the encouragement of trade, w hich during 
the convulsions of civil war, and amidst continual 
fluctuations in government, had met with such ob¬ 
struction that it declined in every quarter; the 
house of Commons, instead of granting the colonies 
that relief which they expected from the restraints 
in their commerce imposed by the commonwealth 
and Cromwell, not only adopted all their ideas con¬ 
cerning this branch of legislation, but extended 
them further. This produced the act 
of navigation , the most important and 


Navigation act. 


h Scobel’s Acts, p. 132, 176. j Ibid. p. 117 . 

k Beverley, p. 55. Chaim ere, p. 124. 




BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1007 


memorable of any in the statute-book with respect 
to the history of English commerce. By it, besides 
several momentous articles foreign to the subject of 
this work, it was enacted, that no commodities 
should be imported into any settlement in Asia, 
Africa, or America, or exported from them, but in 
vessels of English or plantation built, whereof the 
master and three-fourths of the mariners shall be 
English subjects, under pain of forfeiting ship and 
goods ; that none but natural-born subjects, or such 
as have been naturalized, shall exercise the occu¬ 
pation of merchant or factor in any English settle¬ 
ment, under pain of forfeiting their goods and 
chattels; that no sugar, tobacco, cotton, wool, 
indigo, ginger, or woods used in dyeing, of the 
growth or manufacture of the colonies, shall be 
shipped from them to any other country but Eng¬ 
land ; and in order to secure the performance of this, 
a suilicient bond, with one surety, shall be given 
before sailing by the owners, for a specific sum 
proportional to the rate of the vessel employed by 
them. 1 The productions subjected to this restriction 
are distinguished, in the language of commerce and 
finance, by the name of enumerated commodities, and 
as industry in its progress furnished new articles of 
value, these have been successively added to the 
roll, and subjected to the same restraint. Soon 
after, the act of navigation was ex¬ 
tended, and additional restraints were 
imposed, by a new law, which prohibited the im¬ 
portation of any European commodity into the 
colonies, but what was laden in England in vessels 
navigated and manned as the act of navigation 
required. More effectual provision was made by 
this Iaw r for exacting the penalties to which the 
transgressors of the act of navigation were subjected ; 
and the principles of policy, on which the various 
regulations contained in both statutes are founded, 
were openly avowed in a declaration, that as the 
plantations beyond seas are inhabited and peopled 
by subjects of England, they may be kept in a firmer 
dependence upon it, and rendered yet more benefi¬ 
cial and advantageous unto it, in the further em¬ 
ployment and increase of English shipping and 
seamen, as well as in the vent of English woollen 
and other manufactures and commodities; and in 
making England a staple, not only of the commodi¬ 
ties of those plantations, but also of the commodities 
of other countries and places, for the supplying of 
them ; and it being the usage of other nations to 
keep the trade of their plantations to themselves. 111 
In prosecution of those favourite maxims, the Eng¬ 
lish legislature proceeded a step further. As the 
act of navigation had left the people of the colonies 
at liberty to export the enumerated commodities 
from one plantation to another without paying any 
duty, it subjected them to a tax equi- 
16, ~* valent to what was paid by the con¬ 
sumers of these commodities in England. 11 

By these successive regulations, the plan of se- 

l 12 Car. II. c. 18. m 15 Car. II. c. 7- 


curing to England a monopoly of the 

° . , . , . , ^ Effects of the act. 

commerce with its colonies, and ot 
shutting up every other channel into which it might 
be diverted, was perfected, and reduced into com¬ 
plete system. On one side of the Atlantic these 
regulations have been extolled as an extraordinary 
effort of political sagacity, and have been considered 
as the great charter of national commerce, to which 
the parent state is indebted for all its opulence and 
power. On the other, they have been execrated as 
a code of oppression, more suited to the illiberality 
of mercantile ideas than to extensive views of legis¬ 
lative wisdom. Which of these opinions is best 
founded, I shall examine at large in another part of 
this work. But in writing the history of the English 
settlements in America, it was necessary to trace the 
progress of those restraining laws with accuracy, as 
in every subsequent transaction we may observe a 
perpetual exertion, on the part of the mother-coun¬ 
try, to enforce and extend them ; and on the part of 
the colonies, endeavours no less unremitting to elude 
or to obstruct their operation. 

Hardly was the act of navigation 

. , ., a. , Colonists remon- 

known in Virginia, and its effects strate against the 

act. 

begun to be felt, when the colony 
remonstrated against it as a grievance, and petitioned 
earnestly for relief. But the commercial ideas ot 
Charles and his ministers coincided so perfectly 
with those of parliament, that, instead of listening 
with a favourable ear to their applications, they 
laboured assiduously to carry the act into strict 
execution. For this purpose, instructions were 
issued to the governor, forts were built on the banks 
of the principal rivers, and small vessels appointed 
to cruise on the coast. The Virginians, seeing no 
prospect of obtaining exemption from the act, set 
themselves to evade it; and found means, notwith¬ 
standing the vigilance with which they were watch¬ 
ed, of carrying on a considerable clandestine trade 
with foreigners, particularly with the Dutch settled 
on Hudson’s river. Imboldened by observing dis¬ 
affection spread through the colony, some veteran 
soldiers who had served under Cromwell, and had 
been banished to Virginia, formed a design of ren¬ 
dering themselves masters of the coun- 

® .... , 1663. 

try, and of asserting its independence 
on England. This rash project was discovered by 
one of their associates, and disconcerted by the 
vigorous exertions of sir William Berkeley. But 
the spirit of discontent, though repressed, was not 
extinguished. Every day something occurred to 
revive and to nourish it. As it is with extreme 
difficulty that commerce can be turned into a new 
channel, tobacco, the staple of the colony, sunk 
prodigiously in value when they were compelled to 
send it all to one market. It was some time before 
England could furnish them regularly full assort¬ 
ments of those necessary articles, without which the 
industry of the colony could not be carried on, or 
its prosperity secured. Encouraged by the symptoms 

n 25 Car. II. c. 7. 




1008 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK IX. 


Colony attacked of general languor and despondency 

by the Indians, which this declining state of the 

colony occasioned, the Indians seated towards the 
heads of the rivers ventured first to attack the remote 
settlements, and then to make incursions into the 
interior parts of the country. Unexpected as these 
Discontents pro- hostilities were, from a people who 
grants of land by during a long period had lived in 
the crown. friendship with the English, a measure 
taken by the king seems to have excited still greater 
terror among the most opulent people of the colony. 
Charles had imprudently imitated the example of 
his father, by granting such large tracts of land in 
Virginia to several of his courtiers, as tended to 
unsettle the distribution of property in the country, 
and to render the title of the most ancient planters 
16 _ 6 to their estates precarious and ques¬ 
tionable. From those various causes, 
which in a greater or lesser degree affected every 
individual in the colony, the indignation of the 
people became general, and was worked up to such 
a pitch, that nothing was wanting to precipitate 
them into the most desperate acts but some leader 
qualified to unite and to direct their operations. 0 

Such a leader they found in Natlia- 

An insurrection . , . 

in Virginia head- niel Bacon, a colonel of militia, who, 
ed by n. Bacon. t | 10U g] 1 j ie j m( j been settled in Virginia 

only three years, had acquired, by popular manners, 
an insinuating address, and the consideration de¬ 
rived from having been regularly trained in England 
to the profession of law, such general esteem, that 
he had been admitted into the council, and was 
regarded as one of the most respectable persons in 
the colony. Bacon was ambitious, eloquent, daring, 
and, prompted either by honest zeal to redress the 
public wrongs, or allured by hopes of raising him¬ 
self to distinction and power, he mingled with the 
malcontents; and by his bold harangues and con¬ 
fident promises of removing all their grievances, he 
inflamed them almost to madness. As the devasta¬ 
tions committed by the Indians was the calamity 
most sensibly felt by the people, he accused the 
governor of having neglected the proper measures 
for repelling the invasions of the savages, and ex¬ 
horted them to take arms in their own defence, and 
to exterminate that odious race. Great numbers 
assembled, and chose Bacon to be their general. He 
applied to the governor for a commission, confirm¬ 
ing this election of the people, and offered to march 
instantly against the common enemy. Berkeley, 
accustomed by long possession of supreme command 
to higb ideas of the respect due to his station, con¬ 
sidered this tumultuary armament as an open insult 
to his authority, and suspected that, under specious 
appearances, Bacon concealed most dangerous de¬ 
signs. Unwilling, however, to give further provo¬ 
cation to an incensed multitude by a direct refusal 
of what they demanded, he thought it prudent to 
negociate, in order to gain time; and it was not until 
he found all endeavours to soothe them ineffectual, 

o Chalmers’s Annals, ch. 10, 13, 14, passim. Beverley’s Hist, of Virg. 


that he issued a proclamation, requiring them, in the 
king’s name, under the pain of being denounced 
rebels, to disperse. 

But Bacon, sensible that he had now advanced so 
far as rendered it impossible to recede with honour 
or safety, instantly took the only resolution that 
remained in his situation. At the head of a chosen 
body of his followers, he marched rapidly to James 
town, and surrounding the house where the governor 
and council were assembled, demanded the com¬ 
mission for which he had formerly applied. Berke¬ 
ley, with the proud indignant spirit of a cavalier, 
disdaining the requisitions of a rebel, peremptorily 
refused to comply, and calmly presented his naked 
breast to the weapons which were pointed against 
it. The council, however, foreseeing the fatal con¬ 
sequences of driving an enraged multitude, in whose 
power they were, to the last extremities of violence, 
prepared a commission constituting Bacon general 
of all the forces in Virginia, and by their entreaties 
prevailed on the governor to sign it. Bacon with 
his troops retired in triumph. Hardly was the 
council delivered by his departure from the dread 
of present danger, when, by a transition not unusual 
in feeble minds, presumptuous boldness succeeded 
to excessive fear. The commission granted to Bacon 
was declared to be null, having been extorted by 
force; he was proclaimed a rebel, his followers 
were required to abandon his standard, and the 
militia ordered to arm, and to join the governor. 

Enraged at conduct w hich he brand¬ 
ed with the name of base and treacher- W. Berkeley and 

. ,. . , . the council to tty. 

ous, Bacon, instead of continuing his 
march towards the Indian country, instantly wheeled 
about, and advanced with all his forces to James 
town. The governor, unable to resist such a numer¬ 
ous body, made his escape, and fled across the bay to 
Acomack on the eastern shore. Some of the coun¬ 
sellors accompanied him thither, others retired to 
their own plantations. Upon the flight of sir 
William Berkeley, and dispersion of the council, 
the frame of civil government in the colony seemed 
to be dissolved, and Bacon became possessed of 
supreme and uncontrolled power. But as he was 
sensible that his countrymen would not long submit 
with patience to authority acquired and held merely 
by force of arms, he endeavoured to found it on a 
more constitutional basis, by obtaining the sanction 
of the people’s approbation. With this view he 
called together the most considerable gentlemen in 
the colony, and having prevailed on them to bind 
themselves by oath to maintain his authority, and to 
resist every enemy that should oppose it, he from 
that time considered his jurisdiction as legally 
established. 

Berkeley, meanwhile, having col- 

, , , r ® A Sir W. Berkeley 

lected some forces, made inroads into applies for suc- 

different parts of the colony where c ° ul t0 Engl<ind ' 

Bacon’s authority was recognised. Several sharp 

conflicts happened with various success. James 

p. 58, &c. 




BOOK IX. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA 


1009 


1677- 

Death ot Bacon 
terminates the 
rebellion. 


town was reduced to ashes, and the best cultivated 
districts in the province were laid waste, sometimes 
by one party, and sometimes by the other. But it 
was not by his own exertions that the governor 
hoped to terminate the contest. He had early trans¬ 
mitted an account of the transactions in Virginia to 
the king, and demanded such a body of soldiers as 
would enable him to quell the insurgents, whom he 
represented as so exasperated by the restraints im¬ 
posed on their trade, that they were impatient to 
shake off all dependence on the parent state. 
Charles, alarmed at a commotion no less dangerous 
than unexpected, and solicitous to maintain his 
authority over a colony the value of which was daily 
increasing and more fully understood, speedily 
despatched a small squadron with such a number of 
regular troops as Berkeley had required. Bacon 
and his followers received information of this arma¬ 
ment, but were not intimidated at its approach. 
They boldly determined to oppose it with open 
force, and declared it to be consistent with their 
duty and allegiance, to treat all who should aid sir 
William Berkeley as enemies, until they should 
have an opportunity of laying their grievances 
before their sovereign .p 

But while both parties prepared, with 
equal animosity, to involve their coun¬ 
try in the horrors of civil war, an event 
happened, which quieted the commotion almost as 
suddenly as it had been excited. Bacon, when 
ready to take the field, sickened and died. None 
of his followers possessed such talents, or were 
so much objects of the people’s confidence, as 
entitled them to aspire to the supreme command. 
Destitute of a leader to conduct and animate them, 
their sanguine hopes of success subsided ; mutual 
distrust accompanied this universal despondency; 
all began to wish for an accommodation ; and after 
a short negociation with sir William Berkeley, they 
laid down their arms, and submitted to his govern¬ 
ment, on obtaining a promise of general pardon. 

Thus terminated an insurrection, which, in the 
annals of Virginia, is distinguished by the name of 
Bacon's rebellion. During seven months this daring 
leader was master of the colony, while the royal 
governor was shut up in a remote and ill-peopled 
corner of it. What were the real motives that 
prompted him to take arms, and to what length he 
intended to carry his plans of reformation, either in 
commerce or government, it is not easy to discover 
in the scanty materials from which we derive our 
information with respect to this transaction. It is 
probable, that his conduct, like that of other adven¬ 
turers in faction, would have been regulated chiefly 
by events; and accordingly as these proved favour 
able or adverse, his views and requisitions would 
have been extended or circumscribed. 

Sir William Berkeley, as soon as he 


4nedTits b mode- was reinstated in his office, called 
together the representatives 


p Beverley’s Hist. p. 75, 76. 


q Ibid. p. 81. 

T 


of the 

Chalmers, p. 341, 


people, that by their advice and authority public 
tranquillity and order might be perfectly established. 
Though this assembly met a few weeks after the 
death of Bacon, while the memory of reciprocal 
injuries was still recent, and when the passions 
excited by such a fierce contest had but little time 
to subside, its proceedings were conducted with a 
moderation seldom exercised by the successful party 
in a civil war. No man suffered capitally ; a small 
number were subjected to fines; others were de¬ 
clared incapable of holding any office of trust; and 
with those exceptions the promise of general indem¬ 
nity was confirmed by law. Soon after, Berkeley 
was recalled, and colonel Jefferys was appointed his 
successor. 

From that period to the revolution 

• 1 non . , . , State of the co¬ 

in 1688, there is scarcely any memor- lony tin the re- 
i i c _ r . volution in 1688. 

able occurrence in the history of Vir¬ 
ginia. A peace was concluded with the Indians. 
Under several successive governors, administration 
w as carried on in the colony with the same arbi¬ 
trary spirit that distinguished the latter years of 
Charles II. and the precipitate counsels of James II. 
The Virginians, with a constitution which in form 
resembled that of England, enjoyed hardly any por¬ 
tion of the liberty which that admirable system of 
policy is framed to secure. They were deprived 
even of the last consolation of the oppressed, the 
power of complaining, by a law which, under severe 
penalties, prohibited them from speaking disre¬ 
spectfully of the governor, or defaming, either by 
words or writing, the administration of the colony.* 1 
Still, however, the laws restraining their commerce 
were felt as an intolerable grievance, and they 
nourished in secret a spirit of discontent, which, 
from the necessity of concealing it, acquired a 
greater degree of acrimony. But notwithstanding 
those unfavourable circumstances, the colony con¬ 
tinued to increase. The use of tobacco was now 
become general in Europe; and though it had 
fallen considerably in price, the extent of demand 
compensated that diminution, and by giving con¬ 
stant employment to the industry of the planters, 
diffused wealth among them. At the revolution the 
number of inhabitants in the colony exceeded sixty 
thousand/ and in the course of twenty-eight years 
its population had been more than doubled. 8 


BOOK X. 

When James I., in the year one thou- nistorv of th 
sand six hundred and six, made that northern colony, 
magnificent partition, which has been Tnouth company, 
mentioned, of a vast region in North America, ex¬ 
tending from the thirty-fourth to the forty-fifth 
degree of latitude, between tw o trading companies of 
his subjects, he established the residence of the one 


r Chalmers's Annals, p. 3bC. 


s Ibid. p. 125. 




1010 


BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


in London, and of the other in Plymouth. The 
former was authorized to settle in the southern, 
and the latter in the northern, part of this territory, 
then distinguished by the general name of Virginia. 
This arrangement seems to have been formed upon 
the idea of some speculative refiner, who aimed at 
diffusing the spirit of industry, by fixing the seat 
of one branch of the trade that was now to be open¬ 
ed, on the east coast of the island, and the other on 
the west. But London possesses such advantages 
of situation, that the commercial wealth and acti¬ 
vity of England have always centred in the capital. 
At the beginning of the last century, the superiority 
of the metropolis in both these respects was so great, 
that though the powers and privileges conferred by 
the king on the two trading companies were pre¬ 
cisely the same, the adventurers settled in Plymouth 
fell far short of those in London in the vigour and 
success of their efforts towards accomplishing the 
purpose of their institution. Though the opera¬ 
tions of the Plymouth company were animated by 
the public-spirited zeal of sir John Popham, chief- 
justice of England, sir Ferdinando Gorges, and 
some other gentlemen of the west, all its exertions 
were feeble and unfortunate. 

1606 The first vessel fitted out by the 

settle a or? m t^e S to company was taken by the Spaniards, 
northern coast. j n y ear one thousand six hundred 

and seven a feeble settlement was made at S agahadoc; 
but, on account of the rigour of the climate, was soon 
relinquished, and for some time nothing further was 
attempted than a few fishing voyages to Cape Cod, 
or a pitiful traffic with the natives for skins and oil. 
One of the vessels equipped for this purpose was 
commanded by captain Smith, whose name has 
been so often mentioned with distinc • 

Smith surveys , . ... 

that coast, and tion in the History of Virginia. The 

England^ adventure was prosperous and lucra¬ 
tive. But his ardent enterprising mind 
could not confine its attention to objects so unequal 
to it as the petty details of a trading voyage. He 
employed a part of his time in exploring the coast, 
and in delineating its bays and harbours. On his 
return, he laid a map of it before prince Charles, 
and, with the usual exaggeration of discoverers, 
painted the beauty and excellence of the country 
in such glowing colours, that the young prince, in 
the warmth of admiration, declared that it should 
be called New England : a a name which effaced 
that of Virginia, and by which it is still distin¬ 
guished. 


. .. . The favourable accounts of the coun- 

cessfui unsuc tr y by Smith, as well as the success of 
his voyage, seem to have encouraged 
private adventurers to prosecute the trade on the 
coast of New England with greater briskness; but 
did not inspire the languishing company of Ply¬ 
mouth with such vigour as to make any new attempt 
towards establishing a permanent colony there. 
Something more than the prospect of distant gain 


a Smith’s Trav., hook vi. p. 203, See. Purchas, iv. p. 1&37. 


to themselves, or of future advantages to their coun¬ 
try, was requisite in order to induce men to aban¬ 
don the place of their nativity, to migrate to ano¬ 
ther quarter of the globe, and endure innumerable 
hardships under an untried climate, and in an un¬ 
cultivated land, covered with woods, or occupied 
by fierce and hostile tribes of savages. But what 
mere attention to private emolument or to national 
utility could not effect, was accomplished by the 
operation of a higher principle. Reli- n e iigious dis- 
gion had gradually excited among a t p h “ te New *° 
great body of the people a spirit that land coloiiy - 
fitted them remarkably for encountering the dangers, 
and surmounting the obstacles, which had hitherto 
rendered abortive the schemes of colonization in 
that part of America allotted to the company of 
Plymouth. As the various settlements in New 
England are indebted for their origin to this spirit, 
as in the course of our narrative we shall discern 
its influence mingling in all their transactions, and 
giving a peculiar tincture to the character of the 
people, as well as to their institutions both civil 
and ecclesiastical, it becomes necessary to trace its 
rise and progress with attention and accuracy. 

When the superstitions and corrup- Different sedi¬ 
tions of the Romish church prompted Xlrch r ^o\ern- g 
different nations of Europe to throw ™ a e j“ed sffthe™ 
off its yoke, and to withdraw from its Rek>rmatl0n - 
communion, the mode as well as degree of their 
separation was various. Wherever reformation was 
sudden, and carried on by the people without au¬ 
thority from their rulers, or in opposition to it, the 
rupture was violent and total. Every part of the 
ancient fabric was overturned, and a different sys¬ 
tem, not only with respect to doctrine, but to church- 
government and the external rites of worship, was 
established. Calvin, who, by his abilities, learning, 
and austerity of manners, had acquired high repu¬ 
tation and authority in the protestant churches, 
was a zealous advocate for this plan of thorough 
reformation. He exhibited a model of that pure 
form of ecclesiastical policy, which he approved, in 
the constitution of the church of Geneva. The sim¬ 
plicity of its institutions, and still more their re¬ 
pugnancy to those of the popish church, were so 
much admired by all the stricter reformers, that it 
was copied, with some small variations, in Scotland, 
in the republic of the United Provinces, in the do¬ 
minions of the house of Brandenburgh, in those of 
the elector Palatine, and in the churches of the 
Hugonots in France. 

But in those countries where the steps of depar¬ 
ture from the church of Rome were taken with 
gieater deliberation, and regulated by the wisdom 
or policy of the supreme magistrate, the separation 
was not so wide. Of all the reformed churches, 
that of England has deviated least from the ancient 
institutions. The violent but capricious spirit of 
Henry VIII., who, though he disclaimed the supre¬ 
macy, revered the tenets of the papal see, checked 




BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY 


OF AMERICA. 


1011 


innovations in doctrine or worship during his reign. 
When his son ascended the throne, and the protes- 
tant religion was established by law, the cautious 
prudence of archbishop Cranmer moderated the 
zeal of those who had espoused the new opinions. 
Though the articles to be recognised as the system 
of national faith were framed conformably to the 
doctrines of Calvin, his notions with respect to 
church-government and the mode of worship were 
not adopted. As the hierarchy in England was 
incorporated with the civil policy of the kingdom, 
and constituted a member of the legislature, arch¬ 
bishops, and bishops, with all the subordinate ranks 
of ecclesiastics subject to them, were continued 
according to ancient form, and with the same dig¬ 
nity and jurisdiction. The peculiar vestments in 
which the clergy performed their sacred functions, 
bowing at the name of Jesus, kneeling at receiving 
the sacrament of the Lord’s supper, the sign of the 
cross in baptism, the use of the ring in marriage, 
with several other rites to which long usage had 
accustomed the people, and which time had rendered 
venerable, were still retained. But though parlia¬ 
ment enjoined the observance of these ceremonies 
under very severe penalties, h several of the more 
zealous clergy entertained scruples with respect to 
the lawfulness of complying with this injunction: 
and the vigilance and authority of Cranmer and 
Ridley with difficulty saved their infant church 
from the disgrace of a schism on this account. 
Religious perse- On accession of Mary, the 

cu,i °“ * furious zeal with which she persecuted 

all who had adopted the tenets of the reformers 
forced many eminent protestants, laymen as well as 
ecclesiastics, to seek an asylum on the continent. 
Francfort, Geneva, Basil, and Strasburgh, received 
them with affectionate hospitality as sufferers in the 
cause of truth, and the magistrates permitted them 
to assemble by themselves for religious worship. 
The exiles who took up their residence in the two 
former cities, modelled their little congregations ac¬ 
cording to the ideas of Calvin, and, with a spirit 
natural to men in their situation, eagerly adopted 
institutions which appeared to be further removed 
from the superstitions of popery than those of their 
own church. They returned to England as soon as 
Elizabeth re-established the protestant religion, not 
only with more violent antipathy to the opinions 
and practices of that church, by which they had 
been oppressed, but with a strong attachment to that 
mode of worship to which they had been for some 
years accustomed. As they were received by their 
countrymen with the veneration due to confessors, 
they exerted all the influence derived from that 

b 2 & 3 Edw. VI. c. 1. 

c Of the high idea which Elizabeth entertained with respect to her own 
superior skill in theology, as well as the haughty tone in which she dic¬ 
tated to her subjects what they ought to believe, we have a striking pic¬ 
ture in her speech at the close ot the parliament, A. 1). 1585.—• One 
thing I may not overskip—Religion, the ground on which all other mat¬ 
ters ought to take root, and, being corrupted, may mar all the tree. And 
that there be some fault-finders with the order of the clergy, which so 
may make a slander to myself, and to the church, whose over-ruler God 
hath made me, whose negligence cannot be excused, if any schisms or 
errors heretical were suffered. Ihus much I must say, that some faults 
and negligences must grow and be, as in all other great charges it hap¬ 
pened! ; and what vocation without? All which, if you, my lords of the 


opinion, in order to obtain such a reformation in the 
English ritual as might bring it nearer to the stand¬ 
ard of purity in foreign churches. Some of the 
queen’s most confidential ministers were warmly 
disposed to co-operate with them in this measure. 
But Elizabeth paid little regard to the 

, tjueen LilZdDPtii> 

inclinations of the one or the senti¬ 
ments of the other. Fond of pomp and ceremony, 
accustomed, according to the mode of that age, to 
study religious controversy, and possessing, like her 
father, such confidence in her own understanding, 
that she never doubted her capacity to judge and 
decide with respect to every point in dispute be¬ 
tween contending sects, c she chose to act according 
to her own ideas, which led her rather to approach 
nearer to the church of Rome, in the parade of ex¬ 
ternal worship, than to widen the breach by abolish¬ 
ing any rite already established.* 1 An act of parlia¬ 
ment, in the first year of her reign, not only required 
an exact conformity to the mode of worship pre¬ 
scribed in the service-book, under most rigorous 
penalties, but empowered the queen to enjoin the 
observance of such additional ceremonies as might 
tend, in her opinion, to render the public exercises 
of devotion more decent and edifying.' 

The advocates for a further reforma¬ 
tion, notwithstanding this cruel disap- Puntans ‘ 
pointment of the sanguine hopes with which they 
returned to their native country, did not relinquish 
their design. They disseminated their opinions 
with great industry among the people. They ex¬ 
tolled the purity of foreign churches, and inveighed 
against the superstitious practices with which reli¬ 
gion was defiled in their own church. In vain did 
the defenders of the established system represent 
that these forms and ceremonies were in themselves 
things perfectly indifferent, which, from long usage, 
were viewed with reverence; and, by their impres¬ 
sion upon the senses and imagination, tended not 
only to fix the attention, but to affect the heart, and 
to warm it with devout and worthy sentiments. 
The puritans (for by that name such as scrupled to 
comply with what was enjoined by the act of uni¬ 
formity were distinguished) maintained, that the 
rites in question were inventions of men, super- 
added to the simple and reasonable service required 
in the word of God ; that from the excessive solici¬ 
tude with which conformity to them was exacted, 
the multitude must conceive such a high opinion 
of their value and importance, as might induce 
them to rest satisfied with the mere form and sha¬ 
dow of religion, and to imagine that external ob¬ 
servances may compensate for the want of inward 
sanctity ; that ceremonies which had been long em- 


clergy, do not amend, I mean to depose you. Look ye, therefore, well 
to your charges, 't his may be amended without needless or open excla¬ 
mations. I am supposed to have many studies, but most philosophical. 1 
must yield this to be true, that 1 suppose few (that be not professors) have 
read more. And 1 need not tell you, that I am not so simple that 1 un¬ 
derstand not, nor so forgetful that I remember not; and yet, amidst my 
many volumes, l hope God’s book hath not been my seldomest lectures, 
in which we find that by which reason all ought to believe. 1 see many 
over-bold with God Almighty, making too many subtle scannings of his 
blessed will. The presumption is so great that 1 may not suffer it.” &c, 
D’Ewes’s Journal, p. 328. 
d Neal’s Hist, of the Puritans, i. 138. 1“6. 
e 1 Eiiz. c. 2. 



1012 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK X. 


ployed by a society manifestly corrupt, to veil its 
own defects, and to seduce and fascinate mankind, 
ought now to be rejected as relics of superstition 
unworthy of a place in a church which gloried in 
the name of Reformed . 

Intolerant spirit The people, to whom in every reli- 
ot the church. gj ous controversy the final appeal is 

made, listened to the arguments of the contending 
parties ; and it is obvious to which of them men, 
who had lately beheld the superstitious spirit of 
popery, and felt its persecuting rage, would lend 
the most favourable ear. The desire of a further 
separation from the church of Rome spread wide 
through the nation. The preachers who contended 
for this, and who refused to wear the surplice and 
other vestments peculiar to their order, or to observe 
the ceremonies enjoined by law, were followed and 
admired, while the ministry of the zealous advocates 
for conformity was deserted, and their persons often 
exposed to insult. For some time the non-con¬ 
formists were connived at; but as their number and 
boldness increased, the interposition both of spirit¬ 
ual and civil authority was deemed necessary in 
order to check their progress. To the disgrace of 
Christians, the sacred rights of conscience and pri¬ 
vate judgment, as well as the charity and mutual 
forbearance suitable to the mild spirit of the reli¬ 
gion which they professed, were in that age little 
understood. Not only the idea of toleration, but 
even the word itself in the sense now affixed to it, 
was then unknown. Every church claimed a right to 
employ the hand of power for the protection of truth 
and the extirpation of error. The laws of her 
kingdom armed Elizabeth with ample authority for 
this purpose, and she was abundantly disposed to 
exercise it with full vigour. Many of the most 
eminent among the puritan clergy were deprived 
of their benefices, others were imprisoned, several 
were fined, and some put to death. But persecu ¬ 
tion, as usually happens, instead of extinguishing, 
inflamed their zeal to such a height, that the juris¬ 
diction of the ordinary courts of law was deemed 
insufficient to suppress it, and a new tribunal was 
established under the title of the high commission 
for ecclesiastical affairs , whose powers and mode of 
procedure were hardly less odious or less hostile 
to the principles of justice than those of the Spa¬ 
nish inquisition. Several attempts were made in 
the house of Commons to check these arbitrary 
proceedings, and to moderate the rage of persecu¬ 
tion ; but the queen always imposed silence upon 
those who presumed to deliver any opinion with re¬ 
spect to a matter appertaining solely to her prero¬ 
gative, in a tone as imperious and arrogant as was 
ever used by Henry VIII. in addressing his parlia¬ 
ments ; and so tamely obsequious were the guar¬ 
dians of the people’s rights, that they not only obey¬ 
ed those unconstitutional commands, but consented 
to an act, by which every person who should absent 
himself from church during a month was subjected 

f 35 Eliz. c. 1. 


to punishment by fine and imprisonment ; and if 
after conviction he did not within three months re¬ 
nounce his erroneous opinions and conform to the 
laws, he was then obliged to abjure the realm ; 
but if he either refused to comply with this con¬ 
dition, or returned from banishment, he should 
be put to death as a felon without benefit of 
clergy/ 

By this iniquitous statute, equally 

.... c . .. j c Entire separation 

repugnant to ideas of civil and ot re- 0 > the puritans 

.. . ... . .. . from the church, 

Iigious liberty, the puritans were cut 
off from any hope of obtaining either reformation 
in the church or indulgence to themselves. Ex¬ 
asperated by this rigorous treatment, their antipathy 
to the established religion increased, and, with the 
progress natural to violent passions, carried them 
far beyond what was their original aim. The first 
puritans did not entertain any scruples with respect 
to the lawfulness of episcopal government, and seem 
to have been very unwilling to withdraw from com¬ 
munion with the church of which they were mem¬ 
bers. But when they were thrown out of her bo¬ 
som, and constrained to hold separate assemblies 
for the worship of God, their followers no longer 
viewed a society, by which they were oppressed, 
with reverence or affection. Her government, her 
discipline, her ritual, were examined with minute 
attention. Every error was pointed out, and every 
defect magnified. The more boldly any preacher 
inveighed against the corruptions of the church, he 
was listened to with greater approbation ; and the 
further he urged his disciples to depart from such 
an impure community, the more eagerly did they 
follow him. By degrees, ideas of ecclesiastical 
policy, altogether repugnant to those of the estab¬ 
lished church, gained footing in the nation. The 
more sober and learned puritans inclined to that 
form which is known by the name of Presbyterian. 
Such as were more thoroughly possessed with the 
spirit of innovation, however much they might ap¬ 
prove the equality of pastors which that system 
establishes, reprobated the authority which it vests 
in various judicatories, descending from one to 
another in regular subordination, as inconsistent 
with Christian liberty. 

These wild notions floated for some time in the 
minds of the people, and amused them with many 
ideal schemes of ecclesiastical policy. At length 
Robert Brown, a popular declaimer in Brownists 
high estimation, reduced them to a 168 °- 
system, on which he modelled his own congregation. 
He taught that the church of England was corrupt 
and antichristian, its ministers not lawfully ordained, 
its ordinances and sacraments invalid ; and there¬ 
fore he prohibited his people to hold communion 
with it in any religious function. He maintained, 
that a society of Christians, uniting together to wor¬ 
ship God, constituted a church possessed of com¬ 
plete jurisdiction in the conduct of its own affairs, 
independent of any other society, and unaccount- 



BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1013 


able to any superior; that the priesthood was neither 
a distinct order in the church, nor conferred an in¬ 
delible character; but that every man qualified to 
teach might be set apart for that olhce by the elec¬ 
tion of the brethren, and by imposition of their hands; 
in like manner, by their authority, he might be dis¬ 
charged from that function, and reduced to the rank 
of a private Christian ; that every person, when ad¬ 
mitted a member of a church, ought to make a public 
confession of his faith, and give evidence of his 
being in a state of favour with God ; and that all 
the affairs of a church were to be regulated by the 
decision of the majority of its members. 

Rrownists Tliis democratical form of govern- 

refuge iu Holland. ment> which abolished all distinction 

of ranks in the church, and conferred an equal por¬ 
tion of power on every individual, accorded so per¬ 
fectly with the levelling genius of fanaticism, that 
it was fondly adopted by many as a complete model 
of Christian policy. From their founder, they were 
denominated Brownists ; and as their tenets were 
more hostile to the established religion than those 
of other separatists, the fiercest storm of persecution 
fell upon their heads. Many of them were fined 
or imprisoned, and some put to death : and though 
Brown, with a levity of which there are few exam¬ 
ples among enthusiasts whose vanity has been sooth¬ 
ed by being recognised as heads of a party, aban¬ 
doned his disciples, conformed to the established 
religion, and accepted of a benefice in the church, 
the sect not only subsisted, but continued to spread, 
especially among persons in the middle and lower 
ranks of life. But as all their motions were care¬ 
fully watched, both by the ecclesiastical and civil 
courts, which, as often as they were detected, 
punished them with the utmost rigour, a body of 
them, weary of living in a state of continual danger 
and alarm, lied to Holland, and settled in Leyden, 
under the care of Mr. John Robinson their pastor. 
There they resided for several years unmolested and 
obscure. But many of their aged members dying, 
and some of the younger marrying into Dutch fa¬ 
milies, while their church received no increase, 
either by recruits from England or by proselytes 
gained in the country, they began to be afraid thatall 
their high attainments in spiritual knowledge would 
be lost, and that perfect fabric of policy which they 
had erected, would be dissolved and consigned to 
oblivion, if they remained longer in a strange land. 

Remove from Deeply affected with the prospect of 
thence to America. an event, which to them appeared fatal 

to the interests of truth, they thought themselves 
called, in order to prevent it, to remove to some 
other place, where they might profess and propa¬ 
gate their opinions with greater success. America, 
in which their countrymen were at that time intent 
on planting colonies, presented itself to their 
thoughts. They flattered themselves with hopes of 
being permitted, in that remote region, to follow 

g Hutchinson’s Hist, of Massach. p. 4. 


their own ideas in religion, without disturbance. 
The dangers and hardships to which all former emi¬ 
grants to America had been exposed, did not deter 
them. “ They were well weaned (according to their 
own description) from the delicate milk of their 
mother-country, and inured to the difficulties of a 
strange land. They were knit together in a strict 
and sacred band, by virtue of which they held 
themselves obliged to take care of the good of each 
other, and of the whole. It w as not with them, as 
with other men, whom small things could discourage, 
or small discontents cause to wish themselves at 
home again.”® The first object of their solicitude 
was to secure the free exercise of their religion. 
For this purpose they applied to the 
king; and, though James refused to 
give them any explicit assurance of toleration, they 
seem to have obtained from him some promise of his 
connivance, as long as they continued to demean 
themselves quietly. So eager were they to accom¬ 
plish their favourite scheme, that, relying on this 
precarious security, they began to negociate with the 
Virginian company for a tract of land within the 
limits of their patent. This they easily procured 
from a society desirous of encouraging migration to 
a vast country, of which they had hitherto occupied 
only a few spots. 

After the utmost efforts, their prepa¬ 
rations fell far short of whatw^as requi- Sept. b. 

.. ~ , .. ... First attempt to 

site tor beginning the settlement of a settle at Massa- 

new colony. A hundred and twenty chus,e,ts B<±v > 
persons sailed from England in a single ship on this 
arduous undertaking. The place of their destination 
was Hudson’s river, where they intended to settle ; 
but their captain having been bribed, as is said, by 
the Dutch, who had then formed a scheme, which 
they afterwards accomplished, of planting a colony 
there, carried them so far towards the north, that 
the first land in America which they made was 
Cape Cod. They were now not only 
beyond the precincts of the territory 
which had been granted to them, but beyond those 
of the company from which they derived their right. 
The season, however, was so far advanced, and 
sickness raged so violently among men unaccustom¬ 
ed to the hardships of a long voyage, that it became 
necessary to take up their abode there. settle at New 
After exploring the coast, they chose Plymouth, 
for their station a place now belonging to the pro¬ 
vince of Massachusetts Bay, to which they gave the 
name of New Plymouth, probably out of respect to 
that company within whose jurisdiction they now 
found themselves situated. h 

No season could be more unfavourable to settle¬ 
ment than that in which the colony landed. The 
winter, which, from the predominance of cold in 
America, is rigorous to a degree unknown in paral¬ 
lel latitudes of our hemisphere, was already set in ; 
and they were slenderly provided with what was 

h Hubard’s Pres. State, p. 3. Cotton’s Magnalia, p. 7. Hutchinson’s 
Hist. p. 3, &c. 



1014 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK X. 


requisite for comfortable subsistence, under a climate 
considerably more severe than that for which they 
had made preparation. Above one half of them 
was cut off before the return of spring, by diseases, 
or by famine; thesurvivors, instead of having leisure 
to attend to the supply of their own wants, were 
compelled to take arms against the savages in 
Plan of govern- their neighbourhood. Happily for the 
ment. English, a pestilence which raged in 
America the year before they landed, had swept off 
so great a number of the natives that they were 
quickly repulsed and humbled. The privilege of 
professing their own opinions, and of being govern¬ 
ed by laws of their own framing, afforded consola¬ 
tion to the colonists amidst all their dangers and 


hardships. The constitution of their church was 
the same with that which they had established in 
Holland. Their .system of civil government was 
founded on those ideas of the natural equality 
among men, to which their ecclesiastical policy had 
accustomed them. Every free man, who was a 
member of the church, was admitted into the su¬ 
preme legislative body. The laws of England were 
adopted as the basis of their jurisprudence, though 
with some diversity in the punishments inflicted 
upon crimes, borrowed from the Mosaic institutions. 
The executive power was vested in a governor and 
some assistants, who were elected annually by the 
members of the legislative assembly. 1 So far their 
institutions appear to be founded on the ordinary 
maxims of human prudence. But it was a favourite 
opinion with all the enthusiasts of that age, that 
the Scriptures contained a complete system not only 
of spiritual instruction, but of civil wisdom and 
polity; and without attending to the peculiar cir¬ 
cumstances or situation of the people whose history 
is there recorded, they often deduced general rules 
for their own conduct from what happened among 
men in a very different state. Under the influence 
of this wild notion, the colonists of New Plymouth, 
in imitation of the primitive Christians, threw all 

Community of their property into a common stock, 
goods. and, jjkg mem b ers 0 f one family^ car _ 

ried on every work of industry by their joint labour 
for public beboof. k But, however this resolution 
might evidence the sincerity of their faith, it re¬ 
tarded the progress of their colony. The same fatal 
effects flowed from this community of goods and of 
labour, which had formerly been experienced in 
Virginia; and it soon became neces- 

This institution 0 \ 

!ony ful to the c ° sai T to relinquish what was too refined 
to be capable of being accommodated 
to the affairs of men. But though they built a small 
town, and surrounded it with such a fence as af¬ 
forded sufficient security against the assaults of 
Indians, the soil around it was so poor, their reli¬ 
gious principles were so unsocial, and the supply 
sent them by their friends so scanty, that at the 
end of ten years the number of people belonging to 


the settlement did not exceed three hundred. 1 Dur¬ 
ing some years they appear not to have acquired 
right by any legal conveyance to the territory which 
they had occupied. At length they 1630 
obtained a grant of property from the /neorporateefby 
council of the New Plymouth com- charter - 
pany, but were never incorporated as a body politic 
by royal charter. m Unlike all the other settlements 
in America, this colony must be considered merely 
as a voluntary association, held together by the 
tacit consent of its members to recognise the autho¬ 
rity of laws, and submit to the jurisdiction of ma¬ 
gistrates, framed and chosen by themselves. In this 
state it remained an independent but feeble com¬ 
munity, until it was united to its more powerful 
neighbour, the colony of Massachusetts bay, the 
origin and progress of which I now proceed to 
relate. 

The original company of Plymouth „ 

n r j j o ran( j council or 

having done nothing effectual towards Pkvmmirti ap- 
establishing any permanent settlement 
in America, James I. in the year one thousand six 
hundred and twenty issued a new charter to the 
duke of Lenox, the marquis of Buckingham, and 
several other persons of distinction in his court, by 
which he conveyed to them a right to a territory in 
America, still more extensive than what had been 
granted to the former patentees, incorporating them 
as a body politic, in order to plant colonies there, 
with powers and jurisdictions similar to those con¬ 
tained in his charters to the companies of South and 
North Virginia. This society was distinguished by 
the name of the Grand Council of Plymouth for 
planting and governing new England. .What con¬ 
siderations of public utility could induce the king to 
commit such an undertaking to persons apparently 
so ill qualified for conducting it, or what prospect 
of private advantage prompted them to engage in 
it, the information we receive from contemporary 
writers does not enable us to determine. Certain it 
is, that the expectations of both w ere disappointed; 
and after many schemes and arrangements, all the 
attempts of the new associates towards colonization 
proved unsuccessful. 

New England must have remained p r0 j e ct of a new 
unoccupied, if the same causes which colony, 
occasioned the emigration of the Brownists had not 
continued to operate. Notwithstanding the violent 
persecution to which puritans of every denomina¬ 
tion were still exposed, their number and zeal daily 
increased. As they now despaired of obtaining in 
their own country any relaxation of the penal sta¬ 
tutes enacted against their sect, many began to turn 
their eyes towards some other place of retreat, where 
they might profess their own opinions with impunity. 
From the tranquillity which their brethren had 
hitherto enjoyed in New Plymouth, they hoped to 
find this desired asylum in New England; and by 
the activity of Mr. White, a non-conformist minister 


i Chalmers's Annals, p.87. 
k Ibid. p. 89. Douglas’s Summary, i. p. 370. 


1 Chalmers’s Annals, p. 97. 


m Ibid. p. 97. 107. 




BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1015 


1627. 

March 19. 


at Dorchester, an association was formed by several 
gentlemen who had imbibed puritanical notions, in 
order to conduct a colony thither. They purchased 
from the council of Plymouth all the territory, ex¬ 
tending in length from three miles north of the river 
Merrimack, to three miles south of Charles river, 
and in breadth, from the Atlantic to the Southern 
ocean. Zealous as these proprietors 
were to accomplish their favourite pur¬ 
pose, they quickly perceived their own inability to 
attempt the population of such an immense region, 
and deemed it necessary to call in the aid of more 
opulent co-partners. 11 

Of these they found, without difficulty, a sufficient 
number, chieffy in the capital, and among persons 
in the commercial and other industrious walks of 
life, who had openly joined the sect of the puritans, 
or secretly favoured their opinions. These new 
adventurers, with the caution natural to men con¬ 
versant in business, entertained doubts concerning 
the propriety of founding a colony on the basis of 
a grant from a private company of patentees, who 
might convey a right of property in the soil, but 
could not confer jurisdiction, or the privilege of 
governing that society which they had in contem¬ 
plation to establish. As it was only from royal 
authority that such powers could be derived, they 
applied for these; and Charles granted their request, 
with a facility which appears astonishing, when we 
consider the principles and views of the men who 
M ere suitors for the favour, 
charter to the Time has been considered as the 
Massachuse v tts 0f Parent of political wisdom, but its in- 
Bay - structions are communicated slowly. 

Although the experience of above twenty years 
might have taught the English the impropriety of 
committing the government of settlements in Ame¬ 
rica to exclusive corporations resident in Europe, 
neither the king nor his subjects had profited so 
much by what passed before their eyes, as to have 
extended their ideas beyond those adopted by James 
in his first attempts towards colonization. The 
charter of Charles I. to the adventurers associated 
for planting the province of Massachusetts bay, was 
perfectly similar to those granted by his father to 
the two Virginian companies and to the council of 
Plymouth. The new adventurers were incorpo¬ 
rated as a body politic, and their right to the terri¬ 
tory, which they had purchased from the council at 
Plymouth, being confirmed by the king, they were 
empowered to dispose of the lands, and to govern 
the people who should settle upon them. The first 
governor of the company and his assistants Mere 
named by the crown ; the right of electing their 
successors was vested in the members of the corpo¬ 
ration. The executive poMer was committed to the 


governor and assistants ; that of legislation to the 
body of proprietors, who might make statutes and 
orders for the good of the community, not incon¬ 
sistent with the laMS of England, and enforce the 
observance of them, according to the course of other 
corporations within the realm. Their lands Mere 
to be held by the same liberal tenure with those 
granted to the Virginian company. They obtained 
the same temporary exemption from internal taxes, 
and from duties on goods exported or imported ; 
and notwithstanding their migration to America, 
they and their descendants were declared to be en¬ 
titled to all the rights of natural-born subjects. 0 

The manifest object of this charter was to confer 
on the adventurers who undertook to people the 
territory on Massachusetts bay, all the corporate 
rights possessed by the council of Plymouth, from 
M'hich they had purchased it, and to form them into 
a public body, resembling other great trading com¬ 
panies, M’hich the spirit of monarchy had at that 
time multiplied in the kingdom. The king seems 
not to have foreseen, or to have suspected, the secret 
intentions of those who projected the measure; for 
so far was he from alluring emigrants, by any hopes 
of indulgence M’ith respeetto their religious scruples, 
or from promising any relaxation from the rigour of 
the penal statutes against non-conformists, that he 
expressly provides for having the oath of supremacy 
administered to every person who shall pass to the 
colony, or inhabit there .* 1 

But whatever were the intentions of 1629 
the king, the adventurers kept their conse^erLe'of 
own object steadily in view. Soon tlus charter - 
after their powers to establish a colony were ren¬ 
dered complete by the royal charter, they fitted out 
five ships for New England; on board of which 
embarked upwards of three hundred passengers, 
with a view of settling there. These were mostly 
zealous puritans, whose chief inducement to re¬ 
linquish their native land was the hope of enjoying 
religious liberty in a country far removed from the 
seat of government and the oppression of ecclesias¬ 
tical courts. Some eminentnon-conformistministers 
accompanied them as their spiritual instructors. On 
their arrival in New England, they found the 
wretched remainder of a small body of emigrants, 
who had left England the preceding year, under the 
conduct of Endicott, a deep enthusiast, whom, prior 

to their incorporation by the royal 
, , ..it • , June 29. 

charter, the associates had appointed 

deputy-governor. They were settled at a place 

called by the Indians Naunekeag, and to which 

Endicott, with the fond affectation of fanatics of 

that age to employ the language and appellations 

of Scripture in the affairs of common life, had given 

the name of Salem. 


n Neal’s Hist, of New Engl. l. ]>. 122. 
o Hutchinson’s Collect, of Orig. Papers, p. 1, &c. 

p Id p. 18.—It is surprising that .Mr. Neal, an industrious and general¬ 
ly well informed writer, should affirm, that “ free liberty ot conscience 
was granted by this charter to all who should settle in those parts, to wor¬ 
ship God in their own way.” Hist, of New Engl. i. 124. This he repeats 
in his History of the Puritans, ii. 210.; and subsequent historians have 
copied him implicitly. No permission of that kind, however, is contained 


in the charter; and such an indulgence would have been inconsistent with 
all the maxims of Charles and his ministers during the course of his reign. 
At the time when Charles issued the charter, the influence of Laud over 
his councils was at its height, the puritans were prosecuted with the 
greatest severity, and the kingdom was ruled entirely by prerogative. 
1 his is not an aira in which one can expect to meet with concessions in 
favour of non-conformists, from a prince of Charles’s character and prin¬ 
ciples. 



HUG 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ROOK X. 


Resin with estab- The emigrants under Endicott, and 
iisiung a church. suc h as n0 w joined them, coincided 

perfectly in religious principles. They were puritans 
of the strictest form ; and to men of this character 
the institution of a church was naturally of such 
interesting concern as to take place of every other 
object. In this first transaction, they displayed at 
once the extent of the reformation at which they 
aimed. Without regard to the sentiments of that 
monarch under the sanction of whose authority they 
settled in America, and from whom they derived 
right to act as a body politic, and in contempt of 
the laws of England, with which the charter re¬ 
quired that none of their acts or ordinances should 
be inconsistent, they adopted in their infant church 
that form of policy which has since been distin- 
A guished by the name of independent. 

They united together in religious so¬ 
ciety, by a solemn covenant with God and with one 
another, and in strict conformity, as they imagined, 
to the rules of Scripture. They elected a pastor, a 
teacher, and an elder, whom they set apart for their 
respective offices, by imposition of the hands of the 
brethren. All who were that day admitted mem¬ 
bers of the church signified their assent to a con¬ 
fession of faith drawn up by their teacher, and gave 
an account of the foundation of their own hopes as 
Christians ; and it was declared that no person 
should hereafter be received into communion until 
he gave satisfaction to the church with respect to 
his faith and sanctity. The form of public worship 
which they instituted was without a liturgy, dis¬ 
encumbered of every superfluous ceremony, and 
reduced to the lowest standard of Calvinistic sim¬ 
plicity.' 1 

intolerance of It was with the utmost complacence 
the new church. that men p ass i 0 nately attached to their 

own notions, and who had long been restrained 
from avowing them, employed themselves in fram¬ 
ing this model of a pure church. But in the first 
moment that they began to taste of Christian liberty 
themselves, they forgot that other men had an equal 
title to enjoy it. Some of their number, retaining 
a high veneration for the ritual of the English 
church, were so much offended at the total abolition 
of it, that they withdrew from communion with the 
newly instituted church, and assembled separately 
for the worship of God. With an inconsistency of 
which there are such flagrant instances among 
Christians of every denomination that it cannot be 
imputed as a reproach peculiar to any sect, the very 
men who had themselves fled from persecution be¬ 
came persecutors ; and had recourse, in order to 
enforce their own opinions, to the same unhallowed 
weapons, against the employment of which they 
had lately remonstrated with so much violence. 
Endicott called the two chief malcontents before 
him ; and though they were men of note, and among 
the number of original patentees, he expelled them 

q Math. Magna], p. 18. Neal’s Hist, of New England, i. 1£6. Chal¬ 
mers, p. 443. r Mather, p. 19. Neal, p. 129. 


from the society, and sent them home in the ships 
which were returning to England/ The colonists 
were now united in sentiments ; but, on the ap¬ 
proach of winter, they suffered so much from dis¬ 
eases, which carried off almost one half of their 
number, that they made little progress in occupying 
the country. 

Meanwhile the directors of the company in Eng¬ 
land exerted their utmost endeavours in order to 
reinforce the colony with a numerous body of new 
settlers; and as the intolerant spirit Emigrations from 
of Laud exacted conformity to all the ed by thetotoler* 
injunctions of the church with greater ance ot laud - 
rigour than ever, the condition of such as had any 
scruples with respect to this became so intolerable, 
that many accepted of their invitation to a secure 
retreat in New England. Several of these were 
persons of greater opulence and of better condition 
than any who had hitherto migrated to that country. 
But as they intended to employ their fortunes, as 
well as to hazard their persons, in establishing a 
permanent colony there, and foresaw many incon¬ 
veniences from their subjection to laws made with¬ 
out their own consent, and framed by a society 
which must always be imperfectly acquainted with 
their situation, they insisted that the corporate 
powers of the company should be transferred from 
England to America, and the government of the 
colony be vested entirely in those who, by settling 
in the latter country, became members of it. s The 
company had already expended considerable sums 
in prosecuting the design of their institution, with¬ 
out having received almost any return, and had no 
prospect of gain, or even of reimbursement, but 
what was too remote and uncertain to be suitable 
to the ideas of merchants, the most numerous class 
of its members. They hesitated, however, with re¬ 
spect to the legality of granting the demand of the 
intended emigrants. But such was charter of the 
their eagerness to be disengaged from ferre^o the 18 
an unpromising adventure, that, “ by colomsts - 
general consent it was determined, that the charter 
should be transferred, and the government be set¬ 
tled in New England.” 1 To the members of the 
corporation who chose to remain at home was re¬ 
served a share in the trading stock and profits of 
the company during seven years. 

In this singular transaction, to which there is no¬ 
thing similar in the history of English colonization, 
two circumstances merit particular attention : one 
is the power of the company to make this transfer¬ 
ence ; the other is the silent acquiescence with 
which the king permitted it to take place. If the 
validity of this determination of the company be 
tried by the charter which constituted it a body 
politic, and conveyed to it all the corporate powers 
with which it was invested, it is evident that it 
could neither exercise those powers in any mode 
different from what the charter prescribed, nor 

s Hutchinson’s Coll, of Papers, p. 25. 

t Mather, p. 20. Hutchinson’s Hist. p. 12. Chalmers, p. 150. 



BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1017 


alienate them in such a manner as to convert the 
jurisdiction of a trading corporation in England 
into a provincial government in America. But from 
the first institution of the company of Massachusetts 
hay, its members seem to have been animated with 
a spirit of innovation in civil policy, as well as in 
religion ; and by the habit of rejecting established 
usages in the one, they were prepared for deviating 
from them in the other. They had applied for a 
royal charter, in order to give legal effect to their 
operations in England, as acts of a body politic ; 
but the persons whom they sent out to America, as 
soon as they landed there, considered themselves as 
individuals united together by voluntary associa¬ 
tion, possessing the natural right of men who form 
a society, to adopt what mode of government, and 
to enact what laws, they deemed most conducive to 
general felicity. Upon this principle of being en¬ 
titled to judge and to decide for themselves, they 
established their church in Salem, without regard 
to the institutions of the church of England, of 
which the charter supposed them to be members, 
and bound of consequence to conformity with its 
ritual. Suitably to the same ideas, we shall observe 
them framing all their future plans of civil and ec¬ 
clesiastical policy. The king, though abundantly 
vigilant in observing and checking slighter en¬ 
croachments on his prerogative, was either so much 
occupied at that time with other cares, occasioned 
by his fatal breach with his parliament, that he 
could not attend to the proceedings of the company; 
or he was so much pleased with the prospect of re¬ 
moving a body of turbulent subjects to a distant 
country, where they might be useful, and could not 
prove dangerous, that he was disposed to connive 
at the irregularity of a measure which facilitated 
their departure. 

Colon} ex- Without interruption from the crown, 
tended. the adventurers proceeded to carry 
their scheme into execution. In a general court, 
John Winthrop was appointed governor, and Tho¬ 
mas Dudley deputy-governor, and eighteen assist¬ 
ants were chosen ; in whom, together with the body 
of freemen who should settle in New England, were 
vested with all the corporate rights of the company. 
With such zeal and activity did they prepare for 
emigration, that in the course of the ensuing year 
seventeen ships sailed for New England, and aboard 
these above fifteen hundred persons, among whom 
were several of respectable families, and in easy cir¬ 
cumstances. On their arrival in New England, many 
were so ill satisfied with the situation of Salem, 
that they explored the country in quest of some 
better station ; and settling in different places around 
the bay, according to their various fancies, laid the 
foundations of Boston, Charles town, Dorchester, 
Roxborough, and other towns, which have since 
become considerable in the province. In each of 
these a church was established on the same model 
w ith that of Salem. This, together with the care of 

u Hutchinson, p. 26. Chalmers, p. 153. 


Oct. 19. 


1631. 


making provision for their subsistence during w in¬ 
ter, occupied them entirely during 
some months. But in the first general 
court, their disposition to consider themselves as 
members of an independent society, unconfined by 
the regulations in their charter, began to appear. 
The election of the governor and deputy-governor, 
the appointment of all other officers, and even the 
power of making laws, all which were granted by 
the charter to the freemen, were taken from them, 
and vested in the council of assistants. But the 
aristocratical spirit of this resolution did not accord 
with the ideas of equality prevalent among the 
people, who had been surprised into an approbation 
of it. Next year the freemen, whose 
numbers had been greatly augmented 
by the admission of new members, resumed their 
former rights. 

But, at the same time, they ventured None but mem . 
to deviate from the charter in a matter admuLdas^Vee^ 
of greater moment, which deeply af- men- 
fected all the future operations of the colony, and 
contributed greatly to form that peculiar character 
by which the people of New England have been 
distinguished. A law was passed, declaring that 
none shall hereafter be admitted freemen, or be 
entitled to any share in the government, or be capable 
of being chosen magistrates, or even of serving as 
jurymen, but such as have been received into the 
church as members. 11 By this resolution, every 
person who did not hold the favourite opinions con¬ 
cerning the doctrines of religion, the discipline of 
the church, or the rites of worship, was at once cast 
out of the society, and stripped of ail the privileges 
of a citizen. An uncontrolled power of approving 
or rejecting the claims of those who applied for 
admission into communion with the church being 
vested in the ministers and leading men of each 
congregation, the most valuable of all civil rights 
was made to depend on their decision with respect 
to qualifications purely ecclesiastical. As in ex¬ 
amining into these they proceeded not 

. , ...... , , , Pernicious con- 

by any known or established rules, but sequences of this 

• j ,. .. • , , regulation. 

exercised a discretionary judgment, 
the clergy rose gradually to a degree of influence 
and authority from which the levelling spirit of the 
independent church-policy was calculated to ex¬ 
clude them. As by their determination the political 
condition of every citizen was fixed, all paid court 
to men possessed of such an important power, by 
assuming those austere and sanctimonious manners 
which were known to be the most certain recom¬ 
mendation to their favour. In consequence of this 
ascendant, which was acquired chiefly by the 
wildest enthusiasts among the clergy, their no¬ 
tions became a standard to which all studied to 
conform, and the singularities characteristic of the 
puritans in that age increased, of which many re¬ 
markable instances will occur in the course of our 
narrative. 




1018 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK X. 


1632. 


Though a considerable number of 

Indian territories . . ,. 

depopulated hy planters M'as cut off by the diseases 

the small pox. , . . . . ,, 

prevalent in a country so imperfectly 
cultivated by its original inhabitants as to be still 
almostone continued forest, and several, discouraged 
by the hardships to which they were exposed, returned 
to England, recruits sufficient to replace them arrived. 

At the same time the small-pox, a dis¬ 
temper fatal to the people of the New- 
World, swept away such multitudes of the natives, 
that some whole tribes disappeared ; and Heaven, 
by thus evacuating a country in which the English 
might settle without molestation, was supposed to 
declare its intention that they should occupy it. 

_ „ „ As several of the vacant Indian 

Settlements or 

the colonists ex- stations were well chosen, such was 
tended. 

the eagerness of the English to take 
possession of them, that their settlements became 
more numerous and more widely dispersed than 
suited the condition of an infant colony. This led 
to an innovation which totally altered the nature 
i634 and constitution of the government. 
Freemen meet by W hen a general court was to be held 

representatives. ° 

in the year one thousand six hundred 
and thirty-four, the freemen, instead of attending it 
in person, as the charter prescribed, elected repre¬ 
sentatives in their different districts, authorizing 
them to appear in their name, with full power to 
deliberate and decide concerning every point that 
fell under the cognizance of the general court. 
Whether this measure was suggested by some 
designing leaders, or whether they found it prudent 
to soothe the people by complying with their incli¬ 
nation, is uncertain. The representatives were 
admitted, and considered themselves, in conjunction 
with the governor and assistants, as the supreme 
Extent Of politi- legislative assembly of the colony. In 
c su l med e by y the assertion of their own rights, they 
assembly. enacted that no law should be passed, 

no tax should be imposed, and no public officer 
should be appointed, but in the general assembly. 
The pretexts for making this new arrangement were 
plausible. The number of freemen was greatly 
increased; many resided at a distance from the 
places where the supreme courts w ere held ; per¬ 
sonal attendance became inconvenient; the form of 
government in their own country had rendered 
familiar the idea of delegating their rights, and 
committing the guardianship of their liberties, to 
representatives of their own choice, and the experi¬ 
ence of ages had taught them that this important 
trust might with safety be lodged in their hands. 
Thus did the company of Massachusetts bay, in less 
than six years from its incorporation by the king, 
mature and perfect a scheme which, I have already 
observed, some of its more artful and aspiring leaders 
seem to have had in view when the association for 
peopling New England was first formed. The 
colony must henceforward be considered, not as a 
corporation whose powers were defined and its mode 

x Neal’s Hist, of N. Eng. p, 140, &c. Hutchins, p. 37. Chaim, p. 156. 


of procedure regulated by its charter, but as a 
society, which, having acquired or assumed political 
liberty, had, by its own voluntary deed, adopted a 
constitution or government framed on the model of 
that in England. 

But however liberal their system of spirit of fanati- 
civil policy might be, as their religious cism inclCdSes - 
opinions were no longer under any restraint of 
authority, the spirit of fanaticism continued to 
spread, and became every day wilder and more 
extravagant. Williams, a minister of Salem, in 
high estimation, having conceived an antipathy to 
the cross of St. George in the standard of England, 
declaimed against it with so much vehemence, as a 
relic of superstition and idolatry which ought not to 
be retained among a people so pure and sanctified, 
that Endicott, one of the members of the court of 
assistants, in a transport of zeal, publicly cut out 
the cross from the ensign displayed before the 
governor’s gate. This frivolous matter interested 
and divided the colony. Some of the militia scrupled 
to follow colours in which there was a cross, lest 
they should do honour to an idol: others refused to 
serve under a mutilated banner, lest they should be 
suspected of having renounced their allegiance to 
the crown of England. After a long controversy, 
carried on by both parties with that heat and zeal 
which in trivial disputes supply the want of argu¬ 
ment, the contest was terminated by a compromise. 
The cross was retained in the ensigns of forts and 
ships, but erased from the colours of the militia. 
Williams, on account of this, as w ell as of some 
other doctrines deemed unsound, was banished out 
of the colony. x 

The prosperous state of New Eng- 

1 1 # New settlers. 

land was now' so highly extolled, and 
the simple frame of its ecclesiastic policy was so 
much admired by all whose affections were estranged 
from the church of England, that crowds of new 
settlers flocked thither. Among these 
were two persons, whose names have 
been rendered memorable by the appearance which 
they afterwards made on a more conspicuous theatre: 
one was Hugh Peters, the enthusiastic and in¬ 
triguing chaplain of Oliver Cromwell; the other Mr. 
Henry Yanc, son of Sir Henry Vane, a privy coun¬ 
sellor, high in office, and of great credit with the 
king ; a young man of a noble family, animated with 
such zeal for pure religion and such love of liberty 
as induced him to relinquish all his hopes in Eng¬ 
land, and to settle in a colony hitherto no further 
advanced in improvement than barely to afford 
subsistence to its members, was received with the 
fondest admiration. His mortified appearance, his 
demure look, and rigid manners, carried even be¬ 
yond the standard of preciseness in that society 
which he joined, seemed to indicate a man of high 
spiritual attainments, while his abilities and address 
in business pointed him out as worthy of the highest 
station in the community. With universal con- 



BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1019 


sent, and high expectations of ad¬ 
vantage from his administration, he was 
elected governor in the year subsequent to his 
arrival. But as the affairs of an infant colony 
afforded not objects adequate to the talents of Yane, 
his busy pragmatical spirit occupied itself with 
theological subtilties and speculations unworthy 
of his attention. These were excited by a wo¬ 
man, whose reveries produced such effects both 
within the colony and beyond its precincts, that, 
frivolous as they may now appear, they must be 
mentioned as an occurrence of importance in its 
history. 


Antinomian sect. 


It was the custom at that time in 
New England, among the chief men in 
every congregation, to meet once a week, in order 
to repeat the sermons which they had heard, and to 
hold religious conference with respect to the doc¬ 
trine contained in them. Mrs. Hutchinson, whose 
husband was among the most respectable members 
of the colony, regretting that persons of her sex 
were excluded from the benefit of those meetings, 
assembled statedly in her house a number of women, 
who employed themselves in pious exercises similar 
to those of the men. At first she satisfied herself 
with repeating what she could recollect of the dis¬ 
courses delivered by their teachers. She began 
afterwards to add illustrations, and at length pro¬ 
ceeded to censure some of the clergy as unsound, 
and to vent opinions and fancies of her own. These 
were all founded on the system which is denomi¬ 
nated Antinomian by divines, and tinged with the 
deepest enthusiasm. She taught, that sanctity of 
life is no evidence of justification, or of a state of 
favour with God ; and that such as inculcated the 
necessity of manifesting the reality of our faith by 
obedience, preached only a covenant of works; she 
contended that the Spirit of God dwelt personally 
in good men, and by inward revelations and impres¬ 
sions they received the fullest discoveries of the 
divine will. The fluency and confidence with which 
she delivered these notions gained her many ad¬ 
mirers and proselytes, not only among the vulgar 
but among the principal inhabitants. The whole 
colony was interested and agitated. Vane, whose 
sagacity and acuteness seemed to forsake him 
whenever they were turned towards religion, es¬ 
poused and defended her wildest tenets. Many 
1637 conferences were held, days of fasting 

Jondemned'bfa an( * humiliation were appointed, a 
general synod. general synod was called ; and, after 

dissensions so violent as threatened the dissolution 
of the colony, Mrs. Hutchinson’s opinions were 
condemned as erroneous, and she herself banished. 
Several of her disciples withdrew from the province 
of their own accord. Yane quitted America in 
disgust, unlamented even by those who had lately 
admired him ; some of whom now regarded him as 
a mere visionary, and others as one of those dark 


turbulent spirits doomed to embroil every society 
into which they enter.}' 

However much these theological The sectaries set- 
contests might disquiet the colony of and Rhode^ eUCe 
Massachusetts bay, they contributed to lsland > 
the more speedy population of America. When 
Williams was banished from Salem in the year one 
thousand six hundred and thirty-four, such was the 
attachment of his hearers to a pastor whose piety 
they revered, that a good number of them voluntarily 
accompanied him in his exile. They directed their 
march towards the south ; and having purchased 
from the natives a considerable tract of land, to 
which Williams gave the name of Providence, they 
settled there. They were joined soon after by some 
of those to whom the proceedings against Mrs. 
Hutchinson gave disgust; and by a transaction 
with the Indians they obtained a right to a fertile 
island in Naraganset bay, which acquired the name 
of Rhode Island. Williams remained among them 
upwards of forty years, respected as the father and 
the guide of the colony which he had planted. His 
spirit differed from that of the puritans in Massa¬ 
chusetts; it was mild and tolerating; and having 
ventured himself to reject established opinions, he 
endeavoured to secure the same liberty 

,, . .... ..... their moderation. 

to other men, by maintaining that the 
exercise of private judgment was a natural and 
sacred right; that the civil magistrate has no com¬ 
pulsive jurisdiction in the concerns of religion; 
that the punishment of any person on account of his 
opinions was an encroachment on conscience, and an 
act of persecution. 2 These humane principles he 
instilled into his followers; and all who felt or 
dreaded oppression in other settlements resorted to 
a community in which universal toleration was 
known to be a fundamental maxim. In the planta¬ 
tions of Providence and Rhode Island, political 
union was established by voluntary association, 
and the equality of condition among the members, 
as well as their religious opinions; their form of 
government was purely democratical, the supreme 
power being lodged in the freemen personally as¬ 
sembled. In this state they remained until they 
were incorporated by charters 

To similar causes the colony of Con- colony of 
necticut is indebted for its origin. The Connecticut; 
rivalship between Mr. Cotton and Mr. Hooker, two 
favourite ministers in the settlement of Massachu¬ 
setts bay, disposed the latter, who was least suc¬ 
cessful in this contest for fame and power, to wish 
for some settlement at a distance from a competitor 
by whom his reputation was eclipsed. A good 
number of those who had imbibed Mrs. Hutchinson’s 
notions, and were offended at such as combated 
them, offered to accompany him. Having employed 
proper persons to explore the country, they pitched 
upon the west side of the great river Connecticut 
as the most inviting station ; and in the year one 


y Mather, book vii. c. 3. Hutchinson, p. 53. 74. Neal, p. 1, 144, 165, 
&c. Chalmers, p. 163. z Neal’s Hist, of N. Eng. p. 141. 


a Hutchinson, p. 36. Neal, ii. 142. Dougl. Sum. ii. p. 76, &c. Chalmers 
ch. ii. 




1020 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK X. 


thousand six hundred and thirty-six, about a hun¬ 
dred persons, with their wives and families, after a 
fatiguing march of many days through woods and 
swamps, arrived there, and laid the foundation of 
the towns of Hartford, Springfield, and Weather- 
field. This settlement was attended with peculiar 
irregularities. Part of the district now occupied 
lay beyond the limits of the territory granted to the 
colony of Massachusetts bay, and yet the emigrants 
took a commission from the governor and court of 
assistants, empowering them to exercise jurisdic¬ 
tion in that country. The Dutch from Manhados 
or New York, having discovered the river Connec¬ 
ticut, and established some trading houses upon it, 
had acquired all the right that prior possession con¬ 
fers. Lord Say and Sele and lord Brook, the heads 
of two illustrious families, were so much alarmed 
at the arbitrary measures of Charles I., both in his 
civil and ecclesiastical administration, that they 
took a resolution not unbecoming young men of 
noble birth and liberal sentiments, of retiring to the 
New World, in order to enjoy such a form of reli¬ 
gion as they approved of, and those liberties which 
they deemed essential to the well-being of society. 
They, too, fixed on the banks of the Connecticut 
as their place of settlement, and had taken posses¬ 
sion, by building a fort at the mouth of the river, 
which, from their united names, was called Say 
Brook. The emigrants from Massachusetts, with¬ 
out regarding either the defects in their own right 
or the pretensions of other claimants, kept posses¬ 
sion, and proceeded with vigour to clear and culti¬ 
vate the country. By degrees they got rid of every 
competitor. The Dutch, recently settled in Ame¬ 
rica, and too feeble to engage in a war, peaceably 
withdrew from Connecticut. Lord Say and Sele 
and lord Brook made over to the colony whatever 
title they might have to any lands in that region. 
Society was established by a voluntary compact of 
the freemen ; and though they soon disclaimed all 
dependence on the colony of Massachusetts bay, they 
retained such veneration for its legislative wisdom 
as to adopt a form of government nearly resembling 
its institutions, with respect both to civil and eccle¬ 
siastical policy. At a subsequent period, the co¬ 
lony of Connecticut was likewise incorporated by 
royal charter. 5 

of New Hamp- The history of the first attempts to 

shire and Mam. p e0 p] e the provinces of New Hamp¬ 
shire and Main, which form the fourth and most 
extensive division in New England, is obscure and 
perplexed, by the interfering claims of various pro¬ 
prietors. The company of Plymouth had incon¬ 
siderately parcelled out the northern part of the 
territory contained in its grant among different 
persons: of these only sir Ferdinando Gorges and 
captain Mason seem to have had any serious inten¬ 
tion to occupy the lands allotted to them. Their 
efforts to accomplish this were meritorious and per- 

b Hutchinson, p. 44, &c. Neal, i. 147. Douglas, ii. 158, &c. Chal¬ 
mers's Annals, ch. xii. c Hutchinson, p. 70. 


severing, but unsuccessful. The expense of settling 
colonies in an uncultivated country must necessarily 
be great and immediate; the prospect of a return 
is often uncertain, and always remote. The funds 
of two private adventurers were not adequate to 
such an undertaking. Nor did the planters whom 
they sent out possess that principle of enthusiasm, 
which animated their neighbours of Massachusetts 
with vigour to struggle through all the hardships 
and dangers to which society in its infancy is ex¬ 
posed in a savage land. Gorges and Mason, it is 
probable, must have abandoned their design, if, 
from the same motives that settlements had been 
made in Rhode Island and Connecticut, colonists 
had not unexpectedly migrated into New Hamp¬ 
shire and Main. Mr. Wheelwright, a minister of 
some note, nearly related to Mrs. Hutchinson, and 
one of her most fervent admirers and partisans, had 
on this account been banished from the province of 
Massachusetts bay. c In quest of a new station, he 
took a course opposite to the other exiles, and, ad¬ 
vancing towards the north, founded the town of 
Exeter on a small river flowing into Piskataqua bay. 
His followers, few in number, but firmly united, 
were of such rigid principles, that even the churches 
of Massachusetts did not appear to them sufficiently 
pure. From time to time they received some re¬ 
cruits, whom love of novelty, or dissatisfaction with 
the ecclesiastical institutions of the other colonies, 
prompted to join them. Their plantations were 
widely dispersed, but the country was thinly peo¬ 
pled, and its political state extremely unsettled. 
The colony of Massachusetts bay claimed jurisdic¬ 
tion over them, as occupying lands situated within 
the limits of their grant. Gorges and Mason as¬ 
serted the rights conveyed to them as proprietors 
by their charter. In several districts the planters, 
without regarding the pretensions of cither party, 
governed themselves by maxims and laws copied 
from those of their brethren in the adjacent colo¬ 
nies.* 1 The first reduction of the political constitu¬ 
tion in the provinces of New Hampshire and Main 
into a regular and permanent form, was subsequent 
to the Revolution. 

By extending their settlements, the English be¬ 
came exposed to new danger. The tribes of Indians 
around Massachusetts bay were feeble and unwar¬ 
like ; yet from regard to justice, as well as motives 
of prudence, the first colonists w ere studious to ob¬ 
tain the consent of the natives before they ventured 
to occupy any of their lands ; and though in such 
transactions the consideration given was often very 
inadequate to the value of the territory acquired, it 
was sufficient to satisfy the demands of the propri¬ 
etors. The English took quiet possess¬ 
ion of the lands thus conveyed to them, croachments of 
and no open hostility broke out between sisted^ylhe nar 
them and the ancient possessors. But tlves ‘ 
the colonies of Providence and Connecticut soon 

cl Hutchinson, p. 103, &c. 176. Douglas’s Sum. ii. 22, &c. Chalmers’s 
Annals, ch. 17 . 



BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1021 


found that they were surrounded by more powerful 
and martial nations. Among these the most con¬ 
siderable were the Naragansets and Pequods ; the 
former seated on the bay which bears their name, 
and the latter occupying the territory which stretches 
from the river Pequod along the banks of the Con¬ 
necticut. The Pequods were a formidable people, 
who could bring into the field a thousand warriors 
not inferior in courage to any in the New World. 
They foresaw, not only that the extermination of the 
Indian race must be the consequence of permitting 
the English to spread over the continent of America, 
but that, if measures were not speedily concerted to 
prevent it, the calamity would be unavoidable. 
With this view they applied to the Naragansets, re¬ 
questing them to forget ancient animosities for a 
moment, and to co-operate with them in expelling 
a common enemy who threatened both with de¬ 
struction. They represented that, when those strang¬ 
ers first landed, the object of their visit was not sus¬ 
pected, and no proper precautions were taken to 
check their progress ; that now, by sending out 
colonies in one year towards three different quarters, 
their intentions were manifest, and the people of 
America must abandon their native seats to make 
way for unjust intruders. 

But the Naragansets and Pequods, like most of 
the contiguous tribes in America, were rivals, and 
there subsisted between them an hereditary and im¬ 
placable enmity. Revenge is the darling passion of 
savages ; in order to secure the indulgence of which 
there is no present advantage that they will not sa- 

war with the cr i fice > an d no future consequence 

Pequod tribes. they do not totally disregard. 

The Naragansets, instead of closing with the pru¬ 
dent proposal of their neighbours, discovered their 
hostile intentions to the governor of Massachusetts 
bay; and, eager to lay hold on such a favourable 
opportunity of wreaking their vengeance on their 
ancient foes, entered into an alliance with the Eng¬ 
lish against them. The Pequods, more exasperated 
than discouraged by the imprudence and treachery 
of their countrymen, took the field, and carried on 
the war in the usual mode of Americans. They sur¬ 
prised stragglers, and scalped them ; they plunder¬ 
ed and burnt remote settlements; they attacked Fort 
Say Brook without success, though garrisoned only 
by twenty men ; and when the English began to 
act offensively, they retired to fastnesses which they 
deemed inaccessible. The different colonies had 
agreed to unite against the common enemy, each 
furnishing a quota of men in proportion to its num¬ 
bers. The troops of Connecticut, which lay most ex¬ 
posed to danger, were soon assembled. The march 
of those from Massachusetts, which formed the most 
considerable body, was retarded by the most singu¬ 
lar cause that ever influenced the operations of a 

„ .. • military force. When they were mus- 

the army. tered previous to their departure, it 
was found that some of the officers, as well as of the 


Defeat of the 
Indians. 


private soldiers, were still under a covenant of 
works ; and that the blessing of God could not be 
implored or expected to crown the arms of such un¬ 
hallowed men with success. The alarm was gene¬ 
ral, and many arrangements necessary in order to 
cast out the unclean, and to render this little band 
sufficiently pure to fight the battles of a people who 
entertained high ideas of their own sanctity. e 

Meanwhile the Connecticut troops, 
reinforced by a small detachment 
from Say Brook, found it necessary to advance to¬ 
wards the enemy. They were posted on a rising 
ground, in the middle of a swamp towards the head 
of the river Mistick, which they had surrounded with 
palisadoes, the best defence that their slender skill 
in the art of fortification had discovered. Though 
they knew that the English were in motion, yet, 
with the usual improvidence and security of sa¬ 
vages, they took no measures either to observe their 
progress, or to guard against being M ^ 
surprised themselves. The enemy, 
unperceived, reached the palisadoes; and if a dog 
had not given the alarm by barking, the Indians 
must have been massacred without resistance. In 
a moment, however, they started to arms, and, rais¬ 
ing the war-cry, prepared to repel the assailants. 
But at that early period of their intercourse with 
the Europeans, the Americans were little acquaint¬ 
ed with the use of gunpowder, and dreaded its 
effects extremely. While some of the English galled 
them with an incessant fire through the intervals 
between the palisadoes, others forced their way 
by the entries into the fort, filled only with branches 
of trees ; and setting fire to the huts which were 
covered w ith reeds, the confusion and terror quickly 
became general. Many of the women and children 
perished in the flames ; and the warriors, in endea¬ 
vouring to escape, were either slain by the English, 
or, falling into the hands of their Indian allies, who 
surrounded the fort at a distance, were reserved for 
a more cruel fate. After the junction of the troops 
from Massachusetts, the English resolved to pursue 
their victory ; and hunting the Indians from one 
place of retreat to another, some subsequent encoun¬ 
ters were hardly less fatal to them than the action 
on the Mistick. In less than three months the tribe 
of Pequods was extirpated ; a few miserable fugi¬ 
tives, who took refuge among the neighbouring In¬ 
dians, being incorporated by them, lost their name 
as a distinct people. In this first essay of their 
arms the colonists of New England seem to have 
been conducted by skilful and enterprising officers, 
and displayed both courage and perseverance as 
soldiers. But they stained their lau- 

• Cruelties exer- 

rels by the use which they made of cised against the 

• r if . , Indians. 

victory. Instead of treating the Pe¬ 
quods as an independent people, who made a gal¬ 
lant effort to defend the property, the rights, and 
the freedom of their nation, they retaliated upon 
them all the barbarities of American w ar. Some 


e Neal, i. 168. 



1022 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK X. 


they massacred in cold blood, others they gave up 
to be tortured by their Indian allies, a considerable 
number they sold as slaves in Bermudas, the rest 
were reduced to servitude among themselves/ 
Emigrations from But reprehensible as this conduct 
England; 0 f t j ie English must be deemed, their 
vigorous efforts in this decisive campaign filled all 
the surrounding tribes of Indians with such a high 
opinion of their valour as secured a long tranquil¬ 
lity to all their settlements. At the same time the 
violence of administration in England continued to 
increase their population and strength, by forcing 
many respectable subjects to tear themselves from 
all the tender connexions that bind men to their 
native country, and to fly for refuge to a region of 
the New World, which hitherto presented to them 
nothing that could allure them thither butexemption 
from oppression. The number of those 

prohibited by . . 

royal prociama- emigrants drew the attention of go¬ 
vernment, and appeared so formidable, 
that a proclamation was issued, prohibiting masters 
of ships from carrying passengers to New England 
without special permission. On many occasions 
this injunction was eluded or disregarded. Fatally 
for the king, it operated with full effect in one in¬ 
stance. Sir Arthur Haslerig, John Hampden, 
Oliver Cromwell, and some other persons whose 
principles and views coincided with theirs, im¬ 
patient to enjoy those civil and religious liberties 
which they struggled in vain to obtain in Gre.at 
Britain, hired some ships to carry them and their 
attendants to New England. By order of council, 
an embargo was laid on these when on the point of 
sailing ; and Charles, far from suspecting that the 
future revolutions in his kingdoms were to be ex¬ 
cited and directed by persons in such a humble 
sphere of life, forcibly detained the men destined 
to overturn his throne, and to terminate his days by 
a violent death.® 

But, in spite of all the efforts of government to 
check this spirit of migration, the measures of the 
king and his ministers were considered by a great 
body of the people as so hostile to those rights which 
they deemed most valuable, that in the course of the 
year one thousand six hundred and thirty-eight, 
about three thousand persons embarked for New 
England, choosing rather to expose themselves to 
all the consequences of disregarding the royal pro¬ 
clamation, than to remain longer under oppression. 
Exasperated at this contempt of his authority, 
Charles had recourse to a violent but effectual mode 
of accomplishing what he had in view. A writ of 
quo warranto was issued against the corporation of 
Colony of Mas- Massachusetts bay. The colonists had 
luedTua^nd conformed so little to the terms of their 
forfeited ite Ve charter, that judgment was given 
nglits- against them without difliculty. They 

were found to have forfeited all their rights as a 


corporation, which of course returned to the crown, 
and Charles began to take measures for new mo¬ 
delling the political frame of the colony, and vesting 
the administration of its affairs in other hands. But 
his plans were never carried into execution. In 
every corner of his dominions the storm now began 
to gather, which soon burst out with such fatal vio¬ 
lence, that Charles, during the remainder of his 
unfortunate reign occupied with domestic and more 
interesting cares, had not leisure to bestow any at¬ 
tention upon a remote and inconsiderable province/ 

On the meeting of the Long Parliament, such a 
revolution took place in England, that all the mo¬ 
tives for migrating to the New World ceased. The 
maxims of the puritans with respect to the govern¬ 
ment both of church and state became predominant 
in the nation, and were enforced by the hand of 
power. Their oppressors were humbled ; that per¬ 
fect system of reformed polity, which had long been 
the object of their admiration and desire, was esta¬ 
blished by law ; and amidst the intrigues and con¬ 
flicts of an obstinate civil war, turbulent and aspir¬ 
ing spirits found such full occupation, that they had 
no inducement to quit a busy theatre, on which they 
had risen to act a most conspicuous part. From 
the year one thousand six hundred and 

J State of the 

twenty, when the first feeble colony colonies at this 

period. 

was conducted to New England by the 
Brownists, to the year one thousand six hundred 
and forty, it has been computed that twenty-one 
thousand two hundred British subjects had settled 
there. The money expended by various adventurers 
during that period, in fitting out ships, in purchasing 
stock, and transporting settlers, amounted, on a 
moderate calculation, nearly to two hundred thou¬ 
sand pounds a vast sum in that age, and which 
no principles, inferior in force to those wherewith 
the puritans were animated, could have persuaded 
men to lay out on the uncertain prospect of obtaining 
an establishment in a remote uncultivated region, 
which, from its situation and climate, could allure 
them with no hope but that of finding subsistence 
and enjoying freedom. For some years, even sub¬ 
sistence was procured with difficulty; and it was 
towards the close of the period to which our narra¬ 
tive is arrived, before the product of the settlement 
yielded the planters any return for their stock. 
About that time they began to export corn in small 
quantities to the West Indies, and made some feeble 
attempts to extend the fishery, and to open the trade 
in lumber, which have since proved the staple arti¬ 
cles of commerce in the colony/ Since the year 
one thousand six hundred and forty, the number of 
people with which New England has recruited the 
population of the parent-state, is supposed at least 
to equal what may have been drained from it by 
occasional migrations thither. 

But though the sudden change of system in Great 


f Hutchinson, p. 58, 76, &c. Mather, Magnalia, b. vii. ch. 6. Hub 
bard s State of N. Eng. p. 5, llo, &c. 

g Mather, Magnalia, b. i. ch. 5. p. 23. Neal’s Hist, of N. Eng. i. 151 
Chalmers s Annals, i. 155, 160, &c. 


h Hutchinson, p. 86, 502, &rc. Chalmers’s Annals, i. 161. 
i Mather, b. i. ch. 4. p. 17. ch. 5. p. 23. Hutchinson, p. 193. Chal¬ 
mers s Annals, p. 165. 
k Hutchinson, p. 91, 92. 



BOOK X. 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


1023 


1C46. 


Britain stopped entirely the influx of settlers into 
New England, the principles of the colonists coin¬ 
cided so perfectly with those of the popular leaders 
in parliament, that they were soon distinguished by 
peculiar marks of their brotherly affection. By a 
Exemption from vote °f the house of Commons in the 
granted to the year one thousand six hundred and 
forty-two, the people in all the different 
plantations of New England were exempted from 
payment of any duties, either upon goods exported 
thither, or upon those which they imported into the 
mother-country, until the house shall take further 
order to the contrary. This was after¬ 
wards confirmed by the authority of 
both houses. Encouraged by such an extraor¬ 
dinary privilege, industry made rapid progress in 
all the districts of New England, and population 
increased along with it. In return for those favours, 
the colonists applauded the measures of parliament, 
celebrated its generous efforts to vindicate the rights 
and liberties of the nation, prayed for the success 
of its arms, and framed regulations in order to pre¬ 
vent any exertion in favour of the king on the other 
side of the Atlantic. 1 

Relying on the indulgent partiality with which all 
their proceedings were viewed by men thus closely 
united with them in sentiment and wishes, the people 
of New England ventured on a measure which not 
only increased their security and power, but may 
be regarded as a considerable step towards inde¬ 
pendence. Under the impression or pretext of 
the danger to which they were exposed from the 
surrounding tribes of Indians, the four colonies 
of Massachusetts, Plymouth, Connec- 
May 19. ticut, and New haven, entered into a 
the Mew England league of perpetual confederacy, of¬ 
fensive and defensive; an idea familiar 
to several leading men in the colonies, as it was 
framed in imitation of the famous bond of union 
among the Dutch provinces, in whose dominions 
the Brownists had long resided. It was stipulated 
that the confederates should henceforth be distin¬ 
guished by the name of the United Colonies of New 
England ; that each colony shall remain separate 
and distinct, and have exclusive jurisdiction within 
its ow n territory ; and that in every war, offensive 
or defensive, each of the confederates shall furnish 
his quota of men, provisions, and money, at a rate 
to be fixed from time to time, in proportion to the 
number of people in each settlement; that an as¬ 
sembly composed of two commissioners from each 
colony shall be held annually, with power to delibe¬ 
rate and decide in all points of common concern to 
the confederacy ; and every determination, in which 
six of their number concur, shall be binding on the 
whole. m In this transaction the colonies of New 
England seem to have considered themselves as 
independent societies, possessing all the rights of 
sovereignty, and free from the control of any supe- 

1 Hutchinson, p. 114. App. 517- Chalmers’s Annals, i. 174, 176. 
m Neal’s Hist, of N. Eng. i. 202, &c. Hutchinson, p. 124. Chalmers’s 
Ann. p. 177- 


rior power. The governing party in England, oc¬ 
cupied with affairs of more urgent concern, and 
no wise disposed to observe the conduct of their 
brethren in America with any jealous attention, 
suffered the measure to pass without animadversion. 

Imboldened by this connivance, the spirit of in¬ 
dependence gathered strength, and soon displayed 
itself more openly: some persons of note in the 
colony of Massachusetts, averse to the system of 
ecclesiastical polity established there, and preferring 
to it the government and discipline of the churches 
of England or Scotland, having remonstrated to the 
general court against the injustice of 
depriving them of their rights as free¬ 
men, and of their privileges as Christians, because 
they could not join as members with any of the 
congregational churches, petitioned that they might 
no longer be bound to obey laws to which they had 
not assented, nor be subjected to taxes imposed by 
an assembly in which they were not represented. 

Their demands w ere not only rejected, 

. . J J Petition of the 

but thev were imprisoned and fined as dissenters re- 

^ ^ jected. 

disturbers of the public peace; and 
when they appointed some of their number to lay 
their grievances before parliament, the annual court, 
in order to prevent this appeal to the supreme power, 
attempted first to seize their papers, and then to 
obstruct their embarkation for England. But though 
neither of these could be accomplished, such was 
the address and influence of the colony's agents in 
England, that no inquiry seems to have been made 
into this transaction." This w as followed by an in¬ 
dication, still less ambiguous, of the aspiring spirit 
prevalentamong the people of Massachusetts. Under 
every form of government the right of coining money 
has been considered as a prerogative peculiar to 
sovereignty, and which no subordinate member in 
any state is entitled to claim. Regard- 
less of this established maxim, the assumed* by The s 
general court ordered a coinage of colonists - 
silver money at Boston, stamped with the name of 
the colony, and a tree as an apt symbol of its pro¬ 
gressive vigour. 0 Even this usurpation escaped 
without notice. The independents, having now 
humbled all rival sects, engrossed the whole direc¬ 
tion of affairs in Great Britain; and long accus¬ 
tomed to admire the government of New England, 
framed agreeably to those principles which they had 
adopted as the most perfect model of civil and ec¬ 
clesiastical polity, they were unwilling to stain its 
reputation by censuring any part of its conduct. 

When Cromwell usurped the su- Cromwell patro- 
preme power, the colonies of New England C oh> 
England continued to stand as high in nies: 
his estimation. As he had deeply imbibed all the 
fanatical notions of the independents, and w as per¬ 
petually surrounded by the most eminent and artful 
teachers of that sect, he kept a constant correspond¬ 
ence with the leading men in the American settle- 

n Neal’sHist. of N.En?. i. 121. Hutchinson’s Hist. 145, &c. Collect. 
188, &c. Chaim. Ann. 179. Mather, Magnal. b. iii. ch. i. p. 30. 

o Hutchinson’s Hist. 177, 178. Chalmers’s Annals, p. 181. 



1024 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


BOOK X. 


ments, who seem to have looked up to him as a 
zealous patron .p He in return considered them as 
his most devoted adherents, attached to him no less 
by affection than by principle. He soon gave a 

striking proof of this. On the con- 

proposes to trans- . /> T . , . 

port the colonists quest ot Jamaica, he formed a scheme 
to Jamaica. „ , 

tor the security and improvement of 
the acquisition made by his victorious arms, suited 
to the ardour of an impetuous spirit that delighted 
in accomplishing its ends by extraordinary means. 
He proposed to transport the people of New r Eng¬ 
land to that island, and employed every argument 
calculated to make impression upon them, in order 
to obtain their consent. He endeavoured to rouse 
their religious zeal, by representing what a fatal 
blow it would be to the man of sin, if a colony of 
the faithful were settled in the midst of his territo¬ 
ries in the New World. He allured them with 
prospects of immense wealth in a fertile region, 

p Hutchinson, App. 520, &c. Collect, p. 233. 


which would reward the industry of those who cul¬ 
tivated it with all the precious productions of the 
torrid zone, and expressed his fervent wish that 
they might take possession of it, in order to fulfil 
God’s promise of making his people the head and 
not the tail. He assured them of being supported 
by the whole force of his authority, and of vesting 
all the powers of government entirely in their hands. 
But by this time the colonists were at- 

, . Colonists decline 

tached to a country in which they had accepting tins 
• od’er. 

resided for many years, and where, 
though they did not attain opulence, they enjoyed 
the comforts of life in great abundance ; and they 
dreaded so much the noxious climate of the West 
Indies, which had proved fatal to a great number of 
the English who first settled in Jamaica, that they 
declined, though in the most respectful terms, 
closing with the protector's proposition^ 

q Hutchinson, p. 190, &c. Chalmers, p. 188. 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 


TO THE 


HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Note I. (Page 729.) 

Tyre was situated at such a distance from the Ara¬ 
bian gulf, or Red sea, as made it impracticable to 
convey commodities from thence to that city by 
land-carriage. This induced the Phenicians to 
render themselves masters of Rhinocrura or Rhi- 
nocolura , the nearest port in the Mediterranean 
to the Red sea. They landed the cargoes which 
they purchased in Arabia, Ethiopia, and India, at 
Elath, the safest harbour in the Red sea towards the 
north. Thence they were carried by land to Rhino- 
colura, the distance not being very considerable; 
and, being re-shipped in that port, were transported 
to Tyre, and distributed over the world. Strabon. 
Geogr. edit. Casaub. lib. xvi. p. 1128. Diodor. 
Sicul. Biblioth. Hist. Edit. Wesselingii, lib. i. p. 70. 

Note II. (Page 730.) 

The Periplus Hannonis is the only authentic 
monument of the Carthaginian skill in naval affairs, 
and one of the most curious fragments transmitted 
to us by antiquity. The learned and industrious 
Mr. Dodwell, in a dissertation prefixed to the Pe¬ 
riplus of Hanno, in the edition of the Minor Geo¬ 
graphers published at Oxford, endeavours to prove 
that this is a spurious work, the composition of some 
Greek, who assumed Hanno's name. But M. de 
Montesquieu, in his l’Esprit des Loix, lib. xxi. c. 
8. and M. de Bougainville, in a dissertation pub¬ 
lished, tom. xxvi. of the Memoires de FAcademie 
des Inscriptions, &c. have established its authen¬ 
ticity by arguments which to me appear unanswer¬ 
able. Ramusio has accompanied his translation of 
this curious voyage with a dissertation tending to 
illustrate it. Racolte de Yiaggi, vol. i. p. 112. M. 
de Bougainville has, with great learning and abi¬ 
lity, treated the same subject. It appears that Han- 

3 u 


no, according to the mode of ancient navigation, un¬ 
dertook this voyage in small vessels, so constructed 
that he could keep close in with the coast. He sailed 
from Gades to the island of Cerne in twelve days. 
This is probably what is known to the moderns by 
the name of the isle of Arguim. It became the chief 
station of the Carthaginians on that coast; and M. 
de Bougainville contends, that the cisterns found 
there are monuments of the Carthaginian power 
and ingenuity. Proceeding from Cerne, and still 
following the winding of the coast, he arrived, in 
seventeen days, at a promontory which he called 
The West Horn , probably Cape Palmas. From 
this he advanced to another promontory, which 
he named The South Horn , and which is mani¬ 
festly Cape de Tres Puntas, about five degrees north 
of the line. All the circumstances contained in 
the short abstract of his journal, which is handed 
down to us concerning the appearance and state 
of the countries on the coast of Africa, are con¬ 
firmed and illustrated by a comparison with the 
accounts of modern navigators. Even those circum¬ 
stances which, from their seeming improbability, 
have been produced to invalidate the credibility 
of his relation, tend to confirm it. He observes, 
that in the country to the south of Cerne, a profound 
silence reigned through the day ; but during the 
night innumerable fires were kindled along the 
banks of the rivers, and the air resounded with the 
noise of pipes and drums, and cries of joy. The 
same thing, as Ramusio observes, still takes place. 
The excessive heat obliges the negroes to take 
shelter in the woods, or in their houses, during the 
day. As soon as the sun sets they sally out, and by 
torch-light enjoy the pleasure of music and danc¬ 
ing, in which they spend the night. Ramus, i. 
113. F. In another place, he mentions the sea as 
burning with torrents of fire. What occurred to 





1026 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


M. Adanson, on the same coast, may explain this: 

“ As soon,” says he, “ as the sun dipped beneath 
the horizon, and night overspread the earth with 
darkness, the sea lent us its friendly light. While 
the prow of our vessel ploughed the foaming surges, 
it seemed to set them all on fire. Thus we sailed 
in a luminous enclosure, which surrounded us like 
a large circle of rays, from whence darted in the 
wake of the ship a long stream of light.” Voy. to 
Senegal, p. 176. This appearance of the sea, ob¬ 
served by Hunter, has been mentioned as an argu¬ 
ment against the authenticity of the Periplus. It 
is, however, a phenomenon very common in warm 
climates. Captain Cook’s Second Voyage, vol. i. 

р. 15. The Periplus of Hanno has been translated, 
and every point with respect to it has been illus¬ 
trated with much learning and ingenuity, in a work 
published by Don Pedr. Rodrig. Campomanes, en¬ 
titled, Antiguedad maritima de Cartago, con el Pe- 
riplo de su General Hannon traducido e illustrado. 
Mad. 1756. 4to. 

Note III. (Page 730.) 

Long after the navigation of the Phenicians and 
of Eudoxus round Africa, Polybius, the most intel¬ 
ligent and best informed historian of antiquity, and 
particularly distinguished by his attention to geo¬ 
graphical researches, aflirms, that it was not known, 
in his time, whether Africa was a continued con¬ 
tinent, stretching to the south, or whether it was en¬ 
compassed by the sea. Polybii Hist. lib. iii. Pliny 
the naturalist asserts, that there can be no commu¬ 
nication between the southern and northern tempe¬ 
rate zones. Plinii Hist. Natur. edit, in usum 
Delph. 4to. lib. ii. c. 68. If they had given full 
credit to the accounts of those voyages, the former 
could not have entertained such a doubt, the latter 
could not have delivered such an opinion. Strabo 
mentions the voyage of Eudoxus, but treats it as a 
fabulous tale, lib. ii. p. 155. ; and, according to his 
account of it, no other judgment can be formed 
with respect to it. Strabo seems not to have known 
any thing with certainty concerning the form and 
state of the southern parts of Africa. Geogr. lib. 
xvii. p. 1180. Ptolemy, the most inquisitive and 
learned of all the ancient geographers, was equally 
unacquainted with any parts of Africa situated a 
few degrees beyond the equinoctial line; for he 
supposes that this great continent was not sur¬ 
rounded by the sea, but that it stretched, without 
interruption, towards the south pole ; and he so far 
mistakes its true figure, that he describes the con¬ 
tinent as becoming broader and broader as it ad¬ 
vanced towards the south. Ptolemaei Geogr. lib. iv. 

с. 9. Brietii Parallela Geogr. veteris et novae, p. 86. 

Note IV. (Page 731.) 

A fact, recorded by Strabo, affords a very strong 
and singular proof of the ignorance of the ancients 
with respect to the situation of the various parts of 
the earth. When Alexander marched along the 


banks of the Hydaspes and Acesine, two ol the 
rivers which fall into the Indus, he observed that 
there were many crocodiles in those rivers, and that 
the country produced beans of the same species 
with those which were common in Egypt. From 
these circumstances, he concluded that he had dis¬ 
covered the source of the Nile, and prepared a fleet 
to sail down the Hydaspes to Egypt. Strab. Geogr. 
lib. xv. p. 1020. This amazing error did not arise 
from any ignorance of geography peculiar to that 
monarch ; for we are informed by Strabo, that Alex¬ 
ander applied with particular attention in order to 
acquire the knowledge of this science, and had ac¬ 
curate maps or descriptions of the countries through 
which he marched. Lib. ii. p. 120. But in his age 
the knowledge of the Greeks did not extend beyond 
the limits of the Mediterranean. 

Note V. (Page 732.) 

As the flux and reflux of the sea is remarkably 
great at the mouth of the river Indus, this would 
render the phenomenon more formidable to the 
Greeks. Varen. Geogr. vol. i. p. 251. 

Note VI. (Page 732.) 

It is probable that the ancients were seldom in¬ 
duced to advance so far as the mouth of the Gan¬ 
ges, either by motives of curiosity, or views of 
commercial advantage. In consequence of this, 
their idea concerning the position of that great 
river was very erroneous. Ptolemy places that 
branch of the Ganges, which he distinguishes by the 
name of the Great Mouth, in the hundred and forty- 
sixth degree of longitude from his first meridian in 
the Fortunate Islands. But its true longitude, 
computed from that meridian, is now determined, 
by astronomical observations, to be only a hundred 
and five degrees. A geographer so eminent must 
have been betrayed into an error of this magnitude, 
by the imperfection of the information which he 
had received concerning those distant regions ; and 
this affords a striking proof of the intercourse with 
them being extremely rare. With respect to the 
countries of India beyond the Ganges, his intelli¬ 
gence was still more defective, and his errors more 
enormous. I shall have occasion to observe, in 
another place, that he has placed the country of the 
Seres, or China, no less than sixty degrees further 
east than its true position. M. d’Anville, one of 
the most learned and intelligent of the modern geo¬ 
graphers, has set this matter in a clear light, in two 
dissertations published in Mem. de l’Academ. des 
Inscript. &c. tom. xxxii. p. 573. 604. 

Note VII. (Page 733.) 

It is remarkable, that the discoveries of the an¬ 
cients were made chiefly by land ; those of the 
moderns are carried on chiefly by sea. The progress 
of conquest led to the former, that of commerce to 
the latter. It is a judicious observation of Strabo, 
that the conquests of Alexander the Great made 








NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1027 


known the East, those of the Romans opened the 
West, and those of Mithridates, king of Pontus, the 
North. Lib. i. p. 26. When discovery is carried 
on by land alone its progress must be slow and its 
operations confined. When it is carried on only by 
sea, its sphere may be more extensive, and its 
advances more rapid ; but it labours under peculiar 
defects. Though it may make known the position 
of different countries, and ascertain their bounda¬ 
ries as far as these are determined by the ocean, it 
leaves us in ignorance with respect to their interior 
state. Above tw o centuries and a half have elapsed 
since the Europeans sailed round the southern pro¬ 
montory of Africa, and have traded in most of its 
ports ; but, in a considerable part of that great con¬ 
tinent, they have done little more than survey its 
coasts, and mark its capes and harbours. Its inte¬ 
rior regions are in a great measure unknown. The 
ancients, who had a very imperfect knowledge of 
its coasts, except where they are washed by the 
Mediterranean or Red sea, were accustomed to 
penetrate into its inland provinces, and, if we may 
rely on the testimony of Herodotus and Diodorus 
Siculus, had explored many parts of it now altoge¬ 
ther unknown. Unless both modes of discovery be 
united, the geographical knowledge of the earth 
must remain incomplete and inaccurate. 

Note VIII. (Page 734.) 

The notion of the ancients concerning such an 
excessive degree of heat in the torrid zone, as ren¬ 
dered it uninhabitable, and their persisting in this 
error long after they began to have some commercial 
intercourse with several parts of India lying within 
the tropics, must appear so singular and absurd, 
that it may not be unacceptable to some of my 
readers to produce evidence of their holding this 
opinion, and to account for the apparent inconsist¬ 
ence of their theory with their experience. Cicero, 
who had bestowed attention upon every part of 
philosophy known to the ancients, seems to have 
believed that the torrid zone was uninhabitable, 
and, of consequence, that there could be no inter¬ 
course between the northern and southern temperate 
zones. He introduces Africanus thus addressing 
the younger Scipio : “ You see this earth encom¬ 
passed, and as it were bound in, by certain zones, of 
which two, at the greatest distance from each other, 
and sustaining the opposite poles of heaven, are 
frozen with perpetual cold; the middle one, and the 
largest of all, is burnt with the heat of the sun ; two 
are habitable, the people in the southern one are 
antipodes to us, with whom we have no connexion.” 
Somnium Scipionis, c. 6. Geminus, a Greek philo¬ 
sopher, contemporary with Cicero, delivers the same 
doctrine, not in a popular work, but in his Einayioyrj 
hq ^aivoptva. a treatise purely scientific. When 
we speak,” says he, “ of the southern temperate 
zone, and its inhabitants, and concerning those who 
are called antipodes, it must be always understood, 
that we have no certain knowledge or information 

3 u 2 


concerning the southern temperate zone, whether it 
be inhabited or not. But from the spherical figure 
of the earth, and the course which the sun holds 
between the tropics, we conclude that there is 
another zone situated to the south, which enjoys the 
same degree of temperature with the northern one 
which we inhabit.” Cap. xiii. p. 31. ap. Petavii 
Opus de Doc.tr. Tempor. in quo Uranologium sive 
Systemata var. Auctorum. Amst. 1705. vol. iii. 
The opinion .of Pliny the naturalist, with respect to 
both these points, was the same: “There are five 
divisions of the earth which are called zones. All 
that portion which lies near to the two opposite 
poles is oppressed with vehement cold and eternal 
frost. There, unblest with the aspect of milder 
stars, perpetual darkness reigns, or at the utmost a 
feeble light reflected from surrounding snow s. The 
middle of the earth, in w hich is the orbit of the sun, 
is scorched and burnt up with flames and fiery 
vapour. Between these torrid and frozen districts 
lie two other portions of the earth, which are tem¬ 
perate ; but, on account of the burning region inter¬ 
posed, there can be no communication between 
them. Thus Heaven has deprived us of three parts 
of the earth.” Lib. ii. c. 68. Strabo delivers his 
opinion to the same effect, in terms no less explicit: 
“ The portion of the earth which lies near the equa¬ 
tor, in the torrid zone, is rendered uninhabitable by 
heat.” Lib. ii. p. 154. To these I might add the 
authority of many other respectable philosophers 
and historians of antiquity. 

In order to explain the sense in which this doc¬ 
trine was generally received, we may observe, that 
Parmenides, as we are informed by Strabo, was the 
first who divided the earth into five zones, and he 
extended the limits of the zone which he supposed 
to be uninhabitable on account of heat, beyond the 
tropics. Aristotle, as we learn likewise from Strabo, 
fixed the boundaries of the different zones in the 
same manner as they are defined by modern geo¬ 
graphers. But the progress of discovery having 
gradually demonstrated that several regions of the 
earth which lay within the tropics were not only 
habitable, but populous and fertile, this induced 
later geographers to circumscribe the limits of the 
torrid zone. It is not easy to ascertain with pre¬ 
cision the boundaries which they allotted to it. 
From a passage in Strabo, who, as far as I know r , 
is the only author of antiquity from whom we re¬ 
ceive any hint concerning this subject, I should 
conjecture, that those who calculated according to 
the measurement of the earth by Eratosthenes, 
supposed the torrid zone to comprehend near six¬ 
teen degrees, about eight on each side of the equa¬ 
tor ; whereas such as followed the computation of 
Posidonius allotted about twenty-four degrees, or 
somew hat more than tw elve degrees on each side of 
the equator, to the torrid zone. Strabo, lib. ii. p. 
151. According to the former opinion, about two 
thirds of that portion of the earth which lies betw een 
the tropics was considered as habitable ; according 



1028 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


to the latter, about one half of it. With this re¬ 
striction, the doctrine of the ancients concerning 
the torrid zone appears less absurd ; and we can 
conceive the reason of their asserting this zone to be 
uninhabitable, even after they had opened a com¬ 
munication with several places within the tropics. 
When men of science spoke of the torrid zone, they 
considered it as it was limited by the definition of 
geographers to sixteen, or at the utmost to twenty- 
four, degrees; and as they knew almost nothing of 
the countries nearer to the equator, they might still 
suppose them to be uninhabitable. In loose and 
popular discourse, the name of the torrid zone con¬ 
tinued to be given to all that portion of the earth 
which lies within the tropics. Cicero seems to 
have been unacquainted with those ideas of the 
later geographers ; and, adhering to the division of 
Parmenides, describes the torrid zone as the largest 
of the five. Some of the ancients rejected the notion 
concerning the intolerable heat of the torrid zone as 
a popular error. This, we are told by Plutarch, 
was the sentiment of Pythagoras; and we learn 
from Strabo, that Eratosthenes and Polybius had 
adopted the same opinion, lib. ii. p. 154. Ptolemy 
seems to have paid no regard to the ancient doctrine 
and opinions concerning the torrid zone. 

Note IX. (Page 739.) 

The court of inquisition, which effectually checks 
a spirit of liberal inquiry, and of literary improve¬ 
ment, wherever it is established, was unknown in 
Portugal in the fifteenth century, when the people 
of that kingdom began their voyages of discovery. 
More than a century elapsed before it was intro¬ 
duced by John III. whose reign commenced A. D. 
1521. 

Note X. (Page 742.) 

An instance of this is related by Hackluyt, upon 
the authority of the Portuguese historian Garcia de 
Resende. Some English merchants having resolved 
to open a trade with the coast of Guinea, John II. 
of Portugal despatched ambassadors to Edward IY. 
in order to lay before him the right which he had 
acquired by the pope’s bull to the dominion of that 
country, and to request of him to prohibit his sub¬ 
jects to prosecute their intended voyage. Edward 
was so much satisfied with the exclusive title of the 
Portuguese, that he issued his orders in the terms 
which they desired. Hackluyt, Navigations, Voy¬ 
ages, and Traffics of the English, vol. ii. part ii. p. 2. 

Note XI. (Page 744.) 

The time of Columbus’s death may be nearly 
ascertained by the following circumstances. It ap¬ 
pears from the fragment of a letter, addressed by 
him to Ferdinand and Isabella, A. D. 1501, that he 
had, at that time, been engaged forty years in a sea¬ 
faring life. In another letter he informs them, that 
he went to sea at the age of fourteen : from those 
facts it follows, that he was born A. I). 1447. Life 


of Christo. Columbus, by his son Don Ferdinand 
Churchill’s Collection of Voyages, vol. ii- p.484,486. 

Note XII. (Page 746.) 

The spherical figure of the earth was known to 
the ancient geographers. They invented the method, 
still in use, of computing the longitude and latitude 
of different places. According to their doctrine, the 
equator, or imaginary line which encompasses the 
earth, contained three hundred and sixty degrees; 
these they divided into twenty-four parts, or hours, 
each equal to fifteen degrees. The country of the 
Seres, or Since, being the furthest part of India 
known to the ancients, was supposed by Marinus 
Tyrius, the most eminent of the ancient geographers 
before Ptolemy, to be fifteen hours, or two hundred 
and twenty-five degrees to the east of the first meri¬ 
dian, passing through the Fortunate Islands. Pto- 
lemaei Geogr. lib. i. c. 11. If this supposition was 
well founded, the country of the Seres, or China, 
was only nine hours, or one hundred and thirty-five 
degrees, west from the Fortunate or Canary Islands ; 
and the navigation in that direction was much shorter 
than by the course which the Portuguese were pur¬ 
suing. Marco Polo, in his travels, had described 
countries, particularly the island of Cipango or 
Zipangri, supposed to be Japan, considerably to the 
east of any part of Asia known to the ancients. 
Marcus Paulus de Region. Oriental, lib. ii. c. 70. 
lib. iii. c. 2. Of course, this country, as it extended 
further to the east, was still nearer to the Canary 
Islands. The conclusions of Columbus, though 
drawn from inaccurate observations, were just. If 
the suppositions of Marinus had been well founded, 
and if the countries which Marco Polo visited had 
been situated to the east of those whose longitude 
Marinus had ascertained, the proper and nearest 
course to the East Indies must have been to steer 
directly west. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 2. A more 
extensive knowledge of the globe has now discovered 
the great error of Marinus, in supposing China to 
be fifteen hours, or two hundred and twenty-five 
degrees east from the Canary Islands, and that even 
Ptolemy was mistaken, when he reduced the longi¬ 
tude of China to twelve hours, or one hundred and 
eighty degrees. The longitude of the western 
frontier of that vast empire is seven hours, or one 
hundred and fifteen degrees from the meridian of 
the Canary Islands. But Columbus followed the 
light which his age afforded, and relied upon the 
authority of writers, who were, at that time, regarded 
as the instructors and guides of mankind in the 
science of geography. 

Note XIII. (Page 752.) 

As the Portuguese, in making their discoveries, 
did not depart far from the coasts of Africa, they 
concluded that birds, whose flight they observed 
with great attention, did not venture to any con¬ 
siderable distance from land. In the infancy of na¬ 
vigation it was not known, that birds often stretched 



102.9 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


their flight to an immense distance from any shore. 
In sailing towards the West Indian islands, birds 
are often seen at the distance of two hundred 
leagues from the nearest coast. Sloane’s Nat. 
Hist, of Jamaica, vol. i. p. 30. Catesby saw an owl 
at sea, when the ship was six hundred leagues dis¬ 
tant from land. Nat. Hist, of Carolina, pref. p. 7. 
Hist. Naturelle de M. Buffon, tom. xvi. p. 32. 
From which it appears, that this indication of land, 
on which Columbus seems to have relied with some 
confidence, was extremely uncertain. This obser¬ 
vation is confirmed by Capt. Cook, the most exten¬ 
sive and experienced navigator of any age or nation. 
“ No one yet knows (says he) to what distance any 
of the oceanic birds go to sea ; for my own part, I 
do not believe that there is one in the whole tribe 
that can be relied on in pointing out the vicinity of 
land.” Voyage towards the South Pole, vol. i. 
p. 275. 

Note XIV. (Page 755.) 

In a letter of the admiral’s to Ferdinand and Isa¬ 
bella, he describes one of the harbours in Cuba 
with all the enthusiastic admiration of a discoverer. 
—“ I discovered a river which a galley might easily 
enter : the beauty of it induced me to sound, and I 
found from five to eight fathoms of water. Having 
proceeded a considerable way up the river, every 
thing invited me to settle there. The beauty of the 
river, the clearness of the water, through which I 
could see the sandy bottom, the multitude of palm 
trees of different kinds, the tallest and finest I had 
seen, and an infinite number of other large and 
flourishing trees, the birds, and the verdure of the 
plains, are so wonderfully beautiful, that this coun¬ 
try excels all others as far as the day surpasses the 
night in brightness and splendour, so that I often 
said, that it would be in vain for me to attempt to 
give your highnesses a full account of it, for neither 
my tongue nor my pen could come up to the truth ; 
and indeed I am so much amazed at the sight of 
such beauty, that I know not how to describe it.” 
Life of Columb. c. 30. 

Note XV. (Page 757.) 

The account which Columbus gives of the hu¬ 
manity and orderly behaviour of the natives on this 
occasion is very striking. “The king (says he, in 
a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella) having been in¬ 
formed of our misfortune, expressed great grief for 
our loss, and immediately sent aboard all the peo¬ 
ple in the place in many large canoes ; we soon 
unloaded the ship of every thing that was upon 
deck, as the king gave us great assistance : he him¬ 
self, with his brothers and relations, took all pos¬ 
sible care that every thing should be properly done, 
both aboard and on shore. And, from time to time, 
he sent some of his relations weeping, to beg of me 
not to be dejected, for he would give me all that he 
had. I can assure your highnesses, that so much 
care would not have been taken in securing our 


effects in any part of Spain, as all our property was 
put together in one place near his palace, until the 
houses which he wanted to prepare for the custody 
of it were emptied. He immediately placed a 
guard of armed men, who watched during the 
whole night, and those on shore lamented as if 
they had been much interested in our loss. The 
people are so affectionate, so tractable, and so 
peaceable, that I swear to your highnesses, that 
there is not a better race of men, nor a better coun¬ 
try, in the world. They love their neighbour as 
themselves ; their conversation is the sweetest and 
mildest in the world, cheerful and always accom¬ 
panied with a smile. And although it is true that 
they go naked, yet your highnesses may be assured 
that they have many very commendable customs ; 
the king is served with great state, and his beha¬ 
viour is so decent, that it is pleasant to see him, as 
it is likewise to observe the wonderful memory 
which these people have, and their desire of know¬ 
ing every thing, which leads them to inquire into 
its causes and effects.” Life of Columbus, c. 32. 
It is probable, that the Spaniards were indebted, for 
this officious attention, to the opinion which the 
Indians entertained of them as a superior order of 
beings. 

Note XVI. (Page 759.) 

Every monument of such a man as Columbus is 
valuable. A letter which he wrote to Ferdinand 
and Isabella, describing what passed on this occa¬ 
sion, exhibits a most striking picture of his intre¬ 
pidity, his humanity, his prudence, his public spirit, 
and courtly address. “ I would have been less 
concerned for this misfortune had 1 alone been in 
danger, both because my life is a debt that I owe to 
the supreme Creator, and because I have at other 
times been exposed to the most imminent hazard. 
But what gave me infinite grief and vexation was, 
that after it had pleased our Lord to give me faith 
to undertake this enterprise, in which I had now 
been so successful, that my opponents would have 
been convinced, and the glory of your highnesses, 
and the extent of your territory increased by me, it 
should please the divine majesty to stop all by my 
death. All this would have been more tolerable, 
had it not been attended with the loss of those men 
whom I had carried with me, upon promise of the 
greatest prosperity, who, seeing themselves in such 
distress, cursed not only their coming along with 
me, but that fear and awe of me which prevented 
them from returning, as they often had resolved 
to have done. But besides all this, my sorrow was 
greatly increased by recollecting that I had left my 
two sons at school at Cordova, destitute of friends, 
in a foreign country, when it could not in all proba¬ 
bility be known that I had done such services as 
might induce your highnesses to remember them. 
And though I comforted myself with the faith that 
our Lord would not permit that, which tended so 
much to the glory of his church, and which I had 



1030 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


brought about with so much trouble, to remain im¬ 
perfect, yet I considered, that, on account of my 
sins, it was his will to deprive me of that glory, 
which I might have attained in this world. While 
in this confused state, I thought on the good for¬ 
tune which accompanies your highnesses, and ima¬ 
gined that although I should perish, and the vessel 
be lost, it was possible that you might somehow 
come to the knowledge of my voyage, and the suc¬ 
cess with which it was attended. For that reason 
I wrote upon parchment with the brevity which the 
situation required, that I had discovered the lands 
which I promised, in how many days I had 
done it, and what course I had followed. I men¬ 
tioned the goodness of the country, the character 
of the inhabitants, and that your highnesses’ sub¬ 
jects were left in possession of all that I had disco¬ 
vered. Having sealed this writing, I addressed it 
to your highnesses, and promised a thousand ducats 
to any person who should deliver it sealed, so that 
if any foreigners found it, the promised reward 
might prevail on them not to give the information 
to another. I then caused a great cask to be brought 
to me, and wrapping up the parchment in an oiled 
cloth, and afterwards in a cake of wax, I put it 
into the cask, and having stopped it well, I cast it 
into the sea. All the men believed that it was some 
act of devotion. Imagining that this might never 
chance to be taken up, as the ships approached 
nearer to Spain I made another packet like the 
first, and placed it at the top of the poop, so that if 
the ship sunk, the cask remaining above water might 
be committed to the guidance of fortune.” 

Note XVII. (Page 760.) 

Some Spanish authors, with the meanness of na¬ 
tional jealousy, have endeavoured to detract from 
the glory of Columbus by insinuating that he was 
led to the discovery of the New World, not by his 
own inventive or enterprising genius, but by infor¬ 
mation which he had received. According to their 
account, a vessel having been driven from its course 
by easterly winds, was carried before them far to 
the west, and landed on the coast of an unknown 
country, from which it returned with difficulty; 
the pilot and three sailors being the only persons 
who survived the distresses which the crew suffered, 
from want of provisions, and fatigue in this long 
voyage. In a few days after their arrival, all the 
four died ; but the pilot having been received into 
the house of Columbus, his intimate friend disclosed 
to him, before his death, the secret of the discovery 
which he had accidentally made, and left him his 
papers, containing a journal of a voyage, which 
served as a guide to Columbus in his undertaking. 
Gomara, as far as I know, is the first author who 
published this story. Hist. c. 13. Every circum¬ 
stance is destitute of evidence to support it. Neither 
the name of the vessel nor its destination is known. 
Some pretend that it belonged to one of the seaport 
towns in Andalusia, and was sailing either to the 


Canaries, or to Madeira ; others, that it was a Bis- 
cayner in its way to England ; others, a Portuguese 
ship trading on the coast of Guinea. The name of 
the pilot is alike unknown, as well as that of the 
port in which he landed on his return. According 
to some, it was in Portugal; according to others, in 
Madeira, or the Azores. The year in which this 
voyage was made is no less uncertain. Monson’s 
Nav. Tracts. Churchill, iii. 371. No mention is 
made of this pilot, or his discoveries, by And. Ber- 
naldes, or Pet. Martyr, the contemporaries of Co¬ 
lumbus. Herrera, with his usual judgment, passes 
over it in silence. Oviedo takes notice of this 
report, but considers it as a tale fit only to amuse 
the vulgar. Hist. lib. ii. c. 2. As Columbus held 
his course directly west from the Canaries, and 
never varied it, some later authors have supposed, 
that this uniformity is a proof of his being guided 
by some previous information. But they do not 
recollect the principles on which he founded all his 
hopes of success, that by holding a westerly course, 
he must certainly arrive at those regions of the east 
described by the ancients. His firm belief of his 
own system led him to take that course, and to 
pursue it without deviation. 

The Spaniards are not the only people who have 
called in question Columbus’s claim to the honour of 
having discovered America. Some German authors 
ascribe this honour to Martin Behairn, their coun¬ 
tryman. He was of the noble family of the Behaims 
of Schwartzbach, citizens of the first rank in the 
imperial town of Nuremberg. Having studied un¬ 
der the celebrated John Muller, better known by 
the name of Regiomontanus, he acquired such 
knowledge of cosmography, as excited a desire of 
exploring those regions, the situation and qualities 
of which he had been accustomed, under that able 
master, to investigate and describe. Under the 
patronage of the duchess of Burgundy he repaired 
to Lisbon, whither the fame of the Portuguese dis¬ 
coveries invited all the adventurous spirits of the 
age. There, as we learn from Herman Schedel, of 
whose Chronicon Mundi a German translation was 
printed at Nuremberg, A. D. 1493, his merit as a 
cosmographer raised him, in conjunction with Diego 
Cano, to the command of a squadron fitted out for 
discovery in the year 1483. In that voyage, he is 
said to have discovered the kingdom of Congo. He 
settled in the island of Fayal, one of the Azores, 
and was a particular friend of Columbus. Herrera, 
dec. 1. lib. i. c. 2. Magellan had a terrestrial globe 
made by Behaim, on which he demonstrated the 
course that he proposed to hold in search of the 
communication with the South Sea, which he after¬ 
wards discovered. Gomara, Hist. c. 19. Herrera, 
dec. 11. lib. ii. c. 19. In the year 1492, Behaim 
visited his relations in Nuremberg, and left with 
them a map drawn with his own hand, which is 
still preserved among the archives of the family. 
Thus far the story of Martin Behaim seems to be 
well authenticated ; but the account of his having 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1031 


discovered any part of the New World appears to 
be merely conjectural. 

In the first edition, as I had at that time hardly 
any knowledge of Behaim but what I derived from 
a frivolous dissertation ‘ De vero Novi Orbis In- 
ventore,’ published at Francfort, A. D. 1714, by 
Jo. Frid. Stuvenius, I was induced, by the autho¬ 
rity of Herrera, to suppose that Behaim was not a 
native of Germany ; but from more full and accu¬ 
rate information, communicated to me by the learn¬ 
ed Dr. John Reinhold Forster, I am now satisfied 
that I was mistaken. Dr. Forster has been likewise 
so good as to favour me with a copy of Behaim’s 
map, as published by Doppelmayer in his account 
of the Mathematicians and Artists of Nuremberg. 
From this map, the imperfection of cosmographical 
knowledge at that period is manifest. Hardly one 
place is laid down in its true situation. Nor can I 
discover from it any reason to suppose that Behaim 
had the least knowledge of any region in America. 
He delineates, indeed, an island to which he gives 
the name of St. Brandon. This, it is imagined, 
may be some part of Guiana, supposed at first to be 
an island. He places it in the same latitude with 
the Cape Verd isles, and I suspect it to be an ima¬ 
ginary island which has been admitted into some 
ancient maps on no better authority than the legend 
of the Irish St. Brandon or Brendan, whose story 
is so childishly fabulous as to be unworthy of any 
notice. Girald. Cambrensis ap. Missingham Flo- 
rilegium Sanctorum, p. 427. 

The pretensions of the Welch to the discovery of 
America seem not to rest on a foundation much 
more solid. In the twelfth century, according to 
Powell, a dispute having arisen among the sons of 
Owen Guyneth, king of North Wales, concerning 
the succession to his crown, Madoc, one of their 
number, weary of this contention, betook himself 
to sea in quest of a more quiet settlement. He 
steered due west, leaving Ireland to the north, and 
arrived in an unknown country, which appeared to 
him so desirable, that he returned to Wales, and 
carried thither several of his adherents and com¬ 
panions. This is said to have happened about the 
year 1170, and after that, he and his colony were 
heard of no more. But it is to be observed, that 
Powell, on whose testimony the authenticity of this 
story rests, published his history above four centu¬ 
ries from the date of the event which he relates. 
Among a people as rude and as illiterate as the 
Welch at that period, the memory of a transaction 
so remote must have been very imperfectly pre¬ 
served, and would require to be confirmed by some 
author of greater credit, and nearer to the aera of 
Madoc’s voyage, than Powell. Later antiquaries 
have indeed appealed to the testimony of Meredith 
ap Rees, a Welch bard, who died A. D. 1477. But 
he, too, lived at such a distance of time from the 
event, that he cannot be considered as a witness of 
much more credit than Powell. Besides, his verses, 
published by Hakluyt, vol. iil. p. 1. convey no in¬ 


formation, but that Madoc, dissatisfied with his 
domestic situation, employed himself in searching 
the ocean for new possessions. But even if we 
admit the authenticity of Powell’s story, it does not 
follow that the unknown country which Madoc 
discovered by steering west, in such a course as to 
leave Ireland to the north, was any part of America. 
The naval skill of the Welch in the twelfth century 
was hardly equal to such a voyage. If he made 
any discovery at all, it is more probable that it was 
Madeira, or some other of the western isles. The 
affinity of the Welch language with some dialects 
spoken in America, has been mentioned as a cir¬ 
cumstance which confirms the truth of Madoc’s 
voyage. But that affinity has been observed in so 
few instances, and in some of these is so obscure, 
or so fanciful, that no conclusion can be drawn 
from the casual resemblance of a small number of 
words. There is a bird, which, as far as is yet 
known, is found only on the coasts of South Ame¬ 
rica, from Port Desire to the Straits of Magellan. 
It is distinguished by the name of Penguin . This 
word in the Welch language signifies White-head. 
Almost all the authors who favour the pretensions 
of the Welch to the discovery of America, mention 
this as an irrefragable proof of the affinity of the 
Welch language with that spoken in this region of 
America. But Mr. Pennant, who has given a scien¬ 
tific description of the penguin, observes, that all 
the birds of this genus have black heads, “ so that 
we must resign every hope (adds he) founded on 
this hypothesis, of retrieving the Cambrian race in 
the New World.” Philos. Transact, vol. lviii. p. 
91, &c. Besides this, if the Welch, towards the 
close of the twelfth century, had settled in any part 
of America, some remains of the Christian doctrine 
and rites must have been found among their descen¬ 
dants, when they were discovered about three hun¬ 
dred years posterior to their migration ; a period so 
short, that, in the course of it, we cannot well sup¬ 
pose that all European ideas and arts would be 
totally forgotten. Lord Lyttleton, in his notes to 
the fifth book of his History of Henry II. p. 371. 
has examined what Powell relates concerning the 
discoveries made by Madoc, and invalidates the 
truth of his story by other arguments of great weight. 

The pretensions of the Norwegians to the dis¬ 
covery of America seem to be better founded than 
those of the Germans or Welch. The inhabitants 
of Scandinavia were remarkable in the middle ages 
for the boldness and extent of their maritime ex¬ 
cursions. In 874, the Norwegians discovered and 
planted a colony in Iceland. In 982, they discover¬ 
ed Greenland, and established settlements there. 
From that, some of their navigators proceeded 
towards the west, and discovered a country more 
inviting than those horrid regions with which they 
were acquainted. According to their representation, 
this country w r as sandy on the coasts, but in the 
interior parts level and covered with w ood, on which 
account they gave it the name of Helle-land, and 



1032 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Mark-land , and having: afterwards found some 
plants of the vine which bore grapes, they called it 
Win-land. The credit of this story rests, as far as I 
know, on the authority of the saga, or chronicle of 
king Olaus, composed by Snorro Sturlonides, or 
Sturlusons, published by Perinskiold, at Stockholm, 
A. D. 1697. As Snorro was born in the year 1179, 
his chronicle might be compiled about two centuries 
after the event which he relates. His account of 
the navigation and discoveries of Biorn , and his 
companion Lief, is a very rude confused tale, p. 
104. 110. 326. It is impossible to discover from him 
what part of America it was in which the Nor¬ 
wegians landed. According to his account of the 
length of the days and nights, it must have been as 
far north as the fifty-eighth degree of latitude, on 
some part of the coast of Labradore, approaching 
near to the entry of Hudson’s straits. Grapes, 
certainly, are not the production of that country. 
Torfcus supposes that there is an error in the text, by 
rectifying of which the place where the Norwegians 
landed may be supposed to be situated in latitude 
49°. But neither is that the region of the vine in 
America. From perusing Snorro’s tale, I should 
think that the situation of Newfoundland corre¬ 
sponds best with that of the country discovered by 
the Norwegians. Grapes, however, are not the pro¬ 
duction of that barren island. Other conjectures 
are mentioned by M. Mallet, Introd. a l’Hist. de 
Dannem. 175, &c. I am not sufficiently acquainted 
with the literature of the north to examine them. 
It seems manifest, that if the Norwegians did dis¬ 
cover any part of America at that period, their 
attempts to plant colonies proved unsuccessful, and 
all knowledge of it was soon lost. 

Note XVIII. (Page 760.) 

Peter Martyr, ab Angleria, a Milanese gentleman, 
residing at that time in the court of Spain, whose 
letters contain an account of the transactions of 
that period, in the order wherein they occurred, de¬ 
scribes the sentiments with which he himself and 
his learned correspondents were affected, in very 
striking terms. “ Prae laetitia prosiluisse te, vixque 
a lachrymis prac gaudio temperasse, quando literas 
adspexisti meas quibus, de antipodum orbe latenti 
hactenus, te certiorem feci, mi suavissime Pomponi, 
insinuasti. Ex tuis ipse literis colligo, quid sen- 
seris. Sensisti autem, tantique rem fecisti, quanti 
virutn summa doctrina insignitum decuit. Quis 
namque cibus sublimibus praestari potest ingeniis, 
isto suavior? quod condimentum gratius? A me 
facio conjecturam. Beatos sentio spiritus meos, 
quando accitos alloquor prudentes aliquos ex his 
qui ab ea redeunt provincia. Impliccnt animos 
pecuniarum cumulis augendis miseri avari, libidi- 
nibus obscocni; nostras nos mentes, postquam Deo 
pleni aliquando fuerimus, contemplando, hujusce- 
modi rerum notitia demulciamus.” Epist. 162. 
Pomponio Laeto. 


Note XIX. (Page 763.) 

So firmly were men of science in that age per¬ 
suaded that the countries which Columbus had 
discovered were connected with the East Indies, 
that Bernaldes, the Cura de los Palacios, who seems 
to have been no inconsiderable proficient in the 
knowledge of cosmography, contends that Cuba 
was not an island, but a part of the continent, and 
united to the dominions of the Great Khan. This 
he delivered as his opinion to Columbus himself, 
who was his guest for some time on his return from 
his second voyage; and he supports it by several 
arguments, mostly founded on the authority of sir 
John Mandeville. MS. penes me. Antonio Gallo, 
who was secretary to the magistracy of Genoa to¬ 
wards the close of the fifteenth century, published 
a short account of the navigations and discoveries 
of his countryman Columbus, annexed to his Opus- 
cula Historica de Rebus Populi Genuensis; in 
which he informs us, from letters of Columbus which 
he himself had seen, that it was his opinion, founded 
upon nautical observations, that one of the islands 
he had discovered was distant only two hours or 
thirty degrees from Cattigara, which, in the charts 
of the geographers of that age, was laid down, 
upon the authority of Ptolemy, lib. vii. c. 3. as the 
most easterly place in Asia. From this he con¬ 
cluded, that if some unknown continent did not 
obstruct the navigation, there must be a short and 
easy access, by holding a westerly course, to this 
extreme region of the East. Muratori Scriptores 
Rer. Italicarum, vol. xxiii. p. 304. 

Note XX. (Page 765.) 

Bernaldes, the Cura or Rector de los Palacios, 
a contemporary writer, says, that five hundred of 
these captives were sent to Spain, and sold publicly 
in Seville as slaves; but that by the change of cli¬ 
mate and their inability to bear the fatigue of 
labour, they all died in a short time. MS. penes me. 

Note XXI. (Page 768.) 

Columbus seems to have formed some very singu¬ 
lar opinions concerning the countries which he had 
now discovered. The violent swell and agitation 
of the waters on the coast of Trinidad, led him to 
conclude this to be the highest part of the terra¬ 
queous globe; and he imagined that various cir¬ 
cumstances concurred in proving that the sea was 
here visibly elevated. Having adopted this erro¬ 
neous principle, the apparent beauty of the country 
induced him to fall in with a notion of sir John 
Mandeville, c. 102. that the terrestrial paradise was 
the highest land in the earth ; and he believed that 
he had been so fortunate as to discover this happy 
abode. Nor ought we to think it strange that a 
person of so much sagacity should be influenced by 
the opinion or reports of such a fabulous author as 
Mandeville. Columbus and the other discoverers 
were obliged to follow such guides as they could 



1033 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


find; and it appears from several passages in the 
manuscript of Andr. Bernaldes, the friend of Co¬ 
lumbus, that no inconsiderable degree of credit was 
given to the testimony of Mandeville in that age. 
Bernaldes frequently quotes him, and always with 
respect. 

Note XXII. (Page 772.) 

It is remarkable that neither Gomara nor Oviedo, 
the most ancient Spanish historians of America, 
nor Herrera, consider Ojeda, or his companion 
Vespucci, as the first discoverers of the continent 
ot America. They uniformly ascribe this honour 
to Columbus. Some have supposed that national 
resentment against Vespucci, for deserting the ser¬ 
vice of Spain, and entering into that of Portugal, 
may have prompted these writers to conceal the 
actions which he performed. But Marty r and Ben- 
zoni, both Italians, could not be warped by the 
same prejudice. Martyr was a contemporary author; 
he resided in the court of Spain, and had the best 
opportunity to be exactly informed with respect to 
all public transactions ; and yet neither in his De- 
cads, the first general history published of the New 
World, nor in his epistles, which contain an account 
of all the remarkable events of his time, does he 
ascribe to Vespucci the honour of having first dis¬ 
covered the continent. Benzoni went as an adven¬ 
turer to America in the year 1541, aud resided there 
a considerable time. He appears to have been ani¬ 
mated with a warm zeal for the honour of Italy, 
his native country, and yet does not mention the 
exploits and discoveries of Vespucci. Herrera, 
who compiled his general history of America from 
the most authentic records, not only follows those 
early writers, but accuses Vespucci of falsifying 
the dates of both the voyages which he made to the 
New World, and of confounding the one with the 
other, in order that he might arrogate to himself 
the glory of having discovered the continent. Her. 
dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 2. He asserts, that in a judicial 
inquiry into this matter by the royal fiscal, it was 
proved by the testimony of Ojeda himself, that he 
touched at Hispaniola when returning to Spain 
from his first voyage ; whereas Vespucci gave out 
that they returned directly to Cadiz from the coast 
of Paria, and touched at Hispaniola only in their 
second voyage ; and that he had finished the voyage 
in five months; whereas, according to Vespucci’s 
account, he had employed seventeen months in 
performing it. Viaggio primo de Am. Vespucci, 
p. 36. Viag. secundo, p. 45. Herrera gives a more 
full account of this inquest in another part of his 
Decads, and to the same effect. Her. dec. 1. lib. 
vii. c. 5. Columbus was in Hispaniola when Ojeda 
arrived there, and had by that time come to an 
agreement with Roldan, who opposed Ojeda’s at¬ 
tempt to excite a new insurrection, and, of conse¬ 
quence, his voyage must have been posterior to that 
of the admiral. Life of Columbus, c. 84. Accord¬ 
ing to Vespucci’s account, he set out on his first 


voyage May 10, 1497. Viag. primo, p. 6. At that 
time Columbus was in the court of Spain prepar¬ 
ing for liis voyage, and seems to have enjoyed a 
considerable degree of favour. The affairs of the 
New World were at this juncture under the direc¬ 
tion of Antonio Torres, a friend of Columbus. It 
is not probable, that at that period a commission 
would be granted to another person, to anticipate 
the admiral, by undertaking a voyage which he 
himself intended to perform. Fonseca, who patro¬ 
nized Ojeda, and granted the licence for his voyage, 
was not recalled to court, and reinstated in the di¬ 
rection of Indian affairs, until the death of prince 
John, which happened September 1497, (P. Martyr, 
Ep. 182.) several months posterior to the time at 
which Vespucci pretends to have set out upon his 
voyage. A life of Vespucci was published at Flo¬ 
rence by the Abate Bandini, A. D. 1745, 4to. It is 
a work of no merit, written with little judgment, 
and less candour. He contends for his countryman’s 
title to the discovery of the continent with all the 
blind zeal of national partiality, but produces no 
new evidence to support it. We learn from him 
that Vespucci’s account of his voyage was publish¬ 
ed as early as the year 1510, and probably sooner. 
Vita di Am. Vesp. p. 52. At what time the name 
of America came to be first given to the New World 
is not certain. 

Note XXIII. (Page 784.) 

The form employed on this occasion served as a 
model to the Spaniards in all their subsequent con¬ 
quests in America. It is so extraordinary in its 
nature, and gives us such an idea of the proceedings 
of the Spaniards, and the principles upon which they 
founded their right to the extensive dominions which 
they acquired in the New World, that it well merits 
the attention of the reader. “ I Alonso de Ojeda, 
servant of the most high and powerful kings of 
Castile and Leon, the conquerors of barbarous na¬ 
tions, their messenger and captain, notify to you 
and declare, in as ample form as I am capable, that 
God our Lord, who is one and eternal, created the 
heaven and the earth, and one man and one woman, 
of whom you and we, and all the men who have 
been or shall be in the world, are descended. But 
as it has come to pass through the number of gene¬ 
rations during more than five thousand years, that 
they have been dispersed into different parts of the 
world, and are divided into various kingdoms and 
provinces, because one country was not able to con¬ 
tain them, nor could they have found in one the 
means of subsistence and preservation; therefore 
God our Lord gave the charge of all those people 
to one man named St. Peter, whom he constituted 
the lord and head of all the human race, that all 
men, in whatever place they are born, or in what¬ 
ever faith or place they are educated, might yield 
obedience unto him. He hath subjected the whole 
world to his jurisdiction, and commanded him to 
establish his residence in Rome, as the most proper 




1034 


THE HISTORY 

place for the government of the world. He like¬ 
wise promised and gave him power to establish his 
authority in every other part of the world, and to 
judge and govern all Christians, Moors, Jews, Gen¬ 
tiles, and all other people of whatever sect or faith 
they may be. To him is given the name of Pope , 
which signifies admirable, great father and guar¬ 
dian, because he is the father and governor of all 
men. Those who lived in the time of this holy 
father obeyed and acknowledged him as their lord 
and king, and the superior of the universe. The 
same has been observed with respect to them who, 
since his time, have been chosen to the pontificate. 
Thus it now continues, and will continue to the end 
of the world. 

“ One of these pontiffs, as lord of the world, 
hath made a grant of these islands, and of the Tierra 
Firme of the ocean sea, to the catholic kings of 
Castile, Don Ferdinand and Donna Isabella, of 
glorious memory, and their successors, our sove¬ 
reigns, with all they contain, as is more fully ex¬ 
pressed in certain deeds passed upon that occasion, 
which you may see, if you desire it. Thus his ma¬ 
jesty is king and lord of these islands, and of the 
continent, in virtue of this donation ; and, as king 
and lord aforesaid, most of the islands to which his 
title hath been notified, have recognised his majesty, 
and now yield obedience and subjection to him as 
their lord, voluntarily and without resistance ; and 
instantly, as soon as they received information, they 
obeyed the religious men sent by the king to preach 
to them, and to instruct them in our holy faith ; 
and all these, of their own free will, without any 
recompence or gratuity, became Christians, and con¬ 
tinue to be so; and his majesty having received 
them graciously under bis protection, has com¬ 
manded that they should be treated in the same 
manner as his other subjects and vassals. You are 
bound and obliged to act in the same manner. There¬ 
fore I now entreat and require you to consider at¬ 
tentively what I have declared to you; and that 
you may more perfectly comprehend it, that you 
take such time as is reasonable, in order that you 
may acknowledge the church as the superior and 
guide of the universe, and likewise the holy father 
called the pope, in his own right, and his majesty 
by his appointment, as king and sovereign lord of 
these islands, and of the Tierra Firme; and that 
you consent that the aforesaid holy fathers shall 
declare and preach to you the doctrines above men¬ 
tioned. If you do this, you act well, and perform 
that to which you are bound and obliged ; and his 
majesty, and I in his name, will receive you with 
love and kindness, and will leave you, your wives 
and children, free and exempt from servitude, and 
in the enjoyment of all you possess, in the same 
manner as the inhabitants of the islands. Besides 
this, his majesty will bestow upon you many privi¬ 
leges, exemptions, and rewards. But if you will 
not comply, or maliciously delay to obey my injunc¬ 
tion, then, with the help of God, I will enter your 


OF AMERICA. 

country by force; I will carry on war against you 
with the utmost violence ; I will subject you to 
the yoke of obedience to the church and king; I 
will take your wives and children, and will make 
them slaves, and sell or dispose of them according 
to his majesty's pleasure ; I will seize your goods, 
and do you all the mischief in my power, as rebel¬ 
lious subjects, who will not acknowledge or sub¬ 
mit to their lawful sovereign. And I protest, that 
all the bloodshed and calamities which shall follow 
are to be imputed to you, and not to his majesty, 
or to me, or the gentlemen who serve under me; 
and as I have now made this declaration and re¬ 
quisition unto you, I require the notary here pre¬ 
sent to grant me a certificate of this, subscribed in 
proper form." Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 14. 

Note XXIY. (Page 788.) 

Balboa, in his letter to the king, observes, that 
of the hundred and ninety men whom he took with 
him, there were never above eighty fit for service at 
one time. So much did they suffer from hunger, 
fatigue, and sickness. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. x. c. 16. 
P. Mart, decad. 225. 

Note XXV. (Page 791.) 

Fonseca, bishop of Palencia, the principal direc¬ 
tor of American affairs, had eight hundred Indians 
in property ; the commendator Lope de Conchillos, 
his chief associate in that department, eleven hun¬ 
dred ; and other favourites had considerable num¬ 
bers. They sent overseers to the islands, and hired 
out those slaves to the planters. Herrera, dec. 1. 
lib. ix. c. 14. p. 325. 

Note XXVI. (Page 798.) 

Though America is more plentifully supplied 
with water than the other regions of the globe, 
there is no river or stream of water in Y^ucatau. 
This peninsula projects from the continent a hun¬ 
dred leagues, but, where broadest, does not extend 
above twenty-five leagues. It is an extensive plain, 
not only without mountains, but w ithout almost any 
inequality of ground. The inhabitants are supplied 
with water from pits, and wherever they dig them, 
find it in abundance. It is probable, from all those 
circumstances, that this country was formerly co¬ 
vered by the sea. Herrerae Descriptio Indiae Occi- 
dentalis, p. 14. Histoire Naturelle, par M. de 
Buffon, tom. i. p. 593. 

Note XXVII. (Page 799.) 

M. Clavigero censures me for having represent¬ 
ed the Spaniards who sailed with Cordova and 
Grijalva, as fancying, in the warmth of their imagi¬ 
nation, that they saw cities on the coast of Yucatan 
adorned with towers and cupolas. I know not what 
translation of my history he has consulted, (for his 
quotation from it is not taken from the original,) 
but I never imagined that any building erected by 
Americans could suggest the idea of a cupola or 






NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1035 


dome, a structure which their utmost skill in archi¬ 
tecture was incapable of rearing. My words are, 
that they fancied the villages which they saw from 
their ships “ to be cities adorned with towers and 
pinnacles." By pinnacles I meant some elevation 
above the rest of the building ; and the passage is 
translated almost literally from Herrera, dec. 2. lib. 
iii. c. 1. In almost all the accounts of new coun¬ 
tries given by the Spanish discoverers in that age, 
this warmth of admiration is conspicuous, and led 
them to describe these new objects in the most 
splendid terms. When Cordova and his compa¬ 
nions first beheld an Indian village of greater mag¬ 
nitude than any they had beheld in the islands, they 
dignified it by the name of Grand Cairo , B. Diaz, 
c. 2. From the same cause Grijalva and his asso¬ 
ciates thought the country, along the coast of which 
they held their course, entitled to the name of New 
Spain. 

Note XXVIII. (Page 801 .) 

The height of the most elevated point in the 
Pyrenees is, according to M. Cassini, six thousand 
six hundred and forty-six feet. The height of the 
mountain Gemmi, in the canton of Berne, is ten 
thousand one hundred and ten feet. The height of 
the Peak of Teneriffe, according to the measurement 
of P. Feuill&, is thirteen thousand one hundred 
and seventy-eight feet. The height of Chimborazzo, 
the most elevated point of the Andes, is twenty 
thousand two hundred and eighty feet; no less 
than seven thousand one hundred and two feet 
above the highest mountain in the ancient continent. 
Voyage de D. Juan Ulloa, Observations Astron. et 
Physiq. tom. ii. p. 114. The line of congelation on 
Chimborazzo, or that part of the mountain which is 
covered perpetually with snow, is no less than two 
thousand four hundred feet from its summit. 
Prevot Hist. Gener. des Voyages, vol. xiii. p. 636. 

Note XXIX. (Page 801.) 

As a particular description makes a stronger im¬ 
pression than general assertions, I shall give one of 
Rio de la Plata by an eye-witness, P. Cattaneo, a 
Modenese Jesuit, who landed at Buenos Ayres in 
1749, and thus represents what he felt when such 
new objects were first presented to his view. 
“ While I resided in Europe, and read in books of 
history or geography that the mouth of the river de la 
Plata was an hundred and fifty miles in breadth, I 
considered it as an exaggeration, because in this 
hemisphere we have no example of such vast rivers. 
When I approached its mouth, I had the most 
vehement desire to ascertain the truth with my own 
eyes; and I have found the matter to be exactly as 
it was represented. This I deduce particularly from 
one circumstance : When we took our departure 
from Monte-Video, a fort situated more than a hun¬ 
dred miles from the mouth of the river, and where 
its breadth is considerably diminished, we sailed a 
complete day before we discovered the land on the 


opposite bank of the river; and when we were in 
the middle of the channel, we could not discern land 
on either side, and saw nothing but the sky and 
water, as if we had been in some great ocean. In¬ 
deed we should have taken it to be sea, if the fresh 
water of the river, which was turbid like the Po, 
had not satisfied us that it was a river. Moreover, 
at Buenos Ayres, another hundred miles up the 
river, and where it is still much narrower, it is not 
only impossible to discern the opposite coast, which 
is indeed very low and flat, but one cannot perceive 
the houses or the tops of the steeples in the Portu¬ 
guese settlement at Colonia on the other side of the 
river." Lettera prima, published by Muratori, II 
Christianesimo Felice, &c. i. p. 257. 

Note XXX. (Page 802.) 

Newfoundland, part of Nova Scotia, and Cana¬ 
da, are the countries which lie in the same parallel 
of latitude with the kingdom of France; and in 
every part of these the water of the rivers is frozen 
during winter to the thickness of several feet; the 
earth is covered with snow as deep; almost all the 
birds fly, during that season, from a climate where 
they could not live. The country of the Esquimaux, 
part of Labrador, and the countries on the south of 
Hudson’s bay, are in the same parallel with Great 
Britain ; and yet in all these the cold is so intense, 
that even the industry of Europeans has not at¬ 
tempted cultivation. 

Note XXXI. (Page 802.) 

Acosta is the first philosopher, as far as I know, 
who endeavoured to account for the different degrees 
of heat in the old and new continents, by the agency 
of the winds which blow in each. Hist. Moral. &c. 
lib. ii. and iii. M. de Buff'on adopts this theory, 
and has not only improved it by new observations, 
but has employed his amazing powers of descriptive 
eloquence in embellishing and placing it in the 
most striking light. Some remarks may be added, 
which tend to illustrate more fully a doctrine of 
much importance in every inquiry concerning the 
temperature of various climates. 

When a cold wind blows over land, it must in its 
passage rob the surface of some of its heat. By 
means of this, the coldness of the wind is abated. 
But if it continue to blow in the same direction, it 
will come, by degrees, to pass over a surface already 
cooled, and will suffer no longer any abatement of 
its own keenness. Thus, as it advances over a large 
tract of land, it brings on all the severity of intense 
frost. 

Let the same wind blow over an extensive and 
deep sea ; the superficial water must be immediately 
cooled to a certain degree, and the wind proportion¬ 
ally warmed. But the superficial and colder water 
becoming specifically heavier than the warmer water 
below it, descends; what is warmer supplies its 
place, which, as it comes to be cooled in its turn, 
continues to warm the air which passes over it, or 



1036 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


to diminish its cold. This change of the superficial 
water and successive ascent of that which is warmer, 
and the consequent successive abatement of cold¬ 
ness in the air, is aided by the agitation caused in 
the sea by the mechanical action of the wind, and 
also by the motion of the tides. This will go on, 
and the rigour of the wind will continue to diminish, 
until the whole water is so far cooled that the water 
on the surface is no longer removed from the action 
of the wind, fast enough to hinder it from being 
arrested by frost. Whenever the surface freezes, 
the wind is no longer warmed by the water from 
below, and it goes on with undiminished cold. 

From those principles may be explained the 
severity of winter frosts in extensive continents; 
their mildness in small islands; and the superior 
rigour of winter in those parts of North America with 
which we are best acquainted. In the north-west 
parts of Europe, the severity of winter is mitigated 
by the west winds, which usually blow in the months 
of November, December, and part of January. 

On the other hand, when a warm wind blows 
over land, it heats the surface, which must there¬ 
fore cease to abate the fervour of the wind. But the 
same wind blowing over water, agitates it, brings 
up the colder water from below, and thus is con¬ 
tinually losing somewhat of its own heat. 

But the great power of the sea to mitigate the 
heat of the wind or air passing over it, proceeds 
from the following circumstance;—that on account 
of the transparency of the sea, its surface cannot be 
heated to a great degree by the sun's rays ; whereas 
the ground, subjected to their influence, very soon 
acquires great heat. When, therefore, the wind 
blows over a torrid continent, it is soon raised to a 
heat almost intolerable; but during its passage 
over an extensive ocean, it is gradually cooled ; so 
that on its arrival at the furthest shore, it is again 
fit for respiration. 

Those principles will account for the sultry heats 
of large continents in the torrid zone ; for the mild 
climate of islands in the same latitude ; and for the 
superior warmth in summer which large continents, 
situated in the temperate or colder zones of the 
earth, enjoy, when compared with that of islands. 
The heat of a climate depends not only upon the 
immediate effect of the sun's rays, but on their 
continued operation, on the effect which they have 
formerly produced, and which remains for some 
time in the ground. This is the reason why the 
day is warmest about two in the afternoon, the 
summer warmest about the middle of July, and the 
winter coldest about the middle of January. 

The forests which cover America, and hinder the 
sun-beams from heating the ground, are a great 
cause of the temperate climate in the equatorial 
parts. The ground, not being heated, cannot heat 
the air; and the leaves, which receive the rays in¬ 
tercepted from the ground, have not a mass of matter 
sufficient to absorb heat enough for this purpose. 
Besides, it is a known fact, that the vegetative 


power of a plant occasions a perspiration from the 
leaves in proportion to the heat to which they are 
exposed ; and from the nature of evaporation, this 
perspiration produces a cold in the leaf proportional 
to the perspiration. Thus the effect of the leaf in 
heating the air in contact with it, is prodigiously 
diminished. For those observations, which throw 
much additional light on this curious subject, I am 
indebted to my ingenious friend, Mr. Robison, pro¬ 
fessor of natural philosophy in the university of 
Edinburgh. 

Note XXXII. (Page 802.) 

The climate of Brazil has been described by two 
eminent naturalists, Piso and Margrave, who ob¬ 
served it with a philosophical accuracy for which 
we search in vain in the accounts of many other 
provinces in America. Both represent it as tem¬ 
perate and mild, when compared with the climate 
of Africa. They ascribe this chiefly to the refreshing 
wind which blows continually from the sea. The 
air is not only cool, but chilly through the night, in 
so much that the natives kindle fires every evening 
in their huts. Piso de Medicina Brasiliensi, lib. i. 
p. 1, &c. Margravius Histor. Rerum Natural. 
Brasilia, lib. viii. c. 3. p. 264. Nieuhoff, who 
resided long in Brazil, confirms their description. 
Churchill’s Collection, vol. ii. p. 26. Gumilla, who 
was a missionary many years among the Indians 
upon the river Oronoco, gives a similar description 
of the temperature of the climate there. r< Hist. de 
1’Orenoque, tom. i. p. 26. P. Acugna felt a very 
considerable degree of cold in the countries on the 
banks of the river Amazons. Relat. vol. ii. p. 56. 
M. Biet, who lived a considerable time in Cayenne, 
gives a similar account of the temperature of that 
climate, and ascribes it to the same cause. Voyage 
de la France, Equinox, p. 330. Nothing can be 
more different from these descriptions than that of 
the burning beat of the African coast given by M. 
Adanson. Voyage to Senegal, passim. 

Note XXXIII. (Page 803.) 

Two French frigates were sent upon a voyage of 
discovery in the year 1739. In latitude 44° south, 
they began to feel a considerable degree of cold. In 
latitude 48°, they met with islands of floating ice. 
Histoires des Navigations aux Terres Australes, 
tom. ii. p. 256, &c. Dr. Halley fell in with ice in 
latitude 59°. Id. tom. i. p. 47. Commodore Byron, 
when on the coast of Patagonia, latitude 50° 33' 
south, on the fifteenth of December, which is mid¬ 
summer in that part of the globe, the twenty-first of 
December being the longest day there, compares 
the climate to that of England in the middle of 
winter. Voyages by Hawkesworth, i. 25. Mr. 
Banks having landed on Terra del Fuego, in the 
Bay of Good Success, latitude 55°, on the sixteenth 
of January, which corresponds to the month of July 
in our hemisphere, two of his attendants died in 
one night of extreme cold, and all the party were 







NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1037 


in the most imminent danger of perishing. Id. ii. 
51, 52. By the fourteenth of March, corresponding 
to September in our hemisphere, winter was set in 
with rigour, and the mountains were covered with 
snow. Ibid. 72. Captain Cook, in his voyage to¬ 
wards the south pole, furnishes new and striking 
instances of the extraordinary predominance of cold 
in this region of the globe. “ Who would have 
thought (says he) that an island of no greater extent 
than seventy leagues in circuit, situated between 
the latitude of 54° and 55°, should, in the very 
height of summer, be in a manner wholly covered, 
many fathoms deep, with frozen snow ; but more 
especially the S. W. coast? The very summits of 
the lofty mountains were cased with snow and ice; 
but the quantity that lay in the valleys is incredible ; 
and at the bottom of the bays the coast was termi¬ 
nated by a wall of ice of considerable height.” 
Vol. ii. p. 217. 

In some places of the ancient continent, an ex¬ 
traordinary degree of cold prevails in very low lati¬ 
tudes. Mr. Bogle, in his embassy to the court of 
the Delai Lama, passed the winter of the year 1774 
at Chamnanning, in latitude 31° 39' N. He often 
found the thermometer in his room twenty-nine de¬ 
grees under the freezing point by Fahrenheit's 
scale ; and in the middle of April the standing 
w aters were all frozen, and heavy showers of snow 
frequently fell. The extraordinary elevation of the 
country seems to be the cause of this excessive cold. 
In travelling from Indostan to Thibet, the ascent to 
the summit of the Boutan mountains is very great, 
but the descent on the other side is not in equal 
proportion. The kingdom of Thibet is an elevated 
region, extremely bare and desolate. Account of 
Thibet, by Mr. Stewart, read in the Royal Society, 
p. 7. The extraordinary cold in low latitudes in 
America cannot be accounted for by the same cause. 
Those regions are not remarkable for elevation. 
Some of them are countries depressed and level. 

The most obvious and probable cause of the su¬ 
perior degree of cold towards the southern extremity 
of America, seems to be the form of the continent 
there. Its breadth gradually decreases as it stretches 
from St. Antonio southwards, and from the bay of 
St. Julian to the straits of Magellan its dimensions 
are much contracted. On the east and west sides, 
it is washed by the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. 
From its southern point it is probable that a great 
extent of sea, w ithout any considerable tract of 
land, reaches to the Antarctic pole. In whichever 
of these directions the wind blows, it is cooled before 
it approaches the Magellanic regions by passing 
over a vast body of w ater; nor is the land there of 
such extent, that it can recover any considerable 
degree of heat in its progress over it. These circum¬ 
stances concur in rendering the temperature of the 
air in this district of America more similar to that of 
an insular than to that of a continental climate, and 
hinder it from acquiring the same degree of summer 
heat with places in Europe and Asia in a correspond¬ 


ent northern latitude. The north w ind is the only one 
that reaches this part of America, after blowing over 
a great continent. But from an attentive survey of 
its position, this will be found to have a tendency 
rather to diminish than augment the degree of heat. 
The southern extremity of America is properly the 
termination of the immense ridge of the Andes, 
which stretches nearly in a direct line from north to 
south, through the whole extent of the continent. 
The most sultry regions in South America, Guiana, 
Brazil, Paraguay, and Tucuman, lie many degrees 
to the east of the Magellanic regions. The level 
country of Peru, which enjoys the tropical heats, is 
situated considerably to the west of them. The north 
wind then, though it blows over land, does not bring 
to the southern extremity of America an increase of 
heat collected in its passage over torrid regions ; 
but before it arrives there, it must have swept along 
the summits of the Andes, and comes impregnated 
with the cold of that frozen region. 

Though it be now demonstrated that there is no 
southern continent in that region of the globe w hich 
it was supposed to occupy, it appears to be certain 
from captain Cook’s discoveries, that there is a 
large tract of land near the south pole, which is the 
source of most of the ice spread over the vast south¬ 
ern ocean. Vol. ii. p. 230. 239, &c. Whether the in¬ 
fluence of this remote frozen continent may reach 
the southern extremity of America, and affect its 
climate, is an inquiry not unworthy of attention. 

Note XXXIV. (Page 803.) 

M. Condamine is one of the latest and most ac¬ 
curate observers of the interior state of South Ame¬ 
rica. “ After descending from the Andes, (says he,) 
one beholds a vast and uniform prospect of water 
and verdure, and nothing more. One treads upon 
the earth, but does not see it; as it is so entirely 
covered with luxuriant plants, weeds, and shrubs, 
that it would require a considerable degree of labour 
to clear it for the space of a foot.” Relation abregee 
d’un Voyage, &c. p. 48. One of the singularities 
in the forests is a sort of osiers, or withes, called 
bejucos by the Spaniards, Hanes by the French, and 
nibbes by the Indians, which are usually employed 
as ropes in America. This is one of the parasitical 
plants, which twists about the trees it meets with, 
and rising above their highest branches, its tendrils 
descend perpendicularly, strike into the ground, 
take root, rise up around another tree, and thus 
mount and descend alternately. Other tendrils 
are carried obliquely by the wind, or some acci¬ 
dent, and form a confusion of interwoven cordage, 
which resembles the rigging of a ship. Bancroft, 
Nat. Hist, of Guiana, 99. These withes are often 
as thick as the arm of a man. Ib. p. 75. M. Bou- 
guer’s account of the forests in Peru perfectly re¬ 
sembles this description. Voyages au Peru, p. 10. 
Oviedo gives a similar description of the forests in 
other parts of America. Hist. lib. ix. p. 144. D. 
The country of the Moxos is so much overflowed, 




1038 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


that they are obliged to reside oil the summit of 
some rising ground during some part of the year, 
and have no communication with their countrymen 
at any distance. Lettres Edifiantes, tom. x. p. 187. 
Garcia gives a full and just description of the 
rivers, lakes, woods, and marshes, in those coun¬ 
tries of America which lie between the tropics. 
Origin de los Indios, lib. ii. c. 5. § 4, 5. The in¬ 
credible hardships to which Gonzalez Pizarro was 
exposed in attempting to march into the country to 
the east of the Andes, convey a very striking idea 
of that part of America in its original uncultivated 
state. Garcil. de la Yega, Royal. Comment, of 
Peru, part ii. book iii. c. 2—5. 

Note XXXV. (Page 804.) 

The animals of America seem not to have been 
always of a size inferior to those in other quarters 
of the globe. From antlers of the moose-deer which 
have been found in America, it appears to have 
been an animal of great size. Near the banks of 
the Ohio, a considerable number of bones of an im¬ 
mense magnitude have been found. The place 
where this discovery has been made lies about one 
hundred and ninety miles below the junction of the 
river Scioto with the Ohio. It is about four miles 
distant from the banks of the latter on the side of 
the marsh called the Salt Lick. The bones lie in 
vast quantities about five or six feet under ground, 
and the stratum is visible in the bank on the edge 
of the Lick. Journal of Colonel George Croglan, 
MS. penes me. This spot seems to be accurately 
laid down by Evans in his map. These bones must 
have belonged to animals of enormous bulk ; but 
naturalists, being acquainted with no living creature 
of such size, were at first inclined to think that 
they were mineral substances. Upon receiving a 
greater number of specimens, and after inspecting 
them more narrowly, they are now allowed to be the 
bones of an animal. As the elephant is the largest 
known quadruped, and the tusks which were found 
nearly resembled, both in form and quality, the 
tusks of an elephant, it was concluded that the car¬ 
casses deposited on the Ohio were of that species. 
But Dr. Hunter, one of the persons of our age best 
qualified to decide with respect to this point, having 
accurately examined several parcels of the tusks, 
and grinders, and jaw-bones, sent from the Ohio to 
London, gives it as his opinion, that they did not 
belong to an elephant, but to some huge carnivorous 
animal of an unknown species. Phil. Transact, vol. 
lviii. p. 34. Bones of the same kind, and as re¬ 
markable for their size, have been fouud near the 
mouths of the great rivers Oby, Jeniseia, and Lena, 
in Siberia. Strablerenberg , Descript, of North and 
East Parts of Europe and Asia , p. 402, &c. The ele¬ 
phant seems to be confined in his range to the torrid 
zone, and never multiplies beyond it. In such cold 
regions as those bordering on the frozen sea he 
could not live. The existence of such large animals 
in America might open a wide field for conjecture. 


The more we contemplate the face of nature, and 
consider the variety of her productions, the more 
we must be satisfied, that astonishing changes have 
been made in the terraqueous globe by convulsions 
and revolutions, of which no account is preserved 
in history. 

Note XXXVI. (Page 804.) 

This degeneracy of the domestic European ani¬ 
mals in America may be imputed to some of these 
causes. In the Spanish settlements, which are 
situated either within the torrid zone, or in coun¬ 
tries bordering upon it, the increase of heat, and 
diversity of food, prevent sheep and horned cattle 
from attaining the same size as in Europe. They 
seldom become so fat, and their flesh is not so 
juicy, or of such delicate flavour. In North Ame¬ 
rica, where the climate is more favourable, and 
similar to that of Europe, the quality of the grasses 
which spring up naturally in their pasture-grounds 
is not good. Mitchell, p. 151. Agriculture is still 
so much in its infancy, that artificial food for cattle 
is not raised in any quantity. During a winter, 
long in many provinces and rigorous in all, no pro¬ 
per care is taken of their cattle. The general treat¬ 
ment of their horses and horned cattle is injudicious 
and harsh in all the English colonies. These cir¬ 
cumstances contribute more, perhaps, than any 
thing peculiar in the quality of the climate, to the 
degeneracy of breed in the horses, cows, and sheep, 
of many of the North American provinces. 

Note XXXYII. (Page 804.) 

In the year 1518, the island of Hispaniola was 
afflicted with a dreadful visitation of those destruc¬ 
tive insects, the particulars of which Herrera de¬ 
scribes, and mentions a singular instance of the 
superstition of the Spanish planters. After trying 
various methods of exterminating the ants, they 
resolved to implore protection of the saints ; but as 
the calamity was new, they were at a loss to find 
out the saint who could give them the most effectual 
aid. They cast lots in order to discover the patron 
whom they should invoke. The lots decided in 
favour of St. Saturninus. They celebrated his fes¬ 
tival with great solemnity, and immediately, adds 
the historian, the calamity began to abate. Her¬ 
rera, dec. 2. lib. iii. c. 15. p. 107. 

Note XXXYIII. (Page 805.) 

The author of Recherches Philosophiques sur les 
Americains, supposes this difference in heat to be 
equal to twelve degrees, and that a place thirty de¬ 
grees from the equator in the old continent is as 
warm as one situated eighteen degrees from it in 
America, tom. i. p. 11. Dr. Mitchell, after obser¬ 
vations carried on during thirty years, contends that 
the difference is equal to fourteen or fifteen degrees 
of latitude. Present State, &c. p. 257. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1039 


Note XXXIX. (Page 805.) 

January 3rd, 1765, Mr. Bertram, near the head of 
St. John s river, in East Florida, observed a frost 
so intense, that in one night the ground was frozen 
an inch thick upon the banks of the river. The 
limes, citrons, and banana trees, at St. Augustin, 
were destroyed. . Bertram’s Journal, p. 20. Other 
instances of the extraordinary operations of cold in 
the southern provinces of North America are col¬ 
lected by Dr. Mitchell. Present State, p. 206, &c. 
February 7th, 1747, the frost at Charles town was so 
intense, that a person having carried two quart 
bottles of hot water to bed, in the morning they 
were split to pieces, and the water converted into 
solid lumps of ice. In a kitchen, where there was 
a fire, the water in ajar, in which there was a large 
live eel, was frozen to the bottom. Almost all the 
orange and olive trees were destroyed. Description 
of South Carolina, 8vo. Lond. 1761. 

Note XL. (Page 805.) 

A remarkable instance of this occurs in Dutch 
Guiana, a country every where level, and so low, 
that during the rainy seasons it is usually covered 
with water near two feet in height. This renders 
the soil so rich, that on the surface, for twelve inches 
in depth, it is a stratum of perfect manure, and as 
such has been transported to Barbadoes. On the 
banks of the Essequebo, thirty crops of ratan canes 
have been raised successively; whereas in the 
West Indian islands not more than two is ever ex¬ 
pected from the richest land. The expedients by 
which the planters endeavour to diminish this ex¬ 
cessive fertility of the soil are various. Bancroft, 
Nat. Hist, of Guiana, p. 10, &c. 

Note XLI. (Page 808.) 

Muller seems to have believed, without sufficient 
evidence, that the cape had been doubled, tom. i. 
p. 11, See. ; and the imperial academy of St. Peters- 
burgh give some countenance to it, by the manner 
in which Tschukotshoi-noss is laid down in their 
charts. But I am assured, from undoubted autho¬ 
rity, that no Russian vessel has ever sailed round 
that cape ; and as the country of Tschuthi is not 
subject to the Russian empire, it is very imperfectly 
known. 

Note XLII. (Page 809.) 

Were this the place for entering into a long and 
intricate geographical disquisition, many curious 
observations might arise from comparing the ac¬ 
counts of the two Russian voyages and the charts 
of their respective navigations. One remark is ap¬ 
plicable to both. We cannot rely with absolute 
certainty on the position which they assign to several 
of the places which they visited. The weather was 
so extremely foggy, that they seldom saw the sun 
or stars; and the position of the islands and sup¬ 
posed continents was commonly determined by 


reckoning, not by observation. Behring and Tschi- 
rikow proceeded much further towards the east than 
Krenitzin. The land discovered by Behring, which 
he imagined to be part of the American continent, 
is in the 236th degree of longitude from the first 
meridian in the isle of Ferro, and in 58° 28' of la¬ 
titude. Tschirikow came upon the same coast in 
longit. 241°, Iatit. 65°. Muller, i. 248, 249. The 
former must have advanced 60 degrees from the 
port of Petropawlowski, from which he took his 
departure, and the latter65 degrees. But from the 
chart of Krenitzin’s voyage, it appears that he did 
not sail further towards the east than the 208th de¬ 
gree, and only 32 degrees from Petropawlowski. 
In 1741, Behring and Tschirikow, both in going and 
returning, held a course which was mostly to the 
south of that chain of islands which they discover¬ 
ed ; and observing the mountainous and rugged as¬ 
pect of the head-lands which they descried towards 
the north, they supposed them to be promontories 
belonging to some part of the American continent, 
which, as they fancied, stretched as far south as the 
latitude 56. In this manner they are laid down in 
the chart published by Muller, and likewise in a 
manuscript chart drawn by a mate of Behring’s ship, 
communicated to me by Mr. Professor Robison. 
Butin 1769, Krenitzin, after wintering in the island 
Alaxa, stood so far towards the north in his return, 
that his course lay through the middle of what Beh¬ 
ring and Tschirikow had supposed to be a continent, 
which he found to be an open sea, and that they 
had mistaken rocky isles for the head-lands of a 
continent. It is probable, that the countries dis¬ 
covered in 1741, towards the east, do not belong to 
the American continent, but are only a continuation 
of the chain of islands. The number of volcanoes 
in this region of the globe is remarkable. There are 
several in Kamtchatka, and not one of the islands, 
great or small, as far as the Russian navigation ex¬ 
tends, is without them. Many are actually burning, 
and the mountains in all bear marks of having been 
once in a state of eruption. Were I disposed to 
admit such conjectures as have found place in other 
inquiries concerning the peopling of America, I 
might suppose that this part of the earth, having 
manifestly suffered violent convulsions from earth¬ 
quakes and volcanoes, an isthmus, which may have 
formerly united Asia to America, has been broken, 
and formed into a cluster of islands by the shock. 

It is singular, that at the very time the Russian 
navigators were attempting to make discoveries in 
the north-west of America, the Spaniards were 
prosecuting the same design from another quarter. 
In 1769, two small vessels sailed from Loretto in 
California to explore the coasts of the country to 
the north of that peninsula. They advanced no 
farther than the port of Monte-Rey in latitude 36. 
But, in several successive expeditions fitted out 
from the port of St. Bias in New' Galicia, the Spa¬ 
niards have advanced as far as the latitude 58. 
Gazeta <le Madrid , March 19, and May 14, 1776. 



1040 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


But as the journals of those voyages have not yet 
been published, I cannot compare their progress 
with that of the Russians, or show how near the 
navigators of the two nations have approached to 
each other. It is to be hoped, that the enlightened 
minister who has now the direction of American 
affairs in Spain, will not withhold this information 
from the public. 

Note XLIII. (Page 809 .) 

Our knowledge of the vicinity of the two conti¬ 
nents of Asia and America, which was very imper¬ 
fect when I published the History of America in 
the year 1777, is now complete. Mr. Coxe’s Account 
of the Russian Discoveries between Asia and Ame¬ 
rica, printed in the year 1780, contains many curious 
and important facts with respect to the various 
attempts of the Russians to open a communication 
with the New World. The history of the great 
Voyage of Discovery, begun by captain Cook in 
1776, and completed by captains Clerk and Gore, 
published in the year 1780, communicates all the 
information that the curiosity of mankind could 
desire with regard to this subject. 

At my request, my friend Mr. Playfair, Professor 
of Mathematics in the University of Edinburgh, 
has compared the narrative and charts of those 
illustrious navigators, with the more imperfect rela¬ 
tions and maps of the Russians. The result of this 
comparison I communicate in his own words, with 
much greater confidence in his scientific accuracy, 
than I could have ventured to place in any obser ¬ 
vations which I myself might have made upon the 
subject. 

“ The discoveries of captain Cook in his last 
voyage have confirmed the conclusions which Dr. 
Robertson had drawn, and have connected together 
the facts from which they were deduced. They 
have now rendered it certain that Behring and 
Tschirikow touched on the coast of America in 
1741. The former discovered land in lat. 58° 28', 
and about 236° east from Ferro. He has given such 
a description of the bay in which he anchored, and 
the high mountain to the westward of it, which he 
calls St. Elias, that though the account of his voy¬ 
age is much abridged in the English translation, 
captain Cook recognised the place as he sailed 
along the western coast of America in the year 1778. 
The isle of St. Hermogenes, near the mouth of 
Cook's river, Schumagins Isles on the coast of 
Alashka, and Foggy Isle, retain in captain Cook’s 
chart the names which they had received from the 
Russian navigator. Cook’s Voy. vol. ii. p. 347. 

“ Tschirikow came upon the same coast about 
2° 30' further south than Behring, near the Mount 
Edgecumbe of Captain Cook. 

“ With regard to Krenitzin, we learn from Coxe’s 
Account of the Russian Discoveries, that he sailed 
from the mouth of the Kamtchatka river with two 
ships in the year 1768. With his own ship he 
reached the island Oonolashka, in which there had 


been a Russian settlement since the year 1762, 
where he wintered, probably in the same harbour 
or bay where captain Cook afterwards anchored. 
The other ship wintered at Alashka, which was 
supposed to be an island, though it be in fact a 
part of the American continent. Krenitzin ac¬ 
cordingly returned without knowing that either of 
his ships had been on the coast of America; and 
this is the more surprising, because captain Cook 
has informed us that Alashka is understood to be 
a great continent, both by the Russians and the 
natives at Oonolashka. 

“ According to Krenitzin, the ship which had win¬ 
tered at Alashka had hardly sailed 32° to the east¬ 
ward of the harbour of St. Peter and St. Paul in 
Kamtchatka; but, according to the more accurate 
charts of captain Cook, it had sailed no less than 
37° 17' to the eastward of that harbour. There is 
nearly the same mistake of 5° in the longitude 
which Krenitzin assigns to Oonolashka. It is re¬ 
markable enough, that in the chart of those seas, 
put into the hand of captain Cook by the Russians 
on that island, there was an error of the same kind, 
and very nearly of the same extent. 

“ But what is of most consequence to be remark¬ 
ed on the subject is, that the discoveries of captain 
Cook have fully verified Dr. Robertson’s conjecture, 
that ‘ it is probable that future navigators in those 
seas, by steering further to the north than Behring 
and Tschirikow or Krenitzin had done, may find 
that the continent of America approaches still nearer 
to that of Asia.’ Book. iv. p. 809. It has accordingly 
been found that these two continents, which, in the 
parallel of 55°, or that of the southern extremity of 
Alashka, are about four hundred leagues asunder, 
approach continually to one another as they stretch 
together toward the north, until, within less than a 
degree from the polar circle, they are terminated by 
two capes, only thirteen leagues distant. The east 
cape of Asia is in latitude 66° 6', and in longitude 
190° 22' east from Greenwich ; the western extre¬ 
mity of America, or Prince of Wales’ Cape, is in 
latitude 65° 46', and in longitude 191° 45'. Nearly 
in the middle of the narrow strait (Behring’s Strait) 
which separates these capes, are the two islands of 
St. Diomede, from which both continents may be 
seen. Captain King informs us, that as he was 
sailing through this strait, July 5, 1779, the fog 
having cleared away, he enjoyed the pleasure of 
seeing from the ship the continents of Asia and 
America at the same moment, together with the 
islands of St. Diomede lying between them. Cook’s 
Voy. vol. iii. p. 244. 

“ Beyond this point the strait opens towards the 
Arctic sea, and the coasts of Asia and America di¬ 
verge so fast from one another, that in the parallel 
of 69° they are more than one hundred leagues asun¬ 
der. Ib. p. 277. To the south of the strait there are 
a number of islands, Clerk’s, King’s, Anderson’s, 
&c. which, as well as those of St. Diomede, may 
have facilitated the migrations of the natives from 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1041 


the one continent to the other. Captain Cook, how¬ 
ever, on the authority of the Russians at Oonolashka, 
and for other good reasons, has diminished the num¬ 
ber of islands which had been inserted in former 
charts of the northern Archipelago. He has also 
placed Alashka, or the promontory which stretches 
from the continent of America S. W. towards Kamt- 
chatka, at the distance of five degrees of longitude 
further from the coast of Asia than it was reckoned 
by the Russian navigators. 

“The geography of the Old and New World is 
therefore equally indebted to the discoveries made 
in this memorable voyage; and as many errors have 
been corrected, and many deficiencies supplied by 
means of these discoveries, so the accuracy of some 
former observations has been established. The 
basis of the map of the Russian empire, as far as 
regarded Kamtehatka, and the country of the 
Tschutzki, was the position of four places, Yakutsh, 
Ochotz, Bolcheresk, and Petropawlowski, which 
had been determined by the astronomer Krassilni- 
cow in the year 1744. Nov. Comment. Petrop. vol. 
iii. p. 465, &c. But the accuracy of his observations 
was contested by M. Engel, and M. Robert de Vau- 
gondy ; Coxe, Append, i. No. 2. p. 267. 272. ; and 
the former of these geographers ventured to take 
away no less than 28 degrees from the longitude, 
which, on the faith of Krassilnicow’s observations, 
was assigned to the eastern boundary of the Russian 
empire. With how little reason this was done, will 
appear from considering that our British navigators, 
having determined the position of Petropawlowski 
by a great number of very accurate observations, 
found the longitude of that port 158° 43' E. from 
Greenwich, and its latitude 53<> 1'; agreeing, the 
first to less than seven minutes, and the second 
to less than half a minute, with the calculations of 
the Russian astronomer: a coincidence which, in 
the situation of so remote a place, does not leave 
an uncertainty of more than four English miles, and 
which, for the credit of science, deserves to be par¬ 
ticularly remarked. The chief error in the Russian 
maps has been in not extending the boundaries of 
that empire sufficiently towards the east. For as 
there was nothing to connect the land of the 
Tschutzki and the north-east point of Asia with 
those places whereof the position had been care¬ 
fully ascertained, except the imperfect accounts of 
Behring’s and Synd’s voyages, considerable errors 
could not fail to be introduced, and that point was 
laid down as not more than 23° 2' east of the meri¬ 
dian of Petropawlowski. Coxe, App. i. No. 2. By 
the observations of captain King, the difference of 
longitude between Petropawlowski and the East 
Cape is 31° 9'; that is, 8° 7' greater than it was sup¬ 
posed to be by the Russian geographers.”—It ap¬ 
pears from Cook’s and King’s Voy. iii. p. 272. that 
the continents of Asia and America are usually 
joined together by ice during winter. Mr. Samwell 
confirms this account of his superior officer. “ At 

this place, viz. near the latitude of 66° N. the two 

3 x 


coasts are only thirteen leagues asunder, and about 
midway between them lie two islands, the distance 
from which to either shore is short of twenty miles. 
At this place the natives of Asia could hint no dif¬ 
ficulty in passing over to the opposite coast, which 
is in sight of their own. That in a course of years 
such an event would happen, either through design 
or accident, cannot admit of a doubt. The canoes 
which we saw among the Tschutzki were capable of 
performing a much longer voyage ; and, however 
rude they may have been at some distant period, 
we can scarcely suppose them unequal to a passage 
of six or seven leagues. People might have been 
carried over by accident on floating pieces of ice. 
They might also have travelled across on sledges 
or on foot; for we have reason to believe that the 
strait is entirely frozen over in the winter; so that, 
during that season, the continents, with respect to 
the communication between them, may be consider¬ 
ed as one land.” Letter from Mr. Samwell, Scots 
Magazine for 1788, p. 604. It is probable that this 
interesting portion of geographical knowledge will, 
in the course of a few years, receive further im¬ 
provement. Soon after the publication of captain 
Cook’s last voyage, the great and enlightened sove¬ 
reign of Russia, attentive to every thing that may 
contribute to extend the bounds of science, or to 
render it more accurate, formed the plan of a new 
voyage of discovery, in order to explore those parts 
of the ocean lying between Asia and America which 
captain Cook did not visit, to examine more accu¬ 
rately the islands which stretch from one continent 
almost to the other, to survey the north-east coast of 
the Russian empire, from the mouth of the Kovyma, 
or Kolyma, to the North Cape, and to settle, by as¬ 
tronomical observations, the position of each place 
worth notice. The conduct of this important en¬ 
terprise is committed to captain Billings, an English 
officer in the Russian service, of whose abilities for 
that station it will be deemed the best evidence, that 
he accompanied captain Cook in his last voyage. 
To render the expedition more extensively useful, 
an eminent naturalist is appointed to attend captain 
Billings. Six years will be requisite for accom¬ 
plishing the purposes of the voyage. Coxe, Sup¬ 
plement to Russian Discoveries, p. 27, &c. 

Note XLIY. (Page 813.) 

Few travellers have had such opportunity of ob¬ 
serving the natives of America, in its various dis¬ 
tricts, as Don Antonio Ulloa. In a work lately 
published by him, he thus describes the character- 
istical features of the race: “A very small fore¬ 
head, covered with hair towards its extremities, as 
far as the middle of the eye-brows ; little eves ; a 
thin nose, small and bending towards the upper lip ; 
the countenance broad; the ears large; the hair 
very black, lank, and coarse ; the limbs well turned, 
the feet small, the body of just proportion ; and 
altogether smooth and free from hair, until old age, 
when they acquire some beard, but never on the 



1042 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


cheeks.” Notieias Americanas, See. p. 307. M. le 
Chevalier (le Pinto, who resided several years in a 
part of America which Ulloa never visited, gives a 
sketch of the general aspect of the Indians there. 

“ They are all of copper colour, with some diversity 
of shade, not in proportion to their distance from 
the equator, but according to the degree of eleva¬ 
tion of the territory which they inhabit. Those who 
live in a high country are fairer than those in the 
marshy low lands on the coast. Their face is round, 
further removed, perhaps, than that of any people 
from an oval shape. Their forehead is small, the 
extremity of their ears far from the face, their lips 
thick, their nose flat, their eyes black, or of a ches- 
nut colour, small, but capable of discerning objects 
at a great distance. Their hair is always thick and 
sleek, and without any tendency to curl. They have 
no hair on any part of their body but the head. At 
the first aspect, a southern American appears to be 
mild and innocent, but on a more attentive view, 
one discovers in his countenance something wild, 
distrustful, and sullen.” MS. penes me. The two 
portraits, drawn by hands very different from those 
of common travellers, have a near resemblance. 

Note XLV. (Page S13.) 

Amazing accounts are given of the persevering 
speed of the Americans. Adair relates the adven¬ 
tures of a Cliikkasah warrior, who ran through 
woods and over mountains, three hundred computed 
miles, in a day and a half and two nights. Hist, of 
Amer. Ind. 396. 

Note XLVI. (Page 814.) 

M. Godin le Jeune, who resided fifteen years 
among the Indians of Peru and Quito, and twenty 
years in the French colony of Cayenne, in which 
there is a constant intercourse with the Galibis and 
other tribes on the Orinoco, observes, that the vigour 
of constitution among the Americans is exactly in 
proportion to their habits of labour. The Indians, 
in warm climates, such as those on the coasts of the 
South Sea, on the river of Amazons, and the river 
Orinoco, are not to be compared for strength with 
those in cold countries ; and yet, says he, boats 
daily set out from Para, a Portuguese settlement on 
the river of Amazons, to ascend that river against 
the rapidity of the stream, and with the same crew 
they proceed to San Pablo, which is eight hundred 
leagues distant. No crew of white people, or even 
of negroes, would be found equal to a task of such 
persevering fatigue, as the Portuguese have expe¬ 
rienced, and yet the Indians, being accustomed to 
this labour from their infancy, perform it. MS. 
penes me. 

Note XLYII. (Page 816.) 

Don Antonio Ulloa, who visited a great part of 
Peru and Chili, the kingdom of New Granada, and 
several of the provinces bordering on the Mexican 
gulf, while employed in the same service with the 


French mathematicians during the space of ten 
years, and who afterwards had an opportunity of 
viewing the North Americans, asserts, “ that if we 
have seen one American, we may be said to have 
seen them all, their colour and make are so nearly 
the same.” Notic. Americanas, p. 308. A more 
early observer, Pedro de Cieca de Leon, one of the 
conquerors of Peru, who had likewise traversed 
many provinces of America, affirms that the people, 
men and women, although there is such a multitude 
of tribes or nations as to be almost innumerable, 
and such diversity of climates, appear nevertheless 
like the children of one father and mother. Chronica 
del’ Peru, parte i. c. 19. There is, no doubt, a cer¬ 
tain combination of features, and peculiarity of 
aspect, which forms what may be called a Eu¬ 
ropean or Asiatic countenance. There must like¬ 
wise be one that may be denominated American, 
common to the whole race. This may be supposed 
to strike the traveller at first sight, while not only 
the various shades which distinguish people of 
different regions, but the peculiar features which 
discriminate individuals, escape the notice of a 
transient observer. But when persons who had re¬ 
sided so long among the Americans concur in bear¬ 
ing testimony to the similarity of their appearance 
in every climate, we may conclude that it is more 
remarkable than that of any other race. See like¬ 
wise Garcia, Origen de los Indies, p. 54. 242. Toti- 
quemada, Monarch. Indiana, ii. 571. 

Note XLYIII. (Page 817.) 

M. le Chevalier de Pinto observes, that in the 
interior parts of Brazil, he had been informed 
that some persons resembling the white people of 
Darien have been found ; but that the breed did noi 
continue, and their children became like other 
Americans. This race, however, is very imperfectly 
known. MS. penes me. 

Note XLIX. (Page 817.) 

The testimonies of different travellers, concerning 
the Patagonians, have been collected and stated 
with a considerable degree of accuracy by the author 
of Recherches Philosophiques, &c. tom. i. 281, &c. 
iii. 181, &c. Since the publication of his work, 
several navigators have visited the Magellanic 
regions, and, like their predecessors, differ very 
widely in their accounts of its inhabitants. By 
commodore Byron and his crew, who sailed through 
the Straits in 1764, the common size of the Pa¬ 
tagonians was estimated to be eight feet, and many 
of them much taller. Phil. Transact, vol. Ivii. 
p. 78. By captains Wallis and Carteret, who 
actually measured them in 1766, they were found to 
be from six feet to six feet five and seven inches in 
height. Phil. Trans, vol. lx. p. 22. These, how¬ 
ever, seem to have been the very people whose size 
had been rated so high in the year 1764 ; for several 
of them had beads and red baize of the same kind 
with what had been put on board Captain Wallis’s 



1043 


NOTES AND IL 

ship, and he naturally concluded that they had got 
these from Mr. Byron. Hawkesw. i. In 1767 they 
were again measured by M. Bougainville, whose 
account differs little from that of captain Wallis. 
Voy. 129. To this I shall add a testimony of great 
weight. In the year 1762, Don Bernardo Ibegnez 
de Echavarri accompanied the marquis de Valdeli- 
rios to Buenos Ayres, and resided there several 
years. He is a very intelligent author, and his 
reputation for veracity unimpeached among his 
countrymen. In speaking of the country towards 
the southern extremity of America, “ By what 
Indians," says he, “ is it possessed? Not certainly 
by the fabulous Patagonians, who are supposed to 
occupy this district. I have from many eye-wit¬ 
nesses, who have lived among those Indians, and 
traded much with them, a true and accurate descrip¬ 
tion of their persons. They are of the same stature 
with Spaniards. I never saw one who rose in height 
two varas and two or three inches," i. e. about 80 or 
81.332 inches English, if Echavarri makes his com¬ 
putation according to the vara of Madrid. This 
agrees nearly with the measurement of captain 
Wallis. Reyno Jesuitico, 238. Mr. Falkner, who 
resided as a missionary forty years in the southern 
parts of America, says, that “ the Patagonians, or 
Puelches, are a large-bodied people; but I never 
heard of that gigantic race which others have men¬ 
tioned, though I have seen persons of all the diff er¬ 
ent tribes of southern Indians." Introd. p. 26. M. 
Dobrizlioffer, a Jesuit, who resided eighteen years 
in Paraguay, and who had seen great numbers of 
the various tribes which inhabit the countries 
situated upon the straits of Magellan, confirms, in 
every point, the testimony of his brother-missionary 
Falkner. Dobrizhoflfer enters into some detail with 
respect to the opinions of several authors, concern¬ 
ing the stature of the Patagonians. Having men¬ 
tioned the reports of some early travellers with 
regard to the extraordinary size of some bones found 
on that coast which were supposed to be human, and 
having endeavoured to show that these bones belong¬ 
ed to some large marine or land animal, he concludes, 

“ de hisce ossibus crede quicquid libuerit, dum- 
modo, me suasore, Patagones pro gigantibus desinas 
habere." Historia de Abissonibus, vol. ii. p. 19, &c. 

Note L. (Page 818.) 

Antonio Sanchez Rideiro, a learned and inge¬ 
nious physician, published a dissertation in the year 
1765, in which he endeavours to prove, that this dis¬ 
ease was not introduced from America, but took its 
rise in Europe, and was brought on by an epidemi¬ 
cal and malignant disorder. Did I choose to enter 
into a disquisition on this subject, which I should 
not have mentioned, if it had not been intimately 
connected with this part of my inquiries, it would 
not be difficult to point out some mistakes with 
respect to the facts upon which he founds, as well 
as some errors in the consequences which he draws 
from them. The rapid communication of this dis- 

3x2 


LUSTRATIONS. 

ease from Spain over Europe, seems however to 
resemble the progress of an epidemic, rather than 
that of a disease transmitted by infection. The first 
mention of it is in the year 1493, and before the year 
1497 it had made its appearance in most countries 
of Europe, with such alarming symptoms as ren¬ 
dered it necessary for the civil magistrate to inter¬ 
pose, in order to check its career.—Since the publi¬ 
cation of this work, a second edition of Dr. Sanchez’s 
Dissertation has been communicated to me. It 
contains several additional facts in confirmation of 
his opinion, which is supported with such plausible 
arguments, as render it a subject of inquiry well 
deserving the attention of learned physicians. 

Note LI. (Page 819.) 

The people of Otaheite have no denomination 
for any number above two hundred, which is suffi¬ 
cient for their transactions. Voyages by Hawkes- 
worth, ii. 228. 

Note LII. (Page 821 .) 

As the view which I have given of rude nations 
is extremely different from that exhibited by very 
respectable authors, it may be proper to produce 
some of the many authorities on which I found my 
description. The manners of the savage tribes 
in America have never been viewed by persons 
more capable of observing them with discernment, 
than the philosophers employed by France and 
Spain, in the year 1735, to determine the figure 
of the earth. M. Bouguer, D. Antonio d’Ulloa, 
and D. Jorge Juan, resided long among the natives 
of the least civilized provinces in Peru. M. de 
la Condamine had not only the same advantages 
with them for observation, but in his voyage down 
the Maragnon, he had an opportunity of inspecting 
the state of the various nations seated on its 
banks, in its vast course across the continent of 
South America. There is a wonderful resemblance 
in their representation of the character of the 
Americans. “ They are all extremely indolent," 
says M. Bouguer, “they are stupid; they pass 
whole days sitting in the same place, without 
moving, or speaking a single word. It is not easy 
to describe the degree of their indifference for 
wealth and all its advantages. One does not well 
know what motive to propose to them, when one 
w ould persuade them to perform any service. It is 
vain to offer them money ; they answer that they 
are not hungry." Voyage au Perou, p. 102. “ If 

one considers them as men, the narrowness of their 
understanding seems to be incompatible with the 
excellence of the soul. Their imbecility is so visi¬ 
ble, that one can hardly form an idea of them dif¬ 
ferent from what one has of the brutes. Nothing 
disturbs the tranquillity of their souls, equally 
insensible to disasters and to prosperity. Though 
half-naked, they are as contented as a monarch in 
his most splendid array. Riches do not attract 
them in the smallest degree, and the authority or 



1044 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


dignities to which they may aspire are so little the 
objects of their ambition, that an Indian will re¬ 
ceive with the same indifference the office of a judge 
(alcade) or that of a hangman, if deprived of the 
former and appointed to the latter. Nothing can 
move or change them. Interest has no power over 
them, and they often refuse to perform a small 
service, though certain of a great recompence. Fear 
makes no impression upon them, and respect as 
little. Their disposition is so singular that there is 
no method of influencing them, no means of rousing 
them from that indifference, which is proof against 
all the endeavours of the wisest persons; no expe¬ 
dient which can induce them to abandon that gross 
ignorance, or lay aside that careless negligence, 
which disconcert the prudence and disappoint the 
care of such as are attentive to their welfare.” Voy¬ 
age d'Ulloa, tom. i. 335, 356. Of those singular 
qualities he produces many extraordinary instances, 
p. 336—347. “ Insensibility,” says M. de la Con- 

damine, “ is the basis of the American character. I 
leave others to determine, whether this should be 
dignified with the name of apathy, or disgraced 
with that of stupidity. It arises, without doubt, 
from the small number of their ideas, which do not 
extend beyond their wants. Gluttons even to vo¬ 
racity, when they have wherewithal to satisfy their 
appetite. Temperate, when necessity obliges them, 
to such a degree, that they can endure want without 
seeming to desire any thing. Pusillanimous and 
cowardly to excess, unless when they are rendered 
desperate by drunkenness. Averse to labour, in¬ 
different to every motive of glory, honour, or grati¬ 
tude ; occupied entirely by the object that is present, 
and always determined by it alone, without any 
solicitude about futurity ; incapable of foresight or 
of reflection ; abandoning themselves, w hen under 
no restraint, to a puerile joy, which they express 
by frisking about, and immoderate fits of laughter; 
without object or design, they pass their life without 
thinking, and grow old without advancing beyond 
childhood, of which they retain all the defects. If 
this description were applicable only to the Indians 
in some provinces of Peru, who are slaves in every 
respect but the name, one might believe, that this 
degree of degeneracy was occasioned by the servile 
dependence to which they are reduced ; the exam¬ 
ple of the modern Greeks being proof how far 
servitude may degrade the human species. Rut the 
Indians in the missions of the Jesuits, and the 
savages who still enjoy unimpaired liberty, being 
as limited in their faculties, not to say as stupid, as 
the other, one cannot observe, without humiliation, 
that man, when abandoned to simple nature, and 
deprived of the advantages resulting from education 
and society, differs but little from the brute cre¬ 
ation.” Voyage de la Riv. de Amaz. 52, 53. M. de 
Chanvalon, an intelligent and philosophical ob¬ 
server, who visited Martinico in 1751, and resided 
there six years, gives the following description of 
the Caraibs: “ It is not the red colour of their com¬ 


plexion, it is not the singularity of their features, 
which constitutes the chief difference between 
them and us. It is their excessive simplicity; 
it is the limited degree of their faculties. Their 
reason is not more enlightened or more provident 
than the instinct of brutes. The reason of the most 
gross peasants, that of the negroes brought up in 
the parts of Africa most remote from intercourse 
with Europeans, is such, that we discover appear¬ 
ances of intelligence, which, though imperfect, is 
capable of increase. But of this the understanding 
of the Caraibs seems to be hardly susceptible. If 
sound philosophy and religion did not afford us 
their light, if we were to decide according to the 
first impression which the view of that people makes 
upon the mind, we should be disposed to believe 
that they do not belong to the same species with us. 
Their stupid eyes are the true mirror of their souls ; 
it appears to be without functions. Their indolence 
is extreme; they have never the least solicitude 
about the moment which is to succeed that which is 
present.” Voyage k la Martinique, p. 44, 45. 51. 
M. de la Borde, Tertre, and Rochefort, confirm this 
description. “ The characteristics of the Califor¬ 
nians,” says P. Venegas, “as well as of all other 
Indians, are stupidity and insensibility; want of 
knowledge and reflection ; inconstancy, impetu¬ 
osity, and blindness of appetite ; an excessive sloth, 
and abhorrence of all labour and fatigue; an exces¬ 
sive love of pleasure and amusement of every kind, 
however trifling or brutal; pusillanimity ; and, in 
fine, a most wretched want of every thing which con¬ 
stitutes the real man, and renders him rational, in¬ 
ventive, tractable, and useful to himself and society. 
It is not easy for Europeans, who never w ere out of 
their own country, to conceive an adequate idea of 
those people; for, even in the least frequented 
corners of the globe, there is not a nation so stupid, 
of such contracted ideas, and so weak both in body 
and mind, as the unhappy Californians. Their un¬ 
derstanding comprehends little more than wdiat they 
see; abstract ideas, and much less a chain of 
reasoning, being far beyond their pow er; so that 
they scarce ever improve their first ideas, and these 
are in general false, or at least inadequate. It is in 
vain to represent to them any future advantages 
which will result to them from doing or abstaining 
from this or that particular immediately present; 
the relation of means and ends being beyond the 
stretch of their faculties. Nor have they the least 
notion of pursuing such intentions as will procure 
themselves some future good, or guard them against 
future evils. Their will is proportional to their 
faculties, and all their passions move in a very 
narrow sphere. Ambition they have none, and are 
more desirous of being accounted strong than 
valiant. The objects of ambition with us, honour, 
fame, reputation, titles, posts, and distinctions of 
superiority, are unknown among them; so that this 
powerful spring of action, the cause of so much 
seeming good and real evil in the world, has no 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


power lieie, 1 his disposition of mind, as it gives 
them up to an amazing languor and lassitude, their 
lives fleeting away in a perpetual inactivity and 
detestation of labour, so it likewise induces them to 
be attracted by the first object which their own 
fancy, or the persuasion of another, places before 
them ; and at the same time renders them as prone 
to alter their resolutions with the same facility. 
They look with indifference upon any kindness done 
them ; nor is even the bare remembrance of it to be 
expected from them. In a word, the unhappy mor¬ 
tals may be compared to children, in whom the 
development of reason is not completed. They 
may indeed be called a nation who never arrived at 
manhood.” Hist, of Californ. Engl. Transl. i. 64. 
67. Mr. Ellis gives a similar account of the want 
of foresight and inconsiderate disposition of the peo¬ 
ple adjacent to Hudson’s bay. Voyage, p. 194,195. 

The incapacity of the Americans is so remarkable, 
that negroes from all the different provinces of 
Africa are observed to be more capable of improving 
by instruction. They acquire the knowledge of 
several particulars which the Americans cannot 
comprehend. Hence the negroes, though slaves, 
value themselves as a superior order of beings, and 
look down upon the Americans with contempt, as 
void of capacity and of rational discernment. Ulloa, 
Notic. Americ. 322, 323. 

Note LIII. (Page 822 .) 

Dobrizhoffer, the last traveller I know who 
has resided among any tribe of the ruder Ameri¬ 
cans, has explained so fully the various reasons 
which have induced their women to suckle their 
children long, and never to undertake rearing such 
as were feeble or distorted, and even to destroy a 
considerable number of their offspring, as to throw 
great light on the observations I have made, p. 
71, 72. Hist, de Abissonibus, vol. ii. p. 107. 221. 
So deeply were these ideas imprinted in the minds 
of the Americans, that the Peruvians, a civilized 
people, when compared with the barbarous tribes 
whose manners I am describing, retained them; 
and even their intercourse with the Spaniards has 
not been able to root them out. When twins are 
born in any family, it is still considered as an 
ominous event, and the parents have recourse to 
rigorous acts of mortification, in order to avert the 
calamities with which they are threatened. When 
a child is born with any deformity, they will not, if 
they can possibly avoid it, bring it to be baptized, 
and it is with difficulty they can be brought to rear it. 
Arriaga Extirpac. de la Idolat. del Peru, p. 32, 33. 

Note LIV. (Page 824.) 

The number of the fish in the rivers of South 
America is so extraordinary, as to merit particular 
notice. “ In the Maragnon (says P. Acugna) fish 
are so plentiful, that, w ithout any art, they may 
take them with the hands,” p. 138. “ In the Ori¬ 

noco, (says P. Gumilla,) besides an infinite variety 


of other fish, tortoise or turtle abound in such num¬ 
bers, that I cannot find words to express it. I doubt 
not but that such as read my account will accuse 
me of exaggeration ; but I can affirm that it is as 
difficult to count them, as to count the sands on the 
banks of that river. One may judge of their num¬ 
ber by the amazing consumption of them ; for all 
the nations contiguous to the river, and even many 
who are at a distance, flock thither at the season of 
breeding, and not only find sustenance during that 
time, but carry off great numbers both of the turtles 
and of their eggs,” &c. Hist, de l’Orenoque, ii. c. 
22. p. 59. M. de la Condamine confirms their ac¬ 
counts, p. 159. 

Note LV. (Page 824.) 

Piso describes two of these plants, the Cururuape, 
and the Guajana-Timbo. It is remarkable, that 
though they have this fatal effect upon fishes, they 
are so far from being noxious to the human species, 
that they are used in medicine with success. Piso, 
lib.iv. c.88. Bancroft mentions another, the Hiarree, 
a small quantity of which is sufficient to inebriate 
all the fish to a considerable distance, so that in a 
few minutes they float motionless on the surface of 
the w'ater, and are token with ease. Nat. Hist, of 
Guiana, p. 109. 

(Note LVT. (Page 824.) 

Remarkable instances occur of the calamities 
which rude nations suffer by famine. Alvar Nugnez 
Cabeca de Vaca, one of the most gallant and virtu¬ 
ous of the Spanish adventurers, resided almost 
nine years among the savages of Florida. They 
were unacquainted with every species of agricul¬ 
ture. Their subsistence was poor and precarious. 
“They live chiefly (says he) upon roots of different 
plants, which they procure with great difficulty, 
wandering from place to place in search of them. 
Sometimes they kill game, sometimes they catch 
fish, but in such small quantities, that their hunger 
is so extreme as compels them to eat spiders, the 
eggs of ants, worms, lizards, serpents, a kind of 
unctuous earth, and I am persuaded, that if in this 
country there were any stones, they would swallow 
these. They preserve the bones of fishes and ser¬ 
pents, which they grind into powder, and eat. The 
only season when they do not suffer much from 
famine, is when a certain fruit, which he calls 
Tunas , is ripe. This is the same with the Opuntia, 
or prickly pear, of a reddish and yellow colour, 
with a sweet insipid taste. They are sometimes 
obliged to travel far from their usual place of resi¬ 
dence, in order to find them.” Naufragios, c. xviii. 
p. 20,21,22. In another place he observes, that 
they are frequently reduced to pass two or three 
days without food, c. xxiv. p. 27. 

Note LVII. (Page 825.) 

M. Fermin has given an accurate description of 
the two species of manioc, with an account of its 






1016 


THE HISTORY 

culture, to which he has added some experiments, 
in order to ascertain the poisonous qualities of the 
juice extracted from that species which he calls the 
hitter cassava. Among the Spaniards, it is known 
by the name of Yuca brava. Descr. de Surin. tom. 
i. p. 66. 

Note LYIII. (Page 825.) 

The plantain is found in Asia and Africa, as 
well as in America. Oviedo contends, that it is not 
an indigenous plant of the New World, but was in¬ 
troduced into the island of Hispaniola, in the year 
1516, by father Thomas de Berlanga, and that he 
transplanted it from the Canary islands, whither 
the original slips had been brought from the East 
Indies. Oviedo, lib. viii. c. 1. But the opinion of 
Acosta and other naturalists, who reckon it an 
American plant, seems to be better founded. Acosta, 
Hist. Nat. lib. iv. 21. It was cultivated by rude 
tribes in 'America, who had little intercourse with 
the Spaniards, and who were destitute of that inge¬ 
nuity which disposes men to borrow what is useful 
from foreign nations. Gumil. iii. 186. Wafer’s 
Voyage, p. 87. 

Note LIX. (Page 825.) 

It is remarkable, that Acosta, one of the most 
accurate and best informed writers concerning the 
West Indies, affirms that maize, though cultivated 
on the continent, was not known in the islands, the 
inhabitants of which had none but cassada bread. 
Hist. Nat. lib. iv. c. 16. But P. Martyr, in the 
first book of his first Decad, which was written in 
the year 1493, upon the return of Columbus from 
his first voyage, expressly mentions maize as a plant 
which the islanders cultivated, and of which they 
made bread, p. 7. Gomara likewise asserts, that 
they were acquainted with the culture of maize. 
Histor. Gener. cap. 28. Oviedo describes maize 
without any intimation of its being a plant that was 
not natural to Hispaniola. Lib. vii. c. 1. 

Note LX. (Page 827.) 

New Holland, a country which formerly was 
only known, has lately been visited by intelligent 
observers. It lies in a region of the globe where it 
must enjoy a very favourable climate, as it stretches 
from the 10th to the 38th degree of southern lati¬ 
tude. It is of great extent, and from its square 
form must be much more than equal to all Europe. 
The people who inhabit the various parts of it 
appear to be of one race. They are evidently ruder 
than most of the Americans, and have made still 
less progress in improvement and the arts of life. 
There is not the least appearance of cultivation in 
any part of this vast region. The inhabitants are 
extremely few, so that the country appears almost 
desolate. Their tribes are still more inconsiderable 
than those of America. They depend for subsist¬ 
ence almost entirely on fishing. They do not settle 
in one place, but roam about in quest of food. Both 


OF AMERICA. 

sexes go stark-naked. Their habitations, utensils, 
&c. are more simple and rude than those of the 
Americans. Voyages, by Hawkesworth, iii. 622, &c. 
This, perhaps, is the country where man has been 
discovered in the earliest stage of his progress, and 
it exhibits a miserable specimen of his condition 
and powers in that uncultivated state. If this 
country shall be more fully explored by future 
navigators, the comparison of the manners of its 
inhabitants with those of the Americans will prove 
an instructive article in the history of the human 
species. 

Note LXI. (Page 827.) 

P. Gabriel Marest, who travelled from his sta¬ 
tion among the Illinois to Machillimakinac, thus 
describes the face of the country:—“We have 
marched twelve days without meeting a single 
human creature. Sometimes we found ourselves in 
vast meadows, of which we could not see the boun¬ 
daries, through which there flowed many brooks 
and rivers, but without any path to conduct us. 
Sometimes we were obliged to open a passage 
across thick forests, through bushes, and underwood 
filled with briers and thorns. Sometimes we had 
to pass through deep marshes, in which we sunk 
up to the middle. After being fatigued through the 
day, we had the earth for our bed, or a few leaves, 
exposed to the wind, the rain, and all the injuries 
of the air.” Lettr. Edifiantes, ii. 360. Dr. Brickell, 
in an excursion from North Carolina towards the 
mountains, A. D. 1730, travelled fifteen days with¬ 
out meeting with a human creature. Nat. Hist, of 
North Carolina, 389. Diego de Ordas, in attempt¬ 
ing to make a settlement in South America, A. D. 
1532, marched fifty days through a country without 
one inhabitant. Herrera, dec. 5. lib. i. c. 11. 

Note LX1I. (Page 827.) 

I strongly suspect that a community of goods, 
and an undivided store, are known only among the 
rudest tribes of hunters; and that as soon as any 
species of agriculture or regular industry is known, 
the idea of an exclusive right of property to the 
fruits of them is introduced. I am confirmed in 
this opinion by accounts which I have received 
concerning the state of property among the Indians 
in very different regions of America. “The idea 
of the natives of Brazil concerning property is, that 
if any person cultivate a field, he alone ought to 
enjoy the produce of it, and no other has a title to 
pretend to it. If an individual or family go a 
hunting or fishing, what is caught belongs to the 
individual or to the family, and they communicate 
no part of it to any but to their cazique, or to such 
of their kindred as happen to be indisposed. If 
any person in the village come to their hut, he may 
sit down freely, and eat without asking liberty. But 
this is the consequence of their general principle 
of hospitality; for I never observed any partition 
of the increase of their fields, or the produce of the 





NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1017 


chase, which I could consider as the result of any I 
idea concerning a community of goods. On the 
contrary, they are so much attached to what they 
deem to be their property, that it would be extremely 
dangerous to encroach upon it. As far as I have 
seen or can learn, there is not one tribe of Indians 
in South America, among whom that community of 
goods which has been so highly extolled is known. 
The circumstance in the government of the Jesuits, 
most irksome to the Indians of Paraguay, was the 
community of goods which those fathers intro¬ 
duced. This was repugnant to the original ideas of 
the Indians. They were acquainted with the rights 
of private exclusive property, and they submitted 
with impatience to regulations which destroyed 
them.” M. le Cheval. de Pinto, MS. penes me. 

“ Actual possession (says a missionary who resided 
several years among the Indians of the Five Nations) 
gives a right to the soil, but whenever a possessor 
sees fit to quit it, another has as good right to take 
it as he who left it. This law, or custom, respects 
not only the particular spot on which he erects his 
house, but also his planting-ground. If a man has 
prepared a particular spot of ground, on which he 
designs in future to build or plant, no man has a 
right to incommode him, much less to the fruit of 
his labours, until it appears that he voluntarily 
gives up his views. But I never heard of any 
formal conveyance from one Indian to another in 
their natural state. The limits of every canton are 
circumscribed ; that is, they are allowed to hunt as 
far as such a river on this hand, and such a moun¬ 
tain on the other. This area is occupied and im¬ 
proved by individuals and their families. Indi¬ 
viduals, not the community, have the use and profit 
of their own labours, or success in hunting.” MS. 
of Mr. Gideon Hawley, penes me. 

Note LXIII. (Page 828.) 

This difference of temper between the Americans 
and negroes is so remarkable, that it is a proverbial 
saying in the French islands, “ Regarder un sau- 
vage de travers, e’est le battre; le battre, e’est le 
tuer ; battre un negre, e’est le nourrir.” Tertre, ii. 
490. 

Note LXIV. (Page 828.) 

The description of the political state of the peo¬ 
ple of Cinaloa perfectly resembles that of the in¬ 
habitants of North America. “They have neither 
laws nor kings (says a missionary who resided long 
among them) to punish any crime. Nor is there 
among them any species of authority, or political 
government, to restrain them in any part ol their 
conduct. It is true, that they acknowledge certain 
caziques, who are heads of their families or villages, 
but their authority appears chiefly in war, and the 
expeditions against their enemies. This authority 
the caziques obtain not by hereditary right, but by 
their valour in war, or by the power and number of 
their families and relations. Sometimes they owe 


their pre-eminence to their eloquence in displaying 
their own exploits.” Ribas, Hist, de las Triumph. 
&c. p. 11. The state of the Chiquitos in South 
America is nearly the same. “ They have no regu¬ 
lar form of government, or civil life, but in matters 
of public concern they listen to the advice of their 
old men, and usually follow it. The dignity of 
cazique is not hereditary, but conferred according 
to merit, as the reward of valour in war. The 
union among them is imperfect. Their society re¬ 
sembles a republic without any head, in which every 
man is master of himself, and, upon the least dis¬ 
gust, separates from those with whom he seemed to 
be connected.” Relacion Historical de las Mis- 
siones de los Chiquitos, por P. Juan Patr. Fernan¬ 
dez, p. 32, 33. Thus, under very different climates, 
when nations are in a similar state of society, their 
institutions and civil government assume the same 
form. 

Note LXV. (Page 832.) 

“ I have known the Indians (says a person well 
acquainted with their mode of life) to go a thousand 
miles for the purpose of revenge, in pathless woods, 
over hills and mountains, through huge cane- 
swamps, exposed to the extremities of heat and 
cold, the vicissitude of seasons, to hunger and 
thirst. Such is their over-boiling revengeful tem¬ 
per, that they utterly contemn all those things as 
imaginary trifles, if they are so happy as to get the 
scalp of the murderer, or enemy, to satisfy the 
craving ghosts of their deceased relations.” Adair’s 
Hist, of Amer. Indians, p. 150. 

Note LXYI. (Page 832.) 

In the account of the great war between the 
Algonquins and Iroquois, the achievements of Pis- 
karet, a famous chief of the Algonquins, performed 
mostly by himself alone, or with one or two com¬ 
panions, make a capital figure. De la Potherie, i. 

297, &c. Colden’s Hist, of Five Nations, 125, &c. 

/ 

Note LXVII. (Page 832.) 

The life of an unfortunate leader is often in dan¬ 
ger, and he is always degraded from the rank which 
he had acquired by his former exploits. Adair, 
p. 388. 

Note LXVIII. (Page 832.) 

As the ideas of the North Americans, with respect 
to the mode of carrying on war, are generally known, 
I have founded my observations chiefly upon the 
testimony of the authors who describe them. But 
the same maxims took place among other nations 
in the New World. A judicious missionary has 
given a view of the military operations of the peo¬ 
ple in Gran Chaco, in South America, perfectly 
similar to those of the Iroquois. “ They are much 
addicted to war, (says he,) which they carry on fre¬ 
quently among themselves, but perpetually against 
the Spaniards. But they may rather be called 


1048 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


thieves than soldiers, for they never make head 
against the Spaniards, unless when they ean assault 
them by stealth, or have guarded against any mis- 
chance by spies, who may be called indefatigable. 
They will watch the settlements of the Spaniards 
for one, two, or three years, observing by night 
every thing that passes with the utmost solicitude, 
whether they may expect resistance or not, and 
until they are perfectly secure of the event, they 
will not venture upon an attack ; so that when 
they do give the assault, they are certain of success, 
and free from all danger. These spies, in order 
that they may not be observed, will creep on all- 
four like cats in the night; but if they are discover¬ 
ed, make their escape with much dexterity. But, 
although they never choose to face the Spaniards, 
if they be surrounded in any place whence they 
cannot, escape, they will fight with desperate valour, 
and sell their lives very dear/’ Lozano, Descript, 
del Gran Chaco, p. 78. 

Note LXIX. (Page 833.) 

Lery, who was an eye-w itness of the proceedings 
of the Toupinambns, a Brazilian tribe, in a war 
against a powerful nation of their enemies, de¬ 
scribes their courage and ferocity in very striking 
terms. Ego cum Gallo altero, paulo curiosius, 
magno nostro periculo, (si enim ab hostibus capti 
aut lesi fuissemus, devorationi fuissemus devoti,) 
barbaros nostros in militiam euntes comitari volui. 
Hi, numero 4000 capita, cum hostibus ad littus de- 
certarunt, tanta ferocitate, ut vel rabidos et furiosos 
quosque superarent. Cum primum hostes con- 
spexere, in magnos atque editos ululatus perrupe- 
runt. Haec gens adeo fera est et truculenta, ut tan- 
tisper dum virium vel tantillum restat, continuo 
dimicent, fugamque nunquam capessant. Quod a 
natura illis inditum esse reor. Testor interea me, 
qui non semel, tumpeditum turn equitum copias in- 
gentes, in aciern instruetas hie conspexi, tanta nun¬ 
quam voluptate videndis peditum legionibus armis 
fulgentibus, quanta turn pugnantibus istis per- 
cussum fuisse. Lery, Hist. Navigat. in Brasil, ap. 
de Bry, iii. 207, 208, 209. 

Note LXX. (Page 833.) 

It was originally the practice of the Americans, as 
well as of other savage nations, to cut off the heads of 
the enemies whom they slew, and to carry them away 
as trophies. But as they found these cumbersome in 
their retreat, which they always make very rapidly, 
and often through a vast extent of country, they be¬ 
came satisfied with tearing off their scalps. This cus¬ 
tom, though most prevalent in North America, was not 
unknown among the southern tribes. Lozano, p. 79. 

Note LXXI. (Page 834.) 

The terms of the war-song seem to be dictated 
by the same fierce spirit of revenge. “ I go to war 
to revenge the death of my brothers ; I shall kill ; 
I shall exterminate; I shall burn my enemies ; I 


shall bring away slaves ; I shall devour their heart, 
dry their flesh, drink their blood ; I shall tear ofl 
their scalps, and make cups of their skulls.” Bos¬ 
ses Travels through Louisiana, vol. i. p. 102. I am 
informed, by persons on whose testimony I can rely, 
that as the number of people in the Indian tribes 
has decreased so much, almost none of their pri¬ 
soners are now put to death. It is considered as 
better policy to spare and to adopt them. Those 
dreadful scenes which I have described occur now 
so rarely, that missionaries and traders who have 
resided long among the Indians, never were wit¬ 
nesses to them. 

Note LXXII. (Page 834.) 

All the travellers who have visited the most un¬ 
civilized of the American tribes agree in this. It 
is confirmed by two remarkable circumstances, 
which occurred in the conquest of different pro¬ 
vinces. In the expedition of Narvaez into Florida 
in the year 1528, the Spaniards were reduced to 
such extreme distress by famine, that, in order to 
preserve their own lives, they ate such of their com¬ 
panions as happened to die. This appeared so 
shocking to the natives, who were accustomed to 
devour none but prisoners, that it filled them with 
horror and indignation against the Spaniards. 
Torquemada Monarch. Ind. ii. p. 584. Naufragios 
de Alv. Nugnez Cabeca de Vaca, c. xiv. p. 15. 
During the siege of Mexico, though the Mexicans 
devoured with greediness the Spaniards and Tlas- 
calans whom they took prisoners, the utmost rigour 
of the famine which they suffered could not induce 
them to touch the dead bodies of their own coun¬ 
trymen. Bern. Diaz del Castillo, Conquist. de la 
N. Espagna, p. 156. 

Note LXXIII. (Page 835.) 

Many singular circumstances concerning the 
treatment of prisoners among the people of Brazil, 
are contained in the narrative of Stadius, a German 
officer in the service of the Portuguese, published 
in the year 1556. ' He was taken prisoner by the 
Toupinambos , and remained in captivity nine years. 
He w as often present at those horrid festivals which 
he describes, and was destined himself to the 
same cruel fate with other prisoners. But he saved 
his life by his extraordinary efforts of courage and 
address. De Bry, iii. p. 34, &c. M. de Lery, who 
accompanied M. de Villagagnon in his expedition to 
Brazil, in the year 1556, and who resided some time 
in that country, agrees with Stadius in every cir¬ 
cumstance of importance. He was frequently an 
eye-witness of the manner in which the Brazilians 
treated their prisoners. De Bry, iii. 210. Several 
striking particulars omitted by them, are mentioned 
by a Portuguese author. Pureh. Pilgr. iv. 1294, &c. 

Note LXXIY. (Page 836 .) 

Though I have followed that opinion concerning 
the apathy of the Americans, which appeared to 









1049 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


me most rational, and supported by the authority of 
the most respectable authors, other theories have 
been formed with regard to it, by writers of great 
eminence. De Ant. Ulloa, in a late work, contends 
that the texture of the skin and bodily habit of the 
Americans is such, that they are less sensible of 
pain than the rest of mankind. He produces se¬ 
veral proofs of this, from the manner in which they 
endure the most cruel chirurgical operations, &c. 
Noticias Americanas, p. 313, 314. The same ob¬ 
servation has been made by surgeons in Brazil. An 
Indian, they say, never complains under pain, and 
w ill bear the amputation of a leg or an arm without 
uttering a single groan. MS. penes me. 

Note LXXV. (Page 836.) 

This is an idea natural to all rude nations. 
Among the Romans, in the early periods of their 
commonwealth, it was a maxim that a prisoner, 
“ turn decessisse videtur cum captus est.” Digest, 
lib. xlix. tit. 15. c. 18. And afterwards, when the 
progress of refinement rendered them more indul¬ 
gent with respect to this article, they were obliged 
to employ two fictions of law to secure the property, 
and permit the return of a captive, the one by the 
Lex Cornelia, and the other by the Jus Postliminii. 
Heinec. Elem, Jur. Civ. sec. ord. Pand. ii. p. 294. 
Among the negroes the same ideas prevail. No 
ransom was ever accepted for a prisoner. As soon 
as one is taken in war, lie is reputed to be dead ; 
and he is so in effect to his country and his family. 
Voy. du Cheval. des Marchais, i. p. 369. 

Note LXXYI. (Page 836.) 

The people of Chili, the most gallant and high- 
spirited of all the Americans, are the only excep¬ 
tion to this observation. They attack their enemies 
in the open field ; their troops are ranged in regular 
order; their battalions advance to the charge, not 
only with courage, but with discipline. The North 
Americans, though many of them have substituted 
the European fire-arms in place of their own bows 
and arrows, still adhere to their ancient maxims of 
w r ar, and carry it on according to their own peculiar 
system. But the Chilese nearly resemble the war¬ 
like nations of Europe and Asia in their military 
operations. Ovalle’s Relation of Chili. Church. 
Col. iii. p. 71. Lozano’s Hist. Parag. i. 144, 145. 

Note LXXYIT. (Page 837.) 

Herrera gives a remarkable proof of this. In 
Yucatan, the men are so solicitous about their dress 
that they carry about with them mirrors, probably 
made of stone, like those of the Mexicans, Dec. 
iv. lib. iii. c. 8. in which they delight to view them¬ 
selves ; but the women never use them, Dec. iv. lib. 
x. c. 3. He takes notice that among the fierce tribe 
of the Panches , in the new kingdom of Granada, 
none but distinguished warriors were permitted 
either to pierce their lips and to wear green stones 
in them, or to adorn their heads with plumes of 


feathers, Dec. vii. lib. ix. c. 4. In some provinces 
of Peru, though that empire had made considerable 
progress in civilization, the state of women, was 
little improved. All the toil of cultivation and do¬ 
mestic work was devolved upon them, and they were 
not permitted to wear bracelets, or other ornaments, 
with which the men were fond of decking them¬ 
selves. Zarate, Hist de Peru, i. p. 15, 16. 

Note LXXVIII. (Page t>37.) 

I have ventured to call this mode of anointing 
and painting their bodies, the dress of the Americans. 
This is agreeable to their own idiom. As they never 
stir abroad if they are not completely anointed, they 
excuse themselves when in this situation, by say¬ 
ing, that they cannot appear because they are naked. 
Gumilla, Hist, de l’Orenoque, i. 191. 

Note LXXIX. (Page 838.) 

Some tribes in the province of Cinaloa, on the 
gulf of California, seem to be among the rudest 
people of America united in the social state. They 
neither cultivate nor sow; they have no houses in 
which they reside. Those in the inland country 
subsist by hunting; those on the sea-coast chiefly 
by fishing. Both depend upon the spontaneous 
productions of the earth, fruits, plants, and roots of 
various kinds. In the rainy season, as they have 
no habitations to afford them shelter, they gather 
bundles of reeds, or strong grass, and binding them 
together at one end, they open them at the other, 
and fitting them to their heads, they are covered as 
with a large cap, which like a pent-house throws 
off the rain, and will keep them dry for several 
hours. During the warm season, they form a shed 
with the branches of trees, which protects them 
from the sultry rays of the sun. When exposed to 
cold, they make large fires, round which they sleep 
in the open air. Historia de los Triumphos de 
Nuestra Sante Fe entre Gentes las mas Barbaras, 
&c. por P. And. Perez de Ribas, p. 7, &c. 

Note LXXX. (Page 838.) 

These houses resemble barns. “ We have mea¬ 
sured some which were a hundred and fifty paces 
long, and twenty paces broad! Above a hundred 
persons resided in some of them.” Wilson’s Ac¬ 
count of Guiana. Purch. Pilgr. vol. iv. p. 1263. 
Ibid. 1291. “The Indian houses,” says Mr. Bar- 
rere, “ have a most wretched appearance, and are a 
striking image of the rudeness of early times. Their 
huts are commonly built on some rising ground, or 
on the banks of a river, huddled sometimes together, 
sometimes straggling, and always without any order. 
Their aspect is melancholy and disagreeable. One 
sees nothing but what is hideous and savage. The 
uncultivated fields have no gaiety. The silence 
which reigns there, unless when interrupted by the 
disagreeable notes of birds, or cries of wild beasts, 
is extremely dismal.” Relat. de la France Equin. 
p. 146. 



1050 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Note LXXXI. (Page S38.) 

Some tribes in South America can send their ar¬ 
rows to a great distance, and with considerable 
force, without the aid of the bow. They make use 
of a hollow reed, about nine feet long, and an inch 
thick, which is called a Sarbacane. In it they lodge 
a small arrow, with some unspun cotton wound 
about its great end ; this confines the air, so that 
they can blow it with astonishing rapidity, and a 
sure aim, to the distance of above a hundred paces. 
These small arrows are always poisoned. Fermin. 
Descr. de Surin. i. 55. Bancroft's Hist, of Guiana, 
p. 281, &c. The Sarbacane is much used in some 
parts of the East Indies. 

Note LXXXII. (Page 838.) 

I might produce many instances of this, but shall 
satisfy myself with one, taken from the Esquimaux. 
“Their greatest ingenuity (says Mr. Ellis) is shown 
in the structure of their bows, made commonly of 
three pieces of wood, each making part of the same 
arch, very nicely and exactly joined together. They 
are commonly of fir or larch ; and as this wants 
strength and elasticity, they supply both by bracing 
the back of the bow with a kind of thread, or line, 
made of the sinews of their deer, and the bow-string 
of the same materials. To make them draw more 
stiffly, they dip them into water, which causes both 
the back of the bow and the string to contract, and 
consequently gives it the greater force ; and as they 
practise from their youth, they shoot with very great 
dexterity." Voyage to Hudson's Bay, p. 138. 

Note LXXXIII. (Page 839.) 

Necessity is the great prompter and guide of 
mankind in their inventions. There is, however, 
such inequality in some parts of their progress, and 
some nations get so far the start of others in cir¬ 
cumstances nearly similar, that we must ascribe this 
to some events in their story, or to some peculiarity 
in their situation, with which we are unacquainted. 
The people in the island of Otaheite, lately disco¬ 
vered in the South Sea, far excel most of the Ame¬ 
ricans in the knowledge and practice of the arts of 
ingenuity, and yet they had not invented any me¬ 
thod of boiling water; and having no vessel that 
would bear the fire, they had no more idea that 
water could be made hot, than that it could be made 
solid. Voyages by Hawkesworth, i. 466. 484. 

Note LXXXIV. (Page 839.) 

One of these boats, which could carry nine men, 
weighed only sixty pounds. Gosnal. Relat. des 
Voy. a la Virgin. Rec. de Voy. au Nord, tom. v. 
p. 403. 

Note LXXXV. (Page 839.) 

A remarkable proof of this is produced by Ulloa. 
In weaving hammocks, coverlets, and other coarse 
cloths, which they are accustomed to manufacture, 


their industry has discovered no more expeditious 
method than to take up thread after thread, and 
after counting and sorting them each time, to pass 
the woof between them, so that in finishing a small 
piece of those stuffs, they frequently spend more 
than two years. Voyage, i. 336. Bancroft gives 
the same description of the Indians of Guiana, p. 
255. According to Adair, the ingenuity and des¬ 
patch of the North American Indians are not greater, 
p. 422. From one of the engravings of the Mexi¬ 
can paintings in Purchas, vol. iii.'p. 1106. I think 
it probable that the people of Mexico were unac¬ 
quainted with any better or more expeditious mode 
of weaving. A loom was an invention beyond the 
ingenuity of the most improved Americans. In all 
their works they advance so slowly, that one of their 
artists is two months at a tobacco-pipe with his 
knife before he finishes it. Adair, p. 423. 

Note LXXXVI. (Page 840.) 

The article of religion in P. Lafitau’s Moeurs des 
Sauvages, extends to 347 tedious pages in quarto. 

Note LXXXVII. (Page 840.) 

I have referred the reader to several of the au¬ 
thors who describe the most uncivilized nations in 
America. Their testimony is uniform. That of P. 
Ribas concerning the people of Cinaloa, coincides 
with the rest. “ I was extremely attentive, (says 
he,) during the years I resided among them, to as¬ 
certain whether they were to be considered as idola¬ 
ters ; and it may be affirmed with the most perfect 
exactness, that though among some of them there 
may be traces of idolatry, yet others have not the 
least knowledge of God, or even of any false deity, 
nor pay any formal adoration to the Supreme Being 
who exercises dominion over the world ; nor have 
they any conception of the providence of a Creator 
or Governor, from whom they expect in the next life 
the reward of their good or the punishment of their 
evil deeds. Neither do they publicly join in any act 
of divine worship." Ribas Triumphos, &c. p. 16. 

Note LXXXVII1. (Page 841.) 

The people of Brazil were so much affrighted by 
thunder, which is frequent and awful in their coun¬ 
try, as well as in other parts of the torrid zone, that 
it was not only the object of religious reverence, 
but the most expressive name in their language for 
the Deity was Toupan , the same by which they dis¬ 
tinguished thunder. Piso de Medec. Brazil, p. 8. 
Nieuhoff. Church. Coll. ii. p. 132. 

Note LXXXIX. (Page 842.) 

By the account which M. Dumont, an eye-wit¬ 
ness, gives of the funeral of the great chief of the 
Natchez, it appears, that the feelings of the persons 
who suffered on that occasion were very different. 
Some solicited the honour with eagerness; others 
laboured to avoid their doom, and several saved 
their lives by flying to the woods. As the Indian 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1051 


Brahmins give an intoxicating draught to the women 
who are to be burnt together with the bodies of their 
husbands, which renders them insensible of their 
approaching fate, the Natchez obliged their victims 
to swallow several large pills of tobacco, which 
produce a similar effect. Mem. de Louis, i. 227. 

Note XC. (Page 844.) 

On some occasions, particularly in dances insti¬ 
tuted for the recovery of persons who are indis¬ 
posed, they are extremely licentious and indecent. 
De la Potherie Hist. &c. ii. p. 42. Charlev. N. Fr. 
iii. p. 319. But the nature of their dances is com¬ 
monly such as I have described. 

Note XCI. (Page 845.) 

The Othomacoas, a tribe seated on the banks of 
the Orinoco, employ for the same purpose a compo¬ 
sition which they call Yupa. It is formed of the 
seeds of an unknown plant reduced to powder, and 
certain shells burnt and pulverized. The effects of 
this when drawn up into the nostrils are so violent, 
that they resemble madness rather than intoxica¬ 
tion. Gumilla, i. 286. 

Note XCII. (Page 846.) 

Though this observation holds true among the 
greater part of the southern tribes, there are some 
in which the intemperance of the women is as ex¬ 
cessive as that of the men. Bancroft’s Nat. Hist, 
of Guiana, p. 275. 

Note XCIII. (Page 847.) 

Even in the most intelligent writers concerning 
the manners of the Americans, one meets with in¬ 
consistent and inexplicable circumstances. The 
Jesuit Charlevoix, who, in consequence of the con¬ 
troversy between his order and that of the Francis¬ 
cans, with respect to the talents and abilities of the 
North Americans, is disposed to represent their 
intellectual as well as moral qualities in the most 
favourable light, asserts, that they are engaged in 
continual negociations with their neighbours, and 
conduct these with the most refined address. At 
the same time he adds, “ that it behoves their 
envoys or plenipotentiaries to exert their abilities 
and eloquence, for if the terms which they offer are 
not accepted of, they had need to stand on their 
guard. It frequently happens, that a blow with a 
hatchet is the only return given to their propositions. 
The envoy is not out of danger, even if he is so 
fortunate as to avoid the stroke; he may expect to 
be pursued, and if taken, to be burnt.” Hist. N. 
Fr. iii. 251. What occurs, p. 862. concerning 
the manner in which the Tlascalans treated the 
ambassadors from Zempoalla, corresponds with the 
fact related by Charlevoix. Men capable of such 
acts of violence, seem to be unacquainted with the 
first principles upon which the intercourse between 
nations is founded ; and instead of the perpetual 
negociations which Charlevoix mentions, it seems 


almost impossible that there should be any corres¬ 
pondence whatever among them. 

Note XCIY. (Page 847.) 

It is a remark of Tacitus concerning the Germans, 

“ Gaudent muneribus, sed nec data imputant, nec 
acceptis obligantur.” C. 21. An author who had a 
good opportunity of observing the principle which 
leads savages neither to express gratitude for 
favours which they had received, nor to expect any 
return for such as they bestowed, thus explains 
their ideas: “ If (say they) you give me this, it is 
because you have no need of it yourself; and as for 
me, I never part with that which I think necessary to 
me.” Memoire sur les Galibis ; Hist, des Plantes de 
la Guiane Francoise par M. Aublet, tom. ii. p. 110. 

Note XCV. (Page 851.) 

And. Bernaldes, the contemporary and friend 
of Columbus, has preserved som.e circumstances 
concerning the bravery of the Caribbees, which are 
not mentioned by Don Ferdinand Columbus, or the 
other historians of that period, whose works have 
been published. A Caribbean canoe, with four 
men, two women, and a boy, fell in unexpectedly 
with the fleet of Columbus in his second voyage, as 
it was steering through their islands. At first they 
were struck almost stupid with astonishment at 
such a strange spectacle, and hardly moved from 
the spot for above an hour. A Spanish bark, with 
twenty-five men, advanced towards them, and the 
fleet gradually surrounded them, so as to cut off 
their communication with the shore. “ When they 
saw that it was impossible to escape, (says the histo¬ 
rian,) they seized their arms with undaunted resolu¬ 
tion, and began the attack. I use the expression, 
with undaunted resolution , for they were few, and 
beheld a vast number ready to assault them. They 
wounded several of the Spaniards although they 
had targets, as well as other defensive armour; and 
even after their canoe was overset, it was with no 
little difficulty and danger that part of them were 
taken, as they continued to defend themselves, and 
to use their bows with great dexterity while swim¬ 
ming in the sea.” Hist, de D. Fern, y Ysab. MS. 
c. 119. 

Note XCYI. (Page 851.) 

A probable conjecture may be formed with 
respect to the cause of the distinction in character 
between the Caribbees and the inhabitants of the 
larger islands. The former appear manifest to be a 
separate race. Their language is totally different 
from that of their neighbours in the large islands. 
They themselves have a tradition, that their ances¬ 
tors came originally from some part of the continent, 
and having conquered and exterminated the ancient 
inhabitants, took possession of their lands, and of 
thUir women. Rochefort, 384. Tertre, 360. Hence 
they call themselves Bana ree, which signifies a man 
come from beyond sea. Labat. vi. 131. Accord 



1052 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


ingly, the Caribbees still use two distinct languages, 
one peculiar to the men, and the other to the women. 
Tertre, 361. The language of the men has nothing 
common with that spoken in the large islands. The 
dialect of the women considerably resembles it. 
Labat. 129. This strongly confirms the tradition 
which I have mentioned. The Caribbees themselves 
imagine, that they were a colony from the Galabis, 
a powerful nation of Guiana, in South America. 
Tertre, 361. Rochefort, 348. But as their fierce 
manners approach nearer to those of the people in 
the northern continent, than to those of the natives 
of South America ; and as their language has like¬ 
wise some affinity to that spoken in Florida, their 
origin should be deduced rather from the former 
than from the latter. Labat. 128, &c. Herrera, 
dec. i. lib. ix. c. 4. In their wars, they still observe 
their ancient practice of destroying all the males, 
and preserving the women either for servitude or 
for breeding. 

Note XCYII. (Page 851.) 

Our knowledge of the events which happened in 
the conquest of New Spain, is derived from sources 
of information more original and authentic than that 
of any transaction in the history of America. The 
letters of Cortes to the emperor Charles Y. are an 
historical monument, not only first in order of time, 
but of the greatest authenticity and value. As 
Cortes early assumed a command independent of 
Yelasquez, it became necessary to convey such an 
account of his operations to Madrid, as might pro¬ 
cure him the approbation of his sovereign. 

The first of his despatches had never been made 
public. It was sent from Vera Cruz, July 16,1519. 
As I imagined that it might not reach the emperor 
until he arrived in Germany, for which he set out 
early in the year 1520 in order to receive the impe¬ 
rial crown, I made diligent search for a copy of this 
despatch, both in Spain and in Germany, but with¬ 
out success. This, however, is of less consequence, 
as it could not contain any thing very material, 
being written so soon after Cortes arrived in New 
Spain. But, in searching for the letter from 
Cortes, a copy of one from the colony of Vera Cruz 
to the emperor has been discovered in the impe¬ 
rial library at Vienna. Of this I have given some 
account in its proper place, p. 860. The second 
despatch, dated October 30, 1520, was published at 
Seville, A. D. 1522, and the third and fourth soon 
after they were received. A Latin translation of 
them appeared in Germany, A. D. 1532. Ramusio 
soon after made them more generally known, by 
inserting them in his valuable collection. They 
contain a regular and minute history of the expedi¬ 
tion, with many curious particulars concerning the 
policy and manners of the Mexicans. The work 
does honour to Cortes : the style is simple and per¬ 
spicuous ; but as it was manifestly his interest to 
represent his own actions in the fairest light, his 
victories are probably exaggerated, his losses 


diminished, and his acts of rigour and violence 
softened. 

The next in order is the Cronica de la Nueva 
Espagna, by Francisco Lopez de Gomara, published 
A. D. 1554. Gomara’s historical merit is consider¬ 
able. His mode of narration is clear, flowing, 
always agreeable, and sometimes elegant. But he 
is frequently inaccurate and credulous ; and as he 
was the domestic chaplain of Cortes after his return 
from New Spain, and probably composed his work 
at his desire, it is manifest that he labours to mag¬ 
nify the merit of his hero, and to conceal or extenu¬ 
ate such transactions as were unfavourable to his 
character. Of this Herrera accuses him in one 
instance, dec. ii. lib. iii. c. 2. and it is not once only 
that this is conspicuous. He writes, however, with 
so much freedom concerning several measures of the 
Spanish court, that the copies both of his Historia 
de las Indias, and of his Cronica, were called in by 
a decree of the council of the Indies, and they were 
long considered as prohibited books in Spain ; it is 
only of late that licence to print them has been 
granted. Pinelo Biblioth. 582. 

The Chronicle of Gomara induced Bernal Diaz 
del Castillo to compose his Historia Verdadera de 
la Conquista de la Nueva Espagna. He had been 
an adventurer in each of the expeditions to New 
Spain, and was the companion of Cortes in all his 
battles and perils. When he found that neither he 
himself, nor many of his fellow-soldiers, were once 
mentioned by Gomara, but that the fame of all their 
exploits was ascribed to Cortes, the gallant veteran 
laid hold of his pen with indignation, and composed 
his true history. It contains a prolix, minute, con¬ 
fused narrative of all Cortes’s operations, in such a 
rude vulgar style as might be expected from an 
illiterate soldier. But as he relates transactions of 
which he was witness, and in which he performed a 
considerable part, his account bears all the marks 
of authenticity, and is accompanied with such a 
pleasant naivete , with such interesting details, with 
such amusing vanity, and yet so pardonable in an 
old soldier who had been (as he boasts) in a hundred 
and nineteen battles, as renders his book one of the 
most singular that is to be found in any language. 

Pet. Martyr ab Angleria, in a treatise De Insulis 
nuper inventis, added to his Decades de Rebus 
Oceanicis et Novo Orbe, gives some account of 
Cortes’s expedition. But he proceeds no further 
than to relate what happened after his first landing. 
This work, which is brief and slight, seems to con¬ 
tain the information transmitted by Cortes in his 
first despatches, embellished with several particu¬ 
lars communicated to the author by the officers who 
brought the letters from Cortes. 

But the book to which the greater part of modern 
historians have had recourse for information con¬ 
cerning the conquest of New Spain, is Historia de 
la Conquista de Mexico, por D. Antonio de Solis, 
first published A. D. 1684. I know no author in 
any language whose literary fame has risen so far 






NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


beyond his real merit. De Solis is reckoned by his 
countrymen one of the purest writers in the Casti¬ 
lian tongue ; and if a foreigner may venture to give 
his opinion concerning a matter of which Spaniards 
alone are qualified to judge, he is entitled to that 
praise. But though his language is correct, his 
taste in composition is far from being just. His 
periods are so much laboured as to be often stiff, 
and sometimes tumid ; the figures which he em¬ 
ploys by way of ornament are frequently trite or 
improper, and his observations superficial. These 
blemishes, however, might easily be overlooked, if 
he were not defective with respect to all the great 
qualities of an historian. Destitute of that patient 
industry in research which conducts to the know¬ 
ledge of truth ; a stranger to that impartiality which 
weighs evidence with cool attention ; and ever eager 
to establish his favourite system of exalting the 
character of Cortes into that of a perfect hero, ex¬ 
empt from error, and adorned with every virtue; 
he is less solicitous to discover what was true than 
to relate what might appear splendid. When he 
attempts any critical discussion, his reasonings are 
fallacious, and founded upon an imperfect view of 
facts. Though he sometimes quotes the despatches 
of Cortes, he seems not to have consulted them ; 
and though he sets out with some censure on Go- 
mara, he frequently prefers his authority, the most 
doubtful of any, to that of the other contemporary 
historians. 

But of all the Spanish writers, Herrera furnishes 
the fullest and most accurate information concern¬ 
ing the conquest of Mexico, as well as every other 
transaction of America. The industry and attention 
with which he consulted not only the books, but the 
original papers and public records, which tended 
to throw any light upon the subject of his inquiries, 
were so great, and he usually judges of the evi¬ 
dence before him with so much impartiality and 
candour, that his decads may be ranked among the 
most judicious and useful historical collections. If, 
by attempting to relate the various occurrences in 
the New World in a strict chronological order, the 
arrangement of events in his work had not been 
rendered so perplexed, disconnected, and obscure, 
that it is an unpleasant task to collect from different 
parts of his book, and piece together the detached 
shreds of a story, he might justly have been ranked 
among the most eminent historians of his country. 
He gives an account of the materials from which 
lie composed his work, Decad. 6. lib. iii. c. 19. 

Note XCVIII. (Page 852.) 

Cortes purposed to have gone in the train of 
Ovando when he set out for his government in the 
year 1502, but was detained by an accident. As he 
was attempting in a dark night to scramble up to 
the window of a lady’s bed-chamber, with whom he 
carried on an intrigue, an old wall, on the top of 
which he had mounted, gave way, and he was so 
much bruised by the fall 0 as to be unfit for the 


1053 

voyage. Gomara, Cronica de la Nueva Espagna, 
cap.1. 

Note XCIX. (Page 852.) 

Cortes had two thousand pesos in the hands of 
Andrew Duero, and he borrowed four thousand. 
These sums are about equal in value to fifteen hun¬ 
dred pounds sterling ; but as the price of every 
thing was extremely high in America, they made 
but a scanty stock when applied towards the equip¬ 
ment of a military expedition. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. 
iii. c. 2. B. Diaz, c. 20. 

Note C. (Page 854.) 

The names of those gallant officers, which will 
often occur in the subsequent story, were Juan Ve¬ 
lasquez de Leon, Alonso Hernandez Portocarrero, 
Francisco de Montejo, Christoval de Olid, Juan de 
Escalante, Francisco de Morla, Pedro de Alvarado, 
Francisco de Salceda, Juan de Escobar, Gines de 
Nortes. Cortes himself commanded the capitana, 
or admiral. Francisco de Orozco, an officer formed 
in the wars of Italy, had the command of the ar¬ 
tillery. The experienced Alaminos acted as chief 
pilot. 

Note Cl. (Page 854.) 

In those different conflicts, the Spaniards lost 
only two men, but had a considerable number 
wounded. Though there be no occasion for recourse 
to any supernatural cause to account either for the 
greatness of their victories, or the smallness of their 
loss, the Spanish historians fail not to ascribe both 
to the patronage of St. Jago, the tutelar saint of 
their country, who, as they relate, fought at the 
head of their countrymen, and by his prowess gave 
a turn to the fate of the battle. Gomara is the first 
who mentions this apparition of St. James. It is 
amusing to observe the embarrassment of B. Diaz 
del Castillo, occasioned by the struggle between 
his superstition and his veracity. The former dis¬ 
posed him to believe this miracle, the latter restrain¬ 
ed him from attesting it. “ T acknowledge,” says 
he, “ that all our exploits and victories are owing 
to our Lord Jesus Christ, and that in this battle 
there was such a number of Indians to every one of 
us, that if each had thrown a handful of earth they 
might have buried us, if by the great mercy of God 
we had not been protected. It may be that the per¬ 
son whom Gomara mentions as having appeared on 
a mottled grey horse, was the glorious apostle Sig¬ 
nor San Jago or Signor San Pedro, and that I, as 
being a sinner, was not worthy to see him. This I 
know, that I saw Francisco de Morla on such a 
horse, but, as an unworthy transgressor, did not 
deserve to see any of the holy apostles. It may 
have been the will of God that it w as so as Gomara 
relates, but until I read his chronicle I never heard 
among any of the conquerors that such a thing had 
happened.” Cap. 34. 



1054 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Note CII. (Page 856.) 

Several Spanish historians relate this occurrence 
in such terms as if they wished it should be believed, 
that the Indians, loaded with the presents, had car¬ 
ried them from the capital in the same short space 
of time that the couriers performed that journey. 
This is incredible, and Gomara mentions a circum¬ 
stance which shows, that nothing extraordinary 
happened on this occasion. This rich present had 
been prepared for Grijalva, when he touched at the 
same place some months before, and was now ready 
to be delivered, as soon as Montezuma sent orders 
for that purpose. Gomara Cron. c. xxvii. p. 28. 

According to B. Diaz del Castillo, the value of 
the silver plate representing the moon, was alone 
above twenty thousand pesos, about five thousand 
pounds sterling. 

Note CIII. (Page 857.) 

This private traffic was directly contrary to the 
instructions of Velasquez, who enjoined, that what¬ 
ever was acquired by trade should be thrown into 
the common stock. But it appears, that the soldiers 
had each a private assortment of toys, and other 
goods proper for the Indian trade, and Cortes gained 
their favour by encouraging this under-hand barter. 
B. Diaz, c. 41. 

Note CIV. (Page 861.) 

Gomara has published a catalogue of the various 
articles of which this present consisted. Cron. c. 
49. P. Martyr ab Angleria, who saw them after 
they were brought to Spain, and who seems to have 
examined them with great attention, gives a de¬ 
scription of each, which is curious, as it conveys 
some idea of the progress which the Mexicans had 
made in several arts of elegance. De Insulis nu- 
per inventis Liber, p. 354, &c. 

Note CV. (Page 863.) 

There is no circumstance in the history of the 
conquest of America, which is more questionable 
than the account of the numerous armies brought 
into the field against the Spaniards. As the war 
with the republic of Tlascala, though of short dura¬ 
tion, was one of the most considerable which the 
Spaniards waged in America, the account given of 
the Tlascalan armies merits some attention. The 
only authentic information concerning this is de¬ 
rived from three authors. Cortes, in his second 
despatch to the emperor, dated at Segura de la 
Frontera, October 30, 1520, thus estimates the num¬ 
ber of their troops: in the first battle 6000; in the 
second battle 100,000 ; in the third battle 150,000. 
Relat. ap. Ramus, iii. 228. Bernal Diaz del Cas¬ 
tillo, who was an eye-witness, and engaged in all 
the actions of this war, thus reckons their numbers; 
in the first battle 3000, p. 43. ; in the second battle 
6000, ibid. ; in the third battle 50,000, p. 45. Go¬ 
mara, who was Cortes’s chaplain after his return to 


Spain, and published bis Cronica in 1552, follows 
the computation of Cortes, except in the second 
battle, where he reckons the Tlascalans at 80,000, 
p. 49. It was manifestly the interest of Cortes to 
magnify his own dangers and exploits. For it was 
only by the merit of extraordinary services, that he 
could hope to atone for his irregular conduct in as¬ 
suming an independent command. B. Diaz, though 
abundantly disposed to place his own prowess, and 
that of his fellow-conquerors, in the most advanta¬ 
geous point of light, had not the same temptation 
to exaggerate ; and it is probable that his account 
of the numbers approaches nearer to the truth. The 
assembling of an army of 150,000 men requires 
many previous arrangements, and such provisions 
for their subsistence as seems to be beyond the fore¬ 
sight of Americans. The degree of cultivation in 
Tlascala does not seem to have been so great, as to 
have furnished such a vast army with provisions. 
Though this province was so much better cultivated 
than other regions of New Spain, that it was called 
the country of bread, yet the Spaniards in their 
march suffered such want, that they were obliged to 
subsist upon Tunas , a species of fruit which grows 
wild in the fields. Herrera, dec. ii. lib. vi. c. 5. 

p. 182. 

Note CVI. (Page 864.) 

v 

These unhappy victims are said to be persons 
of distinction. It seems improbable that so great a 
number as fifty should be employed as spies. So 
many prisoners had been taken and dismissed, and 
the Tlascalans had sent so many messages to the 
Spanish quarters, that there appears to be no reason 
for hazarding the lives of so many considerable 
people, in order to procure information about the 
position and state of their camp. The barbarous 
manner in which Cortes treated a people unac¬ 
quainted with the laws of war established among 
polished nations, appears so shocking to the later 
Spanish writers, that they diminish the number of 
those whom he punished so cruelly. Herrera says, 
that he cut off the hands of seven, and the thumbs 
of some more. Dec. ii. lib. ii. c. 8. De Solis re¬ 
lates, that the hands of fourteen or fifteen were cut 
off, and the thumbs of all the rest. Lib. ii. c. 20. 
But Cortes himself, Relat. p. 228. b. and after him 
Gomara, c. 48. affirm, that the hands of all the fifty 
were cut off. 

Note CVII. (Page 864.) 

The horses were objects of the greatest astonish¬ 
ment to all the people of New Spain. At first they 
imagined the horse and his rider, like the centaurs 
of the ancients, to be some monstrous animal of a 
terrible form ; and supposing that their food was 
the same as that of men, brought flesh and bread to 
nourish them. Even after they discovered their 
mistake, they believed the horses devoured men in 
battle, and when they neighed, thought that they 
were demanding their prey. It was not the interest 







NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1065 


of the Spaniards to undeceive them. Herrera, dee. 
ii. lib. vi. c. 11. 

Note CYIII. (Page 866.) 

According to Bart.de las Casas, there was no 
reason for this massacre, and it was an act of wan¬ 
ton cruelty, perpetrated merely to strike terror into 
the people of New Spain. Relac. de la Destruyc. 
p. 17, See. But the zeal of Las Casas often leads 
him to exaggerate. In opposition to him, Bern. 
Diaz, c. 83., asserts, that the first missionaries sent 
into New Spain by the emperor made a judicial in¬ 
quiry into this transaction ; and having examined 
the priests and elders of Cholula, found that there 
was a real conspiracy to cut off the Spaniards, and 
that the account given by Cortes was exactly true. 
As it was the object of Cortes at that time, and ma¬ 
nifestly his interest, to gain the good-will of Mon¬ 
tezuma, it is improbable that he should have taken 
a step which tended so visibly to alienate him from 
the Spaniards, if he had not believed it to be neces¬ 
sary for his own preservation. At the same time 
the Spaniards who served in America had such con¬ 
tempt for the natives, and thought them so little 
entitled to the common rights of men, that Cortes 
might hold the Cholulans to be guilty upon slight 
and imperfect evidence. The severity of the punish¬ 
ment was certainly excessive and atrocious. 

Note CIX. (Page 866.) 

This description is taken almost literally from 
Bernal Diaz del Castillo, who was so unacquainted 
with the art of composition, as to be incapable of 
embellishing his narrative. He relates in a simple 
and rude style what passed in his own mind, and 
that of his fellow-soldiers, on that occasion ; “ and 
let it not be thought strange,’' says he, “ that I 
should write in this manner of what then happened, 
for it ought to be considered, that it is one thing to 
relate, another to have beheld, things that were never 
before seen, or heard, or spoken of among 01611 ." 
Cap. 86. p. 64. b. 

Note CX. (Page 870.) 

B. Diaz del Castillo gives us some idea of the 
fatigue and hardships they underwent in perform¬ 
ing this, and other parts of duty. During the nine 
months that they remained in Mexico, every man, 
without any distinction between officers and sol¬ 
diers, slept on his arms in his quilted jacket and 
gorget. They lay on mats, or straw spread on the 
floor, and each was obliged to hold himself as alert 
as if he had been on guard. “ This/’ adds he, 
“ became so habitual to me, that even now in my 
advanced age, I always sleep in my clothes, and 
never in my bed. When I visit my Encomicnda , I 
reckon it suitable to my rank to have a bed carried 
along with my other baggage, but I never go into 
it; but, according to custom, I lie in my clothes, 
and walk frequently during the night into the open 


air, to view the stars, as I was wont when in ser¬ 
vice." Cap. 108. 

Note CXI. (Page 870.) 

Cortes himself, in his second despatch to the 
emperor, does not explain the motives which in¬ 
duced him either to condemn Qualpopoca to the 
flames, or to put Montezuma in irons. Ramus, iii. 
236. B. Diaz is silent with respect to his reasons 
for the former ; and the only cause he assigns for 
the latter was, that he might meet with no interrup¬ 
tion in executing the sentence pronounced against 
Qualpopoca, c. xcv. p. 75. But as Montezuma was 
his prisoner, and absolutely in his power, he had 
no reason to dread him, and the insult offered to 
that monarch could have no effect but to irritate 
him unnecessarily. Gomara supposes that Cortes 
had no other object than to occupy Montezuma 
with his own distress and sufferings, that he might 
give less attention to what befell Qualpopoca. 
Cron. c. 89. Herrera adopts the same opinion. 
Dec. ii. lib. viii. c. 9. But it seems an bdd expe¬ 
dient, in order to make a person bear one injury, 
to load him with another that is greater. De Solis 
imagines, that Cortes had nothing else in view than 
to intimidate Montezuma, so that he might make 
no attempt to rescue the victims from their fate; 
but the spirit of that monarch was so submissive, 
and he had so tamely given up the prisoners to the 
disposal of Cortes, that he had no cause to appre¬ 
hend any opposition from him. If the explanation 
which I have attempted to give of Cortes’s pro¬ 
ceedings on this occasion be not admitted, it ap¬ 
pears to me, that they must be reckoned among 
the wanton and barbarous acts of oppression which 
occur too often in the history of the conquest of 
America. 

Note CXII. (Page 871.) 

De Solis asserts, lib. iv. c.3., that the proposition 
of doing homage to the king of Spain came from 
Montezuma himself, and was made in order to in¬ 
duce the Spaniards to depart out of his dominions. 
He describes his conduct on this occasion, as if it 
had been founded upon a scheme of profound 
policy, and executed with such refined address as 
to deceive Cortes himself. But there is no hint 
or circumstance in the contemporary historians, 
Cortes, Diaz, or Gomara, to justify this theory. 
Montezuma, on other occasions, discovered no such 
extent of art and abilities. The anguish which he 
felt in performing this humbling ceremony is natu¬ 
ral, if we suppose it to have been involuntary. 
But, according to the theory of De Solis, which 
supposes that Montezuma was executing what he 
himself had proposed, to have assumed an appear¬ 
ance of sorrow would have been preposterous, and 
inconsistent with his own design of deceiving the 
Spaniards. 


/ 



1056 


THE HISTORY 

Note CXIII. (Page 872.) 

In several of the provinces, the Spaniards, with 
all their industry and influence, could collect no 
gold. In others, they procured only a few trinkets 
of small value. Montezuma assured Cortes, that 
the present which he offered to the king of Castile, 
after doing homage, consisted of all the treasure 
amassed by his father; and told him that he had 
already distributed the rest of his gold and jewels 
among the Spaniards. B. Diaz, c. 104. Gomara 
relates, that all the silver collected amounted to 
500 marks. Cron. c. 93. This agrees with the ac¬ 
count given by Cortes, that the royal fifth of silver 
was 100 marks. Relat. 239. B. So that the sum 
total of silver was only 4000 ounces, at the rate of 
eight ounces a mark, which demonstrates the pro¬ 
portion of silver to gold to have been exceedingly 
small. 

Note CXIV. (Page 872.) 

De Solis, lib. iv. c. 1., calls in question the truth 
of this transaction, from no better reason than that 
it was inconsistent with that prudence which dis¬ 
tinguishes the character of Cortes. But he ought 
to have recollected the impetuosity of his zeal at 
Tlascala, which was no less imprudent. He asserts, 
that the evidence for it rests upon the testimony of 
B. Diaz del Castillo, of Gomara, and of Herrera. 
They all concur, indeed, in mentioning this incon¬ 
siderate step which Cortes took; and they had 
good reason to do so, for Cortes himself relates this 
exploit in his second despatch to the emperor, and 
seems to glory in it. Cort. Relat. Ramus, iii. 140. 
D. This is one instance, among many, of De Solis’s 
having consulted with little attention the letters of 
Cortes to Charles V., from which the most authentic 
information with respeet to his operations must be 
derived. 

Note CXV. (Page 874.) 

Herrera and De Solis suppose that Velasquez 
was encouraged to equip this armament against 
Cortes by the accounts which he received from 
Spain concerning the reception of the agents sent 
by the colony of Vera Cruz, and the warmth with 
which Fonseca, bishop of Burgos, had espoused 
his interest, and condemned the proceedings of 
Cortes. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. ix. c. 18. De Solis, 
lib. iv. c. 5. But the chronological order of events 
refutes this supposition. Portocarrero and Mon- 
tejo sailed from Vera Cruz, July 26, 1519. Herrera, 
dec. 2. lib. v. c. 4. They landed at St. Lucar in 
October, according to Herrera, ibid. But P. 
Martyr, who attended the court at that time, and 
communicated every occurrence of moment to his 
correspondents day by day, mentions the arrival of 
these agents for the first time in December, and 
speaks of it as a recent event. Epist. 650. All the 
historians agree, that the agents of Cortes had their 
first audience of the emperor at Tordesillas, when 


OF AMERICA. 

he went to that town to visit his mother in his way 
to St. Jago de Compostella. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. 
v. c. 4. De Solis, lib. iv. c. 5. But the emperor set 
out from Valladolid for Tordesillas on the 11th of 
March 1520; and P. Martyr mentions his having 
seen at that time the presents made to Charles, 
Epist. 665. The armament under Narvaez sailed 
from Cuba in April 1520. It is manifest then that 
Velasquez could not receive any account of what 
passed in this interview at Tordesillas, previous to 
his hostile preparations against Cortes. His real 
motives seem to be those which I have mentioned. 
The patent appointing him Adelantado of New r 
Spain, with such extensive powers, bears date 
November 13, 1519. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iii. c. 11. 
He might receive it about the beginning of January. 
Gomara takes notice, that as soon as this patent 
was delivered to him, he began to equip a fleet and 
levy forces. Cron. c. 96. 

Note CXVI. (Page 874.) 

De Solis contends, that as Narvaez had no in¬ 
terpreters, he could hold no intercourse with the 
people of the provinces, nor converse with them in 
any way but by signs, and that it was equally im¬ 
possible for him to carry on any communication 
with Montezuma. Lib. iv. c. 7. But it is upon 
the authority of Cortes himself that I relate all the 
particulars of Narvaez’s correspondence, both with 
Montezuma and with his subjects in the maritime 
provinces. Relat. Ramus, iii. 244, A. C. Cortes 
affirms, that there was a mode of intercourse between 
Narvaez and the Mexicans, but does not explain 
how it was carried on. Bernal Diaz supplies this 
defect, and informs us, that the three deserters who 
joined Narvaez acted as interpreters, having ac¬ 
quired a competent knowledge of the language, c. 
110 . With his usual minuteness, he mentions their 
names and characters, and relates, in chapter 122. 
how they were punished for their perfidy. The 
Spaniards had now resided above a year among the 
Mexicans ; and it is not surprising, that several 
among them should have made some proficiency in 
speaking their language. This seems to have been 
the case. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. x. c. 1. Both B. 
Diaz, who was present, and Herrera, the most ac¬ 
curate and best informed of all the Spanish writers, 
agree with Cortes in his account of the secret cor¬ 
respondence carried on with Montezuma. Dec. 2. 
lib. x. c. 18, 19. De Solis seems to consider it as 
a discredit to Cortes, his hero, that Montezuma 
should have been ready to engage in a correspond¬ 
ence with Narvaez. He supposes that monarch 
to have contracted such a wonderful affection for 
the Spaniards, that he was not solicitous to be de¬ 
livered from them. After the indignity with which 
he had been treated, such an affection is incredible; 
and even De Solis is obliged to acknowledge, that 
it must be looked upon as one of the miracles which 
God had wrought to facilitate the conquest, lib. iv. 
c. 7. The truth is, Montezuma, however much 




1057 


NOTES ANJ) ILLUSTRATIONS. 


overawed by his dread of the Spaniards, was ex¬ 
tremely impatient to recover his liberty. 

Note CXVII. (Page 878.) 

These words I have borrowed from the anony¬ 
mous Account of the European Settlements in 
America, published by Dodsley, in two volumes 
8 vo ; a work ot so much merit, that I should think 
there is hardly any writer in the age who ought to 
be ashamed of acknowledging himself to be the 
author of it. 

Note CXVIII. (Page 880.) 

The contemporary historians differ considerably 
with respect to the loss of the Spaniards on this 
occasion. Cortes, in his second despatch to the 
emperor, makes the number only 150. Relat. ap. 
Ramus, iii. p. 249. A. But it was manifestly his 
interest, at that juncture, to conceal from the court 
of Spain the full extent of the loss which he had 
sustained. De Solis, always studious to diminish 
every misfortune that befell his countrymen, rates 
their loss at about two hundred men. Lib. iv. c. 
19. B. Diaz affirms that they lost 870 men, and that 
only 440 escaped from Mexico; c. 128. p. 108. B. 
Palafox, bishop of Los Angeles, who seems to have 
inquired into the early transactions of his country¬ 
men in New Spain with great attention, confirms 
the account of B. Diaz, with respect to the extent 
of their loss. Virtudes del Indio, p. 22. Gomara 
states their loss at 450 men. Cron. c. 109. Some 
months afterwards, when Cortes had received seve¬ 
ral reinforcements, he mustered his troops, and 
found them to be only 590. Relat. ap. Ramus, iii. 
p. 255. E. Now, as Narvaez brought 880 men into 
New Spain, and about 400 of Cortes's soldiers were 
then alive, it is evident that his loss, in the retreat 
from Mexico, must have been much more consider¬ 
able than what he mentions. B. Diaz, solicitous 
to magnify the dangers and sufferings to which he 
and his fellow-conquerors were exposed, may have 
exaggerated their loss; but, in my opinion, it cannot 
well be estimated at less than 600 men. 

Note CXIX. (Page 886.) 

Some remains of this great work are still visible, 
and the spot where the brigantines were built and 
launched is still pointed out to strangers. Torque- 
mada viewed them. Monarq. Indiana, vol. i. p. 531. 

Note CXX. (Page 888.) 

The station of Alvarado on the causeway of Ta- 
cuba was the nearest to the city. Cortes observes, 
that there they could distinctly observe what pass¬ 
ed when their countrymen were sacrificed. Relat. 
ap. Ramus, iii. p. 273. E. B. Diaz, who belonged 
to Alvarado's division, relates what he beheld with 
his own eyes. C. 152. p. 148. b. 159. a. Like 
a man whose courage was so clear as to be above 
suspicion he describes with his usual simplicity the 

impression which this spectacle made upon him. 

3 y 


“ Before," says he, “ I saw the breasts of my com¬ 
panions opened, their hearts yet IIuttering, offered 
to an accursed idol, and their flesh devoured by 
their exulting enemies, I was accustomed to enter 
a battle, not only without fear, but with high spirit. 
But from that time I never advanced to fight the 
Mexicans without a secret horror and anxiety ; my 
heart trembled at the thoughts of the death which 
I had seen them suffer." He takes care to add, 
that as soon as the combat began, his terror went 
off; and indeed, his adventurous bravery on every 
occasion is full evidence of this. B. Diaz, c. 156. 
p. 157. a. 

Note CXXI. (Page 889.) 

0 

One circumstance in this siege merits particular 
notice. The account which the Spanish writers 
give of the numerous armies employed in the at¬ 
tack or defence of Mexico seems to be incredible. 
According to Cortes himself, he had at one time 
150,000 auxiliary Indians in his service. Relat. 
Ramus, iii. 275. E. Gomara asserts, that they were 
above 200,000. Cron. c. 136. Herrera, an author 
of higher authority, says, they were about 200,000. 
Dec. 3. lib. i. c. 19. None of the contemporary 
writers ascertain explicitly the number of persons 
in Mexico during the siege. But Cortes on several 
occasions mentions the number of Mexicans who 
were slain, or who perished for want of food ; and, 
if we may rely on those circumstances, it is proba¬ 
ble that above two hundred thousand must have 
been shut up in the tow n. But the quantity of 
provisions necessary for the subsistence of such vast 
multitudes assembled in one place, during three 
months, is so great, that it requires so much fore¬ 
sight and arrangement to collect these, and lay 
them up in magazines so as to be certain of a regu¬ 
lar supply, that one can hardly believe that this 
could be accomplished in a country where agricul¬ 
ture was so imperfect as in the Mexican empire, 
where there were no tame animals, and by a people 
naturally so improvident, and so incapable of exe¬ 
cuting a complicated plan, as the most improved 
Americans. The Spaniards, with all their care and 
attention, fared very poorly, and were often reduced 
to extreme distress for want of provisions. B. Diaz, 
p. 142. Cortes Relat. 271. D. Cortes on one oc¬ 
casion mentions slightly the subsistence of his 
army ; and after acknowledging that they were 
often in great want, adds, that they received sup¬ 
plies from the people of the country, of fish, and 
of some fruit, which he calls the cherries of the 
country. Ibid. B. Diaz says, that they had cakes 
of maize, and serasas de la tierra; and when the 
season of these was over, another fruit, which he 
calls Tunas ; but their most comfortable subsistence 
was a root which the Indians use as food, to which 
he gives the name of Quilites, p. 142. The Indian 
auxiliaries had one means of subsistence more than 
the Spaniards. They fed upon the bodies of the 
Mexicans whom they killed in battle. Cort. Relat. 




1058 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


17G. C. B. Diaz confirms his relation, and adds, 
that when the Indians returned from Mexico to 
their own country, they carried with them large 
quantities of the (lesh of the Mexicans salted or 
dried, as a most acceptable present to their friends, 
that they might, have the pleasure of feeding upon 
the bodies of their enemies in their festivals, p. 
157. De Solis, who seems to consider it as an im¬ 
putation of discredit to his countrymen, that they 
should act in concert with auxiliaries who fed upon 
human flesh, is solicitous to prove that the Spa¬ 
niards endeavoured to prevent their associates from 
eating the bodies of the Mexicans, lib. v. c. 24. 
But he has no authority for this from the original 
historians. Neither Cortes himself, nor B. Diaz, 
seem to have had any such scruple; and, on many oc¬ 
casions, they mention the Indian repasts, which were 
become familiar to them, without any mark of ab¬ 
horrence. Even with this additional stock of food 
for the Indians, it was hardly possible to procure 
subsistence for armies amounting to such numbers as 
we find in the Spanish writers. Perhaps the best so¬ 
lution of the difficulty is, to adopt the opinion of B. 
Diaz del Castillo, the most artless of all the Historia- 
dores primitives. “ When Gomara (says he) on some 
occasions relates, that there were so many thousand 
Indians our auxiliaries, and in others, that there 
were so many thousand houses in this or that town, 
no regard is to be paid to his enumeration, as he 
has no authority for it, the numbers not being in 
reality the fifth of what he relates. If we add to¬ 
gether the different numbers which he mentions, 
that country would contain more millions than there 
are in Castile.’' C. 129. But though some con¬ 
siderable deduction should certainly be made from 
the Spanish accounts of the Mexican forces, they 
must have been very numerous ; for nothing but 
an immense superiority in number could have en¬ 
abled them to withstand a body of nine hundred 
Spaniards, conducted by a leader of such abilities 
as Cortes. 

Note CXXII. (Page 893.) 

In relating the oppressive and cruel proceedings 
of the conquerors of New Spain, I have not follow¬ 
ed B. de las Casas as my guide. His account of 
them, Relat. de laDestruyc. p. 18, &c. is manifestly 
exaggerated. It is from the testimony of Cortes 
himself, and of Gomara, who wrote under his eye, 
that I have taken my account of the punishment of 
the Panucans, and they relate it without any disap¬ 
probation. B. Diaz, contrary to his usual custom, 
mentions it only in general terms, c. 162. Herrera, 
solicitous to extenuate this barbarous action of his 
countrymen, though he mentions 63 caziques, and 
400 men of note, as being condemned to the flames, 
asserts that thirty only were burnt, and the rest par¬ 
doned. Dec. 3. lib. v. c. 7. But this is contrary to 
the testimony of the original historians, particularly 
of Gomara, whom it appears he had consulted, 
as he adopts several of his expressions in this pas¬ 


sage. The punishment of Guatimozin is related 
by the most authentic of the Spanish writers. or- 
quemada has extracted from a history of Tezeuco, 
composed in the Mexican tongue, an account of 
this transaction, more favourable to Guatimozin 
than that of the Spanish authors. Mon. Indiana, 
i. 575. According to the Mexican account, Cortes 
had scarcely a shadow of evidence to justify such 
a wanton act of cruelty. B. Diaz affirms, that Gua¬ 
timozin and his fellow-sufferers asserted their in¬ 
nocence with their last breath, and that many of 
the Spanish soldiers condemned this action of 
Cortes as equally unnecessary and unjust, p. 200. 
b. 201. a. 

Note CXXIII. (Page 894.) 

The motive for undertaking this expedition was, 
to punish Christoval de Olid, one of his officers, 
who had revolted against him, and aimed at estab¬ 
lishing an independent jurisdiction. Cortes re¬ 
garded this insurrection as of such dangerous ex¬ 
ample, and dreaded so much the abilities and 
popularity of its author, that in person he led the 
body of troops destined to suppress it. He marched, 
according to Gomara, three thousand miles, through 
a country abounding with thick forests, rugged 
mountains, deep rivers, thinly inhabited, and culti¬ 
vated only in a few places. What he suffered from 
famine, from the hostility of the natives, from the 
climate, and from hardships of every species, has 
nothing in history parallel to it, but what occurs in 
the adventures of the other discoverers and con¬ 
querors of the New World. Cortes was employed 
in this dreadful service above two years ; and though 
it was not distinguished by any splendid event, he 
exhibited, during the course of it, greater personal 
courage, more fortitude of mind, more perseverance 
and patience, than in any other period or scene in 
his life. Herrera, dec. 3. lib. vi. vii. viii. ix. 
Gomara, Cron. c. 163—177. B. Diaz, 174—190. 
Cortes, MS. penes me. Were one to write a life of 
Cortes, the account of this expedition should occu¬ 
py a splendid place in it. In a general history of 
America, as the expedition was productive of no 
great event, the mention of it is sufficient. 

Note CXXIY. (Page 894.) 

According to Herrera, the treasure which Cortes 
brought with him, consisted of fifteen hundred 
marks of wrought plate, two hundred thousand 
pesos of fine gold, and ten thousand of inferior 
standard, many rich jewels, one in particular worth 
forty thousand pesos, and several trinkets and or¬ 
naments of value. Dec. 4. lib. iii. c. 8. lib. iv. c. 1. 
He afterwards engaged to give a portion with his 
daughter of a hundred thousand pesos. Gomara 
Cron. c. 237. The fortune which he left his sons 
was very considerable. But, as we have before re¬ 
lated, the sum divided among the conquerors, on 
the first reduction of Mexico, was very small. 
There appears, then, to be some reason for suspect- 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1059 


ing that the accusations of Cortes’s enemies were 
notaltogetherdestituteof foundation. They charged 
him with having applied to his own use a dispro¬ 
portionate share of the Mexican spoils; with hav¬ 
ing concealed the royal treasures of Montezuma and 
Guatimozin ; with defrauding the king of his fifth ; 
and robbing his followers of what was due to them. 
Herrera, dec. 3. lib. viii. c. 15. dec. 4. lib. iii. c. 8. 
Some of the conquerors themselves entertained sus¬ 
picions of the same kind with respect to this part 
of his conduct. B. Diaz, c. 157. 

Note CXXV. (Page 896.) 

In tracing the progress of the Spanish arms in 
New Spain, we have followed Cortes himself as 
our most certain guide. His despatches to the em¬ 
peror contain a minute account of his operations. 
But the unlettered conqueror of Peru was incapable 
of relating his own exploits. Our information with 
respect to them, and other transactions in Peru, is 
derived, however, from contemporary and respect¬ 
able authors. 

The most early account of Pizarro’s transactions 
in Peru was published by Francisco de Xerez, his 
secretary. It is a simple unadorned narrative, car¬ 
ried down no further than the death of Atahualpa, 
in 1533; for the author returned to Spain in 1534, 
and, soon after he landed, printed at Seville his 
short History of the Conquest of Peru, addressed 
to the emperor. 

Don Pedro Sancho, an officer who served under 
Pizarro, drew up an account of his expedition, 
which was translated into Italian by Ramusio, and 
inserted in his valuable collection, but has never 
been published in its original language. Sancho 
returned to Spain at the same time with Xerez. 
Great credit is due to what both these authors relate 
concerning the progress and operations of Pizarro ; 
but the residence of the Spaniards in Peru had 
been so short, at the time when they left it, and 
their intercourse with the natives so slender, that 
their knowledge of the Peruvian manners and cus¬ 
toms is very imperfect. 

The next contemporary historian is Pedro Cieza 
de Leon, who published his Cronica del Peru, at 
Seville, in 1553. If he had finished all that he pro¬ 
poses in the general division of his work, it would 
have been the most complete history which had 
been published of any region in the New World. 
He was well qualified to execute it, having served 
during seventeen years in America, and having vi¬ 
sited in person most of the provinces concerning 
which he had occasion to write. But only the first 
part of his chronicle has been printed. It contains 
a description of Peru, and several of the adjacent 
provinces, with an account of the institutions and 
customs of the natives, and is written with so little 
art, and such an apparent regard for truth, that one 
must regret the loss of the other parts of his work. 

This loss is amply supplied by Don Augustine 

Zarate, who published, in 1555, his Historia del 

3 Y 2 


Descubrimiento y Conquesta de la Provincia del 
Peru. Zarate was a man of rank and education, 
and employed in Peru as comptroller-general of the 
public revenue. His history, whether we attend to 
its matter or composition, is a book of considerable 
merit; as he had an opportunity to be well informed, 
and seems to have been inquisitive with respect to 
the manners and transactions of the Peruvians, 
great credit is due to his testimony. 

Don Diego Fernandez published his Historia del 
Peru in 1571. His sole object is to relate the dis¬ 
sensions and civil wars of the Spaniards in that 
empire. As he served in a public station in Peru, 
arid was well acquainted both with the country and 
with the principal actors in those singular scenes 
which he describes, as he possessed sound under¬ 
standing and great impartiality, his work may be 
ranked among those of the historians most distin¬ 
guished for their industry in research, or their ca¬ 
pacity in judging with respect to the events which 
they relate. 

The last author who,can be reckoned among the 
contemporary historians of the conquest of Peru, is 
Garcilasso de la Vega, Inca. For though the first 
part of his work, entitled Commentaries Reales del 
Origin de los Incas Reies del Peru , was not published 
sooner than the year 1609, seventy-six years after 
the death of Atahualpa the last emperor, yet as 
he was born in Peru, and was the son of an officer 
of distinction among the Spanish conquerors, by a 
Coya, or lady of the royal race, on account of which 
he always took the name of inca; as he was master 
of the language spoken by the incas, and acquainted 
with the traditions of his countrymen, his authority is 
rated very high, and often placed above that of all 
the other historians. His work, however, is little 
more than a commentary upon the Spanish writers 
of the Peruvian story, and composed of quotations 
taken from the authors whom I have mentioned. 
This is the idea which he himself gives of it, lib. i. 
c. 10. Nor is it in the account of facts only that 
he follows them servilely. Even in explaining the 
institutions and rites of his ancestors, his information 
seems not to be more perfect than theirs. His ex¬ 
planation of the Quipos is almost the same with that 
of Acosta. He produces no specimen of Peruvian 
poetry, but that wretched one which he borrows from 
Bias Valera, an early missionary, whose memoirs 
have never been published. Lib. ii. c. 15. As for 
composition, arrangement, or a capacity of distin¬ 
guishing between what is fabulous, what is proba¬ 
ble, and what is true, one searches for them in vain 
in the commentaries of the inca. His work, how¬ 
ever, notwithstanding its great defects, is not alto¬ 
gether destitute of use. Some traditions which he 
received from his countrymen are preserved in it. 
His knowledge of the Peruvian language has en¬ 
abled him to correct some errors of the Spanish 
writers, and he has inserted in it some curious facts 
taken from authors whose works were never pub¬ 
lished, and are now lost, 




1000 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Note CXXVI. (Page 897.) 

One may form an idea both of the hardships 
which they endured, and of the unhealthful climate 
in the regions which they visited, from the extraor¬ 
dinary mortality that prevailed among them. Pi¬ 
zarro carried out 112 men, Almagro 70. In less 
than nine months 130 of these died. Few fell by 
the sword ; most of them were cut off by diseases. 
Xerez, p. 180. 

Note CXXYII. (Page 898.) 

This island, says Herrera, is rendered so uncom¬ 
fortable by the unwholesomeness of its climate, its 
impenetrable woods, its rugged mountains, and the 
multitude of insects and reptiles, that it is seldom 
any softer epithet than that of infernal is employed 
in describing it. The sun is almost never seen 
there, and throughout the year it hardly ever ceases 
to rain. Dec. 3. lib. x. c. 3. Dampier touched at 
this island in the year 1685: and his account of the 
climate is not more favourable. Vol. i. p. 172. He, 
during his cruise on the coast, visited most of the 
places where Pizarro landed, and his description of 
them throws light on the narrations of the early 
Spanish historians. 

Note CXXVIII. (Page 902.) 

By this time horses had multiplied greatly in the 
Spanish settlements on the continent. When Cortes 
began his expedition in the year 1518, though his 
armament was more considerable than that of 
Pizarro, and composed of persons superior in rank 
to those who invaded Peru, he could procure no 
more than sixteen horses. 

Note CXXIX. (Page 902.) 

In the year 1740, D. Ant. Ulloa, and D. George 
Juan, travelled from Guayaquil to Motupe, by the 
same route which Pizarro took. From the descrip¬ 
tion of their journey, one may form an idea of the 
difficulty of his march. The sandy plains between 
St. Michael de Pieura and Motupe extend 90 miles, 
without water, without a tree, a plant, or any green 
thing, on a dreary stretch of burning sand. Voyage, 
tom. i. p. 399, &c. 

Note CXXX. (Page 904.) 

This extravagant and unseasonable discourse of 
Valverde has been censured by all historians, and 
with justice. But though he seems to have been 
an illiterate and bigoted monk, nowise resembling 
the good Olmedo who accompanied Cortes, the ab¬ 
surdity of his address to Atahualpa must not be 
charged wholly upon him. His harangue is evi¬ 
dently a translation or paraphrase of that form con¬ 
certed by a junto of Spanish divines and lawyers in 
the.year 1509, for explaining the right of their king 
to the sovereignty of the New World, and for 
directing the officers employed in America how they 
should take possession of any new country. See 


Note xxiii. The sentiments contained in Valverde’s 
harangue must not then be imputed to the bigoted 
imbecility of a particular man, but to that of the 
age. But Gomara and Benzoni relate one circum¬ 
stance concerning Valverde, which, if authentic, 
renders him an object, not of contempt only, but of 
horror. They assert, that during the whole action 
Valverde continued to excite the soldiers to slaugh¬ 
ter, calling to them to strike the enemy, not with 
the edge, but with the points of their swords. Gom. 
Cron. c. 113. Benz. Histor. Nov. Orbis, lib. iii. 
c. 3. Such behaviour was very different from that 
of the Roman catholic clergy in other parts of Ame¬ 
rica, where they uniformly exerted their influence 
to protect the Indians, and to moderate the ferocity 
of their countrymen. 

Note CXXXI. (Page 904.) 

Two diff erent systems have been formed concern¬ 
ing the conduct of Atahualpa. The Spanish writers, 
in order to justify the violence of their countrymen, 
contend that all the inca's professions of friendship 
were feigned ; and that his intention in agreeing to 
an interview with Pizarro at Caxamalca, was to cut 
off him and his followers at one blow ; that for this 
purpose he advanced with such a numerous body of 
attendants, who had arms concealed under their 
garments, to execute this scheme. This is the ac¬ 
count given by Xerez and Zarate, and adopted by 
Herrera. But if it had been the plan of the inca to 
destroy the Spaniards, one can hardly imagine that 
he would have permitted them to march unmolested 
through the desert of Motupe, or have neglected to 
defend the passes in the mountains, where they 
might have been attacked with so much advantage. 
If the Peruvians marched to Caxamalca with an 
intention to fall upon the Spaniards, it is inconceiv¬ 
able that of so great a body of men, prepared for 
action, not one should attempt to make resistance, 
but all tamely suffer themselves to be butchered by 
an enemy whom they were armed to attack. Ata- 
hualpa’s mode of advancing to the interview has 
the aspect of a peaceable procession, not of a mili¬ 
tary enterprise. He himself and his followers were, 
in their habits of ceremony, preceded, as on days of 
solemnity, by unarmed harbingers. Though rude 
nations are frequently cunning and false, yet, if a 
scheme of deception and treachery must be imputed 
either to a monarch, that had no great reason to be 
alarmed at a visit from strangers who solicited ad¬ 
mission into his presence as friends, or to an adven¬ 
turer so daring and so little scrupulous as Pizarro, 
one cannot hesitate in determining where to fix the 
presumption of guilt. Even amidst the endeavours 
of the Spanish writers to palliate the proceedings 
of Pizarro, one plainly perceives that it was his 
intention, as well as his interest, to seize the inca, 
and that he had taken measures for that purpose, 
previous to any suspicion of that monarch's designs. 

Garcilasso de la Vega, extremely solicitous to 
vindicate his countrymen, the Peruvians, from the 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1001 


crime of having concerted the destruction of Pizarro 
and his followers, and no less afraid to charge the 
Spaniards with improper conduct towards the inca, 
has framed another system. He relates, that a man 
of majestic form, with a long beard, and garments 
reaching to the ground, having appeared in a vision 
to Yiracocha, the eighth inca, and declared that he 
was a child of the sun, that monarch built a temple 
in honour of this person, and erected an image of 
him, resembling as nearly as possible the singular 
form in which he had exhibited himself to his view. 
In this temple divine honours were paid to him, by 
the name of Yiracocha. P. i. lib. iv. c. 21. lib. v. 
c. 22. When the Spaniards first appeared in Peru, 
the length of their beards, and the dress they wore, 
struck every person so much with their likeness to 
the image of Viracocha, that they supposed them to 
be children of the sun, who had descended from 
heaven to earth. All concluded, that the fatal 
period of the Peruvian empire was now approach¬ 
ing, and that the throne would be occupied by new 
possessors. Atalnialpa himself, considering the 
Spaniards as messengers from heaven, was so far 
from entertaining any thoughts of resisting them, 
that he determined to yield implicit obedience to 
their commands. From these sentiments flowed his 
professions of love and respect. To those were 
owing the cordial reception of Soto and Ferdinand 
Pizarro in his camp, and the submissive reverence 
with which he himself advanced to visit the Spanish 
general in his quarters; but from the gross igno 
ranee of Philipillo, the interpreter, the declaration 
of the Spaniards, and his answer to it, were so ill 
explained, that by their mutual inability to compre¬ 
hend each other’s intentions, the fatal rencounter at 
Caxamalca, with all its dreadful consequences, was 
occasioned. 

It is remarkable, that no traces of this supersti¬ 
tious veneration of the Peruvians for the Spaniards, 
are to be found either in Xerez, or Sancho, or 
Zarate, previous to the interview at Caxamalca; 
and yet the two former served under Pizarro at that 
time, and the latter visited Peru soon after the con¬ 
quest. If either the inca himself, or his messengers, 
had addressed the Spaniards in the words which 
Garcilasso puts in their mouths, they must have 
been struck with such submissive declarations ; and 
they would certainly have availed themselves of 
them to accomplish their own designs with greater 
facility. Garcilasso himself, though his narrative 
of the intercourse between the inca and Spaniards, 
preceding the rencounter at Caxamalca, is founded 
on the supposition of his believing them to be 
Viracochas, or divine beings, p. ii. lib. i. c. 17, &c. 
yet, with his usual inattention and inaccuracy, he 
admits, in another place, that the Peruvians did not 
recollect the resemblance between them and the god 
Viracocha, until the fatal disasters subsequent to 
the defeat at Caxamalca, and then only began to 
call them Viracochas, p. i. lib. v. c. 21. This is 
confirmed by Herrera, dec. 5. lib. ii. c. 12. In many 


different parts of America, if we may believe the 
Spanish writers, their countrymen were considered 
as divine beings who had descended from heaven. 
But in this instance, as in many which occur in the 
intercourse between nations whose progress in re¬ 
finement is very unequal, the ideas of those who 
used the expression were different from the ideas of 
those who heard it. For such is the idiom of the 
Indian languages, or such is the simplicity of those 
who speak them, that when they see any thing with 
which they were formerly unacquainted, and of 
which they do not know the origin, they say, that 
it came down from heaven. Nugnez. Ram. iii. 
327. C. 

The account which I have given of the sentiments 
and proceedings of the Peruvians, appears to be 
more natural and consistent than either of the two 
preceding, and is better supported by the facts re¬ 
lated by the contemporary historians. 

According to Xerez, p. 200., two thousand Peru¬ 
vians were killed. Sancho makes the number of 
the slain six or seven thousand. Ram. iii. 274. D. 
By Garcilasso’s account, five thousand were mas¬ 
sacred, p. ii. lib. i. c. 25. The number which I 
have mentioned, being the medium between the 
extremes, may probably be nearest the truth. 

Note CXXXII. (Page 905.) 

Nothing can be a more striking proof of this, 
than that three Spaniards travelled from Caxamalca 
to Cuzco. The distance between them is six hun¬ 
dred miles. In every place throughout this great 
extent of country, they were treated with all the 
honours which the Peruvians paid to their sove¬ 
reigns, and even to their divinities. Under pretext 
of amassing what was wanting for the ransom of the 
inca, they demanded the plates of gold with which 
the walls of the temple of the Sun in Cuzco were 
adorned ; and though the priests were unwilling to 
alienate those sacred ornaments, and the people 
refused to violate the shrine of their god, the three 
Spaniards, with their own hands, robbed the temple 
of part of this valuable treasure ; and such was the 
reverence of the natives for their persons, that 
though they beheld this act of sacrilege with 
astonishment, they did not attempt to prevent or 
disturb the commission of it. Zarate, lib. ii. c. 6. 
Sancho ap. Ramus, iii. 375. I). 

Note CXXXIII. (Page 908.) 

According to Herrera, the spoil of Cuzco, after 
setting apart the king’s fifth , was divided among 
480 persons. Each received 4000 pesos. This 
amounts to 1,920,000 pesos. Dec. v. lib. vi. c. 3. 
But as the general, and other officers, were entitled 
to a share far greater than that of the private men, 
the sum total must have risen much beyond what I 
have mentioned. Gomara, c. 123. and Zarate, lib. 
ii. c. 8. satisfy themselves with asserting in general, 
that the plunder of Cuzco was of greater value than 
the ransom of Atahualpa. 



1062 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Note CXXXIY. (Page 908.) 

No expedition in the New World was conducted 
with more persevering courage than that of Alva¬ 
rado, and in none were greater hardships endured. 
Many of the persons engaged in it were, like their 
leader, veterans who had served under Cortes, 
inured to all the rigour of American war. Such of 
my readers as have not an opportunity of perusing 
the striking description of their sufferings by Zarate 
or Herrera, may form some idea of the nature of 
their march from the sea-coast to Quito, by con¬ 
sulting the account which D. Ant. Ulloa gives of 
his own journey, in 1736, nearly in the same route ; 
Voy. tom. i. p. 178, &c. or that of M. Bouguer, who 
proceeded from Puerto Yiejo to Quito, by the same 
road which Alvarado took. He compares his own 
journey with that of the Spanish leader, and by 
the comparison gives a most striking idea of the 
boldness and patience of Alvarado, in forcing his 
way through so many obstacles. Voyage du Perou, 
p. 28, &c. 

Note CXXXY. (Page 908.) 

According to Herrera, there was entered on ac¬ 
count of the king, in gold, 155,300 pesos, and 5400 
marks (each 8 ounces) of silver, besides several 
vessels and ornaments, some of gold, and others of 
silver; on account of private persons, in gold, 
499,000 pesos, and 54,000 marks of silver. Dec. 5. 
lib. vi. c. 13. 

Note CXXXYI. (Page 911.) 

The Peruvians not only imitated the military arts 
of the Spaniards, but had recourse to devices of their 
own. As the cavalry were the chief objects of their 
terror, they endeavoured to render them incapable 
of acting, by means of a long thong with a stone 
fastened to each end. This, when thrown by a 
skilful hand twisted about the horse and its rider, 
and entangled them so as to obstruct their motions. 
Herrera mentions this as an invention of their own. 
Dec. 5. lib. viii. c. 4. But as I have observed, 
p. 838. this weapon is common among several 
barbarous tribes towards the extremity of South 
America ; and it is more probable that the Peruvi¬ 
ans had observed the dexterity with which they used 
it in hunting, and on this occasion adopted it them¬ 
selves. The Spaniards were considerably annoyed 
by it. Herrera, ibid. Another instance of the in¬ 
genuity of the Peruvians deserves mention. By 
turning a river out of its channel, they overflowed a 
valley, in which a body of the enemy was posted, 
so suddenly, that it was with the utmost difficulty 
the Spaniards made their escape. Herrera, dec. 5. 
lib. viii. c. 5. 

Note CXXXYTI. (Page 916.) 

Herrera’s account of Orellana’s voyage is the 
most minute, and apparently the most accurate. It 
was probably taken from the journal of Orellana 


himself. But the dates are not distinctly marked. 
His navigation down the Coca, or Napo, began 
early in February 1541; and he arrived at the mouth 
of the river on the 26th of August, having spent 
near seven months in the voyage. M. de la Conda- 
mine, in the year 1743, sailed from Cuenca to Para, 
a settlement of the Portuguese at the mouth of the 
river, a navigation much longer than that of Orel¬ 
lana, in less than four months. Voyage, p. 179. 
But the two adventurers were very differently pro¬ 
vided for the voyage. This hazardous undertaking, 
to which ambition prompted Orellana, and to which 
the love of science led M. de la Condamine, was 
undertaken in the year 1769, by Madam Godin des 
Odonais, from conjugal affection. The narrative of 
the hardships which she suffered, of the dangers to 
which she w as exposed, and of the disasters which 
befell her, is one of the most singular and affecting 
stories in any language, exhibiting in her conduct 
a striking picture of the fortitude which distinguishes 
the one sex, mingled with the sensibility and tender¬ 
ness peculiar to the other. Lettre de M. Godin k 
M. de la Condamine. 

Note CXXXVIII. (Page 917.) 

Herrera gives a striking picture of their indi¬ 
gence. Twelve gentlemen, who had been officers of 
distinction under Almagro, lodged in the same 
house, and having but one cloak among them, it was 
worn alternately by him who had occasion to appear 
in public, while the rest, from the want of a decent 
dress, were obliged to keep within doors. Their 
former friends and companions were so much 
afraid of giving offence to Pizarro, that they durst 
not entertain or even converse with them. One may 
conceive what was the condition, and what the in¬ 
dignation, of men once accustomed to powder and 
opulence, when they felt themselves poor and de¬ 
spised, without a roof under which to shelter their 
heads, while they beheld others, whose merits and 
services were not equal to theirs, living in splendour 
in sumptuous edifices. Dec. 6. lib. viii. c. 6. 

Note CXXXIX. (Page 920.) 

Herrera, whose accuracy entitles him to great 
credit, asserts, that Gonzalo Pizarro possessed do¬ 
mains in the neighbourhood of Chuquesaca de la 
1 lata, which yielded him an annual revenue greater 
than that ol the archbishop of Toledo, the best en¬ 
dowed see in Europe. Dec. 7. lib. vi. c. 3. 

Note CXL. (Page 924.) 

All tne Spanish writers describe his march, and 
the distresses of both parties, very minutely. Zaratd 
obseives, that hardly any parallel to it occurs in his¬ 
tory, either with respect to the length of the retreat, 
or the ardour of the pursuit. Pizarro, according to 
his computation, followed the viceroy upwards of 
three thousand miles. Lib. v. c. 16. 26. 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1063 


Note CXLI. (Page 928 .) 

It amounted, according to Fernandez, the best 
informed historian of that period, to one million 
four hundred thousand pesos. Lib. ii. c. 79. 

Note CXLII. (Page 928 .) 

Carvajal, from the beginning, had been an ad¬ 
vocate for an accommodation with Gasca. Finding 
Pizarro incapable of holding that bold course which 
he originally suggested, he recommended to him a 
timely submission to his sovereign as the safest 
measure. When the president’s offers were first 
communicated to Carvajal, “ By our Lady, (said he, 
in that strain of buffoonery which was familiar to 
him,) the priest issues gracious bulls. He gives 
them both good and cheap ; let us not only accept 
them, but wear them as reliques about our necks.” 
Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 63. 

Note CXLIII. (Page 929.) 

D URING the rebellion of Gonzalo Pizarro, seven 
hundred men were killed in battle, and three hun¬ 
dred and eighty were hanged or beheaded. Herrera, 
dec. 8. lib. iv. c. 4. Above three hundred of these 
were cut off by Carvajal. Fernandez, lib. ii. c. 91. 
Zarate makes the number of those put to a violent 
death five hundred. Lib. vii. c. 1. 

Note CXLIY. (Page 931.) 

In my inquiries concerning the manners and po¬ 
licy of the Mexicans, I have received much, inform¬ 
ation from a large manuscript of Don Alonso de 
Corita, one of the judges in the court of audience 
of Mexico. In the year 1553, Philip II., in order 
to discover the mode of levying tribute from his 
Indian subjects, that would be most beneficial to 
the crown, and least oppressive to them, addressed 
a mandate to all the courts of audience in America, 
enjoining them to answer certain queries which he 
proposed to them, concerning the ancient form of 
government established among the various nations 
of Indians, and the mode in which they had been 
accustomed to pay taxes to their kings or chiefs. 
In obedience to this mandate Corita, who had re¬ 
sided nineteen years in America, fourteen of which 
he passed in New Spain, composed the work of 
which I have a copy. He acquaints his sovereign, 
that he had made it an object, during his residence 
in America, and in all its provinces which he had 
visited, to inquire diligently into the manners and 
customs of the natives ; that he had conversed for 
this purpose with many aged and intelligent Indians, 
and consulted several of the Spanish ecclesiastics, 
who understood the Indian languages most per¬ 
fectly, particularly some of those who landed in 
New Spain soon after the conquest. Corita appears 
to be a man of some learning, and to have carried 
on his inquiries with the diligence and accuracy to 
which he pretends. Greater credit is due to his 
testimony from one circumstance. His work was 


not composed with a view to publication, or in sup¬ 
port of any particular theory, but contains simple 
though full answers to queries proposed to him 
officially. Though Herrera does not mention him 
among the authors whom he had followed as guides 
in his History, I should suppose, from several facts 
of which he takes notice, as well as from several 
expressions which he uses, that this memorial of 
Corita was not unknown to him. 

Note CXLV. (Page 934.) 

The early Spanish writers were so hasty and in¬ 
accurate in estimating the numbers of people in the 
provinces and towns of America, that it is impossible 
to ascertain that of Mexico itself* with any degree 
of precision. Cortes describes the extent and po¬ 
pulousness of Mexico in general terms, which imply 
that it was not inferior to the greatest cities in Eu¬ 
rope. Gomara is more explicit, and affirms, that 
there were 60,000 bouses or families in Mexico. 
Cron. c. 78. Herrera adopts his opinion, Dec. 2. 
lib. vii. c. 13.; and the generality of writers follow 
them implicitly without inquiry or scruple. Accord¬ 
ing to this account, the inhabitants of Mexico must 
have been about 300,000. Torquemada, with his 
usual propensity to the marvellous, asserts, that 
there were a hundred and twenty thousand houses 
or families in Mexico, and consequently about six 
hundred thousand inhabitants. Lib. iii. c. 23. But 
in a very judicious account of the Mexican empire, 
by one of Cortes’s officers, the population is fixed 
at 60,000 people. Ramusio, iii. 309. A. Even by 
this account, which probably is much nearer the 
truth than any of the foregoing, Mexico was a 
great city. 

Note CXLYI. (Page 935.) 

It is to P. Torribio de Benavente that I am in¬ 
debted for this curious observation. Palafox, bishop 
of Cuidad de la Puebla Los Angeles, confirms and 
illustrates it more fully. The Mexican (says he) 
is the only language in which a termination indi¬ 
cating respect, silavas reverentiales y de eortesia, may 
be affixed to every word. By adding the final sylla¬ 
ble zin or azin to any word, it becomes a proper 
expression of veneration in the mouth of an inferior. 
If, in speaking to an equal, the word Father is to 
be used, it is Tati, but an inferior says Tatzin. 
One priest speaking to another, calls him Teopixque; 
a person of inferior rank calls him Teopixcatzin. 
The name of the emperor who reigned when Cortes 
invaded Mexico, was Montezuma; but his vassals, 
from reverence, pronounced it Montezumazin. Tor¬ 
ribio, MS. Palaf. Virtudes del Indio, p. 65. The 
Mexicans had not only reverential nouns, but re¬ 
verential verbs. The manner in which these are 
formed from the verbs in common use, is explained 
by D. Jos. Aug. Aldama y Guevara in his Mexican 
Grammar, N°. 188. 



1064 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Note CXLYII. (Page 936.) 

From comparing several passages in Corita and 
Herrera, we may collect, with some degree of accu¬ 
racy, the various modes in which the Mexicans con¬ 
tributed towards the support of government. Some 
persons of the first order seem to have been ex¬ 
empted from the payment of any tribute, and, as 
their only duty to the public, were bound to per¬ 
sonal service in war, and to follow the banner of 
their sovereign with their vassals. 2. The imme¬ 
diate vassals of the crown were bound not only to 
personal military service, but paid a certain propor¬ 
tion of the produce of their lands in kind. 3. Those 
who held offices of honour or trust, paid a certain 
share of what they received in consequence of hold¬ 
ing these. 4. Each Capullcc, or association, culti¬ 
vated some part of the common field allotted to it, 
for the behoof of the crown, and deposited the pro¬ 
duce in the royal granaries. 5. Some part of what¬ 
ever was brought to the public markets, whether 
fruits of the earth, or the various productions of 
their artists and manufacturers, was demanded for 
the public use, and the merchants who paid this 
were exempted from every other tax. 6. The May- 
eqnes, or adscripti ylebce, were bound to cultivate 
certain districts in every province, which may be 
considered as crown lands , and brought the increase 
into public storehouses. Thus the sovereign re¬ 
ceived some part of whatever was useful or valu¬ 
able in the country, whether it was the natural pro¬ 
duction of the soil, or acquired by the industry of 
the people. What each contributed towards the 
support of government, seems to have been incon¬ 
siderable. Corita, in answer to one of the queries 
put to the audience of Mexico by Philip II., en¬ 
deavours to estimate in money the value of what 
each citizen might be supposed to pay, and does 
not reckon it at more than three or four reals, about 
eighteen pence or two shillings a head. 

Note CXLVIII. (Page 937.) 

Cortes, who seems to have been as much aston¬ 
ished with this, as with any instance of Mexican 
ingenuity, gives a particular description of it. 
Along one of the causeways, says he, by which 
they enter the city, are conducted two conduits, 
composed of clay tempered with mortar, about two 
paces in breadth, and raised about six feet. In 
one of them is conveyed a stream of excellent wa¬ 
ter, as large as the body of a man, into the centre 
of the city, and it supplies all the inhabitants plen¬ 
tifully. The other is empty, that when it is neces¬ 
sary to clean or repair the former, the stream of 
water may be turned into it. As this conduit passes 
along two of the bridges, where there are no breaches 
in the causeway, through which the salt-water of the 
lake Hows, it is conveyed over them in pipes as 
large as the body of an ox, then carried from the 
conduit to the remote quarters of the city in canoes, 


and sold to the inhabitants. Relat. ap. Ramus. 
214. A. 

Note CXLIX. (Page 937.) 

In the armoury of the royal palace of Madrid are 
shown suits of armour, which are called Montezu¬ 
ma’s. They are composed of thin Iacq uered copper¬ 
plates. In the opinion of very intelligent judges, 
they are evidently eastern. The forms of the silver 
ornaments upon them, representing dragons, &c. 
may be considered as a confirmation of this. They 
are infinitely superior, in point of workmanship, to 
any effort of American art. The Spaniards proba¬ 
bly received them from the Philippine islands. The 
only unquestionable specimen of Mexican art, that 
I know of, in Great Britain, is a cup of very fine 
gold, which is said to have belonged to Montezuma. 
It weighs 5 oz. 12 dwt. Three drawings of it were 
exhibited to the Society of Antiquaries, June 10, 
1765. A man’s head is represented on this cup. 
On one side the full face, on the other the profile, 
on the third the back parts of the head. The relievo 
is said to have been produced by pinching the in¬ 
side of the cup, so as to make the representation of 
a face on the outside. The features are gross, but 
represented with some degree of art, and certainly 
too rude for Spanish workmanship. This cup was 
purchased by Edward earl of Orford, while he lay 
in the harbour of Cadiz with the fleet under his 
command, and is now in the possession of his 
grandson, lord Archer. I am indebted for this 
information to my respectable and ingenious friend 
Mr. Barrington. In the sixth volume of the Ar- 
chseologia, p. 107., is published an account of some 
masks of Terra Cotta, brought from a burying- 
ground on the American continent, about seventy 
miles from the British settlement on the Mosquito 
shore. They are said to be likenesses of chiefs, or 
other eminent persons. From the descriptions and 
engravings of them, we have an additional proof of 
the imperfect state of arts among the Americans. 

Note CL. (Page 939.) 

The learned reader will perceive how much I 
have been indebted, in this part of my work, to the 
guidance of the bishop of Gloucester, who has traced 
the successive steps by which the human mind ad¬ 
vanced in this line of its progress, with much eru¬ 
dition, and greater ingenuity. He is the first, as 
far as I know , who formed a rational and consistent 
theory concerning the various modes of writing 
practised by nations, according to the various de¬ 
grees of their improvement. Div. Legation of Mo¬ 
ses, iii. 69, &c. Some important observations have 
been added by M. le President de Brosses, the 
learned and intelligent author of the Traite de la 
Formation Mecanique des Langues, tom. i. 295, &c. 

As the Mexican paintings are the most curious 
monuments extant of the earliest mode of writing, 
it w ill not be improper to give some account of the 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


means by which they w'ere preserved from the gene¬ 
ral wreck of every work of art in America, and 
communicated to the public. For the most early 
and complete collection of these published by Pur- 
clias, we are indebted to the attention of that curious 
inquirer, Hakluyt. Don Antonio Mendoza, viceroy 
of New Spain, having deemed those paintings a 
proper present for Charles V., the ship in which 
they were sent to Spain was taken by a French 
cruiser, and they came into the possession of Tlie- 
vet, the king’s geographer, who, having travelled 
himself into the New World, and described one of 
its provinces, was a curious observer of whatever 
tended to illustrate the manners of the Americans. 
On his death, they were purchased by Hakluyt, at 
that time chaplain of the English ambassador to 
the French court; and, being left by him to Purchas, 
were published at the desire of the learned anti¬ 
quary sir Henry Spelman. Purchas, iii. 1065. 
They were translated from English into French by 
Melchizedeck Thevenot, and published in his col¬ 
lection of voyages, A. D. 1683. 

The second specimen of Mexican picture-w riting 
was published by Dr, Francis Gemelli Carreri, in 
two copper-plates. The first is a map, or repre¬ 
sentation of the progress of the ancient Mexicans 
on their first arrival in the country, and of the vari¬ 
ous stations in which they settled, before they 
founded the capital of their empire in the lake of 
Mexico. The second is a chronological wheel, or 
circle, representing the manner in which they com¬ 
puted and marked their cycle of fifty-two years. 
He received both from Don Carlos de Siguenza y 
Congorra, a diligent collector of ancient Mexican 
documents. But as it seems now to be a received 
opinion (founded, as far as I know, on no good evi¬ 
dence) that Carreri was never out of Italy, and that 
his famous Giro del Mundo is an account of a fic¬ 
titious voyage, I have not mentioned these paintings 
in the fext. They have, however, manifestly the 
appearance of being Mexican productions, and are 
allowed to be so by Boturini, who was well qualified 
to determine whether they were genuine or suppo¬ 
sititious. M. Clavigero likewise admits them to 
be genuine paintings of the ancient Mexicans. To 
me they always appeared to be so, though, from my 
desire to rest no part of my narrative upon ques¬ 
tionable authority, I did not refer to them. The 
style of painting in the former is considerably more 
perfect than any other specimen of Mexican design ; 
but as the original is said to have been much de¬ 
faced by time, I suspect that it has been improved 
by some touches from the hand of an European 
artist. Carreri, Churchill, iv. p. 487. The chro¬ 
nological w heel is a just delineation of the Mexican 
mode of computing time, as described by Acosta, 
lib. vi. c. 2. It seems to resemble one which that 
learned Jesuit had seen ; and if it be admitted as 
a genuine monument, it proves that the Mexicans 
had artificial or arbitrary characters, which repre¬ 
sented several things besides numbers. Each month 


1065 

is there represented by a symbol expressive of some 
work or rite peculiar to it. 

The third specimen of Mexican painting was dis¬ 
covered by another Italian. In 1736, Lorenzo 
Boturino Benaduci set out for New Spain, and was 
led by several incidents to study the language of 
the Mexicans, and to collect the remains of their 
historical monuments. He persisted nine years in 
his researches, with the enthusiasm of a projector, 
and the patience of an antiquary. In 1746, he pub¬ 
lished at Madrid, Idea de una Nueva Historia Gene¬ 
ral de la America Septentrional, containing an 
account of the result of his inquiries; and he 
added to it a catalogue of his American Historical 
Museum, arranged under thirty six different heads. 
His idea of a New History appears to me the work 
of a whimsical credulous man. But his catalogue 
of Mexican maps, paintings, tribute-rolls, calen¬ 
dars, &c. is much larger than one could have ex¬ 
pected. Unfortunately a ship, in which he had 
sent a considerable part of them to Europe, was 
taken by an English privateer during the war be¬ 
tween Great Britain and Spain, which commenced 
in the year 1739 ; and it is probable that they perish¬ 
ed by falling into the hands of ignorant captors. 
Boturini himself incurred the displeasure of the 
Spanish court, and died in an hospital at Madrid. 
The history, of which the Idea, &c. was only a 
prospectus, w as never published. The remainder of 
his Museum seems to have been dispersed. Some 
part of it came into the possession of the present 
archbishop of Toledo, when he was primate of New 
Spain ; and he published from it that curious tri¬ 
bute-roll which I have mentioned. 

The only other collection of Mexican paintings, 
as far as I can learn, is in the imperial library at 
Vienna. By order of their imperial majesties, I 
have obtained such a specimen of these as I de¬ 
sired, in eight paintings made with so much fidelity, 
that I am informed the copies could hardly be dis¬ 
tinguished from the originals. According to a note 
in this Codex Mexicanus, it appears to have been a 
present from Emmanuel king of Portugal to pope ‘ 
Clement VII., who died A. D. 1533. After passing 
through the hands of several illustrious proprietors, 
it fell into those of the cardinal of Saxe-Eisenach, 
who presented it to the emperor Leopold. These 
paintings are manifestly Mexican, but they are in a 
style very different from any of the former. An 
engraving has been made of one of them, in order 
to gratify such of my readers as may deem this an 
object worthy of their attention. Were it an object 
of sufficient importance, it might perhaps be possi¬ 
ble, by recourse to the plates of Purchas, and the 
archbishop of Toledo, as a key, to form plausible 
conjectures concerning the meaning of this picture. 
Many of the figures are evidently similar. A. A. 
are targets and darts, almost in the same form with 
those published by Purchas, p. 1070, 1071, &c. 
B. B. are figures of temples, nearly resembling those 
in Purchas, p. 1109. and 1113., and in Lorenzana, 



10GG 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Plate II. C. is a bale of mantles, or cotton cloths, 
the figure of which occurs in almost every plate of 
Purchas and Lorenzana. E. E. E. seem to be 
Mexican captains in their war dress, the fantastic 
ornaments of which resemble the figures in Pur¬ 
chas, p. 1110, 1111.2113. I should suppose this 
picture to be a tribute-roll, as their mode of noting 
numbers occurs frequently. D. D. D., &c. Accord¬ 
ing to Boturini, the mode of computation by the 
number of knots was known to the Mexicans as 
well as to the Peruvians, p. 85., and the manner in 
which the number of units is represented in the 
Mexican paintings in my possession seems to con¬ 
firm this opinion. They plainly resemble a string 
of knots on a cord or slender rope. 

Since I published the former edition, Mr. Wad- 
dilove, who is still pleased to continue his friendly 
attention to procure me information, has discovered, 
in the library of the Escurial, a volume in folio, 
consisting of forty sheets of a kind of pasteboard, 
each the size of a common sheet of writing paper, 
with great variety of uncouth and whimsical figures 
of Mexican painting, in very fresh colours, and with 
an explanation in Spanish to most of them. The 
first twenty-two sheets are the signs of the months, 
days, &c. About the middle of each sheet are two 
or more large figures for the month, surrounded by 
the signs of the days. The last eighteen sheets are 
not so filled with figures. They seem to be signs 
of deities, and images of various objects. Accord¬ 
ing to this Calendar in the Escurial, the Mexican 
year contained 286 days, divided into 22 months of 
13 days. Each day is represented by a different 
sign, taken from some natural object, a serpent, a 
dog, a lizard, a reed, a house, &c. The signs of 
days in the Calendar of the Escurial are precisely 
the same with those mentioned by Boturini, Idea , 
&c. p. 45. But, if we may give credit to that au¬ 
thor, the Mexican year contained 360 days, divided 
into 18 months of 20 days. The order of days in 
every month was computed, according to him, first 
by what he calls a tridecennary progression of days 
from one to thirteen, in the same manner as in the 
Calendar of the Escurial, and then by a septenary 
progression of days from one to seven, making in 
all twenty. In this Calendar, not only the signs 
which distinguish each day, but the qualities sup¬ 
posed to be peculiar to each month, are marked. 
There are certain weaknesses which seem to accom¬ 
pany the human mind through every stage of its 
progress in observation and science. Slender as 
was the knowledge of the Mexicans in astronomy, 
it appears to have been already connected with ju¬ 
dicial astrology. The fortune and character of 
persons born in each month are supposed to be de¬ 
cided by some superior influence predominant at 
the time of nativity. Hence it is foretold in the 
Calendar, that all who are born in one month will 
be rich, in another warlike, in a third luxurious, 
&c. The pasteboard, or whatever substance it may 
be on which the Calendar in the Escurial is painted, 


seems, by Mr. Waddilove's description of it, to re¬ 
semble nearly that in the imperial library at Yienna. 
Tn several particulars, the figures bear some likeness 
to those in the plate which I have published. The 
figures marked D., which induced me to conjecture 
that this painting might be a tribute-roll similar to 
those published by Purchas and the archbishop of 
Toledo, Mr. Waddilove supposes to be signs of 
days: and I have such confidence in the accuracy 
of his observations, as to conclude his opinion to 
be well founded. It appears, from the characters 
in which the explanations of the figures are written, 
that this curious monument of Mexican art has 
been obtained soon after the conquest of the empire. 
It is singular that it should never have been men¬ 
tioned by any Spanish author. 

Note CLI. (Page 939.) 

The first was called the Prince of the Deathful 
Lance; the second the Divider of Men; the third 
the Shedder of Blood ; the fourth the Lord of the 
Dark-house. Acosta, lib. vi. c. 25. 

Note CLII. (Page 941.) 

The temple of Cholula, which was deemed more 
holy than any in New Spain, was likewise the most 
considerable. But it was nothing more than a 
mount of solid earth. According to Torquemada, 
it was above a quarter of a league in circuit at the 
base, and rose to the height of forty fathom. Mon. 
Ind. lib. iii. c. 19. Even M. Clavigero acknow¬ 
ledges that all the Mexican temples were solid 
structures, or earthen mounts, and of consequence 
cannot be considered as any evidence of their having 
made any considerable progress in the art of build¬ 
ing. Clavig. ii. 207. 

From inspecting various figures of temples in the 
paintings engraved by Purchas, there seems to be 
some reason for suspecting that all their temples 
were constructed in the same manner. See Yol. iii. 

р. 1109, 1110. 1113. 

Note CLIII. (Page 941.) 

Not only in Tlascala, and Tepeaca, but even in 
Mexico itself, the houses of the people were mere 
huts built with turf, or mud, or the branches of 
trees. They were extremely low, and slight, and 
without any furniture but a few earthen vessels. 
Like the rudest Indians, several families resided 
under the same roof, without having any separate 
apartments. Herrera, Dec. 2. lib. vii. c. 13. lib. x. 

с. 22. Dec. 3. lib. iv. c. 17. Torquem. lib. iii. c. 23. 

Note CLIY. (Page 941.) 

I am informed by a person who resided long in 
New r Spain, and visited almost every province of it, 
that there is not, in all the extent of that vast empire, 
any monument or vestige of any building more an¬ 
cient than the conquest, nor of any bridge or high¬ 
way, except some remains of the causeway from 






NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 1067 


Guadaloupe to that gate of Mexico by which Cortes 
entered the city. MS. penes me. The author of 
another account in manuscript observes, “That at 
this day there does not remain even the smallest 
vestige of the existence of any ancient Indian 
building public or private, either in Mexico or in 
any province of New Spain. I have travelled, says 
he, through all the countries adjacent to them, viz. 
New Galicia, New Biscay, New Mexico, Sonora, 
Cinaloa, the new kingdom of Leon, and New San- 
tandero, without having observed any monument 
worth notice, except some ruins near an ancient 
village in the valley de Casas Grandes, in lat. N. 3°. 
46'. long. 258°. 24'. from the island of Teneriffe, or 
460 leagues N. N. W. from Mexico.” He describes 
these ruins minutely, and they appear to be the re¬ 
mains of a paltry building of turf and stone, plas¬ 
tered over with white earth or lime. A missionary 
informed that gentleman, that he had discovered the 
ruins of another edifice similar to the former, about 
an hundred leagues towards N. W. on the banks 
of the river St. Pedro. MS. penes me. 

These testimonies derive great credit from one 
circumstance, that they were not given in support 
of any particular system or theory, but as simple 
answers to queries which I had proposed. It is 
probable, however, that when these gentlemen as¬ 
sert that no ruins or monuments of any ancient 
work whatever are now to be discovered in the 
Mexican empire, they meant that there were no 
such ruins or monuments as conveyed any idea of 
grandeur or magnificence in the works of its an¬ 
cient inhabitants. For it appears from the testimony 
of several Spanish authors, that in Otumba, Tlas- 
cala, Cholula, &c. some vestiges of ancient build¬ 
ings are still visible. Villa Segnor Theatro Amer. 
p. 143. 308. 353. D. Fran. Ant. Lorenzana, for¬ 
merly archbishop of Mexico, and now of Toledo, 
in his introduction to that edition of the Cartas de 
Relacion of Cortes, which he published at Mexico, 
mentions some ruins which are still visible in several 
of the towns through which Cortes passed in his 
way to the capital, p. 4, &c. But neither of these 
authors gives any description of them, and they 
seem to be so very inconsiderable, as to show only 
that some buildings had once been there. The large 
mount of earth at Cholula, which the Spaniards 
dignified with the name of temple, still remains, but 
without any steps by which to ascend, or any facing 
of stone. It appears now like a natural mount, 
covered with grass and shrubs, and possibly it was 
never any thing more. Torquem. lib. iii. c. 19. 

I have received a minute description of the remains 
of a temple near Cuernavaca, on the road from 
Mexico to Acapulco. It is composed of large stones, 
fitted to each other as nicely as those in the build¬ 
ings of the Peruvians, which are hereafter men¬ 
tioned. At the foundation it forms a square of 
twenty-five yards; but as it rises in height it 
diminishes in extent, not gradually, but by being 
contracted suddenly at regular distances, so that 


it must have resembled the figure B. in the plate. 
It terminated, it is said, in a spire. 

Note CLV. (Page 943.) 

The exaggeration of the Spanish historians, with 
respect to the number of human victims sacrificed 
in Mexico, appears to be very great. According to 
Gomara, there was no year in which twenty thou¬ 
sand human victims were not offered to the Mex¬ 
ican divinities, and in some years they amounted 
to fifty thousand. Cron. c. 229. The skulls of those 
unhappy persons were ranged in order in a building 
erected for that purpose, and two of Cortes’s officers, 
who had counted them, informed Gomara that their 
number was a hundred and thirty-six thousand. 
Ibid. c. 82. Herrera’s account is still more incre¬ 
dible, that the number of victims was so great, 
that five thousand have been sacrificed in one day, 
nay, on some occasions, no less than twenty thou¬ 
sand. Dec. iii. lib. ii. c. 16. Torquemada goes 
beyond both in extravagance; for he asserts that 
twenty thousand children, exclusive of other vic¬ 
tims, were slaughtered annually. Mon. Ind. lib. 
vii. c. 21. The most respectable authority in favour 
of such high numbers is that of Zumurraga, the 
first bishop of Mexico, who, in a letter to the chap¬ 
ter-general of his order, A. D. 1631, asserts that the 
Mexicans sacrificed annually twenty thousand vic¬ 
tims. Davila. Teatro Eccles. 126. In opposition 
to all these accounts, B. de las Casas observes, 
that if there had been such an annual waste of the 
human species, the country could never have ar¬ 
rived at that degree of populousness for which it 
was remarkable when the Spaniards first landed 
there. This reasoning is just. If the number of 
victims in all the provinces of New Spain had been 
so great, not only must population have been pre¬ 
vented from increasing, but the human race must 
have been exterminated in a short time. For be¬ 
sides the waste of the species by such numerous 
sacrifices, it is observable, that wherever the fate of 
captives taken in war is either certain death or per¬ 
petual slavery, as men can gain nothing by submit¬ 
ting speedily to an enemy, they always resist to the 
uttermost, and war becomes bloody and destructive 
to the last degree. Las Casas positively asserts, 
that the Mexicans never sacrificed more than fifty 
or a hundred persons in a year. See his dispute 
with Sepulveda, subjoined to his Brevissima Rela¬ 
cion, p. 105. Cortes does not specify what number 
of victims was sacrificed annually ; but B. Diaz del 
Castillo relates that, an inquiry having been made 
with respect to this by the Franciscan monks who 
were sent into New Spain immediately after the 
conquest, it was found that about two thousand five 
hundred were sacrificed every year in Mexico. 
C. 207. 

Note CLYI. (Page 943.) 

It is hardly necessary to observe, that the Peru¬ 
vian chronology is not only obscure, but repugnant 



10G8 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


to conclusions deduced from the most accurate and 
extensive observations, concerning the time that 
elapses during each reign, in any given succession 
of princes. The medium has been found not to 
exceed twenty years, According to Acosta and 
Garcilasso de la Vega, Huana Capac, who died 
about the year 1527, was the twelfth inca. Ac¬ 
cording to this rule of computing, the duration of 
the Peruvian monarchy ought not to have been 
reckoned above two hundred and forty years; but 
they affirm that it had subsisted four hundred years. 
Acosta, lib. vi. c. 19. Vega, lib. i.c. 9. By this ac¬ 
count each reign is extended at a medium to thirty- 
three years, instead of twenty, the number ascer¬ 
tained by Sir Isaac Newton’s observations ; but so 
imperfect were the Peruvian traditions, that though 
the total is boldly marked, the number of years in 
each reign is unknown. 

Note CLVII. (Page 945.) 

Many of the early Spanish writers assert that the 
Peruvians offered human sacrifices. Xerez, p. 190. 
Zarate, lib. i. c. 11. Acosta, lib. v. c. 19. But 
Garcilasso de la Vega contends, that though this 
barbarous practice prevailed among their unciviliz¬ 
ed ancestors, it was totally abolished by the incas, 
and that no human victim was ever offered in any 
temple of the sun. This assertion, and the plausi¬ 
ble reasons with which he confirms it, are suf¬ 
ficient to refute the Spanish writers, whose accounts 
seem to be founded entirely upon report, not upon 
what they themselves had observed. Vega, lib. ii. 
c. 4. In one of their festivals, the Peruvians offered 
cakes of bread moistened with blood drawn from 
the arms, the eyebrows, and noses of their children. 
Id. lib. vii. c. 6. This rite may have been derived 
from their ancient practice, in their uncivilized 
state, of sacrificing human victims. 

Note CLVIII. (Page 946.) 

The Spaniards have adopted both those customs 
of the ancient Peruvians. They have preserved 
some of the aqueducts or canals, made in the days 
of the incas, and have made new ones, by which 
they water every field that they cultivate. Ulloa 
Voyage, tom. i. 422. 477. They likewise continue 
to use guano, or the dung of sea-fowls, as manure. 
Ulloa gives a description of the almost incredible 
quantity of it in the small islands near the coast. 
Ibid. 481. 

Note CLIX. (Page 947.) 

The temple of Cayambo, the palace of the inca 
at Gallo in the plain of Lacatunga, and that of 
Atun-Cannar, are described by Ulloa, tom. i. 286, 
&c. who inspected them with great care. M. de 
Condamine published a curious memoir concerning 
the ruins of Atun-Cannar. Mem. de I’Academie de 
Berlin, A. D. 1746, p. 435. Acosta describes the 
ruins of Cuzco, which he had examined. Lib. 
vi. c. 14. Garcilasso, in his usual style, gives 


pompous and confused descriptions of several tem¬ 
ples and other public edifices. Lib. iii. c. 1. c. 21. 

lib. vi. c. 4. Don.-Zapata, in a large treatise 

concerning Peru, which has not hitherto been pub¬ 
lished, communicates some information with re¬ 
spect to several monuments of the ancient Peruvians 
which have not been mentioned by other authors. 
MS. genes me, Articulo xx. Ulloa describes some 
of the ancient Peruvian fortifications, which were 
likewise works of great extent and solidity. Tom. 
i. 391. Three circumstances struck all those ob¬ 
servers : the vast size of the stones which the Peru¬ 
vians employed in some of their buildings. Acosta 
measured one, which was thirty feet long, eighteen 
broad, and six in thickness ; and yet he adds, that 
in the fortress at Cuzco there were stones consider¬ 
ably larger. It is difficult to conceive how the Pe¬ 
ruvians could move these, and raise them to the 
height even of twelve feet. The second circum¬ 
stance is the imperfection of the Peruvian art, when 
applied to working in timber. By the patience and 
perseverance natural to Americans, stones may be 
formed into any shape, merely by rubbing one 
against another, or by the use of hatchets cr other 
instruments made of stone; but with such rude 
tools little progress can be made in carpentry. The 
Peruvians could no-t mortise two beams together, or 
give any degree of union or stability to any work 
composed of timber. As they could not form a 
centre, they were totally unacquainted with the use 
of arches in building ; nor can the Spanish authors 
conceive how they were able to frame a roof for 
those ample structures which they raised. 

The third circumstance is a striking proof, which 
all the monuments of the Peruvians furnish, of their 
want of ingenuity and invention, accompanied with 
patience no less astonishing. None of the stones 
employed in those works were formed into any par¬ 
ticular or uniform shape, which could render them 
fit for being compacted together in building. The 
Indians took them as they fell from the mountains, 
or were raised out of the quarries. Some were 
square, some triangular, some convex, some con¬ 
cave. Their art and industry were employed in 
joining them together, by forming such hollows in 
the one, as perfectly corresponded to the projections 
or risings in the other. This tedious operation, 
which might have been so easily abridged, by 
adapting the surface of the stones to each other, 
either by rubbing, or by their hatchets of copper, 
would be deemed incredible, if it were not put be¬ 
yond doubt by inspecting the remains of those 
buildings. It gives them a very singular appear¬ 
ance to an European eye. There is no regular layer 
or stratum of building, and no one stone resembles 
another in dimensions or form. At the same time, 
by the persevering but ill-directed industry of the 
Indians, they are all joined with that minute nicety 
which I have mentioned. Ulloa made this obser¬ 
vation concerning the form of the stones in the for¬ 
tress of Atun-Cannar. Yoy. i. p. 387. Pineto 










NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


10G9 


gives a similar description of the fortress of Cuzco, 
the most perfect of all the Peruvian works. Zapata 
MS. penes me. According to M. de Condamine, 
there were regular strata of building in some parts 
of Aturi-Cannar, which he remarks as singular, and 
as a proof of some progress in improvement. 

Note CLX. (Page 948.) 

The appearance of those bridges, which bend with 
their own weight, wave with the wind, and are con¬ 
siderably agitated by the motion of every person 
who passes along them, is very frightful at first. 
But the Spaniards have found them to be the easi¬ 
est mode of passing the torrents in Peru, over which 
it would be difficult to throw more solid structures 
either of stone or timber. They form those hanging 
bridges so strong and broad, that loaded mules pass 
along them. All the trade of Cuzco is carried on by 
means of such a bridge over the river Apurimac. 
Ulloa, tom. i. 358. A more simple contrivance was 
employed in passing smaller streams : A basket, in 
which the traveller was placed, being suspended 
from a strong rope stretched across the stream, it 
was pushed or drawn from one side to the other. 
Ibid. 

Note CLXI. (Page 950.) 

My information with respect to those events is 
taken from Noticia breve de la expedicion militar de 
Sinora y Cinaloa, su exito feliz, y vantojoso estado, 
en que por consecuentia de ello, se han puesto 
ambas provincias, published at Mexico, June 17th, 
1771, in order to satisfy the curiosity of the mer¬ 
chants, who had furnished the viceroy with money 
for defraying the expense of the armament. The 
copies of this Noticia are very rare in Madrid ; but I 
have obtained one, which has enabled me to com¬ 
municate these curious facts to the public. Accord¬ 
ing to this account, there was found in the mine 
Yecorato in Cinaloa a grain of gold of twenty-two 
carats, which weighed sixteen marks four ounces 
four ochavas ; this was sent to Spain as a present 
lit for the king, and is now deposited in the royal 
cabinet at Madrid. 

Note CLXII. (Page 951.) 

The uncertainty of geographers with respect to 
this point is remarkable, for Cortes seems to have 
surveyed its coasts with great accuracy. The arch¬ 
bishop of Toledo has published, from the original 
in the possession of the marquis del Valle, the 
descendant of Cortes, a map drawn in 1541, by the 
pilot Domingo Castillo, in which California is laid 
down as a peninsula, stretching out nearly in the 
same direction which is now given to it in the best 
maps; and the point where Rio Colorado enters the 
gulf is marked with precision. Hist, de Nueva 
Espagna, 327. 

Note CLXIII. (Page 951.) 

I am indebted for this fact to M. L Abbe Raynal, 


tom. iii. 103.; and upon consulting an intelligent 
person, long settled on the Mosquito shore, and 
who has been engaged in the logwood trade, I find 
that ingenious author has been well informed. The 
logwood cut near the town of St. Francis of Cam- 
peachy is of much better quality than that on the 
other side of Yucatan ; arvd the English trade in the 
bay of Honduras is almost at an end. 

Note CLXIV. (Page 956.) 

P. Torribio de Benevente, or Motolinea, has 
enumerated ten causes of the rapid depopulation 
of Mexico, to which he gives the name of the Ten 
Plagues. Many of these are not peculiar to that 
province. 1. The introduction of the small-pox. 
This disease was first brought into New Spain in the 
year 1520, by a negro slave who attended Narvaez 
in his expedition against Cortes. Torribio affirms, 
that one half of the people in the provinces visited 
with this distemper died. To this mortality, occa¬ 
sioned by the small-pox, Torquemada adds the 
destructive effects of two contagious distempers 
which raged in the year 1545 and 1576. In the 
former 800,000, in the latter above two millions, 
perished, according to an exact account taken by 
order of the viceroys. Mon. Ind. i. 642. The small¬ 
pox was not introduced into Peru for several years 
after the invasion of the Spaniards ; but there, too, 
that distemper proved very fatal to the natives. 
Garcia Origen, p. 88. 2. The numbers who were 

killed or died of famine in their war with the Span¬ 
iards, particularly during the siege of Mexico. 3. 
The great famine that followed after the reduction 
of Mexico, as all the people engaged, either on one 
side or other, had neglected the cultivation of their 
lands. Something similar to this happened in all 
the other countries conquered by the Spaniards. 4. 
The grievous tasks imposed by the Spaniards upon 
the people belonging to their Repartimientos. 5. 
The oppressive burden of taxes which they were 
unable to pay, and from which they could hope for 
no exemption. 6. The numbers employed in col¬ 
lecting the gold carried down by the torrents from 
the mountains, who were forced from their own 
habitations, without any provision made for their 
subsistence, and subjected to all the rigour of cold 
in those elevated regions. 7. The immense labour 
of rebuilding Mexico, which Cortes urged on with 
such precipitate ardour as destroyed an incredible 
number of people. 8. The number of people con¬ 
demned to servitude, under various pretexts, and 
employed in working the silver mines. These, 
marked by each proprietor with a hot iron, like his 
cattle, w ere driven in herds to the mountains. The 
nature of the labour to which they were subjected 
there, the noxious vapours of the mines, the cold¬ 
ness of the climate, and scarcity of food, were so 
fatal, that Torribio affirms the country round several 
of those mines, particularly near Guaxago, was 
covered with dead bodies, the air corrupted with 
their stench, and so many vultures and other vora- 



1070 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


cious birds hovered about for their prey, that the 
sun was darkened with their flight. 10. The Span¬ 
iards, in the different expeditions which they under¬ 
took, and by the civil wars which they carried on, 
destroyed many of the natives whom they compelled 
to serve them as Tumemes , or carriers of burdens. 
This last mode of oppression was particularly 
ruinous to the Peruvians. From the number of 
Indians who perished in Gonzalo Pizarro’s expedi¬ 
tion into the countries to the east of the Andes, one 
may form some idea of what they suffered in similar 
services, and how fast they were wasted by them. 
Torribio, MS. Corita, in his Breve y Summaria 
Relacion, illustrates and confirms several of Torri- 
bio’s observations, to which he refers. MS. penes me. 

Note CLXV. (Page 956.) 

Even Montesquieu has adopted this idea, lib. 
viii. c. 18. But the passion of that great man for 
system sometimes rendered him inattentive to re¬ 
search ; and from his capacity to refine, he was apt, 
in some instances, to overlook obvious and just 
causes. 

Note CLXVI. (Page 956.) 

A strong proof of this occurs in the testament of 
Isabella, where she discovers the most tender con¬ 
cern for the humane and mild usage of the Indians. 
Those laudable sentiments of the queen have been 
adopted into the public law of Spain, and serve as 
the introduction to the regulations contained under 
the title Of the good treatment of the Indians. Re- 
copil. lib. vi. tit. x. 

Note CLXVII. (Page 957.) 

In the seventh Title of the first book of the Reeopi- 
lacion, which contains the laws concerning the 
powers and functions of archbishops and bishops, 
almost a third part of them relates to what is in¬ 
cumbent upon them as guardians of the Indians, 
and points out the various methods in which it is 
their duty to interpose, in order to defend them 
from oppression either with respect to their persons 
or property. Not only do the laws commit to them 
this honourable and humane office, but the eccle¬ 
siastics of America actually exercise it. 

Innumerable proofs of this might be produced 
from Spanish authors. But I rather refer to Gage, 
as he was no£ disposed to ascribe any merit to the 
popish clergy to which they were not fully entitled. 
Survey, p. 142, 192, &c. Henry Hawks, an English 
merchant, who resided five years in New Spain 
previous to the year 1572, gives the same favourable 
account of the popish clergy. Hakluyt, iii. 466. 
By a law of Charles V. not only bishops, but other 
ecclesiastics, are empowered to inform and admonish 
the civil magistrates, if any Indian is deprived of 
his just liberty and rights; Recopilac. lib. vi. tit. 
vi. ley 14.; and thus were constituted legal pro¬ 
tectors of the Indians. Some of the Spanish eccle¬ 
siastics refuse to grant absolution to such of their 


countrymen as possessed Encomiendas, and con¬ 
sidered the Indians as slaves, or employed them in 
working their mines. Gonz. Havil. leatro Eccles. 
i. 157. 

Note CLXVII1. (Page 957.) 

According to Gage, Chiapa dos Indos contains 
4000 families ; and he mentions it only as one of the 
largest Indian towns in America, p. 104. 

Note CLXIX. (Page 957.) 

It is very difficult to obtain an accurate account 
of the state of population in those kingdoms of 
Europe where the police is most perfect, and where 
science has made the greatest progress. In Spanish 
America, where knowledge is still in its infancy, 
and few men have leisure to engage in researches 
merely speculative, little attention has been paid to 
this curious inquiry. But in the year 1741, Philip 
Y. enjoined the viceroys and governors of the several 
provinces in America, to make an actual survey of 
the people under their jurisdiction, and to transmit 
a report concerning their number and occupations. 
In consequence of this order, the Conde de Fuen- 
Clara, viceroy of New" Spain, appointed D. Jos. 
Antonio de Villa Segnor y Sanchez to execute that 
commission in New Spain. From the reports of the 
magistrates in the several districts, as well as from 
his own observations and long acquaintance with 
most of the provinces, Villa Segnor published the 
result of his inquiries in his Teatro Americano. His 
report, how ever, is imperfect. Of the nine dioceses, 
into which the Mexican empire has been divided, 
he has published an account of five only, viz. the 
archbishopric of Mexico, the bishoprics of Puebla 
de los Angeles, Mechoacan, Oaxaca, and Nova 
Galicia. The bishoprics of Yucatan, Verapaz, 
Chiapa, and Guatimala, are entirely omitted, though 
the two latter comprehend countries in which the 
Indian race is more numerous than in any part of 
New Spain. In his survey of the extensive diocese 
of Nova Galicia, the situation of the different In¬ 
dian villages is described, but he specifies the 
number of people only in a small part of it. The 
Indians of that extensive province, in which the 
Spanish dominion is imperfectly established, are 
not registered with the same accuracy as in other 
parts of New Spain. According to Villa Segnor, 
the actual state of population in the five dioceses 
above mentioned is, of Spaniards, negroes, mulat- 
toes, and mestizos, in the dioceses of 


Families. 

Mexico . 105,202 

Los Angeles. 30,600 

Mechoacan. 30,840 

Oaxaca.7,296 

Nova Galicia.16,770 


190,708 

At the rate of five to a family, the total number 
is 953,540. 












Indian families in the diocese of Mexico 

Los Angeles. 

Mechoacan. 

Oaxaca. 

Nova Galicia. 


294,391 

At the rate of five to a family, the total number is 
1,471,955. We may rely with greater certainty on 
this computation of the number of Indians, as it is 
taken from the Matricula , or register, according to 
which the tribute paid by them is collected. As 
four dioceses of nine are totally omitted, and in that 
of Nova Galicia the numbers are imperfectly re¬ 
corded, we may conclude that the number of Indians 
in the Mexican empire exceeds two millions. 

The account of the number of Spaniards, &c. 
seems not to be equally complete. Of many places, 
Villa Segnor observes in general terms, that several 
Spaniards, negroes, and people of mixed race, reside 
there, without specifying their number. If, there¬ 
fore, we make allowance for these, and for all who 
reside in the four dioceses omitted, the number of 
Spaniards, and of those of a mixed race, may pro¬ 
bably amount to a million and a half. In some 
places Villa Segnor distinguishes between Span¬ 
iards and the inferior races of negroes, mulattoes, 
and mestizos, and marks their number separately. 
But he generally blends them together. But from 
the proportion observable in those places, where the 
number of each is marked, as well as from the 
account of the state of population in New Spain by 
other authors, it is manifest that the number of 
negroes and persons of a mixed race far exceeds 
that of Spaniards. Perhaps the latter ought not to 
be reckoned above 500,000 to a million of the 
former. 

Defective as this account may be, I have not been 
able to procure such intelligence concerning the 
number of people in Peru, as might enable me to 
form any conjecture equally satisfying with respect 
to the degree of its population. I have been in¬ 
formed that in the year 1761, the protector of the 
Indians in the viceroyalty of Peru computed that 
612,780 paid tribute to the king. As all females, 
and persons under age, are exempted from this tax 
in Peru, the total number of Indians ought by that 
account to be 2,449,120. MS. penes me. 

I shall mention another mode, by which one may 
compute, or at least form a guess concerning, the 
state of population in New Spain and Peru. Ac¬ 
cording to an account which I have reason to con¬ 
sider as accurate, the number of copies of the bull 
of Cruzada exported to Peru on each new publica¬ 
tion, is, 1,171,953 ; to New Spain, 2,649,326. I am 
informed that but few Indians purchase bulls, and 
that they are sold chiefly to the Spanish inhabitants, 
and those of mixed race; so that the number of 
Spaniards, and people of a mixed race, will amount 
by this mode of computation to at least three 
millions. 


1071 

The number of inhabitants in many of the towns 
in Spanish America may give us some idea of the 
extent of population, and correct the inaccurate but 
popular notion entertained in Great Britain con¬ 
cerning the weak and desolate state of their colo¬ 
nies. The city of Mexico contains at least 150,000 
people. It is remarkable that Torquemada, who 
wrote his Monarqvia Indiana about the year 1612, 
reckons the inhabitants of Mexico at that time to 
be only 7000 Spaniards and 8000 Indians. Lib. iii. 
c. 26. Puebla de los Angeles contains above 60,000 
Spaniards, and people of a mixed race. Villa 
Segnor, p. 247. Guadalaxara contains above 30,000, 
exclusive of Indians. Id. ii. 206. Lima contains 
54,000. De Cosme Bueno Descr. de Peru, 1764. 
Carthagenacontains 25,000. Potosicontains 25,000. 
Bueno 1767. Popayan contains above 20,000. 
Ulloa, i. 287. Towns of a second class are still 
more numerous. The cities in the most thriving 
settlements of other European nations in America 
cannot be compared with these. 

Such are the detached accounts of the number of 
people in several towns, which I found scattered in 
authors whom I thought worthy of credit. But I 
have obtained an enumeration of the inhabitants of 
the towns in the province of Quito, on the accuracy 
of which I can rely; and I communicate it to the 
public, both to gratify curiosity, and to rectify the 
mistaken notion which I have mentioned. St. Fran¬ 
cisco de Quito contains between 50 and 60,000 
people of all the different races. Besides the city, 
there are in the Corregimiento 29 curas or parishes 
established in the principal villages, each of which 
has smaller hamlets depending upon it. The inha¬ 
bitants of these are mostly Indians and mestizos. 
St. Juan de Pasto has between 6 and 8,000 inhabi¬ 
tants, besides 27 dependent villages. St. Miguel 
de Ibarra, 7000 citizens, and ten villages. The 
district of Havala, between 18 and 20,000 people. 
The district of Tacuna, between 10 and 12,000. 
The district of Ambato, between 8 and 10,000, be¬ 
sides 16 depending villages. The city of Riobamba, 
between 16 and 20,000 inhabitants, and nine depend¬ 
ing villages. The district of Chimbo, between 6 
and 8000. The c«ity of Guayaquil, from 16 to 20,000 
inhabitants, and 14 depending villages. The district 
of Atuasi, between 5 and 6000 inhabitants, and 4 
depending villages. The city of Cuenza, between 
25 and 30,000 inhabitants, and 9 populous depending 
villages. The town of Laxa, from 8 to 10,000 inha¬ 
bitants, and 14 depending villages. This degree of 
population, though slender if we consider the vast 
extent of the country, is far beyond what is com¬ 
monly supposed. I have omitted to mention, in its 
proper place, that Quito is the only province in 
Spanish America that can be denominated a manu¬ 
facturing country ; hats, cotton stuff's, and coarse 
woollen cloths, are made there in such quantities as 
to be sufficient not only for the consumption of the 
province, but to furnish a considerable article for 
exportation into other parts of Spanish America. I 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

119,511 
88,240 
36,196 
44,222 
6,222 




1072 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


know not whether the uncommon industry of this 
province should be considered as the cause or the 
effect of its populousness. But among; the ostenta¬ 
tious inhabitants of the New World, the passion for 
every thing that comes from Europe is so violent, 
that I am informed the manufactures of Quito are 
so much undervalued as to be on the decline. 

Note CLXX. (Page 958.) 

These are established at the following places :— 
St. Domingo in the island of Hispaniola, Mexico in 
New Spain, Lima in Peru, Panama in Tierra Fir- 
me, Santiago in Guatimala, Guadalaxara in New 
Galicia, Santa Fe in the new kingdom of Granada, 
La Plata in the country of Los Charcas, St. Fran¬ 
cisco de Quito, St. Jago de Chili, Buenos Ayres. 
To each of these are subjected several large pro¬ 
vinces, and some so far removed from the cities 
where the courts are fixed, that they can derive 
little benefit from their jurisdiction. The Spanish 
writers commonly reckon up twelve courts of audi¬ 
ence, but they include that of Manila in the Philip¬ 
pine islands. 

Note CLXXI. (Page 960.) 

On account of the distance of Peru and Chili 
from Spain, and the difficulty of carrying commo¬ 
dities of such bulk as wine and oil across the isth¬ 
mus of Panama, the Spaniards in those provinces 
have been permitted to plant vines and olives ; but 
they are strictly prohibited from exporting wine or 
oil to any of the provinces on the Pacific ocean, 
which are in such a situation as to receive them 
from Spain. Recop. lib. i. tit. xvii. 1. 15—18. 

Note CLXXII. (Page 960.) 

This computation was made by Benzoni A. D. 
1550, fifty-eight years after the discovery of America. 
Hist. Novi Orbis, lib. iii. c. 21. But as Benzoni 
wrote with the spirit of a malcontent, disposed to 
detract from the Spaniards in every particular, it is 
probable that his calculation is considerably too 
low. 

Note CLXXIII. (Page 961.) 

My information with respect to the division and 
transmission of property in the Spanish colonies is 
imperfect. The Spanish authors do not explain this 
fully, and have not perhaps attended sufficiently to 
the effects of their own institutions and laws. So- 
lorzano de Jure Ind. (vol. ii. lib. ii. 1.16.) explains 
in some measure the introduction of the tenure of 
Mayorasgo , and mentions some of its effects. Villa 
Segnor takes notice of a singular consequence of it. 
He observes, that in some of the best situations in 
the city of Mexico, a good deal of ground is unoc¬ 
cupied, or covered only with the ruins of the houses 
once erected upon it; and adds, that as this ground 
is held by right of Mayorasgo, and cannot be alien¬ 
ated, that desolation and those ruins become per¬ 
petual. Teatr. Amer. vol. i. p. 34. 


Note CLXXIV. (Page 961.) 

There is no law that excludes Creoles from offices 
either civil or ecclesiastic. On the contrary, there 
are many Cedulas , which recommend the conferring 
places of trust indiscriminately on the natives of 
Spain and America. Betancourt y Figueroa De- 
recho, &c. p. 5, 6. But, notwithstanding such re¬ 
peated recommendations, preferment in almost 
every line is conferred on native Spaniards. A 
remarkable proof of this is produced by the author 
last quoted. From the discovery of America to the 
year 1637, three hundred and sixty-nine bishops, or 
archbishops, have been appointed to the different 
dioceses in that country, and of all that number only 
twelve were Creoles, p. 40. This predilection for 
Europeans seems still to continue. By a royal 
mandate, issued in 1776, the chapter of the cathe¬ 
dral of Mexico is directed to nominate European 
ecclesiastics of known merit and abilities, that the 
king may appoint them to supply vacant benefices. 
MS. genes me. 

Note CLXXV. (Page 963.) 

Moderate as this tribute may appear, such is the 
extreme poverty of the Indians in many provinces 
of America, that the exacting of it is intolerably 
oppressive. Pegna Itiner. par Parodies de Indios, 
p. 192. 

Note CLXXVI. (Page 963.) 

In New Spain, on account of the extraordinary 
merit and services of the first conquerors, as well 
as the small revenue arising from the country pre¬ 
vious to the discovery of the mines of Sacatecas, 
the encomicndas were granted for three, and some¬ 
times for four, lives. Recop. lib. vi. tit. ii. c. 14, &c. 

Note CLXXVII. (Page 963.) 

D. Ant. Ulloa contends, that working in mines 
is not noxious, and as a proof of this informs us, 
that many mestizos and Indians, who do not belong 
to any repartimiento, voluntarily hire themselves 
as miners; and several of the Indians, when the 
legal term of their service expires, continue to w ork 
in the mines of choice. Entreten. p. 265. But his 
opinion concerning the wholesomeness of this oc¬ 
cupation is contrary to the experience of all ages; 
and wherever men are allured by high wages, they 
will engage in any species of labour, however fa¬ 
tiguing or pernicious it may be. D. Hern. Carillo 
Altamirano relates a curious fact incompatible with 
this opinion. Wherever mines are wrought, says 
he, the number of Indians decreases ; but in the 
province of Campeachy, where there, are no mines, 
the number of Indians has increased more than a 
third since the conquest of America, though neither 
the soil nor climate be so favourable as in Peru or 
Mexico. Colbert Collect. In another memorial 
presented to Philip III. in the year 1609, captain 
Juan Gonzales de Azevedo asserts, that in every 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 1073 


district ot Peru where the Indians are compelled 
to labour in the mines, their numbers were reduced 
to the half, and in some places to the third, of what 
it was under the viceroyalty of Don. Fran. Toledo 
in 1581. Colb. Collect. 

Note CLXXVIII. (Page 963.) 

As labour of this kind cannot be prescribed with 
legal accuracy, the tasks seem to be in a great mea¬ 
sure arbitrary, and, like the services exacted by 
feudal superiors in vinea, prato , aut messe , from their 
vassals, are extremely burdensome, and often wan¬ 
tonly oppressive. Pegna Itiner. par Parochos de 
Indios. 

Note CLXXIX. (Page 963.) 

The turn of service known in Peru by the name 
of Mila is called Tanda in New Spain. There it 
continues no longer than a week at a time. No 
person is called to serve at a greater distance from 
his habitation than 24 miles. This arrangement is 
less oppressive to the Indians than that established 
in Peru. Memorial of Hern. Carillo Altamirano. 
Colbert Collect. 

Note CLXXX. (Page 964.) 

The strongest proof of this maybe deduced from 
the laws themselves. By the multitude and variety 
of regulations to prevent abuses, we may form an idea 
of the number of abuses that prevail. Though the 
laws have wisely provided that no Indian shall be 
obliged to serve in any mine at a greater distance 
from his place of residence than thirty miles ; we are 
informed in a memorial of D. Hernan Carillo Alta- 
mirano presented to the king, that the Indians of Peru 
are often compelled to serve in mines at the distance 
of a hundred, a hundred and fifty, and even two hun¬ 
dred leagues from their habitation. Colbert Collect. 
Many mines are situated in parts of the country so 
barren and so distant from the ordinary habitations 
of the Indians, that the necessity of procuring 
labourers to work there has obliged the Spanish 
monarchs to dispense with their own regulations in 
several instances, and to permit the viceroys to 
compel the people of more remote provinces to re¬ 
sort to those mines. Escalona Gazophyl. Perub. 
lib. i. c. 16. But, in justice to them, it should be 
observed that they have been studious to alleviate 
this oppression as much as possible, by enjoining 
viceroys to employ every method in order to induce 
the Indians to settle in some part of the country 
adjacent to the mines. Id. ibid. 

Note CLXXXI. (Page 965.) 

Torquemada, after a long enumeration which 
has the appearance of accuracy, concludes the 
number of monasteries in New Spain to be four 
hundred. Mon. Ind. lib. xix. c. 32. The number 
of monasteries in the city of Mexico alone was, in 
the year 1745, fifty-five. Villa Segnor Teat. Amer. 

i. 34. Ulloa reckons up forty convents in Lima; 

3 z 


and mentioning those for nuns, he says that a small 
town might be peopled out of them, the number of 
persons shut up there is so great. Voy. i. 429. 
Philip III., in a letter to the viceroy of Peru, A. D. 
1620, observes, that the number of convents in Lima 
was so great, that they covered more ground than 
all the rest of the city. Solorz. lib. iii. c. 23. n. 57. 
Lib. iii. c. 16. Torquem. lib. xv. c. 3. The first 
monastery in New Spain was founded A. D. 1525, 
four years only after the conquest. Torq. lib. xv. 
c. 16. 

According to Gil Gonzalez Davila, the complete 
establishment of the American church in all the 
Spanish settlements was, in the year 1649, 1 patri¬ 
arch, 6 archbishops, 32 bishops, 346 prebends, 2 
abbots, 5 royal chaplains, 840 convents. Teatro 
Eeclesiastico de las Ind. Occident, vol. i. Pref. 
When the order of Jesuits was expelled from all 
the Spanish dominions, the colleges, professed 
houses, and residences, which it possessed in the 
province of New Spain, were thirty, in Quito six¬ 
teen, in the new kingdom of Granada thirteen, in 
Peru seventeen, in Chili eighteen, in Paraguay 
eighteen ; in all, a hundred and twelve. Collection 
General de Providencias hasta aqui tomadas sobre 
estranamento, &c. de la Compagnia, part i. p. 19. 
The number of Jesuits, priests, and novices in all 
these amounted to 2245. MS. penes me. 

In the year 1644, the city of Mexico presented a 
petition to the king, praying that no new monastery 
might be founded, and that the revenues of those 
already established might be circumscribed, other¬ 
wise the religious houses would soon acquire the 
property of the whole country. The petitioners 
request likewise, that the bishops might be laid 
under restrictions in conferring holy orders, as there 
were at that time in New Spain above six thousand 
clergymen without any living. Id. p. 16. These 
abuses must have been enormous indeed, when the 
superstition of American Spaniards was shocked, 
and induced to remonstrate against them. 

Note CLXXXII. (Page 966.) 

This description of the manners of the Spanish 
clergy I should not have ventured to give upon the 
testimony of protestant authors alone, as they may 
be suspected of prejudice or exaggeration. Gage, 
in particular, who had abetter opportunity than any 
protestant to view the interior state of Spanish 
America, describes the corruption of the church 
which he had forsaken, with so much of the acri¬ 
mony of a new convert, that I should have distrusted 
his evidence, though it communicates some very 
curious and striking facts. But Benzoni mentions 
the profligacy of ecclesiastics in America at a very 
early period after their settlement there. Hist. lib. 
ii. c. 19, 20. M. Frezier, an intelligent observer, 
and zealous for his own religion, paints the disso¬ 
lute manners of the Spanish ecclesiastics in Peru, 
particularly the regulars, in stronger colours than 



1074 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


I have employed. Voy. p. 51. 215, &c. M. Gentil 
confirms this account. Voy. i.34. Correal concurs 
with both, and adds many remarkable circumstances. 
Voy. i. 61. 155. 161. I have good reason to believe 
that the manners of the regular clergy, particularly 
in Peru, are still extremely indecent. Acosta him¬ 
self acknowledges that great corruption of manners 
had been the consequence of permitting monks to 
forsake the retirement and discipline of the cloister, 
and to mingle again with the world, by undertaking 
the charge of the Indian parishes. De Procur. Ind. 
Salute, lib. iv. c. 13, &c. He mentions particularly 
those vices of which I have taken notice, and con¬ 
siders the temptations to them as so formidable, 
that he leans to the opinion of those who hold that 
the regular clergy should not be employed as parish 
priests. Lib. v. c. 20. Even the advocates for the 
regulars admit, that many and great enormities 
abounded among the monks of different orders, 
when set free from the restraint of monastic disci¬ 
pline ; and from the tone of their defence, one may 
conclude that the charge brought against them was 
not destitute of truth. In the French colonies the 
state of the regular clergy is nearly the same as in 
the Spanish settlements, and the same consequences 
have followed. M. Biet, superior of the secular 
priests in Cayenne, inquires, with no less appear¬ 
ance of piety than of candour, into the causes of 
this corruption, and imputes it chiefly to the ex¬ 
emption of regulars from the jurisdiction and cen¬ 
sures of their diocesans; to the temptations to which 
they are exposed ; and to their engaging in com¬ 
merce. Voy. p. 320. It is remarkable, that all the 
authors who censure the licentiousness of the Spa¬ 
nish regulars with the greatest severity, concur in 
vindicating the conduct of the Jesuits. Formed 
under a discipline more perfect than that of the 
other monastic orders, or animated by that concern 
for the honour of the society which takes such full 
possession of every member of the order, the Je¬ 
suits, both in Mexico and Peru, it is allowed, main¬ 
tained a most irreproachable decency of manners. 
Frezier, 223. Gentil, i. 34. The same praise is 
likewise due to the bishops and most of the dignified 
clergy. Frez. Ibid. 

A volume of the Gazette de Mexico for the years 
1728, 1729, 1730, having been communicated to me, 
I find there a striking confirmation of what I have 
advanced concerning the spirit of low illiberal 
superstition prevalent in Spanish America. From 
the newspapers of any nation, one may learn what 
are the objects which chiefly engross its attention, 
and which appear to it most interesting. The Ga¬ 
zette of Mexico is filled almost entirely with ac¬ 
counts of religious functions, with descriptions of 
processions, consecrations of churches, beatifications 
of saints, festivals, autos de fe, &c. Civil or com¬ 
mercial affairs, and even the transactions of Europe, 
occupy but a small corner in this magazine of 
monthly intelligence. From the titles of new books, 
which are regularly inserted in this Gazette, it ap¬ 


pears that two-thirds of them are treatises of scho¬ 
lastic theology, or of monkish devotion. 

Note CLXXXIII. (Page 966.) 

Solorzano, after mentioning the corrupt morals 
of some of the regular clergy, with that cautious 
reserve which became a Spanish layman in touching 
on a subject so delicate, gives his opinion ve^y ex¬ 
plicitly, and with much firmness, against committing 
parochial charges to monks. He produces the 
testimony of several respectable authors of his 
country, both divines and lawyers, in confirmation 
of his opinion. De Jure Ind. ii. lib. iii. c. 16. A 
striking proof of the alarm excited by the attempt 
of the prince d’Esquilache to exclude the regulars 
from parochial cures, is contained in the Colbert 
collection of papers. Several memorials were pre¬ 
sented to the king by the procurators for the mo¬ 
nastic orders, and replies were made to these in 
name of the secular clergy. An eager and even 
rancorous spirit is manifest on both sides, in the 
conduct of this dispute. 

Note CLXXXIV. (Page 967.) 

Not only the native Indians, but the mestizos , or 
children of a Spaniard and Indian, were originally 
excluded from the priesthood, and refused admis¬ 
sion into any religious order. But by a law issued 
Sept. 28th, 1588, Philip II. required the prelates of 
America to ordain such mestizos born in lawful 
wedlock, as they should find to be properly quali¬ 
fied, and to permit them to take the vows in any 
monastery where they had gone through a regular 
noviciate. Recopil. lib. i. tit. vii. 1. 7. Some re¬ 
gard seems to have been paid to this law' in New 
Spain ; but none in Peru. Upon a representation 
of this to Charles II. in the year 1697, he issued a 
new edict, enforcing the observation of it, and pro¬ 
fessing his desire to have all his subjects, Indians 
and mestizos as well as Spaniards, admitted to the 
enjoyment of the same privileges. Such, however, 
was the aversion of the Spaniards in America to the 
Indians, and their race, that this seems to have pro¬ 
duced little effect; for in the year 1725 Philip V. was 
obliged to renew the injunction in a more peremp¬ 
tory tone. But so unsurmountable are the hatred 
and contempt of the Indians among the Peruvian 
Spaniards, that the present king lias been con¬ 
strained to enforce the former edicts anew, by a 
law published Sept. 11, 1774. Real Cedula, MS. 
penes me. 

M. Clavigero has contradicted what I have related 
concerning the ecclesiastical state of the Indians, 
particularly their exclusion from the sacrament of 
the eucharist, and from holy orders, either as secu¬ 
lars or regulars, in such a manner as cannot fail to 
make a deep impression. He, from his own know¬ 
ledge, asserts, “ that in New Spain not only are 
Indians permitted to partake of the sacrament of 
the altar, but that Indian priests are so numerous 
that they may be counted by hundreds ; and arnon"* 




1075 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


these have been many hundreds of rectors, canons, 
and doctors, and, as report goes, even a very learned 
bishop. At present there are many priests, and not 
a few rectors, among whom there have been three or 
four our own pupils.” Vol. II. 348, &c. I owe it 
therefore as a duty to the public, as well as to my¬ 
self, to consider each of these points with care, and 
to explain the reasons which induced me to adopt 
the opinion which I have published. 

I knew that in the Christian church there is no 
distinction of persons, but that men of every nation, 
who embrace the religion of Jesus, are equally en¬ 
titled to every Christian privilege which they are 
qualified to receive. I knew likewise that an opi¬ 
nion prevailed, not only among most of the Spanish 
laity settled in America, but among “ many eccle¬ 
siastics, (I use the words of Herrera, dec. ii. lib. ii. 
c. 15.) that the Indians were not perfect or rational 
men, and were not possessed of such capacity as 
qualified them to partake of the sacrament of the 
altar, or of any other benefit of our religion.” It 
was against this opinion that Las Casas contended 
with the laudable zeal which I have described in 
Books III. and VI. But as the bishop of Darien, 
Doctor Sepulvida, and other respectable ecclesias¬ 
tics, vigorously supported the common opinion con¬ 
cerning the incapacity of the Indians, it became 
necessary, in order to determine the point, that the 
authority of the holy see should be interposed ; and 
accordingly Paul III. issued a bull, A. D. 1537, in 
which, after condemning the opinion of those who 
held that the Indians, as being on a level with brute 
beasts, should be reduced to servitude, he declares 
that they were really men, and as such were capa¬ 
ble of embracing the Christian religion, and partici¬ 
pating of all its blessings. My account of this bull, 
notwithstanding the cavils of M. Clavigero, must 
appear just to every person who takes the trouble 
of perusing it ; and my account is the same with 
that adopted by Torquemada, lib. xvi. c. 25., and 
by Garcia, Orig. p. 311. But even after this deci¬ 
sion, so low did the Spaniards residing in America 
rate the capacity of the natives, that the first council 
of Lima (I call it by that name on the authority of 
the best Spanish authors) discountenanced the ad¬ 
mission of Indians to the holy communion. Tor- 
quem. lib. xvi. c. 20. In New Spain the exclusion 
of Indians from the sacrament was still more ex¬ 
plicit. Ibid. After two centuries have elapsed, 
and notwithstanding all the improvement that the 
Indians may be supposed to have derived from 
their intercourse with the Spaniards during that 
period, we are informed by D. Ant. Ulloa, that in 
Peru, where, as will appear in the sequel of this 
note, they are supposed to be better instructed than 
in New Spain, their ignorance is so prodigious that 
very few are permitted to communicate, as being 
altogether destitute of the requisite capacity. Voy. 
i. 341, &c. Solorz. Polit. Ind. i. 203. 

With respect to the exclusion of Indians from 

the priesthood, either as seculars or regulars, we 

3 z 2 


may observe, that while it continued to be the com¬ 
mon opinion that the natives of America, on ac¬ 
count of their incapacity, should not be permitted 
to partake of the holy sacrament, we cannot suppose 
that they would be clothed with that sacred charac¬ 
ter which entitled them to consecrate and to dispense 
it. When Torquemada composed his Monarquia 
Indiana , it was almost a century after the conquest 
of New Spain ; and yet in his time it was still the 
general practice to exclude Indians from holy or¬ 
ders. Of this we have the most satisfying evidence. 
Torquemada having celebrated the virtues and 
graces of the Indians at great length, and with all 
the complacency of a missionary, he starts as an 
objection to what he had asserted, “ If the Indians 
really possess all the excellent qualities which you 
have described, why are they not permitted to as¬ 
sume the religious habit ? Why are they not or¬ 
dained priests and bishops, as the Jewish and 
Gentile converts were in the primitive church, 
especially as they might be employed with such 
superior advantage to other persons in the instruc¬ 
tion of their countrymen?” Lib. xvii. c. 13. 

In answer to this objection, which establishes, in 
the most unequivocal manner, what was the general 
practice at that period, Torquemada observes, that 
although by their natural dispositions the Indians 
are well fitted for a subordinate situation, they are 
destitute of all the qualities requisite in any station 
of dignity and authority; and that they are in 
general so addicted to drunkenness, that upon the 
slightest temptation one cannot promise on their 
behaving with the decency suitable to the clerical 
character. The propriety of excluding them from 
it, on these accounts, was, he observed, so well 
justified by experience, that when a foreigner of 
great erudition, who came from Spain, condemned 
the practice of the Mexican church, he was con¬ 
vinced of his mistake in a public disputation with 
the learned and most religious father D. Juan de 
Gaona, and his retractation is still extant. Tor¬ 
quemada indeed acknowledges, as M. Clavigero 
observes with a degree of exultation, that in his 
time some Indians had been admitted into monas¬ 
teries ; but, with the art of a disputant, he forgets 
to mention that Torquemada specifies only two ex¬ 
amples of this, and takes notice that in both in¬ 
stances those Indians have been admitted by mis¬ 
take. Relying upon the authority of Torquemada 
with regard to New Spain, and of Ulloa with regard 
to Peru, and considering the humiliating depression 
of the Indians in all the Spanish settlements, I 
concluded that they were not admitted into the 
ecclesiastical order, which is held in the highest 
veneration all over the New World. 

But when M. Clavigero, upon his own know¬ 
ledge, asserted facts so repugnant to the conclusion 
I had formed, I began to distrust it, and to wish for 
further information. In order to obtain this, I 
applied to a Spanish nobleman, high in office, and 
eminent for his abilities, w ho, on different occasions, 



I07G 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


has permitted me to have the honour and benefit of 
corresponding with him. 1 have been favoured with 
the following answer: “What you have written 
concerning the admission of Indians into holy 
orders, or into monasteries, in Book VIII., especially 
as it is explained and limited in Note lxxxviii. of 
the quarto edition, is in general accurate, and con¬ 
formable to the authorities which you quote. And 
although the congregation of the council resolved 
and declared, Feb. 13, A. D. 1682, that the circum¬ 
stance of being an Indian, a mulatto, or mestizo, 
did not disqualify any person from being admitted 
into holy orders, if he was possessed of what is 
required by the canons to entitle him to that privi¬ 
lege ; this only proves such ordinations to be legal 
and valid, (of which Solorzano and the Spanish 
lawyers and historians quoted by him, Pol. Ind. lib. 
ii. c. 29. were persuaded,) but it neither proves the 
propriety of admitting Indians into holy orders, nor 
what was then the common practice with respect to 
this; but, on the contrary, it shows that there was 
some doubt concerning the ordaining of Indians, 
and some repugnance to it. 

“ Since that time there have been some examples 
of admitting Indians into holy orders. We have 
now at Madrid an aged priest, a native of Tlascala. 
H is name is D. Juan Cerilo de Castilla Aquihual 
Catehutlc, descended of a cazique converted to 
Christianity soon after the conquest. He studied 
the ecclesiastical sciences in a seminary of Puebla 
de los Angeles. He was a candidate, nevertheless, 
for ten years, and it required much interest before 
bishop Abren would consent to ordain him. This 
ecclesiastic is a man of unexceptionable character, 
modest, self-denied, and with a competent know¬ 
ledge of what relates to his clerical functions. He 
came to Madrid above thirty-four years ago, with 
the sole view of soliciting admission for the Indians 
into the colleges and seminaries in New Spain, that 
if, after being well instructed and tried, they should 
find an inclination to enter into the ecclesiastical 
state, they might embrace it, and perform its func¬ 
tions with the greatest benefit to their countrymen, 
whom they could address in their native tongue. 
He has obtained various regulations favourable to 
his scheme, particularly that the first college which 
became vacant in consequence of the exclusion of 
the Jesuits, should be set apart for this purpose. 
But neither these regulations, nor any similar ones 
inserted in the laws of the Indies, have produced any 
effect, on account of objections and representations 
from the greater part of persons of chief considera¬ 
tion employed in New Spain. Whether their oppo¬ 
sition be well founded or not, is a problem difficult 
to resolve, and towards the solution of which several 
distinctions and modifications are requisite. 

“ According to the accounts of this ecclesiastic, 
and the information of other persons who have 
resided in the Spanish dominions in America, you 
may rest assured that in the kingdom Tierra Firme 
no such thing is known as either an Indian secular 


priest or monk ; and that in New Spain there arc 
very few ecclesiastics of Indian race. In Peru, 
perhaps, the number may be greater, as in that coun¬ 
try there are more Indians who possess the means 
of acquiring such a learned education as is necessary 
for persons who aspire to the clerical character.” 

Note CLXXXV. (Page 968.) 

Uztariz, an accurate and cautious calculator, 
seems to admit, that the quantity of silver which 
does not pay duty may be stated thus high. Ac¬ 
cording to Herrera, there was not above a third of 
what w as extracted from Potosi that paid the king’s 
fifth. Dec. 8. lib. ii. c. 15. Solorzano asserts like¬ 
wise, that the quantity of silverwhich is fraudulently 
circulated, is far greater than that which is regularly 
stamped, after paying the fifth. De Ind. Jure, 
vol. ii. lib. v. p. 846. 

Note CLXXXVI. (Page 969.) 

When the mines of Potosi were discovered in the 
year 1545, the veins were so near the surface, that 
the ore was easily extracted, and so rich that it was 
refined with little trouble and at a small expense, 
merely by the action of fire. The simple mode 
of refining by fusion alone continued until the year 
1574, when the use of mercury in refining silver, as 
well as gold, was discovered. Those mines having 
been wrought without interruption for two centuries, 
the veins are now sunk so deep, that the expense of 
extracting the ore is greatly increased. Besides 
this, the richness of the ore, contrary to what hap¬ 
pens in most other mines, has become less as the 
vein continued to dip. The vein has likewise 
diminished to such a degree, that one is amazed 
that the Spaniards should persist in working it. 
Other rich mines have been successively discovered; 
but in general the value of the ores has decreased 
so much, while the expense of extracting them has 
augmented, that the court of Spain in the year 1736 
reduced the duty payable to the king from a fifth to 
a tenth. All the quicksilver used in Peru is ex¬ 
tracted from the famous mine of Guancabelica, dis¬ 
covered in the year 1563. The crown has reserved 
the property of this mine to itself; and the persons 
who purchase the quicksilver pay not only the price 
of it, but likewise a fifth, as a duty to the king. But 
in the year 1761 this duty on quicksilver was abo¬ 
lished, on account of the increase of expense in 
working mines. Ulloa, Entretenimientos, xii—xv. 
Voyage, i. p. 505. 523. In consequence of this 
abolition of the fifth, and some subsequent abate¬ 
ments of price, which became necessary on account 
of the increasing expense of working mines, quick¬ 
silver, which w as formerly sold at eighty pesos the 
quintal, is now delivered by the king at the rate of 
sixty pesos. Campomanes. Educ. Popul. ii. 132. 
note. The duty on gold is reduced to a twentieth, 
or five per cent. Any of my readers, who are 
desirous of being acquainted with the mode in which 
the Spaniards conduct the working of their mines, 



1077 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


and the refinement of the ore, will find an accurate 
description of the ancient method by Acosta, lib. iv. 
c - 1—13- and of their more recent improvements in 
the metallurgic art, by Gamboa Comment, a las 
ordenanz. de Minas, c. 22. 

Note CLXXXVII. (Page 970.) 

Many remarkable proofs occur of the advanced 
state of industry in Spain at the beginning of the 
sixteenth century. The number of cities in Spain 
was considerable, and they were peopled far beyond 
the proportion that was common in other parts of 
Europe. The causes of this I have explained, Hist, 
of Charles V. p. 355. Wherever cities are populous, 
that species of industry which is peculiar to them 
increases; artificers and manufacturers abound. 
The effect of the American trade in giving activity to 
these is manifest, from a singular fact. In the year 
1545, while Spain continued to depend on its own 
industry for the supply of its colonies, so much work 
was bespoke from the manufacturers, that it was 
supposed they could hardly finish it in less than six 
years. Campom. i. 406. Such a demand must 
have put much industry in motion, and have excited 
extraordinary efforts. Accordingly, we are inform¬ 
ed, that in the beginning of Philip II.’s reign, the 
city of Seville alone, where the trade with America 
centred, gave employment to no fewer than 16,000 
looms in silk or woollen work, and that above 130,000 
persons had occupation in carrying on these manu¬ 
factures. Campom. ii. 472. But so rapid and pernici¬ 
ous was the operation of the causes which I shall enu¬ 
merate, that before Philip III. ended his reign, the 
looms in Seville were reduced to 400. Uztariz, c. 7. 

Since the publication of the first edition, I have 
the satisfaction to find my ideas concerning the 
early commercial intercourse between Spain and 
her colonies confirmed and illustrated by D. Ber¬ 
nardo Ward, of the Junta de Comercio at Madrid, 
in his Proyicto Economico , part ii. c. i. “ Under 
the reign of Charles V. and Philip II/' says he, 
“ the manufacturers of Spain and of the Low Coun¬ 
tries subject to her dominion were in a most flourish¬ 
ing state. Those of France and England were in 
their infancy. The republic of the United Provinces 
did not then exist. No European power but Spain 
had colonies of any value in the New World. Spain 
could supply her settlements there with the pro¬ 
ductions of her own soil, the fabrics wrought by the 
hands of her own artisans, and all she received in 
return for these, belonged to herself alone. Then 
the exclusion of foreign manufactures was proper, 
because it might be rendered effectual. Then Spain 
might lay heavy duties upon goods exported to 
America, or imported from it, and might impose 
what restraints she deemed proper upon a commerce 
entirely in her own hands. But when time and 
successive revolutions had occasioned an alteration 
in all those circumstances, when the manufactures 
of Spain began to decline, and the demands of 
America were supplied by foreign fabrics, the 


original maxims and regulations of Spain should 
have been accommodated to the change in her situ¬ 
ation. The policy that was wise at one period 
became absurd in the other.” 

Note CLXXXVIII. (Page 972.) 

No bale of goods is ever opened, no chest of 
treasure is examined. Both are received on the 
credit of the persons to whom they belong; and only 
one instance of fraud is recorded, during the long 
period in which trade was carried on with this 
liberal confidence. All the coined silver that was 
brought from Peru to Porto-bello in the year 1654 
was found to be adulterated, and to be mingled 
with a fifth part of base metal. The Spanish mer¬ 
chants, with sentiments suitable to their usual in¬ 
tegrity, sustained the whole loss, and indemnified 
the foreigners by whom they were employed. The 
fraud was detected, and the treasurer of the revenue 
in Peru, the author of it, was publicly burnt. B. 
Ulloa Retablis. de Manuf. &c. liv. ii. p. 102. 

Note CLXXXIX. (Page 973.) 

Many striking proofs occur of the scarcity of 
money in Spain. Of all the immense sums which 
have been imported from America, the amount of 
which I shall afterwards have occasion to mention, 
Moncada asserts, that there did not remain in Spain, 
in 1619, above two hundred millions of pesos, one 
half in coined money, the other in plate and jewels. 
Restaur, de Espagna, disc. iii. c. 1. Uztariz, who 
published his valuable work, in 1724, contends, 
that in money, plate, and jewels, there did not re¬ 
main an hundred million. Theor. &c. c. 3. Cam- 
pomanes, on the authority of a remonstrance from 
the community of merchants in Toledo to Philip 
III. relates, as a certain proof how scarce cash had 
become, that persons who lent money received a 
third part of the sum which they advanced as inte¬ 
rest and premium. Educ. Popul. i. 417. 

Note CXC. (Page 974.) 

The account of the mode in which the factors of 
the South-sea company conducted the trade in the 
fair of Porto-bello, which was opened to them by 
the Assiento, I have taken from Don Dion. Alcedo 
y Herrera, president of the court of audience in 
Quito, and governor of that province. Don Dionysio 
was a person of such respectable character for pro¬ 
bity and discernment, that his testimony in any 
point would be of much weight; but greater credit 
is due to it in this case, as he was an eye witness of 
the transactions which he relates, and was often 
employed in detecting and authenticating the frauds 
which he describes. It is probable, however, that 
his representation, being composed at the com¬ 
mencement of the war which broke out between 
Great Britain and Spain, in the year 1739, may, in 
some instances, discover a portion of the acrimo¬ 
nious spirit natural at that juncture. His detail of 
facts is curious ; and even English authors confirm 



1078 


THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


it in some degree, by admitting both that various 
frauds were practised in the transactions of the 
annual ship, and that the contraband trade from 
Jamaica, and other British colonies, was become 
enormously great. But for the credit of the English 
nation it may be observed, that those fraudulent 
operations are not to be considered as deeds of the 
company, but as the dishonourable arts of their 
factors and agents. The company itself sustained 
a considerable loss by the Assiento trade. Many 
of its servants acquired immense fortunes. Ander¬ 
son Chronol. deduct, ii. 388. 

Note CXCI. (Page 976.) 

Several facts with respect to the institution, the 
progress, and the effects of this company, are cu¬ 
rious, and but little known to English readers. 
Though the province of Venezuela, or Caraccas, 
extends four hundred miles along the coast, and is 
one of the most fertile in America ; it was so much 
neglected by the Spaniards, that during the twenty 
years prior to the establishment of the company, 
only five ships sailed from Spain to that province ; 
and during sixteen years, from 1706 to 1722, not a 
single ship arrived from the Caraccas in Spain. 
Notioias de Real Campania de Caraccas, p. 28. 
During this period Spain must have been supplied 
almost entirely with a large quantity of cacao, 
which it consumes, by foreigners. Before the erec¬ 
tion of the company, neither tobacco nor hides 
were imported from Caraccas into Spain. Id. p. 
115. Since the commercial operations of the com¬ 
pany begun in the year 1731, the importation of 
cacao into Spain has increased amazingly. During 
thirty years subsequent to 1701, the number of 
fanegas of cacao (each a hundred and ten pounds) 
imported from Caraccas was 643,215. During 
eighteen years subsequent to 1731, the number of 
fanegas imported was 869,247: and if we suppose 
the importation to be continued in the same propor¬ 
tion during the remainder of thirty years, it will 
amount to 1,448,746 fanegas , which is an increase 
of 805,531 fanegas. Id. p. 148. During eight years 
subsequent to 1756, there have been imported into 
Spain by the company 88,482 arrobas (each twenty- 
five pounds) of tobacco ; and hides to the number 
of 177,354. Id. 161. Since the publication of the 
Noticias de Campania, in 1765, its trade seems to 
be on the increase. During five years subsequent 
to 1769, it has imported 179,156 fanegas of cacao 
into Spain, 36,208 arrobas of tobacco, 75,496 hides, 
and 221,432 pesos in specie. Campomanes, ii. 162. 
The last article is a proof of the growing wealth of 
the colony. It receives cash from Mexico in return 
for the cacao, with which it supplies that province, 
and this it remits to Spain, or lays out in purchas¬ 
ing European goods. But, besides this, the most 
explicit evidence is produced, that the quantity of 
cacao raised in the province is double to what it 
yielded in 1731; the number of its live stock is 
more than treble, and its inhabitants much aug¬ 


mented. The revenue of the bishop, which arises 
wholly from tithes, has increased from eight to 
twenty thousand pesos. Notic. p. 69. In conse¬ 
quence of the augmentation of the quantity of ca¬ 
cao imported into Spain, its price has decreased from 
eighty pesos for the fanega to forty. Id. 61. Since 
the publication of the first, edition, I have learned 
that Guyana, including all the extensive provinces 
situated on the banks of the Orinoco, the islands of 
Trinidad and Margarita, are added to the countries 
with which the company of Caraccas had liberty of 
trade by their former charters. Real Cedula, Nov. 
19, 1776. But I have likewise been informed, that 
the institution of this company has not been attend¬ 
ed with all the beneficial effects which I have as¬ 
cribed to it. In many of its operations the illiberal 
and oppressive spirit of monopoly is still conspicu¬ 
ous. But in order to explain this, it would be ne¬ 
cessary to enter into minute details, which are not 
suited to the nature of this work. 

Note CXCII. (Page 977.) 

This first experiment made by Spain of opening 
a free trade with any of her colonies, has produced 
effects so remarkable, as to merit some further illus¬ 
tration. The towns to which this liberty has been 
granted, are Cadiz and Seville, for the province of 
Andalusia; Alicant and Carthagena, for Valencia 
and Murcia ; Barcelona, for Catalonia and Aragon ; 
Santander, for Castile ; Corugna, for Galicia ; and 
Gijon, for Asturias. Append, ii. a la Educ. Popul. 
p. 41. These are either the ports of chief trade in 
their respective districts, or those most conveniently 
situated for the exportation of their respective pro¬ 
ductions. The following facts give a view of the 
increase of trade in the settlements to which the 
new regulations extend. Prior to the allowance of 
free trade, the duties collected in the custom-house 
at the Havannah were computed to be 104,208 pesos 
annually. During the five years preceding 1774, 
they rose at a medium to 308,000 pesos a year. In 
Yucatan, the duties have arisen from 8000 to 15,000. 
In Hispaniola, from 2500 to 5600. In Porto Rico, 
from 1200 to 7000. The total value of goods im¬ 
ported from Cuba into Spain was reckoned, in 1774, 
to be 1,500,000 pesos. Educ. Popul. i. 450, &c. 

Note CXCITI. (Page 979.) 

The two treatises of Don Pedro Rodriguez Cam¬ 
pomanes, Fiscal del real consejo y Supremo, (an office 
in rank and power nearly similar to that of Attor¬ 
ney-general in England,) and director of the royal 
academy of History, the one intitled Discurso sobre 
el Fomento de la Industria Popular; the other, 
Discurso sobre la Education Popular de los Arte- 
sanos y su Fomento; the former published in 1774, 
and the latter in 1775, afford a striking proof of this. 
Almost every point of importance with respect to 
interior police, taxation, agriculture, manufactures, 
and trade, domestic as well as foreign, is examined 
in the course of these works; and there are not 







NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 1079 


many authors, even in the nations most eminent for 
commercial knowledge, who have carried on their 
inquiries with a more thorough knowledge of those 
various subjects, and a more perfect freedom from 
vulgar and national prejudices, or who have united 
more happily the calm researches of philosophy 
with the ardent zeal of a public-spirited citizen. 
These books are in high estimation among the Spa¬ 
niards ; and it is a decisive evidence of the progress 
of their own ideas, that they are capable of relish¬ 
ing an author whose sentiments are so liberal. 

Note CXCIV. (Page 980.) 

The galeon employed in that trade, instead of 
the six hundred tons to which it is limited by law, 
Recop. lib. xlv. 1. 15., is commonly from twelve 
hundred to two thousand tons burden. The ship 
from Acapulco, taken by lord Anson, instead of 
the 500,000 pesos permitted by law, had on board 
1,313,843 pesos, besides uncoined silver equal in 
value to 43,611 pesos more. Anson’s Voyage, 384. 

Note CXCV. (Page 981.) 

The price paid for the bull varies according to 
the rank of different persons. Those in the lowest 
order, who are servants or slaves, pay two reals of 
plate, or one shilling ; other Spaniards pay eight 
reals, and those in public office, or who hold enco- 
miendas, sixteen reals. Solorz. de Jure Ind. vol. 
ii. lib. iii. c. 25. According to Chilton, an English 
merchant who resided long in the Spanish settle¬ 
ments, the bull of Cruzado bore a higher price in 
the year 1570, being then sold for four reals at the 
lowest. Hakluyt, iii. 461. The price seems to have 
varied at different periods. That exacted for the 
bulls issued in the last Predication will appear from 
the ensuing table, which will give some idea of the 
proportional numbers of the different classes of 
citizens in New Spain and Peru. 

There were issued for New Spain— 

Bulls at 10 pesos each .... 4 


at 2 pesos each . 

22,601 

at 1 peso each 

164,220 

at 2 reals each 

. 2,462,500 


2,649,325 

For Peru— 


at 16 pesos 44 reals each 

3 

at 3 pesos 3 reals each 

14,202 

at 1 peso 54 reals 

78,822 

at 4 reals .... 

410,325 

at 3 reals .... 

668,601 


1,171,953 


Note CXCVI. (Page 981.) 

As Villa Segnor, to whom we are indebted for 
this information contained in his Teatro America¬ 
no, published in Mexico A. D. 1746, was accornpt- 
ant-general in one of the most considerable depart¬ 


ments of the royal revenue, and by that means had 
access to proper information, his testimony with re¬ 
spect to this point merits great credit. No such 
accurate detail of the Spanish revenues in any 
part of America has hitherto been published in the 
English language; and the particulars of it may ap¬ 
pear curious and interesting to some of my readers. 

From the bull of Cruzado, published every two years, 
there arises an annual revenue in pesos, 150,000 


From the duty on silver . . . 700,000 

From the duty on gold . . . 60,000 

From tax on cards .... 70,000 

From tax on Pulque, a drink used by the 

Indians.161,000 

From tax on stamped paper . . 41,000 

From ditto on ice.15,522 

From ditto on leather .... 2,500 

From ditto on gunpowder . . . 71,550 

From ditto on salt .... 32,000 

From ditto on copper of Mechochan . 1,000 

From ditto on alum . . . . 6,500 

From ditto on Juego de los gallos . 21,100 

From the half of ecclesiastical annats . 49,000 

From royal ninths of bishoprics, &c. . 68,800 

From the tribute of Indians . . . 650,000 

From Alcavala, or duty on sale of goods 721,875 

From the Almajorifasgo, custom-house 373,333 

From the mint. 357,500 


3,552,680 

This sum amounts to 819,161?. sterling ; and if we 
add to it the profit accruing from the sale of 5000 
quintals of quicksilver, imported from the mines of 
Almaden, in Spain, on the king’s account, and what 
accrues from the Averia , and some other taxes which 
Villa Segnor does not estimate, the public revenue 
in New Spain may well be reckoned above a million 
pounds sterling money. Teat. Mex. vol. i. p. 38, 
&c. According to Villa Segnor, the total produce 
of the Mexican mines amounts at a medium to 
eight millions of pesos in silver annually, and to 
5912 marks of gold. Id. p. 44. Several branches 
of the revenue have been explained in the course of 
the history ; some which there was no occasion of 
mentioning, require a particular illustration. The 
right to the tithes in the New World is vested in the 
crown of Spain, by a bull of Alexander VI. Charles 
V. appointed them to be applied in the following 
manner : One fourth is allotted to the bishop of the 
diocese, another fourth to the dean and chapter, 
and other officers of the cathedral. The remaining 
half is divided into nine equal parts. Two of these, 
under the denomination of los dos Novenos reales, 
are paid to the crown, and constitute a branch of 
the royal revenue. The other seven parts are ap¬ 
plied to the maintenance of the parochial clergy, the 
building and support of churches, and other pious 
uses. Recopil. lib. i. tit. xvi. Ley, 23, &c. Aven- 
dano Thesaur. Indie, vol. i. p. 184. 

The Alcavala is a duty levied by an excise on the 










1080 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


sale of goods. In Spain it amounts to ten per cent. 
In America to four per cent. Solorzano, Polit. 
Indiana, lib. vi. c. 8. Avendano, vol. i. 186. 

The AImajorifasco, or custom paid in America on 
goods imported and exported, may amount on an 
average to fifteen per cent. Recopil. lib. viii. tit. 
xiv. Ley, i. Avendano, vol. i. 188. 

The Averia, or tax paid on account of convoys to 
guard the ships sailing to and from America, was 
first imposed when sir Francis Drake filled the New 
World with terror by his expedition to the South 
sea. It amounts to two per cent, on the value of 
goods. Avendano, vol. i. p. 189. Recopil. lib. ix. 
tit. ix. Ley, 43, 44. 

I have not been able to procure any accurate de¬ 
tail of the several branches of revenue in Peru, 
later than the year 1614. From a curious manu¬ 
script containing a state of that viceroyalty in all its 
departments, presented to the marquis of Montes- 
Claros by Fran. Lopez Caravantes, accomptant- 
general in the tribunal of Lima, it appears that the 
public revenue, as nearly as I can compute the value 
of money in which Caravantes states his accounts, 
amounted in ducats at 4s. lid. to . 2,372,768 

Expenses of government . . 1,242,992 


Net free revenue 1,129,776 

The total in sterling money . . . £583,303 

Expenses of government . . . 305,568 


Net free revenue 277,735 

But several articles appear to be omitted in this 
computation, such as the duty on stamped paper, 
leather, ecclesiastical annats, &c., so that the reve¬ 
nue of Peru may be well supposed equal to that of 
Mexico. 

In computing the expense of government in New 
Spain, I may take that of Peru as a standard. There 
the annual establishment for defraying the charge 
of administration exceeds one half of the revenue 
collected, and there is no reason for supposing it to 
be less in New Spain. 

I have obtained a calculation of the total amount 
of the public revenue of Spain from America and 
the Philippines, which, as the reader will perceive 
from the two last articles, is more recent than any 
of the former. 


Alcavalas (Excise) and Aduanas (Customs), &c. in 

pesos fuertes. 2,500,000 

Duties on gold and silver . . . 3,000,000 

Bull of Cruzado. 1,000,000 

Tribute of the Indians . . . 2,000,000 

By sale of quicksilver .... 300,000 

Paper exported on the king’s account, 

and sold in the royal warehouses . 300,000 

Stamped paper, tobacco, and other small 

duties. 1,000,000 

Duty on coinage of, at the rate of one 
real de la Plata for each mark . . 300,000 


From the trade of Acapulco, and the 

coasting trade from province to province 500,000 
Assiento of negroes .... 200,000 

From the trade of Mathe, or herb of 
Paraguay, formerly monopolized by 
the Jesuits ..... 500,000 

From other revenues formerly belonging 
to that order. 400,000 


Total 12,000,000 


Total in sterling money £2, 700,000 
Deduct half, as the expense of adminis¬ 
tration, and there remains net free 
revenue.£1,350,000 

Note CXCVII. (Page 981.) 

An author long conversant in commercial specu¬ 
lation has computed, that from the mines of New 
Spain alone the king receives annually, as his fifth, 
the sum of two millions of our money. Harris, 
Collect, of Yoy. ii. p. 164. According to this cal¬ 
culation, the total produce of the mines must be 
ten millions sterling ; a sum so exorbitant, and so 
little corresponding with all accounts of the annual 
importation from America, that the information on 
which it is founded must evidently be erroneous. 
According to Campomanes, the total product of the 
American mines may be computed at thirty millions 
of pesos, which, at four shillings and sixpence a 
peso, amounts to £7,425,000 sterling, the king’s 
fifth of which (if that were regularly paid) would be 
£1,485,000. But from this sum must be deducted 
what is lost by a fraudulent withholding of the fifth 
due to the crown, as well as the sum necessary for 
defraying the expense of administration. Educ. 
Popular, vol. ii. p. 131, note. Both these sums are 
considerable. 

Note CXCVIII. (Page 981.) 

According to Bern, de Ulloa, all foreign goods 
exported from Spain to America pay duties of 
various kinds, amounting in all to more than 25 
per cent. As most of the goods with which Spain 
supplies her colonies are foreign, such a tax upon a 
trade so extensive must yield a considerable revenue. 
Retablis. de Manuf. & du Commerce d’Esp. p. 150. 
He computes the value of goods exported annually 
from Spain to America to be about two millions and 
a half sterling. P. 97. 

% Note CXCIX. (Page 982.) 

The marquis de Serralvo, according to Gage, by 
a monopoly of salt, and by embarking deeply in 
the Manilla trade, as well as in that to Spain, gain¬ 
ed annually a million of ducats. In one year he 
remitted a million of ducats to Spain, in order to 
purchase from the Conde Olivares, and his creatures, 
a prolongation of his government, p. 61. He was 
successful in his suit, and continued in office from 
1624 to 1635, double the usual time. 








AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


CONCERNING 


ANCIENT INDIA. 

























* 
































































* 

>■ 























. 





































PREFACE 


The perusal of Major Rennell’s Memoir for illus¬ 
trating his Map of Indostan, one of the most valu¬ 
able geographical treatises that has appeared in any 
age or country, gave rise to the following work. It 
suggested to me the idea of examining more fully 
than I had done in the introductory book to my 
History of America, into the knowledge which the 
ancients had of India, and of considering what is 
certain, what is obscure, and what is fabulous, 
in the accounts of that country which they have 
handed down to us. In undertaking this inquiry, I 
had originally no other object than my own amuse¬ 
ment and instruction: but in carrying it on, and 
consulting with diligence the authors of antiquity, 
some facts, hitherto unobserved, and many which 
had not been examined with proper attention, oc¬ 
curred : new views opened; my ideas gradually 
extended and became more interesting ; until, at 
length, I imagined that the result of my researches 
might prove amusing and instructive to others, by 
exhibiting such a view of the various modes in 
which intercourse with India had been carried on 
from the earliest times, as might show how much 
that great branch of commerce has contributed, in 
every age, to increase the wealth and power of the 
nations which possessed it. 

Thus the Historical Disquisition which I now lay 
before the reader was begun and completed. What 
degree of merit it possesses, the public must deter¬ 
mine. My grateful recollection of the favourable 
manner in which my other works have been receiv¬ 
ed, naturally increases the solicitude with which I 
wait for its decision concerning this which I now 
publish. 

When I first turned my thoughts to this subject, 
I was so fully aware of the disadvantage under 
which I laboured in undertaking to describe coun¬ 
tries of which I had not any local knowledge, that 
I have been at the utmost pains to guard against 
any errors which this might occasion. I have con¬ 
sulted, with persevering industry, the works of all 
the authors I could procure, who have given any 
account of India ; I have never formed any decided 
opinion, which was not supported by respectable 

* Published in the first (quarto) edition. 


authority : and as I have the good fortune to reckon 
among the number of my friends some gentlemen 
who have filled important stations, civil and mili¬ 
tary, in India, and who have visited many differ¬ 
ent parts of it, I had recourse frequently to them, 
and from their conversation learned things which 
I could not have found in books. Were it proper 
to mention their names, the public would allow that, 
by their discernment and abilities, they are fully 
entitled to the confidence which I have placed in 
them. 

In the progress of the work, I became sensible of 
my own deficiency with respect to another point. 
In order to give an accurate idea of the imperfec¬ 
tion both of the theory and practice of navigation 
among the ancients, and to explain, w ith scientific 
precision, the manner in which they ascertained the 
position of places, and calculated their longitude 
and latitude, a greater portion of mathematical 
knowledge was requisite, than my attention toother 
studies had permitted me to acquire. What I want¬ 
ed, the friendship of my ingenious and respectable 
colleague, Mr. Playfair, professor of Mathematics, 
has supplied ; and I have been enabled by him to 
elucidate all the points I have mentioned, in a man¬ 
ner which, I am confident, will afford my readers 
complete satisfaction. To him, likewise, I am in¬ 
debted for the construction of two maps * necessary 
for illustrating this Disquisition, which without his 
assistance I could not have undertaken. 

I have adhered, in this work, to an arrangement 
I followed in my former compositions, and to which 
the public has been long accustomed. I have kept 
historical narrative as much separate as possible 
from scientific and critical discussions, by reserving 
the latter for notes and illustrations. I flatter my¬ 
self that I may claim, without presumption, the 
merit of having examined with diligence what 
I submit to public inspection, and of having refer¬ 
red, with scrupulous accuracy, to the authors from 
whom I have derived information. 

College of Edinburgh, 

May 10, 1791. 





CONTENTS 



SECTION I. 

Intercourse with India, from the earliest Times until the Con¬ 
quest of Egypt by the Romans. 

SECTION II. 

Intercourse with India, from the Establishment of the Roman 
Dominion in Egypt, to the Conquest of that Kingdom by 
the Mahomedans. 


SECTION III. 

Intercourse with India, from the Conquest of Egypt by the 
Mahomedans, to the discovery of the passage by the Cape 
01 Good Hope, and the establishment of the Portuguese Do¬ 
minion in the East. 

SECTION IV. 

General Observations. 

APPENDIX. 

Notes and Illustrations. 








AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


CONCERNING 


ANCIENT INDIA. 


SECTION I. 

Intercourse with India , from the earliest times until 
the conquest of Egypt by the Romans. 

Whoever attempts to trace the operations of men 
in remote times, and to mark the various steps of 
their progress in any line of exertion, will soon have 
the mortification to find, that the period of authen¬ 
tic history is extremely limited. It is little more 
than three thousand years since the books of Moses, 
the most ancient and only genuine record of what 
passed in the early ages of the world, were composed. 
Herodotus, the most ancient heathen historian whose 
works have reached us, flourished a thousand years 
later. If we push our inquiries concerning any 
point beyond the aera where written history com¬ 
mences, we enter upon the region of conjecture, of 
fable, and of uncertainty. Upon that ground I will 
neither venture myself, nor endeavour to conduct my 
readers. In my researches concerning the inter¬ 
course between the eastern and western regions of 
the earth, and concerning the progress of that great 
branch of trade, which in every age has contributed 
so conspicuously towards raising the people who 
carried it on to wealth and power, I shall confine 
myself within the precincts I have marked out. 
Wherever the inspired writers, intent upon higher 
objects, mention occasionally any circumstance that 
tends to illustrate the subject of my inquiries, I shall 
attend to it with reverence. Whatever other writers 
relate, I shall examine with freedom, and endea¬ 
vour to ascertain the degree of credit to which they 
are entitled. 

The original station allotted to man by his Creator, 
was in the mild and fertile regions of the East. 
There the human race began its career of improve¬ 
ment ; and from the remains of sciences which were 
anciently cultivated, as well as of arts which were 
anciently exercised, in India, we may conclude it 
to be one of the first countries in which men made 
any considerable progress in that career. The 
wisdom of the East was early celebrated, 3 and its 


productions were early in request among distant 
nations. b The intercourse, however, between differ¬ 
ent countries was carried on at first entirely by land. 
As the people of the East appear soon to have ac¬ 
quired complete dominion over the useful animals,' 
they could early undertake the long and toilsome 
journeys which it was necessary to make, in order 
to maintain this intercourse ; and by the provident 
bounty of Heaven, they were furnished with a beast 
of burthen, without w hose aid it would have been 
impossible to accomplish them. The camel, by its 
persevering strength, by its moderation in the use 
of food, and the singularity of its internal structure 
which enables it to lay in a stock of water sufficient 
for several days, put it in their power to convey 
bulky commodities through those deserts which 
must be traversed by all who travel from any of the 
countries west of the Euphrates towards India.— 
Trade was carried on in this manner, particular¬ 
ly by the nations near to the Arabian gulf, from 
the earliest period to which historical information 
reaches. Distant journeys, however, would be un¬ 
dertaken at first only occasionally, and by a few ad¬ 
venturers. But by degrees, from attention to their 
mutual safety and comfort, numerous bodies of mer¬ 
chants assembled at stated times, and forming a 
temporary association, (known afterwards by the 
name of a Caravan,; governed by officers of their 
own choice, and subject to regulations of which 
experience had taught them the utility, they per¬ 
formed journeys of such extent and duration, as ap¬ 
pear astonishing to nations not accustomed to this 
mode of carrying on commerce. 

But, notwithstanding every improvement that 
could be made in the manner of conveying the pro¬ 
ductions of one country to another by land, the in¬ 
conveniences which attended it were obvious and 
unavoidable. It was often dangerous ; always ex¬ 
pensive, and tedious, and fatiguing. A method of 
communication more easy and expeditious was 
sought, and the ingenuity of man gradually disco¬ 
vered, that the rivers, the arms of the sea, and even 
the ocean itself, were destined to open and facilitate 
intercourse with the various regions of the earth, 


■a 1 Kings iv. .30. 


b Gen. xxxvii. 25. 


c Gen. xii. 16. xxiv. 10, 11. 







108G 


SECT. I. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


between which they appear, at first view, to he 
placed as insuperable barriers. Navigation, how¬ 
ever, and ship-building, (as I have observed in 
another work, d ) are arts so nice and complicated, 
that they require the talents as well as experience 
of many successive ages, to bring them to any de¬ 
gree of perfection. From the raft or canoe, which 
first served to carry a savage over the river that ob¬ 
structed him in the chase, to the construction of a 
vessel capable of conveying a numerous crew, or a 
considerable cargo of goods, to a distant coast, the 
progress of improvement is immense. Many efforts 
would be made, many experiments would be tried, 
and much labour as well as ingenuity would be 
employed, before this arduous and important un¬ 
dertaking could be accomplished. 

Even after some improvement was made in ship¬ 
building, the intercourse of nations with each other 
by sea was far from being extensive. From the 
accounts of the earliest historians we learn, that 
navigation made its first efforts in the Mediterranean 
and the Arabian gulf, and in them the first active 
operations of commerce were carried on. From an 
attentive inspection of the position and form of these 
two great inland seas, these accounts appear to be 
highly probable. These seas lay open the continents 
of Europe, Asia, and Africa, and spreading to a 
great extent along the coasts of the most fertile and 
most early civilized countries in each, seem to have 
been destined by nature to facilitate their commu¬ 
nication with one another. We find, accordingly, 
that the first voyages of the Egyptians and Pheni- 
cians, the most ancient navigators mentioned in 
history, were made in the Mediterranean. Their 
trade, however, was not long confined to the coun¬ 
tries bordering upon it. By acquiring early pos¬ 
session of ports on the Arabian gulf, they extended 
the sphere of their commerce, and are represented 
as the first people of the West who opened a com¬ 
munication by sea with India. 

In that account of the progress of navigation and 
discovery which I prefixed to the History of Ame¬ 
rica, I considered with attention the maritime ope¬ 
rations of the Egyptians and Phenicians; a brief 
review of them here, as far as they relate to their 
connexion with India, is all that is requisite for 
illustrating the subject of my present inquiries. 
With respect to the former of these people, the in¬ 
formation which history affords is slender, and of 
doubtful authority. The fertile soil and mild cli¬ 
mate of Egypt produced the necessaries and com¬ 
forts of life in such profusion, as to render its 
inhabitants so independent of other countries, that 
it became early an established maxim in their po¬ 
licy to renounce all intercourse with foreigners. In 
consequence of this, they held all seafaring persons 
in detestation, as impious and profane, and forti¬ 
fying their harbours, they denied strangers admis¬ 
sion into them. e 

d Hist, of America, p. 727. 

e Diodor. Sicul. lib. i. p. 78. edit. Wesselinst. Amst. 1746. Strab. 
Geog. lib. xvn. p. 1142. A. edit. Casaub. Amst. 1707. 


The enterprising ambition of Sesostris, disdain¬ 
ing the restraints imposed upon it by these con¬ 
tracted ideas of his subjects, prompted him to ren¬ 
der the Egyptians a commercial people; and in 
the course of his reign he so completely accom¬ 
plished this, that (if we may give credit to some 
historians) he was able to fit out a fleet of four hun¬ 
dred ships in the Arabian gulf, which conquered all 
the countries stretching along the Erythrean sea to 
India. At the same time his army, led by himself, 
marched through Asia, and subjected to his domi¬ 
nion every part of it as far as to the banks of the 
Ganges ; and crossing that river, advanced to the 
eastern ocean. f But these efforts produced no perma¬ 
nent effect, and appear to have been so contrary to the 
genius and habits of the Egyptians, that, on the death 
of Sesostris, they resumed their ancient maxims, 
and many ages elapsed before the commercial con¬ 
nexion of Egypt with India came to be of such im¬ 
portance as to merit any notice in this disquisitions 
The history of the early maritime operations of 
Phenicia is not involved in the same obscurity with 
those of Egypt. Every circumstance in the charac¬ 
ter and situation of the Phenicians was favourable 
to the commercial spirit. The territory which they 
possessed was neither large nor fertile. It was from 
commerce only that they could derive either opu¬ 
lence or power. Accordingly, the trade carried on 
by the Phenicians of Sidon and Tyre was extensive 
and adventurous; and, both in their manners and 
policy, they resemble the great commercial states 
of modern times, more than any people in the an¬ 
cient world. Among the various branches of their 
commerce, that with India may be regarded as one 
of the most considerable and most lucrative. As 
by their situation on the Mediterranean, and the 
imperfect state of navigation, they could not at¬ 
tempt to open a direct communication with India by 
sea ; the enterprising spirit of commerce prompted 
them to wrest from the Idumaeans some commo¬ 
dious harbours towards the bottom of the Arabian 
gulf. From these they held a regular intercourse 
with India on the one hand, and with the eastern and 
southern coasts of Africa on the other. The distance, 
however, from the Arabian gulf to Tyre was con¬ 
siderable, and rendered the conveyance of goods to 
it by land-carriage so tedious and expensive, that it 
became necessary for them to take possession of Rhi- 
nocolura, the nearest port in the Mediterranean to the 
Arabian gulf. Thither all the commodities brought 
from India were conveyed over land by a route much 
shorter, and more practicable, than that by which 
the productions of the East were carried at a subse¬ 
quent period from the opposite shore of the Arabian 
gult to the Nile. h At Rhinocolura they were re¬ 
shipped, and transported by an easy navigation to 
Tyre, and distributed through the world. This, as 
it is the earliest route of communication with India 
of which we have any authentic description, had so 

f Died. Sic. lib. i. p. 64. 

(! See Note 1. 

b Diod. Sic. lib. i. p.70. Strab. lib. xvi. p. 1128. A. 



SECT. I. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 1087 


many advantages over any ever known before the 
modern discovery of a new course of navigation to 
the East, that the Phenicians could supply other 
nations with the productions of India in greater 
abundance, and at a cheaper rate, than any people 
of antiquity. To this circumstance, which, for a 
considerable time, secured to them a monopoly of 
that trade, was owing, not only the extraordinary 
wealth of individuals, which rendered the “ mer¬ 
chants of Tyre princes, and her traffickers the 
honourable of the earth,” 1 but the extensive power 
of the state itself, which first taught mankind to 
conceive what vast resources a commercial people 
possess, and what great exertions they are capable 
of making. k 

The Jews, by their vicinity to Tyre, had such an 
opportunity of observing the wealth which flowed 
into that city from the lucrative commerce carried 
on by the Phenicians from their settlements on the 
Arabian gulf, as incited them to aim at obtaining 
some share of it. This they effected under the 
prosperous reigns of David and Solomon, partly by 
the conquests which they made of a small district 
in the land of Edom, that gave them possession of 
the harbours of Elath and Esiongeber on the Red 
sea, and partly by the friendship of Hiram, king of 
Tyre, who enabled Solomon to fit out fleets, which, 
under the direction of Phenician pilots, sailed to 
Tarshish and Ophir. 1 In what region of the earth 
we should search for these famous ports which fur¬ 
nished the navy of Solomon with the various com¬ 
modities enumerated by the sacred historians, is an 
inquiry that has long exercised the industry of 
learned men. They were early supposed to be situ¬ 
ated in some part of India, and the Jews were held 
to be one of the nations which traded with that 
country. But the opinion more generally adopted 
is, that Solomon’s fleets, after passing the straits of 
Babelmandeb, held their course along the south¬ 
west coast of Africa, as far as the kingdom of 
Sofala, a country celebrated for its rich mines of 
gold and silver, (from which it has been denomi¬ 
nated the Golden Sofala by oriental writers,)" 1 and 
abounding in all the other articles which composed 
the cargoes of the Jewish ships. This opinion, 
which the accurate researches of M. D’Anville ren¬ 
dered highly probable," seems now to be established 
with the utmost certainty by a late learned traveller; 
who, by his knowledge of the monsoons in the Ara¬ 
bian gulf, and his attention to the ancient mode of 
navigation, both in that sea and along the African 
coast, has not only accounted for the extraordinary 
length of time which the fleets of Solomon took in 
going and returning, but has shown, from circum¬ 
stances mentioned concerning the voyage, that it 
was not made to any place in India. 0 The Jews, 
then, we may conclude, have no title to be reckoned 
among the nations which carried on intercourse with 

i Isaiah xxiii. 8. k See Note II. 

1 1 Kings ix. 26 ; x. 22T. 

m Notices des MSS. du Koi, tom. n. p. 40. 

n Dissert, sur le Paysd’Ophir. Mem.de Literat. tom. xxx. p. 83, &c. 


India by sea ; and if, from deference to the senti¬ 
ments of some respectable authors, their claim were 
to be admitted, we know with certainty, that the 
commercial effort which they made in the reign of 
Solomon was merely a transient one, and that they 
quickly returned to their former state of unsocial 
seclusion from the rest of mankind. 

From collecting the scanty information which 
history affords, concerning the most early attempts 
to open a commercial intercourse with India, I now 
proceed with more certainty and greater confidence, 
to trace the progress of communication with that 
country, under the guidance of authors who recorded 
events nearer to their own times, and with respect 
to which they had received more full and accurate 
intelligence. 

The first establishment of any foreign power in 
India which can be ascertained by evidence merit¬ 
ing any degree of credit, is that of the Persians; 
and even of this we have only a very general and 
doubtful account. Darius, the son of Hystaspes, 
though raised to the throne of Persia by chance or 
by artifice, possessed such active and enterprising 
talents as rendered him worthy of that high station. 
He examined the different provinces of his kingdom 
more diligently than any of his predecessors, and 
explored regions of Asia formerly little known.? 
Having subjected to his dominion many of the 
countries which stretched south-east from the Cas¬ 
pian sea towards the river Oxus, his curiosity was 
excited to acquire a more extensive and accurate 
know ledge of India, on which they bordered. With 
this view he appointed Scylax of Caryandrato take 
the command of a squadron fitted out at Caspatyrus, 
in the country of Pactya, (the modern Pehkely,) 
towards the upper part of the navigable course of 
the river Indus, and to fall down its stream until he 
should reach the ocean. This Scylax performed, 
though it should seem with much difficulty, and not¬ 
withstanding many obstacles ; for he spent no less 
than two years and six months in conducting his 
squadron from the place where he embarked, to the 
Arabian gulf. q The account which he gave of the 
populousness, fertility, and high cultivation of that 
region of India through which his course lay, ren¬ 
dered Darius impatient to become master of a coun¬ 
try so valuable. This he soon accomplished ; and 
though his conquests in India seem not to have ex¬ 
tended beyond the district watered by the Indus, 
we are led to form a high idea of its opulence, as 
well as of the number of its inhabitants, in ancient 
times, when we learn that the tribute which he levied 
from it w as near a third part of the whole revenue 
of the Persian monarchy. r But neither this voyage 
of Scylax, nor the conquests of Darius, to which 
it gave rise, diffused any general knowledge of 
India. The Greeks, who were the only enlightened 
race of men at that time in Europe, paid but little 

o Bruce’s Travels, book ii. ch. 4. 

p lierodot. lib. iv. c. 44. 

q Id. c. 12. 44. 

r Id. lib. iii. c. 90—96. See Note III. 



1088 


SECT. I. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


attention to tlie transactions of the people whom 
they considered as barbarians, especially in coun¬ 
tries far remote from their own ; and Scylax had 
embellished the narrative of his voyage with so 
many circumstances manifestly fabulous, s that he 
seems to have met with the just punishment to which 
persons who have a notorious propensity to what is 
marvellous are often subjected, of being listened 
to with distrust, even when they relate what is ex¬ 
actly true. 

About an hundred and sixty years after the reign 
of Darius Hystaspes, Alexander the Great under¬ 
took his expedition into India. The wild sallies 
of passion, the indecent excesses of intemperance, 
and the ostentatious displays of vanity too frequent 
in the conduct of this extraordinary man, have so 
degraded his character, that the pre-eminence of 
his merit, either as a conqueror, a politician, or a 
legislator, has seldom been justly estimated. The 
subject of my present inquiry leads me to consider 
his operations only in one light, but it will enable 
me to exhibit a striking view of the grandeur and 
extent of his plans. He seems, soon after his first 
successes in Asia, to have formed the idea of esta¬ 
blishing an universal monarchy, and aspired to the 
dominion of the sea, as well as of the land. From 
the wonderful efforts of the Tyrians in their own 
defence, when left without any ally or protector, he 
conceived a high opinion of the resources of mari¬ 
time power, and of the wealth to be derived from 
commerce, especially that with India, which he 
found engrossed by the citizens of Tyre. With a 
view to secure this commerce, and to establish a 
station for it preferable in many respects to that of 
Tyre, as soon as he completed the conquest of Egypt 
he founded a city near one of the mouths of the 
Nile, which he honoured with his own name ; and 
with such admirable discernment was the situation 
of it chosen, that Alexandria soon became the 
greatest trading city in the ancient world ; and, 
notwithstanding many successive revolutions in 
empire, continued, during eighteen centuries, to be 
the chief seat of commerce with India. 1 Amidst 
the military operations to which Alexander was 
soon obliged to turn his attention, the desire of 
acquiring the lucrative commerce which the Tyrians 
had carried on with India, was not relinquished. 
Events soon occurred, that not only confirmed and 
added strength to this desire, but opened to him a 
prospect of obtaining the sovereignty of those re¬ 
gions which supplied the rest of mankind with so 
many precious commodities. 

After his final victory over the Persians, he was 
led in pursuit of the last Darius, and of Bessus, 
the murderer of that unfortunate monarch, to tra¬ 
verse that part of Asia which stretches from the 
Caspian sea beyond the river Oxus. He advanced 
towards the east as far as Maracanda, u then a city 

s Philostr. Vita A poll. lib. iii. c. 47. and Note 3d of Olearius Tzetzet. 
Chiliad, vii. vers. 630. 

t Hist, of America, p. 731. u Arrian, iii. c. 30. 

* Strabo, xv. p. 1021. A. y Arrian, iv. c. 15. 


of some note, and destined in a future period, under 
the modern name of Samarcand, to be the capital ol 
an empire not inferior to his own either in extent or 
in power. In a progress of several months through 
provinces hitherto unknown to the Greeks, in a 
line of march often approaching near to India, and 
among people accustomed to much intercourse with 
it, he learned many things concerning the state of 
a country* that had been long the object of his 
thoughts and wishes/ which increased his desire of 
invading it. Decisive and prompt in all his reso¬ 
lutions, he set out from Bactria, and crossed that 
ridge of mountains which, under various denomina¬ 
tions, forms the Stony Girdle (if I may use an 
expression of the Oriental geographers) which en¬ 
circles Asia, and constitutes the northern barrier of 
India. 

The most practicable avenue to every country, it 
is obvious, must be formed by circumstances in its 
natural situation, such as the defiles which lead 
through mountains, the course of rivers, and the 
places where they may be passed with the greatest 
ease and safety. In no place of the earth is this 
line of approach marked and defined more conspi¬ 
cuously, than on the northern frontier of India ; in¬ 
somuch that the three great invaders of this country, 
Alexander, Tamerlane, and Nadir Shah, in three 
distant ages, and with views and talents extremely 
different, advanced by the same route, with very 
little deviation. Alexander had the merit of having 
first discovered the way. After passing the moun¬ 
tains he encamped at Alexandria Paropamisana, 
not far from the mountains denominated the Indian 
Caucasus by his historians, now known by the name 
of Hindoo Kho; z and having subdued or conciliated 
the nations seated on the north-west bank of the 
Indus, he crossed the river at Taxila, now Attock, a 
where its stream is so tranquil that a bridge can be 
thrown over it with greater ease than at any other 
place. 

After passing the Indus, Alexander marched for¬ 
ward in the road which leads directly to the Ganges, 
and the opulent provinces to the south-east, now 
comprehended under the general name of Indostan. 
But, on the banks of the Hydaspes, known in mo¬ 
dern times by the name of the Betali or Chelum, he 
was opposed by Porus, a powerful monarch of the 
country, at the head of a numerous army. The war 
with Porus, and the hostilities in which he was 
successively engaged with other Indian princes, led 
him to deviate from his original route, and to turn 
more towards the south-west. In carrying on these 
operations, Alexander marched through one of the 
richest and best peopled countries of India, now 
called the Panjab, from the five great rivers by 
which it is watered ; and as we know that this 
march was performed in the rainy season, when 
even Indian armies cannot keep the field, it gives 

z In the second edition of his Memoir, Major Rennel gives the modern 
names ot the Hydaspes, with some variation'in their orthography, Be/ivt 
and Ihplant. 

a Rennell, Mem. p. 92. See Note IV. 



CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


a high idea both of Alexander’s persevering 
spirit, and of the extraordinary vigour and har¬ 
diness of constitution, which soldiers, in ancient 
times, derived from the united effects of gymnas¬ 
tic exercise and military discipline. In every 
step of his progress, objects no less striking than 
new presented themselves to Alexander. The mag¬ 
nitude of the Indus, b even after he had seen the 
Nile, the Euphrates, and the Tigris, must have 
filled him with surprise. No country he had hitherto 
visited was so populous and well cultivated, or 
abounded in so many valuable productions of nature 
and of art, as that part of India through which he 
had led his army. But when he was informed in 
every place, and probably with exaggerated descrip¬ 
tion, how much the Indus was inferior to the Ganges, 
and how far all that he had hitherto beheld was 
surpassed in the happy regions through which that 
great river flows, it is not wonderful that his eager¬ 
ness to view and to take possession of them should 
have prompted him to assemble his soldiers, and to 
propose that they should resume their march towards 
that quarter, where wealth, dominion, and fame 
awaited them. But they had already done so much, 
and had suffered so greatly, especially from inces¬ 
sant rains and extensive inundations, that their 
patience as well as strength were exhausted,' and 
with one voice they refused to advance further. In 
this resolution they persisted with such sullen ob¬ 
stinacy, that Alexander, though possessed in the 
highest degree of every quality that gains an as¬ 
cendant over the minds of military men, was obliged 
to yield, and to issue orders for marching back to 
Persia. d 

The scene of this memorable transaction was on 
the banks of the Hyphasis, the modern Beyah, 
which was the utmost limit of Alexander’s progress 
in India. From this it is manifest, that he did not 
traverse the whole extent of the Panjab. Its south¬ 
west boundary is formed by a river anciently known 
by the name of Hysudrus, and now by that of the 
Setlege, to which Alexander never approached 
nearer than the southern bank of the Hyphasis, 
where he erected twelve stupendous altars, which 
he intended as a monument of his exploits, and 
which (if we may believe the biographer of Apollo¬ 
nius Tyanaeus) were still remaining, with legible 
inscriptions, when that fantastic sophist visited 
India, three hundred and seventy-three years after 
Alexander’s expedition. 6 The breadth of the Pan¬ 
jab, from Ludhana on the Setlege to Attock on the 
Indus, is computed to be two hundred and fifty-nine 
geographical miles, in a straight line ; and Alexan¬ 
der’s march, computed in the same manner, did not 
extend above two hundred miles. But, botli as lie 
advanced and returned, his troops were so spread 
over the country, and often acted in so many sepa¬ 
rate divisions, and all his movements were so exactly 
measured and delineated by men of science, whom 

b Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1027- C. & note 5. Casaub 

C See Note V. d Arrian, v. c. 24, 25. _ 

e Philostr. Vita Apollon, lib. ii. c. 43. edit. dear. Lips. 1709 

4 A 


1089 

he kept in pay for the purpose, that he acquired a 
very extensive and accurate knowledge of that part 
of India/ 

When, upon his return, he reached the banks of 
the Hydaspes, he found that the officers to w hom he 
had given it in charge to build and collect as many 
vessels as possible, had executed his orders with 
such activity and success, that they had assembled 
a numerous fleet. As, amidst the hurry of war, and 
the rage of conquest, he never lost sight of his 
pacific and commercial schemes, the destination of 
his fleet was to sail down the Indus to the ocean, 
and from its mouth to proceed to the Persian gulf, 
that a communication by sea might be opened with 
India and the centre of his dominions. 

The conduct of this expedition was committed to 
Nearchus, an officer equal to that important trust. 
But as Alexander was ambitious to acquire fame of 
every kind, and fond of engaging in new and splen¬ 
did undertakings, he himself accompanied Nearchus 
in his navigation down the river. The armament 
was indeed so great and magnificent, as deserved 
to be commanded by the conqueror of Asia. It was 
composed of an army of a hundred and twenty thou¬ 
sand men, and two hundred elephants, and of a fleet 
of near two thousand vessels, various in burden and 
form;son board of which one-third of the troops 
embarked, while the remainder marching in two 
divisions, one on the right, and the other on the left, 
of the river, accompanied them in their progress. 
As they advanced, the nations on each side were 
either compelled or persuaded to submit. Re¬ 
tarded by the various operations in which this en¬ 
gaged him, as well as by the slow navigation of such 
a fleet as he conducted, Alexander w as above nine 
months before he reached the ocean.h 

Alexander’s progress in India, in this line of 
direction, was far more considerable than that which 
he made by the route we formerly traced ; and when 
we attend to the various movements of his troops, 
the number of cities which they took, and the 
different states which they subdued, he may be said 
not only to have viewed, but to have explored, the 
countries through which he passed. This part of 
India has been so little frequented by Europeans in 
later times, that neither the position of places, nor 
their distances, can be ascertained with the same 
accuracy as in the interior provinces, or even in the 
Panjab. But from the researches of major Rennell, 
carried on with no less discernment than industry, 
the distance of that place on the Hydaspes where 
Alexander fitted out his fleet from the ocean cannot 
be less than a thousand British miles. Of this 
extensive region a considerable portion, particularly 
the upper Delta, stretching from the capital of the 
ancient Malli, now Moultan, to Patala, the modern 
Tatta, is distinguished for its fertility and popu¬ 
lation/ 

Soon after he reached the ocean, Alexander, satis- 

f Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 17. S See Note VT. 

h Strabo, lib. xv. y. 1014. i Rennell, Mem. 68, &c. 



1090 


SECT. I. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


fied with having accomplished this arduous under¬ 
taking, led his army by land back to Persia. The 
command of the fleet, with a considerable body of 
troops on board of it, he left to Nearchus, who, 
after a coasting voyage of seven months, conducted 
it safely up the Persian gulf into the Euphrates. 14 

In this manner did Alexander first open the know¬ 
ledge of India to the people of Europe, and an 
extensive district of it was surveyed with greater 
accuracy than could have been expected from the 
short time he remained in that country. Fortunately 
an exact account, not only of his military opera¬ 
tions, but of every thing worthy of notice in the 
countries where they were carried on, was recorded 
in the Memoirs or Journals of three of his principal 
officers, Ptolemy the son of Lagus, Aristobulus, and 
Nearchus. The two former have not, indeed, 
reached our times; but it is probable that the most 
important facts which they contained are preserved, 
as Arrian professes to have followed them as his 
guides in his History of the Expedition of Alex¬ 
ander;' a work which, though composed long after 
Greece had lost its liberty, and in an age when 
genius and taste were on the decline, is not unwor¬ 
thy the purest times of Attic literature. 

With respect to the general state of India, we 
learn from these writers, that in the age of Alex¬ 
ander, though there was not established in it any 
powerful empire, resembling that which in modern 
times stretched its dominion from the Indus almost 
to Cape Comorin, it was, even then, formed into 
monarchies of considerable extent. The king of 
the Prasij was prepared, on the banks of the Ganges, 
to oppose the Macedonians, with an army of twenty 
thousand cavalry, two hundred thousand infantry, 
two thousand armed chariots, and a great number 
of elephants. m The territory of w hich Alexander 
constituted Porus the sovereign, is said to have 
contained seven distinct nations, and no fewer than 
tvvo thousand towns. 11 Even in the most restricted 
sense that can be given to the vague indefinite ap¬ 
pellations of nations and towns, an idea is conveyed 
of a very great degree of population. As the fleet 
sailed down the river, the country on each side was 
found to be in no respect inferior to that of which 
the government was committed to Porus. 

It was likewise from the memoirs of the same 
officers that Europe derived its first authentic in¬ 
formation concerning the climate, the soil, the pro¬ 
ductions, and the inhabitants of India; and in a 
country where the manners, the customs, and even 
the dress of the people, are almost as permanent 
and invariable as the face of nature itself, it is 
wonderful how exactly the descriptions given by 
Alexander’s officers delineate what we now behold 
in India, at the distance of two thousand wears. 
The stated change of seasons, now known by the 
name of Monsoons ; the periodical rains ; the swell¬ 
ing of the rivers; the inundations which these 


occasion ; the appearance of the country during 
their continuance, are particularly mentioned and 
described. No less accurate are the accounts which 
they have given of the inhabitants, their delicate 
and slender form, their dark complexion, their 
black uncurled hair, their garments of cotton, their 
living entirely upon vegetable food, their division 
into separate tribes or casts, the members of which 
never intermarry, the custom of wives burning 
themselves with their deceased husbands, and many 
other particulars, in all which they perfectly re¬ 
semble the modern Hindoos. To enter into any 
detail with respect to these in this place would be 
premature; but as the subject, though curious and 
interesting, will lead unavoidably into discussions 
not well suited to the nature of an historical work, 
I shall reserve my ideas concerning it for an Ap¬ 
pendix, to be annexed to this Disquisition ; and 
hope they may contribute to throw some additional 
light upon the origin and nature of the commerce 
w ith India. 

Much as the Western world was indebted for 
its knowledge of India to the expedition of Alex¬ 
ander, it w as only a small portion of that vast con¬ 
tinent which he explored. His operations did not 
extend beyond the modern province of Lahore, and 
the countries on the banks of the Indus from 
Moultan to the sea. These, however, were sur¬ 
veyed with that degree of accuracy which I have 
already described; and it is a circumstance not 
unworthy of notice, that this district of India which 
Europeans first entered, and with which they were 
best acquainted in ancient times, is now less known 
than almost any part of that continent, 0 neither 
commerce nor war, to which, in every age, geo¬ 
graphy is chiefly indebted for its improvement, 
having led any nation of Europe to frequent or ex¬ 
plore it 

If an untimely death had not put a period to the 
reign of the Macedonian hero, India, we have 
reason to think, would have been more fully ex¬ 
plored by the ancients, and the European dominion 
would have been established there two thousand 
years sooner. When Alexander invaded India, he 
had something more in view than a transient in¬ 
cursion. It was his object to annex that extensive 
and opulent country to his empire; and though 
the refractory spirit of his army obliged him, at that 
time, to suspend the prosecution of his plan, he w as 
far from relinquishing it. To exhibit a general 
view of the measures which he adopted for this 
purpose, and to point out their propriety and pro¬ 
bable success, is not foreign from the subject of this 
Disquisition, and will convey a more just idea than 
is usually entertained, of the original genius and 
extent of political wisdom which distinguished this 
illustrious man. 

When Alexander became master of the Persian 
empire, he early perceived, that with all the power 


k Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. S3. See Note VII. 
t Arrian, lib. i. in proemio. 


m Diod. Sicul. lib. xvii. p. S32. 
o Rennell’s Mem. 114. 


n Arrian, lib. vi. c. 2. 



SECT. I. 


1091 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


of liis hereditary dominions, reinforced by the 
troops which the ascendant he had acquired over 
the various states of Greece might enable him to 
raise there, he could not hope to retain in subjec¬ 
tion territories so extensive and populous ; that to 
render his authority secure and permanent, it must 
be established in the affection of the nations which 
he had subdued, and maintained by their arms; 
and that, in order to acquire this advantage, all 
distinctions between the victors and vanquished 
must be abolished, and his European and Asiatic 
subjects must be incorporated and become one peo¬ 
ple, by obeying the same laws, and by adopting 
the same manners, institutions, and discipline. 

Liberal as this plan of policy was, and well 
adapted to accomplish what he had in view, nothing 
could be more repugnant to the ideas and preju¬ 
dices of his countrymen. The Greeks had such a 
high opinion of the pre-eminence to which they 
were raised by civilization and science, that they 
seem hardly to have acknowledged the rest of man¬ 
kind to be of the same species with themselves. 
To every other people they gave the degrading appel¬ 
lation of barbarians, and, in consequence of their 
own boasted superiority, they asserted a right of do¬ 
minion over them in the same manner (to use their 
own expression) as the soul has over the body, and 
men have over irrational animals. Extravagant as 
this pretension may now appear, it found admission, 
to the disgrace of ancient philosophy, into all the 
schools. Aristotle, full of this opinion, in support 
of which he employs arguments more subtle than 
solid,' 1 advised Alexander to govern the Greeks 
like subjects and the barbarians as slaves; to con¬ 
sider the former as companions, the latter as crea¬ 
tures of an inferior nature. q But the sentiments of 
the pupil were more enlarged than those of his 
master, and his experience in governing men taught 
the monarch what the speculative science of the 
philosopher did not discover. Soon after the vic¬ 
tory at Arbela, Alexander himself, and, by his per¬ 
suasion, many of his officers, assumed the Persian 
dress, and conformed to several of their customs. 
At the same time he encouraged the Persian nobles 
to imitate the manners of the Macedonians, to learn 
the Greek language, and to acquire a relish for the 
beauties of the elegant writers in that tongue, which 
were then universally studied and admired. In or¬ 
der to render the union more complete, he resolved 
to marry one of the daughters of Darius, and chose 
wives for a hundred of his principal officers in the 
most illustrious Persian families. Their nuptials 
were celebrated with great pomp and festivity, and 
with high exultation of the conquered people. In 
imitation of them, above ten thousand Macedo¬ 
nians, of inferior rank, married Persian women, 
to each of whom Alexander gave nuptial presents, 
as a testimony of his approbation of their con¬ 
duct/ 

q Plutde For tuna Alex. Orat. i. P- 302. vol. vii. edit. Keiske. Strabo, 

»-l : _ iic A 


But assiduously as Alexander laboured to unite 
his European and Asiatic subjects by the most in¬ 
dissoluble ties, he did not trust entirely to the suc¬ 
cess of that measure for the security of his new 
conquests. In every province which he subdued, 
he made choice of proper stations, where he built 
and fortified cities, in which he placed garrisons 
composed partly of such of the natives as conform¬ 
ed to the Grecian manners and discipline, and 
partly of such of his European subjects as were 
worn out with the fatigues of service, and wished 
for repose and a permanent establishment. These 
cities were numerous, and served not only as a 
chain of posts to keep open the communication be¬ 
tween the different provinces of his dominions, but 
as places of strength to overawe and curb the con¬ 
quered people. Thirty thousand of his new subjects, 
who had been disciplined in these cities, and armed 
after the European fashion, appeared before Alex¬ 
ander in Susa, and were formed by him into that 
compact solid body of infantry, known by the name 
of the phalanx, which constituted the strength of 
a Macedonian army. But in order to secure entire 
authority over this new corps, as well as to render 
it more effective, he appointed that every officer in 
it intrusted with command, either superior or subal¬ 
tern, should be European. As the ingenuity of 
mankind naturally has recourse in similar situa¬ 
tions to the same expedients, the European powers, 
who now in their Indian territories employ numer¬ 
ous bodies of the natives in their service, have, in 
forming the establishment of these troops, adopted 
the same maxims ; and, probably without knowing 
it, have modelled their battalions of Sepoys upon 
the same principles as Alexander did his phalanx 
of Persians. 

The further Alexander pushed his conquests from 
the banks of the Euphrates, which may be con¬ 
sidered as the centre of his dominions, he found it 
necessary to build and to fortify a greater number 
of cities. Several of these to the east and south of 
the Caspian sea are mentioned by ancient authors; 
and in India itself he founded two cities on the 
banks of the Hydaspes, and a third on the Acesines, 
both navigable rivers, which, after uniting their 
streams, fall into the Indus. 8 From the choice of 
such situations it is obvious that he intended, by 
means of these cities, to keep open a communica¬ 
tion with India, not only by land, but by sea. It 
was chiefly with a view to the latter of these objects, 
(as I have already observed,) that he examined the 
navigation of the Indus with so much attention. 
With the same view, on his return to Susa, he in 
person surveyed the course of the Euphrates and 
Tigris, and gave directions to remove the cataracts 
or dams, which the ancient monarchs of Persia, in¬ 
duced by a peculiar precept of their religion, which 
enjoined them to guard with the utmost care against 
defiling any of the elements, had constructed near 

r Arrian, lib. vii. c. 4. Plut. de Fort. Alex. p. 304. See Note VI11. 

s See Note IX. 



1092 


SECT. I. 


an historical disquisition 


Ihe mouths of these rivers, in order to shut out their 
subjects from any access to the ocean. 1 By opening 
the navigation in this manner, he proposed, that the 
valuable commodities of India should be conveyed 
from the Persian gulf into tbe interior parts of 
his Asiatic dominions, while by the Arabian gulf 
they should be carried to Alexandria, and distri¬ 
buted to the rest of the world. 

Grand and extensive as these schemes were, the 
precautions employed, and the arrangements made 
for carrying them into execution, were so various 
and so proper, that Alexander had good reason to 
entertain sanguine hopes of their proving successful. 
At the time when the mutinous spirit of his soldiers 
obliged him to relinquish his operations in India, 
he was not thirty years of age complete. At this 
enterprising period of life, a prince of a spirit so 
active, persevering, and indefatigable, must have 
soon found means to resume a favourite measure 
on which he had been long intent. If he had in¬ 
vaded India a second time, he would not, as for¬ 
merly, have been obliged to force his way through 
hostile and unexplored regions, opposed at every 
step by nations and tribes of barbarians whose 
names had never reached Greece. All Asia, from 
the shores of the Ionian sea to the banks of the Hy- 
pliasis, would then have been subject to his domi¬ 
nion ; and through that immense stretch of country 
he had established such a chain of cities, or forti¬ 
fied stations," that his armies might have continued 
their march with safety, and have found a regular 
succession of magazines provided for their subsist¬ 
ence. Nor would it have been difficult for him to 
bring into the field forces sufficient to have achieved 
the conquest of a country so populous and exten¬ 
sive as India. Having armed and disciplined his 
subjects in the East like Europeans, they would 
have been ambitious to imitate and to equal their 
instructors, and Alexander might have drawn re¬ 
cruits, not from his scanty domains in Macedonia 
and Greece, but from the vast regions of Asia, 
which, in every age, has covered the earth, and as¬ 
tonished mankind with its numerous armies. When 
at the head of such a formidable power he had 
reached the confines of India, he might have enter¬ 
ed it under circumstances very different from those 
in his first expedition. He had secured a firm foot¬ 
ing there, partly by means of the garrisons that he 
left in the three cities which he had built and for¬ 
tified, and partly by his alliance with Taxiles and 
Porus. These two Indian princes, won by Alex¬ 
ander’s humanity and beneficence, which, as they 
were virtues seldom displayed in the ancient mode 
of carrying on war, excited of course a higher de¬ 
gree of admiration and gratitude, had continued 
steady in their attachment to the Macedonians. 
Reinforced by their troops, and guided by their in¬ 
formation as well as by the experience which he 
had acquired in his former campaigns, Alexander 

t Arrian, lib. vi. c. 7 . Strabo, lib. xvi. p. 1074, See. See Note X. 

u See Note XI. 


must have made rapid progress in a country, where 
every invader, from his time to the present age, has 
proved successful. 

But this and all his other splendid schemes were 
terminated at once b} r his untimely death. In con¬ 
sequence of that, however, events took place, which 
illustrate and confirm the justness of the preceding 
speculations and conjectures by evidence the most 
striking and satisfactory. When that great empire, 
which the superior genius of Alexander had kept 
united and in subjection, no longer felt his super¬ 
intending control, it broke into pieces, and its 
various provinces were seized by his principal offi¬ 
cers, and parcelled out among them. From ambi¬ 
tion, emulation, and personal animosity, they soon 
turned their arms against one another; and as 
several of the leaders were equally eminent for 
political abilities and for military skill, the contest 
was maintained long, and carried on with frequent 
vicissitudes of fortune. Amidst the various con¬ 
vulsions and revolutions which these occasioned, it 
was found that the measures of Alexander for the 
preservation of his conquests had been concerted 
with such sagacity, that, upon the final restoration 
of tranquillity, the Macedonian dominion continued 
to be established in every part of Asia, and not one 
province had shaken off the yoke. Even India, the 
most remote of Alexander’s conquests, quietly sub¬ 
mitted to Pytbo the son of Agenor, and afterwards 
to Seleucus, who successively obtained dominion 
over that part of Asia. Porus and Taxiles, not¬ 
withstanding the death of their benefactor, neither 
declined submission to the authority of the Mace¬ 
donians, nor made any attempt to recover inde¬ 
pendence. 

During the contests for power and superiority 
among the successors of Alexander, Seleucus, who, 
in every effort of enterprising ambition, was inferior 
to none of them, having rendered himself master of 
all the provinces of the Persian empire compre¬ 
hended under the name of Upper Asia, considered 
those countries of India which had been subdued 
by Alexander, as belonging to that portion of the 
Macedonian empire of which he w as now the sove¬ 
reign. Seleucus, like all the officers formed undei 
Alexander, entertained such high ideas of the ad¬ 
vantages which might be derived from a commercial 
intercourse with India, as induced him to march 
into that country, partly with a view of establishing 
his own authority there, and partly in order to curb 
Sandracottus, who having lately acquired the sove¬ 
reignty of the Prasij, a powerful nation on the banks 
of the Ganges, threatened to attack the Macedo¬ 
nians, whose Indian territories bordered on his 
dominions. Unfortunately, no account of this ex¬ 
pedition, which seems to have been splendid and 
successful, has reached our times. All we know 
of it is, that he advanced considerably beyond the 
utmost boundary of Alexander’s progress in India,* 

x See Note XII. 










SECT. I. 


1093 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


and would probably have proceeded much further, 
it he had not been constrained to stop short in his 
career, in order to oppose Antigonus, who was pre¬ 
paring to invade his dominions at the head of a 
formidable army. Before he began his march to¬ 
wards the Euphrates, he concluded a treaty with 
Sandracottus ; in consequence of which, that mo¬ 
narch quietly retained the kingdom he had acquired. 
But the pow ers and possessions of the Macedonians 
seem to have remained unimpaired during the reign 
of Seleucus, which terminated forty-two years after 
the death of Alexander. 

M ith a view of cultivating a friendly intercourse 
with Sandracottus, Seleucus made choice of Me- 


gasthenes, an officer, who, from his having accom¬ 
panied Alexander in his expedition into India, had 
some knowledge of the state of the country, and 
the manners of its inhabitants, and sent him as his 
ambassador to Palibothra.v In this famous capital 
of the Prasij, situated on the banks of the Ganges, 
Megasthenes resided several years, and was proba¬ 
bly the first European who ever beheld that mighty 
river, far superior to any of the ancient continent 
in magnitude, 2 and no less distinguished by the fer¬ 
tility of the countries through which it flows. This 
journey of Megasthenes to Palibothra made Euro¬ 
peans acquainted with a large extent of country, of* 
which they had not hitherto any knowledge; for 
Alexander did not advance further towards the 
south-east than that part of the river Hydraotes or 
Railvee, where the modern city of Lahore is situ¬ 
ated ; and Palibothra, the site of which, as it is 
a capital position in the geography of ancient India, 
I have investigated with the utmost attention, 
appears to me the same with that of the modern 
city of Allahabad, at the confluence of the two 
great rivers, Jumna and Ganges. 1 As the road from 
Lahore to Allahabad runs through some of the 
most cultivated and opulent provinces of India, the 
more the country w as explored, the idea of its value 
rose higher. Accordingly, what Megasthenes ob¬ 
served during his progress to Palibothra, and his 
residence there, made such an impression upon his 
own mind, as induced him to publish an ample 
account of India, in order to make his countrymen 
more thoroughly acquainted with its importance. 
From his writings the ancients seem to have derived 
almost all their knowledge of the interior state of 
India, and from comparing the three most ample 
accounts of it, by Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, and 
Arrian, they appear manifestly, from their near re¬ 
semblance, to be a transcript of his words. But, 
unfortunately, Megasthenes was so fond of the 
marvellous, that he mingled with the truths which 
he related many extravagant fictions ; and to him 
may be traced up the fabulous tales of men with 
ears so large that they could wrap themselves up 
in them, of others with a single eye, without mouths, 
w ithout noses, with long feet, and toes turned back- 


y Strabo, lib 
7. See Note X 
b Strabo, lib. xx, 1032, A 


ii. v. 

:nu 


121, &c. Arrian. Hist. Ind. passim. 

a See Note XIV, 

1037. C. 


wards; of people only three spans in height, of 
wild men with heads in the shape of a wedge, of 
ants as large as foxes that dug up gold, and many 
other things no less wonderful. b The extracts from 
his narrative which have been transmitted to us by 
Strabo, Arrian, and other writers, seem not to be 
entitled to credit, unless when they are supported 
by internal evidence, and confirmed by the testimony 
of other ancient authors, or when they coincide 
with the experience of modern times. His account, 
however, of the dimensions and geography of India, 
is curious and accurate. His description of the 
power and opulence of the Prasij perfectly resem¬ 
bles that which might have been given of some of 
the greater states in the modern Indostan, before 
the establishment of the Mahomedan or European 
power in India, and is consonant to the accounts 
which Alexander had received concerning that 
people. He was informed, as has been already 
mentioned, that they were prepared to oppose him 
on the banks of the Ganges, with an army consisting 
of twenty thousand cavalry, two hundred thousand 
infantry, and tw o thousand armed chariots ; c and 
Megasthenes relates, that he had an audience of 
Sandracottus in a place where he w as encamped 
with an army of four hundred thousand men. d The 
enormous dimensions which he assigns to Palibo¬ 
thra, of no less than ten miles in length, and two in 
breadth, and surrounded by walls in which there 
were five hundred and seventy towers, and sixty- 
four gates, would probably have been ranked by 
Europeans among the wonders which he delighted 
to relate, if they w ere not now well acquainted with 
the rambling manner in which the cities of India 
were built, and did not know* with certainty, that 
both in former and in the present times, it might 
boast of cities still more extensive. 6 

This embassy of Megasthenes to Sandracottus, 
and another of Diamachus to his son and successor 
Allitrochidas, are the last transactions of the Syrian 
monarchs with India, of which we have any account.*" 
Nor can we either fix with accuracy the time, or 
describe the manner, in which their possessions in 
India were wrested from them. It is probable that 
they were obliged to abandon that country soon 
after the death of Seleucus. 6 

But though the great monarchs of Syria lost, 
about this period, those provinces in India which 
had been subject to their dominions, the Greeks, in 
a smaller kingdom composed of some fragments of 
Alexander’s empire, still maintained an intercourse 
with India, and even made some considerable ac¬ 
quisition of territory there. This was the kingdom 
of Bactria, original!}' subject to Seleucus, but 
w rested from his son or grandson, and rendered an 
independent state, about sixty-nine years after the 
death of Alexander. Concerning the transactions 
of this kingdom, w e must rest satisfied with gleaning 
a few imperfect hints in ancient authors. From 

c Diod. Sicul.lib. xvii. p. 2.32. Q. Curt. lib. ix. c. 2. 

d Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1035. C. e Kennell, Mem. 49, 50. 

f See Note XV. g Justin, lib. xv. c. 4. 



1094 


SECT. I. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


them we learn that its commerce with India was 
great; that the conquests of the Bactrian kings in 
that country were more extensive than those of 
Alexander himself, and particularly that they re¬ 
covered possession of the district near the mouth 
of the Indus, which lie had subdued. 11 Each of the 
six princes who reigned in Baetria carried on mili¬ 
tary operations in India with such success, that they 
penetrated far into the interior part of the country, 
and, proud of the conquests which they had made, 
as well as of the extensive dominions over which 
they reigned, some of them assumed the lofty title 
of Great King, which distinguished the Persian 
monarchs in the days of their highest splendour. 
But we should not have known how long this king¬ 
dom of Baetria subsisted, or in what manner it ter¬ 
minated, if M. de Guignes had not called in the 
historians of China to supply the defects of the 
Greek and Roman writers. By them we are in¬ 
formed, that about one hundred and twenty-six 
years before the Christian aera, a powerful horde 
of Tartars, pushed from their native seats on the 
confines of China, and obliged to move tow-ards 
the west by the pressure of a more numerous body 
that rolled on behind them, passed the Jaxartes, and 
pouring in upon Baetria, like an irresistible torrent, 
overwhelmed that kingdom, and put an end to the 
dominion of the Greeks 1 there, after it had been 
established near one hundred and thirty years. k 

From this time until the close of the fifteenth 
century, when the Portuguese, by doubling the 
Cape of Good Hope, opened a new communication 
with the East, and carried their victorious arms into 
every part of India, no European power acquired 
territory, or established its dominion there. During 
this long period, of more than sixteen hundred 
years, all schemes of conquest in India seem to 
have been totally relinquished, and nothing more 
was aimed at by any nation, than to secure an in¬ 
tercourse of trade with that opulent country. 

It w'as in Egypt that the seat of this intercourse 
was established ; and it is not without surprise that 
we observe how soon and how regularly the com¬ 
merce with the East came to be carried on by that 
channel in which the sagacity of Alexander des¬ 
tined it to flow. Ptolemy, the son of Lagus, as 
soon as he took possession of Egypt, established 
the seat of government in Alexandria. By some 
exertions of authority, and many acts of liberality, 
but chiefly by the frame of his mild and equal ad¬ 
ministration, he drew such a number of inhabitants 
to this favourite residence, that it soon became a 
populous and wealthy city. As Ptolemy deserved 
and had possessed the confidence of Alexander 
more perfectly than any of his officers, he knew well 
that his chief object in founding Alexandria was to 
secure the advantages arising from the trade with 
India. A long and prosperous reign was favour- 

h Strabo, lib. xi. 785. D. lib. xv. 1006. B. Justin, lib. xli. c. 4. Bayer, 
Hist. Regni Graecor. Bactriani, passim. 

i Mem. de Literat. tom. xxv. p. 17, &c. k See Note XVI. 

I Strabo, lib. xvii. p. 1140. C. m Ibid. lib. xvi. 1089. A. 


able to the prosecution of that object, and though 
ancient authors have not enabled us to trace the 
steps which the first Ptolemy took for this purpose, 
we have a striking evidence of his extraordinary 
attention to naval affairs, in his erecting a light¬ 
house on the island of Pharos, at the mouth of the 
harbour of Alexandria, 1 a work of such magnifi¬ 
cence as to be reckoned one of the seven wonders 
of the world. With respect to the commercial ar¬ 
rangements of his son Ptolemy Philadelphus, we 
have more perfect information. In order to bring 
the trade with India (which began to revive at 
Tyre, its ancient station) to centre in Alexandria," 1 
he set about forming a canal, an hundred cubits in 
breadth, and thirty cubits in depth, between Ar- 
sinoe on the Red sea, not far from the situation 
of the modern Suez, and the Peleusiac or eastern 
branch of the Nile, by means of which the produc¬ 
tions of India might have been conveyed to that 
capital wholly by water. But either on account of 
some danger apprehended from completing it, that 
work was never finished ; or from the slow and 
dangerous navigation towards the northern extre¬ 
mity of the Red sea, this canal was found to be of 
so little use, that in order to facilitate the commu¬ 
nication with India, he built a city on the west 
coast of that sea, almost under the Tropic, to which 
he gave the name of Berenice." This new city soon 
became the staple of the trade with India. 0 From 
Berenice the goods were transported by land to 
Coptos, a city three miles distant from the Nile, 
but which had a communication with that river by 
a navigable canal, of which there are still some 
remains,! 1 and thence carried down the stream to 
Alexandria. The distance between Berenice and 
Coptos was, according to Pliny, two hundred and 
fifty-eight Roman miles, and the road lay through 
the desert of Thebais, almost entirely destitute of 
water. But the attention of a powerful monarch 
made provision for supplying this want, by search¬ 
ing for springs ; and wherever these were found he 
built inns, or more probably in the eastern style 
caravanseras, for the accommodation of merchants. 1 ! 
In this channel the intercourse between the East 
and West continued to be carried on during two 
hundred and fifty years, as long as Egypt remained 
an independent kingdom. 

The ships destined for India took their departure 
from Berenice, and sailing, according to the ancient 
mode of navigation, along the Arabian shore to the 
promontory Syagrus, (now Cape Rasalgate,) held 
their course along the coast of Persia, either directly 
to Pattala, (now Tatta,) at the head of the low'er 
Delta of the Indus, or to some other emporium on 
the west coast of India. To this part of India, 
which Alexander had visited and subdued, the 
commerce under the protection of the Egyptian 
monarchs seems to have been confined for a con- 

n Strabo, lib. xvii. 1156. D. Plin. Nat. Ilist. lib. vi. c 29 

o See Note XVII. 

p D’Anville, Mem. de l'Egvpte, p. 21. 

q Strabo, lib. xvii. p. 1157. D. 1169. 










SECT. I. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


1095 


siderable time. Afterwards a more convenient 
course was followed, and from Cape Rasalgate 
vessels sailed in a direct course to Zizerus. This, 
according to M. de Montesquieu/ was the kingdom 
of Sigertis, on the sea-coast adjacent to the mouth 
ot the Indus, conquered by the Greek monarchs of 
Bactria ; according to major Rennell, 8 it was a port 
on the northern part of the Malabar coast. Ancient 
authors have not conveyed such information as 
will enable us to pronounce with certainty which of 
these two opposite opinions is best founded. Nor 
can we point out with accuracy what were the 
other ports in India which the merchants from 
Berenice frequented, when that trade was first 
opened. As they sailed in vessels of small burden, 
which crept timidly along the coast, it is probable 
that their voyages were circumscribed within very 
narrow limits, and that, under the Ptolemies, no 
considerable progress was made in the discovery of 
India. 1 

From this monopoly of the commerce by sea be¬ 
tween the East and West, which Egypt long enjoyed, 
it derived that extraordinary degree of opulence 
and power for which it was conspicuous. In modern 
times, acquainted with the vigilant and enterprising 
activity of commercial rivalship, there is hardly 
any circumstance in ancient story which appears 
more surprising, than that the sovereigns of Egypt 
should have been permitted to engross this lucra¬ 
tive trade without competition, or any attempt to 
wrest it out of their hands ; especially as the power¬ 
ful monarchs of Syria might, from the Persian gulf, 
have carried on an intercourse with the same parts 
of India, by a shorter and safer course of navigation. 
Different considerations seem to have induced them 
so tamely to relinquish all the obvious advantages 
of this commerce. The kings of Egypt, by their 
attention to maritime affairs, had formed a powerful 
fleet, which gave them such decided command of 
the sea, that they could have crushed with ease any 
rival in trade. No commercial intercourse seems 
ever to have been carried on by sea between Persia 
and India. The Persians had such an insuperable 
aversion to that element, or were so much afraid of 
foreign invasion, that their monarchs (as I have 
already observed) obstructed the navigation of the 
great rivers, which gave access to the interior parts 
of the country, by artificial works. As their subjects, 
however, were no less desirous than the people 
around them to possess the valuable productions 
and elegant manufactures of India, these w ere con¬ 
veyed to all the parts of their extensive dominions 
by land carriage. The commodities destined for 
the supply of the northern provinces, were trans¬ 
ported on camels from the banks of the Indus to 
those of the Oxus, down the stream of which they 
were carried to the Caspian sea, and distiibuted, 
partly by land carriage, and partly by navigable 
rivers, through the different countries, bounded on 

i L’Esprit des Loix, lib. xxi. c 7 

s Introduct. P. xxxvii. 

t See Note AVIII. 


one hand by the Caspian, and on the other by the 
Euxine sea. u The commodities of India intended for 
the southern and interior provinces, proceeded by 
land from the Caspian gates to some of the great 
rivers, by which they were circulated through every 
part of the country. This was the ancient mode of 
intercourse with India, while the Persian empire 
was governed by its native princes ; and it has been 
observed in every age, that when any branch of 
commerce has got into a certain channel, although 
it may be neither the most proper nor the most com¬ 
modious one, it requires long time, and consider¬ 
able efforts, to give it a different direction.* 

To all these reasons for suffering the monarchs 
of Egypt to continue in the undisturbed possession 
of the trade with India by sea, another may be 
added. Many of the ancients, by an error in geo¬ 
graphy extremely unaccountable, and in which they 
persisted, notwithstanding repeated opportunities 
of obtaining more accurate information, believed 
the Caspian sea to be a branch of the great northern 
ocean, and the kings of Syria might hope by that 
means to open a communication with Europe, and 
to circulate through it the valuable productions of 
the East, without intruding into those seas, the 
navigation of which the Egyptian monarchs seemed 
to consider as their exclusive right. This idea had 
been early formed by the Greeks, when they be¬ 
came masters of Asia. Seleucus Nicator, the first 
and most sagacious of the Syrian kings, at the time 
when he was assassinated, entertained thoughts of 
forming a junction between the Caspian and Euxine 
seas by a canal ; y and if this could have been effect¬ 
ed, his subjects, besides the extension of their trade 
in Europe, might have supplied all the countries in 
the north of Asia, on the coast of the Euxine sea, 
as well as many of those which stretch eastward 
from the Caspian, with the productions of India. 
As those countries, though now thinly inhabited by 
a miserable race of men, destitute of industry and 
of wealth, were in ancient times extremely popu¬ 
lous, and filled with great and opulent cities, this 
must have been considered as a branch of com¬ 
merce of such magnitude and value, as to render 
the securing of it an object worthy the attention of 
the most powerful monarch. 

But while the monarchs of Egypt and Syria la¬ 
boured with emulation and ardour to secure to their 
subjects all the advantages of the Indian trade, a 
power arose in the West which proved fatal to both. 
The Romans, by the vigour of their military insti¬ 
tutions, and the wisdom of their political conduct, 
having rendered themselves masters of all Italy and 
Sicilv, soon overturned the rival re- 

J 7 A. C. 55. 

public of Carthage, subjected Mace¬ 
donia and Greece, extended their dominion over 
Syria, and at last turned their victorious arms 
against Egypt, the only kingdom remaining of those 
established by the successors of Alexander the 

u Strabo, lib. xii. 776. D. Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 17. 

x See Note XIX. 

y Plin. Nat. Hist, lib.vi. c. 11. 




SECT. II. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


1006 

Great. After a series 01 events which belong not 
to the subject of this Disquisition, Egypt was an¬ 
nexed to the Roman empire, and reduced into the 
form of a Roman province by Augus- 
A ‘ C * 30 ‘ tus. Aware of its great importance, 
he, with that provident sagacity which distinguishes 
his character, not only reserved it as one of the 
provinces subject immediately to imperial autho¬ 
rity, but by various precautions, well known to 
every scholar, provided for its security. This ex¬ 
traordinary solicitude seems to have proceeded not 
only from considering Egypt as one of the chief 
granaries on which the capital depended for sub¬ 
sistence, but as the seat of that lucrative commerce 
which had enabled its ancient monarchs to amass 
such enormous wealth as excited the admiration 
and envy of other princes, and produced, when 
brought into the treasury of the empire, a consider¬ 
able alteration, both in the value of property and 
the state of manners, in Rome itself. 


SECTION II. 

Intercourse with India, from the establishment of the 
Roman dominion in Egypt, to the conquest of that 
kingdom by the Mahomedans. 

Upon the conquest of Egypt by the Romans, and 
the reduction of that kingdom to a province of their 
empire, the trade with India continued to be carried 
on in the same mode under their powerful protec¬ 
tion ; Rome, enriched with the spoils and the tribute 
of almost all the known world, had acquired a taste 
for luxuries of every kind. Among people of this 
description, the productions of India have always 
been held in the highest estimation. The capital of 
the greatest empire ever established in Europe, 
filled with citizens who had now no occupation but 
to enjoy and dissipate the wealth accumulated by 
their ancestors, demanded every thing elegant, rare, 
or costly, which that remote region could furnish, 
in order to support its pomp, or heighten its plea¬ 
sures. To supply this demand, new and extraordi¬ 
nary efforts became requisite, and the commerce 
with India increased to a degree, which (as I have 
observed in another place a ) will appear astonishing 
even to the present age, in which that branch of 
trade has been extended far beyond the practice or 
conception of any former period. 

Resides the Indian commodities imported into 
the capital of the empire from Egypt, the Romans 
received an additional supply of them by another 
mode of conveyance. From the earliest times, there 
seems to have been some communication between 
Mesopotamia, and other provinces on the banks of 
the Euphrates, and those parts of Syria and Fales- 

a See Hist, of America, p. 733. 
b Gen. xi. xii. 

c 1 Kings ix. 18. 2 Chron. viii. 4. 

d In a former edition, I stated the distance of Palmyra from the Eu¬ 
phrates at sixty miles, and from the Mediterranean at two hundred and 


tine which lay near the Mediterranean. The migra¬ 
tion of Abram from Ur of the Chaldees to Sichein 
in the land of Canaan, is an instance of this. 6 The 
journey through the desert which separated these 
countries, was much facilitated by its affording one 
station abounding with water, and capable of cul¬ 
tivation. As the intercourse increased, the posses¬ 
sion of this station became an object of so much im¬ 
portance, that Solomon, when he turned his atten¬ 
tion towards the extension of commerce among his 
subjects, built a fenced city there. 0 Its Syrian 
name of Tadmor in the wilderness, and its Greek 
one of Palmyra, are both descriptive of its situation 
in a spot adorned with palm-trees. This is not only 
plentifully supplied with water, but surrounded by 
a portion of fertile land, which (though of no great 
extent) renders it a delightful habitation in the 
midst of barren sands and an inhospitable desert. 
Its happy position, at the distance of eighty-five 
miles from the river Euphrates, and about one hun¬ 
dred and seventeen miles from the nearest coast of 
the Mediterranean, d induced its inhabitants to enter 
with ardour into the trade of conveying commodi¬ 
ties from one of these to the other. As the most 
valuable productions of India, brought up the Eu¬ 
phrates from the Persian gulf, are of such small 
bulk as to bear the expense of a long land-carriage, 
this trade soon became so considerable that the 
opulence and power of Palmyra increased rapidly. 
Its government was of the form which is best suited 
to the genius of a commercial city, republican ; and 
from the peculiar advantages of its situation, as 
well as the spirit of its inhabitants, it long main¬ 
tained its independence, though surrounded by 
powerful and ambitious neighbours. Under the 
Syrian monarchs descended from Seleucus it attain¬ 
ed to its highest degree of splendour and wealth, 
one great source of which seems to have been the 
supplying their subjects with Indian commodities. 
When Syria submitted to the irresistible arms of 
Rome, Palmyra continued upwards of two centuries 
a free state, and its friendship was courted with 
emulation and solicitude by the Romans, and their 
rivals for empire, the Parthians. That it traded 
with both, and particularly that from it Rome, as 
well as other parts of the empire, received the pro¬ 
ductions of India, we learn from Appian, an author 
of good credit. e Rut in tracing the progress of the 
commerce of the ancients with the East, I should not 
have ventured, upon his single testimony, to men¬ 
tion this among the channels of note in which it was 
carried on, if a singular discovery, for which we are 
indebted to the liberal curiosity and enterprising 
spirit of our own countrymen, did not confirm and 
illustrate what he relates. Towards the close of the 
last century, some gentlemen of the English factory 
at Aleppo, incited by what they heard in the East 
concerning the wonderful ruins of Palmyra, ven- 

three miles. Into these errors I was led by M. D’Anville, who, in his 
Memoire sur l’Euphrate et le Tigris, a work published in old age, did 
not retain his wonted accuracy, from information communicated by ma¬ 
jor Rennell, 1 have substituted the true distances, 
e Appian. de Bello Civil, lib. v. p. 107(3. edit. Tollii. 





SECT. II. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


1097 


tured, notwithstanding the fatigue and danger of a 
journey through the desert, to visit them. To their 
astonishment they beheld a fertile spot of some 
miles in extent arising like an island out of a vast 
plain of sand, covered with the remains of temples, 
porticoes, aqueducts, and other public works, which 
in magnificence and splendour, and some of them 
in elegance, were not unworthy of Athens or of 
Rome in their most prosperous state. Allured by 
their description of them, about sixty years there¬ 
after, a party of more enlightened travellers, having 
reviewed the ruins of Palmyra with greater atten¬ 
tion and more scientific skill, declared that what 
they beheld there exceeded the most exalted ideas 
which they had formed concerning it. f 

From both these accounts, as well as from recol¬ 
lecting the extraordinary degree of power to which 
Palmyra had attained, when Egypt, Syria, Meso¬ 
potamia, and a considerable part of Asia Minor 
were conquered by its arms ; when Odenatus, its 
chief magistrate, was decorated with the imperial 
purple, and Zenobia contended for the dominion of 
the East with Rome under one of its most warlike 
emperors, it is evident that a state which could 
derive little importance from its original territory, 
must have owed its aggrandizement to the opulence 
acquired by extensive commerce. Of this the In¬ 
dian trade was undoubtedly the most considerable 
and most lucrative branch. But it is a cruel morti¬ 
fication, in searching for what is instructive in the 
history of past times, to find that the exploits of 
conquerors who have desolated the earth, and the 
freaks of tyrants who have rendered nations un¬ 
happy, are recorded with minute and often disgust¬ 
ing accuracy, while the discovery of useful arts, 
and the progress of the most beneficial branches of 
commerce, are passed over in silence, and sulfered 
to sink into oblivion. 

After the conquest of Palmyra by Aurelian, trade 
never revived there. At present a few miserable 
huts of beggarly Arabs are scattered in the courts 
of its stately temples, or deform its elegant porti¬ 
coes ; and exhibit a humiliating contrast to its 
ancient magnificence. 

But while the merchants of Egypt and Syria ex¬ 
erted their activity in order to supply the increasing 
demands of Rome for Indian commodities, and vied 
with each other in their efforts, the eagerness of gain 
(as Pliny observes) brought India itself nearer to the 
rest of the world. In the course of their voyages to 
that country, the Greek and Egyptian pilots could 
not fail to observe the regular shifting of the periodi¬ 
cal winds or monsoons, and how steadily they con¬ 
tinued to blow during one part of the year from the 
east, and during the other from the west. Encour¬ 
aged by attending to this circumstance, Hippalus, 
the commander of a ship engaged in the Indian 
trade, ventured, about fourscore years after Egypt 
was annexed to the Roman empire, to relinquish the 

f Wood’s Ruins of Palmyra, p. 37 
g Perip. Mar. Erythr. p. 32. 


slow and circuitous course which I have described, 
and stretching boldly from the mouth of the Arabian 
gulf across the ocean, was carried by the western 
monsoon to Musiris, a harbour in that part of India 
now know n by the name of the Malabar coast. 

This route to India was held to be a discovery of 
such importance, that in order to perpetuate the 
memory of the inventor, the name of Hippalus was 
given to the wind which enabled him to perform the 
voyage.? As this was one of the greatest efforts of 
navigation in the ancient world, and opened the best 
communication by sea between the East and West 
that w as known for fourteen hundred years, it merits 
a particular description. Fortunately Pliny has 
enabled us to give it with a degree of accuracy, 
which can seldom be attained in tracing the naval 
or commercial operations of the ancients. From 
Alexandria (he observes) to Juliopolis is two miles ; 
there the cargo destined for India is embarked on 
the Nile, and is carried to Coptos, which is distant 
three hundred and three miles, and the voyage is 
usually accomplished in twelve days. From Coptos 
goods are conveyed by land carriage to Berenice on 
the Arabian gulf, halting at different stations regu¬ 
lated according to the conveniency of watering. 
The distance between these cities is two hundred 
and fifty-eight miles. On account of the heat, the 
caravan travels only during the night, and the 
journey is finished on the twelfth day. From Bere¬ 
nice ships take their departure about midsummer, 
and in thirty days reach Ocelis (Gella) at the mouth 
of the Arabian gulf, or Cane (Cape Fartaque) on the 
coast of Arabia Felix. Thence they sail, in forty 
days, to Musiris, the first emporium in India. They 
begin their voyage homewards early in the Egyptian 
month Tliibi, which answers to our December; they 
sail with a north-east wind, and, when they enter 
the Arabian gulf, meet with a south or south-west 
wind, and thus complete the voyage in less than a 
year. h 

The account which Pliny gives of Musiris, and of 
Barace, another harbour not far distant, which was 
likewise frequented by the ships from Berenice, as 
being both so incommodious for trade on account of 
the shallow ness of the ports, that it became neces¬ 
sary to discharge and take in the cargoes in small 
boats, does not enable us to fix their position with 
perfect accuracy. This description applies to many 
ports on the Malabar coast; but, from two circum¬ 
stances mentioned by him, one, that they are not 
far distant from Cottonara, the country which pro¬ 
duces pepper in great abundance; and the other, 
that in sailing towards them, the course lay near 
Nitrias, the station of the pirates; I adopt the 
opinion of major Rennell, that they were situated 
somewhere between Goa and Tellicherry, and that 
probably the modern Meerzaw or Merjee is the 
Musiris of the ancients, and Barcelore their Barace. 1 

As in these two ports w ? as the principal staple of 

h Plin. Nat. Ilist. lib. vi. c. 23. See Note XX. 

i Introd. p. xxxvii 



1008 


SECT. If. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


the trade between Egypt and India, when in its 
most flourishing state, this seems to be the proper 
place for inquiring into the nature of the commerce 
which the ancients, particularly the Romans, carried 
on with that country, and for enumerating the com¬ 
modities most in request which they imported from 
it. But as the operations of commerce, and the 
mode of regulating it, were little attended to in 
those states of antiquity of whose transactions we 
have any accurate knowledge, their historians hardly 
enter into any detail concerning a subject of such 
subordinate importance in their political system ; 
and it is mostly from brief hints, detached facts, 
and incidental observations, that we can gather in¬ 
formation concerning it. k 

In every age it has been a commerce of luxury, 
rather than of necessity, which has been carried on 
between Europe and India. Its elegant manufac¬ 
tures, spices, and precious stones, are neither ob¬ 
jects of desire to nations of simple manners, nor are 
such nations possessed of wealth sufficient to pur¬ 
chase them. But at the time the Romans became 
masters of the Indian trade, they were not only (as 
has already been observed) in that stage of society 
when men are eager to obtain every thing that can 
render the enjoyment of life more exquisite, or add 
to its splendour, but they had acquired all the 
fantastic tastes formed by the caprice and extrava¬ 
gance of wealth. They were, of consequence, highly 
delighted with those new objects of gratification 
with which India supplied them in such abundance. 
The productions of that country, natural as well as 
artificial, seem to have been much the same in that 
age as in the present. But the taste of the Romans 
in luxury differed in many respects, from that of 
modern times ; and, of course, their demands from 
India differed considerably from ours. 

In order to convey an idea of their demands as 
complete as possible, I shall, in the first place, make 
some observations on the three great articles of 
general importation from India. 1. Spices and 
aromatics. 2. Precious stones and pearls. 3. Silk. 
And then I shall give some account (as far as I can 
venture to do it from authentic information) of the 
assortment of cargoes, both outward and homeward 
bound, for the vessels fitted out at Berenice to dif¬ 
ferent ports of India. 

I. Spices and aromatics. From the mode of re¬ 
ligious worship in the heathen world ; from the 
incredible number of their deities, and of the tem¬ 
ples consecrated to them; the consumption of frank¬ 
incense and other aromatics, which were used in 
every sacred function, must have been very great. 
But the vanity of men occasioned a greater con¬ 
sumption of these fragrant substances than their 
piety. It was the custom of the Romans to burn 
the bodies of their dead ; and they deemed it a dis¬ 
play of magnificence to cover, not only the body, 
but the funeral pile on which it was laid, with the 

k See Note XXI. 1 Nat. Hist. lib. xii. c. 18. 

m Peri pi. Mar. Eryth. p. 22. 28. Strabo, lib. ii. p. 156. A. lib. xv. 
p. 10J8. A. 


most costly spices. At the funeral of Sylla, two 
hundred and ten burdens of spices were strewed 
upon the pile. Nero is reported to have burnt a 
quantity of cinnamon and cassia at the funeral of 
Poppeea, greater than the countries from which it 
was imported produced in one year. We consume 
in heaps these precious substances with the carcases 
of the dead (says Pliny): We oiler them to the 
gods only in grains. 1 It was not from India, I am 
aware, but from Arabia, that aromatics were first 
imported into Europe ; and some of them, particu¬ 
larly frankincense, were productions of that country. 
But the Arabians were accustomed, together with 
spices of native growth, to furnish foreign mer¬ 
chants with others of higher value, which they 
brought from India, and the regions beyond it. 
The commercial intercourse of the Arabians with 
the eastern parts of Asia, was not only early, but 
considerable. By means of their trading caravans, 
they conveyed into their own country all the valu¬ 
able productions of the East, among which spices 
held a chief place. In every ancient account of 
Indian commodities, spices and aromatics of various 
kinds form a principal article. 111 Some authors 
assert that the greater part of those purchased in 
Arabia were not the growth of that country, but 
brought from India. 11 That this assertion was well 
founded, appears from what has been observed in 
modern times. The frankincense of Arabia, though 
reckoned the peculiar and most precious production 
of the country, is much inferior in quality to that 
imported into it from the East; and it is chiefly 
with the latter that the Arabians at present supply 
the extensive demands of various provinces of Asia 
for this commodity. 0 It is upon good authority, 
then, that I have mentioned the importation of 
spices as one of the most considerable branches of 
ancient commerce with India. In the Augustan 
age, an entire street in Rome seems to have been 
occupied by those w ho sold frankincense, pepper, 
and other aromatics .p 

II. Precious stones, together with which pearls 
may be classed, seem to be the article next in value 
imported by the Romans from the East. As these 
have no pretension to be of any real use, their value 
arises entirely from their beauty and their rarity, 
and even when estimated most moderately, is always 
high. But among nations far advanced in luxury, 
when they are deemed not only ornaments, but 
marks of distinction, the vain and the opulent vie 
so eagerly with one another for the possession of 
them, that they rise in price to an exorbitant and 
almost incredible height. Diamonds, though the 
art of cutting them was imperfectly know n to the 
ancients, held a high place in estimation among 
them, as well as among us. The comparative value 
of other precious stones varied according to the 
diversity of tastes and the caprice of fashion. The 
immense number of them mentioned by Pliny, and 

n Strabo, lib. xvii. p. 1129. C. 

o Neibuhr, Descript, de l’Arabie, tom. i. p. 126. 

p Hor. lib. ii. epist. 1. 








SECT. II. 


CONCERNING 

the laborious care with which he describes and 
ananges them,a will astonish, I should suppose, the 
most ski 11u 1 lapidary or jeweller of modern times, 
and shows the high request in which they were 
held by the Romans. 

Rut among all the articles of luxury, the Romans 
seem to have given the preference to pearls. r Persons 
of every rank purchased them with eagerness ; they 
were worn on every part of dress ; and there is such 
a dillerence, both in size and in value, among 
pearls, that while such as were large and of superior 
lustie adorned the wealthy and the great, smaller 
ones and of inferior quality gratified the vanity of 
persons in more humble stations of life. Julius 
Capsar presented ^ervilia, the mother of Rrutus, 
with a peail, tor which he paid forty-eight thousand 
four hundred and fifty-seven pounds. The famous 
pearl ear-rings of Cleopatra were in value one 
hundred and sixty-one thousand four hundred and 
fifty-eight pounds. s Precious stones, it is true, as 
well as pearls, were found not only in India, but in 
many ditferent countries, and all were ransacked in 
order to gratify the pride of Rome. India, however, 
furnished the chief part, and its productions were 
allowed to be most abundant, diversified, and 
valuable. 

III. Another production of India in great demand 
at Rome, was silk; and when we recollect the 
variety of elegant fabrics into which it may be 
formed, and how much these have added to the 
splendour of dress and furniture, we cannot wonder 
at its being held in such estimation by luxurious 
people. The price it bore was exorbitant; but it 
was deemed a dress too expensive and too delicate 
for men, 1 and w as appropriated wholly to women of 
eminent rank and opulence. This, however, did 
not render the demand for it less eager, especially 
after the example of the dissolute Elagabalus in¬ 
troduced the use of it among the other sex, and 
accustomed men to the disgrace (as the severity of 
ancient ideas accounted it) of wearing this effemi¬ 
nate garb. Two circumstances concerning the 
traffic of silk among the Romans merit observa¬ 
tion. Contrary to what usually takes place in the 
operations of trade, the more general use of that 
commodity seems not to have increased the quantity 
imported, in such proportion as to answer the grow¬ 
ing demand for it, and the price of silk was not re¬ 
duced during the course of two hundred and fifty 
years from the time of its being first known in Rome. 
In the reign of Aurelian, it still continued to be 
valued at its weight in gold. This, it is probable, 
was owing to the mode in which that commodity 
was procured by the merchants of Alexandria. 
They had no direct intercourse w ith China, the only 
country in which the silk-worm was then reared, 
and its labour rendered an article of commerce. 
All the silk which they purchased in the different 
ports of India that they frequented, was brought 

q Nat. Hist. lib. xxxvii. r See Note XXII. 

s Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. ix. c. 35. See Note XX111. 


ANCIENT INDIA. 1099 

thither in ships of the country; and either from 
some defect of skill in managing the silk-worm, the 
produce of its ingenious industry among the Chi¬ 
nese was scanty, or the intermediate dealers found 
greater advantage in furnishing the market of Alex¬ 
andria with a small quantity at a high price, than 
to lower its value by increasing the quantity. The 
other circumstance which I had in view is more 
extraordinary, and affords a striking proof of the 
imperfect communication of the ancients with re¬ 
mote nations, and of the slender knowledge which 
they had of their natural productions or arts. Much 
as the manufactures of silk were admired, and often 
as silk is mentioned by the Greek and Roman au¬ 
thors, they had not, for several centuries after the 
use of it became common, any certain knowledge 
cither of the countries to which they were indebted 
for this favourite article of elegance, or of the man¬ 
ner in which it was produced. By some, silk was 
supposed to be a fine down adhering to the leaves 
of certain trees or flowers ; others imagined it to be 
a delicate species of wool or cotton ; and even those 
who had learned that it was the work of an insect, 
show, by their descriptions, that they had no dis¬ 
tinct idea of the manner in which it was formed." 
Tt was in consequence of an event that happened 
in the sixth century of the Christian aera, of which 
I shall hereafter take notice, that the real nature of 
silk became known in Europe. 

The other commodities usually imported from 
India will be mentioned in the account, which I 
now proceed to give, of the cargoes sent out and 
brought home in the ships employed in the trade 
with that country. For this we are indebted to the 
circumnavigation of the Erythraean sea, ascribed 
to Arrian, a curious though short treatise, less known 
than it deserves to be, and which enters into some 
details concerning commerce, to which there is no¬ 
thing similar in any ancient writer. The first place 
in India, in which the ships from Egypt, while they 
follow ed’ the ancient course of navigation, were 
accustomed to trade, was Patala in the river Indus. 
They imported into it woollen cloth of a slight 
fabric, linen in chequer-work, some precious stones, 
and some aromatics unknown in India, coral, storax, 
glass vessels of different kinds, some wrought silver, 
money, and wine. In return for these, they received 
spices of various kinds, sapphires, and other gems, 
silk stuffs, silk thread, cotton cloths, x and black 
pepper. But a far more considerable emporium on 
the same coast was Barygaza, and on that account 
the author whom I follow here describes its situation, 
and the mode of approaching it, with great minute¬ 
ness and accuracy. Its situation corresponds en¬ 
tirely w ith that of Baroach, on the great river Ner- 
buddah, down the stream of which, or by land- 
carriage from the great city of Tagara across high 
mountains/ all the productions of the interior 
country were conveyed to it. The articles of im- 

t Tacit. Annal. lib. ii. c. 33. u See Note XXIV. 

x See Note XXV. y See Note XXVI. 



1100 AN HISTORICAL 

portation and exportation in this great mart were 
extensive and various. Resides these already men¬ 
tioned, our author enumerates among the former, 
Italian, Greek, and Arabian wines, brass, tin, lead, 
girdles or sashes of curious texture, melilot, white 
glass, red arsenic, black lead, gold and silver coin. 
Among the exports he mentions the onyx, and other 
gems, ivory, myrrh, various fabrics of cotton, both 
plain and ornamented with llowers, and long pep¬ 
per. 2 At Musiris, the next emporium of note on 
that coast, the articles imported were much the same 
as at Barygaza ; but as it lay nearer to the eastern 
parts of India, and seems to have had much com¬ 
munication with them, the commodities exported 
from it were more numerous and more valuable. 
He specifies particularly pearls in great abundance 
and of extraordinary beauty, a variety of silk stuffs, 
rich perfumes, tortoise-shell, different kinds of 
transparent gems, especially diamonds, and pepper 
in large quantities, and of the best quality. 3 

The justness of the account given by this author 
of the articles imported from India, is confirmed by 
a Roman law, in which the Indian commodities 
subject to the payment of duties are enumerated. b 
By comparing these two accounts, we may form an 
idea tolerably exact of the nature and extent of the 
trade with India in ancient times. 

As the state of society and manners among the 
natives of India, in the earliest period in which they 
are known, nearly resembled what we observe among 
their descendants in the present age; their wants 
and demands were, of course, much the same. The 
ingenuity of their own artists was so able to supply 
these, that they stood little in need of foreign 
manufactures or productions, except some of the 
useful metals which their own country did not 
furnish in sufficient quantity ; and then, as now, it 
was mostly with gold and silver that the luxuries 
of the East were purchased. In two particulars, 
however, our importations from India differ greatly 
from those of the ancients. The dress, both of the 
Greeks and Romans, was almost entirely woollen, 
which, by their frequent use of the warm bath, was 
rendered abundantly comfortable. Their consump¬ 
tion of linen and cotton cloths was much inferior 
to that of modern times, when these are worn by 
persons in every rank of life. Accordingly, a great 
branch of modern importation from that part of 
India with which the ancients were acquainted, is 
in piece-goods ; comprehending, under that mercan¬ 
tile term, the immense variety of fabrics which 
Indian ingenuity has formed of cotton. But as far 
as I have observed, we have no authority that will 
justify us in stating the ancient importation of these 
to be in any degree considerable. 

In modern times, though it continues still to be 
chiefly a commerce of luxury that is carried on w ith 
India, yet, together with the articles that minister 
to it, we import, to a considerable extent, various 

z Peripl. Mar. F.rythr. p. 28. a Tbid. 31, 32. 

b Digest, lib. xxxix. tit. 4. § 16. De publicanis et vectigalibus. 


, DISQUISITION SECT. II. 

commodities which are to be considered merely as 
the materials of our domestic manufactures. Such 
are the cotton-wool of Indostan, the silk of China, 
and the saltpetre of Bengal. But in the accounts 
of ancient importations from India, raw silk and 
silk-thread excepted, I find nothing mentioned that 
could serve as the materials of any home manu¬ 
facture. The navigation of the ancients never hav¬ 
ing extended to China, the quantity of unwrought 
silk with which they were supplied, by means of the 
Indian traders, appears to have been so scanty, that 
the manufacture of it could not make an addition 
of any moment to their domestic industry. 

After this succinct account of the commerce car¬ 
ried on by the ancients in India, I proceed to in¬ 
quire what knowledge they had of the countries 
beyond the ports of Musiris and Barace,the utmost 
boundary towards the east to which I have hitherto 
traced their progress. The author of the circumna¬ 
vigation of the Erythraean sea, whose accuracy of 
description justifies the confidence with which I 
have followed him for some time, seems to have 
been little acquainted with that part of the coast 
which stretches from Barace towards the south. He 
mentions, indeed, cursorily, two or three different 
ports, but gives no intimation that any of them were 
staples of the commerce with Egypt. He hastens 
to Comar, or Cape Comorin, the southermost point 
of the Indian peninsula; and his description of it 
is so accurate, and so conformable to its real state, 
as shows his information concerning it to have been 
perfectly authentic. 0 Near to this he places the 
pearl fishery of Colchos, the modern Kilkare, un¬ 
doubtedly the same with that now carried on by the 
Dutch in the strait which separates the island of 
Ceylon from the continent; as adjacent to this he 
mentions three different ports, which appear to have 
been situated on the east side of the peninsula, now 
known by the name of the Coromandel coast. He 
describes these as emporia , or stations of trade ; d 
but from an attentive consideration of some circum¬ 
stances in his account of them, I think it probable 
that the ships from Berenice did not sail to any of 
these ports, though they were supplied, as he in¬ 
forms us, with the commodities brought from Egypt, 
as well as with the productions of the opposite 
coast of the peninsula ; but these seem to have been 
imported in country ships.* It was likewise in ves¬ 
sels of their own, varying in form and burden, and 
distinguished by different names, some of which he 
mentions, that they traded with the Golden Cher- 
sonesus, or kingdom of Malacca, and the countries 
near the Ganges. Not far from the mouth of that 
liver he places an island, which he describes as 
situated under the rising sun, and as the last region 
in the East that was inhabited/ Of all these parts 
of India, the author of the circumnavigation ap¬ 
pears to have had very slender knowledge, as is 
manifest, not only from what lie mentions concern- 

c Peripl. p. 33. D’Anville, Ant. de l’Tnde, 118, &c. 

d I eripl. p. 34. e TomKa n\oia • f Peripl. p. 36 






SECT. II. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


ing this imaginary island, and from his not at¬ 
tempting to describe them, but from his relating 
w ith the credulity and love of the marvellous 
which always accompany and characterize ignor¬ 
ance, that these remote regions were peopled with 

cannibals, and men of uncouth and monstrous 
forms. h 

I have been induced to bestow this attention in 
tracing the course delineated in the circumnaviga¬ 
tion of the Erythraean sea, because the author of it 
is the first ancient writer to whom we are indebted 
for any knowledge of the eastern coast of the great 
peninsula of India, or of the countries which lie 
beyond it. To Strabo, who composed his great 
work on geography in the reign of Augustus, India, 
particularly the most eastern parts of it, was little 
known. He begins his description of it with re¬ 
questing the indulgence of his readers, on account 
of the scanty information he could obtain with 
lespect to a country so remote, which Europeans 
had seldom visited, and many of them transiently 
only, in the functions of military service. He ob¬ 
serves, that even commerce had contributed little 
towards an accurate investigation of the country, 
as few of the merchants from Egypt, and the Ara¬ 
bian gulf, had ever sailed as far as the Ganges; 
and from men so illiterate, intelligence that merited 
a full degree of confidence could scarcely be ex¬ 
pected. His descriptions of India, particularly its 
interior provinces, are borrowed almost entirely 
from the memoirs of Alexander’s officers, with some 
slender additions from more recent accounts, and 
these so few in number, and sometimes so inaccu¬ 
rate, as to furnish a striking proof of the small pro¬ 
gress which the ancients had made, from the time of 
Alexander, in exploring that country. When an 
author, possessed of such discernment and industry 
as Strabo, who visited in person several distant re¬ 
gions, that he might be able to describe them with 
greater accuracy, relates, that the Ganges enters 
the ocean by one mouth, 1 we are warranted in con¬ 
cluding, that in his time there was either no direct 
navigation carried on to that great river by the 
traders from the Arabian gulf, or that this voyage 
was undertaken so seldom, that science had not 
then derived much information from it. 

The next author, in order of time, from whom we 
receive any account of India, is the elder Pliny, 
who flourished about fifty years later than Strabo. 
As in the short description of India given in his 
Natural History, he follows the same guides with 
Strabo, and seems to have had no knowledge of the 
interior country, but what he derived from the 
memoirs of the officers who served under Alexander 
and his immediate successors, it is unnecessary to 
examine his description minutely. He has added, 
however, two valuable articles, for which he was 
indebted to more recent discoveries. The one is the 
account of the new course of navigation from the 

h Peripl. p. 35. i Strabo, lib. xv. 1011. C. 

k Lib. ii. 


Arabian gulf to the coast of Malabar, the nature 
and importance of which I have already explained. 
The other is a description of the island of Tapro- 
bana, which 1 shall consider particularly, after 
inquiring into what Ptolemy has contributed to¬ 
wards our knowledge of the ancient state of the 
Indian continent. 

Though Ptolemy, who published his works about 
fourscore years after Pliny, seems to have been dis¬ 
tinguished for his persevering industry, and talent 
for arrangement, rather than for an inventive genius ; 
geography has been more indebted to him for its 
improvement, than to any other philosopher. For¬ 
tunately for that science, in forming his general 
system of geography, he adopted the ideas, and 
imitated the practice, of Hipparchus, who lived near 
four hundred years before his time. That great 
philosopher was the first who attempted to make a 
catalogue of the stars. In order to ascertain their 
position in the heavens with accuracy, he measured 
their distance from certain circles of the spheres, 
computing it by degrees, either from east to west, 
or from north to south. The former was denomi¬ 
nated the longitude of the star, the latter its latitude. 
This mode he found to be of such utility in his 
astronomical researches, that he applied it with no 
less happy effect to geography ; and it is a circum¬ 
stance worthy of notice, that it was by observing 
and describing the heavens, men were first taught to 
measure and delineate the earth with exactness. 
This method of fixing the position of places, in¬ 
vented by Hipparchus, though known to the geo¬ 
graphers between his time and that of Ptolemy, and 
mentioned both by Strabo k and by Pliny, 1 was not 
employed by any of them. Of this neglect the 
most probable account seems to be, that as none of 
them were astronomers, they did not fully compre¬ 
hend all the advantages geography might derive 
from this invention." 1 These Ptolemy, who had 
devoted a long life to the improvement of astronomy, 
theoretical as well as practical, perfectly discerned, 
and as in both Hipparchus was his guide, he, in his 
famous treatise on geography, described the differ¬ 
ent parts of the earth according to their longitude 
and latitude. Geography was thus established 
upon its proper principles, and intimately connected 
with astronomical observations and mathematical 
science. This work of Ptolemy soon rose high in 
estimation among the ancients." During the middle 
ages, both in Arabia and in Europe, the decisions 
of Ptolemy, in every thing relating to geography, 
were submitted to with an assent as implicit as was 
yielded to those of Aristotle in all other departments 
of science. On the revival of a more liberal spirit 
of inquiry in the sixteenth century, the merit of 
Ptolemy’s improvements in geography was examin¬ 
ed and recognised; that scientific language which 
he first rendered general, continues to be used, and 
the position of places is still ascertained in the 

I Nat. Hist. lih. ii. c. 12.26.70. 

m See Note XXVII. n See NoteXXVIII. 



1102 


SECT. II. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


same distinct and compendious manner, by specify¬ 
ing their longitude and latitude. 

Not satisfied with adopting the general principles 
of Hipparchus, Ptolemy emulated him in the appli¬ 
cation of them; and, as that philosopher had ar¬ 
ranged all the constellations, he ventured upon what 
was no less arduous, to survey all the regions of the 
earth which were then known, and with minute and 
bold decision he fixed the longitude and latitude of 
the most remarkable places in each of them. All 
his determinations, however, are not to be consider¬ 
ed as the result of actual observation, nor did Pto¬ 
lemy publish them as such. Astronomical science 
was confined, at that time, to a few countries. A 
considerable part of the globe was little visited, 
and imperfectly described. The position of a small 
number of places only had been fixed with any 
degree of accuracy. Ptolemy was therefore obliged 
to consult the itineraries and surveys of the Roman 
empire, which the political wisdom of that great 
state had completed 0 with immense labour and ex¬ 
pense. Beyond the precincts of the empire, he had 
nothing on which he could rely, but the journals 
and reports of travellers. Upon these all his con¬ 
clusions were founded ; and as he resided in Alex¬ 
andria at a time when the trade from that city to 
India was carried on to its utmost extent, this situ¬ 
ation might have been expected to afford him the 
means of procuring ample information concerning 
it. But either from the imperfect manner in which 
that country was explored in his time, or from his 
placing too much confidence in the reports of per¬ 
sons who had visited it with little attention or dis¬ 
cernment, p his general delineation of the form of the 
Indian continent is the most erroneous that has been 
transmitted to us from antiquity. By an astonish¬ 
ing mistake, he has made the peninsula of India 
stretch from the Sinus Barygazenus, or gulf of 
Cambay, from west to east, instead of extending, 
according to its real direction, from north to south. 11 
This error will appear the more unaccountable, when 
we recollect that Megasthenes had published a mea¬ 
surement of the Indian peninsula, which approaches 
near to its true dimensions ; and that this had been 
adopted, with some variations, by Erastosthenes, 
Strabo, Diodorus Siculus, and Pliny, who wrote 
prior to the age of Ptolemy. 1- 

Although Ptolemy w r as led to form such an er¬ 
roneous opinion concerning the general dimensions 
of the Indian continent, his information with re¬ 
spect to the country in detail, and the situation of 
particular places, was more accurate; and he is 
the first author possessed of such knowledge as 
enabled him to trace the sea-coast, to mention the 
most noted places situated upon it, and to specify 
the longitude and latitude of each from Cape Co¬ 
morin eastward, to the utmost boundary of ancient 
navigation. With regard to some districts, particu¬ 
larly along the east side of the peninsula as far as 

o See Note XXIX. 

p Geoar. lib. i. c. 17. 

q See Note XXX. 


tne mouth of the Ganges, the accounts which lie 
had received seem to have been so far exact, as to 
correspond more nearly perhaps with the actual 
state of the country, than the descriptions which lie 
gives of any other part of India. M. D’Anville, 
with his usual industry and discernment, has con¬ 
sidered the principal stations as they are fixed by 
him, and finds that they correspond to Kilkare, 
Negapatam, the mouth of the river Cauveri, Masu- 
lipatam, Point Gordeware, &c. It is foreign to the 
object of this Disquisition to enter .into such a 
minute detail; but in several instances we may ob¬ 
serve, that not only the conformity of position, but 
the similarity of ancient and modern names, is very 
striking. The great river Cauveri is by Ptolemy 
named Chaberis ; Arcot, in the interior country, is 
Arcati Regia; and probably the whole coast has 
received its present name of Coromandel from Sor 
Mandulam, or the kingdom of Sorae, which is situ¬ 
ated upon it.* 

In the course of one hundred and thirty-six years, 
which elapsed from the death of Strabo to that of 
Ptolemy, the commercial intercourse with India w'as 
greatly extended ; the latter geographer had ac¬ 
quired such an accession of new information con¬ 
cerning the Ganges, that he mentions the names of 
six different mouths of that river, and describes 
their positions. His delineation, however, of that 
part of India which lies beyond the Ganges, is not 
less erroneous in its general form, than that which 
he gave of the peninsula, and bears as little resem¬ 
blance to the actual position of those countries. He 
ventures, nevertheless, upon a survey of them, 
similar to that which he had made of the other great 
division of India, which I have already examined. 
He mentions the places of note along the coast, 
some of which he distinguishes as emporia ; but 
whether that name was given to them on account of 
their being staples of trade to the natives, in their 
traffic carried on from one district of India to an¬ 
other, or whether they were ports to which vessels 
from the Arabian gulf resorted directly, is not spe¬ 
cified. The latter I should think to be the idea 
which Ptolemy means to convey ; but those regions 
of India were so remote, and, from the timid and 
slow course of ancient navigation, w'ere probably so 
little frequented, that his information concerning 
them is extremely defective, and his descriptions 
more obscure, more inaccurate, and less conform¬ 
able to the real state of the country, than in any 
part of his geography. That peninsula to which he 
gives the name of the Golden Chersonesus, he de¬ 
lineates as if it stretched directly from north to 
south, and fixes the latitude of Sabana Emporium, 
its southern extremity, three degrees beyond the 
line. To the east of this peninsula he places what 
he calls the Great bay, and in the most remote part 
of it the station of Catigara, the utmost boundary 
of navigation in ancient times, to which he assigns 

r Strabo, lib. xv. 1010. B. Arrian, Hist. India:, c. 3, 4. Diod. Sicul. 
lib. ii. 148. Plin. Nat. Ilist. lib. vi. c. 21. See Note XXXI. 

s Ptolem. Geogr. lib. vii. c. 1. D’Anville, Antiq. de l’Inde, 127, <t'c. 






SECT II. 


1103 


CONCERNING 

no less than eight degrees and a half of southern 
latitude. Beyond this he declares the earth to be 
altogether unknown, and asserts that the land turns 
thence to the westward, and stretches in that direc ¬ 
tion until it joins the promontory of Prassum in 
Ethiopia, which, according to his idea, terminated 
the continent of Africa to the south. 1 In conse¬ 
quence of this error, no less unaccountable than 
enormous, he must have believed the Erythraean 
sea, in its whole extent from the coast of Africa to 
that of Cambodia, to be a vast basin, without any 
communication with the ocean. u 

Out of the confusion of those wild ideas, in which 
the accounts of ignorant or fabulous travellers have 
involved the geography of Ptolemy, M. D’Anville 
has attempted to bring order; and, with much in¬ 
genuity, he has formed opinions with respect to 
some capital positions, which have the appearance 
of being well founded. The peninsula of Malacca 
is, according to him, the Golden Chersonesus of 
Ptolemy ; but instead of the direction which he has 
given it, we know that it bends some degrees to¬ 
wards the east, and that Cape de Romania, its 
southern extremity, is more than a degree to the 
north of the line. The gulf of Siam he considers as 
the Great bay of Ptolemy, but the position on the 
east side of that bay, corresponding to Catigara, is 
actually as many degrees to the north of the equa¬ 
tor, as he supposed it to be south of it. Beyond 
this he mentions an inland city, to which he gives 
the name of Thinae or Sinae Metropolis. The longi¬ 
tude which he assigns to it, is one hundred and 
eighty degrees from his first meridian in the Fortu¬ 
nate Island, and is the utmost point towards the 
east to which the ancients had advanced by sea. 
Its latitude he calculates to be three degrees south of 
the line. If, with M. D’Anville, we conclude the 
situation of Sin-hoa, in the western part of the king¬ 
dom of Cochin-China, to be the same with Sinae 
Metropolis, Ptolemy has erred in fixing its position 
no less than fifty degrees of longitude, and twenty 
degrees of latitude/ 

These errors of Ptolemy concerning the remote 
parts of Asia, have been rendered more conspicuous 
by a mistaken opinion of modern times engrafted 
upon them. Sinae, the most distant station men¬ 
tioned in his geography, has such a near resem¬ 
blance in sound to China, the name by which the 
greatest and most civilized empire in the East is 
known to Europeans, that, upon their first acquaint¬ 
ance with it, they hastily concluded them to be the 
same ; and of consequence it was supposed that 
China was known to the ancients, though no point 
seems to be more ascertained, than that they never 
advanced by sea beyond that boundary which I have 
allotted to their navigation. 

Having thus traced the discoveries of India which 
the ancients made by sea, I shall next examine 

t Ptolem. Geogr. lib. vii. c. 3. 5. D’Anville, Ant. de l’lnde, 187. 
u See Note XaXII. 

x Ptolem. Geogr. lib. vii. c. 3. D’Anville, Limites du Monde connu 
des Anciens au-dela du Gange. Mem. de Literat. xxxii. 604, &c. Ant. 
de l’lnde, Supplem. i. 161, &c. See Note XXXIII. 


ANCIENT INDIA. 

what additional knowledge of that country they 
acquired from their progress by land. It appears 
(as I have formerly related) that there was a trade 
carried on early with India through the provinces 
that stretch along its northern frontier. Its various 
productions and manufactures were transported by 
land-carriage into the interior parts of the Persian 
dominions, or were conveyed, by means of the na¬ 
vigable rivers which flow through the Upper Asia, 
to the Caspian sea, and from that to the Euxine. 
While the successors of Seleucus retained the do¬ 
minion of the East, this continued to be the mode 
of supplying their subjects with the commodities of 
India. When the Romans had extended their con¬ 
quests so far that the Euphrates was the eastern 
limit of their empire, they found this trade still es¬ 
tablished ; and as it opened to them a new commu¬ 
nication with the East, by means of which they 
received an additional supply of luxuries for which 
they had acquired the highest relish, it became an 
object of their policy to protect and encourage it. 
As the progress of the caravans or companies of 
merchants, which travelled towards the countries 
whence they received the most valuable manufac¬ 
tures, particularly those of silk, was often interrupt¬ 
ed, and rendered dangerous by the Partliians, who 
had acquired possession of all the provinces which 
extended from the Caspian sea to that part of Scy¬ 
thia or Tartary which borders on China, the Romans 
endeavoured to render this intercourse more secure 
by a negociation with one of the monarchs of that 
great empire. Of this singular transaction there is, 
indeed, no vestige in the Greek or Roman writers ; 
our knowledge of it is derived entirely from the 
Chinese historians, by whom we are informed that 
Antoun, (the emperor Marcus Antoninus,) the king 
of the people of the Western ocean, sent an embassy 
with this view to Oun-ti, who reigned over China 
in the hundred and sixty-sixth year of the Christian 
aera. y What was the success of this attempt is not 
known, nor can we say whether it facilitated such 
an intercourse between these two remote nations 
as contributed towards the supply of their mutual 
wants. The design certainly was not unworthy 
of the enlightened emperor of Rome to whom it is 
ascribed. 

It is evident, however, that in prosecuting this 
trade with China, a considerable part of the exten¬ 
sive countries to the east of the Caspian sea must 
have been traversed ; and though the chief induce¬ 
ment to undertake those distant journeys was gain, 
yet, in the course of ages, there must have mingled 
among the adventurers persons of curiosity and 
abilities, who could turn their attention from com 
mercial objects to those of more general concein. 
From them such information was procured, and sub¬ 
jected to scientific discussion, as enabled Ptolemy 
to give a description of those inland and remote re- 

y Memoire sur les Liaisons et le Commerce des Romains, avec les 
Tartares et les Chinois, par M. de Guignes. Mem. de Literat. xxxii. 
355, &c. 



1104 


SECT II. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


gions of Asia, 2 fully as accurate as that of several 
countries, of which, from their vicinity, he may 
have been supposed to have received more distinct 
accounts. The furthest point towards the east, to 
which his knowledge of this part of Asia extended, 
is Sera Metropolis, which, from various circum¬ 
stances, appears to have been in the same situation 
with Kant-cheou, a city of some note in Chen-si, 
the most westerly province of the Chinese empire. 
This he places in the longitude of one hundred and 
seventy-seven degrees fifteen minutes, near three 
degrees to the west of Sinae Metropolis, which he 
had described as the utmost limit of Asia discover¬ 
ed by sea. Nor was Ptolemy's knowledge of this 
district of Asia confined only to that part of it 
through which the caravans may be supposed to 
have proceeded directly in their route eastward ; he 
had received likewise some general information 
concerning various nations towards the north, which, 
according to the position that he gives them, occu¬ 
pied parts of the great plain of Tartary, extending 
considerably beyond Lassa, the capital of Thibet, 
and the residence of the Dalai Lama. 

The latitudes of several places in this part of 
Asia are fixed by Ptolemy with such uncommon 
precision, that we can hardly doubt of their having 
been ascertained by actual observation. Out of 
many instances of this I shall select three, of places 
situated in very different parts of the country under 
review. The latitude of Nagara, on the river Co¬ 
phenes, (the modern Attock,) is, according to Pto¬ 
lemy, thirty-two degrees and thirty minutes ; which 
coincides precisely with the observation of an east¬ 
ern geographer quoted by M. D’Anville.* The 
latitude of Maracanda, or Samarcand, as fixed by 
him, is thirty-nine degrees fifteen minutes. Ac¬ 
cording to the astronomical tables of Ulug Beg, the 
grandson of Timur, whose royal residence was in 
that city, it is thirty-nine degrees thirty-seven 
minutes. b The latitude of Sera Metropolis, in Pto¬ 
lemy, is thirty-eight degrees fifteen minutes ; that of 
Kant-cheou, as determined by the Jesuit mission¬ 
aries, is thirty-nine degrees. I have enumerated 
these striking examples of the coincidence of his 
calculations with those established by modern ob¬ 
servations, for two reasons : one, because they 
clearly prove that these remote parts of Asia had 
been examined with some considerable degree of 
attention ; the other, because I feel great satisfac¬ 
tion, after having been obliged to mention several 
errors and defects in Ptolemy's geography, in ren¬ 
dering justice to a philosopher, who has contributed 
so much towards the improvement of that science. 
The facts which I have produced afford the strongest 
evidence of the extent of his information, as well 
as the justness of his conclusions concerning coun¬ 
tries, with which, from their remote situation, we 
might have supposed him to be least acquainted. 

Hitherto I have confined my researches concern- 

z Lib. vi. c. 11—18. 

a Ecclaircissements, &c. English Translation, p. 10. 

b Tab. Geogr. ap. Hudson, Geogr. Minores, iii. 145. 


ing the knowledge which the ancients had of India, 
to the continent; I return now to consider the dis¬ 
coveries which they had made of the islands situ¬ 
ated in various parts of the ocean with which it is 
surrounded, and begin, as I proposed, with lapio- 
bane, the greatest and most valuable of them, this 
island lay so directly in the course of navigators 
who ventured beyond Cape Comorin, especially 
when, according to the ancient mode of sailing, 
they seldom ventured far from the coast, that its 
position, one should have thought, must have been 
determined with the utmost precision. There is, 
however, hardly any point in the geography of the 
ancients more undecided and uncertain. Prior to 
the age of Alexander the Great, the name of Tapro- 
bane was unknown in Europe. In consequence of 
the active curiosity with which he explored every 
country that he subdued or visited, some informa¬ 
tion concerning it seems to have been obtained. 
From his time almost every writer on geography has 
mentioned it; but their accounts of it are so vari¬ 
ous, and often so contradictory, that we can scarcely 
believe them to be describing the same island. 
Strabo, the earliest writer now extant, from whom 
we have any particular account of it, affirms that it 
was as large as Britain, and situated at the distance 
of seven days’, according to some reports, and ac¬ 
cording to others, of twenty days’ sailing from the 
southern extremity of the Indian peninsula; from 
which, contrary to what is know n to be its real po¬ 
sition, he describes it as stretching towards the west 
above five hundred stadia. 0 Pomponius Mela, the 
author next in order of time, is uncertain whether 
he should consider Taprobane as an island, or as 
the beginning of another world ; but as no person, 
he says, had ever sailed round it, he seems to in¬ 
cline towards the latter opinion.* 1 Pliny gives a 
more ample description of Taprobane, which, instead 
of bringing any accession of light, involves every 
thing relating to it in additional obscurity. After 
enumerating the various and discordant opinions of 
the Greek writers, he informs us, that ambassadors 
were sent by a king of that island to the emperor 
Claudius, from whom the Romans learned several 
things concerning it which w ere formerly unknow n, 
particularly that there were five hundred towns in 
the island, and that in the centre of it there was a 
lake three hundred and seventy-five miles in cir¬ 
cumference. These ambassadors w r ere astonished 
at the sight of the Great Bear and the Pleiades, 
being constellations which did not appear in their 
sky ; and were still more amazed when they beheld 
their shadows point towards the north, and the sun 
rise on their left hand, and set on their right. They 
affirmed, too, that in their country the moon was 
never seen until the eighth day after the change, 
and continued to be visible only to the sixteenth. 6 
It is surprising to find an author so intelligent as 
Pliny relating all these circumstances without ani- 

c Strabo, lib. ii. 124. B. 180. B. 192. A. lib. xv. 1012. B. 

d Ue Situ Orbis, lib. iii. c. 7. 

e Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 22. 





CONCERNING 

madversion, and particularly that he does not take 
notice, that what the ambassadors reported con¬ 
cerning the appearance of the moon could not take 
place in any region of the earth. 

Ptolemy, though so near to the age of Pliny, seems 
to have been altogether unacquainted with his de¬ 
scription of Taprobane, or with the embassy to the 
emperor Claudius. He places that island opposite 
to Cape Comorin, at no great distance from the con¬ 
tinent, and delineates it as stretching from north to 
south no less than fifteen degrees, two of which he 
supposes to be south of the equator ; and, if his re¬ 
presentation oi its dimensions had been just, it was 
well entitled, from its magnitude, to be compared 
with Britain. f Agathemerus, who wrote after Pto¬ 
lemy, and was well acquainted with his geography, 
considers Taprobane as the largest of all islands, 
and assigns to Britain only the second placed 

From this diversity of the descriptions given by 
ancient w riters, it is not surprising that the moderns 
should have entertained very different sentiments 
with respect to the island in the Indian ocean, 
which was to be considered with the Taprobane of 
the Greeks and Romans. As both Pliny and Pto¬ 
lemy describe it as lying in part to the south of the 
equator, some learned men maintain Sumatra to be 
the island which corresponds to this description. 
But the great distance of Sumatra from the penin¬ 
sula of India does not accord with any account 
which the Greek or Roman writers have given of 
the situation of Taprobane, and we have no evidence 
that the navigation of the ancients ever extended 
so far as Sumatra. The opinion more generally re¬ 
ceived is, that the Taprobane of the ancients is the 
island of Ceylon ; and not only its vicinity to the 
continent of India, but the general form of the 
island, as delineated by Ptolemy, as well as the po¬ 
sition of several places in it, mentioned by him, 
establish this opinion (notwithstanding some extra¬ 
ordinary mistakes, of which I shall afterwards take 
notice) with a great degree of certainty. 

The other islands to the east of Taprobane, men¬ 
tioned by Ptolemy, might be shown (if such a detail 
were necessary) to be the Andaman and Nicobar 
islands in the gulf of Bengal. 

After this long, and, I am afraid, tedious investi¬ 
gation of the progress made by the ancients in ex¬ 
ploring the different parts of India, and after tracing 
them as far as they advanced towards the east, either 
by sea or land, I shall offer some general remarks 
concerning the mode in which their discoveries were 
conducted, and the degree of confidence with which 
we may rely on the accounts of them, which could 
not have been offered with the same advantage until 
this investigation was finished. 

The art of delineating maps, exhibiting either the 
figure of the whole earth, as far as it had been ex¬ 
plored, or that of particular countries, was known 
to the ancients ; and without the use ol them to 

f ptol. lib. vii. c. 4. D' Anville, Ant. de l'Tnde, r>. .142. 
jj Lib. ii. c. 8. apud Hudson. Oeo-r. Minor, vol. u. 

4 B 


ANCIENT INDIA. 1105 

assist the imagination, it was impossible to have 
formed a distinct idea either of the one or the other. 
Some of these maps are mentioned by Herodotus 
and other early Greek writers. But no maps prior 
to those which were formed in order to illustrate the 
geography of Ptolemy, have reached our times, in 
consequence of which it is very difficult to conceive 
what was the relative situation of the different 
places mentioned by the ancient geographers, unless 
when it is precisely ascertained by measurement. 11 
As soon, however, as the mode of marking the situ¬ 
ation of each place, by specifying its longitude and 
latitude, was introduced, and came to be generally 
adopted, every position could be described in com¬ 
pendious and scientific terms. But still the accu¬ 
racy of this new method, and the improvement which 
geography derived from it, depends upon the mode 
in which the ancients estimated the latitude and 
longitude of places. 

Though the ancients proceeded in determining 
the latitude and longitude of places upon the same 
principles with the moderns, yet it was by means of 
instruments very inferior in their construction to 
those now used, and without the same minute atten¬ 
tion to every circumstance that may affect the accu¬ 
racy of an observation, an attention of which long 
experience only can demonstrate the necessity. In 
order to ascertain the latitude of any place, the an¬ 
cients observed the meridian altitude of the sun, 
either by means of the shadow of a perpendicular 
gnomon, or by means of an astrolabe, from w hich it 
was easy to compute how many degrees and minutes 
the place of observation was distant from the equa¬ 
tor. When neither of these methods could be em¬ 
ployed, they inferred the latitude of any place from 
the best accounts which they could procure of the 
length of its longest day. 

With respect to determining the longitude of any 
place, they were much more at a loss, as there was 
only one set of celestial phenomena to w hich they 
could have recourse. These were the eclipses of 
the moon (for those of the sun were not then so well 
understood as to be subservient to the purposes of 
geography): the difference between the time at 
which an eclipse was observed to begin or to end at 
two different places, gave immediately the difference 
between the meridians of those places. But the 
difficulty of making those observations with accu¬ 
racy, and the impossibility of repeating them often, 
rendered them of so little use in geography, that 
the ancients, in determining longitudes, were 
obliged, for the most part, to have recourse to ac¬ 
tual surveys, or to the vague information which was 
to be obtained from the reckonings of sailors, or the 
itineraries of travellers. 

But though the ancients, by means of the opera¬ 
tions w hich I have mentioned, could determine fhe 
position of places with a considerable degree of 
accuracy at land, it is very uncertain whether or 


h See Note XXXIV. 



HOC 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


SECT. II. 


not they had any proper mode of determining this 
at sea. The navigators of antiquity seem rarely to 
have had recourse to astronomical observation. 
They had no instruments suited to a movable and 
unsteady observatory; and though, by their prac¬ 
tice of landing frequently, they might in some 
measure have supplied that defect, yet no ancient 
author, as far as I know, has given an account of 
any astronomical observation made by them during 
the course of their voyages. It seems to be evident 
from Ptolemy, who employs some chapters in show¬ 
ing liow geography may be improved, and its errors 
may be rectified, from the reports of navigators, 1 that 
all their calculations were founded solely upon 
reckoning, and were not the result of observation. 
Even after all the improvements which the moderns 
have made in the science of navigation, this mode 
of computing by reckoning is known to be so loose 
and uncertain, that, from it alone, no conclusion 
can be deduced with any great degree of precision. 
Among the ancients, this inaccuracy must have 
been greatly augmented, as they were accustomed 
in their voyages, instead of steering a direct course 
which might have been more easily measured, to a 
circuitous navigation along the coast; and were 
unacquainted with the compass, or any other in¬ 
strument by which its bearings might have been 
ascertained. We find, accordingly, the position of 
many places which we may suppose to have been de¬ 
termined at sea, fixed with little exactness. When, 
in consequence of an active trade, the ports of any 
country were much frequented, the reckonings of 
different navigators may have served, in some mea¬ 
sure, to correct each other, and may have enabled 
geographers to form their conclusions with a nearer 
approximation to truth. But in remote countries, 
which have neither been the seat of military opera¬ 
tions, nor explored by caravans travelling frequently 
through them, every thing is more vague and unde¬ 
fined, and the resemblance between the ancient de¬ 
scriptions of them, and their actual figure, is often 
so faint that it can hardly be traced. The latitude 
of places, too, as might be expected, was in general 
much more accurately known by the ancients than 
their longitude. The observations by which the 
former was determined are simple, made with ease, 
and are not liable to much error. The other cannot 
be ascertained precisely, without more complex 
operations, and the use of instruments much more 
perfect than any that the ancients seem to have 
possessed. 11 Among the vast number of places, the 
position of which is fixed by Ptolemy, I know not 
if he approaches as near to truth in the longitude 
of any one, as he has done in fixing the latitude 
of the three cities which I formerly mentioned as 
a striking, though not singular, instance of his 
exactness. 

These observations induce me to adhere to an 
opinion which I proposed in another place,’ that the 

i Lib. i. c. 7—14. k See Note XXXV. 

I Hist, of America, p.732. 


Greeks and Romans, in their commercial intercourse 
with India, were seldom led, either by curiosity or 
the love of gain, to visit the more eastern parts of 
it. A variety of particulars occur to confirm this 
opinion. Though Ptolemy bestows the appellation 
of Emporia on several places situated on the coast 
which stretches from the eastern mouth of the Gan¬ 
ges to the extremity of the Golden Chersonesus, it is 
uncertain whether, from his having given them this 
name, we are to consider them as harbours frequent¬ 
ed by ships from Egypt, or merely by vessels of the 
country. Beyond the Golden Chersonesus, it is re¬ 
markable that he mentions one Emporium only," 5 
which plainly indicates the intercourse with this 
region of India to have been very inconsiderable. 
Had voyages from the Arabian gulf to those coun¬ 
tries of India been as frequent as to have en¬ 
titled Ptolemy to specify so minutely the longitude 
and latitude of the great number of places which he 
mentions, he must, in consequence of this, have ac¬ 
quired such information as would have prevented 
several great errors into which he has fallen. Had 
it been usual to double Cape Comorin, and to sail 
up the bay of Bengal to the mouth of the Ganges, 
some of the ancient geographers would not have 
been so uncertain, and others so widely mistaken, 
with respect to the situation and magnitude of the 
island of Ceylon. If the merchants of Alexandria 
had often visited the ports of the Golden Cherson¬ 
esus, and of the Great bay, Ptolemy's descriptions 
of them must have been rendered more correspond¬ 
ent to their real form, nor could he have believed 
several places to lie beyond the line, which are in 
truth some degrees on this side of it. 

But though the navigation of the ancients may 
not have extended to the further India, wc are cer¬ 
tain that various commodities of that country were 
imported into Egypt, and thence were conveyed to 
Rome, and toother parts of the empire. From cir¬ 
cumstances which I have already enumerated, we 
are warranted in concluding, that these were brought 
in vessels of the country to Musiris. and to the other 
ports on the Malabar coast, which were, at that 
period, the staples of trade with Egypt. In a country 
of such extent as India, where the natural produc¬ 
tions are various, and greatly diversified by art and 
industry, an active domestic commerce, both by sea 
and by land, must have early taken place among its 
different provinces. Of this we have some hints in 
ancient authors ; and where the sources of informa¬ 
tion are so few and so scanty, we must rest satisfied 
with hints. Among the different classes, or casts, 
into which the people of India were divided, mer¬ 
chants are mentioned as one ; p from which we may 
conclude trade to have been one of the established 
occupations of men in that country. From the au¬ 
thor of the Circumnavigation of the Erythnean Sea, 
we learn that the inhabitants of the Coromandel 
coast traded in vessels of their own with those of 

m Lib. vii. c. 2. 

n Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi, c. 22, 




SECT. II. 


CONCERNING 

Malabar; that the interior trade of Barygaza was 
considerable; and that there was, at all seasons, a 
number ot country ships to be found in the harbour 
of Musiris." By Strabo we are informed, that the 
most valuable productions of Taprobane were car¬ 
ried to different Emporia of India .p In this way the 
traders from Egypt might be supplied with them, 
and thus could finish their voyages within the year, 
which must have been protracted much longer if 
they had extended as far towards the east as is ge¬ 
nerally supposed. 

From all this it appears to be probable, that Pto¬ 
lemy derived the information concerning the eastern 
parts of India, upon which he founds his calcula¬ 
tions, not so much from any direct and regular in¬ 
tercourse between Egypt and these countries, as 
from the reports of a few adventurers, whom an 
enterprising spirit, or the love of gain, prompted to 
proceed beyond the usual limits of navigation. 

Though, from the age of Ptolemy, the trade with 
India continued to be carried on in its former chan¬ 
nel, and both Rome, the ancient capital of the 
empire, and Constantinople, the new scat of govern¬ 
ment, were supplied with the precious commodities 
of that country by the merchants of Alexandria, 
yet, until the reign of the emperor Justinian, we 
have no new information concerning the intercourse 
with the East by sea, or the progress which was 
made in the discovery of its remote regions. Under 
Justinian, Cosmas, an Egyptian merchant, in the 
course of his traffic, made some voyages to India, 
whence he acquired the surname of Indicopleustes ; 
but afterwards, by a transition not uncommon in 
that superstitious age, he renounced all the concerns 
of this life, and assumed the monastic character. 
In the solitude and leisure of a cell, he composed 
several w orks, one of which, dignified by him with 
the name of Christian Topography , has reached us. 
The main design of it is, to combat the opinion of 
those philosophers who assert the earth to be of a 
spherical figure, and to prove that it is an oblong 
plane, of twelve thousand miles in length from east 
to west, and of six thousand miles in breadth from 
north to south, surrounded by high walls, covered 
by the firmament as with a canopy or vault; that 
the vicissitude of day and night was occasioned by 
a mountain of prodigious height, situated in the ex¬ 
tremities of the north, round which the sun moved ; 
that when it appeared on one side of this mountain, 
the earth was illuminated, when concealed on the 
other side, the earth was left involved in darkness.** 
But amidst those wild reveries, more suited to the 
credulity of his new profession than to the sound 
sense characteristic of that in which he was for¬ 
merly engaged, Cosmas seems to relate what he 
himself had observed in his travels, or what he had 
learned from others, with great simplicity and re¬ 
gard for truth. 

He appears to have been well acquainted with 


ANCIENT INDIA. 1 W7 

the west coast of the Indian peninsula, and names 
several places situated upon it; he describes it as 
the chief seat of the pepper trade, and mentions 
Male, in particular, as one of the most frequented 
ports on that account. r From Male, it is probable 
that this side of the continent has derived its mo¬ 
dern name of Malabar; and the cluster of islands 
contiguous to it, that of the Maldives. From him 
too we learn, that the island of Taprobane, which 
he supposes to lie at an equal distance from the 
Persian gulf on the west, and the country of the 
Sinae on the east, had become, in consequence of 
this commodious situation, a great staple of trade ; 
that into it were imported the silk of the Sinae, and 
the precious spices of the eastern countries, which 
were conveyed thence to all parts of India, to 
Persia, and to the Arabian gulf. To this island, he 
gives the name of Sielediba, 8 nearly the same with 
that of Selendib, or Serendib, by which it is still 
known all over the East. 

To Cosmas we are also indebted for the first in¬ 
formation of a new rival to the Romans in trade 
having appeared in the Indian seas. The Persians, 
after having overturned the empire of the Parthians, 
and re-established the line of their ancient mon- 
archs, seem to have surmounted entirely the aver¬ 
sion of their ancestors to maritime exertion, and 
made early and vigorous efforts in order to acquire 
a share in the lucrative commerce with India. All 
its considerable ports were frequented by traders 
from Persia, who, in return for some productions of 
their own country in request among the Indians, 
received the precious commodities, which they con¬ 
veyed up the Persian gulf, and by means of the 
great rivers Euphrates and Tigris, distributed them 
through every province of their empire. As the 
voyage from Persia to India was much shorter than 
that from Egypt, and attended with less expense 
and danger, the intercourse between the two coun¬ 
tries increased rapidly. A circumstance is men¬ 
tioned by Cosmas which is a striking proof of this. 
In most of the cities of any note in India he found 
Christian churches established, in which the func¬ 
tions of religion w r ere performed by priests ordained 
by the archbishop of Seleucia, the capital of the 
Persian empire, and w ho continued subject to his 
jurisdiction. 1 India appears to have been more 
thoroughly explored at this period than it was in 
the age of Ptolemy, and a greater number of stran¬ 
gers seem to have been settled there. It is remark¬ 
able, however, that according to the account of 
Cosmas, none of these strangers were accustomed 
to visit the eastern regions of Asia, but rested satis¬ 
fied with receiving their silk, their spices, and other 
valuable productions, as they were imported into 
Ceylon, and oonveyed thence to the various marts 
of India. u 

The frequency of open hostilities between the 
emperors of Constantinople and the monarcbs of 


o Perip. Mar. Erytlir. 34. 30. 
q Cosmas, ap. Montfau?on Collect. 

4 B 


p Lib. ii. 124. B. 
Patrum, ii. 113, <Scc. 138. 
O 


r Cosm. lib. ii. p. 1.18. lib. xi. .11*. s Lib. xi. 336. 

t Lib. iii. 178. u Lib, xi. .137. 



1108 


SECT. III. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


Persia, together with the increasing rivalship of 
their subjects in the trade with India, gave rise to 
an event which produced a considerable change in 
the nature of that commerce. As the use of silk, 
both in dress and furniture, became gradually more 
general in the court of the Greek emperors, who 
imitated and surpassed the sovereigns of Asia in 
splendour and magnificence; and as China, in which, 
according to the concurring testimony of Oriental 
writers, the culture of silk was originally known, x 
still continued to be the only country which produced 
that valuable commodity; the Persians, improving 
the advantages which their situation gave them over 
the merchants from the Arabian gulf, supplanted 
them in all the marts of India to which silk was 
brought by sea from the East. Having it likewise 
in their power to molest or to cut off the caravans, 
which, in order to procure a supply for the Greek 
empire, travelled by land to China, through the north¬ 
ern provinces of their kingdom, they entirely engross¬ 
ed that branch of commerce. Constantinople was 
obliged to depend on the rival power for an article 
which luxury viewed and desired as essential to ele¬ 
gance. The Persians, with the usual rapacity of mo¬ 
nopolists, raised the price of silk to such an exorbi¬ 
tant height,? that Justinian, eager notonly to obtain a 
full and certain supply of a commodity which was 
become of indispensable use, but solicitous to de¬ 
liver the commerce of his subjects from the exac¬ 
tions of his enemies, endeavoured, by means of his 
ally, the Christian monarch of Abyssinia, to wrest 
some portion of the silk trade from the Persians. 

In this attempt he failed ; but when 

A. D. 55. 1 

lie least expected it, he, by an unfore¬ 
seen event, attained, in some measure, the object 
which he had in view. Two Persian monkshaving 
been employed as missionaries in some of the Chris¬ 
tian churches, which were established (as we are 
informed by Cosmas) in different parts of India, 
had penetrated into the country of the Seres or 
China. There they observed the labours of the 
silk-worm, and became acquainted w ith all the arts 
of man in working up its productions into such a 
variety of elegant fabrics. The prospect of gain, 
or perhaps an indignant zeal, excited by seeing this 
lucrative branch of commerce engrossed by unbe¬ 
lieving nations, prompted them to repair to Con¬ 
stantinople. There they explained to the emperor 
the origin of silk, as well as the various modes of 
preparing and manufacturing it, mysteries hitherto 
unknown, or very imperfectly understood, in Europe; 
and encouraged by his liberal promises, they under¬ 
took to bring to the capital a sufficient number of 
those wonderful insects, to whose labours man is so 
much indebted. This they accomplished by con¬ 
veying the eggs of the silk-worm in a hollow cane. 
They were hatched by the heat of a dunghill, fed 
with the leaves of a wild mulberry-tree, and they 
multiplied and worked in the same manner as in 


those climates where they first became objects oi 
human attention and care. 2 Vast numbers of these 
insects were soon reared in different parts of G reece, 
particularly in the Peloponnesus. Sicily afterwards 
undertook to breed silk-worms with equal success, 
and was imitated from time to time in several towns 
of Italy. In all these places extensive manufactures 
were established and carried on with silk of domestic 
production. The demand for silk from the East 
diminished of course, the subjects of the Greek 
emperors w r ere no longer obliged to have recourse 
to the Persians for a supply of it, and a consider¬ 
able change took place in the nature of the com¬ 
mercial intercourse between Europe and India.® 


SECTION III. 

Intercourse with India, from the conquest of Egypt 
by the Mahomedans , to the discovery of the passage 
by the Cape of Good Hope , and the establishment 
of the Portuguese dominion in the East. 

About fourscore years after the death of Justi¬ 
nian, an event happened, which occasioned a revo¬ 
lution still more considerable in the intercourse of 
Europe with the East. Mahomet, by publishing a 
new religion, seems to have animated his country¬ 
men with a new spirit, and to have called forth la¬ 
tent passions and talents into exertion. The greatest 
part of the Arabians, satisfied from the earliest times 
with national independence and personal liberty, 
tended their camels, or reared their palm-trees, within 
the precincts of their own peninsula, and had little 
intercourse with the rest of mankind, unless when 
they sallied out to plunder a caravan, or to rob a 
traveller. In some districts, however, they had be¬ 
gun to add the labours of agriculture, and the 
business of commerce, to the occupations of pastoral 
life. b These different orders of men, when prompted 
by the enthusiastic ardour with which the exhorta¬ 
tions and example of Mahomet inspired them, 
displayed at once all the zeal of missionaries, and 
the ambition of conquerors. They spread the doc¬ 
trine of their prophet, and extended the dominion 
of his successors, from the shores of the Atlantic to 
the frontier of China, w ith a rapidity of success to 
which there is nothing similar in the history of 
mankind. Egypt was one of their 
earliest conquests ; and as they settled 
in that inviting country, and kept possession of it, 
the Greeks were excluded from all intercourse with 
Alexandria, to which they had long resorted as the 
chief mart of Indian goods. Nor was this the only 
effect which the progress of the Mahomedan arms 
had upon the commerce of Europe with India. 
Prior to their invasion of Egypt, the Arabians had 
subdued the great kingdom of Persia, and added it 


z Procop de Bello Gothic, lib. iv. c. 17 . 
b Sale's Koran, Prelim. Disc. p. 32, 33. 


s See Note XXXVI. 


x Herbelot, Biblioth. Orient, art. Harir. 
y Prooop. Hist. Arcan. c. 25. 





SECT. III. 


1109 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


to tlie empire of their caliphs. They found their 
new subjects engaged in prosecuting that extensive 
trade with India, and the country to the east of it, 
the commencement and progress of which in Persia 
I have already mentioned ; and they were so sen¬ 
sible ot the great advantages derived from it, that 
they became desirous to partake of them. As the 
active powers of the human mind, when roused to 
vigorous exertions in one line, are most capable 
ot operating with force in other directions; the 
Arabians, from impetuous warriors, soon became 
enterprising merchants. They continued to carry 
on the trade with India in its former channel from 
the Persian gulf, but it was with that ardour which 
characterizes all the early efforts of Mahomet’s fol¬ 
lowers. In a short time they advanced far beyond 
the boundaries of ancient navigation, and brought 
many of the most precious commodities of the East 
directly from the countries which produced them. 
In order to engross all the profit arising from the 
sale of them, the caliph Omar, b a few years after 
the conquest of Persia, founded the city of Bassora, 
on the western banks of the great stream formed by 
the junction of the Euphrates and Tigris, with a 
view of securing the command of these two rivers, 
by which goods imported from India were conveyed 
into all parts of Asia. With such discernment was 
the situation chosen, that Bassora soon became a 
place of trade hardly inferior to Alexandria. 

This general information with respect to the trade 
of the Arabians with India, which is all that can be 
derived from the historians of that period, is con¬ 
firmed and illustrated by the Relation of a Voyage 
from the Persian Gulf towards the East, written by 
an Arabian merchant in the year of the Christian 
aera eight hundred and fifty-one, about two centu¬ 
ries after Persia was subjected to the caliphs, and 
explained by the commentary of another Arabian, 
who had likewise visited the eastern parts of Asia. 0 
This curious Relation, which enables us to fill up a 
chasm in the history of mercantile communication 
with India, furnishes materials for describing more 
in detail the extent of the Arabian discoveries in 
the East, and the manner in which they made them. 

Though some have imagined that the wonderful 
property of the magnet, by which it communicates 
such virtue to a needle or slender rod of iron, as 
to make it point towards the poles of the earth, 
was known in the East long before it was observed 
in Europe, it is manifest, both from the Relation of 
the Mahomedan merchant, and from much concur¬ 
ring evidence, that not only the Arabians, but the 
Chinese, were destitute of this faithful guide, and that 
their mode of navigation was not more adventurous 
than that of the Greeks and Romans. d They steered 
servilely along the coast, seldom stretching out to 
sea so far as to lose sight of land ; and as they 
shaped their course in this timid manner, their 

b TTerbel. Biblioth. Orient, artic. Basrah. Abul. Pharas. Hist. Dynast. 

P c\see Note XXXVH. d Relation, p. 2. 8, Arc. 

c Kenaudot. Inquiry into the time when the Mahomedans first entered 
China, p. 143. 


mode of reckoning was defective, and liable to the 
same errors which 1 observed in that of the Greeks 
and Romans. e 

Notwithstanding these disadvantages, the progress 
of the Arabians towards the east extended far beyond 
the gulf of Siam, the boundary of European naviga¬ 
tion. They became acquainted with Sumatra, and 
the other islands of the great Indian Archipelago, 
and advanced as far as the city of Canton in China. 
Nor are these discoveries to be considered as the 
effect of the enterprising curiosity of individuals ; 
they were owing to a regular commerce carried on 
from the Persian gulf with China, and all the inter¬ 
mediate countries. Many Mahomedans, imitating 
the example of the Persians described by Cosmas 
Indicopleustes, settled in India and the countries 
beyond it. They were so numerous in the city of 
Canton, that the emperor (as the Arabian authors 
relate) permitted them to have a Cadi or judge of 
their own sect, who decided controversies among 
his countrymen by their own laws, and presided in 
all the functions of religion/ In other places pro¬ 
selytes were gained to the Mahomedan faith, and 
the Arabian language was understood and spoken 
in almost every sea-port of any note. Ships from 
China and different places of India traded in the 
Persian gulf/ and by the frequency of mutual in¬ 
tercourse, all the nations of the East became better 
acquainted with each other/ 

A striking proof of this is the new information 
concerning China and India we receive from the two 
authors I have mentioned. They point out the 
situation of Canton, now so well known to Euro¬ 
peans, with a considerable degree of exactness. 
They take notice of the general use of silk among 
the Chinese. They are the first who mention their 
celebrated manufacture of porcelain, which, on ac¬ 
count of its delicacy and transparency, they compare 
to glass/ They describe the tea-tree, and the mode 
of using its leaves; and from the great revenue 
which was levied (as they inform us) from the con¬ 
sumption of it, tea seems to have been as universally 
the favourite beverage of the Chinese in the ninth 
century, as it is at present/ 

Even with respect to those parts of India which 
the Greeks and Romans were accustomed to visit, 
the Arabians had acquired more perfect informa¬ 
tion. They mention a great empire established on 
the Malabar coast, governed by monarchs whose 
authority was paramount to that of every power in 
India. These monarchs were distinguished by the 
appellation of Balchara , a name yet known in 
India, 1 and it is probable that the Samorin,. or em¬ 
peror of Calicut, so frequently mentioned in the 
accounts of the first voyages of the Portuguese to 
India, possessed some portion of their dominions. 
They celebrate the extraordinary progress which the 
Indians had made in astronomical knowledge; a 

f Relation, 7. Remarks, p. 19. Inquiry, p. 171, &c. 

K See NoteXXXVlIl. h Relation, p. 8. 

i See Note XXXIX. k Relation, p. 21. 25. 

1 Ilerbelot, artic. Hend k Belhar. 



1110 


SECT. III. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


circumstance which seems to have been little known 
to the Greeks and Romans, and assert that in this 
branch of science they were far superior to the most 
enlightened nations of the East, on which account 
their sovereign was denominated the king of wis¬ 
dom." 1 Other peculiarities in the political institu¬ 
tions, the mode of judicial proceedings, the pastimes 
and the superstitions of the Indians, particularly 
the excruciating mortifications and penances of the 
faquirs, might be produced as proofs of the superior 
knowledge which the Arabians had acquired of the 
manners of that people. 

The same commercial spirit, or religious zeal, 
which prompted the Mahomedans of Persia to visit 
the remotest regions of the East, animated the Chris¬ 
tians of that kingdom. The Nestorian churches 
planted in Persia, under the protection first of its 
native sovereigns, and afterwards of its conquerors 
the caliphs, were numerous, and governed by 
respectable ecclesiastics. They had early sent mis¬ 
sionaries into India, and established churches in 
different parts of it, particularly, as I have formerly 
related, in the island of Ceylon. When the Ara¬ 
bians extended their navigation as far as China, a 
more ample field, both for their commerce and their 
zeal, opened to their view. If we may rely on the 
concurring evidence of Christian authors, in the East 
as well as in the West, confirmed by the testimony 
of the two Mahomedan travellers, their pious labours 
were attended with such success, that in the ninth 
and tenth centuries the number of Christians in 
India and China was very considerable. 11 As the 
churches in both these countries received all their 
ecclesiastics from Persia, where they were ordained 
by the Cat/iolicos, or Nestorian Primate, whose 
supremacy they acknowledged, this became a regu¬ 
lar channel of intercourse and intelligence ; and to 
the combined effect of all these circumstances, we 
are indebted for the information we receive from 
the two Arabian writers, 0 concerning those regions 
of Asia which the Greeks and Romans never visited* 

But while both the Mahomedan and Christian 
subjects of the caliphs continued to extend their 
knowledge of the East, the people of Europe found 
themselves excluded almost entirely from any inter¬ 
course with it. To them the great port of Alexan¬ 
dria w as now shut, and the new lords of the Persian 
gulf, satisfied with supplying the demand for Indian 
commodities in their own extensive dominions, neg¬ 
lected to convey them, by any of the usual channels, 
to the trading towns on the Mediterranean. The 
opulent inhabitants of Constantinople, and other 
great cities of Europe, bore this deprivation of 
luxuries, to which they had been long accustomed, 
with such impatience, that all the activity of com¬ 
merce was exerted, in order to find a remedy for an 
evil which they deemed intolerable. The difficulties 
which were to be surmounted in order to accomplish 
this, afford the most striking proof of the high esti¬ 
mation in which the commodities of the East were 


held at that time. The silk of China was purchased 
in Chensi, the westernmost province of that empire, 
and conveyed thence by a caravan, in a march of 
eighty or a hundred days, to the banks of the Oxus, 
where it was embarked, and carried down the stream 
of that river to the Caspian. After a dangerous 
voyage across that sea, and ascending the river 
Cyrus as far as it is navigable, it was conducted by 
a short land-carriage of five days to the river Pha- 
sis,P which falls into the Euxine or Black sea. 
Thence, by an easy and well known course, it was 
transported to Constantinople. The conveyance of 
commodities from that region of the East, now know n 
by the name of Indostan, was somewhat less tedi¬ 
ous and operose. They were carried from the banks 
of the Indus by a route early frequented, and which 
I have already described, either to the river Oxus, 
or directly to the Caspian, from which they held the 
same course to Constantinople. 

It is obvious, that only commodities of small bulk, 
and of considerable value, could bear the expense 
of such a mode of conveyance; and in regulating 
the price of those commodities, not only the expense, 
but the risk and danger of conveying them, were to 
be taken into account. In their journey across the 
vast plain extending from Samarcand to the frontier 
of China, caravans were exposed to the assaults 
and depredations of the Tartars, the Huns, the 
Turks, and other roving tribes which infest the 
north-east of Asia, and which have always con¬ 
sidered the merchant and traveller as their lawful 
prey ; nor were they exempt from insult and pillage 
in their journey from the Cyrus to the Phasis, 
through the kingdom of Colchis, a country noted, 
both in ancient and in modern times, for the thievish 
disposition of its inhabitants. Even under all these 
disadvantages, the trade with the East was carried 
on with ardour. Constantinople became a consider¬ 
able mart of Indian and Chinese commodities, and 
the wealth which flowed into it in consequence of 
this, not only added to the splendour of that great 
city, but seems to have retarded, for some time, the 
decline of the empire of which it was the capital. 

As far as we may venture to conjecture, from the 
imperfect information of contemporary historians, it 
was chiefly by the mode of conveyance which I 
have described, perilous and operose as it was, that 
Europe was supplied with the commodities of the 
East, during more than two centuries. Throughout 
that period the Christians and Mahomedans were 
engaged in almost uninterrupted hostilities, prose¬ 
cuted with all the animosity which rivalship for 
power, heightened by religious zeal, naturally ex¬ 
cites. Under circumstances which occasioned such 
alienation, commercial intercourse could hardly 
subsist, and the merchants of Christendom either 
did not resort at all to Alexandria and the ports of 
Syria, the ancient staples for the commodities of the 
East, after they w ere in possession of the Mahome¬ 
dans ; or if the love of gain, surmounting their 

o Relation, p. 39. p Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 17 . 


m Relation, p. 37- 38. 


n See Note XL. 





SECT. III. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


abboirence ot the infidels, prompted them to visit 
the marts which they had long frequented, it was 
with much caution and distrust. 

While the difliculties of procuring the productions 
of the East were thus augmented, the people of 
Europe became more desirous of obtaining them. 
About this time some cities of Italy, particularly 
Amalphi and Venice, having acquired a greater 
degiee ot security or independence than they for¬ 
merly possessed, began to cultivate the arts of 
domestic industry with an ardour and ingenuity 
uncommon in the middle ages. The effect of these 
exertions was such an increase of wealth, as created 
new wants and desires, and formed a taste for 
elegance and luxury, which induced them to visit 
foreign countries in order to gratify it. Among men 
in this stage of their advancement, the productions 
of India have always been held in high estimation, 
and from this period they were imported into Italy 
in larger quantities, and came into more general 
use. Several circumstances which indicate this 
revival of a commercial spirit, are collected by the 
industrious Muratori, and from the close of the 
seventh century, an attentive observer may discern 
faint traces of its progress. q 

Even in enlightened ages, when the transactions 
of nations are observed and recorded with the great¬ 
est care, and the store of historical materials seems 
to be abundantly ample, so little attention has been 
paid to the operations of commerce, that every 
attempt towards a regular deduction of them has 
been found an undertaking of the utmost difficulty. 
The aera, however, to which I have conducted this 
Disquisition, is one of the periods in the annals of 
mankind concerning which history furnishes most 
scanty information. As it was chiefly in the Greek 
empire, and in some cities of Italy, that any efforts 
were made to procure the commodities of India, 
and the other regions of the East, it is only from the 
historians of those countries we can expect to find 
any account of that trade. But from the age of 
Mahomet, until the time when the Comneni ascend¬ 
ed the throne of Constantinople, a period of more 
than four centuries and a half, the Byzantine his¬ 
tory is contained in meagre chronicles, the com¬ 
pilers of which seldom extended their views beyond 
the intrigues in the palace, the factions in the 
theatre, or the disputes of theologians. To them 
the monkish annalists of the different states and 
cities of Italy, during the same period, are, if pos¬ 
sible, far inferior in merit; and in the early accounts 
of those cities which have been most celebrated for 
their commercial spirit, we search with little suc¬ 
cess for the origin or nature of that trade by which 
they first rose to eminence/ It is manifest, however, 
from the slightest attention to the events which 
happened in the seventh and eighth centuries, that 
the Italian states, while their coasts were con¬ 
tinually infested by the Mahomedans, who had 

q Antiquit. Ital. medij 7£vi. ii. 400. 408. 410. 883. 885. 894. Rer. Ital. 
Script, ii. 487. llistoire du Commerce de la Russie, par M. Scherer, 
tom. i. p. 11, &c. 


made some settlements there, and had subjected 
Sicily almost entirely to their dominion, could not 
trade with much confidence and security in Egypt 
and Syria. With what implacable hatred Christians 
viewed Mahomedans, as the disciples of an impostor, 
is well known ; and as all the nations which pro¬ 
fessed the Christian faith, both in the East and 
West, had mingled the worship of angels and saints 
with that of the Supreme Being, and had adorned 
their churches with pictures and statues; the true 
Moslems considered themselves as the only assertors 
of the unity of God, and beheld Christians of every 
denomination with abhorrence, as idolaters. Much 
time was requisite to soften this mutual animosity, 
so far as to render intercourse in any degree cordial. 

Meanwhile a taste for the luxuries of the East 
continued not only to spread in Italy, but, from 
imitation of the Italians, or from some improvement 
in their own situation, the people of Marseilles and 
other towns of France on the Mediterranean, became 
equally fond of them. But the profits exacted by 
the merchants of Amalphi or Venice, from whom 
they received those precious commodities, were so 
exorbitant as prompted them to make some effort to 
supply their own demands. With this view, they 
not only opened a trade with Constantinople, but 
ventured at times to visit the ports of Egypt and 
Syria.* This eagerness of the Europeans, on the 
one hand, to obtain the productions of India, and 
on the other hand, considerable advantages which 
both the caliphs and their subjects derived from 
the sale of them, induced both so far to conceal 
their reciprocal antipathy, as to carry on a traffic 
manifestly for their common benefit. How far this 
traffic extended, and in what mode it was conducted 
by these new adventurers, the scanty information 
which can be gathered from contemporary writers 
does not enable me to trace with accuracy. It is 
probable, however, that this communication would 
have produced insensibly its usual effect, of fami¬ 
liarizing and reconciling men of hostile principles 
and discordant manners to one another, and a re¬ 
gular commerce might have been established gra¬ 
dually between Christians and Mahomedans, upon 
such equal terms, that the nations of Europe might 
have received all the luxuries of the East by the 
same channels in which they were formerly convey¬ 
ed to them, first by the Tyrians, then by the Greeks 
of Alexandria, next by the Romans, and at last by 
the subjects of the Constantinopolitan empire. 

But whatever might have been the influence of 
this growing correspondence, it was prevented from 
operating with full effect by the Crusades, or expe¬ 
ditions for the recovery of the Holy Land, which, 
during two centuries, occupied the professors of 
the two rival religions, and contributed to alienate 
them more than ever from each other. I have, in 
another work, 1 contemplated mankind while under 
the dominion of this phrensv, the most singular, 

r See Note XLI. 

s Mem. de Literat. tom. xxxvii. p. 467, &c. 483. 

t Hist, of Charles V. p. 316. 



SECT. III. 


111*2 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


perhaps, and the longest continued, of any that oc¬ 
curs in the history of our species; and I pointed 
out such effects of it upon government, upon pro¬ 
perty, upon manners and taste, as were suited to 
what were then the objects of my inquiry. At pre¬ 
sent my attention is confined to observe the commer¬ 
cial consequences of the Crusades, and how far they 
contributed to retard or to promote the conveyance 
of Indian commodities into Europe. 

To fix an idea of peculiar sanctity to that country 
which the Author of our religion selected as the 
place of his residence while on earth, and in which 
he accomplished the redemption of mankind, is a 
sentiment so natural to the human mind, that, from 
the first establishment of Christianity, the visiting 
of the holy places in Judea was considered as an 
exercise of piety, tending powerfully to awaken and 
to cherish a spirit of devotion. Through succeed¬ 
ing ages, the practice continued and increased in 
every part of Christendom. When Jerusalem was 
subjected to the Mahomedan empire, and danger 
was added to the fatigue and expense of a distant 
pilgrimage, the undertaking was viewed as still 
more meritorious. It was sometimes enjoined as a 
penance to be performed by heinous transgressors. 
It was more frequently a duty undertaken with vo¬ 
luntary zeal, and in both cases it was deemed an 
expiation for all past offences. From various causes, 
which I have elsewhere enumerated, 11 these pious 
visits to the Holy Land multiplied amazingly dur¬ 
ing the tenth and eleventh centuries. Not only in¬ 
dividuals in the lower and middle ranks of life, but 
persons of superior condition, attended by large 
retinues, and numerous caravans of opulent pil¬ 
grims, resorted to Jerusalem. 

In all their operations, however, men have a won¬ 
derful dexterity in mingling some attention to in¬ 
terest with those functions which seem to be most 
purely spiritual. The Mahomedan caravans,which, 
in obedience to the injunctions of their religion, 
visit the holy temple of Mecca, are not composed, 
as T shall hereafter explain more fully, of devout 
pilgrims only, but of merchants, who, both in going 
and returning, are provided with such an assortment 
of goods, that they carry on a considerable traffic. x 
Even the faquirs of India, whose wild enthusiasm 
seems to elevate them above all solicitude about the 
concerns of this world, have rendered their frequent 
pilgrimages subservient to their interest, by trading 
in every country through which they travels In 
like manner it was not by devotion alone that such 
numerous bands of Christian pilgrims were induced 
to visit Jerusalem. To many of them commerce 
was the chief motive of undertaking that distant 
voyage ; and, by exchanging the productions of 
Europe for the more valuable commodities of Asia, 
particularly those of India, which at that time were 
diffused through every part of the caliph’s domi¬ 
nions, they enriched themselves, and furnished 

u Hist, of Charles V. p. 380, Note xiii. 

x Viagi di Ramusio, vol. i. p. 151, 152. 

v See Note XLII. 


their countrymen with such an additional supply 
of eastern luxuries, as augmented their relish for 
them. 7 

But how faint soever the lines may be, which, 
prior to the Crusades, mark the influence of the fre¬ 
quent pilgrimages to the East upon commerce, they 
became so conspicuous after the commencement of 
these expeditions, as to meet the eye of every ob¬ 
server. Various circumstances concurred towards 
this, from an enumeration of which it will appear, 
that by attending to the progress and effects of the 
Crusades, considerable light is thrown upon the 
subject of my inquiries. Great armies, conducted 
by the most illustrious princes and nobles of Europe, 
and composed of men of the most enterprising 
spirit in all the kingdoms of it, marched towards 
Palestine, through countries far advanced beyond 
those which they left, in every species of improve¬ 
ment. They beheld the dawn of prosperity in the 
republics of Italy, which had begun to vie with each 
other in the arts of industry, and in their efforts to 
engross the lucrative commerce with the East. 
They next admired the more advanced state of 
opulence and splendour in Constantinople, rais¬ 
ed to a pre-eminence above all the cities then known 
by its extensive trade, particularly that which it 
carried on with India and the countries beyond it. 
They afterwards served in those provinces of Asia 
through which the commodities of the East were 
usually conveyed, and became masters of several 
cities which had been staples of that trade. They 
established the kingdom of Jerusalem, which sub¬ 
sisted near two hundred years. They took posses¬ 
sion of the throne of the Greek empire, and governed 
it above half a century. Amidst such a variety of 
events and operations, the ideas of the fierce war¬ 
riors of Europe gradually opened and improved ; 
they became acquainted with the policy and arts of 
the people whom they subdued ; they observed the 
sources of their wealth, and availed themselves of 
all this knowledge. Antioch and Tyre, when con¬ 
quered by the crusaders, were flourishing cities, in¬ 
habited by opulent merchants, who supplied all the 
nations trading in the Mediterranean with the pro¬ 
ductions of the East,** and as far as can be gathered 
from incidental occurrences, mentioned by the his¬ 
torians of the holy war, who, being mostly priests 
and monks, had their attention directed to objects 
very different from those relating to commerce, there 
is reason to believe, that both in Constantinople, 
while subject to the Franks, and in the ports of 
Syria acquired by the Christians, the long establish¬ 
ed trade with the East continued to be protected 
and encouraged. 

But though commerce may have been only a se¬ 
condary object with the martial leaders of the Cru¬ 
sades, engaged in perpetual hostilities with the 
Turks on one hand, and with the soldans of Egypt 
on the other, it was the primary object with the as- 


\ r" • - ‘ xvn - c -* 4 - P-£53-ap. Gesta Uei per Francos, 

vol.? p. 247 *' XU1 * C ‘ 5 ' Alb ’ AquenSl Hist - Hieros. ap Gesta Dei 







SECT. III. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


1113 


sociates, in conjunction with whom they carried on 
their operations. Numerous as the armies were 
which assumed the cross, and enterprising as the 
fanatical zeal was with which they were animated, 
they could not have accomplished their purpose, or 
even have reached the seat of their warfare, without 
securing the assistance of the Italian states. None 
of the other European powers could either furnish 
a sufficient number of transports to convey the ar¬ 
mies of the crusaders to the coast of Dalmatia, 
whence they marched to Constantinople, the place 
of general rendezvous ; or were able to supply them 
with military stores and provisions in such abund¬ 
ance as to enable them to invade a distant country. 
In all the successive expeditions, the fleets of the 
Genoese, of the Pisans, or of the Venetians, kept 
on the coast as the armies advanced by land, and 
supplying them from time to time with whatever 
was wanting, engrossed all the profits of a branch 
of commerce, which, in every age, has been ex¬ 
tremely lucrative. It was with all the interested 
attention of merchants, that the Italians afforded 
their aid. On the reduction of any place in which 
they found it for their interest to settle, they ob¬ 
tained from the crusaders valuable immunities of 
different kinds ; freedom of trade ; an abatement 
of the usual duties paid for what was imported and 
exported, or a total exemption from them ; the pro¬ 
perty of entire suburbs in some cities, and of exten¬ 
sive streets in others, and a privilege granted to 
every person who resided within their precincts, or 
who traded under their protection, of being„tried by 
their ow n laws, and by judges of their own appoint¬ 
ment^ In consequence of so many advantages, we 
can trace, during the progress of the Crusades, a 
rapid increase of wealth and of power in all the 
commercial states of Italy. Every port open to 
trade was frequented by their merchants, who, hav¬ 
ing now engrossed entirely the commerce of the 
East, strove with such active emulation to find 
new markets for the commodities w hich it furnished, 
that they extended a taste for them to many parts 
of Europe, in which they had hitherto been little 
known. 

Tw'o events happened, prior to the termination of 
the holy war, which, by acquiring to the Venetians 
and Genoese the possession of several provinces in 
the Greek empire, enabled them to supply Europe 
more abundantly with all the productions of the 
East. The first was the conquest of Constantinople 
in the year one thousand two hundred and four, by 
the Venetians, and the leaders of the fourth Cru¬ 
sade. An account of the political interests and in¬ 
trigues which formed this alliance, and turned the 
hallowed arms destined to deliver the holy city 
from the dominion of infidels, against a Christian 
monarch, is foreign from the design of this Disqui¬ 
sition. Constantinople was taken by storm, and 
plundered by the confederates. An earl of Flan¬ 


ders was placed on the imperial throne. The do¬ 
minions which still remained subject to the succes¬ 
sors of Constantine were divided into four parts, 
one of which being allotted to the new emperor, for 
supporting the dignity and expense of government, 
an equal partition of the other three was made be¬ 
tween the Venetians and the chiefs of the Crusade. 
The former, who, both in concerting and in con¬ 
ducting this enterprise, kept their eyes steadily 
fixed on what might be most for the emolument of 
their commerce, secured the territories of greatest 
value to a trading people. They obtained some 
part of the Peloponnesus, at that time the seat of 
flourishing manufactures, particularly of silk. They 
became masters of several of the largest and best 
cultivated islands in the Archipelago, and estab¬ 
lished a chain of settlements, partly military and 
partly commercial, extending from the Adriatic to 
the Bosphorus. 0 Many Venetians settled in Con¬ 
stantinople, and without obstruction from their war¬ 
like associates, little attentive to the arts of industry, 
they engrossed the various branches of trade which 
had so long enriched that capital. Two of these 
particularly attracted their attention ; the silk trade, 
and that with India. From the reign of Justinian, 
it was mostly in Greece, and some of the adjacent 
islands, that silk-worms, which he first introduced 
into Europe, were reared. The product of their 
labours was manufactured into stuffs of various 
kinds, in many cities of the empire. But it was in 
Constantinople, the seat of opulence and luxury, 
that the demand for a commodity of such high 
price was greatest, and there, of consequence, the 
commerce of silk naturally centred. In assorting 
cargoes for the several ports in which they traded, 
the Venetians had for some time found silk to be an 
essential article, as it continued to grow more and 
more into request in every part of Europe. By the 
residence of so many of their citizens in Constan¬ 
tinople, and by the immunities granted to them, 
they not only procured silk in such abundance, and 
on such terms, as enabled them to carry on trade 
more extensively, and with greater profit than for¬ 
merly, but they became so thoroughly acquainted 
with every branch of the silk manufacture, as in¬ 
duced them to attempt the establishment of it in 
their own dominions. The measures taken for this 
purpose by individuals, as well as the regulations 
framed by the state, w ere concerted with so much 
prudence, and executed with such success, that in 
a short time the silk fabrics of Venice vied w ith 
those of Greece and Sicily, and contributed both to 
enrich the republic, and to enlarge the sphere of 
its commerce. At the same time the Venetians 
availed themselves of the influence which they had 
acquired in Constantinople, in order to improve 
their Indian trade. The capital of the Greek em¬ 
pire, besides the means of being supplied with the 
productions of the East, which it enjoyed in com- 


b Hist, of Charles V. p. 317. 
c Danduli Chronic, ap. Murat. Script. 


Rer. Ital. vol. xii. p. 328. 


Mar. 


Sanuto Vite de Duchi di Venez. Murat, vol. xxii. p. 532. 



1114 


SECT. III. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


mon with the other commercial cities of Europe, 
received a considerable portion of them by a chan¬ 
nel peculiar to itself. Some of the most valuable 
commodities of India and China were conveyed 
over-land, by routes which I have described, to the 
Black sea, and thence by a short navigation to 
Constantinople. To this market, the best stored of 
any except Alexandria, the Venetians had now an 
easy access, and the goods which they purchased 
there made an addition of great consequence to 
what they were accustomed to acquire in the ports 
of Egypt and Syria. Thus, while the Latin em¬ 
pire in Constantinople subsisted, the Venetians 
possessed such advantages over all their rivals, that 
their commerce extended greatly, and it was chiefly 
from them every part of Europe received the com¬ 
modities of the East. 

The other event which I had in view, was the 
subversion of the dominion of the Latins in Con¬ 
stantinople, and the re-establishment of the imperial 
family on the throne. This was effected after a 
period of fifty-seven years, partly by a transient 
effort of vigour, w ith which indignation at a foreign 
yoke animated the Greeks, and partly by the power¬ 
ful assistance which they received from the republic 
of Genoa. The Genoese were so sensible of the 
advantages which the Venetians, their rivals in 
trade, derived from their union with the Latin em¬ 
perors of Constantinople, that, in order to deprive 
them of these, they surmounted the most deep- 
rooted prejudices of their age, and combined with 
the schismatic Greeks to dethrone a monarch pro¬ 
tected by the papal power, setting at defiance the 
thunders of the Vatican, which at that time made 
the greatest princes tremble. This undertaking, 
bold and impious as it was then deemed, proved 
successful. In recompence for their signal services, 
the gratitude or weakness of the Greek emperor, 
among other donations, bestowed upon the Genoese 
Pera, the chief suburb of Constantinople, to be 
held as a fief of the empire, together with such ex¬ 
emption from the accustomed duties on goods 
imported and exported, as gave them a decided 
superiority over every competitor in trade. With 
the vigilant attention of merchants, the Genoese 
availed themselves of this favourable situation. 
They surrounded their new settlement in Pera with 
fortifications. They rendered their factories on the 
adjacent coast places of strength. 0 They were 
masters of the harbour of Constantinople more than 
the Greeks themselves. The whole trade of the 
Black sea came into their hands ; and not satisfied 
with this, they took possession of part of the Cher- 
sonesus Taurica, the modern Crimea, and rendered 
Caffa, its principal town, the chief seat of their 
trade with the East, and the port in which all its 
productions, conveyed to the Black sea by the 
different routes I have formerly described, were 
landed. d 

c Niceph. Gregor. lib. xi. c. 1. § 6. lib. xvii. c. 1. § 2 

d Folieta Hist. Genuens. ap. Graev. Thes. Antiq. Ital. i. 387. 


In consequence of this revolution, Genoa became 
the greatest commercial power in Europe; and if 
the enterprising industry and intrepid courage of 
its citizens had been under the direction of wise 
domestic policy, it might have long held that rank. 
But never was there a contrast more striking, than 


between the internal administration of the two rival 
republics of Venice and Genoa. In the former, 
government was conducted with steady systematic 
prudence ; in the latter, it was consistent in nothing 
but a fondness for novelty, and a propensity to 
change. The one enjoyed a perpetual calm, the 
other was agitated with all the storms and vicissi¬ 
tudes of faction. The increase of wealth which 
Howed into Genoa from the exertions of its mer¬ 
chants, did not counterbalance the defects in its 
political constitution ; and even in its most pros¬ 
perous state we may discern the appearance of symp¬ 
toms w hich foreboded a diminution of its opulence 
and power. 

As long, however, as the Genoese retained the 
ascendant which they had acquired in the Greek 
empire, the Venetians felt their commercial trans¬ 
actions with it to be carried on upon such unequal 
terms, that their merchants visited Constantinople 
seldom, and with reluctance; and in order to pro¬ 
cure the commodities of the East in such quantities 
as were demanded in the various parts of Europe 
which they were accustomed to supply, they were 
obliged to resort to the ancient staples of that trade. 
Of these Alexandria was the chief, and the most 
abundantly supplied, as the conveyance of Indian 
goods by land through Asia, to any of the ports of 
the Mediterranean, w as often rendered impractica¬ 
ble by the incursions of Turks, Tartars, and other 
hordes, which successively desolated that fertile 
country, or contended for the dominion of it. But 
under the military and vigorous government of the 
soldans of the Mamelukes, security and order were 
steadily maintained in Egypt, and trade, though 
loaded with heavy duties, was open to all. In pro¬ 
portion to the progress of the Genoese in engrossing 
the commerce of Constantinople and the Black sea, e 
the Venetians found it more and more necessary to 
enlarge their transactions with Alexandria. 

But such an avowed intercourse with infidels 
being considered, in that age, as unbecoming the 
character of Christians, the senate of Venice, in 
order to silence its own scruples, or those of its 
subjects, had recourse to the infallible authority of 
the pope, who was supposed to be possessed of 
power to dispense with the rigorous observation of 
the most sacred laws, and obtained permission from 
him to fit out annually a specified number of ships 
for the ports of Egypt and of Syria/ Under this 
sanction the republic concluded a treaty of com¬ 
merce with the soldans of Egypt, on equitable 
terms ; in consequence of which the senate ap¬ 
pointed one consul to reside in Alexandria, and 


De Marinis de Genuens. Dignit. ib. I486. Niceph. Greg lib xiii 
c. 12 . Murat. Annal. d’ltal. lib. vii. c. 351. See Note XLill. ’ 
e See Note XL1V. f See Note XLV. 




SECT. III. 


1115 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


another in Damascus, in a public character, and to 
exercise a mercantile jurisdiction, authorized by 
the soldans. Under their protection, Venetian 
merchants and artisans settled in each of these 
cities. Ancient prejudices and antipathies were 
forgotten, and their mutual interests established, 
for the first time, a fair and open trade between 
Christians and Mahomedans.s 
While the Venetians and Genoese were alter¬ 
nately making those extraordinary efforts, in order 
to engross all the advantages of supplying Europe 
with the productions of the East, the republic of 
Florence, originally a commercial democracy, ap¬ 
plied with such persevering vigour to trade, and 
the genius of the people, as well as the nature of 
their institutions, were so favourable to its progress, 
that the state advanced rapidly in power, and the 
people in opulence. But as the Florentines did not 
possess any commodious sea-port, their active ex¬ 
ertions were directed chiefly towards the improve¬ 
ment of their manufactures and domestic industry. 
About the beginning of the fourteenth century, the 
Florentine manufactures of various kinds, particu¬ 
larly those of silk and woollen cloth, appear from 
the enumeration of a well informed historian, to 
have been very considerable. 11 The connexion 
which they formed in different parts of Europe, by 
furnishing them with the productions of their own 
industry, led them to engage in another branch of 
trade, that of banking. In this they soon became 
so eminent, that the money transactions of almost 
every kingdom in Europe passed through their 
hands, and in many of them they were intrusted 
with the collection and administration of the public 
revenues. In consequence of the activity and suc¬ 
cess with which they conducted their manufactures 
and money transactions, the former always attended 
with certain though moderate profit, the latter lu¬ 
crative in a high degree, at a period when neither 
the interest of money, nor the premium on bills of 
exchange, were settled with accuracy, Florence 
became one of the first cities in Christendom, and 
many of its citizens extremely opulent. Cosmo di 
Medici, the head of a family which rose from ob¬ 
scurity by its success in trade, was reckoned the 
most wealthy merchant ever known in Europe ;* and 
in acts of public munificence, as well as of private 
generosity, in the patronage of learning, and in the 
encouragement of useful and elegant arts, no mon¬ 
arch of the age could vie with him. Whether the 
Medici, in their first mercantile transactions, car¬ 
ried on any commerce with the East, I have not 
been able to discovert It is more probable, I 
should think, that their trade was confined to the 
same articles with that of their countrymen. But 
as soon as the commonwealth, by the 
a. D. Moo. con q Ue st of Pisa, had acquired a com¬ 
munication with the ocean, Cosmo di Medici, who 

e Sandi Storia Civile Veneziana, lib. v. c. 15. p. 218, &'c. 

h Giov. Villani Hist. Florent. ap. Murat. Script. Her. ltal. vol. xm. p. 
825. Dell’ Istorie Florentine, di Scip. Ammirato, lib. iv. p. 151. lib. vm. 
D 299 

i Fr.’ Mich. Brutus Hist. Flor. p. 37. 62. Chron. Eugubinum ap. 


had the chief direction of its affairs, endeavoured 
to procure for his country a share in that lucrative 
commerce which had raised Venice and Genoa so 
far above all the other Italian states. With this 
view ambassadors were sent to Alex¬ 
andria, in order to prevail with the 
soldan to open that and the other ports of his domi¬ 
nions to the subjects of the republic, and to admit 
them to a participation in all the commercial privi¬ 
leges which were enjoyed by the Venetians. The 
negociation terminated with such success, that the 
Florentines seem to have obtained some share in 
the Indian trade and soon after this period, we 
find spices enumerated among the commodities 
imported by the Florentines into England." 1 

In some parts of this Disquisition concerning the 
nature and course of trade with the East, I have 
been obliged to grope my way, and often under the 
guidance of very feeble lights. But as we are now 
approaching to the period when the modern ideas, 
with respect to the importance of commerce, began 
to unfold, and attention to its progress and effects 
became a more considerable object of policy, we 
may hope to carry on what researches yet remain 
to be made, with greater certainty and precision. 
To this growing attention we are indebted for the 
account which Marino Sanudo, a Venetian noble¬ 
man, gives of the Indian trade, as carried on by his 
countrymen, about the beginning of the fourteenth 
century. They were supplied, as he informs us, 
with the productions of the East in two different 
ways. Those of small bulk and high value, such 
as cloves, nutmegs, mace, gems, pearls, &c. were 
conveyed from the Persian gulf up the Tigris to 
Bassora, and thence to Bagdat, from which they 
were carried to some port on the Mediterranean. 
All more bulky goods, such as pepper, ginger, cin¬ 
namon, &c., together with some portion of the more 
valuable articles, were conveyed by the ancient 
route to the Red sea, and thence across the desert, 
and down the Nile, to Alexandria. The goods re¬ 
ceived by the former route were, as Sanudo observes, 
of superior quality, but from the tediousness and 
expense of a distant land carriage, the supply was 
often scanty, nor can he conceal (though contrary 
to a favourite project which he had in view when 
he wrote the treatise to which I refer) that, from 
the state of the countries through which the caravans 
passed, this mode of conveyance was frequently 
precarious and attended with danger." 

It was in Alexandria only that the Venetians 
found always a certain and full supply of Indian 
goods ; and as these were conveyed thither chiefly 
by water carriage, they might have purchased them 
at a moderate price, if the soldans had not imposed 
upon them duties which amounted to a third part 
of their full value. Under this and every other 
disadvantage, however, it was necessary to procure 

Murat. Script. Rer. Ital. vol. xiv. p. 1007. Denina Revol. d’ltalie, tom. 
vi. p. 263, &c. 

k See Note XLV1. 1 See Xote XLVII. 

m Hakluyt, vol. i. p. 19-3. 

n Mar. Sanuti Secreta Fidelium Crucis, p. 22, &c. ap. Bongarsmm. 



1116 


SECT. III. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


them, as from many concurring circumstances, par¬ 
ticularly a more extensive intercourse established 
among the different nations of Europe, the demand 
for them continued to increase greatly during the 
fourteenth century. By the irruptions of the various 
hostile tribes of barbarians, who took possession 
of the greater part of Europe, that powerful bond 
by which the Romans had united together all the 
people of their vast empire was entirely dissolved, 
and such discouragement was given to the com¬ 
munication of one nation with another, as would 
appear altogether incredible, if the evidence of it 
rested wholly upon the testimony of historians, and 
were not confirmed by what is still more authentic, 
the express enactment of laws. Several statutes 
of this kind, which disgrace the jurisprudence of 
almost every European nation, I have enumerated 
and explained in another work. 0 But when the 
wants and desires of men multiplied, and they 
found that other countries could furnish the means 
of supplying and gratifying them, the hostile sen¬ 
timents which kept nations at a distance from 
each other abated, and mutual correspondence 
gradually took place. From the time of the Cru¬ 
sades, which first brought people, hardly known 
to one another, to associate, and to act in concert 
during two centuries, in pursuit of one common 
end, several circumstances had co-operated towards 
accelerating this general intercourse. The people 
around the Baltic, hitherto dreaded and abhorred 
by the rest of Europe as pirates and invaders, as¬ 
sumed more pacific manners, and began now to 
visit their neighbours as merchants. Occurrences 
foreign from the subject of the present inquiry, 
united them together in the powerful commercial 
confederacy so famous in the middle ages, under 
the name of the Hanseatic League, and led them to 
establish the staple of their trade with the southern 
parts of Europe in Bruges. Thither the merchants 
of Italy, particularly those of Venice, resorted ; 
and in return for the productions of the East, and 
the manufactures of their own country, they received 
not only the naval stores and other commodities of 
the north, but a considerable supply of gold and 
silver from the mines in various provinces of Ger¬ 
many, the most valuable and productive of any 
known at that time in Europe. p Bruges continued 
to be the great mart or storehouse of European trade 
during the period to which my inquiries extend. A 
regular communication, formerly unknown, was 
kept up there among all the kingdoms into which 
our continent is divided, and we are enabled to ac¬ 
count for the rapid progress of the Italian states in 
wealth and power, by observing how much tlieir 
trade, the source from which both were derived, 
must have augmented upon the vast increase in the 
consumption of Asiatic goods, when all the exten¬ 
sive countries towards the north-east of Europe were 
opened for their reception. 

o Hist, of Charles V. p. 408. 

p Zimmerman's Polit. Survey of Europe, p. 102. 

q Sanuto, p. 23. 


During this prosperous and improving state of 
Indian commerce, Venice received from one of its 
citizens such new information concerning the coun¬ 
tries which produced the precious commodities that 
formed the most valuable article of its trade, as 
gave an idea of their opulence, their population, and 
their extent, which rose far above all the former 
conceptions of Europeans. From the time that the 
Mahomedans became masters of Egypt, as no Chris¬ 
tian was permitted to pass through their dominions 
to the East/ 1 the direct intercourse of Europeans 
with India ceased entirely. The account of India 
by Cosmas Indicopleustes in the sixth century, is, 
as far as I know, the last which the nations of the 
West received from any person who had visited that 
country. But about the middle of the thirteenth 
century, the spirit of commerce, now become more 
enterprising, and more eager to discover new routes 
which led to wealth, induced Marco Polo, a Vene¬ 
tian of a noble family, after trading for some time in 
many of the opulent cities of the Lesser Asia, to pe¬ 
netrate into the more eastern parts of that continent, 
as far as to the court of the Great Khan on the frontier 
of China. During the course of twenty-six years, 
partly employed in mercantile transactions, and 
partly in conducting negociations with which the 
Great Khan intrusted him, he explored many regions 
of the East which no European had ever visited. 

He describes the great kingdom of Cathay, the 
name by which China is still known in many parts 
of the East/ and travelled through it from Cham- 
balu, or Peking, on its northern frontier, to some 
of its most southern provinces. He visited different 
parts of Indostan, and is the first who mentions 
Bengal and Guzzerat, by their present names, as 
great and opulent kingdoms. Besides what he dis¬ 
covered on his journeys by land, he made more 
than one voyage in the Indian ocean, and acquired 
some information concerning an island which he 
calls Zipangri, or Cipango, probably Japan. He 
visited in person Java, Sumatra, and several islands 
contiguous to them, the island of Ceylon, and the 
coast of Malabar, as far as the gulf of Cambay, to all 
which he gives the names that they now bear. This 
was the most extensive survey hitherto made of the 
East, and the most complete description of it ever 
given by any European ; and, in an age which had 
hardly any knowledge of those regions but what was 
derived from the geography of Ptolemy, not only the 
Venetians, but all the people of Europe, were aston¬ 
ished at the discovery of immense countries open to 
their view beyond what had hitherto been reputed the 
utmost boundary of the earth in that quarter. 5 

But while men of leisure and speculation occu¬ 
pied themselves with examining the discoveries of 
Marco Polo, which gave rise to conjectures and 
theories productive of most important consequences, 
an event happened that drew the attention of all 
Europe, and had a most conspicuous effect upon 


elot , 1 Orient, artic. Khathai. Stewart, Account of Thibet. 
1 nil. lrans. lxvn. 4?4. Voyage ot A. Jinkinson, Hakluyt, i. 33.3, 
s See Note ALV111. 




SECT. III. CONCERNING 

the course of that trade, the progress of which I 
am endeavouring to trace. 

a. d. 1453 . The event to which I allude, is the 
final conquest of the Greek empire by 
Mahomet II., and the establishing the seat of the 
Turkish government in Constantinople. The imme¬ 
diate eflect of this great revolution was, that the Ge¬ 
noese residing in Pera, involved in the general 
calamity, were obliged not only to abandon that 
settlement, but all those which they had made on the 
adjacent sea-coast, after they had been in their pos- 

a.d 1474 session near two centuries. Not long 
after, the victorious arms of the sultan 
expelled them from Calfa, and every other place 
which they held in the Crimea. 1 Constantinople 
was no longer a mart open to the nations of the 
West for Indian commodities, and no supply of them 
could now be obtained but in Egypt and the ports 
of Syria, subject to the soldans of the Mamelukes. 
The Venetians, in consequence of the protection and 
privileges which they had secured by their commer¬ 
cial treaty with those powerful princes, carried on 
trade in every part of their dominions w ith such ad¬ 
vantage, as gave them a superiority over every com¬ 
petitor. Genoa, which had long been their most 
formidable rival, humbled by the loss of its posses¬ 
sions in the East, and weakened by domestic dissen¬ 
sions, declined so fast, that it was obliged to court 
foreign protection, and submitted alternately to the 
dominion of the dukes of Milan and the kings of 
France. In consequence of this diminution of their 
political power, the commercial exertions of the 
Genoese became less vigorous. A feeble attempt 
which they made to recover that share of the Indian 
trade which they had formerly enjoyed, by offering 
to enter into treaty with the soldans of Egypt upon 
terms similar to those wdiich had been granted to 
the Venetians, proved unsuccessful; and during 
the remainder of the fifteenth century, Venice sup¬ 
plied the greater part of Europe with the produc¬ 
tions of the East, and carried on trade to an extent 
far beyond what had been known in those times. 

The state of the other European nations was ex¬ 
tremely favourable to the commercial progress of 
the Venetians. England, desolated by the civil 
wars which the unhappy contest between the houses 
of York and Lancaster excited, had hardly begun 
to turn its attention towards those objects and pur¬ 
suits to which it is indebted for its present opulence 
and power. In France, the fatal effects of the Eng¬ 
lish arms and conquests were still felt, and the 
king had neither acquired power, nor the people 
inclination, to direct the national genius and acti¬ 
vity to the arts of peace. The union of the differ- 
ent kingdoms of Spain was not yet completed ; some 
of its most fertile provinces were still under the 
dominion of the Moors, with whom the Spanish 
monarchs waged perpetual war ; and, except by the 
Catalans, little attention was paid to foreign trade. 
Portugal, though it had already entered upon that 

t Folieta Hist. Genu. 602. 626. Murat. Annali d’ftal. ix, 451. 


ANCIENT INDIA. 1117 

career of discovery which terminated with most 
splendid success, had not yet made such progress 
in it as to be entitled to any high rank among the 
commercial states of Europe. Thus the Venetians, 
almost without rival or competitor, except from 
some of the inferior Italian states, were left at liberty 
to concert and to execute their mercantile plans; 
and their trade with the cities of the Hanseatic 
League, which united the north and south of Europe, 
and which hitherto had been common to all the 
Italians, was now engrossed, in a great measure, hy 
them alone. 

While the increasing demand for the productions 
of Asia induced all the people of Europe to court 
intercourse with the Venetians so eagerly, as to 
allure them, by various immunities, to frequent their 
sea-ports, we may observe a peculiarity in their 
mode of carrying on trade with the East which dis¬ 
tinguishes it from what has taken place in other 
countries in any period of history. In the ancient 
world, the Tyrians, the Greeks who were masters of 
Egypt, and the Romans, sailed to India in quest of 
those commodities with which they supplied the 
people of the West. In modern times, the same has 
been the practice of the Portuguese, the Dutch, the 
English, and, after their example, of other European 
nations. In both periods loud complaints have been 
made, that in carrying on this trade every state 
must be drained of the precious metals, which, in 
the course of it, tlow incessantly from the West to 
the East, never to return. From whatever loss 
might have been occasioned by this gradual but 
unavoidable diminution of their gold and silver, 
(whether a real or only an imaginary loss, it is not 
incumbent upon me in this place to inquire or to 
determine,) the Venetians w ere in a great measure 
exempted. They had no direct intercourse with 
India. They found in Egypt, or in Syria, ware¬ 
houses filled with all the commodities of the East, 
imported by the Mahomedans ; and from the best 
accounts we have, with respect to the nature of their 
trade, they purchased them more frequently by 
barter than with ready money. Egypt, the chief 
mart for Indian goods, though a most fertile coun¬ 
try, is destitute of many things requisite in an im¬ 
proved state of society, either for accommodation or 
for ornament. Too limited in extent, and too highly 
cultivated to afford space for forests; too level to 
have mines of the useful metals ; it must be sup¬ 
plied with timber for building, with iron, lead, tin, 
and brass, by importation from other countries. 
The Egyptians, while under the dominion of the 
Mamelukes, seem not themselves to have traded in 
the ports of any Christian state, and it w as princi¬ 
pally from the Venetians that they received all the 
articles which I have enumerated. Besides these, 
the ingenuity of the Venetian artists furnished a 
variety of manufactures of woollen cloths, silk 
stuffs of various fabric, camblets, mirrors, arms, 
ornaments of gold and silver, glass, and many other 



1118 


SECT. III. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


articles, for all which they found a ready market in 
Egypt and Syria. In return, they received from the 
merchants of Alexandria, spices of every kind, 
drugs, gems, pearls, ivory, cotton and silk, un¬ 
wrought as well as manufactured, in many different 
forms, and other productions of the East, together 
with several valuable articles of Egyptian growth 
or fabric. In Aleppo, Baruth, and other cities, be¬ 
sides the proper commodities of India brought thi¬ 
ther by land, they added to their cargoes the carpets 
of Persia, the rich wrought silks of Damascus, still 
known by the name taken from that city, and various 
productions of art and nature peculiar to Syria, 
Palestine, and Arabia. If at any time their demand 
for the productions of the East went beyond what 
they could procure in exchange for their own manu¬ 
factures, that trade with the cities of the Hanseatic 
League which I have mentioned, furnished them, 
from the mines of Germany, with a regular supply 
of gold and silver, which they could carry with ad¬ 
vantage to the markets of Egypt and Syria. 

From a propensity, remarkable in all commercial 
states, to subject the operations of trade to political 
regulation and restraint, the authority of the Vene¬ 
tian government seems to have been interposed, 
both in directing the importation of Asiatic goods, 
and in the mode of circulating them among the dif¬ 
ferent nations of Europe. To every considerable 
staple in the Mediterranean a certain number of 
large vessels, known by the name of Galeons or 
Caracks, was fitted out on the public account, 11 and 
returned loaded with the richest merchandise, the 
profit arising from the sale of which must have been 
no slender addition to the revenue of the republic. 
Citizens, however, of every class, particularly per¬ 
sons of noble families, were encouraged to engage 
in foreign trade, and whoever employed a vessel of 
a certain burden for this purpose, received a con¬ 
siderable bounty from the state. x It was in the 
same manner, partly in ships belonging to the 
public, and partly in those of private traders, that 
the \enetians circulated through Europe the goods 
imported from the East, as well as the produce of 
their own dominions and manufactures. 

There are two different ways by which we may 
come at some knowledge of the magnitude of those 
branches of commerce carried on by the Venetians. 
The one, by attending to the great variety and high 
value of the commodities which they imported into 
Bruges, the storehouse from which the more north¬ 
ern nations of Europe were supplied. A full enu¬ 
meration of these is given by a well-informed author, 
in which is contained almost every article deemed 
in that age essential to accommodation or to ele- 
gance.y The other, by considering the effects of the 
Venetian trade upon the cities admitted to a partici¬ 
pation of its advantages. Never did wealth appear 
more conspicuously in the train of commerce. The 
citizens of Bruges, enriched by it, displayed in their 

u Sabellicus, TIist. Rer. Venet. dec. iv. lib. iii. p. 868. Denina Revol. 
d’ltalie, tom. vi. .340. 

x Sandi Stor. Civ. Venez. lib. viii. 891. 


dress, their buildings, and mode of living, such 
magnificence as even to mortify the pride and excite 
the envy of royalty. 2 Antwerp, when the staple was 
removed thither, soon rivalled Bruges in opulence 
and splendour. In some cities of Germany, parti¬ 
cularly in Augsburg, the great mart for Indian com¬ 
modities in the interior parts of that extensive 
country, we meet with early examples of such large 
fortunes accumulated by mercantile industry, as 
raised the proprietors of them to high rank and con¬ 
sideration in the empire. 

From observing this remarkable increase of opu¬ 
lence in all the places where the Venetians had an 
established trade, we are led to conclude, that the 
profit accruing to themselves from the different 
branches of it, especially that with the East, must 
have been still more considerable. It is impossible, 
however, without information much more minute 
than that to which we have access, to form an esti¬ 
mate of this with accuracy ; but various circum¬ 
stances may be produced to establish, in general, 
the justness of this conclusion. From the first 
revival of a commercial spirit in Europe, the Vene¬ 
tians possessed a large share of the trade with the 
East. It continued gradually to increase, and during 
a great part of the fifteenth century they had nearly 
a monopoly of it. This was productive of conse¬ 
quences attending all monopolies. Wherever there 
is no competition, and the merchant has it in his 
power to regulate the market, and to fix the price of 
the commodities which he vends, his gains will be 
exorbitant. Some idea of their magnitude, during 
several centuries, may be formed by attending to the 
rate of the premium or interest then paid for the use 
of money. This is undoubtedly the most exact 
standard by which to measure the profit arising from 
the capital stock employed in commerce ; for, ac¬ 
cording as the interest of money is high or low, the 
gain acquired by the use of it must vary, and be¬ 
come excessive or moderate. From the close of the 
eleventh century to the commencement of the six¬ 
teenth, the period during which the Italians made 
their chief commercial exertions, the rate of interest 
was extremely high. It was usually twenty per 
cent. ; sometimes above that; and so late as the year 
one thousand five hundred, it had not sunk below 
ten or twelve per cent, in any part of Europe. a If 
the profits of a trade so extensive as that of the 
Venetians corresponded to this high value of money, 
it could not fail of proving a source of great wealth, 
both public and private. 11 The condition of Venice, 
accordingly, during the period under review* is 
described by writers of that age, in terms which are 
not applicable to that of any other country in Eu¬ 
rope. The revenues of the republic, as well as the 
wealth amassed by individuals, exceeded whatever 
was elsewhere known. In the magnificence of their 
houses, in richness of furniture, in profusion of 
plate, and in every thing which contributed either 

y Lud, Guicciardini Descript, de Paesi Bassi, p. 173. 

z See Note XLIX. a Hist, of Charles V. p. 410. 

h See N ote -I.-, 




SECT. III. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


towards elegance or parade in their mode of living, 
the nobles of Venice surpassed the state of the 
greatest monarchs beyond the Alps. Nor was all 
this display the effect of an ostentatious and incon- 
siderate dissipation ; it was the natural consequence 
of successful industry, which, having accumulated 
wealth with ease, is entitled to enjoy it in splendours 

Never did the Venetians believe the power of 
their country to be more firmly established, or rely 
with greater confidence on the continuance and 
increase of its opulence, than towards the close of 
the fifteenth century, when two events (which they 
could neither foresee nor prevent) happened, that 
proved fatal to both. The one was the discovery of 
America. The other was the opening a direct course 
of navigation to the East Indies by the Cape of 
Good Hope. Of all occurrences in the history of 
the human race, these are undoubtedly among the 
most interesting ; and as they occasioned a remark¬ 
able change of intercourse among the different 
quarters of the globe, and finally established those 
commercial ideas and arrangements which constitute 
the chief distinction between the manners and policy 
of ancient and of modern times, an account of them 
is intimately connected with the subject of this 
Disquisition, and will bring it to that period which 
I have fixed upon for its boundary. But as I have 
related the rise and progress of these discoveries at 
great length in another work, d a rapid view’ of them 
is all that is requisite in this place. 

The admiration or envy with which the other 
nations of Europe beheld the power and wealth of 
Venice, led them naturally to inquire into the causes 
of this pre-eminence ; and among these, its lucrative 
commerce with the East appeared to be by far the 
most considerable. Mortified with being excluded 
from a source of opulence, which to the Venetians 
had proved so abundant, different countries had 
attempted to acquire a share of the Indian trade. 
Some of the Italian states endeavoured to obtain 
admission into the ports of Egypt and Syria, upon 
the same terms w ith the Venetians ; but either by 
the superior interest of the Venetians in the court of 
the soldans, their negociations for that purpose 
were rendered unsuccessful; or from the manifold 
advantages which merchants, long in possession of 
any branch of trade, have in a competition with 
new adventurers, all their exertions did not produce 
effects of any consequence. 6 In other countries, 
various schemes were formed with the same view. 
As early as the year one thousand four hundred 
and eighty, the inventive and enterprising genius of 
Columbus conceived the idea of opening a shorter 
and more certain communication with India, by 
holding a direct westerly course tow ards those re¬ 
gions, which, according to Marco Polo and other 
travellers, extended eastw ard far beyond the utmost 
limits of Asia known to the Greeks or Romans. 
This scheme, supported by arguments deduced from 
a scientific acquaintance with cosmography, from 

d Ilist. of America, Books I. and II. 


his own practical knowledge of navigation, from 
the reports of skilful pilots, and from the theories 
and conjectures of the ancients, he proposed first to 
the Genoese, his countrymen, and next to the king 
of Portugal, into whose service he had entered. It 
was rejected by the former from ignorance, and by 
the latter with circumstances most humiliating to a 
generous mind. By perseverance, however, and 
address, he at length induced the most wary and 
least adventurous court in Europe to undertake the 
execution of his plan; and Spain, as the reward of 
this deviation from its usual cautious maxims, had 
the glory of discovering a new world, hardly inferior 
in magnitude to a third part of the habitable globe. 
Astonishing as the success of Columbus was, it did 
not fully accomplish his own wishes, or conduct 
him to those regions of the East, the expectation of 
reaching which was the original object of his voy¬ 
age. The effects, however, of his discoveries were 
great and extensive. By giving Spain the posses 
sion of immense territories, abounding in rich mines, 
and many valuable productions of nature, several 
of which had hitherto been deemed peculiar to 
India, wealth began to flow so copiously into that 
kingdom, and thence was so diffused over Europe, as 
gradually awakened a general spirit of industry, and 
called forth exertions, which alone must have soon 
turned the course of commerce into new channels. 

But this was accomplished more speedily, as well 
as more completely, by the other great event which 
I mentioned, the discovery of a new route of naviga¬ 
tion to the East by the Cape of Good Hope. When 
the Portuguese, to whom mankind are indebted for 
opening this communication between the most re¬ 
mote parts of the habitable globe, undertook their 
first voyage of discovery, it is probable that they 
had nothing further in view than to explore those 
parts of the coast of Africa which lay nearest to their 
own country. But a spirit of enterprise, when 
roused and put in motion, is always progressive ; 
and that of the Portuguese, though slow and timid 
in its first operations, gradually acquired vigour, 
and prompted them to advance along the western 
shore of the African continent, far beyond the ut¬ 
most boundary of ancient navigation in that direc¬ 
tion. Encouraged by success, this spirit became 
more adventurous, despised dangers which formerly 
appalled it, and surmounted difficulties which it 
once deemed insuperable. When the Portuguese 
found in the torrid zone, which the ancients had 
pronounced to be uninhabitable, fertile countries, 
occupied by numerous nations, and perceived that 
the continent of Africa, instead of extending in 
breadth towards the west, according to the opinion 
of Ptolemy, appeared to contract itself and to bend 
eastwards, more extensive prospects opened to their 
view, and inspired them with hopes of reaching 
India, by continuing to hold the same course which 
they had so long pursued. 

After several unsuccessful attempts to accomplish 


c See Note LI. 


e See Note LII. 




1120 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION SECT III. 


what they had in view, a small squadron sailed 
from the Tagus, under the command of Vasco de 
Gama, an olficer of rank, whose abilities and 
courage fitted him to conduct the most difficult and 
arduous enterprises. From unacquaintance, how¬ 
ever, with the proper season and route of navigation 
in that vast ocean through which he had to steer his 
course, his voyage was long and dangerous. At 
length he doubled that promontory, which for seve¬ 
ral years had been the object of terror and of hope 
to his countrymen. From that, after a prosperous 
navigation along the south-east of Africa, he arrived 
at the city of Melinda, and had the satisfaction of 
discovering there, as well as at other places where 
he touched, people of a race very different from the 
rude inhabitants of the w estern shore of that conti¬ 
nent, which alone the Portuguese had hitherto 
visited. These he found to be so far advanced in 
civilization, and acquaintance with the various arts 
of life, that they carried on an active commerce, not 
only with the nations on their ow n coast, but with 
remote countries of Asia. Conducted by their pilots 
(who held a course with which experience had 
rendered them well acquainted) he sailed across the 
Indian ocean, and landed at Calecut, on the coast of 
Malabar, on the tw enty-second of May, one thousand 
four hundred and ninety-eight, ten months and two 
days after his departure from the port of Lisbon. 

The Samorin, or monarch of the country, aston¬ 
ished at this unexpected visit of an unknown peo¬ 
ple, whose aspect, and arms, and manners, bore no 
resemblance to any of the nations accustomed to 
frequent his harbours, and who arrived in his do¬ 
minions by a route hitherto deemed impracticable, 
received them, at first, with that fond admiration 
which is often excited by novelty. But in a short 
time, as if he had been inspired with foresight of 
all the calamities now approaching India by this 
fatal communication opened with the inhabitants of 
Europe, he formed various schemes to cutoff Gama 
and his followers. But from every danger to which 
he w as exposed, either by the open attacks or secret 
machinations of the Indians, the Portuguese admi¬ 
ral extricated himself with singular prudence and 
intrepidity, and at last sailed from Calecut with his 
ships loaded, not only with the commodities pecu¬ 
liar to that coast, but with many of the rich pro¬ 
ductions of the eastern parts of India. 

On his return to Lisbon, he was received with 
the admiration and gratitude due to a man, who, by 
his superior abilities and resolution, had conducted 
to such a happy issue an undertaking of the greatest 
importance, which had long occupied the thoughts 
of his sovereign, and excited the hopes of his 
felIow-subjects. f Nor did this event interest the 
Portuguese alone. No nation in Europe beheld it 
with unconcern. For although the discovery of a 
new world, whether we view it as a display of 
genius in the person who first conceived an idea of 
that undertaking which led mankind to the know- 

f Asia de Joao de Barros, dec. i. lib. iv. c. 11. Castagneda, Hist, de 


ledge of it, whether we contemplate its influence 
upon science by giving a more complete knowledge 
of the globe which w'e inhabit, or whether we con¬ 
sider its effects upon the commercial intercourse of 
mankind, be an event far more splendid than the 
voyage of Gama, yet the latter seems originally to 
have excited more general attention. The former, 
indeed, filled the minds of men with astonishment; 
it was some time, however, before they attained 
such a sufficient knowledge of that portion of the 
earth now laid open to their view , as to form any 
just idea, or even probable conjecture, with respect 
to what might be the consequences of communica¬ 
tion with it. But the immense value of the Indian 
trade, which both in ancient and in modern times 
had enriched every nation by which it was carried 
on, was a subject familiar to the thoughts of all 
intelligent men, and they at once perceived that 
the discovery of this new route of navigation to 
the East must occasion great revolutions, not only 
in the course of commerce, but in the political state 
of Europe. 

What these revolutions were most likely to be, 
and how they would operate, were points examined 
with particular attention in the cities of Lisbon and 
of Venice, but with feelings very different. The 
Portuguese, founding upon the rights which, in that 
age, priority of discovery, confirmed by a papal 
grant, were supposed to confer, deemed themselves 
entitled to an exclusive commerce with the countries 
which they had first visited, began to enjoy, by an¬ 
ticipation, all the benefits of it, and to fancy that 
their capital would soon be what Venice then was, 
the great storehouse of eastern commodities to all 
Europe, and the seat of opulence and power. On 
the first intelligence of Gama’s successful voyage, 
the Venetians, with the quick-sighted discernment 
of merchants, foresaw the immediate consequence 
of it to be the ruin of that lucrative branch of com¬ 
merce which had contributed so greatly to enrich 
and aggrandize their country; and they observed 
this with more poignant concern, as they were ap¬ 
prehensive that they did net possess any effectual 
means of preventing, or even retarding, its operation. 

The hopes and fears of both were well founded. 
The Portuguese entered upon the new career open¬ 
ed to them with activity and ardour, and made ex¬ 
ertions, both commercial and military, far beyond 
what could have been expected from a kingdom of 
such inconsiderable extent. All these were directed 
by an intelligent monarch, capable of forming plans 
of the greatest magnitude with calm systematic 
wisdom, and of prosecuting them with unremitting 
perseverance. The prudence and vigour of his 
measures, however, would have availed little with¬ 
out proper instruments to carry them into execution. 
Happily for Portugal, the discerning eye of Ema¬ 
nuel selected a succession of officers to take the 
supreme command in India, who, by their enter¬ 
prising valour, military skill, and political sagacity, 

l’Inde, trad, en Francois, liv. i. c. 2—28. 





SECT. III. 


1121 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


accompanied with disinterested integrity, public 
spirit, and love ot their country, have a title to be 
ranked with the persons most eminent for virtue 
and abilities in any age or nation. Greater things 
perhaps were achieved by them than were ever ac¬ 
complished in so short a time. Before the close of 
Emanuel s reign, twenty-four years only after the 
voyage ol Gama, the Portuguese had rendered 
themselves masters ol the city of Malacca, in which 
the great staple of trade carried on among the inha¬ 
bitants of all those regions in Asia which Europeans 
have distinguished by the general name of the East 
Indies, was then established. To this port, situated 
nearly at an equal distance from the eastern and 
western extremities of these countries, and pos¬ 
sessing the command of that strait by which they 
keep communication with each other, the mer¬ 
chants of China, of Japan, of every kingdom on the 
continent, of the Moluccas, and all the islands in 
the Archipelago, resorted from the east; and those 
of Malabar, of Ceylon, of Coromandel, and of Ben¬ 
gal, from the west.? This conquest secured to the 
Portuguese great influence over the interior com¬ 
merce of India, while, at the same time, by their 
settlements at Goa and Diu, they were enabled to 
engross the trade of the Malabar coast, and to ob¬ 
struct greatly the long established intercourse of 
Egypt with India by the Red sea. Their ships 
frequented every port in the East where valuable 
commodities were to be found, from the Cape of 
Good Hope to the river of Canton ; and along this 
immense stretch of coast, extending upwards of 
four thousand leagues, 11 they had established, for 
the conveniency or protection of trade, a chain of 
forts or factories. They had likewise taken pos¬ 
session of stations most favourable to commerce 
along the southern coast of Africa, and in manj r of 
the islands which lie between Madagascar and the 
Moluccas. In every part of the East they were re¬ 
ceived with respect, in many they had acquired the 
absolute command. They carried on trade there 
without rival or control ; they prescribed to the 
natives the terms of their mutual intercourse; they 
often set what price they pleased on goods which 
they purchased; and were thus enabled to import 
from Indostan and the regions beyond it, whatever 
is useful, rare, or agreeable, in greater abundance, 
and of more various kinds, than had been known 
formerly in Europe. 

Not satisfied with this ascendant which they had 
acquired in India, the Portuguese early formed a 
scheme, no less bold than interested, of excluding 
all other nations from participating of the advan¬ 
tages of commerce with the East. In order to effect 
this, it was necessary to obtain possession of such 
stations in the Arabian and Persian gulfs, as might 
render them masters of the navigation of these two 
inland seas, and enable them both to obstruct the 
ancient commercial intercourse between Egypt and 

g Decad. de Carros, dec. i. liv. viii. c. 1. Osor.de Reb. Eman. lib. vii. 
213 <3cc. 

h Hist. Gener. des Voyages, tom. i. p. 140. 


India, and to command the entrance of the great 
rivers, which facilitated the conveyance of Indian 
goods, not only through the interior provinces of 
Asia, but as far as Constantinople. The conduct of 
the measures for this purpose was committed to 
Alphonso Albuquerque, the most eminent of all the 
Portuguese generals who distinguished themselves 
in India. After the utmost efforts of genius and 
valour, he was able to accomplish one-half only of 
what the ambition of his countrymen had planned. 
By wresting the island of Ormuz, which command¬ 
ed the mouth of the Persian gulf, from the petty 
princes, who, as tributaries to the monarchs of 
Persia, had established their dominion there, he 
secured to Portugal that extensive trade with the 
East which the Persians had carried on for several 
centuries. In the hands of the Portuguese, Ormuz 
soon became the great mart from which the Persian 
empire, and all the provinces of Asia to the w'est 
of it, were supplied with the productions of India; 
and a city which they built on that barren island, 
destitute of water, was rendered one of the chief 
seats of opulence, splendour, and luxury in the 
Eastern World. 1 

The operations of Albuquerque in the Red sea 
were far from being attended with equal success. 
Partly by the vigorous resistance of the Arabian 
princes, whose ports he attacked, and partly by the 
damage his lleet sustained in a sea of which the 
navigation is remarkably difficult and dangerous, 
he was constrained to retire without effecting any 
settlement of importance^ The ancient channel 
of intercourse with India by the Red sea still con¬ 
tinued open to the Egyptians ; but their commer¬ 
cial transactions in that country were greatly cir¬ 
cumscribed and obstructed, by the infiuence which 
the Portuguese had acquired in every port to which 
they were accustomed to resort. 

In consequence of this, the Venetians soon began 
to feel that decrease of their own Indian trade which 
they had foreseen and dreaded. In order to prevent 
the further progress of this evil, they persuaded the 
soldan of the Mamelukes, equally alarmed with 
themselves at the rapid success of the Portuguese 
in the East, and no less interested to hinder them 
from engrossing that commerce, which had so long 
been the chief source of opulence both to the mon¬ 
archs and to the people of Egypt, to enter into a 
negociation with the pope and the king of Portugal. 
The tone which the soldan assumed in this nego¬ 
ciation was such as became the fierce chief of a 
military government. After stating his exclusive 
right to the trade with India, he forewarned Julius 
II. and Emanuel, that if the Portuguese did not re¬ 
linquish that new course of navigation by which 
they had penetrated into the Indian ocean, and cease 
from encroaching on that commerce which from 
time immemorial had been carried on between the 
east of Asia and his dominions, he would put to 

i Osoriusde Reb. gestis Eman. lib. x. p. <274, Ac. Tavernier's Travels, 
book v. c. 23. Kasmpfer Ameenit. Exot. p. 756, <tc. 

k Osorius, lib. ix. p. 248, &c. 




1122 


SECT. III. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


death all the Christians in Egypt, S>ria, and Pales¬ 
tine, burn their churches, and demolish the holy 
sepulchre itself. 1 This formidable threat, which, 
during several centuries, would have made all 
Christendom tremble, seems to have made so little 
impression, that the Venetians, as the last expedient, 
had recourse to a measure which, in that age, was 
deemed not only reprehensible but impious. They 
incited the soldan to fit out a fleet in the Red sea, 
and to attack those unexpected invaders of a gainful 
monopoly, of which he and his predecessors had 
long enjoyed undisturbed possession. As Egypt 
did not produce timber proper for building ships of 
force, the Venetians permitted the soldan to cut it 
in their forests of Dalmatia, whence it was conveyed 
to Alexandria, and then carried partly by water 
and partly by land to Suez. There twelve ships of 
war were built, on board of which a body of Mame¬ 
lukes was ordered to serve, under the command of 
an officer of merit. These new enemies, far more 
formidable than the natives of India with whom the 
Portuguese had hitherto contended, they encoun¬ 
tered with undaunted courage, and after some con¬ 
flicts, they entirely ruined the squadron, and re¬ 
mained masters of the Indian ocean." 1 

Soon after this disaster, the dominion of the 
Mamelukes was overturned, and Egypt, Syria, and 
Palestine were subjected to the Turkish empire by 
the victorious arms of Selim I. Their mutual in¬ 
terest quickly induced the Turks and Venetians to 
forget ancient animosities, and to co-operate towards 
the ruin of the Portuguese trade in India. With 
this view Selim confirmed to the Venetians the 
extensive commercial privileges which they had 
enjoyed under the government of the Mamelukes, 
and published an edict permitting the free entry of 
all the productions of the East, imported directly 
from Alexandria, into every part of his dominions, 
and imposing heavy duties upon such as were 
brought from Lisbon." 

But all these were unavailing efiforts against the 
superior advantages which the Portuguese possessed 
in supplying Europe with the commodities of the 
East, in consequence of having opened a new mode 
of communication with it. At the same time, the 
Venetians, brought to the brink of ruin by the fatal 
league of Cambray, which broke the power and 
humbled the pride of the republic, were incapable 
of such efforts for the preservation of their com¬ 
merce, as they might have made in the more vigorous 
age of their government, and were reduced to the 
feeble expedients of a declining state. Of this 
there is a remarkable instance in an offer made by 
them to the king of Portugal, in the year one thou¬ 
sand five hundred and twenty-one, to purchase at 
a stipulated price all the spices imported into Lis¬ 
bon, over and above what might be requisite for the 
consumption of his own subjects. If Emanuel had 

1 Osorius de rebus Eman. lib. iv. p. no. edit. 1580. Asia de Barros, 
decad. i. lib. viii. c. 2. 

m Asia de Barros, dec. ii. lib. ii. c. 6. Lafitau, Hist, de Dfcouvertes 
<les Portugais, i. 292, &c. Osor. lib. iv. p. 120. 


been so inconsiderate as to close with this proposal, 
Venice would have recovered all the benefit of the 
gainful monopoly which she had lost. But the offer 
met with the reception that it merited, and was re¬ 
jected without hesitation. 0 

The Portuguese, almost without obstruction, 
continued their progress in the East, until they 
established there a commercial empire ; to which, 
whether we consider its extent, its opulence, the 
slender power by which it was formed, or the 
splendour with which the government of it was 
conducted, there had hitherto been nothing com¬ 
parable in the history of nations. Emanuel, who 
laid the foundation of this stupendous fabric, had 
the satisfaction to see it almost completed. Every 
part of Europe was supplied by the Portuguese 
with the productions of the East; and if we ex¬ 
cept some inconsiderable quantity of them, which 
the Venetians still continued to receive by the an¬ 
cient channels of conveyance, our quarter of the 
globe had no longer any commercial intercourse 
with India, and the regions of Asia beyond it, but 
by the Cape of Good Hope. 

Though from this period the people of Europe 
have continued to carry on their trade with India 
by sea, yet a considerable portion of the valuable 
productions of the East is still conveyed toother 
regions of the earth by land carriage. In tracing 
the progress of trade with India, this branch of it 
is an object of considerable magnitude, which has 
not been examined with sufficient attention. That 
the ancients should have had recourse frequently to 
the tedious and expensive mode of transporting 
goods by land, will not appear surprising, when we 
recollect the imperfect state of navigation among 
them : the reason of this mode of conveyance being 
not only continued, but increased, in modern times, 
demands some explanation. 

If we inspect a map of Asia, we cannot fail to 
observe that the communication throughout all the 
countries of that great continent to the west of In- 
dostan and China, though opened in some degree 
towards the south by the navigable rivers Euphrates 
and Tigris, and towards the north by two inland 
seas, the Euxine and Caspian, must be carried on 
in many extensive provinces wholly by land. This, 
as I have observed, was the first mode of intercourse 
between different countries, and during the infancy 
of navigation it was the only one. Even after that 
art had attained some degree of improvement, the 
conveyance of goods by the two rivers formerly 
mentioned, extended so little way into the interior 
country, and the trade of the Euxine and Caspian 
seas was so often obstructed by the barbarous na¬ 
tions scattered along their shores, that partly on 
that account, and partly from the adherence of man¬ 
kind to ancient habits, the commerce of the various 
provinces of Asia, particularly that with India arid 

n fiandi Stor. Civ. Venez. partii. 901. partiii. 432. 

o Osor. de reb. Eman. lib. xii. 265. 





SECT. III. 


1 V2* 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


the regions beyond it, continued to be conducted 
by land. 

The same circumstances which induced the in¬ 
habitants ot Asia to carry on such a considerable 
part ot their commerce with each other in this man¬ 
ner, operated with still more powerful effect in 
Africa. That vast continent, which little resembles 
the other divisions of the earth, is not penetrated 
with inland seas, like Europe and Asia, or by a 
chain ot lakes like North America, or opened by 
rivers (the Nile alone excepted) of extended navi¬ 
gation. It forms one uniform, continuous surface, 
between the various parts of which there could be 
no intercourse from the earliest times, but by land. 
Rude as all the people of Africa are, and slender 
as the progress is which they have made in the arts 
of life, such a communication appears to have been 
early opened and always kept up. How far it ex¬ 
tended in the more early periods to which my re¬ 
searches have been directed, and by what different 
routes it was carried on, I have not sufficient infor¬ 
mation to determine with accuracy. It is highly 
probable, that, from time immemorial, the gold, the 
ivory, the perfumes, both of the southern parts of 
Africa and of its more northern districts, were con¬ 
veyed either to the Arabian gulf or to Egypt, and 
exchanged for the spices and other productions of 
the East. 

The Mahomedan religion, which spread with amaz¬ 
ing rapidity over all Asia, and a considerable part of 
Africa, contributed greatly towards the increase of 
commercial intercourse by land in both these quarters 
of the globe, and has given it additional vigour, by 
mingling with it a new principle of activity, and by 
directing it to a common centre. Mahomet enjoined 
all his followers to visit once in their lifetime the 
Caaba, or square building in the temple of Mecca, the 
immemorial object of veneration among his country¬ 
men, not only on account of its having been chosen 
(according to their tradition) to be the residence of 
man at his creation, p but because it was the first 
spot on this earth which was consecrated to the wor¬ 
ship of God: in order to preserve continually upon 
their minds a sense of obligation to perform this 
duty, he directed that in all the multiplied acts of 
devotion which his religion prescribes, true believers 
should always turn their faces towards that holy 
place/ In obedience to a precept solemnly enjoined 
and sedulously inculcated, large caravans of pil¬ 
grims assemble annually in every country where the 
Mahomedan faith is established. From the shores 
of the Atlantic on one hand, and from the most re¬ 
mote regions of the East on the other, the votaries 
of the prophet advance to Mecca. Commercial 
ideas and objects mingle with those of devotion ; 
the numerous camels* of each caravan are loaded 
with those commodities of every country which are 
of easiest carriage and most ready sale. The holy 
city is crowded, not only with zealous devotees, but 


d Abul-Ghazi Bavadur Khan. Hist. Gen. des Tatars. p. 15. 
5 oiWon Tableau General de l’Linpire Othoman, tom. m. 
t9 . edit. 8vo. c 2 


p. 150, &c. 


with opulent merchants. During the few days they 
remain there, the fair of Mecca is the greatest, 
perhaps, on the face of the earth. Mercantile trans¬ 
actions are carried on in it to an immense value, of 
which the despatch, the silence, the mutual confi¬ 
dence and good faith in conducting them, are the 
most unequivocal proof. The productions and 
manufactures of India form a capital article in this 
great traffic, and the caravans on their return disse¬ 
minate them through every part of Asia and Africa. 
Some of these are deemed necessary, not only to the 
comfort, but to the preservation, of life, and others 
contribute to its elegance and pleasure. They are 
so various as to suit the taste of mankind in every 
climate, and in different stages of improvement; 
and are in high request among the rude natives of 
Africa, as well as the more luxurious inhabitants of 
Asia. In order to supply their several demands, 
the caravans return loaded with the muslins and 
chintzes of Bengal and the Deccan, the shawls of 
Cachemire, the pepper of Malabar, the diamonds 
of Golconda, the pearls of Kilcare, the cinnamon of 
Ceylon, the nutmeg, cloves, and mace of the Moluc¬ 
cas, and an immense number of other Indian com¬ 
modities. 

Besides these great caravans, formed partly by 
respect for a religious precept, and partly with a 
view to extend a lucrative branch of commerce, 
there are other caravans, and these not inconsider¬ 
able, composed entirely of merchants, who have no 
object but trade. These, at stated seasons, set out 
from different parts of the Turkish and Persian do¬ 
minions, and proceeding to Indostan, and even to 
China, by routes which were anciently known, they 
convey by land carriage the most valuable commo¬ 
dities of these countries to the remote provinces of 
both empires. It is only by considering the distance 
to which large quantities of these commodities are 
carried, and frequently across extensive deserts, 
which, without the aid of camels, would have been 
impassable, that we can form any idea of the mag¬ 
nitude of the trade with India by land, and are led 
to perceive, that in a Disquisition concerning the 
various modes of conducting this commerce, it is 
well entitled to the attention which T have bestowed 
in endeavouring to trace it. 1 


SECTION IV. 

General Observations. 

Thus I have endeavoured to describe the progress 
of trade with India, both by sea and by land, from 
the earliest times in which history affords any au¬ 
thentic information concerning it, until an entire 
revolution was made in its nature, and the mode of 
carrying it on, by that great discovery which I ori- 

r Ilerbelot Riblioth. Orient, artic. C'aal/t & Kehlah. 
s See Note LI 11. 
t See Note TTV, »!•* 





1124 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


SECT. IV. 


finally fixed as the utmost boundary of my inquiries. 
Here, then, this Disquisition might have been ter¬ 
minated. But as I have conducted my readers to 
that period when a new order of ideas, and new ar¬ 
rangements of policy, began to be introduced into 
Europe, in consequence of the value and importance 
of commerce being so thoroughly understood, that 
in almost every country the encouragement of it be¬ 
came a chief object of public attention ; as we have 
now reached that point whence a line may be drawn 
which marks the chief distinction between the man¬ 
ners and political institutions of ancient and modern 
times, it will render the work more instructive and 
useful, to conclude it with some general observa¬ 
tions, which naturally arise from a survey of both, 
and a comparison of the one with the other. These 
observations, I trust, will be found not only to have 
an intimate connexion with the subject of my re¬ 
searches, and to throw additional light upon it; 
but will serve to illustrate many particulars in the 
general history of commerce, and to point out effects 
or consequences of various events, which have not 
been generally observed, or considered with that 
attention which they merited. 

I. After viewing the great and extensive effects 
of finding a new course of navigation to India by 
the Cape of Good Hope, it may appear surprising 
to a modern observer, that a discovery of such im¬ 
portance was not made, or even attempted, by any 
of the commercial states of the ancient world. But 
in judging with respect to the conduct of nations in 
remote times, we never err more widely, than when 
we decide w ith regard to it, not according to the 
ideas and views of their age, but of our own. This 
is not perhaps more conspicuous in any instance, 
than in that under consideration. It was by the 
Tyrians, and by the Greeks, who were masters cf 
Egypt, that the different people of Europe were first 
supplied with the productions of the East. From 
the account that has been given of the manner in 
which they procured these, it is manifest that they 
had neither the same inducements with modern na¬ 
tions to wish for any new communication with 
India, nor the same means of accomplishing it. All 
the commercial transactions of the ancients with 
the East were confined to the ports on the Malabar 
coast, or extended, at furthest, to the island of Cey¬ 
lon. To these staples the natives of all the different 
regions in the eastern parts of Asia brought the 
commodities which were the growth of their several 
countries, or the product of their ingenuity, in their 
own vessels, and with them the ships from Tyre 
and from Egypt completed their investments. While 
the operations of their Indian trade w ere carried on 
within a sphere so circumscribed, the conveyance 
of a cargo by the Arabian gulf, notwithstanding the 
expense of land carriage, either from Eiath to Rhi- 
nocolura, or across the desert to the Nile, was so 
safe and commodious, that the merchants of Tyre 
and Alexandria had little reason to be solicitous 


for the discovery of any other. The situation of 
both these cities, as well as that of the other con¬ 
siderable commercial states of antiquity, was very 
different from that of the countries to which, in 
later times, mankind have been indebted for keep¬ 
ing up intercourse with the remote parts of the 
globe. Portugal, Spain, England, Holland, which 
have been most active and successful in this line of 
enterprise, all lie on the Atlantic ocean, (in which 
every European voyage of discovery must com¬ 
mence,) or have immediate access to it. But Tyre 
was situated at the eastern extremity of the Medi¬ 
terranean, Alexandria not far from it; Rhodes, 
Athens, Corinth, which came afterwards to be rank¬ 
ed among the most active trading cities of antiquity, 
lay considerably advanced towards the same quar¬ 
ter in that sea. The commerce of all these states 
was long confined within the precincts of the Me¬ 
diterranean ; and in some of them, never extended 
beyond it. The Pillars of Hercules, or the Straits 
of Gibraltar, were long considered as the utmost 
boundary of navigation. To reach this was deemed 
a signal proof of naval skill; and before any of 
these states could give a beginning to an attempt to¬ 
wards exploring the vast unknown ocean which lay 
beyond it, they had to accomplish a voyage (ac¬ 
cording to their ideas) of great extent and much 
danger. This was sufficient to deter them from 
engaging in an arduous undertaking, from which, 
even if attended with success, their situation pre¬ 
vented their entertaining hopes of deriving great 
advantage, a 

But could we suppose the discovery of a new 
passage to India to have become an object of desire 
or pursuit to any of these states, their science as 
w ell as practice of navigation was so defective, that 
it would have been hardly possible for them to attain 
it. The vessels w hich the ancients employed in trade 
were so small, as not to afford stowage for provisions 
sufficient to subsist a crew during a long voyage. 
Their construction was such, that they could seldom 
venture to depart far from land, and their mode of 
steering along the coast (which I have been obliged 
to mention often) so circuitous and slow, that from 
these as well as from other circumstances which I 
might have specified, we may pronounce a voyage 
from the Mediterranean to India, by the Cape of 
Good Hope, to have been an undertaking beyond 
their power to accomplish, in such a manner as to 
render it, in any degree, subservient to commerce. To 
this decision, the account preserved by Herodotus, of 
a voyage performed by some Phenician ships em¬ 
ployed by a king of Egypt, which, taking their depar¬ 
ture from the Arabian gulf, doubled the southern pro¬ 
montory of Africa, and arrived, at the end of three 
years, by the straits of Gades, or Gibraltar, at the 
mouth of the Nile, c can hardly be considered as 
repugnant; for several writers of the greatest emi¬ 
nence among the ancients, and most distinguished 
for their proficiency in the knowledge of geography, 

b (Joaniet Orig. des T.oix, des Arts, &c. ii. 303 . 320 . 0 Lib. iv. c. 42 . 


a See Note LV. 




SECT. IV. 


1126 


CONCERNING 

regaided this account rather as an amusing tale 
than the history of a real transaction ; and either 
enteitained doubts concerning the possibility of 
sailing round Africa, or absolutely denied it. d But 
if what Herodotus relates concerning the course 
held by these Phenician ships had ever been re¬ 
ceived by the ancients with general assent, we can 
hardly suppose that any states could have been so 
wildly adventurous as to imagine that a voyage, 
which it required three years to complete, could be 
undertaken w ith a prospect of commercial benefit. 

II. The rapid progress of the moderns in explor¬ 
ing India, as well as the extensive power and valu¬ 
able settlements which they early acquired there, 
mark such a distinction between their mode of con¬ 
ducting naval operations, and that of the ancients, 
as merits to be considered and explained with 
attention. From the reign of the first Ptolemy to 
the conquest of Egypt by the Mahomedans, Europe 
had been supplied with the productions of the East 
by the Greeks of Alexandria, by the Romans while 
they were masters of Egypt, and by the subjects of 
the emperors of Constantinople, when that kingdom 
became a province of their dominions. During 
this long period, extending almost to a thousand 
years, none of those people, the most enlightened, 
undoubtedly, in the ancient world, ever advanced 
by sea further towards the east than the gulf of 
Siam, and had no regular established trade but with 
the ports on the coast of Malabar, or those in the 
island of Ceylon. They attempted no conquests 
in any part of India, they made no settlements, they 
erected no forts. Satisfied with an intercourse merely 
commercial, they did not aim at acquiring any de¬ 
gree of power or dominion in the countries where 
they traded, though it seems to be probable that 
they might have established it without much oppo¬ 
sition from the natives, a gentle effeminate people, 
with whom, at that time, no foreign and more war¬ 
like race was mingled. But the enterprising ac¬ 
tivity of the Portuguese was not long confined 
within the same limits ; a few years after the ar¬ 
rival at Calecut, they advanced towards the east, 
into regions unknown to the ancients. The king¬ 
doms of Cambodia, Cochin-China, Tonquin, the 
vast empire of China, and all the fertile islands in 
the great Indian Archipelago, from Sumatra to the 
Philippines, were discovered, and the Portuguese, 
though opposed in every quarter by the Mahome¬ 
dans of Tartar or Arabian origin settled in many 
parts of India, enemies much more formidable 
than the natives, established there that extensive 
influence and dominion which I have formerly 
described. 

Of this remarkable difference between the pro¬ 
gress and operations of the ancients and moderns 
in India, the imperfect knowledge of the former, 
with respect both to the theory and practice of na¬ 
vigation, seems to have been the principal cause. 
From the coast of Malabar to the Philippines, was 

d Polyb. lib. iii. p. 103. edit. Casaub. Plin. Nat. Ilist. lib. ii. c. 6. 


ANCIENT INDIA. 

a voyage of an extent far beyond any that the an¬ 
cients were accustomed to undertake, and accord¬ 
ing to their manner of sailing, must have required 
a great length of time to perform it. The nature of 
their trade with India was such, that they had not 
(as has been formerly observed) the same induce¬ 
ments with the moderns to prosecute discovery with 
ardour ; and, according to the description given of 
the vessels in which the merchants of Alexandria 
carried on their trade from the Arabian gulf, they 
appear to have been very unfit for that purpose. On 
all these accounts the ancients remained satisfied 
with a slender knowledge of India ; and influenced 
by reasons proceeding from the same cause, they at¬ 
tempted neither conquest or settlement there. In 
order to accomplish either of these, they must have 
transported a considerable number of men into In¬ 
dia. But, from the defective structure of their 
ships, as well as from the imperfection of their art 
in navigating them, the ancients seldom ventured 
to convey a body of troops to any distance by sea. 
From Berenice to Musiris was to them, even after 
Hippalus had discovered the method of steering a 
direct course, and when their naval skill had at¬ 
tained to its highest state of improvement, a voy¬ 
age of no less than seventy days. By the ancient 
route along the coast of Persia, a voyage from the 
Arabian gulf to any part of India must have been 
of greater length, and accomplished more slowly. 
As no hostile attack was ever made upon India by 
sea, either by the Greek monarchs of Egypt, though 
the two first of them were able and ambitious princes, 
or by the most enterprising of the Roman emperors, 
it is evident that they must have deemed it an at¬ 
tempt beyond their power to execute. Alexander the 
Great, and, in imitation of him, his successors, the 
monarchs of Syria, were the only persons in the an¬ 
cient world who formed any idea of establishing their 
dominion in any partof India; but it was with armies 
led thither by land that they hoped to achieve this. 

III. The sudden effect of opening a direct com¬ 
munication with the East, in lowering the price of 
Indian commodities, is a circumstance that merits 
observation. How compendious soever the ancient 
intercourse with India may appear to have been, it 
was attended with considerable expense. The pro¬ 
ductions of the remote parts of Asia, brought to 
Ceylon, or to the ports on the Malabar coast, by the 
natives, were put on board the ships which arrived 
from the Arabian gulf. At Berenice they were 
landed, and carried by camels two hundred and 
fifty-eight miles to the banks of the Nile. There 
they were again embarked, and conveyed down the 
river to Alexandria, whence they were despatched 
to different markets. The addition to the price of 
goods by such a multiplicity of operations must 
have been considerable, especially when the rate 
chargeable on each operation was fixed by mono¬ 
polists, subject to no control. But, after the pass¬ 
age to India by the Cape of Good Hope was dis- 

Ptol. Geogr. lib. iv. c. 9. See Note LVl. 



1126 AN HISTORICAL 

covered, its various commodities were purchased 
at first hand in the countries of which they were 
the growth or manufacture. In all these, particu¬ 
larly in Indostan and in China, the subsistence of 
man is more abundant than in any other part of the 
ea:th. The people live chiefly upon rice, the most 
prolific of all grains; population, of consequence, 
is so great, and labour so extremely cheap, that 
every production of nature or of art is sold at a 
very low price. When these were shipped in dif¬ 
ferent parts of India, they were conveyed directly 
to Lisbon, by a navigation, long indeed, but unin¬ 
terrupted and safe, and thence circulated through 
Europe. The carriage of mercantile goods by water 
is so much less expensive than by any other mode 
of conveyance, that as soon as the Portuguese could 
import the productions of India in sufficient quan¬ 
tities to supply the demands of Europe, they were 
able to afford them at such a reduced price, that 
the competition of the Venetians ceased almost en¬ 
tirely, and the full stream of commerce flowed in 
its natural direction towards the cheapest market. 
In what proportion the Portuguese lowered the 
price of Indian commodities, I cannot ascertain 
with precision, as I have not found in contempo¬ 
rary writers sufficient information with respect to 
that point. Some idea, however, of this, approach¬ 
ing perhaps near to accuracy, may be formed from 
the computations of Mr. Munn, an intelligent Eng¬ 
lish merchant. He has published a table of the 
prices paid for various articles of goods in India, 
compared with the prices for which they were sold 
in Aleppo, from which the difference appears to be 
nearly as three to one ; and he calculates, that, after 
a reasonable allowance for the expense of the voy¬ 
age from India, the same goods may be sold in 
England at half the price which they bear in Aleppo. 
The expense of conveying the productions of India 
up the Persian gulf to Bassora, and thence either 
through the Great or Little Desert to Aleppo, could 
not, I should imagine, differ considerably from that 
by the Red sea to Alexandria. We may therefore 
suppose, that the Venetians might purchase them 
from the merchants of that city at nearly the same 
rate for which they were sold in Aleppo ; and when 
we add to this, what they must have charged as 
their own profit in all the markets which they fre¬ 
quented, it is evident that the Portuguese might 
afford to reduce the commodities of the East to a 
price below that which has been mentioned, and 
might supply every part of Europe with them more 
than one-half cheaper than formerly. The enter¬ 
prising schemes of the Portuguese monarchs were 
accomplished sooner, as well as more completely, 
than in the hour of most sanguine hope they could 
have presumed to expect; and, early in the six¬ 
teenth century, their subjects became possessed of 
a monopoly of the trade with India, founded upon 
the only equitable title, that of furnishing its pro- 

e Jac. de Vitriac. Hist. Ilieros. ap Bongars. i. p. 1099. Wilh. Tyr. 
lib. xii. c. S3. 


DISQUISITION SECT. IV. 

Auctions in greater abundance, and at a more mo¬ 
derate price. 

IV. We may observe, that, in consequence of a 
more plentiful supply of Indian goods, and at a 
cheaper rate, the demand for them increased ra¬ 
pidly in every part of Europe. To trace the pro¬ 
gress of this in detail, would lead me far beyond 
the period which I have fixed as the limit of this 
Disquisition, but some general remarks concerning 
it will be found intimately connected with the sub¬ 
ject of my inquiries. The chief articles of impor¬ 
tation from India, while the Romans had the direc¬ 
tion of the trade with that country, have been 
formerly specified. But upon the subversion ot 
their empire, and the settlement of the fierce war¬ 
riors of Scythia and Germany in the various coun¬ 
tries of Europe, the state of society, as well as the 
condition of individuals, became so extremely dif¬ 
ferent, that the wants and desires of men were no 
longer the same. Barbarians, many of them not 
far advanced in their progress beyond the rudest 
state of social life, had little relish for those accom¬ 
modations, and that elegance, which are so alluring 
to polished nations. The curious manufactures of 
silk, the precious stones and pearls of the East, 
which had been the ornament and pride of the 
wealthy and luxurious citizens of Rome, were not 
objects of desire to men, who, for a considerable 
time after they took possession of their new con¬ 
quests, retained the original simplicity of their 
pastoral manners. They advanced, however, from 
rudeness to refinement in the usual course of pro¬ 
gression which nations are destined to hold, and an 
increase of wants and desires requiring new objects 
to gratify them, they began to acquire a relish for 
some of the luxuries of India. Among these they 
had a singular predilection for the spiceries and 
aromatics which that country yields in such a va¬ 
riety and abundance. Whence their peculiar fond¬ 
ness for these arose, it is not of importance to inquire. 
Whoever consults the writers of the middle ages, 
will find many particulars which confirm this ob¬ 
servation. In every enumeration of Indian commo¬ 
dities which they give, spices are always mentioned 
as the most considerable and precious article.' In 
their cookery, all dishes were highly seasoned with 
them. In every entertainment of parade, a profu¬ 
sion of them was deemed essential to magnificence. 
In everj r medical prescription they were principal 
ingredients/ But considerable as the demand for 
spices had become, the mode in which the nations 
of Europe had hitherto been supplied with them 
was extremely disadvantageous. The ships em¬ 
ployed by the merchants of Alexandria never ven¬ 
tured to visit those remote regions which produce 
the most valuable spices, and before they could be 
circulated through Europe, they were loaded with 
the accumulated profits received by four or five 
different hands through which they had passed. 

f Du Cange. Glossar. verb. Aromata , Species. Henry’s Hist. ofGreat 
Brit. vol. iv. p. 597,598. 










SECT. IV. 


CONCERNING 

But the Portuguese, with a bolder spirit of naviga¬ 
tion, having penetrated into every part of Asia, 
took in their cargo of spices in the places where 
they grew, and could afford to dispose of them at 
such a price, that, from being an expensive luxury, 
they became an article of such general use as 
greatly augmented the demand for them. An effect 
similar to this may be observed with respect to the 
demand for other commodities imported from India, 
upon the reduction of their price by the Portuguese. 
From that period a growing taste for Asiatic luxu¬ 
ries may be traced in every country of Europe, and 
the number of ships fitted out for that trade at Lis¬ 
bon continued to increase every year.? 

V. Lucrative as the trade with India was, and 
had long been deemed, it is remarkable that the 
Portuguese were suffered to remain in the undis¬ 
turbed and exclusive possession of it, during the 
course of almost a century. In the ancient world, 
though Alexandria, from the peculiar felicity of its 
situation, could carry on an intercourse with the 
East by sea, and circulated its productions through 
Europe with such advantage as gave it a decided 
superiority over every rival; yet various attempts 
(which have been described in their proper places) 
were made, from time to time, to obtain some share 
in a commerce so apparently beneficial. From the 
growing activity of the commercial spirit in the 
sixteenth century, as well as from the example of 
the eager solicitude with which the Venetians and 
Genoese exerted themselves alternately to shut out 
each other from any share in the Indian trade, it 
might have been expected that some competitor 
would have arisen to call in question the claim of 
the Portuguese to an exclusive right to traffic with 
the East, and to wrest from them some portion of it. 
There were, however, at that time, some peculiar 
circumstances in the political state of all those na¬ 
tions in Europe, whose intrusion, as rivals, the 
Portuguese had reason to dread, which secured to 
them the quiet enjoyment of their monopoly of In¬ 
dian commerce, during such a long period. From 
the accession of Charles V. to the throne, Spain was 
either so much occupied in a multiplicity of opera¬ 
tions in which it was engaged by the ambition of 
that monarch, and of his son Philip II., or so intent 
on prosecuting its own discoveries and 

A. d. 1521. con q Ues ts in the New World, that 

although, by the successful enterprise of Magellan, 
its fleets were unexpectedly conducted by a new 
course to that remote region of Asia which was the 
seat of the most gainful and alluring branch of trade 
carried on by the Portuguese, it could make no 
considerable effort to avail itself of the commercial 
advantages which it might have derived from that 
event. By the acquisition of the crown of Portugal, 
in the year one thousand five hundred and eighty, 
the kings of Spain, instead of the rivals, became the 
protectors of the Portuguese trade, and the guardians 
of all its exclusive rights. Throughout the six- 

g See Note JLVII. 


ANCIENT INDIA. \U7 

teenth century, the strength and resources of France 
were so much wasted by the fruitless expeditions of 
their monarchs into Italy, by their unequal contest 
with the power and policy of Charles V., and by the 
calamities of the civil wars which desolated the 
kingdom upwards of forty years, that it could 
neither bestow much attention upon objects of com¬ 
merce, nor engage in any scheme of distant enter¬ 
prise. The Venetians, how sensibly soever they 
might feel the mortifying reverse of being excluded, 
almost entirely, from the Indian trade, of which 
their capital had been formerly the chief seat, were 
so debilitated and humbled by the league of Cam- 
bray, that they were no longer capable of engaging 
in any undertaking of magnitude. England, weak¬ 
ened (as was formerly observed) by the long contest 
between the houses of York and Lancaster, and just 
beginning to recover its proper vigour, was restrain¬ 
ed from active exertion, during one part of the six¬ 
teenth century, by the cautious maxims of Henry 
VII.; and wasted its strength, during another part 
of it, by engaging inconsiderately in the wars be¬ 
tween the princes on the continent. The nation, 
though destined to acquire territories in India more 
extensive and valuable than were ever possessed 
by any European power, had no such presentiment 
of its future eminence there, as to take an early part 
in the commerce or transactions of that country, and 
a great part of the century elapsed before it began 
to turn its attention towards the East. 

While the most considerable nations in Europe 
found it necessary, from the circumstances which I 
have mentioned, to remain inactive spectators of 
what passed in the East, the Seven United Provinces 
of the Low Countries, recently formed into a small 
state, still struggling for political existence, and yet 
in the infancy of its power, ventured to appear in, 
the Indian ocean as the rivals of the Portuguese ; 
and, despising their pretensions to an exclusive 
right of commerce with the extensive countries to 
the eastward of the Cape of Good Hope, invaded 
that monopoly which they had hitherto guarded w ith 
such jealous attention. The English soon followed 
the example of the Dutch, and both nations, at first 
by the enterprising industry of private adventurers, 
and afterwards by the more powerful efforts of 
trading companies, under the protection of public 
authority, advanced with astonishing ardour and 
success in this new career opened to them. The 
vast fabric of power which the Portuguese had 
erected in the East (a superstructure much too large 
for the basis on which it had to rest) was almost 
entirely overturned, in as short time, and with as 
much facility, as it had been raised. England and 
Holland, by driving them from their most valuable 
settlements, and seizing the most lucrative branches 
of their trade, have attained to that pre-eminence 
in naval power and commercial opulence, by which 
they are distinguished among the nations of Europe. 
VI. The coincidence, in point of time, of the 



1128 AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION SECT. IV. 


discoveries made by Columbus in the west, and 
those of Gama in the east, is a singular circum¬ 
stance, which merits observation, on account of the 
remarkable influence of those events in forming or 
strengthening the commercial connexion of the 
different quarters of the globe with each other. In 
all ages, gold and silver, particularly the latter, 
have been t\e commodities exported with the great¬ 
est profit to India. In no part of the earth do the 
natives depend so little upon foreign countries, 
either for the necessaries or luxuries of life. The 
blessings of a favourable climate and fertile soil, 
augmented by their own ingenuity, afford them 
whatever they desire. In consequence of this, trade 
with them has always been carried on in one uni¬ 
form manner, and the precious metals have been 
given in exchange for their peculiar productions, 
whether of nature or art. But when the communi¬ 
cation with India was rendered so much more easy, 
that the demand for its commodities began to in¬ 
crease far beyond what had been formerly known, 
if Europe had not been supplied with the gold and 
silver which it was necessary to carry to the markets 
of the East from sources richer and more abundant 
than her own barren and impoverished mines, she 
must either have abandoned the trade with India 
altogether, or have continued it with manifest dis¬ 
advantage. By such a continual drain of gold and 
silver, as well as by the unavoidable waste of both 
in circulation and in manufactures, the quantity of 
those metals must have gone on diminishing, and 
their value would have been so much enhanced, 
that they could not have continued long to be of the 
same utility in the commercial transactions between 
the two countries. But before the effects of this 
diminution could be very sensibly felt, America 
opened her mines, and poured in treasures upon 
Europe in the most copious stream to which man¬ 
kind ever had access. This treasure, in spite of 
innumerable anxious precautions to prevent it, 
flowed to the markets where the commodities neces¬ 
sary for supplying the wants or gratifying the luxury 
of the Spaniards, were to be found ; and from that 
time to the present, the English and Dutch have 
purchased the productions of China and Indostan, 
with silver brought from the mines of Mexico and 
Peru. The immense exportation of silver to the 
East, during the course of two centuries, has not 
only been replaced by the continual influx from 
America, but the quantity of it has been consider¬ 
ably augmented, and at the same time the propor¬ 
tional rate of its value in Europe and in India has 
varied so little, that it is chiefly with silver that 
many of the capital articles imported from the East 
are still purchased. 

While America contributed in this manner to 
facilitate and extend the intercourse of Europe with 
Asia, it gave rise to a traffic with Africa, which, 
from slender beginnings, has become so consider¬ 
able, as to form the chief bond of commercial 

h Hist, of America, p. 794. 


connexion with that continent. Soon after the 
Portuguese had extended their discoveries on the 
coast of Africa beyond the river Senegal, they en¬ 
deavoured to derive some benefit from their new 
settlements there, by the sale of slaves. Various 
circumstances combined in favouring the revival of 
this odious traffic. In every part of America, of 
which the Spaniards took possession, they found 
that the natives, from the feebleness of their frame, 
from their indolence, or from the injudicious man¬ 
ner of treating them, were incapable of the exertions 
requisite either for working mines, or for cultivating 
the earth. Eager to find hands more industrious 
and efficient, the Spaniards had recourse to their 
neighbours the Portuguese, and purchased from 
them negro slaves. Experience soon discovered 
that they w ere men of a more hardy race, and so 
much better fitted for enduring fatigue, that the 
labour of one negro was computed to be equal to 
that of four Americans; 11 and from that time the 
number employed in the New World has gone on 
increasing with rapid progress. In this practice, 
no less repugnant to the feelings of humanity than 
to the principles of religion, the Spaniards have 
unhappily been imitated by all the nations of Europe 
who have acquired territories in the warmer climates 
of the New World. At present the number of negro 
slaves in the settlements of Great Britain and France 
in the West Indies, exceeds a million ; and as the 
establishment of servitude has been found, both in 
ancient and in modern times, extremely unfavour¬ 
able to population, it requires an annual importa¬ 
tion from Africa of at least fifty-eight thousand to 
keep up the stock. 1 If it w ere possible to ascertain, 
with equal exactness, the number of slaves in the 
Spanish dominions, and in North America, the total 
number of negro slaves might be well reckoned at 
as many more. 

Thus the commercial genius of Europe, which 
has given it a visible ascendant over the three other 
divisions of the earth, by discerning their respective 
wants and resources, and by rendering them re¬ 
ciprocally subservient to one another, has established 
an union among them, from which it has derived 
an immense increase of opulence, of power, and of 
enjoyments. 

VII. Though the discovery of a New World in 
the w est, and the opening of a more easy and direct 
communication with the remote regions of the east, 
co-operated towards extending the commerce and 
adding to the enjoyments of Europe, a remarkable 
difference may be observed, with respect both to 
the time and the manner in which they produced 
these effects. When the Portuguese first visited 
the different countries of Asia, stretching from the 
coast of Malabar to China, they found them pos¬ 
sessed by nations highly civilized, which had made 
considerable progress in elegant as well as useful 
arts, which were accustomed to intercourse with 
strangers, and well acquainted with all the ad- 

i Report of Lords of ‘he Privy-Council, A. D. 1788. 





SECT. IV. CONCERNING 

vantages of commerce. Rut when the Spaniards 
began to explore the New World, which they dis¬ 
covered, the aspect which it presented to them was 
very different. The islands were inhabited by naked 
savages, so unacquainted with the simplest and 
most necessary arts of life, that they subsisted 
chiefly on the spontaneous productions of a fertile 
soil and genial climate. The continent appeared to 
be a forest of immense extent, along the coast of 
which were scattered some feeble tribes, not greatly 
superior to the islanders in industry or improve¬ 
ment. Even its two large monarchies, which have 
been dignified with the appellation of civilized 
states, had not advanced so far beyond their coun¬ 
trymen, as to be entitled to that name. The in¬ 
habitants both of Mexico and Peru, unacquainted 
with the useful metals, and destitute of the address 
requisite for acquiring such command of the inferior 
animals as to derive any considerable aid from their 
labour, had made so little progress in agriculture, 
the first of all arts, that one of the greatest difficul¬ 
ties with which the small number of Spaniards who 
overturned those highly extolled empires had to 
struggle, was how to procure in them what was suf¬ 
ficient for their subsistence. 

It was, of consequence, with a very different 
spirit that the intercourse with two countries, resem¬ 
bling each other so little in their degree of improve¬ 
ment, vvas begun and carried on. The Portuguese, 
certain of finding in the East, not only the produc¬ 
tions with which the bountiful hand of nature has 
enriched that part of the globe, but various manufac¬ 
tures which had long been known and admired in Eu¬ 
rope, engaged in this alluring trade with the greatest 
eagerness. The encouragement of it their monarchs 
considered as a chief object of government, towards 
which they directed all the power of the kingdom, 
and roused their subjects to such vigorous exertions 
in the prosecution of it, as occasioned that astonish¬ 
ing rapidity of progress which I have described. 
The sanguine hopes with which the Spaniards en¬ 
tered upon their career of discovery, met not with the 
same speedy gratification. From the industry of the 
rude inhabitants of the New World, they did not re¬ 
ceive a single article of commerce. Even the natural 
productions of the soil and climate, when not che¬ 
rished and multiplied by the fostering and active 
hand of man, were of little account. Hope, rather 
than success, incited them to persist in extending 
their researches and conquests ; and as government 
derived little immediate benefit from these, it left the 
prosecution of them chiefly to private adventurers, by 
whose enterprising activity, more than by any effort 
of the state, the most valuable possessions of Spain 
in America were acquired. Instead of the instantane¬ 
ous and great advantages which the Portuguese 
derived from their discoveries, above half a century 
elapsed before the Spaniards reaped any benefit of 
consequence from their conquests, except the small 
quantities of gold which the islanders were com¬ 
pelled to collect, and the plunder of the gold and 


ANCIENT INDIA. H2i> 

silver employed by the Mexicans and Peruvians, 
as ornaments of their persons and temples, or as 
utensils of sacred or domestic use. It was not until 
the discovery of the mines of Potosi in Peru, in the 
year one thousand five hundred and forty-five, and 
of those of Sacotecas in Mexico, soon after, that 
the Spanish territories in the New World brought 
a permanent and valuable addition of wealth and 
revenue to the mother country. 

Nor did the trade with India differ more from 
that with America, in respect of the particular cir¬ 
cumstances which I have explained, than in respect 
to the manner of carrying it on, after it grew to be 
a considerable object of political attention. Trade 
with the East was a simple mercantile transaction, 
confined to the purchase either of the natural pro¬ 
ductions of the country, such as spices, precious 
stones, pearls, &c. or of the manufactures which 
abounded among an industrious race of men, such 
as silk and cotton stuffs, porcelain, &c. Nothing 
more was requisite in conducting this trade, than 
to settle a few skilful agents in proper places, to 
prepare a proper assortment of goods for completing 
the cargoes of ships as soon as they arrived from 
Europe, or at the utmost to acquire the command 
of a few fortified stations, which might secure them 
admission into ports where they might careen in 
safety, and find protection from the insults of any 
hostile power. There was no necessity of making 
any attempt to establish colonies, either for the cul¬ 
tivation of the soil, or the conduct of manufactures. 
Both these remained, as formerly, in the hands of 
the natives. 

But as soon as that wild spirit of enterprise, which 
animated the Spaniards who first explored and sub¬ 
dued the New World, began to subside, and when, 
instead of roving as adventurers from province to 
province in quest of gold and silver, they seriously 
turned their thoughts towards rendering their con¬ 
quests beneficial by cultivation and industry, they 
found it necessary to establish colonies in every 
country which they wished to improve. Other na¬ 
tions imitated their example in the settlements 
which they afterwards made in some of the islands, 
and on the continent of North America. Europe, 
after having desolated the New World, began to 
repeople it, and under a system of colonization (the 
spirit and regulations of which it is not the object 
of this Disquisition to explain) the European race 
has multiplied there amazingly. Every article of 
commerce imported from the New World, if we 
except the furs and skins purchased from the inde¬ 
pendent tribes of hunters in North America, and 
from a few tribes in a similar state on the southern 
continent, is the produce of the industry of Euro¬ 
peans settled there. To their exertions, or to those 
of hands which they have taught or compelled to 
labour, we are indebted for sugar, rum, cotton, to¬ 
bacco, indigo, rice, and even the gold and silver 
extracted from the bowels of the earth. Intent on 
those lucrative branches of industry, the inhabitants 



SECT. IV. 


AN HISTORICAL DISQUISITION 


of the New World pay little attention to those kinds 
of labour which occupy a considerable pait ol the 
members of other societies, and depend, in some 
measure, for their subsistence, and entirely for every 
article of elegance and luxury, upon the ancient 
continent. Thus the Europeans have become ma¬ 
nufacturers for America, and their industry has 
been greatly augmented by the vast demands for 
supplying the wants of extensive countries, the 
population of which is continually increasing. Nor 
is the influence of this demand confined solely to 
the nations which have a more immediate con¬ 
nexion with the American colonies; it is felt in 
every part of Europe that furnishes any article ex¬ 
ported to them, and gives activity and vigour to the 
hand of the artisan in the inland provinces of Ger¬ 
many, as well as to those in Great Britain and other 
countries, which carry on a direct trade with the 
New World. 

But while the discovery and conquest of America 
is allowed to be one principal cause of that rapid 
increase of industry and wealth, which is conspicu¬ 
ous in Europe during the two last centuries, some 
timid theorists have maintained, that throughout 
the same period Europe has been gradually impo¬ 
verished, by being drained of its treasure in order 
to carry on its trade with India. But this appre¬ 
hension has arisen from inattention to the nature 
and use of the precious metals. They are to be 
considered in two different lights ; either as the 
signs which all civilized nations have agreed to em¬ 
ploy, in order to estimate or represent the value 
both of labour and of all commodities, and thus to 
facilitate the purchase of the former and the con¬ 
veyance of the latter from one proprietor to another ; 
or gold and silver may be viewed as being them¬ 
selves commodities, or articles of commerce, for 
which some equivalent must be given by such as 
wish to acquire them. In this light the exportation 
of the precious metals to the East should be regard¬ 
ed ; for, as the nation by which they are exported 
must purchase them with the produce of its own 
labour and ingenuity, this trade must contribute, 
though not in the same obvious and direct manner 
as that with America, towards augmenting the ge¬ 
neral industry and opulence of Europe. If England, 
as the price of Mexican and Peruvian dollars which 
are necessary for carrying on its trade with India, 
must give a certain quantity of its woollen or cotton 
cloth, or hard-ware, then the hands of an additional 
number of manufacturers are rendered active, and 
work to a certain amount must be executed, for 
which, without this trade, there would not have been 
any demand. The nation reaps all the benefit aris¬ 
ing from a new creation of industry. With the gold 
and silver which her manufacturers have purchased 
in the West, she is enabled to trade in the markets 
of the East, and the exportation of treasure to India, 
which has been so much dreaded, instead of im¬ 
poverishing, enriches the kingdom. 

k M. L’Abb^i Raynal. 


VIII. It is to the discovery of the passage to 
India by the Cape of Good Hope, and to the vigour 
and success with which the Portuguese prosecuted 
their conquests and established their dominion there, 
that Europe has been indebted lor its preservation 
from the most illiberal and humiliating servitude 
that ever oppressed polished nations, for this ob¬ 
servation I am indebted to an author, whose inge¬ 
nuity has illustrated, and whose eloquence has 
adorned, the History of the Settlements and Com¬ 
merce of Modern Nations in the East and West 
Indies ; k and it appears to me so well founded as to 
merit more ample investigation. A few years after 
the first appearance of the Portuguese in India, the 
dominion of the Mamelukes was overturned by the 
irresistible power of the Turkish arms, and Egypt 
and Syria were annexed as provinces to the Otto¬ 
man empire. If after this event the commercial in¬ 
tercourse with India had continued to be carried on 
in its ancient channels, the Turkish sultans, by 
being masters of Egypt and Syria, must have pos¬ 
sessed the absolute command of it, whether the pro¬ 
ductions of the East were conveyed by the Red sea 
to Alexandria, or were transported by land-carriage 
from the Persian gulf to Constantinople and the 
ports of the Mediterranean. The monarchs who 
were then at the head of this great empire, were 
neither destitute of abilities to perceive the pre¬ 
eminence to which this would have elevated them, 
nor of ambition to aspire to it. Selim, the con¬ 
queror of the Mamelukes, by confirming the ancient 
privileges of the Venetians in Egypt and Syria, and 
by his regulations concerning the duties on Indian 
goods, which I have already mentioned, early dis¬ 
covered his solicitude to secure all the advantages 
of commerce with the East to his own dominions. 
The attention of Solyman the Magnificent, his suc¬ 
cessor, seems to have been equally directed towards 
the same object. More enlightened than any mo¬ 
narch of the Ottoman race, he attended to all the 
transactions of the European states, and had observ¬ 
ed the power as well as opulence to which the re¬ 
public of Venice had attained by engrossing the 
commerce with the East. He now beheld Portugal 
rising towards the same elevation by the same 
means. Eager to imitate and to supplant them, he 
formed a scheme suitable to his character for poli¬ 
tical wisdom, and the appellation of Institutor of 
Rules , by which the Turkish historians have distin¬ 
guished him, and established, early in his reign, a 
system of commercial laws in his dominions, by 
which he hoped to render Constantinople the great 
staple of Indian trade, as it had been in the prosper¬ 
ous ages of the Greek empire. 1 For accomplishing 
this scheme, however, he did not rely on the opera¬ 
tion of laws alone ; he fitted out about the same 
time a formidable fleet in the Red sea, _ 

’ A. D. 1538. 

under the conduct of a confidential 

officer, with such a body of janizaries on board of it, 

as he deemed sufficient not only to drive the Portu- 

1 Partita Hist. Venet. 1. vii. p. 589. Sandi Stor. Civil. Venez. p. ii. p. 901. 





SECT IV. 


CONCERNING ANCIENT INDIA. 


1131 


guese out of all their new settlements in India, but 
to take possession of some commodious station in 
that country, and to erect his standard there. The 
Portuguese, by efforts of valour and constancy en¬ 
titled to the splendid success with which they were 
crowned, repulsed this powerful armament in every 
enterprise it undertook, and compelled the shatter¬ 
ed remains of the Turkish fleet and army to return 
with ignominy to the harbours from which they had 
taken their departure with the most sanguine hopes 
of terminating the expedition in a very different 
manner.™ Solyman, though he never relinquished 
the design of expelling the Portuguese from India, 
and of acquiring some establishment there, was so 
occupied, during the remainder of his reign, by the 
multiplicity of arduous operations in which an in¬ 
satiable ambition involved him, that he never had 
leisure to resume the prosecution of it with vigour. 

If either the measures of Selim had produced the 
effect which he expected, or if the more adventurous 
and extensive plan of Solyman had been carried 
into execution, the command of the wealth of India, 

m Asia de Barros, dec. iv. lib. x. c. 1, &:c. 


together with such a marine as the monopoly of 
trade with that country has, in every age, enabled 
the power which possessed it to create and main¬ 
tain, must have brought an accession of force 
to an empire already formidable to mankind, that 
would have rendered it altogether irresistible. Eu¬ 
rope, at that period, was not in a condition to have 
defended itself against the combined exertions 
of such naval and military power, supported by 
commercial wealth, and under the direction of a 
monarch whose comprehensive genius was able to 
derive from each its peculiar advantages, and to 
employ all with the greatest effect. Happily for the 
human race, the despotic system of Turkish govern¬ 
ment, founded on such illiberal fanaticism as has 
extinguished science in Egypt, in Assyria, and in 
Greece, its three favourite mansions in ancient 
times, was prevented from extending its dominion 
over Europe, and from suppressing liberty, learn¬ 
ing, and taste, when beginning to make successful 
efforts to revive there, and again to bless, to en¬ 
lighten, and to polish mankind. 


V 


I 



APPENDIX 


I shall now endeavour to fulfil an engagement 
which I came under, a to make some observations 
upon the genius, the manners, and institutions of 
the people of India, as far as they can be traced from 
the earliest ages to which our knowledge of them 
extends. Were I to enter upon this wide field with 
an intention of surveying its whole extent; were I 
to view each object which it presents to a philoso¬ 
phical inquirer, under all its different aspects, it 
would lead me into researches and speculations, 
not only of immense length, but altogether foreign 
from the subject of this Disquisition. My inquiries 
and reflections shall therefore be confined to what 
is intimately connected with the design of this 
work. I shall collect the facts which the ancients 
have transmitted to us concerning the institutions 
peculiar to the natives of India, and by comparing 
them with what we now know of that country, en¬ 
deavour to deduce such conclusions as tend to point 
out the circumstances which have induced the rest 
of mankind, in every age, to carry on commercial in¬ 
tercourse to so great an extent with that country. 

Of this intercourse there are conspicuous proofs 
in the earliest periods concerning which history 
affords information. Not only the people contigu¬ 
ous to India, but remote nations, seem to have been 
acquainted, from time immemorial, with its com¬ 
modities, and to have valued them so highly, that 
in order to procure them they undertook fatiguing, 
expensive, and dangerous journeys. Whenever 
men give a decided preference to the commodities 
of any particular country, this must be owing 
either to its possessing some valuable natural 
productions peculiar to its soil and climate, or to 
some superior progress which its inhabitants have 
made in industry, art, and elegance. It is not to 
any peculiar excellence in the natural productions 
of India that we must ascribe entirely the predilec¬ 
tion of ancient nations for its commodities ; for, 
pepper excepted, an article, it must be allowed, of 
great importance, they are little different from those 
of other tropical countries ; and Ethiopia or Arabia 
might have fully supplied the Phenicians, and 
other trading people of antiquity, with the spices, 
the perfumes, the precious stones, the gold and 
silver, which formed the principal articles of their 
commerce. 


Whoever, then, wishes to trace the commerce 
with India to its source, must search for it, not so 
much in any peculiarity of the natural productions 
of that country, as in the superior improvement of 
its inhabitants. Many facts have been transmitted 
to us, which, if they are examined with proper at¬ 
tention, clearly demonstrate, that the natives of 
India were not only more early civilized, but had 
made greater progress in civilization, than any 
other people. These I shall endeavour to enu¬ 
merate, and to place them in such a point of view 
as may serve both to throw light upon the institu¬ 
tions, manners, and arts of the Indians, and to ac¬ 
count for the eagerness of all nations to obtain the 
productions of their ingenious industry. 

By the ancient heathen writers, the Indians were 
reckoned among those races of men which they de¬ 
nominated Autochthones or Aboriyines , whom they 
considered as natives of the soil, whose origin could 
not be traced. 6 By the inspired writers, the wisdom 
of the East (an expression which is to be under¬ 
stood as a description of their extraordinary pro¬ 
gress in science and arts) was early celebrated. 0 In 
order to illustrate and confirm these explicit tes¬ 
timonies concerning the ancient and high civiliza¬ 
tion of the inhabitants of India, I shall take a view 
of their rank and condition as individuals ; of their 
civil policy ; of their laws and judicial proceed¬ 
ings ; of their useful and elegant arts; of their 
sciences ; and of their religious institutions ; as far 
as information can be gathered from the accounts of 
the Greek and Roman writers, compared w'ith what 
still remains of their ancient acquirements and 
institutions. 

I. From the most ancient accounts of India we 
learn, that the distinction of ranks and separation 
of professions were completely established there. 
This is one of the most undoubted proofs of a society 
considerably advanced in its progress. Arts in the 
early stages of social life are so few and so simple, 
that each man is sufficiently master of them all, to 
gratify every demand of his own limited desires. 
A savage can form his bow, point his arrows, rear 
his hut, and hollow his canoe, without calling in 
the aid of any hand more skilful than his ow n. d But 
when time has augmented the wants of men, the 
productions of art become so complicated in their 

c 1 Kings iv. 31. d Ilist. of Amer. p. 034. 




a See page 1090. 


b Diod. Sic. lib. ii. p. 151. 






APPENDIX. 


1133 


structure, or so curious in their fabric, that a parti¬ 
cular course of education is requisite towards form¬ 
ing the artist to ingenuity in contrivance and ex¬ 
pertness in execution. In proportion as refinement 
spreads, the distinction of professions increases, and 
they branch out into more numerous and minute 
subdivisions. Prior to the records of authentic his¬ 
tory, and even before the most remote mra to which 
their own traditions pretend to reach, this separation 
of professions had not only taken place among the 
natives of India, but the perpetuity of it was secured 
by an institution, which must be considered as the 
fundamental article in the system of their policy. 
The whole body of the people was divided into four 
orders or casts. The members of the first, deemed 
the most sacred, had it for their province to study 
the principles of religion ; to perform its functions ; 
and to cultivate the sciences. They were the priests, 
the instructors, and philosophers of the nation. The 
members of the second order were intrusted with 
the government and defence of the state. In 
peace, they were its rulers and magistrates ; in war, 
they were the generals who commanded its armies, 
and the soldiers who fought its battles. The third 
was composed of husbandmen and merchants ; and 
the fourth of artisans, labourers, and servants. 
None of these can ever quit his own cast, or be ad ¬ 
mitted into another.® The station of every individual 
is unalterably fixed; his destiny is irrevocable; 
and the walk of life is marked out, from which he 
must never deviate. This line of separation is not 
only established by civil authority, but confirmed 
and sanctioned by religion, and each order or cast 
is said to have proceeded from the divinity in such 
a different manner, that to mingle and confound 
them would be deemed an act of most daring im¬ 
piety/ Nor is it between the four different tribes 
alone that such insuperable barriers are fixed ; the 
members of each cast adhere invariably to the pro¬ 
fessions of their forefathers. From generation to 
generation, the same families have followed, and 
will always continue to follow, one uniform line of 
life. 

Such arbitrary arrangements of the various mem¬ 
bers which compose a community, seem, at first 
view, to be adverse to improvement either in science 
or in arts ; and by forming around the different or¬ 
ders of men artificial barriers, which it would be 
impious to pass, tend to circumscribe the operations 
of the human mind within a narrower sphere than 
nature has allotted to them. When every man is at 
full liberty to direct his efforts toward those objects 
and that end which the impulse of his own mind 
prompts him to prefer, he may be expected to attain 
that high degree of eminence to which the uncon¬ 
trolled exertions of genius and industry naturally 
conduct. The regulations of Indian policy, with 
respect to the different orders of men, must neces¬ 
sarily, at some times, check genius in its career, 

e Ayeen Akbery, iii. 81, &c. Sketches relating to the History, Arc. of 
the Hindoos, p. 1**7. &c. 


and confine to the functions of an inferior cast ta¬ 
lents fitted to shine in a higher sphere. But the 
arrangements of civil government are made, not for 
what is extraordinary, but for what is common ; not 
for the few, but for the many. The object of the 
first Indian legislators was to employ the most ef¬ 
fectual means of providing for the subsistence, the 
security, and happiness of all the members of the 
community over which they presided. With this 
view they set apart certain races of men for each of 
the various professions and arts necessary in a w r ell 
ordered society, and appointed the exercise of them 
to be transmitted from father to son in succession. 
This system, though extremely repugnant to the 
ideas which we, by being placed in a very different 
state of society, have formed, will be found, upon 
attentive inspection, better adapted to attain the 
end in view, than a careless observer, at first sight, 
is apt to imagine. The human mind bends to the 
law of necessity, and is accustomed not only to ac¬ 
commodate itself to the restraints which the condi¬ 
tion of its nature, or the institutions of its country, 
impose, but to acquiesce in them. From his entrance 
into life, an Indian knows the station allotted to 
him, and the functions to which he is destined by 
his birth. The objects which relate to these are the 
first that present themselves to his view. They oc¬ 
cupy his thoughts, or employ his hands; and, from 
his earliest years, he is trained to the habit of doing 
with ease and pleasure that which he must continue 
through life to do. To this may be ascribed that 
high degree of perfection conspicuous in many of 
the Indian manufactures ; and though veneration 
for the practices of their ancestors may check the 
spirit of invention, yet, by adhering to these, they 
acquire such an expertness and delicacy of hand, 
that Europeans, with all the advantages of superior 
science, and the aid of more complete instruments, 
have never been able to equal the exquisite execu¬ 
tion of their workmanship. While this high im¬ 
provement of their more curious manufactures ex¬ 
cited the admiration and attracted the commerce 
of other nations, the separation of professions in 
India, and the early distribution of the people into 
classes, attached to particular kinds of labour, se¬ 
cured such abundance of the more common and 
useful commodities, as not only supplied their own 
wants, but ministered to those of the countries 
around them. 

To this early division of the people into casts, we 
must likewise ascribe a striking peculiarity in the 
state of India ; the permanence of its institutions, 
and the immutability in the manners of its inhabit¬ 
ants. What now is in India always was there, and 
is likely still to continue: neither the ferocious 
violence and illiberal fanaticism of its Mahomedan 
conquerors, nor the power of its European masters, 
have effected any considerable alteration.* The 
same distinctions of condition take place, the same 

f See Note LVIII. 

g See Note LIX. 



1134 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


arrangements in civil and domestic society remain, 
the same maxims of religion are held in veneration, 
and the same sciences and arts are cultivated. 
Hence, in all ages, the trade with India has been 
the same ; gold and silver have uniformly been car¬ 
ried thither in order to purchase the same commo¬ 
dities with which it now supplies all nations; and 
from the age of Pliny to the present times, it has 
been always considered and execrated as a gulf 
which swallows up the wealth of every other coun¬ 
try, that flows incessantly towards it, and from 
which it never returns.* 1 According to the accounts 
which I have given of the cargoes anciently imported 
from India, they appear to have consisted of nearly 
the same articles with those of the investments in 
our own times; and whatever difference we may 
observe in them seems to have arisen, not so much 
from any diversity in the nature of the commodities 
which the Indians prepared for sale, as from a va¬ 
riety in the tastes or in the wants of the nations 
which demanded them. 

II. Another proof of the early and high civili¬ 
zation of the people of India, may be deduced 
from considering their political constitution and 
form of government. The Indians trace back the 
history of their own country through an immense 
succession of ages, and assert, that all Asia, from 
the mouth of the Indus on the w'est, to the confines 
of China on the east, and from the mountains of 
Thibet on the north, to Cape Comorin on the south, 
formed a vast empire, subject to one mighty sove¬ 
reign, under whom ruled several hereditary princes 
and rajahs. But their chronology, which measures 
the life of man in ancient times by thousands of 
years, and computes the length of the several pe¬ 
riods, during which it supposes the world to have 
existed, by millions, is so wildly extravagant as not 
to merit any serious discussion. We must rest sa¬ 
tisfied, then, until some more certain information 
is obtained with respect to the ancient history of 
India, with taking the first accounts of that coun¬ 
try, which can be deemed authentic, from the Greeks 
who served under Alexander the Great. They 
found kingdoms of considerable magnitude esta¬ 
blished in that country. The territories of Porus 
and of Taxiles comprehended a great part of the 
Panjab, one of the most fertile and best cultivated 
countries in India. The kingdom of the Prasij, or 
Gandaridse, stretched to a great extent on both 
sides of the Ganges. All the three, as appears from 
the ancient Greek writers, were powerful and 
populous. 

This description of the partition of India into 
states of such magnitude, is alone a convincing 
proof of its having advanced far in civilization. 
Tu whatever region of the earth there has been an 
opportunity of observing the progress of men in 
social life, they appear at first in small independent 
tribes or communities. Their common wants prompt 

h See Note LX. 

i Orme’s Dissert, vol. i p. 4. Sketches, &c. p. 113. 


them to unite; and their mutual jealousies, ns well 
as the necessity of securing subsistence, compel 
them to drive to a distance every rival who might 
encroach on those domains which they consider as 
their own. Many ages elapse before they coalesce, 
or acquire sufficient foresight to provide for the 
wants, or sufficient wisdom to conduct the affairs, of 
a numerous society, even under the genial climate 
and in the rich soil of India, more favourable per¬ 
haps to the union and increase of the human species 
than any other part of the globe; the formation of 
such extensive states as were established in that 
country when first visited by Europeans, must have 
been a work of long time ; and the members of them 
must have been long accustomed to exertions of 
useful industry. 

Though monarchical government was established 
in all the countries of India to which the knowledge 
of the ancients extended, the sovereigns were far 
from possessing uncontrolled or despotic power. 
No trace, indeed, is discovered there, of any assem¬ 
bly, or public body, the members of which, either 
in their own right or as representatives of their 
fellow-citizens, could interpose in enacting laws, or 
in superintending the execution of them. Insti¬ 
tutions destined to assert and guard the rights be¬ 
longing to men in social state, how familiar soever 
the idea may be to the people of Europe, never 
formed a part of the political constitution in any 
great Asiatic kingdom. It w as to different prin¬ 
ciples that the natives of India were indebted for 
restrictions which limited the exercise of regal 
power. The rank of individuals was unalterably 
fixed, and the privileges of the different casts were 
deemed inviolable. The monarchs of India, who 
were all taken from the second of the four classes 
formerly described, which is intrusted with the 
functions of government and exercise of w r ar, be¬ 
hold among their subjects an order of men far supe¬ 
rior to themselves in dignity, and so conscious of 
their own pre-eminence, both in rank and in sanc¬ 
tity, that they would deem it degradation and pol¬ 
lution if they were to eat of the same food with 
their sovereign. 1 Their persons are sacred, and 
even for the most heinous crimes they cannot be 
capitally punished; their blood must never be 
shed. k To men in this exalted station monarchs 
must look up with respect, and reverence them as 
the ministers of religion and the teachers of wisdom. 
On important occasions, it is the duty of sovereigns 
to consult them, and to be directed by their advice. 
Their admonitions, and even their censures, must 
be received with submissive respect. This right of 
the Brahmins to offer their opinion with respect to 
the administration of public affairs was not unknown 
to the ancients ;* and in some accounts preserved 
in India of the events which happened in their ow n 
country, princes are mentioned, who, having vio¬ 
lated the privileges of the casts, and disregarded 

k Code of Gentoo Laws, c. xxi. § 10. p. 275, 283. &c. 

1 Strabo, lib. xv. p, 1029. C. 





APPENDIX. 


1135 


the remonstrances of the Brahmins, were deposed 
by their authority, and put to death. m 

\\ hile the sacred rights of the Brahmins opposed 
a barrier against the encroachments of regal power 
on the one hand, it was circumscribed on the other 
by the ideas which those who occupied the highest 
stations in society entertained of their own dignity 
and privileges. As none but the members of the 
cast next in rank to that which religion has render¬ 
ed sacred, could be employed in any function of the 
state, the sovereigns of the extensive kingdoms 
anciently established in India, found it necessary 
to intrust them with the superintendence of the 
cities and provinces too remote to be under their 
own immediate inspection. In these stations they 
often acquired such wealth and influence that offices 
conferred during pleasure, continued hereditarily 
in their families, and they came gradually to form 
an intermediate order between the sovereign and 
his subjects; and, by the vigilant jealousy with 
which they maintained their own dignity and privi¬ 
leges, they constrained their rulers to respect them, 
and to govern with moderation and equity. 

Nor were the benefits of these restraints upon the 
power of the sovereign confined wholly to the two 
superior orders in the state ; they extended, in some 
degree, to the third class, employed in agriculture. 
The labours of that numerous and useful body of 
men are so essential to the preservation and happi¬ 
ness of society, that the greatest attention was paid 
to render their condition secure and comfortable. 
According to the ideas w hich prevailed among the 
natives of India, (as we are informed by the first 
Europeans who visited their country,) the sovereign 
is considered as the sole universal proprietor of all 
the land in his dominions, and from him is derived 
every species of tenure by which his subjects can 
hold it. These lands were let out to the farmers 
who cultivated them at a stipulated rent, amounting 
usually to a fourth part of their annual produce 
paid in kind." In a country where the price of 
work is extremely low, and where the labour of 
cultivation is very inconsiderable, the earth yielding 
its productions almost spontaneously, where sub¬ 
sistence is amazingly cheap, w here few clothes are 
needed, and houses are built and furnished at little 
expense, this rate cannot be deemed exorbitant or 
oppressive. As long as the husbandman continued 
to pay the established rent, he retained possession 
of the farm, which descended, like property, from 
father to son. 

These accounts, given by ancient authors, of the 
condition and tenure of the renters of land in India, 
agree so perfectly with what now takes place, that 
it may be considered almost as a description of the 
present state of its cultivation. In every part of 
India where the native Hindoo princes retain do¬ 
minion, the Ryots , the modern name by which the 
renters of land are distinguished, hold their pos¬ 


sessions by a lease, which may be considered as 
perpetual, and at a rate fixed by ancient surveys 
and valuations. This arrangement has been so long 
established, and accords so well with the ideas of 
the natives, concerning the distinctions of casts, 
and the functions allotted to each, that it has been 
inviolably maintained in all the provinces subject 
either to Mahomedans or Europeans ; and, to both, 
it serves as the basis on w hich their whole system 
of finance is founded. 0 In a more remote period, 
before the original institutions of India were sub¬ 
verted by foreign invaders, the industry of the hus¬ 
bandmen, on which every member of the community 
depended for subsistence, was as secure as the 
tenure by which he held his lands was equitable. 
Even war did not interrupt his labours or endanger 
his property. It was not uncommon, we are in¬ 
formed, that while two hostile armies were fighting 
a battle in one field, the peasants were ploughing 
or reaping in the next field in perfect tranquillity.^ 
These maxims and regulations of the ancient legis¬ 
lators of India have a near resemblance to the system 
of those ingenious speculators on political economy 
in modern times, who represent the produce of land 
as the sole source of wealth in every country ; and 
who consider the discovery of this principle, ac¬ 
cording to which they contend that the government 
of nations should be conducted, as one of the greatest 
efforts of human wisdom. Under a form of govern¬ 
ment which paid such attention to all the different 
orders of which the society is composed, particu¬ 
larly the cultivators of the earth, it is not w onderful 
that the ancients should describe the Indians as a 
most happy race of men ; and that the most intelli¬ 
gent modern observers should celebrate the equity, 
the humanity, and mildness of Indian policy. A 
Hindoo rajah, as I have been informed by persons 
well acquainted with the state of India, resembles 
more a father presiding in a numerous family of 
his own children, than a sovereign ruling over infe¬ 
riors, subject to his dominion. He endeavours to 
secure their happiness with vigilant solicitude; 
they are attached to him with the most tender 
affection and inviolable fidelity. We can hardly 
conceive men to be placed in any state more favour¬ 
able to their acquiring all the advantages derived 
from social union. It is only when the mind is 
perfectly at ease, and neither feels nor dreads op¬ 
pression, that it employs its active powers in form¬ 
ing numerous arrangements of police, for securing 
its enjoyments and increasing them. Many arrange¬ 
ments of this nature, the Greeks, though accustomed 
to their own institutions, the most perfect at that 
time in Europe, observed, and admired among the 
Indians, and mention them as instances of high 
civilization and improvement. There were estab¬ 
lished among the Indians three distinct classes of 
officers, one of which had it in charge to inspect 
agriculture and every kind of country work. They 


m Account of the Qualities requisite in a Magistrate, prefixed by the 
Pundits to the Code of Gentoo Laws, p. cii. and cxvi. 


n Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1030. A. 
o See Note LX 1. 


Diod. Sic. lib. ii. p. 53. 

p Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1030. A. 



] 13G 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


measured the portions of land allotted to each 
renter. They had the custody of the Tanks , or 
public reservoirs of water, without a regular distri¬ 
bution of which, the fields in a torrid climate can¬ 
not be rendered fertile. They marked out the course 
of the highways, along which, at certain distances, 
they erected stones, to measure the road and direct 
travellers.^ To ollicers of a second class was com¬ 
mitted the inspection of the police in cities: their 
functions, of course, were many and various ; some 
of which only I shall specify. They appropriated 
houses for the reception of strangers ; they protect¬ 
ed them from injury, provided for their subsistence, 
and when seized with any disease, they appointed 
physicians to attend them ; and, on the event of 
their death, they not only buried them with decen¬ 
cy, but took charge of their effects, and restored 
them to their relations. They kept exact registers 
of births and of deaths. They visited the public 
markets, and examined weights and measures. 
The third class of officers superintended the mili¬ 
tary department; but, as the objects to which their 
attention was directed are foreign from the subject 
of my inquiries, it is unnecessary to enter into any 
detail with respect to them. 1- 

As manners and customs in India descend almost 
without variation from age to age, many of the pecu¬ 
liar institutions which I have enumerated still sub¬ 
sist there. There is still the same attention to the 
construction and preservation of tanks, and the 
distribution of their waters. The direction of roads, 
and placing stones along them, is still an object of 
police. Choultries , or houses built for the accommo¬ 
dation of travellers, are frequent in every part of the 
country, and are useful as well as noble monuments 
of Indian munificence and humanity. It is only 
among men in the most improved state of society, 
and under the best forms of government, that we 
discover institutions similar to those which I have 
described ; and many nations have advanced far in 
their progress, w ithout establishing arrangements of 
police equally perfect. 

III. In estimating the progress which any nation 
has made in civilization, the object that merits the 
greatest degree of attention, next to its political 
constitution, is the spirit of the laws and nature of 
the forms by which its judicial proceedings are 
regulated. In the early and rude ages of society, 
the few r disputes with respect to property which 
arise, are terminated by the interposition of the old 
men, or by the authority of the chiefs in every small 
tribe or community; their decisions are dictated by 
their own discretion, or founded on plain and obvi¬ 
ous maxims of equity. But as the controversies 
multiply, cases similar to such as have been formerly 
determined must recur, and the awards upon these 
grow gradually into precedents, which serve to regu¬ 
late future judgments. Thus, long before the nature 
of property is defined by positive statutes, or any 

q See Note LX 11. 

r Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1034. A. &c. Diod. Sicul. lib. ii. p. 151. 


rules prescribed concerning the mode of acquiring 
or conveying it, there is gradually formed, in every 
state, a body of customary or common law, by which 
judicial proceedings are directed, and every decision 
conformable to it is submitted to with reverence, as 
the result of the accumulated wisdom and experi¬ 
ence of ages. 

In this state the administration of justice seems to 
have been in India when first visited by Europeans. 
Though the Indians, according to their account, 
had no written laws, but determined every contro¬ 
verted point by recollecting what had been formerly 
decided, s they assert that justice was dispensed 
among them with great accuracy, and that crimes 
were most severely punished.* But in this general 
observation is contained all the intelligence which 
the ancients furnish concerning the nature and forms 
of judicial proceedings in India. From the time of 
Megasthenes, no Greek or Roman of any note ap¬ 
pears to have resided long enough in the country, or 
to have been so much acquainted with the customs 
of the natives, as to be capable of entering into any 
detail w ith respect to a point of so great importance 
in their policy. Fortunately, the defects of their 
information have been amply supplied by the more 
accurate and extensive researches of the moderns. 
During the course of almost three centuries, the 
number of persons who have resorted from Europe 
to India has been great. Many of them, who have 
remained long in the country, and were persons of 
liberal education and enlarged minds, have lived in 
such familiar intercourse with the natives, and ac¬ 
quired so competent a knowledge of their languages, 
as enabled them to observe their institutions with 
attention, and to describe them with fidelity. Re¬ 
spectable as their authority may be, I shall not, in 
what I offer for illustrating the judicial proceedings 
of the Hindoos, rest upon it alone, but shall derive 
my information from sources higher and more pure. 

Towards the middle of the sixteenth century, 
Akber, the sixth in descent from Tamerlane, mount¬ 
ed the throne of Indostan. He is one of the few 
sovereigns entitled to the appellation both of Great 
and Good, and the only one of Mahomedan race 
whose mind appears to have risen so far above all 
the illiberal prejudices of that fanatical religion in 
which he was educated, as to be capable of forming 
a plan worthy of a monarch who loved his people, 
and was solicitous to render them happy. As, in 
every province of his extensive dominions, the 
Hindoos formed the great body of his subjects, he 
laboured to acquire a perfect knowledge of their 
religion, their sciences, their laws, and institutions ; 
in order that he might conduct every part of his 
government, particularly the administration of jus¬ 
tice, in a manner as much accommodated as possible 
to their own ideas. u In this generous undertaking 
he was seconded with zeal by his vizier Abul Fazel, 
a minister whose understanding was not less en- 

s Strabo, lib. xv. 1035. D. t Diod. Sicul. lib. ii. p. 154. 

u See Note LXI1I. 














APPENDIX. 


1137 


lightened than that of his master. By their assidu¬ 
ous researches, and consultation of learned men/ 
such information was obtained as enabled Abul 
Fazel to publish a brief compendium of Hindoo 
jurisprudence in the Ayeen Akbery,y which may be 
considered as the first genuine communication of its 
principles to persons of a different religion. About 

two centuries afterwards, the illustri- 

A.D. 1773. 

ous example of Akber was imitated 
and surpassed by Mr. Hastings, the governor-gene¬ 
ral of the British settlements in India. By his 
authority, and under his inspection, the most emi¬ 
nent Pundits, or Brahmins learned in the laws of 
the provinces over which he presided, were assem¬ 
bled at Calcutta; and, in the course of two years, 
compiled, from their most ancient and approved 
authors, sentence by sentence, without addition or 
diminution, a full code of Hindoo laws ; z which is, 
undoubtedly, the most valuable and authentic elu¬ 
cidation of Indian policy and manners that has 
been hitherto communicated to Europe. 

According to the Pundits, some of the writers 
upon whose authority they found the decrees which 
they have inserted in the code, lived several millions 
of years before their time ; a and they boast of having 
a succession of expounders of their laws from that 
period to the present. Without entering into any 
examination of what is so extravagant, we may 
conclude, that the Hindoos have in their possession 
treatises concerning the laws and jurisprudence of 
their country, of more remote antiquity than are to 
be found in any other nation. The truth of this 
depends not upon their own testimony alone, but it 
is put beyond doubt by one circumstance, that all 
these treatises are written in the Sanskreet language, 
which has not been spoken for many ages in any 
part of Indostan, and is now understood by none 
but the most learned Brahmins. That the Hindoos 
were a people highly civilized, at the time when 
their laws w ere composed, is most clearly establish¬ 
ed by internal evidence contained in the ( ode itself. 
Among nations beginning to emerge from barbaiism, 
the regulations of law are extremely simple, and 
applicable only to a few obvious cases of daily oc¬ 
currence. Men must have been long united in a 
social state, their transactions must have been nu¬ 
merous and complex, and judges must have deter¬ 
mined an immense variety of controversies to which 
these give rise, before the system of law becomes so 
voluminous and comprehensive as to direct the 
judicial proceedings of a nation far advanced in 
improvement. In that early age of the Roman 
republic when the laws of the Twelve Tables were 
promulgated, nothing more was required than the 
laconic injunctions which they contain for regulat¬ 
ing the decisions of courts of justice ; but, in a latei 
period, the body of civil law, ample as its contents 
are, was found hardly sufficient for that purpose. 
To the jejune brevity of the Twelve Tables, the 


X Ayeen Akt.ery, A. vol. 111. p 9 o. 
z Pie!ace to the Code. p. x. 

4 D 


y Ibid. p. 197, &c. 
a Ibid. p. xxxviii. 


Hindoo Code has no resemblance ; but with respect 
to the number and variety of points it considers, it 
w ill bear a comparison with the celebrated Digest 
of Justinian, or with the systems of jurisprudence 
in nations most highly civilized. The articles of 
which the Hindoo Code is composed, are arranged 
in natural and luminous order. They are numerous 
and comprehensive, and investigated with that 
minute attention and discernment which are natural 
to a people distinguished for acuteness and subtilty 
of understanding, who have been long accustomed 
to the accuracy of judicial proceedings, and ac¬ 
quainted with all the refinements of legal practice. 
The decisions concerning every point (with a few 
exceptions occasioned by local prejudices and pe¬ 
culiar customs) are founded upon the great and 
immutable principles of justice, which the human 
mind acknowledges and respects, in every age, and 
in all parts of the earth. Whoever examines the 
whole work, cannot entertain a doubt of its con¬ 
taining the jurisprudence of an enlightened and 
commercial people. Whoever looks into any par¬ 
ticular title, will be surprised with a minuteness of 
detail and nicety of distinction, which, in many 
instances, seem to go beyond the attention of Eu¬ 
ropean legislation ; and it is remarkable, that some 
of the regulations which indicate the greatest de¬ 
gree of refinement, were established in periods of 
the most remote antiquity. “ In the first of the 
sacred law tracts, (as is observed by a person to 
whom oriental literature, in all its branches, has 
been greatly indebted,) which the Hindoos suppose 
to have been revealed by Menu, some millions of 
years ago, there is a curious passage on the legal 
interest of money, and the limited rate of it in dif¬ 
ferent cases, with an exception in regard to adven¬ 
tures at sea; an exception which the sense of 
mankind approves, and which commerce absolutely 
requires, though it was not before the reign of 
Charles I. that our English jurisprudence fully ad¬ 
mitted it in respect of maritime contracts.” b It is 
likewise worthy of notice, that though the natives 
of India have been distinguished in every age for 
the humanity and mildness of their disposition, yet 
such is the solicitude of their lawgivers to preserve 
the order and tranquillity of society, that the punish¬ 
ments which they inflict on criminals are (agreeably 
to an observation of the ancients already men¬ 
tioned) extremely rigorous. “ Punishment (accord¬ 
ing to a striking personification in the Hindoo Code) 
is the magistrate; punishment is the inspirer of 
terror; punishment is the nourisher of the subjects ; 
punishment is the defender from calamity ; punish¬ 
ment is the guardian of those that sleep ; punish¬ 
ment, with a black aspect and a red eye, terrifies 
the guilty.” c 

IV. As the condition of the ancient inhabitants 
of India, whether we consider them as individuals 
or as members of society, appears trom the pre- 

b Sir W. Jones's Third Discourse, Asiat. Research, p. 4 '.&, 

c Code, ch. xxi, 5 8 . 




1138 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


ceding investigation to have been extremely favour¬ 
able to the cultivation of useful and elegant arts; 
we are naturally led to inquire, whether the progress 
which they actually made in them was such as 
might have been expected from a people in that 
situation. In attempting to trace this progress, 
we have not the benefit of guidance equal to that 
which conducted our researches concerning the 
former articles of inquiry. The ancients, from their 
slender acquaintance with the interior state of India, 
have been able to communicate little imformation 
with respect to the arts cultivated there ; and though 
the moderns, during their continued intercourse 
with India for three centuries, have had access to 
observe them with great attention, it is of late only, 
that by studying the languages now and formerly 
spoken in India, and by consulting and translating 
their most eminent authors, they have begun to 
enter into that path of inquiry which leads with 
certainty to a thorough knowledge of the state of 
arts cultivated in that country. 

One of the first arts which human ingenuity aimed 
at improving, beyond what mere necessity requires, 
was that of building. In the brief remarks which 
the subject of my inquiries leads me to make on 
the progress of this art in India, I shall confine my 
attention wholly to those of highest antiquity. The 
most durable monuments of human industry are 
public buildings. The productions of art, formed 
for the common purposes of life, waste and perish 
in using them; but works destined for the benefit 
of posterity subsist through ages, and it is according 
to the manner in which these are executed, that we 
form a judgment with respect to the degree of power, 
skill, and improvement to which the people by whom 
they were erected had attained. In every part of 
India monuments of high antiquity are found. 
These are of two kinds, such as were consecrated 
to the offices of religion, or fortresses built for the 
security of the country. In the former of these, 
to which Europeans, whatever their structure may 
be, give the general name of Pagorlas, we may 
observe a diversity of style, which both marks the 
gradual progress of architecture, and throws light 
on the general state of arts and manners in different 
periods. The most early pagodas appear to have 
been nothing more than excavations in mountainous 
parts of the country, formed probably in imitation 
of the natural caverns to which the first inhabitants 
of the earth retired for safety during the night, and 
where they found shelter from the inclemency of the 
seasons. The most celebrated, and, as there is rea¬ 
son to believe, the most ancient of all these, is the 
pagoda in the island Elephanta, at no great distance 
from Bombay. It has been hewn by the hands of 
man out of a solid rock, about half way up a high 
mountain, and formed into a spacious area, nearly 
120 feet square. In order to support the roof, and 
the weight of the mountain that lies above it, a 
number of massy pillars, and of a form not inele- 

d Winkelman's Ilist. de l’Art. chez les Anciens, tom. i. p. 32, Arc. 


gant, have been cut out of the same rock, at such 
regular distances, as on the first entrance presents 
to the eye of the spectator an appearance both of 
beauty and of strength. Great part of the inside 
is covered with human figures in high relief, of gi¬ 
gantic size as well as singular forms, and distin¬ 
guished by a variety of symbols, representing, it is 
probable, the attributes of the deities whom they 
worshipped, or the actions of the heroes whom they 
admired. In the isle of Salsette, still nearer to 
Bombay, are excavations in a similar style, hardly 
inferior in magnificence, and destined for the same 
religious purposes. 

These stupendous works are of such high an¬ 
tiquity, that as the natives cannot, either from his¬ 
tory or tradition, give any information concerning 
the time in which they were executed, they univer¬ 
sally ascribe the formation of them to the power of 
superior beings. From the extent and grandeur of 
these subterraneous mansions, which intelligent 
travellers compare to the most celebrated monuments 
of human power and art in any part of the earth, 
it is manifest that they could not have been formed 
in that stage of social life where men continue di¬ 
vided into small tribes, unaccustomed to the efforts 
of persevering industry. It is only in states of con¬ 
siderable extent, and among people long habituated 
to subordination, and to act with concert, that the 
idea of such magnificent works is conceived, or the 
power of accomplishing them can be found. 

That some such powerful state was established in 
India at the time when the excavations in the islands 
of Elephanta and Salsette were formed, is not the 
only conclusion to be drawn from a survey of them; 
and the style in which the sculptures with which they 
are adorned is executed, indicates a considerable 
improvement in art at that early period. Sculpture 
is the imitative art in which man seems to have 
made the first trial of his own talents. But even 
in those countries where it has attained to the high¬ 
est degree of perfection, its progress has been ex¬ 
tremely slow. Whoever has attended to the history 
of this art in Greece, knows how far removed the 
first rude essay to represent the human form was 
from any complete delineation of it. d But the 
different groupes of figures which still remain entire 
in the pagoda of Elephanta, however low they must 
rank if they be compared with the more elegant 
works of Grecian or even Etruscan artists, are 
finished in a style considerably superior to the hard 
inexpressive manner of the Egyptians, or to the 
figures in the celebrated palace of Persepolis. In 
this light they have appeared to persons abundantly 
qualified to appreciate their merit, and from different 
drawings, particularly those of Niebuhr, a traveller 
equally accurate in observing and faithful in de¬ 
scribing, we must form a favourable opinion of the 
state of arts in India at that period. 

It is worthy of notice, that although several of 
the figures in the caverns at Elephanta be so differ- 





APPENDIX. 


1139 


ent from those now exhibited in the pagodas as 
objects of veneration, that some learned Europeans 
have imagined they represent the rites of a religion 
more ancient than that now established in Indostan, 
yet by the Hindoos themselves the caverns are con¬ 
sidered as hallowed places of their own worship, 
and they still resort thither to perform their devo¬ 
tions, and honour the figures there, in the same 
manner w ith those in their own pagodas. In con¬ 
firmation of this, I have been informed by an in¬ 
telligent observer, who visited this subterraneous 
sanctuary in the year 1782, that he was accompanied 
by a sagacious Brahmin, a native of Benares, who, 
though he had never been in it before that time, re¬ 
cognised at once all the figures, was well acquainted 
with the parentage, education, and life of every 
deity or human personage there represented, and 
explained with fluency the meaning of the various 
symbols by which the images were distinguished. 
This may be considered as a clear proof that the 
system of mythology now prevalent in Benares, is 
not different from that delineated in the caverns of 
Elephanta. Mr. Hunter, who visited Elephanta in 
the year 1784, seems to consider the figures there as 
representing deities who are still objects of worship 
among the Hindoos. e One circumstance serves to 
confirm the justness of this opinion. Several of 
the most conspicuous personages in the groupes at 
Elephanta are decorated with the Zcnnar , the sacred 
string or cord peculiar to the order of Brahmins, an 
authentic evidence of the distinction of casts having 
been established in India at the time when these 
works were finished. 

2. Instead of caverns, the original places of wor¬ 
ship, w hich could be formed only in particular situ¬ 
ations, the devotion of the people soon began to 
raise temples in honour of their deities in other 
parts of India. The structure of these was at first 
extremely simple. They were pyramids of large 
dimension, and had no light within but what came 
from a small door. After having been long accus¬ 
tomed to perform all the rites of religion in the 
gloom of caverns, the Indians were naturally led 
to consider the solemn darkness of such a mansion 
as sacred. Some pagodas in this first style of 
building still remain in Indostan. Drawings of two 
of these at Deogur, and of a third near Tanjore in 
the Carnatic, all fabrics of great antiquity, have 
been published hy Mr. Hodges/ and though they 
are rude structures, they are of such magnitude as 
must have required the power of some considerable 
state to rear them. 

3. In proportion to the progress of the different 
countries of India in opulence and refinement, the 
structure of their temples gradually improved. 
From plain buildings they became highly orna¬ 
mented fabrics, and, both by their extent and mag¬ 
nificence, are monuments of the power and taste of 
the people by whom they were erected. In this 

e Archseologia, vot. vii. p. 286> &c. 

f No. VI. 

g See Note LXIV. 


highly finished style there are pagodas of great 
antiquity in different parts of Indostan, particularly 
in the southern provinces, which were not exposed 
to the destructive violence of Mahomedan zeal. 6 
In order to assist my readers in forming such an 
idea of these buildings as may enable them to judge 
with respect to the early state of arts in India, I 
shall briefly describe two, of which we have the 
most accurate accounts. The entry to the pagoda 
of Chillambrum, near Porto Novo, on the Coroman¬ 
del coast, held in high veneration on account of its 
antiquity, is by a stately gate under a pyramid an 
hundred and twenty-two feet in height, built with 
large stones above forty feet long, and more than 
five feet square, and all covered with plates of cop¬ 
per, adorned with an immense variety of figures 
neatly executed. The whole structure extends one 
thousand three hundred and thirty-two feet in one 
direction, and nine hundred and thirty-six in ano¬ 
ther. Some of the ornamental parts are finished 
with an elegance entitled to the admiration of the 
most ingenious artists. h The pagoda of Sering- 
ham, superior in sanctity to that of Chillambrum, 
surpasses it as much in grandeur ; and fortunately 
I can convey a more perfect idea of it by adopting 
the words of an elegant and accurate historian.* 
This pagoda is situated about a mile from the 
western extremity of the island of Seringliam, 
formed by the division of the great river Caveri 
into two channels. “ It is composed of seven square 
enclosures, one within the other, the walls of which 
are twenty-five feet high, and four thick. These 
enclosures are three hundred and fifty feet distant 
from one another, and each has four large gates, 
with a high tower; which are placed, one in the 
middle of each side of the enclosure, and opposite 
to the four cardinal points. The outward wall is 
near four miles in circumference, and its gateway 
to the south is ornamented with pillars, several of 
which are single stones thirty-three feet long, and 
nearly five in diameter ; and those which form the 
roof are still larger: in the inmost enclosures are 
the chapels. About half a mile to the east of Ser- 
ingham, and nearer to the Caveri than the Cole- 
roon, is another large pagoda, called Jembikisma; 
but this has only one enclosure. The extreme 
veneration in which Seringliam is held, arises from 
a belief that it contains that identical image of 
the god Wistehnu, which is used to be worshipped 
by the god Brahma. Pilgrims from all parts of the 
peninsula come here to obtain absolution, and none 
come without an offering of money ; and a large 
part of the revenue of the island is allotted for the 
maintenance of the Brahmins who inhabit the pa¬ 
goda ; and these, with their families, formerly com¬ 
posed a multitude of not less than forty thousand 
souls, maintained, without labour, by the liberality 
of superstition. Here, as in all the other great 
pagodas of India, the Brahmins live in a subordina- 


h Mem. de Literat. tom. xxxii. p. 44, &c. Voy. de M. Sonnerat, tom. 
i. p. 217. 

i Orme’s llist. of Milit. Transact, of Indostan, vol. 1 . p. 178. 


4 n 2 






1140 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


tion which knows no resistance, and slumber in a 
voluptuousness which knows no wants.” 

The other species of public buildings which I 
mentioned, were those erected for the defence of 
the country. From the immense plains of Indostan 
there arise, in different parts, eminences and rocks 
formed by nature to be places of strength. Of these 
the natives early took possession, and, fortifying 
them with works of various kinds, rendered them 
almost impregnable stations. There seems to have 
been, in some distant age, a period of general tur¬ 
bulence and danger in India, when such retreats 
were deemed essentially necessary to public safety ; 
for among the duties of magistrates prescribed by 
the Pundits, one is, “ that he shall erect a strong 
fort in the place where he chooses to reside; and 
shall build a wall on all the four sides of it, with 
towers and battlements, and shall make a full ditch 
around it. Of these fortresses several remain, 
which, both from the appearance of the buildings, 
and from the tradition of the natives, must have 
been constructed in very remote times. Mr. Hodges 
has published views of three of these, one of Chunar 
Gur, situated upon the river Ganges, about sixteen 
miles above the city of Benares; 1 the second, of 
Gwallior, about eighty miles to the south of Algra; m 
the third, of Bidjegur, in the territory of Benares, 11 
They are all, particularly Gwallior, works of con¬ 
siderable magnitude and strength. The fortresses 
in Bengal, however, are not to be compared with 
several in the Deccan. Asseergur, Burhampour, 
and Dowlatabad, are deemed by the natives to be 
impregnable ;° and I am assured by a good judge, 
that Asseergur is indeed a most stupendous work, 
and so advantageously situated, that it would be 
extremely difficult to reduce it by force. Adoni, of 
which Tippoo Sultaun lately rendered himself mas¬ 
ter, is not inferior to any of them, either in strength 
or importance .p 

Nor is it only from surveying their public works 
that we are justified in asserting the early profi¬ 
ciency of the Indians in elegant and useful arts: 
we are led to form the same conclusion by a view 
of those productions of their ingenuity, which were 
the chief articles of their trade with foreign nations. 
Of these, the labours of the Indian loom and needle 
have, in every age, been the most celebrated ; and 
fine linen is conjectured, with some probability, to 
have been called by the ancients Sindon , from the 
name of the river Indus or Sindus, near which it 
was wrought in the highest perfection/ 1 The cotton 
manufactures of India seem anciently to have been 
as much admired as they are at present, not only 
for their delicate texture, but for the elegance with 
which some of them are embroidered, and the beau¬ 
tiful colour of the flowers with which others are 
adorned. From the earliest period of European in- 

k Introd. to Code ofGentoo Laws. p. cxi. 

1 No. I. m No. II. 

n No. nr. 

o Rennell, Mem p. 133. 130. 

p Historical and Political View of the Deccan, p. 13. 
q Sir Win. Jones’s Third Discourse, p. 428. 
r Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1018. A. 102$. K. 


tercourse with India, that country has been distin¬ 
guished for the number and excellence of the sub¬ 
stances for dyeing various colours, with which it 
abounded/ The dye of the deep blue colour in 
highest estimation among the Romans, bore the 
name of Indicum .* From India, too, the substance 
used in dyeing a bright red colour, seems to have 
been imported ; l and it is well known, that both in 
the cotton and silk stuffs which we now receive from 
India, the blue and the red are the colours of most 
conspicuous lustre and beauty. But however much 
the ancients may have admired these productions 
of Indian art, some circumstances, which I have 
already mentioned, rendered their demand for the 
cotton manufactures of India far inferior to that of 
modern times; and this has occasioned the infor¬ 
mation concerning them which we receive from the 
Greek and Roman writers to be very imperfect. We 
may conclude, however, from the wonderful resem¬ 
blance of the ancient state of India to the modern, 
that, in every period, the productions of their looms 
were as various as beautiful. The ingenuity of the 
Indians in other kinds of workmanship, particularly 
in metals and in ivory, is mentioned with praise by 
ancient authors, but w ithout any particular descrip¬ 
tion of their nature." Of these early productions of 
Indian artists, there are now some specimens in 
Europe, from which it appears that they were ac¬ 
quainted with the method of engraving upon the 
hardest stones and gems ; and, both in the elegance 
of their designs and in neatness of execution, had 
arrived at a considerable degree of excellence. An 
ingenious writer maintains, that the art of engraving 
on gems was probably an Indian invention, and 
certainly was early improved there ; and he sup¬ 
ports this opinion by several plausible arguments/ 
The Indian engraved gems of which he has pub¬ 
lished descriptions, appear to be the workmanship 
of a very remote period, as the legends on them are 
in the Sanskreet language/ 

But it is not alone from the improved state of 
mechanic arts in India, that we conclude its inha¬ 
bitants to have been highly civilized; a proof of 
this, still more convincing, may be deduced from 
the early and extraordinary productions of their 
genius in the fine arts. This evidence is rendered 
more interesting, by being derived from a source of 
knowledge which the laudable curiosity of our 
countrymen has opened to the people of Europe 
within these few years. That all the science and 
literature possessed by the Brahmins, w'ere contain¬ 
ed in books written in a language understood by a 
few only of the most learned among them, is a fact 
which has long been known ; and all the Europeans 
settled in India during three centuries, have com¬ 
plained that the Brahmins obstinately refused to in¬ 
struct any person in this language. But at length, 

s Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. xxxv. c.. 6 . § 27. 

t Salmasius Exercit. Plinianaein Solin. 18, &C.810. Salmasius de Horn 
lonynns llyles Jatnca, c. 107. See Note LXV. 
u Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1044. R. Dionys. Perieges, ver. 1016. 
x Raspe’s Introd. to lassie’s Descript. Catal. of Engraved Gems, fcc. 

p. Ml. tCC. 

y Ibid. vol. i. p. 74. vol. ii. plate xiii. 







APPENDIX. 


] 141 


by address, mild treatment, and a persuasion that 
the earnestness with which instruction was solicited, 
proceeded not from any intention of turning their 
religion into derision, but from a desire of acquiring 
a perfect know ledge of their sciences and literature^ 
the scruples of the Brahmins have been overcome. 
Several British gentlemen are now completely mas¬ 
ters ot the Sanskreet language. The mysterious 
veil, formerly deemed impenetrable, is removed; 
and in the course of five years, the curiosity of the 
public has been gratified by two publications as 
singular as they were unexpected. The one is a 
translation by Mr. Wilkins, of an Episode from the 
Mahabarat, an epic poem in high estimation among 
the Hindoos, composed according to their account 
by Kreeshna Dwypayen Veias, the most eminent of 
all their Brahmins, above three thousand years be¬ 
fore the Christian aera. The other is Sacontula , 
a dramatic poem, written about a century before the 
birth of Christ, translated by sir W. Jones. I shall 
endeavour to give my readers such a view of the 
subject and composition of each of these, as may 
enable them to estimate, in some measure, the de¬ 
gree of merit which they possess. 

The Mahabarat is a voluminous poem, consisting 
of upwards of four hundred thousand lines. Mr. 
M ilkins has translated more than a third of it; but 
only a short episode, entitled Baghvat-Geeta, is 
hitherto published, and from this specimen we must 
form an opinion with respect to the whole. The 
subject of the poem is a famous civil war between 
two branches of the royal house of Bhaurat. When 
the forces on each side were formed in the field, 
and ready to decide the contest by the sword, Ar- 
joon, the favourite and pupil of the god Kreeshna, 
who accompanied him in this hour of danger, re¬ 
quested of him to cause his chariot to advance be¬ 
tween the two hostile armies. He looked at both 
armies, and beheld on either side, none but grand- 
sires, uncles, cousins, tutors, sons, and brothers, 
near relations or bosom friends ; and when he had 
gazed for a while, and saw these prepared for the 
fight, he was seized with extreme pity and com¬ 
punction, and uttered his sorrow in the following 
words:—“ Having beheld, O Kreeshna! my kin¬ 
dred thus waiting anxious for the fight, my mem¬ 
bers fail me, my countenance withereth, the hair 
standeth on end upon my body, and all my frame 
trembleth with horror; even Gandeev, my bow, 
escapeth from my hand, and my skin is parched and 
dried up.—When I have destroyed my kindred, 
shall I longer look for happiness ? I wish not for 
victory, Kreeshna; I want not dominion ; I want 
not pleasure ; for what is dominion and the enjoy¬ 
ments of life, or even life itself, when those for whom 
dominion, pleasure, and enjoyment were to be 
coveted, have abandoned life and fortune, and stand 
here in the field ready for the battle. Tutors, sons 
and fathers, grandsires and grandsons, uncles, ne¬ 
phews, cousins, kindred, and friends ! Although 

z Baghvat-Geeta, p. 30, 31. 


they would kill me, I wish not to fight them ; no 
not even for the dominion of the three regions of 
the universe, much less for this little earth.” 2 In 
order to remove his scruples, Kreeshna informs him 
what was the duty of a prince of the Chehteree or 
military cast, when called to act in such a situation, 
and incites him to perform it by a variety of moral 
and philosophical arguments, the nature of which 
I shall have occasion to consider particularly in 
another part of this Dissertation. In this dialogue 
between Kreeshna and his pupil, there are several 
passages which give a high idea of the genius of the 
poet. The speech of Arjoon I have quoted, in which 
he expresses the anguish of his soul, must have 
struck every reader as beautiful and pathetic ; and I 
shall afterwards produce adescription of the Supreme 
Being, and of the reverence wherewith he should be 
worshipped, which is sublime. But w hile these ex¬ 
cite our admiration, and confirm us in the belief of a 
high degree of civilization in that country where such 
a work was produced, we are surprised at the defect 
of taste and of art in the manner of introducing this 
Episode. Two powerful armies are drawn up in 
battle-array, eager for the fight; a young hero and 
his instructor are described as standing in a cha¬ 
riot of war between them ; that surely w as not the 
moment for teaching him the principles of philoso¬ 
phy, and delivering eighteen lectures of metaphy¬ 
sics and theology. 

With regard, however, both to the dramatic and 
epic poetry of the Hindoos, we labour under the 
disadvantage of being obliged to form an opinion 
from a single specimen of each, and that of the latter, 
too, (as it is only a part of a large work,) an imper¬ 
fect one. But if, from such scanty materials, we may 
venture upon any decision, it must be, that of the two 
the drama seems to have been conducted with the 
most correct taste. This will appear from the observa¬ 
tions which I now proceed to make upon Sacontala. 

It is only to nations considerably advanced in 
refinement, that the drama is a favourite entertain¬ 
ment. The Greeks had been for a good time a po¬ 
lished people; Alcaeus and Sappho had composed 
their Odes, and Thales and Anaximander had 
opened their schools, before tragedy made its first 
rude essay in the cart of Thespis ; and a good time 
elapsed before it attained to any considerable degree 
of excellence. From the drama of Sacontala, then, 
we must form an advantageous idea of the state of 
improvement in that society to whose taste it w as 
suited. In estimating its merit, however, we must not 
apply to it rules of criticism drawn from the litera¬ 
ture and taste of nations with which its author was 
altogether unacquainted ; we must not expect the 
unities of the Greek theatre ; we must not measure it 
by our own standard of propriety. Allowance must 
be made for local customs, and singular manners, 
arising from a state of domestic society, an order 
of civil policy, and a system of religious opinions, 
very different from those established in Europev 



1142 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


Sacontola is not a regular drama, but, like some 
of the plays early exhibited on the Spanish and 
English theatres, is a history in dialogue, unfolding 
events which happened in different places, and dur¬ 
ing a series of years. When viewed in this light, 
the fable is in general well arranged, many of the 
incidents are happily chosen, and the vicissitudes 
in the situation of the principal personages are 
sudden and unexpected. The unravelling of the 
piece, however, though some of the circumstances 
preparatory to it be introduced with skill, is at last 
brought about by the intervention of superior beings, 
which has always a bad effect, and discovers some 
want of art. But as Sacontala was descended of a 
celestial nymph, and under the protection of a holy 
hermit, this heavenly interposition may appear less 
marvellous, and is extremely agreeable to the ori¬ 
ental taste. In many places of this drama it is 
simple and tender, in some pathetic ; in others there 
is a mixture of comic with what is more serious. 
Of each examples might be given. I shall select a 
few of the first, both because simplicity and ten¬ 
derness are the characteristic beauties of the piece, 
and because they so little resemble the extravagant 
imagery and turgid style conspicuous in almost all 
the specimens of oriental poetry which have hitherto 
been published. 

Sacontala, the heroine of the drama, a princess 
of high birth, had been educated by a holy hermit 
in a hallowed grove, and had passed the early part 
of her life in rural occupations and pastoral inno¬ 
cence. When she was about to quit this beloved 
retreat, and repair to the court of a great monarch, 
to whom she had been married, Cana, her foster- 
father, and her youthful companions, thus bewailed 
their own loss, and expressed their wishes for her 
happiness, in a strain of sentiment and language 
perfectly suited to their pastoral character. 

“ Hear, O ye trees of this hallowed forest, hear 
and proclaim that Sacontala is going to the palace 
of her wedded lord ; she who drank not, though 
thirsty, before you were watered ; she who cropped 
not, through affection for you, one of your fresh 
leaves, though she would have been pleased with 
such an ornament for her locks ; she whose chief 
delight was in the season when your branches are 
spangled with flowers !” 

Chorus of wood nymphs .—“ May her way be at¬ 
tended with prosperity! May propitious breezes 
sprinkle, for her delight, the odoriferous dust of 
rich blossoms! May pools of clear water, green 
with the leaves of the lotos, refresh her as she 
walks! and may shady branches be her defence 
from the scorching sun-beams ! ” 

Sacontala, just as she was departing from the 
grove, turns to Cana: “ Suffer me, venerable father, 
to address this Madhavi-creeper, whose red blos¬ 
soms inflame the grove.”— Cana. “ My child, I know 
thy affection for it.”— Sacont. “ O most radiant of 
shining plants, receive my embraces, and return 

a Act IV. p. 47, &c. 


them with thy flexible arms ! From this day, though 
removed at a fatal distance, I shall forever be thine. 
—O beloved father, consider this creeper as my¬ 
self! ” As she advances, she again addresses Cana : 
“ Father! when yon female antelope, who now 
moves slowly from the weight of the young ones 
with which she is pregnant, shall be delivered of 
them, send me, I beg, a kind message with tidings 
of her safety.—Do not forget.”— Cana. “ My beloved, 
I will not forget it.”— Sacontala. [stopping ] “ Ah ! 
what is it that clings to the skirts of my robe and 
detains me !”— Cana. “ It is thy adopted child, the 
little fawn, whose mouth, when the sharp points 
of Cusa grass had wounded it, has been so often 
smeared by thee with the healing oil of Ingudi ; 
who has been so often fed by thee with a handful of 
Synmaka grains, and now will not leave the foot¬ 
steps of his protectress.”- Sacont. “ Why dost 

thou weep, tender fawn, for me, who must leave 
our common dwelling-place?—As thou wast reared 
by me when thou hadst lost thy mother, who died 
soon after thy birth, so will my foster-father attend 
thee, when we are separated, with anxious care.— 
Return, poor thing, return —we must part.” [ She 

bursts into tears.] - Cana. “ Thy tears, my child, ill 

suit the occasion ; we shall all meet again ; be firm ; 
see the direct road before thee, and follow it. When 
the big tear lurks beneath thy beautiful eye-lashes, 
let thy resolution check its first efforts to disengage 
itself.—In thy passage over this earth, where the 
paths are now high, now low, and the true path 
seldom distinguished, the traces of thy feet must 
needs be unequal; but virtue will press thee right 
on ward.” a 

From this specimen of the Indian drama, every 
reader of good taste, I should imagine, will be sa¬ 
tisfied, that it is only among a people of polished 
manners and delicate sentiments that a composition 
so simple and correct could be produced or relished. 
I observe one instance in this drama of that wild 
extravagance so frequent in oriental poetry. The 
monarch, in replacing a bracelet which had drop¬ 
ped from the arm of Sacontala, thus addresses her: 
“ Look, my darling, this is the new moon which left 
the firmament in honour of superior beauty, and 
having descended on your enchanting wrist, hath 
joined both its horns round it in the shape of a 
bracelet.” 6 But this is the speech of an enraptured 
young man to his mistress, and in every age and 
nation exaggerated praise is expected from the 
mouth of lovers. Dramatic exhibitions seem to 
have been a favourite amusement of the Hindoos 
as well as of other civilized nations. “ The tragedies 
comedies, farces, and musical pieces of the Indian 
theatre, would fill as many volumes as that of any 
nation in ancient or modern Europe. They are all 
in verse where the dialogue is elevated, and in prose 
where it is familiar ; the men of rank and learning 
are represented speaking pure Sanskreet, and the 
women Pracrit, which is little more than the language 

b Act III. p. 36. 





APPENDIX. 


ot the Brahmins, melted down by a delicate articu¬ 
lation to the softness of Italian ; while the low per¬ 
sons of the drama speak the vulgar dialects of the se¬ 
veral provinces which they are supposed to inhabit. Vc 

V. The attainments of the Indians in science fur¬ 
nish an additional proot of their early civilization. 
By every person who has visited India in ancient 
or modern times, its inhabitants, either in transac¬ 
tions of private business, or in the conduct of poli¬ 
tical affairs, have been deemed not inferior to the 
people of any nation in sagacity or in acuteness of 
understanding. From the application of such ta¬ 
lents to the cultivation of science, an extraordinary 
degree of proficiency might have been expected. 
The Indians were, accordingly, early celebrated on 
that account, and some of the most eminent of the 
Greek philosophers travelled into India, that, by 
conversing with the sages of that country, they 
might acquire some portion of the knowledge for 
which they were distinguished.* The accounts, 
however, which we receive from the Greeks and 
Romans of the sciences which attracted the atten¬ 
tion of the Indian philosophers, or of the discove¬ 
ries which they had made in them, are very imper¬ 
fect. To the researches of a few intelligent persons, 
who have visited India during the course of the 
three last centuries, we are indebted for more ample 
and authentic information. But from the reluctance 
with which the Brahmins communicate their sci¬ 
ences to strangers, and the inability of Europeans 
to acquire much knowledge of them, while, like 
the mysteries of their religion, they were concealed 
from vulgar eyes in an unknown tongue, this infor¬ 
mation was acquired slowly, and with great diffi¬ 
culty. The same observation, however, which I 
made concerning our knowledge of the state of the 
fine arts among the people of India, is applicable 
to that of their progress in science, and the present 
age is the first furnished with sufficient evidence 
upon which to found a decisive judgment with re¬ 
spect to either. 

Science, when viewed as disjoined from religion, 
the consideration of which I reserve for another 
head, is employed in contemplating either the ope¬ 
rations of the understanding, the exercise of our 
moral powers, or the nature and qualities of exter¬ 
nal objects. The first is denominated logic ; the 
second ethics ; the third physics, or the knowledge 
of nature. With respect to the early progress in 
cultivating each of these sciences in India, we are 
in possession of facts which merit attention. 

But, prior to the consideration of them, it is pro¬ 
per to examine the ideas of the Brahmins with re¬ 
spect to mind itself; for if these were not just, all 
their theories concerning its operations must have 
been erroneous and fanciful. The distinction be¬ 
tween matter and spirit appears to have been early 
known by the philosophers of India, and to the lat¬ 
ter they ascribed many powers of which they deemed 

c Preface to Sacont. by Sir William Jones, p. ix. See Note LXVI. 

d Brukeri Hist. Philosoph. vol. i. p. 190. 


the former to be incapable ; and when we recollect 
how inadequate our conceptions are of every object 
that does not fall under the cognizance of the 
senses, we may affirm, (if allowance be made for a 
peculiar notion of the Hindoos, which shall be af¬ 
terwards explained,) that no description of the 
human soul is more suited to the dignity of its 
nature than that given by the author of the Maha- 
barat. “ Some,” says he, “ regard the soul as a 
wonder, others hear of it with astonishment, but no 
one knoweth it. The weapon divideth it not; the 
fire burneth it not; the water corrupteth it not; 
the wind drieth it not away ; for it is indivisible, 
inconsumable, incorruptible ; it is eternal, universal, 
permanent, immovable ; it is invisible, inconceiv¬ 
able, and unalterable.” 6 After this view of the sen¬ 
timents of the Brahmins concerning mind itself, 
we may proceed to consider their ideas with respect 
to each of the sciences, in that tripartite arrangement 
which I mentioned. 

1st, Logic and Metaphysics. On no subject has 
the human understanding been more exercised than 
in analyzing its own operations. The various 
powers of the mind have been examined and defin¬ 
ed. The origin and progress of our ideas have been 
traced ; and proper rules have been prescribed, of 
proceeding from the observation of facts to the 
establishment of principles, or from the knowledge 
of principles to form arrangements of science. The 
philosophers of ancient Greece were highly cele¬ 
brated for their proficiency in these abstruse specu¬ 
lations ; and in their discussions and arrangements, 
discovered such depth of thought and acuteness of 
discernment, that their systems of logic, particularly 
that of the Peripatetic school, have been deemed 
most distinguished efforts of human reason. 

But since we became acquainted, in some degree, 
with the literature and science of the Hindoos, we 
find that as soon as men arrive at that stage in social 
life when they can turn their attention to speculative 
inquiries, the human mind will, in every region of 
the earth, display nearly the same powers, and pro¬ 
ceed in its investigations and discoveries by nearly 
similar steps. From Abul Fazel’s compendium of 
the philosophy f of the Hindoos, the knowledge of 
which he acquired, as he informs us, by associating 
intimately with the most learned men of the nation ; 
from the specimen of their logical discussions con¬ 
tained in that portion of the Shastra published by 
colonel Dow,® and from many passages in the 
Baghvat-Geeta; it appears that the same specula¬ 
tions which occupied the philosophers of Greece 
had engaged the attention of the Indian Brahmins ; 
and the theories of the former, either concerning the 
qualities of external objects, or the nature of our 
own ideas, were not more ingenious than those of 
the latter. To define with accuracy, to distinguish 
with acuteness, and to reason with subtilty, are 
characteristics of both ; and in both the same excess 

e Bashvat-Geeta, p. 37* f Ayeen Akbery, vol. iii. p. 95, &c. 

g Dissertation, p. xxxix. &c. 



1144 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


of refinement, in attempting to analyze those opera¬ 
tions of mind which the faculties of man were not 
formed to comprehend, led sometimes to the most 
false and dangerous conclusions. That sceptical 
philosophy, which denies the existence of the mate¬ 
rial w'orld, and asserts nothing to be real but our 
own ideas, seems to have been known in India as 
well as in Europe ; h and the sages of the East, as 
they were indebted to philosophy for the knowledge 
of many important truths, were not more exempt 
than those of the West from its delusions and 
errors. 

2d, Ethics. This science, which has for its object 
to ascertain what distinguishes virtue from vice, to 
investigate what motives should prompt men to act, 
and to prescribe rules for the conduct of life, as it 
is of all others the most interesting, seems to have 
deeply engaged the attention of the Brahmins. 
Their sentiments with respect to these points were 
various, and, like the philosophers of Greece, the 
Brahmins were divided into sects, distinguished by 
maxims and tenets often diametrically opposite. 
That sect with whose opinions we are, fortunately, 
best acquainted, had established a system of morals, 
founded on principles the most generous and digni¬ 
fied which unassisted reason is capable of discover¬ 
ing. Man, they taught, was formed not for specu¬ 
lation or indolence, but for action. He is born, not 
for himself alone, but for his fellow-men. The hap¬ 
piness of the society of w hich he is a member, the 
good of mankind, are his ultimate and highest ob¬ 
jects. In choosing what to prefer or to reject, the 
justness and propriety of his own choice are the 
only considerations to w hich he should attend. The 
events which may follow his actions are not in his 
own power, and whether they be prosperous or ad¬ 
verse, as long as he is satisfied with the purity of the 
motives which induced him to act, he can enjoy that 
approbation of his own mind, which constitutes 
genuine happiness, independent of the power of 
fortune or the opinions of other men. “ Man (says 
the author of the Mahabarat) enjoyeth not freedom 
from action. Every man is involuntarily urged to 
act by those principles which are inherent in his 
nature. He who restraineth his active faculties, 
and sitteth down with his mind attentive to the 
objects of his senses, may be called one of an 
astrayed soul. The man is praised, who having 
subdued all his passions, performeth with his active 
faculties all the functions of life, unconcerned about 
the event.’ Let the motive be in the deed, and not 
in the event. Be not one whose motive for action is 
the hope of reward. Let not thy life be spent in 
inaction. Depend upon application, perform thy 
duty, abandon all thought of the consequence, and 
make the event equal, whether it terminate in good 
or in evil; for such an equality is called Yog [?'. e. 
attention to what is spiritual]. Seek an asylum 
then in wisdom alone ; for the miserable and unhap¬ 


py are so on account of the event of things. Men 
w ho are endued w ith true wisdom are unmindful of 
good or evil in this world. Study then to obtain 
this application of thy understanding, for such ap¬ 
plication in business is a precious art. Wise men 
who have abandoned all thought of the fruit which 
is produced from their actions, are freed from the 
chains of birth, and go to the regions of eternal 
happiness.” k 

From these and other passages which I might 
have quoted, we learn that the distinguishing doc¬ 
trines of the Stoical school were taught in India 
many ages before the birth of Zeno, and inculcated 
with a persuasive earnestness nearly resembling 
that of Epictetus; and it is not without astonish¬ 
ment that w r e find the tenets of this manly active 
philosophy, which seem to be formed only for men 
of the most vigorous spirit, prescribed as the rule of 
conduct to a race of people more eminent (as is 
generally supposed) for the gentleness of their dis¬ 
position than for the elevation of their minds. 

3d, Physics. In all the sciences which contribute 
towards extending our knowledge of nature, in 
mathematics, mechanics, and astronomy, arithmetic 
is of elementary use. In whatever country, then, 
we find that such attention has been paid to the 
improvement of arithmetic as to render its opera¬ 
tions most easy and correct, we may presume that 
the sciences depending upon it have attained a 
superior degree of perfection. Such improvement 
of this science we find in India. While, among the 
Greeks and Romans, the only method used for the 
notation of numbers was by the letters of the alpha¬ 
bet, which necessarily rendered arithmetical calcu¬ 
lation extremely tedious and operose, the Indians 
had, from time immemorial, employed for the same 
purpose the ten cyphers, or figures, now universally 
known, and by means of them performed every 
operation in arithmetic with the greatest facility 
and expedition. By the happy invention of giving 
a different value to each figure according to its 
change of place, no more than ten figures are needed 
in calculations the most complex, and of any given 
extent; and arithmetic is the most perfect of all the 
sciences. The Arabians, not long after their settle¬ 
ment in Spain, introduced this mode of notation 
into Europe, and were candid enough to acknow¬ 
ledge that they had derived the know ledge of it from 
the Indians. Though the advantages of this mode 
of notation are obvious and great, yet so slowly do 
mankind adopt new inventions, that the use of it 
was for some time confined to science; by degrees, 
however, men of business relinquished the former 
cumbersome method of computation by letters, and 
the Indian arithmetic came into general use through¬ 
out Europe. 1 It is now so familiar and simple, that 
the ingenuity of the people to w hom we are indebt¬ 
ed for the invention is less observed and less cele¬ 
brated than it merits. 


h Dow’*- Dissertation, p. Ivii. Ayeen Akbery, vol. iii. p. 1C8. 
i Bagtivat-Geeta, p. 44. 


k Raghvat-Geeta, p. 40. 

' Montuda, Hist des Mathemat. tom. i. p. 360, &c. 











APPENDIX. 


1145 


The astronomy of the Indians is a proof still more 
conspicuous ot their extraordinary progress in 
science. J he attention and success with which 
they studied the motions of the heavenly bodies 
were so little known to the Greeks and Romans, 
that it is hardly mentioned by them but in the most 
cursory manner." But as soon as the Mahomedans 
established an intercourse with the natives of India, 
they observed and celebrated the superiority of their 
astionomical knowledge. Of the Europeans who 
visited India after the communication with it by the 
Cape of Good Hope was discovered, M. Bernier, an 
inquisitive and philosophical traveller, was one of 
the first who learned that the Indians had long 
applied to the study of astronomy, and had made 
considerable progress in that science." His infor¬ 
mation, however, seems to have been very general 
and imperfect. We are indebted for the first scien¬ 
tific proof of the great proficiency of the Indians in 
astronomical knowledge, to M. de la Loubere, who, 
on his return from his embassy to Siam, brought 
a ta with an extract from a Siamese 

manuscript, which contained tables 
and rules for calculating the places of the sun and 
moon. The manner in which these tables were 
constructed rendered the principles on which they 
were founded extremely obscure, and it required a 
commentator as conversant in astronomical calcu¬ 
lation as the celebrated Cassini, to explain the 
meaning of this curious fragment. The epoch of 
the Siamese tables corresponds to the 21st of March, 
A. D. 638. Another set of tables was transmitted 
from Chrisnabouram, in the Carnatic, the epoch of 
which answers to the 10th of March, A. D. 1491. A 
third set of tables came from Narsapour, and the 
epoch of them goes no further back than A. D. 1569. 
The fourth and most curious set of tables was 
published by M. le Gentil, to whom they were 
communicated by a learned Brahmin of Tirvalore, 
a small town on the Coromandel coast, about twelve 
miles west of Negapatam. The epoch of these 
tables is of high antiquity, and coincides with the 
beginning of the celebrated aeraof the Calyougham 
or Collee Jogue, which commenced, according to 
the Indian account, three thousand one hundred and 
two years before the birth of Christ. 0 

These four sets of tables have been examined and 
compared by M. Bailly, who, with singular felicity 
of genius, has conjoined an uncommon degree of 
eloquence with the patient researches of an astrono¬ 
mer, and the profound investigations of a geometri¬ 
cian. His calculations have been verified, and his 
reasonings have been illustrated and extended, by 
Mr. Playfair, in a very masterly Dissertation, pub¬ 
lished in the Transactions of the Royal Society of 
Edinburgh .p 

Instead of attempting to follow them in reasonings 
and calculations, which from their nature are often 
abstruse and intricate, I shall satisfy myselt with 

in Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1047. A. Dion. Perieg. v. 1173. 

n Voyages, tom. ii. p. 145, &c. 


giving such a general view of them as is suited to a 
popular work. This, I hope, may convey a proper 
idea of what has been published concerning the 
astronomy of India, a subject too curious and im¬ 
portant to be omitted in any account of the state of 
science in that country ; and, without interposing 
any judgment of my own, I shall leave each of my 
readers to form his own opinion. 

It may be considered as the general result of all 
the inquiries, reasonings, and calculations, with 
respect to Indian astronomy, which have hitherto 
been made public, “ That the motion of the heavenly 
bodies, and more particularly their situation at the 
commencement of the different epochs to which the 
four sets of tables refer, are ascertained with great 
accuracy; and that many of the elements of their 
calculations, especially for very remote ages, are 
verified by an astonishing coincidence with the 
tables of the modern astronomy of Europe, when 
improved by the latest and most nice deductions 
from the theory of gravitation.” These conclusions 
are rendered peculiarly interesting, by the evidence 
which they afford of an advancement in science 
unexampled in the history of rude nations. The 
Indian Brahmins, who annually circulate a kind of 
almanac, containing astronomical predictions of 
some of the more remarkable phenomena in the 
heavens, such as the new and full moons, the eclips¬ 
es of the sun and moon, are in possession of cer¬ 
tain methods of calculation, which, upon examina¬ 
tion, are found to involve in them a very extensive 
system of astronomical knowledge. M. le Gentil, 
a French astronomer, had an opportunity, while in 
India, of observing two eclipses of the moon which 
had been calculated by a Brahmin, and he found 
the error in either to be very inconsiderable. 

The accuracy of these results is less surprising 
than the justness and scientific nature of the prin¬ 
ciples on which the tables, by which they calculate, 
are constructed; for the method of predicting 
eclipses which is followed by the Brahmins, is of a 
kind altogether different from any that has been 
found in the possession of rude nations in the in¬ 
fancy of astronomy. In Chaldea, and even in 
Greece, in the early ages, the method of calculating 
eclipses was founded on the observation of a certain 
period or cycle, after which the eclipses of the sun 
and moon return nearly in the same order; but 
there was no attempt to analyze the different cir¬ 
cumstances on which the eclipse depends, or to 
deduce its phenomena from a precise knowledge of 
the motions of the sun and moon. This last was 
reserved for a more advanced period, when geome¬ 
try, as well as arithmetic, were called in to the as¬ 
sistance of astronomy, and, if it was attempted at 
all, seems not to have been attempted with success 
before the age of Hipparchus. It is a method of 
this superior kind, founded on principles and on an 
analysis of the motions of the sun and moon, which 

o See Note LXVH. 
p Vol. ii. p. 135. 



DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


guides the calculations of the Brahmins, and they 
never employ any of the grosser estimations, which 
were the pride of the first astronomers in Egypt and 
Chaldea. 

The Brahmins of the present times are guided in 
their calculations by these principles, though they 
do not now understand them ; they know only the 
use of the tables which are in their possession, but 
are unacquainted with the method of their construc¬ 
tion. The Brahmin who visited M. le Gentil at 
Pondicherry, and instructed him in the use of the 
Indian tables, had no knowledge of the principles 
of his art, and discovered no curiosity concerning 
the nature of M. le Gentil’s observations, or about 
the instruments which he employed. He was equally 
ignorant with respect to the authors of these tables ; 
and whatever is to be learned concerning the time 
or place of their construction, must be deduced 
from the tables themselves. One set of these tables 
(as w as formerly observed) profess to be as old as 
the beginning of the Calyougham, or to go back to 
the year 3102 before the Christian aera ; but as no¬ 
thing (it may be supposed) is easier than for an 
astronomer to give to his tables what date he pleases, 
and, by calculating backwards, to establish an epoch 
of any assigned antiquity, the pretensions of the 
Indian astronomy to so remote an origin are not to 
be admitted without examination. 

That examination has accordingly been instituted 
by M. Bailly, and the result of his inquiries is as¬ 
serted to be, that the astronomy of India is founded 
on observations which cannot be of a much later 
date than the period above mentioned. For the 
Indian tables represent the state of the heavens at 
that period with astonishing exactness; and there 
is between them and the calculations of our modern 
astronomy such a conformity with respect to those 
ages, as could result from nothing, but from the 
authors of the former having accurately copied from 
nature, and having delineated truly the face of the 
heavens, in the age wherein they lived. In order 
to give some idea of the high degree of accuracy 
in the Indian tables, I shall select a few instances 
of it, out of many that might be produced. The 
place of the sun for the astronomical epoch at the 
beginning of the Calyougham, as stated in the 
tables of Tirvalore, is only forty-seven minutes 
greater than by the tables of M. de la Caille, when 
corrected by the calculations of M. de la Grange. 
The place of the moon, in the same tables, for the 
same epoch, is only thirty-seven minutes different 
from the tables of Mayer. The tables of Ptolemy, 
for that epoch, are erroneous no less than ten de¬ 
grees w ith respect to the place of the sun, and eleven 
degrees with respect to that of the moon. The ac¬ 
celeration of the moon’s motion, reckoning from the 
beginning of the Calyougham to the present time, 
agrees, in the Indian tables, with those of Mayer 
to a single minute. The inequality of the sun’s 
motion, and the obliquity of the ecliptic, which 
were both greater in former ages than they are now, 


as represented in the tables of Tirvalore, are almost 
of the precise quantity that the theory of gravitation 
assigns to them three thousand years before the 
Christian aera. It is accordingly for those very 
remote ages (about 5000 years distant from the pre¬ 
sent) that their astronomy is most accurate, and 
the nearer we come down to our own times, the 
conformity of its results with ours diminishes. 
It seems reasonable to suppose, that the time when 
its rules are most accurate, is the time when the 
observations were made on which these rules are 
founded. 

In support of this conclusion, M. Bailly main¬ 
tains that none of all the astronomical systems of 
Greece or Persia, or of Tartary, from some of 
which it might be suspected that the Indian tables 
were copied, can be made to agree with them, espe¬ 
cially when w e calculate for very remote ages. The 
superior perfection of the Indian tables becomes 
always more conspicuous as we go further back into 
antiquity. This shows, likewise, how difficult it is 
to constructany astronomical tables which will agree 
with the state of the heavens for a period so remote 
from the time when the tables were constructed, as 
four or five thousand years. It is only from astro¬ 
nomy in its most advanced state, such as it has 
attained in modern Europe, that such accuracy is 
to be expected. 

When an estimate is endeavoured to be made of 
the geometrical skill necessary for the construction 
of the Indian tables and rules, it is found to be 
very considerable; and, beside the knowledge of 
elementary geometry, it must have required plane 
and spherical trigonometry, or something equivalent 
to them, together with certain methods of approxi¬ 
mating to the values of geometrical magnitudes, 
which seem to rise very far above the elements of 
any of those sciences. Some of these last mark 
also very clearly, (although this has not been ob¬ 
served by M. Bailly,) that the places to w hich these 
tables are adapted must be situated between the 
tropics, because they are altogether inapplicable at 
a greater distance from the equator. 

From this long induction, the conclusion which 
seems obviously to result is, that the Indian astro¬ 
nomy is founded upon observations which were 
made at a very early period ; and when we con¬ 
sider the exact agreement of the places w hich they 
assign to the sun and moon, and other heavenly 
bodies, at that epoch, with those deduced from the 
tables of De la Caille and Mayer, it strongly con¬ 
firms the truth of the position which I have been 
endeavouring to establish concerning the early and 
high state of civilization in India. 

Before I quit this subject, there is one circum¬ 
stance which merits particular attention. All the 
knowledge which we have hitherto acquired of the 
principles and conclusions of Indian astronomy is 
derived from the southern part of the Carnatic, and 
the tables are adapted to places situated between 
the meridian of Cape Comorin and that which 









1147 


APPENDIX. 


passes through the eastern part of Ceylon.i The 
Brahmins in the Carnatic acknowledge that their 
science of astronomy was derived from the north, 
and that their method of calculation is denominated 
Fahiam, or new, to distinguish it from the Siddan- 
tam, or ancient method established at Benares, which 
they allow to be much more perfect; and we learn 
from Abul Fazel, that all the astronomers of In- 
dostan rely entirely upon the precepts contained in 
a book called Soorej Sudhant, composed in a very 
remote period. r It is manifestly from this book that 
the method to which the Brahmins of the south gave 
the name of Siddantam is taken. Benares has been 
from time immemorial the Athens of India, the resi¬ 
dence of the most learned Brahmins, and the seat 
both of science and literature. There, it is highly 
probable, whatever remains of the ancient astro¬ 
nomical knowledge and discoveries of the Brahmins 
is still preserved. 8 In an enlightened age and 
nation, and during a reign distinguished by a suc¬ 
cession of the most splendid and successful under¬ 
takings to extend the knowledge of nature, it is an 
object worthy of public attention, to take measures 
for obtaining possession of all that time has spared 
of the philosophy and inventions of the most early 
and most highly civilized people of the East. It is 
with peculiar advantages Great Britain may engage 
in this laudable undertaking. Benares is subject 
to its dominion ; the confidence of the Brahmins 
has been so far gained as to render them communi¬ 
cative ; some of our countrymen are acquainted 
with that sacred language in which the mysteries 
both of religion and of science are recorded; move¬ 
ment and activity have been given to a spirit of in¬ 
quiry throughout all the British establishments in 
India ; persons who visited that country with other 
views, though engaged in occupations of a very 
different kind, are now carrying on scientific and 
literary researches with ardour and success. No¬ 
thing seems now to be wanting but that those 
intrusted with the administration of the British 
empire in India, should enable some person capa¬ 
ble, by his talents and liberality of sentiment, of 
investigating and explaining the more abstruse 
parts of Indian philosophy, to devote his whole 
time to that important object. Thus Great Britain 
may have the glory of exploring fully that extensive 
field of unknown science, which the academicians of 
France had the merit of first opening to the people 
of Europe. 1 

VI. The last evidence which I shall mention of 
the early and high civilization of the ancient Indi¬ 
ans, is deduced from the consideration of their re¬ 
ligious tenets and practices. The institutions of 
religion, publicly established in all the extensive 
countries stretching from the banks of the Indus 
to Cape Comorin, present to view an aspect nearly 
similar. They form a regular and complete system 
of superstition, strengthened and upheld by every 


Bailly, Dis. Prelim, p. xvii. r Ayeen Akbery, ii 

M. Bernier, in the year 1668, saw a large hall in Benares tilled with the 
of the Indian philosophers, physicians, and poets. Voy. n. p. 148. 


thing which can excite the reverence and secure 
the attachment of the people. The temples conse¬ 
crated to their deities are magnificent, and adorned 
not only with rich offerings, but with the most ex¬ 
quisite works in painting and sculpture, which the 
artists highest in estimation among them were ca¬ 
pable of executing. The rites and ceremonies of 
their worship are pompous and splendid, and the 
performance of them not only mingles in all the 
more momentous transactions of common life, but 
constitutes an essential part of them. The Brah¬ 
mins, who, as ministers of religion, preside in all 
its functions, are elevated above every other order 
of men, by an origin deemed not only more noble, 
but acknowledged to be sacred. They have estab¬ 
lished among themselves a regular hierarchy and 
gradation of ranks, which, by securing subordina¬ 
tion in their ow n order, adds weight to their autho¬ 
rity, and gives them a more absolute dominion 
over the minds of the people. This dominion 
they support by the command of the immense re¬ 
venues with which the liberality of princes, and 
the zeal of pilgrims and devotees, have enriched 
their pagodas. u 

It is far from my intention to enter into any mi¬ 
nute detail with respect to this vast and complicated 
system of superstition. An attempt to enumerate 
the multitude of deities which are the objects of 
adoration in India; to describe the splendour of 
worship in their pagodas, and the immense va¬ 
riety of their rites and ceremonies; to recount 
the various attributes and functions which the craft 
of priests, or the credulity of the people, ascribed to 
their divinities ; especially if I were to accompany 
all this with the review of the numerous and often 
fanciful speculations and theories of learned men 
on this subject, would require a w ork of great mag¬ 
nitude. I shall, therefore, on this, as on some of 
the former heads, confine myself to the precise 
point which I have kept uniformly in view ; and by 
considering the state of religion in India, I shall 
endeavour not only to throw additional light on 
the state of civilization in that country, but I flatter 
myself that, at the same time, I shall be able to give 
what may be considered as a sketch and outline of 
the history and progress of superstition and false 
religion in every region of the earth. 

I. We may observe, that, in every country, the 
received mythology, or system of superstitious be¬ 
lief, with all the rites and ceremonies which it pre¬ 
scribes, is formed in the infancy of society, in rude 
and barbarous times. True religion is as different 
from superstition in its origin, as in its nature. 
The former is the offspring of reason cherished by 
science, and attains to its highest perfection in ages 
of light and improvement. Ignorance and fear 
give birth to the latter, and it is always in the dark¬ 
est periods that it acquires the greatest vigour. 
That numerous part of the human species whose lot 

t See Note LXVI11. 

u Roger Porte Ouverte, p. 39. 209, &c. 




1148 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


is labour, whose principal and almost sole occupa¬ 
tion is to secure subsistence, has neither leisure nor 
capacity for entering into that path of intricate and 
refined speculation, which conducts to the know¬ 
ledge of the principles of rational religion. When 
the intellectual powers are just beginning to unfold, 
and their first feeble exertions are directed towards 
a few objects of primary necessity and use ; when 
the faculties of the mind are so limited as not to 
have formed general and abstract ideas ; when lan¬ 
guage is so barren as to be destitute of names to 
distinguish any thing not perceivable by some of 
the senses ; it is preposterous to expect that men 
should be capable of tracing the relation between 
effects and their causes; or to suppose that they 
should rise from the contemplation of the former to 
the discovery of the latter, and form just concep¬ 
tions of one Supreme Being, as the Creator and 
Governor of the universe. The idea of creation is 
so familiar, wherever the mind is enlarged by sci¬ 
ence, and illuminated by revelation, that we seldom 
reflect how profound and abstruse the idea is, or 
consider what progress man must have made in 
observation and research, before he could arrive at 
any distinct knowledge of this elementary princi¬ 
ple in religion. But even in its rude state, the hu¬ 
man mind, formed for religion, opens to the re¬ 
ception of ideas which are destined, when corrected 
and refined, to be the great source of consolation 
amidst the calamities of life. These apprehensions, 
however, are originally indistinct and perplexed, 
and seem to be suggested rather by the dread of im¬ 
pending evils, than to flow from gratitude for bless¬ 
ings received. While nature holds on her course 
with uniform and undisturbed regularity, men enjoy 
the benefits resulting from it, without much inquiry 
concerning its cause. But every deviation from this 
regular course rouses and astonishes them. When 
they behold events to which they are not accustom¬ 
ed, they search for the causes of them with eager 
curiosity. Their understanding is often unable to 
discover these, but imagination, a more forward and 
ardent faculty of the mind, decides without hesita¬ 
tion. It ascribes the extraordinary occurrences 
in nature to the influence of invisible beings, and 
supposes the thunder, the hurricane, and the earth¬ 
quake, to be the immediate effects of their agency. 
Alarmed by these natural evils, and exposed, at the 
same time, to many dangers and disasters, which 
are unavoidable in the early and uncivilized state 
of society, men have recourse for protection to 
power superior to what is human, and the first rites 
or practices which bear any resemblance to acts of 
religion, have it for their object to avert evils which 
they suffer or dread. x 

II. As superstition and false religion take their 
rise, in every country, from nearly the same senti¬ 
ments and apprehensions, the invisible beings, who 
are the first objects of veneration, have every where 

X In the second volume of the History of America, p. 18.1. of fifth 
edition, 1 gave nearly a similar account of the origin of false religion. 


a near resemblance. To conceive an idea of one 
superintending mind, capable of arranging and di¬ 
recting all the various operations of nature, seems 
to be an attainment far beyond the powers of man 
in the more early stages of his progress. His theo¬ 
ries, more suited to the limited sphere of his own 
observation, are not so refined. He supposes that 
there is a distinct cause of every remarkable effect, 
and ascribes to a separate power every event which 
attracts his attention, or excites his terror. He 
fancies that it is the province of one deity to point 
the lightning, and, with an awful sound, to hurl the 
irresistible thunderbolt at the head of the guilty ; 
that another rides in the whirlwind, and at his 
pleasure, raises or stills the tempest; that a third 
rules over the ocean ; that a fourth is the god of 
battles; that while malevolent powers scatter the 
seeds of animosity and discord, and kindle in the 
breast those angry passions which give rise to war, 
and terminate in destruction, others of a nature 
more benign, by inspiring the hearts of men with 
kindness and love, strengthen the bond of social 
union, augment the happiness, and increase the 
number, of the human race. 

Without descending further into detail, or attempt¬ 
ing to enumerate that infinite multitude of deities 
to w hich the fancy or the fears of men have allotted 
the direction of the several departments in nature, 
we may recognise a striking uniformity of features 
in the systems of superstition established through¬ 
out every part of the earth. The less men have 
advanced beyond the state of savage life, and the 
more slender their acquaintance with the operations 
of nature, the fewer were their deities in number, 
and the more compendious was their theological 
creed; but as their mind gradually opened, and 
their knowledge continued to extend, the objects 
of their veneration multiplied, and the articles of 
their faith became more numerous. This took place 
remarkably among the Greeks in Europe, and the 
Indians in Asia, the two people in those great divi¬ 
sions of the earth who were most early civilized, 
and to whom, for that reason, I shall confine all 
my observations. They believed, that over every 
movement in the natural world, and over every 
function in civil or domestic life, even the most 
common and trivial, a particular deity presided. 
The manner in which they arranged the stations of 
these superintending powers, and the offices which 
they allotted to each, were in many respects the 
same. What is supposed to be performed by the 
power of Jupiter, of Neptune, of JEolus, of Mars, 
of Venus, according to the mythology of the West, 
is ascribed in the East to the agency of Agnee, 
the god of fire ; Varoon, the god of oceans ; Vayoo, 
the god of wind Cama, the god of love; and a 
variety of other divinities. 

The ignorance and credulity of men having thus 
peopled the heavens with imaginary beings, they 

Instead of labouring to convey the same ideas m different language, I 
have inserted here some paragraphs in the same words I then used. 
y Baghvat-Geeta, p. 94. 










APPENDIX. 


ascribed to them such qualities and actions as they 
deemed suitable to their character and functions. 
It is one of the benefits derived from true religion, 
that by setting before men a standard of perfect ex¬ 
cellence, which they should have always in their 
eye, and endeavour to resemble, it may be said to 
bring down virtue from heaven to earth, and to 
form the human mind after a divine model. In fa¬ 
bricating systems of false religion, the procedure is 
directly the reverse. Men ascribe to the beings 
whom they have deified, such actions as they them¬ 
selves admire and celebrate. The qualities of the 
gods who are the objects of adoration, are copied 
tiorn those of the worshippers who bow down before 
them ; and thus many of the imperfections peculiar 
to men have found admittance into heaven. By 
knowing the adventures and attributes of any false 
deity, we can pronounce, with some degree of cer¬ 
tainty, what must have been the state of society and 
manners when he was elevated to that dignity. The 
mythology of Greece plainly indicates the charac¬ 
ter of the age in which it was formed. It must have 
been in times of the greatest licentiousness, anarch}', 
and violence, that divinities of the highest rank 
could be supposed capable of perpetrating actions, 
or of being influenced by passions, which, in more 
enlightened periods, would be deemed a disgrace 
to human nature ; it must have been when the earth 
was still infested with destructive monsters, and 
mankind, under forms of government too feeble to 
afford them protection, were exposed to the depre¬ 
dations of law less robbers, or the cruelty of savage 
oppressors, that the well known labours of Hercules, 
by which he was raised from earth to heaven, could 
have been necessary, or would have been deemed 
so highly meritorious. The same observation is 
applicable to the ancient mythology of India. Many 
of the adventures and exploits of the Indian deities 
are suited to the rudest ages of turbulence and ra¬ 
pine. It was to check disorder, to redress wrongs, 
and to clear the earth of powerful oppressors, that 
Vishnou, a divinity of the highest order, is said to 
have become successively incarnate, and to have 
appeared on earth in various forms. 2 

III. The character and functions of those deities 
which superstition created to itself as objects of its 
veneration, having every where a near resemblance, 
the rites of their w orship were every where extremely 
similar. Accordingly, as deities were distinguished, 
either by ferocity of character or licentiousness of 
conduct, it is obvious wdiat services must have been 
deemed most acceptable to them. In order to con¬ 
ciliate the favour, or to appease the wrath, of the 
former, fasts, mortifications, and penances, all rigid, 
and many of them excruciating to an extreme degree, 
were the means employed. Their altars were always 
bathed in blood ; the most costly victims were offer¬ 
ed ; whole hecatombs w ere slaughtered; even human 

z Voyaire de Sonnerat, tom. i. p. 158, &c. 

a Strabo, lib. viii. p. 581. A. Lib. xii. p. 837. C. 

b Ayeen Akbery, vol. iii. page 211. Roger Porte Ouverte, page 


sacrifices were not unknown, and w r ere held to be the 
most powerful expiations. In order to gain the good¬ 
will of the deities of the latter description, recourse 
was had to institutions of a very different kind, to 
splendid ceremonies, gay festivals, heightened by all 
the pleasures of poetry, music, and dancing, butoften 
terminating in scenes of indulgence too indecent to 
be described. Of both these, instances occur in 
the rites of Greek and Roman worship, which I need 
not mention to my learned readers. a In the East 
the ceremonial of superstition is nearly the same. 
The manners of the Indians, though distinguished, 
from the time when they became known to the 
people of the West, for mildness, seem, in a more 
remote period, to have been in a greater degree 
similar to those of other nations. Several of their 
deities were fierce and awful in their nature, and 
were represented in their temples under the most 
terrific forms. If we did not know the dominion 
of superstition over the human mind, we should 
hardly believe that a ritual of worship suited to the 
character of such deities could have been establish¬ 
ed among a gentle people. Every act of religion 
performed in honour of some of their gods, seems to 
have been prescribed by fear. Mortifications and 
penances so rigorous, so painful, and so long con¬ 
tinued, that we read the accounts of them with asto¬ 
nishment and horror, were multiplied. Repugnant 
as it is to the feelings of an Hindoo to shed the blood 
of any creature that has life, many different animals, 
even the most useful, the horse and the cow, were 
offered up as victims upon the altars of some of their 
gods ; b and what is still more strange, the pagodas of 
the East were polluted with human sacrifices as well 
as the temples of the West. c But religious institu¬ 
tions, and ceremonies of a less severe kind, were 
more adapted to the genius of a people formed, by 
the extreme sensibility both of their mental and 
corporeal frame, to an immoderate love of pleasure. 
In no part of the earth was a connexion between the 
gratification of sensual desire and the rites of public 
religion, displayed with more avowed indecency 
than in India. In every pagoda there was a band 
of women set apart for the service of the idol ho¬ 
noured there, and devoted from their early years to 
a life of pleasure; for which the Brahmins prepared 
them by an education which added so many elegant 
accomplishments to their natural charms, that what 
they gained by their profligacy often brought no 
inconsiderable accession to the revenue of the tem¬ 
ple. In every function performed in the pagodas, 
as well as in every public procession, it is the office 
of these women to dance before the idol, and to sing 
hymns in his praise ; and it is difficult to say, whe¬ 
ther they trespass most against decency by the ges¬ 
tures they exhibit, or by the verses which they recite. 
The walls of the Pagoda are covered with paintings 
in a style no less indelicate ; d and in the innermost 

c Heetoo-pades, p. 185—322. Asiat. Researches, vol. i. p. 255. Voy. 
de Sonnerat, vol. i. p. 2o7. Roger, p. 251. 
d Voyaee de Gentil. vol. i. p. 2U. 260. Preface to Code of Centoo 




DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


recess of the temple, for it would be profane to 
call it the sanctuary, is placed the Ling am, an 
emblem of productive power too gross to be ex¬ 
plained. 6 

IV. How absurd soever the articles of faith may 
be which superstition has adopted, or how unhal¬ 
lowed the rites which it prescribes, the former are 
received in every age and country with unhesitating 
assent, by the great body of the people, and the 
latter observed with scrupulous exactness. In our 
reasonings concerning religious opinions and prac¬ 
tices which differ widely from our own, we are 
extremely apt to err. Having been instructed our¬ 
selves in the principles of a religion, worthy in every 
respect of that divine wisdom by which they were 
dictated, we frequently express wonder at the cre¬ 
dulity of nations in embracing systems of belief 
which appear to us so directly repugnant to right 
reason, and sometimes suspect that tenets so wild 
and extravagant do not really gain credit with them. 
But experience may satisfy us, that neither our 
wonder nor suspicions are well founded. No article 
of the public religion was called in question by 
those people of ancient Europe with whose history 
we are best acquainted, and no practice which it 
enjoined appeared improper to them. On the other 
hand, every opinion that tended to diminish the 
reverence of men for the gods of their country, or to 
alienate them from their worship, excited among 
the Greeks and Romans that indignant zeal which 
is natural to every people attached to their religion 
by a firm persuasion of its truth. The attachment 
of the Indians, both in ancient and modern times, to 
the tenets and rites of their ancestors, has been, if 
possible, still greater. In no country, of which we 
have any account, were precautions taken with so 
much solicitude to place the great body of the 
people beyond the reach of any temptation to doubt 
or disbelief. They not only were prevented (as I 
have already observed the great bulk of mankind 
must always be, in every country) from entering 
upon any speculative inquiry, by the various occu¬ 
pations of active and laborious life, but any attempt 
to extend the sphere of their know ledge was ex¬ 
pressly prohibited. If one of the Sooder cast, by 
far the most numerous of the four into which the 
whole nation was divided, presumed to read any 
portion of the sacred books, in which all the science 
known in India is contained, he was severely 
punished ; if he ventured to get it by heart, he was 
put to death/ To aspire after any higher degree of 
knowledge than the Brahmins have been pleased to 
teach, would be deemed not only presumption but 
impiety. Even the higher casts depended entirely 
for instruction on the Brahmins, and could acquire 
no portion of science but what they deigned to 
communicate. By means of this, a devout rever¬ 
ence was universally maintained for those institu¬ 
tions which were considered as sacred ; and though 

e Roger Porte Ouverte, p. 157. Voyage de Sonnerat, vol, i. p. 41,175. 
SisMihes, vol. i. p. 203. .Hamilton’s 'lrav. vol. i. p. . 370 . 


the faith of the Hindoos has been often tried by 
severe persecutions, excited by the bigotry of their 
Mahomedan conquerors, no people ever adhered 
with greater fidelity to the tenets and rites of their 
ancestors.^ 

Y. We may observe, that when science and phi¬ 
losophy are diffused through any country, the system 
of superstition is subjected to a scrutiny from which 
it was formerly exempt, and opinions spread which 
imperceptibly diminish its influence over the minds 
of men. A free and full examination is always 
favourable to truth, but fatal to error. What is 
received with implicit faith in ages of darkness, 
will excite contempt or indignation in an enlighten¬ 
ed period. The history of religion in Greece and 
Italy, the only countries of Europe which, in ancient 
times, were distinguished for their attainments in 
science, confirms the truth of this observation. As 
soon as science made such progress in Greece as 
rendered men capable of discerning the wisdom, 
the foresight, and the goodness displayed in creat¬ 
ing, preserving, and governing the w orld, they must 
have perceived, that the characters of the divinities 
which were proposed as the objects of adoration in 
their temples, could not entitle them to be consider¬ 
ed as the presiding powers in nature. A poet might 
address Jupiter as the father of gods and men, who 
governed both by eternal law s ; but to a philoso¬ 
pher, the son of Saturn, the story of whose life is a 
series of violent and licentious deeds, which w ould 
render any man odious or despicable, must have 
appeared altogether unworthy of that station. The 
nature of the religious service celebrated in their 
temples must have been no less offensive to an en¬ 
lightened mind, than the character of the deities in 
honour of whom it w as performed. Instead of in¬ 
stitutions tending to reclaim men from vice, to form 
or to strengthen habits of virtue, or to elevate the 
mind to a sense of its proper dignity, superstition 
either occupied its votaries in frivolous unmeaning 
ceremonies, or prescribed rites which operated, with 
fatal influence, in inflaming the passions and cor¬ 
rupting the heart. 

It is with timidity, however, and caution, that 
men venture to attack the established religion of 
their country, or to impugn opinions which have 
been long held sacred. At first, some philosophers 
endeavoured, by allegorical interpretations and re¬ 
fined comments, to explain the popular mythology, 
as if it had been a description of the powers of 
nature, and of the various events and revolutions 
which take place in the system of the material 
world, and endeavoured by this expedient to pal¬ 
liate many of its absurdities. By degrees, bolder 
theories concerning religion were admitted into the 
schools of science. Philosophers of enlarged views, 
sensible of the impiety of the popular superstition, 
formed ideas concerning the perfections of one 
Supreme Being, the Creator and Ruler of the uni- 

f Code of Gentoo Laws, chap. 21. § 7. 

g Orine’s Fragment, p. 102. Sonnerat, vol. i. p. 194. 



APPENDIX. 


verse, as just and rational as have ever been attained 
by the unassisted powers of the human mind. 

If from Europe we now turn to Asia, we shall 
find, that the observation which I have made upon 
he history of false religion holds equally true there. 
In India, as well as in Greece, it was by cultivating 
science that men were first led to examine and to 
entertain doubts with respect to the established 
systems of superstition ; and when we consider the 
great difference between the ecclesiastical constitu¬ 
tion (if I may use that expression) of the two coun- 
tiies, we are apt to imagine that the established 
system lay more open to examination in the latter 
than in the former. In Greece there was not any 
distinct race or order of men set apart for perform¬ 
ing the functions of religion, or to serve as heredi¬ 
tary and interested guardians of its tenets and 
institutions. But in India the Brahmins were born 
the ministers of religion, and they had an exclusive 
right of presiding in all the numerous rites of 
worship which superstition prescribed as necessary 
to avert the wrath of Heaven, or to render it pro¬ 
pitious. These distinctions and privileges secured 
to them a wonderful ascendant over their country¬ 
men ; and every consideration that can influence 
the human mind, the honour, the interest, the power 
of their order, called upon them to support the 
tenets, and to maintain the institutions and rites, 
with which the preservation of this ascendant was 
so intimately connected. 

But as the most eminent persons of the cast de¬ 
voted their lives to the cultivation of science, the 
progress which they made in all the branches of it 
(of which I have given some account) was great, 
and enabled them to form such a just idea of the 
system of nature, and of the power, wisdom, and 
goodness displayed in the formation and govern¬ 
ment of it, as elevated their minds above the popu¬ 
lar superstition, and led them to acknowledge and 
reverence one Supreme Being, “ the Creator of all 
things, (to use their own expressions,) and from 
whom all things proceed.” h 

This is the idea which Abul Fazel, who examined 
the opinions of the Brahmins with the greatest at¬ 
tention and candour, gives of their theology. “ They 
all,” says he, “ believe in the unity of the Godhead, 
and although they hold images in high veneration, 
it is only because they represent celestial beings, 
and prevent the thoughts of those who worship them 
from wandering.”' The sentiments of the most in¬ 
telligent Europeans who have visited India, coincide 
perfectly with his, in respect to this point. The 
accounts which M. Bernier received from the Pun¬ 
dits of Benares, both of their external worship, and 
of one Sovereign Lord being the sole object of their 
devotion, is precisely the same with that given by 
Abul Fazel. k Mr. Wilkins, better qualified perhaps 
than any European ever was to judge with respect 
to this subject, represents the learned Brahmins of 


the present times as Theists, believers in the unity 
of God . 1 Of the same opinion is M. Sonnerat, who 
resided in India seven years, in order to inquire 
into the manners, sciences, and religion of the 
Hindoos ." 1 The Pundits who translated the Code of 
Gentoo Laws declare, “ that it was the Supreme 
Being, who, by his power, formed all creatures of 
the animal, vegetable, and material world, from the 
four elements of fire, w'ater, air, and earth, to be an 
ornament to the magazine of creation; and whose 
comprehensive benevolence selected man, the centre 
of knowledge, to have dominion and authority over 
the rest; and, having bestowed upon this favourite 
object judgment and understanding, gave him su¬ 
premacy over the corners of the world .” 11 

Nor are these to be regarded as refined sentiments 
of later times. The Brahmins, being considered by 
the Mahomedan conquerors of India as the guar¬ 
dians of the national religion, have been so stu¬ 
diously depressed by their fanatical zeal, that the 
modern members of that order are as far inferior to 
their ancestors in science as in power. It is from 
the writings of their ancient Pundits that they de¬ 
rive the most liberal sentiments which they enter¬ 
tain at present, and the wisdom for which they arc 
now celebrated has been transmitted to them from 
ages very remote. 

That this assertion is well founded we are en¬ 
abled to pronounce with certainty, as the most pro¬ 
found mysteries of Hindoo theology, concealed with 
the greatest care from the body of the people, have 
been unveiled by the translations from the Sans- 
kreet language lately published. The principal 
design of the Baghvat-Geeta, an episode in the 
Mahabarat, a poem of the highest antiquity, and of 
the greatest authority in India, seems to have been 
to establish the doctrine of the unit}' of the God¬ 
head, and from a just view of the divine nature to 
deduce an idea of what worship will be most ac¬ 
ceptable to a perfect being. In it, amidst much 
obscure metaphysical discussion, some ornaments 
of fancy unsuited to our taste, and some thoughts 
elevated to a tract of sublimity into which, from 
our habits of reasoning and judging, we shall find it 
difficult to follow them , 0 we find descriptions of the 
Supreme Being entitled to equal praise with those 
of the Greek philosophers which I have celebrated. 
Of these I shall now produce one to which I for¬ 
merly alluded, and refer my readers for others to the 
work itself: “ O mighty Being,” says Arjoon, “ who 
art the prime Creator, eternal God of gods, the 
World’s Mansion! Thou art the incorruptible 
Being, distinct from all things transient. Thou art 
before all gods, the ancient Pooroosli , [i. e. vital 
soul,] and the Supreme Supporter of the universe. 
Thou knowest all things, and art worthy to be 
known : thou art the Supreme Mansion, and by thee, 
O Infinite Form, the universe was spread abroad ! 
Reverence be unto thee before and behind ; reve- 


1) Baghvat-Geeta, p. 84. 
k Voyage, tom. ti. p. 159. 


i Ayeen Akbery, vol. iii. p. 3. 

1 Pret'ace to Baghvat-Geeta, p. 24. 


m Voyage, tom. i. p. 198. 
o Mr. Hastings’s Letter, prefixed 


n Prelim. Discourse, p. Ixxiii. 
the Baghvat-Geeta, p. 7- 



1152 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


rence be unto thee on all sides ! O thou who art 
all in all, infinite is thy power and thy glory.—Thou 
art the Father of all things, animate and inanimate. 
Thou art the wise instructor of the whole, worthy 
to he adored. There is none like unto thee ; where 
then, in the three worlds, is there one above thee? 
Wherefore I bow down ; and with my body pros¬ 
trate upon the ground, crave thy mercy, Lord ! 
worthy to be adored: for thou shouldst bear with 
me, even as a father with his son, a friend with his 
friend, a lover with his beloved.”? A description 
of the Supreme Being is given in one of the sacred 
books of the Hindoos, from which it is evident what 
were the general sentiments of the learned Brahmins 
concerning the divine nature and perfections: “As 
God is immaterial, he is above all conception ; as 
he is invisible, he can have no form ; but from what 
we behold of his works, we may conclude, that he 
is eternal, omnipotent, knowing all things, and pre¬ 
sent every where.” q 

To men capable of forming such ideas of the 
Deity, the public service in the pagodas must have 
appeared to be an idolatrous worship of images, by 
a superstitious multiplication of frivolous or im¬ 
moral rites ; and they must have seen that it was 
only by sanctity of heart, and purity of manners, 
men could hope to gain the approbation of a Being 
perfect in goodness. This truth Veias labours to 
inculcate in the Mahabarat, but with the prudent 
reserve and artful precautions natural to a Brahmin, 
studious neither to offend his countrymen, nor to 
diminish the influence of his own order. His ideas 
concerning the mode of worshipping the Deity are 
explained in many striking passages of the poem ; 
but unwilling to multiply quotations, I satisfy my¬ 
self with referring to them. 1- 

When we recollect how slowly the mind of man 
opens to abstract ideas, and how difficult (according 
to an observation in the Mahabarat) an invisible 
path is to corporeal beings, it is evident that the 
Hindoos must have attained a high degree of im¬ 
provement before their sentiments rose so far supe¬ 
rior to the popular superstition of their country. 
The different states of Greece had subsisted long, 
and had made considerable progress in refinement, 
before the errors of false religion began to be de¬ 
tected. It was not until the age of Socrates, and 
in the schools of philosophy established by his 
disciples, that principles adverse to the tenets of 
the popular superstition were much propagated. 

A longer period of time elapsed before the Ro¬ 
mans, a nation of warriors and statesmen, were 
enlightened by science, or ventured upon any free 
disquisition concerning the objects or the rites of 
worship authorized by their ancestors. But in 
India the happy effects of progress in science were 
much more early conspicuous. Without adopting 
the wild computations of Indian chronology, ac¬ 


cording to which, the Mahabarat was composed 
above four thousand years ago, we must allow, that 
it is a work of very great antiquity, and the author 
of it discovers an acquaintance with the principles 
of theology, of morals, and of metaphysics, more 
just and rational than seems to have been attained, 
at that period, by any nation whose history is known. 

But so unable are the limited powers of the 
human mind to form an adequate idea of the per¬ 
fections and operations of the Supreme Being, that 
in all the theories concerning them, of the most emi¬ 
nent philosophers in the most enlightened nations, 
we find a lamentable mixture of ignorance and 
error. From these the Brahmins were not more 
exempt than the sages of other countries. As they 
held that the system of nature was not only origi¬ 
nally arranged by the power and wisdom of God, 
but that every event which happened was brought 
about by his immediate interposition, and as they 
could not comprehend how a being could act in any 
place unless where it was present, they supposed 
the Deity to be a vivifying principle diffused 
through the whole creation, an universal soul that 
animated each part of it. s Every intelligent nature, 
particularly the souls of men, they conceived to be 
portions separated from this great Spirit , 1 to which, 
after fulfilling their destiny on earth, and attaining 
a proper degree of purity, they would be again re¬ 
united. In order to efface the stains with which a 
soul, during its residence on earth, has been defiled, 
by the indulgence of sensual and corrupt appetites, 
they taught that it must pass, in a long succession 
of transmigrations, through the bodies of different 
animals, until, by what it suffers and what it learns 
in the various forms of its existence, it shall be so 
thoroughly refined from all pollution as to be ren¬ 
dered meet for being absorbed into the divine es¬ 
sence, and returns like a drop into that unbounded 
ocean from which it originally issued . 11 These doc¬ 
trines of the Brahmins concerning the Deity, as the 
soul which pervades all nature, giving activity and 
vigour to every part of it, as well as the final re¬ 
union of all intelligent creatures to their primaeval 
source, coincide perfectly with the tenets of the 
Stoical school. It is remarkable, that after having; 
observed a near resemblance in the most sublime 
sentiments of their moral doctrine, we should like¬ 
wise discover such a similarity in the errors of their 
theological speculations.* 

The human mind, however, when destitute of su¬ 
perior guidance, is apt to fall into a practical error 
with respect to religion, of a tendency still more 
dangerous. When philosophers, by their attain¬ 
ments in science, began to acquire such just ideas 
of the nature and perfections of the Supreme Being, 
as convinced them that the popular system of super¬ 
stition was not only absurd but impious, they were 
fully aware of all the danger which might arise 


p Baghvat-Geeta, p. 94, 95. q Dow’s Dissert, p. xl. 

r Baghvat-Geeta, p. 55.67. 75. 97. 119. 
s Ibid. p. 65. 76.85. Bernier, torr.. ii. p. 163. 
t Dow’s Dissert, p. xliii. 


u Voy.de Sonnerat, vol. i. p. 192. 200. Baghvat-Geeta, p. 39. 115. 
Dow’s Dissert, p. xliii. 

x I.ipfij Physiol. Stoicor. lib. i, dissert, viii, xxi. Seneca, Antoninus, 
Epictetus, passim. 



APPENDIX. 


1153 


from communicating what they had discovered to 
the people, incapable of comprehending the force 
of those reasons which had swayed with them, and 
so zealously attached to established opinions, as to 
revolt against any attempt to detect their falsehood. 
Instead, therefore, of allowing any ray of that 
knowledge which illuminated their own minds to 
reach them, they formed a theory to justify their 
own conduct, and to prevent the darkness of that 
cloud which hung over the minds of their fellow- 
men from being ever dispelled. The vulgar and 
unlearned, they contended, had no right to truth. 
Doomed by their condition to remain in ignorance, 
they were to be kept in order by delusion, and al¬ 
lured to do what is right, or deterred from venturing 
upon what is wrong, by the hope of those imaginary 
rewards which superstition promises, and the dread 
of those punishments which it threatens. In con¬ 
firmation of this, I might quote the doctrine of most 
of the philosophic sects, and produce the words of 
almost every eminent Greek and Roman writer. It 
will be sufficient, however, to lay before my readers 
a remarkable passage in Strabo, to whom I have 
been so often indebted in the course of my re¬ 
searches, and who was no less qualified to judge 
with respect to the political opinions of his con¬ 
temporaries, than to describe the countries which 
they inhabited. “ What is marvellous in fable, is 
employed/’ says he, “ sometimes to please, and 
sometimes to inspire terror, and both these are of 
use, not only with children, but with persons of 
mature age. To children we propose delightful 
fictions, in order to encourage them to act well, and 
such as are terrible, in order to restrain them from 
evil. Thus when men are united in society, they 
are incited to what is laudable, by hearing the 
poets celebrate the splendid actions of fabulous 
story, such as the labours of Hercules and Theseus, 
in reward for which they are now honoured as di¬ 
vinities, or by beholding their illustrious deeds ex¬ 
hibited to public view in painting and sculpture. 
On the other hand, they are deterred from vice, 
when the punishments inflicted by the gods upon 
evil doers are related, and threats are denounced 
against them in awful words, or represented by 
frightful figures, and when men believe that these 
threats have been really executed upon the guilty. 
For it is impossible to conduct women and the gross 
multitude, and to render them holy, pious, and up¬ 
right, by the precepts of reason and philosophy ; 
superstition, or the fear of the gods, must be called 
in aid, the influence of which is founded on fictions 
and prodigies. For the thunder of Jupiter, the 
aegis of Minerva, the trident of Neptune, the torches 
and snakes of the furies, the spears of the gods, 
adorned with ivy, and the w'hole ancient theology, 
are all fables, which the legislators who formed the 
political constitution of states employ as bugbears 
to overawe the credulous and simple.” y 

These ideas of the philosophers of Europe w ere 

y Strabo, lib. i. p. 36. B. 


precisely the same which the Brahmins had adopt¬ 
ed in India, and according to which they regulated 
their conduct with respect to the great body of the 
people. As their order had an exclusive right to 
read the sacred books, to cultivate and to teach 
science, they could more effectually prevent all who 
were not members of it from acquiring any portion 
of information beyond what they were pleased to 
impart. When the free circulation of knowledge 
is not circumscribed by such restrictions, the whole 
community derives benefit from every new acquisi¬ 
tion in science, the influence of which, both upon 
sentiment and conduct, extends insensibly from the 
few to the many, from the learned to the ignorant. 
But wherever the dominion of false religion is com¬ 
pletely established, the body of the people gain no¬ 
thing by the greatest improvements in knowledge. 
Their philosophers conceal from them, with the ut¬ 
most solicitude, the truths which they have disco¬ 
vered, and labour to support that fabric of super¬ 
stition which it was their duty to have overturned. 
They not only enjoin others to respect the religious 
rites prescribed by the laws of their country, but 
conform to them in their own practice, and w'ith 
every external appearance of reverence and devo¬ 
tion, bow down before the altars of deities, who 
must inwardly be the objects of their contempt. 
Instead of resembling the teachers of true religion 
in the benevolent ardour with which they have 
always communicated to their fellow-men the 
knowledge of those important truths with which 
their own minds were enlightened and rendered 
happy, the sages of Greece, and the Brahmins of 
India, carried on, with studied artifice, a scheme of 
deceit, and, according to an emphatic expression of 
an inspired w riter, they detained the truth in un¬ 
righteousness/ They knew and approved what 
was true, but among the rest of mankind they la¬ 
boured to support and to perpetuate what is false. 

Thus I have gone through all the particulars 
which I originally proposed to examine, and have 
endeavoured to discover the state of the inhabitants 
of India with respect to each of them. If I had 
aimed at nothing else than to describe the civil 
policy, the arts, the sciences, the religious institu¬ 
tions of one of the most ancient and most numerous 
race of men, that alone would have led me into in¬ 
quiries and discussions both curious and instruc¬ 
tive. I own, however, that I have all along kept 
in view an object more interesting, as well as of 
greater importance, and entertain hopes, that if the 
account which I have given of the early and high 
civilization of India, and of the w onderful progress 
of its inhabitants in elegant arts and useful science, 
shall be received as just and well established, it 
may have some influence upon the behaviour of 
Europeans tow ards that people. Unfortunately for 
the human species, in whatever quarter of the globe 
the people of Europe have acquired dominion, they 
have found the inhabitants not only in a state of so- 

z Rem. i. 18. 

4 L 




1154 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


ciety and improvement far inferior to their own, 
hut different in their complexion, and in all their 
habits of life. Men in every stage of their career 
are so satisfied with the progress made by the com¬ 
munity of which they are members, that it becomes 
to them a standard of perfection, and they are apt 
to regard people whose condition is not similar, with 
contempt, and even aversion. In Africa and Ame¬ 
rica, the dissimilitude is so conspicuous, that, in the 
pride of their superiority, Europeans thought them¬ 
selves entitled to reduce the natives of the former 
to slavery, and to exterminate those of the latter. 
Even in India, though far advanced beyond the two 
other quarters of the globe in improvement, the 
colour of the inhabitants, their effeminate appear¬ 
ance, their unwarlike spirit, the wild extravagance 
of their religious tenets and ceremonies, and many 
other circumstances, confirmed Europeans in such 
an opinion of their own pre-eminence, that they 
have always viewed and treated them as an inferior 
race of men. Happy would it be if any of the four 
European nations, who have successively acquired 
extensive territories and power in India, could alto¬ 
gether vindicate itself from having acted in this 
manner. Nothing, however, can have a more di¬ 
rect and powerful tendency to inspire Europeans, 
proud of their own superior attainments in policy, 
science, and arts, with proper sentiments concern¬ 
ing the people of India, and to teach them a due 

a Ayeen Akbery, vol. iii. p. 2. 81. 95. 


regard for their natural rights as men, than their 
being accustomed, not only to consider the Hindoos 
of the present times as a knowing and ingenious 
race of men, but to view them as descended from 
ancestors who had attained to a very high degree 
of improvement, many ages before the least step 
towards civilization had been taken in any part of 
Europe. It was by an impartial and candid inquiry 
into their manners, that the emperor Akber was led 
to consider the Hindoos as no less entitled to pro¬ 
tection and favour, than his other subjects, and to 
govern them with such equity and mildness, as to 
merit from a grateful people the honourable appel¬ 
lation of “ The Guardian of Mankind.” It was from 
a thorough knowledge of their character and ac¬ 
quirements, that his vizier Abul Fazel, with a 
liberality of mind unexampled among Mahomedans, 
pronounces a high encomium on the virtues of the 
Hindoos, both as individuals and as members of 
society, and celebrates their attainments in arts and 
sciences of every kind . 3 If I might presume to hope 
that the description which I have given of the man¬ 
ners and institutions of the people of India could 
contribute in the smallest degree, and with the re¬ 
motest influence, to render their character more 
respectable, and their condition more happy, I 
shall close my literary labours with the satisfaction 
of thinking, that I have not lived or written in 
vain. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 


TO THE 

DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


Note I. Sect. I. p. 1086. 

Credulity and scepticism are two opposite ex¬ 
tremes into which men are apt to run, in examining 
the events which are said to have happened in the 
early ages of antiquity. Without incurring any 
suspicion of a propensity to the latter of these, I 
may be allowed to entertain doubts concerning the 
expedition of Sesostris into India, and his conquest 
of that country.-1. Few facts in ancient his¬ 

tory seem to be better established, than that of the 
early aversion of the Egyptians to a seafaring life. 
Even the power of despotism cannot at once change 
the ideas and manners of a nation, especially when 
they have been confirmed by long habit, and ren¬ 
dered sacred by the sanction of religion. That 
Sesostris, in the course of a few years, should have 
so entirely overcome the prej udices of a superstitious 
people, as to be able to fit out four hundred ships 
of force in the Arabian gulf, besides another fleet 
which he had in the Mediterranean, appears to be 
extremely improbable. Armaments of such mag¬ 
nitude would require the utmost efforts of a great 

and long established maritime power.-2. It is 

remarkable that Herodotus, who inquired with the 
most persevering diligence into the ancient history 
of Egypt, and who received all the information 
concerning it which the priests of Memphis, Helio¬ 
polis, and Thebes could communicate, Herodot. 
Edit. Wesselingij, lib. ii. c. 3., although he relates 
the history of Sesostris at some length, does not 
mention his conquest of India, lib. ii. c. 102, &c. 
That tale, it is probable, was invented in the period 
between the age of Herodotus and that of Diodorus 
Siculus, from whom we receive a particular detail 
of the Indian expedition of Sesostris. His account 
rests entirely upon the authority of the Egyptian 
priests ; and Diodorus himself not only gives it as 


his general opinion, “ that many things which they 
related, flowed rather from a desire to promote the 
honour of their country, than from attention to 
truth,” lib. i. p. 34. Edit. Wesselingij, Amst. 1746; 
but takes particular notice that the Egyptian priests, 
as well as the Greek writers, differ widely from one 
another in the accounts which they give of the ac¬ 
tions of Sesostris, lib. i. p. 62.-3. Though 

Diodorus asserts that in relating the history of Se¬ 
sostris he had studied to select what appeared to 
him most probable, and most agreeable to the monu¬ 
ments of that monarch still remaining in Egypt, he 
has admitted into his narrative many marvellous 
circumstances, which render the whole extremely 
suspicious. The father of Sesostris, as he relates, 
collected all the male children who were born in 
Egypt on the same day with his son, in order that 
they might be educated together with him, con¬ 
formable to a mode which he prescribed, with a view 
of preparing them as proper instruments to carry 
into execution the great undertakings for which he 
destined Sesostris. Accordingly, when Sesostris 
set out upon his Indian expedition, which, from 
circumstances mentioned by Diodorus, must have 
been about the fortieth year of his age, one thou¬ 
sand seven hundred of his youthful associates are 
said to have been still alive, and were intrusted 
with high command in his army. But if we ap¬ 
ply to the examination of this story the certain prin¬ 
ciples of political arithmetic, it is evident, that if 
one thousand seven hundred of the male children 
born on the same day with Sesostris were alive when 
his great expedition commenced, the number of 
children born in Egypt on each day of the year must 
have been at least ten thousand, and the population 
of the kingdom must have exceeded sixty millions; 
Goguet, rOrigine des Loix, des Arts, &c. tom. ii. p. 
12, &c. ; a number far beyond the bounds of credi- 

4 e 2 










DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


bility, in a kingdom which, from the accurate cal¬ 
culations of M. D’Anville, Memoire sur l’Egypt 
Anc. et Moderne, p. 23, &c. does not contain more 
than two thousand one hundred square leagues of 
habitable country. Decline and Fall of the Rom. 
Emp. vol. v. p. 348. Another marvellous particular 
is the description of a ship of cedar, four hundred 
and ninety feet in length, covered on the outside 
with gold, and on the inside with silver, which Se- 
sostris consecrated to the Deity who was the chief 
object of worship at Thebes. Lib. i. p. 67. Such 
too is the account he gives of the Egyptian army, 
in which, besides six hundred thousand infantry, 
and twenty-four thousand cavalry, there were 
twenty-seven thousand armed chariots. Ibid. p. 

64.-4. These and other particulars appeared 

so far to exceed the bounds of probability, that the 
sound understanding of Strabo the geographer re¬ 
jected, without hesitation, the accounts of the Indian 
expedition of Sesostris ; and he not only asserts, 
in the most explicit terms, that this monarch never 
entered India, lib. xv. p. 1007. C. edit. Casaub. 
Amst. 1707 ; but he ranks what has been related 
concerning his operations in that country with the 
fabulous exploits of Bacchus and Hercules, p. 1007. 
D. 1009. B. The philosophical historian of Alex¬ 
ander the Great seems to have entertained the same 
sentiments with respect to the exploits of Sesostris 
in India, Hist. Ind. c. 5. Arrian, Exped. Alex, 
edit. Gronov. L. Bat. 1704. What slender infor¬ 
mation concerning India, or its inhabitants, Hero¬ 
dotus had received, seems to have been derived, not 
from the Egyptians, but from the Persians, lib. iii. 
c. 105.; which renders it probable, that in his time 
there was little intercourse between Egypt and 
India. If Reland be well founded in his opinion, 
that many of the words mentioned by ancient 
authors as Indian are really Persian, we may con¬ 
clude that there was an early intercourse between 
Persia and India, of which hardly any trace remains 
in history. Reland, Dissert, de Yeteri Linguae In¬ 
die. ap. Dissert. Miscel. vol. i. p. 209. 

Note II. Sect. I. p. 1087. 

When we consider the extent and effects of the 
Fiienician commerce, the scanty information con¬ 
cerning it which we receive from ancient writers 
must, on a first view, appear surprising. But when 
we recollect that all the Greek historians, (Hero¬ 
dotus excepted,) who give any account of the Phe- 
nicians, published their works long after the de¬ 
struction of Tyre by Alexander the Great, we will 
cease to wonder at their not having entered into 
minute details with respect to a trade which was 
then removed to new seats, and carried on in other 
channels. But the power and opulence of Tyre, in 
the prosperous age of its commerce, must have 
attracted general attention. In the prophecies of 
Ezekiel, who flourished two hundred and sixty 
years before the fall of Tyre, there is the most par¬ 
ticular account of the nature and variety of its 


commercial transactions that is to be found in any 
ancient writer, and which conveys at the same time 
a magnificent idea of the extensive power of that 
state. Ch. xxvi. xxvii. xxviii. 

Note III. Sect. I. p. 1087. 

The account given of the revenue of the Persian 
monarchy by Herodotus is curious, and seems to 
have been copied from some public record which 
had been communicated to him. According to it, 
the Persian empire was divided into twenty sa- 
trapys, or governments. The tribute levied from each 
is specified, amounting in all to 14,560 Euboean 
talents, which Dr. Arbuthnot reckons to be equal 
to 2,807,437 1. sterling money ; a sum extremely 
small for the revenue of the great king, and which 
ill accords with many facts, concerning the riches, 
magnificence, and luxury of the East, that occur in 
ancient authors. 

Note IV. Sect. I. p. 1088. 

Major Rennell, in the second edition of his Me¬ 
moir, has traced, from very imperfect materials, the 
routes by which Alexander, Tamerlane, and Nadir 
Shah penetrated into India, with a degree of accu¬ 
racy which does honour to his discernment, and 
displays the superiority of his knowledge in the 
ancient and modern geography of that country. 
His researches he has illustrated by an additional 
map. To these I must refer my readers. Nor are 
they to consider his laborious investigation merely 
as an object of curiosity ; the geography of that 
fertile and extensive region of India, distinguished 
by the name of Punjab , with which we are at pre¬ 
sent little acquainted, may soon become very inte¬ 
resting. If, on the one hand, that firm foundation 
on which the British empire in India seems to be 
established, by the successful termination of the 
late war, remains unshaken ;—if, on the other hand, 
the Seiks, a confederacy of several independent 
states, shall continue to extend their dominions 
with the same rapidity that they have advanced 
since the beginning of the current century; it is 
highly probable that the enterprising commercial 
spirit of the one people, and the martial ardour of 
the other, who still retain the activity and ardour 
natural to men in the earliest ages of social union, 
may give rise to events of the greatest moment. 
The frontiers of the two states are approaching 
gradually nearer and nearer to each other, the ter¬ 
ritories of the Seiks having reached to the western 
bank of the river Jumnah, while those of the Nabob 
of Oude stretch along its eastern bank. This Na¬ 
bob, the ally or tributary of the East India Com¬ 
pany, is supported by a brigade of the Bengal army, 
constantly stationed on his western frontier. Ren. 
Mem. Introd. p. cxvi. In a position so contiguous, 
rivalry for power, interference of interest, and in¬ 
numerable other causes of jealousy and discord, 
can hardly fail of terminating, sooner or later, in 
open hostility. The Seiks possess the whole Soubah 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


of Lahore, the principal part of Moultan, and the 
western part of Delhi. The dimensions of this tract 
are about 400 British miles from N. W. to S. E., 
varying in breadth from 320 to 150 miles. Their 
capital city is Lahore. Little is known concerning 
their government and political maxims ; but they 
are represented as mild. In their mode of making 
war, they are unquestionably savage and cruel. 
Their army consists almost entirely of horse ; of 
which they can bring at least 100,000 into the field. 
Maj. Ren. Mem. 2d edit. Introd. p. cxxi. cxxii. and 

р. 365. See also Mr. Craufurd’s Sketches, 2d edit, 
vol. ii. p. 263, &c. 

Note V. Sect. I. p. 1089. 

It is surprising that Alexander did not receive, in 
the provinces contiguous to India, such an account 
of the periodical rains in that country, as to show 
him the impropriety of carrying on military opera¬ 
tions there while these continued. His expedition 
into India commenced towards the end of spring, 
Arrian, lib. iv. c. 22., when the rains were already 
begun in the mountains from which all the rivers in 
the Panjab flow, and of course they must have been 
considerably swelled before he arrived on their 
banks, Rennell, p. 268.—He passed the Hydaspes 
at midsummer, about the height of the rainy season. 
In a country through which so many large rivers 
run, an army on service at this time of the year 
must have suffered greatly. An accurate description 
of the nature of the rains and inundations in this 
part of India is given by Arrian, lib. v. c. 9.; and 
one still fuller may be found in Strabo, lib. xv. 
1013.—It was of what they suffered by these that 
Alexander’s soldiers complained, Strabo, lib. xv. 
1021. D.; and not without reason, as it had rained 
incessantly during seventy days, Diod. Sicul. xvii. 

с. 94.—A circumstance which marks the accuracy 
with which Alexander’s officers had attended to 
every thing in that part of India, deserves notice. 
Aristobulus, in his Journal, which I have mentioned, 
observes, that though heavy rains fell in the moun¬ 
tains, and in the country near to them, in the plains 
below not so much as a shower fell. Strabo, lib. 
xv. 1013. B. 1015. B. Major Rennell was informed 
by a person of character, who had resided in this 
district of India, which is now seldom visited by 
Europeans, that during great part of the S. W. 
monsoon, or at least in the months of July, August, 
and part of September, which is the rainy season 
in most other parts of India, the atmosphere in the 
Delta of the Indus is generally clouded, but no rain 
falls except very near the sea. Indeed, very few 
showers fall during the whole season. Captain 
Hamilton relates, that when he visited Tatta, no 
rain had fallen for three years before. Memoirs, 
p. 288.—Tamerlane, who, by the vicinity of the seat 
of his government to India, had the means of being 
well informed concerning the nature of the countiy, 
avoided the error of Alexander, and made his Indian 
campaign during the dry season. As Nadir Shah, 


1157 

both when he invaded India, A. D. 1738, and in his 
return next year, marched through the same coun¬ 
tries with Alexander, and nearly in the same line 
of direction, nothing can give a more striking idea 
of the persevering ardour of the Macedonian con¬ 
queror, than the description of the difficulties which 
Nadir Shah had to surmount, and the hardships 
which his army endured. Though possessed of 
absolute power and immense wealth, and distin¬ 
guished no less by great talents than long experi¬ 
ence in the conduct of war, he had the mortification 
to lose a great part of his troops in crossing the 
rivers of the Panjab, in penetrating through the 
mountains to the north of India, and in conflicts 
with the fierce natives inhabiting the countries 
which stretch from the banks of the Oxus to the 
frontiers of Persia. An interesting account of his 
retreat and sufferings is given in the Memoirs of 
Khojeh Abdulkurren, a Cashmerian of distinction, 
who served in his army. 

Note VI. Sect. I. p. 1089. 

That a fleet so numerous should have been col¬ 
lected in such a short time, is apt to appear, at first 
sight, incredible. Arrian, however, assures us, that 
in specify ing this number, he followed Ptolemy, the 
son of Lagus, whose authority he considered to be 
of the greatest weight, lib. vi. c. 3. But as the 
Panjab country is full of navigable rivers, on which 
all the intercourse among the natives was carried 
on, it abounded with vessels ready constructed to 
the conqueror’s hands, so that he might easily col¬ 
lect that number. If we would give credit to the 
account of the invasion of India by Semiramis, no 
fewer than four thousand vessels were assembled 
on the Indus to oppose her fleet. Diod. Sicul, lib. 
ii. c. 74.—It is remarkable, that when Mahmoud of 
Gazna invaded India, a fleet was collected on the 
Indus to oppose him, consisting of the same num¬ 
ber of vessels. We learn from the Ayeen Akbery, 
that the inhabitants of this part of India still con¬ 
tinue to carry on all their communication with each 
other by water; the inhabitants of the Circar of 
Tatta alone have not less than forty thousand ves¬ 
sels of various constructions. Vol. ii. p. 143. 

Note VII. Sect. I. p. 1090. 

All these particulars are taken from the Indian 
History of Arrian, a work different from that already 
mentioned, and one of the most curious treatises 
transmitted to us from antiquity. The first part of 
it consists of extracts from the account given by 
Nearchus of the climate and soil of India, and the 
manners of the natives. The second contains that 
officer’s journal of his voyage from the mouth of the 
Indus to the bottom of the Persian gulf. The pe¬ 
rusal of it give rise to several observations.—1. It 
is remarkable that neither Nearchus, nor Ptolemy, 
nor Aristobulus, nor even Arrian, once mention the 
voyage of Scylax. This could not proceed from 
their being unacquainted with it, for Herodotus 



1158 DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA, 

was a favourite author in the hands of every Greek 


who had any pretensions to literature. It was pro¬ 
bably occasioned by the reasons which they had to 
distrust the veracity of Scylax, of which I have 
already taken notice. Accordingly, in a speech 
which Arrian puts into the mouth of Alexander, he 
asserts, that, except Bacchus, he was the first who 
had passed the Indus ; which implies that he disbe¬ 
lieved what is related concerning Scylax, and was 
not acquainted with what Darius Hystaspes is said 
to have done, in order to subject that part of India 
to the Persian crown. Arrian, vii. c. 10. This 
opinion is confirmed by Megastlienes, who resided 
a considerable time in India. He asserts that, ex¬ 
cept Bacchus and Hercules, (to whose fabulous 
expeditions Strabo is astonished that he should 
have given any credit, lib. xv. p. 1007. D.) Alex¬ 
ander was the first who had invaded India ; Arrian, 
Hist. Indie, c. 5. We are informed by Arrian, that 
the Assacani, and other people who possessed that 
country which is now called the kingdom of Can- 
dahar, paid tribute, first to the Assyrians, and after¬ 
wards to the Medes and Persians ; Hist. Indie, c. 1. 
As all the fertile provinces on the north-west of 
the Indus were anciently reckoned to be part of In¬ 
dia, it is probable that what was levied from them 
is the sum mentioned in the tribute roll, from which 
Herodotus drew his account of the annual revenue 
of the Persian empire, and that none of the pro¬ 
vinces to the south of the Indus were ever subject 
to the kings of Persia.—2. This voyage of Near- 
clius affords some striking instances of the imper¬ 
fect knowledge which the ancients had of any 
navigation different from that to which they were 
accustomed in the Mediterranean. Though the en¬ 
terprising genius and enlarged views of Alexander 
prompted him to attempt opening an intercourse 
by sea, between India and his Persian dominions, 
yet both he and Nearchus knew so little of the 
ocean which they wished to explore, as to be appre¬ 
hensive that it might be found impossible to navi¬ 
gate it, on account of impervious straits, or other 
obstacles. Hist. Indie, c. 20. Q. Curt. lib. ix. c. 
9. When the fleet arrived near the mouth of the 
Indus, the astonishment excited by the extraordi¬ 
nary flow and ebb of tide in the Indian ocean, a 
phenomenon (according to Arrian) with which 
Alexander and his soldiers were unacquainted, lib. 
vi. c. 19. is another proof of their ignorance in ma¬ 
ritime science. Nor is there any reason to be sur¬ 
prised at their astonishment, as the tides are hardly 
perceptible in the Mediterranean, beyond which 
the knowledge of the Greeks and Macedonians did 
not extend. For the same reason, when the Ro¬ 
mans carried their victorious arms into the countries 
situated on the Atlantic ocean, or on the seas that 
communicate with it, this new phenomenon of 
the tides was an object of wonder and terror to them. 
Caesar describes the amazement of his soldiers at a 
spring-tide, which greatly damaged the fleet with 
which he invaded Britain, and acknowledges that 


it was an appearance with which they were unac¬ 
quainted ; Bell. Gallic, lib. iv. c. 29. The tides on 
the coast near the mouth of the Indus are remark¬ 
ably high, and the effects of them very great, espe¬ 
cially that sudden and abrupt influx of the tide 
into the mouths of rivers, or narrow straits, which 
is know n in India by the name of The Bore , and is 
accurately described by Major Rennell, Introd. 
xxiv. Mem. 278. In the Periplus Maris Erythraei, 
p. 26. these high tides are mentioned, and the de¬ 
scription of them nearly resembles that of the 
Bore. A very exaggerated account of the tides 
in the Indian ocean is given by Pliny, Nat. Hist, 
lib. xiii. c. 25. Major Rennell seems to think, that 
Alexander and his followers could not be so en¬ 
tirely unacquainted with the phenomenon of the 
tides, as Herodotus had informed the Greeks, 
“ that in the Red sea there was a regular ebb and 
flow of the tide every day lib. ii. c. 11. This is 
all the explanation of that phenomenon given by 
Herodotus. But among the ancients there occur 
instances of inattention to facts, related by respect¬ 
able authors, which appear surprising in modern 
times. Though Herodotus, as I have just now ob¬ 
served, gave an account of the voyage performed 
by Scylax at considerable length, neither Alexan¬ 
der nor his historians take any notice of that event. 
I shall afterwards have occasion to mention a more 
remarkable instance of the inattention of later 
writers to an accurate description which Herodotus 
had given of the Caspian sea. From these, and 
other similar instances which might have been pro¬ 
duced, we may conclude, that the slight mention of 
the regular flow and ebb of tide in the Red sea is 
not a sufficient reason for rejecting, as incredible, 
Arrian’s account of the surprise of Alexander’s sol¬ 
diers when they first beheld the extraordinary effects 

of the tide at the mouth of the Indus.-3. The 

course of Nearchus’s voyage, the promontories, the 
creeks, the rivers, the cities, the mountains, which 
came successively in his view, are so clearly de¬ 
scribed, and the distances of such as were most 
worthy of notice are so distinctly marked, that M. 
D’Anville, by comparing these with the actual po¬ 
sition of the country, according to the best accounts 
of it, ancient as well as modern, has been able to 
point out most of the plaees which Nearchus men¬ 
tions, with a degree of certainty which does as much 
honour to the veracity of the Grecian navigator, as 
to the industry, learning, and penetration of the 
French geographer. Mem. de Literat. tom. xxx. 
p. 132, &c. 

In modern times, the Red sea is a name appro¬ 
priated to the Arabian gulf, but the ancients deno¬ 
minated the ocean which stretches from that gulf to 
India, the Erythraean sea, from king Erythras, of 
whom nothing more is known than the name, which 
in the Greek language signifies red. From this 
casual meaning of the word, it came to be believed 
that it was of a different colour from other seas, and 
consequently of more dangerous navigation. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1159 


Note VIII. Sect. I. p. 1091. 

Alexander was so intent on rendering this union 
of his subjects complete, that after his death there 
was found in his tablets or commentaries, (among 
other magnificent schemes which he meditated,) a 
resolution to build several new cities, some in Asia, 
and some in Europe, and to people those in Asia 
with Europeans, and those in Europe with Asiatics, 
“ that,” (says the historian,) “ by intermarriages, 
and exchange of good offices, the inhabitants of 
these two great continents might be gradually 
moulded into a similarity of sentiments, and be¬ 
come attached to each other with mutual affection.” 
Diod. Sicul. lib. xviii. c. 4. 

The oriental historians have mingled the little 
that they know concerning the transactions of Eu¬ 
ropean nations, particularly concerning the reign 
of Alexander the Great, and his conquest of Per¬ 
sia, with so many fabulous and incredible circum¬ 
stances, that hardly any attention is due to them. 
Though they misrepresented every event in his life, 
they entertained a high idea of his great power, 
distinguishing him by the appellation of Escandcr 
Dhulearnein , i. e. the Two-horned, in allusion to the 
extent of his dominions, which, according to them, 
reached from the western to the eastern extremity 
of the earth. Herbelot. Bib. Orient. Article Escan- 
der. Anc. Univ. Hist. vol. v. 8vo edit. p. 433. 
Richardson’s Dissert, prefixed to his Dictionary of 
the Persian and Arabic, p. xii. Whether the his¬ 
torians of Indostan have given an account of Alex¬ 
ander’s invasion of India with greater accuracy, 
cannot be known, until some of their works, written 
in the Sanskreet, are translated. That some tradi¬ 
tional knowledge of Alexander’s invasion of In¬ 
dia is still preserved in the northern provinces of 
the Peninsula, is manifest from several circum¬ 
stances. The rajahs of Chitore, who are esteemed 
the most ancient establishment of Hindoo princes, 
arid the noblest of the Rajahpout tribes, boast of 
their descent from Porus, famous as well in the 
East as in the West for his gallant opposition to 
the Macedonian conqueror. Orme’s Fragm. p. 5. 
Major Rennell has informed me, by accounts lately 
received from India, and confirmed by a variety of 
testimonies, that, in the country of Kuttore, the east¬ 
ern extreme of the ancient Bactria, a people who 
claimed to be the descendants of Alexander’s fol¬ 
lowers were existing when Tamerlane invaded that 
province. In Bijore, a country more to the west in 
the same district, the Bazira of Alexander, there is 
a tribe at this day which traces its origin to certain 
persons left there by the conqueror when he passed 
through that province. Both Abul Fazel, and Soo • 
jah Rae, an eastern historian of good reputation, 
report this tradition without any material variation. 
The latter indeed adds, that these Europeans, if we 
may call them so, continued to preserve that as¬ 
cendancy over their neighbours, which their ances¬ 
tors may be supposed to have possessed when they 


first settled here Although we should reject this 
pedigree as false, yet the bare claim argues the be¬ 
lief of the natives, for which there must have been 
some foundation, that Alexander not only conquer¬ 
ed Bijore, but also transferred that conquest to some 
of his own countrymen. Rennell, Mem. 2d edit. p. 
162. The people of Bijore had likewise a high 
idea of Alexander’s extensive authority ; and they, 
too, denominated him the Two-horned, agreeably to 
the striking emblem of power in all the eastern lan¬ 
guages. Ayeen Akbery, xi. 194. Many instances 
of this emblem being used, will occur to every per¬ 
son accustomed to read the sacred Scriptures. 

Note IX. Sect. I. p. 1091. 

It seems to be an opinion generally received, 
that Alexanderbuilt only two cities in India, Nicasa, 
and Bucephalia, situated on the Hydaspes, the mo¬ 
dern Chelum, and that Craterus superintended the 
building of both. But it is evident from Arrian, 
lib. v. c. ult. that he built a third city on the Ace- 
sines, now the Jenaub, under the direction of 
Hephaestion ; and if it was his object to retain the 
command of the country, a place of strength on 
some of the rivers to the south of the Hydaspes 
seems to have been necessary for that purpose. This 
part of India has been so little visited in modern 
times, that it is impossible to point out with pre¬ 
cision the situation of these cities. If P. Tiessen- 
thaler were well founded in his conjecture, that the 
river now called Rauvee is the Acesines of Arrian, 
(Bernouilli, vol. i. p. 39.) it is probable that this city 
was built somewhere near Lahore, one of the most 
important stations in that part of India, and reckon¬ 
ed in the Ayeen Akbery to be a city of very high 
antiquity. But major Rennell, in my opinion, 
gives good reasons for supposing the Jenaub to be 
the Acesines of the ancients. 

Note X. Sect. I. p. 1092. 

The religious scruples which prevented the Per¬ 
sians from making any voyage by sea, were known to 
the ancients. Pliny relates of one of the Magi, who 
was sent on an embassy from Tiridates to the em¬ 
peror Nero, “ Navigare noluerat, quoniam exspuere 
in maria, aliisque mortalium necessitatibus violare 
naturam earn, fas non putant.” Nat. Hist. lib. xxx. 
c. 2. This aversion to the sea they carried so far, 
that, according to the observation of a well-informed 
historian, there was not a city of any note in their 
empire built upon the sea-coast; Ammian. Marcel, 
lib. xxiii. c. 6. We learn from Dr. Hyde, how in¬ 
timately these ideas were connected with the doc¬ 
trines of Zoroaster. Rel. Vet. Pers. cap. vi. In all 
the wars of the Persians with Greece, the fleets of 
the great king consisted entirely of ships furnished 
by the Phenicians, Syrians, the conquered pro¬ 
vinces of the lesser Asia, and the islands adjacent. 
Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus mention the quota 
furnished by each country in order to compose the 
fleet of twelve hundred ships with which Xerxes 



DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


invaded Greece, and among these there is not one 
belonging to Persia. At the same time it is proper 
to observe, that, according to Herodotus, whose au¬ 
thority is unexceptionable with regard to this point, 
Ariabigines, a son ot Darius, acted as admiral of 
the Persian (leet, and had several satraps of high 
rank under his command, and both Persians and 
Medes served as soldiers on board it. Herod. lib. 
vii. c. 96, 97. By what motives, or what authority, 
they were induced to act in this manner, I cannot 
explain. From some religious scruples, similar to 
those of the Persians, many of the natives of In- 
dostan, in our own time, refuse to embark on board 
a ship, and to serve at sea; and yet, on some occa¬ 
sions, the sepoys in the service of the European 
powers have got the better of these scruples. 

Note XT. Sect. I. p. 1092. 

M. Le Baron de Sainte-Croix, in his ingenious 
and learned Critique des Historiens d’Alexandre 
le Grand, p. 96., seems to entertain some doubt with 
respect to the number of the cities which Alexander 
is said to have built. Plutarch de Fort. Alex, affirms, 
that he founded no fewer than seventy. It appears 
from many passages in ancient authors, that the 
building of cities, or, what may be considered as 
the same, the establishment of fortified stations, was 
the mode of maintaining their authority in the con¬ 
quered nations, adopted not only by Alexander, 
but by his successors. Seleucus and Antiochus, to 
whom the greater part of the Persian empire became 
subject, were no less remarkable for founding new 
cities than Alexander, and these cities seem fully 
to have answered the purposes of the founders, as 
they effectually prevented (as I shall afterwards 
have occasion to observe) the revolt of the conquered 
provinces. Though the Greeks, animated with the 
love of liberty and of their native country, refused 
to settle in the Persian empire while under the do¬ 
minion of its native monarclis, even when allured 
by the prospect of great advantage, as M. de Sainte- 
Croix remarks, the case became perfectly different 
when that empire was subjected to their own domi¬ 
nion, and they settled there, not as subjects, but as 
masters. Both Alexander and his successors dis¬ 
covered much discernment in choosing the situation 
of the cities which they built. Seleucia, which Se¬ 
leucus founded, is a striking instance of this, and 
became hardly inferior to Alexandria in number of 
inhabitants, in wealth, and in importance. Mr. 
Gibbon, vol. i. p. 250. M. D’Anville, Mem. de 
Literat. xxx. 

Note XII. Sect. I. p. 1092. 

It is from Justin we receive the slender know¬ 
ledge we have of the progress which Seleucus made 
in India, lib. xv. c. 4. But we cannot rely on his 
evidence, unless when it is confirmed by the testi¬ 
mony of other authors. Plutarch seems to assert, 
that Seleucus had penetrated far into India; but 
that respectable writer is more eminent for his dis¬ 


cernment of characters, and his happy selection of 
those circumstances which mark and discriminate 
them, than for the accuracy of his historical re¬ 
searches. Pliny, whose authority is of greater 
weight, seems to consider it as certain, that Seleu¬ 
cus had carried his arms into districts of India 
which Alexander never visited. Plin. Nat. Hist, 
lib. vi. c. 17. The passage in which this is men¬ 
tioned is somewhat obscure, but it seems to imply, 
that Seleucus had marched from the Hyphasis to 
the Hysudrus, from thence to Palibothra, and from 
that to the mouth of the Ganges. The distances of 
the principal stations in this march are marked, the 
whole amounting to 2244 Roman miles. In this sense 
M. Bayer understands the words of Pliny ; Histor. 
Regni Graecorum Bactriani, p. 37. But to me it ap¬ 
pears highly improbable that the Indian expedition 
of Seleucus could have continued so long as to allow 
time for operations of such extent. If Seleucus had 
advanced as far into India as the mouth of the 
Ganges, the ancients must have had a more accu¬ 
rate knowledge of that part of the country than 
they seem ever to have possessed. 

Note XIII. Sect. I. p. 1093. 

Major Rennell gives a magnificent idea of this, 
by informing us, that “ the Ganges, after it has 
escaped from the mountainous tract in which it had 
wandered above eight hundred miles,” Mem. p. 233. 

“ receives in its course through the plaiqs eleven 
rivers, some of them as large as the Rhine, and none 
smaller than the Thames, besides as many more of 
lesser note;” p. 257. 

Note XIV. Sect. I. p. 1093. 

In fixing the position of Palibothra, I have ven¬ 
tured to differ from major Rennell, and I venture to 
do so with diffidence. According to Strabo, Pali¬ 
bothra was situated at the junction of the Ganges 
and another river, lib. xv. p. 1028. A. Arrian is 
still more explicit. He places Palibothra at the 
confluence of the Ganges and Erranaboas, the last 
of which he describes as less than the Ganges or 
Indus, but greater than any other known river; 
Hist. Ind. c. 10. This description of its situation 
corresponds exactly with that of Allahabad. P. 
Boudier, to whose observations the geography of 
India is much indebted, says, that the Jumna at its 
junction with the Ganges appeared to him not in¬ 
ferior in magnitude to that river. D’Anville, Antiq. 
de l’lnde, p. 53. Allahabad is the name which w-as 
given to that city by the emperor Akbar, who erected 
a strong fortress there; an elegant delineation of 
which is published by Mr. Hodges, N°, IV. of his 
Select Views in India. Its ancient name, by which 
it is still known among the Hindoos, is Praeg , or 
Piyag, and the people of the district are called 
Praegi , which bears a near resemblance to Prasij, 
the ancient appellation of the kingdom of which 
Palibothra was the capital. P. Tiessenthaler, Ber¬ 
noulli, tom. i. 223. D’Anville, p. 56. Allahabad 



1161 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


is such a noted seat of Hindoo devotion, that it is 
denominated The king of worshipped places. Ayeen 
Akbery, vol. ii. p. 35 . “ The territory around it, 

to the extent of forty miles, is deemed holy ground. 
The Hindoos believe, that when a man dies in this 
place, whatever he wishes for he will obtain in his 
next regeneration. Although they teach that suicide 
in general will be punished with torments hereafter, 
yet they consider it as meritorious for a man to kill 
himself at Allahabad. ” Ayeen Akbery, iii. 256. P. 
Tiessenthaler describes the various objects of vene¬ 
ration at Allahabad, which are still visited with 
great devotion by an immense number of pilgrims. 
Bernouilli, tom. i. 224. From all these circum¬ 
stances, we may conclude it to be a place of great 
antiquity, and in the same situation with the Pali- 
bothra of antiquity. 

Major Rennell has been induced to place Palibo- 
thra on the same site with Patna, chiefly by two 

considerations.-1. From having learned that on 

or near the site of Patna stood anciently a very large 
city named Patelpoother or Patalippatra , which 
nearly resembles the ancient name of Palibothra. 
Although there is not now a confluence of two rivers 
at Patna, he was informed that the junction of the 
Soane with the Ganges, now twenty-two miles 
above Patna, was formerly under the walls of that 
city. The rivers of India sometimes change their 
course in a singular manner, and he produces some 
remarkable instances of it. But even should it be 
allowed, that the accounts which the natives give 
of this variation in the course of the Soane were 
perfectly accurate, I question whether Arrian’s de¬ 
scription of the magnitude of Erranaboas be appli¬ 
cable to that river, certainly not so justly as to the 

Jumna.-2. He seems to have been influenced, 

in some degree, by Pliny’s Itinerary, or Table of 
Distances from Taxila (the modern Attock) to the 
mouth of the Ganges. Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 17. But 
the distances in that Itinerary are marked so inac¬ 
curately, and in some instances are so palpably 
erroneous, that one cannot found upon them with 
much security. According to it, Palibothra is situ¬ 
ated four hundred and twenty-five miles below the 
confluence of the Jumna and Ganges. The actual 
distance, however, between Allahabad and Patna, 
is not more than two hundred British miles. A 
disagreement so considerable cannot be accounted 
for, without supposing some extraordinary error in 
the Itinerary, or that the point of conflux of the 
Jumna with the Ganges has undergone a change. 
For the former of these suppositions there is no au¬ 
thority (as far as I know) from any manuscript, or 
for the latter from any tradition. Major Rennell 
lias produced the reasons which led him to suppose 
the site of Palibothra to be the same with that of 
Patna. Memoirs, p. 49—54. Some of the objec¬ 
tions which might be made to this supposition he 
has foreseen, and endeavoured to obviate; and 
after all that I have added to them, I shall not be 
surprised, if in a geographical discussion, my 


readers are disposed to prefer his decision to 
mine. 

Note XV. Sect. I. p. 1093. 

I do not mention a short inroad into India by 
Antioclius the Great, about one hundred and ninety- 
seven years posterior to the invasion of his ancestor 
Seleucus. We know nothing more of this transac¬ 
tion, than that the Syrian monarch, after finishing 
the war he carried on against the two revolted pro¬ 
vinces of Parthia and Bactria, entered India, and 
concluding a peace with Sophagasenus, a king of 
the country, received from him a number of ele¬ 
phants, and a sum of money. Polyb. lib. x. p. 597, 
&c. lib. xi. p. 651. edit. Casaub. Justin, lib. xv. 
c. 4. Bayer’s Hist. Regn. Grsecor. Pactr. p. 69, &c. 

Note XVI. Sect. I. p. 1094. 

A fact cursorily related by Strabo, and which 
has escaped the inquisitive industry of M. de 
Guignes, coincides remarkably w ith the narrative of 
the Chinese writers, and confirms it. The Greeks, he 
says, were deprived of Bactria by tribes or hordes 
of Scythian Nomades, who came from the country 
beyond the Jaxartes, and are known by the names 
of Asij, Parsiani, Tachari, and Sacarauli. Strab. 
lib. xi. p. 779. A. The Nomades of the ancients 
were nations who, like the Tartars, subsisted entirely, 
or almost entirely, as shepherds, without agricul¬ 
ture. 

Note XVII. Sect. I. p. 1094. 

As the distance of Arsinoe, the modern Suez, 
from the Nile, is considerably less than that between 
Berenice and Coptos, it was by this route that all 
the commodities imported into the Arabian gulf 
might have been conveyed with most expedition 
and least expense into Egypt. But the navigation 
of the Arabian gulf, which even in the present im¬ 
proved state of nautical science is slow and difficult, 
was in ancient times considered by the nations 
around it to be so extremely perilous, that it led 
them to give such names to several of its promon¬ 
tories, bays, and harbours, as convey a striking 
idea of the impression which the dread of this dan¬ 
ger had made upon their imagination. The entry 
into the gulf they called Babelmandeb , the Gate or 
Port of Affliction. To a harbour not far distant, 
they gave the name of Mete, i. e. Death. A head¬ 
land adjacent they called Gardefan , the Cape of 
Burial. Other denominations of similar import are 
mentioned by the author to whom I am indebted 
for this information. Bruce’s Travels, vol. i. p. 
442, &c. It is not surprising then, that the staple 
of Indian trade should have been transferred from 
the northern extremity of the Arabian gulf to Bere¬ 
nice, as by this change a dangerous navigation was 
greatly shortened. This seems to have been the 
chief reason that induced Ptolemy to establish the 
port of communication with India at Berenice, as 
there were other harbours on the Arabian gulf w hich 




1162 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


were considerably nearer than it to the Nile. At a 
later period, after the ruin of Coptos by the emperor 
Dioclesian, we are informed by Abulfeda, Descript. 
Egypt, edit. Michaelis, p. 77., that Indian commo¬ 
dities were conveyed from the Red sea to the Nile 
by the shortest route, viz. from Cosseir, probably 
the Philoteras Portus of Ptolemy, to Cous, the 
Vicus Apollinis, a journey of four days. The same 
account of the distance was given by the natives to 
Dr. Poeocke. Travels, vol. i. p. 87. In conse¬ 
quence of this, Cous, from a small village, became 
the city in Upper Egypt next in magnitude to Fostat, 
or Old Cairo. In process of time, from causes which 
I cannot explain, the trade from the Red sea by 
Cosseir removed to Kene, further down the river 
than Cous. Abulf. p. 13. 77. D’Anville, Egypte, p. 
196—200. In modern times, all the commodities of 
India, imported into Egypt, are either brought by 
sea from Gidda to Suez, and thence carried on 
camels to Cairo, or are conveyed by land-carriage 
by the caravan returning from the pilgrimage to 
Mecca. Niebuhr, Voyage, tom. i. p.224. Volney, i. 
188, &c. This, as far as I have been able to trace 
it, is a complete account of all the different routes 
by which the productions of the East have been con¬ 
veyed to the Nile, from the first opening of that 
communication. It is singular that P. Sicard, Mem. 
des Missions dans le Levant, tom. ii. p. 157., and 
some other respectable writers, should suppose Cos¬ 
seir to be the Berenice founded by Ptolemy, although 
Ptolemy has laid down its latitude at 23° 50', and 
Strabo has described it as nearly under the same 
parallel with that of Syene, lib. ii. p. 195. D. In 
consequence of this mistake, Pliny's computation 
of the distance between Berenice and Coptos at two 
hundred and fifty-eight miles, has been deemed er¬ 
roneous. Pococke, p. 87. But as Pliny not only 
mentions the total distance, but names the different 
stations in the journey, and specifies the number of 
miles between each ; and as the Itinerary of Anto¬ 
ninus coincides exactly w r ith his account, D'Anville, 
Egypte, p. 21., there is no reason to call in question 
the accuracy of it. 

Note XVIII. Sect. I. p. 1095. 

Major Rennell is of opinion, “ that under the 
Ptolemies, the Egyptians extended their navigation 
to the extreme point of the Indian continent, and 
even sailed up the Ganges to Palibothra," on the 
same site (according to him) with the modern Patna. 
Introd. p. xxxvi. But had it been usual to sail up 
the Ganges as high as Patna, the interior parts of 
India must have been better known to the ancients 
than they ever were, and they would not have con¬ 
tinued to derive their information concerning them 
from Megasthenes alone. Strabo begins his de¬ 
scription of India in a very remarkable manner. 
He requests his readers to peruse with indulgence 
the account which he gives of it, as it was a country 
very remote, and few persons had visited it; and of 
these, many having seen only a small part of the 


country', related things either from hearsay, or, at 
the best, what they had hastily remarked while they 
passed through it in the course of military service, 
or on a journey. Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1005. B. He 
takes notice that few of the traders from the Arabian 
gulf ever reached the Ganges. Ibid. 1006. C. He 
asserts, that the Ganges enters the sea by one mouth, 
ibid. 1011. C.; an error into which he could not 
have fallen if the navigation of that river had been 
common in his time. He mentions indeed the sail¬ 
ing up the Ganges, ibid. 1010., but it is cursorily in 
a single sentence ; whereas, if such a considerable 
inland voyage of above four hundred miles, through 
a populous and rich country, had been customary, 
or even if it had ever been performed by the Ro¬ 
man, or Greek, or Egyptian traders, it must have 
merited a particular description, and must have 
been mentioned by Pliny and other writers, as there 
was nothing similar to it in the practice of naviga¬ 
tion among the ancients. It is observed by Arrian, 
(or whoever is the author of the Periplus Maris 
Erythrsei,) that previous to the discovery of a new r 
route to India, which shall be mentioned afterwards, 
the commerce with that country w as carried on in 
small vessels which sailed round every bay, p. 32. 
Ap. Huds. Geogr. Min. Vessels of such light con¬ 
struction, and which followed this mode of sailing, 
were ill fitted for a voyage so distant as that round 
Cape Comorin, and up the bay of Bengal, to Patna. 
It is not improbable, that the merchants, whom 
Strabo mentions as having reached the Ganges, may 
have travelled thither by land, either from the 
countries towards the mouth of the Indus, or from 
some part of the Malabar coast, and that the naviga¬ 
tion up the Ganges, of which he casually takes 
notice, was performed by the natives in vessels of 
the country. This opinion derives some confirma¬ 
tion from his remarks upon the bad structure of the 
vessels which frequented that part of the Indian 
ocean. From his description of them, p. 1012. C. it 
is evident that they w ere vessels of the country. 

Note XIX. Sect. I. p. 1095. 

The erroneous ideas of many intelligent w riters of 
antiquity with respect to the Caspian sea, though 
w ell know n to every man of letters, are so remark¬ 
able, and afford such a striking example of the 
imperfection of their geographical knowledge, that 
a more full account of them may not only be accept¬ 
able to some of my readers, but in endeavouring to 
trace the various routes by which the commodities 
of the East were conveyed to the nations of Europe, 
it becomes necessary to enter into some detail con¬ 
cerning their various sentiments w ith respect to this 
matter. 1. According to Strabo, the Caspian is a 
bay that communicates with the great Northern 
ocean, from which it issues at first by a narrow 
strait, and then expands into a sea extending in 
breadth five hundred stadia, lib. xi. p. 773. A. With 
him Pomponius Mela agrees, and describes the 
strait by which the Caspian is connected with the 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1163 


ocean, as of considerable length, and so narrow 
that it had the appearance of a river, lib. iii. c. 5. 
Pliny likewise gives a similar description of it; 
Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 13. In the age of Justinian, 
this opinion, concerning the communication of the 
Caspian sea with the ocean, was still prevalent; 
Cosm. Indicopl. Topog. Christ, lib. ii. p. 138. C.— 
2. Some early writers, by a mistake still more singu¬ 
lar, have supposed the Caspian sea to be connected 
with the Euxine. Quintus Curtius, whose igno¬ 
rance of geography is notorious, has adopted this 
error, lib. vii. c. 7.—3. Arrian, though a much more 
judicious writer, and who, by residing for some 
time in the Roman province of Cappadocia, of 
which he was governor, might have obtained more 
accurate information, declares in one place the 
origin of the Caspian sea to be still unknown ; and 
it is doubtful whether it was connected with the 
Euxine, or with the great Eastern ocean which 
surrounds India; lib. vii. c. 16. In another place 
he asserts, that there was a communication between 
the Caspian and the Eastern ocean, lib. v. c. 26. 
These errors appear more extraordinary, as a just 
description had been given of the Caspian by Hero¬ 
dotus, near five hundred years before the age of 
Strabo. “ The Caspian (says he) is a sea by itself 
unconnected with any other. Its length is as much 
as a vessel with oars can sail in fifteen days ; its 
greatest breadth as much as it can sail in eight 
days ;” lib. 1. c. 203. Aristotle describes it in the 
same manner, and with his usual precision contends 
that it ought to be called a great lake, not a sea. 
Meteorolog. lib. ii. Diodorus Siculus concurs with 
them in opinion, vol. ii. lib. xviii. p. 261. None of 
those authors determine whether the greatest length 
of the Caspian was from north to south, or from east 
to west. In the ancient maps which illustrate the 
geography of Ptolemy, it is delineated, as if its 
greatest length extended from east to west. In 
modern times the first information concerning the 
true form of the Caspian which the people of Europe 
received, was given by Anthony Jenkinson, an 
English merchant, who with a caravan from Russia 
travelled along a considerable part of its coast in 
the year 1558. Hakluyt, Collect, vol. i. p. 334. The 
accuracy of Jenkinson’s description was confirmed 
by an actual survey of that sea made by order of 
Peter the Great, A. D. 1718; and it is now ascer¬ 
tained, not only that the Caspian is unconnected 
with any other sea, but that its length from north to 
south is considerably more than its greatest breadth 
from east to west. The length of the Caspian from 
north to south is about six hundred and eighty 
miles, and in no part more than two hundred and 
sixty miles in breadth from east to west. Coxes 
Travels, vol. ii. p. 257. The proportional difference 
of its length and breadth accords nearly with that 
mentioned by Herodotus. • From this detail, how¬ 
ever, we learn how the ill founded ideas concerning 
it, which were generally adopted, gave rise to vari¬ 
ous wild schemes of conveying Indian commodities 


to Europe by means of its supposed communication 
with the Euxine sea, or with the Northern ocean. 
It is an additional proof of the attention of Alex¬ 
ander the Great to every thing conducive to the 
improvement of commerce, that a short time before 
his death he gave directions to fit out a squadron in 
the Caspian, in order to survey that sea, and to 
discover whether it was connected either with the 
Euxine or Indian ocean. Arrian, lib. vii. c. 16. 

Note XX. Sect. II. p. 1097. 

From this curious detail, we learn how imperfect 
ancient navigation was, even in its most improved 
state. The voyage from Berenice to Ocelis could 
not have taken thirty days, if any other course 
had been held than that of servilely following the 
windings of the coast. The voyage from Ocelis to 
Musiris would be (according to major Rennell) fif¬ 
teen days’ run for an European ship in the modern 
style of navigation, being about seventeen hundred 
and fifty marine miles, on a straight course. Introd. 
p. xxxvii. It is remarkable, that though the Peri- 
plus Maris Erythraei was written after the voyage of 
Hippalus, the chief object of the author of it is to 
describe the ancient course along the coasts of 
Arabia and Persia, to the mouth of the Indus, and 
from thence down the western shore of the conti¬ 
nent to Musiris. I can account for this only by 
supposing, that from the unwillingness of mankind 
to abandon old habits, the greater part of the traders 
from Berenice still continued to follow that route to 
which they were accustomed. To go from Alexan¬ 
dria toMusiris, required (according to Pliny) ninety- 
four days. In the year 1788, the Boddam, a ship 
belonging to the English East India Company, of a 
thousand tons burden, took only fourteen days more 
to complete her voyage from Portsmouth to Madras. 
Such are the improvements which have been made 
in navigation. 

Note XXI. Sect. II. p. 1098. 

It was the opinion of Plato, that in a well regu¬ 
lated commonwealth the citizens should not engage 
in commerce, nor the state aim at obtaining maritime 
power. Commerce, he contends, would corrupt the 
purity of their morals, and by entering into the sea- 
service, they would be accustomed to find pretexts 
for justifying conduct so inconsistent with what was 
manly and becoming, as would gradually relax the 
strictness of military discipline. It had been better 
for the Athenians, he asserts, to have continued to 
send annually the sons of seven of their principal 
citizens to be devoured by the Minotaur, than to 
have changed their ancient manners, and to have 
become a maritime power. In that perfect republic, 
of w hich he delineates the form, he ordains that the 
capital should be situated at least ten miles from 
the sea. Dc Legibus, lib. iv. ab initio. These ideas 
of Plato were adopted by other philosophers. Aris¬ 
totle enters into a formal discussion of the question. 
Whether a state rightly constituted should be com- 



U64 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


mercial or not? and though abundantly disposed to 
espouse sentiments opposite to those of Plato, he 
does not venture to decide explicitly with respect to 
it. De Repub. lib. vii. c. 6. In ages when such 
opinions prevail, little information concerning com¬ 
merce can be expected. 

Note XXII. Sect. II. p. 1099. 

Pliny, lib. ix. c. 35. Principium ergo culmenque 
omnium rerum praetii margaritae tenent. In lib. 
xxxvii. c. 4. he affirms, Maximum in rebus humanis 
praetium, non solum inter gemmas, habet adamas. 
These two passages stand in such direct contradic¬ 
tion to one another, that it is impossible to reconcile 
them, or to determine which is the most conform¬ 
able to truth. I have adhered to the former, because 
we have many instances of the exorbitant price of 
pearls, but none, as far as I know, of diamonds 
having been purchased at a rate so high. In this 
opinion I am confirmed by a passage in Pliny, lib. 
xix. c. 1.: having mentioned the exorbitant price of 
Asbestos, he says, “ acquat praetia excellentium mar- 
garitarum; ” which implies, that he considered pearls 
to be of higher price than any other commodity. 

Note XXIII. Sect. II. p. 1099. 

Pliny has devoted two entire books of his Natu¬ 
ral History, lib. xii. and xiii. to the enumeration 
and description of the spices, aromatics, ointments, 
and perfumes, the use of which luxury had intro¬ 
duced among his countrymen. As many of these 
were the productions of India, or of the coun¬ 
tries beyond it, and as the trade with the East was 
carried on to a great extent in the age of Pliny, we 
may form some idea of the immense demand for 
them, from the high price at which they continued 
to be sold in Rome. To compare the prices of the 
same commodities in ancient Rome, with those now 
paid in our own country, is not a gratification of 
curiosity merely, but affords a standard by which 
we may estimate the different degree of success 
with which the Indian trade has been conducted 
in ancient and modern times. Many remarkable 
passages in ancient authors, concerning the ex¬ 
travagant price of precious stones and pearls among 
the Romans, as well as the general use of them by 
persons of all ranks, are collected by Meursius de 
Lux. Romanorum, cap. 5.; and by Stanislaus Ro- 
bierzyckius, in his treatise on the same subject, lib. 
ii. c. 1. The English reader will receive sufficient 
information from Dr. Arbuthnot, in his valuable 
Tables of ancient coins, weights, and measures, p. 
172, &c. 

Note XXIV. Sect. II. p. 1099. 

M. Mahudel, in a memoir read in the academy 
of inscriptions and belles lettres in the year 1719, 
has collected the various opinions of the ancients 
concerning the nature and origin of silk, which tend 
all to prove their ignorance with regard to it. Since 
the publication of M. Mahudel’s memoir, P. du 


liable has described a species of silk, of which I 
believe he communicated the first notice to the 
moderns. “ This is produced by small insects nearly 
resembling snails. They do not form cocoons either 
round or oval like the silkworm, but spin very long 
threads, which fasten themselves to trees and bushes 
as they are driven by the wind. These are gathered 
and wrought into silk stuffs, coarser than those 
produced by domestic silk-worms. The insects 
which produce this coarse silk are wild.” Descrip¬ 
tion de l’Empire de la Chine, tom. ii. fol. p. 207. 
This nearly resembles Virgil’s description, 

Velleraque ut foliis depectant tenuia Seres. 

Georc. II. 121. 

An attentive reader of Virgil will find, that, besides 
all the other qualities of a great descriptive poet, he 
possessed an extensive know ledge of natural history. 
The nature and productions of the w ild silk-worms 
are illustrated atgreater length in the large collection 
of Memoires concernant l’Histoire, les Sciences, les 
Arts, &c. des Chinois, tom. ii. p. 575, &c. ; and by 
Pere de Mailla, in his voluminous history of China, 
tom. xiii. p. 434. It is a singular circumstance in 
the history of silk, that on account of its being an 
excretion of a worm, the Mahomedans consider it 
as an unclean dress ; and it has been decided, with 
the unanimous assent of all the doctors, that a 
person wearing a garment made entirely of silk, 
cannot lawfully offer up the daily prayers enjoined 
by the Koran. Herbal. Bibl. Orient, artic. Harir. 

Note XXV. Sect. II. p. 1099. 

If the use of the cotton manufactures of India 
had been common among the Romans, the various 
kinds of them would have been enumerated in the 
Law de Publicanis et Vectigalibus, in the same 
manner as the different kinds of spices and precious 
stones. Such a specification would have been 
equally necessary for the direction both of the mer¬ 
chant and of the tax-gatherer. 

Note XXVI. Sect. II. p. 1099. 

This part of Arrian’s Periplus has been examined 
with great accuracy and learning by lieutenant 
Wilford ; and from his investigation it is evident, 
that the Plithana of Arrian is the modern Pultanah, 
on the southern banks of the river Godavery, two 
hundred and seventeen British miles south from 
Baroach ; that the position of Tagara is the same 
with that of the modern Dowlatabad, and the high 
grounds across which the goods were conveyed to 
Baroach, are the Ballagaut mountains. The bear¬ 
ings and distances of these different places, as spe¬ 
cified by Arrian, afford an additional proof (were 
that necessary) of the exact information which he 
had received concerning this district of India 
Asiatic Researches, voh i. p. 369, &c. 








NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


11 Go 


Note XXVII. Sect. II. p. 1101. 

Strabo acknowledges his neglect of the im¬ 
provements in geography which Hipparchus had 
deduced from astronomical observations, and justi¬ 
fies it by one of those logical subtilties which the 
ancients were apt to introduce into all their writings. 
“ A geographer,” says he, (i. e. a describer of the 
earth,) “ is to pay no attention to what is out of the 
earth ; nor will men, engaged in conducting the 
affairs of that part of the earth which is inhabited, 
deem the distinctions and divisions of Hipparchus 
worthy of notice.” Lib. ii. 194. C. 

Note XXVIII. Sect. II. p. 1101. 

What a high opinion the ancients had of 
Ptolemy we learn from Agathemerus, who flourished 
not long after him. “ Ptolemy,” says he, “ who 
reduced geography into a regular system, treats of 
every thing relating to it, not carelessly, or merely 
according to ideas of his own, but attending to 
what had been delivered by more ancient authors, 
he adopted from them whatever he found consonant 
to truth.” Epitome Geogr. lib. i. c. 6. edit. Hudson. 
From the same admiration of his work, Agathodae- 
mon, an artist of Alexandria, prepared a series of 
maps for the illustration of it, in which the position 
of all the places mentioned by Ptolemy, with their 
longitude and latitude, is laid down precisely ac¬ 
cording to his ideas. Fabric. Biblioth. Graec. 
iii. 412. 

Note XXIX. Sect. II. p. 1102. 

As these public Surveys and Itineraries furnished 
the ancient geographers with the best information 
concerning the position and distances of many 
places, it may be proper to point out the manner 
in which they were completed by the Romans. The 
idea of a general survey of the whole empire was 
first formed by Julius Caesar, and having been be¬ 
gun by him under authority of a decree of the 
senate, was finished by Augustus. As Rome was 
still far inferior to Greece in science, the execution 
of this great undertaking was committed to three 
Greeks, men of great abilities, and skilled in every 
part of philosophy. The survey of the eastern 
division of the empire was finished by Zenodoxus 
in fourteen years five months and nine days. That 
of the northern division was finished by Theodorus 
in twenty years eight months and ten days. The 
southern division was finished in twenty-five years 
one month and ten days. vEthici Cosmographia 
apud Geographos, editos a Hen. Stephano, 1577, p. 
107. This undertaking was worthy of those illus¬ 
trious persons who planned it, and suited to the 
magnificence of a great people. Resides this gene¬ 
ral survey, every new war produced a new delinea¬ 
tion and measurement of the countries which were 
the seat of it. We may conclude from Vegetius, 
Instit. Rei Militaris, lib. iii. c. 6. that every governor 
of a Roman province was furnished with a descrip¬ 


tion of it; in which were specified the distance of 
places in miles, the nature of the roads, the bye- 
roads, the short cuts, the mountains, the rivers, See.; 
all these, says he, were not only described in words, 
but were delineated in a map, that, in deliberating 
concerning his military movements, the eyes of a 
general might aid the decisions of his mind. 

Note XXX. Sect. II. p. 1102. 

The consequence of this mistake is remarkable. 
Ptolemy, lib. vii. c. i., computes the latitude of 
Barygaza, or Baroach, to be 17° 20', and that of 
Cory, or Cape Comorin, to be 13° 20', which is the 
difference of four degrees precisely ; whereas the 
real difference between these two places is nearly 
fourteen degrees. 

Note XXXI. Sect. II. p. 1102. 

Ramusio, the publisher of the most ancient and 
perhaps the most valuable Collection of Voyages, 
is the first person, as far as I know, who takes notice 
of this strange error of Ptolemy. Viaggi, vol. i. p. 
181. He justly observes, that the author of the 
circumnavigation of the Erythraean sea had been 
more accurate, and had described the peninsula of 
India as extending from north to south. Peripl. p. 
24. 29. 

Note XXXII. Sect. II. p. 1103. 

This error of Ptolemy justly merits the name of 
enormous , which I have given to it; and it will ap¬ 
pear more surprising when we recollect, that he 
must have been acquainted, not only with what 
Herodotus relates concerning the circumnavigation 
of Africa by order of one of the Egyptian kings, 
lib. iv. c. 4., but with the opinion of Eratosthenes, 
who held that the great extent of the Atlantic ocean 
was the only thing w hich prevented a communication 
between Europe and India by sea. Strab. Geogr. 
lib. i. p. 113. A. This error, however, must not be 
imputed wholly to Ptolemy. Hipparchus, whom 
we may consider as his guide, had taught that the 
earth is not surrounded by one continuous ocean, 
but that it is separated by different isthmuses, which 
divide it into several large basins. Strabo, lib. i. p. 

11. B. Ptolemy, having adopted this opinion, was 
induced to maintain that an unknown country ex¬ 
tended from Cattigara to Prassum on the south-east 
coast of Africa. Geogr. lib. vii. c. 3. and 5. As 
Ptolemy’s system of geography w^as universally 
received, this error spread along with it. In con¬ 
formity to it, the Arabian geographer Edrissi, who 
wrote in the twelfth century, taught that a continued 
tract of land stretched eastw ard from Sofala on the 
African coast, until it united with some part of the 
Indian continent. D’Anville, Antiq. p. 187. An¬ 
nexed to the first volume of Gesta Dei per Francos, 
there is an ancient and very rude map of the ha¬ 
bitable globe, delineated according to this idea of 
Ptolemy. M. Gosselin, in his map entitled Ptole- 
maei Systema Geographicum, has exhibited this 



1166 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


imaginary tract of land which Ptolemy supposes to 
have connected Africa with Asia. Geographic des 
Grecs analysee. 

Note XXXIII. Sect. II. p. 1103. 

In this part of the Disquisition, as well as in the 
map prepared for illustrating it, the geographical 
ideas of M. D’Anville, to which major Rennell has 
given the sanction of his approbation, Introd. p. 
xxxix. have been generally adopted. But M. Gos- 
selin has lately published, “ The Geography of the 
Greeks analyzed ; or, the Systems of Eratosthenes, 
Strabo, and Ptolemy, compared with each other, 
and with the Knowledge which the Moderns have 
acquired a learned and ingenious work, in which 
he differs from his countryman with respect to many 
of his determinations. According to M. Gosselin, 
the Magnum Promontorium, which M. D’Anville 
concludes to be Cape Romania, at the southern ex¬ 
tremity of the peninsula of Malacca, is the point of 
Bragu, at the mouth of the great river Ava ; near 
to which he places Zaba, supposed by M. D’Anville, 
and by Barros, Decad. ii. liv. vi. c. 1., to be situated 
on the strait of Sincapura or Malacca. The Mag¬ 
nus Sinus of Ptolemy he holds to be the same with 
the gulf of Martaban, not the gulf of Siam, accord¬ 
ing to M. D’Anville’s decision. The position of 
Cattigara, as he endeavours to prove, corresponds 
to that of Mergui, a considerable port on the west 
coast of the kingdom of Siam, and that Thinae, or 
Sinae Metropolis, which M. D’Anville removes as 
far as Sin-hoa, in the kingdom of Cochin China, is 
situated on the same river with Mergui, and now 
bears the name of Tana-serim. The Ibadij Insula of 
Ptolemy, which M. D’Anville determines to be Su¬ 
matra, he contends is one of that cluster of small 
isles which lie off this part of the coast of Siam, 
p. 137—148. According to M. Gosselin’s system, 
the ancients never sailed through the straits of Ma¬ 
lacca, had no knowledge of the island of Sumatra, 
and were altogether unacquainted with the Eastern 
ocean. If to any of my readers these opinions ap¬ 
pear to be well founded, the navigation and com¬ 
merce of the ancients in India must be circumscribed 
within limits still more confined than those which 
I have allotted to them. From the Ayeen Akbery, 
vol. ii. p. 7., we learn that Cheen was an ancient 
name of the kingdom of Pegu : as that country 
borders upon Ava, where M. Gosselin places the 
Great Promontory, this near resemblance of names 
may appear, perhaps, to confirm his opinion that 
Sinae Metropolis was situated on this coast, and 
not so far east as M. D’Anville has placed it. 

As Ptolemy’s geography of this eastern division 
of Asia is more erroneous, obscure, and contradic¬ 
tory, than any other part of his work, and as all the 
manuscripts of it, both Greek and Latin, are re¬ 
markably incorrect in the two chapters which con¬ 
tain the description of the countries beyond the 
Ganges, M. D’Anville, in his Memoir concerning the 
limits of the world known to the ancients beyond the 


Ganges, has admitted into it a larger portion of 
conjecture than we find in the other researches of 
that cautious geographer. He likewise builds more 
than usual upon the resemblances between the an¬ 
cient and modern names of places, though at all 
times he discovers a propensity, perhaps too great, 
to trace these, and to rest upon them. These re¬ 
semblances are often, indeed, very striking, and 
have led him to many happy discoveries. But in 
perusing his works, it is impossible, I should think, 
not to perceive that some which he mentions are 
far-fetched and fanciful. Whenever I follow him, 

I have adopted only such conclusions as seem to be 
established with his accustomed accuracy. 

Note XXXIV. Sect. II. p. 1105. 

The author of the Circumnavigation of the Ery¬ 
thraean Sea has marked the distances of many of 
the places which he mentions with such accuracy, 
as renders it a nearer approach than what is to be 
found in any writer of antiquity, to a complete sur¬ 
vey of the coast from Myos-hormus, on the west 
side of the Arabian gulf, along the shores of Ethi¬ 
opia, Arabia, Persia, and Caramania, to the mouth 
of the Indus, and thence down the w est coast of the 
Indian peninsula to Musiris and Barace. This adds 
to the value of this short treatise, which, in every 
other respect, possesses great merit. It may be 
considered as a remarkable proof of the extent and 
accuracy of this author’s intelligence concerning 
India, that he is the only ancient writer who 
appears in any degree to have been acquainted 
with the great division of the country which still 
subsists, viz. Indostan Proper, comprehending the 
northern provinces of the peninsula, and the 
Deccan, comprehending the southern provinces. 

“ From Barygaza (says he) the continent stretches 
to the south ; hence that district is called Dachina- 
bades, for, in the language of the country, the south 
is called Dachanos.” Peripl. p. 29. As the Greeks 
and Romans, when they adopt any foreign name, 
always give it a termination peculiar to their own 
language, which the grammatical structure of both 
tongues rendered in some degree necessary, it is 
evident that Dachanos is the same with Deccan, 
which word has still the same signification, and is 
still the name of that division of the peninsula. 
The northern limit of the Deccan at present is the 
river Narbudda, where our author likewise fixes it, 
Peripl. ibid. 

Note XXXV. Sect. II. p. 1106. 

Though, in deducing the latitudes of places from 
observations of the sun or stars, the ancient astrono¬ 
mers neglected several corrections which ought to 
have been applied, their results were sometimes 
exact to a few' minutes, but at other times they ap¬ 
pear to have been erroneous to the extent of tw o or 
even three degrees, and may perhaps be reckoned, 
one with another, to have come within half a 
degree of the truth. This part of the ancient geo- 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1167 


graphy would therefore have been tolerably accurate, 
it there had been a sufficient number of such deter¬ 
minations. These, however, were far from being 
numerous, and appear to have been confined to some 
ot the more remarkable places in the countries 
which surround the Mediterranean sea. 

Y\ hen, from want of more accurate observations, 
the latitude was inferred from the length of the 
longest or shortest day, no great degree of precision 
was, in any case, to be expected, and least of all in 
the vicinity of the equator. An error of a quarter 
of an hour, which, without some mode of measuring 
time more accurate than ancient observers could 
employ, was not easily avoided, might produce, in 
such situations, an error of four degrees in the 
determination of the latitude. 

With respect to places in the torrid zone, there 
was another resource for determining the latitude. 
This was by observing the time of the year when the 
sun was vertical to any place, or when bodies that 
stood perpendicular to the horizon had no shadow 
at noon-day ; the sun’s distance from the equator at 
that time, which was known from the principles of 
astronomy, was equal to the latitude of the place. 
We have instances of the application of this method 
in the determination of the parallels of Syene and 
Meroe. The accuracy which this method would 
admit of, seems to be limited to about half a degree, 
and this only on the supposition that the observer 
was stationary; for if he was travelling from one 
place to another, and had not an opportunity of 
correcting the observation of one day by that of the 
day following, he was likely to deviate much more 
considerably from the truth. 

With respect to the longitude of places, as eclipses 
of the moon are not frequent, and could seldom be 
of use for determining it, and only when there were 
astronomers to observe them with accuracy, they 
may be left out of the account altogether when we 
are examining the geography of remote countries. 
The differences of the meridians of places were 
therefore anciently ascertained entirely by the bear¬ 
ings and distances of one place from another, and 
of consequence all the errors of reckonings, surveys, 
and itineraries, fell chiefly upon the longitude, in 
the same manner as happens at present in a ship 
which has no method of determining its longitude, 
but by comparing the dead-reckoning with the ob¬ 
servations of the latitude; though with this differ¬ 
ence, that the errors to which the most skilful of the 
ancient navigators was liable, were far greater than 
what the most ignorant shipmaster of modern times, 
provided with a compass, can well commit. The 
length of the Mediterranean, measured, in degrees 
of longitude, from the Pillars of Hercules to the 
bay of Issus, is less than forty degrees; but in 
Ptolemy's maps it is more than sixty, and, in gene¬ 
ral, its longitudes, counting from the meridian ot 
Alexandria, especially toward the east, are errone¬ 
ous nearly in the same proportion. It appears, 
indeed, that in remote seas, the coasts were often 


delineated from an imperfect account of the dis¬ 
tances sailed, without the least knowledge of the 
bearings or direction of the ship’s course. Ptolemy, 
it is true, used to make an allowance of about one- 
third for the winding of a ship’s course, Geogr. lib. 
i. c. 12.; but it is plain, that the application of this 
general rule could seldom lead to an accurate con¬ 
clusion. Of this there is a striking instance in the 
form which that geographer has given to the penin¬ 
sula of India. From the Barygazenum Promonto- 
rium to the place marked Locus unde solvunt in 
Chrysen navigantes, that is, from Surat on the 
Malabar coast, to about Narsapour on the Coroman¬ 
del coast, the distance measured along the sea-shore 
is nearly the same with what it is in reality ; that is, 
about five hundred and twenty leagues. But the 
mistake in the direction is astonishing, for the 
Malabar and Coromandel coast, instead of stretch¬ 
ing to the south, and intersecting one another at 
Cape Comorin, in a very acute angle, are extended 
by Ptolemy almost in the same straight line from 
west to east, declining a little to the south. This 
coast is, at the same time, marked with several bays 
and promontories, nearly resembling, in their posi¬ 
tion, those which actually exist on it. All these 
circumstances compared together, point out very 
clearly what were the materials from which the 
ancient map of India was composed. The ships 
which had visited the coast of that country, had 
kept an account of the time which they took to sail 
from one place to another, and had marked, as they 
stood along shore, on what hand the land lay, when 
they shaped their course across a bay or doubled a 
promontory. This imperfect journal, with an accu¬ 
rate account, perhaps, of the latitude of one or two 
places, w as probably all the information concerning 
the coast of India which Ptolemy was able to pro¬ 
cure. That he should have been able to procure no 
better information from merchants who sailed with 
no particular view of exploring the coast will not 
appear wonderful, if we consider that even the 
celebrated Periplus of Hanno would not enable a 
geographer to lay down the coast of Africa with 
more precision than Ptolemy has delineated that of 
India. 

Note XXXVI. Sect. II. p. 1108. 

The introduction of the silk-worm into Europe, 
and the effects which this produced, came under the 
view of Mr. Gibbon, in writing the History of the 
emperor Justinian, and though it was an inciden 
of subordinate importance only, amidst the multi¬ 
plicity of great transactions which must have occu¬ 
pied his attention, he has examined this event w ith 
an accuracy, and related it with a precision, which 
would have done honour to an author who had no 
higher object of research, vol. iv. p. 71, &c. Nor 
is it here only that I am called upon to ascribe to 
him this merit. The subject of my inquiries has 
led me several times upon ground which he had 
gone over, and I have uniformly received informa- 



1108 


DISQUISITION ON 

tion from the industry and discernment with which 
he has surveyed it. 

Note XXXVII. Sect. III. p. 1109. 

This voyage, together with the observations of 
Abu Zeid al Hasan of Siraf, was published by M. 
Renaudot, A. D. 1718, under the title of “ Anciennes 
Relations des Indes, et de la Chine, de deux Voy- 
ageurs Mahometans, qui y allerent dans leNeuvieme 
Siecle ; traduites de l’Arabe, aveo des remarques sur 
les principaux endroits de ces Relations.” As M. 
Renaudot, in his remarks, represents the literature 
and police of the Chinese in colours very different 
from those of the splendid descriptions which a 
blind admiration had prompted the Jesuits to pub¬ 
lish, two zealous missionaries have called in question 
the authenticity of these relations, and have asserted 
that the authors of them had never been in China. 
P. Premare Lettr. edifiantes et curieuses, tom. xix. 
p. 420, &c. P. Parennin, ibid. tom. xxi. p. 158, &c. 
Some doubts concerning their authenticity were 
entertained likewise by several learned men in 
England, on account of M. Renaudot's having given 
no notice of the manuscript which he translated, but 
that he found it in the library of M. le Comte de 
Seignelay. As no person had seen the manuscript 
since that time, the doubts increased, and M. Renau¬ 
dot was charged with the crime of imposing upon 
the public. But the Colbert manuscripts having 
been deposited in the King's library, as (fortunately 
for literature) most private collections are in France, 
M. de Guignes, after a long search, discovered the 
identical manuscript to which M. Renaudot refers. 
It appears to have been written in the 12th century. 
Journal des Savans, Dec. 1764. p. 315, &c. As I 
had not the French edition of M. Renaudot’s book, 
my references are made to the English translation. 
The relation of the two Arabian travellers is con¬ 
firmed, in many points, by their countryman Mas- 
soudi, who published his treatise on universal his¬ 
tory, of which he gives the fantastical title of 
“ Meadows of Gold and Mines of Jewels,” a hun¬ 
dred and sixty years after their time. From him, 
likewise, we receive such an account of India in the 
tenth century, as renders it evident that the Arabians 
had then acquired an extensive knowledge of that 
country. According to his description, the peninsula 
of India was divided into four kingdoms. The lirst 
was composed of the provinces situated on the 
Indus, and the rivers which fall into it; the capital 
of which was Moultan. The capital of the second 
kingdom was Canoge, which, from the ruins of it 
still remaining, appears to have been a very large 
city. Rennell’s Memoirs, p. 54. In order to give 
an idea of its populousness, the Indian historians 
assert, that it contained thirty thousand shops in 
which betelnut was sold, and sixty thousand sets of 
musicians and singers, who paid a tax to govern¬ 
ment. Ferishta, translated by Dow, vol. i. p. 32. 
The third kingdom was Cachemire. Massoudi, as 
far as I know, is the first author who mentions this 


ANCIENT INDIA. 

paradise of India, of which he gives a short but just 
description. The fourth is the kingdom of Guzerate, 
which he represents as the greatest and most power¬ 
ful ; and he concurs with the two Arabian travellers, 
in giving the sovereigns of it the appellation of 
Belhara. What Massoudi relates concerning India 
is more worthy of notice, as he himself had visited 
that country ; Notices et Extraits des Manuscrits de 
la Bibliotheque du Roi, tom. i. p. 9, 10. Massoudi 
confirms what the two Arabian travellers relate, 
concerning the extraordinary progress of the Indians 
in astronomical science. According to his account, 
a temple was built during the reign of Brahmin, the 
first monarch of India, with twelve towers, repre¬ 
senting the twelve signs of the zodiac; and in 
which was delineated a view of all the stars as they 
appear in the heavens. In the same reign was 
composed the famous Sind-Hind, which seems to 
be the standard treatise of Indian astronomy. No¬ 
tices, &c. tom. i. p. 7. Another Arabian author, 
who wrote about the middle of the fourteenth cen¬ 
tury, divides India into three parts. The northern, 
comprehending all the provinces on the Indus. The 
middle, extending from Guzerate to the Ganges. 
The southern, which he denominates Comar, from 
Cape Comorin. Notices, &c. tom. ii. p. 46. 

Note XXXVIII. Sect. III. p. 1109. 

The naval skill of the Chinese seems not to have 
been superior to that of the Greeks, the Romans, 
or Arabians. The course which they held from 
Canton to Siraf, near the mouth of the Persian 
gulf, is described by their own authors. They kept 
as near as possible to the shore until they reached 
the island of Ceylon, and then doubling Cape 
Comorin, they sailed along the west side of the 
peninsula, as far as the mouth of the Indus, and 
thence steered along the coast to the place of their 
destination. Mem. de Literat. tom. xxxii. p. 367. 
Some authors have contended, that both the Ara¬ 
bians and Chinese were well acquainted with the 
mariner's compass, and the use of it in navigation ; 
but it is remarkable that in the Arabic, Turkish, and 
Persian languages, there is no original name for the 
compass. They commonly call it Bosola, the Italian 
name, w hich shows that the know ledge of this useful 
instrument w as communicated to them by the Euro¬ 
peans. There is not one single observation, of an¬ 
cient date, made by the Arabians on the variation of 
the needle, or any instruction deduced from it, for 
the assistance of navigators. Sir John Chardin, one 
of the most learned and best informed travellers 
who has visited the East, having been consulted 
upon this point, returns for answer, “ I boldly assert 
that the Asiatics are beholden to us for this won¬ 
derful instrument, which they had from Europe a 
long time before the Portuguese conquests. For, 
first, their compasses are exactly like ours, and they 
buy them of Europeans as much as they can, scarce 
daring to meddle with their needles themselves. 
Secondly, it is certain that the old navigators only 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 1169 


coasted it along, which I impute to their want of 
this instrument to guide and instruct them in the 
middle ol the ocean. We cannot pretend to say 
that they were atraid of venturing far from home, 
for the Arabians, the first navigators in the world in 
my opinion, at least for the eastern seas, have, time 
out of mind, sailed from the bottom of the Red sea, 
all along the coast of Africa ; and the Chinese have 
always traded with Java and Sumatra, which is a 
very considerable voyage. So many islands unin¬ 
habited and yet productive, so many lands unknown 
to the people I speak of, are a proof that the old 
navigators had not the art of sailing on the main 
sea. I have nothing but argument to offer touching 
this matter, having never met with any person in 
Persia or the Indies to inform me when the com¬ 
pass was first known among them, though I made 
inquiry of the most learned men in both countries. 
I have sailed from the Indies to Persia in Indian 
ships, when no European has been on board but 
myself. The pilots were all Indians, and they used 
the fore-staff and quadrant for their observations. 
These instruments they have from us, and made by 
our artists, and they do not in the least vary from 
ours, except that the characters are Arabic. The 
Arabians are the most skilful navigators of all the 
Asiatics or Africans; but neither they nor the In¬ 
dians make use of charts, and they do not much 
want them: some they have, but they are copied 
from ours, for they are altogether ignorant of per¬ 
spective/’ Inquiry when the Mahomedans first 
entered China, p. 141, &c. When M. Niebuhr was 
at Cairo, he found a magnetic needle in the posses¬ 
sion of a Mahomedan, which served to point out 
the Kaaba, and he gave it the name of El Magnatis, 
a clear proof of its European origin. Voyage en 
Arabie, tom. ii. p. 169. 

Note XXXIX. Sect. III. p. 1109. 

Some learned men, Cardan, Scaliger, &c. have 
imagined that the Vasa Murrhina, particularly de¬ 
scribed by Pliny, Nat. Hist. lib. xxxvii., and occa¬ 
sionally mentioned by several ancient authors both 
Greek and Roman, were the true porcelain of China. 
M. l’Abbe Le Bland and M. Larcher have examined 
this opinion, with full as much industry and erudi¬ 
tion as the subject merited, in two Dissertations pub¬ 
lished in Mem. de Literat. tom. xliii. From them it 
is evident that the Vasa Murrhina were formed of a 
transparent stone dug out of the earth in some of the 
eastern provinces of Asia. These’ were imitated in 
vessels of coloured glass. As both were beautiful 
and rare, they were sold at a very high price to the 
luxurious citizens of Rome. 

Note XL. Sect. III. p. 1110. 

The progress of Christianity, and of Mahome- 
danism, both in China and India, is attested by 
such evidence as leaves no doubt with respect to it. 
This evidence is collected by Assemanus, Riblioth. 

Orient, vol. iv. p. 437, &c. 521, &c.; and by M. 

4 F 


Renaudot, in two Dissertations annexed to Anci- 
ennes Relations ; and by M. de la Croze, Histoire de 
Christianisme des Indes. In our own age, however, 
we know that the number of proselytes to either of 
these religions is extremely small, especially in 
India. A Gentoo considers all the distinctions and 
privileges of his cast as belonging to him by an 
exclusive and incommunicable right. To convert, 
or to be converted, are ideas equally repugnant to 
the principles most deeply rooted in his mind ; nor 
can either the catholic or protestant missionaries in 
India boast of having overcome these prejudices, 
except among a few in the lowest casts, or of such 
as have lost their cast altogether. This last circum¬ 
stance is a great obstacle to the progress of Chris¬ 
tianity in India. As Europeans eat the flesh of that 
animal which the Hindoos deem sacred, and drink 
intoxicating liquors, in which practices they are 
imitated by the converts to Christianity, this sinks 
them to a level with the Pariars, the most contemp¬ 
tible and odious race of men. Some catholic mis¬ 
sionaries were so sensible of this, that they affected 
to imitate the dress and manner of living of Brah¬ 
mins, and refused to associate with the Pariars, or 
to admit them to the participation of the sacra¬ 
ments. But this was condemned by the apostolic 
legate Tournon, as inconsistent with the spirit and 
precepts of the Christian religion. Voyage aux* 
Indes Orientales, par M. Sonnerat, tom. i. p. 58, 
note. Notwithstanding the labours of missionaries 
for upwards of two hundred years, (says a late in¬ 
genious writer,) and the establishments of different 
Christian nations, who support and protect them, 
out of, perhaps, one hundred millions of Hindoos, 
there are not twelve thousand Christians, and those 
almost entirely Chancalas , or outcasts. Sketches 
relating to the history, religion, learning, and man¬ 
ners of the Hindoos, p. 48. The number of Maho¬ 
medans, or Moors, now in Indostan, is supposed to 
be near ten millions ; but they are not the original 
inhabitants of the country, but the descendants of 
adventurers who have been pouring in from Tar¬ 
tary, Persia, and Arabia, ever since the invasion 
of Mahmoud of Gazna, A. D. 1002, the first Maho¬ 
medan conqueror of India. Orme, Hist, of Military 
Transact, in Indostan, vol. i. p. 24. Herbelot, Bi- 
blioth. Orient, artic. Gaznaviah. As the manners 
of the Indians in ancient times seem to have been, 
in every respect, the same with those of the present 
age, it is probable that the Christians and Mahome¬ 
dans, said to be so-numerous in India and China, 
were chiefly foreigners, allured thither by a lucra¬ 
tive commerce, or their descendants. The number 
of Mahomedans in China has been considerably 
increased by a practice, common among them, of 
buying children in years of famine, whom they edu¬ 
cate in the Mahomedan religion. Hist. Gcner. des 
Voyages, tom. vi. p. 357. 




1170 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


Note XLI. Sect. III. p. 1111. 

From the Chronicle of Andrew Dandolo, Doge 
of Venice, who was elevated to that high station at 
a time when his countrymen had established a regu¬ 
lar trade with Alexandria, and imported from it all 
the productions of the East, it was natural to expect 
some information concerning their early trade with 
that country ; but, except an idle tale concerning 
some Venetian ships which had sailed to Alexandria 
about the year 828, contrary to a decree of the state, 
and which stole thence the body of St. Mark, (Mu¬ 
rat. Script. Rer. Ital. vol. xii. lib. 8. c. 2. p. 170.,) 

I find no other hint concerning the communication 
between the two countries. On the contrary, cir¬ 
cumstances occur which show that the resort of Eu¬ 
ropeans to Egypt had ceased, almost entirely, for 
some time. Prior to the seventh and eighth centuries, 
the greater part of the public deeds in Italy and in 
other countries of Europe were written upon paper 
fabricated of the Egyptian papyrus ; but after that 
period, as Europeans seldom ventured to trade in 
Alexandria, almost all charters and other deeds are 
written upon parchment. Murat. Antiq. Ital. Medii 
iEvi, vol. iii. p. 832. I have been induced, both in 
the text and in this note, to state these particulars 
concerning the interruption of trade between the 
Christians and Mahomedans so fully, in order to 
correct an error into which several modern authors 
have fallen, by supposing, that soon after the first 
conquests of the caliphs, the trade with India re¬ 
turned into its ancient channels, and the merchants 
of Europe resorted with the same freedom as for¬ 
merly to the ports of Egypt and Syria. 

Note XLII. Sect. III. p. 1112. 

It is proper to remark (say Mr. Stewart) that the 
Indians have an admirable method of rendering 
their religion lucrative, it being usual for the fa¬ 
quirs to carry with them, in their pilgrimages from 
the sea-coasts to the interior parts, pearls, corals, 
spices, and other precious articles of small bulk, 
which they exchange, on their return, for gold dust, 
musk, and other things of a similar nature, conceal¬ 
ing them easily in their hair, and in the cloths 
round their middle, carrying on, in proportion to 
their numbers, no inconsiderable traffic by these 
means. Account of the kingdom of Thibet, Philos. 
Transact, vol. lxvii. part ii. p. 483. 

Note XLIII. Sect. III. p. 1114. 

Caffa is the most commodious situation for trade 
in the Black sea. While in the hands of the Ge¬ 
noese, who kept possession of it above two centuries, 
they rendered it the seat of an extensive and flou¬ 
rishing commerce. Even under all the disadvan¬ 
tages of its subjection, at present, to the Turkish 
government, it continues to be a place of consider¬ 
able trade. Sir John Chardin, who visited it, 
A. D. 1672, relates, that during his residence of forty 
days there, above four hundred ships arrived at 


Caffa, or sailed from it. Voyages, i. 48. He ob¬ 
served there several remains of Genoese magnifi¬ 
cence. The number of its inhabitants, according to 
M. Peysonel, amounts still to eighty thousand. 
Commerce de la Mer Noire, tom. i. p. 15. He de¬ 
scribes its trade as very great. 

Note XLIV. Sect. III. p. 1114. 

The rapacity and insolence of the Genoese set¬ 
tled in Constantinople, are painted by Nicephorus 
Gregoras, an eye-witness of their conduct, in very 
striking colours. “ They,” says he, “ now, i. e. about 
the year 1340, dreamed that they had acquired the 
dominion of the sea, and claimed an exclusive right 
to the trade of the Euxine, prohibiting the Greeks 
to sail to the Maeotis, the Chersonesus, or any part 
of the coast beyond the mouth of the Danube, with¬ 
out a licence from them. This exclusion they ex¬ 
tended likewise to the Venetians, and their arro¬ 
gance proceeded so far as to form a scheme of 
imposing a toll upon every vessel passing through 
the Bosphorus.” Lib. xviii. c. 2. § 1. 

Note XLV. Sect. III. p. 1114. 

A permission from the pope was deemed so ne¬ 
cessary to authorize a commercial intercourse with 
infidels, that long after this period, in the year 1454, 
Nicholas V. in his famous bull in favour of prince 
Henry of Portugal, among other privileges, grants 
him a licence to trade with Mahomedans, and re¬ 
fers to similar concessions from pope Martin V. 
and Eugenius, to kings of Portugal. Leibnitz, 
Codex Jur. Gent. Diplomat. Pars I. p. 489. 

Note XLVI. Sect. III. p. 1115. 

Neither Jovius, the professed panegyrist of the 
Medici, nor Jo. M. Brutus, their detractor, though 
both mention the exorbitant wealth of the family, 
explain the nature of the trade by which it was ac¬ 
quired. Even Machiavel, whose genius delighted 
in the investigation of every circumstance which 
contributed to aggrandize or depress nations, seems 
not to have viewed the commerce of his country as 
a subject that merited elucidation. Denina, who 
has entitled the first chapter of his eighteenth book, 
“ The Origin of the Medici, and the Commence¬ 
ment of their Pow er and Grandeur,” furnishes little 
information with regard to the trade carried on by 
them. This silence of so many authors is a proof 
that historians had not yet begun to view commerce 
as an object of such importance in the political state 
of nations, as to enter into any detail concerning its 
nature and effects. From the references of different 
writers to Scipio Ammirato, Istorie Florentine ; to 
Pagnini, Della Decimated altri gravezze della Mer- 
catura di Fiorentini; and to Balducci, Practica della 
Mercatura, I should imagine that something more 
satisfactory might be learned concerning the trade 
both of the republic and the family of Medici; but 
I could not find any of these books either in Edin¬ 
burgh or in London. 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Note XLVII. Sect. III. p. 1115. 

Leibnitz has preserved a curious paper, contain¬ 
ing the instructions of the republic of Florence to 
the two ambassadors sent to the soldan of Egypt, 
in order to negociate this treaty with him, together 
with the report of these ambassadors on their return. 
The great object ol the republic was to obtain liberty 
of trading in all parts of the soldan’s dominions, 
upon the same terms with the Venetians. The 
chief privileges which they solicited, were, 1. A 
perfect freedom of admission into every port belong¬ 
ing to the soldan, protection while they continued 
in it, and liberty of departure at what time they 
chose. 2. Permission to have a consul, with the 
same rights and jurisdiction as those of the Vene¬ 
tians ; and liberty to build a church, a warehouse, 
and a bath, in every place where they settled. 3. 
That they should not pay for goods imported or ex¬ 
ported higher duties than were paid by the Vene¬ 
tians. 4. That the effects of any Florentine who 
died in the dominions of the soldan should be con¬ 
signed to the consul. 5. That the gold and silver 
coin of Florence should be received in payments. 
All these privileges (which show on what equal and 
liberal terms Christians and Mahomedans now car¬ 
ried on trade) the Florentines obtained ; but from 
the causes mentioned in the text, they seem never 
to have acquired any considerable share in the com¬ 
merce with India. Leibnitz, Mantissa Cod. Jur. 
Gent. Diplom. Pars altera, p. 163. 

Note XLVIII. Sect. III. p. 1116. 

The eastern parts of Asia are now so completely 
explored, that the first imperfect accounts of them, 
by Marco Polo, attract little of that attention which 
was originally excited by the publication of his 
travels ; and some circumstances in his narrative 
have induced different authors to justify this neg¬ 
lect, by calling in question the truth of what he re¬ 
lates, and even to assert that he had never visited 
those countries which he pretends to describe. He 
does not, say they, ascertain the position of any one 
place by specifying its longitude or latitude. He 
gives names to provinces and cities, particularly in 
his description of Cathay, which have no resem¬ 
blance to those which they now bear. We may ob¬ 
serve however, that as Marco Polo seems to have 
been, in no degree, a man of science, it was not to 
be expected that he should fix the position of places 
with geographical accuracy. As he travelled through 
China, either in the suite of the great khan, or in 
execution of his orders, it is probable that the names 
which he gives to different provinces and cities, are 
those by which they were known to the Tartars, in 
whose service he was, not their original Chinese 
names. Some inaccuracies which have been ob¬ 
served in the relation of his travels may be ac¬ 
counted for, by attending to one circumstance, that 
it was not published from a regular journal, which, 
perhaps, the vicissitudes in his situation, during 


1171 

such a long series of adventures, did not permil 
him to keep, or to preserve. It was composed after 
his return to his native country, and chiefly from 
recollection. But notwithstanding this disadvan¬ 
tage, his account of those regions of the East, to¬ 
wards which my inquiries have been directed, con¬ 
tains information with respect to several particulars 
altogether unknown in Europe at that time, the 
accuracy of which is now fully confirmed. Mr. 
Marsden, whose accuracy and discernment are well 
known, traces his description of the island which he 
calls Java Minor, evidently Sumatra; from which it 
is apparent, that as Marco Polo had resided a con¬ 
siderable time in that island, he had examined some 
parts with care, and had inquired with diligence 
concerning others. Hist, of Sumat. p. 281. I shall 
mention some other particulars with respect to 
India, which, though they relate to matters of no 
great consequence, afford the best proof of his hav¬ 
ing visited these countries, and of his having ob¬ 
served the manners and customs of the people with 
attention. He gives a distinct account of the na¬ 
ture and preparation of sago, the principal article 
of subsistence among all the nations of Malayan 
race, and he brought the first specimen of this sin¬ 
gular production to Venice. Ramus, lib. iii. c. 16. 
He takes notice, likewise, of the general custom of 
chewing betel, and his description of the mode of 
preparing it is the same with that still in use. Ra¬ 
mus. Viaggi, i. jff 55. D p. 56. B. He even de¬ 
scends into such a detail as to mention the peculiar 
manner of feeding horses in India which still con¬ 
tinues. Ramus, p. 53. F. What is of greater im¬ 
portance, we learn from him that the trade with 
Alexandria continued, when he travelled through 
India, to be carried on in the same manner as I 
conjectured it to have been in ancient times. The 
commodities of the East were still brought to the 
Malabar coast by vessels of the country, and con¬ 
veyed thence, together with pepper and other pro¬ 
ductions peculiar to that part of India, by ships 
which arrived from the Red sea. Lib. iii. c. 27. 
This, perhaps, may account for the superior quality 
which Sanudo ascribes to the goods brought to the 
coast of Syria from the Persian gulf, above those 
imported into Egypt by the Red sea. The former 
were chosen and purchased in the places where 
they grew or where they were manufactured, by the 
merchants of Persia, who still continued their voy¬ 
ages to every part of the East; while the Egyptian 
merchants, in making up their cargoes, depended 
upon the assortment of goods brought to the Mala¬ 
bar coast by the natives To some persons in his 
own age, what Marco Polo related concerning the 
numerous armies and immense revenues of the east¬ 
ern princes, appeared so extravagant, (though per¬ 
fectly consonant to what we now know concerning 
the population of China, and the wealth of Indostan,) 
that they gave him the name of Messer Marco Mi- 
lion i. Prefat. de Ramus, p. 4. But among persons 
better informed, the reception he met with was-very 



DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


1172 

different. Columbus, as well as the men of science 
with whom he corresponded, placed such confidence 
in the veracity of his relations, that upon them the 
speculations, and theories, which led to the dis¬ 
covery of the New World, were in a great measure 
founded. Life of Columbus by his Son, c. 7. and 8. 

Note NLIX. Sect. IIT. p. 1118. 

In the year 1301, Joanna of Navarre, the wife of 
Philip le Bel king of France, having been some 
days in Bruges, was so much struck with the gran¬ 
deur and wealth of that city, and particularly with 
the splendid appearance of the citizens’ wives, that 
she was moved (says Guicciardini) by female envy 
to exclaim with indignation, “ I thought that I had 
been the only queen here, but I find there are many 
hundreds more.” Descrit. de Paesi Bassi, p. 408. 

Note L. Sect. III. p. 1118. 

In the History of the Reign of Charles Y. p. 349. 
I observe, that during the war excited by the fa¬ 
mous League of Cambray, while Charles VIII. of 
France could not procure money at a less premium 
than forty-two per cent, the Venetians raised what 
sums they pleased at five per cent. But this, I 
imagine, is not to be considered as the usual com¬ 
mercial rate of interest at that period, but as a 
voluntary and public-spirited effort of the citizens, 
in order to support their country at a dangerous 
crisis. Of such laudable exertions'; there are several 
striking instances in the history of the republic. 
In the year 1379, when the Genoese, after obtain¬ 
ing a great naval victory over the Venetians, were 
ready to attack their capital, the citizens, by a vo¬ 
luntary contribution, enabled the senate to fit out 
such a powerful armament as saved their country. 
Sabellicus, Hist. Rer. Venet. dec. ii. lib. vi. p. 
385. 390. In the war with Ferrara, which began in 
the year 1472, the senate, relying upon the attach¬ 
ment of the citizens to their country, required them 
to bring all their gold and silver plate, and jewels 
into the public treasury, upon promise of paying 
the value of them at the conclusion of the war, with 
five per cent, of interest; and this requisition was 
complied with cheerfully. Petr. Cyrnaeus de Bello 
Ferrar. ap. Murat. Scrip. Rer. Ital. vol. xxi. p. 
1016. 

Note LI. Sect. III. p. 1119. 

Two facts may be mentioned as proofs of an 
extraordinary extension of the Venetian trade at 
this period:—1. There is in Ryraer’s Great Collec¬ 
tion, a series of grants from the kings of England, 
of various privileges and immunities to Venetian 
merchants trading in England, as well as several 
commercial treaties with the republic, which plainly 
indicate a considerable increase of their transac¬ 
tions in that country. These are mentioned in their 
order by Mr. Anderson, to whose patient industry 
and sound understanding every person engaged in 
any commercial research must have felt himself 


greatly indebted on many occasions.-2. The es¬ 

tablishment of a bank by public authority, the 
credit of which was founded on that of the state. 
In an age and nation so well acquainted with the 
advantages which commerce derives from the insti¬ 
tution of banks, it is unnecessary to enumerate 
them. Mercantile transactions must have been nu¬ 
merous and extensive before the utility of such an 
institution could be fully perceived, or the prin¬ 
ciples of trade could be so fully understood as to 
form the regulations proper for conducting it with 
success. Venice may boast of having given the 
first example to Europe, of an establishment alto¬ 
gether unknown to the ancients, and which is the 
pride of the modern commercial system. The con¬ 
stitution of the bank of Venice was originally 
founded on such just principles, that it has served 
as a model in the establishment of banks in other 
countries, and the administration of its affairs has 
been conducted with so much integrity, that its 
credit has never been shaken. I cannot specify the 
precise year in which the bank of Venice was esta¬ 
blished by a law of the state. Anderson supposes 
it to have been A. D. 1157. Chron. Deduct, vol. i. 
p. 84. Sandi Stor. Civil. Venes. Part II. vol. ii. p. 
768. Part III. vol. ii. p. 892. 

Note LII. Sect. III. p. 1119. 

An Italian author of good credit, and a diligent 
inquirer into the ancient history of its different go¬ 
vernments, affirms, that if the several states which 
traded in the Mediterranean had united together, 
Venice alone would have been superior to them all, 
in naval power and in extent of commerce. Denina, 
Revolutions d’ltalie, traduites par l’Abbe Jardin, lib. 
xviii. c. 6. tom. vi. p. 339. About the year 1420, 
the doge Mocenigo gives a view of the naval force 
of the republic, which confirms this decision of 
Denina. At that time it consisted of three thou¬ 
sand trading vessels, of various dimensions, on 
board which were employed seventeen thousand 
sailors ; of three hundred ships of greater force, 
manned by eight thousand sailors ; and of forty- 
five large galeasses, or carracks, navigated by 
eleven thousand sailors. In public and private ar¬ 
senals sixteen thousand carpenters were employed. 
Mar. Senuto Vite de Duchi di Venezia, ap. Mur. 
Script. Rer. Ital. vol. xxii. p. 959. 

Note LIII. Sect. III. p. 1123. 

When we take a view of the form and position 
of the habitable parts of Asia and Africa, we shall 
see good reasons for considering the camel as the 
most useful of all the animals over which the inha¬ 
bitants of these great continents have acquired 
dominion. In both, some of the most fertile dis¬ 
tricts are separated from each other by such exten¬ 
sive tracts of barren sands, the seats of desolation 
and drought, as seem to exclude the possibility of 
communication between them. But as the ocean, 
which appears, at first view, to be placed as an in- 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


superable barrier between different regions of the 
earth, has been rendered, by navigation, subservient 
to their mutual intercourse, so by means of the 
camel, which the Arabians emphatically call The 
Ship of the Desert , the most dreary wastes are tra- 
\eised, and the nations which they disjoin are 
enabled to trade with one another. Those painful 
journeys, impracticable by any other animal, the 
camel performs with astonishing despatch. Under 
heavy burthens of six, seven, and eight hundred 
weight, they can continue their march during a long 
peiiod of time, with little food or rest, and some¬ 
times without tasting water for eight or nine days. 
By the wise economy of Providence, the camel 
seems formed of purpose to be the beast of burthen 
in those regions where he is placed, and where his 
service is most wanted. In all the districts of Asia 
and Africa, where deserts are most frequent and 
extensive, the camel abounds. This is his proper 
station, and beyond this the sphere of his activity 
does not extend far. He dreads alike the excesses 
of heat and of cold, and does not agree even with 
the mild climate of our temperate zone. As the 
first trade in Indian commodities, of which we have 
any authentic account, w as carried on by means of 
camels, Genesis xxxvii. 25. and as it is by employ¬ 
ing them that the conveyance of these commodities 
has been so widely extended over Asia and Africa, 
the particulars which I have mentioned concerning 
this singular animal appeared to be necessary to¬ 
wards illustrating this part of my subject. If any 
of my readers desire more full information, and 
wish to know how the ingenuity and art of man 
have seconded the intentions of nature, in training 
the camel from his birth for that life of exertion 
and hardship to which he is destined, he may con¬ 
sult Histoire Naturelle, by M. le Comte de Buffon, 
artic. Chameau et Dromedaire , one of the most elo¬ 
quent, and, as far as I can judge from examining 
the authorities which he has quoted, one of the most 
accurate, descriptions given by that celebrated 
writer. M. Volney, whose accuracy is well known, 
gives a description of the manner in which the 
camel performs its journey, which may be agreeable 
to some of my readers. “ In travelling through 
the desert, camels are chiefly employed because they 
consume little, and carry a great load. His ordi¬ 
nary burthen is about seven hundred and fifty 
pounds ; his food, whatever is given him, straw, 
thistles, the stones of dates, beans, barley, &c. 
With a pound of food a day, and as much water, 
he will travel for weeks. In the journey from Cairo 
to Suez, which is forty or forty-six hours, they nei¬ 
ther eat nor drink ; but these long fasts, if often 
repeated, wear them out. Their usual rate of tra¬ 
velling is very slow', hardly above two miles an 
hour ; it is vain to push them, they will not quicken 
their pace, but, if allowed some short rest, they will 
travel fifteen or eighteen hours a day.” Voyage, 
tom. ii. p. 383. 


Note L1V. Sect. III. p. 1123. 

In order to give an adequate idea of the extensive 
circulation of Indian commodities by land carriage, 
it would be necessary to trace the route, and to 
estimate the number, of the various caravans by 
which they are conveyed. Could this be executed 
with accuracy, it w'ould be a curious subject of 
geographical research, as well as a valuable ad¬ 
dition to commercial history. Though it is incon¬ 
sistent with the brevity which I have uniformly 
studied in conducting this Disquisition, to enter into 
a detail of so great length, it may be proper here, 
for illustrating this part of my subject, to take such 
a view of two caravans which visit Mecca, as may 
enable my readers to estimate more justly the mag¬ 
nitude of their commercial transactions. The first 
is the caravan which takes its departure from Cairo 
in Egypt, and the other from Damascus in Syria; 
and I select these, both because they are the most 
considerable, and because they are described by 
authors of undoubted credit, who had the best op¬ 
portunities of receiving full information concerning 
them. The former is composed not only of pilgrims 
from every part of Egypt, but of those which arrive 
from all the small Mahomedan states on the African 
coast of the Mediterranean, from the empire of 
Morocco, and even from the negro kingdoms on 
the Atlantic. When assembled, the caravan con¬ 
sists at least of fifty thousand persons, and the 
number of camels employed in carrying water, 
provisions, and merchandise, is still greater. The 
journey, which, in going from Cairo, and returning 
thither, is not completed in less than a hundred 
days, is performed wholly by land ; and as the route 
lies mostly through sandy deserts, or barren unin¬ 
habited w ilds, which seldom afford any subsistence, 
and where often no sources of water can be found, 
the pilgrims always undergo much fatigue, and 
sometimes must endure incredible hardships. An 
early and good description of this caravan is pub¬ 
lished by Hakluyt, vol. ii. p. 202, &c. Maillet has 
entered into a minute and curious detail with re¬ 
gard to it. Descript, de l’Egypte, part. ii. p. 212, 
&c. Pococke has given a route, together with the 
length of each day's march, which he received from 
a person who had been fourteen times at Mecca, 
vol. i. p. 188.261, &c.—The caravan from Damascus, 
composed of pilgrims from almost every province 
of the Turkish empire, is little inferior to the former 
in number, and the commerce which it carries on 
is hardly less valuable. Voyage de Volney, tom. 
ii. p. 251, &c. Ohsson, Tabl. Gener. de l’Empire 
Othom. III. p. 275, &c. This pilgrimage was per¬ 
formed in the year 1741, by Khojeh Abdulkurreem, 
whom I formerly mentioned, Note V. p. 1157. He 
gives the usual route from Damascus to Mecca, 
computed by hours, the common mode of reckoning 
a journey in the East, through countries little fre¬ 
quented. According to the most moderate estimate, 
the distance between the two cities, by his account. 




1174 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


must be above a thousand miles ; a great part of 
the journey is through a desert, and the pilgrims 
not only endure much fatigue, but are often exposed 
to great danger from the wild Arabs. Memoirs, p. 
114, &c. It is a singular proof of the predatory 
spirit of the Arabs, that although all their indepen¬ 
dent tribes are zealous Mahomedans, yet they make 
no scruple of plundering the caravans of pilgrims 
while engaged in performing one of the most indis¬ 
pensable duties of their religion. A remarkable 
instance of this occurred in the year 1757. Travels 
through Cyprus, Syria, &c. by Abbe Mariti, vol. ii. 
p. 117, &c. Engl. Translation. Great as these 
caravans are, we must not suppose that all the pil¬ 
grims who visit Mecca belong to them ; such con¬ 
siderable additions are received from the extensive 
dominions of Persia, from every province of Indos- 
tan, and the countries to the east of it, from Abys¬ 
sinia, from various states on the southern coast of 
Africa, and from all parts of Arabia, that when the 
whole are assembled they have been computed to 
amount to two hundred thousand. In some years 
the number is further increased by small bands of 
pilgrims from several interior provinces of Africa, 
the names and situations of which are just begin¬ 
ning to be known in Europe. For this last fact we 
are indebted to the Association for promoting the 
Discovery of the Interior parts of Africa, formed 
by some British gentlemen, upon principles so 
liberal, and with views so public-spirited, as do 
honour to themselves and to their country. Pro¬ 
ceedings, &c. p. 174. 

In the Report of the Committee of the Privy 
Council on the Slave Trade, other particulars are 
contained; and it appears that the commerce carried 
on by caravans in the interior parts of Africa is not 
only widely extended, but of considerable value. 
Besides the great caravan which proceeds to Cairo, 
and is joined by Mahomedan pilgrims from every 
part of Africa, there are caravans which have no 
object but commerce, which set out from Fez, Al¬ 
giers, Tunis, Tripoli, and other states on the sea- 
coast, and penetrate far into the interior country. 
Some of them take no less than fifty days to reach 
the place of their destination ; and, as the medium 
of their rate of travelling may be estimated at about 
eighteen miles a day, the extent of their journey 
may be easily computed. As both the time of their 
outset, and their route, are known, they are met by 
the people of all the countries through which they 
travel, who trade with them. Indian goods of every 
kind form a considerable article in this traffic, in 
exchange for which the chief commodity they can 
give is slaves. Part vi. 

As the journeys of the caravans, which are purely 
commercial, do not commence at stated seasons, 
and their routes vary according to the convenience 
or fancy of the merchants of whom they are com¬ 
posed, a description cannot be given of them with 
the same degree of accuracy as of the great cara¬ 
vans which visit Mecca. But by attending to the 


accounts of some authors, and the occasional hints 
of others, sufficient information may be gathered to 
satisfy us, that the circulation of eastern goods by 
these caravans is very extensive. The same inter¬ 
course which was anciently kept up by the pro¬ 
vinces in the north-east of Asia with Indostan and 
China, and which T formerly described, still sub¬ 
sists. Among all the numerous tribes of Tartars, 
even of those which retain their pastoral manners 
in greatest purity, the demand for the productions 
of these two countries is very considerable. Voy¬ 
ages de Pallas, tom. i. p. 357, &c. tom. ii. p. 422. 
In order to supply them with these, caravans set 
out annually from Boghar,(Hakluyt, vol. i. p.332.,) 
Samarcand, Thibet, and several other places, and 
return with large cargoes of Indian and Chinese 
goods. But the trade carried on between Russia 
and China in this part of Asia is by far the most 
extensive and best known. Some connexion of 
this kind, it is probable, was kept up between 
them from the earliest period, but it increased 
greatly after the interior parts of Russia were ren¬ 
dered more accessible by the conquests of Zingis 
Khan and Tamerlane. The commercial nations of 
Europe were so well acquainted with the mode of 
carrying on this trade, that soon after the Portu¬ 
guese had opened the communication with the East 
by the Cape of Good Hope, an attempt was made, 
in order to diminish the advantages which they de¬ 
rived from this discovery, to prevail on the Russians 
to convey Indian and Chinese commodities through 
the whole extent of their empire, partly by land- 
carriage and partly by means of navigable rivers, 
to some port on the Baltic, from which they might 
be distributed through every part of Europe. Ra- 
musio Raccolto da Viaggi, vol. i. p. 374. B. Hist, 
du Commerce de la Russie, par M. Schreder, tom. 
i. p. 13,14. This scheme, too great for the monarch 
then on the throne of Russia to carry into execu¬ 
tion, was rendered practicable by the conquests of 
Ivan Basilowitz, and the genius of Peter the Great. 
Though the capitals of the two empires were situated 
at the immense distance of six thousand three hun¬ 
dred and seventy-eight miles from each other, and 
the route lay for above four hundred miles through 
an uninhabited desert, (Bell’s Travels, vol. ii. p. 
167.,) caravans travelled from the one to the other. 
But though it had been stipulated, when this inter¬ 
course was established, that the number of persons 
in each caravan should not exceed two hundred, 
and though they were shut up within the walls of a 
caravanserai during the short time they were suf¬ 
fered to remain in Pekin, and were allowed to deal 
only with a few merchants, to whom a monopoly of 
the trade with them had been granted ; yet, not¬ 
withstanding all these restraints and precautions, 
the jealous vigilance with which the Chinese go¬ 
vernment excludes foreigners from a free intercourse 
with its subjects, w^as alarmed, and the admission 
of the Russian caravans into the empire was soon 
prohibited. After various negociations an expedi- 






1175 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


ent was at length devised, by which the advantages 
of mutual commerce were secured, without infring¬ 
ing the cautious arrangements of Chinese policy. 
On the boundary of the two empires, two small 
towns were built almost contiguous, Kiachta inha¬ 
bited by Russians, and Maimatschin by Chinese. 
To these all the marketable productions of their 
respective countries are brought by the subjects of 
each empire; and the furs, the linen and woollen 
cloth, the leather, the glass, &c. of Russia, are ex¬ 
changed for the silk, the cotton, the tea, the rice, 
the to} s, &c. ot China. By some well judged con¬ 
cessions of the sovereign now seated on the throne 
of Russia, whose enlarged mind is superior to the 
illiberal maxims of many of her predecessors, this 
trade is rendered so flourishing, that its amount an¬ 
nually is not less than eight hundred thousand 
pounds sterling, and it is the only trade which Chi¬ 
na carries on almost entirely by barter. Mr. Coxe, 
in his account of the Russian discoveries, has col¬ 
lected, with his usual attention and discernment, 
every thing relative to this branch of trade, the 
nature and extent of which were little known in 
Europe. Part ii. chap. ii. iii. iv. Nor is Kiachta 
the only place where Russia receives Chinese and 
Indian commodities. A considerable supply of 
both is brought by caravans of independent Tartars 
to Orenburg, on the river Jaik, Voyage de Pallas, 
tom. i. p. 355, &c., to Troitzkaia, on the river Oui, 
and to other places which I might mention. I have 
entered into this long detail concerning the mode 
in which the productions in India and China are 
circulated through Russia, as it affords the most 
striking instance, I know, of the great extent to 
which valuable commodities may be conveyed by 
land-carriage. 

Note LV. Sect. IV. p. 1124. 

The only voyage of discovery in the Atlantic 
ocean tow ards the south, by any of the ancient com¬ 
mercial states in the Mediterranean, is that of Hanno, 
undertaken by order of the republic of Carthage. 
As the situation of that city, so much nearer the 
straits than Tyre, Alexandria, and the other seats of 
ancient trade which have been mentioned, gave it 
more immediate access to the ocean ; that circum¬ 
stance, together with the various settlements which 
the Carthaginians had made in different provinces of 
Spain, naturally suggested to them this enterprise, 
and afforded them the prospect of considerable ad¬ 
vantages from its success. The voyage of Hanno, 
instead of invalidating, seems to confirm, the just¬ 
ness of the reasons which have been given, why no 
similar attempt was made by the other commercial 
states in the Mediterranean. 

Note LVI. Sect. IV. p. 1125. 

Though the intelligent authors whom I have 
quoted considered this voyage of the Phenicians as 
fabulous, Herodotus mentions a circumstance con¬ 
cerning it which seems to prove that it had really 


been performed. “ The Phenicians,” says he, 
“ affirmed that, in sailing round Africa, they had 
the sun on their right hand, which to me appears 
not to be credible, though it may be deemed so by 
others.” Lib. iv. c. 42. This, it is certain, must 
have happened, if they really accomplished such a 
voyage. The science of astronomy, however, was 
in that early period so imperfect, that it was by ex¬ 
perience only that the Phenicians could come at 
the know ledge of this fact; they durst not, without 
this, have ventured to assert what would have ap¬ 
peared to bean improbable fiction. Even after what 
they related, Herodotus disbelieved it. 

Note LVII. Sect. IV. p. 1127. 

Notwithstanding this increasing demand for 
the productions of India, it is remarkable that dur¬ 
ing the sixteenth century some commodities which 
are now the chief articles of importation from the 
East, were either altogether unknown, or of little 
account. Tea, the importation of which, at present, 
far exceeds that of any other production of the East, 
has not been in general use in any country of Europe 
a full century ; and yet, during that short period, 
from soipe singular caprice of taste, or power of 
fashion, the infusion of a leaf brought from the 
furthest extremity of the earth, of which it is per¬ 
haps the highest praise to say that it is innoxious, 
has become almost a necessary of life in several 
parts of Europe, and the passion for it descends 
from the most elevated to the lowest orders in society. 
In 1785 it was computed that the whole quantity of 
tea imported into Europe from China was about 
nineteen millions of pounds, of w hich it is conjec¬ 
tured that twelve millions were consumed in Great 
Britain and the dominions depending upon it. 
Dodsley’s Annual Register for 1784 and 1785, p. 
156. In 1789 twenty-one millions of pounds were 
imported. The porcelain of China, now as common 
in many parts of Europe as if it were of domestic 
manufacture, was not known to the ancients. Marco 
Polo is the first among the moderns who mentions 
it. The Portuguese began to import it not long after 
their first voyage to China, A. D. 1517 ; but it was 
a considerable time before the use of it became 
extensive. 

Note LVIII. Sect. IV. p. 1133. 

According to all the writers of antiquity, the 
Indians are said to be divided into seven tribes or 
casts. Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1029. C. &c. Diod. Sicul. 
lib. ii. p. 153, &c. Arrian, Indie, c. 10. They were 
led into this error, it is probable, by considering 
some of the subdivisions of the casts, as if they had 
been a distinct independent order. But that there 
were no more than four original casts, we learn 
from the concurring testimony of the best informed 
modern travellers. A more distinct account of these 
we have in “ La Porte Ouverte, ou La vraye Repre¬ 
sentation de la Vie, des Moeurs, de la Religion, et 
du Service, des Brahmines, qui demeurent sur les 



DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


Costes de Choromandel,” &c. This was compiled 
before the middle of last century, by Abraham 
Roger, chaplain of the Dutch factory at Pullicate. 
By gaining the confidence of an intelligent Brah¬ 
min, he acquired information concerning the man¬ 
ners and religion of the Indians, more authentic 
and extensive than was known to Europeans prior to 
the late translations from the Sanskreet language. 
I mention this book, because it seems to be less 
known than it deserves to be. There remains now 
no doubt with respect either to the number or the 
functions of the casts, as both are ascertained from 
the most ancient and sacred books of the Hindoos, 
and confirmed by the accounts of their own institu¬ 
tions, given by Brahmins eminent for their learning. 
According to them, the different casts proceeded 
from Brahma, the immediate agent of the creation 
under the Supreme Power, in the following manner, 
which establishes both the rank which they were to 
hold, and the office which they were required to 
perform. 

The Brahmin, from the mouth (wisdom): To pray, 
to read, to instruct. 

The Chehetree, from the arms (strength): To draw 
the bow, to fight, to govern. 

The Bice, from the belly or thighs (nourishment) : 
To provide the necessaries of life by agriculture 
and traffic. 

The Sooder, from the feet (subjection) : To labour, 
to serve. 

The prescribed occupations of all these classes 
are essential in a well regulated state. Subordinate 
to them is a fifth, or adventitious class, denominated 
Burrun Sunkur, supposed to be the offspring of an 
unlawful union between persons of different casts. 
These are mostly dealers in petty articles of retail 
trade. Preface to the Code of Gentoo Laws, p. xlvi. 
and xeix. This adventitious class is not mentioned, 
as far as I know, by any European author. The 
distinction was too nice to be observed by them, 
and they seem to consider the members of this cast 
as belonging to the Sooder. Besides these acknow¬ 
ledged casts, there is a race of unhappy men, deno¬ 
minated, on the Coromandel coast, Pariars, and in 
other parts of India, Chanda/as. These are outcasts 
from their original order, who by their misconduct 
have forfeited all the privileges of it. Their condi¬ 
tion is, undoubtedly, the lowest degradation of 
human nature. No person of any cast will have the 
least communication with them. Sonnerat, tom. i. 
p. 55, 56. If a Pariar approach a Nayr, i. c. a 
warrior of high cast, on the Malabar coast, he may 
put him to death with impunity. Water or milk are 
considered as defiled even by their shadow passing 
over them, and cannot be used until they are puri¬ 
fied. Ayeen Akbery, vol. iii. p. 243. It is almost 
impossible for words to express the sensation of 
vileness that the name of Pariar or Chandala con¬ 
veys to the mind of a Hindoo. Every Hindoo who 


violates the rules or institutions of his cast sinks 
into this degraded situation. This it is which ren¬ 
ders Hindoos so resolute in adhering to the institu¬ 
tions of their tribe, because the loss of cast is, to 
them, the loss of all human comfort and respecta¬ 
bility; and is a punishment, beyond comparison, 
more severe than excommunication in the most 
triumphant period of papal power. 

The four original casts are named, and their 
functions described, in the Mahabarat, the most 
ancient book of the Hindoos, and of higher au¬ 
thority than any with which Europeans are hitherto 
acquainted. Baghvat-Geeta, p. 130. The same dis¬ 
tinction of casts was known to the author of Heeto- 
pades, another work of considerable antiquity, 
translated from the Sanskreet, p. 251. 

The mention of one circumstance respecting the 
distinction of casts has been omitted in the text. 
Though the line of separation be so drawn, as to 
render the ascent from an inferior to a higher cast 
absolutely impossible, and it would be regarded as 
a most enormous impiety if one in a lower order 
should presume to perform any function belonging 
to those of a superior cast; yet in certain cases, the 
Pundits declare it to be law ful for persons of a high 
class to exercise some of the occupations allotted to 
a class below their own, without losing their cast 
by doing so. Pref. of Pundits to the Code of Gentoo 
Laws, p. 100. Accordingly we find Brahmins em¬ 
ployed in the service of their princes, not only as 
ministers of state, Orme’s Fragments, p. 207., but in 
subordinate stations. Most of the officers of high 
rank in the army of Sevagi, the founder of the 
Mahratta state, were Brahmins, and some of them 
Pundits or learned Brahmins. Ibid. p. 97. Hurry 
Punt and Purserain Bhow, who commanded the 
Mahratta forces which acted in conjunction with 
the army of lord Cornwallis against Tippoo Saib, 
were Brahmins. Many sepoys in the service of the 
East India Company, particularly in the Bengal 
presidency, are of the Brahmin cast. 

Another fact concerning the casts deserves notice. 
An immense number of pilgrims, amounting in 
some years to more than 150,000, visit the pagoda 
of Jaggernaut in Orissa, (one of the most ancient 
and most revered places of Hindoo worship,) at the 
time of the annual festival in honour of the deity to 
whom the temple is consecrated. The members of 
all the four casts are allowed promiscuously to ap¬ 
proach the altar of the idle, and seating themselves 
without distinction, eat indiscriminately of the same 
food. This seems to indicate some remembrance of 
a state prior to the institutions of casts, when all 
men were considered as equal. I have not such 
information as enables me to account for a practice 
so repugnant to the first ideas and principles of the 
Hindoos, either sacred or civil. Bernier, tom. ii. 
p. 102. Tavernier, book ii. c. 9. Anquetil, Disc. 
Prelim, p. 81. Sketches, p. 96. 

Some of my readers must have observed, that I 
have not mentioned the numerous orders of Indian 






1177 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


devotees, to all of whom European writers gave the 
appellation of Faquirs ; a name by which the Ma- 
homedans distinguish fanatical monks of their own 
religion. The light in which I have viewed the re¬ 
ligious institutions of the Hindoos, did not render 
it necessary that I should consider the Indian fa¬ 
quirs particularly. Their number, the rigour of 
their mortifications, the excruciating penances which 
they voluntarily undergo, and the high opinion which 
the people entertain of their sanctity, have struck all 
travellers who had visited India, and their descrip¬ 
tions of them are well known. The powerful influ¬ 
ence of enthusiasm, the love of distinction, and the 
desire of obtaining some portion of that reverence 
and those honours which the Brahmins are born to 
enjoy, may account for all the extraordinary things 
which they do and suffer. One particular concern¬ 
ing them merits notice. This order of devotees 
appears to have been very ancient in India. The 
description of the Germani , which Strabo takes from 
Megasthenes, applies almost in every circumstance 
to the modern faquirs. Lib. xv. p. 1040. B. 

Note LIX. P. 1133. 

What I have asserted in the text is in general 
well founded. It is the opinion, however, of gen¬ 
tlemen who have seen much of India, and who ob¬ 
served all they saw with a discerning eye, that the 
conquests both of the Mahomedans and of the Eu¬ 
ropeans have had some effect upon the manners and 
customs of the natives. They imagine that the dress 
which the Hindoos now wear, the turban, the jum- 
mah, and long drawers, is an imitation of that worn 
by their Mahomedan conquerors. The ancient 
dress of the Indians, as described by Arrian, Hist. 
Indie, c. 16., was a muslin cloth thrown loosely 
about their shoulders, a muslin shirt reaching to the 
middle of the leg, and their beards were dyed various 
colours ; which is not the same with that used at 
present. The custom of secluding women, and the 
strictness with which they are confined, is likewise 
supposed to have been introduced by the Mahome¬ 
dans. This supposition is in some measure con¬ 
firmed by the drama of Sacontala, translated from 
the Sanskreet. In that play several female charac¬ 
ters are introduced, who mingle in society, and con¬ 
verse as freely with men, as women are accustomed 
to do in Europe. The author, we may presume, 
describes the manners, and adheres to the customs, 
of his own age. But while I mention this remark, 
it is proper likewise to observe, that, from a passage 
in Strabo, there is reason to think, that in the age 
of Alexander the Great women in India were guard¬ 
ed with the same jealous attention as at present. 
“ When their princes ” (says he, copying Megas¬ 
thenes) “ set out upon a public hunt, they are ac¬ 
companied by a number of their women, but along 
the road in which they travel ropes are stretched on 
each side, and if any man approach near to them, 
lie is instantly put to death.” Lib. xv. p. 1037. A. 
In some parts of India, where the original manners 


of the people may be supposed to subsist in greatest 
purity, particularly in the high country towards the 
sources of the Indus, women of rank reside in pri¬ 
vate apartments, secluded from society. Forster's 
Travels, vol. i. p.228. Women even of the Brahmin 
cast appear in the streets without a veil; and it is 
only, as I am informed, in the houses of persons of 
high rank or great opulence, that a distinct quarter 
or haram is allotted to the women. The influence 
of European manners begins to be apparent among 
the Hindoos who reside in the town of Calcutta. 
Some of them drive about in English chariots, sit 
upon chairs, and furnish their houses with mirrors. 
Many circumstances might be mentioned, were this 
the proper place, which, it is probable, will contri¬ 
bute to the progress of this spirit of imitation. 

Note LX. P. 1134. 

It is amusing to observe how exactly the ideas of 
an intelligent Asiatic coincide with those of the 
Europeans on this subject. “ In reflecting,” says 
he, “ upon the poverty of Turan (the countries be¬ 
yond the Oxus) and Arabia, I was at first at a loss 
to assign a reason why these countries have never 
been able to retain wealth, whilst, on the contrary, 
it is daily increasing in Indostan. Timour carried 
into Turan the riches of Turkey, Persia, and Indos¬ 
tan, but they are all dissipated ; and, during the 
reigns of the first four caliphs, Turkey, Persia, partof 
Arabia, Ethiopia, Egypt, and Spain, were their tri¬ 
butaries ; but still they were not rich. It is evident 
then, that this dissipation of the riches of a state 
must have happened either from extraordinary 
drains, or from some defect in the government. In¬ 
dostan has been frequently plundered by foreign in¬ 
vaders, and not one of its kings ever gained for it 
any acquisition of wealth ; neither has the country 
many mines of gold and silver, and yet Indostan 
abounds in money and every other kind of wealth. 
The abundance of specie is undoubtedly owdng to 
the large importation of gold and silver in the ships 
of Europe, and other nations, many of whom bring 
ready money in exchange for the manufactures 
and natural productions of the country. If this is 
not the cause of the prosperous state of Indostan, it 
must be owing to the peculiar blessing of God.” 
Memoirs of Kojeh Abdul-kureem, a Cashmerian of 
distinction, p. 42. 

Note LXI. P. 1135. 

That the monarchs of India were the sole propri¬ 
etors of land, is asserted in most explicit terms by 
the ancients. The people (say they) pay a land-tax 
to their kings, because the whole kingdom is regal 
property. Strabo, lib. xv. p. 1030. A. Diod. Sicul. 
lib. ii. p. 153. This was not peculiar to India. In 
all the great monarchies of the East, the sole pro¬ 
perty of land seems to be vested in the sovereign as 
lord paramount. According to Chardin, this is the 
state of property in Persia, and lands were let by 
the monarch to the farmers who cultivated them, on 



1178 DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA, 

conditions nearly resembling those granted to the 


Indian ryots. Voyages, tom. iii. p. 339. &c. 4to. 
M. Volney gives a similar account of the tenure by 
which lands are held in one of the great provinces of 
the Turkish empire. Voyage en Syrie, &c. tom. ii. p. 
369, &c. The precise mode, however, in which the 
ryots of Indostan held their possessions, is a cir¬ 
cumstance in its ancient political constitution, with 
respect to which gentlemen of superior discernment, 
who have resided long in the country, and filled 
some of the highest stations in government, have 
formed very different opinions. Some have ima¬ 
gined that grants of land were made by the sove¬ 
reign to villages or small communities, the inhabit¬ 
ants of which, under the direction of their own 
chiefs or heads-men, laboured it in common, and 
divided the produce of it among them in certain 
proportions. Descript, de bind. parM. Bernouilli, 
tom. ii. 223, &c. Others maintain, that the property 
of land has been transferred from the crown to here¬ 
ditary officers of great eminence and power, deno¬ 
minated Zemindars, who collect the rents from the 
ryots, and parcel out the lands among them. Others 
contend, that the office of Zemindars is temporary 
and ministerial, that they are merely collectors of 
revenue, removable at pleasure, and the tenure by 
which the ryots hold their possessions is derived 
immediately from the sovereign. This last opinion 
is supported with great ability by Mr. Grant, in an 
Inquiry into the Nature of Zemindary Tenures in the 
landed Property of Bengal, &c. This question still 
continues to be agitated in Bengal, and such plau¬ 
sible arguments have been produced in support of 
the different opinions, that although it be a point 
extremely interesting, as the future system of 
British finance in India appears likely to hinge, in 
an essential degree, upon it, persons well acquaint¬ 
ed with the state of India have not been able to form 
a final and satisfactory opinion on this subject. 
Captain Kirkpatrick’s Introd. to the Institutes of 
Ghazan Khan, New Asiatic Miscel. N°. II. p. 130. 
Though the sentiments of the Committee of Revenue, 
composed of persons eminent for their abilities, lean 
to a conclusion against the hereditary right of the 
Zemindars in the soil, yet the Supreme Council, 
in the year 1786, declined, for good reasons, to 
give any decisive judgment on a subject of such 
magnitude.—This note was sent to the press before 
I had it in my power to peruse Mr. Rouse’s ingeni¬ 
ous and instructive dissertation concerning the 
landed property of Bengal. In it he adopts an 
opinion contrary to that of Mr. Grant, and maintains, 
with that candour and liberality of sentiment which 
are always conspicuous where there is no other 
object in view but the discovery of truth, that the 
Zemindars of Bengal possessed their landed pro¬ 
perty by hereditary right. Were I possessed of 
such knowledge either of the state of India, or of 
the system of administration established there, as 
would be requisite for comparing these different 
theories, and determining which of them merits the 


preference, the subject of my researches does not 
render it necessary to enter into such a disquisition. 
I imagine, however, that the state of landed pro¬ 
perty in India might be greatly illustrated by an 
accurate comparison of it with the nature of feu¬ 
dal tenures; and I apprehend that there might be 
traced there a succession of changes taking place 
in much the same order as has been observed in 
Europe, from which it might appear, that the 
possession of land was granted at first during 
pleasure, afterwards for life, and at length be¬ 
came perpetual and hereditary property^ But even 
under this last form, when land is acquired either 
by purchase or inheritance, the manner in which 
the right of property is confirmed and rendered 
complete, in Europe by a charter, in India by a 
Sunnud from the sovereign, seems to point out 
what was its original state. According to each of 
the theories which I have mentioned, the tenure 
and condition of the ryots nearly resembles the 
description which I have given of them. Their 
state, we learn from the accounts of intelligent ob¬ 
servers, is as happy and independent as falls to the 
lot of any race of men employed in the cultivation 
of the earth. The ancient Greek and Roman 
writers, whose acquaintance with the interior parts 
of Tndia was very imperfect, represent the fourth 
part of the annual produce of land as the general 
average of rent paid to the sovereign. Upon the au¬ 
thority of a popular author who flourished in India 
prior to the Christian aera, we may conclude that the 
sixth part of the people’s income was, in his time, the 
usual portion of the sovereign. Sacontala, Act v. 
p. 53. It is now known that what the sovereign re¬ 
ceives from land varies greatly in different parts of 
the country, and is regulated by the fertility or 
barrenness of the soil, the nature of the climate, the 
abundance or scarcity of water, and many other ob¬ 
vious circumstances. By the account given of it, I 
should imagine that, in some districts, it has been 
raised beyond its due proportion. One circumstance 
with respect to the administration of revenue in Ben¬ 
gal merits notice, as it redounds to the honour of the 
emperor Akber, the wisdom of whose government I 
have often had occasion to celebrate. A general and 
regular assessment of revenue in Bengal was form¬ 
ed in his reign. All the lands were then valued, 
and the rent of each inhabitant and of each village 
ascertained. A regular gradation of accounts was 
established. The rents of the different inhabitants 
who lived in one neighbourhood being collected 
together, formed the account of a village ; the rents 
of several villages being next collected into one 
view, formed the accounts of a larger portion of 
land. The aggregate of these accounts exhibited 
the rent of a district, and the sum total of the rents 
of all the districts in Bengal formed the account 
of the revenue of the whole province. From the 
reign of Akber to the government of Jaffeer Ali 
Cawn, A. D. 1757, the annual amount of revenue, 
and the modes of levying it, continued with little 




NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1179 


variation. But in order to raise the sum which he 
had stipulated to pay the English on his elevation, 
he departed from the wise arrangements of Akber; 
many new modes of assessment were introduced, 
and exactions multiplied. 

Note LXII. P. 1136. 

I shall mention only one instance of their atten¬ 
tion to this useful regulation of police. Lahore, in 
the Panjab, is distant from Agra, the ancient capi¬ 
tal of Indostan, five hundred miles. Along each 
side of the road between these two great cities, there 
is planted a continued row of shady trees., forming 
an avenue, to which (whether we consider its ex¬ 
tent, its beauty, or utility in a hot climate) there 
is nothing similar in any country. Rennell's Me¬ 
moir, p. 69. 

Note LXTII. P. 1136. 

We cannot place the equitable and mild govern¬ 
ment of Akber in a point of view' more advantage¬ 
ous, than by contrasting it with the conduct of other 
Mahomedan princes. In no country did this con¬ 
trast ever appear more striking than in India. In 
the thousandth year of the Christian aera, Mahmud 
of Ghazna, to whose dominion were subjected the 
same countries which formed the ancient kingdom 
of Bactria, invaded Indostan. Every step of his 
progress in it was marked with blood and desola¬ 
tion. The most celebrated pagodas, the ancient 
monuments of Hindoo devotion and magnificence, 
were destroyed, the ministers of religion were mas¬ 
sacred, and with undistinguishing ferocity the coun¬ 
try was laid waste, and the cities were plundered 
and burnt. About four hundred years after Mah¬ 
mud, Timur, or Tamerlane, a conqueror of higher 
fame, turned his irresistible arms against Indostan ; 
and though born in an age more improved, he not 
only equalled, but often so far surpassed the cruel 
deeds of Mahmud, as to be justly branded with the 
odious name of the “ Destroying Prince,” which 
was given to him by the Hindoos, the undeserving 
victims of his rage. A rapid but striking descrip¬ 
tion of their devastations may be found in Mr. 
Orme’s Dissertation on Establishments made by the 
Mahomedan Conquerors in Indostan. A more full 
account of them is given by Mr. Gibbon, vol. v. p. 
646. vol. vi. p. 339, &c. The arrogant contempt 
with which bigoted Mahomedans view all the na¬ 
tions who have not embraced the religion of the 
prophet, will account for the unrelenting rigour of 
Mahmud and Timur towards the Hindoos, and 
greatly enhances the merit of the tolerant spirit and 
moderation with which Akber governed his sub¬ 
jects. What impression the mild administration of 
Akber made upon the Hindoos, we learn from a 
beautiful letter of Jesswant Sing, rajah of Joud- 
pore, to Aurengzebe, his fanatical and persecuting 
suecessdr. “ Your royal ancestor, Akber, whose 
throne is now in heaven, conducted the affairs of 
this empire in equity and firm security for the space 


of fifty-two years, preserving every tribe of men in 
ease and happiness ; whether they were followers 
of Jesus or of Moses, of David or of Mahomed; 
were they Brahmins, were they of the sect of 
Dharins, which denies the eternity of matter, or 
of that which ascribes the existence of the world to 
chance, they all equally enjoyed his countenance 
and favour; insomuch that his people, in gratitude 
for the indiscriminate protection which he afforded 
them, distinguished him by the appellation of Juggot 
Grow , Guardian of Mankind.—If your majesty 
places any faith in those books, by distinction 
called divine, you will there be instructed that 
God is the God of all mankind, not the God of 
Mahomedans alone. The pagan and the mussulman 
are equally in his presence. Distinctions of colours 
are of his ordination. It is He who gives existence. 
In your temples, to his name, the voice is raised in 
prayer ; in a house of images, where the bell is 
shaken, still He is the object of adoration. To vilify 
the religion and customs of other men, is to set at 
naught the pleasure of the Almighty. When we 
deface a picture, we naturally incur the resentment 
of the painter; and justly has the poet said, ‘ Pre¬ 
sume not to arraign or to scrutinize the various 
works of power divine/ ” For this valuable com¬ 
munication we are indebted to Mr. Orme. Frag¬ 
ments, notes, p. xcvii. I have been assured by a 
gentleman who has read this letter in the original, 
that the translation is not only faithful but elegant. 

Note LXIY. P. 1139. 

I have not attempted a description of any sub¬ 
terraneous excavations but those of Eleplianta, be¬ 
cause none of them have been so often visited, or 
so carefully inspected. In several parts of India 
there are, however, stupendous works of a similar 
nature. The extent and magnificence of the exca¬ 
vations in the island of Salsetta are such that the 
artist employed by governor Boon to make draw¬ 
ings of them asserted, that it would require the la¬ 
bour of forty thousand men for forty years to finish 
them. Archaeologia, vol. vii. p. 336. Loose as 
this mode of estimation may be, it conveys an idea 
of the impression which the view of them made 
upon his mind. The pagodas of Ellore, eighteen 
miles from Aurungabad, are likewise hewn out of 
the solid rock, and if they do not equal those of 
Elephanta and Salsetta in magnitude, they surpass 
them far in their extent and number. M. Thevenot, 
who first gave any description of these singular 
mansions, asserts, that for above two leagues all 
around the mountain nothing is to be seen but pa¬ 
godas. Voy. part iii. chap. 44. They were exa¬ 
mined at greater leisure and with more attention by 
M. Anquetil du Perron ; but as his long description 
of them is not accompanied with any plan or drawing, 
I cannot convey a distinct idea of the whole. It is 
evident, however, that they are the works of a pow¬ 
erful people, and among the innumerable figures in 
sculpture with which the walls are covered, all the 





DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


present objects of Hindoo worship may be dis¬ 
tinguished. Zend-avestal Disc. Prelim, p. 223. 
There are remarkable excavations in a mountain at 
Mavalipuram near Madras. This mountain is well 
known on the Coromandel coast by the name of the 
Seven Pagodas. A good description of the works 
there, which are magnificent and of high antiquity, 
is given in Asiat. Researches, vol. i. p. 145, &c. Many 
other instances of similar works might be produced 
if it were necessary. What I have asserted, p. 
1139. concerning the elegance of some of the orna¬ 
ments in Indian buildings, is confirmed by colonel 
Call, chief engineer at Madras, who urges this as a 
proof of the early and high civilization of the In¬ 
dians. “ It may safely be pronounced/’ says he, 
“ that no part of the world has more marks of an¬ 
tiquity for arts, sciences, and civilization, than the 
peninsula of India, from the Ganges to Cape Co¬ 
morin. I think the carvings on some of the pago¬ 
das and choultries, as well as the grandeur of the 
work, exceeds any thing now-a-days, not only for 
the delicacy of the chisel, but the expense or con¬ 
struction, considering in many instances, to what 
distances the component parts were carried, and to 
what heights raised.” Philosophical Transactions, 
vol. Ixii. p. 354. I am happy to find my idea, that 
the first temples erected by the Hindoos were form¬ 
ed upon the model of those caverns in which the 
rites of religion were originally celebrated, con¬ 
firmed and more fully unfolded by Mr. Hodges. In 
a short dissertation on the primitive standard, or 
prototype of the different styles of architecture, 
viz. the Egyptian, Hindoo, Moorish, Gothic, and 
Chinese, he has examined and illustrated that cu¬ 
rious subject with great ingenuity. Travels in 
India, p. 63—77. 

Note LXV. P. 1140. 

India, says Strabo, produces a variety of sub¬ 
stances which dye the most admirable colours. 
That the Indicum which produced the beautiful 
blue colour, is the same with the Indigo of the mo¬ 
derns, we may conclude, not only from the resem¬ 
blance of the name, and the similarity of the effects, 
but from the description given by Pliny in the pass¬ 
age which I have quoted in the text. He knew 
that it was a preparation of a vegetable substance, 
though he was ill informed both concerning the 
plant itself, and the process by which it was fitted 
for use ; which will not appear surprising, when we 
recollect the account formerly given of the strange 
ignorance of the ancients with respect to the origin 
and preparation of silk. From the colour of indigo, 
in the form in which it was imported, it is denomi¬ 
nated by some authors, Atramentum Indicum , and 
Indicum Nigrum , Salmas. Exereit. p. 180. ; and is 
mentioned under the last of these names, among 
the articles of importation from India. Peripl. 
Mar. Erythr. p. 22. The colour of the modern in¬ 
digo when undiluted, resembles that of ancient 
indicum, being so intensely coloured as to appear 


black. Delaval’s Experim. Inquiry into the Cause 
of the Changes of Colours, Pref. p. xxiii. Indigo 
is the principal dye-stuff used by the natives of 
Sumatra, and is much cultivated in that island ; 
but the mode of preparing it differs from that which 
is common among the people of Indostan. Marsden, 
Hist, of Sumatra, p. 77. There has been lately 
found in the Circar of Rajamundry a new species 
of indigo, denominated the tree indigo , which, as it 
grows wild and in great abundance, promises to be 
a discovery of considerable use. Oriental Reper¬ 
tory, No. I. p. 39, &c. The gum-lacca, used in dye¬ 
ing a red colour, was likewise known to the ancients, 
and by the same name which it now bears. Salmas. 
Exereit. p. 810. This valuable substance, of such 
extensive utility in painting, dyeing, japanning, var¬ 
nishing, and in the manufacture of sealing-wax, is 
the production of a very minute insect. These in¬ 
sects fix themselves upon the succulent extremities 
of the branches of certain trees, and are soon glued 
to the place on which they settle, by a thick pellucid 
liquid which exudes from their bodies, the gra¬ 
dual accumulation of which forms a complete cell 
for each insect, which is the tomb of the parent, 
and the birth-place of its offspring. This glutinous 
substance, with which the branches of trees are en¬ 
tirely covered, is the gum-lacca. An account of 
its formation, nature, and use, is given in the Phi¬ 
los. Trans, vol. Ixxi. part. ii. p. 374., in a concise, 
accurate, and satisfactory manner. Some curious 
observations upon this insect are published by Mr. 
Roxburgh, who cultivates the study of Natural 
History in India with great assiduity and success. 
Asiatic Researches, vol. iii. p. 361. It is remark¬ 
able thatCtesias seems to have received an account 
tolerably distinct of the insect by which the gum- 
lacca is produced, and celebrates the beauty of the 
colour which it dies. Excerpta ex Indie, ad calc. 
Herodot. edit. Wesseling, p. 830. Indian dgers, 
was the ancient name of those who dyed either 
the fine blue or the fine red, which points out the 
country whence the materials they used were 
brought. Salmas, ib. p. 810. From their dyeing 
cotton stuffs with different colours, it is evident that 
the ancient Indians must have made some consider¬ 
able proficiency in chemical knowledge. Pliny, 
lib. xxxv. c. ii. § 42, gives an account of this art as 
far as it was known anciently. It is precisely the 
same with that now practised in calico-printing. 

Note LXVI. P. 1143. 

As Sanskreet literature is altogether a new ac¬ 
quisition to Europe, Baghvat-Geeta, the first trans¬ 
lation from that language, having been published 
so late as A. D. 1785, it is intimately connected 
with the subject of my inquiries, and may afford 
entertainment to some of my readers, after having 
reviewed in the text, with a greater degree of criti- 
cal attention, the two Sanskreet works most worthy 
of notice, to give here a succinct account of other 
compositions in that tongue with which we have 



1181 


NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


been made acquainted. The extensive use of the 
Sanskreet language is a circumstance which merits 
particular attention. “ The grand source of Indian 
literature,” (says Mr. Halhed, the first Englishman 
who acquired the knowledge of Sanskreet,) “ the 
parent of almost every dialect from the Persian gulf 
to the China seas, is the Sanskreet, a language of 
the most venerable and unfathomable antiquity ; 
which, although at present shut up in the libraries 
of Brahmins, and appropriated solely to the records 
of their religion, appears to have been current over 
most of the oriental world ; and traces of its original 
extent may still be discovered in almost every dis¬ 
trict of Asia. I have been often astonished to find 
the similitude of Sanskreet words with those of 
Persian and Arabic, and even of Latin and Greek ; 
and those not in technical and metaphorical terms, 
which the mutation of refined arts and improved 
manners might have occasionally introduced, but 
in the ground-work of language, in monosyllables, 
in the names of numbers, and the appellations of 
such things as would be first discriminated on the 
immediate dawn of civilization. The resemblance 
which may be observed in the characters on the 
medals and signets of various districts of Asia, the 
light which they reciprocally reflect upon each 
other, and the general analogy which they all bear 
to the same grand prototype, afford another ample 
field for curiosity. The coins of Assam, Napaul, 
Cashmeere, and many other kingdoms, are all 
stamped with Sanskreet characters, and mostly con¬ 
tain allusions to the old Sanskreet mythology. The 
same conformity I have observed on the impressions 
of seals from Bootan and Thibet. A collateral in¬ 
ference may likewise be deduced from the peculiar 
arrangement of the Sanskreet alphabet, so very dif¬ 
ferent from that of any other quarter of the world. 
This extraordinary mode of combination still exists 
in the greatest part of the East, from the Indus to 
Pegu, in dialects now apparently unconnected, and 
in characters completely dissimilar ; and it is a 
forcible argument that they are all derived from the 
same source. Another channel of speculation pre¬ 
sents itself in the names of persons and places, of 
titles and dignities, which are opened to general 
notice, and in which, to the furthest limits of Asia, 
may be found manifest traces of the Sanskreet. ’ 
Preface to the Grammar of the Bengal Language, 
p. 3. After this curious account of the Sanskreet 
tongue, I proceed to enumerate the works which 
have been translated from it, besides the two men¬ 
tioned in the text.—1. To Mr. Wilkins we are in¬ 
debted for Hecto-pades or Amicable Instruction , in a 
series of connected fables, interspersed with moral, 
prudential, and political maxims. This work is in 
such high esteem throughout the East, that it has 
been translated into every language spoken there. 
It did not escape the notice of the emperor Akber, 
attentive to every thing that could contribute to 
promote useful knowledge. He directed his vizier, 
Abul Fazel, to put it into a style suited to all capa¬ 


cities, and to illustrate the obscure passages in it, 
which he accordingly did, and gave it the title of 
The Criterion of Wisdom. At length these fables 
made their way into Europe, and have been circu¬ 
lated therewith additions and alterations, under the 
names of Pilpay and Esop. Many of the Sanskreet 
apologues are ingenious and beautiful, and have been 
copied or imitated by the fabulists of other nations. 
But in some of them the characters of the animals 
introduced are very ill sustained. To describe a 
tiger as extremely devout, and practising charity, 
and other religious duties, p. 16. or an old mouse 
well read in the Neetee Sastras , i. e. Systems of 
Morality and Policy, p. 24.; a cat reading religious 
books, p. 35, &c., discovers a w ant of taste, and an 
inattention to propriety. Many of the moral say¬ 
ings, if considered as detached maxims, are found¬ 
ed upon a thorough knowledge of life and manners, 
and convey instruction with elegant simplicity. 
But the attempt of the author to form his work into 
a connected series of fables, and his mode of inter¬ 
weaving with them such a number of moral reflec¬ 
tions in prose and in verse, renders the structure of 
the whole so artificial that the perusal of it becomes 
often unpleasant. Akber was so sensible of this, 
that among other instructions, he advises his vizier 
to abridge the long digressions in that work. By 
these strictures it is far from my intention to de¬ 
tract in the smallest degree from the merit of Mr. 
Wilkins. His country is much indebted to him 
for having opened a new source of science and 
taste. The celebrity of the Heetoo-pades, as w ell 
as its intrinsic merit, notwithstanding the defects 
which I have mentioned, justify his choice of it, as 
a work worthy of being made known to Europe in 
its original form. From reading this and his other 
translations, no man will refuse him the praise, to 
which he modestly confines his pretensions, “ of hav¬ 
ing drawn a picture which we suppose to be a true 
likeness, although we are unacquainted with the ori¬ 
ginal.” Pref. p. xiv.—2. In the first number of the 
New Asiatic Miscellany, we have a translation of a 
celebrated composition in the East, known by the 
title of the Five Gems. It consists of stanzas by five 
poets who attended the court of Abissura, king of 
Bengal. Some of these stanzas are simple and 
elegant.—3. An ode translated from Wulli; in 
which that extravagance of fancy, and those far¬ 
fetched and unnatural conceits which so often dis¬ 
gust Europeans with the poetical compositions of 
the East, abound too much. The editor has not in¬ 
formed us to whose knowledge of the Sanskreet w e 
are indebted for these two translations.—4. Some 
original grants of land, of very ancient dates, trans¬ 
lated by Mr. Wilkins. It may seem odd, that a 
charter or legal conveyance of property should be 
ranked among the literary compositions of any 
people. But so widely do the manners of the Hin¬ 
doos differ from those of Europe, that as our lawyers 
multiply words and clauses, in order to render a 
grant complete, and to guard against every thing 



1182 


DISQUISITION ON 

that may invalidate it, the Pundits seem to des¬ 
patch the legal part of the deed with brevity, but, 
in a long preamble and conclusion, make an extra¬ 
ordinary display of their own learning, eloquence, 
and powers of composition, both in prose and verse. 
The preamble to one of these deeds is an encomium 
of the monarch who grants the land, in a bold strain 
of Eastern exaggeration : “ When his innumerable 
army marched, the heavens were so tilled with the 
dust of their feet that the birds of the air could 
rest upon it.”—“ His elephants moved like walking 
mountains, and the earth oppressed by their weight 
mouldered into dust.” It concludes with denounc¬ 
ing vengeance against those who should venture to 
infringe this grant: “ Riches and the life of man 
are as transient as drops of water upon the leaf of 
the lotos. Learning this truth, O man! do not 
attempt to deprive another of his property.” Asiatic 
Researches, vol. i. p. 123, &e. The other grant, 
which appears to be still more ancient, is not less 
remarkable. Both were found engraved on plates of 
copper. Ib. p.357, &c.—5. The translation of part 
of the Shaster, published by colonel Dow, in the 
year 1768, ought perhaps to have been first men¬ 
tioned. But as this translation was not made by 
him from the Sanskreet, but taken from the mouth 
of a Brahmin, who explained the Shaster in Per¬ 
sian, or in the vulgar language of Bengal, it will 
fall more properly under notice when we come to 
inquire into the state of science among the Hin¬ 
doos, than in this place, where we are endeavouring 
to give some idea of their taste and composition. 

Note LXVII. P. 1145. 

As many of my readers may be unacquainted 
with the extravagant length of the four asras or 
periods of Indian chronology, it may be proper to 
give an account of them from Mr. Halhed’s Preface 
to the Code of Gentoo Laws, p. xxxvi. 

1. The Suttee Jogue (or age of purity) is said to 
have lasted three million two hundred thousand 
years; and they hold that the life of man was ex¬ 
tended in that age to one hundred thousand years ; 
and that his stature was twenty-one cubits. 

2. The Tirtali Jogue (in which one-third of man¬ 
kind was corrupted) they suppose to have consisted 
of two million four hundred thousand years, and 
that men lived to the age of ten thousand years. 

3. The Dwapaar Jogue (in which half of the 
human race became depraved) endured one million 
six hundred thousand years; and the life of man 
was then reduced to a thousand years. 

4. The Collee Jogue (in which all mankind are 
corrupted, or rather lessened, for that is the true 
meaning of Collee) is the present aera, which they 
suppose ordained to subsist four hundred thousand 
years, of which near five thousand are already 
past; and the life of man in that period is limited 
to one hundred years. 

If we suppose the computation of time in the 
Indian chronology to be made by solar or even by 


ANCIENT INDIA. 

lunar years, nothing can be more extravagant in 
itself, or more repugnant to our mode of calculating 
the duration of the world, founded on sacred and 
infallible authority. Some attempts have been 
made by learned men, particularly by M. Bailly, 
in a very ingenious dissertation on that subject, to 
bring the chronology of the Hindoos to accord 
somewhat better with that of the Old Testament; 
but as I could not explain the principles upon 
which he founds his conclusions, without entering 
into long and intricate discussions foreign from the 
subject of this Dissertation, and as I cannot assent 
to some of his opinions, I shall rest satisfied with 
referring to his Astron. Indienne, Disc. Prelim, p. 
Ixxvii., and leave my readers to judge for them¬ 
selves. I am happy to observe that a memoir on 
the Chronology of the Hindoos will be published 
in the second volume of the Transactions of the 
Society of Bengal, and I hope that some learned 
member of that body will be able, from his ac¬ 
quaintance with the languages and history of the 
country, to throw light upon a subject which its 
connexion with religion and science renders ex¬ 
tremely interesting. From one circumstance how¬ 
ever, which merits attention, we may conclude, 
that the information which we have hitherto re¬ 
ceived concerning the chronology of the Hindoos 
is very incorrect. We have, as far as I know, only 
five original accounts of the different Jogues or 
aeras of the Hindoos. The first is given by M. 
Roger, who received it from the Brahmins on the 
Coromandel coast. According to it, the Suttee 
Jogue is a period of one million seven hundred 
and twenty-eight thousand years ; the Tirtah Jogue 
is one million two hundred and ninety-six thou¬ 
sand years; the Dwapaar Jogue is eight hundred 
and sixty-four thousand years. The duration 
of the Collee Jogue he does not specify. Porte 
Ouverte, p. 179. The next is that of M. Bernier, 
who received it from the Brahmins of Benares. 
According to him, the duration of the Suttee Jogue 
was two million five hundred thousand years ; that 
of Tirtah Jogue one million two hundred thousand 
years ; that of the Dwapaar Jogue is eight hundred 
and sixty-four thousand years. Concerning the 
period of the Collee Jogue, he likewise is silent. 
Voyages, tom. ii. p. 160. The third is that of colo¬ 
nel Dow, according to which the Suttee Jogue is a 
period of fourteen million of years; the Tirtah Jogue 
one million eighty thousand; the Dwapaar Jogue 
seventy-two thousand; and the Collee Jogue thirty- 
six thousand years. Hist, of Hindost. vol. i. p. 2. 
The fourth account is that of M. le Gentil, who 
received it from the Brahmins of the Coromandel 
coast, and as his information was acquired in the 
same part of India, and derived from the same 
source with that of M. Roger, it agrees with his in 
every particular. Mem. de TAcadem. des Sciences 
pour 1772, tom. ii. part i. p. 176. The fifth is the 
account of Mr. Halhed, w'hich I have already given. 
From this discrepancy, not only of the total num- 






NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 


hers, but of many of the articles in the different 
accounts, it is manifest that our information con¬ 
cerning Indian chronology is hitherto as uncertain 
as the whole system of it is wild and fabulous. 
To me it appears highly probable, that when we 
understand more thoroughly the principles upon 
which the factitious aeras or Jogues of the Hin¬ 
doos have been formed, we may be more able to 
reconcile their chronology to the true mode of com¬ 
puting time, founded on the authority of the Old 
Testament; and may likewise find reason to con¬ 
clude, that the account given by their astronomers 
of the situation of the heavenly bodies at the be¬ 
ginning of the Collee Jogue, is not established by 
actual observation, but the result of a retrospective 
calculation. Whoever undertakes to investigate 
further the chronology of the Hindoos, Mali derive 
great assistance from a Memoir of Mr. Marsden on 
that subject, in which he has explained the nature of 
their year, and the several aeras in use among them, 
w ith much ingenuity and precision. Philos. Trans¬ 
act. vol. Ixxx. part ii. p. 560. 

Note LXYIII. P. 1147. 

In the public buildings of India, we find proofs 
and monuments of the proficiency of the Brahmins 
in science, particularly of their attention to astro¬ 
nomical observation. Their religion enjoins, that 
the four sides of a pagoda should face the four 
cardinal points. In order to execute this with 
accuracy, they take a method described by M. le 
Gentil, which discovers a considerable degree of 
science. He carefully examined the position of one 
of their pagodas, and found it to be perfectly ex¬ 
act. Voy. tom. i. p. 133. As some of their pagodas 
are very ancient, they must have early attained such 
a portion of knowledge as was requisite for placing 
them properly. On the ceilings of Choultries, and 
other ancient edifices, the twelve signs of the zodiac 
are often delineated ; and from their resemblance 
to those which are now universally used, it is highly 
probable that the knowledge of these arbitrary 
symbols was derived from the East. Colonel Call 
has published a drawing of the signs of the zodiac, 
which he found on the ceiling of a Choultry at 
Verdapettah, in the Madura country. Phil. Trans¬ 
act. vol. lxii. p. 353. I have a drawing of them in 
my possession, differing from his in some of the 
figures, but I cannot say in what particular place 
it was found. Sir Robert Barker describes an ob¬ 
servatory at Benares, which he visited, A. D. 1772. 
In it he found instruments for astronomical obser¬ 
vation, of very large dimensions, and constructed 
with great skill and ingenuity. Of all these he has 
published drawings. Phil. Transact, vol. lxvii. p. 
598. According to traditionary account, this ob¬ 
servatory was built by the emperor Akber. The- 
view which sir Robert took of it was a hasty one. 
It merits a more attentive inspection, in order to 
determine whether it was constructed by Akber, or 
erected in some more early period. Sir Robert 


« 

intimates, that none but Brahmins who understood 
the Sanskreet, and could consult the astronomical 
tables written in that language, were capable of 
calculating eclipses. P. Tiessenthaler describes, 
in a very cursory manner, two observatories furnish¬ 
ed with instruments of extraordinary magnitude, 
at Jepour and Ougein, in the country of Malwa. 
Bernouilli, tom. i. p. 316. 347. But these are modern 
structures. 


Since the first edition of the Historical Disqui¬ 
sition was published, the Souriak Seddantam, or, 
according to a more correct orthography, the Surya 
Siddhanta, on the principles of which I had ob¬ 
served that all the Indian astronomy is founded, 
has been discovered at Benares by sir Robert Cham¬ 
bers. He immediately communicated this valuable 
work to Samuel Davis, Esq. who has favoured the 
world with a translation of several considerable 
extracts from it. 

The Surya Siddhanta is composed in the San¬ 
skreet language, and professes to be a divine reve¬ 
lation, (as Abul Fazel had related, Ayeen Akbery, 
III. p. 8.,) communicated to mankind more than 
two millions of years ago, towards the close of the 
Sutty or Satya Jogue, the first of the four fabulous 
ages into wdiich the Hindoo mythologists divide the 
period during which they suppose the world to have 
existed. But when this accompaniment of fiction 
and extravagance is removed, there is left behind 
a very rational and elaborate system of astronomical 
calculation. From this Mr. Davis has selected what 
relates to the calculation of eclipses, and has illus¬ 
trated it with great ingenuity. The manner in which 
that subject is treated, has so close an affinity to the 
methods formerly brought from India, and of which 
1 have given some account, as to confirm strongly 
the opinion that the Surya Siddhanta is the source 
from which all the others are derived. How far the 
real date of this work may be ascertained from the 
rules and tables which it contains, will be more 
clearly established when a translation of the whole 
is published. In the mean time it is evident, that 
what is already known with respect to these rules 
and tables, is extremely favourable to the hypothesis 
which ascribes a very high antiquity to the astrono¬ 
my of the Brahmins. 

The circumstance, perhaps, most worthy of at¬ 
tention, in the Extracts now referred to, is the sys¬ 
tem of Trigonometry included in the Astronomical 
Rules of the Surya Siddhanta. Asiat. Research, 
ii. p. 245. 249. It may be shown that this system is 
founded on certain Geometrical Theorems, which 
though modern mathematicians be well acquainted 
with, w ere certainly unknown to Ptolemy and the 
Greek geometricians. 

It is w r ith pleasure, too, we observe, that Mr. Davis 
has in his possession several other ancient books 
of Hindoo astronomy, and that there is reason to 




1184 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


expect from him a translation of the whole Surya 
Siddh&nta. 

It must be added, that we also learn from the 
second volume of the Asiatic Researches, that some 
vestiges of algebraical calculation have been dis¬ 
covered among the Brahmins ; particularly Rules 
for the solution of certain arithmetical questions, 
with which it would seem that nothing but algebra 
could have furnished them. Asiat. Research, ii. p. 
468, note, 487, 495. 


My friend, Mr. Professor Playfair, has examined 
that Extract from the Surya Siddhanta which gives 
an account of the ancient Hindoo system of trigo¬ 
nometry, and has discovered the principles on which 
it is founded. It is with pleasure I announce, that 
the result of this examination will be communi¬ 
cated soon to the public, and will afford an addi¬ 
tional proof of the extraordinary progress which 
the natives of India had early made in the most 
abstruse sciences. 



INDEX 


TO TIIE 


HISTORY OF 


SCOTLAND. 


A 

Adamson, archbishop of St. Andrews, is excom¬ 
municated by the Synod of Fife, 173. He ex¬ 
communicates his opponents, ib. Is restored by 
the general assembly upon conditions, ib. His 
mean submission to the general assembly, 100. 
Albany , Alexander, duke of, cabals with his nobles 
against his brother king .lames 111. 17. Is made 
prisoner, but escapes to France, ib. Concludes 
a treaty with Edward IV. of England, ib. Pro¬ 
cures assistance to invade Scotland on mean con¬ 
ditions, 18. Returns to Scotland, and is restored 
to favour, ib. Cabals again, but is forced to fly 
to France, ib. 

- - - - duke of, made regent during the mi¬ 

nority of James V. 1C, 19. After several unsuc¬ 
cessful struggles with the nobility, he is forced 
to retire to France, ib. 

Alenq.on , duke of, Q. Elizabeth long amuses the 
court of France by carrying on a treaty of mar¬ 
riage with him, 155. 

Allen , cardinal, published a book proving the law- 
fulnessof killing excommunicated princes, 169. 
Alva , duke of, his intrigues in favour of Q. Mary, 
143, 144, 148. Is recalled from his government 
of the Netherlands, 150. 

Ambassadors, their office, 25. 

Andrews, St. the archbishop of, remarkably cured 
of a dangerous distemper, 38. The motives of 
his opposition to the Q. regent, 45. His great in¬ 
fluence on the bench of Bishops, and weight in 
Parliament, ib. Governed the church with great 
moderation, 46. Persecutes the Reformers, ib. 
Is imprisoned for celebrating mass, 81. Ruins 
Q. Mary’s affairs by his imprudent conduct, 121. 
Is taken prisoner in Dumbarton castle, and 
hanged. 141. . 

.the castle of, demolished by the 

French, 33. 

.... - the prior of, promotes a treaty between 
the O. Regent and the Reformers, 49. Is pro¬ 
voked to leave the court, 50. Is one of the chief 
promoters of the Reformation, 54. Some account 
and character of him, ib. Artful endeavours 
used to undermine him, ib. Presumption of his 
innocence of the designs charged on him, ib. 
Is sent by the Convention to invite the Queen to 
Scotland, 68. Ts received by her with confidence 
and affection, 69. Restrains the turbulent spirit 
of the people against popery, 73. Is sent to re¬ 
strain the licentious practices of the borderers, 
74. Executes his commission with vigour and 
prudence, ib. A conspiracy against him dis¬ 
covered, 77. Is created earl of Mar, ib. Becomes 
obnoxious to the earl of Huntley, 77> 78. See 
Mar and Murray. 

Angus, Gilbert de Umfreville, earl of, was the 
only man who asserted the independence of his 
country, 5,6. „ « , 

- . . - Douglas, earl of, assumes the regency dur¬ 
ing the minority of K. James V. 12, 19. Is un¬ 
able to gain his affections, ib. Is attainted and 
flies into England, ib. Obtains leave to return 
into Scotland, 161. Surrenders himself to K. 
James VI. 164. He with several others seize 
the castle of Stirling to oppose Arran, 165. They 
are forced to fly into England at the approach of 
the king with an armv, ib. He is attainted and 
his estate forfeited, 167- Is concerned in a plot 
in favourof Spain, 191. Is seized and committed 
prisoner to the castle of Edinburgh, 192. Escapes 
and flies to the mountains, ib. Offers to submit 
to a trial, 193. Sentence is pronounced against 
him, ib. He refuses to submit, ib. 

Anjou, duke of, a marriage proposed between him 
and Q. Elizabeth, 143. . v 7 

Anne, a princess of Denmark, married to K. James 
VI 180. Her arrival in Scotland and corona¬ 
tion, 190. Heads a party that opposes the chan¬ 
cellor, 192. 


Archbishops, Bishops, Deans, and Chapters, re¬ 
vived in Scotland during the king’s minority, 
147. This gives great offence to many of the 
clergy, ib. An act of assembly against these 
offices, 159. Bishops made subject to presby¬ 
teries and assemblies, 173. A great stroke given 
to their authority, 186. None of them present 
at the queen’s coronation, 190. 

Argyll, earl of, is appointed to carry the crown 
matrimonial to the dauphin of France, 45. Uses 
his interest with the reformers to make a treaty 
with the Q. regent, 49. Leaves her court in re¬ 
sentment of her treachery, 50. Refuses to ac¬ 
cede to a treaty with Murray the regent, 132. 
Ts soon after forced to submit, ib. Acts as lieu¬ 
tenant to the queen after the regent’s murder, 
138. Is prevailed on to join the king’s party, 
142. Quarrels with Athole, 151. Confederates 
with him against Morton the regent for their 
mutual defence, 152. They remonstrate against 
hjm to the king, ib. They raise forces against 
him, 154. Negociate a treaty with him by the 
mediation of Q. Elizabeth, ib. Is promoted to 
the office of chancellor, ib. The king’s authority 
delegated to him and lord Forbes against the 
popish lords, 194. His forces are defeated in an 
engagement with them, ib. 

Aristocracy , predominant in Scotland, 72. 
Armada, Spanish, preparations for it, 186. It is 
defeated, 188. 

Arran, earl, is appointed regent during the mi¬ 
nority of Q. Mary, 27. His character, 28. Con-, 
sents to the schemes of England, which disgusts 
the public, ib. Becomes suspicious of the earl 
of Lennox, 29. Is forced to renounce the friend¬ 
ship with England, and declare for France, ib. 
And to persecute the reformers, 30. Publicly 
abjures the doctrines of the reformers, ib. Ts 
contemned by one half, and little trusted by the 
other part of the nation, ib. Heads the partisans 
of France and defenders of popery, ib. At¬ 
tempts in vain to seize the murderers of cardinal 
Beatoun, 32. Is forced to make a truce with 
the conspirators, ib. His eldest son is condi¬ 
tionally excluded all right of succession, 33. 
His mean concession to the court of France, 35. 
Gets the title of Chatelherault, ib. Is under¬ 
mined by the Q. dowager, 37, 38. Proposals 
and arguments for his resignation, 38. He con¬ 
sents to it, ib. Retracts by the influence of the 
archbishop of St. Andrews, ib. Is at last pre¬ 
vailed on, and gets advantageous terms, 38, 39. 
See Chatelherault. 

- - - - eldest son of the duke of Chatelherault, 
joins in an association with the reformers, 54. 
Narrowly escapes intended ruin at the court of 
France, ib. Is full of resentment against the 
French on that account, ib. The congregation 
solicit Q. Elizabeth to marry him, 66. His great 
imprudence with regard to Q. Mary, 74, 75. 
Discovers a conspiracy against the queen s fa¬ 
vourite, 77. Loses his reason, 154. Is impri¬ 
soned by Morton, 155. 

- - - - late captain Stewart, gets that title and 
estate, 158. Is appointed to conduct Morton 
from Dumbarton to Edinburgh, ib. ITis infa¬ 
mous marriage with the countess of March, 159. 
His variance with Lennox, ib. Is frustrated in 
an attempt to rescue the king at Ruthven, 161. 
Ts confined prisoner to the castle of Stirling, ib. 
Regains his liberty and the king’s regard, 163. 
Resumes his power and arrogance, ib. Gets the 
Ruthven conspirators declared guilty of high 
treason, 164. Is detested as author of a persecu¬ 
tion against the clergy, 165,166. Is gained over 
to Q. Elizabeth’s interest, 166. Gets several for¬ 
feited estates, 167- Ilis corruption and inso¬ 
lence, 169. Ts made chancellor, and has unli¬ 
mited power, ib. His venality is exceeded by 
that of his wife, ib. His monstrous tyranny and 
oppression, ib. His power undermined by 


Wotton, the English envoy, 172. Is confined 
in the castle of St. Andrews, but soon recovers 
favour, ib. His interest sinks much, 173. Is 
stripped of his honours and spoils, and reduced 
to his original station, ib. 

Articles, lords of, their origin and business, 24. 
By whom chosen, ib. The subsequent variations 
and political use made of this institution, ib. 

Arundel , earl of, is appointed a commissioner to 
the conference at Westminster, 129. 

Ashby, ambassador from Q. Elizabeth to Scot¬ 
land, 187- His great promises to king James, ib. 
His promises are soon forgot, 188. He is 
ashamed, and withdraws privately from Scot¬ 
land, ib. 

Assassination, the frequency of it in Scotland, how 
accounted for, 97- Several instances of it in 
France, ib. A stop put to it there and in Scot¬ 
land, ib. Several great men approve of it, 98. 
Prevailed greatly afterwards, 190. 

Assembly of the church of Scotland, the first but 
feeble and irregular, 68. Another assembly, 
their demands trom the Convention, 75. Two 
other assemblies in vain solicit an augmentation 
of their revenues, 79- They address Q. Mary in 
high strains of complaint, 92. An assembly pro¬ 
ceeds at Glasgow, notwithstanding the king’s in¬ 
terdiction, 159,160. Two assemblies yield many 
of the privileges of the church to the king, 199, 
200. Declare it lawful for ministers to sit in 
parliament, 200. See Clergy. 

Association formed in defence of Q. Elizabeth 
against Q. Mary, 167, 168. 

Athole, earl of, the occasion of his quarrel with 
the earl of Argyll, 151. Joins with him in op¬ 
posing Morton, the regent, ib. Dies soon after 
an entertainment at Morton’s, 154. Suspicions 
of his being poisoned, ib. 

Aubigne, lord de, second son of the lord Lennox, 
arrives in Scotland from France, 155. Becomes 
soon a great favourite of K. James, ib. High 
titles and posts bestowed on him, ib. Notes 
against him. Appendix, 282, 283. See I.ennox. 

Austrian family, their origin and power, 25, 26. 

B 

Babington, Anthony some account of him, 174. 
The rise of his conspiracy against Q. Elizabeth, 
174, 175. The names and scheme of operations 
of his associates, ib. They are betrayed, seized, 
and executed, 175. 

Bacon, sir Nicholas, appointed one of the com¬ 
missioners to the confederates at Westminster, 
129. 

Baliol, John, his claim to the crown of Scotland, 
5. Is preferred by Edward I. 6. Soon forced 
by him to resign, ib. 

Ballard, a trafficking priest, solicits an invasion of 
England from Spain, 174. Joins in a conspiracy 
to murder Q. Elizabeth, ib. Is discovered, and 
taken intocustody, 175. And executed, ib. 

Barons, their jurisdiction very extensive, 8, 9. 
The difference between the greater and lesser, 
whence, 23, 24. Three hundred of them remon¬ 
strate against the conduct of the Q. dowager, 42. 
The lesser admitted by their representatives in 
parliament, 187. Petition of the lesser barons to 
parliament, Append. 240. 241. See Nobles. 

Basilican Doron, a book published by Iv. James 
VI. strengthens his interest in England, 201. 

Beatoun, Cardinal, made use of by K. James V. 
to mortify the nobles, 20, 21. His pretensions to 
the regency on the death of that prince, 27. 
Forges a testament of the late king, ib. ITis 
views how disappointed, ib. Hfe character, 27, 
28. Opposes the earl of Arran, regent, 28. Ex¬ 
cites most of the nation against the English, 29. 
Seizes the young queen and her mother, ib. Ca¬ 
joles the earl of Lennox, ib. Oblnes the regent 
to renounce England and declare for France, 29, 







INDEX TO THE 


.TO. And to persecute the reformers, 30. F'n- 
grosses the chief direction of affairs, ib. Uis 
double dealing with the earl of Lennox re¬ 
sented, ib. Is murdered, 32. His death fatal to 
the catholics, ib. A vain attempt to revenge it, 
■ib. Scandalous reports concerning him, 41. 

Bedford, earl of, comes as ambassador from Q. 
Elizabeth to witness the baptism of James VI. 
103. Ilis instructions, ib. His letters to sir W. 
Cecil, Appendix, 251, 253, 255. 

Bellenden, sir Lewis, justice-clerk, K. James’s 
resident at London, 1*2. Joins in promoting Q. 
Elizabeth’s interest in Scotland, ib. issent with 
her envoy into that country, ib. 

Black, Mr. David, minister of St. Andrews, his 
ridiculous and seditious expressions in the pulpit, 
197- Being supported by the clergy, he declines 
the civil jurisdiction, ib. Is condemned by the 
privy-council, ib. Is sentenced by the king to 
reside beyond Spey. 198. 

Blackadder, captain, and three others, executed 
for the murder of Darnley, 115. 

Boethius, Hector, his history of Scotland, some ac¬ 
count of, 4. 

Bolton Castle, Q. Mary confined a prisoner there, 
125. 

Bonot, a foreigner, made governor of Orkney, 42. 

Borderers, an attempt to restrain their licentious 
practices, 74-. Q- Mary visits them, 100. A 
scuttle there, in which the English warden, Szc. 
were made prisoners, 151. 

Borthwick, lord, assists the Q. regent in defending 
Leith, 58. 

Bothwell, James Hepburn, earl of, intercepts a 
sum of money from England to the congregation, 
58. Favours the queen regent, but resides at Ids 
own house, ib. Is by the earl of Murray sum¬ 
moned to a public trial, 88. Prevents it by leav¬ 
ing the kingdom, ib. A sentence of outlawry 
against him prevented by the queen, ib. Is per¬ 
mitted to return, 90. Escapes with her after the 
murder of Rizzio, 96. Some account of his for¬ 
mer behaviour, 98, 99. Commences a favourite 
with the queen, ib. She reconciles him to several 
lords, with whom he was at variance, 99. He 
increases in favour with her, ib. Circumstances 
concurring in this, ib. 100. He is wounded in 
attempting to seize one of the borderers, 100. The 
queen’s extraordinary regard for him on this oc¬ 
casion, ib. To secure adherents, he obtains a 
ardon for Morton and his associates, 103, 101. 
roposes the restoration of the popish ecclesias¬ 
tical jurisdiction, 104. His views in this, ib. Is 
suspected the author of Darnley’s murder 106. 
Is charged with it by Lennox, ib. But still fa¬ 
voured by the queen, 107. Appointed governor 
of Edinburgh castle, ib. His trial is hurried on, 
ib. Remarkable partiality in his favour, ib. 
Lennox accuses him openly, ib. 108. Comes to 
his trial with a great retinue, 108. Is acquitted 
by a jury, ib. The trial universally censured, ib. 
Challenges any that would accuse him, ib. Seve¬ 
ral acts of parliament passed in his favour, ib. 
109. He procures an act in favour of the refor¬ 
mation, 109. Prevailson several of the nobles to 
recommend him as a husband to the queen, 110. 
Seizes the queen on a journey from Stirling, and 
carries her to Dunbar, 111. His view in this, 
ib. Obtains a pardon under the great seal, ib. 
Procures a divorce from his wife, ib. Carries 
the queen to the castle of Edinburgh, ib. Is cre¬ 
ated duke of Orkney, ib. And married to the 
queen, ib. Is not allowed the title of king, 112. 
He watches the queen very closely, ib. Endea¬ 
vours to get the prince into his custody, ib. Is 
alarmed with an association of the nobles against 
the queen and him, ib. 113. Carries the queen 
to the castle of Borthwick, 113. Raises forces 
against the confederate lords, ib. He marches 
against them, ib. Proposes a single combat, 114. 
This how prevented, ib. Takes his last farewell 
of the queen, and is forced to fly, ib. Sends for 
a casket of letters from Q. Mary to him, 115. 
They are intercepted by the earl of Morton, ib. 
His miserable fate, 118. Reflections on his con¬ 
duct, ib. 119. Copy of his divorce from lady 
Jane Gordon, Appendix, 256, 257. 

- - - - Francis Stewart, created earl of Both¬ 
well, 188. Is imprisoned for consulting witches, 

190. Escapes, and attempts to break into the 
king’s presence, ib. 191. Retires to the north, 

191. He and his adherents are attainted, ib. 
Fails in an attempt to seize the king, ib. Is 
taken under protection of Q. Elizabeth, who so¬ 
licits for him, 192. Seizes the king’s person, ib. 
Forces him to dismiss the chancellor, and his 
other favourites, ib. 193. And to grant him a 
remission, ib. His bold and insolent behaviour 
afterwards, 193. Is encouraged by the English 
ambassador, 194. Makes another attempt to 
come at the king, ib. Is repulsed, and obliged to 
fly r to the north of England, ib. Is abandoned 
by Q. Elizabeth, and forced to fly into Spain 
and Italy, 195. Remains in indigent obscurity, 
and is never after reconciled to the king, ib. 

- - - - Adam, bishop of Orkney, performs the 
ceremony of marriage of Q. Mary to the earl of 
Bothwell, 111. 

Bothwellhaugh . See Hamilton. 

Boulogne, wrested by the French out of the hands 
of the English, 35. They consent to restore it 
and its dependencies to the French, 36. 

Bowes, envoy from Q. Elizabeth, accuses Lennox 
of disturbing the peace, 156. Is refused an 
audience, ib. Is sent to encourage the conspira¬ 
tors at Ruthven, 161. To inquire about king 
James’s correspondence with the pope, 201. 

Boyd, lord, his ambitious views in the time of K. 
James III. frustrated, 12._ 

- - - is prevailed on to join the king’s party 
against Q. Mary, 142. Joins the Ruthven con¬ 
spirators, 160. 

2 


Brienne, count de, comes an ambassador from 
France to witness the baptism of K. James VI. 
103. 

Bruce, Robert, his claim to the crown of Scotland, 
5. His grandson asserts his right, and vindicates 
the honour of his country, 6. He attempts to 
reduce the power of the nobles, 15. 

- - - a priest employed by the king of Spain to 
seduce the Scotch nobles, 188. 

- - - Mr. Robert, a presbyterian minister, per¬ 
forms the ceremony of the coronation of Iv. 
James's queen, 190. 

- - - Edward, abbot of Kinloss, acquits him¬ 
self with address and reputation, as ambassador 
at the court of England, 201. 

- - - Mr. Robert, a minister, his resolution in 
refusing to publish the king's account of Gourie’s 
conspiracy, 207. Is deprived and banished on 
that account, ib. 

Buchanan, George, his history of Scotland, some 
account of, 4. Kemarks on liis dialogue De .1 ure 
Regis, 51. Alone accuses Q. Mary of a criminal 
correspondence with Rizzio, 95. Approved of 
assassination, 98. Attends the regent into Eng¬ 
land when called on to accuse Q. Mary, 126. 
Was one of the preceptors of K. James VI. 152. 
Commended for his great genius, 215. 

Burleigh. See Cecil. 

Boroughs, when first represented in Parliament, 
187. 

C 

Cais, John, a declaration of his in name of Q. 
Elizabeth to the lords of Grange, at Lethington, 
Appendix, 278, 279. 

Caithness, earl of, his protest at the trial of Both¬ 
well for the murder of Darnley, 108. 

Calvin, the patron and restorer of presbyterian 
church government, 68. 

Camden, some mistakes of his, 103, 110. 

Canongate, near Edinburgh, a parliament held 
there, 141. 

Cardan, some account of him, 38. His remarkable 
cure of the bishop of St. Andrews, ib. 

Carey, sir George, sent ambassador from Q. 
Elizabeth to encourage the conspirators at Ruth¬ 
ven, 161. 

- - - Robert, sent by Q. Elizabeth to soothe K. 
James after the death of his mother, 184. Is not 
permitted to enter Scotland, ib. Was the first 
that brought 1\. James intelligence of the death 
of Q. Elizabeth, 212. 

Casket of letters from Q. Mary to Bothwell, 
seized by the earl of Morton, 115. tier enemies 
avail themselves much of them, ib. 

Cassils, earl of, joins the king's party, 142. 

Castelnau, the French ambassador, is employed to 
procure the consent of his court to Q. Mary’s 
marriage with Darnley, 86. He endeavours to 
make up the differences between the queen and 
him, 99. His intercession on behalf of Q. Mary, 
170. 

Catherine of Medicis assumes the government after 
the death of Francis 11. her son, 67. Her harsh 
treatment of Q. Mary, ib. Her views in behav¬ 
ing more friendly to her, 82. Bends her whole 
endeavours to destroy the protestants, 143. Her 
artful conduct with that view, ib. 

Cecil, his great capacity as a minister, 63, 69. Ts 
employed to negociate a peace with France, ib. 
Over-reaches the French ambassador in the 
treaty of Edinburgh, ib. A letter of his cited to 
show that Q. Elizabeth had no intention to inter¬ 
cept Q. Mary in her return to Scotland, 72. Is 
appointed a commissioner to the conference at 
Westminster, 129. Is sent by O. Elizabeth with 
proposals to Q. Mary, 139. Has an interview 
with her, which excites Q. Elizabeth’s jealousy, 
150. Is treated harshly by Q. Elizabeth for con¬ 
senting to Q. Mary’s death, 184. 

- - sir Robert, son to the former, heads the 
party against Essex, 208. His character, ib. 
His great assiduity, ib. Enters into a private 
correspondence with lv. James, 209, 210. 

Celibacy of the popish clergy, a chief engine of 
their policy, 40, 48. 

Charles V. emperor, his great power, 25,26. And 
unlimited ambition, 26. Is checked by Francis 1. 
ib. 

- - - K. of France, makes a league with Q. 
Elizabeth, 145. 

Chatelherault, duke of, that title conferred on the 
earl of Arran, regent of Scotland, 35. His right 
of succession to the crown of Scotland maintain¬ 
ed, 44. Enters a protestation to save his right, 
45. Joins the reformers, in endeavouring to ex¬ 
pel the French army, 53. Joins in association 
with them, ib. 54. Is looked on as the head of the 
congregation, 54. His pusillanimity, 57. Be¬ 
comes obnoxious to Q. Mary, 74. Deprived of 
his French pension, 82. Is alarmed at the earl 
of Lennox’s return to Scotland, 84. An accom¬ 
modation brought about by the queen’s influence, 
ib. Adheres to Murray in opposing the queen’s 
marriage, 91. Is pardoned on his humble appli¬ 
cation, but forced to reside in France, ib. His 
partisans grumble at Murray’s being advanced 
to the regency, 119. Returns from France, and 
heads the queen’s adherents, 131. Is made her 
lieutenant-general, ib. Ilis resolution wavering, 
the regent commits him prisoner to the castle of 
Edinburgh, 132. Is set at liberty by Kirkaldy, 
and joins the queen’s party, 137. Is proclaimed 
traitpr by Lennox the new regent, 138. Is re¬ 
conciled to Morton the regent, 149. Articles of 
a treaty between them, ib. Ilis death, 151. 

Church of Scotland, revolutions in it after the 
union of the crowns, 214, 215. See Assembly, 
Clergy. 

Church T.ands annexed to the crown by parliament, 
186, 187. 


Clans, the institution and nature of, 10. 

Clergy, popish, their great riches and power, 20, 
40. Were made use of by K. James V. to sup¬ 
press the nobles, 20. Made a considerable bo<ty 
in parliament, 40. Their great influence over 
the laity, ib. 1 hey engrossed learning, ib. 
And held many of the chief employments, ib. 
’1 heir power increased by celibacy, ib. They 
seized the estates of the intestate, 41. And tried 
all matrimonial and testamentary causes, ib. 
Become obnoxious to the laity, ib. 'I heir great 
corruptions, whence, ib. 'I hose of Scotland par¬ 
ticularly dissolute, ib. Their weak defence of 
their tenets, ib. 'Try in vain to impose false 
miracles, ib. Their impolitic conduct to the 
reformers, 46. 

- - - reformed, try in vain to recover the re¬ 
venues of the church, 68, 69. Procure a demo 
litionof all relics of popery, 69. A new regula¬ 
tion concerning their revenues, 75, 76. They are 
no gainers by it, 76. Their stipends, what in 
those days, ib. Are offended at the moderation 
of their leaders, 81. Occasion a tumult among 
the people, 82. More complaints of their poverty, 
84, 104. Are jealous of queen Mary, 104. The 
small allowances appointed to support them all, 
ib. Their application for payment of their sti¬ 
pends of little effect, 119- Fresh complaints of 
the deficiency of the funds for their mainten¬ 
ance, 135. Are put off with fair words and pro¬ 
mises, ib. Archbishops, &c. introduced among 
them by Morton, 147- Their grievances under 
his administration, 151. They approve of the 
Ruthven conspirators, 162, 164. By favouring 
them they provoke the king, 164. Severe laws 
made against them, 165. lhey of Fklinburgh 
fly into England, ib. As do several others that 
were most eminent, ib. More vigorous measures 
against them, 167. lhey obtain no redress on 
the restoration of the exiled lords, 173. Repre¬ 
sent their grievances to parliament, 185. A 
maintenance provided for them by parliament, 
186. lhey prevail to get presbyterian govern¬ 
ment established by law, 191. Their zeal against 
the popish lords, 193, 196. Their rash proceed¬ 
ings, 196. T hey erect a standing council of the 
church, ib. Vindicate one of their number who 
declined the civil jurisdiction, 197- Their stand¬ 
ing council ordered to leave Edinburgh, ib. 
This occasions a violent tumult there, 198. lhey 
use their utmost efforts to spirit the people, ib. 199. 
Are deserted, and fly to England, 199- Their 
power greatly reduced, ib. Are prevailed onto 
give up many of their privileges, 199, 200. Are 
restored to a seat in Parliament, 200. This vio¬ 
lently opposed by many of them, ib. But car¬ 
ried in their general assembly, ib. Those en¬ 
titled to this privilege are laid under many regu¬ 
lations and restrictions, 202. They are brought 
under great subjection, ib. The revolutions among 
them since the union of the crowns, 214, 215. 

Clinton, lord, appointed a commissioner at the 
conference at Westminster, 129. 

Cockburn, of Ormiston, receives a supply of money 
from the English to the congregation, 58. Is in¬ 
tercepted and robbed of it, ib. 

Coin in Scotland, some account of, 57, 150. 
Commissaries appointed to try causes in place of 
the spiritual court, 65. They are deprived of all 
authority, 104. 

Confession of faith by the reformers consented to 
by parliament, 65. 

Congregation, the protestants distinguished by that 
name, 48. Their leaders enter into an associa¬ 
tion, ib Are involved in difficulties, 57- Ap¬ 
ply to Q. Elizabeth for assistance, ib. Money 
sent them by her intercepted, 58. Make a rash 
and desperate attempt on Leith, and are repulsed, 
ib. Are no less unfortunate in a second skir¬ 
mish, ib. Are quite dispirited, and retreat to 
Stirling, ib. Are joined by the body of the no¬ 
bles, ib. Their army dwindles away, 59. Are 
animated by Knox, ib. They apply again to Q. 
Elizabeth, ib. I heir parties harass the F rench, 
60. Are assisted by a fleet from F.ngland, 61. 
Conclude a treaty at Berwick wdth the duke 
of Norfolk, ib. The design and substance or 
this treaty, ib. Negociate a peace with France, 
63. Articles of the treaty, ib. 64. They reap 
advantages from it, 64. See Reformation. 
Covenant, national, framed in defence of the 
king and government, 187. The nature and rea¬ 
sonableness of it, ib. The progress of it since, ib. 
Courtesy of Scotland, what,44. 

Craig, a minister, boldly testifies against Q. Mary’s 
marriage with Bothwell, 112. 

Crawford, capt. of Jordan-llill, surprises Dum¬ 
barton castle, 140. The difficultiesof that enter¬ 
prise, ib. 141. 

- - - - earl of, one of the heads of the Spanish 
faction, 187, 188. Offers his service to the king 
of Spain, 188. Joins in rebellion against the 
king, 189. Is forced to submit to him, ib. And 
imprisoned a short time, ib. 

Crichton, regent during the minority of K. James 
11., his barbarous policy, 16. 

- - - - a Jesuit, a plot against Q. F’lizabeth dis¬ 
covered by his means, 167. 

Criminals, a remarkable instance of the difficulty 
of bringing them to justice, 8. 

Croc, Du, the F'rench ambassador, refused to 
countenance Q. Mary’s marriage with Bothwell, 
112. Attempts in vain a reconciliation between 
the queen and the confederate lords, 113. Me¬ 
diates a truce between the king and queen's party 
in Scotland, 145. 

Crown Matrimonial of Scotland, rights conveyed 
by the grant of, 44. Is granted by parliament 
to the dauphin of France, 45. Deputies appoint¬ 
ed to carry it, but are prevented, ib. Is de¬ 
manded by Darnley, 94 

Cunningham, Hubert, appears at the trial of Both 




HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


well in name of the earl of Lennox, 108. De 
^manus a delay, which is refused, ib. 

Curie, one of Q. Mary’s secretaries, is seized, and 
carried prisoner to London, 176. Is produced an 
evidence against her, 178. 


D 

Darnley, Henry lord, proposed as a husband to 
Q. Mary, 83. His right of succession consider¬ 
ed, ib. Is permitted to visit the court of Scot¬ 
land, 85. Arrives there, and quickly gains the 
queen’s heart, ib. His character, 86. Disgusts 
several of the nobles, particularly Murray, ib. 
Cultivates a familiarity with David Rizzio, ib. 
Is despised on that account, 87. Grows intoler¬ 
ably insolent and haughty, 88. Schemes to as¬ 
sassinate Murray, 89. A plot to seize and send 
hiin to England, prevented by the queen, ib. 
Evidences of this, ib. His marriage witli the 
queen celebrated, 90. Is honoured with the title 
of king of Scotland, ib. Is implacable with re¬ 
spect to the exiled nobles, 92. Loses the queen's 
affection by his untoward behaviour, 94. De¬ 
mands the crown matrimonial, ib. Becomes 
suspicious of Rizzio’s ill offices with the queen, 
ib. His resolution to be avenged of him encou¬ 
raged by the nobles, 95. Articles agreed on be¬ 
tween them for that purpose, ib. Heads the 
conspirators who perpetrate the murder, ib. 
Confines the queen after ii is committed, 96. 
Prohibits the meeting of the parliament, ib. 
Makes his escape with the queen, ib. Her ha¬ 
tred to him increases, 98. Is neglected by her, 
and treated with little respect by the nobles, 99. 
Resolves to leave Scotland, 100. His wayward 
and capricious behaviour, ib. He writes the 
reasons of his conduct to the queen, ib. His 
strange behaviour at the baptism of the prince, 
103. A false reason alleged for this confuted, 
ib. Retires to his father at Glasgow, 104. Falls 
sick there, ib. Conjectures concerning his dis¬ 
temper, ib. Is neglected by the queen, ib. She 
afterwards visits and expresses affection for him, 
105. He is prevailed on by her to come to Edin¬ 
burgh, 106. Is lodged in a separate house, ib. 
lie is murdered there, ib. His character, ib. 
A proclamation issued for discovering the mur¬ 
derers, ib. A remiss inquiry made into it, ib. 
Capt. Blackadder and three others executed on 
that account, 115. The confession of Morton, 
the regent, at his death, concerning the murder, 
158. A dissertation concerning his murder, 217. 
Paper of objections of the court of England 
against his marriage with Q. Mary, Appendix, 
245. 

David I. king of Scotland, his profusion to the 
church, 40. 

- - - 11. Troubles during his minority, 11. 

Davison, sent into Scotland by Q. Elizabeth, as a 

spy on the French ambassador, 162. Is sent to 
gain Arran’s interest to Q. Elizabeth, 166. This 
he soon accomplishes, ib. Brings the warrant 
for Q. Mary’s death at Q. Elizabeth’s desire, 
183. Is charged by her with disobeying her 
orders, ib. Is imprisoned, tried, and fined, and 
loses all favour, 184. Objections against him in 
the cause of the late Scottish queen. Appendix, 
302. 

Desse, Mons. is sent with a supply’of forces to as¬ 
sist the E'rench against the English in Scotland, 
35. 11 is success there, ib. 

Discipline in the church, the first book of, com¬ 
posed, 68. Why objected against in a conven¬ 
tion of the states, ib. Another attempt in favour 
of church discipline frustrated, 159. 

Douglas, the power and property of that family, 
11,12. They aspire to independency, 12. Wil¬ 
liam, earl of, murdered by h. James II. 16. His 
son endeavours to resent it, ib. Is forced to fly 
into England, 17. 

- - - William, Q. Mary committed a prisoner 
to his castle of Lochlevin, 115. 

- - - - George, brother to the above, assists the 
queen in making her escape, 120. 

- - - - Archibald, one ot Darnley’s murderers. 
174. Undergoes a mock trial for that crime, and 
is acquitted, ib. Is sent ambassador to England, 
ib. Letter from him to the Q. of Scots, Appen¬ 
dix, 291. To the king, 295. 

Drury, sir William, enters Scotland with an army 
to support the king’s party, 138. They join him, 
and drive off the queen’s, ib. He procures a 
truce between the king and queen’s parties, 145. 
Gomes with forces to assist Morton in besieging 
the castle of Edinburgh, 149. Which is forced 
to surrender, ib. 

- - - sir Drue, is appointed one of Q. Mary’s 
keepers, 168. 

Dudley, lord Robert, recommended by Q. Eliza¬ 
beth as a husband to Q. Mary, 82. Why a fa¬ 
vourite of Q. Elizabeth’s, ib. 83. Is highly pro¬ 
moted by her, 8.3. His situation extremely de¬ 
licate, ib. Becomes suspicious of Cecil, ib. 

Dumbarton castle, surprised and taken in the 
king’s name by the regent, 140, 141. 

Dury.iv minister of Edinburgh, banished from his 
charge by K. .lames, for' his free invectives 
against the courtiers, 160. After being restored, 
he is driven from it a second time, for approving 
the Raid o f Ruthven, 164. 


E 


Edinburgh, is taken and burnt by the English, .31. 
A great fray there between the French anti 
Scots, 36. Is seized by the Reformers, 51. Its 
inhabitants are terribly alarmed by the French, 
58. A treaty there with the French and Eng¬ 
lish, 6.3, 64. A loan demanded of it by Q. Mary, 


92. Which is granted for the superiority of 
Leith, ib. The treaty of, insisted on by Q. 
Elizabeth, 10.3. Is possessed by the queen’s 
party, 137. And fortified by them, 141. lhe 
city and castle hold out against the king’s forces, 
144. Are reduced to great straits by famine, ib. 
Are relieved by a truce, ib. 145. The citizens 
take up arms to promote the king’s marriage, 189. 

1 hey rise again, and insult the king and his mi¬ 
nisters on the murder of the earl of Murray, 191. 
Assist the king against Huntley, 194. A violent 
tumult there on account of the clergy, 196, 198. 

1 hey ate severely punished for it by the king, 
198, 199. /I heir ministers return to their charges, 
200._ Divided into parishes, and number of 
ministers increased, ib. They decline publish¬ 
ing the account of Gowrie’s conspiracy, 207. 
All except one, who is banished, are persuaded 
by the king to do it, ib. 

Edward 1. of England destroyed the public ar¬ 
chives of Scotland, 4. Is made umpire between 
Bruce and Ealiol, 5. Has art to acquire the 
superiority of Scotland, ib. 6. His wars with 
the Scots under Robert Bruce, 6,14, 15. 

E/Union, earl of, is prevailed on to join the king’s 
party, 142. 

Elizabeth, her peaceable accession to the crown of 
England, 46. Supports the congregation in Scot¬ 
land, 57, 58. Is sparing in her supplies, 58. 
Resolves to support them on a second applica¬ 
tion, 59. Her good conduct in matters of impor¬ 
tance, ib. Motives that determined her to assist 
them, 60. Her deliberate and resolute conduct, 
61. Sends a strong fleet to their assistance, ib. 
Concludes a treaty with them, ib. Her right to 
the crown of England asserted by Francis and 
Mary in France, 6.3. Obtains advantageous 
terms for the Scots, ib. 64. Is solicited by the 
parliament of Scotland to marry the earl of Ar¬ 
ran, 66. This she declines, ib. The seeds of 
her discontent with Q. Mary, 69. Her jealousy 
qf the succession, 70. Her excessive vanity, and 
jealousy of Mary’s beauty, 71. Her dissimula¬ 
tion to her, ib. Refuses her a safe conduct, ib. 
Evidences that she had no intention to molest 
Mary in her passage to Scotland, 72. Sends to 
congratulate her arrival in Scotland, 73. Refuses 
a concession made by Q. Mary, ib. Her jea¬ 
lousy of her right betrayed her into mean actions, 
ib. Her resemblance to Henry VII. ib. 74. A 
personal interview with Q. Mary proposed, 79. 
She artfully declines it, ib. Her views in regard 
to Q. Mary’s marriage, 80, 81. Assumes a dis¬ 
agreeable authority, ib. Flames one for a hus¬ 
band to Q. Mary, 82. The different qualifica¬ 
tions of her ministers and favourites, ib. 83. Dis¬ 
sembles with Q. Mary about her marriage, ib. 
And likewise with regard to L. Darnley, 84. Af¬ 
fronts Q. Mary by her insinuation concerning 
Lennox, ib. Is perplexed about the marriage of 
the Scottish queen. 85. Permits Darnley to visit 
the court of Scotland, ib. Affects to declare 
against Q. Mary’s marriage to him, 87. Her rea¬ 
sons for this conduct, ib. Her great dissimula¬ 
tion in that affair, 89. Her harsh and deceitful 
behaviour to Murray and his associates, who had 
fled to her, 91. Is struck at hearing of the birth 
of .lames VI. 99. Consents to stand godmother 
to him, ib. The parliament address her to settle 
the succession, 101. This greatly embarrasses 
her, ib. She soothes and gains her parliament, 
102. Endeavours to accommodate her differ¬ 
ences with Mary, 10.3. Writes to her to delay 
the trial of Darnley’s murderers, 108. Interposes 
in her behalf when a prisoner, 115,116. Her am¬ 
bassador is refused access to Q. Mary, 116. She 
offers assistance to the other nobles, ib. Her de¬ 
liberations concerning the disposal of Q. Mary 
on her arrival in Fingland, 122. Resolves to de¬ 
tain her there, ib. Her motives to this conduct, 
ib. 12.3. Sends her letters of condolence, and gives 
orders to watch her conduct, 12.3. She giadly 
accepts the office of umpire between her and her 
subjects, ib. Receives a very pressing letter 
from Q. Mary, 124. Her precautions against 
her, ib. Appoints commissioners to hear Q. 
Mary and her accusers, 126. Her important 
situation on that occasion, ib. Her views in this 
affair, ib. Receives the regent’s demands, 127, 
128. Removes the conference to Westminster, 
128. Her mean artifices to get the evidence of 
Q. Mary’s guilt from the regent, 129. Treats 
her with great rigour, 1.30. Writesa harsh letter 
to Q. Mary, ib. She dismisses the regent with¬ 
out approving or condemning him, 131. But se¬ 
cretly supports his party, ib. Makes proposals 
to the regent in her favour, 132. ^Norfolk’s pro¬ 
ject concealed from her, 1.33. Discovers and de¬ 
feats a rebellion in Q. Mary’s favour, 135. Re¬ 
solves to deliver her up to the regent, ib. Her 
great concern at his death, 1.36. Continues to 
encourage factions in Scotland, 137. Her poli¬ 
tical conduct with regard to Lennox, 1.38. Is 
excommunicated, and deprived of her kingdom, 
<Vc. by the pope, ib. Supports the king’s party 
in Scotland, and names Lennox to be regent, ib. 
Proposes a treaty of accommodation between Q. 
Mary and her subjects, 139. Procures a cessa¬ 
tion of hostilities, ib. Sends proposals to Q. 
Mary, ib. Her artifices in the conduct of this 
affair, ib. Appoints commissioners to frame a 
treaty, ib. 140. Finds a pretence to render their 
meeting fruitless, 140. A marriage proposed be¬ 
tween her and the D. of Anjou, 14.3. Declares 
openly against the queen’s party, 144. Con¬ 
cludes a treaty with France, 145. Her motives 
for negociating a peace between the two parties 
in Scotland, 148. Is jealous of Cecil’s interview 
with Q. Mary, 150. Fegociates a treaty be¬ 
tween Morton and his adversaries, 154. Fler an¬ 
swer to K. .James’s demand of a possession of an 
estate in England, ib. A marriage between her 


and the D. of Alenfon proposed, 155. Interposes 
in behalf of Morton, 156. Her measures in order 
to save him, 157. Countenances the conspirators 
at Ruthven, 161. Is alarmed at a conspiracy 
against her, 166. The designs of Q. Mary’s ad¬ 
herents against her, ib. Endeavours to recover 
her interest in Scotland, and gains Arran to her 
interest, ib. Amuses Q. Mary with a fruitless 
negociation, 167- A new conspiracy against her, 
ib. An association formed for her defence, ib. 
168. Her suspicions of Q. Mary, ib. Her life 
endangered by a conspiracy, 169. 1 his how dis¬ 

covered and prevented, 170. Occasions an ex¬ 
traordinary statute for her preservation, ib. Is 
in a dangerous situation from the progress of the 
Holy League, 171. Endeavours to form a con¬ 
federacy of the protestant princes, ib. And to 
proceed with rigour against Q. Mary, ib. Ad¬ 
vances her interest in Scotland, and proposes a 
league w ith it, ib. 172. Settles a pension upon 
K. James, 172. Concludes a treaty with Scot¬ 
land, 17.3, 174. Account of Babington’s conspi¬ 
racy against her, 174, 175. Her dissimulation 
after Q. Mary’s conviction, 179. Her answer to 
K.James’s intercession for her, 180. Herfurther 
dissimulation and anxiety, ib. Signs the warrant 
for her execution, 181. Her speech to Davison 
on that occasion, ib. Affects to lament Q. 
Mary’s death, 18.3. Several marks of her arti¬ 
fice in that affair, 183, 184. She endeavours to 
soothe K. James, 184. Provocations given by her 
to Spain, 186. Prepares to meet its resentment, 
187- Endeavours to secure Scotland, ib. Tries 
to prevent K. James’s marriage, 189- Solicits 
him to treat conspirators against him with rigour, 
192. Evades the decision of K. James’s right of 
succession to the crown of England, 201. Is 
disgusted at several of his proceedings, ib. Dis¬ 
covers his correspondence with the pope, ib. 202. 
Fresh grounds of her suspicion, 208. Her con¬ 
duct with regard to the earl of Essex, ib. 209. 
Her irresolution concerning his death, 209. And 
great concern after it, ib. Receives ambassadors 
from K. James with regard, and increases his 
subsidy, ib. Her last illness, 210. Conjectures 
concerning the causes of her melancholy, 211. 
Her death, ib. And character, ib. 212. Declar¬ 
ed the king of Scots her successor, ib. Some of 
her letters, Appendix, 242, 251, 255, 256,263, 
264, 269, 271, 277. 

E/phinston, secretary to K. James VI. deceives 
him into a correspondence w ith the pope, 201, 
202. Is tried and found guilty of high treason, 
202. And pardoned on the queen’s intercession, ib. 
England —the English seize anddetain K. James 1. 
of Scotland long a prisoner, 12. The nobles there 
humbled, 13. Had early two houses of parlia¬ 
ment, 24. They invade Scotland, 31. Their 
depredations there, ib. A peace between Eng¬ 
land, France, and Scotland, ib. Invade Scot¬ 
land again, 33. Gain a great victory, 34. It 
proves of little advantage to them, ib. They 
force the Scots into a closer union with F'rance, 
ib. Conclude a peace, .35. An English fleet ar¬ 
rives in Scotland to assist the Congregation, 61. 
A peace concluded between them, ib. They 
enter Scotland, and besiege the French in Leith, 
ib. Are several times repulsed, 62. Causes of 
their bad success, ib. Articles of a treaty of 
peace, 6.3, 64. They quit Scotland, 64. Reflec¬ 
tions on the right of succession to the crown, 70. 
'lhe parliament favours Q. Mary’s right of suc¬ 
cession, 101. A league between England and 
F'rance, 145. Between England and Scotland, 
173, 174. The national covenant adopted in 
England, 187. 

Entails, with what view introduced, 8. 

Episcopal government in the church, some account 
of it, 67. An attempt to revive it, 147- It is 
abolished by the assembly, 159. Jurisdiction 
abolished, 191. See Archbishops. 

Errol, earl of, one of the heads of the Spanish fac¬ 
tion, 187. His offers of service to the K. of 
Spain, 188. A ppears in rebellion, 189. Is forced 
to submit to the king, ib. Imprisoned for a short 
time, ib. Joins in another conspiracy, 191. Is 
summoned by the king to surrender, 192. Offers 
to submit to a trial, 193. Sentence pronounced 
against him, ib. 

Erskine of Dun, is employed by the queen regent 
to deceive the protestants, 48. His resentment 
of this usage, 49. 

- - - lord, governor of Edinburgh castle, acts’a 
neutral part between the queen regent and the 
Congregation, 58. Receives the queen regent 
into the castle, 61. Is created earl of Mar, 78. 
See Mar. 

- - - Alexander, has the chief direction of the 
education of K. James VI. 151. Adniits some 
of the nobles to make complaints to him against 
Morton the regent, 152. Is turned out of Stirling 
castle by his nephew the earl of Mar, 153. 

Esneval, the French envoy, endeavours to obstruct 
a treaty between England and Scotland, 173. 
Essex, earl of, set up by the English papists as a 
candidate for the crown, 195. Heads a party in 
England, 207. His character, 208. Is greatly 
distinguished by the queen, ib. Favours the 
king of Scots, ib. Obtains the offices of lord 
lieutenant and commander in chief in Ireland, 
ib. Is unsuccessful in that expedition, ib. Re¬ 
ceives a harsh letter from the queen, ib. Re¬ 
turns to England, and is confined, ib. Is tried 
and censured, ib. Endeavours to spirit up K. 
James, ib. His rash and frantic conduct, ib. Is 
again taken into custody, 209. His death, ib. 
FI is son and associates are restored to their hon¬ 
ours after the accession of K. James, ib. 

Europe, the state of, at the beginning of the six¬ 
teenth century, 25. 

Excommunication, a terrible engine of the popish 
clergy, 41. 

4 G V 








INDEX TO THE 


F 

Felton, an Englishman, fixes the pope’s excommu¬ 
nication of Q. Elizabeth on the gates of the 
bishop of London’s palace, 138. 

Fenelon, M. de la Motte, sent by the French king 
to interpose for K. James when confined by the 
Ruthven conspirators, 162. Is forced to return 
without success, id. 

Feudal government, its origin and aristocratieal 
genius, 7. Causes which limited the power of 
feudal monarchs, ib. Feudal vassals liable to 
few taxes, ib. A remarkable instance of the 
feebleness of feudal government, 8. The most 
perfect idea of the feudal system, how attained, 
14. State of it in England, 26, 27. And in 
Scotland, 24, 26. 

Fife , a populous and powerful county, much de¬ 
voted to the Congregation, 60. Is destroyed and 
plundered by the French, ib. The synod of, ex¬ 
communicates the archbishop of St. Andrews 
for contumacy, 173. They excommunicate the 
popish lords, 193. 

Flowden , the battle of, 19. 

Forbes, lord, with the earl of Argyll, is sent against 
the popish lords, 194. Are defeated by them, ib. 
Fordun, John de, his history of Scotland when 
wrote, 4. 

Forster, sir John, warden of the English border, a 
scuffle between him and the Scots, 151. 
Fotlieringay castle, Q. Mary’s imprisonment, trial, 
and death there, 176—183. 

France, the consequences of the subversion of the 
feudal government there, 25. A body of French 
arrive in Scotland to support the catholics, 33. 
They reduce the castle of St. Andrews, ib. 
Another party of them arrive there, 35. Their 
transactions there, ib. Conclude a peace with 
England, ib. Their politic conduct, ib. They 
leave Scotland, 36. Their artifices in a treaty 
of marriage between the dauphin and the Q. of 
Scots, 44. The protestants endeavour to expel 
the French army out of Scotland, 52. Another 
party of them arrive there, and fortify Leith, 55. 
They exasperate the people by their insolence, ib. 
They are sent against the Congregation, 60. They 
destroy and plunder Fife, and are much harassed 
by parties of the Congregation, ib. Are greatly 
alarmed by the arrival of the English fleet, 61. 
They return to Leith greatly harassed and ex¬ 
hausted, ib. Are besieged there by the English 
and the Congregation, 62. They gain several ad¬ 
vantages, ib. Iheir motives for concluding a 
peace, 63. Negociations for that purpose, ib. 
Articles of the treaty, ib. 64. They leave Scot¬ 
land, 64. The French advise Q. Mary to moder¬ 
ate measures, 69. Their proposals by an ambas¬ 
sador rejected, ib. They agree to Q. Mary’s 
marriage with lord Darnley,86. The licentious¬ 
ness of their morals, 105. 

- - - king of, a copy of his directions sent to 
Scotland, Appendix, 283. 

Francis I. gives a check to the ambitious projects 
of Charles V. 26. His fidelity to the Scots, 32. 
His death, 3.3. 

- - - 11. comes to the crown of France, 53. His 
character, ib. He treats the protestants with 
great rigour, 63. Is guided by the duke of 
Guise and cardinal of Lorrain, 67- His death, ib. 

G' 

Giffords, doctor and Gilbert, their notion con¬ 
cerning the lawfulness of killing heretical ex¬ 
communicated princes, 174. They join in a 
conspiracy to kill O. Elizabeth, ib. Gilbert, 
being gained by Walsingham, betrays his asso¬ 
ciates, 175. Is employed to carry on a foreign 
correspondence with Q. Mary, ib. 

Glam is, lady, is condemned to be burnt for witch¬ 
craft, 21. 

- - - lord Chancellor, intimates the king’s order 
to Morton to surrender the regency, 152. Is 
killed in a rencounter at Stirling, 153. 

- - - the tutor of, joins the conspirators of Ruth- 
ven, 160. His bold speech to i\. lames, 161. 
He, with the other conspirators, seize the castle 
of Stirling, and erect their standard, 165. lie is 
attainted, and his estate forfeited, 167. 

Glasgow, bishop of, a note of his concerning the 
queen of Scotland’s dowry. Appendix, 280. 
Glencairn, earl of, joins the Ruthven conspirators, 
160. 

Glenlivat, the battle of, 194. 

Gordon, sir John, a scuffle in the streets of Edin¬ 
burgh between him and lord Ogilvy,77- Being 
confined for it, he makes his escape, 78. When 
ordered by the queen to surrender himself, lie 
takes up arms against her, ib. Is defeated, and, 
together with his brother, made prisoner, 79. 
He is beheaded, and his brother pardoned, ib. 

- - - lqrd, set at liberty, 90. 

- - - sir Adam, exerts himself for the queen’s 
interest in the north, 144. His character and 
good conduct as a soldier, 145. 

Gowrie, earl of, joins in a conspiracy to seize the 
king at Ruthven, 160. Is visited and pardoned 
by the king after his escape, 163. Becomes 
suspected, and is ordered for France, 165. De¬ 
lays his voyage, and is taken into custody, ib. 
He is tried and executed, ib. 

- - • John and Alexander, sons of the above, 
their character and conspiracy, 203. The sur¬ 
prising circumstances of that remarkable trans¬ 
action, ib. 204. Several different conjectures 
concerning it, 204, 207- Their dead bodies 
brought into parliament and condemned, 207. 
Their estates and honours forfeited, and name 
abolished for ever, ib. Different accounts of 
this affair published, but not satisfactory, ib. 
See Ruthven. 

Graham, sir David, of Fintray, accused of a con- 

4 


spiraey with the popish lords, in favour of Spain, 
191. Is convicted and beheaded, 192. 

Gray, master of, some account of him, 168. He 
becomes a favourite of K. James VI. ib. Is 
gained to Q. Elizabeth’s interest, ib. Betrays 
<4. Mary, ib. Persuades 1\. James to write a 
harsh and undutiful letter to her, 170. Joins 
with others in promoting Q. Elizabeth’s interest 
in Scotland, 171, 172. His treachery when sent 
to intercede for Q. Mary, 180. His baseness 
discovered, he is disgraced, 184. His vain at¬ 
tempt against secretary Maitland, 185. Acts in 
Italy as a spy from the court of England, 201. 
A memorial of his for his majesty, Appendix, 
296—298. To the secretary of state, 298. 

Guise, duke of. Ins violent counsels with regard to 
the Scots, 53. Is murdered at the siege of Or¬ 
leans, 80. 

- - - his intrigues against Q. Elizabeth, 166. Ts 
a principal promoter of the holy league, 171, 
186. Drives the French king out of his capital, ib. 

II 

Haddington, seized and fortified by the English, 
35. Is relieved by the French, ib. 

Hamilton, the rise of that family, 12. Arbitrary 
proceedings of Morton the regent against it, 154. 
See Chatelherault. 

- - - - of Bothwelhaugh, taken prisoner at the 
battle of l.angside, 124. Is tried and condemned 
for rebellion, ib. Obtains a pardon from Murray 
the regent, by the intercession of Knox, ib. An 
account of his murdering Murray, 135, 136. 
Makes his escape, 136. Is received in triumph 
at Hamilton, ib. 

- - - - Mr. Patrick, the first who suffered in 
Scotland for the protestant religion, 46. 

Hartford, earl of, invades Scotland with an English 
army, 31. Instructions of the privy-council to, 
ib. Burns Edinburgh and Leith, ib. Is made 
duke of Somerset, and protector of England, 33. 
See Somerset. 

Hatton, vice-chamberlain of England, the argu¬ 
ment by which he prevailed on Q. Mary to 
plead at her trial, 177- 

Henry II. of France sends forces to assist the 
Scots, 33. A marriage proposed between his 
son the dauphin and the young Q. of Scots, 35. 
Excites the Scots to invade England, ib. His 
infamous imposition on Q. Mary in the treaty of 
marriage, 44. Persuades his son and Q. Mary 
to assume the titles of K. and Q. of England, 47. 
His death, 53. 

- - - Ill. degenerates greatly on his accession 
to the crown of France, 171 • Enters into a 
private negociation with Q. Elizabeth, ib. In¬ 
terposes feebly in behalf of Q. Mary, 179. 

- - - VIII. of England, by his system of re¬ 
formation becomes formidable both to papists 
and protestants, 21. Proposes an interview with 
K. James V. ib. Is disappointed by him, and 
declares war against Scotland, ib. Invades it, 
but is forced to retreat, 22. llis importance as 
to the balance of power in Europe, 26. His in¬ 
fluence in Scotland how obtained, 27. His 
schemes with regard to it on the death of James 
V., 28. Were ill conducted by himself, and 
odious to the Scots, ib. His treacherous seizure 
of Scots ships that took shelter in his ports, 29. 
Attempts to gain the regency by great promises, 
ib. Invades Scotland, 31. This being ill con¬ 
ducted turns to no account, ib. Receives and 
rewards the earl of Lennox, ib. Encourages the 
murderers of Cardinal Beatoun, 32. His death 
and character, ib. 33. His inconsistent conduct, 
47. Excluded the Scotch line by his testament, ib. 

Ferries, lord, joins Chatelherault in opposing the 
regent, 131. Comes to a treaty with him, ib., 132. 
lie and the duke are committed prisoners to the 
castle of Edinburgh, 132. Intimates the king’s 
order to Morton to resign the regency, 152. Ac¬ 
count of his behaviour in parliament. Appendix, 
265. A letter from him to Lord Scroop and sir 
F. Knollys, 267. 

[lie/ford, secretary to the duke of Norfolk, betrays 
him by discovering his intrigues with Q. Mary, 
143,144. 

Highlands and Isles, an attempt to civilize them by 
lv. James VI. 210. Regulations for that pur- 
rose, ib. ’I hree towns endued with the privi- 
eges of royal boroughs ordered to be built 
there, ib. 

Hodgson, a priest of Rheims, maintained the law¬ 
fulness of killing heretical excommunicated 
princes, 174. 

Home, Alexander, lord, thwarts the measures of 
the duke of Albany, regent, 12. 

- - - lord, sent by K. James VI. with a secret 
embassy to the pope, 202. 

Howard. See Norfolk. 

llunsdon, lord, governor of Berwick, his interview 
with Arran, 167. 

Huntley, earl, though a catholic, joins the reformers 
in opposing the French army, 53. Assists them 
only with fair promises,58. His further concur¬ 
rence with them, 62. Some account of that fa¬ 
mily, 77. llis enmity against the young queen’s 
ministers, ib. His resentment inflamed by an 
accident, ib. Appears in an open rebellion against 
the queen, 78. His plot against her ministers 
disappointed, ib. Breaks out into open rebellion, 
ib. Is trodden to death in a battle, 79. His fa¬ 
mily prosecuted with the utmost rigour, ib. 
Several anecdotes and conjectures concerning his 
plot, ib. Is attainted by parliament, 81. I he 
attainder repealed, and the family restored to 
estate and honours, 109. 

- - - - his attachment to Bothwell, 107, 110. 
Refuses to submit to the regent, 132. Is forced to 
do it, ib. Acts as lieutenant to the queen after 
the regent's murder, 138. Is proclaimed a trai¬ 


tor by Lennox the new regent, ib. Receives 
some money and promises of assistance from 
Spain, 139. Agrees to a treaty with Morton the 
regent, 149. Is one of the heads of the Spanish 
faction, 187. Engages to the prince of Parma 
to serve the king of Spain, 188. Is imprisoned 
for a short time, 189. Erects a standard of re¬ 
bellion, ib. But forced to submit to the king, 
ib. Is again imprisoned, ib. Is soon set at 
liberty, to. Receives a commission from the 
king, 191. His barbarous murder of the earl of 
Murray, ib. Is summoned to surrender to jus¬ 
tice, 192. Flies to the mountains, ib. Otiers to 
submit to trial, 193. Sentence pronounced 
against him, ib. Refuses to submit, ib. Makes an¬ 
other desperate attempt, but is forced to fly, 195. 

I 

James I. was detained long a prisoner in England, 
12. Troubles in Scotland during that time, ib. 
Was much improved by an English education, 
15. His policy on his return to Scotland, ib. 
His character, ib. 16. Suppressesthe powerof the 
nobles, 16. they, being exasperated, conspire 
against and murder him, ib. 

- - - II. troubles in Scotland during his mi¬ 
nority, 12. His attempts against the nobles, 16. 
Murdeis the earl of Douglas, ib. Procures seve¬ 
ral good laws to be passed, 17- Reduces the 
power of the nobles, ib. His death, ib. 

- - - 111. the state of Scotland during his mi¬ 
nority, 12. His impolitic conduct, 17. Kills 
one of his brothers, and is invaded by another, 
ib. 18. Is greatly insulted by his nobles, 18. 
His despicable nunions, ib. Was the first that 
appointed a standing guard to his person, ib. 
The nobles are provoked to take arms against 
him, ib. Is killed in a battle, against them, ib. 
llis character, ib. 

- - - 1V. his character, 19. Is killed in a battle 
against the English at Flowden, ib. 

- - - V. his minority long and turbulent, 12. 
Transactions during that time, 19. Assumes the 
government while very young, ib. llis charac¬ 
ter, ib. 20. His scheme tor humbling the nobles, 
20,21. Is diverted from it by the clergy, 21. 
Takes arms for the defence of his kingdom, ib. 
His nobles refusing to follow' him, throws him 
into adeep melancholy, 22. Which is increased 
by a surprising defeat of his forces, ib. llis 
death, ib. Reflections on his conduct, ib. He 
refused an alliance with Charles V. emperor, 26. 

- - - VI. his birth, 99. His baptism, 103. 'Hie 
care of him committed to the earl of Mar, 107, 
151. Is by him preserved from falling into the 
hands of Bothwell, 112. Is crowned, fl7- The 
nobles, oppressed by Morton the regent, turn 
their eyes to him for redress, 151. His education 
and dispositions, ib. 152. He becomes suspicious 
of the regent's power, 152. Discovers early a 
great attachment to favourites, 155. Adopts tw o 
of different dispositions, ib. Enters Edinburgh 
with great solemnity, 156. Is by his favourites 
engaged in unpopular measures, 16b. Is seized 
by a party of nobles at Ruthven, ib. 161. And 
forced to receive complaints against his favour¬ 
ites, ib. Dissembles with them, and banishes 
Lennox, 161. Is brought to Stirling and Holy- 
rood House, ib. His concern for Lennox’s death, 
and regard for his memory, 162. Receives the 
French ambassador with great respect, ib. Makes 
his escape from the conspirators, ib. 163. Re¬ 
solves to treat them with moderation, 163. Visits 
Gowrie, and grants him a pardon, ib. Renews 
his fondness for Arran, ib. Is by him persuaded 
to violent measures against the conspirators, ib. 
llis answer to a haughty letter from Q. Elizabeth 
on their behalf, ib. Is by her interposition ren¬ 
dered more violent against them, 161. Is pro¬ 
voked by the clergy, ib. His steps to humble 
them, 165. llis profusion to Arran, 167• Sends 
a new' favourite to England against the banished 
lords, 168. Devolves Ihe whole regal authority 
on Arran, 169. Writes an undutiful letter to his 
mother, 170. Is threatened to be disinherited by 
her, 171. Receives a pension from Q. Eliza¬ 
beth, 172. Is reconciled to the exiled lords, 173. 
Becomes popular by concluding a treaty with 
England, ib. 174. His scandalous behaviour 
with regard to Archibald Douglas, 174. llis 
endeavours to save his mother's life after long 
condemnation, 179- Is greatly incensed at her 
death, 184. Arguments used by the English 
minister to pacify him, ib. Is forced to stifle 
his resentment, 184. Attempts to unite the no¬ 
bles, 186. Is courted both by Spain and Eng¬ 
land, 187. Resolves vigorously to adhere to the 
latter, ib. J akes several steps with that view, 
ib. His skill in the popish controversy, 188. 
Wrote a commentary on the Revelations, ib. 
His maxims with regard to popery, ib. 189. His 
excessive lenity to conspirators against him, 189. 
Resolves to marry the princess of Denmark, ib. 
Arts used to prevent it, ib. The marriage is 
consummated in Norway, ib. Passes several 
months in Denmark, ib. Reflections on his con¬ 
duct there, ib. 190. His arrival in Scotland with 
his queen, ib. Indulges the presbyterians, ib. 

1 he ill consequences of his lenity, ib. His zeal 
against witchcraft, ib. Is solicited by Q. Eliza¬ 
beth to treat the conspirators against him with 
rigour, 192. Is suspected of conniving with 
them. ib. Is surprised and seized by Bothwell, 
ib. And forced to comply with his terms, ib. 
Is suspected of favouring the popish lords, 193. 
llis lenity to Bothwell abused, 194. Is in new 
danger from them, ib. Delegates his authority 
to Argyll and Forbes against them, ib. Goes in 
person against them, 195. Wastes their lands, 
and garrisons their castles, ib. His right of suc¬ 
cession to the crow n of England opposed by the 





HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


papists, 19o. Ihs lenity to tliem incenses the 
clergy and people, ib. Is much provoked by 
the obstinacy ot the clergy, 197. Gives orders 
against them, 198. Is much insulted, and in 
great danger at Edinburgh, ih. Leaves Edin¬ 
burgh, and proceeds with se'erity against the 
citizens, tb. 199. Acquires absolute dominion 
in ecclesiastical affairs, 199, 200. Strengthens 
ins interest in parliament by restoring the seats 
ot the ecclesiastics, 200, 201. Endeavours with 
success to gain a party in F.ngland, 201. In¬ 
creases his reputation by publishing his Basili- 
con lloron, tb. Js accused by Q. Elizabeth of 
corresponding with the pope, ib. 1 his he de¬ 
nies, and how accounted for, 201, 202. Other 
reports concerning this, 202. Is at great pains 
to gain the Roman catholics, ib. 11 is regula¬ 
tions with regard to the church, ib. Ihe mys¬ 
terious affair ot Gowrie’s conspiracy, 203_207. 

Ills cautious behaviour in regard to the earl of 
Essex, 208. Sends ambassadors to save him 
209. I hey arrive too late, ib. He restores his 
son and associates to their honours after his ac¬ 
cession ib. Continues his intrigues in England, 
’i 2 \°‘ j 1S mterest greatly strengthened there, 
tb Endeavours to civilize the Highlands and 
Isles, 210. Is proclaimed king in England after 
the death of Q. Elizabeth, 212. Is proclaimed 
likewise m Scotland, tb. Prepares for his jour¬ 
ney to England, ib. Enters London, and takes 
possession ot the throne, 213. His character, 
how different from that of Q. Elizabeth, ib. A 
letter; from him to Mr. Archibald Douglas, Ap¬ 
pendix, 295. Curious letter to him from an un¬ 
known English correspondent, 303. 

Inverness castle, refuses to surrender to Q. Mary, 
78. It is forced, and the governor punished, ib. 

Italy, the liberty of, how preserved, 25. 


Keith, sir William, sent to intercede for O. Mary 
when under sentence, 179. Letter to him from 
secretary Maitland, Appendix, 295. 

Kent, earl of, appointed to see the sentence against 
Q. Mary executed, 181. 

Ker, of lernihurst, ravages England on the mur¬ 
der of Murray the regent, 136. His design, 137. 
lias a scuffle with the English, 172. 

- George, brother to lord Newbattle, is disco¬ 
vered when ready to sail to promote a plot in 
Spain, 191. Ilis scheme opened, ib. Escapes 
out of prison, 192. 

Killigrew, Henry, his declaration on the peace, 
Appendix, 279. 

Kings, feudal, the most limited of all princes, 6. 
General causes of this, 7- Their revenues were 
but small, ib. Had no standing armies, ib. 8. 
.And jurisdiction limited, 8. Means used to ex¬ 
tend the royal authority, 13. ’1 heir jurisdiction 
enlarged, ib. 'I he extraordinary influence of the 
Scottish kings in parliament, 2.3. The reason of 
this, ib. 

Kirkaldy of Grange, one of the murderers of Bea- 
toun, is recalled by the Q. dowager, 43. His at¬ 
tainder reversed In parliament, 81. Offers to 
light Both well in single combat, 114. His in¬ 
terview with Q. Mary, in the name of the con¬ 
federate lords, ib. Rescues Maitland from con¬ 
finement, 134. Labours to support, the king’s au¬ 
thority, and restore harmony after the murder of 
the regent, 137. Accedes to the queen’s party, 
ih. Provides for a siege by increasing his gar¬ 
rison and fortifying Edinburgh, 141. Proclaims 
Lennox’s authority unlawful and usurped, ib. 
Attempts in vain to prevent a meeting of the 
parliament, ib. Forms a scheme for surprising 
the king’s party, 142. Is at first successful, but 
afterwards defeated, ib. Comes near to an 
agreement with Mar the regent, 146. A treaty 
with Morton breaks it off, 148. Fires upon 
Edinburgh from the castle, 149. Is besieged by 
the regent, assisted by the English forces, ib. 
Is forced by the mutiny of the garrison to capi¬ 
tulate, ib. Surrenders to Drury the English 
general, ib. Is, by order of Q. Elizabeth, de¬ 
livered up to the regent, 150. He and his brother 
are executed, ih. 

Knollys, sir Francis, sent by Q. Elizabeth with 
letters of condolence to Q. Mary, on her arrival 
in England, 123. Some of his letters, Appendix, 
267 , 270 , 271 . . , 

Knox, John, a famous reformer, his character, 37. 
After being some time abroad, he is recalled by 
the persecuted protestants, 49.. Intiames the 
multitude at Perth with rage against the papists, 
ib. His notion concerning the government of 
■women, whence, 51. Ilis residence fixed in 
Edinburgh, 52. Complainsof the lukewarmness 
of the reformers, 56. His opinion to the con¬ 
vention of reformers that it is lawful to resist 
and deprive tyrannical princes, ib. Animates 
and revives the desponding congregation, 59. 
(,’omplains of the neglect of the reformers in pro¬ 
viding maintenance tor their preachers, 65, 66. 
Recommends the Geneva model of church go¬ 
vernment, 68. Proposes superintendents in the 
church, ib. Composes the first book of disci¬ 
pline, ib. Denounces friendship with the earl of 
Murray for his moderation, 81. Is tried for en¬ 
couraging a mutiny among the people, and ac¬ 
quitted 82. Popish judges concur in this deci¬ 
sion, ib. Is publicly accused by Maitland, ot 
preaching seditious doctrine concerning resist¬ 
ance, 85 Character of the two disputants, ib. 
A pproved of several instancesof assassination, 98. 
Agrees to some regulations concerning the elec¬ 
tion of bishops, 147- His death and character, 
ib. 148. His eulogium by Morton, the regent, 
148. Articles sent by him to the general assem¬ 
bly, Appendix, 279. 


I 

Lang side, the battle of, 121. 

Luurea, cardinal, is sent as a nuncio from the pope 
with a present to Q. Mary of Scotland, 102. is 
stopped at Paris, ib. 

League, holy, a confederacy of Roman catholics so 
called, 171. Was universally agreed to by them 
all over Europe, ib. 

Learning, the revival of, promotes the reforma¬ 
tion, 39. 

Leicester, earl of, appointed a commissioner to the 
conference at Westminster, 129. 

Leith, burnt by the English, 31. Fortified by the 
French, 55. Besieged by the English, 61. Q. 
Mary lands there from France, 72. T he superi¬ 
ority of it granted by her to Edinburgh, 92. Is 
seized and fortified by Morton the regent, 141. 
Lennox, earl of, arrives in Scotland from France, 

29. Is much courted by cardinal Beatoun, ib. 
His pretensions to the succession how founded, 

30. Resents Beatoun’s deceitfulness to him, ib. 
Heads the reformers and the advocates for the 
English alliance, tb. Surprises the regent and 
cardinal, ih. Is outwitted by the cardinal, ih. 
Continues alone in the interest of England, 31. 
Is forced to liy to that court, where lie is re¬ 
warded, ib. Is married to a niece of K. Henry’s, 
by which he became father to a race of kings, ib. 
Ilis claim to the succession, 83. Is imprisoned 
for a secret correspondence with Q. Mary, 84. 
Is invited secretly by her to return to Scotland, 
ib. Arrives in Scotland, and is received with 
great familiarity by her, ib. His forfeiture is 
repealed, and he is restored to his estate and 
honours by the parliament, ib. His lady sent 
prisoner to the lower of London, 87. And 
treated with rigour, 89. He insists on the prose¬ 
cution of his son Darnley’s murderers, 107. 
Charges Bothwell with it, ib. The prosecution 
is hurried, ib. He craves a delay, which is re¬ 
fused, ib. 108. He is left alone in it, 108. So¬ 
licits Q. Elizabeth’s interest to obtain a delay, ib. 
Insists on it by proxy at the trial, but is over¬ 
ruled, ib. Being apprehensive of danger, he flies 
towards England, ib. Ilis countess accuses Q. 
Mary of the murder to Q. Elizabeth, 123. He 
appears at the conference at Westminster, and 
accuses Q. Mary of the murder upon oath, 129. 
Returns to Scotland protected by an English 
army, 138. Is elected regent, ib. His progress 
against the queen’s party, ib. Appoints com¬ 
missioners to frame a treaty with those of the 
queen, 140. Surprises Dumbarton castle, ib. 
Joins the earl of Morton at Leith, 141. Holds a 
parliament in the Canongate, ib. Another at 
Stirling, 142. He issurprised and killed there, ih. 

- - - - lord Aubigne, his character, 155. Joins 
w ith the king’s other new favourite to undermine 
Morton, ib. 156. Renounces popery, 156. (0. 
Elizabeth demands him to be removed from the 
privy-council, ib. Is accused by her ambassa¬ 
dor, 157. Arran tries in vain to supplant him, 
159. Is commanded by K. James, at the request 
of the nobles, to leave the kingdom, 161. Puts 
off his departure on various pretences, ib. Re¬ 
turns unwillingly to France, where he soon dies, 
162. His memory vindicated, and much re¬ 
garded by the king, ib. Died a protestant, ib. 

- - - - earl of, left as the king^s lieutenant in 
the north after dispersing the popish lords, 195. 

Leslie, Norman, murders cardinal Beatoun, 32. 
He and his associates keep possession of the 
castle of St. Andrews, ib. Makes a truce with 
the regent, ib. Are encouraged by Henry 
VII1. ib. 

- - - bishop of Ross, is sent by the catholics in 
Scotland to engage Q. Mary in their interests, 
69. His proposals to her rejected, ib. Ilis ne- 
gociations in England in favour of Q. Mary, 
144. Is confined long in the Tower, and after¬ 
wards is banished England, ib. 

Lindsay, lord, carries the proposal from the con¬ 
federates to Q. Mary, that she should resign the 
government, 117. Joins the Ruthven conspira¬ 
tors, 160. 

Lochlevin castle, Q. Mary committed a prisoner 
there, 115. Her escape from thence, 120. 

- - - - lord, letters to and from him, Appen¬ 
dix, 281. 

Logan of Restalrig, an alleged accomplice in 
Gowrie’s conspiracy, 204. Is tried, and his 
estate forfeited long after his death, 205. 

Lords, confederate, associate against Bothwell and 
O. Mary, 112. Raise forces against them, ib. 
Publish the motives of their conduct, 113. Pre¬ 
vail on the queen to surrender to them, 114. 
Assume the title of lords of the secret council, 
and the royal authority, 115. 

- - - popish, conspire against K. James, 188. 

Are treated by him with great lenity, 189. Form 
a new conspiracy, 191. The king proceeds 
against them, ib. More of his lenity to them, 
193. Fresh dangers from them, 194. They re¬ 
ceive money from Spain, ib. Zeal ot the clergy 
against them, ib. Are declared guilty of treason, 
and their estates forfeited, ib. Defeat ot the 
king’s army, ib. Are dispersed on the king’s 
approach, 195. Go abroad, and give security to 
keep the peace, ib. Return to Scotland, and 
petition for leave to reside in their ow n houses, 
196. 1 his granted by a convention of estates, ib. 

Recant their errors, and are absolved from ex- 
communication, 200. Relapse, and are again 
reconciled to the church of Rome, ib. Are re¬ 
stored to their estates and honours, ib. 

Lorrain, cardinal, gets some of the best benefices in 
Scotland. 45. 

- - - princes of, their ambitious views, 47. 
Instigate the Dauphin and Q. Mary to take the 
titles of king and queen of England, ib. Resolve 
to invade England, ib. And to check the re¬ 


formation in Scotland, tb. The cardinal’s great 
influence over the young king, 53. Drives the 
queen regent of Scotland to violent measures, 57. 
’1 heir violences occasion a conspiracy against 
them, 63. Are forced to withdraw their troops 
from Scotland, ib. 'Ihey insult the Scottish am¬ 
bassador, 66. Have great pow’er over the young 
king and queen, 67. Are forced to contract their 
views on the death of the king, ib. 

Luther, a bold and principal promoter of the 
reformation, 39. The rapid progress of his doc¬ 
trine, ib. 


M 

Major, John, his history of Scotland, some account 
of, 4. 

Maitland of Lethington, secretary to Mary Q. 
regent, leaves her service, and joins the Congre¬ 
gation, 58, 59. Ilis character, 59. Is sent by 
them ambassador to Q. Elizabeth, ib. Sends 
them assurances of her protection, 60. Is sent 
by Q. Mary to the court of England, 73. Makes 
a concession to Q. Elizabeth, tb. Accompanies 
Q. Mary in a progress to the north, 78. He is 
employed by Q. Mary to desire a personal 
interview with Q. Elizabeth, 79- Publicly 
accuses Knox of preaching seditious doctrine 
concerning resistance, 85. Intimates to Q. Eliza¬ 
beth the intentions of Q. Mary to marry Darnley, 
87- Prudently conceals her resentment from Q. 
Elizabeth, ib. 88. Proposes moderate measures 
with regard to Q. Mary when imprisoned, 116. 
Attends the regent when called on to accuse her 
in England, 126. lie disapproves of this 
measure, ib. Ilis intrigue with the duke of 
Norfolk, 127, 132. Is imprisoned by the regent, 
134. Is relieved by Kirkaldy, and secured in 
the castle, ib. Proposes a coalition of the two 
parties after the murder of the regent, 1.37. 
Accedes to the queen’s party, ib. Is deprived of 
his office of secretary, and proclaimed traitor, 
138. Is attainted in a parliament of the king’s 
party, 141. Agrees wdth Mar, 146. His views 
111 refusing a reconciliation with Morton the 
regent, 148. Rejects overtures of a treaty with 
him, tb. Is besieged by him in the castle of 
Edinburgh, 149. Is forced to capitulate and 
surrender to the English general, tb. lo avoid 
the regent’s resentment he despatches himself, 
150. Several of his letters, Appendix, 275, 295. 

- - - - sir John, is made secretary for Scotland, 
17L Concurs with others in promoting Q. 
Elizabeth’s interest there, ib. 172. Attempts 
against him by captain Janies Stewart, late 
Arran, 185. They prove abortive, and he is 
advanced to be chancellor, ib. An attempt to 
remove him from thatoftice frustrated, 189. Ilis 
death, 195. A copy of verses in honour of him 
wrote by the king, ib. 

Mar earl of, that title conferred on the prior of 
St. Andrews, 77- Accompanies the queen in a 
progress to the north, 78. He and his associates 
narrowly escape assassination, ib. Is created 
earl of Murray, ib. See Murray. 

- - the title is conferred on lord Erskine, 78. 
The person of the young prince put into his 
hands, 107. His resolution in preserving him 
from Bothwell, 112. is chosen regent, 142. 
Labours to bring about a general peace, 146. Is 
thwarted by Morton and his associates, ib. Dies 
of melancholy, ib. His character, ib. Ilis 
merit and integrity was acknowledged by both 
parties, ib. 

- - the young earl, being imposed on by' Mor¬ 
ton, turns out his uncle from the castle of 
Stirling, 153. Joins the Ruthven conspirators, 
160. He with the others seize Stirling castle, 
and erect their standard, 165. is attainted, and 
his estate forfeited, 167. Is pardoned, and 
restored to estate and honours, 173. 

March, countess of, her infamous marriage with 
the earl of Arran, 159. 

Mary of Guise, Q. dowager of Scotland, takes a 
considerable share in the government, 35. Is 
much addicted to the French interest, ib. Pro¬ 
jects a marriage of her daughter to the dauphin of 
France, ib. Becomes instrumental in promoting 
the reformation, 37. Aspires to the office of 
regent, ib. Promotes disaffection to the present 
one, and favours the reformers, 38. V isits the 
court of France, ib. Returns to Scotland to 
take possession of the regency, ib. After some 
opposition she obtains it, 38, 39. Confers several 
offices of trust upon strangers, 42. Proposes to 
la.v a tax upon land, ib. is forced to drop it, ib. 

I ries in vain to excite a war with England, 43. 
'1 he nobles vigorously oppose her measures, ib. 
'J reats the reformers with great respect, ib. Ob¬ 
tains a concession from the parliament in favour 
of the dauphin, 45. Her artful management of 
the reformers, ib. Bestows the vacant benefices 
on foreigners, ib. She alters her conduct to the 
reformers, 46, 47. Remonstrances against the 
violent measures of the princes of Lorrain, 47, 
48. Is persuaded by them to persecute the re¬ 
formers, 48. Her rash answer to their remon¬ 
strance, ib. Summons their preachers to appear 
before her, ib. Breaks a promise she had made 
them, ih. 49. Marches with an army against 
them, 49. Concludes a treaty with them, ib. 
'J his she again breaks, 50. Her severity at Perth, 
ib. Her scheme discovered, tb. She goes to 
attack them, ih. Lias again recourse to nego- 
ciation, ib. She is startled at their demands, 
and gets time to answer them, 51. Violates 
another treaty, ib. Loses Perth, and forced to 
abandon Stirling and Edinburgh, she retires with 
precipitation to Dunbar, ib. Marches to attack 
the reformers at Edinburgh, 52. Gains time by 
her artifice, ib. Makes another treaty with them, 
ib. Her artifices to undermine the prior of St. 
Andrew's 54. The absurdity of her scheme, ib. 

6 




INDEX TO THE 


Gets a reinforcement of French troops, who for¬ 
tify Leith, 55. She disregards a remonstrance 
of the reformers, ib. Is influenced by French 
counsellors, and persuaded to violent measures, 
ib. Retires to Leith, on the approach of the 
reformers’ army, 56. Her prudent and artful 
conduct there, ib. Her haughty answer to a 
fresh remonstrance from them, ib. Is, by a con¬ 
vention of them, deprived of her office ot regent, 
ib. The foundation of this sentence, ib. 57. 
Foments differences among them, ib. Is deserted 
by her principal secretary, Maitland of Lething- 
ton, 58, 5y. Sends French troops against the 
reformers, (30. Retires into the castle of Edin¬ 
burgh on the approach of the English, 61. Her 
death and character, 62. Repented of her vio¬ 
lent measures, ib. Listened to the instructions 
of a reformed preacher, 63. 

Mary, queen of England, her persecuting reign, 
39. Her death, 45, 46. 

- - queen of Scots, born, 27. A proposal 
to marry her to Edward VI. 28. She is de¬ 
manded by Henry VIII. ib. Her marriage to 
the dauphin of France proposed, 35. A treaty 
for that purpose concluded, ib. She is sent to 
be educated in France, ib. t he fatal consequence 
of this, ib. Is imposed on by the artifices of the 
French in the treaty of marriage, 44. Her mar¬ 
riage celebrated with great pomp, ib. They take 
the title of king and queen of England, 47. She 
makes concessions to the Congregation, 63. De¬ 
clares Q. Elizabeth's right to the crown of Eng¬ 
land, ib. She acquires an entire ascendant over 
her husband, 67. She is overwhelmed with great 
affliction on his death, and retires to Rheims, ib. 
She is invited by the convention to return to 
Scotland, 68. An emissary from the catholics in 
Scotland proposed violent measures to her, 69. 
She is determined to moderation by the French 
and the prior of St. Andrews, ib. Is prevailed 
on to prepare for her return to Scotland, ib. The 
origin of the discord between her and Q. Eliza¬ 
beth, ib. 70. Her pretensions to the crown of 
England, 70.' Is envied on account of her beauty, 
71. Demands safe conduct from Q. Elizabeth, 
which is refused, ib. Leases France with great 
reluctance, ib. Lands at Leith, 72. Is much 
affected by the change of her situation, ib. Se¬ 
veral disadvantages attending her accession, ib. 
Some circumstances to tier advantage, ib. Her 
accomplishments of body and mind, ib. The 
servants of her chapel insulted, ib. Procures 
the free exercise of her religion, 73. Issues a 
proclamation in favour of the protestauts, ib. 
Employs them solely in the administration, ib. 
Attempts to gain Q. Elizabeth’s favour, ib. 
Makes a concession to her, ib. Which is rejected, 
74. She makes her public entry into Edinburgh, 
ib. An insult offered to her religion on that 
occasion, ib. Discourages the attempts of the 
papists to gain her favour, ib. Her aversion to 
the family of Hamilton, ib. Makes a progress 
into the north, 78. Her ministers narrowly 
escape assassination, ib. Is refused access to 
the castle of Inverness, when relieved by the 
Munroes and other clans, ib. Her forces defeat 
Huntley’s rebellion, 79. She desires an interview 
with Q. Elizabeth, ib. Hegociations concerning 
her marriage, ib. Is solicited by different princes, 
80. Her deliberations concerning it, ib. Is 
forced to bear the authoritative behaviour of Q. 
Elizabeth, 81. To please her subjects determines 
against a foreign alliance, ib. Determines not 
to ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, ib. Further 
negotiations for her marriage, 82. Discovers 
the views of Catherine of Medicis, ib. Lord 
Robert Dudley recommended to her as a hus¬ 
band by Q. Elizabeth, ib. She is highly offend¬ 
ed at this, 83. Dissembles with Q. Elizabeth, 
ib. Entertains thoughts of marrying lord 
Darnley, ib. She recalls Tennox, 84. Is af¬ 
fronted at a letter of Q. Elizabeth’s, ib. Her 
prejudice against the reformed, and zeal for 
the catholic, religion, 85. Is taken with Darn- 
ley at first sight, ib. Is greatly moved at Q. 
Elizabeth’s insulting craftiness, 86. Negociates 
■with the court of Rome for a dispensation to 
marry Darnley, ib. And the consent of the 
court of France, ib. Imposes on Randolph, but 
applies to Q. Elizabeth for consent to her mar¬ 
riage, 87. Which she affects to refuse, ib. In 
resentment, she proposes to send an angry mes¬ 
sage to Elizabeth, which Maitland prevents, ib. 
88. Justifies her conduct to the English ambas¬ 
sador, 88. Endeavours to get Murray’s consent, 
ib. Courts the pope’s protection, and receives a 
subsidy from him, ib. Her great address in gain¬ 
ing the consent of her subjects, 89. Prevents a 
plot against Darnley, ib. Summons her vassals 
to take arms against Murray, ib. And him to 
appear before her, 90. Her marriage with 
Darnley celebrated, ib. She confers the title of 
king of Scots upon him, ib. Phis step cen¬ 
sured, ib. Her resentment against the malcon¬ 
tents, ib. She marches against them, ib. Rejects 
the intercession of Q. Elizabeth in their behalf, 
ib. 91. Continues her march against the rebels, 
91. Her conduct and courage on that occasion, 
ib. Drives them out of Scotland, ib. Her further 
resentment against them, 91, 92. Has recourse 
to several devices to raise money, 92. Her pros¬ 
perity promotes her religion, ib. Her delibera¬ 
tions concerning the exiled lords, ib. Deter¬ 
mines to treat them with lenity, 93. Is diverted 
from this by her religion and French influence, 
ib. This the source of her after-misfortunes, ib. 
Her intention to restore popery, ib. Is disgusted 
with Darnley’s insolent behaviour, 94. Her 
familiarity with Rizzio offends the king, ib. 
Vindicated from any criminal correspondence 
with Rizzio, 95. Uses her utmost endeavours to 
prevent his murder, ib. 96. She is confined by 


the conspirators, 96. She gains the king, and 
escapes trom them, ib. Is reconciled to the ex¬ 
iled nobles, ib. Her hatred to Darnley increases, 
98. And favour for Bothwell commences, ib. 
Extinguishes some domestic feuds among the 
nobles, 99. Is delivered of her son, James VI. 
in the castle of Edinburgh, ib. Invites several 
foreign princes to his baptism, ib. Continues to 
treat Darnley with neglect, ib. Her attachment 
to Bothwell increases, ib. Prevents Darnley’s 
intended flight, 100. Visits the borders, ib. An 
instance of her regard for Bothwell on that oc¬ 
casion, ib. How she rivalled Q. Elizabeth, 101. 
Her right of succession favoured by the English 
parliament, ib. She endeavours to avail herself 
of that opportunity, ib. She takes an extraordi¬ 
nary step in favour of popery, J02. Receives a 
present from the pope, but stops his nuncio at 
Paris, ib. Endeavours to procure a better sub¬ 
sistence for the reformed clergy, ib. Her aver¬ 
sion to the king excessive, becomes melancholy, 
ib. 103. Goes to Stirling tocelebrate her son’sbap- 
tism, 103. Is greatly offended at the king’s be¬ 
haviour on that occasion, ib. Restores the popish 
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, 104. Her neglect of 
the king during his sickness, ib. 105. The breach 
between them becomes irreparable, 105. She 
visits him at Glasgow, ib. The motives of her 
dissimulation on that occasion, ib. Prevails on 
him to come to Edinburgh, 106. Her suspicious 
behaviour to him there, ib. Issues a proclama¬ 
tion for discovering his murderers, ib. Is sup¬ 
posed to have been accessary to it, ib. Is charged 
with it abroad, as well as at home, 107. Goes to 
visit her son at Stirling, lit). Is met on her re¬ 
turn by Bothwell, who seizes and carries her to 
Dunbar, 111. This supposed with her consent, 
ib. Isconducted to Edinburgh, ib. And married 
to Bothwell, ib. Sends an apology to the courts 
of France and England, 112. Her conduct 
causes a general indignation against her abroad, 
ib. Is alarmed at a combination of the nobles 
against her, ib. She publishes a manifesto to 
vindicate her conduct, 113. Is conducted to the 
castle of Borthwick, ib. Marches with Both- 
well’s forces against the confederate lords, ib. An 
attempt of an accommodation proves vain, ib. 
is forced to surrender to the confederates, 114. 
Is insulted by the soldiers and the mob, ib. Is 
carried to Edinburgh, where many abuses are 
offered her, ib. Is sent a prisoner to Lochlevin 
castle, 115. Q. Elizabeth interposes in her be¬ 
half, ib. The English ambassador is refused ac¬ 
cess to her, 116. Various proposals among the 
confederates concerning her, ib. They oblige 
her to resign the government. 117- Different 
reasonings on this measure, ib. 118. Is much 
moved with the freedom of the earl of Murray, 
118. Her party among the nobles becomes dis¬ 
pirited, 119. Her resignation of the crown ac¬ 
cepted by the parliament, and her imprisonment 
declared" lawful, ib. Her letters to Bothwell 
read, and she declared accessary to the king’s 
murder, ib. Escapes from Lochlevin, 120. Ar¬ 
rives at Hamilton, ib. Is attended by many 
nobles and a numerous army, ib. An associa¬ 
tion signed in her defence, ib. Her imprudence 
in hazarding a battle, 121. Her army defeated 
by the confederates, ib. Her precipitate flight 
into Galloway, ib. Rashly determines to retire 
to England, 122. Goes thither against the advice 
of her attendants, ib. Arrives at Carlisle, ib. 
Writes to Q. Elizabeth, imploring her good of¬ 
fices, ib. Receives letters of condolence from 
her, and demands admittance into her presence, 
123. This refused, and why, ib. Offers to sub¬ 
mit her cause to O. Elizabeth, ib. Is much de¬ 
ceived in her expectation from this, 124. And 
offended on discovering the artifices of Q. Eliza¬ 
beth, ib. Earnestly solicits to be admitted into 
her presence, ib. She is carried to Bolton castle, 
125. Chagrined at finding herself a prisoner, ib. 
Agrees to an inquiiy into her conduct, ib. Her 
dissimulation with regard to religion, ib. Com¬ 
missioners appointed to appear in her name, 126. 
Her chief view in this affair, ib. Consents to 
moving the conference to Westminster, 128. She 
is carried to Tuthbury in Staffordshire, ib. Is 
much offended at the regard shown the regent, 
and recalls her consent to the conference, ib. 129. 
The accusations against her produced by the re¬ 
gent, 129. Is accused likewise by the earl of 
Lennox, ib. Her commissioners refuse to answer, 
and demand a personal interview, ib. 1 hey pro¬ 
test against future proceedings, ib. A suspicious 
circumstance against her, 130. Her commission¬ 
ers withdraw from the meeting, ib. Her resolute 
answer to a harsh proposal of Q. Elizabeth, ib. 
Avoids any further progress in the inquiry, 131. 
Is enraged at the proceedings, and proposes des¬ 
perate measures, ib. Spreads chimerical con¬ 
jectures with that view, ib. Proposes a divorce 
from Bothwell, 132. Is influenced by the D. of 
^Norfolk’s schemes, ib. Exchanges many letters 
and love-tokens with him, ib. Consents to pro¬ 
posals from the English nobles, 133. I heir views 
in this transaction, ib. A rebellion by her ad¬ 
herents against Q. Elizabeth, 134. Is removed 
to Coventry, 135. Q. Elizabeth thinks of deli¬ 
vering her up to the regent, ib. This project 
hovv disappointed, ib. Accession of several to 
her party after the murder of the regent, 1.37. 
They endeavour to foment a war with England, 
ib. Her authority proclaimed at Linlithgow, 
138. Bier parties defeated by the new regent, 
ib. She answers proposals by’Q. Elizabeth,139. 
Attempts in vain to get foreign assistance, ib. 
Appoints commissioners to frame a treaty for 
her liberation, ib. 140. This proving fruitless, 
she is more strictly confined, 140. The inva¬ 
lidity of her resignation declared in a parlia¬ 
ment held by her adherents, 141. Act of parlia¬ 


ment in England to curb her and her party, 143. 
She looks for protection from the king of Spain, 
ib. Is denied the privilege of an ambassador at 
the court of England, 144. Is more closely con¬ 
fined and watched, ib. Proceedings against hei 
in England, 145. Her interest neglected by the 
French, ib. Is hurt by the massacre at Paris, 
146. Her adherents divided into two factions, 
148. One of them joins with Morton the re¬ 
gent, 149. Review of the characters of her ad¬ 
herents and opponents, 149, 150. Her torlorn 
situation, 150. Is carried to Buxton Wells, ib. 
Loses several of her friends by death, 151. Sends 
a letter and presents to her son, 155. Her mes¬ 
senger, why dismissed without seeing him, ib. 
Her uneasiness at his confinement by the Ruth- 
ven conspirators, 162. Complains to Q. Eliza¬ 
beth of her hard usage, ib. And begs her inter¬ 
cession for the king her son, ib. 1 hrokmorton’s 
conspiracy in her favour, 166. A fruitless ne- 
gociation with Q. Elizabeth, 167. Is alarmed at 
an association in defence of Q. Elizabeth, 168. 
Is committed to more severe keepers, ib. Be¬ 
trayed by lord Gray, the Scotch ambassador,*/;. 
A statute for the "preservation of Q. Elizabeth 
proves fatal to her, 170. Is more, rigoiously 
treated, ib. Her complaints to Q. Elizabeth dis¬ 
regarded, ib. Is by the French ambassador’s 
interest removed to Tuthbury, ib. Is unduti- 
fully treated by the king her son, ib. Her pas¬ 
sionate complaint to the French ambassador on 
that occasion, ib. Threatens to disinherit him, 
ib. Several discoveries alleged against her, 175. 
She is guarded with unusual vigilance, 176. 
Her domestics, papers, &c. are seized, ib. She 
is conveyed to Fotheringay castle, ib. Deli¬ 
beration concerning the method of proceeding 
against her, ib. Is suspicious of poison or pri¬ 
vate murder, ib. Vindicates herself to the D. of 
Guise, ib. The commissioners for trying her ar¬ 
rive at Fotheringay castle, ib. Her spirited 
speech when refusing to plead, 177. Is at length 
prevailed on, ib. She protests against the au¬ 
thority of the court, ib. I he accusation against 
her, ib. Her defence, ib. 178. Her sentence, 
178. Irregularities in her trial, ib. Her sen¬ 
tence is confirmed by parliament, ib. _ Who de¬ 
mand the execution of it, ib. France interposes 
feebly in her behalf, 179. The sentence against 
her published, 180. She is treated with the ut¬ 
most rigour, ib. Her last request to Q. Eliza¬ 
beth, ib. Refuses the assistance of a protestant 
bishop or dean, ib. Artifices used to inflame the 
people against her, 181. Her behaviour at her 
death, ib. 182. Sentiments of historians con¬ 
cerning her, 182. Her character, 183. Her per¬ 
son described, ib. Is buried first at Peterbo¬ 
rough, and afterwards in Westminster Abbey, 
ib. Letters from her, Appendix, 266, 269, 286. 
Her will, 290. Objections against her by Wal- 
singham, 287. What course to be taken with 
her, 288. A dissertation on the genuineness of 
her letters to Bothwell, 217- 
Maxwell, lord, arrives from Spain, and prepares 
forces to join the Spaniards, 187. His followers 
dispersed, he is taken prisoner, ib. 

Me/vil is sent by the French king to observe the 
motions of the queen regent and her adversaries, 
53. Sent to make up a difference between Eli¬ 
zabeth and Mary, 84. Brings about an appear¬ 
ance of friendship between them, ib. Is sent 
to inform Q. Elizabeth of the birth of K. James 
VI. 99. Puts a letter into the queen’s hand 
against her marriage with Bothwell, 110. Is 
forced to fly from court, ib. Advises Iv. James 
to moderate measures upon his escape from the 
Ruthven conspirators, 163. 

- - - Mr. Andrew, a clergyman, his character, 
151. Zealously opposes episcopacy, ib. De¬ 
clines the civil jurisdiction in ecclesiastical mat¬ 
ters, 164. Is forced to fly into England to avoid 
persecution, ib. 

Melville, Mr. James, minister of Anstruther, his 
encomium on the eloquence of Knox the re¬ 
former, 147- 

- - - - sir Robert, sent by K. James to inter¬ 
cede with Q. Elizabeth for Q. Mary while under 
sentence, 180. Executes his commission with 
fidelity and zeal, ib. A memorial of his to the 
king, Appendix, 299. 

- - - - master of the household to Q. Mary, 
takes his last farewell of her, 182. Her parting 
speech to him, ib. 

Mildmay, sir Walter, sent by Q. Elizabeth with 
proposals to Q. Mary, 139. 

Monlvc, bishop of Valence, employed by the 
French to conclude a peace witli England and 
Scotland, 63. Terms agreed to by him, ib. 64. 
Montgomery, appointed archbishop of Glasgow, 
159. Is refused and excommunicated by the 
general assembly for his immoral life, ib. 160. 
Montmorency, constable of France, endeavours to 
prevent, the dauphin’s marriage with Q. Mary, 
4.3. His prudent advice to Henry II. ib. Makes 
a slender appearance in favour of Q. Mary, 
145. 

Morton, earl of, his irresolute conduct as to the 
reformation, 58. Accompanies Q. Mary in a 
progress to the north, 78. Instigates Darnley to 
he avenged of R izzio, 95. Takes the direction of 
that enterprise, ib. Is admitted into the queen’s 
presence, who promises him a pardon, 96, Is 
forced to fly into England, ib. Obtains his par¬ 
don on Bothwell’s intercession, 103. Seizes a 
casket with letters from Q. Mary to Bothwell, 
115. He is, by Q. Elizabeth’s interposition, in 
favour with the king’s party after the murder of 
the regent, 137. Appointed one of the commis¬ 
sioners to treat with the queen’s party, 140. His 
demands frustrate the meeting, ib. Is entirely 
influenced by the court of England, 142. Com¬ 
mands the king’s forces at Leith, 144. IIa3 





several skirmishes with the queen’s forces, 144. 
Closely besieges Edinburgh, and commits great 
cruelties, ib. A suspension procured by the 
English and French ambassadors, ib. A eoali- 
tion of parties prevented by him, 146. He is 
chosen regent, *'£. His mercenary ingratitude to 
the earl of Northumberland, 147. Obtains the 
temporalities of the archbishoprick of St. An¬ 
drews, ib. Labours to procure a peace between 
the two parties, 148. Attempts in vain to gain 
Maitland and kirkaldy, ib. Makes a treaty with 
Chatelherault and Huntly, 14y. Gets possession 
of the castle of Edinburgh,*'/;. His severity to 
kirkaldy and his brother, 150. His administra- 
tipn becomes odious, ib. His various methods 
ot gratifying his avarice, ib. Connives at the 
dispute of the clergy, 151. He irritates the 
nobles, ib. Argyll and Athol refuse to answer 
his summons, ib. Makes a vain attempt against 
lord Claud Hamilton, ib. Discovers the designs 
of the nobles against him, and proposes to resign 
his othce, 152. Ins resignation accepted by the 
king gives universal joy, ib. 153. Obtains an 
approbation of his conduct, and a pardon in 
ample form, 153. Continues to watch the 
motions of his adversaries, ib. Is torced to sur¬ 
render the castle of Edinburgh, ib. Resumes his 
authority, ib. Gains the castle of Stirling, and a 
seat in the privy-council, ib. Procures a meeting 
of the parliament at Stirling, ib. His security 
ratified in it, 154. Forces are raised for and 
against him, ib. He is reconciled to his adver¬ 
saries by the intercession of O. Elizabeth, ib. Is 
suspected of foul play at an entertainment at his 
own house, ib. His’illegal proceedings against 
the family of Hamilton, ib. 155. ihe king’s 
new favourites undermine him, 155, 156. He 
endeavours to prevent them, 150. Q. Elizabeth 
interposes in his favour, ib. Is charged with 
being accessary to the late king’s death, ib. lie 
is confined in different prisons, 157- Discourages 
an attempt to rescue him, ib. All his friends 
are turned out of office, 158. He is tried and 
condemned, ib. His resolute calm behaviour and 
confession before and at his death, ib. His body 
is treated with ignominy, ib. 

Murray, earl of, late prior of St. Andrews, goes 
with a handful of men against Huntley, 79- By 
his great skill and courage he gains a complete 
victory, ib. His grant is confirmed by parlia¬ 
ment, 81. Cabals against him .by Lennox and 
Darnley,86. His aversion to Darnley and other 
court favourites, 88. Calls Bothwell to stand a 
trial, ib. His reasons for opposing Darnley’s 
marriage with the queen, ib. He and his associates 
are made the dupes of Q. Elizabeth’s policy, 
89. Concerts to seize Darnley, and carry him 
to England, ib. 4 his prevented by the queen, 
ib. Avoids assassination intended him by Darn¬ 
ley, ib. Evidences of these plots, ib. Ihe 
queen’s vassals are called to arms against him, ib. 
He is summoned to appear before her, 90. Is 
again summoned and outlawed on his non-ap¬ 
pearance, ib. Is forced to fly with his associates 
into Argyllshire, ib. They are interceded for 
by Q. Elizabeth, ib. Are pursued by the queen, 
and obliged to fly into England, 91. They meet 
with unexpected ill treatment from Q. Elizabeth, 
ib. Courts Bizzio to intercede with the queen 
for him, 92. Many of his old friends solicit for 
him, 93. the queen’s favour how intercepted, 
ib. A parliament is called to attaint them, ib. 
94. This how prevented, 94. He and his asso¬ 
ciates arrive at Edinburgh, 96. Are graciously 
received by the king and queen, ib. Arealarmed 
at the queen’s escape, but soon reconciled to her, 
ib. He is appointed regent during the minority 
of K. James V 1. 118. His harsh behaviour in a 
visit to the queen, ib. 4 he success of his wise 
administration, 119. Procuies many of the 
queen’s party to join him, ib. (lets the places of 
strength into his hands, ib. Ilis office of regent 
confirmed by parliament, ib. Ilis severe and 
haughty behaviour disgusts several, 120. Ilis 
adherents in great consternation at the queen’s 
escape from Lochlevin, ib. His prudent con¬ 
duct on that occasion, ib. Defeats the queen’s 
army at Langside, 121. He improves this 
victory, 124. His lenity to the prisoners, ib. 
He calls a parliament, 125. Is called upon by 
Q. Elizabeth to vindicate his conduct, ib. He 
arrives at York, 126. His views in this affair, ib. 
Complaints of the queen's commissioners against 
him, 127. fie behaves with great reserve on this 
occasion, ib. 1 his part of hisconduct accounted 
for, ib. Intrigues with the duke of Norfolk, ib. 
His demands from the English commissioners, ib. 
Answers to the complaints of the queen’s com 
missioners without touching on the murder, 128. 
Agrees to have the conference moved to West¬ 
minster, ib. Is affectionately received by Q. 
Elizabeth, which offends Q. Mary, ib. 129. Is 
prevailed on by Elizabeth to accuse Mary ot the 
murder, 129. Produces his evidences, 136. Is 
dismissed by Q. Elizabeth without approving or 
condemning his conduct, 131. His party is se¬ 
cretly supported by her, ib. Returns to Scot 
land, and by his vigorous conduit breaks the 
queen’s party, ib. lie receives proposals both 
from Q. Elizabeth and Q. Mary, 132. He dis¬ 
appoints Norfolk, 133, 1.34. An account of his 
murder, 135, 136. His character, 136. His 
death much lamented by Q. Elizabeth and the 
king’s party, ib. Much anarchy the consequence 
of it, 137. Part of a letter of his, Appendix, 
273. His heir murdered by the earl of LIuntley, 
191. 

N 

AW’, secretary to Q. Mary, is sent by her with 
a letter and presents to her son, 155. W hy dis- 


HISTGRY OF SCOTLAND. 

missed without seeing him, ib. Is sent with 
offers of humble resignation to Q. Elizabeth, 
168. Is seized and sent prisoner to London, 176. 
Is produced an evidence against her, 178. 

'evil discovers and prevents Parry’s design to 
murder Q. Elizabeth, 170. 

Nobles, their extensive power, 8, 9. Become tur- 
bulent and formidable, 9. iheir power greater 
in Scotland than in any other kingdom, ib. The 
causes ot this, ib. I heir power of long duration, 
12. It becomes intolerable to the princes, ib. 

I hey are humbled in France and England, 13. 
But continue vigorous in Scotland, ib. Discords 
aniong them eucouraged, ib. I heir jurisdiction 
circumscribed, ib. Are greatly mortified by K. 
James V. 20, 21. Are disappointed in a scheme 
to show their resentment, 21. Refuse to attend 
the king into England, 22. They seize the re¬ 
venues of the church, 65. Refuse to part with 
them to the reformed clergy, 66. Dissensions 
among them, 76. A convention of them approve 
the queen’s marriage to Darnley, 88. Several 
of them recommend Bothwell as a husband to 
her, 110. A strange combination of them on 
this occasion, ib. A hody of them associate 
against her and Bothwell, 112. Their different 
views in this, ib. 113. A party of them favours 
the queen, 115. 4 hey are much dispirited by 
the good conduct of Murray, 119. 4hey are 

much provoked by Morton the regent, 151. 
Think of redress from the king, ib. Infuse 
suspicion of the regent’s power into him, 152. 
A meeting of them by him, ib. A party of them 
conspire against the king’s favourites, 160. 4 hey 
seize his person and drive them off, ib. Their 
neglect of and ingratitude to the clergy, 17.3. 
The king attempts to reconcile their feuds and 
unite them, 185. See Lords. 

Norfolk, duke of, appointed a commissioner to 
hear the cause between Q. Mary and her ac¬ 
cusers, 126. Forms a scheme ot mounting the 
throne of Scotland, 127. Intrigues with the re¬ 
gent and Maitland with that view, ib. 128. lie 
represents the demands of the Scots to Q. Eliza¬ 
beth, 128. Ilis further negociations with respect 
to Q. Mary, 132. Endeavours to conceal his 
design from Q. Elizabeth, ib. Is imposed on 
by the artifice of the regent, 133. Gets the con¬ 
sent of many of the English nobles, ib. His 
project approved at foreign courts, ib. Is dis¬ 
covered and defeated by Q. Elizabeth, 1.34. Elies 
to Norfolk, ib. He surrenders on a second sum¬ 
mons, and is sent prisoner to the 4 ower, ib. Is 
set at liberty, and continues his intrigues with 
Q. Mary, 143. Is betrayed by his secretary, ib. 
Is seized with his dependants, and accused by 
them, 144. Is executed, ib. 

Northumberland, earl of, attempts a rebellion in 
favour of Q. Mary, 134. Ilis scheme defeated, 
1.35. He is seized by the regent, ib. Is delivered 
up to the governor of Berwick, and put to death 
at York, 147. 

Nottingham, countess of, some account of the 
transactions concerning the earl of Essex’s ring, 
211 . 

O 

Octavians, their institution and extensive powers, 

195. 4 hey undermine the king’s ministers, ib. 

196. Become odious, and a combination is 
formed against them, 196. Being split into 
factions, and envied by the courtiers, they resign 
their commission, 200. 

Ogilvie, lord, has a scuffle with sir John Gordon 
in the streets of Edinburgh, 77- 

Oliphant, master of, joins the Eutbven conspira¬ 
tors, 160. 

Orange, prince of, sends an agent into Scotland, 
157. Ilis instructions, ib. Is assassinated, 171. 

D'Uysel, commander of the French troops in 
Scotland, endeavours to promote a war with 
England, 43. His design frustrated, ib. The 
number of troops under his command, 55. In¬ 
stigates the queen regent to violent measures 
against the reformers, ib. Is sent by Q. Mary 
to demand a safe-conduct from Q. Elizabeth, 
during her voyage to Scotland, 71. 

P 

Paisley, abbot of, arrives in Scotland, 29. Creates 
a suspicion of the earl of Lennox in the earl of 
Arran, regent, ib. Is made archbishop of St. 
Andrews, 33. . . . 

Paris, the massacre of, 145, 146. Rejoicings of 
the popish party on account of it, 146. The 
consternation and horror of the protestants, ib. 

Parliament, the nature of their original constitu¬ 
tion, 23. Particularly that of Scotland, 24, 25. 
A parliament held on an extraordinary occa¬ 
sion, 64. A difficulty started and answered, 65. 
Their proceedings with regard to religion, ib. 
Condemn the popish and approve the reformed 
doctrines, ib. Several other regulations of the 
same tendency, ib. 66. Their validity called in 
question, 66. Exceed their powers, ib. Iheir 
proceedings laid before the king and queen, ib. 
A parliament in favour of Bothwell, 108, 109. 
Passes an act in favour of the reformation, 109. 
Confirm the proceedings of the confederates, 119. 
Parliaments held both by the king’s and queen’s 
parties, 141. Another of the queen’s adherents, 
142. Attaint upwards of 200of their opponents, 
ib. A parliament at Stirling by the king’s party, 
ib. Surprised by the queen's adherents, ib. 
Another at Stirling, 153. One at Edinburgh, 
156. And on the king’s being ot age, 185. Several 
new laws made there, 186. The lesser barons 
admitted into parliament, 187. 

Parry, doctor, undertakes to murder 0. Elizabeth, 
169 Is encouraged by and gets absolution Irom 


the pope, ib. Ilis design how prevented, ib. 170. 
Is executed, 170. 

Parsons, a Jesuit, publishes a book in favour of the 
Infanta of Spain’s right of succession to the crown 
of England, 195. 

Pasquinades and pictures, accusing Bothwell of 
Darnley’s murder, 108. A law made against 
them, 109. 

Patten, William, his account of the Scottish ancient 
military discipline, 34, note. 

Paulet, sir Amias, is appointed one of Q. Mary’s 
keepers, 168. His rigid severity to her, 170. 
Discovers her foreign correspondence, 175. His 
rude treatment of her, 180. Refuses to be con¬ 
cerned in privately assassinating her, 181. A 
letter from him. Appendix, 293. 

Pe/leve, bishop of Amiens, is appointed to support 
the popish interest in Scotland, 55. Drives the 
queen regent to violent measures against the 
protestants, ib. 

Perth, an insurrection of the reformers there 
against the papists, 49. Its inhabitants are se¬ 
verely treated by the queen regent, 50. A French 
garrison placed there, ib. Is besieged and taken 
by the protestants, 51. A great tumult there on 
account of Gowiie’s conspiracy, 204. 

Philip II. of Spain, married to Mary queen of 
England, 39. Reinforces his army with her 
troops, 43. Ilis great power, 171. Joins in the 
holy league, ib. Resolves to invade and con¬ 
quer England, 186. His preparations for it dila¬ 
tory, 188. His design frustrated, ib. Meditates 
an invasion of England through Scotland, ib. 

1 ntrigues with some Scottish lords with that view, 
ib. Remits money to them, ib. 

Pinkey, the battle of, 34. 

Pius V. Pope, excommunicates Q. Elizabeth, de¬ 
prives her of her kingdom, and absolves her 
subjects, 1.38. 

Polly, one of Babington’s conspirators against Q. 
Elizabeth, 174. Discovers the plot, 175. 

Po/trot, a frantic zealot, assassinates the duke of 
Guise at the siege of Orleans, 80. 

Pont, Mr. Robert, a minister, and one of the lords 
of Session, protests against laws oppressive to 
the church, 165- 

Popery, wdiere most flourishing, 39. What kind 
prevailed in Scotland, ib. 40. Was partly graft¬ 
ed on heathenism, 51. Is much hurt by the Con¬ 
gregation, 65. Their doctrines condemned by 
parliament, ib. T he jurisdiction of their courts 
abolished, ib. Their worship prohibited, ib. 
Attempt in vain to gain O. Mary’s favour, 74. 
T he great influence of popery 93 

Pouter, the balance of, the gieat consequence of 
preserving it, 25. 

Presbyterian church government established in 
Scotland, 67- Is confirmed by K. James \ 1 . 
191. 

Protestants, in France, violently persecuted, 54. 
Are moderate on Q. Mary’s arrival from France, 
73. Are employed by her in the administra¬ 
tion, ib. A scheme for suppressing them all over 
Europe, 9-3. A league formed for that purpose, 
17L See Reformation. 

R 

Ramsay , a favourite of K. James TIL narrowly 
escapes being hanged with his associates, 18. Is 
appointed captain of the king’s guard, and 
created earl of Bothwell, ib. See Bothwell. 

Randan, Sieurde, employed by the E'rench to ne- 
gociate a peace with England aud Scotland, 63. 
Terms agreed on by him, 63, 64. 

Randolph, sent to encourage the Congregation, 58. 
Congratulates Q. Mary's arrival in Scotland, 7-3. 
Urges the ratification of the treaty of Edinburgh, 
ib. Is imposed on by Q. Mary in the affair of 
her marriage with Darnley, 85. Sent into Scot¬ 
land on the murder of Murray, 137- Interposes 
for Morton, 157. Hies from Scotland in the 
night, 158. Is sent again there, and concludes a 
treaty with England, 17-3. Several of his letters. 
Appendix, 239,240, 241, 24.3, 244, 249, 252, 253, 
254, 255. 

R at cliff. See Sussex. 

Reformation, its progress in Scotland, 36, 37. 
Account of its first preachers, .37. Is much in¬ 
fluenced by England, ib. Two remarkable in¬ 
struments of promoting it, ib. It makes great 
progress, .39. Causes contributing to promote it, 
ib. Its advantages over popery, 40. is favoured 
by the Q. regent, 4.3. An instance of regard for 
it in Scotland, 44. The whole party not charge¬ 
able with cardinal Beatoun’s murder, 46. A priest 
burnt for embracing it, ib. The reformers vio¬ 
lently persecuted by the archbishop of St. An¬ 
drews, ib. Are protected by the Q. regent, ib. 
Apply in vain to the popish clergy, ib. A per¬ 
secution against them pushed on by the French 
interest, 47, 48. The preachers summoned before 
the regent, 48. They are deceived and declared 
outlaws by her, ib. 49. A riotous insurrection 
of them at Perth against the papists, 49. Pre¬ 
pare to defend themselves against the queen, ib. 
Conclude a treaty with her which she presently 
breaks, ib. 50. They take arms against the 
queen, 50. Insist on redressing civil as well as 
religious grievances, ib. 51. The influence of 
the reformation on liberty, ib. They be¬ 
siege and take Perth, 51. They seize Stirling 
and Edinburgh, ib. Commit great violence on 
churches ana monasteries, ib. Their conduct 
how accounted for, ib. An instance of their 
moderation, 52. Fix their residence at Edin 
burgh, ib. The queen prepares to attack them, 
ib. Makes another treaty with her, ib. Are 
forced to abandon Edinburgh, &c. but allowed 
the exercise of their religion, ib. Demand the 
expulsion of the French army, 53. Are aware 
of their danger from France, ib. Their party 






INDEX TO THE HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 


strengthened, 53, 54. Hemonstrate against the 
French fortifying Leith, 55. lake arms in their 
own defence, ib. demonstrate again to the re¬ 
gent, 56. Are highly incensed at her imperious 
answer, ib. By advice of a convention deprive 
the queen dowager of the office of regent, ib. 
The foundations of this conduct, 57. Examina- 
tion of the different principles on which it was 
conducted in different countries, 67, 68. The 
growth of it encouraged by parliament, 119. 
See Congregation. 

Regalities, the ample jurisdiction of, 8. 
Kepiedging, the privilege of, to whom belonging, 8. 
Revenge, encouraged both by custom and law, 13. 
Revenues of the church, proceedings of parliament 
concerning them, 66, of. 

Ridolphi, an agent for the pope at London, nego- 
ciates for Q. Mary, 143. His arguments with 
the D. of Norfolk, ib. 

Rizzio, David, some account of him and his rise, 
86. Darnley’s connexion with him, 87. His 
good offices courted by Murray, 92. His great 
interest and familiarity with the queen, 94. In¬ 
curs the hatred of Darnley, ib. And of the 
friends of the exiled lords, ib. Several con¬ 
curring causes of this, ib. A combination formed 
to murder him, 95. He is murdered in the 
queen’s palace, ib. 96. 

Romans invade Britain, 3. Give the earliest ac¬ 
counts of the Scots, ib. 

Ross, bishop of, zealously promotes Q. Mary’s 
interest at London, 144. Is confined to the 
'Lower, and threatened with capital punishment, 
ib. Is set at liberty, and banished the kingdom, 
ib. Some letters of his, Appendix, 270, 278. 
Rubay, a foreigner, made keeper of the great seal 
of Scotland, 42. 

Rutliven, lord, the murder of Rizzio proposed to 
him by Darnley, 95. Heads the conspirators 
against him, ib. His part in that transaction, ib. 
Is admitted into the queen’s presence, who pro¬ 
mises him a pardon, 96. Did not repent of it 
at his death, 98. 

- - - created earl of Gowrie, he and his 
associates seize the king, and remonstrate against 
his favourites, 160. Drive them from him, 161. 
Their conduct approved in an assembly of the 
states, ib. The king escapes from them, 163. 
By Arran’s influence violent measures are de¬ 
termined against them, ib. Q. Elizabeth inter¬ 
cedes in their behalf, ib. Are declared guilty of 
high treason, 164. Take refuge in foreign coun¬ 
tries, ib. Are harshly treated by Q. Elizabeth, 
168, 169- A reconciliation with her brought 
about, 172. Return to Scotland, and are recon¬ 
ciled to the king, ib. Their moderation on being 
restored to their estates and honours, 173. Their 
neglect of their friends the clergy, ib. 

- - - - that name abolished by parliament, 207. 
See Gowrie. 

Rutliven raid, what, 161. 

S 

Sadler, sir Ralph, his representations of the resent¬ 
ment of the Scots, for the seizure of their ships 
by Henry VIII., 29. Appointed a commissioner 
to hear the cause between Q. Mary and her 
accusers, 127, 128. 

Sandilands, of Calder, lord St. John, sent to lay 
the proceedings of the Congregation parliament 
before the king and queen in France, 66. Is 
coldly received, and dismissed without a ratifica¬ 
tion by them, ib. 

Savage, a Spanish officer, his desperate resolution 
to kill Q. Elizabeth, 174. 

Scotland, its ancient history fabulous, 3. The 
origin of the Scots, ib. Their history why re¬ 
markably obscure, ib. Some account of the 
writers of it, 4. Is divided into four periods, ib. 

A review of the third ffira, ib. Some account of 
the controversy concerning its independency, 
4—6. This the cause of great animosities and 
much bloodshed, 6. The state of Scotland when 
Bruce began his reign, ib. It begins to have an 
influence on the fate of distant nations, 26, 27. 
Influence as to the balance of power, 26. State 
of Scotland at the birth of Q. Mary, 27. Is in¬ 
vaded by the English, and several places burnt 
and plundered, 31. Much alienated from the 
English, ib. A peace concluded between Eng¬ 
land, France, and Scotland, ib. Computation of 
damages done by the English in Scotland, ib. A 


new breach with England. 33. Is invaded by a 
great English army, ib. The Scots are defeated 
with great slaughter, 34. Their manner of fight¬ 
ing at that time, ib. A marriage agreed of their 
young queen and the dauphin of France, 35. 
They soon repent this step, 36. A fray at Edin¬ 
burgh occasions their utter aversion to the 
French, ib. This inflamed by another incident. 
42. They decline a war with England, 43. Send 
representatives to witness Q. Mary’s marriage, 
44. Their care as to the marriage articles, ib. 
They refuse consent to the demands of the 
French, ib. Four of their deputies suspected to 
be poisoned, ib. Which much increases the 
aversion, 45. Grant the crown matrimonial to 
the dauphin, ib. They apply to the English for 
assistance against the French, 57, 59. An English 
fleet arrives for that purpose, 61. Conclude a 
peace with England, and receive an English 
army, ib. All parties agree in detesting the 
French, 62. A treaty between England, France, 
and Scotland, 63. Both English and French 
armies leave Scotland, 64. They rejoice much 
at the death of the young king of France, 67. 
Send to invite the queen to Scotland, 68. Reject 
proposals of an ambassador from France, 69. 
State of Scotland on queen Mary’s return from 
France, 72. Great zeal of the nation against 
popery, ib. 73. In a miserable condition”after 
the murder of Murray the regent, 141. State of 
factions at that time in it, ib. 142. A league 
concluded between Scotland and England, 173. 
A view of the revolutions of Scotland since the 
accession of James VI., 213—216. Of the policy 
of the state, 213—215. And of the church, 214, 
215. Of the genius and taste as to learning. 
215, 217. 

Scott of Buccleugh enters and ravages England 
after the murder of Murray the regent, 136. The 
design of this, 137. 

Scroop, lord, sent to condole with, and watch Q. 
Mary on her arrival in England, 123. She is 
committed to his custody at Bolton castle, 126. 
Why his fidelity is distrusted, and the queen re¬ 
moved, 128. 

Session, lords and court of, by whom first appoint¬ 
ed, 14. The president and one half of their 
number of the clergy, 40. 

Seton, lord, assists the queen regent in defending 
Leith, 58. 

Shrewsbury, earl of, the charge of Q. Mary’s per¬ 
son committed to him, 128. Why removed from 
that office, 168. Is appointed to see the sentence 
against her executed, 181. Letter from him and 
the earl of Kent, concerning her death, Appen¬ 
dix, 300. 

Sinclair, bishop of Ross, a zealous papist, concurs, 
as president of the session, in acquitting Knox 
of a charge of treason, 82. 

Somerset, duke of, enters Scotland with a powerful 
army, 33. Is reduced to a very critical situa¬ 
tion, 34. Defeats the Scots with great slaughter, 
ib. This victory why of little advantage, ib'. 
Cabals against him at the court of England force 
him to return, ib. Is ruined by his enemies. 
35,36. 

Spain, great warlike preparations there, 186 See 
Armada. The Infanta of, set up as candidate 
for the crown of England, 195. 

Spanish ambassadors ordered to leave England 
for intriguing in favour of Q. Mary, 144,166. ’ 

Sprot, his discoveries concerning Gowrie’s con¬ 
spiracy, 204, 205. Is executed. 205. 

Stewart, James, prior of St. Andrews, is appoint¬ 
ed to carry the crown matrimonial to the dau¬ 
phin of France, 45. See St. Andrews. 

- - - - Esme, lord Aubigne, his arrival in Scot¬ 
land, 155. See Aubigne. 

- - - - capt. James, his character, 155. Be¬ 
comes a favourite of K. James, ib. Accuses 
Morton of the murder of the late king, 156. Is 
created earl of Arran, 158. See Arran. 

- - - - col. William, commander of the king’s 
guard, contributes to his escape from the Ruth- 
ven conspirators, 162, 163. Seizes the earl of 
Gowrie, 165. 

- - - Francis, created earl of Bothwell, 188. 
Joins in a treasonable correspondence with the 
popish lords, ib. See Bothwell. 

- - - - all of that name combine in opposing 
the chancellor, 192. 

Stirling, seized by the reformers, 51. A parlia¬ 
ment there by the king’s party, 142. Is sur¬ 


prised by the queen’s adherents, and a great fray 
ensues, ib. 

Strozzi, Leon, commands a body of French sent 
into Scotland, 33. Reduces and demolishes the 
castle of St. Andrews, ib. See France. 

Succession, a remarkable statute concerning it, 33. 

Superintendents proposed in the church of Scot¬ 
land, 68. Their business, ib. 

Sussex, earl of, one of the commissioners to hear 
the cause between Q. Mary and her accusers, 
126. Assembles a powerful army on the bor¬ 
ders, 137. He ana Scroop enter and ravage 
Scotland, ib. 

T 


Tax upon land first proposed in Scotland, 42. 

Throkmorton, sir Nicholas, sent ambassador extra¬ 
ordinary from Q. Elizabeth to oppose Q. Mary's 
marriage with Darnley, 87. His intercession for 
the exiled lords is much regarded, 92. His en¬ 
mity to Cecil, ib. Is sent to negociate Q. Mary’s 
liberation, 115. Is refused access to her by the 
confederates, 116. Some letters of his, Appen¬ 
dix, 258, 259, 261, 263, 264, 365. 

.Francis, is charged with a conspi¬ 
racy against Q. Elizabeth, 166. At first he de¬ 
nies, but afterwards confesses it, ib. Reflections 
on his confession, ib. Is executed, ib. 

Titchbourne designs to assassinate Q. Elizabeth, 


Treason, persons guilty of it, tried after their death 
by the law of Scotland, 205. 


V 


Vilmort, a foreigner, made comptroller of Scot¬ 
land, 42. 

Union of Scotland and England, the advantages 
of, 214. 

W 

Wallace, sir William, bravely asserted the liberty 
of his country, 6. 

Walsingham, secretary to Q. Elizabeth, sent am¬ 
bassador to K. James VI., 163. Returns without 
success, ib. 164. Makes a favourable report to her 
concerning James, ib. Interposes in favour of 
Q. Mary, 168. Discovers Babington’sconspiracy, 
175. Why a determined and inveterate enemy 
to Q. Mary, 176. A letter from him, Appendix, 
282. 

Warwick, earl of, succeeds Somerset in the govern¬ 
ment of England, 36. 

Westminster, the conferences concerning Q. Mary 
there, 128. 

Westmoreland, earl of, attempts a rebellion in 
favour of Q. Mary, 134. His schemes discover¬ 
ed and defeated, 135. He escapes to the Nether¬ 
lands, ib. 

Withorn, the prior of, imprisoned for celebrating 
mass, 81. 

Willox, a minister, declares for resistance and de¬ 
privation of tyrannical rulers, 56. Is called to 
attend the Q. dowager on her death-bed, 63. 
Wishart, George, his illegal execution revenged, 
32. 

Witchcraft, vigorously prosecuted by K. James VI. 
in Scotland, 190. 

Wotton, dean of Canterbury, employed to nego¬ 
ciate a peace with France, 63. 

- - - sir Edward, sent by Q. Elizabeth into 

Scotland, 172. His character, ib. Soon gets 
into high favour with K. James, ib. Procures a 
league between the two kingdoms, ib. Under¬ 
mines Arran’s power, ib. Forms a plot on K. 
James, and forced to withdraw without taking 
leave, ib. 


Y 

York, the conferences there concerning Q. Mary, 
126. 


Z 

Zouclie, lord, sent ambassador by Q. Elizabeth to 
remonstrate against K. James’s lenity to the 
popish lords, 193. His treachery on that occa¬ 
sion, 194. 






INDEX 


TO THE HISTORY OF 


THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V. 


A 

Absolution, the form of that used by father Tetzel 
in Germany, 455, note. 

Adorni , the taction of, assists the imperial general 
Colonna in the reduction of Genoa, 475. 

Adrian of Utrecht made preceptor to Charles V. 
under William de Croy, lord of Chievres, 436. 
His character, ib. Sent by Charles with power 
to assume the regency of Castile on the death of 
his grandfather, 438. His claim admitted by 
cardinal Ximenes, and executed in conjunction, 
ib. Authorized by Charles to hold the cortes of 
Valencia, which refuses to assemble before him, 
449. Made viceroy of Castile on the departure 
of Charles for Germany, 450. His election re¬ 
monstrated against by the Castilians, ib. Is 
chosen pope, 475. Retrospect of his conduct in 
Spain during the absence of Charles, 479. Sends 
Ronquillo to reduce the Segovians, who repulse 
him, ib. Sends Fonseca to besiege the city, who 
is repulsed by the inhabitants of Medina del 
Campo, ib. Apologizes for Fonseca’s conduct 
to the people, ib. Recalls Fonseca, and dis¬ 
misses nis troops, ib. His authority disclaimed 
by the Holy Junta, 480. Deprivecf of power by 
them, 481. His ill reception on his arrival at 
Rome on being chosen to the papacy, 488. Re¬ 
stores the territories acquired by his predecessor, 
ib. Labours to unite the contending powers or 
Europe, ib. Publishes a bull for three years’ 
truce among them, 489. Accedes to the league 
against the French king, ib. His death, 491. 
The sentiments and behaviour of the people on 
that occasion, ib. A retrospect of his conduct 
towards the reformers, 494. His brief to the 
diet at Nuremberg, ib. Receives a list of griev¬ 
ances from the diet, 495. His conduct to the re¬ 
formers, how esteemed at Rome, ib. 

Africa, the shocking devastations made there by 
the Vandals, 368. The Spanish troops sent by 
cardinal Ximenes against Barbarossa defeated 
there, 441. 

Aigues-mortes, interview between the emperor 
Charles and Francis there, 556. 

Aix-la-Chapelle, the emperor Charles crowned 
there, 454. Ferdinand, his brother, crowned 
king of the Romans there, 5.33. 

Alarms, his character of the clergy in his time,378. 

Alarcon, don Ferdinand, Francis I. of France 
taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, committed 
to his custody, 500, 501. Conducts Francis to 
Spain, 503. Delivers up Francis in pursuance 
of the treaty of Madrid, 508. Is sent ambassador 
to Francis to require the fulfilment of his treaty, 
513. Pope Clement VII. taken prisoner by the 
imperialists, is committed to his custody, 518. 

Albany, John Stuart, duke of, commands the 
French army sent by Francis I. to invade 
Naples, 499. 

Albert of Brandenburg, grand master of the Teu¬ 
tonic order, becomes a convert to the doctrines 
of Luther, 511. Obtains of Sigistnund, king of 
Poland, the investiture of Prussia, erected into a 
duchy, ib. Is put under the ban of the empire, 
ib. His family fixed in the inheritance of Prussia, 
ib. Commands a body of troops in behalf of 
Maurice of Saxony, but endeavours to assert an 
independency, 650. Defeats and takes the duke 
d’Aumale prisoner, and joins the emperor at 
Metz, 656. Is condemned by the imperial cham¬ 
ber for his demands on the bishops of Bamberg 
and Wurtsburg, 659. A league formed against 
him, ib. Is defeated by Maurice, ib. Is again 
defeated by Henry of Brunswick,660. Is driven 
out of Germany, and dies in exile, ib. Ilis ter¬ 
ritories restored to his collateral heirs, tb. 

Albert, elector of Mentz, the publication of indul¬ 
gences in Germany committed to him, 455. 

Alexander VI. pope, remarks on the pontificate of, 
462. 

Alexander di Medici. See Medici. 


Alfred the Great, his complaint of the ignorance of 
the clergy, 378. 

Algiers, how it was seized by Barbarossa, 512. Is 
seized by the brother of the same name, on the 
death or the former, ib. Is taken under the 
protection of the Porte, ib. Is governed by 
Flascen-Aga in the absence of Barbarossa, 573. 
Is besieged by the emperor Charles V. 574. 
Charles forced to re-embark by bad weather, 
ib. 

Allodial possession of land explained, 373. How 
such possession became subject to military ser¬ 
vice, ib. Distinguished from beneficiary tenures, 
ib. How converted into feudal tenures, 375. 

Allodium, the etymology of that word, 376. 

Alraschid, brother of Muley-Hascen, king of Tu¬ 
nis, solicits the protection of Barbarossa against 
him, 543. His treacherous treatment by Barba¬ 
rossa, ib. 

Alva, duke of, adheres to Ferdinand of Aragon, 
in his dispute with the archduke Philip concern¬ 
ing the regency of Castile, 432. Forces the dau¬ 
phin to abandon the siege of Perpignan, 577, 
578. Presides at the court-martial which con¬ 
demns the elector of Saxony to death, 618. De¬ 
tains the landgrave prisoner by the emperor’s 
order, 621. Commands under the emperor the 
army destined against France, 656. Is appoint 
ed commander in chief in Piedmont, 670. En¬ 
ters the ecclesiastical territories and seizes the 
Campagna Romana, 685., Concludes a truce 
with the pope, ib. Negociates a peace between 
Philip and the pope, with cardinal Caraffa, 692. 
Goes to Rome to ask pardon of the pope for his 
hostilities, ib. Is sent to Paris in the name of 
Philip to espouse the princess Elizabeth, 703. 

Amerstorff, a nobleman of Holland, associated by 
Charles V. with cardinal Ximenes in the re¬ 
gency of Castile, 440. 

Ammianus, his character of the Huns, 369, 370. 

Amurath, sultan, the body of janizaries formed by 
him, 365. 

Anabaptists, the origin of that sect deduced, 537. 
Their principal tenets, ib. Their settlement at 
Munster, ib. Character of their principal leaders, 
ib. They seize the city of Munster, 538. They 
establish a new form of government there, ib. 
Choose Boccold king, 539. Their licentious 
practices, ib. A confederacy of the German 
princes formed against them, ib. Are block¬ 
aded in Munster by the bishop, ib. The city 
taken, and great slaughter made of them, 540. 
Their king put to death, ib. Character of the 
sect since That period, ib. See Matthias and 
Boccold. 

Anathema, form of that denounced against robbers 
during the middle ages, 409. 

Angleria, his authority cited in proof of the ex¬ 
tortions of the Flemish ministers of Charles V., 
444. 

Anhalt, prince of, avows the opinions of Martin 
Luther, 494. 

Annats to the court of Rome, what, 465. 

Arabia, the ancient Greek philosophy cultivated 
there while lost in Europe, 406. Note xxviii. 
The progress of philosophy from thence to Eu¬ 
rope, ib. 

Aragon, rise of the kingdom of, 352. Its union 
with Castile, ib. The constitution and form of 
its government, 353. The privileges of its cortes, 
ib. Office and jurisdiction of the justiza, 354. 
The regal power very confined, ib. Form of the 
allegiance sworn to the kings of, ib. The power 
of the nobility to control the regal power, 413. 
Their privilege of union taken away by Peter IV. 
ib. The establishment of the inquisition opposed 
there, 414. How Ferdinand became possessed of 
that kingdom, 430. The cortes of, acknowledge the 
archduke Philip’s title to the crown, ib. Ancient 
enmity between this kingdom and Castile, 432. 
Navarre added to this crown by the arts of Fer 
dinand, 435. Arrival of Charles V. 444. The 


cortes not allowed to assemble in his name, ib. 
The refractory behaviour of the Aragonians, ib. 
they refuse restitution of the kingdom of Na¬ 
varre, ib. Don John Lanuza appointed regent- 
on the departure of Charles for Germany, 450. 
M ho composes the disturbances there, 487. Ihe 
moderation ot Charles towards the insurgents on 
his arrival in Spain, 488. See Spain. 

Ardres, an interview there between Francis I. and 
Henry VIII. of England, 453. 

Armies, standing, the rise of traced, 336. By 
what means they became more general in Europe, 

Arms, the profession of, the most honourable in 
uncivilized nations, 329. 

Ass, an account of the ancient Romish feast of, 380. 

Assemblies, legislative, how formed, 319. 

- - - - general, of France, their power under 
the first race of kings, 357. Under the second 
and third, 358. At what period they lost their 
legislative authority, ib. 

Asturias, Charles, son of Philip and Joanna, 
acknowledged prince of, by the cortes of Castile, 
434. 

Attila, king of the Huns, account of his reception 
of the Roman ambassadors, 367, NoteiW. Some 
account of his conquests, 369. 

Augsburg, a diet called there by Charles V. 531. 
His public entry into that city, ib. The confes¬ 
sion of faith named from this city, drawn up by 
Melancthon, ib. Resolute behaviour of the pro- 
testant princes at, ib. The diet again assembled 
there, 623. Is intimidated by being surrounded 
by the emperor’s Spanish troops, ib. The em¬ 
peror re-establishes the Roman worship in the 
churches of, 624. The diet, by the emperor’s 
order, petitions the pope for the return of the 
council to Trent, 625. A system of theology 
laid before the diet by the emperor, 627. The 
archbishop of Mentz declares, without authority, 
the diet’s acceptance of it, ib. Its form of govern¬ 
ment violently altered and rendered submissive 
to the emperor, 629. The diet re-assembled 
there, 632. The diet takes part with the emperor 
against the city of Magdeburg, 635. Is seized by 
Maurice of Saxony, 647- Another diet at, open¬ 
ed by Ferdinand, 672. Cardinal Moroneattends 
the diet as the pope’s nuncio, 673. Moroni de¬ 
parts on the pope's death, ib. Recess of the diet 
on the subject of religion, 674. Remarks on this 
recess, 675. 

Avila, an assembly of Castilian nobles there 
solemnly try and depose Henry IV. their king, 
.353. A convention of the malcontents in Spain 
held there, 480. A confederacy termed the Holy 
Junta, formed there, ib. Which disclaims the 
authority of Adrian, ib. The holy junta remov¬ 
ed to Torriesillas, ib. See Junta. 

Austria, the house of, by whom founded, 361. 
By what means the house of, became so formid¬ 
able in Germany, 519. The extraordinary 
acquisitions of the house of, in the person of the 
emperor Charles V., 704, 705. 

B 

Baillis, in the old French law, their office explain¬ 
ed, 402. 

Balance of power, the first rise of in Europe, 342. 
The progress of, ib. 

Baltic, the first source of wealth to the towns 
situated on that sea, 411. 

Barbarossa, Iloruc, his rise to the kingdom of 
Algiers and Tunis, 441. Defeats the "Spanish 
troops sent against him by cardinal Ximenes, ib. 
His parentage, 541. Commences pirate with his 
brother Hayradin, ib. How he acquired posses¬ 
sion of Algiers, 542. Infests the coasts of Spain, 
ib. Is reduced and killed by Comares the 
Spanish governor of Oran, ib. 

- - - - Hayradin, brother to the former of 
the same name, takes possession of Algiers on 

9 









INDEX TO THE HISTORY 


his brother’s death, 542. Puts his dominions un¬ 
der the protection of the grand seignior, ib. Ob¬ 
tains the command of the Turkish fleet, ib. 11 is 
treacherous treatment of Alraschid, brother to 
the king of Tunis, 543. Seizes Tunis, ib. Ex¬ 
tends his depredations by sea, ib. Prepares to 
resist the emperor’s armament against him, 544. 
Goletta and his fleet taken, ib. Is defeated by 
Charles, ib. Tunis taken, 545. Makes a descent 
on Italy, 580, 581. Burns Rheggio, 581. Be¬ 
sieges Nice in conjunction with the French, but 
is forced to retire, ib. Is dismissed by Francis, 
584. 

Barbary , a summary review of the revolutions of, 
541. Its division into independent kingdoms, ib. 
Rise of the piratical states, ib. .See Barbarossa. 

Barcelona, its trade, riches, and privileges at the 
close of the fifteenth century, 415. 1 he public 
entry of the emperor Charles V. into that city, 
as its count, 528. 1 he treaties of Charles with 
the Italian states, published there, 529. 

Barons, their independence and mutual hostilities 
under the feudal system, 313. How affected by 
the enfranchisement of cities, 319. Acquire a 
participation in legislative government, ib. 
Their private wars for redress of personal in¬ 
juries, 322. Methods employed to abolish these 
contentions, ib. Origin of their supreme and 
independent jurisdiction, 326. The bad effects 
resulting from these privileges, ib. The steps 
taken by princes to reduce their courts, ib. How 
obliged to relinquish their judicial prerogatives, 
329. Of Italy, subjected to municipal laws, 
383. Note xv. Their right of territorial jurisdic¬ 
tion explained, 400. 1 heir emoluments from 

causes decided in their courts, ib. 

Bayard, chevalier, his character, 472. His gallant 
defence of Meziers, besieged by the imperialists, 
ib. Obliges them to raise the siege, ib. His 
noble behaviour at his death, 493. llis respect¬ 
ful funeral, ib. 

Be/lay, M. his erroneous account of the education 
of Charles V. corrected, 436, wore. His account 
of the disastrous retreat of the emperor Charles 
V. from his invasion of Provence, 55.3. 

Benefices, under the feudal system, a history of, 
.374. When they became, hereditary, ib. 

Bible, a translation of, undertaken by Martin 
Luther, and its effects in opening the eyes of the 
people, 493, 494. 

Bicocca, battle of, between Colonna and Mareshal 
Lautrec, 476. 

Bocco/d or Beukles, John, a journeyman tailor, 
becomes a leader of the anabaptists at Munster, 
537. Succeeds Matthias in the direction of their 
affairs, 538. His enthusiastic extravagances, ib. 
Is chosen king, ib. Marries fourteen wives, 539. 
Beheads one of them, ib. Is put to a cruel 
death at the taking of Munster, 540. See Ana¬ 
baptists. 

Bohemia, the archduke Ferdinand chosen king of, 
519- Ferdinand encroaches on the liberties of 
the Bohemians, 623. The Reformation introduced 
by John Huss and Jerome of Prague, ib. Raise 
an army to no purpose, ib. 

Bonnivet, admiral of France, appointed to com- 
niand the invasion of Milan, 490. His character, 
ib. Enables Colonna to defend the city of Milan 
by his imprudent delay, 491. Forced to abandon 
the Milanese, 493. is wounded, and his army 
defeated by the imperialists, ib. Stimulates 
Francis to an invasion of the Milanese, 497. Ad¬ 
vises Francis to besiege Pavia, 498. Advises 
him to give battle to Bourbon, who advanced to 
the relief of Pavia, 500. is killed at the battle 
of Pavia, ib. 

Bologna, an interview between the emperor 
Charles V. and pope Clement Vil. there, 528. 
Treaties of Charles with the Italian states pub¬ 
lished there, 529. Another meeting between the 
emperor and the pope, 534. 

Books, an inquiry into the materials of the ancient 
ones, 379. T he loss of old manuscripts accounted 
for, ib. The great prices they sold for in ancient 
times, ib. 

Boroughs, representatives of, how introduced into 
national councils, 320. 

Bouillon, Robert de la Mark, lord of, declares war 
against the emperor Charles, at the instigation of 
Francis II. 472. Is ordered by Francis to dis¬ 
band his troops, ib. His territories reduced by 
the emperor, ib. 

Boulogne, besieged by Henry VIII. of England, 
586. Taken, 588. 

Bourbon, Charles, duke of, his character, 489. 
T he causes of his discontent with Francis I. ib. 
His duchess dies, ib. Rejects the advances of 
Louisa the king’s mother, 490. His estate 
sequestered by her intrigues, ib. Negociates 
secretly with the emperor, ib. Is included in a 
treaty between the emperor and Henry VIII. of 
England, ib. Is taxed by the king with betray¬ 
ing him, which he denies, ib. Escapes to Italy, 
ib. Directs the measures of the imperial army r 
under Lannoy, 492. Defeats the French on the 
banks of the Sessia, 493. Instigates Charles to 
an invasion of France, 496. Advances to the re¬ 
lief of Pavia, 499. Defeats Francis, and takes 
him prisoner, 500. Hastens to Madrid to secure 
his own interests in the interview between Charles 
and Francis, 504. His kind reception by Charles, 
506. Obtains a grant of the duchy of Milan, 
and is made general of the imperial army, ib. 
Obliges Sforza to surrender Milan, 514. Is 
forced to oppress the Milanese to satisfy his 
troops mutinying for pay, 515. Sets M orone at 
liberty, and makes him his confidant, ib. Ap¬ 
points Leyva governor of Milan, and advances 
to invade the pope’s territories, ib. His disap¬ 
pointed troops mutiny, 516. He determines to 
plunder Rome, 517- Arrives at Rome, and 
assaults it, ib. Is killed, ib. 


Brandenburg, elector of, avows the opinions of 
Luther, 494. 

----- Albert of. See Albert. 

Britons, ancient, their distress and dejection when 
deserted by the Romans, and harassed by the 
Piets and Caledonians, 367. Note i. 

Brotherhood of God, an account of that association 
for extinguishing private wars, 393. 

Bruges, how it became the chief mart for Italian 
commodities during the middle ages, 410. A 
league concluded there between the emperor 
and Henry Vlll. of England, against France, 
473. 

Brunswick, duke of, avows the opinions of Luther, 
494. 

- - - - Henry, duke of, driven from his do¬ 
minions by the protestant princes of the league 
of Smalkalde, 582. Raises men for Francis, but 
employs them to recover his own dominions, 592. 
Is taken prisoner, ib. 

Buda, siege of, by Ferdinand, king of the Romans, 
572. Is treacherously seized by sultan Soly- 
man, 573. 

Burgundy, Mary, heiress of, the importance with 
which her choice of a husband was considered 
by all Europe, 310. 1 he treacherous views of 
Louis XI. of France towards her, ib. is mar¬ 
ried to the archduke Maximilian, ib. The influ¬ 
ence of this match on the state of Europe, 341. 

C 

Cesar, his account of the ancient Germans com¬ 
pared with that of Tacitus, 370, 371. 

Cajetan, cardinal, the pope’s legate in Germany, 
appointed to examine the doctrines of Martin 
Luther, 457. Requires Luther peremptorily to 
retract his errors, 458. Requires the elector of 
Saxony to surrender or banish Luther, ib. His 
conduct justified, ib. 

Calais, an ineffectual congress there, between the 
emperor and Francis, under the mediation of 
Henry Vlll. 472. The careless manner in which 
it was guarded in the reign of Mary, queen of 
England, 694. Ineffectual remonstrances of 
Philip, and lord Wentworth the governor, con¬ 
cerning its defenceless state, ib. Is invested 
and taken by the duke of Guise, ib. The Eng¬ 
lish inhabitants turned out, 695. Stipulations 
concerning, in the treaty of Chateau-Cambresis, 
702. 

Calatrava, military order of, in Spain, zealous to 
employ their prowess in defence of the honours 
of the virgin Mary, 416. The vow used by these 
knights, ib. 

Cambray, treaty of, its object, 344. The confede¬ 
racy dissolved, ib. Articles of the peace con¬ 
cluded there betv'een the emperor Charles and 
Francis of France, 526. Remarks on this treaty, 
527. 

Campe, peace of, between Henry VIII. and Fran¬ 
cis, 600. 

Campeggio, cardinal, made legate from pope Cle¬ 
ment VII. to the second diet at Nuremberg,496. 
Publishes articles for reforming the inferior 
clergy, ib. Advises Charles to rigorous measures 
against the protestants, 531. 

Canon Law, an inquiry into, 327- Progress of ec¬ 
clesiastical usurpations, ib. The maxims of, 
more equitable than the civil courts of the middle 
ages, 328. 

Capitulation of the Germanic body signed by 
Charles V. and prescribed to all his successors, 
448. 

Caraffa, cardinal, his precipitate election, 677. Is 
appointed legate to B logna, ib. Reasons of his 
disgust with the emperor, ib. Persuades ihe 
pope to solicit an alliance with France against 
the emperor, 6J8, 679. 11 is insidious commission 
to the court of France, 683, 684. His public en¬ 
try into Paris. 684. Exhorts Henry to break his 
truce with the emperor, ib. Absolves Henry 
from his oath, ib. Negociates a peace between 
the pope and Philip, witli the duke d’Alva, 692. 

T he fate of him and his brother on the death of 
pope Paul, 703. 

Car lost adius imbibes the opinions of Martin Luther 
at Wittemberg, 460. His intemperate zeal, 493. 
Awed by the reproofs of Luther, ib. 

Carignan, besieged by the count d’F.nguin, and 
defended by the marquis de Guasto, 584. Guasto 
defeated in a pitched battle, 585. The town 
taken, ib. 

Castaldo, marquis of Piadeno. See Piadeno. 

Castile, rise of the kingdom of, 352. Its union 
with Aragon, ib. Its king, Henrv IV., solemnly 
tried and deposed in an assembly of the nobles, 

35.3. The constitution and government of that 
kingdom, .354. A history of the cortes of, and 
its privileges, ib. T he kingdom originally elec¬ 
tive,414, 415. Notexxxni. How Isabella became 
possessed of that kingdom, 4.30. The archduke 
Philip’s title acknowledged by the cortes of that 
kingdom, ib. Isabelladies, and leaves her husband 
Ferdinand of Aragon regent, 4.31. Ferdinand 
resigns the crown of, ib. Ferdinand acknow¬ 
ledged regent by the cortes, 432. Enmity be¬ 
tween this kingdom and Aragon, ib. The par¬ 
ticular dislike of the Castilians to Ferdinand, ib. 
The regency of, jointly vested in Ferdinand, 
Philip, and Joanna, by the treaty of Salamanca, 

4.3.3. Declares against Ferdinand, ib. T lie re¬ 
gency of, resigned bv Philip to Ferdinand, ib. 
Philip and Joanna acknowledged king and queen 
by the cortes, 4.34. Death of Philip, ib. The 
perplexity of the Castilians on Joanna’s inca¬ 
pacity for government, ib. Ferdinand gains the 
regency and t e good will of the Castilians by his 
prudent administration, 4.35. Oran and other 
places in Barbary annexed to this kingdom by 
Ximenes, ib. Ximenes appointed regent by Fer¬ 
dinand’s will until the arrival of Charles V.437. 


Charles assumes the regal title, 4.38. Ximenes pro- 
cures its acknowledgment, 1 b. The nobility de¬ 
pressed by Ximenes, 439. ’I be grandees mutiny 
against Ximenes, ib. 'I he mutiny suppressed, ib. 
Ximenes resumes the grants made by Ferdinand 
to the nobles, ib. 440. I he bold reply of Ximenes 
to the discontented nobles, 440. Other associates 
in the regency appointed with Ximenes, at the in¬ 
stigation of the flemish courtiers, ib. Ximenes 
dies, 44.3. Charles acknowledged king by the 
cortes on his arrival, with a reservation in favour 
of his mother Joanna, ib. 'I he Castilians receive 
unfavourable impressions of him, ib. Disgusted 
by his partiality to his Flemish ministers, 444. 
Sauvage made chancellor, ib. William de Croy 
appointed archbishop of Toledo, ib. T he principal 
cities confederate, and complain of their grievan¬ 
ces, ib. The clergy of, refuse to levy the tenth of 
benefices granted by the pope to Charles V.,449. 
Interdicted, but the interdict taken off by 
Charles’s application, ib. An insurrection there, 
450. Increase the disaffection, ib. Cardinal 
Adrian appointed regent on the departure of 
Charles for Germany, ib. The views and pre¬ 
tensions of the commons in their insurrections, 
479. The confederacy called the Holy Junta 
formed, 480. The proceedings of which are 

1 carried on in the name ot queen Joanna, ib. 
Receives circulatory letters from Charles for 
the insurgents to lay dowm their arms, w ith pro¬ 
mises of pardon, 481. The nobles undertake to 
suppress the insurgents, 482. Raise an army 
against them under the Conde de Haro, 48.3. 
Haro gets possession of Joanna, ib. Expedients 
by which they raise money for their troops, 484. 
Unwilling to proceed to extremities with the 
Junta, ib. T he army of the Junta routed, and 
Padilla executed, 485. Dissolution of the Junta, 
486. T he moderation of Charles towards the 
insurgents on his arrival in Spain, 488. He 
acquires the love of the Castilians, ib. See 
Spain. 

Catalonia, the spirited behaviour of the people 
there in defence of their rights against their king, 
John 11. of Aragon, 353. 

Catharine of Aragon is divorced from Henry 
VI11. of England, 536. Dies, 558. 

- - - - a Boria, a nun, flies from her cloister, 
and marries Martin Luther, 511. 

- - - - di Medici. See Medici. 

Cavi, peace concluded there between pope Paul 
IV. and Philip II. of Spain, 692. 

Censuales, a species of the oblati or voluntary 
slaves, the obligations they entered into de¬ 
scribed, .390. 

Centenarii, or inferior judges in the middle ages, 
the extraordinary oath required from them, 409. 

Cercamp, negociations for peace entered into there 
between Philip 11. of Spain and Henry II. of 
France, 698, 709. .The negociations removed to 
Chateau-Cambresis. See Chateau-Cambresis. 

Champs de Mars and de Mai, account of those 
assemblies of the ancient Gauls, 417. 

Characters of men, rules for forming a proper 
estimate of them, 595. Applied to the case of 
l.uther, ib. 

Charlemagne, his law to prevent private wars for 
redress of personal injuries, .322, .392, .393. State 
of Germany under his descendants, 360. 

Charles IV. emperor, dissipates the imperial do¬ 
mains, 424. His observations on the manners of 
the clergy, in his letter to the archbishop of Metz, 
462, note. 

- - - V. emperor, an emulator of the heroic 
conduct of his rival Francis 1., .330. His future 
grandeur founded on the marriage of the arch¬ 
duke Maximilian with the heiress of Burgundy, 
341. His descent and birth, 430. How he came 
to inherit such extensive dominions, ib. Ac¬ 
knowledged prince of Asturias by the Cortes of 
Castile, 4.34. llis father Philip dies, ib. Jea¬ 
lousy and hatred of his grandfather Ferdinand 
towards him, 435. I-eft heir to his dominions, 

4.36. Death of Ferdinand, ib. His education 
committed to William de Croy, lord of Chievres, 
ib. Adrian of Utrecht appointed to be his pre¬ 
ceptor, ib. The first opening of his character, 

4.37. Assumes the government of Flanders, and 
attends to business, ib. Sends cardinal Adrian 
to be regent of Castile, who executes it jointly 
with Ximenes, 4.38. Assumes the regal title, ib. 
llis title admitted with difficulty by the Casti¬ 
lian nobility, 4.39. Persuaded to add associate 
regents to Ximenes, 440. His Flemish court 
corrupted by the avarice of Chievres, 441. Per¬ 
suaded by Ximenes to visit Spain, but how that 
Journey, is retarded, ib. The present state of 
his affairs, 442. Concludes a peace at Noyen 
with Francis I. of France, and the conditions of 
the treaty, ib. Arrives in Spain, ib. His un¬ 
grateful treatment of Ximenes, 443. His public 
entry into Valladolid, ib. Is acknowledged king 
by the Cortes, who vote him a free gift, ib. The 
Castilians receive unfavourable impressions of 
him, ib. Disgusts them by his partiality to his 
r lemish ministers, ib. Sets out for Aragon, 444. 
Sends his brother Ferdinand to visit their grand¬ 
father Maximilian, ib. Cannot assemble the 
Cortes of Aragon in his own name, ib. T lie 
opposition made by that assembly to his desires, 
ib. Refuses the application of Francis 1. for 
restitution of the kingdom of Navarre, ib. Neg¬ 
lects the remonstrances of the Castilians, 445. 
Death ot the emperor Maximilian, ib. View ot 
the present state of Europe, ib. How Maximi¬ 
lian was obstructed in securing the empire to 
him, ib. Francis I. aspires to the imperial crown, 
ib. 446. Circumstances favourable to the pre¬ 
tensions of Charles, ib. T he Swiss Cantons 
espouse his cause, 446. Apprehensions anil 
conduct of pope Leo X. on the occasion, 447. 
Assembling of the diet at Frankfort, ib. Fre- 





OF 

deric duke of Saxony refuses the offer of the 
empire, and votes for him, ib. 448. And 
refuses the presents offered by his ambassa¬ 
dors, 448. Concurring circumstances which fa¬ 
voured ms election, ib. His election, ib. Signs 
and confirms the capitulation of the Germanic 
body, %b. 1 he election notified to him, ib. As¬ 

sumes the title of majesty, 449. Accepts the 
imperial dignity offered by the count Palatine, 
ambassador from the elector, ib. t lie clergy of 
Castile refuse the tenth of benefices granted him 
by the pope, ib. Procures the interdict the king¬ 
dom is laid under for refusal to be taken off, ib. 
empowers cardinal Adrian to hold the Cortes 
of Valencia, ib. The nobles refuse to assem¬ 
ble without his presence, ib. 450. Authorizes the 
insurgents there to continue in arms, 450. Sum¬ 
mons the Cortes of Castile to meet in Galicia, ib 
Narrowly escapes with his Flemish ministers 
from an insurrection on that account, ib. Ob¬ 
tains a donative from the Cortes, ib. Prepares 
to leave Spain, and appoints regents, ib. Km- 
barss, 451. Motives of this journey, ib. Rise 
ot the rivalship between him and Francis I., ib 
Courts the favour of Henry VIII. of England 
and his minister cardinal Wolsey, 45.3. Visits 
llenry at Dover, ib. Promises Wolsey his in¬ 
terest tor the papacy, ib. Has a second inter¬ 
view with Henry at Gravelines, 454. Offers to 
submit his differences with Francis to Henry’s 
arbitration, ib. Ilis magnificent coronation at 
Aix-la-Chapelle, ib. Calls a diet at Worms to 
check the reformers, ib. Causes which hindered 
his espousing the party of Martin Luther, 468. 
Grants Luther a safe conduct to the diet of 
Worms, ib. An edict published against him, ib 
llis embarrassment at this time, 469. Con¬ 
cludes an alliance with the pope, 470. The con¬ 
ditions of the treaty, ib. 471. Death of his mi¬ 
nister Chievres, and its advantages to him, 471. 
Invasion of Navarre by Francis, ib. The Frencli 
driven out, and their general L’Esparre taken 
prisoner, 472. War declared against him by 
Robert de la Mark, lord of Bouillon, who ra¬ 
vages Luxemburg, ib. Reduces Bouillon and 
invades France, ib. Ilis demands at the con¬ 
gress at Calais, 473. Has an interview with car¬ 
dinal Wolsey at Bruges, and concludes a league 
with Henry VIII. against France, ib. Pope 
Leo declares for him against France, 474. The 
French driven out of Milan, 475, 476. Visits 
England in his passage to Spain, 477. Culti¬ 
vates the good will of cardinal Wolsey, and 
creates the earl of Surrey his high admiral, ib. 
Grants the island of Malta to the knights of St. 
John, expelled from Rhodes by Solyinan the 
Magnificent, 478. Arrives in Spain, ib. A retro¬ 
spect of his proceedings in relation to the insur¬ 
rections in Spain, 481. Issues circulatory let¬ 
ters for the insurgents to lay down their arms, 
with promises of pardon, ib. Ilis prudent mo¬ 
deration towards the insurgents on his arrival in 
Spain, 488. Acquires the love of the Castilians, 
ib. Enters into a league with Charles, duke of 
Bourbon, 490. Why he did not endeavour to 
get Wolsey elected pope, 491. Invades Guienne 
and Burgundy, but without success, 492. His 
troops in Milan mutiny for want of pay, but 
are pacified by Morone, ib. 493. Undertakes an 
invasion of Provence, 496. Orders Pescara to 
besiege Marseilles, 497- Pescara obliged to re¬ 
tire, ib. Disconcerted by the French overrun¬ 
ning the Milanese again, 498. The revenues of 
Naples mortgaged to raise money, ib. His 
troops defeat Francis, and take him prisoner at 
the battle of Pavia, 500. His affected modera¬ 
tion at receiving the news, 501. Avails himself 
of a treaty concluded between Lannoy anil pope 
Clement, but refuses to ratify it, 502. Ilis army 
in Pavia mutiny, and are obliged to be dis¬ 
banded, ib. His deliberations on the proper im¬ 
provement of his disadvantages, 503. Ilis pro¬ 
positions to Francis, ib. After many detavs 
grants Sforza the investiture of Milan, 504. Mo- 
rone’s intrigues ;betrayed to him by Pescara, 
505. Orders Pescara to continue his negociations 
with Morone, ib. His rigorous treatment of 
Francis, ib. Visits Francis, 506. His kind re¬ 
ception of the duke of Bourbon, ib. _ Grants 
Bourbon the duchy of Milan, and appoints him 
general in chief of the imperial army there, ib. 
Fruitless negociations for the delivery of Fran¬ 
cis, ib. 5(>7. Treaty of Madrid with Francis, 
507. Delivers up Francis, 508. _ Marries Isa¬ 
bella of Portugal, ib. An alliance formed against 
him at Cognac, 512. Sends ambassadors to Fran¬ 
cis to require the fulfilment of the treaty of Ma¬ 
drid, 51.3. Prepares for war against Francis, 
ib. The pope reduced to an accommodation 
with him, 514. The exhausted state of his 
finances, 515, His troops under Bourbon dis¬ 
tressed and mutinous for want of pay, ib. Bour¬ 
bon assaults Rome and is slain, but the city 
taken, 517, 518. The prince of Orange, general 
on Bourbon’s death, takes the castle ot St. An¬ 
gelo, and the pope prisoner, 518. The emperor’s 
conduct on that occasion, ib. His dissensions 
with the pope, how far favourable to the Re¬ 
formation, 519. His instructions to the diet at 
Spires, ib. FIis manifesto against the pope, and 
letter to the cardinals, ib. France and England 
league against him, 520. Is refused supplies by 
the cortes of Castile, 521. Delivers the pope for 
a ransom, ib. His overtures to Henry and Fran¬ 
cis, 522. Their declaration of war against him, 
ib. Is challenged by Francis to single combat, 
523. Andrew Doria revolts from Francis to 
him, 524. His forces defeat the French in Italy, 
525,526. His motives for desiring an accom¬ 
modation, 526. Concludes a separate treaty 
with the pope, >*5. Terms of the peace of Cam- 
bray concluded with Francis by the mediation 


THE REIGN OF CHARLES V 

ot Margaret of Austria and Louise of France, 
tb. 527. Remarks on the advantages gained by 
him in this treaty, and on his conduct of the war, 
527. Visits Italy, 528. His policy on his public 
entry into Barcelona, ib. Hasan interview with 
the pope at Bologna, ib. Motives for his moder¬ 
ation in Italy, ib. 529. His treaties with the states 
of, 529. Is crowned king of I.ombardy anrl em¬ 
peror of the Romans, to. Summons a diet at 
Spires to consider the state of religion, 530. Ilis 
deliberations with the pope respecting the expedi¬ 
ency of calling a general council, ib. Appoints 
a diet at Augsburg, 531. Makes a public entry 
into that city, ib. His endeavours to check the 
Reformation, ib. Resolute behaviour of the pro- 
testant princes towards him, ib. His severe de¬ 
cree against the protestants, ib. Proposes his 
brother Ferdinand to he elected king of the Ho¬ 
mans, 532. Is opposed by the protestants, ib. 
Obtains his election, ib. Is desirous of an ac¬ 
commodation with the protestants, ib. Concludes 
a treaty with them at N uremberg, 53.3. Raises 
an army tooppose the Turks under Solyman, and 
obliges him to retire, ib. 534. Has another in¬ 
terview with the pope, and presses him to call a 
general council, 534. Procures a league of the 
Italian states to secure the peace of Italy, ib. 
Arrives at Barcelona, 535. His endeavours to 
prevent the negociations and meeting between 
the pope and Francis, ib. Undertakes to expel 
Barbarossa from Tunis, and restore Muley Has¬ 
ten, 543. Lands in Africa, and besieges Go- 
letta, 544. 'Lakes Goletta, and seizes Barba- 
rossa’s fleet, ib. Defeats Barbarossa, and takes 
Tunis, ib. 545. Restores Muley-llascen, and 
the treaty between them, 545. The glory acquired 
by this enterprise, and the delivery ot the Chris¬ 
tian captives, ib. Seizes the duchy of Milan on 
the death of Francis Sforza, 549. llis policy with 
regard to it, ib. Prepares for war with Francis, ib. 

11 is invectives against Francis at Rome before the 
pope in council, 550. Remarksonthis transaction, 
ib. I nvades France, 551. Enters Provence, and 
finds it desolated, 552. Besieges Marseilles and 
Arles, ib. I lis miserable retreat from Provence, 
553. Ilis invasion of Picardy defeated, ib. Is 
accused of poisoning the dauphin, 554. Impro¬ 
bability of its truth, ib. Conjecture concerning 
the dauphin’s death, ib. Flanders invaded by 
Francis, ib. A suspension of arms in Flanders, 
how negociated, 555. A truce in Piedmont, ib. 
Motives to these truces, ib. Negociations for 
peace with Francis, 556. Concludes a truce for 
ten years at N ice, ib. Remarks on the war, ib. 
An interview with Francis, ib. Courts the friend¬ 
ship of Henry VI11. of England, 558. Indulges 
the protestant princes, ib. Quiets their appre¬ 
hensions of the catholic league, 560. His troops 
mutiny, ib. Assembles the Cortes of Castile, 
561. Destroys the ancient constitution of the 
Cortes, ib. Instance of the haughty spirit of the 
Spanish grandees, ib. Desires permission of 
Francis to pass through France to the Nether¬ 
lands, 563. His reception in Trance, 564. Ilis 
rigorous treatment of Ghent, ib. Refuses to 
fulfil his engagements to Francis, 565. Appoints 
a friendly conference between a deputation of 
catholic and protestant divines before the diet at 
Ratisbon, 570. Result of this conference, 571. 
Grants a private exemption from oppressions to 
the protestants, ib. Undertakes to reduce Algiers, 
573. Is near being castaway by a violent storm, 
374. Lands near Algiers, tb. His soldiers ex¬ 
posed to a violent tempest and rain, ib. His fleet 
shattered, 575. His fortitude under these disas¬ 
ters, ib. Leaves his enterprise, and embarks 
again, ib. Is distressed with another storm at 
sea, ib. Takes advantage of the French inva¬ 
sion of Spain to obtain subsidies from the Cortes, 
578. Ilis treaty with Portugal, ib. Concludes 
a league with Henry VIII., ib. Particulars of 
the treaty, 579. Overruns Cleves, and his bar¬ 
barous treatment of the town of Dnren, 580. 
His behaviour to the duke of Cleves, ib. Be¬ 
sieges Landrecy, ib. Is joined by an English de¬ 
tachment, ib. Is forced to retire, ib. Courts the 
favour of the protestants, 582. His negociations 
with the protestants at the diet of Spires, 583. 
Procures the concurrence of the diet in a war 
against Francis, ib. Negociates a separate peace 
with the king of Denmark, 584. Invades Cham¬ 
pagne, and invests St. Disier, 585, 586. Want 
of concert between his operations and those of 
llenry, who now invades France, 586. Obtains 
St. Disier by artifice, ib. Ilis distresses and 
happy movements, 587- Concludes a separate 
peace with Francis, ib. His motives to this 
peace, ib. Ilis advantages by this treaty, 588. 
Obliges himself by a private article to extermi¬ 
nate the protestant heresy, ib. Is cruelly afflicted 
with the gout, 589- Diet at Worms, ib Arrives 
at Worms, and alters his conduct toward the 
protestants, 590. 11 is conduct on the death of the 
duke of Orleans, 591. Ilis dissimulation to the 
landgrave of Hesse, 596. Concludes a truce 
with Solyman, 597- Holds a diet at Ratisbon, 
ib. His declaration to the protestant deputies, 

598. His treaty with the pope, concluded by the 
cardinal of Trent, ib. His circular letter to the 
protestant members of the Germanic body, ib. 

599. The protestants levy an army against him, 
61X). Is unprepared against them, 601. Puts 
them under the ban of the empire, ib. t he pro¬ 
testants declare war against him, 602. Marches 
to join the troops sent by the pope, 603. Far- 
nese, the pope’s legate, returns in disgust, tb. 
His prudent declension of an action with the 
protestants, 604. Is joined by his Flemish, 
troops, ib. Proposals of peace made by the 
protestants, 606. Their army disperse, 607. Il is 
rigorous treatment of the protestant princes, ib. 
Dismisses part of his army, 608. The pope re- I 


calls his troops, ib. Ilis reflection on Fiesco’s 
insurrection at Genoa, 613. Is alarmed at the 
hostile preparations of Francis, 614. Death of 
Francis, ib. A parallel drawn between him and 
Francis, ib. 615. Consequences ot Francis’s 
death to him, ib. Marches against the elector 
of Saxony, 616. Passes the Elbe, ib. Defeats 
the Saxon army, 617- l akes the elector prisoner, 
ib. His harsh reception of him, ib. Invests 
Wittemberg, 618. Condemns the elector todeath 
by a court-martial, ib. 'The elector by treaty 
surrenders the electorate, 619. The harsh terms 
imposed by him on the landgrave of Hesse 

620. His haughty reception of the landgrave, 

621. Detains him prisoner, ib. Seizes the war¬ 

like stores of the League, 622. Ilis cruel exac¬ 
tions, ib. Assembles a diet at Augsburg, 623. 
Intimidates the diet by his Spanish troops, ib. 
Re-establishes the Romish worship in the churches 
of Augsburg, 624. Seizes Placentia, 625. Orders 
the diet to petition the pope for the return of the 
council to Trent, ib. 626. Protests against the 
council of Bologna, 626. Causes a system of 
faith to be prepared for Germany, 627- Lays it 
before the diet, ib. The interim opposed, 628. 
And rejected by the imperial cities, 629. Re¬ 
duces the city of Augsburg to submission, ib. 
Repeats the same violence at Ulm, ib. Carries 
the elector and landgrave with him into the Low 
Countries, 630. Procures his son Philip to be re¬ 
cognised by the states of the Netherlands, ib. 
Establishes the interim there, ib. Reassembles 
the diet at Augsburg under the influence of his 
Spanish troops, 632, 6.3.3. The city of Magde¬ 
burg refuses to admit the interim, and prepares 
for resistance, 635. Appoints Maurice, elector 
of Saxony, to reduce it, ib. Promises to protect 
the protestants at the council of'Trent, ib. Arbi¬ 
trarily releases Maurice and the elector ot 
Brandenburg from their engagements to the 
landgrave for the recovery of his liberty, ib. 
636. Endeavours to secure the empire for his son 
Philip, 636. Ilis brother Ferdinand refuses to 
resign his pretensions, ib. Besieges Parma, but 
is repulsed, 638. Proceeds rigorously against 
the protestants, 639- F.ndeavours to support the 
council of Trent, ib. Puts Magdeburg under 
the ban of the empire, ib. Absolves the city, 
641. Is involved in disputes between the council 
and the protestant deputies concerning their safe- 
conduct, ib. Begins to suspect Maurice ot 
Saxony, 645. Circumstances which contributed 
to deceive him with regard to Maurice, ib. 
Maurice takes the field against him, 646. 
Maurice seconded by Henry II. of France, ib. 
Ilis distress and consternation, 647- An ineffec¬ 
tual negociation with Maurice, ib. Flies from 
lnspruck, 648. Releases the elector of Saxony 
ib. Is solicited to satisfy the demands of 
Maurice, 650. His present difficulties, 651. 
Refuses any direct compliance with the demands 
of Maurice, 652. Is disposed to yield by the 
progress of Maurice’s operations, ib. Makes a 
peace with Maurice at Passau, 653. Reflections 
on this treaty, ib. Turns his arms against 
France, 654. Lays siege to Metz, 656. Is joined 
by Albert of Brandenburg, ib. His army dis¬ 
tressed by the vigilance of the duke of Guise, 
657. Raises the siege, and retires in a shattered 
condition, ib. Cosmo di Medici asserts his inde 
pendency against him, ib. Siena revolts against 
him, ib. Is dejected at his bad success, 658. 
Takes Terouane, and demolishes it, 660. Takes 
Hesden, 661. Proposes his son Philip as a hus¬ 
band to Mary, queen of England, 664. The 
articles of the marriage, 665. Marches to op¬ 
pose the French operations, 667. Is defeated by 
llenry, ib. Invades Picardy, ib. Grants Siena, 
subdued by Cosmo di Medici, to his son Philip, 
670. A diet at Augsburg, opened by Ferdinand, 
672. Leaves the interior administration of Ger¬ 
many to Ferdinand,673. Applies again to Fer¬ 
dinand to resign his pretensions of succession to 
Philip, but is refused, 674. Recess of the diet or 
Augsburg on the subject of religion, ib. A 
treaty concluded between pope Paul IV. and 
Henry 11. of France against, linn, 679. Resigns 
his hereditary dominions to his son Philip, ib. 
His motives for retirement, 680. Had long 
meditated this resignation, ib. The ceremony of 
this deed, 681. 11 is speech on this occasion, ib. 

Resigns also the. dominions of Spain, 682. His 
intended retirement into Spain retarded, ib. A 
truce for five years concluded with France, 683. 
Endeavours in vain to secure the imperial crown 
for Philip, 686. Resigns the imperial cown to 
Ferdinand, ib. Sets out for Spain, ib. His 
arrival and reception in Spain, ib. Is distressed 
by his son’s ungrateful neglect in paying his 
pension, ib. Fixes his retreat in the monastery 
of St. Justus in Placentia, 687. The situation of 
this monastery, and his apartments, described, 
ib. Contrast between the conduct of Charles 
and the pope, ib. His manner of life in his re¬ 
treat, 698. Ilis death precipitated by his mo¬ 
nastic severities, 699. Celebrates his own funeral, 
ib. Dies, ib. His character, ib. 700 . A review ot 
the state of Europe during his reign, 704. His 
acquisitions to the crown of Spain, 706. 

Charles VII. of France, the first who introduced 
standing armies in Europe, 336. Ilis successful 
extension of the regal prerogative, 327- 
- - - VIII. of France, his character, 341. How 
induced to invade Italy, ib. Ilis resources and 
preparations for this enterprise, ib. His rapid 
success, ib. A combination of the Italian states 
formed against him, 342. Is forced to return 
back to France, ib. The distressed state of his 
revenues by this expedition, .343. 

Charlevoix , his account of the North American In¬ 
dians made use of in a comparison between them 
and the ancient Geimans 371. 


11 




INDEX TO THE HISTORY 


Charters of immunity or franchise, an inquiry in¬ 
to the nature of those granted by the barons of 
France to the towns under their jurisdictions, 384, 
Sole xvi. Of communities granted by the kings 
of France, how they tended to establish regular 
government, 318, 384. 

Chateau-Cambresis, the conferences for peace be¬ 
tween Philip 11. of Spain, and Henry 11. of 
France, removed thither from Cercamp, 702. 
The peace retarded by the demand of Elizabeth 
of England for restitution of Calais, ib. Parti- 
culars of the treaty signed there between Eng¬ 
land and France, ib. Terms of the pacification 
between Philip and Henry, 703. 

Cheregato, nuncio from the pope to the diet at Nu- 
remburg, his instructions, 494. Opposes the as¬ 
sembling a general council, 495. 

Chievres, William de Croy, lord of, appointed by 
Maximilian to superintend the education of his 
grandson Charles, 436. Adrian of Utrecht made 
preceptor under him, ib. His direction of the 
studies of Charles, 437. His avarice corrupts 
the Flemish court of Charles, 441. Negociates a 
peace with France, 442. Endeavours to prevent 
an interview between Charles and Ximenes, ib. 
Attends Charles to Spain, ib. His ascendancy- 
over Charles, 443. His extortions, 444. His 
death, and the supposed causes of it, 471. 

Chivalry , the origin of, 329. Its beneficial effects 
on human manners, 330. r l he enthusiasm of, 
distinguished from its salutary consequences, ib. 

Christianity corrupted when first brought into 
Europe, 331. Its influence in freeing mankind 
from the bondage of the feudal policy, 389, 
Note xx. 

Christians, primitive, why averse to the principles 
of toleration, 675. 

Circles of Germany, the occasion of their being 
formed, 362. 

Cities, the ancient states of, under the feudal po¬ 
licy, 318. The freedom of, where first esta¬ 
blished, ib. Charters of community, why grant¬ 
ed in Trance by Louis le Gros, ib. Obtain the 
like all over Europe, ib. Acquire political con¬ 
siderations, 319. 

Clariza, slave to Willa, widow of duke Hugo, ex¬ 
tract from the charter of manumission granted to 
her, 390. 

Clement VIE pope, his election, 491. His cha¬ 
racter, ib. Grants cardinal Wolsey a legatine 
commission in England for life, ib. Refuses to 
accede to the league against Francis, 492. La¬ 
bours to accommodate the differences between 
the contending parties, ib. His proceedings witli 
regard to the reformers, 491. Concludes a treaty 
of neutrality with Francis, 499. Enters into a 
separate treaty w ith Charles after the battle of 
Pavia, and the consequences of it, 502. Joins in 
an alliance with Francis Sforza and the Vene¬ 
tians against the emperor, 512. Absolves Fran¬ 
cis from his oath to observe the treaty of Ma¬ 
drid, ib. Cardinal Colonna seizes Rome, and 
invests him in the castle of St. Angelo, 514. Is 
forced to an accommodation with the impe¬ 
rialists, ib. His revenge against the Colonna 
family, 515. Invades Naples, ib. His territo- 
tories invaded by Bourbon, and his perplexity 
on the occasion, 516. Concludes a treaty with 
Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, ib. His consterna¬ 
tion on Bourbon's motions towards Rome, 517. 
Rome taken, and himself besieged in the castle 
of St. Angelo, 518. Surrenders himself prisoner, 
ib. The Florentines revolt against him, 520. 
Pays Charles a ransom for his liberty, with other 
stipulations, 522. Makes his escape from con¬ 
finement, ib. Writes a letter of thanks to Lau- 
trec, ib. Is jealous of the intentions of Francis, 
and negociates with Charles, 524. His motives 
and steps towards an accommodation, 526. Con¬ 
cludes a separate treaty with Charles, ib. His 
interview with the emperor at Bologna, 528. 
Crowns Charles king of Lombardy and emperor 
of the Romans, 529. His representations to the 
emperor against calling a general council, 530. 
Has another interv iew with Charles at Bologna, 
and the difficulties raised by him to the calling 
a general council, 534. Agrees to a league of 
the Italian states for the peace of Italy, ib. Ilis 
interview and treaty with Francis, 535. Mar¬ 
ries Catherine di Medici to the duke of Orleans, 
536. His protraction of the affair of the divorce 
solicited by Henry VIII., ib. Reverses Cran- 
mer’s sentence of divorce, under penalty of ex- 
communication, ib. Henry renounces his su¬ 
premacy, ib. His death, ib. Reflections on his 
pontificate, ib. 

Clergy, the progress of their usurpations, 327. 
Their plan of jurisprudence more perfect than 
that of the civil courts in the middle ages, 328. 
The great ignorance of, in the early feudal times 
of Europe, 378. Romish, remarks on the im¬ 
moral lives of, and how they contributed to the 
progress of the reformation, 462. The facility 
with which they obtained pardons, 463. Their 
usurpations in Germany during the disputes 
concerning investitures, tb. Their other oppor¬ 
tunities of aggrandizing themselves there, ib. 
Their personal immunities, ib. Their encroach¬ 
ments on the laity, 464. The dreadful effects of 
spiritual censures, ib. Their devices to secure 
their usurpations, ib. The united effect of all 
these circumstances, 465. Oppose the advance¬ 
ment of learning in Germany, 467. 

Clermont, council of, resolves on the holy war, 
316. Bee Peter the hermit and Crusades. 

C/eves, invaded and overrun by the emperor 
Charles V. 580. Cruel treatment of Duren, ib. 
Humiliating submission of the duke, ib. 

Clotaire I., instance of the small authority he had 
over his army, 417. 

Clotharius II., his account of the popular assem¬ 
blies among the ancient Gauls, 418. 

12 


Clovis, the founder of the French monarchy, unable 
to retain a sacred vase taken by bis army from 
being distributed by lot among the rest of the 
plunder, 372, Note vii. 

Cnippe/doling, a leader of the Anabaptists at 
Munster, an account of, 537, 538. bee Ana¬ 
baptists. 

Cognac, an alliance formed there against Charles 
V. by the pope, the Venetians, the dukeof Milan, 
and Francis I.. 512. 

Coligny, admiral, governor of Picardy, defends 
St. Uuintin against the .Spanish general Em¬ 
manuel Philibert, duke of Savoy, 689. His 
brother D’Andelot defeated in an endeavour to 
join the garrison, 690. But D’Andelot enters the 
town, ib. His character, 691. 'The town taken 
by assault, and himself taken prisoner, ib. 
Colleges, the first establishment of, in Europe, 
406, 407. 

Cologne, Ferdinand, king of Hungary and Bohe¬ 
mia, brother to the emperor Charles V., elected 
king of the Romans by the college of electors 
there, 532. 

- - - - Herman, count de Wied, archbishop and 
elector of, inclines to the Reformation, and is op¬ 
posed by his canons, who appeal to the emperor 
and pope, 591. Is deprived and excommuni¬ 
cated, 596. Resigns, 608. 

Colonna, cardinal Pompeo, his character and rival- 
ship with pope Clement VIE,514. Seizes Lome, 
and invests the pope in the castle of St. Angelo, 
ib. Is degraded, and the rest of the family ex¬ 
communicated by the pope, 515. Is prevailed 
on by the pope, vvhen prisoner with the imperial¬ 
ists, to solicit his delivery,522. 

- - - -Prosper, the Italian general, his charac¬ 
ter, 4"4. Appointed to command the troops in the 
invasion of Milan, ib. Drives the French out of 
Milan, 475. His army how weakened at the 
death of pope Leo X., tb. Defeats Mareshal de 
I.autrec at Bicocca, 476. Reduces Genoa, ib. 
The bad state of his troops when the French in¬ 
vade Milan, 491. Is enabled to defend the city 
by the ill conduct of Bonnivet the French com¬ 
mander, ib. Dies, and is succeeded by Lannoy, 
492. 

Combat, judicial, the prohibition of, an improve¬ 
ment in the administration of justice, 323. 'The 
foundation and universality of this mode of trial, 
324. The pernicious effects of, 325. Various 
expedients for abolishing this practice, ib. The 
ancient Swedish law of, for words of reproach, 
396, 397- Positive evidence or points of proof 
rendered ineffectual by it, 398. This mode of 
trial authorized by the ecclesiastics, ib. The 
last instances of in the histories of France and 
England, ib. 399- 

Commerce, the spirit of crusading how far favour¬ 
able to, at that early period, 317- The first estab¬ 
lishment of free corporations, 318. Charters of 
community, why granted by Louis le Gros, ilt. 
'The like practice obtains all over Europe, 319. 
The salutary effects of these institutions, ib. I lie 
low state ot, during the middle ages, 332. Causes 
contributing to its revival, ib. Promoted by the 
Hanseatic league, 333. Is cultivated in the 
Netherlands, ib. Is introduced into England by 
Edward III., ib. The beneficial consequences 
resulting from the revival of, ib. The early 
cultivation of, in Italy, 409. 

Common Law, the first compilation of, made in 
England by lord chief justice Glanville, 405. 
Communities. See Charters, Cities, Commerce, 
and Corporations. 

Comnena, Anne, her character of the crusaders, 
382. 

Compass, mariners, when invented, and its influ¬ 
ence on the extension of commerce, 332. 
Composition, for personal injuries, the motives for 
establishing, 393. The custom of, deduced from 
the practice of the ancient Germans, 399. 
Compurgators introduced as evidence in the juris¬ 
prudence of the middle ages 323. 

Conchillos, an Aragonian gentleman, employed by 
Ferdinand of Aragon to obtain Joanna’s consent 
to his regency of Castile, 432. Thrown into a 
dungeon by the archduke Philip, ib. 

Condottteri, in the Italian policy, what, 348. 
Confession, of Augsburg, drawn up by Melancthon, 
531. 

Conrad, count of Franconia, how he obtained 
election to the empire, 360. 

Conradin, the last rightful heir to the crown of 
hi aples, of the house of Suabia, his unhappy fate, 
350. 

Constance, treaty of, between the emperor Frederic 
Barbarossa and the free cities of Italy, .384. 1 he 
privileges of that city taken away by the em¬ 
peror Charles V. for disobedience to the in¬ 
terim, 630. 

Constantinople, its flourishing state at the time of 
the crusades, 316. When first taken by the Turks, 
364. The crusaders how looked upon there, 3 h 2. 
The account given of this city by the Latin 
writers, ib. 

Constitutions, popular, how formed, 319. 

Cordova, Gonsalvo de, secures the crown of Naples 
to Ferdinand of Aragon, 350. 

Corporations and bodies politic, the establishments 
of, how far favourable to the improvement of 
manners, 318. The privileges of, how first 
claimed, ib. Charters of community, why 
granted by Louis le Gros in France, ib. The 
institution of, obtains all over Europe, 319. Their 
effects, ib. 

Corsairs of Barbary, an account of the rise of, 
541,542. See Algiers, Barbarossa. 

Cortes of Aragon, its constitution and privileges, 
353, 413, 414. Acknowledges the archduke Phi¬ 
lip’s title to the crown, 430. Not allowed to as 
semble in the nameof Charles V., 444. Its oppo¬ 
sition to his desires, ib. Is prevailed on by the 


emperor to recognise his son Philip as successor 
to that kingdom, 578. See •Spain. 

Cortes of Castile, a history of, and an account ot 
its constitution and privileges, 354. T he vigi¬ 
lance with which it guarded its privileges against 
the encroachments of the regal power, 355. Ac¬ 
knowledges the archduke Philip’s title to the 
crown, 430. Is prevailed on to acknowledge 
Ferdinand regent, according to Isabella’s will, 
432. Acknowledges Philip and Joanna king and 
queen of Castile, and their son Charles, prince 
of Asturias, 434. Declares Charles king, and 
votes him a free gift, 443. Summoned by 
Charles to meet at Compostella in Galicia, 45o. 
Tumultuary proceedings thereupon, ib. A do¬ 
native voted, ib. Loses all its influence by the 
dissolution of the Holy Junta,486. Its backward¬ 
ness to grant supplies for the emperor’s wars in 
Italy, 515. Refuses his pressing solicitations for 
a supply, 5G1. Assembled at Toledo to grant 
supplies to the emperor, 561. The remonstrances 
of, ib. The ancient constitution of, subverted by 
Charles, ib. See Spain. 

- - - of Valencia, prevailed on by the emperor 
Charles V. to acknowledge his son Philip suc¬ 
cessor to that kingdom, 578. See Spain. 

Cortona, cardinal di, governor of Florence for the 
pope, expelled by the Florentines, on the pope’s 
captivity, 520. 

Cosmo di Medici. See Medici. 

Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, annuls the 
marriage of Henry VII I. with Catharine of Ara¬ 
gon, which was refused to Henry by the pope, 
536. His sentence reversed by the pope, ib. 
Crespy, peace of, between the emperor and Fran¬ 
cis, 587- 

Croy, William de, nephew to Chievres, made 
archbishop of Toledo by Charles V., 444. Dies, 
486. 

Crusades, the first motives of undertaking, 315. 
The enthusiastic zeal with which they were un¬ 
dertaken, ib. First promoted by Peter the Her¬ 
mit, 316. The success of them, ib. 'The conse¬ 
quences resulting from them, ib. Their effects 
on manners, ib. On property, 317. How ad¬ 
vantageous to the enlargement of the regal power 
of the European princes, ib. The commercial 
effects of, ib. 332. The universal frenzy for en¬ 
gaging in these expeditions accounted for, 380, 
Note xiii. The privileges granted to those who 
engaged in them, 381. Stephen, earl of Chartres 
ami Blois, his account ot them, ib. The ex¬ 
pense of conducting them how raised, ib. Cha¬ 
racter given of the crusaders by the Greek 
writers, 382. 

D 

V' Albert, John, expelled from his kingdom of N a- 
varre by Ferdinand of Aragon, 435. Invades 
Navarre, but is defeated by cardinal Ximenes, 
441. 

D'Alembert, M. his observation on the order of 
J esuits, 569, note. 

D' An delot, brother to Coligni, is defeated by the 
duke of Saxony in an endeavour to succour St. 
Quintin, 690, 691. But enters the town with the 
fugitives, ib. T he town taken by assault, and 
himself made prisoner, 691. 

Dauphin of France, eldest son of Francis I. is de¬ 
livered up with the duke of Orleans to the em¬ 
peror Charles V. in exchange for liis father, as 
hostages for the performance of the treaty ot 
Madrid, 508. Hisdeath imputed to poison,"554. 
The most probable cause of it, ib. 

- - - late duke of Orleans, second son of Fran¬ 
cis I. commands an army, and invades Spain, 
577- Is forced to abandon the siege of Perpig¬ 
nan, 578. Is dissatisfied at the peace of Crespy, 
588. Makes a secret protestation against it, 589. 

- - - of France, son of Henry 11. contracted to 
Mary the young queen of Scotland, 625. Is 
married to her, 696. 

Debt, the first hint of attaching movables for the 
recovery of, derived from the canon law, 4<>4. 
Debtors, how considered in the rude and simple 
state of society, 385. 

Denmark, a summary view of the revolutions in, 
during the 16th century, 711. 

- - - - king of, joins the protestant league at 
Smalkalde, 559. 

De Betz, cardinal, writes a history of Fiesco’s 
conspiracy while a youth, 612, note. 

Diana of Poitiers, unstress to Henry II. of 
France, assists the Guises in persuading Henry 
to an alliance with pope Paul 1V. against the 
emperor, 678. Induces Henry to break the 
treaty of Vaucelles, 684. Marries her grand¬ 
daughter to one of Montmorency’s sons, 698. 
Joins Montmorency against the Guises, tb. 

Diets of Germany, some account of, 425. 

Doctors in the different faculties, dispute prece¬ 
dence witli knights, 407. 

Doria, Andrew, assists I.autrec in subduing Ge¬ 
noa, 521. Conquers and kills Moncada in a sea- 
engagement before the harbour of Naples, 523. 
His character, 524. Is disgusted with tbe beha¬ 
viour of the French, ib. Revolts to the emperor, 
ib. Opens to N aples a communication by sea, 
ib. Rescues Genoa from the French, 525. Re¬ 
stores the government of to the citizens, ib. The 
respect paid to his memory, ib. Attends the em¬ 
peror Charles in his disastrous expedition against 
Algiers, 574. His partial fondness for his kins¬ 
man Giannetino, 609. His narrow escape in La- 
vagna’s insurrection, 612. Returns on Lavagna’s 
death and the dispersion of his party, ib. See 
trenoa and Lavagna. 

- - - Giannetino, his character, 609. Is mur¬ 
dered by Lavagna’s conspirators, 612. 

Dover, an interview there between Henry VIII. 
and the. emperor Charles V., 453. 





OF 

Dragut, a corsair, commands the Turkish fleet 
which ravages the coast of Naples, 658. 

Uu Prat , chancellor of France, his character, 490. 
Commences a lawsuit against Charles, duke of 
Bourbon, tor his estate, at the instigation of 
Louise the king's mother, ib. 

Duelling, the custom of, how rendered general, 
528. Its influence on manners, ib. 

Duren in Cleves, taken by the emperor Charles 
v., the inhabitants put to the sword, and the 
town burnt, 580. 

E 

■Eccim, an adversary of Luther’s, holds a public 
disputation with him at Leipsic, on the validity 
of the papal authority, 459. 

Ecclesiastical jurisprudence more perfect in its 
plan than the civil courts of the middle ages, 828. 
Censures of the Romish church, the dreadful 
effects of, 404. Reservation, in the recess of the 
diet pf Augsburg, remarks on, 676. 

Ecclesiastics, when and by what degrees they 
claimed exemption from civil jurisdiction, 408. 
Military talents cultivated and exercised by 
those ot the middle ages, 405. 

Edinburgh plundered and burnt by the earl of 
Hertford, 586. 

Edward III. of England, his endeavours to intro¬ 
duce commerce into his kingdom, 383. 

- - - VI. of England, his character, 664. 

Egmont, count of, commands the cavalry at the 
battle of St. Quintin, and puts Montmorency’s 
troops to flight, 690. Engages marshal de 
Termes, and defeats him by the casual arrival 
of an English squadron, 696, 697- 

Egypt, how and by whom added to the Ottoman 
empire, 445. 

Ehrenberg, the castle of, taken by Maurice of Sax¬ 
ony, 648. 

Eignott, a faction in Geneva so termed, an account 
of, 548. 

Electors of Germany, the rise of their privileges, 

Elizabeth, sister of Mary, her accession to the 
crown of England, 701. Her character, ib. Is 
addressed by Philip of Spain and Henry of 
France, t'or marriage, ib. Her prudent conduct 
between them, ib. How determined against 
Henry, ib. Her motives for rejecting Philip, ib. 
Returns Philip an evasive answer, ib. 702. De¬ 
mands restitution of Calais at the conferences at 
Chateau-Cambresis, 702. Establishes the pro- 
testant religion in England, ib. Treaty between 
her and Henry signed at Chateau-Cambresis, ib. 

Eloy, St., his definition or description of a good 
Christian, 379, Note xi. 

Emmanuel Philibert, duke of Savoy. See Savoy. 

Emperors of Germany, an inquiry into their power, 
jurisdiction, and revenue, 423, Note xlii. The 
ancient mode of electing them, 424. 

England, a summary view of the contests between, 
and France, 335. The consequences of its losing 
its continental possessions, 336. The power of 
the crown how extended, 339- See Henry VII. 
Why so many marks of Saxon usages and lan¬ 
guage, in comparison with those of the Normans, 
to be found in, 367, Note iv. When corporations 
began to be established in, 388. Instances of 
the long continuance of personal servitude there, 

391. Inquiry into the Saxon laws for putting 
an end to private wars, 394. The causes of the 
speedy decline of private wars there, proposed 
to the researches ot antiquarians, .395. The last 
instances of judicial combat recorded in the 
history of, 398. The territorial jurisdiction of 
the barons how abolished, 402, 403. Cause of 
the slow progress of commerce there, 411. The 
first commercial treaty entered into by, ib. Py 
what means that kingdom was freed from the 
papal supremacy, and received the doctrines of 
the Reformation, 536. Mary, queen of, married 
to prince Philip, son of the emperor Charles V., 
contrary to the sense of the nation, 664. The 
marriage ratified by parliament, 665. Is re¬ 
luctantly engaged by Philip, now king of 
Spain, in the war against France, 689. Mary 
levies money by her prerogative to carry on the 
war, ib. Calais taken by the duke of Guise, 694. 
Guisnes and Hames taken, 695. Death of Mary 
and accession of Elizabeth, 761. The protestant 
religion established by Elizabeth, 702. Treaty 
with France signed at Chateau-Cambresis, ib. 

Its interior strength how increased by the con¬ 
duct of Henry VI11., 707. Its power no longer 
fruitlessly wasted on the continent, ib. Altera¬ 
tion of its conduct towards Scotland, ib. 

Enguien, the count de, besieges Carignan, 584. 
Desires of Francis permission to engage Guasto, 
ib. Defeats Guasto in a pitched battle, 585. 

Erard de la Mark, ambassador of Charles V. to 
the diet of Francfort, his private motives for 
thwarting the pretensions of Francis 1. ot France 
to thg imperial crown, 448. Signs the capitula¬ 
tion of the Germanic body on behalf of Charles, 
ib. 

Erasmus, some account of, 467- Preceded Luther 
in his censures against the Romish church, ib. 
Concurs with him in his intentions of reforma¬ 
tion, ib. Motives which checked him in this, ib. 

Escurial, palace of, built by Philip II. in memory 
of the battle of St. Quintin, 692. 

Evidence, the imperfect nature of that admitted in 
law proceedings during the middle ages, 323. 
Rendered ineffectual by the judicial combat, 398. 

Europe, the alterations in by the conquests of the 
Romans, 309. The improvements the nations of 
received in exchange for their liberties, ib. Its 
disadvantages underthk change ofcircumstances, 
ib. Inquiry into the supposed populousness ot 
the ancient northern nations, 310. The savage 
desolations exercised by the Goths, Vandals, and 


THE REIGN OF CHARLES V 

Huns, .311. The universal change occasioned by 
their irruptions and conquests, 312. The first 
rudiments of the present policy of, to be deduced 
from tliis period, ib. Origin of the feudal sys¬ 
tem, ib. See Feudal System. The general bar¬ 
barism introduced with this policy, 314. At 
what time government and manners began to 
improve, 315. The causes and events which 
contributed to this improvement, ib. See Cru¬ 
sades, Corporations, People. The miseries occa¬ 
sioned by private wars in, 322. Methods taken 
tosuppress them, ih. Judicial combats prohibit¬ 
ed, 323. I he defects of judicial proceedings 
in the middle ages, ib. The influence of super¬ 
stition in these proceedings, 324. 1 he origin of 

the independent territorial jurisdictions of the 
barons, 326. The bad consequences of their 
judicial power, ib. 'I he steps taken by princes 
to abolish their courts, ib. An inquiry into the 
canon law, 32f. Revival of the Roman law, 
328. Effects of the spirit of chivalry, .329. How 
ini proved by the progress of science and cultiva¬ 
tion of literature, 330. Christianity corrupted 
when first received in, 3.31. Scholastic theology 
the first object of learning in, ib. Low state of 
commerce in, during the middle ages, 332. Com¬ 
merce revives in Italy, ib. Is promoted by the 
Hanseatic league, ib. Is cultivated in the 
Netherlands, 333. The effects of the progress of 
commerce on the polishing of manners, ib. The 
effects of the marriage of the heiress of Burgundy 
with the archduke Maximilian on the state of, 
340. By what means standing forces became 
general in, 342. Consequences of the league of 
Cam bray to, 344. A view of the political con¬ 
stitution of the several states of, at the commence¬ 
ment of the sixteenth century, 345, Italy, ib. 
The papacy, 346. Venice, 348. Florence, 349. 
Naples, ib. Milan, 350. Spain, .351. France, 
357. Germany, 360. Turkey, 364. Instances 
of the small intercourse among nations in the 
middle ages, 407. A short view of the state of, 
at the death of the emperor Maximilian, 445. 
The contemporary monarchsof all, illustrious at 
the time of Charles V., 454. The method of car¬ 
rying on war in, how improved beyond the prac¬ 
tice of earlier ages, 492. The sentiments of, on 
Charles’s treatment of the pope, 520. A review 
of the state of, during the reign of the emperor 
Charles V., 704. The remarkable change in, at 
this period, ib. How affected by the revolt of 
Luther against the church of Rome, 7*48. 

Eutemi, king of Algiers, engages Barbarossa in 
his service, and is murdered by him, 542. 

Excommunication in the Romish church, the origi¬ 
nal institution of, and the use made of it, 464. 

F 

Farnese, Alexander, his unanimous election to the 
papacy, 536. See Paul III. 

- - - cardinal, accompanies the troops sent by 
the pope to the emperor, against the army of the 
protestant league, 603. Returns disgusted, ih. 
Leads the troops home again by the pope’s order, 
608. Contributes to the election of Cardinal di 
Monte to the papacy, 632. 

- - - Octavio, grandson of pope Paul III., en¬ 
deavours to surprise Parma, and enters into 
treaty with the emperor, 631. Is confirmed in 
Parma by Julius, 637. Procures an alliance 
with France, 638. Is attacked by the imperialists, 
but successfully protected by the French, ib. 
Placentia restored to him by Philip II. of Spain, 
692, 693. 

- - - Peter T.ewis, natural son of pope Paul 
III., obtains of his father the duchies of Parma 
and Placentia, 591. His character, 624. Is 
assassinated, 625. 

Feodum, the etymology of that word, 376. 

Ferdinand, king of Aragon, unites the Spanish 
monarchy by his marriage with Isabella of 
Castile, 352. His schemes to exalt the regal 
power, 356. Resumes former grants of land 
from his barons, ib. Unites to the crown the 
grand masterships of the three military orders, 
ib. Why he patronized the association called 
the Holy Brotherhood against the barons, 35*. 
How he acquired his kingdoms, 430. I nvites his 
daughter Joanna, and her husband Philip, arch¬ 
duke of Austria, to Spain, ib. Becomes jealous 
of Philip, 431. Carries on his war with France 
vigorously, notwithstanding Philip’s treaty with 
T.ewis, ib. His queen Isabella dies, and leaves 
him regent of Castile, under restrictions, ib. Re¬ 
signs the kingdom of Castile, and is acknow¬ 
ledged regent by the Cortes, 432. His character, 
ih. His maxims of government odious to the 
Castilians, ib. Required by Philip to resign 
his regency, ib. Joanna’s letter of consent pro¬ 
cured by him, intercepted by Philip,and herself 
confined, ib. Is deserted by the Castilian 
nobility, ib. Determines to exclude his daughter 
from the succession by marrying, ib. Marries 
Germaine de Foix, niece to Lewis XII. of 
France, 4.3.3. A treaty between him and Philip 
at Salamanca, by r which the regency of Castile is 
jointly vested in them and Joanna, ih. Prevails 
on Henry VII. of England to detain Philip for 
three months, when driven on that coast, ib. 
The Castilians declare against him, ib. Resigns 
the regency of Castile by treaty, ib. Interview 
between him and Philip, ib. 434. Is absent at 
Naples when Philip died, 435. Returns and 
gains, with the regency of Castile, the good will 
of the natives by his prudent administration, ib. 
Acquires by dishonourable means the kingdom 
of Navarre, ib. How he destroyed his constitu¬ 
tion, 436. Endeavours to diminish his grandson 
Charles’s power by a will in favour of Ferdi¬ 
nand, ib. Alters his will in favour of Charles, 
ib. Dies, ib. Review of his administration.437. 


Ximenes appointed, by his will, regent of Cas¬ 
tile until the arrival of Charles V., ib. 

Ferdinand, second son of Philip, archduke of Aus¬ 
tria, born, 431. Left regent of Aragon by his 
grandfather Ferdinand, 436. This revoked by a 
subsequent will, by which he obtains only a pen¬ 
sion, ib. Discontented with his disappointment, 
he is taken to Madrid under the eye of cardinal 
Ximenes, 438. Sent, by Charles V. to visit their 
grandfather Maximilian, 444. Is elected king of 
Hungary and Bohemia, 519. Signs a deed called 
the Reverse, ib. J he emperor endeavours to get 
him elected king of the Romans, 532. He is op¬ 
posed by the protestants, ib. Is crowned king ot 
the Romans, ib. Forms a confederacy against 
the Anabaptists at Munster, 539. Opposes the 
restoration of Ulric, duke of Wirtemberg, 540. 
Recognises his title, and concludes a treaty with 
him, ib. His kingdom of Hungary wrested from 
him by John Zapol Scaepius, 572. Besieges the 
young king Stephen and his mother inBuda, but 
is defeated by the Turks, ib. His mean offers of 
submission to the Porte, 573. Which are re¬ 
jected, ib. Agrees to pay a tribute to Solyman 
for Hungary, ib. Courts the favour of the 
Jrotestants, 582. Opens the diet at Worms, 589. 
Requires it to submit to the decisions of the coun¬ 
cil of Trent, 590. Encroaches on the liberties of 
Bohemia, 623. His rigorous treatment of Prague, 
ib. Disarms the Bohemians, ib. Obtains the sove¬ 
reignty of the city of Constance, 630. Invades 
Transylvania by invitation of Martinuzzi, 642. 
Obtains the resignation of Transylvania from 
queen Isabella, ib. Orders Martinuzzi to be 
assassinated, 643. Enters into negociation with 
Maurice on behalf of the emperor, 650. His 
motives for promoting the emperor’s agreeing 
with Maurice, 651. Isabella and her son Ste¬ 
phen recover possession of Transylvania, 661. 
Opens a diet at Augsburg, and excites suspicions 
in the protestants, 672, 673. The emperor leaves 
the internal administration of German affairs to 
him, 673. Is again applied to by the emperor to 
resign his pretensions of succession to Philip, 
but refuses, ib. 674. Endeavours therefore to 
gain the friendship of the diet. 674. Again re¬ 
fuses the emperor’s solicitations, 686. Charles 
resigns the imperial crown to him, ib. Assem¬ 
bles the college of electors at Francfort, which 
acknowledges him emperor of Germany, 695. 

1 he pope refuses to acknowledge him, ib. 

Feudal government, a view of, as it existed in 
Spain, 479. 

Feudal system, the origin of, deduced, 312. The 
primary object of this policy, 313. Its deficien¬ 
cies for interior government, ib. Tenures of 
land, how established under, ib. The rise of in¬ 
testine discords among the barons under, ib. 
The servile state of the people, ib. The weak 
authority of the king, ib. Its influence on the 
external operations of war, 314. The general 
extinction of all arts and sciences effected by, ib. 
Its operation on religion, ib. Its influence on 
the character of the human mind, ib. 315. At 
what time government and manners began to be 
improved, 315. The causes and events which 
contributed to this improvement, ib. See Cru¬ 
sades. The ancient state jof cities under, 318. 
The frame of national councils under this policy, 
319. How altered by the progress of civil liber¬ 
ty, 320. An inquiry into the administration of 
justice under, 321. Private war, ib. Judicial 
combat, 323. The independent jurisdiction of 
the barons, 326. The distinction between free¬ 
men and vassals under, 373. How strangers 
were considered and treated under, 408. 

Fiefs, under the feudal system, a history of, 374. 
When they became hereditary, ib. 

Fiesco, count of Lavagna. See l.avagna. 

- - - Jerome, engages in his brother’s conspi¬ 
racy, and fails in securing Andrew Doria, 611, 
612. His imprudent vanity on his brother’s 
death, 612. Shuts himself up in a fort on his 
estate, 613. Is reduced and put to death, 614. 

Fitzstephens, observations on his account of the 
state of London at the time of Henry 11., 388. 

Flanders. See Netherlands. 

Florence, a view of the constitution of, at the com¬ 
mencement of the sixteenth century, 349. The 
influence acquired by Cosmo di IVledici in, ib. 
the inhabitants of, revolt against pope Clement 
VTT. on the news of his captivity, and recover 
their liberty, 520. Are reduced to subjection to 
Alexanderdi Medici, by the emperor, 529. Alex¬ 
ander di Medici, duke of, assassinated by his kins¬ 
man Lorenzo, 557. Cosmo di Medici advanced to 
the sovereignty, ib. Cosmo, supported by the em¬ 
peror, defeats the partisans of Lorenzo, 558. Cos¬ 
mo asserts his independency on the emperor, 657. 

Fonseca, Antonio de, commander-in-chief of the 
forces in Spain, ordered by cardinal Adrian to 
besiege the insurgents in Segovia, 479. Is denied 
liberty of taking military stores, by the inhabi¬ 
tants of Medina del Campo, ib. Attacks and 
almost burns the whole town, ib. Is repulsed, 
ih. Flis house at Valladolid burnt, ib. 

France, by what means the towns in, first obtained 
charters of community, 318. Ordonnances of 
Louis X. and his brother Philip in favour of 
civil liberty, 320, 321. Methods employed to 
suppress private wars, 322. St. Louis attempts 
to discountenance judicial combat, V5. A view 
of the contests between, and England, 335. The 
consequences of its recovering its provinces from 
England, 336. The monarchy of, how strength¬ 
ened by this event, ib. The rise of standing 
forces in, ib. The regal prerogative strength¬ 
ened by this measure, 337. T he extension of the 
regal prerogative vigorously pursued by Louis 
XI., 338. See Louis XI. The effects of the in¬ 
vasion of Italy by Charles VIII., 341. See 
Charles VIII. National infantry established 

13 





INDEX TO THE HISTORY 


in, 343. league of Cambray formed against the 
Venetians, 311. Battle of Ghiarradadda, ib. 
An inquiry into its ancient government and 
laws, 357. l'he power of the general assemblies 
under the first race of kings, ib. Under the 
second and third, 358. The regal power confined 
to the king’s own domains, ib. When the general 
assembly or states-general lost their legislative 
autliority, ib. When the kings began to assert their 
legislative power, ib. When the government of, 
became purely monarchical, 35y. The regal 
power nevertheless restrained by the privileges of 
the nobility, ib. An inquiry into the jurisdiction 
of its parliaments, particularly that of Paris, ib. 
How the allodial property of land there was 
altered into feudal, 375. The progress of liberty 
in that kingdom traced, 388, Note xix. The at¬ 
tempts to establish liberty there unsuccessful, 
389. The last instance of judicial combat record¬ 
ed in the history of, 398. 1 he present govern¬ 

ment of, compared with that of ancient Gaul, 
417, Note xxx'.iii. The states-general when first 
assembled, 421. The acquisitions of that king¬ 
dom during the reign of the emperor Charles 
V., "06. The character of the people of, ib. The 
good consequences of the civil wars in that king¬ 
dom to the rest of Europe, ib. 

Francis 1., king of France, his character influenced 
by the spirit of chivalry, 330. Is emulated by 
the emperor Charles V., ib. Concludes a peace 
with Charles V. and the conditions of the treaty, 
442. Sends a fruitless embassy to Charles tor 
the restitution of Navarre to the young king, 
444. Aspires to the imperial crown at the death 
of Maximilian, 445. Reasons by which he sup¬ 
ported his pretensions, ib. Remarks on the equi¬ 
pages of his ambassadors to the German states, 
446. His pretensions adopted by the Venetians, 
ib. Loses the election, 448. Rise of the rival- 
ship between him and Charles, 451. Courts the 
favour of Cardinal Wolsey’, 453. Promises 
Wolsey his interest for the papacy, ib. Has an 
interview with Henry Vlll. of England, ib. 
Wrestles with Henry and throws him, ib. 454, 
note. His advantages over Charles at the com¬ 
mencement of hostilities between them, 469. 
Concludes an alliance with the pope, 470. In¬ 
vades and reduces Navarre, in the name of 
Henry D’Albert, son of John, the former king, 
471. The French driven out by the imprudence 
of L’Esparre their general, who is taken prisoner 
by the Spaniards, ib. 472. Retakes Mouson trom 
the imperialists, 472. Invades the Low Coun¬ 
tries, but loses the opportunities of success by 
imprudence, ib. Rejects the demands of Charles 
at the Congress at Calais, 473. A league con¬ 
cluded between Chailes and Henry Vlll. 
against him, ib. His imprudent appointment of 
the Mareshal de Foix to the government of 
Milan, 474. De Foix attacks Reggio, but is re¬ 
pulsed by the governor Guicciardini the histo¬ 
rian, ib. The pope declares against him, ib. His 
embarrassments on the invasion of Milan, ib. 
II is mother seizes the money appointed for the 
payment of the Milanese troops, ib. Milan 
taken, and the French driven out, 475. Levies 
a body of Swiss, 476. Who insist on giving a 
precipitate battle to the imperialists, which is 
lost, ib. War declared against him by Henry 
VIII., 477- His expedients to supply his trea¬ 
sury, ib. The plan pursued by him to resist the 
incursions of the English, ib. Picardy invaded 
by Henry, ib. The Venetians league with the 
emperor against him, 489. To which pope 
Adrian accedes, ib. His expeditious movement 
against the Milanese, ib. Disconcerted by the 
duke of Bourbon’s conspiracy, ib. Taxes him 
with betraying his cause, which Bourbon denies, 
490. Bourbon escapes to Italy, and Francis re¬ 
turns, ib. Appoints the admiral Bonnivet to 
command against the Milanese, ib. Picardy 
invaded by’ the duke of Suffolk, who is driven 
back, 492. Repulses the invasion of Guienne 
and Burgundy by Charles, ib. His successful 
close of the campaign, ib. His prudent care to 
disappoint the imperialists in their invasion of 
Provence, 497. Assembles an army which causes 
the imperialists to retire from Marseilles,^. De¬ 
termines to invade the Milanese, ib. Appoints 
his mother Louise regent during his absence, ib. 
Enters Milan, and takes possession of the city, 
498. Advised by Bonnivet to besiege Pavia, ib. 
His vigorous attacks on Pavia, ib. Concludes 
a treaty of neutrality with pope Clement, 499. 
His imprudent invasion of N aples, ib. Resolves, 
by Bonnivet’s advice, to attack Bourbon’s army, 
advanced to the relief of Pavia, 500. Is routed 
at the battle of Pavia, ib. Is taken prisoner, ib. 
Is sent to the castle of Pizzitchitone under the 
custody of Don Ferdinand Alarcon, ib. 501. 
Refuses the proposi'ions made to him by Charles, 
50.3. Is carried to Spain on his desire of a per¬ 
sonal interview with Charles, ib. Is rigorously 
treated in Spain, 505. Falls dangerously ill, 
506. Is visited by Charles, ib. Resolves to re¬ 
sign his kingdom, 507. Is delivered from this 
captivity by the treaty of Madrid, ib. His se¬ 
cret protestations against the validity of this 
treaty, 508. Marries the queen of Portugal, ib. 
Recovers his liberty, and the dauphin and the 
duke of Orleans delivered up hostages to Charles 
for the performance of the treaty of Madrid, ib. 
Writes a letter of acknowledgment to Henry 
Vlll. of England, 511. His reply to the impe¬ 
rial ambassadors, ib. 512. Enters into a league 
with the pope, the Venetians, and Sforza, against 
Charles, 512. Is absolved from his oath to ob¬ 
serve the treaty of Madrid, ib. His behaviour 
to the emperor’s second embassy’, 513. Is dis¬ 
pirited by his former ill success, ib. Enters 
into a treaty with Henry’ V111. of England against 
the emperor, 520. Successes of his general, Lau. 


tree, in Italy, 521. Ilis reply to the emperor’s 
overtures, 522. Declares war against him, and 
challenges him to single combat, ib. 523. 'Treats 
Andrew Doria ill, who revolts from him to the 
emperor, 524. His army, under Saluces, driven 
out of Italy, 525. His troops in Milan routed, 
526. Ilis endeavours towards an accommoda¬ 
tion, ib. Terms of the peace at Cambray, con¬ 
cluded by the mediation of his mother Louise 
and Margaret of Austria, ib. 527. Remarks on 
the sacrifices made by him in this treaty, and on 
his conduct of the war, 527- Leagues secretly 
with the protestant princes, 532. His measures 
to elude the treaty of Cambray, 535. His nego- 
ciations with the pope, ib. tlis interview and 
treaty with the pope, ib. Gives the duke of 
Orleans in marriage to Catherine di Medici, ib. 
Negociatesa treaty with Francis Sforza, duke 
of Milan, 546. 11 is envoy Merveille executed 
at Milan for murder, ib. Is disappointed in his 
endeavours to negociate alliances against the 
emperor, ib. Invites Melancthon to Paris, ib. 
Evidences his zeal for the Romish religion, 547. 
Causes of his quarrel with the duke of Savoy , ib. 
Seizes the duke’s territories, ib. Ilis pretensions 
to the duchy of Milan, on the death of Francis 
Sforza, 549. The emperor’s invective against 
him before the pope in council, 550. Is invaded 
by Charles, 551. His prudent plan of defence, 
552. .loins the army under Montmorency, 553. 
Death of the dauphin, 554. Obtains a decree of 
the parliament ot Paris against the emperor, ib. 
Invades the Low Countries, ib. A suspension of 
arms in Flanders, and how negociated, 555. A 
truce in Piedmont, ib. Motives to these truces, 
ib. Concludes an alliance with Solyman the 
Magnificent, ib. Negociations for a peace with 
the emperor, 556. Concludes a truce for ten 
years at Nice, ib. Reflections on the war, ib. 
Ilis interview with Chai les, 558. Marries Mary 
of Guise to James V. of Scotland, ib. Refuses 
the offers of the deputies of Ghent, 563. Informs 
Charles of the offer made by them, ib. Grants 
the emperor leave to pass through France to the 
Netherlands, ib. Ilis reception of the emperor, 
564. Is deceived by the emperor in respect to 
Milan, 565. His ambassador to the Porte, Rin¬ 
con, murdered by the imperial governor of the 
Milanese, 576. Prepares to resent the injury, 
5TJ. Attacks the emperor with five armies, ib. 
IT is first attempts rendered abortive by the im¬ 
prudence of the duke of Orleans, ib. 578. Renews 
lis negociations with sultan Solyman, 579. In¬ 
vades the Low Countries, 580. Forces the em¬ 
peror to raise the siege of Landrecy, ib. Dis¬ 
misses Barbaiossa, 584. Gives the count d’En- 
guien permission to engage Guasto, ib. 585. Re¬ 
lieves Paris, in danger of being surprised by the 
emperor, 587- Agrees to a separate peace with 
Charles, ib. Henry’s haughty return to his 
overtures of peace, 588. Death of the duke of 
Orleans, 591. Peace of Campe, 600. Perceives 
a necessity of checking the emperor’s ambitious 
designs, 613. Forms a general league against 
him, ib. Dies, 614. His life and character 
summarily compared with those of Charles, ib. 
615. Consequences of his death, 615. 

Francis II., his accession to the crown of France, 
and character, 703. 

Francfort, the diet of, assembled for the choice of 
an emperor at the death of Maximilian, 447. 
Names and views of the electors, ib. The em¬ 
pire offered to Frederic of Saxony, ib. Who 
rejects it, with his reason, ib. Chooses Charles 
V. emperor, 448. His confirmation of the Ger¬ 
manic privileges required and agreed to, ib. 
City of, embraces the reformed religion, 494. 
The college of electors assembled there by Fer¬ 
dinand, who is acknowledged emperor of Ger¬ 
many, 695. 

Frederic, duke of Saxony, assembles with the other 
electors at the diet of Francfort, to choose an 
emperor, 447. The empire offered to him, ib. 
Rejects it, and votes for Charles V., ib. 448. Re¬ 
fuses the presents of the Spanish ambassadors, 
448. This disinterested behaviour confirmed by 
the testimony of historians, ib. note. Chooses 
Martin Luther philosophical professor at his 
University of Wittemberg, 456. Encourages 
Luther in his opposition to indulgences, ib. 
Protects him against Cajetan, 458. Causes 
Luther to be seized at his return from the diet 
at Worms, and conceals him at Wartburg, 468, 
469. Dies, 511. 

- - - - Barbarossa, emperor, the free cities of 
Italy unite against him, 384. I reaty of Con¬ 
stance with them, ib. Was the first who granted 
privileges to the cities in Germany, 387. 

Fredum in the ancient German usages explained, 
399. 

Freemen, how distinguished from vassals under the 
feudal policy, 373—378. Why often induced to 
surrender their freedom and become slaves, 378. 

Fregoso, the French ambassador to Venice, mur¬ 
dered by the Marquis del Guasto, the imperial 
governor of the Milanese, 576. 

Fronsperg, George, a German nobleman, some 
account of, he joins the army of Charles V., 515. 

Fvlcherivs, Carnotensis, his character of the city 
of Constantinople, 382. 

G 

Gavl, how allodial property of land w’as changed 
into feudal there, 375. T he government of, com¬ 
pared with that of modern France, 417, Note 
xxxviii. The small authority the kings of, en¬ 
joyed over their armies, illustrated in an anec¬ 
dote of Clotaire 1., ib. Account of the popular 
assemblies of, ib. 418. The Salic laws how 
enacted, 418. Were not subject to taxation, ib. 
See France. 


General of the Jesuits, an inquiry into Ins office 
and despotic authority, 566, 567- 

Geneva, an account of its revolt against the duke 
of Savoy, 548. 

Genoa, reduced by Lautrec, the French general, 
521. The French endeavour to prejudice its 
trade in favour of Savona, 524. Is rescued from 
the French by Andrew Doria, 525. T he govern¬ 
ment of, settled by the disinterestedness of Doria, 
ib. The honour paid to Doria’s memory, ib. 
Is visited by the emperor, 528. A scheme 
formed to overturn the constitution of, by Fies- 
co, count of Lavagna, 609. He assembles his 
adherents, 610. The conspirators sally forth 
from Lavagna’s palace, ib. Deputies sent to 
know Lavagna’s terms, 612. Lavagna drowned, 
ib. The insurrection ruined by the imprudence 
of his brother Jerome Fiesco, ib. The conspira¬ 
tors disperse, ib. Jerome reduced and put to 
death, 614. 

Geoffrey de Villehardouin, his account of the mag¬ 
nificence of Constantinople at the time when 
taken by the crusaders, 382. 

Germanada, an association in Valencia, so termed, 
on what occasion formed, 487. Refuse to lay 
down their arms, ib. Their resentment levelled 
at the nobility, who raise an army against them, 
ib. Defeat the nobles in several actions, ib. 
But are routed and dispersed by them, ib. 

Germans, ancient, an account of their usages and 
way of life, 370. 'T heir method of engaging in 
war, ib. A comparison between them and the 
North American Indians, .371. Why they had 
no cities, 387, Note xvii. The practice ot com¬ 
pounding for personal injuries by tines deduced 
from their usages, 399. 

Germany, little interested in foreign concerns at 
the beginning of the fifteenth century, 335. Na¬ 
tional infantry established in, 343. State of, un¬ 
der Charlemagne and his descendants, 360. 
Conrad, count of Franconia, chosen emperor, ib. 
Ilis successors in the imperial dignity, ib. How 
the nobility of, acquired independent sovereign 
authority, ib. The fatal effects of aggrandizing 
the clergy in, ib. T he contests between the em¬ 
peror Henry IV. and pope Gregory VIE, 361. 
Rise of the factions of Guelphs and Ghibelines, 
ib. Decline of the imperial authority, ib. 'The 
house of Austria, by whorn founded, tb. A total 
change in the political constitution of the em¬ 
pire, ib. The state .of anarchy in which it con¬ 
tinued to the time of Maximilian, the immediate 
predecessor of Charles V., 362. Divided into 
circles, ib. The imperial chamber instituted, ib. 
The Aulic council reformed, ib. A view of its 
political constitution at the commencement of 
the ensuing history, ib. Its defects pointed out, 
ib. T he imperial dignity and power compared, 
ib. 363. Election of the emperors, 363. 'I he re¬ 
pugnant forms of civil policy in the several 
states of, ib. The opposition between the secu¬ 
lar and ecclesiastical members of, it. T he united 
body hence incapable of acting witlL vigour, 364. 
When cities first began to be built in, 387, Note 
xvii. When the cities of, first acquired munici¬ 
pal privileges, ib. The artisans of, when en¬ 
franchised, ib. Immediate cities in the German 
jurisprudence, what, 388. The great calamities 
occasioned there by private wars, 395. Origin 
of the league of the Rhine, 396. When private 
wars were finally abolished there, ib. Inquiry 
into the power, jurisdiction, and revenue of its 
emperors, 423, Note xlii. T he ancient mode of 
electing the emperors, 424. Account of the 
diets, 425. State of, at the death of the emperor 
Maximilian, 445. Charles V. of Spain, and 
Francis I. of France, form pretensions to the 
imperial crown, ib. Their respective reasons 
offered in favour of their claims, ib. 446. View s 
and interests of the other European states in 
relation to the competitors, 446. Henry Vlll. 
of England advances a claim, ib. But is dis¬ 
couraged from prosecuting it, ib. 447. How tile 
papacy was likely to be affected in the choice of 
an emperor, 447- Advice of pope Leo X. to the 
German princes, ib. Opening of the diet at 
Frankfort, ib. In w hom the election of an em¬ 
peror is vested, ib. Views of the electors, ib. 
T he empire offered to Frederic of Saxony, ib. 
who rejects it, and his reasons, ib. Charles V. 
chosen, 448. The capitulation of the Germanic 
privileges confirmed by him, ib. Charles sets 
out tor, 450. Charles crowned at Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle, 454. Commencement of the Reformation 
there, by Martin Luther, ib. T reatment of the 
bull of excommunication published against I u- 
ther, 460. T he usurpations of the clergy there 
during the disputes concerning investitures, 463* 
The clergy of, mostly foreigners, 464. The be¬ 
nefices of, nominated by the pope, 465. The 
expedient of the emperors for restraining this 
power of the pope, ineffectual, ib. The great 
progress of Luther’s doctrines in, 494. Griev¬ 
ances of the peasants, 509. Insurrection in Sua- 
hia , ib. The memorial of their grievances, ib. 
The insurrection quelled, ib. Another insurrec¬ 
tion in Thuringia, ib. How the house of Aus¬ 
tria became so formidable in. 519. Proceedings 
relating to the Reformation there, ib. Great pro¬ 
gress of the Reformation there, 529. Ferdinand 
king ot Hungary and Bohemia, brother to 
Charles V., elected king of the Romans, 5.32 
The protestant religion established in Saxony’ 
560. 'Ihe protestant religion established in the 
palatinate, 592. I he league ot Smalkalde raise 
an army against the emperor, 600. Are put 
under the ban of the empire, 601. The pro¬ 
testant army dispersed, 607. The Interim en¬ 
forced by the emperor, 629- Maurice of Saxony 
raises an army and declares in favour of the 
protestants, 646. Maurice favoured even by the 
catholic princes, and why, 651. T reaty of Pas- 





OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES V. 


sau, between the emperor and Maurice of Sax- 
ony, 053. lruce between the emperor and 
Ileniv ot France, 683. Charles resigns the im¬ 
perial crown to his brother Ferdinand, 686. 

L ’"pit, an insurrection there, 562. The preten¬ 
sions ot the citizens, ib. Form a confederacy 
against the queen dowager of Hungary, their 
governess, ih. lheir deputies to the emperor, 
how treated by him, ih. Offer to submit to 
1'ranee, ib. Is reduced by Charles, 564. 

(j/iibelme taction in Italy, a view of, 514. 

(Jhihelines. See < Juelfs. 

Ghianaddado, the battle of, fatal to the Venetians, 

Giron, don Pedro de, appointed to the command 
ot the army ot the Holy Junta,483. Resigns his 
commission, and Padilla replaced, ib. 

Glanmlle, lord chief justice, the tirst whocompiled 
a body of common law in all Europe, 405. 

Goletta in Africa, takeii by the emperor Charles 
> • y 54 4. 

Gonzago, the imperial governor of Milan, procures 
cardinal Farnese to be assassinated, and takes 
possession of Placentia for the emperor 6°5 
Prepares to seize Parma, 638. Is repulsed bv 
the French, ib. 

Goths, Vandals, and Huns, overrun the Roman 
empire, and precipitate its downfall, 310. The 
state of the countries from whence they issued 
ib. The motives of the first excursions, ib. flow 
they came to settle in the countries they con¬ 
quered, ib. A comparison drawn between them 
and the Romans at the period of their irrup¬ 
tions, ib. et seq. Compared with the native 
Americans, 311. The desolations they occa¬ 
sioned in Europe, ib. The universal change 
made by them in the state of Europe, 312. The 
principles on which they made their settlements 
ib. Origin of the feudal system, ib. See Feu¬ 
dal System. An inquiry into the administration 
of justice among, 321. lheir private wars, ib. 
Destroy the monuments of the Roman arts, 33o! 
Their contempt of the Romans, and hatred of 
their arts, 367, Note ii. Their aversion to 
literature, ib. No authentic account of their 
origin or ancient history existing, ib. 

Gouffer, sent by Francis I. king of France, to ne- 
gociate a peace with Charles V.,442. 

Government, how limited by the feudal policy, 
313. The effects of the Crusades on, 317. llow 
affected by the enfranchisement of cities, 319. 
Legislative assemblies, how formed, ib. Private 
wars destructive to the authority of, 322. Me¬ 
thods employed to abolish this hostile mode ol re¬ 
dressing injuries, 323. How affected by the su¬ 
preme .independent jurisdictions of the barons, 

326. The steps towards abolishing them, ib. 327. 
The origin and growth of royal courts of justice, 

327. How influenced by the revival of science and 
literature, 331. A view of, at the beginning of 
the fifteenth century, 333. The power of mo- 
narchs theu very limited, .334. lheir revenues 
small, ib. Their armies unfit for conquest, ib. 
The princes hence incapable of extensive plans 
of operation, ib. 335. The kingdoms very little 
connected with each other, 335. How the efforts 
of, from this period, became more powerful and 
extensive, ib. The consequences of England 
losing its provinces in France, 336. The schemes 
of Louis X1. of France to extend the regal power, 
338. See Louis XI. The power of the English 
crown enlarged, 339. See Henry V11. As also 
that of Spain, ib. How the use of standing ar¬ 
mies became general, 342. A view of the poli¬ 
tical constitution of the several states of Europe 
at the commencement of the sixteenth century, 
315. In what respects the charters of communi¬ 
ties granted by the kings of France tended to in¬ 
troduce a regular form of, 384. 

Granada, archbishop of, president of the council 
of Castile, his imprudent advice to cardinal 
Adrian, relating to the insurrection in Segovia, 
479. 

Granvelle, cardinal, his artifice to prevail on the 
count de Sancerre to surrender St. Disier to the 
emperor, 5446. Endeavours to lull the protes- 
tants into security with regard to the emperor’s 
conduct toward them, 594. Is commissioned bv 
Philip to address the assembly at the emperors 
resignation of his hereditary dominions, 682, 

Grapper, canon of Cologne, is appointed a manager 
of the protestant and catholic conferences before 
the diet at Ratisbon, 571. Writes a treatise to 
compose the differences between them, ib. The 
sentiments of both parties on this work, ib. 

Gravelines, an interview there between the em¬ 
peror Charles V. and Henry VIII. of England, 
454. 

Greece, the breeding of silk-worms when intro¬ 
duced there, 409. 

Greek emperors, their magnificence at Constanti¬ 
nople, 382. 

Gregory of Tours, tomarks on the state of Europe 
during the period of which he wrote the history, 
315. 

- - - the Great, pope, his reason for granting 
liberty to his slaves, 389. 

- - - VII. pope, the foundation of his con¬ 
tests with Henry i V. emperor of Germany, 361. 
The mean submission he extorted from Henry, 
ib. His own account of this affair, 423, Note x li. 

Guasto, the marquis del, appointed governor of 
Milan by the emperor, 553. Procures Rincon, 
the French ambassador to the Porte, to be mur¬ 
dered ou his journey thither, 576. Defends Ca- 
rlgnan against the French, 584. Defeated by 
D’Enguien in a pitched battle, 585. . 

Guelfs and Ghibelines, rise of those factions in 
Germany, 361. . 

Guicciardini the historian, instance of his super 
stiticus reverence for pope Clement V1L, 348. 
Note. His account of the publication of indul¬ 


gences contradicted, 457, note. Defends Reggio 
against the French, 474. Repulses an attack 
upon Parma by the French, 475. His senti¬ 
ments of the pope’s treaty with Lannoy, viceroy 
of Naples, 516. 

Guise, Francis of Lorrain, duke of, is made go¬ 
vernor of Metz by Henry 11. of France, 655. 
His character, ib. Prepares to defend it against 
the emperor, ib. His brother d’Aumale taken 
prisoner by the imperialists, 656. The emperor 
raises the siege, 657. His humane treatment of 
the distressed and sick Germans left behind, ib. 
Persuades Henry to an alliance with pope Paul 
IV., 678. Marches with troops into Italy, 688. 
Is unable to effect any thing, ib. Is recalled 
from Italy after the defeat of St. Quintin, 692. 
Ilis reception in France, 693. Takes the field 
against Philip, 694. Invests and takes Calais 
from the English, ib. fakes also Guisnes and 
Ilames, 695. 1 akes Thionville in Luxembourg, 
696. 

- - -Mary of, married to James V. of Scotland, 
558. Frustrates the intended marriage between 
her daughter Mary and prince Edward of Eng¬ 
land, 584. 

Guntherus, amonk, his character of Constantinople 
at the time when taken by the crusaders, 382. 

Gurk, cardinal de, why he favoured the election of 
Charles V. to the imperial crown, 448. Signs 
the capitulation of the Germanic body on behalf 
of Charles,. 

Gusman, chancellor to the emperor Ferdinand, is 
sent to pope Paul IV. to notify the election, who 
refuses to see him, 695. 

II 

Hamburgh, city of, embraces the reformed re¬ 
ligion, 494. 

Hanseatic league, when formed, and its influence 
on the extension of commerce, 333, 411. 

Haro, the conde de, appointed to command the 
army of the Castilian nobles against the Holy 
Junta, 483. Attacks Tordesillas, and gets pos¬ 
session of queen Joanna, ih. Routs the army 
of the Junta and takes Padilla prisoner, who is 
executed, 485. 

Hascen dga, deputy-governor of Algiers, his pi¬ 
racies against the Christian states, 57-3. Is be¬ 
sieged in Algiers by the emperor Charles V., 
574. Makes asuccessful sally, ib. The emperor 
forced by bad weather to return back again, 575. 

Hayradin, a potter’s son of Lesbos, commences 
pirate, 541. See Barbarossa. 

Heathens, ancient, why the principles of mutual 
toleration were generally admitted among them, 
675. 

Heldo, vice-chancellor to Charles V., attends the 
pope’s nuncio to Smalkalde, 559. Forms a ca¬ 
tholic league in opposition to the protestant one, ib. 

Henry 11. king ot France, his motives for declin¬ 
ing an alliance with pope Paul III. against the 
emperor, 625. Procures for Scotland a peace 
with England, 6.38- The young queen Mary 
contracted to the dauphin, and sent to France 
for education, ib. Enters into an alliance with 
Octavio Farnese, duke of Parma, ib. Protests 
against the council of Trent, ib. Makes alliance 
with Maurice, elector of Saxony, 643. Seconds 
the operations of Maurice, 646. His army 
marches and seizes Metz,, 647. Attempts to 
surprise Strasburg, 649. Is strongly solicited to 
spare it, 650. Returns, ib. The emperor pre¬ 
pares for war against him, 654. Instigates the 
Turks to invade Naples, 658. Terouane taken 
and demolished by Charles, 660 Ilesdin taken, 
661. Leads an army into the Low Countries 
against Charles, ib. Endeavours to obstruct the 
marriage of Mary of England with Philip of 
Spain, 666. The progress of his arms against 
the emperor, 667- Engages Charles, ib. Re¬ 
tires, ib. Cosmo di Medici, duke of Florence, 
makes war against him, 668. Appoints Peter 
Strozzi commander^ of his army in Italy, ib. 
Strozzi defeated, 669. Siena taken, ib. Pope 
Paul IV. makes overtures to an alliance with 
him against the emperor, 678. Montmorency’s 
arguments against this alliance, ib. Is per¬ 
suaded by the Guises to accept it, ib. Sends the 
cardinal of Lorrain with powers to conclude if, 
679. t he pope signs the treaty, ih. A truce for 
five years concluded with the emperor, 683. Is ex¬ 
horted by cardinal Caraffato break the truce, 684. 
Is absolved from his oath, and concludes a new 
treaty with the pope, ib. Sends the duke of 
Guise into Italy, 687. The constable Montmo¬ 
rency defeated and taken prisoner at St. Quintin, 
690. Henry prepares for the defence of Paris, 
ih. St. Quintin taken by assault, 691. Collects 
his troops, and negociates for assistance, ib. His 
kind reception of the duke of Guise, 693. Calais 
taken by Guise, 694. Empowers Montmorency 
to negociate a peace with Philip, 698. Honours 
him highly on his return to France, ib. Writes 
to queen Elizabeth with proposals of marriage, 
701. How he failed in his suit, ib. His daugh¬ 
ter married to Philip, and his sister to the duke 
of Savoy, 70.3. Terms of the treaty of Chateau- 
Cambresis, ib. The marriage of his sister and 
daughter celebrated with great pomp, ib. His 
death, ib. 

- - - IV. of Castile solemnly tried and deposed 
by an assembly of Castilian nobles, 353. 

- - - - emperor of Germany, the humiliating 
state to which he was reduced by pope Gregory 
VII., 361, 42.3, Note xli. 

- - - V11. of England, his situation at his acces¬ 
sion to the crown, 339. Enables his barons to 
break their entails and sell their estates, ib. Pro¬ 
hibits his barons keeping retainers, ib. En¬ 
courages agriculture and commerce, ib. Detains 
the archduke Philip and his duchess, when 


driven on his coast, three months, at the insti 
gation of Ferdinand, 4.3.3. 

Henry VIII. of England, sends an ambassador to 
Germany to propose his claims to the imperial 
crown, 446. Is discouraged from his preten¬ 
sions, and takes no part with the other competi¬ 
tors, 447. His personal character and political 
influence in Europe, 452. Entirely guided by 
cardinal Wolsey, ib. Receives a visit from the 
emperor Charles V., 453. Goes over to France 
to visit Francis, ib. Wrestles with Francis, and 
is thrown by him, ib. 454, note. Has another in¬ 
terview with Charles at Gravelines, 454. Charles 
offers to submit his differences with Francis to 
his arbitration, ib. Publishes a treatise on the 
seven sacraments against Martin Luther, 469. 
Obtains of the pope the title of Defender of the 
faith, ib. Takes part with Charles against 
Francis, 470. Sends Wolsey to negociate an ac¬ 
commodation between the emperor and Francis, 
472. Concludes a league with Charles against 
Francis, 473. His avowed reasons for this treaty, 
ib. _ His private motives, ib. Declares war 
against Francis, 477- Is visited by Charles, ib. 
Makes descents upon the coast of France, ib. 
Advances with an army into Picardy, ib. 
Obliged to retire by the duke de Vendome, ib. 
Enters into a treaty with the emperor and Charles, 
duke of Bourbon, 490. How he raised supplies 
for his wars beyond the grants of his parliament, 
492. Sends the duke of Suffolk to invade 
Picardy, who penetrates almost to Paris, but 
is driven back, ib. Engages to assist Charles 
in an invasion of Provence, 496. Causes of 
his not supporting the imperialists, 497. Ef¬ 
fects of the battle of Pavia, and captivity of 
Francis, on him, 501. Particulars of his embassy 
to Charles, 502. Concludes a defensive alliance 
with France, 504. Is declared protector of the 
league of Cognac against the emperor, 512. His 
motives for assisting the pope against the em¬ 
peror, 520. Enters into a league with Francis, 
and renounces the English claim to the crown of 
France, ib. Declares war against the emperor, 
522. Concludes a truce with the governess of 
the Low Countries, 524. Projects his divorce from 
Catharine of Aragon, 527. Motives which with¬ 
held the pope from granting it, 528. Acquiesces 
in the peace of Cambray, ib. Sends a supply of 
money to the protestant league in Germany, 533. 
Procures his marriage to be annulled by Cran- 
mer, archbishop of Canterbury, 536. The divorce 
reversed by the pope under penalty of excommu¬ 
nication, ib. Renounces the papal supremacy. 
ib. Refuses to acknowledge any council called 
by the pope, 541. Opposes James V. of Scotland 
marrying Mary of Guise, 558. His disgusts 
with Francis and intercourse with the emperor, 
ib. Concludes a league with Charles, 578. 
Makes war with Scotland, 579. Particulars of 
his treaty with Charles, ib. 1 nvades France, and 
invests Boulogne, 586. Refuses the emperor’s 
plan of operations, 587. Is deserted by the em 
peror, 588. Takes Boulogne, ib. Ilis haughty 
proposals to Francis, ib. Peace of Campe, 600. 
Is succeeded by his son Edward VI., 61.3. A 
review of his policy, 707. 
llerebannum, the nature of this fine under the feu¬ 
dal policy explained, .373. 

Hermandad, Santa, accountof that institution, 417. 
Hertford, earl of, plunders and burns Edinburgh, 
586. Joins Henry after, in his invasion of 
France, ib. 

Hesse, the landgrave of, procures the restoration 
of his kinsman, Ulric, duke of Wirtemberg, 54o. 
His views compared with those of the elector of 
Saxony, 593. The emperor’s deceitful profes¬ 
sions to him, 596. Quiets the apprehensions of 
t he protestant league with regard to the emperor, 
ib. Is appointed joint commander of the army 
of the league with the elector of Saxony, 602. 
l heir characters compared, ib. Urges an attack 
of the emperor, but is opposed by the elector, 60.3. 
His letter to Maurice, duke of Saxony, 606. The 
armj T of the league disperse, 607. Is reduced to 
accept harsh terms from Charles, 620. His 
humiliating reception by the emperor, 621. is 
detained in confinement, ib. His offers of sub¬ 
mission slighted by the emperor, 629. Tscarried 
by the emperor with him into the Netherlands, 
630. Renews his endeavours for liberty, 635. 
Is closely confined in the citadel of Mechlin, ib. 
Charles releases arbitrarily the elector of Bran¬ 
denburg, and Maurice, from their engagements 
to him, 636. Obtains his liberty by the treaty of 
Passau, 65.3. Is arrested by the queen of Hun¬ 
gary, but freed by the emperor, 651. The effects 
of his confinement on him, ib. 

Henterus, his account of Lewis XII. shown to 
contradict the relations given by Eellay and 
other French historians of the education of 
. Charles V., 436, note. 

History, the most calamitous period of, pointed 
out, 311. 

Holy Brotherhood, an association in Spain under 
that name, on what occasion formed, 357. 

- - Junta. See Junta. 

- - Land, the original inducements of the Chris¬ 
tians to rescue it from the hands of the infidels, 
.315. See Crusades and Peter the Hermit. 

- - League, against the emperor Charles V., 
formed at Cognac, under the protection of 
Henry VIII. of England, 512. 

Honour, points of, the ancient Swedish law for 
determining, 396. 

Horne, a potter’s son of Lesbos, commences pirate 
with his brother Hayradin, 541. See Barbarossa. 
Hospitality enforced by statutes during the middle 
ages, 408. 

Hungary, is invaded by Sqlyman the Magnificent, 
and its king Lewis II. killed, 519. His success 
and the number of prisoners carried away, ib 

15 




The archduke Ferdinand elected king of, together 
with Bohemia, 519. John Zapol Scaepus wrests 
it from Ferdinand, 572. Stephen succeeds on 
the deatli of his father John, ib. is treacherously 
seized by Solyman, 573. See Isabella and Mar¬ 
tinuzzi. . . 

Hmis, instance of their enthusiastic passion tor 
war, 367, Sole iii. Some account of their policy 
and manners, 369, 370. See Goths. 

I 

James V. of Scotland levies troops to assist Francis 
in Provence, but his intention frustrated, 558. 
His negociations for marriage with Francis’s 
daughter,^. Marries Wary of Guise, ib. Dies, 
and leaves Mary his infant daughter to succeed 
him, 579. See Mary. 

Janizaries, origin and formidable nature of those 
troops, 865. 

Jesuits, the order of, by whom founded, 471. 
Character of that order, ib. Character of Ig- 
natio Loyola their founder, 565, 566. The order 
confirmed by the pope, 566. An examination 
into the constitution of the order, ib. Office and 
power of their general, ib. The rapid progress 
of the order, 567. Engage in trade, and esta¬ 
blish an empire in South America, 568. Bad 
tendency of the order, ib. Are responsible for 
most of the pernicious effects of popery since 
their institution, ib. Advantages resulting from 
their institution, ib. Civilize the natives of Pa¬ 
raguay, 569. Their precautions for the inde¬ 
pendency of their empire there, ib. How the 
particulars of their government and institution 
came to be disclosed, 570. Summary of their 
character, ib. 

Imperial chamber of Germany instituted, 362. 
The occasion of its institution, ib. 

Indians, North American, a comparison drawn 
between them and the ancient Germans, 371. 

Indulgences, in the Romish church, the doctrine 
of, explained, 455. By whom first invented, ib. 
Martin Luther preaches against them, 456. 
Writes against them to Albert, elector of Mentz, 
ib. A bull issued in favour of, 459. The sale 
of, opposed in Switzerland by Zuinglius, ib. 

Industry, the spirit of, how excited by the en¬ 
franchisements of cities, 319. 

Infantado, duke of, his haughty resentment of a 
casual blow on his horse, 561. Is protected by 
the constable of Castile, ib. 

Infantry, the advantages of, beyond cavalry taught 
to the rest of Furope by the Swiss, 343. Na¬ 
tional bodies of, established in Germany, ib. In 
France and Spain, ib. 

Inheritance and right of representation betw-een 
orphan grandsons and their uncles, how decided 
in the tenth century, 397. 

Innocent, a young domestic of cardinal di Monte, 
obtains his cardinal’s hat on his election to the 
papacy, 632. 

Interest of money, the necessity of admitting, in a 
commercial view, 410. Preposterously con¬ 
demned by the churchmen of the middle ages, 
ib. The cause, hence, of the exorbitant exac¬ 
tions of the Lombard bankers, ib. 

Interim, a system of theology so called, prepared 
by order of the emperor Charles V. for the use 
of Germany, 627. Is disapproved of, both by 
protestants and papists, 628. 

Investitures, usurpations of the Romish clergy in 
Germany, during the disputes between the em¬ 
perors and popes, concerning, 463. 

Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand, and mother of 
Charles V. visits Spain with her husband Philip, 
archduke of Austria, 430. Is slighted by her 
husband, 431. Her character, ib. Is abruptly 
left in Spain by her husband, ib. Sinks into 
melancholy on the occasion, and is delivered of 
her second son Ferdinand, ib. Her letter of 
consent to her father’s regency of Castile inter¬ 
cepted, and herself confined, 432. Made joint 
regent of Castile with Ferdinand and Philip, by 
the treaty of Salamanca, 433. Sets out for Spain 
with Philip, are driven on the coast of England, 
and detained three months by Henry VII., ib. 
Acknowledged queen by the Cortes, 434. Her 
tenderness to her husband in his sickness, and 
extraordinary attachment to his body when dead, 
ib. Is incapable of government, ib. Her son 
Charles assumes the crown, 438. The Cortes 
acknowledge her son king, with a reservation in 
her favour, 443. Her reception of Padilla, the 
chief of the Spanish malcontents, 480. t he Holy 
Junta removed to Tordesillas, the place of her 
residence, ib. Relapses into her former melan¬ 
choly, ib. The proceedings of the Holy Junta 
earned on in her name, ib. Is seized by the 
Conde de Haro, 483. Dies after near fifty years’ 
confinement, 681. 

John Zapol Scaepus, by the assistance of sultan 
Solyman, establishes himself in the kingdom of 
Hungary,572. Leaves the kingdom’to his son Ste¬ 
phen, ib. See Hungary, Isabella, and Martinuzzi. 

Isabella, daughter of John 11. of Castile, and wife 
of Ferdinand, king of Aragon, her history, 430. 
Her concern at the archduke Philip’s treatment 
of her daughter Joanna, 431. Pier death and 
character, ib. Appoints Ferdinand regent of 
Castile, under restrictions, ib. 

- - - - daughter to Sigismund, king of Poland, 
married to John, king of Hungary, 572. Her 
character, ib. Is treacherously carried with her 
infant son into Transylvania by sultan Soly¬ 
man, 573. The government of this province 
and the education of her son committed to her 
jointly with Martinuzzi, 642. Is jealous of 
Martinuzzi’s influence, and courts the Turks, 
ib. Is prevailed on to resign Transylvania to 
Ferdinand, ib. Retires to Silesia, ib. Recovers 
possession of Transylvania,661. 


INDEX TO THE HISTORY 

Isabella, of Portugal, married to the emperor 
Charles V., 508. 

Italy, when the cities of, began to form themsel ves 
into bodies-politic, 318. Commerce first im¬ 
proved there, and the reasons of it, 332. The 
revolutions in Europe occasioned by the invasion 
of, by Charles VIII. of France, 341. The state 
of, at the time of this invasion, ib. The rapid 
success of Charles, ib. A combination of the 
states of, drives Charles out of, and gives birth to 
the balance of power in Europe, 342. 1 he poli¬ 

tical situation of at the commencement ot the 
sixteenth century, 345. The papacy, ib. Venice, 
348. Florence, 349. Naples, ib. Milan, 350. 
Evidences of the desolation made there by the 
northern invaders ot the Roman empire, 369. 
How the cities of, obtained their municipal pri¬ 
vileges, 383, Note xv. State of, under Frederic 1., 
ib. Treaty of Constance between the free cities 
of, and the emperor Frederic Barbarossa, 384. 
Consequences of the league between pope Leo 
X. ana the emperor Charles V. to, 473. The 
characters of the Italians, Spaniards, and French, 
contrasted, ib. State of, at the accession of 
Clement VII. to the papacy, 491. Views of the 
Italian states with respect to the emperor and 
Francis on the expulsion of the French from 
Genoa and the Milanese, 496. Their apprehen¬ 
sions on the battle of Pavia and captivity of 
Francis, 502. The principal states join in the 
Holy League against the emperor, 512. Are 
disgusted at the tardiness of Francis, 514. A 
view of the Ghibeline faction, ib. Sentiments of 
the states of, on the peace of Cambray, 527. Is 
visited by the emperor Charles V., 528. The 
motives of his moderation towards the states of, 
ib. 529. A league among the states of, formed 
by Charles, 534. Placentia granted to Octavio 
Farnese by Philip II. of Spain, 692. The in¬ 
vestiture of Siena given by Philip to Cosmo di 
Medici, 693. The consequence of these grants, ib. 

Judgment of God, modes of acquittal by, in the 
law proceedings during the .middle ages, 323. 
396, Note xxii. 

Judicium Crucis, method of trial by, 396. 

Julius II. pope, forms a confederacy against the 
Venetians at Cambray, 344. Seizes part of the 
Venetian territories, ib. The confederacy dis¬ 
solved, ib. T urns his schemes against France, 
ib. observations on the pontificate of, 462. 

- - - 111. pope, his character, 632. Bestows 
his cardinal’s hat infamously, ib. Is averse to 
the calling a council, ib. Summons < ne at 
Trent, ib. Asserts his supreme authority pe¬ 
remptorily in the bull for it, 635. Repents con¬ 
firming Octavio Farnese in Parma, 637. Re¬ 
quires Octavio to relinquish his alliance with 
France, 638. The manner of his death, 673. 

Junta, Holy, a view of the confederacy in Spain, 
so termed, 480. The authority of Adrian dis¬ 
claimed by, ib. Removed to Tordesillas, where 
queen Joanna resided, ib. Their proceedings 
carried on in the name of Joanna, ib. Receive 
letters from Charles to lay down their arms, 
with promises of pardon, 481. Remonstrance of 
grievances drawn up by, ib. The particulars of 
this remonstrance, ib. Remarks on the spirit of 
it, 482. Are intimidated from presenting it to 
Charles, 483. Propose to deprive Charles of his 
royalty during the life of Joanna, ib. Take the 
field, ib. Character of their army, ib. The 
queen seized by the Conde de Flaro, ib. How 
they obtained money to support their army, 484. 
Lose time in negotiating with the nobles, ib. 
Propose to make their peace with < harles at the 
expense of the nobles, ib. Their irresolute con¬ 
duct, 485. Their army defeated by Haro, and 
Padilla taken prisoner, ib. Padilla executed, ib. 
His letters to his wife and the city of Toledo, ib. 
note. The ruin of the confederacy, ib. 

Jurisprudence, ecclesiastical, more perfect in Jits 
plan than the civil courts of the middle ages, 328. 
See Law. 

Justice, an inquiry into the administration of, 
under the feudal policy, 321. The steps towards 
the improvement of, as civil liberty advanced, 
ib. Redress chiefly pursued by private wars, 
322. Methods taken to suppress private wars, 
ib. Judicial combats prohibited, ib. Thedefects 
of judicial proceedings in the middle ages, 323. 
Compurgators, the nature of that kind of evi¬ 
dence, ib. Methods of trial by ordeal, or acquit¬ 
tal by judgment of God, ib ." Origin of the su- 
reme independent jurisdictions of the feudal 
arons, 326. The extent and bad effects of their 
privileges, ib. The steps taken by monarchs to 
reduce the barons’ courts, ib. The growth of 
royal courts of justice, 327. Inquiry into the 
canon law, ib. How improved by the revival 
of the Roman law, 328. When the administra¬ 
tion of, became a distinct profession, 329. 

Justiza, or supreme judge ot Aragon, his office and 
privileges, 354. An inquiry by whom this officer 
was elected, 411. Who was eligible to this office, 
412. Nature of the tribunal appointed to control 
his administration, ib. Instance of his extensive 
power, ib. 

K 

King, his power bow circumscribed by the barons 
under the feudal system, 314. By what means 
the crusades tended to enlarge the regal autho¬ 
rity, 317. 

Koran, its influence in checking the sultans of the 
Ottoman empire, 365. 

L 

La Chau, a Flemish gentleman, associated by 
Charles V. with Cardinal Ximenes in the re¬ 
gency of Castile, 440. 


Land, how held at the establishment of the feudal 
system, 313. See Feudal System. 

- - the property of, how considered by the an¬ 

cient barbarous nations, 372, 373, Note viii. Al¬ 
lodial possession of explained, 373. T he pro¬ 
prietors how subjected to military service, ib. 
Allodial and beneficiary possession distinguished, 
ib. Allodial property, why generally converted 
into feudal, 375. , 

Landrecy, siege of, by the emperor Charles V., 
580. is abandoned by him, ib. 

Lannoy mortgages the revenues of Naples to 
supply the exigences of the emperor, 498. Francis 
surrenders himself prisoner to him at the battle 
of Pavia. 500. His cautious disposal of him, ib. 
Delivers him up in pursuance of the treaty ot 
Madrid, and receives the duke of Orleans and 
the dauphin as hostages in exchange, 5o8. Is 
sent ambassador to Francis, to require his fulfil¬ 
ment of the treaty of, 513. Concludes a treaty 
with the pope, 516. Marches to join the impe¬ 
rialists at Rome, where the troops refuse to obey 
him, 520. 

Lanuza, Don John de, made viceroy of Aragon, 
on the departure of Charles V. tor Germany, 
450. Composes the disturbances there, 487. 
Lavagna, John Lewis Fiesco, count of, his cha¬ 
racter, 609. Meditates subverting the govern¬ 
ment of Genoa, 610. His preparations, ib. His 
artful method of assembling his adherents, ib. 
His exhortation to them, 611. His interview 
with his wife, ib. Sallies forth, ib. Andrew 
Doria escapes, 612. Deputies sent to know his 
terms, ib. Is drowned, tb. His brother’s vanity 
ruins their design, ib. See Fiesco. 

Lautrec, Odet de Foix, Mareslial de, the French 
governor of Milan, his character, 473. Alienates 
the affection of the Milanese from the French, 
474. Invests Reggio, but is repulsed by Guic¬ 
ciardini the historian, then governor, ib. Is ex¬ 
communicated by the pope, ib. 1 he money for 
paying his troops seized by Louise of Savoy, ib. 
Is left by his Swiss troops, 475. Is driven out 
of the Milanese territories, ib. A new body of 
Swiss under him insist on giving battle to the 
imperialists, who defeat him, 476. The Swiss 
leave him, ib. Retires into France with the re¬ 
sidue of his troops, ib. Delivers up the dau¬ 
phin and duke of Orleans, in exchange for Fran¬ 
cis I. as hostages for the performance of the 
treaty of Madrid, 508. Is appointed generalis¬ 
simo of the league against the emperor, 521. 
IIis successes in Italy, ib. Motives which with¬ 
held him from subduing the Milanese, ib. 
Obliges the prince of Orange to retire to Na¬ 
ples, 523. Blockades Naples, ib. His army 
wasted, and himself killed by the pestilence, 525. 
Imw, when the study of it became a distinct em¬ 
ployment, 329. 

- - canon, an inquiry into, 327. The maxims of, 
more equitable than the civil courts of the mid¬ 
dle ages, 328. When first compiled, 404. 

- Roman, how it sunk into oblivion, 328. Cir¬ 
cumstances which favoured the revival of it ,ib. 
I ts effects in improving the administration of jus¬ 
tice, 329. Its rapid progress over Europe, 404, 
Note xxv. 

I,aw burrows, in the Scottish law, explained, 385. 
Learning, the revival of, favourable to the reform¬ 
ation of religion, 466. 

Leipsic, a public disputation held there by Martin 
Luther and Eceius, on the validity of the papal 
authority, 459. 

Leo X. pope of Rome, his character, 447. His 
apprehensions on the election of an emperor of 
Germany, at the death of Maximilian, tb. His 
counsel to the German princes, ib. Grants 
Charles V. a tenth of all ecclesiastical benefices 
in Castile, 449. Lavs Castile under an inter¬ 
dict, but takes it off' at the instance of Charles, 
ib. I iis conduct on the prospect of war between 
Charles and Francis, 451. Situation of the papa¬ 
cy at his accession, and his views of policy, 454. 
His inattention to Martin Luther’s controversy 
with the Dominicans concerning indulgences, 
457. Is instigated against him, and summons 
him to Rome, ib. Desires the elector of Saxony 
not to protect him, ib. Is prevailed on to per¬ 
mit Luther’s doctrines to be examined in Ger¬ 
many, ib. Cardinal Cajetan appointed to try 
him, ib. Issues a bull in favour of indulgences, 
459. A suspension of proceedings against Lu¬ 
ther, and why, ib. Publishes a bull of excom¬ 
munication against him, 460. The political 
views of his conduct between Charles and Fran¬ 
cis, 470. Concludes a treaty with Francis, ib. 
Concludes a treaty also with Charles, ib. The 
conditions of the treaty with Charles, 471. Its 
consequences to Italy, 473. Is disappointed in 
a scheme formed by Morone, chancellor of 
Milan, for attacking that duchy, 474. Excom¬ 
municates Mareshal de Foix tor his attack of 
Reggio, and declares against France, ib. Takes 
a body of Swiss into pay, ib. The French 
driven out of the Milanese, 475. He dies, ib. 
T he spirit of the confederacy broken by his 
death, ib. 

L'Esparre, Foix de, commands the French troops 
in Navarre, for Flenry d’Albert, 471. Reduces 
that kingdom, ib. His imprudent progress into 
Castile, ib. Is taken prisoner by the Spaniards, 
and the French driven out of Navarre, 472. 
Leonard, father, forms a scheme of betraying 
Metz to the imperialists, 671. Introduced"sol¬ 
diers clad like friars, ib. Is detected, ib. Is 
murdered by his monks, 672. 

Levesque, Don, his account of the motives which 
induced the emperor Charles V. to resign his 
hereditary dominions, 680, note. 

Lewis 11. king of Hungary and Bohemia, his cha¬ 
racter, 519. Is invaded and killed by Solyman 
the Magnificent, ib. 




OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES V. 


Leyva, Antonio de, defends Pavia for the em¬ 
peror against Francis, 498. His vigorous de¬ 
fence, ib. Sallies out at the battle of Pavia, and 
contributes to the defeat ot Francis, 500. Is left 
governor ot Milan by the duke of Bourbon, 515. 
Defeats the forces there, 526. Is appointed ge¬ 
neralissimo of the Italian league, 5.15. Directs 
the operations of the invasion of France under 
the emperor, 551. Dies, 553. 

Liberty, civil, the rise and progress of, traced,318. 
How favoured by the ordonnances of Louis X. 
of France and his brother Philip, 320, 321. The 
spirit of, how excited in France, 388, Note xix. 
The particulars included in the charters of, 
granted to husbandmen, 389, Note xx. The in¬ 
fluence of the Christian religion in extending, 
ib. The several opportunities of obtaining, 390. 
Limoges, council ot, its endeavours to extinguish 
private wars, 393. 

Literature, the cultivation of, greatly instrumental 
in civilizing the nations of Europe, 330. Why 
the first efforts of, ill directed, 331. The good 
effects nevertheless of the spirit of inquiry ex¬ 
erted, ib. Ilow checked in its progress, ib. Its 
influence on manners and government, 332. Its 
obligations to the order of Jesuits, 568, 569. 
Liturgy, the preference between the Musarabic 
and Romish, how ascertained in Spain, 397. 
Lombards, the first bankers in Europe, 410. The 
motive of their exacting exorbitant interest, ib. 
London, its flourishing state at the time of Henry 
II. 388.. 

Lorenzo di Medici. See Medici. 

Louis le Gros, of France, his inducement to grant 
privileges to towns within his own domains, 318. 
See Charters, 

- - - St. the great attention he paid to the admi¬ 
nistration of justice in appeals which came be¬ 
fore him, 4142. 

- - X. of Fiance, his ordonnances in favour of 
civil liberty, 320, 321. 

- - - XI. of France, his character, 338. His 
schemes for depressing the nobility, ib. Sows 
divisions among them, ib. Increases the stand¬ 
ing forces, ib. Enlarges the revenues of the 
crown, ib. His address in overruling the assem¬ 
bly of states, ib. Extends the bounds of the 
French monarchy, 339. The activity of his ex¬ 
ternal operations, ib. His treacherous baseness 
towards the heiress of Burgundy. 340. The ef¬ 
fects of his conduct, ib. 

- - - XII., ot France, his hesitation in carrying 
on war against the pope, 348, note. Asserts his 
right to the duchy of Milan, and retains Ludo¬ 
vico Sforza in prison, 351. Receives homage of 
the archduke Philip, for the earldom of Flan¬ 
ders, 430. Concludes a treaty with him, while 
at war with Ferdinand of Aragon, 431. Be¬ 
stows his niece Germaine de Foix on Ferdi¬ 
nand, and concludes a peace with him, 433. 
Loses the confidence of Philip on that occasion, 
436, note. Bestows his eldest daughter, al¬ 
ready betrothed to Charles V. on the count of 
Angouleme, ib. 

Ixmise of Savoy, mother of Francis I. of France, 
her character, 474. Her motives for seizing the 
money appointed for payment of mareshal Lau- 
trec’s troops, ib. Cause of her aversion to the 
house of Bourbon, 489. Her advances toward a 
marriage with Charles, duke of Bourbon, re¬ 
jected by him, ib. 490. Determines to ruin him, 
490. Instigates a lawsuit against him for his es¬ 
tates, ib. Goes to dissuade Francis from his in¬ 
tended invasion of the Milanese, who will not 
wait for her, 497* Is appointed regent during his 
absence, ib. Her prudent conduct on the defeat 
of Pavia, and captivity of her son Francis, 501. 
Concludes a defensive alliance with Henry 
VIII., 504. Ratifies the treaty of Madrid for 
the recovery of her son’s liberty, 508. Under¬ 
takes, with Margaret of Savoy, to accommodate 
the differences between the emperor and Fran¬ 
cis, 526. Articles of the peace of Cambray, 527 • 
Loyola, Ignatio, commands the castle of Pampe- 
luna in Navarre, and is wounded in its defence, 
471. His enthusiastic turn of mind, ib. The 
founder of the society of Jesuits, ib. Prevails on 
the pope to establish the order, 565. An exami¬ 
nation into the constitution of the order, 566. 
Office and power of the general, ib. The rapid 
progress of the order, 567. See Jesuits. 

Lorrain, cardinal of, persuades Henry II. of 
France to accept the offered alliance with pope 
Paul IV., and is sent to Rome to negociate it, 
679. His imprudent behaviour towards the 
duchess of Valentinois, 698. 

Lunenburg, duke of, avows the opinions of Luther, 
494. 

Luther, Martin, the happy consequences of the 
opinions propagated by him, 454. His birth and 
education, 455. Attacks indulgences, 456. Chosen 
philosophical professor at the university of Wit- 
temberg, ib. Inveighs against the publishers of 
indulgences, ib. Writes to Albert, elector of 
Mentz, against thetn ? ib. Composes theses 
against indulgences, ib. fs supported by the 
Augustinians, and encouraged by Frederic, elec¬ 
tor of Saxony, ib. Is summoned to Rome by 
/rope Leo, 457. Obtains of the pope leave to 
nave his doctrines examined in Germany, ib. 
Appears before cardinal Cajetan at Augsburg, 
ib. 11 is resolute reply to the peremptory order 
of Cajetan, to retract his principles. 458. With¬ 
draws from Augsburg, and appeals from the pope 
ill-informed, to the pope when better informed, 
concerning him, ib. Appeals to a general coun¬ 
cil, 459. The death of Maximilian, how of ser¬ 
vice to him, ib. Questions the papal authority, 
in a public disputation, ib. His opinions con¬ 
demned by the Universities of Cologne and 
Louvain, ib. A bull of excommunication pub¬ 
lished against him, 460. Pronounces the pope 


to be antichrist, and burns the bull, ib. Reflec¬ 
tions on the conduct of the court of Koine toward 
him, ib. Reflections on his conduct, 461. 
\ auses which contributed to favour his opposi¬ 
tion to the church of Rome, ib. Particularly the 
art ot printing, 466. And the revival of learn- 
»«*,*/• He is summoned to appear at the diet 
®L "' on P s > 468. A safe-conduct granted him 
thither, ib. His reception there, ib. Refuses to 
retract his opinions, ib. Departs, ib. An edict 
published against him, ib. He is seized and 
concealed at Wartburg, ib. Progress of his 
doctrines, 469. lhe University of Paris pub¬ 
lishes a decree against him, ib. Wrote against 
yy VIII. of England, ib. Answers both, 

ib. W ithdraws from his retreat to check the in¬ 
considerate zeal of Carlostadius, 493. Under¬ 
takes a translation of the Bible, ib. liis doctrines 
avowed by several ot the German princes, 494 
His moderate and prudent conduct, 511. Mar¬ 
ries Catherine a Boria, a nun, ib. The great pro¬ 
gress of his doctrines among the Germanic states 
529. Encourages the protestants, dispirited by 
the emperor’s decree against him, 531, 532. His 
concern at the practices of the anabaptists at 
Munster, 5.39. Is invited to Leipsic by Henry, 
duke ot Saxony, 560. His opinion of Gropper’s 
treatise to unite the protestants and catholics, 
571. Dies, 594. Summary of his character, ib. 
Extract from his last will, 595, note. See Pro¬ 
testants. A view of the extraordinary effects of 
lus revolt from the church of Home, on that 
court, and on Europe in general, 708. 
Luxemburg, invaded by Robert de la Mark, lord 
ot Bouillon, 472. Invaded and overrun by the 
duke of Orleans, 577. Is again invaded by 
lianas, 580. 

M 

Madrid, treaty of, between the emperor Charles 
V. and his prisoner Francis I., king of France, 
507. Sentiments of the public with regard to this 
treaty, ib. 

Magdeburg, the city of, refuses to admit the In¬ 
terim enforced by Charles V., and prepares for 
defence, 635. Maurice elector of Saxony, 
appointed to reduce it, ib. Is put under the ban 
of the empire, 639. The territories of, invaded 
by George of Mecklenburg, ib. The inhabitants 
defeated in a sally, ib. Maurice of Saxony 
arrives and besieges the city, ib. Surrenders, 
640. The senate elects Maurice their burgrave, ib. 
Mahmed, king of Tunis, history of his sons, 542. 
Majorca, an insurrection there, 487. Which is 
quelled with difficulty, ib. The moderation of 
Charles towards the insurgents on his arrival in 
Spain, 488. 

Majesty, the appellation of, assumed by Charles 
V. on his election to the imperial crown, and 
taken by all the other monarchy of Europe, 449. 
Malines, council of, an account of, 562. 

Malta, the island of, granted by the emperor 
Charles V. to the. knights of St. John, expelled 
from Rhodes by the Turks, 478. 

Mamalukes, extirpated by sultan Selim IT., 445. 

.a faction in’Geneva, so termed, some 

account of, 548. 

Manfred, his struggles for the crown of Naples, 
350. 

Mankind, the most calamitous period in the 
history of, pointed out, 311. 

Manners, the barbarity of, under the feudal esta¬ 
blishments, after the overthrow of the Roman 
empire, 314. When they began to improve, 315. 
Effects of the Crusades on, 316. How improved by 
the enfranchisement of cities, 319. How improved 
by the erection of royal courts of justice in oppo¬ 
sition to the barons’ court, 327. Effects of the 
revival of the Roman law on, 328. The bene¬ 
ficial tendency of the spirit of chivalry on, 329. 
How influenced by the progress of science, 330, 
332. How polished by the revival of commerce, 
.333. 

Manuel, Don John, Ferdinand’s ambassador at 
the imperial court, pays his court to the archduke 
Philipon queen Isabella’s death, 43-2. Intercepts 
Joanna’s letter of consent to Ferdinand’s regency 
of Castile, ib. Negociates a treaty between 
Ferdinand and Philip, 433. Declares for 
Maximilian’s regency on Philip’s death, 4.35. 
Is made imperial ambassador at Rome, and con¬ 
cludes an alliance between Charles V. and Leo 
X., 470. The conditions of the treaty, 471. 
Procures Adrian of Utrecht to be elected pope, 
476. 

Manumission, particulars included in the charters 
of, granted to husbandmen or slaves, 389, Note 
xx. The form of, 390. 

Marcel/us II., pope, bis character, 676. Dies, ib. 
Marciano, battle of, between Peter Strozzi and the 
marquis de Marignano, 669. 

Margaret of Austria, and dowager of Savoy, aunt 
to Charles V., undertakes with Louise, mother of 
Francis 1. of France, to accommodate the dif¬ 
ferences ‘between those two monarchs, 526. 
Articles of the peace of Cambray, 527- 
Marignano, marquis of, appointed commander of 
the Florentine army, acting against the trench, 
668. Defeat? the French army under Peter 
Strozzi, 669. Lays siege to Siena, ib. Converts 
the siege into a blockade, ib. Siena surrenders, 
ib. Reduces Porto Ercole, 670. His troops 
ordered into Piedmont by the emperor, ib. 

Mark, Robert de la, lord of Bouillon, declares 
war against the emperor, Charles V., 472. 
Ravages Luxemburg with French troops, tb. Is 
commanded to disband his troops by Francis, tb. 
His territories reduced by the emperor, ib. 
Marseilles besieged by the imperialists, 497- 
Rescued by Francis, ib. Interview and treaty 
there between the pope and Francis, 535. 


Martinuzzi, bishop of Waradin, is appointed 
guardian to Stephen, king of Hungary, 572. His 
character, ib. Solicits the assistance of sultan 
Solyman against Ferdinand, ib. Solyman seizes 
the kingdom, 573. Is appointed to the govern 
ment of Transylvania, and the education of the 
young king, jointly with the queen, 642. Ne¬ 
gociates with Ferdinand, ib. Prevails with the 
queen to resign Transylvania to Ferdinand, ib. 
Is appointed governor of Transylvania, and 
made a cardinal, ib. Is assassinated by Ferdi¬ 
nand’s order, 643. 

Martyr, Peter, his authority cited in proof of the 
extortions of the Flemish ministers of Charles 
V., 444. 

Mary of Burgundy, contracted to Lewis XII. of 
France, but married to the emperor Maximilian, 
430. 

- - of England, her accession, 664. Receives 
proposals from the emperor Charles V. of marry¬ 
ing his son Philip, ib. 'lhe English averse to 
this union, ib. The house of Commons remon¬ 
strates against the match, 665. The articles of 
marriage, ib. The marriage ratified by parlia¬ 
ment, and completed, ib. Re-establishes the 
Romish religion, 666. Persecutes the reformers, 
ib. Invites Charles to England on his resigna¬ 
tion and passage to Spain, which he declines, 
686. Is engaged by Philip to assist him in his 
war against France, 689. Levies money by her 
prerogative to carry on the war, ib. Her neglect 
m the security of Calais, 694. Calais invested 
and taken by the duke of Guise, ib. Dies, 701. 
Mary, daughter of James V. of Scotland, succeeds 
to the crown an infant, 579. Is contracted to 
the dauphin of France, 625. Ts educated at the 
court of France, 638. 696. The marriage com¬ 
pleted, 696. Assumes the title and arms of 
England on the death of Mary, 701. 

Matthias, John, a baker, becomes a leader of the 
anabaptists at Munster, 537. Seizes the city, 
and establishes a new form of government there, 
538. Repulses the bishop of Munster, ib. Is 
killed, ib. See Bocco/d and Anabaptists. 
Maurice, duke of Saxony, his motives for not 
acceding to the protestant league of Smalkalde, 
581. Marches to the assistance of Ferdinand in 
Hungary, ib. His difference with his cousin the 
elector, */j. 582. His conduct at the diet of Worms, 
590. Joins the emperor against the protestants, 
601. Iiis motives, 605. His insidious conduct 
towards the elector, ib. Seizes the electorate of 
Saxony, ib. Saxony recovered by the elector, 
608. His ineffectual endeavours to reduce Wit- 
temberg for the emperor, 618. Obtains posses¬ 
sion of the electorate, 619. Is formally invested 
at the diet of Augsburg, 627. Becomes dissatis¬ 
fied with the emperor, 633, His motives to dis 
content explained, ib. His address and caution 
in his conduct, 634. Enforces the Interim in 
his territories, ib. Makes, nevertheless, profes¬ 
sions of his attachment to the Reformation, ib. 
Undertakes to reduce Magdeburg to submit to 
the Interim, ib. Protests against the council of 
Trent, ib. Is commissioned by the emperor to 
reduce Magdeburg, 6.35. Joins George of Meck¬ 
lenburg before Magdeburg, 639. The city capi¬ 
tulates, 640. Begins to intrigue with count 
Mansfeldt, ib. Is elected burgrave of Magde¬ 
burg, ib. Dismisses his troops, 641, His address 
in amusing the emperor, ib. Makes an alliance 
with Henry II. of France, to make war on the 
emperor, 644. Makes a formal requisition of the 
landgrave’s liberty, ib. Joins his troops, and 
publishes a manifesto, 646. Takes possession of 
Augsburg and other cities, ib. An ineffectual 
negociation with Charles, 647. Defeats a body 
of the emperor’s troops, ib. Takes the castle or 
Ehrenberg, 648. Is retarded by a mutiny in his 
troops, ib. Enters Tnspruck, and narrowly 
misses taking Charles, ib. A negociation be¬ 
tween him and Ferdinand, 650. Besieges Frank¬ 
fort on the Main, 652. His inducements to an 
accommodation, ib. Signs a treaty with the 
emperor at Passau, 653. Reflections on his con¬ 
duct in this war, ib. Marches into Hungary to 
oppose the Turks, 654. Is placed at the head of 
the league against Albert of Brandenburg, 659. 
Defeats Albert, but is killed in the battie, ib. 
IIis character, ib. Is succeeded by his brother 
Augustus, 660. 

Maximilian, archduke of Austria, married to 
Mary, heiress of Burgundy, 340, 341. 'Lhe in¬ 
fluence of this match on the state of Europe, 341. 
----- emperor of Germany, institutes the 
imperial chamber, 362. Reforms the Aulic 
council, ib. Claims the regency of Castile on 
his son Philip’s death, 434. Is supported in his 
claim by Don John Manuel, 435. Loses it, ib. 
Obtains the government of the Low Countries 
by the death of Philip, 436. Appoints 'William 
de Croy, lord of Chievres, to superintend the 
education of his grandson Charles, ib. Con¬ 
cludes a peace with France and Venice, 442. 
Dies, 445. State of Europe at this period, ib. 
His endeavours to secure the imperial crown to 
his grandson Charles, ib. How obstructed, ib. 
Mecklenburg, George of, invades the territories of 
Magdeburg for the emperor, 639. Defeats the 
Magdeburgers, who sally out on him, ib. Is 
joined by Maurice of Saxony, who assumes the 
supreme command, ib. 

Medicino, John James. See Marignano. 

Medici, Cosmo di, the first of the name, the ; n- 
fluence he acquired in Florence, 349- 

- - - Alexander, restored to the dominions of 
Florence by the emperor Charles, 529. Is assas¬ 
sinated, 557. 

- - - cardinal di, elected pope, and assumes 
the title of Clement VII., 491. See Clement 
VII. 

- - - Catharine di, is married to the duke of 

u 17 







INDEX TO THE HISTORY 


Orleans, 535. Is conjectured by the emperor 
Charles V. to have poisoned the dauphin, 554. 

Medici, Cosmo di, made duke of Florence, 557. 
Is supported by the emperor, and defeats the 
partisans of Ixrrenzo, ib. Asserts his indepen¬ 
dency against the emperor, 557. Offers to reduce 
Siena for the emperor, 667- Filters into a war 
with France, 668. See Marignano. IIis address 
in procuring the investiture of Siena from Philip 
II. of Spain, 693. It is granted to him, ib. 

- - - Lorenzo de, assassinates his kinsman 
Alexander, 557- Flies, ib. Attempts to oppose 
Cosmo, but is defeated, ib. 

Medina del Campo, the inhabitants of, refuse to 
let Fonseca take the military stores there for the 
siege of the insurgents in Segovia, 479. The town 
almost burnt by Fonseca, ib. '1 he inhabitants re¬ 
pulse him, ib. Surrenders after the battle of 
Yillalar, and dissolution of the Holy Junta, 486. 

Melancthon , imbibes the opinions of Martin Luther, 
460. Is employed to draw up a confession of 

. faith by the protestant princes at the diet of Augs 
burg, 531. Is dejected by the emperor’s decree 
against the protestants, but comforted by Luther, 
ib. Is invited to Paris by Francis, 546. 1 iis 
conference with Eccius, 570. Is prevailed on 
to favour the Interim enforced by the emperor, 
634. 

Melito, Conde de, made viceroy of Valencia on the 
departure of Charles V. for Germany, 450. Ap¬ 
pointed to command the troops of the nobles 
against the Germanada, 487. Defeated by them 
in several actions, ib. Destroys the association, ib. 

Mentz , archbishop of, artfully declares before the 
emperor, the diet of Augsburg's acceptance of 
tlie Interim, without being authorized by it, 627. 

Merville, a Milanese gentleman, employed as en¬ 
voy from Francis 1. to Francis Sforza, duke of 
Milan, his fate, 546. 

Metz, seized by Montmorency the French general, 
647. The duke of Guise made governor of, 
655. Is besieged by the emperor, 656. The em¬ 
peror desists, and retires in a distressed condi¬ 
tion, ib. A scheme formed by father Leonard 
to betray the city to the imperialists, 671. The 
conspiracy detected by the governor, ib. Leonard 
murdered by his monks, and his associates exe¬ 
cuted, 672. 

Mezieres, in France, besieged by the imperialists, 
47‘2. Gallant defence of, by the chevalier 
Bayard, ib. The siege raised, ib. 

Milan, the state of the duchy of, at the commence¬ 
ment of the sixteenth century, 350. Rise, and 
progress of the disputes concerning the succession, 
to, ib. Mareshal de Foix, appointed to be the 
French governor of, 473. His character, ib. I he 
Milanese alienated from the French by his op¬ 
pressions, 474. Invaded by the ecclesiastical 
troops under Prosper Colonna, ib. The French 
driven out, 475. Oppressed by the imperial 
troops, 489. Invaded by the French, 490. Who 
are driven out by Colonna, 491. The imperial 
troops there mutiny for pay, but are appeased 
by Moroni, 492, 493. Abandoned by the French, 
493. Overrun again by Francis, who seizes the 
city, 498. The French retire on the news of the 
battle of Pavia, 500. The investiture of, granted 
to Sforza, 504. Taken from him and granted to 
the duke of Bourbon, 506. Disorders committed 
by the imperial troops there, 512. Oppressive 
measures of Bourbon to supply his mutinous 
troops, 515. The French forces there defeated by 
Antonio de Leyva, 526. Is again granted by the 
emperor to Sforza, 529. Death of Sforza, 549. 
The pretensions of Francis to that duchy, ib. Is 
seized ‘.by the emperor, ib. The marquis del 
Guasto appointed governor, 553. 

Mind, the human, a view of, under the first esta¬ 
blishment of the feudal policy in Europe, 315. 
’I he era of its ultimate depression, and com¬ 
mencement of its improvement, ib. The pro¬ 
gress of its operations before the full exertion of 
it, 331. 

Ministeriales , a class of the oblati or voluntary 
slaves the pious motives of the obligations they 
entered into, 390. 

Mohacz, battle of, between Solyman the Magnifi¬ 
cent and the Hungarians, 519. 

Monastic orders, inquiry into the fundamental 
principles of, 565, 566. Peculiar constitution of 
the order of Jesuits, 566. 

Moncado, Don Hugo di, the imperial ambassador 
at Rome, his intrigues with cardinal Colonna 
against pope Clement, 514. Reduces the pope to 
aii accommodation, ib. Is defeated and killed 
by Andrew Doria in a naval engagement, before 
the harbour of Naples, 523. 

Monluc, is sent by the count d’Enguien to Francis 
for permission to give battle to the marquis del 
Guasto, 584. Obtains his suit by his spirited ar¬ 
guments, 585. Commands in Siena when be¬ 
sieged by the marquis de Marignano, 669- His 
vigorous defence, zb. Is reduced by famine and 
capitulates, ib. 

Monte Alcino, numbers of the citizens of Siena 
retire thither after the reduction of that city by 
the Florentines, and establish a free government 
there, 670. 

Montecuculi, count of, accused and tortured for 
poisoning the dauphin, charges the emperor with 
instigating it, 554. 

Montmorency, mareshal, his character, 552. 
Francis adopts his plan for resisting the emperor, 
and commits the execution to him, ib. His pre¬ 
cautions, ib. His troops despise his conduct, 
553. Observations on his operations, ib. Is 
disgraced, 577- Conducts the army of Henry 
11. to join Maurice of Saxony, and seizes 
Metz, 647. Dissuades Henry from accepting 
the offered alliance with pope Paul IV., 678. 
Commands the French army against the duke of 
Savoy, 690. Detaches D’Amlelot to relieve St. 

18 


Quintin, ib. Exposes himself imprudently to an 
action, and is defeated, ib. Is taken prisoner, zb. 
N egociates a peace between Philip and Henry, 
698- Returns to France, and is highly honoured 
by Henry, ib. His assiduity in forwarding the 
negociations, 702. His expedient for promoting 
the treaty of Chateau-Cambresis, 703. 

Montpelier, a fruitless conference held there ror 
the restitution of the kingdom of Navarre, 4 .4. 

Moors make a conquest of Spain, 351. By what 
means weakened during their establishment 
there, 352. Remarks on their conduct in Spain, 
ib. 

Morond, Jerome, chancellor of Milan, his charac¬ 
ter, 474. Retires from the French exactions in 
Milan to Francis Sforza, ib. His intrigues how 
rendered abortive, ib. Quiets the mutiny of the 
imperial troops in Milan, 493. Is disgusted with 
the behaviour of Charles, 504. Intrigues against 
the emperor with Pescara, ib. Is betrayed to 
the emperor by Pescara, 505. Is arrested at his 
visit to Pescara, ib. Is set at liberty by the duke 
of Bourbon, and becomes his confidant, 515. 

Mousun in France taken by the imperialists, 472. 
Retaken by Francis, zb. 

Mzzlhausen, battle of, between the emperor Charles 
V. and the elector of Saxony, 617• 

il/jffey-Hascen, king of Tunis, his inhuman treat¬ 
ment of his father and brothers, 542. Is expelled 
by Barbarossa, 543. Engages the emperor 
Charles V. to restore him, ib. Is established 
again by the surrender of Tunis, 545. His treaty 
with Charles, ib. 

Muncer, Thomas, a disciple of Luther, opposes 
him with fanatical notions, 510. Heads the in¬ 
surrection of the peasants in Thuringia, ib. His 
extravagant schemes, ib. Is defeated and put to 
death, 511. 

Municipal privileges, how obtained b} - the cities of 
Italy, 383, Note xv. Secured to them by the 
treaty of Constance, 384. lhe favourable state 
of under the Roman government, 386. 

Munster, the first settlement of the anabaptists in 
that city, 537. The city seized by them, 538. 
'They establish a new form of government there, 
ib. Is called Mount Sion, ib. The bishop of, 
repulsed by them, ib. Is blockaded by the bishop, 
539. The city taken, 540. See Anabaptists. 

Murder, the prices of composition for, by the Ro¬ 
mish clergy, 463. 

Mustapha, the declared heir to sultan Solyman the 
Magnificent, is invested with the administration 
of Diarbequir, 662. His father rendered jealous 
of his popularity, by the arts of Roxalana, ib. 
Is strangled by his father’s order, 663. His only 
son murdered, 664. 

N 

Naples, a view of the constitution of that kingdom 
at the commencement of the sixteenth century, 
349. The turbulent unsettled state of that king¬ 
dom, ib. State of the disputes concerning the 
succession to the crown, of, 350. The pretensions 
of the French and Spanish monarebs to the crown 
of, ib. The revenues of, mortgaged by Lannoy 
to supply the emperor in his exigencies, 498. In¬ 
vaded by the French under the duke of Albany, 
499. Invaded by pope Clement VIE, 515. 
'Treaty between the pope and Lannoy, viceroy 
of, 516. The prince of Orange retreats thither 
before Lautrec, 523. _ Is blockaded by Lautrec, 
ib. Sea-engagement in the harbour of, between 
Andrew Doria and Moncada, ib. Causes which 
disappointed the French operations against, 524. 
Doria revolts, and opens the communication by 
sea again, ib. Oppressed by the Spanish vice¬ 
roy, don Pedro de Toledo, becomes disaffected 
to the emperor Charles V.,658. Is harassed by 
a Turkish fleet, ib. 

Narbonne, community of, preamble to the writ of 
summons of Philip the Long to, 388, Note xix. 

Nassau, count of, invades Bouillon at the head of 
the imperialists, 472. Invades France, takes 
Mouson, and besieges Mezieres, but is repulsed, 
ib. 

Navarre, the kingdom of, unjustly acquired by 
Ferdinand of Aragon, 435. D’Albert’s invasion 
of, defeated by cardinal Ximenes, 441. Its 
castles dismantled, except Pampeluna, which 
Ximenes strengthens, ib. Invaded by Francis 
1. in the name of Henry D’Albert, 471. Re¬ 
duced by L’Esparre, the French general, ib. 
'The French driven out by the Spaniards, and 
L’Esparre taken prisoner, 472. 

Navigation, proof of the imperfect state of, during 
the middle ages, 410. 

Netherlands, vigorous prosecution of the manu¬ 
factures of hemp and flax there on the revival of 
commerce in Europe, 333. the government of, 
first assumed by Charles V., 437- The Flemings 
averse to Charles’s going to Spain, 442. In¬ 
vaded by Francis I. king of France, 472. A 
truce concluded with, by Henry VIII. of Eng¬ 
land, 524. Invaded by Francis again, 554. A 
suspension of arms there, 555. An insurrection 
at Ghent, 562. See Ghent. Is once more in¬ 
vaded by Francis, 580. Resigned by the empe¬ 
ror to his son Philip, 681. A review of the alter¬ 
ations in, during the sixteenth century, 711. 

Nice, a truce for tenyears concluded there between 
the emperor and Francis, 556. Besieged by the 
French and Turks, 581. 

Normans, why so few traces of their usages and 
language to be found in England, in comparison 
with those of the Saxons, 368 Note iv. 

Noyen, treaty of, between Charles V. and Francis 
I. of France, 442. 'The terms of, neglected by 
Charles, 451. 

Nuremberg, the city of, embraces the reformed re¬ 
ligion, 494. Diet of, particulars of pope Adrian’s 
brief to, respecting the reformers, ib. The reply 


to, ib. Proposes a general council, ib. Presents 
a list of grievances to the pope, 495. I he recess 
or edict of, ib. This diet of great advantage to 
the reformers, ib. Proceedings of a second diet 
there, 496. Recess of the diet, ib. An accom¬ 
modation agreed to there between the emperor 
Charles V. and the protestants, 533. 

O 

Oblati, or voluntary slaves, the classes of, specified, 
390. 

Oran, and other places in Barbary, annexed to the 
crown of Castile by X imenes, 435. 

Orange, Philibert de Chalons, prince of, general 
of the imperial army on the death of the duke of 
Bourbon, takes the castle of .St. Angelo, and 
pope Clement VII. prisoner, 518. Retires to 
Naples on the approach of Lautrec, 523. T akes 
his successor, the marquis de Saluces, prisoner 
at A versa, 525. 

Ordeal, methods of trial by, during the middle 
ages, 323. 1 he influence of superstition in dic¬ 
tating these means, 324. 

Orleans, duke of, delivered up to the emperor 
Charles V., with the dauphin, as hostages for the 
performance of the treaty of Madrid, 508. Is 
married to Catharine di Medici, 535. Becomes 
dauphin by the death of his brother, 554. See 
Dauphin. 

- - - duke of, brother to the former, commands 
the army appointed by Francis I. for the in¬ 
vasion of Luxemburg, 577- is prompted by 
envy to abandon his conquests, and join his bro¬ 
ther the dauphin in Rousillon, 578. Dies, 591. 

Otto Frisingensis, his account of the state of Italy 
under Frederic I., 383. 

Ottoman empire, the origin and despotic nature 
of, 364. Becomes formidable to the Christian 
powers, 365. 

P 

Pacheco, Donna Maria, wife to don John de Pa 
dilla, her artful scheme to raise money to supply 
the army of the Holy Junta, 484. Her husband 
taken prisoner and executed, 485. His letter to 
her, ib. note. Raises forces to revenge his death, 
486. Is reduced, tmd retires to Portugal, ib. 

Padilla, Don John de, his family and character, 
478. Heads the insurrection at Toledo, ib. 
Routs the troops under Ronquillo, 479. Calls 
a convention of the malcontents at Avila, 480. 
Forms the confederacy called the Holy Junta, ib. 
Disclaims Adrian's authority, zb. Gets posses¬ 
sion of queen Joanna, ib. Removes the Holy 
Junta to Tordesillas, the place of her residence, 
ib. Sent with troops to Valladolid, and deprives 
Adrian of all power of government, 481. Is su¬ 
perseded in the command of the army of the 
Junta, by don Pedro de Giron, 483. Is appoint¬ 
ed commander at the resignation of Giron, 484. 
His army supplied with money by an expedient 
of his wife, ib. Besieges Torrelobaton, 485. 
Takes and plunders it, ib. Concludes a truce 
with the nobles, ib. Is wounded and taken 
prisoner in an action with the Conde de Haro, 
zb. Is put to death, ib. His letter to his wife, 
ib. note. His letter to the city of Toledo, ib. note. 

Palatinate, the Reformation established there, by 
the elector Frederic, 592. 

Palatine, count, ambassador from the diet at 
Frankfort, brings Charles V. the offer of the 
imperial crown, which he accepts, 449. 

Pampeluna, castle of, in Navarre, its fortifications 
strengthened by cardinal Ximenes, 441. 'I aken 
by L’Esparre, the French general, for Henrv 
d Albert, 471.. Retaken from the French, 472. 

Papacy, how liable to be affected by the disposal 
of the imperial crown, 447. See Popedom. 

Paper, when first made of the present materials, 
379. 

Paraguay, a sovereignty established there by the 
order ot Jesuits, 569. The inhabitants of, civil¬ 
ized by them, ib. Precautions used by the 
Jesuits to preserve the independency of their 
empire there, ib. 

Paris, an inquiry into the pre-eminent jurisdiction 
of its parliament over the other parliaments or 
France, 359. Its origin traced, 421, Note xl. 
The royal edicts registered by, before admitted 
to be laws, 422. A decree published by the Uni¬ 
versity of, against Martin Luther the Reformer, 
469. A decree of the parliament of, published 
against the emperor Charles V., 554. 

Parliaments, or legislative assemblies, how formed 
under the feudal policy, 319. How altered by 
the progress of civil liberty, 320. 

Parma, the duchy of, confirmed to Octavio Far- 
nese, by pone Julius Ill., 637. Is attacked by 
the imperialists, and successfully protected by 
the French, 638. 

Passan, a treaty concluded there between the em¬ 
peror Charles V. and Maurice of Saxony, 653. 
Reflections on this peace, and the conduct of 
Maurice, ib. 

Pavia, besieged by Francis I. of France, 498. 
Vigorously defended by Antonio de Leyva, ib. 
Battle of, between Francis and the duke of 
Bourbon, 500. The imperial Loops in that city 
mutiny, 502. 

Paul III., pope, elected, 536. His character, ib. 
Proposes a general council to be held at Man¬ 
tua, 541. N egociates personally between the 
emperor and Francis, 556. Issues a bull for a 
council at Mantua, 559. Prorogues and transfers 
it to Vicenza, ib. A partial reformation of 
abuses by, ib. Summons the council of Trent, 
582. Prorogues it, ib. Summons it again, 589. 
Grants the duchies of Parma and Placentia to 
his illegitimate son, 591. Deprives and excom¬ 
municates the electoral bishop of Cologne, 5<J6. 





OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES V. 


I resses the emperor to declare against the pro¬ 
testants, 597. Concludes an alliance with him 
against the protestants, 598. Indiscreetly pub¬ 
lishes this treaty, 599. His troops join the em¬ 
peror, COS. Recalls them, 608. Removes the 
council from 9 rent to bologna, 624. Refuses the 
emperor’s request to carry the council back to 
J rent, ib. His resentment against the emperor for 
the murder of his son cardinal Farnese, 625. 
Is petitioned by the diet of Augsburg for the 
return of the council to Trent, ib. 1 Judes the 
complying with this request, 626. His senti 
ments of the Interim, published by Charles, 628. 
Dismisses the council of bologna, 630. An¬ 
nexes Parma and Placentia to the Holy See, 6.31. 
Dies, ib. 4 he manner of his death inquired in¬ 
to, ib. note. 

Payl IV., pope, elected, 676. His character and 
history, tb. Founds the order of Theatines, 677. 
Is the principal occasion of establishing the In¬ 
quisition in the papal territories, ib. Lays aside 
his austerity on his election, ib. His partiality 
to his nephews, ib. Is alienated from the em¬ 
peror by his nephews, 678. Makes overtures to 
an alliance with fiance, ib. Is enraged by the 
recess of the diet of Augsburg, 679. Signs a 
treaty with France, ib. Is included in the truce 
tor five years, concluded between the emperor 
and Henry, 683. His insidious artifices to de¬ 
feat this truce, tb. Absolves Henry from his 
oath, and concludes a new treaty with him, 684. 

II is violent proceedings against Philip now king 
of Spain, ib. '1 he Campagna Romana seized 
by the duke d’Alva, 685. Concludes a truce 
with Alva, ib. Contrast between his conduct 
and that of Charles, 687. Renews his hostilities 
against Philip, ib. Is unprovided for military 
operations, 688. Is reduced to make peace with 
Philip, by the recall of the duke of Guise, after 
the defeat of St. Quintin, 692. Receives an am¬ 
bassador from the emperor Ferdinand to notify 
his election, but refuses to see him, or to acknow¬ 
ledge the emperor, 695. Dies, 703. 

Paulin, a French officer, sent ambassador from 
Francis 1. to sultan Solyman, 579. His success¬ 
ful negociations at the Porte, ib. 

Pembroke, earl of, sent by queen Mary of England 
with a body of men to'join the Spanish army in 
the Low Countries, 689. 

People, their wretched servile state under the 
feudal system, 313, 320. Released from their 
slavish state by the enfranchisement of cities, 
319. How they obtained a representation in 
national councils, 320. Those who lived in the 
country and cultivated the ground, an inquiry 
into their condition under the feudal policy, 
377, Note ix. 

Perpignan, the capital of Rousillon, besieged by 
the dauphin of France, 577. The siege raised, 
578. 

Persia, murder in, how punished there, 400. 
Pescara, marquis de, takes Milan by assault, 475. 
Drives Bonnivet back to France, 493. IIis 
generous care of the chevalier Bayard, ib. 
Commands in the invasion of Provence, 497. 
Besieges Marseilles, ib. His army retires to¬ 
wards Italy, on the appearance of the French 
troops, ib. Resigns Milan to the French, 498. 
Prevails on the Spanish troops not to murmur at 
present for their pay, ib. Contributes to the de¬ 
feat of Francis at the battle of Pavia, 500. Is 
disgusted at Francis being taken to Spain with¬ 
out his concurrence, 504. His resentment in¬ 
flamed by Moron6, 505. Betrays Morone’s de¬ 
signs to the emperor, ib. Arrests Moronc, ib. 
Dies, 506. 

Peter the Hermit, excites the European princes to 
undertake the Holy War, 316. 

- - - IV. king of Aragon, defeats the leaders of 
the Aragonese union, and destroys the privilege 
of these associations, 413. 

Philip the Long, preamble to his writ of sum¬ 
mons to the community of Narbonne, 388, Note 
xix. 

- - - archduke of Austria, and father of Charles 
V., visits Spain with his wife Joanna, 430. Does 
homage by the way to Louis XII. of France for 
the earldom of Flanders, ib. His title to the 
crown acknowledged by the Cortes, ib. Is dis¬ 
gusted with the formality of the Spanish court, 
tb. Ferdinand becomes jealous of bis power, ib. 
Slights his wife, 431. His abrupt departure 
from Spain, ib. Passes through France, and 
enters into a treaty with Louis, ib. His senti¬ 
ments on Ferdinand’s obtaining the regency of 
Castile, 432. Requires Ferdinand to retire to 
Aragon, and resign his regency of Castile, tb. 
The regency of Castile vested jointly in him, 
Ferdinand, and Joanna, by the treaty of Sala¬ 
manca, 433. Sets out for Spain, and is driven 
on the coast of England, where he is detained 
three months by Henry VII., ib. Arrives at 
Corunna, ib. The Castilian nobility declare 
openly for him, ib. Ferdinand resigns the re¬ 
gency of Castile to him, ib. Interview between 
them, ib. 434. Acknowledged king of Castile 
by the Cortes, 434. Dies, ib. Joanna’s extra¬ 
ordinary conduct in regard to his body, ib. See 
Joanna. 

- - prince, son to the emperor Charles V. his 
right of succession recognised by the Cortes of 
Aragon and Valencia, 578. Is acknowledged 
by the states of the Netherlands, 630. His de¬ 
portment disgusts the Flemings, ib. His cha¬ 
racter, 637. Is married to Mary, queen of Eng¬ 
land, 665. The English parliament jealous of 
him, 666. His father resigns his hereditary do¬ 
minions to him, 679. Is called by his father out 
of England, 681. The ceremony of investing 
him, ib. His father’s address to him, ib. Com¬ 
missions cardinal Granvelle to address the as¬ 
sembly in his name, 682. Mary, queen dowager 


of Hungary, resigns her regency, ib. The do¬ 
minions of Spain resigned to him, ib. His un- 
politeness to the French ambassador Coligni, 683, 
note. 1 he pope’s violent proceedings against 
him, 684. His scruples concerning commencing 
hostilities against the pope, 685. fI is ungrateful 
neglect in paying his father’s pension, 686. The 
pope .renews hostilities against him, 687- As¬ 
sembles an army in the Low Countries against 
t rance, 689. Goes over to England to engage 
that kingdoni in the war, ib. Visits the camp 
at St. Quintin, after the victory, 691. Opposes 
the scheme of penetrating to Paris, and orders 
the siege of St. Quintin to be prosecuted, ib. St. 
Quintin taken by assault, ib. The small adv an¬ 
tages he reaped by these successes, 692. Builds 
the Escurial in memory of the battle of St. Quin¬ 
tin, ib. Concludes a peace with the pope, ib. 
Restores Placentia to Octavio Farnese, ib. 
Grants the investiture of Siena to Cosmo di 
Medici, 693. Enters into negociations for peace 
with his prisoner Montmorency, 698. Death of 
queen Mary, 701. Addresses her successor 
Elizabeth for marriage, ib. Elizabeth’s motives 
for rejecting him, ib. Her evasive answer to 
him, 702. Supplants his son Don Carlos, and 
marries Henry’s daughter Elizabeth, 70.3. 
Articles of the treaty of Chateau-Cambresis, ib. 

Philibert, Emanuel, duke of Savoy. See Savoy. 

Phdippmo, nephew to Andrew Doria, defeats Mon- 
cada in a sea engagement before the harbour of 
N aples, 523. 

Philosophy, cultivated by the Arabians when lost 
in Europe, 406, Note xxviii. Its progress from 
them into Europe, ib. 

Ptadena, marquis de, invades Transylvania for 
Ferdinand, 642. Misrepresents cardinal Marti- 
nuzzi to Ferdinand, and obtains a commission to 
assassinate him, 643. Is forced to abandon 
Transylvania, 661. 

Picardy, invaded by Henry VIII., 477- Henry 
forced by the duke de Vendome to retire, ib. In¬ 
vaded again under the duke of Suffolk, 492. 
V ho penetrates almost to Paris, but is driven 
back, ib. Ineffectual invasion by the imperialists, 
553. 

Pilgrimages to the Holy Land, when first under¬ 
taken, 3)5. See Crusades and Peter the Hermit. 

Placentia, council of, the Holy War resolved on 
by, 316. See Peter the Hermit and Crusades. 
4 he duchy of, granted, together with that of 
Parma, by pope Paul ill. to his natural son, 
cardinal Farnese, 591. Farnese assassinated 
there, 625. Is taken possession of by the impe¬ 
rial troops, ib. Restored to Octavio Farnese, by 
Philip II. of Spain, 693. 

Plunder, how divided among the ancient northern 
nations, 312. Illustrated in an anecdote of 
Clovis, .372, Note vii. 

Pole, cardinal, arrives in England, with alegatine 
commission, 666. Endeavours to mediate a 
peace between the emperor and the king of 
France, without success, 672. Is recalled from 
the court of England by pope Paul IV., 687. 

Popedom, the highest dignity in Europe at the 
commencement of the sixteenth century, .345. 
Origin and progress of the papal power, 346. 
The territories of the popes unequal to the sup¬ 
port of their spiritual jurisdiction, ib. Their 
authority in their own territories extremely 
limited, ib. The check they received from the 
Roman barons, ib. Nicolas Rienzo attempts to 
establish a democratical government in Rome, 
and to destroy the papal jurisdiction, 347. The 
papal authority considerably strengthened by 
the popes Alexander VI. and Julius 11., ib. 
See Julius II. The permanent nature of eccle¬ 
siastical dominion, ib. The civil administration 
of, not uniform or consistent, ib. Rome the school 
of political intrigue during the sixteenth century, 
ib. The advantages derived from the union of 
spiritual and temporal authority, 348. A view 
of the contests between the popes and the em¬ 
perors of Germany, .361. 

Populousness of the ancient northern nations, an 
inquiry into, .310. 

Prague,' its privileges abridged by Ferdinand, 
king of Bohemia, 62.3. 

Printing, its effects on the progress of the Refor¬ 
mation, 466. 

Prisms, extract from his account of the Roman 
embassy to Attila, king of the LIuns, 367, 
Note iii. 

Procopius, his account of the cruel devastations 
made by the irruption of the northern nations, 
368, Note v. 

Property, the possession of, how secured by the 
French charters of communities, .385. 

Protestants, the derivation of the name, 530. Of 
whom they originally consisted, tb. A severe 
decree published against them by the emperor, 
531. They enter into a league, ib. S ee Smal- 
kalde. Renew their league,and apply to Francis 
king of France, and Henry VIII. of England, 
for protection, 5.32. Are secretly encouraged by 
Francis, 533. Receive a supply of money from 
Llenry, ib. Terms of the pacification agreed to 
between them and the emperor at Nuremburg, 
ib. Assist the emperor against the Turks, ib. 
9 heir negociations with tbe pope, relative to a 
general council, 534. Renew the league of 
Smalkalde for ten years, 541. The motives for 
refusing to assist the king of France against the 
emperor, 547. Refuse to acknowledge the 
council summoned by the pope at Mantua, 559. 
A conference between their principal divines and 
a deputation of catholics at Ratisbon, 570. 4'his 
conference how rendered fruitless, 571. Obtain 
a private grant from Charles in their favour, ib. 
Drive the duke of Brunswick from his dominions, 
582. All rigorous edicts against them suspended 
by a recess of the diet of Spires, 583. Their 


remonstrances to Ferdinand at the diet of Worms, 
590. 4 heir inflexible adherence to the recess of 

Spires, ib. Disclaim all connexion with the 
council of Trent, ib. Are strengthened by the 
accession of Frederick, elector Palatine, 592. 
Are alarmed at the proceedings of the emperor, 
593, 598. The emperor leagues with the pope 
against them, 598. Prepare to resist the em¬ 
peror, 599. Levy an army, 600. 9 he opera¬ 
tions of the army distracted by the joint com¬ 
manders, 602. 9 he army dispersed, 607. The 
elector of Saxony reduced, 617. 9 he landgrave 
deceived by treaty, and confined, 621. 4 lie em¬ 
peror’s cruel treatment of him, 622. The Inte¬ 
rim, a system of theology recommended by the 
emperor to the diet at Augsburg, 627. Are 
promised protection by the emperor at the council 
of 4'rent, 635. The emperor proceeds rigorously 
against them, 639. 4 heir deputies obtain a safe- 
conduct from the emperor, but are refused by 
the council, 641. Maurice of Saxony raises an 
army in their cause, 646. See Maurice. 4 reaty 
of Passau, 65.3. 4 lie protestant princes again 
unite to strengthen the protestant interest, 674. 
Why originally averse to the principles of tolera¬ 
tion, 675. Recess of the diet of Augsburg on 
the subject of religion, 6(6. 

Proveditori, in the Venetian policy, their office, 
348. 

Provence is laid waste by the mareshal Montmo¬ 
rency on the approach of the emperor CJiarles 
V., 552. Is entered by the emperor, ib. 1 he 
disastrous retreat of the emperor from, 553. 

Prussia, when conquered by the 4eutonic Order, 
511. Is erected into a duchy, and finally into a 
kingdom, and enjoyed by the house of Branden¬ 
burg, ib. 


R 

Iiatisbon, a conference between a deputation of 
protestant and catholic divines, before the em¬ 
peror and diet there, 570. 4 his conference how 
rendered fruitless, 571. A diet opened there by 
the emperor, 597. 9 he catholic members of, 

assert the authority of the council of Trent, ib. 
9 he protestants present a memorial against it, 
598. 1 he protestant deputies retire, ib. 

Reformation in religion, the rise of, explained, 454. 
4 he diet at Worms called by Charles V. to 
check the progress of, ib. Account of Martin 
Luther the reformer, 455. Beginning of, in 
Switzerland, by Zuinglius, 459. State of, in 
Germany, at the arrival of Charles V., 460. 
Reflections on the conduct of the court of Rome 
towards Luther, ib. And on Luther’s conduct, 
461. Inquiry into the causes which contributed 
to the progress of, ib. Observations on the pon¬ 
tificate of Alexander VI. and Julius 11., 462. 
The immoral lives of the Romish clergy, ib. 
The progress of, favoured by the invention of 
printing, 466. And the revival of learning, ib. 
4 he great progress of, in Germany, 494. Ad¬ 
vantages derived to, from the diet at Nurem¬ 
burg, 495. Its tendency in favour of civil 
liberty, 510. 1'he dissensions between the em¬ 
peror and the pope, favourable to, 519. 9'he 
great spread of, among the German princes, 529. 
The confession of Augsburg drawn up by Me- 
lancthon, 531. Causes which led to that of Eng¬ 
land, 536. The excesses it gave rise to, ib. See 
Protestant, Maurice, and Smalkalde. Is esta¬ 
blished in Saxony, 560. The great alteration 
occasioned by, in the court of Rome, 708. Con¬ 
tributed to improve both the morals and learn¬ 
ing of the Romish church, 709. 

Reggio, invested by the French, who are repulsed 
by the governor, Guicciardini the historian, 474. 

Religion, how corrupted by the northern nations 
established in Europe under the feudal policy, 
314. Its influence in freeing mankind from the 
feudal servitude, .389. 

Remonstrance of grievances drawn up by the Holy 
Junta, the particulars of, 481. Remarks orw482. 

Repledging, the right of, in the law of Scouand, 
explained, 401. 

Reproach, words of, the ancient Swedish law of 
satisfaction for, 396. 

Revenues, royal, very small under the feudal 
policy, .334. By what means increased, 343. 

Reverse, a deed so called, signed by the archduke 
Ferdinand on being elected king of Bohemia, 
519. 

Rbeggio plundered and burnt by Barbarossa, 581. 

Rhine, origin and intention of the league of, 396. 

Rhodes, the island of, besieged by Solyman the 
Magnificent, 477. Taken by him, 4*8. The 
island of Malta granted to the knights of, by 
the emperor Charles V., ib. 

Richelieu, cardinal, his remarks on De Retz’s 
History of Fiesco’s conspiracy, 612, note. 

Rienzo, Nicolas, endeavours to rescue Rome from 
the papal authority, and establish a democratical 
form of government there, 347. 

Rincon, the French ambassador at the Porte, the 
motives of his return to France, 576. Is mur¬ 
dered in his journey back to Constantinople, by 
order of the imperial governor of the Milanese, 
ib. 

Robbers, the anathema pronounced against them 
during the middle ages, 409. 

Rodolph of Hapsburg, how he attained election to 
the empire or Germany, .361. 

Romans, an inquiry into those advantages which 
enabled them to conquer the rest of Europe, 309. 
4'he improvements they communicated in return 
for their conquests, ib. The disadvantages the 
provinces laboured under from their dominion, 
tb. Their empire overturned by the irruption of 
the barbarous nations, 310. The concurrent 
causes of their ruin, ib. A comparison drawn 
between them and the. northern nations, .311. 





INDEX TO THE HISTORY 


All the civil arts established by them obliterated, 
314. The monuments of their arts industriously 
destroyed by their barbarous invaders, 330. 
Rome, reflections on the conduct of the court of, 
respecting the proceedings against Martin Lu¬ 
ther, 460. The exorbitant wealth of the church 
of, previous to the Reformation, 463. Venality 
of, 465. How it drained other countries of their 
wealth, ib. The city seized by cardinal Colonna, 
and pope Clement VIl. besieged in the castle of 
St. Angelo, 514. The city taken by the imperi¬ 
alists, and Bourbon killed, 517. Is plundered, 
518. The great revolution in the court of, during 
the sixteenth century, 708. How affected by the 
revolt of Luther, ib. The spirit of its govern¬ 
ment changed by, 710. 

- - - papal. See Popedom. 

Ronquitlo, sent by cardinal Adrian with troops to 
suppress the insurrection in Segovia, 479. Is 
routed by the insurgents, ib. 

Rovere, Francesco Maria de, restored to his duchy 
of Urbino by pope Adrian, 488. 

Roralana, a Russian captive, becomes the favourite 
mistress of sultan Solyman the Magnificent, 662. 
Her only daughter married to Rustan the grand 
vizier, ib. Procures herself to be declared a free 
woman by the sultan, ib. Is formally' married 
to him, ib. Renders Solyman jealous of the vir¬ 
tues of his son Mustapha, ib. Mustapha 
strangled, 663. 

Royal truce, an account of, 394. 

Rustan, grand vizier to Solyman the Magnificent, 
is married to his daughter by Roxalana, 662. 
Enters into Roxalana’s scheme to ruin Soly- 
man’s sou Mustapha, ib. Is sent with an army 
to destroy him, 663. Draws Solyman to the 
army by false reports, ib. 

S 

Salamanca, treaty of, between Ferdinand of Ara¬ 
gon, and his son-in-law Philip, 433. 

Salerno, prince of, heads the disaffected Neapolitans 
against the oppressions of the viceroy don Pedro 
de Toledo, 658. Solicits aid from Henry II. of 
France, who instigates the Turks to invade Na¬ 
ples, ib. 

Salic laws, the manner in which they were enacted, 
418. 

Saluces, marquis de, succeeds Lautrec in the com¬ 
mand of the French army before Naples, 525. 
Retires to Aversa, where he is taken prisoner by 
the prince of Orange, ib. Betrays his charge in 
Piedmont, 551. 

Sancerre, count de, defends St. Disier against the 
emperor Charles, 586. Is deceived into a sur¬ 
render by the cardinal Granville, ib. 

Sanvage, a Fleming, made chancellor of Castile by 
Charles, on the death of Ximenes, 444. 11 is ex¬ 
tortions, ib. 

Savona, is fortified, and its harbour cleared by the 
French, to favour its rivalship with Genoa, 524. 
Savoy, Charles duke of, marries Beatrix of Por¬ 
tugal, sister to the emperor Charles V., 517 . The 
cause of Francis’s displeasure against him, ib. 
His territories overrun by the French troops, 
548. Geneva recovers its liberty, ib. His situa¬ 
tion by the truce at Nice, between the emperor 
and Francis, 556. Is besieged at Nice by the 
French and Turks, 581. 

- - ; Emanuel Philibert, duke of, appointed by 
Philip of Spain to command his army in the Low 
Countries, 689. Invests St. Quintin, ib. Defeats 
D’Andelot in an endeavour to join the garrison, 
690. But does not hinder him from entering the 
town, ib. Defeats the constable Montmorency, 
and takes him prisoner, ib. Is graciously visited 
in the camp by Philip, 691. Takes St.'Quintin 
by assault, ib. Assists Montmorency in negoti¬ 
ating peace between Philip and Henry, 698. 
Marries Henry’s sister, Elizabeth, 703. 

Saxons, why so many traces of their laws, lan¬ 
guage, and customs to be found in England, 367, 
Note iv. Inquiry into their laws for putting an 
end to private wars, 395. 

Saxony, elector of, appointed joint commander of 
the army of the protestant league with the land¬ 
grave of Hesse, 602. Their characters compared, 
tb. Opposes the landgrave’s intention of giving 
battle to the emperor, 603. His electorate seized 
by Maurice, 606. The army of the league dis¬ 
perse, 607 . Recovers Saxony, 608. Is amused 
by Maurice with a negociation, ib. Raises an 
army to defend himself against the emperor, 616. 
Is irresolute in his measures, ib. Charles passes 
the Elbe, ib. Is attacked by the imperialists, 
6J7- Is taken prisoner and harshly received by 
the emperor, tb. Is condemned to death by a 
court-martial, 618. His resolution on the occa¬ 
sion, ib. Is induced by regard to his family to 
surrender his electorate, 619. Refuses the em¬ 
peror’s desire of his approving the Interim, 628. 
The rigour of his confinement increased, 629. Is 
carried by the emperor with him into the N ether- 
lands, 630. Is released by the emperor on Mau¬ 
rice s taking arms against him, but chooses to 
continue with the emperor, 648. Obtains his 
liberty after the treaty of Passau, 654. 

- - - George duke of, an enemy to the Reforma¬ 
tion, 560. His death an advantage to the Re¬ 
formation, ib. The protestant religion esta¬ 
blished by Henry duke of, ib. Henry is succeeded 
by his son Maurice, 581. His motives for not ac¬ 
ceding to the league of Smalkalde, ib. Marches 
to the assistance of Ferdinand in Hungary, ib. 
.loins the emperor against the protestants, 601, 
605. See Maurice. 

Schertel, Sebastian, a commander in the army of 
the protestant league, his vigorous commence¬ 
ment of hostilities, 602. Is injudiciously recalled, 
ib. Is expelled from Augsburg on the disper¬ 
sion of the protestant army, 607. 

20 


Science, the revival and progress of, how far in¬ 
strumental in civilizing the nations of Europe, 
330. A summary view of the revival and pro¬ 
gress of, in Europe, 406, Note xxviii. 

Scotland, James V. of, married to Mary of Guise, 
duchess dowager of Longueville, 558. Death of 
James, and accession of his infant daughter 
Mary, 579. Mary contracted to the dauphin 
of France, 625. The marriage celebrated, 696. 
Mary assumes the title and arms of England on 
the death of Mary of England, 701. Included 
in the treaty of Chateau-Cambresis, 703. Al¬ 
teration in the conduct of England toward, 707 . 

Sects in religion, reflections on the origin of, 537. 

Segovia, an insurrection there, on account of their 
representative Tordesillas voting for the donative 
to Charles V., 478. Is killed by the populace, 
ib. The insurgents there defeat Ronquillo, sent 
to suppress them by cardinal Adrian, 479. Sur¬ 
renders after the battle of Villalar, 486. 

Selim II., sultan, extirpates the Mamalukes, and 
adds Egypt and Syria to his empire, 445. Con¬ 
sidered as formidable to the Kuropean powers, ib. 

Sforza, Francis, the foundation of his pretensions 
to the duchy of Milan, 351. Is murdered by his 
uncle Ludovico, ib. 

- - - Ludovico, his private views in engaging 
Charles VIII. of France to invade Italy, 341. 
See Charles VIII. Murders his nephew Fran¬ 
cis, and seizes Milan, 351. Is stripped of his 
dominions by Louis XII. of France, and dies in 
prison, ib. 

- - - obtains of Charles V. the investiture of 
Milan, 504. Forfeits the duchy by his intrigues 
with Moroni, 505. Joins in a league against 
Charles for the recovery of Milan, 512. Is forced 
to surrender Milan to the imperialists, 514. Ob¬ 
tains again of the emperor the investiture of Mi¬ 
lan, 529. Enters into a private treaty with 
Francis, 546. Merveille, Francis’s envoy, exe¬ 
cuted for murder, ib. Dies, 549. 

Shipwrecks, the right lords of manors claim to, 
whence derived, 408. 

Siena, the inhabitants of, implore the assistance of 
the emperor Charles V. to defend them against 
their nobles, 657. The imperial troops endeavour 
to enslave them, 658. Regain possession of their 
city, ib. Repulse an attack of the Germans, 661. 
Are besieged by the marquis de Marignano, 669. 
The commander Monluc repulses the assaults 
vigorously, ib. The town reduced by famine, 
ib. Numbers of the citizens retire, and establish 
a free government at Monte Alcino, 670. The 
remaining citizens oppressed, ib. And flock to 
Monte Alcino, ib. Is grantee! by the emperor to 
his son Philip, ib. The investiture given by 
Philip to Cosmo di Medici, 693. 

Sieverhausen, battle of, between Maurice of Saxony 
and Albert of Brandenburg, 660. 

Silk, the rarity of, and the high price it bore in 
ancient Rome, remarked, 409. The breeding of 
silk-worms when introduced into Greece, ib. 

Sion, cardinal of, his scheme for weakening the 
French army in the Milanese, 475. Leaves the 
imperial army to attend the conclave on the 
death of Leo X., ib. 

Slanes, letters of, in the law of Scotland, what, 400. 

Slaves, under the feudal policy, their wretched 
state, 377. Oblati, or voluntary slaves, the 
several classes of, 390. 

Smalkalde, the protestants enter into a league there 
for their mutual support, 532. The league re¬ 
newed at a second meeting there, ib. The league 
of, renewed for ten years, 541. A manifesto, 
refusing to acknowledge a council called by the 
pope, 559. The king of Denmark joins the league, 
ib. The princes of, protest against the authority 
of the imperial chamber, and the recess of the 
diet at Nuremburg, 582. Publish a manifesto 
against the proceedings of the council at Trent, 
593. Are alarmed at the proceedings of the em¬ 
peror, ib. A want of unity among the members, 
tb. The views of the elector of Saxony and the 
landgrave, explained, 594. Appear at the diet 
of Ratisbon by deputies, 598. Their deputies 
protest against the council of Trent, ib. Their 
deputies, alarmed at the emperor’s proceedings 
and declarations, leave the diet, ib. The empe¬ 
ror leagues with the pope against them, ib. Pre¬ 
pare to resist the emperor, 599. Are disap¬ 
pointed in their applications to the Venetians 
and Swiss, 600. As also with Henry VI11.and 
Francis, ib. Assemble a large army, 601. Are 
put under the ban of the empire, ib. Declare 
war against the emperor, 602. Hostilities be¬ 
gun by Schertel, ib. They recall him, ib. The 
elector of Saxony and landgrave of Hesse ap¬ 
pointed joint commanders of their army, ib. 1 he 
characters of the two commanders compared, ib. 
Their operations distracted by this joint com¬ 
mand, 603. Cannonade the emperor’s camp, ib. 
Make overtures of peace to the emperor, 606. 
Their army disperse, 607. The elector of Sax¬ 
ony reduced, 617- t he landgrave deceived and 
confined, 621. 'I heir warlike stores seized by 
the emperor, 622. See Maurice. 

Society, civil, the rude state ol under the feudal 
establishments after the downfall of the Roman 
empire, 314. The influence of the crusades on, 
316. How improved by the establishment of 
municipal communities, 318. The effects the en¬ 
franchisements of the people had on, 321. Pri¬ 
vate wars, how destructive to, 322. These intes¬ 
tine hostilities how suppressed, ib. The admini¬ 
stration of justice improved by the prohibition 
of judicial combats, 323. The growth of royal 
courts of justice in opposition to the barons’ 
courts, 327. How advanced by the revival of 
the Roman law, 328. The effects of the spirit of 
chivalry in improving, 329. The revival of com¬ 
merce and its influences, 332. 

Solyman, sultan, his character, 365. 


Solyman the Magnificent ascends the Ottoman 
throne, 454. Invades Hungary and takes Bel¬ 
grade, 477. Takes the island of Rhodes, 478. 
Defeats the Hungarians at Mohacz, 519. His 
successes, and the number of prisoners he car¬ 
ried away, ib. Besieges Vienna, 529. Enters 
Hungary again with a vast army, but is forced 
to retire by the emperor Charles, 533, 534. 
Takes Barbarossa, the pirate, under his protec¬ 
tion, 542. Concludes an alliance with Francis, 
king of France, 555. Prepares to invade Na¬ 
ples, ib. Protects Stephen, king of Hungary, 
and defeats Ferdinand, 573. Seizes Hungary 
for himself, ib. Overruns Hungary again, in 
fulfilment of his treaty with Francis, 580. Con¬ 
cludes a truce with the emperor, 597- Loses 
Transylvania, 642. Ravages the coasts of Italy, 
652, 658. Carries a mighty army into Hun¬ 
gary, 652. Re-establishes Isabella and her son 
in Transylvania, 661. His violent attachment 
to his concubine Roxalana, 662. Is prevailed on 
to declare her a free woman, tb. Formally 
marries her, ib. Is rendered jealous of the vir¬ 
tues of his son Mustapha, by the arts of Rox¬ 
alana, ib. Orders him to be strangled, 663. Or¬ 
ders the murder of Mustapha’s son, 664. 

Spaiti, a summary view of its situation at the 
commencement of the fifteenth century, 335. 
The power of the crown of, how extended by 
Ferdinand, 339. National infantry established 
in, .343. Is conquered by the Vandals, 351. And 
after by the Moors, ib. The empire of the 
Moors in, how weakened, 352. Rise of the 
kingdoms of Castile and Aragon, ib. Iheir union 
into the Spanish monarchy, tb. The ancient 
customs still retained amidst all its revolutions, 
ib. Peculiarities in its constitution and laws re¬ 
marked, 353. See Aragon and Castile. Various 
causes which contribute to limit the regal power 
in, 355. The cities of, how they attained their 
consideration and power, ib. I he schemes of 
Ferdinand and Isabella to exalt the regal power, 

356. '1 he grand-masterships of the three orders 
annexed to the crown, ib. The association of 
the Holy Brotherhood, on what occasion formed, 

357. The tendency of this association to abridge 
the territorial jurisdictions of the barons, tb. 
'Pile cruel devastations made by the Vandals in 
the invasion of that province, 368. When the 
cities of, acquired municipal privileges, 388, 
Note xviii. The long continuance of the prac¬ 
tice of private wars there, 395. The total an¬ 
nual revenue of the nobility in the time of 
Charles V., 415, Note xxxiv.' An inquiry into 
the origin of communities of free cities in, ib. 
Note xxxv. The state of, at the death of Ferdi¬ 
nand of Aragon, 437. Charles king of, aspires 
to the imperial crown on the death of Maxi¬ 
milian, 445. Is elected emperor, 448. Reflec¬ 
tions of the Spaniards on that event, 449. Charles 
appoints viceroys, and departs for Germany, 
450. Insurrections there, 478. A view of the 
feudal system in, 479. An account of the con¬ 
federacy termed the Holy Junta, 480. Causes 
which prevented an union of the malcontents 
in the respective provinces, 487. The modera¬ 
tion of Charles towards them on his arrival, 488. 
Instance of the haughty spirit of the grandees, 
561. Is invaded by the dauphin, 577. The do¬ 
minions of, resigned by Charles to his son 
Philip, 681. The arrival of Charles, and his 
reception there, 686. The place of his retreat 
described, 687- The regal power in, how en¬ 
larged by Charles, 705. The foreign acqui¬ 
sitions added to, ib. See Aragon, Castile , Ga¬ 
licia, Valencia, Cortes, Germanada, and Holy 
Junta. 

Spires, diet of, its proceedings relative to the Re¬ 
formation, 519. Another diet called there by 
the emperor, 530, Another diet at, 583. Recess 
of, in favour of the protestants, ib. 

Spiritual censures or the Romish church, the 
dreadful effects of, 464. 

St. Disier, in Champagne, invested by the em¬ 
peror, 586. Is obtained by the artifice of cardi¬ 
nal Granvelle. ib. 

St. Jago, the military order of, when and on what 
occasion instituted, 416, Note xxxvi. 

St. Justus, monastery of, in Placentia, is chosen 
by the emperor Charles V. for his retreat after 
his resignation, 687. His situation described, ib. 
His apartments, ib. 

St. Quintin, invested by the Spanish troops, and 
defended by admiral Coligni, 689. D’Andelot 
defeated in an endeavour to join the garrison, 
690. But enters the town, tb. Montmorency 
defeated by the duke of Savoy, ib. The town 
taken by assault, 691. 

Standing armies. See Armies. 

States-general of France, causes which rendered 
their authority imperfect, 358. When they lost 
their legislative authority, ib. When first as¬ 
sembled, 421. The form of proceeding in them, 


Stephen, earl of Chartres and Blois, his account of 
the progress of the crusaders, 381. 

Stiernhook, his account of the ancient Swedish law 
ot satisfaction for words of reproach, 396. 

Strangers, in what lifcht considered and how treat¬ 
ed during the middle ages and under the feudal 
policy, 408. 

Strozzi, Peter, some account of, 668. Ts intrusted 
with the command of the French army in Italy, 
tb. Is defeated by the marquis de Marignano’ 


Suabia, an insurrection of the peasants against the 
nobles there, 509.. They publish a memorial of 
their grievances, ib. The insurgents dispersed 
ib. The protestant religion suppressed there bv 
the emperor Charles V., 639. 

Suffolk, duke of, invades Picardy, penetrates al¬ 
most to Paris, but is driven back, 490 . 




OF THE REIGN OF CHARLES V. 


Sugar-canes, when first brought from Asia into 
Europe, and thence carried to America, 409. 
Sultans, I urkish, their despotic power, 365. How 
nevertheless limited, ib. 

Superstition, its influence in the legal proceedings 
during the middle ages, 324. 

Surrey, earl of, created high admiral to the em¬ 
peror Charles V., 477. Obliged to retire out of 
Picardy by the duke de Vendome, ib. 

Sweden, a summary view of the revolutions in, 
during the sixteenth century, 711. 

Swiss, the superior discipline of their troops in the 
fifteenth century, 343. Teach other nations the 
advantages of infantry over cavalry, ib. 
Switzerland, the cantons of, espouse the pretensions 
ot Charles V. to the imperial crown, 446. Com¬ 
mencement of the Reformation there by Zuin- 
glius, 460. '1 he regulation under which they hire 
out their troops, 475. The precipitate battle, 
insisted on by their troops under Lautrec, lost, 
476. 

Syria, how and by whom added to the Ottoman 
empire, 445. 

T 

Tacitus, his account of the ancient Germans com¬ 
pared with that of Caesar, 370. 

1 enures, feudal, the original of, 313. See Feudal 
System and Land. 

Termes, mareshal de, governor of Calais, takes 
Dunkirk by storm, 696. Engages the count of 
Egmont, and is defeated by the accidental arrival 
ot an English squadron on the coast, 697. Is 
taken prisoner, ih. 

Terouane, taken and demolished by the emperor 
r Charles V., 660. 

Tetzel, a Dominican friar, his shameful conduct in 
the sale of indulgences in Germany, 455. His 
form of absolution, and recommendation of the 
virtues of indulgences, ib. note. His debauched 
course of life, ib. Publishes these against Lu- 
r ther, 456. 

Teutonic Order, a character of, 511. Conquer the 
province of Prussia, ib. Their Grand Master 
r Albert made duke of Prussia, ib. 

Theatines, the order of, by whom founded, 677. 
Theology, scholastic, the first literary pursuits at 
the revival of learning in Europe, 331. 

Thionville, in Luxembourg, taken by the duke of 
Guise, 696. 

Thuringia, an insurrection of the peasants there 
against the nobility, 509, 510. The fanatical no¬ 
tions inspired into them by Thomas Muncer, 510. 
Their disorderly army defeated, ih. 

Toledo, insurrection in, at the departure of Charles 
V. for Germany, 450, 451. 478. The cathedral 
of, stripped of its riches to support the army of 
the Holy Junta, 484. Padilla's letter to, at his 
execution, 485, note. Is instigated to continue 
in arms by Padilla’s wife, 486. Is reduced, ib. 

- - - Ludovico de, nephew to Cosmo di Medici, 
sent by his uncle to negoc.iate wilh Philip 11. of 
Spain, for the investiture of Siena, 693. 

- - - don Pedro de, viceroy of Naples, oppresses 
the Neapolitans, 658. And occasions the l urks 
to ravage the coast of Naples, ib. 

Toleration, reflections on the progress of, in Ger¬ 
many, 675. Why mutually allowed among the 
ancient heathens, ib. Ilow the primitive chris- 
tiaus became averse to, ih. 

Tomorri, Paul, a Franciscan monk, archbishop of 
Golocza, is made general of the Hungarian 
army against Solyman the Magnificent, and is 
defeated by him, 519- 

Tordesillas, the residence of queen Joanna, the 
confederacy of malcontents called the Holy 
Junta, removed thither, 480. The queen taken 
there by the Conde de Haro, 483. 

- - - - one of the representatives of Segovia, 

killed by the populace, for voting the donative 
to Charles V., at the Cortes assembled in Gali¬ 
cia, 478. ^ . 

Transylvania is surrendered to Ferdinand, king of 
the Romans, by queen Isabella, 642. 

Tremouille, La, drives the English under the duke 
of Suffolk out of Picardy, 492. 

Trent, the council of, summoned, 582. Prorogued, 
ib. Again summoned, 589. Is opened, 592. 
Declares the apocryphal scriptures canonical, 
596. Establishes the authority of the church 
traditions, ib. t he council, on rumours of an 
infection in the city, is translated to Bologna, 
624. Henry 11. of France protests against the 
council, 638. The council breaks up on the ap¬ 
proach of Maurice of Saxony,648, 649. Histori 
cal remarks on this council, 649. Characters ot 
its historians, ib. 

- - cardinal of, sent by the emperor Charles V. 
to conclude an alliance with the pope, 598. The 
nature of thi3 treaty, ih. 

Truce of God, an account of, 393. 

Tunis, the means of its coming under the power of 
Barbarossa traced, 542. The emperor and other 
Christian powers unite to expel Barbarossa, and 
restore Muley-Hascen, 543. Is taken by the em¬ 
peror, 545. Muley-Hascen restored, and his 
treaty with Charles, ib. 

Turkey, origin of its government, 364. The de¬ 
spotic genius of this government, ib. No here¬ 
ditary nobility in, ib. The authority of the sul¬ 


tans how' checked, 365. Origin of the Janizaries, 
ib. Becomes formidable to the Christian princes, ib. 
luscany, a review of the state of, during the six¬ 
teenth century, 711. 

V 

Valencia, an insurrection in, 449. The people 
there greatly oppressed by the nobles, ih. The 
nobles refuse to assemble the Cortes except the 
king is present, ib. 450. Charles authorizes the 
people to continue in arms, ib. t hey expel the no¬ 
bles, ib. Associate under the Germanada, and ap¬ 
point their own magistrates, ib. Don Diego de 
Mendoza, Conde de Melito, appointed regent, 
on the departure of Charles tor Germany, ib. 
1 he Germanada refuse to lay down their arms', 
487. Defeat the nobles in several actions, ib. 
Are at length routed by the Conde de Melito, ib. 
1 he moderation of Charles towards the insur¬ 
gents onhis arrival 488. 

Valentinois, duchess of. See Diana of Poitiers. 

Val/adolid, the first public entry of Charles V. to 
that city, 443. The inhabitants rise, burn Fon¬ 
seca’s house, and fortify the town, 479. Surren¬ 
ders after the battle of Villalar, and dissolution 
of the Holy Junta, 486. 

Vandals, their cruel devastations in the invasion 
ot Spain, 368. lhe havoc made by them in 
Africa, ib. See Goths. 

Vassals under the feudal system, a view of their 
slavish condition, 313, 320. How they obtained 
enfranchisement, 320. How anciently distin¬ 
guished from freemen, 373. Their wretched state 
under their feudal masters, 377, Note ix. 

Vauce/les, treaty of, between Charles V. and 
Henry II. of France, 682,683. 

Viendome, duke of, his plan of operations in oppos¬ 
ing the progress of the invasion of Picardy by 
Henry VI11., 477. Obliges him to retire, ih. 

Vmice, the long duration of its civil constitution, 
and its flourishing state at the time of the league 
of Cambray, 344. Its possessions dismembered 
by the confederates, ib. Dissolves the confede¬ 
racy, ib. Its rise and progress, 348. Defects in 
its constitution, ib. The excellency of its naval 
institutions, 349. Its extensive commerce, ib. 
The republic of, incline in favour of the preten¬ 
sions or Francis I. of France, to the imperial 
crown, 446. Their views and apprehensions on 
the approaching rupture between the emperor 
Charles V. and Francis, 451. Leagues with the 
emperor against Francis, 489. A final accom¬ 
modation between, and the emperor, 529. Re¬ 
fuses to enter into the league of the Italian states, 
formed by the emperor, 535. A review of the 
state of that republic during the sixteenth cen¬ 
tury, 710. 

Verrina, the confidant of the count of Lavagna, 
encourages him in his scheme of overturning the 
pvernment of Genoa, 610. Is protected by 
■'lands on the ruin of that conspiracy, 614. 
Vielleville, the French governor of Metz, detects 
father Leonard’s conspiracy to betray the city 
to the imperialists, 671. Excuses the conspira¬ 
tors, 672. 

Vienna is besieged by sultan Solyman the Mag¬ 
nificent, 529. 

Villalar, battle of, between Padilla and the Conde 
de Haro, 485. 

Villena, marquis de, his spirited reply to the re¬ 
quest of the emperor to lodge Bourbon in his 
palace, 506. 

Visconti, rise of the family of, in Milan, 350, 351. 
U/m, the government of that city violently altered, 
and its reformed ministers carried away in chains, 
by the emperor Charles V.. 629. 

Union of the Aragonese nobles to control the un¬ 
due exercise ot regal power explained, 413. 
This privilege abrogated by Peter IV., ib. 

United provinces of the N etherlands, a brief view 
of their revolt against the dominions of Spain, 
711. 

Universities, the first establishment of, in Europe, 
406. 

Urbino, restored by pope Adrian to Francesco Maria 
de Roverh, 488. 

W 

Wallop, sir John, joins the en peror Charles V. at 
the siege of Landrecy, with a body of English 
troops, 580. 

War, a comparison between the method of carrying 
on by barbarous and by civilized nations, 311. 
How rendered feeble in its operations by the 
feudal policy, 314. The profession ot arms the 
most honourable in uncivilized nations, 329. 
The rise of standing armies traced, 336. By 
what means standing forces became general, 342. 
The superiority of infantry in, how taught, 343. 
The method of carrying on, in Europe, how im¬ 
proved at this period from the practice of earlier 
ages, 492. General reflection on the vicissitudes 
of, 510. 

Wars, private, for the redressing personal in¬ 
juries under the feudal policy, an inquiry into, 
322. Methods taken to abolish this hostile prac¬ 
tice, ib. Judicial combat prohibited, 323. In¬ 
quiry into the sources of these customs, 391, 
Note xxi. Who entitled tq the privileges of ex¬ 


ercising. ib. On what occasions undertaken, ib. 
392. Who included or bound to engage in these 
disputes, 392. Who excluded from undertaking, 
ib. The cruel manner of prosecuting them, ib. 
A chronological account of the expedients made 
use of to suppress them, ib. Truce of God, an 
account of, 393. Brotherhood of God, an account 
of, ib. Royal Truce, what, 394. Saxon laws ot 
England, for putting an end to them, 395. The 
obstinate attachment of the Spaniards to this 
practice, ib. The calamities occasioned in Ger¬ 
many by, ib. 

Wartburg, Martin Luther concealed there by the 
elector of Saxony, 469. 

Welsh, ancient, strangers killed with impunity by 
them, 408. 

Wentworth, lord, governor of Calais, remonstrates 
in vain with the English privy council to pro¬ 
vide for its security, 694. Is attacked by the 
duke of Guise, and forced to capitulate, ib. 695. 
Willa, widow of duke Hugo, extract from her 
charter of manumission granted to Cleriza, one 
of her slaves, 390. 

Willermus, archbishop of Tyre, his account of 
Constantinople, 382. 

Wittemberg, invested by the emperor Charles V., 
and defended by Sybilla of Cleves, wife to the 
elector of Saxony, 618. 

Wittikihdus, abbot, his testimony in favour of the 
judicial combat, 398. 

Wolsey, cardinal, his rise, character, and influ¬ 
ence over Henry VI11. of England, 452. Re¬ 
ceives a pension from Francis 1. of France, 453. 
And from the emperor Charles V., ib. Detached 
from the French interest by the latter, ib. In¬ 
clines Henry to join the emperor against Francis, 
470. Sent by Henry to Calais, to negociate an 
accommodation between the emperorand Francis, 
472. Has an interview with Charles at Bruges, 
and concludes a league with him on the part of 
Henry against France, 473. Meditates revenge 
against l harles, on his second disappointment of 
the papacy by tire election of Clement VIE, 491. 
Obtains of Clement a legatine commission in 
England for life, ib. Negociates a league with 
Francis against the emperor, 520. 

Worms, a diet called there by Charles V. to check 
the progress of the reformers, 454. Proceedings 
of, 468. Martin Luther cited before it, ib. Re¬ 
fuses to retract his opinions, ib. An edict pub¬ 
lished against him, ib. Diet at, opened, 589. 
Wurtemburg, Ulric, duke of, why expelled his do¬ 
minions, 540. Recovers his dominions by the 
assistance of Francis, king of France, and re 
ceives the protestant religion, ib. 

Wyat, sir Thomas, raises an insurrection in Kent 
against queen Mary of England, on account of 
the Spanish match, 665. Is subdued and punish¬ 
ed, ib. 

X 

Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, adheres to Fer¬ 
dinand of Aragon, in his dispute with the arch¬ 
duke Philip concerning the regency of Castile, 
432. Espouses Ferdinand’s claim to the regency 
of Castile on Philip's death, 435. Conquers 
Oran, and other places in Barbary, forthe crown 
of Castile, ib. Appointed regent of Castile by 
Ferdinand’s will, until the arrival of Charles V. 
in Spain, 437. His rise and character, ib. Ad 
mits the claim to the regency of cardinal Adrian, 
sent with that commission by Charles, and exe¬ 
cutes it jointly with him, 438. Takes the infant 
Don Ferdinand to Madrid under his own eve, ib. 
Procures Charles, who assumed the regal title, 
to be acknowledged by the Castilian nobility, 
439. Schemes to extend the regal prerogative, 
ib. Depresses the nobility, ib. Frees the king 
from the feudal limitations, and establishes a re¬ 
gal army to check the barons, ib. Suppresses a 
mutiny headed by the grandees, ib. Resumes 
the grants of Ferdinand to his nobles, 440. His 
prudent application of the revenue, ib. His bold 
assertion of his authority to the discontented 
nobles, ib. Other associates in the regency ap¬ 
pointed at the instigation of the Flemish cour¬ 
tiers, ib. Retains the superior management, ih. 
Defeats John D’Albert’s invasion of Navarre, 

441. Dismantles all the castles there, except 
Pampeluna, which he strengthens, ib. The 
troops sent by him against Barbarossa defeated, 
and his equanimity on that occasion, ib. Alarm¬ 
ed at the corruption of the Flemish court, he 
persuades Charles to visit Spain, ib. Falls sick 
on his journey to meet Charles at his arrival, 

442, 443. BIis letter of counsel to Charles, 443. 
Requests an interview, ib. The ingratitude of 
Charles to him, ib. Ilis death, ib. Ilis charac¬ 
ter, ib. Reverence paid to his memory by ti e 
Spaniards, ib. 

Z 

Zamora, bishop of, raises a regiment of priests to 
defend Tordesillas, for the Holy Junta, which is 
forced by the Conde de Haro. 483. 

Zuinglius attacks the sale of indulgences at Zurich 
in Switzerland, 459. 






INDEX 


TO TIIE 


HISTORY 


OF AMERICA. 


A 

Abyssinia, an embasay sent to that country by 
John 11. king of Portugal, 744. 

Acapulco, the nature of the trade carried on from 
thence to Manila, 980. Amount of the treasure 
on board the ship taken by lord Anson, 1079. 
Acosta, his method of accounting for the different 
degrees of heat in the old and new continents, 
10.45. 

Adair, his account of the revengeful temper of the 
native Americans, 1047- 

Adanson , his justification of Hanno's account of 
the African seas, 1025. 

Africa, the western coast of, first explored by order 
of John I. king of Portugal, 749. Is discovered 
from Cape Non to Eojador, ib. Cape Bojarior 
doubled, ib. 1 he countries southward of the 
river Senegal discovered, 742. Cape of Good 
Dope seen by Bartholomew Dias, 744. Causes 
of tlie extreme heat of the climate there, 802. 
Ignorance of the ancient astronomers, concern¬ 
ing, 1026. Expedition to the coast of, 1029. 
Agriculture, the state of, among the native Ameri¬ 
cans, 728. Two principal causes of the defects 
of. 729. 

Aguado, is sent to Hispaniola, as a commissioner 
to inspect the conduct of Columbus, 766. 

Aguilar, Jerom de, is relieved from a long cap¬ 
tivity among the Indians at Cozumel by Fer¬ 
nando Cortes, 854. 

Albuquerque, Rodrigo, his barbarous treatment of 
the Indians of Hispaniola, 791. 

Alcavala, in the Spanish customs, the term ex¬ 
plained, 1080. 

Alexander the Great, his political character, 731. 
His motive in founding the city of Alexandria, 
ib. His discoveries in India, ib. 

- - - -VI., pope, grants to Ferdinand and 
Isabella of Castile the right of all their western 
discoveries, 761. Sends missionaries with Co¬ 
lumbus on his second voyage, ib. 

Almagro, Diego de, his birth and character, 896. 
Associates with Pizarro and De J.uque in a 
voyage of discovery, ib. His unsuccessful at¬ 
tempts, 897- Is neglected by Pizarro in his 
Spanish negociation, 899. Is reconciled to him, 
ib. Brings reinforcements to Pizarro at Peru, 
905. Beginning of dissensions between him and 
Pizarro, 909. Invades Chili, 910. Is created 
governor of Chili, and m a relies to Cuzco, 9)1. 
Seizes Cuzco out of the hands of Pizarro, ib. 
Defeats Alvarado, and takes him prisoner, 912. 
Is deceived by the artful negotiations of Francis 
Pizarro, ib. Is defeated by the Pizarros, 913. 
Is taken prisoner, ib. Is tried and condemned, 
914. Is put to death, ib. 

- - - - the son, affords refuge to his father’s 
followers at Lima, 916, 917- His character, 
917- Heads a conspiracy against Francis 
Pizarro, ib. Pizarro assassinated, ib. Is ac¬ 
knowledged as his successor, ib. His precarious 
situation, 918. Is defeated by Vaca de Castro, 
ib. Is betrayed and executed, 919. 

Almajorifasgo, in the Spanish American customs, 
the amount of, 1080. 

Alvarado, Alonzo, is sent from Lima by Francis 
Pizarro, with a body of Spaniards to relieve his 
brothers at Cuzco, 912. Is taken prisoner by 
Almagro, ib. His escape, ib. 

- - - - Pedro de, is left by Cortes to command 
at Mexico, while he marched against N arvaez, 
875. He is besieged by the Mexicans,877. His 
imprudent conduct, ib. His expedition to Quito 
in Peru, 908. 

Amatons, a community of, said to exist in South 
America, by Francis Orellana, 916. 

America, the continent of, discovered by Chris¬ 
topher Columbus, 768. How it obtained this 
name, 772. Ferdinand of Castile nominates 
two governments in, 784. The propositions 
offered to the natives, ib. Ill reception of Ojeda 
22 


and Nicuessa among them, ib. The South Sea 
discovered by Balboa, 788. Rio de Plata dis¬ 
covered, 790. The natives of, injuriously treated 
by the Spaniards, 796. The vast extent of, 800. 
The grand objects it presented to view, 801. 1 he 
circumstances of, favourable for commerce and 
civilization, ib. The climates of, 802. Various 
causes of the peculiarity of its climates, ib. Its 
rude and uncultivated state when first discover¬ 
ed, 803. Its animals, 804. Its insects and rep¬ 
tiles, ib. Birds, ib. General account of its soil, 
805. Inquiry into the first population of, ib. 
Could not be peopled by civilized nations, 807. 
The northern extremity of, contiguous to Asia, 
808. Probably peopled by Asiatics, 810. Con¬ 
dition and character of the native inhabitants 
inquired into, ib. 811. Were more rude than the 
natives of any other known parts of the earth, 
811. The Peruvians and Mexicans excepted, ib. 

1 he first discoverers incapable of a judicious 
speculative examination, ib. The various sys¬ 
tems of philosophers respecting the natives, 812. 
Method observed in the present review of their 
bodily constitution and circumstances, 813. The 
venereal disease derived from this part of the 
world, 818. Why so thinly inhabited, 827. The 
country depopulated by continual wars, 836. 
Cause of the extreme coldness toward the south¬ 
ern extremity of, 1037. The natural unculti¬ 
vated state of the country described, ib. Bones 
of large extinct species of animals discovered 
under ground near the banks of the Ohio, 1038. 
Why European animals degenerate there, ib. 
Supposed to have undergone a convulsive se¬ 
paration from Asia, 10.39. The vicinity of the 
two continents of Asia and America clearly 
ascertained, 1010. Causes of the depopulation 
of, traced, 955. This depopulation not the result 
of any intentional system of policy, 956. Nor 
the result of religion, ib. Number of Indian 
natives still remaining in Mexico and Peru, 957. 
All the Spanish dominions there subjected to 
two viceroys, 958. Its third viceroyalty lately 
established, ib. See Mexico, Peru, Cortes, Pi¬ 
zarro, Cabot, tkc. 

America, North, project of settling there, 989. 
First expedition to, fails, ib. A second expedi¬ 
tion to, ends disastrously, ib. Plan of settling 
there resumed without effect, ib. The coast of. 
divided into two parts, 993. Charters granted 
to two companies for settling colonies in, ib. 
Emigrations from England to, 1016. See Colo¬ 
nies, New England, Virginia, fc. 

Americans, native, in Spanish America, their 
bodily constitution and complexion, 813. Their 
strength and abilities, ib. Their insensibility 
with regard to their women, 814. No deformi¬ 
ties in their frame, 815. This circumstance ac¬ 
counted for, ib. Uniformity of their colour, 
816. A peculiar race of, described, ib. The 
Esquimaux, 817- Patagonians, ib. The exist¬ 
ence of Patagonian giants yet remaining to be 
decided, ib. Their diseases, 818. T he venereal 
disease peculiarly theirs, ib. The powers and 
qualities of their minds, ib. Are only solicitous 
to supply immediate wants, 819. The art of 
computation scarcely known to them, ib. Have 
no abstract ideas, ib. The North Americans 
much more intelligentthan those of the South, 820. 
Their aversion to labour, ib. Their social state, 
821. Domestic union, ib. The women, ib. Their 
women not prolific, 822. Their parental affec¬ 
tion and filial duty, 823. Their modes of sub¬ 
sistence, ib. Fishing, ib. Hunting,824. Agri¬ 
culture, ib. The various objects of their cul¬ 
ture, 825. Two principal causes of the defects 
of their agriculture, ib. Their want of tame 
animals, ib. Their want of useful metals, 826. 
Their political institutions, 827. Were divided 
into small independent communities, ib. Unac¬ 
quainted with the idea of property, ib. Their 
high sense of equality ana independence, ib. 


Their ideas of subordination imperfect, 828. To 
what tribes these descriptions apply, ib. Some 
exceptions, 829. Florida, ib. Tne Natchez, ib. 
The islands, ib. In Bogota, ib. Inquiry into 
the causes of these irregularities, 830. Their art 
of war, 8.31. Their motives to hostility, ib. 
Causes of their ferocity, ib. Perpetuity of their 
animosities, 832. 1 heir modes of conducting 

war, ib. Are not destitute of courage and forti¬ 
tude, ib. Incapable of military discipline, 833. 
Their treatment of prisoners, ib. Their forti¬ 
tude under torture,834. Ne'er eat human flesh 
but to gratify revenge, ib. How the South Ame¬ 
ricans treated their prisoners, ib. Their mili¬ 
tary education, 8.35. Strange method of choos¬ 
ing a captain among the Indians on the banks 
of the Orinoco, ib. Their numbers wasted by 
continual wars, 836. r l heir tribes now recruit 
their numbers by adopting prisoners, ib. Are 
never formidable in war to more polished na¬ 
tions, ib. Their arts, dress, and ornaments, ib. 
837.. Their habitations, 8.37. Their arms, 838. 
Their domestic utensils, ib. Const) notion or 
their canoes, 839. The listlessness w ith which 
they apply to labour, ib. Their religion, ib. 
Some tribes altogether destitute of any, 840. Re¬ 
markable diversity in their religious notions, 

841. Their ideas of the immortality of the souj, 

842. Their modes of burial, ib. Why their phy¬ 
sicians pretend to be conjurors, 843. Their love 
of dancing, 844. 'I heir immoderate passion for 
gaming, ib. Are extremely addicted to drunk¬ 
enness. 845. Put their aged and incurable to 
death, 846. General estimate of their character, 
ib. Their intellectual powers, ib. Their poli¬ 
tical talents, 847. Powers of affection, ib. Hard¬ 
ness of heart, ib. Their insensibility, 848. Ta¬ 
citurnity, ib. Their cunning, ib. '1 heir virtues, 

849. '1 heir spirit of independence, 66. Forti¬ 
tude, ib. Attachment to their community, ib. 
Their satisfaction with their own condition, ib. 
General caution with respect to this inquiry. 

850. Two distinguishable classes, ib. Excep¬ 
tions as to their character, 851. Their charac¬ 
teristic features described, 1041. Instances of * 
their persevering speed, 1042. An antipathy in¬ 
dustriously encouraged between them anti the 
negroes in America, by the Spaniards, 962. 
Their present condition, ib. How taxed, 963. 
Stated services demanded from them, ib. Mode 
of exacting these services, ib. How governed, 
ib. Protector of the Indians, his function, ib. 
Reasons why so small a progress is made in 
their conversion, 966. 

Amerigo, Vespucci, publishes the first written ac¬ 
count of the New World, and hence gave name 
to America, 772. His claim as a discoverer ex¬ 
amined, 1033. 

Anacoana, a female cazique of Hispaniola, her 
base and cruel usage by the Spaniards, 780. 

Andes, stupendous height and extent of that range 
of mountains, 801. Their height compared with 
other mountains, 1035. Gonzalo Pizarro’s re¬ 
markable expedition over, 915. 

Animals, large, very few found in America at its 
first discovery, 804. 

Ancients, cause of the imperfection of the art or 
navigation among them, 728. Their geogra¬ 
phical knowledge extremely confined, 1026. 

Arabians peculiarly attached to the study of geo¬ 
graphy, 735. 

Argonauts, the expedition of, why so famous 
among the Greeks, 730. 

Arithmetic, or computation, the art of, hardly 
known to the native Americans, 819. 

Asco/ino, father, his extraordinary mission to the 
prince of the Tartars. 736. 

Asiatic discoveries made by the Russians, 809. 

Assiento, trade, the nature of, explained, 974. The 
frauds in, and how' put an end to, ib. 

Atahva/pa, is left by his father I luascar his suc¬ 
cessor in the kingdom of Quito, 901. Defeats 










INDEX TO THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


his brother ITuascar, and usurps the empire of 
rem, 901. Sends presents to Pizarro, 90?. Visits 
rizarro, 903. Is perfidiously seized by him, 
904. Agrees with Pizarro on a ransom, ib. Is 
refused his liberty, 905. PIi3 behaviour during 
his confinement, 906. A form of trial bestowed 
on him, tb. Is put to death, 907. Comparison 
of authorities relating to his transactions with, 
and treatment by, Pizarro, 1060. 

Audience of New Spain, board of, established by 
the emperor Charles V., 895. Courts of, their 
jurisdiction, 958. 

Arena, a Spanish tax for convoy to and from 
America, when first imposed, 1080. Its rate, ib. 
Azores, those islands discovered by the Portu¬ 
guese, 742. 

B 

Bacon, Nathaniel, heads an insurrection in Vir¬ 
ginia, 1008. Forces the governor and council 
there to fly, ib. They apply to England for 
succour, ib. His death terminates the rebellion, 
i * njy. 

Balboa, Vasco Nugnez de, settles a colony at Santa 
Maria, in the gulf of Darien, 785. Receives in¬ 
telligence of the rich country of Peru. 786. IIis 
character, 787. Marches across the isthmus, ib. 
Discovers the Southern ocean, 788. Returns, 
tb. Is superseded in his command by the ap¬ 
pointment of Pedrarias Davila, ib. Is fined by 
1 edrarias for former transactions, 789. Is ap¬ 
pointed lieutenant governor of the countries on 
the South sea, and marries Pedrarias's daugh¬ 
ter, ib. Is arrested and put to death by Pedra- 
rias, 790. 

Bark , Jesuits’, a production peculiar to Peru, 969. 
Barrere, his description of the construction of In¬ 
dian houses, 1049. 

Behaim, Martin, the honour of having discovered 
America, falsely ascribed to him by some Ger¬ 
man authors, 1030. Account of him and his fa¬ 
mily, ib. 

Behring and Tschirikow, Russian navigators, 
thought to have discovered the north-west ex¬ 
tremity of America from the eastward, 809. 
Uncertainty of their accounts, 1039. 

Benalcazar, governor of St. Michael, reduces the 
kingdom of Quito, 908. Is deprived of his com¬ 
mand by Pizarro, 915. 

Benjamin, the Jew of Tudela, his extraordinary 
travels, 736. 

Bernaldes, instance of the bravery of the Caribbees 
mentioned by him, 1051. 

Bethencourt, John de, a Norman baron, conquers 
and possesses the Canary islands, 738. 

Birds, an account of those natural to America, 804. 
The flight of, often stretch to an immense distance 
from land, 1028. 

Bogota in America, some account of the inhabit¬ 
ants of, 830. Causes of their tame submission to 
the Spaniards, ib. Their religious doctrines and 
rites, 842. 

Bojador, cape, the first discovery of, 7.39. Is 
doubled by the Portuguese discoverers, 743. 
Bossu, hisacconnt of the American war-song, 1048. 
Bovadil/a, Francis de, is sent tp Hispaniola to in- 
uire into the conduct of Columbus, 77-3. Sends 
’olumbus home in irons, ib. Is degraded, 774. 
Bougainville, his defence of the Pei iplus of llanno. 
1025. 

Bnuguer, M., his character of the native Peruvians, 
104.3. 

Brazil, the coast of, discovered by Alvarez Ca¬ 
bral, 772. Remarks on the climate of, 1036. 
Bridges, Peruvian, described, 1069. 

Buenos Ayres, in South America, some account of 
that province, 95.3. 

Bulls, papal, of no force in Spanish America, be¬ 
fore examined and approved by the royal coun¬ 
cil of the Indies, 964. See Crusado. 

Burial of the dead, American mode of, 842. 

C 

Cabot, Giovanni, is appointed to command the 
first expedition to explore unknown countries, 

984. F.mbarks with his son at Bristol, ib. Dis¬ 
covers Newfoundland, ib. Returns to England, 

985. No advantage is derived from hisiliscover- 
ies, ib. The scheme is abandoned, ib. fie is 
appointed governor of a company of merchant 
adventurers, for whom he obtains a charter, 986. 

- - - Sebastian, sails on an expedition to South 
America, 986. Visits Brazil, and touches at 
Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, ib. His voyage 
extends the sphere of English navigation, and 
proves the means of opening an intercourse with 
the Archipelago, and some towns on the coast of 
Syria, ib. 

Cabral, Alvarez, a Portuguese commander, dis¬ 
covers the coast of Brazil, 772. 

Cacao, the best in quality, produced in the Spa¬ 
nish American colonies, 969. The preparation 
of chocolate from, derived from the Mexicans, 
975. 

Cadiz, the galeons and flota removed thither from 
Seville, 972. 

California, the peninsula of, discovered by Fer¬ 
nando Cortes, 895. The true state of this country 
long unknown, 950. Why depreciated by the 
Jesuits, 951. Favourable account of, given by 
don Joseph Galvez, ib. 

Californians, the character of, by P. Venegas, 1044. 
Campeachy, discovered bv Cordova, who is re¬ 
pulsed by the natives, 798. 

Campornanes, Don Pedro Rodriguez, character of 
his political and commercial writings, 1078. Ilis 
account of the produce of the Spanish American 
mines, 1080. 

Canary islands erected into a kingdom by pope 
Clement VI., 738. Are conquered by John de 
Bethencourt, ib. 


Cannibals, no people ever found to eat human 
flesh for subsistence, though often for revenge, 
8.34, 1048. 

Canoes, American, the construction of, described, 
839. 

Cameras, establishment of the company trading 
to that coast, 975. Growth of the trade, 1078. 

Caribbee islands discovered by Columbus in his 
second voyage, 761. 

Caribbees, their spirit peculiarly fierce, 851. Their 
character by M. de Chanvalon, 1044. Probable 
conjecture as to the distinction in character 
between them and the natives of the larger islands, 
1051. 

Carpini, his extraordinary mission to the princeof 
the Tartars, 736. 

Carthagena, the harbour of, the safest and best 
fortified of any in all the Spanish American do¬ 
minions, 95.3. 

Carthaginians, state of commerce and navigation 
among. 729. The famous voyages of Hanno and 
Himlico, ib. 

Carvajal, Francisco de, contributes to Vaca de 
Castro’s victory over young Almagro, 918. En¬ 
courages Gonzalo Pizarro to assume the govern¬ 
ment of Peru, 92.3. Advises Pizarro to assume 
the sovereignty of the country, 924. Is seized 
by Gasca, and executed, 928. 

Castillo, Bernal Diaz del, character of his Historia 
Verdadera de la Conquista de la Nueva Es- 
pagna, 1052. 

Centeno, Diego, revolts from Gonzalo Pizarro to 
the viceroy of Peru, 923. Is defeated by Carva¬ 
jal, and secretes himself in a cave, 924. Sallies 
out and seizes Cuzco, 927. Is reduced by Pi¬ 
zarro, 928. Is employed by Gasca to make 
discoveries in the regions about the river Plata, 
9.30. 

Chancellour, Richard, sails in search of a north¬ 
west passage, 986. '1 he fleet is scattered in a 
storm, ib. lie enters the White sea, and winters 
at Archangel, ib. Visits Moscow, a distance of 
1200 miles, and delivers a letter to the czar, ib. 
Is the means of opening a trade with Russia, 
987. Is empowered by queen Elizabeth to ne- 
gociate with the czar in her name, ib. 

Chanvalon, M. de, his character of the native Ca¬ 
ribbees, 1044. 

Chapetones, in the Spanish American colonies, 
who thus distinguished, 961. 

Charles HI. king of Spain, establishes packet-boats 
between Spain and the colonies, 976. Allows 
free trade to the Windward islands, ib. Grants 
the colonies a free trade with each other, 977- 

Charles V., emperor, sends Roderigo de Figueroa 
to Hispaniola, as chief judge, to regulate the 
treatment of the Indians, 794. Causes this sub¬ 
ject to be debated before him, 796. Equips a 
squadron at the solicitation of Ferdinand Magel¬ 
lan, 890. Resigns his claim on the Moluccas to 
the Portuguese, 892. Appoints Cortes governor 
of New Spain, 893. Rewards him on coming 
home, 894, 895. Establishes a board called the 
Audience of New Spain, 895. His consultations 
on American affairs, 919. Establishes new re¬ 
gulations, 920. 

Chesapeak. See Virginia. 

Chiti, is invaded by Almagro, 910. How sub¬ 
jected by the Spaniards, 951. Excellence of its 
climate and soil, 952. Cause of its being neg¬ 
lected, ib. Prospect of its improvement, ib. 

Chiquitos, political state of that people, from Fer¬ 
nandez, 1047. 

Chocolate, the use of, derived from the Mexicans, 
975. 

Cho/ula, in Mexico, arrived of Cortes there, with 
some account of the town, 865. A conspiracy 
against Cortes discovered, and the inhabitants de¬ 
stroyed, ib. 866. 

Church government, sentiments respecting, at the 
Reformation, 1010. Religious persecution in 
the reigns of queen Mary and queen Elizabeth, 
1011. Intolerant spirit of the church, 1012. Sepa¬ 
ration of the puritans from the church, ib. They 
are reduced into an ecclesiastical system by 
Robert Brown, a popular declaimer, and adopt 
the name of Brownists, ib. Take refuge in Hol¬ 
land, 1013. Remove thence to America, ib. 
Church government is established in Massachusetts 
bay, 1015. Its intolerance, 1016. The intoler¬ 
ance of l aud increases the emigrations from 
England, ib. 

Cicero, instance of his ignorance in geography, 
1027. 

Cina/oa, political state of the people there, 1047- 
Their mode of living, 1049. Are destitute of all 
religion, 1050. Extraordinary large grain of 
gold found there, 1<’69 ; 

Cinegvilla, in the province of Sonora, late dis¬ 
coveries of rich mines made there by the Spani¬ 
ards, 950. Probable effects of these discoveries, ib. 

Claviaero, M., several of his objections answered, 
1075,1076. 

Clement VI., pope, erects the Canary Islands into 
a kingdom, 7-38. 

Climates, influenced by a variety of causes, 802. 
'I heir operation on mankind, 850. Inquiry into 
the cause of the different degrees of heat in, 
10.35,1036. 

Cochineal, an important production, almost pecu¬ 
liar to New Spain, 969. 

Cold, extraordinary predominance of, in the cli¬ 
mate of America, 802. Causes of this peculi¬ 
arity, ib. 

Colonies, English American, project of settling 
them, 989. Two expeditions fail, ib. The first 
colony established in Virginia, 990. In danger of 
perishing by famine : it returns to England, ib. 
A second attempt made to settle there, but the 
colony perishes by famine, 991. The scheme of 
settling there is abandoned, ib. Circumstances 
in tlie reign of Elizabeth unfavourable to colo 


nization, 992. The reign of James favourable to 
the establishment of colonies, ib. James divides 
the coast of America into two parts, the one 
called the first or south colony of Virginia; the 
other, the second or north colony, 993. He 
grants charters to two companies for the govern¬ 
ment of them, ib. Tenor and defects of those 
charters, ib. Under these charters the settle¬ 
ments of the English in Virginia and New Eng¬ 
land were established, 994. Captain Newport 
sails from England for Virginia, and discovers 
the Chesapeak, ib. Sails up James river, and 
founds a settlement in James town, ib. Its bad 
administration, ib. It is annoyed by the In¬ 
dians, and suffers from scarcity and the un¬ 
healthiness of the climate, 995. Seasonable suc¬ 
cours are sent from England, ib. A survey of 
the country is undertaken, 996. The colony de¬ 
pends for subsistence chiefly on supplies from 
the natives, ib. A change is made in the consti¬ 
tution of the company, and a new charter is 
granted with more ample privileges, ib. Ford 
Delaware is appointed governor of the colony, 
ib. Anarchy prevails there, 997- It is almost 
reduced by famine, ib. Lord Delaware arrives, 
and by lus wise administration restores order 
and discipline, 998. His health obliges him to 
return to England, and he is superseded by sir 
Thomas Dale, who establishes martial law, ib. 
A new charter is issued to the colony, and new 
privileges are granted, ib. Cultivation of the 
land is prompted, and a treaty entered into with 
the natives, ib. The land in Virginia becomes 
property, 999. The culture of tobacco is intro¬ 
duced, and its pernicious consequences, ib. The 
company in England send out a number of 
young women to induce the colonists to form 
more extensive plans of industry, 1000. Negroes 
are first introduced, ib. A new constitution is 
given to the colony, ib. A general massacre of 
the English is planned by the Indians, and ex¬ 
ecuted in most of the settlements, 1001. A 
bloody war is commenced with the Indians,and 
neither old nor young are spared, ib. The set¬ 
tlements extend, and industry revives, 1002. 
Defects in the first constitution of the colonies, 
1004. King Charles’s arbitrary government ot 
them, ib. lie grants them new privileges, 1005. 
They flourish under the new government, ib. 
The colonists remain attached to the royal cause, 
and parliament makes war on Virginia, which 
is obliged to acknowledge the Commonwealth, 
ib. Restraints are laid on the trade of the colo¬ 
nies, 1006. The colonists are dissatisfied with 
these restraints, ib. Are the first to acknow¬ 
ledge Charles It., but their loyalty is ill re¬ 
warded, ib. Restraints on their commerce fur 
ther extended by the navigation act, ib. Effects 
of the act, 1007. Colonists remonstrate against 
it, ib. The colony of Virginia is attacked by the 
Indians, 1008. Discontents are produced by the 
grants of land by the crown, ib. A colony is 
established at New Plymouth, in New Eng¬ 
land, 101.3. Plan of its government, 1014. A 
grand council is appointed, ib. A new' colony 
is projected, ib. Settles at Massachusetts bay. 
1015. The charter of the company in E’ngland 
being transferred to the colonies, they extend in 
consequence of it, 1016, 1017. The colonists in¬ 
crease, 1018. New settlers arrive, ib. Sectaries 
settle in Providence and Rhode Island, 1019. 
Theological contests give rise to a colony at 
Connecticut,^. Emigrants from Massachusetts 
bay settle there, 1020. Settlements are formed 
in the provinces of New Hampshire and Main, 
ib. State of the colonies at the revolution, 
1022. Are exempted from certain duties, 102.3. 
Enter into a league of confederacy, ib. Assume 
the right of coining, ib. Are patronized by 
Cromwell, who proposes to transport them to 
Jamaica, ib. 1024. ’They decline his offer, 1024. 
See New England, Virginia,S^c. 

Colonies, Spanish American, view of the policy 
and trade of, 955. Depopulation the first effect 
of them, ib. Causes of this depopulation, ib. 
The small pox very fatal to, 956. General idea 
of the Spanish policy in, 957- Early interpo¬ 
sition of the regal authority in, ib. An exclu¬ 
sive trade the first object in, 959. Compared 
with those of ancient Greece and Rome, 960. 
The great restrictions they are subject to, ib. 
Slow progress of their population from Europe, 
ib. Are discouraged by the state of property 
there, ib. and by the nature of their ecclesias¬ 
tical policy, 961. The various classes of peo¬ 
ple in, ib. Ecclesiastical constitution of, 964. 
Form and endowments of the church there, ib. 
965. Pernicious effects of monastic institutions 
there, 965. Character of the ecclesiastics there, ib. 
Productions of, 967. The mines, 968. Those or 
Potosi and Sacotecas, ib. The spirit with which 
they are worked, ib. Fatal effects of this ardour, 
969. Other commodities that compose the com¬ 
merce of, ib. Amazing increase of horned cat¬ 
tle there, ib. Advantages which Spain formerly 
derived from them, 970. Why the same advan¬ 
tages are not still received, ib. Guarda Costas 
employed to check the contraband trade in, 974. 
The use of register ships introduced, ib. and 
galeons laid aside, 975. Company of the Ca- 
raccas instituted, ib. Establishment of regular 
packet boats to, 976. Free trade permitted be¬ 
tween them, 977- New regulations in the go¬ 
vernment of, ib. Reformation of the courts of 
justice, 978. New distribution of governments, 
ib. A fourth viceroyalty established, ib. At¬ 
tempts to reform domestic policy, ib. Their 
trade with the Philippine islands, 980. Revenue 
derived from, by Spain, ib. Expense of ad¬ 
ministration there, 981. State of population in, 
1070. I he number of monasteries there, 1073. 
See Mexico, Peru, &c. 

23 





INDEX TO THE 


Columbus, Bartholomew, is sent by his brother 
Christopher to negociate with Ilenry V11. king 
of England, 747. The misfortunes of his 
voyage, 748. Follows his brother at Hispa¬ 
niola, 704. Is vested with the administration of 
affairs there by his brother on his return to 
Spain, 766. Founds the town of St. Domingo, 
769. 

- - - - Christopher, birth and education of, 
744. His early voyages, ib. Marries and settles 
at Lisbon, 745. His geographical reflections, ib. 
Conceives the idea of making discoveries to the 
westward, 746. Offers his services to the Ge¬ 
noese senate, 747- Cause of his overtures being 
rejected in Portugal, ib. Applies to the courts 
of Castile and England, ib. His proposal how 
treated by the Spanish geographers, 748. Is 
patronized by Juan Perez, 749. His proposals 
again rejected, ib. Is invited by Isabella, and 
engaged in the Spanish service, 750. Prepara¬ 
tions for his voyage, 751. The amount of his 
equipment, ib. Sails from Spain, ib. His 
vigilant attention to all circumstances during 
his voyage, ib. Apprehensions of his crew, ib. 
FI is address in quieting their cabals, 752. Indi¬ 
cations of their approaching land, 753. An island 
discovered, 754. He lands, ib. His interview 
with the natives, ib. Names the island San 
Salvadore, 755. Prosecutes his discoveries south¬ 
ward, ib. Discovers and lands on the island of 
Cuba, ib. Discovers Hispaniola, 756. Suffers 
shipwreck, but is saved by the Indians, ib. 
Builds a fort, 757. Returns to Europe, 758. 
His expedient to preserve the memory of his 
discoveries during a storm, ib. Arrives at the 
Azores, 759. Arrives at Lisbon, ib. His recep 
tion in Spain, ib. His audience with Ferdinand 
and Isabella, ib. His equipment for a second 
voyage, 761). Discovers the Caribbee islands, 
761. Finds his colony on Hispaniola destroyed, 
ib. Builds a city, which he calls Isabella, 762. 
Visits the interior parts of the country, ib. His 
men discontented and factious, 763. Discovers 
the island of Jamaica, ib. Meets his brother 
Bartholomew at Isabella, 764. 1 he natives ill 
used by his men, and begin to be alarmed, ib. 
He defeats the Indians, 765. Exacts tribute 
from them, ib. Returns to Spain to justify his 
conduct, 766. Is furnished with a more regular 
plan for colonization, 767. His third voyage, 
768. Discovers the island of T rinidad, ib. Dis 
covers the continent of America, ib. State of 
Flispaniola on his arrival, 769. Composes the 
mutiny of Roldan and his adherents, ib. Is 
distressed by the factious behaviour of his men, 

772. Complaints carried to Spain against him, 

773. Is sent home in irons, ib. Clears his 
conduct, but is not restored to his authority, 774. 
Flis solicitations neglected, 775. Forms new 
schemes of discovery, ib. Engages in a fourth 
voyage, 776. Ilis treatment at Hispaniola, ib. 
Searches after a passage to the Indian ocean, 
777- Is shipwrecked on the coast of Jamaica, 
ib. Ilis artifice to secure the friendship of the 
Indians, 778. Is delivered, and arrives at His¬ 
paniola, 779. Returns to Spain, ib. His death, 
ib. His right to the original discovery of Ame¬ 
rica defended, 1030. The spirit of adventure 
raised in Fpgland by his discoveries, 984. Is 
checked by the want of skill in navigation, ib. 
His system of opening a passage to India by 
steering a western course is adopted by Cabot, 
ib. 

r - - Don Diego, sues out his claim to his 
father’s privileges, 783. Marries, and goes over 
to Hispaniola, ib. Establishes a pearl fishery 
at Cubagua, ib. Projects the conquest of Cuba, 
78.5. His measures thwarted by Ferdinand, 79o. 
Returns to Spain, 791. 

Commerce, the era from which its commencement 
is to be dated, 727. Motives to an intercourse 
among distant nations, 728, Still flourished in 
the eastern empire after the subversion of the 
western, 734. Revival of, in Europe, 737. 

Compass, mariner’s, navigation extended more by 
the invention of, than by all the efforts of pre¬ 
ceding ages,737. By whom invented, ib. 

Condamine, M., his account of the country at the 
foot of the Andes, in South America, 1037. His 
remarks on the character of the native Ameri¬ 
cans, 1043. 

Congo, the kingdom of, discovered by the Portu¬ 
guese, 743. 

Constantinople, the consequence of removing the 
seat of the Roman empire to, 734. Continued a 
commercial city after the extinction of the west¬ 
ern empire, ib. Became the chief mart of Italy, 

Cordova, Francisco Hernandez, discovers Yuca¬ 
tan, 798. Is repulsed at Campeachy, and re¬ 
turns to Cuba, ib. 

Corita, Alonzo, his observations on the contraband 
trade of the Spanish colonies, 979. Character of 
his American memoirs, 1064. 

Cortes, Fernando, his birth, education, and cha¬ 
racter, 852. Is by Velasquez appointed com¬ 
mander of the armament fitted out by him 
against "New Spain, ib. Velasquez becomes 
jealous of him, ib. Velasquez sends order to 
deprive him of his commission, and lay him 
under an arrest, 853. Is protected by his troops, 
ib. The amount of his forces, ib. Reduces the 
Indians at Tabasco, 854. Arrives at St. Juan 
de Ulua, ib. His interview with two Mexican 
commanders, 855. Sends presents to Monte¬ 
zuma, ib. Receives others in return, 856. His 
schemes, 857. Establishes a form of civil go¬ 
vernment, 858. Resigns his commission under 
Velasquez, and assumes the command in the 
king’s name, 859. His friendship courted by 
the Zempoallans, ib. Builds a fort, 860. Con¬ 
cludes a formal alliance with several caziques, 


ib. Discovers a conspiracy among his men, and 
destroys his ships. 861. Advances into the coun¬ 
try, 862. is opposed by the Tlascalans, ib. Con¬ 
cludes a peace with them, 864. His rash zeal, 
865. Proceeds to Cholula, ib. Discovers a con¬ 
spiracy against him there, anil destroys the in¬ 
habitants, ib. Approaches in sight of the capital 
city of Mexico, 866. His first interview with 
Montezuma, 867. His anxiety at his situation 
in the city of Mexico, 868, Seizes Montezuma, 
869. Orders him to be fettered, 8*0, Reasons 
of his conduct, ib. Prevails on Montezuma to 
own himself a vassal to the Spanish crown, 871. 
Amount and division of his treasure, 872. En¬ 
rages the Mexicans by his imprudent zeal, ib. 
An armament sent by Velasquez to supersede 
him, 873. His deliberations on this event, 874. 
Advances to meet Narvaez, 875. Defeats Nar¬ 
vaez, and takes him r>risoner, 876. Gains over 
the Spanish soldiers to his interest, 877- Returns 
to Mexico, ib. Mis improper conduct on his 
arrival, ib. Is resolutely attacked by the Mexi¬ 
cans, 878. Attacks them in return without suc¬ 
cess, ib. Death of Montezuma, ib. Ilis extra¬ 
ordinary escape from death, 879. Abandons the 
city of Mexico, ib. Is attacked by the Mexicans, 
ib. His great josses in the encounter, 880. Dif¬ 
ficulties of his retreat, ib. Battle of Otumba, 
881. Defeats the Mexicans, ib. Mutinous spirit 
of his troops, 882. Reduces the Tepeacans, ib. 
Is strengthened by several reinforcements, 883. 
Returns towards Mexico, ib. Establishes his 
head-quarters at Tezeuco, 884. Reduces or 
conciliates the surrounding country, ib. Cabals 
among his troops, ib. His prudence in suppress¬ 
ing them, 885. Builds and launches a fleet of 
brigantines on the lake, 886. Besieges Mexico, 
ib. Makes a grand assault to take the city by 
storm, but is repulsed, 887. Evades the Mexi¬ 
can prophecy, 888. Takes Guatimozin prisoner, 
889. Gains possession of the city, ib. and of the 
whole empire, 890. Defeats another attempt to 
supersede him in his command, 892. Is ap 
pointed governor of New Spain, 893. His 
schemes and arrangements, ib. Cruel treatment 
of the natives, ib. His conduct subjected to in¬ 
quiry, 894. Returns to Spain to justify himself, 
ib. Is rewarded by the emperor Charles V., 
895. Goes back to Mexico with limited powers, 
ib. Discovers California, ib. Returns to Spain 
and dies, ib. Inquiry into the nature of his 
letters to the emperor Charles V,, 1052. An 
th.irs who wrote of his conquest of New SpaiD, ib. 

Council oi the Indies, its power, 959. 

Creoles in the Spanish American colonies, charac¬ 
ter of, 961. 

Croylan, colonel George, his account of the dis¬ 
covery of the bones of a large extinct species of 
animals in North America, 1038. 

Crusades to the Holy Land, the great political 
advantages derived from, by the European na¬ 
tions, 735, 736. 

Cruzado, bulls of, published regularly every two 
years in the Spanish colonies, 981. Prices of, 
and amount of the sale at the last publication, 
1079. 

Cuba, the island of, discovered by Christopher 
Columbus, 755. Is sailed round by Ocampo, 
783. The conquest of, undertaken by Diego 
Velasquez, 785. Cruel treatment of the cazique 
Ilatuey, and his repartee to a friar, ib. Colum¬ 
bus’s enthusiastic description of a harbour in, 
1029. The tobacco produced there the finest in 
all America, 969. 

Cubagua, a pearl fishery established there, 783. 

Cumana, the natives of, revenge their ill treatment 
by the Spaniards, 796. The country desolated 
by Diego Ocampo, 797- 

Cuzco, the capital of the Peruvian empire, founded 
by Manco Capac, 901. Is seized by Pizarro, 
908. Is besieged by the Peruvians, 911. Is 
surprised by Almagro, ib. Is recovered and 
pillaged by the Pizarros, 913. Was the only 
city in all Peru, 948. 

D 

Dancing, the love of, a favourite passion among 
the Americans, 844. 

Darien, the isthmus of, described, 787. The in¬ 
crease of settlement there, obstructed by the 
noxiousness of the climate, 953. 

Delaware, lord, is appointed governor of Virginia. 
996. His wise administration there, 998. Is 
obliged to return to England on account of his 
health, ib. 

De Solis, his unfortunate expedition up the river 
Plata, 790. 

- -- - Antonio, character of his Historia de la 
Conquista de Mexico, 1052, 

D'Esquilacbe, prince, viceroy of Peru, his vigorous 
measures for restraining the excesses of the re¬ 
gular clergy there, 966. Rendered ineffectual, ib. 

Diaz, Bartholomew, discovers the Cape of Good 
Hope, 743. 

Discoveries, the difference between those made by 
land and those by sea stated, 1026. 

DodwelL his objections to the Periplus of Hanno 
exploded, 1025. 

Domingo, St., on the island of Hispaniola, found¬ 
ed by Bartholomew Columbus, 769. 

Dominicans, those in Flispaniola publicly remon¬ 
strate against the cruel treatment of the Indians, 
791. See Las Casas. 

Drake, sir Francis, sails round the world, 988. 

Drunkenness, strong propensity of the Americans 
to indulge in, 845. 

E 

Earth, the globe of, how divided into zones by the 
ancients, 733. 


Egyptians, ancient, state of commerce and naviga¬ 
tion among them, 728, 

El Dorado, wonderful reports of a country so call¬ 
ed, made by Francis Orellana, 916. 

Elephant, that animal peculiar to the torrid zone, 
1038. 

Elizabeth, the reign of, auspicious to discovery, 
987. She encourages commerce, and secures the 
trade to Russia, 988. Circumstances in her 
reign unfavourable to colonization, 992. Her 
high idea of her superior skill in theology, 1011, 
note. 

Escurial, curious calendar discovered in the 
library there by Mr. Waddilove, 1066. Descrip¬ 
tion of that valuable monument of Mexican 
art, ib. 

Esquimaux Indians, resemblance between them 
and their neighbours the Greenlanders, 810. 
Some account of, 1050. 

Eugene IV., pope, grants to the Portuguese an ex¬ 
clusive right to all the countries they should 
discover, from Cape Non to the continent of 
India, 741. 

Europe, how affected by the dismemberment of 
the Roman empire by the barbarous nations,734. 
Revival of commerce and navigation in, 735. 
Political advantages derived from the crusades, 
736. 

F 

Ferdinand, king of Castile—see Columbus and 
Isabella —turns his attention at length to the re¬ 
gulation of American affairs, 781. Don Diego 
de Columbus sues out his father’s claims against 
him, 783. Erects two governments on the conti¬ 
nent of America, 784. Sends a fleet to Darien, 
and supersedes Balboa, 789. Appoints Balboa 
lieutenant-governor of the countries on the South 
sea, ib. Sends Dias de Solis to discover a 
western passage to the Moluccas, 790. Thwarts 
the measures of Diego Columbus, ib. His decree 
concerning the treatment of the Indians, 791. 
Fernandez, Don Diego, character of his Flistoria 
del Peru, 1059. 

- - - - P., his description of the political state 
of the Chiquitos, 1047. 

Figueroa, Roderigo d.e, is appointed chief judge of 
Hispaniola, with a commission to examine into 
the treatment of the Indian natives, 794. Makes 
an experiment to determine the capacity of the 
Indians, 797. 

Florida, discovered by Juan Ponce de Leon, 786. 
The chiefs there hereditary, 829. Account of, 
from A1 vara Nugnez Cabeca de Vaca, 1045. 
Flota, Spanish, some account of, 972. 

Fonseca, bishop of Badajos, minister for Indian 
affairs, obstructs the plans of colonization and 
discovery formed by Columbus, 765,768. Patro¬ 
nizes the expedition of Alonzo de Ojeda, 771. 
Frobisher, Martin, makes three unsuccessful at¬ 
tempts to discover a north-east passage to India, 
988. 

G 

Galeons, Spanish, the nature and purpose of these 
vessels, 972. Arrangement of their voyage, xb. 
Galvez, Don Joseph, sent to discover the true 
state of California, 951. 

Gama, Vasco de, his voyage for discovery, 770. 
Doubles the Cape of Good Hope, ib. Anchors 
before the city of Melinda, ib. Arrives at Cale- 
cut, in Malabar, 771. 

Gaming, strange propensity of the Americans to, 
844. 

Ganges, erroneous ideas of the ancients as to the 
position of that river, 1026. 

Gasca, Pedro de la, sent to Peru as president of 
the court of audience in Lima, 925. Ilis character 
and mqderation, 926. The powers he was vested 
with, ib. Arrives at Panama, ib. Acquires pos¬ 
session of Panama with the fleet and forces there, 
927. Advances towards Cuzco, 928. Pizarro's 
troops desert to him, ib. His moderate use of 
the victory, ib. Devises employment for his 
soldiers, 930. His division of the country among 
his followers, ib. The discontents it occasions, 
ib. Restores order and government, ib. His 
reception at his return to Spain, 931. 

Geminus, instance of his ignorance in geography. 

Geography, the knowledge of, extremely confined 
among the ancients, 733. Became a favourite 
study among the Arabians, 735. 

Giants, the accounts of, in our early travellers, 
unconfirmed by recent discoveries, 737, 1U42. 
1043. 

Gilbert, sir Humphrey, conducts the first colony 
to North America, 989. A charter is granted to 
him and his heirs, ib. Conducts another expe¬ 
dition, which ends disastrously, and in which he 
perishes, ib. 

Gioia, Flavio, the inventor of the mariner’s com¬ 
pass, 737-. 

Globe, its division into zones by the ancients, 733. 
Gold, why the first metal with which man was ac¬ 
quainted, 826. Extraordinary large grain of, 
found in the mines at Cinaloa, 1069. 

Gomara, character of his Cronica de la Nueva 
Espagna, 1052. 

Good Hope, Cape of, discovered by Bartholomew 
Diaz, 743. 

Gcsnold, Bartholomew, is the first who attempts to 
steer a direct course from England to North 
America, 992 Descries Massachusetts bay, and 
returns to England, ib. T he consequences of his 
voyage, ib. 

Government, no visible form of, among the native 
Americans, 828. Exceptions, 829. 

Gran Chaco , account of the method of making war 
among the natives of, from Lozano, 1047, 1048. 




Granada, new kingdom of, in America, by whom 
reduced to the Spanish dominion, 954. Its cli- 
mate and produce, ib. A viceroy lately esta¬ 
blished there, 958. 

Greeks, ancient, progress of navigation and dis¬ 
covery among them, 730. Their commercial 
intercourse with other nations very limited, ib 
731. 


Greenland, its vicinity to North America, 810. 

Greenville, sir /Richard, establishes a colony in 
V lrginia, which, being in danger of perishing by 
famine, is obliged to return to England, 990. 
Appears off the coast soon after the departure 
pt the colony, and lands fifteen of his crew to 
keep possession ottlie island, who are destroyed 
by the savages, 991. 

Grijalva, Juan de, sets out from Cuba on a voyage 
of discovery, 799. Discovers and gives name 
to New Spain, ib. His reasons for not planting 
a colony in his newly discovered lands, 800. 

Gvarda Costas, employed by Spain to check illicit 
trade in the American colonies, 974. 

Guatimala, the indigo there superior to any in 
America, 969. 

Gvatimozin, nephew' and son in-law of Montezuma, 
succeeds Quetlavaca in the kingdom of Mexico, 
884. Repulses the attacks of the Spaniards in 
storming the city of Mexico, 887. Is taken 
prisoner by Cortes,889. Is tortured to discover 
his treasure, 890. Is hanged, 893. 

(miana, Dutch, cause of the excessive fertility of 
the soil there, 1039. 


H 

Haklvyt improves the naval and commercial skill 
of the age in which he lived, 992, 993. Is em¬ 
powered to settle any part of the south colony of 
Virginia, 993. 

Hanna, his Periplus defended, with an account of 
his voyage, 1025. 

Ilatuey , a cazique of Cuba, his cruel treatment, 
and memorable repartee to a Franciscan friar. 785. 
Ilawkesworth's voyages, account of New Holland, 
and the inhabitants from, 1046. 

Heat , the different degrees of, in the old and new 
continents, accounted for, 1035. Estimated, 
1038. 

Henry, prince of Portugal, his character and 
studies, 739, 740. F.xpeditions formed by his 
order, 740. Applies for a papal grant of his new 
discoveries, 741. His death, 742. 

Herrada , Juan de, assassinates Francis Pizarro, 
917. Dies, 918. 

Herrera, the best historian of the conquest of New 
Spain, 1053. His account of Orellana’s voyage, 
1062. 

Hispaniola, the island of. discovered by Christo¬ 
pher Columbus, 756. PI is transactions with the 
natives, ib. A colony left there by Columbus, 
758. The colony destroyed, 761. Columbus 
builds a city called Isabella, 762. 'T he natives 
ill used, and begin to be alarmed, 763. Are de¬ 
feated by the Spaniards, 765. Tribute exacted 
from them, ib. 'They scheme to starve the Spani¬ 
ards, ib. St. Domingo founded by Bartholo¬ 
mew Columbus, 769- Columbus sent home in 
irons by Bovadilla, 773. Nicholas de Ovando 
appointed governor, 774. Summary view of the 
conduct of the Spaniards towards the natives of, 
779, 780. Unhappy fate of Anacoana, 781. 
Creat produce from the mines there, ib. The 
inhabitants diminish, 782. The Spaniards 
recruit them by trepanning > the natives of 
the Lucayos, ib. Arrival of Don Diego de 
Columbus, 783. The natives of, almost extir¬ 
pated by slavery, 785, 791. Controversy con¬ 
cerning the treatment of them, 791. Columbus’s 
account of the humane treatment he received 
from the natives of, 1029. Curious instance of 
superstition in the Spanish planters there, 1038. 
Holguin, Pedro Alvarez, erects the royal standard 
in Peru, in opposition to the younger Almagro, 

. 918. Vaca de Castro arrives, and assumes the 

command, ib. 

Homer, his account of the navigation of the ancient 
Greeks, 730. 

Honduras, the value of that country, owing to its 
production of the logwood-tree, 951. 

Horned cattle, amazing increase of them in Spanish 
America, 969, 970. 

Horses, astonishment and mistakes of the Mexicans 
at the first sight of them, 1054. Expedient of 
the Peruvians to render them incapable of action, 
1062. 

I Juana, Capac, 'inca of Peru, his character and 
family, 901. 

Huascar Capac, inca of Peru, disputes his brother 
Atahualpa’s succession to Quito, 901. Is de¬ 
feated and taken prisoner by Atahualpa, 902. 
Solicits the assistance of Pizarro against his 
brother, ib. Is put to death by order of Ata¬ 
hualpa, 905. 

Hutchinson, Mrs., heads a sect of religious women 
in New England, who are denominated Antino- 
mians, 1019. Her doctrines are condemned by 
a general synod there, ib. 

I 

Incas of Peru, received origin of their empire, 901. 
Their empire founded both in religion and policy, 
943, 944. See Peru. 

India, the motives of Alexander the Great in his 
expedition to, 731. The commerce with, how 
carried on in ancient times, 732. and when arts 
began to revive in Europe, 735. The first voy¬ 
age made round the Cape of Good Hope, 770. 
Attempts to discover a north-west passage to, 
unsuccessful, 986, 988. An attempt made by 
the north east to, 986. A company of merchants 
in England is incorporated to prosecute disco- 


HISTORY OF AMERICA. 

veries in, ib. A communication with, attempted 
by land, 987. The design is encouraged by 
queen Elizabeth, 988. 

Indians in Spanish America. See Americans. 

Indies, West, why Columbus’s discoveries were 
so named, 760. 

Innocent TV., pope, his extraordinary mission to 
the prince of the Tartars, 736. 

Inquisition, court of, when and by whom first in¬ 
troduced into Portugal, 1028. 

Insects and reptiles, why so numerous and noxious 
in America, 804. 

Iron, the reason why savage nations were unac¬ 
quainted with this metal, 826. 

Isabella ,.queen of Castile, is applied to by Juan 
Perez in behalf of Christopher Columbus, 749. 
Is again applied to by Quintanilla and Santan- 
gel, 750. Is prevailed on to equip him, ib. 
Dies, 779. Her real motives for encouraging 
discoveries in America, 956. 

- - - - the city of, in Hispaniola, built by 
Christopher Columbus, 762. 

Italy, the first country in Europe where civiliza¬ 
tion and arts revived after the overthrow of the 
Roman empire, 735. The commercial spirit of, 
active and enterprising, ib. 

J 

Jamaica, discovered by Christopher Columbus, 
763. 

Jerome, St., three monks of that order sent by car¬ 
dinal Ximenes to Hispaniola, to regulate the 
treatment of the Indians, 793. Their conduct 
under this commission, ib. are recalled, 794. 

Jesuits, acquire an absolute dominion over Cali¬ 
fornia, 951. Their motives for depreciating the 
country, ib. 

Jews, ancient state of commerce and navigation 
among them, 729. 

John I., king of Portugal, the first who sent ships 
to explore the western coasts of Africa, 739. His 
son, prince Henry, engages in these attempts, ib. 

- - II., king of Portugal, patronizes all attempts 
towards discoveries, 742. Sends an embassy to 
Abyssinia, 744. His ungenerous treatment of 
Columbus, 747. 


L 

Ladrone islands, discovered by Ferdinand Ma¬ 
gellan, 891. 

Lakes, amazing size of those in North America, 
801. 

Las Casas, Bartholomew, returns from Hispaniola 
to solicit the cause of the enslaved Indians at 
the court of Spain, 792. Is sent hack with powers 
by cardinal Xitnenes,793. Returns dissatisfied, 
794. Procures a new commission to be sent over 
on this subject, ib. Recommends the scheme of 
supplying the colonies with negroes, ib. Under¬ 
takes a new colony, 795. His conference with 
the bishop of Darien before the emperor Charles 
V., 796. Goes to America to carry his schemes 
into execution, ib. Circumstances unfavourable 
to him, 797- His final miscarriage, ib. Revives 
his representations in favour of the Indians, at 
the desire of the emperor, 920. Composes a 
treatise on the destruction or America, ib. 

Leon, Pedro C’ieza de, character of his Cronica 
del Peru, 1059. 

I^ery, his description of the courage and ferocity 
of the Toupinambos, 1048. 

Lima, the city of, in Peru, founded by Pizarro, 
909. 

Listen, Mr., the British minister at Madrid, his 
answer to several interesting inquiries relating 
to the admission of Indians into holy orders, 
1075, 1076. 

Logwood, the commodity that gives importance to 
the provinces of Honduras and Yucatan, 951. 
Policy of the Spaniards to defeat the English 
trade in, ib. 

Louis, St., king of France, his embassy to the 
Chan of the Tartars, 736. 

Lozano, his account of the method of making war 
among the natives of Gran Chaco, 1047, 1048. 

Lvqye, Hernando de, a priest, associates with 
Pizarro in his Peruvian expedition, 896. 

M 

Madeira, the island of, first discovered, 740. 

Madoc, prince of North Wales, story of his voy¬ 
age and discovery of 'North America examined, 
10.31. 

Magellan, Ferdinand, his account of the gigantic 
size of the Patagonians, 817- The existence of 
this gigantic race yet to be decided, ib. 1042, 
1043. His introduction to the court of Castile, 
890. Is equipped with a squadron for a voyage 
of discovery, 891. Sails through the famous 
strait that bears his name, ib. Discovers the 
Padrone and Philippine islands, ib. Is killed, 
ib. 

Magnet, its property of attracting iron known to 
the ancients, but not its polar inclination, 728. 
Extraordinary advantages resulting from this 
discovery, 737. 

Malo, St., account of its commerce with Spanish 
America, 974. 

Manco Capac, founder of the Peruvian empire, 
account of, 901. 

Mandeville, sir John, his eastern travels, with a 
character of his writings, 737- 

Manila, the colony of, established by Philip TT. of 
Spain, 980. Trade between, and South Ameri¬ 
ca, ib. 

Mankind, their disposition and manners formed 
by their situation, 806. Hence resemblances to 
be traced in very distant places without com¬ 
munication, ib. Have uniformly attained the 


greatest perfection of their nature in temperate 
regions, 85o. 

Marco Polo, the Venetian, his extraordinary tra¬ 
vels in the East, 737. 

Marest, Gabriel, his account of the country be¬ 
tween the Illinois and Machilimakinac, 1046. 
Marina, Donna, a Mexican slave, her history, 
854. 

Marinus, Tyrius, his erroneous position of China, 
1028. 

Martyr, Peter, his sentiments on the first disco¬ 
very of America, 1032. 

Maryland. See Virginia. 

Massachusetts bay. See America, New Eng¬ 
land, &c. 

Merchants, English, the right of property in the 
North American colonies vested in a company 
of, resident in London, 991. Charters are grant¬ 
ed to two companies of, to make settlements in 
America, 993. 1 enor and defects of these char¬ 

ters, ib. A new charter is granted to them, with 
more ample privileges, 996. 1 hey are divided 
by factions, 1002. An inquiry is instituted into 
their conduct, ib. They are required to surren¬ 
der their charter, which they refuse, 1003. A 
writ of quo warranto is issued out against them, 
ib. They are tried in the court of King’s Bench, 
and the company is dissolved, ib. Their charter 
is transferred to the colonies, 1004. 

Mestizos, in the Spanish American colonies, dis¬ 
tinction between them and mulattoes, 962. 
Metals, useful, the original natives of America 
totally unacquainted with, 826. 

Mexicans, their account of their owrn origin, com¬ 
pared with later discoveries, 810. Their paint¬ 
ings few in number, and of ambiguous mean¬ 
ing. 933. Two collections of them discovered, 
ib. note. Their language furnished with respect¬ 
ful terminations for all its words, 1064. How 
they contributed to the support of government, 
ib. Descriptions of their historical pictures, ib. 
1065. Various exaggerated accounts of the num¬ 
ber of human victims sacrificed by them, 1067. 
Mexico, arrival of Fernando Cortes on the coast 
of, 854. His interview with two Mexican offi¬ 
cers, 855. Information sent to Montezuma, with 
some Spanish presents, ib. Montezuma sends 
presents to Cortes, with orders not to approach 
nis capital, 856. State of the empire at that 
time, ib. The Zempoallans court the friend¬ 
ship of Cortes, 859. Several caziques enter into 
alliance with Cortes, 860. Character of the 
natives of TTascala, 862. The Tlascalans re¬ 
duced to sue for peace, 864. Arrival of Cortes 
at the capital city, 866. The city described,867. 
Montezuma acknow ledges himself a vassal to the 
Spanish crown, 871. Amount of the treasure 
collected by Cortes, 872. Reasons of gold being 
found in such small quantities, ib. 1 he Mexi¬ 
cans enraged by the imprudent zeal of Cortes, ib. 
Attack Alvarado during the absence of Cortes, 
877. Their resolute attack on Cortes when he 
returned, 878. Death of Montezuma, 879. The 
city abandoned by Cortes, ib. Battle of 
Otumba, 881. The" Tepeacans reduced, 882. 
Preparations of the Mexicans against the return 
of Cortes, 883. Cortes besieges the city with a 
fleet on the lake, 886. The Spaniards repulsed 
in storming the city, 887- Guatimozin taken 
prisoner, 889. Cortes appointed governor, 893. 
His schemes and arrangements, ib. inhuman 
treatment of the natives, ib. Reception of the 
new regulations there, 894. List and character 
of those authors who wrote accounts of the con¬ 
quest of, 1052. A retrospect into the form of 
government, policy, and arts in, 931, 932. Our 
information concerning, very imperfect, 932. 
Origin of the monarchy, 933. Number and 
greatness of the cities, 934. Mechanical pro¬ 
fessions there distinguished from each other, ib. 
Distinction of ranks.fi. Political institutions, 

935. Power and splendour of their monarchs, 

936. Order of government, ib. Provision for 
the support of it, ib. Police of, 937. Their arts, 
ib. T heir paintings, ib. Their method of com¬ 
puting time, 939. Their wars continual and 
ferocious, ib. Their funeral rites, ib. Imperfec 
tion of their agriculture, ib. Doubts concern 
ing the extent of the empire, ib. Little inter¬ 
course among its several provinces, 940. Igno¬ 
rance of money, ib. State of their cities, 941. 
Temples and other public buildings, ib. Reli¬ 
gion of, 942. Causes of the depopulation of this 
country, 955. The small-pox very fatal there, 
956. Number of Indian natives remaining there, 
957- Description of the aqueduct for the supply 
of the capital city. 1064. See Colonies. 

Michael, St. the gulf of, in the South sea, disco¬ 
vered and named by Balboa, 788. The colony 
of, established by Pizarro, 900. 

Migrations of mankind, why first made by land. 
727. 

Mind, human, the efforts of it proportioned to the 
wants of the body, 820. 

Mines of South America, the great inducement to 
population, 950. Some account of, 968. Their 
produce, ib. The spirit with which they are 
worked, ib. Fatal effects of this ardour, 969. 
Evidence of the pernicious effects of labouring 
in them, 1072. Of Mexico, total produce of, to 
the Spanish revenue, 1079, 1080. 

Molucca islands, the Spanish claims on, sold by 
the emperor Charles V. to the Portuguese, 892. 
Monastic institutions, the pernicious effects of, in 
the Spanish American colonies, 965. Number 
of convents there, 1073. 

Monsoons, the periodical course of, when disco¬ 
vered by navigators, 732. 

Montesino, a Dominican preacher at St. Domingo, 
publicly remonstrates against the cruel treat¬ 
ment of the Indians, 791. 

Montezuma, the first intelligence received by the 

25 





INDEX TO THE 


Spaniards of this prince, 799. Receives intelli¬ 
gence of the arrival of Fernando Cortes in his 
dominions, 855. Flis presents to Cortes, 856. 
Forbids him to approach his capital, ih. State 
of his empire at this time, ib. Ilis character, ib. 
11 is perplexity at the arrival of the Spaniards, 
857. His timid negociations with Cortes, ib. 
ilis scheme for destroying Cortes at Cholula 
discovered, 865. His irresolute conduct, 866. 
ilis first interview with Cortes, 867. Is seized 
by Cortes, and confined to the Spanish quarters, 
869. Is fettered, 870. Acknowledges himself a 
vassal to the Spanish crown, 871. Remains in¬ 
dexible with regard to religion, 872. Cir¬ 
cumstances of his death, 879. Account of a gold 
cup of liis in England, 1064. 

J1 iulattoes, in the Spanish American colonies, ex¬ 
planation of this distinction, 962. 

N 


Pizarros, and is defeated and killed by them, 


913. 

Orinoco, the great river of, discovered by Christo¬ 
pher Columbus, 768. Strange method of choosing 
a captain among the Indian tribes on the banks 
of, 835. The amazing plenty of fish in, 1045. 

Otaheite, the inhabitants of, igjiorant of the art of 
boiling water, 1050. 

Otumba, battle of, between Cortes and the Mexi¬ 
cans, 881. 

Ovando, Nicholas de, is sent governor to Hispani¬ 
ola, 775. His prudent regulations, ib. Refuses 
admission to Columbus, on his fourth voyage, 
776. His ungenerous behaviour to Columbus, 
on his shipwreck, 777, 778. Receives him at 
length, and sends hint home, 779- Engages in a 
war with the Indians, 780. His cruel treatment 
of them, ib. Encourages cultivation and manu¬ 
factures, 781. His method of trepanning the na¬ 
tives of the Lucayos, 782. Is recalled, 783. 


Narvaez, Pamphilo, is sent by Velasquez with an 
armament to Mexico, to supersede Cortes, 874. 
Takes possession of Zempoalla, 875. Is defeated 
and taken prisoner by Cortes, 876. How he 
carried on his correspondence with Montezuma, 
1056. 

Natchez, an American nation, their political insti¬ 
tutions, 829. Causes of their tame submission to 
the Spaniards, 830. Their religious doctrines, ib. 

Navigation, the arts of, very slowly improved by 
mankind, 727 . The knowledge of, prior to com¬ 
mercial intercourse, ib. Imperfections of, among 
the ancients, 728. More improved by the inven¬ 
tion of the mariner’s compass than by all the ef¬ 
forts of preceding ages, 737. The first naval dis¬ 
coveries undertaken by Portugal, 738. 

Negroes, their peculiar situation under the Spanish 
dominion in America, 962. Are first introduced 
into Virginia, 1000. 

New England, first attempts to settle in, unsuccess¬ 
ful. 1010. Religious disputes give rise to the 
colony there, ib. A settlement is formed at New 
Plymouth in Massachusetts bay, 1013. Plan of 
its government, 1014. All property is thrown 
into a common stock, ib. A grand council is ap¬ 
pointed, ib. A new colony is projected at Mas¬ 
sachusetts bay, and a charter granted for its esta¬ 
blishment, ib. 1015. Its settlement there, 1015. 
A new church is instituted there, 1016. Its in¬ 
tolerance, ib. Chartet of the English company 
of merchants in London is transferred to the co¬ 
lonies, ih. The colony at Massachusetts bay ex¬ 
tends, 1017 . None but members of the church 
are admitted as freemen there, ib. Bad conse¬ 
quences of this regulation, ib. The settlement 
increases, and the assembly is restricted to the 
representatives of freemen, 1018. Extent of po¬ 
litical liberty assumed by the assembly, ib. 
Spirit of fanaticism spreads in the colony, ib. 
New settlers arrive, and the doctrines of the An- 
tinomians are condemned by a general synod, 
1019. Sectaries settle in Providence and Rhode 
island, ib. 't heological contests give rise to the 
colony of Connecticut, ib. Emigrants from 
Massachusetts bay settle in Connecticut, 1020. 
The Dutch, who had established a few trading 
towns on the river there, peaceably withdraw, ib. 
Settlements are formed in the provinces of New 
Hampshire and Main, ih. Further encroach¬ 
ments of the English are resisted by the natives, 
tb. War with the Pequod tribes is commenced, 
1021. Purification of the army, ib. The Indi¬ 
ans are defeated, ib. Cruelties exercised against 
them, ib. Emigrations from England to the co¬ 
lonies are prohibited by proclamation, 1022. Co¬ 
lony of Massachusetts bay is sued at law, and 
found to have forfeited its rights, ib. Confede¬ 
racy of the states in, 1023. See Colonies. 

Newfoundland, its situation described, 1035. Dis¬ 
covery of, by Cabot, 98-4. 

New Holland, some account of the country and 
inhabitants, 1046. 

New Plymouth, settlement at, 1013. See Colonies, 
New England. 

New Spain, discovered and named by Juan de 
Grijalva, 799. See Mexico. 

Nigno, Alonso, his voyage to America, 772. 

Norwegians might in ancient times have migrated 
to, and colonized, America,810. 

Nngnez Vela, Blasco, appointed viceroy of Peru, 
to enforce the new regulations, 921. His cha¬ 
racter, 922. Commits Vaca de Castro to prison, 
ib. Dissensions between him and the court of 
audience, 923. Is confined, ib. Recovers his 
liberty, ib. Resumes his command, 924. Is 
pursued by Gonzalo Pizarro, ib. Is defeated 
and killed by Pizarro, ib. 

O 

Ocampo, Diego, sent with a squadron from His¬ 
paniola to desolate the country of Cumana, 797. 

- - - Sebastian de, first sails round Cuba, and 
discovers it to be an island, 783. 

Ocean, though adapted to facilitate the intercourse 
betvveen distant countries, continued long a for¬ 
midable barrier, 727. See Compass and Navi¬ 
gation. 

Ojeda, Alonzo de, his private expedition to the 
West Indies, 771- His second voyage,775. Ob¬ 
tains a government on the continent, 784. 

Omedo, father Bartholomew de, checks the rash 
zeal of Cortes at Tlascala in Mexico, 865. Is 
sent by Cortes to negociate with Narvaez, 875. 

Orellana, Francis, is appointed to the command of 
a bark built by Gonzalo Pizarro, and deserts 
him, 916. Sails down the Maragnon, ib. Re¬ 
turns to Spain with a report of wonderful dis¬ 
coveries, ib. Herrera’s account of his voyage, 
10f.2. 

Oryognez commands Almagro’s party against the 


P 

Pacific ocean, why and by whom so named, 891. 

Packet boats, first establishment of, between Spain 
and her American colonies, 976. 

Panama is settled by Pedrarias Davila, 790. 

Parmenides, the first who divided the earth by 
zones, 1027. 

Patagonians, some account of, 817- The reality 
of their gigantic size yet to be decided, ib. 1042, 
1043. 

Pedrarias Davila is sent with a fleet to supersede 
Balboa in his government of Santa Maria on the 
isthmus of Darien, 788. Treats Balboa ill, 789. 
Rapacious conduct of his men, ib. Is reconciled 
to Halboa, and gives him his daughter, ib. Puts 
Balboa to death, 790. Removes his settlement 
from Santa Maria to Panama, ib. 

Penguin, the name of that bird not derived from 
the Welch language, 1031. 

Perez, Juan, patronizes Columbus at the court of 
Castile, 749. His solemn invocation for the suc¬ 
cess of Columbus’s voyage, 751. 

Periplus of Hanno, the authenticity of that work 
justified, 1025. 

Peru, the first intelligence concerning this coun¬ 
try, received by Vasco Nugnez de Balboa, 788. 
The coast of, first discovered by Pizarro, 898. 
Pizarro’s second arrival. 900. His hostile pro¬ 
ceedings against the natives, ib. The colony of 
St. Michael established, ib. State of the empire 
at the time of this invasion, ib. The kingdom 
divided between IJuascar and Atahualpa, 901. 
Atahualpa usurps the government, ib. Huascar 
solicits assistance from Pizarro, 902. Atanualpa 
visits Pizarro, 903. Is seized by Pizarro, 904. 
Agreement for his ransom, ib. Is refused his 
liberty, 905. Is cruelly put to death, 907- Con¬ 
fusion of the empire on this event, ib. . Quito 
reduced by Benalcazar, 908. The city of Lima 
founded by PizaiTO, 909. Chili invaded by 
Almagro, 910. Insurrection of the Peruvians, 
ib. Almagro put to death by Pizarro, 914. Pi¬ 
zarro divides the country among his followers, 
915. Progress of the Spanish arms there, ib. 
Francis Pizarro assassinated, 917- Reception 
of the new regulations there, 919. The viceroy 
confined by the court of audience, 923. The 
viceroy defeated and killed by Gonzalo Pizarro, 
924. Arrival of Pedro de la Gasca, 926. Re¬ 
duction and death of Gonzalo Pizarro, 928. The 
civil wars there carried not on with mercenary 
soldiers, 929. But nevertheless gratified with 
immense rewards, ib. Their profusion and 
luxury, ib. Ferocity of their contests, ih. Their 
want of faith, 930. Instances, ib. Division of, 
by Gasca, among his followers, ib. Writers who 
gave accounts of the conquest of, 1059. A retro¬ 
spect into the original government, arts, and 
manners of the natives, 931. The high antiquity 
they pretend to, 943. Their records, tb. Ori¬ 
gin of their civil policy, ih. '1 his founded in 
religion, 944. The authority of the incas abso¬ 
lute and unlimited, tb. All crimes were punish¬ 
ed capitally, ib. Mild genius of their religion. 
ih. Its influence on their civil policv, 945. and 
on their military system, ib. Peculiar state of 
property there, ib. Distinction of ranks, 946. 
State of arts, ib. Improved state of agriculture, 
ih. Their buildings, ib. Their public roads, 
947. Their bridges, ib. Their mode of refining 
silver ore, 948. Works of elegance, ih. Their 
civilization nevertheless but imperfect, tb. Cuz¬ 
co the only place that had the appearance of a 
city, ib. No perfect separation of professions, 
949. Tittle commercial intercourse, ib. 'lheir 
unwarlike spirit, ib. Eat their flesh and fish 
raw, ib. Brief account of other provinces under 
the viceroy ot New Spain, 950. Causes of the 
depopulation of this country, 955. The small¬ 
pox very fatal there, 956. '1 heir method of 

milding, 1068. State of the revenue derived 
from, by the crown of Spain, 1079. See Colonies. 

Peter 1. czar of Russia, his extensive views in 
prosecuting Asiatic discoveries, 808. 

Phenicians, ancient state of commerce and navi¬ 
gation among them, 728. Their trade, how con¬ 
ducted, 1025. 

Philip \ I. of Spain, his turbulent disposition aided 
by his American treasures, 970. Establishes the 
colony of Manila, 980. 

Philip 111. exhausts his country by inconsiderate 
bigotry, 970. 

Philippine Islands, discovered by Ferdinand 
Magellan, 891. A colony established there by 
Philip 11. of Spain, 980. Trade between, and 
America, ib. 

Physic, the art of, in America, why connected with 
divination, 843, 

Pinto, chevalier, his description of the characteris¬ 
tic features of the native Americans, 1042. 


Pinzon, Vincent Yanez, commands a vessel un¬ 
der Columbus in his first voyage of discovery, 
751. Sails to Anierica on a private adventure 
with four ships, ib. Discovers V ucatan, 783. 
Pizarro, Ferdinand, is besieged in Cuzco by the 
Peruvians, 910. Is surprised there by Almagro, 
911. Escapes with Alvarado, 912. Defends his 
brother at the court of Spain, 914. Is committed 
to prison, 915. . . 

- - - Francisco, attends Balboa in his settle¬ 
ment on the isthmus of Darien, 785. Marches 
under him across the isthmus, where they dis¬ 
cover the South sea, 788. His birth, education, 
and character, 896. Associates with Almagro 
and De Luque in a voyage of discovery, ib. His 
ill success, 897. Is recalled, and deserted by 
most of his followers, ih. Remains on the island 
of Gorgona for supplies, 898. Discovers the 
coast ot Peru, ih. Returns to Panama, ih. Goes 
to Spain to solicit reinforcements, 899. Procures 
the supreme command forhiniselt, ib. Is assist¬ 
ed with money by Cortes, ib. Lands again in 
Peru, 900. His hostile proceedings against the 
natives, ib. Establishes the colony of St. Michael, 
ih. State of the Peruvian empire at this time, 
ib. Cause of his easy penetration into the 
country, 902. Is applied to by Huascar for 
assistance against Ins victorious brother Ata¬ 
hualpa, tb. State of his forces, tb. Arrives at 
Caxamalca, 9o3. Is visited by the inca, ib. 
His perfidious seizure of him, 904. Agrees to 
Atahualpa’s offer for his ransom, tb. Division 
of their plunder, 905. Refuses Atahualpa his 
liberty, ib. Hisignorance exposed to Atahualpa, 
906. Bestows a form of trial on the inca, ib. 
Puts him to death, 907. Advances to Cuzco, ib. 
Honours conferred on him by the Spanish court, 
908. Beginning of dissensions between him and 
Almagro, 909. Ilis civil regulations, tb. 
Founds the city of Lima, tb. Insurrection of 
the Peruvians, 910. Cuzco seized by Almagro, 
911. Deludes Almagro by negociations, 912. 
Defeats Almagro, and takes him prisoner, 913. 
Puts Almagro to death, 914. Divides the country 
among his followers, 915. The impolitic par¬ 
tiality of his allotments, tb. Makes his brother 
Gonzalo governor of Quito, ib. Is assassinated 
by Juan de Herrada, 917- 

- - - Gonzalo, is made governor of Quito by 
his brother Francis, 915. His expedition over 
the Andes, ib. Is deserted by Orellana, 916. 
His distress on this event, ib. Ilis disastrous 
return to Quito, ib. Is encouraged by the 
people to oppose Nugnez Vela, the new viceroy, 
922. Assumes the government of Peru, 923. 
Marches against the viceroy, ib. Defeats and 
kills him, 924. Is advised by Carvajal to assume 
the sovereignty of the country, ib. Chooses to 
negociate with the court of Spain, 925. Consul¬ 
tations of the court on his conduct, ib. His 
violent resolutions on the arrival of Pedro de 
la Gasca, 926. Resolves to oppose him by 
violence, 927- Marches to reduce Centeno at 
Cuzco, ib. Defeats him, 928. Is deserted by 
his troops on the approach of Gasca, tb. Sur¬ 
renders and is executed, ib. His adherents men 
of no principle, 930. 

Plata, Rio de, discovered by Dias de Solas, 790. 
Its amazing width, 1035. 

Playfair, Mr., professor of mathematics in Edin¬ 
burgh, the result of his comparison of the narra¬ 
tive and charts given in captain Cook’s voyages, 
published in 1780 ; and Mr. Coxe’s account ot 
the Russian discoveries, printed in the same year, 
in which the vicinity cf tire two continents of Asia 
and America is clearly ascertained, 1040, 1041. 
Pliny, the naturalist, instance of his ignorance in 
geography, 1027 . 

Ponce de Leon, Juan, discovers Florida, 786. 

Romantic motive of his voyage, ib. 

Population of the earth, slow progress of, 727. 
Porto Bello, discovered and named by Christopher 
Columbus, 777- 

- - Rico is settled and subjected by Juan Ponce 
de Leon, 782. 

- - Santo, the first discovery of, 740. 

Portugal, when and by whom the court of Inquisi¬ 
tion was first introduced into, 1028. 

Portuguese, a view of the circumstances that in¬ 
duced them to undertake the discovery of un¬ 
known countries, 738. First African discoveries 
ot,739. Madeira discovered, 7 - 10 . They double 
Cape Bojador, ib. Obtain a papal grant of all 
the countries they should discover, 741. Cape 
Verd islands and the Azores discovered, 742 . 
Voyage to the East Indies by Vasco de Gama. 
770. 

Potosi, the rich silver mines there, how discovered, 
908. The mines of, greatly exhausted and scarce¬ 
ly worth working, 1076. 

Prisoners of war, how treated by the native Ame¬ 
ricans, 833. 

Property, the idea of, unknown to the native Ame¬ 
ricans, 827. Notions of the Brazilians concern¬ 
ing, 1046. 

Protector of the Indians in Spanish America, his 
function, 963. 

Ptolemy, the philosopher, his geographical descrip¬ 
tions more ample and exact than those of his 
predecessors, 734. His geography translated by 
the Arabians, 735. Ilis erroneous position of the 
Ganges, 1026. 


Q 

Qnrtlavaca, brother of Montezuma, succeeds him 
as king of Mexico, 883. Conducts in person the 
fierce attacks which obliged Cortes to abandon 
his capital, ib. Dies of the small pox, 884. 

Qnevedn, bishop of Darien, his conference with 
"I as Casas on the treatment of the Indians, in 
the presence of the emperor Charles V., 796 . 




HISTORY OF AMERICA. 


Quicksilver, the property of tbe famous mines of, at 
Guanacabelica, reserved by tbe crown of Spain, 
107 b. I he price of, why reduced, tb. 

Quinquina , or Jesuits’ Bark, a production pecu¬ 
liar to Peru, 969. 

Quipos, or historic cords of the Peruvians, some 
account of, 913. 

Quito, the kingdom of, conquered by Huana Ca- 
pac, inca of Peru, 901. Is left to his son Ata- 
nualpa, ib, Atahualpa’s general revolts after 
his death, 907. Is reduced by the Spaniards 
under Benalcazar, 908. Benalcazar deposed, 
and Gonzalo Pizarro made governor, 915. 

R 

Ralegh resumes the plan of settling colonies in 
£jorth America, 989. Despatches Amadas and 
Barlow to examine the intended settlements, 
who discover Virginia and return to England, 
ib. Establishes a colony in Virginia, which, on 
account of famine, is obliged to return to Eng¬ 
land, 990. Makes a second attempt to settle a 
colony there, which perishes by famine, 991. 
Abandons the design, ib. 

Ramvsio, his defence of Ilanno's account of the 
coast of Africa, 1025. 

Register ships, for what purpose introduced in the 
trade between Spain and her colonies, 974. Su¬ 
persede the use of the galeons, 975. 

Religion of the native Americans, an inquiry into, 
839. 

Ribas, his account of the political state of the 
people of Cinaloa, 1049. Of their want of reli¬ 
gion, 1050. 

Rio de la Plata, and Tucuman, account of those 
provinces, 952. 

Rivers, the amazing size of those in America, 801. 

Robison, professor, his remarks on the temperature 
of various climates, 1036. 

Roldan, Brands, is left chief-justice in Hispaniola 
by Christopher Columbus, 766. Becomes the 
ringleader of a mutiny, 769- Submits, 770. 

Romans, their progress in navigation and disco¬ 
very, 732. Their military spirit averse to me¬ 
chanical -arts and commerce, ib. Navigation 
and trade favoured in the provinces under their 
government, ib. Their extensive discoveries by 
land, 734. Their empire and the sciences de¬ 
stroyed together, ib. 

Ruhruquis, father, his embassy from France to the 
Chan of the Tartars, 737- 

Russia, a trade to, opened by the English, 987- 
Restricted to a company of British merchants, 
ib. The connexion with the Russian empire en¬ 
couraged by queen Elizabeth, 988. 

Russians, Asiatic discoveries made by them, 808. 
Uncertainty of, 1039. 

S 

Sacotecas, the rich silver mines there, when dis¬ 
covered, 968. 

San Sahador discovered and named by Christo¬ 
pher Columbus, 755. 

Sancho, Don Pedro, account of his history of the 
conquest of Peru, 1059. 

Sandoval, the shocking barbarities executed by, 
in Mexico, 893. 

- - - - Francisco Tello de, is sent by the em¬ 
peror Charles V. to Mexico, as visitador of 
America, 921. Tlis moderation and prudence, ib. 

Savage life, a general estimate of, 846. 

Scalps, motive of the native Americans for taking 
them from their enemies, 1048. 

Serralvo, marquis de, his extraordinary gains 
during his vice-royalty in America, 1080. 

Seville, extraordinary increase of its manufactures 
by the American trade, 1077. Its trade greatly 
reduced, ib. The American trade removed to 
Cadiz, 972. 

Silver ore, method of refining it practised by the 
native Peruvians, 948. 

Smallpox, Indian territories depopulated by, 1018. 

Sonora, late discoveries of rich mines made there 
by the Spaniards, 950. 

Soul, American ideas of the. immortality of, 842. 

South Sea, first discovered by Vasco Nugnezde 
Balboa, 788. 

Spain, general idea of the policy of, with regard 
to the American colonies. 957. Early interposi¬ 
tion of the regal authority in the colonies, ib. 
All the American dominions of, subjected to 
two viceroys, 958. A third viceroyalty lately 
established, ib. The colonies of, compared with 
those of Greece and Rome, 960. Advantages 
she derived from her colonies, 970. Why she 
does not still derive the same, ib. Rapid decline 
of trade, 971. This decline increased by the 
mode of regulating the intercourse with America, 
ib. Employs guarda costas to check illicit trade, 
974. I ne use of register ships introduced, ib. 
Establishment of the company of Caraccas, 975. 
F.nlargement of commercial ideas there, 976. 
Free trade permitted to several provinces, ib. 
Revenue derived from America, 980. Specifica¬ 
tion, 1079- 

Spaniards, their curious form of taking possession 
of newly-discovered countries, 1033. 

Strabo, a citation from, proving the great geogra¬ 
phical ignorance of the ancients, 1026. His own 
want of geographical knowledge, 1027. 

Superstition always connected with a desire of 
penetrating into the secrets of futurity, 842, 843. 


T 

Tapia, Christoval de, is sent from Spain to Mexico, 
to supersede Cortes in his command, but fails in 
the attempt, 892. 

Tartars, the possibility of their migrating to 
America, 809. 

Tlascala, in Mexico, character of the natives of, 
862. Oppose the passage of the Spaniards, ib. 
Are reduced to sue for peace, 864. 

Tobacco, that of Cuba the best flavoured of any in 
all America, 969. Tile use of, first introduced 
into England, ib. Culture of, in Virginia, and 
its consequences, 999. Its exportation thence is 
annually increased, ib. Trade for, opened with 
Holland, 1CHX). Grants and monopoly of, 1004. 

Toupinambos, account of their ferocious courage, 
from Lery, 1048. 

Trade, no efforts made in I^igland to extend it in 
the reign of Henry VII. or his immediate suc¬ 
cessors, 985. To what causes that neglect was 
owing, ib. 

- - - free, opened between Spain and her colo¬ 
nies, 976. Increase of the Spanish customs from 
this measure, 1U78. 

Trade winds, the periodical course of, when dis¬ 
covered by navigators. 732. 

Travellers, ancient, character of their writings, 

,737. 

Trinidad, the island of, discovered by Christopher 
Columbus on his third voyage, 768. 

Tucuman, and Rio de la Plata, account of those 
provinces, 952. 

Tyre, the commerce of that city, how conducted, 
1025. 

Tythes of Spanish America, how applied by the 
court of Spain, 1079. 

U 

Ulloa, Don Antonio de, his description of the 
characteristic features of the native Americans, 
1041. 11 is reason for the Americans not being so 

sensible of pain as the rest of mankind, 1049. 

1 fis account of the goods exported from Spain to 
America, with the duty on them, 1080. 

V 

Vaca de Castro, Christoval, is sent from Spjun to 
regulate the government of Peru, 914. Arrives 
at. Quito, 918. Assumes the supreme authority, 
ib. Defeats young Almagro, ib. The severity 
of his proceeoings, 919. Prevents an insurrec¬ 
tion concerted to oppose the new regulations, 
922. Is imprisoned by the new viceroy, ib. 

Valverde, father Vincent, his curious harangue to 
Atahualpa, inca of Peru, 903. Gives his sanc¬ 
tion to the trial and condemnation of Atahualpa, 
907. 

Vega, Garcilasso de la, character of his commen¬ 
tary on the Spanish writers concerning Peru, 
1059. 

Vegetables, their natural tendency to fertilize the 
soil where they grow, 805. 

Velasquez, Diego de, conquers the island of Cuba, 
785, 798. His preparations for invading New 
Spain, 851. His difficulty in choosing a com¬ 
mander for the expedition, ib. Appoints Fer¬ 
nando Cortes, 852. His motives to this choice, 
ib. Becomes suspicious of Cortes, ib. Orders 
Cortes to be deprived of his commission, and ar¬ 
rested, 853. Sends an armament to Mexico after 
Cortes, 873. 

Venegas, P., his character of the native Californi¬ 
ans, 1044. 

Venereal disease originally brought, from America, 
818. Appears to be wearing out, ib. Its first 
rapid progress, 1043. 

Venezuela, history of that settlement, 954. 

Venice, its origin as a maritime state, 735. Travels 
of Marco Polo, 737- 

Verd Islands, discovered by the Portuguese, 742. 

Viceroys, all the Spanish dominions in America 
subjected to two, 958. A third lately established, 
ib. Their powers, ib. A fourth established, 
978. 

Villa Segnor, his account of the state or popula¬ 
tion in New Spain, 1070. His detail of the 
Spanish American revenue, 1079. 

Villefagna, Antonio, one of Cortes’s soldiers, 
foments a mutiny among his troops, 884. Is dis¬ 
covered by Cortes and hanged, 885. 

Virginia, first discovery of, 990. Attempt to set¬ 
tle there unsuccessful, ib. A second attempt to 
settle there, when the colony perishes by famine, 
991. The scheme of settling there abandoned, 
ib. Is divided into two colonies, 993. Charters 
are granted to two companies to make settle¬ 
ments in, ib. Captain Newport sails from Eng¬ 
land to, and discovers the Chesapeak, 994. lie 
proceeds up James river, and founds a colony in 
James town, ib. Its bad administration, ib. 
Captain Smith is excluded from his seat at the 
council board, ib. T he colony is.annoyed by the 
Indians, and suffers from scarcity and the un¬ 
healthiness of the climate, 995. Smith is recalled, 
and the prosperity of the colony restored, ib. 
He is taken prisoner by the Indians, his life 
spared, and his liberty obtained through the in¬ 
tercession of the favourite daughterof an Indian 
chief, ib. Returns to Jamestown, and finds the 
colony in distress, ib. The colonists are deceived 
by the appearance of gold, ib. A survey of the 


country is undertaken by Smith, 996. The com 
pany obtains a new charter with more ample 
privileges, ib. T he jurisdiction of the council 
in, is abolished, and the government vested in 
a council resident in London, ib. Lord Dela¬ 
ware is appointed governor and captain-ge¬ 
neral of the colony, and sir Thomas Gates and 
sir George Summers are vested with the com¬ 
mand till his arrival, tb. The vessel in which 
they embark is stranded on the coast of Bermu¬ 
das, ib. Smith returns to England, and anarchy 
prevails in the colony, 997. The Indians with¬ 
hold supplies, and the colony is reduced by fa¬ 
mine, ib. Gates and Summers arrive from Ber¬ 
mudas, and find tbe colony in a desperate situa¬ 
tion, ib. They are about to return to England, 
when lord Delaware arrives, ib. He reconciles 
all differences, and perfectly restores subordina¬ 
tion, 998. Is obliged to resign the government, 
and return to England on account of his health, 
ib. Is superseded by sir 'Thomas Dale, who 
establishes martial law, ib. Another charter is 
granted to the colony, with new privileges, ib. 
The land is cultivated, and a treaty concluded 
with the Indians, ib. Rolfe, a man of rank in 
the colony, marries the daughter of an Indian 
chief, 999. The land first becomes property, ib. 
The culture of tobacco is introduced, ib. The 
quantity exported increases every year, ib. Ne¬ 
groes are first introduced, 1CKX). A general as¬ 
sembly of representatives is formed, ib. A new 
constitution is given to the colony, and a trade 
for tobacco opened with Holland, ib. The ne¬ 
cessary precautions for the defence of the colony 
being neglected, a general massacre of the Eng¬ 
lish is planned by the Indians, and executed in 
most of the settlements, 1001. A bloody war is 
commenced with the Indians, ib. Their planta¬ 
tions are attacked, and the owners murdered, 
1002. A few escape to the woods, where they 
perish with hunger, ib. The settlements extend, 
and industry revives, ib. The strength of the 
colony is considerably weakened, 1004. A tem¬ 
porary council is appointed for its government, 
ib. The arbitrary government of the colonies on 
the accession of Charles I., ib. The colonists 
seize sir John Harvey the governor, and send 
him prisoner to England, ib. He is released by 
the king, and reinstated in his government, 1005. 
Is succeeded by sir John Berkeley, whose wise 
administration is productive of the best effects, 
ib. New privileges are granted to the colony, 
which flourishes under the new government, ib. 
It is attacked by the Indians, !008. Discontents 
are produced by grants of lands from the crown, 
ib. An insurrection breaks out, and the go¬ 
vernor and council are forced to fly, ib. They 
apply to England for succour, ib. T he rebellion 
is terminated by the death of Nathaniel Bacon, 
1009. The governor is reinstated, and an as¬ 
sembly called, ib. The moderation of its pro¬ 
ceedings, ib. General state of the colony till the 
year 1688, ib. See Colonies. 

Volcanos, remarkable number of, in the northern 
parts of the globe discovered by the Russians, 
1039. 

W 

Wafer, Lionel, his account of a peculiar race of 
diminutive Americans, 816. Compared with si¬ 
milar productions in Africa, 817. 

War-song of the native Americans, the sentiments 
and terms of, 1048. 

Willoughby, sir Hugh, sails in search of a north¬ 
east passage to India, 986. Steers along the 
coast of Norway, and doubles the north cape, ib. 
His squadron is separated in a storm, and his 
ship driven into an obscure harbour in Russian 
Lapland, where he and all his companions are 
frozen to death, ib. 

Women, the condition of, among the native Ame¬ 
ricans, 822. Are not prolific, ib. Are not per¬ 
mitted to join in their drunken feasts, 846. Nor 
to wear ornaments, 1049. 


X 

Xerez, Francisco de, secretary to Pizarro, the 
earliest writer on his Peruvian expedition, 1059. 

Ximenes, cardinal, his regulations for the treat¬ 
ment of the Indians in the Spanish colonies, 792. 
Patronizes the attempt of Ferdinand Magellan, 
890. 

Y 

Yucatan, the province of, discovered by Pinzon 
and Diasde Solis, 783. Described, 1034. From 
whence that, province derives its value, 951. 
Policy of the court of Spain with respect to, ib. 


Z 

Zarate, Don Augustine, character of his History 
of the Conquest of Peru, 1059. 

Zones, the earth how divided into, by the geogra¬ 
phy of the ancients, 733. By whom first so di¬ 
vided, 1027. 

Zummarraga, Juan de, first bishop of Mexico, the 
destroyer of all the ancient records of the Mexi¬ 
can empire, 932. 


’27 





INDEX 


TO THE 


DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


A 

Abul Fazel, minister to Akber, sovereign of Indos- 
tan, publishes the Ayeen Akbery, 1137. And 
Eleeto Pades, 1181. 

Aces tries, a city built on that river by Alexander 
the Great, 1159. 

2E.ras of Indian chronology, explained, 1182. lie- 
marks on, ih. 

Africa, general idea of the continent of, and of 
its trade, 1123. Origin of the slave-trade, 1128. 

Agathemerus, his account of the island of Tapro- 
bane, 1105. His character of Ptolemy the geo¬ 
grapher, 1165. 

Agathodtzmon illustrates the geography of Ptolemy, 
by maps, 1165. 

Akber, sovereign of Indostan, his character, 1136, 
1179. 

Albuquerque, Alphonso, the Portuguse admiral, 
seizes the island of Ormus, 1121. His operations 
on the Red sea, ih. 

Alexander the Great, his extensive views respect¬ 
ing India, 1088. 11 is expedition to India, ib. 

Ilis war with Porus, ib How obliged to relin¬ 
quish his enterprise, 1089. His measures for 
opening a maritime communication with India, 
ih. His account of India confirmed by modern 
observations, 1090. His political views in ex¬ 
ploring that country, 1091. His measures to 
unite his European and Asiatic subjects, ih. 
Consequences ot his death, 1092. The sufferings 
of his army from the periodical rains, 1157- His 
surprise at the tides of the Indian ocean, 1158. 
Cities built by him in India, 1159,1160. Intend¬ 
ed a survey of the Caspian sea, 1163. 

Alexandria, long the chief seat of commerce with 
India, 1088. The lighthouse on the Pharos 
erected by Ptolemy I.agus, 1094. Mode of con¬ 
ducting the silk trade at that port, 1099. The 
Venetians trade there for silk, 1114. And the 
Florentines, 1115. Is subjected to the Turks, 
1122. 

Algebra, a mode of calculation not unknown to the 
Brahmins, 1183. 

Allahabad, tile modern name of the ancient city of 
Palibothra, 1093. Account of this city by Me- 
gasthenes, ih. Remarks of major Rennell on 
this subject, 1161. 

America, discovered by Christopher Columbus, 
1119. The East India trade a continual drain 
from its silver mines, 1128. Origin of the slave- 
trade, ib. Contrast between the natives of Ame¬ 
rica, and of India, when first discovered, ib. 1129. 
The trade of Europe with each compared, ib. 
Was obliged to be colonized in order to be im¬ 
proved, ib. Supplies Europe with its products, 
m return for manufactures, 1130. 

Antiocbus the Great, his inroad into Tndia, 1161. 

Antoninus, Marcus, emperor, notices of an embassy 
sent by him to the emperor of China, 1103. 

Antwerp, greatly enriched by becoming the staple 
of the Hanseatic league, 1118. 

Arabians, anciently great dealers in spices from 
the East, 1098. Great alterations effected in 
their manners by the religion of Mahomet, 
1108. They conquer Egypt and Persia, 1109. 
A view of their commercial navigation, ib. 
Are the first who mention porcelain and tea, ib. 
Derived the knowledge of the mariner’s com¬ 
pass from Europe, 1168. Make no scruple to 
plunder the caravans travelling to Mecca, 1174 . 

Aristotle, his political advice to Alexander the 
Great, 1091. His just description of the Caspian 
sea, 1163. Doubted the expediency of encourag¬ 
ing commerce in a well regulated state, ib. 

Aromatics, why much used by the ancients, 1098. 

Arrian, character of his history of the Indian ex¬ 
pedition of Alexander the Great, 1090. His 
account of the commerce of the ancients, 1099. 
Inquiry into his geographical knowledge of 
India, 1100. Is the first ancient writer who had 
28 


any knowledge of the eastern coast of the great 
peninsula of India, ib. His account of Alex¬ 
ander’s Indian fleet corroborated, 1157. Charac¬ 
ter of his Indian history, ib. His account pt the 
Caspian sea, 1163. The places mentioned in his 
Periplus compared with modern situations and 
names, 1164, 1166. 

Arts and Sciences, when first cultivated, 1085. 

Asbestos, its extravagant price among the Romans, 
1164. 

Astronomy, testimonies of the great proficiency of 
the lndostans in, 1144, 1145. 

Augsburg, greatly enriched by becoming a mart 
for Indian commodities, 1118. 

Augustus, emperor, reduces Egypt to a Roman 
province, 1096. 

Ayeen Akbery, account of the mutual intercourse 
of the East Indians by water, from, 1157. See 
Sanskreet literature. 

B 

Babelmandeb, derivation of the name, 1161. 

Bactria, rise of the kingdom of, and its acquisi¬ 
tions in India, 1093, 1094. Is overwhelmed by 
the Tartars, 1094, 1161. 

Baghvat-Geeta, the pure theology taught in that 
poem, 1151. 

Bail/y, M. his examination into the antiquity of 
astronomy in India, 1146. 

Bank of Venice, the first establishment of that kind 
formed in Europe, 1172. 

Barygaza, a considerable emporium on the coast 
of ancient India, its situation ascertained, 1099. 

Bassora, the city of, founded by the caliph Omar, 
1109. 

Benares, the peculiar seat of Indostan science and 
literature, 1147. Account of the observatory 
there, 118.3. 

Berenice, the city of, founded to facilitate the trade 
between Alexandria and India, 1094. 

Bernier, M. his account of the Indian chronology, 
1182. 

Btjore, inhabited by a tribe descended from a 
colony left there by Alexander the Great, 1159. 

Boddam, East-lndia ship, remarkable speedy 
voyage of, from Portsmouth to Madras, 1163. 

Brahmins, in India, their sacred rites and high 
privileges, 11.35. Inquiry into the state of scien 
title knowledge among them, 1143. Their 
religious hierarchy and worship, 1147. T heir 
great learning taught, them a theology superior 
to the popular superstition, 1151. Their doctrines 
coincide with the tenets of the Stoical school, 
1152. Studiously concealed religious truths 
from the people, 1153. 

Bruce, the information his travels afford concern¬ 
ing the maritime expeditions of king Solomon, 
1087. 

Bruges, made the staple of the trade of the Han¬ 
seatic league, 1116. Is greatly enriched, 1118. 

Bur run Sunker, a class among the Hindoos de¬ 
scribed, 1176. 

Byzantine historians, a character of, 1111. 

C 

Caff a, the great trade carried on there, 1170. 

Cairo, account of the caravan that travels from 
thence to Mecca, 1173. 

Calient, reception of Vasco de Gama in that 
country, 1120. 

Call, colonel, his general opinion of the antiquity 
of arts and sciences in India, 1180. 

Camel, the valuable properties of that animal. 1085. 
Is peculiarly' formed for traversing sandy de¬ 
serts, 1173. 

Canton, in China, a factory settled there by the 
early Arabs, 1109. 

Cape of Good Hope, circumstances that led to the 
discovery of a passage to India that way, 1119. 


Is said by’ Herodotus to have been passed by 
some Phenician ships, 1124. Importance of the 
discovery of this passage by the Portuguese, 
1130. 

Caravans, the origin of, 1085. \Ver§ protected 
and encouraged under the Roman dominion, 
1103. Great commercial use of, in the East, 
112.3. Account of the caravans which visit Mec¬ 
ca, 1173. A considerable slave-trade carried on 
by the African caravans, 1174. 

Caspian sea, erroneous opinion of the ancient 
geographers concerning, 1095. 1162. By whom 
first described in modern times, 116.3. Its di¬ 
mensions, ih. 

Casts, or orders of society among the native Gen- 
toos described, 11.3.3. Remarks on the policy 
and tendency of this arrangement, ib. Their 
peculiar names, ranks, and offices, described, 
1176. 

Cathay, the ancient name of China, 1116. 

Ceylon, supposed to be the island described by 
ancient geographers under the name of Tapro- 

■ bane, 1105. Christian churches planted there by 
Persian missionaries, 1110. Is visited by Marco 
Polo, the Venetian, 1116. 

Chardin, sir John, his testimony that the orientals 
derived the use of the mariner’s compass from 
the Europeans, 1168. His account of the trade 
of Caffa, 1170 . 

Chillambrum, description of the pagoda there, 
1139. 

China, the only country whence the Romans ob¬ 
tained silk, 1099. Through what medium they 
received it, 1100. How the silk-worm was con¬ 
veyed from thence to Europe, 1108. Is traded 
to by the Arabians, 1109. First mention of 
porcelain and tea, ih. The Christian religion 
iropagated there by Persian missionaries, 1110. 
low the silk of, was conveyed to Constantino¬ 
ple, after the Greeks were excluded from the 
port of Alexandria, ib. Estimate of the Chinese 
practice of navigation, 1168. How the number 
of Mahometans increase in China, 1169. A com¬ 
mercial intercourse, by land, opened between 
that country and Russia, 1174. Amazing ex¬ 
portation ot tea from, to Europe, 1175. 

Chitore, the high descent claimed by the rajahs 
of, 1159. 

Chronology, Indian, the four aeras of, 1182. Re¬ 
marks on, ih. 

Cleopatra, value of her famous pearl ear-rings, 
1099. 

Co/chos, the ancient pearl fishery there, still car¬ 
ried on by the Dutch, 1100. 

Colours, Indian, for dyeing, account of, 1180. 

Columbus, his views in that voyage by which he 
discovered America, 1119- His reliance on the 
authority of Marco Polo, the Venetian traveller, 
1172. See Gama. 

Commerce, the extension of, abated the hostile sen¬ 
timents which actuated one nation against an¬ 
other, 1116. Unfavourable opinion of Plato con¬ 
cerning, 1163. 

Common law, the origin of, traced, 1136. 

Comorin, cape, is accurately described by Ar¬ 
rian, 1100. 

Compass, mariner’s, was unknown by the ancient 
Chinese and Arabs, 1168. 

Constantinople, taken and plundered by the cru¬ 
saders, 1113. Subversion of the Latin empire 
there, 1114. Is conquered by the lurks, and 
made the seat of their government, 1117. 

Conveyancing, specimen of the ancient Indian 
style of, 1181. 

Coromandel coast, the inhabitants of, always great 
traders, 1106. 

Cos mas, Indicopleustes, some account of, and of 
his Christian topography, 110?. His account of 
the island of Taprobane, ib. 

Cotton manufactures, evidence of their not being 
common among-the Romans, 1164. 


J 










DISQUISITION ON ANCIENT INDIA. 


Crusades to the Holy Land, the origin of, traced, 
and their commercial effects, 1111. The cru¬ 
saders acquired the policy and arts of the people 
whom they subdued, 1112. Brought different 
nations acquainted with each other, 1116. 

D 

Damascus, account of the caravan that travels 
trom thence to Mecca, 1173. 

Damask , the name of that species of silk manufac¬ 
ture, whence derived, 1118. 

Dandolo, Andrew, the character of his Venetian 
Chronicle, 1170. 

D' Anville, M. his opinion as to the course pur¬ 
sued in the trading voyages of king Solomon’s 
ships, 1087- His corrections of Ptolemy’s geo¬ 
graphy of India, 1102. Corroborates Nearcbus’s 
account ot India, 1158. His geography of India 
controverted by M. Gosselin, 1166. 

Darius , the son of Hystaspes, king of Persia, his 
researches into and conquests in India, 1088. 

Deccan, the ancient Dachanos of Arrian, 1166. 

Delta of the Indus, the general state of the weather 
there, 1157. 

Diamonds , not so highly esteemed by the Romans 
as pearls, 1164. 

Diodorus Siculus, his history of the Indian expe¬ 
dition of Sesostris examined, 1155. 

Dow, colonel, account of his translation of the 
Shaster, 1143. 1182. His account of the Indian 
Chronology, ib. 

Dowlatabad, the same with the ancient Tagara, 
1164. 

Du llalde , his description of a peculiar species of 
silk, 1164. 

Dutch States, became the first rivals of the Portu¬ 
guese in the trade to India, 1127. 

Dyes, Indian, the excellence of, 1180. 

E 


East, the regions of, where arts and sciences were 
first cultivated, 1085. The intercourse between 
different countries how first carried on, ib. The 
first maritime communication with, from the 
West, 1086. See India. 

Eclipses, how calculated by the Brahmins of India, 
1145. 

Egypt, ancient prejudice of the inhabitants against 
any intercourse with foreigners, 1086. How the 
Egyptians became a commercial people, ib. 
The city of Alexandria built, 1088. The seat of 
government fixed there by Ptolemy Lagus, 1094. 
Intercourse between the city of Rerenice and 
India, ib. Its opulence derived from its com¬ 
merce with the East, 1095. Is reduced to a 
Roman province, 1096. Manner of conducting 
the silk trade at the port of Alexandria, 1099. 
Conquest of, by the Arabs, 1108. The Vene¬ 
tians resort to Alexandria for silk, 1114. And 
the Florentines, 1115. Commercial view of the 
countries, 1117. Is subdued by the Turks, 1122. 

'• How the Indian trade has been conducted 
through that country at different times, 1161,1162. 

Elagaba/us, the first Roman emperor who wore 
silk, 1099. 

Elephanta, island, account of the ancient pagoda 
there, 1138. 

Ellure, general account of the pagodas there, 1179. 

Jt.sop's Fables, the origin of, traced, 1181. 

Ethics, state of, in India, 1144. 

Europe, a review of the state of, at the time of the 
subversion of the Greek empire, 1117. Exten¬ 
sive operation of the commercial genius of, 1128. 
The Europeans receive the products of America, 
and supply it with manufactures, 1130. The 
exportation of silver to India, how beneficial to 
Europe, ib. Importance of the discovery of the 
passage to India round the Cape of Good Hope, 


Faquirs of India, unite trade with devotion in 
their pilgrimages, 1112, 1170. Brief account of, 
1177- 

Figures, arithmetical, originally derived from 
India, 1144. 

Five Gems, an ancient Sanskreet poem, account 
of, 1181. 

Florence, rise of the state ot, by manufactures and 
the banking business, 1115. A commercial 
treaty concluded with Egypt, ib. Summary of 
tiie instructions to their ambassadors to the sol- 
dan, 1171. 


Gama, Vasco de, his voyage from Lisbon to India, 

1120. 

Ganges, account of that river by major Rennell, 
1161. 

Genoa, motives that stimulated the Genoese to 
assist in subverting the Latin empire at Con¬ 
stantinople, 1114. The great advantages they 
derived from this measure, ib. Character of the 
Genoese government, ib. The Genoese expelled 
from all their Grecian settlements by the ’l urks, 
1117. Character of, by IN' icephorus Gregoras, 
1170. 

Gentil, M. le, his account of the Indian Chrono¬ 
logy, 1182. 

Gentoos, see Brahmins and Hindoos. 

Gibbon, Mr. the Roman historian, testimony in 
favour of his accuracy, 1167. 

Gosselin, M. character of his geography of the 
Greeks analyzed, 1166. . 

Greeks, their national pride at the time of Alex¬ 
ander the Great, 1091. How they attained the 
breeding of silk worms under the emperor Jus¬ 
tinian, 1108. Are shut out from the port of 
Alexandria by the Mahomedan Arabs, ib. The 
Greek empire conquered by Mahomet II., 1117. 


How they were deprived of Bactria, 1161. 
Origin of the ancient mythology of, 1149. 

Gum Lacca, natural history of, and its uses in 
manufacture, 1180. 

H 

Flalhed, Mr., his account of the Sanskreet litera¬ 
ture, 1181. 

Hanno, commanded the only voyage for discovery 
undertaken by any of the ancient states in the 
Mediterranean, 1175. 

Hanseatic league formed, and the staple fixed at 
Bruges, 1116. 

Hastings, Mr., governor-general of Bengal, his 
attention to forming a code of Hindoo laws, 
1137. 

Heetoo- Fades, or amicable instruction, an ancient 
Sanskreet composition, account and character of, 
1181. 

Herodotus affirms the Cape of Good Hope to have 
been passed by some Phenician vessels, 1125. 
His history of Sesostris examined, 1155. His 
unsatisfactory account of the tides in the Red 
sea, 1158. His just description of the Caspian 
sea, 1163. 

Hindoos, that people exactly described in the ac¬ 
count of the Indian expedition of Alexander the 
Great, 1090. Their inflexible adherence to their 
religion, and casts, 1169. T heir four orders, or 
casts, described, 1133. Remarks on the policy 
and tendency of this popular arrangement, ib. 
T heir high antiquity, and nature of their institu¬ 
tions, 1137. Character of their judicial code, ib. 
State of sciences among them, 1143. Their re¬ 
ligious tenets and practices, 1147. Their names, 
ranks, and offices of their several casts described, 
1176. T heir temples, 1180. 

Hiram, king of Tyre, assists king Solomon in his 
naval undertakings, 1087. 

Hippalus, captain of an Egyptian vessel, avails 
himselfof the monsoons, in sailing from the Ara¬ 
bian gulf to the Malabar coast, 1097. 

Hipparchus, the first who attempted to make a 
catalogue of the stars, 1101. 

History, authentic, the period of, extremely limit¬ 
ed, 1085. Is minute in the records of biood,but 
silent as to the progress of useful arts, 1097. 

Hydaspes, river, a numerous fleet assembled there 
by Alexander the Great, 1089. 

Hyphasis, river, the utmost limit of Alexander the 
Great’s progress in India, 1089. 

I 

Java Minor of Marco Polo ascertained, 1171. 

Jenaub, a city built on that river by Alexander the 
Great, 1159. 

Jenkinson, Anthony, the first modern traveller 
who gives a just description of the Caspian sea, 
1163. 

Jesswant Sing, his letter to Aurengzebe, containing 
a character of sultan Akber, 1179., 

Jewels, their great use and high estimation among 
the ancients, 1098. 

Jews, when they effected a commercial intercourse 
with India, 1087. Inquiry into the maritime 
commerce of king .Solomon, ib. Their com¬ 
mercial effort terminated in his reign, ib. 

India, the first naval communication with, from 
the West, 1086. The trade of the Phenicians 
with, how conducted, ib. Naval expedition of 
the Persians to, 1087. Conquests of Darius Hys¬ 
taspes in, ib. Alexandria, for many centuries 
the chief seat of trade with, 1088. Expedition of 
Alexander the Great to, ib. Flourishing state of 
the country at that time, 1089. Alexander’s 
voyage down the Indus, ib. Political state of 
the country at that time, 1090. Alexander’s 
views in this expedition, ib. Expedition of Se- 
leucus, one of the successors of Alexander, 1092. 
Embassy of Megasthenes to, 1093. Conquests 
of the Bactrian princes in, 1094. Remains after¬ 
wards undisturbed by Europeans, until the Cape 
of Good Hope was doubled by the Portuguese, 
ib. A commercial intercourse established with 
Egypt, ib. How Rome was supplied with 
eastern commodities, 1096. Advantage taken of 
the monsoons, in sailing from the gulf of Arabia 
to the Malabar coast, 1097-. Its commodities 
articles of luxury, 1098. Spices and aromatics, 
ib. Precious stones, ib. Silk, 1099. General 
view of its exports and imports, ib. Comparison 
between the ancient and modern trade with 
India, 1100. D’Anville’s corrections of Ptole¬ 
my’s geography of, 1102. The trade by caravans 
protected and encouraged by the Romans, 1103. 
The inhabitants of the Coromandel coast always 
great traders, 1106. The account given of India 
by Cosmas Indicopleustes, 1107. The Romans 
mailed in the Indian trade by the Persians, ib. 
The Italian states engaged in the Indian trade, 
1111. Account of the Indian trade by Marino 
Sanudo, 1115. Comparative view of the Indian 
trade, as carried on by different nations at dif¬ 
ferent times, 1117. A direct voyage to India 
effected by the Portuguese, 1119. The staple 
of the Portuguese trade established at the city 
of Malacca, 1121. A commercial empire esta¬ 
blished in the East by the Portuguese, 1122. 
How it came to pass that the discovery of a 
direct navigation to India w’as reserved for mo¬ 
dern times, 1124. The conduct of ancient and 
modern navigators to the East, compared, 1125. 
The prices of Indian commodities greatly re¬ 
duced by the opening a direct communication 
with India, ib. The India trade a continual drain 
of American silver from Europe, 1128. Contrast 
between the state of the natives of India and 
America, when first discovered, ib. 1129. 'The 
trade of Europe with each, compared, ib. The 
silver exported to India contributes to enrich in¬ 


stead of impoverishing Europe, 1130. Impor¬ 
tance of the discovery of the passage to India 
round the Cape of Good Hope, to Europe, ib. 
Examination of the improbabilities attending 
the supposed expedition of Sesostris to India, 
1155. Remarks on the weather there, 1157. Re- 
markson the naval expedition of Nearchus, 1158. 
Peculiarities in the Indian tides, ib. Aversion 
of the natives of the East to the sea, 1159. Major 
Rennell’s account of the river Ganges, 1160. En¬ 
deavours to ascertain the situation of the ancient 
city of Palibothra, ib. How the Indian trade 
has been carried on through Egypt at different 
times. 1161,1162. Erroneous descriptions of the 
Caspian sea by ancient writers, ib. 1163. Deccan, 
the ancient Dachanosof Arrian, 1166. The use of 
the mariner’s compass learned by the Easterns 
from the Europeans, 1168. T he Gentoos inflexi¬ 
ble in their religion, 1169. Computed number 
of Mahomedans in India, ib. Extensive cir¬ 
culation of eastern goods by the caravans, 117.3. 
The natives of India the earliest known people 
who were civilized, 1132. Their division into 
casts, 1133. 'The perfection of Indian manufac¬ 
tures accounted for, ib. The general tenure of 
land there, 1135. Character of the Hindoo code 
of laws, 1137. General account of the pagodas, 
1138. Fortresses, 1140. Mechanic arts, ib. Lite¬ 
rature, ib. T heir sciences, 1143. Their religious 
tenets, 1147. Origin of superstition, 1148. T he 
pure theology of the Brahmins, 1151. General 
reflections formed on the preceding review of the 
eastern nations, 1153, 1154. The manners and 
customs of the natives influenced by the Maho¬ 
medan and European intruders, 1177- Account 
of the Sanscreet literature, 1180. The Heeto- 
Pades, 1181. The Five Gems, ib. Ode from 
Wulli, ib. Specimen of Indian conveyancing, 
1182. The four £eras of Indian chronology ex¬ 
plained, ib. 

Indicum, of the ancients, the same with modern 
indigo, 1180. 

Indigo, the several kinds of, mentioned by authors, 
and its uses, 1180. 

Indus, river, passed by Alexander the Great, 1088. 
His voyage down that river, 1089. 

Institutions of India, the permanency of, ac¬ 
counted for, 1133. 

Interest of money, the most exact standard of com¬ 
mercial profits, 1118. Chronological view of, ib. 

Joanna of Navarre, her exclamation at the wealth 
of the city of Bruges, 1172. 

Italy, rise of the commercial states of, 1111. They 
import the productions of India, ib. The profits 
they reaped from the Crusades, 1113. See Ve¬ 
nice, Genoa, &c. 

Itineraries of the Roman empire, how formed, 
1165. 

Julius Ctesar, his magnificent present to Servilia, 
the mother of Brutus, 1099. His ignorance of 
the British tides, 1158. A general survey of the 
whole Roman empire undertaken by him, 1165. 

Justin, observations on his account of the progress 
made by Seleucus in India, 1160. 

Justinian, emperor, how he introduced the silk¬ 
worm into the Greek empire, 1108. 

L 

I,and, the general tenures of, in India, 1135. 1177. 
Specimen from an ancient grant of 1182. 

Latitudes, how ascertained by the ancient geogra¬ 
phers, 1105. Were more readily determined by 
them than longitudes, 1106, 1166, 1167. 

Lawyers, European, the style of, compared with 
that of the eastern Pundits, 1181. 

Leibnitz, his account of the instructions given to 
the Florentine ambassadors to the soldan of 
Egypt, 1171. 

L.ogic and metaphysics, state of, in India, 1143. 

Longitudes of places, how determined by ancient 
geographers, 1105. 1167. 

M 

Magellan effects a passage for the East Indies 
westward from America, 1127. 

Mahabarat, an ancient Indian epic poem, account 
of, 1141. Extracts from, 1143, 1144, 1151, 1152. 

Mahmoud of Gasnah, the vast fleet that opposed 
his invasion of India, 1157. 

Mahomet, rapid spread of his religion, and the 
great effects produced by it, 1108. Contributed 
greatly to extend the commerce of Asia and 
Africa, 1123. 

Mahomet II. emperor of the Turks, subdues the 
Grecian empire, 1117. 

Mahudel, M. his proofs of the ignorance of the an¬ 
cients as to the nature of silk, 1164. 

Malabar coast, probable derivation of its name, 
1107. How mentioned by the Arabian writers, 
1109. 

Malacca, the city of, rendered the staple of the 
trade carried on in the East by the Portuguese, 
1121. 

Maidive islands, probable derivation of their name, 
1107. 

Man, a review of his progress in social life, 1134. 

Manufactures, Indian, the perfection of, accounted 
for, 113.3. 

Maps, none prior to those formed to illustrate 
Ptolemy’s geography, have reached modern 
times, 1105. 

Marco Polo, the Venetian, account of his travels, 
1116. Objections to his relations, and vindica¬ 
tion of them, 1171. 

Marseilles, opens a trade with Constantinople for 
Indian commodities, 1111. 

Massoudi, the Arabian, his account of India, 
1168. 

Mecca, the temple there visited as well by com¬ 
mercial as by devout pilgrims, 1112. T he pil- 

29 




primages to, contributed greatly to facilitate 
trade, 1123. Account of the caravans which 
visit the temple there, 1173. 

Medici, Cosmo di, a Florentine merchant, nego- 
ciates a commercial treaty with Egypt in favour 
of his countrymen, 1115. 

Mediterranean sea, the chief seat of ancient com¬ 
merce, 1124. 

Megasthenes , his embassy from Seleucus king' of 
Syria, to India, 1093. 11 is account of India, ib. 

Mocenigo . doge of Venice in the fifteenth century, 
his account of the naval strength of that repub 
lie, 1172. 

Monkish annalists, a character of, 1111. 

Monsoons, the first application of them in voyages 
to India, 1097. 

Moses, the books of, the most ancient and genuine 
record of the early ages of the world, 1085. 

Musiris, a port on the coast of Malabar, fre¬ 
quented by ancient navigators in the Indian 
trade, 1097- 

Mythology of the Greeks, the natural origin of, 

1149. 

N 

Nadir Shah, a general review of his Indian ex¬ 
pedition, 1157. 

Nagara of Ptolemy, its latitude according to 
D’Anviiie, 1104. 

Navigation, origin of, traced, 1086. Where first 
cultivated, ib. How introduced among the 
Egyptians, ib. 

Nearchus commands the naval expedition of Alex¬ 
ander the Great down the Indus, 1089. lie- 
marks on, 1158. 

Nicephorus Gregoras, his character of the Genoese 
at Constantinople, 1170 . 

Niebuhr, his evidence in favour of the European 
origin of the mariner’s compass, 1169. 

O 

Omar, caliph, founds the city of Bassora, 1109. 

Ormus, the island of, seized by the Portuguese, 
1121. Description of, ib. 

Oude, nabob of, the great probability of disputes 
between him and the Seiks, 1156. 

P 

Pagodas of India, general account of, 1138, 1179. 
Are placed with astronomical precision, 1183. 

Palihothra, endeavours to ascertain the situation 
of that city, 1160. 

Palmyra, by whom and on what occasion built, 
1096. Its stupendous ruins, ib. 1097. Its pre¬ 
sent state, 1097. 

Punjab, progress of Alexander the Great through 
that country, 1088. 

Papyrus, occasion of its being disused for writing 
on, 1170. 

Parchment, when first used for the record of char¬ 
ters and deeds, 1170. 

Pariars, the most contemptible race of men in In¬ 
dia, 1169, 1176. 

Patna, evidences of its not being the ancient city 
of Palibothra, 1161. 

Pearls, their high estimation among the Homans, 
1098. Were dearer than diamonds, 1164. 

Pera, the chief suburb of Constantinople, granted 
to the Genoese on the subversion of the Latin 
empire there, 1114. The Genoese expelled by 
the Turks, 1117- 

Persia, how the commerce between that country 
and India was conducted, 1095. Vigorous cul¬ 
tivation of the India trade, 1107- 'I he silk trade 
engrossed by the Persians, 1108. Their extor¬ 
tions introduce the silk-worm to Europe, ib. 
Is conquered by the Arabs, ib. Nestorian 
churches planted there, 1110. Amount of the 
revenue of the Persian monarchs from Herodo¬ 
tus, 1156. Instances of their ancient aversion to 
the sea, 1159. 

Phalanx, Macedonian, how formed by Alexander 
the Great, 1091. 

Phenicians, how they opened a commercial in¬ 
tercourse with India, 1086. Are said by Hero¬ 
dotus to have passed the Cape of Good Hope, 
1124. 

Philosophy, the cure for superstition, 1150. 

Pilgrimages to the Holy Land, undertaken as 
well from commercial as from pious motives, 
1112. Account of the pilgrimages to Mecca, 
1173. 

Pilpay's fables, the origin of, traced, 1181. 

Plato, his political objections to commerce in a 
well regulated commonwealth, 1163. 

Pliny the elder, his slender knowledge of India, 
1101. His account of the island of Taprobane, 
1105. Observations on his account of the pro- 
gess of Seleucus in India, 1160. 

Pomponius Mela, his account of the island of Ta¬ 
probane, 1104. And of the Caspian sea, 1162. 

Porcelain, the first mention of, by Arabiau tra¬ 
vellers, 1109. 

Portugal, circumstances that led the Portuguese 
to the disco' ery of the Cape of Good Hope, 
1119. Vigorous exertions of the Portuguese to 
cultivate the eastern trade. 1120. They aim at 
a monopoly of the trade to the East, 1121. Esta¬ 
blish a commercial empire in the least, 1122. 
Their activity in exploring the eastern coun¬ 
tries, 1125. They drive the Venetians out of 
the European markets, by reducing the prices of 
Indian goods, 1126. How they remained so 
long in the exclusive possession of the Indian 
trade, 1127. Are rivalled at length in the In¬ 
dian ocean by the Dutch, ib. And by the Eng¬ 
lish, ib. Repulse the efforts of Solyman the 


INDEX, &c. 

Magnificent to drive them from India, 1131. 
Their intercourse with infidels licensed by a 
papal bull, 1170. 

Poms opposes the progress of Alexander the Great 
in India, 1088. Remains steady to the Macedo¬ 
nian interest, 1092. 

Potosi, the discovery of the silver mines of, the first 
permanent source of wealth derived by Spain 
from America, 1129. 

Ptolemy, the geographer, estimate of his scientincal 
knowledge, 1101. Established geography upon 
its proper principles, ib. His account of the 
continent of India examined, 1102. His geogra¬ 
phy of India adjusted by that of modern times 
by M. D’Anviiie, ib. Instances of his exactness 
in some positions, 1104. His accounts of the 
island of Taprobane, 1105. His character, by 
Agathemerus, 1165. His geographical errors, 
ib. From what materials he composed his 
geography of India, 1167. 

Ptolemy Layus establishes the seat of the Egyp¬ 
tian government at Alexandria, and erects the 
light house on the Pharos, 1094. 

Ptolemy Philadelphia projects a grand canal to 
facilitate the intercourse between Egypt and 
India, 1094. Founds the city of Berenice, ib. 

Pultanah, the ancient Plithania of Arrian, 1164. 

R 

Ramusio detects the geographical errors of Pto¬ 
lemy, 1165. 

Raynal, Abbe, character of his history of the East 
and West Indies, 1130. 

Red sea, derivation of the name, and the different 
applications of it by the ancients and the 
moderns, 1158. 

Religion and superstition discriminated, 1147. 

Renaudot. M. his translation of the eastern voyage 
of two Mahoniedans, from the Arabic, vindicated 
from the charge of imposition, 1168. 

Rennell, major, his illustrations of the Indian ex¬ 
pedition of Alexander the Great, 1089, 1156, 
1159. His account of the river Ganges, 1160. 
Remarks on his account of the situation of the 
city of Palibothra, ib. His opinion of the 
Egyptian navigation examined, 1162. 

Rhinocolura, the ancient port of communication 
between Phenicia and India, 1086. 

Roger, M. his account of the Indian chronology, 
1182. 

Rome, rise of the power of, 1095. How supplied 
with Indian commodities, 1096. Its imports 
from thence, articles of luxury, 1098. Spices, ib. 
Precious stones, ib. Silk, 1099. Remained 
ignorant of the nature or production of silk, ib. 
How the breeding silk-worms was introduced 
into the eastern empire, 1108. Consequences of 
the Roman empire being dissolved by the Bar¬ 
barians, 1116. How the itineraries of the empire 
were formed, 1165. 

Russia, a commercial intercourse by land opened 
betweep that country and China, 1174. 

Ryots of Indostan, inquiry into the tenure by 
which they hold their possessions. 1 178 . 

S 

Sacontala, an ancient Indian dramatic poem, ac¬ 
count of, 1141. 

Sacotecas, the mines of, in Mexico, importance of 
the discovery of, to Spain, 1129. 

Saint Croix, baron de, observations on his Critique 
des Historiens d’Alexandre le Grand, 1160. 

Samarcand, by what name known to Alexander 
the Great, 1088. Its latitude, as ascertained by 
D’Anviiie, 1104. 

Sandracottus, an Indian prince, his revolt against, 
and treaty with Seleucus, king of Syria, 1092, 
1093. 

Sanskreet literature, a new acquisition, 1180. Mr. 
Halhed’s account of, 1181. 

Sanudo, Marino, his account of the Venetian trade 
with India in the fourteenth century, 1115. 

Sciences, and arts, where first cultivated, 1085. 
A view of the state of, in India, 1143. 

Scylax, of Caryandra, his naval expedition to 
India, 1087. Gives fabulous accounts of the 
country, ib. Why his voyage is not mentioned 
by Arrian, 1157. 

Sepoys, modern, established upon the same prin¬ 
ciple with the phalanx of Persians formed by 
Alexander the Great, 1091. 

Seiks, of India, probability of disputes between 
them and the British, 1156. Their situation and 
character, ib. 

Seleucus, the successor of Alexander, his expedi¬ 
tion to India, 1093. Observations on, 1160. 

Seltm, sultan, the conqueror of the Mamelukes, his 
attention to the advantages of the Indian com¬ 
merce, 1130. 

Semiramis, the vast fleet that opposed her invasion 
of India, 1157. 

Sera Metropolis^ of Ptolemy, its latitude according 
to D’Anviiie, 1104. 

Seringham, description of the pagoda there, 1139. 

Sesostris, king of Egypt, the first who rendered the 
Egyptians a commercial people, 1086. Impro¬ 
babilities attending his supposed expedition to 
and conquest of India, 1155. 

Shaster, some account of, 1143, 1182. 

Sielediha, account given of this island by Cosmas 
lndicopleustes, 1107 . 

Silk, its high estimation among the Romans, 1099. 
The trade for, engrossed by the Persians, 1108. 
Silk-worms obtained and cultivated by the 
Greeks, ib. Account of the Venetian and Flo¬ 
rentine trade for silk, 1115. Ignorance of the 
ancients as to its production, 1164. Why dis 
liked by the Turks, ib. 


Stiver is continually drained from Europe to 
carry on the East India trade, 1128. Europe 
how enriched by this exportation, 1130. 

Sinte Metropolis, of Ptolemy, endeavours of 51. 
D’Anviiie to ascertain its situation, 1103. 

Slave trade, modern, the origin of, 1128. is largely 
carried on by the African caravans, 1173. 

Solomon, king of Judea, inquiry into his maritime 
commerce, 1087. Builds Tadmor in the desert, 
1096. 

Solyman, the Magnificent, his efforts to drive the 
Portuguese from India, 1130. 

Soul, description of, from the Mahabarat, 1143. 

Spain, how that country happened to have the 
advantage and honour of discovering America, 
1119. Gold and silver the only profitable arti¬ 
cles they found in America, 1129- Are obliged 
to colonize in order to improve their discoveries, 
ib. 

Spices, and aromatics, why much used by the 
ancients, 1098. Vast modern consumption of 
them, 1126. 

Strabo, his obscure knowledge of India, 1101. His 
account of the island of 1 aprobane, 1104. His 
free exposition of ancient theology, 1153. De¬ 
nies that Sesostris ever entered India, 1156. 
Evidence of his slender knowledge of India, 
1162. His account of the Caspian sea, tb. 
How he justifies his neglect of Hipparchus, 1165. 
His account of the jealous caution with which 
the Indian women were guarded, 1177- His 
account of the ancient dyes, 1180. 

Sumatra, the island of, visifed by the early Arabians, 
1109. Was the .lava Minor of Marco Polo, 1171. 

Superstition and religion discriminated, 1147. Ori¬ 
gin of superstition, 1148. Progress of, 1149. 
Picture of oriental superstition, ib. Philosophy 
fatal to, 1150. 

■'iitrya Siddhunta, the scientifica! merit of that an¬ 
cient oriental composition, 1183. 

Syl/a, vast quantities of spices consumed in his 
funeral pile, 1098. 


Tadmor, in the Desert, by whom built, and for 
what purpose, 1096. Its stupendous ruins, ib. 
Its present state, 1097- 

Tamerlane, his judicious choice of the season for 
his Indian campaign, 1157. 

Taprobane, Strabo's account of that island, 1104. 
Pliny’s account of if, ib. Ptolemy’s account of 
it, 1105. Appears to be the island of Ceylon, ib. 
Account given of this island by Cosmas indico- 
pleustes, 1107 . 

Tatta, great drought there, 1157. Vast numbers 
of vessels for water-carriage there, ib. 

Tea, has within a century become a necessary of 
life in many parts of Europe, 1175. Amazing 
annual importation of, ib. 

Tea-tree, first mention of, by Arabian travellers, 
1109. 

Tides of the Indian ocean, peculiarities in, 1158. 

Trade, how at first conducted between different 
countries, 1085. Between Egypt and India, 
1094. Exports and imports of India, 1098. 

Transmigration of souls, the eastern doctrine of 
explained, 1152. 

Turks, their scruples concerning the wearing of 
silk, 1164. 

Tyre, the best account of the commercial transac 
tions of that city to be found in the prophet Eze 
kiel, 1156. 

V 

Vasa Murrhina, of Pliny, inquiry into the nature 
and composition of, 1169. 

Venice, first rise of, as a commercial state, 1111. 
Constantinople taken, in conjunction with the 
crusaders, 1113. The Venetians engage largely 
in the trade and manufacture of silk, ib. lhe 
Latin empire in the East subverted, 1114. '.lhe 
Venetians supplanted in the trade with Con¬ 
stantinople by the Genoese, ib. 1 hey settle a 
trade with Alexandria, ib. Account of the Ve¬ 
netian trade with India in the fourteenth century, 
1115. Travels of Marco Polo, 1116. Their trade 
extended by the l urks subduing the Greek em¬ 
pire, 1117. Remarks on their trade for Indian 
goods, ib. Evidences of the great wealth they 
acquired by this trade, 1118. Alarm taken at 
the direct voyage to East India by Vasco de 
Gama, 1120. Measures prosecuted’by the Ve¬ 
netians to check the progress of the Portuguese 
in the East, 1121. The Portuguese supplant 
them in the European market, by reducing the 
prices of Indian goods, 1126. The great extent 
of their trade, 1172. Flip bank of Venice the 
first formed of any in Europe, ib. Amount of 
the Venetian naval strength in the fifteenth 
century, ib. 

U/ug Beg, his astronomical tables, 1104. 

Virgil, a good natural historian, as well as a 
descriptive poet, 1164. 

Volney, M., his account of the camel, 1173. and of 
the caravan from Damascus to Mecca, ib. 

W 

IVi/ford. lieutenant, his examination of Arrian’s 
Periplus by modern names and situations, 1164. 

Wilkins, Mr., account of his translation of the 
Heeto-pades, 1181. 

Women, the jealous seclusion of, in India, whence 
derived, 1177 . 

Wulli, character of an ode translated from, 1181. 

Z 

Zemindars, their office in the government of In 
dostan. 1178. 


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